#the song is kiss her you fool by kids that fly. if you even care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wwillowtrees · 2 years

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KISS HER YOU FOOL

Stop waiting for a fairytale to take you away, don’t wait for someday.

camilo madrigal x fem reader | fluff, confessions | sorry to all my gn readers, i’ll make it up to you all soon! this idea has probably been done before, but author is a simp and they could care less d( ･ω´･+)

i recommend on listening to the song to get context :D

as always, non-beta read, we die like pedro madrigal.

Camilo quietly stared at the saplings, head tucked between his knees as he observed the plant in silence. The boy reaches out to gently touch the newly grown leaves, fascinated by its soft yet oddly rough texture.

The shapeshifter blinked in confusion as a looming shadow blocked his prize possession from its much-needed sunlight.

“It’s going to burn into a crisp if you don’t bring it inside.” Isabella scoffed, leaning down to take the pot that served as a home for the growing flowers, blatantly ignoring her cousin’s protests.

“Ai callate-!” He yelps when he feels a vine smack his left shoulder. He turns to glare at the vicious plant while it simply slithered away.

He huffed, rubbing his shoulder as he moved his eyes to watch his oldest cousin placing the saplings on the ground. The woman smiled upon the magical house known as casita, who happily moved the flower pot to a nearby window sill.

“Carnations need 4 to 6 hours of sunlight, not a whole cook-out.” Isabella states, moving her hand in a circular motion as flowers began to bloom around Camilo.

“How did you know-“ Isabella sent him a dead stare, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Camilo mentally slapped himself for his idiocy.

“Oh, cierto, your gift.” The boy murmured, picking a flower off the ground in pure curiosity. He twirled it around with his calloused fingers as he inspected it.

“These are new, what do they mean?” Camilo asks, holding it out to Isabella. He tilts his head in confusion as the woman in question stifles a laugh.

“Those are Geraniums, they mean stupidity.”

“Hey!”

Isabella cackled in response, hunching down at the sound of Camilo’s annoyed grumbles.

“Espera, it’s my turn to ask the questions!” She wheezed out, straightening her back as she flipped her hair to the side.

“I don’t want to hear another word.” Camilo muttered, throwing the flower at his cousin.

“Oh please, you tease me all the time.” The woman rolled her eyes at his antics, watching Camilo stand up from his spot “Now, mind telling me who you’re confessing to?”

Camilo coughed, pounding a fist on his chest as he nervously chuckled.

“I don’t know what you mean-“

“You and I both know what I mean mi primo.” Isabella retaliated, pointing to the saplings that gently swayed with the summer breeze. Look closely enough, and one will see a red bud beginning to bloom right before them.

Red Carnations, they symbolized pure love and affection.

“Well, it’s none of your business.” Camilo sassed, walking past his cousin. However, before he could enter the door, a hand on his chest makes him pause in his tracks.

“What-“

“Don’t be a fool, tell her you think she’s cool.” Isabella interrupted, slightly turning her head towards the younger.

“This girl is clearly different if you aren’t even asking me to grow these flowers for you.” Isabella muttered, letting her hand fall to her side. He stayed silent, listening intently as Isabella placed a hand on her hip.

“Don’t be afraid, dreams aren’t found Camilo, or even foretold by tío Bruno,” She told, staring off to the sun that nestled behind the white clouds.

“They’re made.” Camilo’s breath hitched at her words.

“You’ve only got one chance kid, make it worth while.” She pats him on the shoulder before heading off to where she heard her mother call her name.

Curse his prima.

“Watch out!” The shapeshifter shouted, turning into a small child to dodge the townsfolk in his path.

He frantically looked down to see the saplings still intact, the plants bouncing up and down due to the speed he was going at.

Sighing in relief, the teenager continued to march his way through the crowd, eyes wide for a certain girl.

“Camilo?” There it was, your melodic voice. He skidded in his tracks, shapeshifting back into himself before he turned to you.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Camilo exclaimed, his voice exasperated from all the running.

“I could tell.” You teased, smiling at him lovingly. Camilo chuckled nervously, fixing his posture.

Was his heart racing due to the running? Or was it because of your presence, he wasn’t so sure. Whatever the reason is, he feels like he could run for miles with how much energy your smile gave him.

“What’s that?” You pointedly ask, eyes on the flower pot he was holding. He bit his bottom lip, swiftly moving the pot behind him.

“I’ll get to that, but first let’s go somewhere private, hm?”

He watched as you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion, growing anxious at the fact you might say no. Though his worries were washed away like a tidal wave as you nodded your head slowly.

“I just might know a place.”

You’ve only got one chance.

Camilo took a deep breath as he followed you out of town. The boy looked around, enthralled by the natural beauty around him.

“We’re almost there!” You shout, jumping over the jagged rocks that crossed your path.

His gaze landed back on you, the grip on his pot tightening.

“Mhm.”

He really was about to do this wasn’t he? You two have been friends for nearly 2 years now, and within that span of time he fell for you deep.

He was cautious at first, all the meaningless winks and flirty remarks he shared with other girls were pointless when it came to you.

Every time he shared a laugh with you, every time you held his hand, every time you said his name with so much happiness laced in your tone, made his heart flutter each time.

Hell, even by just hearing your name in a conversation is able to make him smile wide.

He couldn’t help but gravitate towards you, something about your presence made it so addictive that he wanted a taste each time he hung out with you.

And when he saw you, giving him a hand-made chameleon plush with a shy smile on his 14th birthday, he just knew he couldn’t live without you by his side.

You were the sunshine that gave the light to his sunflower. He sighed, looking down at his still-growing Carnations.

Dios mio, he was absolutely hopeless.

“Anddd, this is our stop.”

He looked up to see where he was, eyes widening when he realized this was the same place where you took him to on his birthday.

He looked around for a bit, reminiscing the times when the two of you would run around the grassy fields till the day sets.

Laying on one the many flower patches that covered the area as you told stories to one another, still full of energy even after all the running and chasing.

“I’m guessing you still remember?” You say, eyes still on the enchanting environment around the two of you.

He scoffed, almost offended at your sentence.

“How could I ever forget?”

You hummed, standing on the soles of your feet. You turn to face him, nudging your head to the pot he held.

“Mind explaining what you got there parcero?”

This was it.

“Yeah.” Camilo said, shaking his sandals to get the nerves off his body.

“Princesa, there’s been something I’ve been meaning the tell you.”

You raised an eyebrow, puckering up your lips as a sign for him to continue.

“I like you, and not in a way that friends do.” Camilo said, his shoulders tensing at the words he plans to say next.

“Ever since I’ve met you I’ve been enchanted by your beauty, your energy, your- well everything!” He cringed slightly, hating how he stumbled on his own words.

“And- I know most guys would probably give out a bouquet right about now, and I should’ve prepared better to be honest with you.” He chuckled, holding out the flower pot to you.

“But if you’re willing, do you want to you take care of these flowers until they fully bloom with me?”

You’ve only got one chance.

You stood there, mouth agape in shock as you look down at the saplings that stare happily back at you.

“Are these Carnations?”

“Sí, red ones at that! They symbolize love and-“ He closes his mouth quick when he noticed you moving to go grab the pot out of his grasp.

He looks at you anxiously, waiting for your response. He freezes at the sight of tears brimming around the rim of your wrinkled eyes due to the wide smile you wore.

You sniffled, giggling slightly as you caressed the clay pot with your thumb, holding it with so much gentleness as if it would break within the moment it touches your hand.

“I’d love to take care of these flowers with you Camilo.”

What-

“Really?!” His eyes lit up in excitement, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You nod enthusiastically at him.

Holy sh-

“Oh! One second.”

He turns around, pumping his fists in the air as he celebrated his small victory, screaming at the top of his lungs. You bark out a laugh, clutching the pot in you hands as you shook your head in amusement.

He swiftly faces you once more, eyes glimmering in excitement.

“May I mi sol?”

You scoffed, gripping his collar with one hand and pulling him in.

“Do you even need to ask mi girasol?” You teased, leaning in slightly.

Kiss her you fool.

A bud of a red Carnation sprouted that day.

girasol means sunflower- or so that’s what i’ve learned from my untrustworthy partner: google translate ;)

PLAYLIST FICS

#camilo madrigal x reader #camilo x reader #camilo x you #camilo x y/n #camilo imagine #camilo madrigal #encanto camilo #encanto x reader #encanto x you #encanto fics #encanto fluff #encanto #Spotify

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itsonlydana · 3 years

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omg this sounds so cliché, but could you maybe do a jschlatt x fem!reader, where they’re forced to share a bed, (maybe during the recent LA trip) and schlatt somehow ends up pining you.. or something like that 🥺🥺

"And there were only three beds"➷ jschlatt

pairing: jschlatt x reader (female)

warnings/tags: bit of cursing, fluff

words: 3k

song: kiss her you fool - Kids That Fly

a/n: thank you for the request, I´m sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoy it! <3 (did i interpret ´pining´ right? D:) after writing the eret fanfic and this today my brain doesn´t function anymore

To say your life as a manager of Chuckle Sandwich is easy would be a lie, the last four months have been some of the most stressful in your life and yet the most fun at the same time.

Schlatt, Charlie and Ted were three wonderful people, but oh god could they get on your last nerve. Sometimes it was little things like a different class for a flight or arranging a hotel on short notice, but other days you'd get messages like, "Hey, (y/n), I got pulled over by the police, do you think I can make a video out of this?" or "We want to rent a studio in LA, invite twelve guests, and live together for a whole week!"

The latter was why you were sitting completely jet-lagged next to the cab driver and not in your bed on the other side of the country. The traffic was terrible, you expected nothing less, but that didn't seem to bother the mood of the men one row behind you.

You didn't expect anything different from Schlatt and his three-hour flight, but you did from Charlie, who had flown first from Vermont to join you in New York and then another six hours to LA.

Fortunately, all three of them seemed sympathetic to you, or had heard your cursing when Ian had called to say he wouldn't be able to make it to pick you up as scheduled and you should call a cab, and feared such a wall of words. In any case, they made their jokes quietly enough so you could calmly go over the plan for the next morning.

After a sharp turn, for which you would have loved to grab the driver's steering wheel or ask him what he was thinking, the car jerked to a stop at the side of the road. Slightly annoyed, you paid before following the boys and slamming the passenger door a little harder than necessary.

While the guys pulled the suitcases out of the trunk, you scrolled up through your messages on your way to the little white house. One, in particular, caught your eye.

Ian had booked the Airbnb but had included your number as a contact since you would be staying with the boys for the week, sort of like their personal babysitter.

The message sounded a bit over the top: "You'll see that we took extra care with the upkeep of the apartment".

Yeah, you would hope so, for the money you had paid.

You quickly sent a message to Ian that you had arrived and pulled out the set of keys the man had left for you at the airport. Behind you, Ted, Schlatt and Charlie came up the walkway with the suitcases and bags, and Ted held out the handle from your suitcase.

"Okay," you started after a grateful nod and slid the key into the lock, "Let's hope Ian didn't fuck up."

The lock jammed, only after a shake the door jumped open and you stepped curiously into the Airbnb. The worries were forgotten for the time being at the view of the dark living room with the open adjacent kitchen, the relief to have finally arrived was overwhelming, just like the emerging feelings of happiness to be in Los Angeles.

With every trip you worried endlessly, would everything go well at the airport? What if your luggage got lost or the hotel or Airbnb booking hadn't worked out and you were stuck in a strange place with no place to stay?

And even though the week had just started and the guys were guaranteed to give you plenty to worry about, you'd been able to really breathe since you got up.

As soon as you stepped aside, Charlie and Ted glanced at each other before running up the stairs with the clear banisters to the first-floor bedrooms. It was reminiscent of family vacations or moving into a new house, trying out all the rooms to claim the best one for yourself, and Charlie, unlike Ted, had taken his suitcase right along, which is what you used to do when you were a kid to be the first to occupy your room.

Schlatt stayed behind with you, he didn't seem to be in a hurry and instead walked into the kitchen with his hands shoved in his pockets.

You followed him, the control freak in you wanting to look in every drawer and know exactly where to find what.

Except that the first drawer you pulled open didn't stop when you pulled and fell into your hands. Incredulous, you stared at the cream-colored drawer, then heard a crash from your side.

"Shit," cursed Schlatt, who had jumped to your side as the door of a wall cabinet had flown toward him as well, falling to the countertop as it fell.

From above, the other two's chatter died away, then their voices echoed down: "You guys okay?" exclaimed Charlie.

"Yeah, the kitchen's just falling apart," you called back as you tried to slide the drawer back into the hinges on the inside of the cabinet.

If you thought that was the worst thing about the house, you were wrong.

With a slightly annoyed look on his face, Schlatt turned and headed for the door next to the entrance. Clinically white tiles told you that it had to be the bathroom, but before you could follow him -you wanted to get ready a bit if you were going grocery shopping-, Ted leaned over the railing of the stairs and drew attention to himself with a deep clearing of his throat. "Guys, is there another bedroom downstairs? There's only three up here."

At the same time of his question, Schlatt came back out of the bathroom and extended his finger back to the tiles. In a completely dismissive tone, he threw the next problem at your feet. "Ants. There are ants in the bathroom."

You wanted to scream out loud. Maybe kick something or rip the closet doors off their nonexistent hinges, somehow let out your overwhelm with the situation, but you had to keep your cool.

You blocked out Ted's statement, as he found Schlatt's finding more interesting, jogging down the stairs, Charlie following shortly after.

The four of you stood in the doorway of the bathroom, you in front of the boys, searching the internet on what to do about ants in the bathroom, who had experienced that? You'd had these critters in the kitchen once, or outside with leftovers, but in the bathroom?!

"Well they don't seem to come from one direction," Charlie noted.

Ted agreed with an "Mhm." "Maybe they went through the window?"

"They left us a bottle of bug spray, they knew they were there," Schlatt puffed, and you looked up from your phone, where you'd read something about vinegar or cinnamon, to Schlatt, who was holding a red spray bottle in his hands. The brunette didn't really look as excited as Charlie, who asked something about "I wonder if Antman is somewhere down there"

Schlatt put the can back on the sink. "Told you we should go to a hotel."

Thoughtfully, you raised your hand and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Ted, was there another bathroom upstairs?"

"Yes, but-"

"Okay, so we'll have to share, but we should be able to work that out."

"(Y/n)"

"About this one, I'll call Ian or the hosts in the morning and have them take care of it, after all, that's not our job."

"(Y/n), we only have three beds!"

"Mhm? I misheard, excuse me?" you laughed, exasperation in your voice and hope you really had misheard. But Charlie and Ted looked at you so seriously that you were about to just get back on the plane home. Your heart hammered against your rib cage, this couldn't happen.

"There are three bedrooms upstairs, three beds," Charlie explained, adjusting his glasses. Ted nodded in agreement, Schlatt was silent.

You pushed past the three of them out into the hallway and ran to the stairs, up to the second floor. Before you could even look into the rooms, two papers on the wall caught your attention. You tilted your head. One had 'quiet hour 10pm-8am' written on it in black block letters and the other was a horrible collage of different people all putting their index finger to their lips. Both sheets you wanted to tear off the wall, they laughed provocatively in your face and were a shiny signature under the testimony of your doubts.

"10pm quiet hour, pah, never." you muttered to the poster, suppressing the urge to childishly stick your tongue out at people.

Instead, you went to the first of the four doors of the otherwise dreary hallway with a single window at the end, which, however, only gave you a view of the wall of the house next door, and looked inside.

One bed.

The second room also had only one bed, on which Charlie's suitcase lay open.

Behind the third door was a nice room, but it also had only one bed. Frustrated, you opened the fourth door to find yourself in a bathroom. Your mood was now finally tilting.

"(y/n)?" shouted Schlatt up the stairs as you angrily slammed the bathroom door and ran back down the stairs with loud steps. Halfway down, Schlatt met you and stopped you with a quick touch on your wrist.

"Charlie, you can get your suitcase back downstairs," you threw the words at the man who had made himself comfortable next to Ted on the small gray couch and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I'll find us a fucking hotel for the night and sort the rest out with Ian tomorrow," you explained, running a hand through your hair.

Schlatt's hand on your wrist tugged slightly. "You don't have to do that, (y/n). Going to a hotel now? It's half past ten." the annoyed tone from before was gone from Schlatt's voice, to your astonishment.

"I thought you wanted to go to a hotel from the beginning?" you pecked out for good measure, and Schlatt nodded.

"I do," he started, shrugging his shoulders "But I don't want you to put yourself through any unnecessary stress."

You let out a sigh, ignoring the way your heart beat a beat faster. "It's my job, Schlatt. I can't put you through this. You've been looking forward to this week for a long time, and I'm sure you've been looking forward to a house that doesn't seem like it would crash down on us at any minute."

From the couch Ted huffed, "We were looking forward to doing something together, personally I don't care about the house."

Nodding, Charlie agreed with him. "Besides, I'm sure we can tell some stories about this house on the podcast, some jokes about Schlatt's discovery of the ants." - "The bottle of Reid," Schlatt added with a grin, and you too loosened up a bit as the men continued to throw ideas for stories into the room.

Then you remembered the biggest problem again. "Okay, so what are we going to do about the beds? How comfortable is the couch, then I'll sleep downstairs and you'll have your beds?" you suggested, but that didn't really seem to suit anyone. Even you weren't looking forward to the back pain that six nights on that little couch would bring.

"We can share a bed." You turned your head to Schlatt, who wasn't quite so sure of his proposal at your look, and put a hand on the back of his neck. "I mean, Ted and Charlie's girlfriends wouldn't be cool with it, I don't have a girlfriend and I don't have a problem with it. Unless you don't want to."

You knew Ian wouldn't like that, none of your friends would think it was a good idea, but Ian was to blame for the situation and your friends weren't here.

What could possibly happen?

"What are you looking at all the time?" You looked in the mirror at Schlatt, who was lying on the bed, one hand behind his head and in the other his cell phone, from which you had been listening to a wide variety of sounds for the last few minutes while you had been getting ready in front of the mirror.

Schlatt laughed softly to himself again. "Tiktok." he replied between chuckles, and you nodded, busy carefully putting your jewelry away in your jewelry box and fixing your hair for bed.

At first it had been disconcerting to sit alone in the room with Schlatt. After the four of you had ordered dinner -neither of you had felt like leaving the house after the evening's experiences- the silence was all the louder when Ted and Charlie had excused themselves to their rooms for a phone call with their girlfriends and Schlatt had also suggested going upstairs.

You had quietly brought up your bags, answering or asking very few questions, and to avoid it, you had disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.

Afterwards you had come back to Schlatt in his sleeping clothes and lying on the bed, and magically you had lapsed into a more comfortable silence.

You closed the box with your jewelry and turned around, "Do you sleep with the window open or closed?"

"Either suits me, but maybe leave it open?"

The window remained open, you only lowered the blinds so as not to be awakened by the sun in the morning, before plugging your cell phone charging cord into the outlet on your side of the bed. You procrastinated your evening routine out of nervousness of what was to come, being extra slow as you lifted the covers and sat down at the edge of the bed.

Since Schlatt was still on Tiktok, you scrolled through your planner for tomorrow as well, wondering if you should write Ian. After a quick glance at you, Schlatt straightened up, adjusted his pillow in the back, and paused the video that was playing on his phone. "Don't text Ian, he's asleep anyway and will definitely ruin our morning if he reads the message later."

You rubbed your eyes, knowing he was right. "I'm just frustrated that it went so wrong. How much bad luck can we have? We should have followed your request to sleep in a hotel," you explained your thoughts to him, then put your phone down on the small nightstand without having texted Ian.

Schlatt clicked his tongue softly and ran his fingers through his hair, which he let dry open after his shower. "Stop beating yourself up. Ian booked the house and fucked it, so what? You're here, he's not. You tried everything to make sure we had a pleasant arrival and even wanted to go to the hotel on short notice." Briefly silent, your cheeks grew hot at his positive words and only warmed as he nudged you in the side with his elbow, "You're a wonderful manager."

"Thanks, Schlatt," you mumbled sheepishly. "You're not that bad to manage either."

Now Schlatt laughed a little louder. "Come on, I know we're terrible."

"Well, I wouldn't say terrible, but I once managed a kindergarten class and they listened to me more." You joined in his laughter and Schlatt got even louder, making you giggle. "Sh, the others-" you were about to warn him, when a message lit up on Schlatt's cell phone.

the chucklers

Ted: "next time we'll find a house with walls thicker than paper. Stop giggling you kids."

You pressed your lips together to stop laughing, which proved difficult when Schlatt suddenly threw a fake loud laugh against the wall. A muffled thump followed and you nearly fell off the edge of the bed after leaning to the side.

"Come here.", Schlatt hummed and patted on the mattress beside him. The last of your inhibitions were long forgotten and you slid closer until you could feel his body heat under the covers.

Schlatt turned off the room's light at the switch on his side of the bed, the exhaustion of the day spreading through the room. Not too tired to go straight to sleep, you decided to scroll a little on Tiktok and gradually you fell more and more in Schlatt's direction, finally landing with your chin on his shoulder and in his arm.

It felt right to right so close to him, quietly laughing and joking about the videos on his phone

At one video, Schlatt suddenly paused, which you didn't directly notice through your tired giggles, you were too focused on the video of the cat than on the song in the background like Schlatt.

It wasn't until the video played a third and fourth time that your attention fell on the audio.

"Cause you've only got one chance, you've only got one chance. Kiss her you fool"

You thought nothing of it, but Schlatt appeared nervous, his thumb hovering over the display without scrolling on as before.

"You know, I wasn't that shocked when Ted told us about the three beds," he said, turning his head so the tip of his nose nudged yours.

Your breath caught, unaware but with a premonition of what he was getting at, and a part of you screamed, "finally!"

"Oh yeah?" you questioned, your heart beating so loud you feared he would hear it.

Schlatt nodded. "Yes, I've been thinking about something for a while."

"What is it?"

He leaned further forward. The butterflies you had felt and repressed at the beginning of your friendship fluttered up again in your leaping stomach.

You knew you shouldn't, not as a manager and certainly not as a friend of the other two men in the house, but Schlatt looked at you as very few had before.

"I'm thinking about how long I have wanted to kiss you."

"Then do it," you whispered, unable to think clearly as he followed your words and his lips brushed yours.

#mcyt #mcyt writing #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you

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secret-treasury · 3 years

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Dad!Sirius

little blurbs about sirius being the best dad ever. Also includes some sirius X reader, Marauders.

Babysitters

Atlas loves when Lily babysits them. He is just smitten with her and he especially likes her hair. She’ll hold him and he would just stare at her with awe. He would pull a little on her hair and would get pouty when told off for it, especially from James. He isn’t a fan of James' because he always takes Lily away from him at the end of the day and he doesn't like that, but eventually he’d grow to like him... a little.

Neo on the other hand enjoys hanging out with James. She follows him everywhere and wants to be with him when he does random things, she is like his little shadow. She gets pouty if she doesn’t get to play with his glasses and he always tells her to be careful with them so as to not break them. She has an attitude, she rolls her eyes at him. “Well… she's a pads kid alright!” he’d joke. To which she responds with an excited “Padtoot!” and laugh while running away with James' glasses to get her dog plushy.

Remus is however Neo's favorite babysitter and for one reason only. He has a beard and she loves beards and just wants to grab at them. Luckily both Sirius and Remus keep their beards trimmed short so there isn’t much for her to grab. Sirius did the prank on her where he hid the lower part of his face behind a towel, then when he revealed his clean shaven face, Neo was SO upset she wouldn’t stop crying. Whenever she saw him until his beard grew back she’d cry at the sight of him. When he finally had his beard back she had missed him so much. She’d have a similar reaction to remus shaving but milder. Neo loves hanging out with her uncles but daddy is still the best. Remus and Atlas get along great, atlas loves to sit in uncle Remy's lap while he reads, and most of the time he falls asleep, Atlas is a very cuddly and sleepy boy so it works out well.

Regulus is a decent babysitter but confuses the twins slightly when they are very young for the simple reason that he looks similar to their dad. Before they eventually learn the difference, he would be kind of an ‘imposter Sirius’ because they are aware that isn’t dad…. But he really looks like dad….

Bath time!

Both Neo and Atlas LOVE bath time, especially with their dad. They both just can’t stop laughing when Sirius makes himself a bubble beard and causes bubbles to fly everywhere when he talks. He’d create fun narratives with pirates and priateship and sea monsters.

The only thing Atlas doesn’t like about bath time is washing his hair, he cries so much because he doesn’t like getting shampoo in his eyes or when water runs down his face. Luckily Sirius is super gentle with him and makes sure he feels safe the whole time.

“Close your eyes” the little boy does as his father says and shuts his eyes really hard. Sirius puts some shampoo in his palm and rubs his hands together before massaging it into the boy’s hair. Atlas starts whining a little bit. “It’s alright buddy” sirius comforts. When it’s time to wash the shampoo out he gets pouty again. Sirius tells Atlas to lean his head back while he supports the little boy’s back with his hand.

“Are you keeping ‘em closed?”. Atlas nods and again focuses on keeping his eyes shut as hard as he can. “Here comes the water,” Sirius warns. He would never do anything to break his son’s trust, especially not for a laugh. All three of them sing a song together, usually some type of nursery rhyme, to help distract the little scared boy from the water.

Neo was easier to handle albeit a bit wild. She loved singing the song whilst water was running down her face and it sounded like she was underwater. She’d laugh a lot and then accidentally breath in some water. She’d be upset for a moment and cough a bit but in no time she’s singing happily again. Sirius often found himself singing nursery rhymes in the shower when he would wash his own hair, just a weird habit he had when the kids were little.

After bath time he would help them into their cute little bathrobes and then the two kids would run to their mama looking like little jawas. Sirius would join them moments later, clothes splashed with bathwater and bubbles still in his beard. He didn’t mind though.

Bedtime

Sirius would teach them to brush their teeth by themself as soon as possible. He would seat them on the bathroom counter, give them their little toothbrushes and portion out the tooth paste. Neo was the most troublesome in this area, she didn’t like brushing her teeth so he’d tell her an elaborate story of why she needs to brush her teeth. Unfortunately she didn’t believe him. Atlas did though and always pointed out that they need to brush their teeth every morning and evening like the sweet boy he is. Because of Neo's brother pestering her with the importance of brushing her teeth she’d do it. So it worked out for Sirius eventually… in a roundabout way.

After all the teeth had been brushed, including Sirius’, he set them back down on the floor and the twins rushed as fast as their little legs could carry them to their shared bedroom. Atlas would get his blankie and his deer plush that he got from auntie Lils when he was born. Neo would get a book and her very loved dog plushy also called padfoot or as she ‘padtoot’. They would wait for Sirius to join them and he would take a seat in the armchair they had in their little room, he would place the twins in his lap and they would get comfortable. Atlas would share his blankie and they would place their plushies in their laps getting ready for the bedtime story.

Sirius would read to them and also educate them on different topics, making the twins question what happened in the story and why. While also keeping it lighthearted and fun. He’d give the characters different voices, some were funny and some were silly. After they finished the story they would beg him to read another one and it would break his heart telling them no, but he knew they were exhausted and needed their sleep. “There will be another story tomorrow”

Puting Atlas to sleep was the easiest thing in the world. As soon as his head hit the pillow he would be asleep, holding onto his blankie and his plush. Sirius would pull the covers up and lovingly caress the boy’s cheek and place a kiss on his forehead wishing him goodnight.

Neo was more troublesome, she wanted Sirius to stay with her until she fell asleep. He’d tuck her in, kiss her forehead and also give ‘padtoot’ a goodnight kiss. Then he’d sit on the floor by her bed and caress her cheek til she fell asleep. Sometimes he’d fall asleep on the floor leaning onto the side of her bed.

Food habits

Atlas is a picky eater, veggies are his number one enemy and he’ll do anything to not eat them. Sirius understands this because he himself hated veggies when he was little although his punishments for not eating them was very uncalled for. It takes a lot of coaxing to get atlas to eat them and he is always the last one at the table. Sirius has tried everything but it's still a struggle.

“Just eat 3 more broccolis and a cauliflower, then you can go play” Sirius tried to convince the boy but he just shook his head and scrunched up his face in disgust. He couldn’t help but sigh at the cute but stubborn little boy. “Eat two and then we’ll go play afterwards, okay buddy?” Sirius tried to bargain. He saw a glimmer in the boy's eyes.

“You play too?” he asked hopefully and Sirius nodded. Atlas unwillingly picked up the fork and poked at the veggies. After a while he picked out the two smallest veggies and ate them one at a time. “Done!” he declared after forcing them down. Atlas slipped off the chair and rushed to join his siblings.

“Daddy will play with us” he cheered happily, veggies long forgotten. They spent most of the afternoon playing hide and seek. Atlas was the first to get tired and decided to hide under the covers in his parents bed. As he crawled under the covers Neo and Zagreus noticed his genius hiding spot and went to join him.

“Here I come!” Sirius called out as he began looking around the house. Not finding them in the usual hiding spots he began to feel worried even though they couldn’t possibly have left the house. When he passed the master bedroom he noticed 3 child sized lumps in his and his wife's bed. As he got closer he could hear some giggling. He carefully peeled up the covers to peek inside to see his pups. “I found you” he chuckled as he began scooping them up in his arms as they laughed and giggled happily.

When Y/N came home later that afternoon the house was quiet. The plates and cutlery, long forgotten on the kitchen table much to her annoyance. However, the sight she was greeted with in her bedroom of her husband and three little children sleeping together in a pile on the bed, tangled up in the covers and blankets. It was enough for her heart to swell with love.

Neo generally isn't a picky eater, she eats well and healthy meals. She does however love ice cream though. the strawberry, vanilla and chocolate mix also known as neapolitan ice cream. Neo is a tough girl to bargain with as she’s not as easily fooled as other children, but ice cream is her weakness and Sirius does occasionally use that to his advantage.

“Neo, sweetie. Please it’s time to sleep,” Sirius would almost beg as he was seated beside her bed on the floor, being as tired as he wished his daughter was.

“No.” Neo said stubbornly and crossed her arms over the covers. Sirius had tucked the children into bed almost half an hour ago and both boys were fast asleep and sailing off to dreamland. “I don’t want you to leave me daddy” she sniffled and her eyes were glossy with tears. Overwhelmed by emotions she suddenly sat up and threw her little arms around her fathers neck, holding him tight. His arm wrapped around her little body and he caressed the back of her little head with his free hand. He remembered feeling a similar feeling when he was very little. When his mother seemed to love him.

“Of course I won't leave you, puppy.” he said comfortingly as his heart ached in his chest. Neo pulled back to look at him, tears running down her chubby little cheeks. her hands still on his shoulders and her fingers played with his long dark hair.

“Promise me daddy” she demanded with another sniffle. Her words tore him apart within.

“I won’t leave you, ever.” he promised. He knew it was a lie, that one day he would have to leave her alone on this earth, even though it seemed far til then. He dried the tears from her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “Now go to sleep sweetie”

“Only if I get ice cream for breakfast” she argued back with a little giggle as he crawled back under the covers. Sirius tucked her into bed once again.

“Not for breakfast, but sometime tomorrow we can have ice cream, okay?” he said and poked her nose gently and giggled along with her. She lifted her little hand and held out her pinky.

“And strawberries” she said as Sirius wrapped his larger pinky around her little one. It wasn’t strawberry season, Neo knew that but she cleverly made him promise her to get her favourite fruit too. He couldn’t simply go back on a pinky swear.

“And strawberries,” Sirius sighed with a smile on his lips. His little girl was so clever, he knew he got it from her mother but the way she used it, that was all him.

Zagreus eats pretty much anything even if he doesn't like it. He accidentally took a bite of a bar of soap once. It was shaped as a cinnamon bun and the poor boy thought it was real.

“Dad?” he said as he pulled on his fathers sleeve. The potters were over for dinner and Sirius was out on the porch chatting with James over a cold beer.

“What is it boy?” he said and crouched down to the little boy's level. The boy looked puzzled and showed his father the cinnamon bun soap with a child sized bit in it.

“This bun tastes weird, dad.” James couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Ah, oh it’s not a cinnamon bun, boy” sirius tried to explain but the boy looked at the bun soap and up at his father again convinced that his father was indeed mad. Sirius couldn’t hold back a chuckle “It’s soap.. In the shape of a bun”

“Oh…” Zagreus said finally trying to make sense of his odd food experience. Sirius ruffled the boy's hair. “Here” the boy said and gave Sirius the bun and then wandered off back into the house.

On Sundays it's always pancake or waffle Sunday at the Black’s house and the pups demand having their favorite fruit as a side. Atlas does a lot better with fruits and Sirius takes whatever wins he can get with the boy honestly. Blueberries are Atlas’ favourite fruit or well berry. However he doesn’t like fake fruit flavours in fact he hates them almost as much as he hates his sworn enemy... veggies.

Neo of course enjoys the sweet strawberries and often gets her way which means ice cream instead of whipped cream.

Zagreus loves pomegranates which doesn’t really go well with either pancakes or waffles but he is determined to have it anyway.

#sirius black fluff #sirius black #dad!sirius #sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #the marauders #james potter #remus lupin #regulus black #lily evans #lily potter #sirius fluff #sirius imagine #sirius blurb #sirius black blurb #sirius black headcanon

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

you turn me on (i’m a radio)

bokuto comes over one night midweek while you’ve got the apartment to yourself. after a mishap with his favourite volleyball shorts, you take advantage of the privacy.

c: koutarou bokuto x reader

wc: 5.4k

tags: smut (18+ please!), college au, aged-up characters, oral sex (both receiving), praise kink, begging, soft and sloppy sex feat. bo the horny simp giving u the creampie of ur life, body worship if u squint

notes: bo has a fat ass and I have a praise kink. that is all. oh, wait, i should also mention that this is mostly unedited. so if u see typos feel free to point em out! thx 💕

the song this bit is named after is so sweet and sunny & makes me think of bo all the time, so give it a listen if you’d care to! ☀️

ALSO forgot to mention that this was inspired by a tiktok i saw like a million years ago where this girl was helping her boyfriend get out of his too-small rugby shorts. it has been lost to the ether but you better BELIEVE if i ever find it again i’ll be linking it here

EDIT: @karikarasuno the absolute ANGEL has scoured the internet and found the tiktok in question. p l e a s e go and watch it, u will not regret 😌

(MASTERLIST)

“’Kay, okay, I’m going!”

Bokuto tears himself from the tender press of your mouth in one fell swoop. As he whirls away with a tempted giggle, he combs his fingers through his mussed-and-sweaty hair. Practice was only two hours tonight, but he still doesn’t want to leave your side even long enough to shower.

You’ve only been dating for a few months, still lingering in that phase of every new relationship that feels too good to last. Your emotional involvement in one another deepens by the day, but you never fight. And you have a shamefully difficult time keeping yourself away from him. On a weeknight like this with no big assignments to speak of, you should be catching up on your readings, your chores, or even your sleep. But when you passed Bo in the quad earlier, pausing in your walk to class for a hi and a kiss, you’d invited him over before you could even stop yourself.

He’s nice to be around. Pleasant, unhindering. Even if you wanted to finish some readings or do some laundry while he’s over, he’s happy to be idle in your company. He is infuriatingly patient and understanding sometimes, compared to the slew of demanding, needy boyfriends that came before him.

You watch him retreat into the safety of your bedroom, grinning like a fool. He’s fresh out of practice and practically dripping in sweat, dried from the walk you shared from the athletic center. Your evening class that night wrapped up around the same time as his practice, and when you passed the gym doors on your way home, he was already loitering on the steps with his teammates. Instead of pretending he didn’t see you or offering you a casual, passing nod like you expected, he practically bounded down the wide concrete steps and introduced you gleefully to the pack of volleyball players behind him who already knew you well.

There was no way you were letting him go all the way home to shower first. Not when he’s never minded smelling like your orange-and-sandalwood shower gel in the first place.

Once he’s disappeared, you give a yawn and a deep stretch and haul ass off the couch, padding into the kitchen to tidy up the snacks you shared on the way in the door.

You’ve barely got the first plates in the sink before a muffled babe? from the bedroom gives you pause.

“Bo?” You call back, setting your handful down and trying to keep your brow from furrowing too deeply. “You okay?”

“Can you… um…” His response starts off strong, louder than before, but it dwindles into a dull, unintelligible mutter that sounds uncertain enough to send you away from the kitchen.

You gently shoulder the bedroom door open, frowning at his broad shape, silhouetted in the shadowy bathroom doorway from the light behind him. “What’s the matter?”

Feeling along the wall for the light switch, you illuminate the pot lights over your bed.

Bokuto’s cheeks are gently flushed as he waddles toward you with his thumbs dug into the waistband of his volleyball shorts. The fabric is tough and certainly seems clingy, but there’s a strain in his neck and shoulders that takes you a minute to pin down.

“I can’t…” he starts to say, trailing off, then pulls his hands out of his shorts and drops them to his side with a heavy, defeated sigh.

“They’re stuck.”

You force the corners of your mouth downward, tightening the line of your mouth to keep the mirth locked firmly in your throat.

“I can see that.”

He’s been hitting the gym hard lately, shoving down the calories to try and bulk up a little for the upcoming tournament season. And while you know he’s been putting on some weight, since he tells you just about everything, it never occurred to you that he might be bulking up quick enough to outgrow his favourite shorts.

Bo lets out a quiet little whine, digging a thumb into the waistband one more time and prompting you to step forward.

“How stuck are you?” You reach for him. He turns sideways, twisting his chin over one shoulder to try and assess the situation from every plausible angle.

Oh. You slap a hand to your mouth.

The waistband is rolled down around his hips and already strained to its absolute limit, stuck on the sharp swell of his butt and already compressing the flesh in a way that looks genuinely painful. He’s wearing a pair of tight white compression shorts underneath the uniform shorts in question, but they’re not doing much to aid the situation, either.

You’re eager to get him out of those shorts for several reasons now.

“Alright.” You try to keep your voice low, stepping up to his front and gently laying your hands on the stiff cotton roll at his hips. “Let me just-“

“I don’t know what happened,” he whines, slotting his hands on top of yours and squirming in between them. “They were hard to get on, but-“

“Don’t worry,” you interrupted softly. “We’ll get them off you one way or another.”

The fearful reflection of your sharpest kitchen scissors in his eyes suggests that he believes you.

Your first two attempts are about as successful as Bokuto’s solo endeavours. First, you wedge your hands into the fabric at his sides while he pushes from the front and back, but you give a hard shove while he lets up on the tension and his elbow very nearly connects with your nose, so you try a different approach.

Coming round to his backside, you dig your hands into the space between his uniform shorts and the tight spandex that holds what’s left of his modesty.

“Okay,” you pant, already a little breathless after dodging Bokuto’s flying elbows. “What if I-“

“Hang on,” he prompts, but it’s too late. You wind up and jump as hard as you can, using the downward force generated to try and shove the confining waistband down over his hips. It slides down another couple of inches, and inspiration flares in your chest as Bokuto turns over one shoulder, sweating.

“It’s working!” Your voice comes shrill with excitement, and before he can stop you you’re jumping again, shoving even harder this time. You meet resistance this time, and before you can clue in to what’s pushing back Bokuto howls in pain and doubles over, clasping his palms between his thighs.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m sorry.” You drop to one knee beside him as he descends into pained laughter.

“’S alright,” he promises, “I didn’t want kids that bad, anyway.”

You can’t help the snort that bubbles forward from your chest. Bo straightens slowly as his pain fades, but you stay on your knees, determined to get him undressed without resorting to textile violence.

Determination settles heavy and proud across your shoulders. You look up through your brows at him and when your eyes meet, his cheeks pink softly.

“We got this.”

Bokuto’s throat bobs. He nods shallowly and pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

You slip your hands into his shorts again, rolling them slowly down his thighs. Bokuto averts his eyes, letting out another audible gulp. Just when you’re starting to get somewhere, his hips twitch and he shifts his weight restlessly from one leg to the other.

“Stand still,” you scold, giving his hip a little slap. His breath hitches, hands flinching forward as he dips his torso backward.

“Um,” he pants. When you look up at him again, his neck and ears are bright red and he’s got his eyes trained firmly on the Star Wars poster hanging above your desk.

You level your gaze and realize two things.

1) Bokuto’s not wearing anything under his white compression shorts.

2) Apparently, your little scare wasn’t nearly as painful for him as he let on.

“Babe,” you tease. “I’m flattered, really.”

“C’mon!” He protests, scraping his fingers through the wild strands of his sweat-clumped hair. “What’d you think was gonna happen if you got down there all…”

“All what?” You lean forward without thinking, nuzzling the spandex that sits in the groove between his hip and his thigh. He groans deeply, letting his head fall back. His cock, thickening at the base, is still restrained tightly by the waistband of his shorts. You can practically see it throb into its confines, and his groan pinches tight with discomfort.

“Baby, please.” He’s wound his hands tightly in the front of his t-shirt by now, rucking it up over his belly for some way to dispel the tension. “Get ‘em off. Please.”

“You’re not exactly making it easier.”

A desperate whine from over your head suggests that maybe the time for jokes is passing. You abandon all coyness and tuck your hand under the weight of his balls, gently tugging down on the waistband and freeing all of him from its confining pressure. Bokuto gasps and lets his hips swing forward, but his dick swells quickly to fill its new, spandex restraint and you figure you’d better work quickly.

“God, this is really turning you on, isn’t it?” You can’t help the eagerness in your tone as you attack the swell of his hips one last time. With all his sensitive parts in the clear you don’t have to hold back, wedging and wrenching until the widest part of his pelvis is free and the shorts drop to the floor with a soft little triumphant rustle.

Bokuto groans like he’d just been strapped to a time bomb, stepping out of the fabric and kicking it towards the door. He drops the hem of his shirt and reaches for you, but you’re already leaning in to nose against the crook of his thigh some more, peeling down the stretchy, forgiving top of his compression shorts.

“Wh- babe.” He flushes. “I haven’t showered-“

“Don’t care,” you hum, entranced by the hypnotic length of his shaft, white spandex stretched sheer and dabbed with wet at the tip. “Want to taste you.”

“Are you s- oh, you’re sure.” His hands surge forward, this time soothing lovingly over the crown of your head as you tug the stretchy fabric down to his knees. His cock bobs eagerly against one thigh, unaffected by its confining endeavour, and you lean in and seal your mouth against the seam of his groin, where his shaft meets his body.

He is bulky and broad, thick cords of muscle and fat spanning his thighs and torso. His thighs and pelvis are dusted all over with wiry silver hair, and you bury your nose into the trimmed patch of it over his cock, licking eagerly at his soft skin.

Above you, Bokuto shudders hard enough to buckle his knees while you trace your hand up the stiff length of him. You’re trying your best to hide just how deeply you want to breathe him in, the addicting musk of his sweat filling your brain and sending deep throbs of arousal straight to your pussy.

“So hard,” you groan into his hip, “just from letting me get on my knees for you?”

He draws a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing at the back of your head as his eyelashes flutter. His face is beet red from nose to hairline now.

“W-well, what else was I s’posed to- with you lookin’…” He is borderline incoherent, and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet.

Adorable.

“You smell so good,” you murmur without thinking, flicking your eyes to his quickly when you realize what you’ve said. But it only serves to push his own arousal further, cock throbbing palpably between your fingers as he curses quietly through his teeth.

“Please,” he groans, letting his head roll back. “Don’t tease.”

You can’t deny a request as pleasantly worded as that.

After planting one more teasing kiss along the plane of his shaft, you draw back to his tip and give your tongue an enthusiastic flick, dipping it into his weeping slit. He yelps, and you swallow him down before he can ride out the shock, making him shiver. You can feel the tremor racking all the way down the column of his spine, his toes curling on the floor by your knees.

When you start to bob your head, his jaw goes completely slack. You’re learning to love the way he doesn’t hold back with you, a point made obvious by the expressions crossing his face as you settle into a steady rhythm. You can’t fit his entire length- impressive, not that he knows it- into your throat, but when you grip the base of his shaft with one hand and the spit from your throat drips eagerly between your fingers, he practically goes cross-eyed.

You fight the urge to smile around him, leaning into the way he fusses and grips at your skull.

“Nggh, babe, not gonna last long… when… suckin’ like that.” He’s grabbing your head with both hands, rocking his hips tightly forward in time with your gaudy slurping. You’re drooling all over your hand, spit dripping obscenely down your chin and onto the hardwood, but his whimpers are growing to obscene levels, punctuated by deep, chesty growls and quiet, slurred praise.

There’s no way you’re going to back off now.

You’ve been with Bo long enough to know his tells, so when his thighs start twitching and his voice pitches from his chest into his throat, you re-double your efforts, intensifying his pleasure until he’s howling and panting like a beast, rocking tightly into your mouth with his abs drawn tight as a bow.

“Ohhh, babe, lemme cum on your tits,” he pleads, slurring every syllable together as he looks down at you with unimaginable bliss mounting in his gaze. “Please, please, please, your tits, lemme cum on ‘em.”

With a smirk touching one corner of your mouth, you drop your free hand between his thighs. Until now it had been braced delicately on his hip, gently mitigating the wild bucks and twitches of his body giving into ecstasy. But you’d picked up one little trick that never failed to boost him over the edge- and send him falling that much further as a result.

As you draw your mouth back from his twitching cock, you close your free hand around the heavy sack of his balls- drawn up tight to his thighs in preparation for his orgasm- and give the supple skin a gentle little tug while you arch your back and jerk him off against the swell of your chest.

Bo’s voice shoots up a twelve-tone as his hands slide from your hair to your cheeks. His fingers tremble as he cups your face, throwing his head back with a wild yowl and wildly humping your fist. The first long spurt of his cum hits you square in the throat, dripping down between your collarbones and soaking the neckline of your tank top as he rides out the powerful waves of his climax. By the time it’s over, his thighs are shaking hard, tough lines of muscle standing out against the silver hair while his cock dribbles ripe streams right down your shirt.

He deflates with a heavy, heady sigh, falling to one knee in front of you and keeping your face gathered between his palms.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he moans, leaning in to capture your mouth and dip his tongue sloppily against yours. As soon as he’s found your lips he skates his hands down your shoulders to your breasts, lovingly cupping and thumbing the tightening buds of your nipples where thick shots of his cum are soaking into the white cotton. You can’t help the shaky little sigh that catches at the back of your throat, or the aching way you lean into his touch.

“G’nna-“ he cuts himself off, dipping his face into your throat. He licks into the tender column of your windpipe, bringing one big palm to the back of your neck to hold your head steady while he tucks his chin in and tastes the wet stripes of his cum that paint your décolletage. You’re not exactly sure what to expect, but the long, wet groan he lets into your chest is a pleasant surprise. He slides his hands from your neck to your shoulders to your sides and up the plane of your back, drawing you closer while he laps the mess from your collarbones and neckline.

“C’mon,” he mumbles into the swell of your left breast. “Gotta taste all of you.”

He slips his arms underneath you, lifting you with little more than a quiet grunt of effort as he gets to his feet. He holds you lovingly against his chest, striding slowly across the room and depositing you onto the bed with a smooth little bounce.

You hardly have the space to catch your breath before he braces a knee on the mattress beside you and leans down for another taste of your lips, kissing you slow and loving and skating a palm down your front. He slips his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, slipping his fingertips across your clit and making you yelp. Chuckling into your mouth, he dips his fingers lower and gasps.

“God,” he sighs. “Shoulda known you were holding out on me.” He sinks his middle finger into your clingy depths while he catches your mouth under his one more time. You’ve been unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, pinned sensuously under his touch, but as he curls his fingers against the restrictive insides of your leggings, you whine deep and slow into his mouth, arching your back to push your hips into his touch.

He doesn’t linger, drawing his hand from you and curling it in the waistband of your leggings instead. You’re slipping your fingers under the hem of your soiled tank top, pulling it up to expose the bare swell of your breasts.

“Let me?” He poses it like a question, pulling your leggings and underwear down and fluttering a kiss to the newly exposed skin below your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, already planting your feet in the fluffy sheets to lift your hips and help him undress you.

He pulls your leggings and underwear down over your hips in one smooth motion, pulling just a little harder than necessary to make you gasp and giggle. Your ass lands on the mattress all at once, punctuated by another handful of mirth that you can’t keep contained.

Bo’s grinning down at you as he balls up your clothes and tosses them toward the hamper like a mid-court basket shot. He doesn’t wait to find out if they made it, though, settling himself between your knees and gathering your hips into his arms.

“So soft,” he purrs, kissing the velvet skin of your tummy.

“Bo,” you whine. It’s your turn in the hot seat, and now the idea of teasing isn’t half as appealing as it was when you were on your knees.

“What? You don’t want me to take my time with you?”

You groan, letting your head flop back against the pillows as your eyes slip shut. Now that he’s got you bare, with his breath puffing hot and wanting over your tender skin, it’s hard to focus on anything but what you want.

“Don’t be mean,” you whine, but the hot press of his tongue on your inner thigh shuts you up fast. He moans low and rumbly against the damp of your skin, sinking his teeth gently into the fat of your thigh and giving a noisy suck.

“You’re so ready for it,” he muses, eyes darting sideways to admire your weeping slit. The buzz of his voice shoots right down the column of your spine, vibrating pleasantly at the base of your tailbone and sending goosebumps racing up your torso.

“Man,” Bo sighs, planting one hand on each thigh and pushing them apart. “You must really like suckin’ me off, huh?”

“I swear,” you grit. “I’m never touching your dick again if you don’t-“

He doesn’t waste another minute, leaning down and sealing his mouth greedily over your slit. The payoff is there for both of you, if the sound he makes when he dips his tongue between your folds is anything to go by.

The relief comes on swift wings as soon as he lets his tongue wander, stoking the fire that had been burning dangerously low and hot in your gut. Your thighs twitch in toward his ears while he tastes your messy slit, but his palms are as strong as shackles, keeping you open and vulnerable for him.

Bo prods his tongue forward, pressing inward as far as he can with a tiny little strained groan of effort. You cry out and clamp down around his tongue like a vice, a reaction he feels so vividly it makes him whip back from your body with a laugh.

“Don’t stopppp,” you plead, but his face is already disappearing between your thighs again, and you wrap your fingers in the hem of your tank top while he re-focuses his efforts on your swollen clit. He’s pressing his hips forward in a slow tempo that matches the patterns he tongues between your thighs, softly humping the mattress in time with your pleasure.

You’re sensitive and ready for him, stomach tightening smoothly when he settles into a rhythm. His technique is sloppy but he makes up for it in eagerness, pausing only to take deep breaths through his nose. He smiles into your skin and you can feel the way his mouth twitches against you, making you arch your back and slide one hand between your legs to rake through the silvery strands of his mussed hair. He grunts hard against your clit and you jump, giving him the chance to slip his hands under your thighs and hook them over his shoulders.

When he swallows you down this time, there’s something in the changed angle that drives pleasure straight down your back, letting it reverberate all the way into your toes. You flinch hard between his hands, and as he settles back into his messy, enthusiastic rhythm, you feel the telltale twinges of your building climax.

“Bo-“ you choke on his name.

He flicks his gaze to yours and his eyes flash, bright and golden. He knows your tells, too, and he sinks his fingers into the fat of your thighs, re-doubling his efforts and sucking a languid rhythm into your needy clit.

“Fuck,” you sputter. “Fuck, f-fuck, I-ah-“

Your mouth drops open, but the scream dies in your throat as white-hot pleasure bursts through your veins. Bokuto is heartbreakingly persistent, keeping up his ministrations while you claw at his hair and clamp your thighs down around his temples and ride the waves of your orgasm as gracefully as possible. By the time the sharp, burning pleasure’s raked its way through you, all your limbs have gone tense, and when it’s over you collapse, sweat-soaked, to the sheets beneath you.

Bo’s trembling between your legs, and when he surfaces his cheeks and ears are maroon. His cock is still twitching against his belly, bobbing as he gets onto his knees and still weeping long streams of spend.

“Oh.” The word flies from your throat before you can trap it, and he rubs your thighs soothingly with both hands as he takes a shaky, cleansing breath.

“You’re so-“ he starts to say, but you reach for him and he’s got no choice but to dip his cheek into your palm, flushing even deeper at the open way you stare.

“C’mere,” you prompt. Bo takes the bait and flops forward, landing stomach-first on the bed beside you and pillowing his head between your slick breasts. The position ought to be comical, but the weight of him is immensely soothing, rising and falling with the even pulse of your laboured breath.

You lie that way for a long while, staring vacantly past your reflection in the dark window beside your bed. The nighttime chill radiates through the glass, cooling your heated flesh. Your body aches with the fresh sensations of climax, but you’re not ready to put your clothes on yet.

“Bo.”

“Hmm?” It never occurred to you that he might be half-asleep until he winds himself upright, blinking weighty silver lashes against his still-blushing cheeks.

Still, you know how to wake him up. The conspiratory grin that touches your mouth is completely involuntary, and it’s enough to have Bokuto cocking a tired brow.

“Can I ride your cock?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything at all. His eyes grow slowly bigger, focus drifting away from your face as his jaw drops. Literally.

“Bo? Baby?”

“Y- b- I… h-“ he sputters, blinking hard and shaking out his sweaty hair. He looks up at you again with an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Like a kid at the zoo.

“Right now?”

You can’t hold back a snort, shoulders pitching forward. But he’s not kidding.

Neither are you.

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that a yes?”

By the time he rolls over, his cock’s already half-hard again, swelling against the strong cord of his right thigh. He sits up, scooting himself comfortably back against your bed’s stacked pillows. And when he reaches for you, you’re already rooting through the nightstand for supplies.

Bo’s a big dude, in every conceivable way. And while he’s never exactly been shy about that fact, he’s also painfully aware of the fact that with great power comes great responsibility. So when you start to warm a dollop of chilly water-based lube between your fingers, he doesn’t flinch.

“Mmmf.” He pushes his hips into your hands as you wrap them around his shaft, letting him swell into your palms while you slick him up. He’s still tender from before, and when you shift onto your knees your clit’s still tensing with leftover pleasure, but you’re buzzing with want. It hangs thick and heavy in the air between you. You’re unwilling to let it dissipate until you’re both completely satisfied.

By the time you’ve got the lube spread evenly from his base to his tip, Bo’s fully hard for you again, flushed and panting and grabbing at your hips as you scoot forward to straddle him. His impatience should probably bother you, but at this point it’s just endearing.

“Hmm, you’re so close,” you say, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. His mouth drops open as you bring his tip to your ready sex. Your pussy clamps involuntarily around the swell of his weeping head, and you’re panting into each others’ mouths as your hips sink slowly backward. The fill of him presses up into your belly, and you bottom out with a little flinch of discomfort, settling your thighs over his. He’s long enough that it actually hurts to take him in all the way like this, but you’re willing to put up with it for a minute while you get adjusted.

“Look at you.” Bokuto’s eyes rake up and down your trembling form, keeping time with his strong palms that rub soothing circles into the flesh of your hips. You shift a little, making him twitch and grunt. His thighs strain, struggling to keep from bucking upward against your tender cervix.

He lets out a deep, shaky sigh through pursed lips. “You’re so f-fucking perfect, you know that?”

You’re concentrating on tucking your knees underneath you for proper leverage, but he never fails to make you smile.

“I haven’t even started moving yet,” you breathe, bracing one hand on his shoulder. Once you’re stabilized, you lift your hips slowly forward, letting the thickness of him pull slowly from your slick depths. Bokuto’s head falls back against the pillows, beet red with exertion already.

“God,” he groans, bringing one hand around to your ass. “More, baby.”

You swallow hard, grip his hips tightly between your knees, and swirl your hips in a careful, tight little circle. It’s a subtle movement from the outside, but where you’re joined it rubs the thick ridge of his tip along all your tenderest nerve endings, sending powerful surges of pleasure vibrating into your chest.

Bokuto’s feeling it, too, the hard angles of his jaw standing out as he clenches his teeth. His silvery lashes rest heavily over his flushed cheeks, giving you little more than a bare peek of his dark, tawny eyes with the pupils blown wide in ecstasy.

“Just like that,” he prompts when you angle your hips forward, pinning your abused clit against his pubic bone and continuing to grind greedily over his shaft. He interrupts your rhythm with a sharp little pat to your ass, making your hips jump forward and giving him an opening to lower his chin and seal his mouth in the crook of your shoulder.

“Fu-uck,” you whine, looping both arms under his and clutching tightly at his back as your rhythm grows more urgent. You know how to work yourself to the peak easily, using his powerful body and thick cock to your every advantage.

“You’re close already,” he pants in your ear. “Oh, man, I can feel it. Don’t-“ His hips jerk backward, choking him on a surge of pleasure that washes over both of you.

“Don’t hold back for me, baby. I c’n… take it, yeah, that’s it.”

The low rumble of his voice in your ear reverberates all the way down to the pit of your stomach, cocktailing with the pleasure you’re grinding out yourself, and when he grabs your ass with both hands and rocks his tip against the gooey-sweet spot on your upper wall, you’re lost.

“Bo,” you whimper, grabbing tightly at the muscles in his back as your thighs start to shake. “Fuck, oh, fuck, ohfuck-“

The peak crests quietly between you, but quickly bleeds into every limb. You’re powerless to do anything but cling to him and whine in his ear as your hips stutter and twitch and grind over his stirring cock. Just when you think the wave is subsiding, Bokuto glides his hips beneath yours again and draws it out into a tight, near-painful shudder. Your vision whites out, then flashes black as you squeeze your eyes shut and lose yourself to the pleasure.

“Fuck.” Bo’s cursing as you come back to the surface, humping shallowly into your spent body. The lube you used squelches obscenely with the handfuls of slick your climax brought forth, numbing your used insides to his desperate thrusts. “Fuck, you’re so- you’re so- ohgod, inside, I-“

He goes completely incoherent as he finds his own pleasure, shoving his hips tightly against yours. His balls draw tight beneath you, thighs twitching as thick, heady warmth fills your belly. You’re addicted to the fullness he leaves in you without fail, the mess between you when he goes slack and you draw your hips backward to let his falling erection slide out of you.

Your roommate’ll be back from the library at any second. You should be getting up and dressing yourselves, making some attempt at feigning innocence before she comes in. But the bedroom door is closed and it’s far too easy to tumble back into the haphazard embrace from before, cum collecting sticky and hot between your thighs as Bokuto buries his face between your tits.

“D’you think they’ll stretch?” he mumbles into your skin, once your pulse has finally slowed to its regular pace.

“Hmm?” In your pleasure-addled haze, you don’t follow. Bokuto lifts his face from your flesh, resting his chin gently on your sternum.

“My shorts.”

Right.

“Uh-“ You have to purse your lips hard, to keep the dumb smile from showing on them. You take a slow pass of air in through your nose and lift your fingers to comb soothingly through his sweaty hair.

“We’ll make them fit,” you promise. “Somehow.”

Before he buries his face in your chest again, you catch the pure, blissed smile that stretches his cheeks. He slips his eyes shut, nuzzling you tenderly and kissing the swell of one breast.

“Good,” he sighs. And then, bare-assed, sweaty and sticky, he falls asleep.

You spy the shorts, still lying in a crumpled heap by the bathroom door. You make a mental note to check the brand and sizing later, before he leaves.

You’ll make then fit again.

Somehow.

#haikyuu #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto #koutarou bokuto #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n

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detectivedamian · 3 years

Text

As usual, following Jon unintentionally breaking Damian’s heart, Jon realizing he’s head over heels for his best friend, and the ensuing miscommunication:

Damian approaches Jon with a ticket to an expensive, exclusive cruise. Jon is skeptical at first: who else is coming along? Nobody, Damian assures him. This is strictly between the two of them-- and he needs to keep it quiet. Jon, of course, is elated. A cruise! Over summer break, their most sentimental, important season! How romantic! He’s swooning the whole trip over, imagining all of the adventures they’re going to go on and all of the memories they’re going to make.

And then they get to the cruise, and actually their tickets are complementary as they’re meant to be masquerading with an all-kids group whose members keep going missing. This is a mission. Damian is very confused about why Jon is snippy and moody the whole trip.

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

At some point, Jon gets into trouble as Superboy. He gets his body swapped with some female artist visiting Metropolis. This chick is somebody Damian has told him time and time again that he appreciates, that her art is dark and it feels like she understands where he’s coming from, she isn’t a “simpleton”, and he can sense the maturity and artistic integrity in everything she does. Jon, of course, is jealous, he’s totally convinced Damian likes this girl. So while Kon and the girl (in Jon’s body) are looking for a way to undo this, Jon decides to go mess with Damian a little.

How funny would it be if the “mature, poetic, distinguished” girl of Damian’s dreams shows up and acts more like Jon? Hah!

Well, not very funny, actually, because Jon quickly finds that, while put off and confused, Damian kind of seems to like her-- him? Jon her. He suggests the same things he did as Jon, the paddle boat, sitting closer, reading romantic Shakespeare pieces together, and Damian goes pink, but does it all without complaint. When Jon reaches across the boat the take Damian’s hand, Damian actually squeezes it and looks into his (her) eyes. Jon is actually starting to get a little upset that this was so easy, and not to mention, he’ll have to return to his own body sometime.

But then again, this is everything he’s ever wanted. To be with Damian, to be in a romantic setting, to have Damian looking at him like that. He pulls Damian closer, and he leans in.

Then Damian presses a finger to his lips. Jon’s eyes pop open in surprise, and behind the finger, he mutters “something wrong?”

Damian looks sad and says “You understand pain better than anyone else, any competent artist could tell as much from your portfolio.” Jon is confused. Damian’s eyes become dark, and he lowers his head. “I was drawn in by your work, you know why?” Jon blinks and laughs nervously, because no he has no idea why? And Damian sighs and says “That collection you debuted in Metropolis was inspirited by a broken heart, was it not?” Jon, of course, agrees, because what else is he going to do? So Damian continues to say: “That is where my heart is, too. I do not usually speak of these things, but my love has been unrequited for some time, and the longer it goes on, the more I fear myself a fool.” And Damian explains-- how upon meeting her, he was shocked to find she was in fact cut not from his cloth, but his... friend’s, that being with her today has given him a taste of what could have been. But, he laments, this person is his friend, only his friend, and the closer they get, the harder it is to hide how he feels. Things keep happening that get his hopes up, but he knows it’s all in his head. This friend could never see him that way.

Jon takes both of his hands, asks him who this person is, because he’s pretty sure it’s him but he needs to know. Damian opens his mouth to respond, but the creature responsible for this little body swap intervenes before Jon can hear his confession.

From here, Jon now has to fight this thing in a totally human body, and Damian has to protect him (her). It’s in the midst of this fight that Kon and this girl (in Superboy’s body) show up. Damian starts barking at her to do something useful, and she’s very confused about why this random kid is talking to Superboy like this. Meanwhile Jon in her body, next to Damian, is gesturing for her not to respond, and he yells out “Grab it by the tail!” Which she does.

Damian takes this as an opportunity to end this, while it’s distracted, but unfortunately for him, this thing is a little too aware of what’s happening-- Damian gets hit or two in with a tree branch he found, but it’s useless. It grabs his body and throws him across the park. Jon helplessly watches, hand extended, as Damian gets flung a football field’s distance, and the girl flies after Damian.

This is when the body switch happens again. In his panic, and with the willpower only a super holds, and her urgency to not have the traumatic experience of watching somebody die, Jon and this girl switch bodies again.

Damian’s flying through the air, wincing, trying to grab any tree that passes by just to slow himself to a halt. But then there are arms around him, and he’s pulled into somebody’s chest. Jon, now back in his body, takes the brunt of the damage, which is nothing at all to him. They roll around a few times, until they land with Jon on top of him. Damian slowly opens his eyes to see Jon, who is smiling down at him. Damian is breathless as Jon looks over his face and says: “You okay...?” He can see the red in Damian’s face, and he just kind of... knows. It’s him. Damian’s in love with him.

Damian blinks back to life and wacks him on the chest, yelling, “We’re in the middle of a battle here, Superboy! Head on the field!”

With Superboy back in his body, and Kon there to help, the creature is taken care of pretty fast. Superboy lands with Damian on his arm, and the girl, now back in her body, comes running over. Her entire personality has changed, Damian notices with some bewilderment; she’s a lot more monotone and smooth, charming but the way a witch in the forest is. Nevertheless, Damian takes her hand and presses a kiss to it, thanking her for her time, today. She’s amused, Jon is twitching behind Damian’s shoulder, fuming. Jon crosses his arms and pouts while Damian says the last of his goodbyes.

Jon decides to keep this whole thing his little secret.

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

From here on, though, Jon is more sure of himself when he tries to get mushy with Damian.

Instead of turning around for Robin to climb on his back, Superboy wraps an arm around Robin’s waist and pulls them flush together. (Damian sputters and gets snippy and demands not to be manhandled. Jon ignores him).

When Damian’s lifting weights, Jon will spot him-- but instead of messing with him by putting a finger on the weights, he sets his hands over Damian’s and counts with him. (Damian quickly grows flustered, the most Jon has ever seen him. He refuses to look him in the eye.)

When there’s a pretty girl in distress, Jon still does get a little pink, but the moment he sees Robin withdrawing to give him the space to flirt, Superboy will wrap his arms around him from behind under the guise of flying them back to base. Robin hates being restrained this way and ends up squirming enough to wrap his arms around Superboy’s neck so he feels more secure. He WILL avoid conversation unrelated to the mission, and he WILL avoid looking him in the eye.

At Christmas, Jon will purposely catch Damian under the mistletoe, and while Damian is going on a rant about how they are not the target of the tradition and how it’s a poisonous plant, Jon will lean in and squeeze him tight and blow raspberries into his cheek. Damian squeals.

Jon stares more openly at him, and it makes Damian nervous. He demands answers, but Jon won't give him any. He just evades and talks about their current mission, or pretends to be curious about something Gotham-related.

Jon will rest his head against Damian’s shoulder when they’re lazing in their fortress. Damian tells him to get off, but he doesn’t, and Damian relents because he does, in fact, crave this contact from Jon.

Jon will sometimes mess with him and get a little too close, lips a little too near, and Damian will push his face away with his whole hand, loudly proclaiming him to be in his space. Jon can see the pink under his mask.

Jon will ask for a reward for saving Robin on a mission, then pointedly poke at his own cheek, indicating he wants a kiss. Damian is convinced he’s joking and not at all serious, so he laughs at him. Jon sighs. He’ll make Damian realize this is mutual eventually.

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

At one of the galas, an extravagant wedding announcement, a slow song plays, people are holding each other close, looking into each other’s eyes. Even Bruce is on the floor with some beautiful rich woman. Jon inches his way across the floor and taps Damian on the shoulder. Damian turns around, eyebrow raised, and Jon coughs into his hand, cheeks turning pink: “I guess we should probably dance or something, huh?”

Damian frowns and responds, “You’re here as my friend, Jon. I don’t need a pity dance. If I wanted to flit about with a high-class harlot, I would.”

Jon sets his hands on his hips: “I was asking because it looks like fun, but I guess you’re allergic to that sort of thing, aren’t you?” And that will not fly, because the only reason he declined was because he could, because the media won’t care about him rejecting his friend’s dance.

Damian glares at him and goes to grab Jon’s hand, only to find Jon is already reaching for his. To his surprise, Jon pulls him close, one hand at his waist, the other holding the hand Damian hasn’t set to Jon’s shoulder. Jon leads pretty easily, despite Damian knowing the steps more fluently. Damian expects Jon to dance a little goofier, but this is... tender. (That was, of course, Jon’s intention.) Jon’s eyes won’t leave his, and that look in his eyes is making him nervous. He hides that he’s swallowing and says, “Jon...?”

Jon’s smile just softens, and he pulls him closer. To Damian’s surprise, Jon sets his chin on his shoulder, dance turning to a light sway. It makes his heart stop, and Damian can feel his whole body melting at the touch. He wants to pull away, to push Jon off and make a show of how perfectly platonic his feelings are-- but this may be the only time he ever gets to hold Jon like this, with an excuse like this. He leans his head against Jon’s shoulder and slides the hand at his shoulder down to rest against his heart. He can feel it beating against his hand. (Jon can hear Damian’s, and he’s tempted sorely to bury his nose in his hair, but he doesn’t. That would be weird. So he turns and smiles into the side of his neck. He knows Damian can feel it because his heart skips a beat.)

#damijon #jondami #supersons #super sons #Damian Wayne #jonathan samuel kent #Jon Kent

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dclsbaby · 3 years

Text

traitor - Dominic Calvert-Lewin 🦋

Summary: you reflect on your relationship, realised you've been wronged and should've trusted your gut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

masterlist

Brown guilty eyes and,

Little white lies,

I played dumb, but I always knew

That you talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

It’s his green-hazel eyes that dissipate every logic, every sense of reason you had. It’s the way he would roll over to your side of the bed each morning to savour another 5 minutes before he has to leave, that made you feel yearned for and wanted. It’s the lingering kisses on your neck, on each shoulder and collarbone, that convinced you you’re the only one. It’s the grand dreams shared with you about your future together, filled with kids and their tiny jerseys, that made you believe his little white lies.

You had ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach that felt nothing like the butterflies you experienced on your first date with Dom. The feeling told you to succumb to your suspicions and unlock his phone, scroll through his messages and social media interactions. No, the feeling demanded you to swipe his phone, lock yourself in the bathroom, overstep boundaries, and find evidence of another woman. But that wasn’t who you are. You respected boundaries, and decided against it. You loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The paranoia began to grow when you noticed the little things, such as the way he would put his phone screen-side down on the counter, or the way he brought it everywhere like it’s a part of him, even in the bathroom, or that he wouldn’t leave its sight when it's being charged. Then, these signs started getting stronger and more frequent. He’d get phone calls when you’re having dinner and every time you ask who it is, you’re always met with, “No one important enough to take me away from you,” and a kiss to suppress your suspicions.

Does he have anything to hide? You often ask yourself. Do I really want to know? Another voice asks.

You knew, deep down, that your gut was right. You knew what was happening behind your back.

It’s always the girl they tell you not to worry about.

You were first introduced to her one evening at a club event. Dom referred to her as the ‘girl with the magic hands’, to which you cringed at the innuendo. That was the first warning sign you ignored. Although shortly after exchanging names, you learned that she works at the training ground as a masseuse. Magic hands, makes sense, you thought. It did not make you feel better though.

You could see her appeal. You could imagine Dom and his teammates steal a glance, their eyes lingering much longer than they should. You could hear the locker room talk, words of adoration spilling from their mouths. Her charm is magnetising. She’s bubbly, she’s awfully kind. But did she really have to look like she could be on the cover of Playboy circa 2004 too? Though her beauty’s not your lack, it did not help with your brewing paranoia.

You can’t help but think she’s the reason he’s been staying back late at the training ground, why he comes home wearing a different shirt to the one he left with in the morning, and why he doesn’t talk about his day much anymore, as it probably mostly consisted of being lathered up in oil and getting sensual massages by a hot masseuse. The thought always made you sick to your stomach.

The overthinking had convinced you he had been seeing another woman right in front of you this whole time. But pretending that everything’s alright was so much easier than the inevitable confrontation, the accusation, the fight, the ending. So you kept quiet so you could keep him, and live in the false fairytale you try so hard to become reality.

Until you couldn't anymore.

—

And ain't it funny how you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You and Dom stayed friends after your relationship ran its course, for the first couple of weeks, at least. The days leading up to the break up were plagued with arguments over the little things like missing dinner plans and not keeping the room tidy, which led to bigger fights where you accused him of not being in love with you. Of course, he vehemently denied this, but you thought he didn’t fight for you enough. He didn’t push back, he didn’t give you a reason to stay, and that was enough for you to know that your relationship never stood a chance. You could handle disagreements and a few fights, but when you’ve been led to question your own worth—it’s done.

In the end, it was a mutual break up. It made sense, he needed to focus on his football and the constant fights weren’t helping his concentration. It was hard for him to leave each morning knowing you both went to bed angry, and although he would spend the drive home practicing his apologies, he would come home to find you fast asleep in bed before he could even make amends. As for you, well, you had to look for love elsewhere.

All seemed well until he turned more and more sour by the day. Sure, you didn’t expect to be glued to his hip at all times, or be the best of friends—you two broke up for a reason. But what you did not expect were the bitter remarks, the one-word replies, the sarcastic comments that portrayed the antithesis of who he was when he was with you.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

It all made sense when you began receiving texts from your friends attached with a photo of him with a young fan. You thought it was odd, why were you sent pictures of your ex with a fan, of all things? But there she was, in the background of the photo. Of course. Of course it was her.

More pictures started coming through of both of them in his black Range Rover driving around town, having coffee at your favourite coffee shop. You curse at him, now you have to find a new place to get your coffee. The pictures that stung the most were of the pair of them driving to the training centre together. Imagine the sight of a new couple in town pulling onto the Finch Farm carpark. You knew it wasn’t just a friendly carpool. She’s been staying on my side of the bed, you thought. Meanwhile, you’re still seeking the warmth from his side of the bed.

It dawned on you how much of a fool you’ve been. You feel angry for not trusting your gut, for letting yourself get played, for letting yourself take the beatings from people who had accused you for being with him for his money when it was you who was taken advantage of. If the love he had for you was true, it wouldn’t have taken him that quickly to find someone new.

—

You sat on your sofa for hours. Waiting to feel something other than numbness, the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers from the shock is no longer there. The numbness eventually turned to chills, so you reach for a blanket in the woven basket next to the sofa. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, though all you wanted was to be a butterfly, spread your wings, and fly away. Pathetic. Even my metaphors remind me of him.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you sluggishly stood up and dragged your body to the kitchen and pulled out three different bottles of alcohol from the cupboard—ignoring what a senior had told you in uni to never mix alcohol unless you want to get absolutely wasted. You grab the glass from the top shelf, a cocktail shaker that came with the set your friend had got you for a secret santa gift, and make yourself a drink. One drink turned to two, to three. Then, you started watching recipe videos on YouTube on how to make a pornstar martini, which led to another two. 5 drinks in total. Lucky number 5.

After making a mess on the kitchen island, feeling delirious, you stumble across your flat, bumping a table on your way back to the living room, leaving a bruise on your hip that will hurt in the morning. The alcohol running through your veins giving you the urge to belt out a ballad and pour your heart out, so you somehow managed to open your music and play a song.

Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You belted every word, not caring if your neighbours could hear you drunkenly sing the words to a depressing ballad about not being enough for a boy.

Realising with what’s left of your consciousness that your balance is becoming unsteady, you stagger your way to your bedroom, extending your arms, careful to not run yourself into any walls.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you undress yourself into just a bra and underwear and dive face first into your made up bed, curl up under the warm covers, and blankly stare at the ceiling. The lights appear as though it’s duplicating with every blink—you could’ve sworn there were only two.

With each passing second, you begin having flashbacks of him. Images of the bedroom you once shared which looks nothing like the room you’re in now tattooed in your brain. Whispers of “I love you,” and “you’re the love of my life,” haunt you as you try to shut your ears with your hands, desperate to rid of his voice. You feel angrier and angrier by the minute, waves of sadness taking over your body. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know how badly he’s hurt you, something your sober self would never admit.

So you do what your gut tells you, no sense of reason in the way to stop you from unlocking your phone, scrolling until you’ve reached ‘D’ on your contact list, and clicking the name you’re looking for.

*ring*

Pick up.

*ring*

You asshole, pick up.

*ring*

Fuck this, I—

“Hello,” a hoarse voice answers. You inhale a sharp breath.

His voice. The exact voice you hear every morning at 6:45am as he kisses you goodbye.

“You, you betrayed me,” you slurred as you made your way to your bedroom. He takes the phone off his ear to look at the Caller ID again, squinting at the bright light. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Dom jolted at your voice, the concern in his voice ever so clear, afraid that you might not be okay.

“And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt,” your speech slows down with every syllable, ignoring his question. The sound of his breath tickles your ear, making you squirm a little. On the other line, there he was, awake from his sleep, listening silently to your drunken voice, his heart breaking all over again. “(Y/N), have you been drinking?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“You talked to her when we were together,” finally throwing the accusation you never would’ve said to his face. He finally put together why you were not yourself towards the end of the relationship, you were convinced he was cheating on you. “I never—it has always been you, only you,” you ignore him. “I promise”, he whispers softly, trying to convince you with what’s left of his heart. He wants you to believe him so badly, but he doesn't know what else to say. Pain revisits him each time he tries to convince you that you’re the only one he’s ever been in love with.

“Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter,” you laugh humourlessly, remembering all the times you wanted to be assured, to be convinced that you were the only one, but his actions suggest otherwise and your paranoia ate you alive. He didn't fight for you even when it was the last straw.

“You gave me your word,” alluding to each time he would tell you that no one else compares to you, each time he made promises about your future together. “It took you two weeks to go off and date her”, you accuse him. “I’m not with anyone,” he says under his breath, knowing you’re too drunk to remember what he says.

“(Y/N)?” Dom asks when he couldn’t hear anything from your end. “Please, can we talk, I—“ “God, I wish that you had thought this through,” you cut him off, your eyes getting heavier by the second, “before I went and fell in love with you”.

There it was. The sentence that ripped him to shreds. The idea that you might have regretted him, regretted being in love with him broke him to bits. He hadn’t realised the damage he’d done during your relationship, and what he did after your break up was unnecessary. He knew what it would look like, to be seen out with her. But he did it anyway to hurt you.

After consuming way too much alcohol, your body feels it’s full effect as your phone slips from your hand and you cave into your tired body.

He hears a loud thump on the other line.

“(Y/N)? Are you there? I—I still love you, can you hear me?”

Line’s dead.

Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #dclsbaby

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gaitwae · 3 years

Text

It’s Fate •||• Loki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3025

Loki stepped into the shadows of the forest, holding his breath and melting into his armor. He wasn’t sure if it was even worth it to go into the Forest of Ydraggsil. But the cosmos were born there, in the “branches” he had been taught about. Loki knew that the answer to his very soul was written in the songs the ruffling leaves sang. His heart hammered in his rib cage as he let out a shaky breath.

He scratched his palms with worry, closing his eyes in thought. He could prove that he was his brother’s equal . . . worthy of being more than just a Jotun. No matter what Odin had said, no matter what Frigga said, he was just not what either of them said. He couldn't be what Frigga had thought he was. He wasn’t even close enough to be as good as she thought. He was much more than Odin had said. Loki could prove that. He just needed to know...

Would it be worth it if he couldn’t?

Child, a beautiful voice of the Norns whispered. That startled him. The Norns were silent, spoke in riddles and curses. But he could just. . . . Tell. He hadn’t expected to hear that. She continued, What brings you to where souls are born and fate is scripted?

Loki swallowed, stepping in to the wood. “Uncertainty,” he says meekly, eyes welling with tears. “And losing the will . . . the will to live.” He sank to his knees. “I beg of you, help me find my place in the world.”

He knew that it was selfish to ask the Norns to give him things, things that not even they could change. He would be cursed for such confident brattiness. He held his head high in the sky, watching the cosmos conflict, purple and blue and green explode and tear at each other. Green smoke curled around his body. Loki had to refrain from panicking, trying his hardest not to scream in fear, not to sob from the pain of his broken soul.

The leaves rustled. He breathed deeply, his heart rate painfully fast. His neck hurt from the rush of blood. His heart kept crying out in the lonely longing for companionship.

Just a place in the world? Nothing else? She sounded. . . . Expectant. Like men who had braved the branches before had always asked for proud things. Wisdom; strength; a lady’s hand. Loki just wanted not to be alone.

A tear slips from his eye. “Give me my glory back. . . . Give me someone who will love me. . . .”

Loki Laufeyson, the Norns whispered with a reassuring tone, you’ll find someone who loves you. It’s fate.

Loki swallowed, gasping some. That was a lie; wasn’t it? It had to be. He wiped his eyes. He sat there, staring at the ground. One day, he would. One day. He tried to swallow his fears. But it didn’t work.

The cosmos rippled again, a woman’s laugh ringing through his ears. Not the Norn who had spoke, it wasn’t Hers. This laugh. . . . It stung. Loki covered his ears. No one he cared for loved him back. He started to hyperventilate. The laughing got louder and louder.

No. No. “Please. . . . Make it stop,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. The smoke curled around his body. His skin turned blue.

“You’re a dirty, evil Jotun,” Thor’s voice taunted somewhere. Loki stood, looking around for his brother. “Did you really believe that the Norns would help you?”

“Stop this illusion!” he pleaded. Loki spun around, hoping to find something. This had to be a lie. “Stop!”

“What illusion, my son? You’re seeing the truth,” Odin called, coming from a different direction. He turned toward the sound, hoping that his father wouldn’t scoff at him, punish him. Tears fell faster. Streamed. His father’s cold voice.

“Father—,” Loki tried, caving in and panicking.

“I’m not your father!” Loki flinched, raising his arms in protection as he stumbled back from the invisible people pushing him.

“No!” Loki cried. “NO!”

---------- -*- ----------

I sat bolt right up in my bed, chest heaving and sweat drenching my body. I looked over to my side. A beautiful woman. My panic melted quickly, but my fears didn’t. I was next to my fiancée. She gently pushed me back down.

“Loki, shhh,” she soothed. “It was all a dream. You’re safe.” I rested my head on her shoulder. She ran her hands through my hair affectionately.

“Oh, Bryleigh,” (Bry-lee) I sigh, hugging her gently. “It was the same dream as last time. . . . With th-the forest . . . you have no idea—”

Her hazel eyes and blonde hair were strangely lit from the moonlight in the window. I had never been more grateful for her. I sigh again, kissing her once, twice, three times. Bryleigh pulled away, resting her forehead against mine.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep. I love you,” she said, rubbing my back. “We have to both work tomorrow, so we should go back to sleep.” I nodded in agreement. I would have to explain to my secretary, (Y/N) why I was late.

Oh, no. I sat up. I practically scrambled to get dressed. “Honey, what are you doing?” Bryleigh asked. I checked my cellphone. Truly a magical mortal instrument, the cellular telephone. 2:35. I still had thirty minutes.

“Picking (Y/N) up at the airport,” I said, my tongue between my teeth as pull on a shirt. “I lost a bet, so I had to chauffeur her to and from her flight.” I laughed, face hot from remembering her smile. Oh, (Y/N) was adorable. Like my little sister. And I didn’t have to actually chauffeur her; I just wanted to. But Bryleigh wouldn’t have let me.

“Wait; the trip she went on that you funded for her birthday? You spoil her, Loki,” she says, voice riddled with distaste. She sat up in bed. I rolled my eyes.

“Bryleigh, she’s going to be my best woman.” I pulled on my shoe and grabbed my keys on the nightstand. “You better get used to the godmother of your children being around my house.” Bryleigh gaped, looking at me with an offense with an origin I couldn’t place.

“What?” I ask.

“Since when is that bi—” I cut her off, giving her a glare. Good feeling gone. I truly adored my fiancée, but I simply could not stand it when she picked on (Y/N). Especially when she did that.

“Biiiiii-eautiful woman I have adopted as my sister,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I’m sick of you acting like a jerk to her.”

Bryleigh flopped back down. I kissed her forehead goodbye. “If you loved me, Loki, you’d see she's just evil!” She smiled softly and tiredly. I rolled my eyes.

“Evil? That is a new one,” I comment, kissing her and rushing out the door. Before our bedroom door closed, I heard her scoff. Something in me stirred, both at the thought of Bryleigh making nasty statements about (Y/N), and (Y/N) herself.

-----skip-----

“Flight from [Place you've wanted to visit] now unloading at Platform 9.”

The PA announcements seemed to fly by since the time I got there, but that one I paid attention to. I was almost eager to find her. I was speeding past every person I passed, even doing 360s to see if I could locate her. Her smile, her hands, ruffling her hair.

I passed through crowds, hearing the TSA yelling at someone, kids crying—or was it the other way around?— and twisting and weaving through people to Platform 9. “Where could she be?” I whisper to myself.

Something about all this turning reminded me about going to the Forest of Ydraggsil. But without all the fright; just really confusing and overwhelming and something missing. I didn’t mind. My heart was pounding with excitement. (Y/N) would be in this building somewhere.

“Loki!” I heard her call. I got reminded of my dream, but it didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

I whipped around, beaming when I saw her. She had a rolling suitcase and messy hair; she must have fallen asleep on the plane. I ran to her, lifting her up. She dropped her suitcase as I held her. I spun her with glee.

“You missed me that much, Loki?” She wrapped her arms around my neck, standing closely when I set her down. It was probably because my arms were still around her. (Y/N)’s hands rested within my elbows as she unwrapped her arms.

“Of course, I missed you. Who do you take me for?” I laughed softly, my head spinning slightly as I realized just how tired I was. I also realized that I didn’t care. About anything.

I didn’t care about how mad I had made Bryleigh. I didn’t care about the time. I just wanted. . . .

Oh, no.

But I just couldn’t stop smiling. (Y/N) was the only thing I could see. I was here, with her, no where else.

“I kinda took you for a stubborn prince,” she joked, hands moving again to my shoulders. “You know, the kind that didn’t pick favorites without doing it so subtly, and throwing knives, and doing favors reluctantly. Not picking up your secretary because she asked you to at three in the morning and taking you away from your fiancée.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” I blurt. She blushed, and so did I. But I stupidly kept going. “I don't want to marry her.”

She stepped out of my arms. “Loki, what are you talking about?” I grew idiotically confident, taking her hands. “Loki?”

“I was such a fool,” I laugh, looking at her. I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “I’m not in love with her.”

It was all clicking into place, now. The constant dreams of looking for her. The wedding dreams, too, with her in white. It wasn’t just paranoia. And all the times I would feel that awful knot in my gut when she spoke of other men. I gaze into her eyes.

“It’s you.”

She shook her head, “Loki, I — I can’t just—”

“(Y/N) you can’t pretend that you don’t feel this,” I continue. I bring her luggage out with her. “Actually, it all makes sense now.” But as much as I’m grinning, she’s only standing in shock.

“Darling?”

Your POV

Okay. Seeing Loki was already amazing. But now you were sure that one of you had gone crazy, or that you were dreaming.

“What? Loki, you can’t just say things like that!” You felt your face heat up at the delirious Loki’s practically random confession. Your hands and legs were shaking. Yes, you loved him, too, but what about Bryleigh? They had sent wedding invitations already!

“Why not? Better now than in a month, (Y/N),” he said. He opened the door for you. You got in his car. He definitely looked crazed, loopy. But he was happy.

You study him for a second, a thought coming to light almost immediately. He seemed carefree, distracted. He revved up the engine and grinned at you. You knew exactly what he seemed like to you, now that you thought on it.

He was like a bachelor.

“You didn’t!” you gasp. “You didn’t break up with her, did you?!”

“No, but I will. Even if you decide you don’t want me as a friend or a romantic partner. The only person who I can imagine marrying would be you.” He laughs, driving you to your house. You gape at Loki. He really had gone mad.

Not only was he head over heels with you out of the blue, he thought he would marry you. Or, at least he wanted to. Your heart sank.

It all made sense now.

“Loki,” you say quietly. “I’m seeing Steve. From economics.” You ducked your head. He loved you. And you couldn’t see him as anything more than a friend, or a brother. You fiddled with your shirt’s hem.

Loki frowned some, but quickly regained his smile. Except it was fake. You could tell so easily. You shifted in the passenger seat, watching cars pass by. “Oh,” he whispers. “I understand.” You hated this, but you really preferred not to lie.

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” you mumbled. You hugged yourself. You wanted him happy, but you couldn’t be with him. It was the worst kind of lie. “We became an item about three weeks back but I asked him to keep quiet about it. I didn't want to cause any gossip.”

Loki nodded. “No, I totally understand. . . . I was meant to be alone. It’s fate.” His bottom lip quivered. You felt your heart break for your best friend. Then you wondered if he had been dreaming again. He had nightmares that Bryleigh made worse, and you were the only one he could tell them about. Really tell. You felt warm inside. He really was in love with you.

“Loki—,” you try.

“My immortal life was just . . . the worst. Now my mortal one is mirroring it,” he sighs. He gripped the wheel. Tightly. You saw his knuckles turn paper white. “I became cursed by the Norns. I made a mistake.”

“Loki, please, I am sure that you will find someone who will love you,” you try. You felt something in the back of your head tell you that this was a mistake, letting him go. But it was fate. You knew it. Loki was someone you felt for in the past. Never again.

“You know who I want,” he says. “This time, I won’t settle for something lesser.” He stared at the road. “I’m not getting any younger.”

Something lesser?

“Loki, really,” you sigh, “I’m not fantastic.”

“Steve sure thinks you are.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You growl, “That's low, even for you.” Loki doesn’t answer, just scoffing quietly.

You huff and cross your arms. Fiddle with the seat belt. “Just marry Bryleigh, okay? What do I care!” That came out harsher than you meant. Oops.

Loki pulled the car over so roughly you almost hit your head on the window. “Excuse me?” He turned to you. “What did you mean by that?” You felt your heart speed, but you had already turned him down.

“Just—take—me—home,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Tell me what that was about,” he protested. Loki rested his arm on the middle compartment, making you face him. Now you wanted to get mad at him and yourself. But he wasn’t your life, and he wasn’t ever going to be yours.

So who cared?

“It meant nothing,” you lie. “Nothing at all.” You shift in your seat, again. Look away from him. All the feelings you used to feel came rushing back, but without the affection they used to hold. You felt bitter about loving him before. A man who was engaged to be married. Now he could feel it, too.

“Oh, sure. You never told me you didn’t want me married, (Y/N).” He had flipped a switch. He went from giddy to hurt within seconds. But saying something as sudden and intimate as “I don’t want you to get married but I’m seeing someone else” would have to hurt anyone.

“Because at least you were happy, Loki!”

“I wasn’t, you knew that!”

“I don’t want to fight about your witch fiancée,” you grumble. “Take me home, Loki. I’ll resign in the morning.” You sit back, watching through the window the rest of the ride. This would need to be solved, but in what way, you didn’t know.

------------(:V)------------

You stepped out into a clearing. You saw Loki dressed in his armor—something he hadn’t worn since New York. Green smoke billowed around your feet. You couldn’t move anything, no matter how much you tried to run and help him. He was screaming about being sorry, apologizing to whomever was laughing and telling him he’d never know love.

You couldn’t scream. Couldn’t get him. You wanted him.

“Please, I just want someone—!” He was cut off by his own cry of fright. He fell to the ground. You hated feeling so helpless. No. No, you needed to help him. The smoke surrounding the both of you covered Loki, and then—

You sat up, horrified. You were going to be late. Loki would—

Loki. Right. You had fought with him the night before. He probably wouldn’t want to see you. . . . Unless that was a dream. Again. You sigh. No matter what you had told him last night, you weren’t seeing Steve. And you were in love with him.

You picked up the phone. There was only really one thing to do.

“Hello?” he answered tiredly. He sounded like someone who had been crying, or losing significant amounts of sleep. He also had a tone of worry in his voice. You felt your heart skip.

“I love you,” you say. You were rushing to get the wires out. “I don’t want you to marry Bryleigh. I’m sorry for everything I told you last night and I don’t care if you remember none of it; you deserve to know. I’m in love with you, I always have been, Bryleigh is and always was someone who was just so much better than I am, and even though I think you two can be happy together, I want you to myself!”

Just before you hang up from fear of his long silence, he says, “Wait, wait. You said you were seeing Steve. . . . I’m so confused. . . . Bryleigh walked out last night, calling the wedding off, anyway. I’m not getting married.”

You sat there for a minute. “What? Why?”

“Apparently I spent more time talking about you than she liked,” he explained. “But I’m not sure if I should anymore?”

“No. No, Loki, that’s great. I mean—it’s not great, but you didn’t have to break up with her. . . . I just . . . spent so long thinking about what you said. You were right: it is fate.”

He sniffs on the other end. “You picked a fantastic time to tell me, (Y/N).” He laughed. “For the record: I think you’re right. It is fate.”

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #gaitwae writes #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki god of mischief #loki mcu #mcu loki #loki #mcu #marvel

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maryniss · 3 years

Text

Wine, Kids and Italian Rock

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Summary: Chuuya and Maneskin. That’s it.

Relationships: Dazai Osamu X Nakahara Chuuya

Tags: Fluff, Maneskin, Soukoku adopted Child, dazai and chuuya are amazing dads

Notes: embarrassed myself further on here too, you know

Because a glass of wine and some good music could solve everything; Chuuya didn’t think so, he knew it from experience. He threw the keys from his apartment somewhere far away; he will regret it later, but at that moment it didn’t really seem to be something important. He took his coat off and this time he was more careful with it and gently laid it down onto the couch from his big living room. He sighed and massaged his temples before dropping to one knee and pulling out a bottle of wine from his drawer and a glass.

“Dada!”

A small voice rang through the apartment and Chuuya’s first reaction was to hide the wine, but it was too late. The little devil saw it first.

“Dada, dada, drinking juice again? Why you can and I can’t? You always say I am going to get a stomachache.” Chuuya rose to his feet and put the glass and the bottle down onto the small table. He then ruffled the girl’s dark hair; his girl’s hair because now it was his, his child and he couldn’t be happier. The little one smiled showing her small teeth and Chuuya shivered. Little kids sure were terrifying and he would love to not experience if they could protect themselves or not.

“No, honey, this is different, uhm… When you grow up, you will also be able to drink without getting stomachaches.” The little girl pouted as he filled his glass.

The sun has long been gone from the sky and now that he was thinking… Klara should have also been in bed for some time. He sighed and put the glass back onto the table and took the little girl into his arms. She giggled and Chuuya smiled.

“Where is your papa, dear?” The girl looked away and Chuuya looked in the direction of the bedroom knowingly.

“He has fallen asleep again, didn’t he?” Klara still didn’t look at him, but she nodded, almost as if she was terrified her papa would get in trouble if she got his secret out. Chuuya kissed Karla on the cheek and let her down from his arms.

“And wouldn’t you also like to go to sleep?” Klara shook her head, but before she could say anything else Chuuya whoosh-ed her to go to bed, gently pushing her from behind.

“Darling, go and then dada will come too.” But the girl was still as a stone and Chuuya was still afraid of her sharp-like teeth. He groaned and he then gave up. Chuuya put his hands on his shoulders and looked authoritatively at Klara that only beamed at him, a golden aura surrounding her.

Chuuya’s heart melted at the sight. Chuuya’s heart ached at the sight.

“Ok, but you won’t stay much longer…”

“Dada! Dada!” Chuuya sipped from his glass of wine and closed his eyes.

“Yes, love?”

“Papa told me…” Klara leaned over and whispered into Chuuya’s ear something even the moon and the stars that could be seen from Chuuya’s apartment were curious about. After the girl finished what he had to say, Chuuya lazily opened his eyes and smirked and now the moon and the stars were even more curious.

“So that’s what he said?” Klara nodded energetically, fidgeting somehow nervously with her small hands.

“He told me that you would get angry if I told you about this, but I couldn’t resist, Dada!”

Chuuya smiled because he was too tired to actually do something else. His mind was filled with the blurry images of younger versions of both him and Dazai, drunk or high, or maybe both, dancing almost naked on the tables of a bar in Paris, swimming together under the shy moon, images of them smiling and then….

‘That bastard.’

Chuuya hmph-ed and he leaned back on the sofa.

“I could never get angry at you, honey. I really love you so you know,” murmured he. His conscience was telling him to not go to sleep, to not leave a child alone in an apartment with an open wine bottle, to not let his child alone in an apartment with an open wine bottle…

But he was so sleepy! So tired, his eyelids felt dry and he didn’t want anything more than to keep them closed forever.

“Dada, dada, let’s dance together!” The next thing Chuuya knew, he was on the floor and Klara was throwing small punches at him, surprisingly strong ones for a three year old kid.

“Only the will I go to sleep, Dada! Come on, come on!” shouted she as she tried to pull Chuuya up onto his feet. Chuuya was feeling dizzy and he got up with a lot of effort, his eyes hazy, sleep still lingering onto his persona.

“But, sweetie…” he yawned and he dragged his feet to where his daughter was leading him. “ Sweetie, dada is tired… FUCK!” Chuuya slapped his mouth as soon as that word left his mouth. He made a pact with Klara; if he would ever to swear, then he would have to put a dollar into a bank account that it would later be hers. Chuuya hadn’t paid very much attention when the girl asked him about it; and now he totally regretted it.

He also had to keep his promise. How would it look if he didn’t? Every father wanted to be the hero of their children, every father wanted to be the best in their eyes.

But how could Chuuya not swear when the fucking keys literally stabbed hit foot?? When he threw his key, he knew he would regret it.

Now he did. With all of his heart. And every nerve in his body that stopped him from throwing the key out of the window.

“Dada…” Klara looked at him disappointed and his heart squeezed. He then hurried his daughter in the living room.

“So, you wanted to dance?” Klara didn’t forgot, of course the little devil didn’t, but she decided to save her father some face and screamed:

“Yes! Let’s dance, Dada!” Chuuya smiled and sighed; he escaped a disaster.

“Ok the, let’s see… Ah, yeah perfect!” He smiled as the music filled the room.

Did Dazai sleep right in the room next to him? Did Chuuya care? Maybe. Did he turn the volume at max? Yes.

Klara seemed to be enjoying the music, smiling and dancing clumsily, clearly not familiar with the genre. But she was still laughing and she still was Chuuya’s daughter and he hoped moments like these could last forever and he hoped that she would never grow up and he hoped she will come back to him like this, he hoped that she will forever be his daughter and maybe while Chuuya watched her trying to dance, a tear slipped from his eye. Maybe, because he was facing the moon backwards and no one could ever know.

His heart was already a dark sea.

“Darling, come here!” shouted Chuuya over the music as Klara jumped into his arms. He spun around with her and she giggled and Chuuya laughed whole heartedly. He took her small hand into his and looked into her eyes and sang and screamed at the same time.

Sono fuori di testa, ma diverso da loro E tu sei fuori di testa, ma diversa da loro Siamo fuori di testa, ma diversi da loro Siamo fuori di testa, ma diversi da loro

Klara also screamed something incorrigible and she almost bumped her head into Chuuya’s.

“Turn that off!” Chuuya looked over to see Dazai standing in the door, his arms crossed to his chest, his hair still ruffled from his early sleep.

‘Cute.’

Chuuya only smirked mischievously at him and bent his knees, imitating a guitar and screaming some random Italian phrases with Klara still into his arms. The girl laughed and sometimes hiccupped and Dazai’s heart ached so bad that he thought he might just claw it out from his chest.

His two universes; so pathetic; he couldn’t believe that his world really was so small. He was disappointed in himself. He was loving himself for what he was.

Chuuya was flying a little bit above the ground now, completely lost, completely disconnected from the world.

The song came to an end and he sat down with Klara still into his arms. The girl had fallen asleep somehow. Dazai moved to take her into his arms.

“I’m going to put her into bed.” He tried to push away the images of a younger Chuuya and a younger he fooling into a bar from Paris, he tried to push away the thought of them swimming together and he didn’t succeed.

Chuuya was sweaty and exhausted and he gladly handed over the little devil.

“Go and take a shower,” whispered Dazai as he walked with Klara into his arms towards the bedroom. “Also your taste in music is shit.” Chuuya laughed and then a long silence followed.

“Pour me a glass of wine and wait for me.”

Because a glass of wine and some good music could solve everything; Chuuya didn’t think so, he knew it from experience.

Notes: yes they did fuck on maneskin songs that night

#chuuya nakara #Dazai Osamu #soukoku #bsd fic

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

[Aoi Asahina, Sonia Nevermind, Chiaki Nanami, Rantarou Amami, Ibuki Mioda] x reader imagine: comforting an insecure guitarist s/o after their band plays live

Request: Oh my god, are DR blogs coming back again?? This is the third new one I've found this month!! Really happy about that. Great writing so far by the way! Could you maybe do Asahina, Sonia, Chiaki, Rantaro, and Ibuki (separate) comforting an insecure, guitarist S/O after they just performed a live show with their band? And like, the S/O is really worried that they sucked even though they did well? Oddly specific, I know. Would appreciate it though! Cheers!

OMG I NERDED OUT AND HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH CHIAKI’S, POINTS TO THE FANS WHO GET THE REFERENCE, though it’s an easy one Nishishi~

Thank you for this imagine request and being so specific about what you want while still giving me a lot of creative freedom! I immediately had some simple but cute ideas about this! - Mod Kokichi

Gender Neutral reader, a few brief lewd humorous lines, but SFW otherwise.

Aoi Asahina

- You were nervous, pre-show jitters shuddering through your body, but you couldn’t back out now.

- Not when your super hot, super excited, super supportive girlfriend had hyped you up just before the show.

- “Stage fright?! How’d you even get into a band in the first place with that mentality?!” Hina teased you backstage, mere moments before going on out to preform. She saw you chuckle nervously, not taking her joke as well as she’d hoped.

- She took your hand firmly. “Look, you know that face you love, the one I make when I’m thinking about pastries?” She continued.

- “The one that makes you look like a chipmunk?” You answered flatly.

- “I don’t agree, but yes! That one! When you’re scared up there, imagine me doing that face! Or better yet, I’ll be front row, in the V.I.P. standing section anyway. Just look for me there!” With a peck on your cheek, she gave you a determined look before pushing you toward the stage and disappearing.

- “H-hina!” You stuttered, but it couldn’t be helped, it was time.

- To your surprise, the nervousness went away as your band was about half way through the first song.

1. The attention is mainly on the lead singer.

2. You were focusing on playing too much to fully take in the screaming crowd.

3. You were actually enjoying yourself.

- As the first song ended, however, the music fading out and the crowd going wild, you felt that little pinch of panic settle back in. There was no music to focus on and protect you, just a hundred faces to look out upon.

- Your eyes darted back and forth over the audience, searching. Your breathing came out a little heavier, until your eyes landed on a lean, curvy, athletic figure, with tanned skin and a smile sweet like honey...no, like doughnuts

- She put her hands up near her face like paws, closing her eyes in an open-mouth smile. You smirked, nodding and strumming your strings once again.

- At the end of the show, fans flooded to the hallway that connected the venue’s main hall to the dressing rooms backstage, reaching out to try and grab band members, hoping to take how an autograph or lock of hair as a souvenir, and you rushed through, sweating and ultimately disappointed with the overall performance you put on that night.

- Hina was already waiting in your temporary dressing room for the night, standing and throwing her arms around your neck before praising you endlessly.

- “S/O, that was amazing! That third song, I felt like the bass shook the place! It was intense, like the final lap in a freestyle race, you know?! We gotta bring Sakura next time. I think she’d really get into the pull of the steady rhythm!” Her little dramatic expressions, her brow knitted together passionately as she spoke...she reminded you every day why you fell in love with her.

- “You...you really liked it? I thought I was kinda just going down further and further in quality as the show went on. I felt like shit by the end…”

- “Are you kidding me! It was fantastic. I think the whole audience was immersed. I know I was! Hey...you better not have all these groupies flocking you looking for a piece tonight!” She teased, hugging your arm!

Sonia Nevermind

- Sonia was extremely excited to go to a public concert. Anything that brought her closer to commoners, to feeling like she belonged around ordinary people was just swell to her.

- Even better that it was in a country foreign to her, where she could be immersed in the cultural norms and behaviors.

- Even better that she was watching the one she loved play.

- She was afraid that you’d judge her when she first admitted her love for the occult, horror, and all things gothic and metal.

- You thought that was pretty hot.

- So there she stood, in the front row of your concert, in a poofy green dress with expensive jewelry and accessories decorating her frame. She stuck out like a sore thumb, but Sonia, blissfully unaware, felt like one of the normal people.

- She jumped when the crowd did, her fist in the air, entranced by each note that came from your instrument.

- Sweaty metal-heads and ravers bumped into her endlessly in the tightly packed crowd, and she couldn’t care less.

- You looked amazing up on stage, and she felt like she was a part of some fan fiction she read once.

- You know the trope, where the reader is in the crowd at a famous band’s concert reluctantly, and her favorite member locks eyes with her and either pulls her on stage with them or takes her backstage after the show and ravished her!

- And she felt her love for you and your musical talent swell within her heart.

- After the concert, she met you outside the back door of the venue, and you were shocked silent at her appearance.

- “S-Sonia are you okay??” The tights under her dress were ripped, her bracelet missing some jewels, the bow tie falling out of her blonde locks, which by the way looked like a rat’s nest. Topping the look off were the pit stains under her arms and in the valley of her cleavage.

- “I’m sorry. I knew this would be a shitty experience. I shouldn’t have brought you. The music was bad anyway, huh? I shouldn’t practiced more.” You looked down in shame, before she nearly tackled you, her arms around your neck and kissing you everywhere, up and down your face and neck and chest.

- “D-do not say these things! Tonight was the b-best night of my life!!!” she sputtered, too excited to enunciate. “You looked like a hero in this J-Drama I watched years ago! Like the protagonist Sawayama Keito!! And I??? I was your romantic love interest, the plain Jane in the crowd, Ito Aiyaka!”

- “You really enjoyed it that much?” You could smell the body odor and adrenaline pouring off of her, very un-princess-like, but you couldn’t care less, grinning like a fool.

- “I love you, Sonia, you crazy kid.”

- “Play for me again tonight, in the dorm room…” she spoke desperately.

Chiaki Nanami

- Chiaki did not want to be in that crowd that night.

- A short, skinny, lazy, introverted girl at a live concert full of rabid fans and no seats? Standing room only?

- She briefly mentioned this to you days before the show, not wanting to hurt your feelings. It was something mentioned in passing, in her normal flat and tired tone.

- “I hope I don’t get stepped on...maybe I can bring my Gameboy and play when things get too wild?” She mused, leaning back on you as you prepared to start practicing on the edge of the bed next to her.

- You loved Chiaki, and you knew how to take her hints by now.

- “Chi, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know crowds aren’t your thing.”

- “No, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she smiled that lazy, half-lidded smile. She loved you too, and she wasn’t about to be the only one on campus not there to support you. She yawned and took your guitar from your hands before falling asleep on your lap.

- You thought the gesture was cute, but inside you were a bit irritated. You’d told her many times prior to that night that you needed all the practice you could get, and that you were afraid of bombing. So why would she purposely stop you in the middle of practicing?

- Oh well. You leaned back, memorizing chords and lyrics in your head until you, too, passed out

- The night of the concert, Chiaki stood in the front row, her backpack strapped to her front, oddly snug on her chest and obviously on backwards, but it was easier to access her Gameboy and fidget toys in case she needed to retreat from the overwhelming noise.

- She told herself they were just for emergencies. She was there for you, and frowned thinking about how you’d feel if you looked down off the stage and saw her not paying attention.

- People piled in, and soon your band came on stage. The lead singer introducing you all.

- Chiaki was already feeling like the ceiling was lowering, like the people around her were far too close, and looked down, hoping seeing just the dark venue floor and her shoes would calm her, one hand on her backpack for security.

- “Oh!” She gasped, her little bangs flying up and her eyes widening like saucers as the lead singer sang the first notes. Three notes, that’s all it took.

- “Aha~aha ah ah...ha~uh huh huh…” the lead singer breathily voiced into the microphone, and Chiaki smiled wider than she had in months.

- You met her eyes on stage knowingly, smirking at first, then suddenly anxious that you might slip up or disappoint her. You strummed two loud, vibrating notes, stern and piercing through the air.

- Again the same two notes, before you joined the singer by the microphone, inhaling before singing in harmony:

- “In you~ and I, there’s a new land~ yeah~he heah!”

- She relaxed, tilting her head back as the sound waves overtook her.

- “Angels in flight~”

- “My sanctuary. My sanctuary, yeah~”

- You didn’t tell her you’d be doing covers that night. Video game covers, nonetheless. Her head shot up, looking at her phone quickly. She looked at the date.

- February 14th.

- Man, she spaced out often…but this…

- She blushed furiously, and her eyes locked with yours. You grew nervous, playing even harder. She swooned and let herself get lost in the bass.

- You played iconic video game themes all night, and by the end, Chiaki was more overwhelmed and exhausted then she’d ever been, but in a good way.

- When you walked into your dressing room back stage with flowers you had hidden earlier, she accepted them with a flush of her cheeks.

- “You didn’t need to do all that...s/o...this was…”

- “Y-you didn’t like it? I was nervous for a month planning this gig. I know I’ve still got a ways to go with playing live but-“

- “I loved it.”

- “What?” You weren’t convinced.

- “I loved it. Every second. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift, I didn’t even realize.”

- “Gifts don’t mean anything to me, Chi. You’re all I need.” you pulled her into your chest for a tight embrace. “You’re My Sanctuary.”

Rantarou Amami

- Rantarou was so excited about seeing your debut concert, snatching the tickets as soon as you presented them to him.

- “Can I bring along my sisters, too, S/O? They’ve been wanting to hear you play ever since I first mentioned that you were in a band.

- “Of course, but...I don’t know why they’d wanna all waste a Saturday night on my shitty band. We don’t even play that well ye-“

- “Silence!” He picked you up by your waist and squeezed you until you couldn’t breath, much less put yourself down with a self deprecating jab. He kissed your cheek playfully. “You’re sexy and the way you play guitar is sexy. I listened you practice all night the other day!”

- “Y-you did? I didn’t even see you!”

- “Huh...” he scoffed, “ maybe because you were lost in your passion, becasue news flash, you’re good at it, stinker!” He pinched your cheek, always knowing how to make you flustered. “Yeah, I heard every single note, and even peaked in once or twice, seeing you stroke those strings so tenderly…” He forced you against the wall, his hot breath against your ear “ I wish you’d stroke me like that.” You face ran hot and you roughly shoved him away, him giggling like a fool.

- “Okay, okay you win, Amami, bring whoever you want!” You stomped off with a huff.

- The day of the concert, the entire front row looked like a field of spring grass, the large family of green-haired siblings shouting before you even began your first song. You shook your head at Rantarou and his many sisters, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. You felt your hands stumble across the strings, Rantarou giving you a thumbs up and a wink.

- After the show, you couldn’t run off the stage any faster. You ran into the staff room backstage where refreshments and spare equipment were usually set out, and were greeted by a row of Amami’s swarming you and praising you, talking much too quickly and all at once.

- Rantarou simply let his sisters flock you, asking you to teach them to play, to help them meet hot musicians you knew, to learn to read music. You felt your ego rise, flustered once again at the hand’s an an Amami.

Ibuki Mioda

- Ibuki shouted to the band backstage, tuning her guitar and hyping up the other members. She noticed you a little out of place, looking a quite queasy and apprehensive.

- “S/O! The hell are you doin’ over there! Hudddddddle up!” She pulled you by your shoulders.

- “I don’t know why I let you force me into joining the music club...I shouldn’t have mentioned my interest at all…” you grumbled.

- Months ago, Ibuki had heard you, her darling and adorable s/o mentioning that you played guitar in elementary school, and wanted to listen in on her band once practice one in awhile. Well, that was the end of that. She decided it was time to freshen up your skills and get you comfortable with the strings again. Now here you were, moments from your first live performance since you were 10 years old.

- “Whaaat! That’s like, a major no no, that low energy, ya dig?!” She held your hand, swinging it back and forth with a feral look on her face. “You’re bitchin’! And Ibuki is bitchin’! And tonight we’re gonna set the stage on fire!”

- The show went on as planned, you and Ibuki on guitar while she screamed into the front mic. Your drummer just barely cut through the vibrations of your combined sound waves, and you buckled down and reminded yourself that with Ibuki at your back, that stage was yours. That audience was yours.

- Plus...who was staring at you when Ibuki was up front, looking like that, acting like that. That passion, that intensity, it’s what drew you to her in the first place.

- The crowd roared viciously, opening up a mosh pit in front of your neon gothic goddess of a girlfriend, and you couldn’t have found her more attractive than you did right now, her arms swinging open, releasing the guitar and simply bellowing into the mic, commanding the hellish pit in front of her like one of the succubi from Gundham’s wild tall tales.

- You suddenly felt so unworthy of her in all her glory, simply providing the backup and harmonies.

- When the show ended, you and Ibuki equally carried each other back stage to the school’s stagehand room, leaning on each other’s sweaty bodies for support.

- “Sheesh, that was straight fire tonight, s/o, huh?! Immolation on the stage, in the fleeeesh!” She shredded an air guitar in front of her before collapsing on a folding chair. How did she still have any energy at all?! You scoffed incredulously. “ Ibuki was worried for a second there, but we pulled it off! I knew we’d be amazing!” Huh???

- “You were worried?” You quickly realized what she probably meant, “Oh...like nervous that I’d mess it up for us?” Her eyes widened, a shocked look on her face as her hands flew up to her hair.

-“What? No! Ibuki was worried about Ibuki~” She grimaced.

- “Why would you ever be nervous, you’re the best musician for miles around.” You drank from a water bottle before tossing it to her. She caught it in one hand, downing it.

- “Hey, Ibuki gets worried too~” She winked at you, a flirty glimmer in her eye as she held up a heart made from her connected hands. “But s/o is Ibuki’s rock! Partners in crime, yeah? No need to worry with you at my back tearing it up!”

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reawritesthings · 4 years

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cinderella ✿ rafe cameron ✿

summary: you and rafe have been secretly dating for a while due to you being a pogue. When you have to work at midsummers, you see rafe with another girl and get into fight about not wanting to be a secret anymore.

words: 1.3K

We all know the famous story that a Kook and Pogue can't even been in the same room as each other, let alone dating. You were a rule breaker, and so was your fellow Kook who happened to accept your generous offer. It wasn't no ones business of what you guys did, but neither of you felt guilty.

"Are you sure that Sarah isn't here?" You muttered as you slowly parted your lips away from Rafe's looking around the living room.

"Babe. She's with Wheezie. They are out with my parents." Rafe reassured her, reaching for her lips again.

An hour and two into the day, you guys were still half naked admiring the weird pictures that Rose placed on the walls.

"You know, I don't get why she has these pictures? They aren't exactly inviting.." You muttered, as you slowly ran your hair through his hair whilst his body was pressed against yours.

"They may not be, but I know you are" Rafe smirked as he placed a light kiss under your neck, which was now a hickey.

"Rafe?" You spoke, darting your head up as you watched him pout.

"Baby girl." He mocked, slowly getting off your frame wrapping the sheet over you.

"When do we tell our friends... about us?" You blurred out, biting your lip as you didn't want to cause an argument.

Rafe looked at you, holding his hand out so he can hold yours. "One day... but, I like sneaking around. It makes the sex more great and I like having you to myself. I don't want to share you, just yet."

He had a way with his words which was one of the reasons why you were so infatuated by him. He was known to be the baddest Cameron in town but, to you he was just this massive goofball, who needed love and you gave him that.

"Okay, I admit. The sex is amazing, but I guess you are right. Besides, my friends finding out that I've been seeing a Kook? I don't want to rewrite history." You laughed placing a peck onto Rafe lips.

"C'mon doll. We have a midsummers to get ready for." Rafe smiled, getting up from the couch stretching his muscles which you weren't complain at all.

"As in we, you mean yourself. I'm helping Pope out, so I guess I'll see you later."

Gathering your stuff, and quickly changing you saw Rafe pulling you into a tight high. "As much as I want you as my date, and you by my side whilst I suck up to this losers, I have to go solo. I just need to get into my dad's good books and then maybe, we can tell the world that you're my baby girl." Rafe smirked, lifting your chin up as he gave you a soft kiss to your lips filling your mind with reassurance and hope that you'll finally be able to do this in public.

"Kids. Make sure you have a huge smile on your face, always be kind and do as they say." Mr Heyward ordered them as he handed Pope and Y/N their aprons.

"You got it. I'll be in charge of taking orders and you can fry?" You suggested to Pope which he agreed immediately as he wasn't a social talker as much as you were.

As guests were arriving, you were mesmerised by the efforts that the Cameron's did to make this a success. Shades of colours and flowers were everywhere, you were jealous that you weren't there in a beautiful dress but a girl can dream.

Pope can sense your aggravation as girls entered the gardens, wearing elegant dresses. He placed a hand on her shoulder, for comfort. "One day, us pogue will be able to come and i bet you'll be the belle of the ball."

You smiled at Pope, you loved his positivity and mind. Whenever you were down, he knew exactly what to say and what words to choose. "I suppose. I know exactly what dress I want. I've planned it."

Pope just chuckled, looking away from you as he went back to flipping burgers.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I may present The Cameron's." The singer beamed as the spotlight was now on them. You immediately darted your eyes onto Rafe who was accompanied by a girl who wasn't you.

She was beautiful. Her hair was flowing nicely as the wind brushed past them. Everyone was admiring the new couple and even you were. Her dress was beautiful, it was the best one she had seen all night.

"Wow, she looks beautiful." Pope admired from where he was standing. You didn't respond, you simply carried on preparing the toppings for the burgers.

"Hey, May we have two burgers with everything inside?" Rafe's date smiled, as she looked over at Rafe who quickly rushed over.

"With the second burger, would you like pickles?" You asked as you knew Rafe hated them but his date nodded her head.

As Rafe catch on, he couldn't help but look at you. You were covered in grease, your hair was untidy and soot from the grill was all over your face.

"I actually don't want pickles." He butted in, looking at his date who gave the two of the a confused look.

You didn't even want to respond to his request. He knew you were angry and he wanted to make it up to you, but a brush of a finger tried to tell you but your hand instantly moved away.

"Seriously?" Rafe whispered, hoping his date wouldn't hear them.

"Rafe, not now. I have a job to do." You sneered, beginning to prepare the burgers.

"Fine." Rafe spat, snatching the burgers out of your hand moving his date towards the dance floor.

"What was that?" Pope asked you but you just shrugged.

"Have no clue. Kooks being dramatic." You laughed as you began to intend the next guests who were waiting.

You thought working for a party with so many people would fly by, but it hasn't. You and Pope have been busting your asses off all night, hearing the Kooks ramble about their lavishing homes.

You heard laughter coming from the dancer, you knew that laugh because it was reserved for you. Looking straight at them both, waltzing to the slowest song of the year you couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

"Pope, I'm gunna head to the bathroom... I don't feel so good." You mumbled, walking away from the grill.

RAFe immediately stopped you leaving the station. He apologised to his date as he ran over to you, holding onto your hand as he pulled you close to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he wiped some of the soot off your face.

"Are you sure you want to be seen with a Pogue?" You spat, as you slapped his hand away from your face.

"Not this again, I told you that I like the way it is."

Rafe tried to keep a low voice but you were making that very hard for him.

"I don't. I don't want to be sneaking around anymore, Rafe. I want to be able to hold your hand in public. I want to dance with you at these dances, I want to kiss you whenever I want, where I want. I fucking love you." You blurted out, a huge pile of weight lifting from your shoulders. You didn't know how Rafe would react from that last sentence but at this rate, you couldn't care less.

"Come here." Rafe said, slamming his lips against yours knocking all the wind for your lungs. You didn't even get a moment to react when he pressed his tongue to the seem of your lips and, demanding access to let him into your mouth. Your arms reached up and tangled around his board neck, letting his hand drift onto your hips.

He parted away, placing your forehead against his. He didn't care if anyone was looking, he wanted everyone in this room to know that you were his. He was a fool to bring another girl to a dance, but right now, he didn't care. He was happy, he was happy with his Cinderella who didn't exactly get the dress but she got him, and that's all she wanted.

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years

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“Unsteady”

(Ashton Irwin X fem!Reader || Angst)

Summary: Based on the song “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors. You and you husband Ashton, got into an accident. As the months pass, Ashton is starting to lose hope.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of Drunk Driving, hospitals, coma, accidents (kinda explicit) panick attack, a lot of crying, swear words, death, blood, violence, overall sadness, bad English (not my first language, my apologies)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: here I am with another Ashton Angst. Hope you like it 🦋 and remember that reblogs and likes always help and feedback and comments are always welcome! I would love to hear your thoughts 💙 You can check my other works HERE.

”Hold

Hold on

Hold on to me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

A little unsteady”

‘Her hand is too cold’ Ashton thought ‘She must be very cold’

You were lying in the hospital bed, unfazed. Ashton knew you couldn’t feel anything, at least that’s what the doctors told him. But he couldn’t help but wonder if you were cold. If you could feel your skin becoming more like ice every second but were unable to ask for a blanket.

He would give you the sun if you asked.

But you couldn’t.

Ashton hasn’t heard your voice in over three months, and damn, how he missed it. He misses you, all of you. He often wondered what he’d do if when you open your eyes. Would he cry? Kiss you? Pass out? He didn’t know. All he knew is that he’ll be the happiest man on earth once you did.

But your hands were cold against his. Your body numb in the bed. And he was by your side, unmoving.

The nice nurse came in, he liked her and knew you would too, once you meet her “It’s four already” she said, smiling kindly to Ashton. He nodded and stepped aside to let her work.

He became familiarized with the routines pretty quickly. He memorized the medicines, the sounds of the machines attached to your body, every single technicality. Ashton always hated not to know, so he spent many nights next to you studying everything he could so he’ll be up to date. It became his life mission to make sure you were treated correctly and that you were safe.

“Her hand is cold” he muttered

“Okay, I’ll make sure to bring something warm for her when I come back” the lovely nurse smiled. Ashton breathed a small ‘thank you’ as she left, taking his usual spot in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand.

“You will love her” he said to you. He read that talking to you could be helpful, since you could probably hear him “She’s very nice to us, to you. And she has that ‘loving granny’ energy you talk about. I don’t know if she’s a grandma, though. She’s probably around 52… you would know better. You always do”

His eyes landed on your face, you look beautiful as always, but you didn’t move a muscle. Ashton squeezes your hand, waiting for a reaction of any kind, but getting nothing as a result. He felt the tears coming back, they haven't left since that night, and his voice broke as he tried to hold them.

“Baby, please come back” he pleaded “I - I know you’re trying to fight when you feel like flying. I know you’re there, Y/N. Please, hold on to me. Come back to me” breaking down as he couldn’t contain the tears any longer, he whispered ”I - I miss you”

“Ashton, you can’t be serious” You said giggling.

You were coming back home after a concert. The last concert of tour and you were ready to have your husband all by yourself again. You looked at Ashton as his smile spreaded through his face, making all of his dimples pop out and your heart flutter. His hands were on the wheel, but his eyes kept drifting from you to the road.

“I mean it!” He said with a laugh “Don’t tell me you didn’t think the same thing when you saw them!”

“I did, I’m not gonna lie” you admitted “But do you think we are ready? I mean, a kid is a lot more responsibility than some plants in the garden”

It was not the first time the ‘baby conversation’ popped out. But it was always dismissed, stating that neither of you were ready for that yet. Tonight, however, one of Michael’s friends brought her baby backstage and your mommy instincts kicked in. You were pulled towards that baby like a magnet, impossible to deny how cute they were, specially in a little 5SOS hoodie customized to their size. Ashton saw from a distance how good you were with that little baby that he felt the need to have one of your own. Falling in love with the thought of you being a wonderful mother to your child.

“I know that, but think about it, love. The tour’s over, the boys and I already decided to take a little break before starting to work on a new album, we all want to dedicate some time to our families, so I’ll be around for anything you need. Not to mention that we are financially stable and completely in love” Ashton grabbed you hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently “Plus, think how beautiful you’ll look with a baby bump”

“Yeah, all bloated and irritable”

“Still beautiful” He fixed his eyes on you, still smiling “Look, if you’re not ready then we can wait but -“

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“I said, let’s do it. Let’s try for a baby”

Ashton’s eyes gleamed under the night sky as he looked at you with adoration. You were both smiling like fools. It was decided then, you were going to have a baby! You were so immerse with happiness at that moment,, maybe that’s why you didn’t see the car heading towards you.

“You should go home for a bit, mate” Michael said as he placed his hand on Ashton’s shoulder. He didn’t move.

It was visiting hours, Michael, Luke, Calum and their girls came today. They always do. Making Ashton company as he patiently waits for you next to your bed.

“I’m fine”

He really wasn’t. His hair was a mess, he had dark circles under his eyes and he can’t even remember the last time he ate a proper meal or took a real shower. But he didn’t care. All of his attention was on you, all of his hopes, his prayers, his pleads, all came back to you and the chance that you’ll open your eyes.

“You’re not fine, Ashton,” Michael pleaded again, but got no response from him “Look at me” He squeezed Ashton’s shoulder, turning Ashton around to look him in the eyes. The same hazel eyes that a few months ago were filled with love and spark, that now were empty and sad “You need to go home”

“But-“

“Go home, Ash. If not for you then do it for Y/N”

Ashton was taken aback. Michael never spoke with such authority as he did at that moment. He knew he was right but still he couldn’t leave you.

“Mike and I will stay with her” Luke said “Visitors hours don’t end until two hours from now. That’s enough time for you to grab some things from home”

“And for goodness sake, take a shower” Cal intervened.

“We’ll be here and we’ll call you if anything happens. But you can’t take care of her if you don’t take care of yourself, you were hurt too”

Ashton felt like he was being cornered by his three best friends. They were right, of course they were. But this was harder that it seemed and he didn’t know if he was ready to face it.

“I- I can’t” he mumbled looking down, feeling three pairs of eyes on him “I can’t go home without Y/N,, I don’t think I’ll be able to take it”

A pitiful look was exchanged between the three men. All of them hurting for him, for you.

“I’ll go with you, mate. You don’t have to go alone” Calum said, extending his hand to his best friend, helping him getting up.

When they reached the parking lot, Ashton tossed his keys to Calum, not saying a word. He was not ready to sit behind the wheel again. So Calum drove them through the familiar streets of LA, back to an empty house that was once filled with songs.

Ashton held his breath when he opened the door and stepped in. It was all too familiar but at the same time so strange. Everything was like the way you left it, the news paper on the kitchen table, next to the glass of wine you didn’t get to finish. The pair of shoes you decided to change at the last minute were still by the door and your perfume invaded the house as a ghost. Every inch of this house had your presence in it, but you were nowhere to be found.

Calum placed his hand on Ashton’s shoulder, something they all seem to be doing a lot lately, as he took in the empty house “Take all the time that you need” and he did.

Ashton walked through the deserted halls, stopping in front of his and your room. He placed his hand on the doorknob but didn’t have the heart to open it, knowing you won’t be there waiting for him like each night. He felt the tears coming up again and his breathing was uneven. It took all of him to step away from the door and head towards the guest room. At least he knows it won’t smell like you.

After a much needed shower, he went to the basement. The basket filled with laundry was still there, you told him you lost track of time and forgot to put it back up. He was glad you didn’t. Ashton grabbed a few shirts and jeans and put them in a bag, he also put a few of your clothes in there, thinking you’d feel more comfortable once you wake up. He couldn’t ignore the pain of smelling your perfume so close to him after so long. He didn’t want to.

He was about to head out when he walked by his music room. The door was open, so he was able to catch a glimpse of a few books you recommended him, but that he never had the chance to read. Maybe he could read them to you, he thought.

Stepping into the room he found thousands of papers scattered around the coffee table. Bunch of scratches and unfinished songs he was ready to show you.

It wasn’t a secret that you were Ashton’s muse. Every song he wrote was inspired by you in every possible way. And you were his number one fan, always encouraged him to do what he loves and to do better by himself. Always taking care, not only of him, but of everyone else. No kindness in the world could compare to yours, no love in the world could compare to yours and now…

Where were you? Why? How could this happen? Why you?

A million questions ran through Ashton’s head, making his senses go black as he ripped apart every piece of paper he could find. Not really paying attention to the damage he was causing as he threw everything in his way. Glasses, picture frames, drumsticks, the drums themselves… all for what? What did it matter? How could anything matter if you were not there?

Calum heard the thundering sounds and cries of his best friend and ran to him. But, to his eyes, it was almost impossible to describe the broken scene that played before him.

Ashton was crying out of rage, sadness, hopelessness and some relief. Letting it all out as he trashed the music room that was once a comfort for him. The tears were mixed with his sweat, grunting and panting as he destroyed every piece of himself in that room.

“Ash!” Yelled Calum as he stepped into the chaos, trying to reach his friend “Ash-Ashton!” He managed to dodge a few pieces of glass and plastic from the broken drum kit.

He reached him mid rage, grabbing his fisted hands with all the strength he could use “Ashton fucking stop! You need to stop!”

Ashton froze as he opened his eyes and found Calum staring at him in fear. Trembling and falling to this knees, he found himself unable to stand on his feet. Tears streaming down freely.

“She’s gone” he sobbed. Completely broken.

Calum let his guard down, softly saying “She’s not gone, Ash. She’s not gone” He grabbed the tall man and pulled him into a hug. Ashton didn’t put on a fight as he let himself be comforted by his friend “She’s going to be fine. You hear me? She’ll be okay”

“We were supposed to start a new chapter together. We- we were going to start a family and… it all happened so fast, Cal”

He cried even harder “Cal, I don’t remember if it was my fault”

“You were hit by a drunk driver, none of this is your fault”

“I should’ve paid more attention! It should’ve been me! I should be the one in the fucking hospital bed”

It was all too much. It all hurt too much. It’s just,, it wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this, being connected to a machine, fighting to stay alive when he was the one driving the car. Three months without opening your eyes, without hearing your laughter, or your off key singing. He would do anything just to feel your arms around him one more time, to hear your voice saying that everything was going to be okay. He needed you. He needed you desperately. How could he live without you when you were all he knew? How could he sing about love when you’re not here to hear it?

“This house doesn’t feel like a home without her” He sobbed “I- I don’t know what I’ll do, I can't lose her”

“You won’t” Said Calum, fighting his own tears when the image of you fighting for your life came to mind. But he knew he had to stay positive, for Ashton, for everyone “We won’t lose Y/N, she will wake up”

“Cal, I -“ whispered Ashton in a broken voice “I don’t think she will”

“Y/N?!”

Darkness. Everything was dark and everything hurts. Where was he? Why,, why couldn’t he move?

It took him a second to figure out that you were upside down, still inside of the car. He called your name one more time, but there was no answer. His eyes needed to adjust, he needed to find you. But then..

“A-ash?”

Your voice was weak. Barely even a whisper filled with pain.

“Y/N?!” Ashton called, his hand immediately trying to get to yours. He didn’t care about the broken pieces of glass and concrete that cut through his skin, he just needed to hold your hand “It’s okay, you’re okay”

“Ash” you cried in pain. Squeezing his hand, trying to hold onto something real “I can’t move. Everything hurts”

“Don’t move, Love. Don’t move until they come for us, okay? They’re going to help you. You’ll be okay”

Ashton tried to remain calm for you, soothing your cries by running circles in your hand. “Just hold onto me, baby. Hold my hand. We’re gonna get through this, okay? We are going to be fine”

You could only cry in response. Every ounce of pain hitting you from different parts. It was almost intolerable, but Ashton tried his best to comfort you and you got lost in the sound of his voice, starting to drift away.

“Don’t let go, Y/N. Baby. Don’t let go of my hand, okay? I need you here with me, you understand me?”

“Ashton, I’m tired”

“No, no no no, baby stay with me. Tell me, what names do you like?”

“N-names?”

“Yes, Love. For the baby”

“The baby…”

Ashton was crying, but he wouldn’t let you see it. He squeezed your hand.

“Yes, yes the baby” He could hear your breathing slowing down “You can’t go to sleep, love. Baby, hold on”

He could hear the sirens coming closer, they were going to be okay.

“W-what about Alex? Do you like that one?” You could only hum in response “Stay with me, Y/N. What about Rose? You told me you liked that name, remember?”

The lights of the ambulance shined in the pavement. They were here. Help was here.

“Rose…” you said faintly

“Yes, yes baby. We are going to have such a beautiful family” Ashton cried as he felt your hand gave in “And you’re going to be an excellent mother.”

“You’ll be an excellent father”

“Y/N?”

“I’m so tired, Ash. Everything hurts” you cried.

“Baby no, don’t leave me. Just hold onto me, keep holding onto me”

He was panicking now, feeling you fade away.

“I love you” you said.

“Y/N?! No, baby c’mon. Hold on, please. If you love me don’t let go. Don’t leave me here”

Ashton didn’t feel when the door of his car opened next to him. He didn’t feel when they pulled him out of the car and into a stretcher. He just wanted to know that you were okay.

“Y/N?!” He screamed at the paramedics, trying to find you among the crowd that has gathered around the wreck “Where’s my wife?! Y/N!”

All he could hear was “She’s losing a lot of blood!” “We need to take her now” “I don’t feel a heartbeat, we’re losing her” as he saw your figured being pulled away in another ambulance, away from him.

He yelled, screamed, cried and kicked, trying to get to you somehow. He needed to be with you. He needed to know that you were still with him. That you were okay.

He didn’t feel when they injected him with a sedative.

From that moment on, everyday was the same. Everyday hoping that it might be different.

After the wreckage of your home, Ashton came back to the hospital to find you still asleep on the bed. He thanked the boys and said goodbye, promising them that he’ll be fine.

“I went home today” he said as he sat down on his usual spot, cupping your hand in his, letting your wedding bands touch “everything is where you left it. I - I didn’t dare to put everything back, I know how mad you can get when I move your stuff” Ashton let out a sad laugh, holding your hand even tighter “I’m sorry if my hands are a bit rough, I.. well let’s say you wouldn’t want to come into my music room for quite some time. I’m sorry”

Ashton looked at you. The bruises and cuts from the accident were almost fully healed. Your hair was longer, but it wasn’t as soft as it used to be. Your eyelashes rested peacefully over your cheeks, it was almost like if you were dreaming.

“I wish you could tell me how stupid I am. Believe it or not, I miss your nagging” he sighed “I miss everything. I miss you”

The machine that was connected to your heartbeat played its usual melody, filling the gaps that were created by your silence.

“I can’t help but think that this is all my fault. Everyone tells me it’s not, that I wasn’t the one driving drunk on the streets of LA. But then I look at you and, fuck Y/N, I don’t even know if you’re in pain and it kills me. If I could trade your life for mine I would, darling, in a heartbeat.”

‘“ I should’ve paid more attention to the road. I should’ve moved out of the way or.. I should’ve done something to avoid this” silent tears rolled down his cheek, he didn’t even attempt to wipe them away “We had so much ahead of us… we were going to start a family and I.. I can’t help but think that I took that away from you, from us”

‘“ I need you here, Y/N. I need you here by my side. I can’t live without you, I don’t want to live without you, baby. You are my everything, my Y/N, my love. Without you I’m unsteady, you’re my rock, my ending and beginning, my North Star.. Y/N you’re my home. And I know it sounds selfish but I’m not ready to give you away. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Y/N. Please don’t leave me, don’t let go. Come back, baby. I need you”

He cried through every word, every confession. He cried for everything they had and all that they could have if she wakes up. He cried so hard he didn’t notice when her Heart Rate went up all of the sudden.

“Y/N? Baby don’t. No no no no don’t let go” The beeps were faster, violent, shaking up Ashton from sorrow. Having him screaming at the top of his lungs for a doctor.

It all happened so fast. A sea of white coats surrounding the room and pushing Ashton out of the way and into the hall. He tried to step in again, but a nurse cut his way.

“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t go in there” he said, sternly.

“B-but that’s my wife.. That’s my wife!”

“Sir, I will need you to stay calm and stay here while the doctors work. Okay?” He went into the room, opening the door just enough for Ashton to see two paddlers hit your chest.

Ashton punched the walls out of frustration, almost breaking his hand and making it bleed. He rested his head on the furthest wall and slowly fell to the ground, sobbing his heart out.

He stayed like that for a long time before the doctors and nurses stepped out of the room, all of them ignoring him as he stayed on the floor. It wasn’t until Y/N’s head doctor appeared that he got up.

His eyes and face were puffy red, his hand was bruised and swollen. But he couldn’t seem to find a care. Not now. Not when his Y/N was all alone. Not when there’s a chance that she’s not there anymore.

“Mr. Irwin” said the doctor in a low voice that made Ashton’s world fade to grey, swallowing the lump he had in his throat “Mrs. Irwin went into cardiac arrest. It seemed like all of this got the best of her. Her vitals were…”

But Ashton couldn’t hear her anymore. In his mind everything was pure bullshit. All of this speach saying how sorry they were and that you’re in a better place, bullshit. You were gone. You were really gone. The universe could fall apart right there and there and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash. His universe died with you.

His eyes were an empty void. He could see the mouth of the doctor still moving. But all he could think was you. You and your perfect smile, the way your eyes shined every time you talked about something that you were passionate about. The way you looked in your wedding day and how nothing could even come close to the feeling of happiness when you said your ’I do’s’ How you would dance on each and every concert, cheer him up from the side of the stage, waiting to be kissed once it was over. And now you were gone.

He would never hear you laugh or say I love you again. He would never see you walk around the house in one of his shirts, trying to call his attention. He would never feel you close in the mornings, cuddling until you eventually had to let go. You were gone. And he wasn’t ready for that. He will never be ready for a life that doesn’t have you in it.

“... So would you like to see her?” The doctor said. Calling Ashton back to the real world.

“I’m sorry, what?” His shock was palpable. Voice sounding broken and weak as he was. Lips trembling as he held his breath, afraid that he misheard her.

“She’s stable, at the moment. She asked for you. She mentioned something about a rose....”

You were okay? You were awake?!

Ashton burst into the room without a second thought. Tears falling as he saw you looking at him from the hospital bed, smiling weakly. He stood there for a second, whispering as he thought it might be a dream.

“Y/N?”

“Ashton....”

”If you love me, don't let go

If you love me, don't let go”

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a-shakespearean-in-paris · 3 years

Text

Favorite Passages of 2020

thought I’d start a new tag for writers for the end of the year--favorite lines/ passages written. There might be a tag like this already but hey I felt like taking a trip down memory lane. I feel like this year has seen me grow a lot. I finished 3 WIPs from 3 different fandoms and decided to make a part 2 of a previously finished fic. What a year, what a year, am I right? Fic writing has certainly made the days easier, made me happy and taken my mind off of situations.

Obviously the year isn’t over yet maybe something will overtake this, but I felt like taking a trip through memory lane. Also, number five has some light smut.

tagging @laraslandlockedblues @ma-sulevin @kemvee @galadrieljones @thevikingwoman @jentrevellan @wardenari @roguelioness @idrelle @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @queen-kass-the-writer @ellenembee

1. Only Lovers, Resident Evil, Leon S. Kennedy x Ada Wong

She laughs to herself. One moment, they told each other last night. And this is it. They were fools. They’re still fools. Happy, sated, blissful fools. And lovers.

And yet, it’d be cruel not to tell him, to let him live in an illusion.

“You don’t love me,” she whispers. “you love the me you think about when you’re lonely.”

“Not lonely now.”

He glances at her with a mischievous, knowing look. “Neither am I,” she tells him, and she even plays the part, tells him she loves him too. They’re only lovers now, after all.

“You didn’t have to say that,” he says. “I know what’s true.”

“Then what’s true?”

He rises, faces her. He cups her cheek, caresses her face. He follows with a gentle kiss.

“Now,” he whispers. “Us.”

***This is from my one shot of Leon and Ada from the Resident Evil games. I played the game over quarantine and my twelve year old feels for the femme fatale and hot agent reignited, so I wanted to tribute that. Now I like Leon and Ada vastly more than Leon and Claire because I just find it more interesting--but beyond that I really wanted to explore an enemies to lovers relationship. They’re on two different sides of a war but they can’t help that attraction and pull, and I just like the idea they kind of see each other sometimes and release some tension, though both skirt around the idea of love. I like this passage because it encapsulates their tense yet dynamic and even romantic pull. Plus when I wrote “you don’t love me, you love the me you think about when you’re lonely” I just felt really powerful and badass, and I collect badass lines that come to my head for future wham lines in my writing, and I am 90 percent sure this was one such line. Either that or it came to me as I was writing, but I honestly don’t remember.

2. Love Song on Sapphire Isle, GOT, Jaime x Brienne

From the palace, there’s a strum of a lute, the sound intermingling with the crash of the waves that’s melodic and lulling. They stand side by side, listening to the song—a love song, though Jaime says she is his love song, his greatest adventure. And she wraps her arms around him, and tells him he is her love song, and her later. Though now, she thinks her later has turned into an always.

***This is from my Jaime and Brienne longfic, a pseudo fix it that really just made me feel better after how disappointed I was with where they took Jaime and Brienne’s arc in the show. Come on George make them each other’s true love in the books I know you are prove those people who can’t read subtext wrong In the fic the term “later,” is part of their romantic dynamic, Jaime and Brienne always telling each other there will be time for romance later before the battle. then they get their later and and they’re stuck in a rut, not knowing what exactly to do. The last chapter, a snap shot of their “later,” years after the penultimate fic chapter, shows the life they’ve built. I tell my kids in my class that their final lines in a paper should pack a punch, and I think with everything that happened in the fic and the idea of later, it was the perfect final line.

3.The Sweetest Sorrow, RDR2. Arthur Morgan x Charlotte Balfour

Come back, she said to him, sitting by their favorite spot in the clearing by the water. I know what you said, and I accepted it, but it is not easy to be the one that waits. It’s not fair that I am always the one that waits. These men in old stories, men like Arthur who masqueraded as an outlaw but were also knights, thought they had the harder duties. Charlotte, though she would always sing for Arthur and the good man underneath that always won over the evil bad man he claimed to be, was tired of singing songs of those men. She sung praises for Penelope and other women like her, the waiters. She sung for herself and her strength, and waited for the day when she could show him again just how strong she was, as strong as him. If only he would come back, one more time. She made sure to pour longings and promises in their parting kiss after he said that she gave him his dream. She kissed him to woo him back.

“Come back,” she said, and she hoped the wind carried her prayers. Come back to me Arthur, she wrote on her journal in her lap. She prayed that her longing, tangible in the words she wrote and spoke would make him stronger, beat that vile thing that had made it’s way into her once proud man and withering him. If he came back and it turned that he had given her his ailment, they could be brave together. She was tired of being brave alone. She was good at being alone, but that didn’t mean she had to endure it.

Come back.

Arthur was made to believe he was alone, and he had to be alone with his ailment. She couldn’t rely on their last conversation, her last kiss to him. Once he was away from her she knew his duty and self-sacrifice would win. Why, why did she not go with him, why did she allow herself to think she had to be the one that stayed? If she was his equal, she would have showed him.

Come back.

He wasn’t alone. He could find a way back to her once everything was fixed, but nothing could ever become truly fixed. Would he remain and remain, hopelessly fixing until he became too frail and withered? She knew him. He would. He was too much of a good man, especially now.

Come back.

It wasn’t that she wanted him to be selfish. She wanted him to be true to himself. But that man was wrestling with a giant called doubt.

Come back.

The wind blew her journal to the last few dozen pages. She hadn’t realized how worn it was before, how the binding was tearing and the pages weren’t sticking to the spine as they used to. Come back, she wrote. Come back to me Arthur. Again and again, she wrote, more furious than the last, her hand flying through her remaining blank pages. The wind was strong, and before she could catch one of the pages that ripped out, she could only watch as the wind ripped it’s away across the stream. More pages began to fly from her journal with all the same messages, come back, come back, Arthur come back, don’t leave me in this dark, cruel place where I can’t find you. Some fell in the river, some were carried to the clearing behind her.

She lost all her blank pages. She didn’t mourn.

“Come back,” she said once more, for the final time. “Come back.”

***So I stopped updating this fic in 2019 because I lost the muse. Frankly too I spent the bulk of writing this story in an unhappy mood, and I associated a lot of my feelings of the time when I thought about going back. however, wanting to replay RDR2 made me fall for Arthur all over again, and made me want to come back to this world, so I reread it and tidied it up and went back. I found I no longer associated the fic with my mood at the time and could appreciate it as it’s own thing. The meta of this section and why I’m found of it is that the idea of blank pages is associated with Arthur and Charlotte’s relationship. they want to write a story together and fill up their blank pages together. Plus I am just very attached to the image of Charlotte writing in a journal and the pages getting lost in the wind. Also love the literary references and allusions in this fic, and you can see that here. Truth to be told i think this is one of my technically best fics for it’s consistency and build. Also, Arthur lives.

4. Memoirs of a Long, Long Time, Morrigan x Warden

Rowan had no shame. Once outside the blacksmith’s, he took Morrigan’s hand, leading her out by the water. He held up his hand to Alistair, Leliana and Sten, promising it would be one moment, and one moment only.

“Yes?” she asked, with a dollop of sugary sweetness

He didn’t play games. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Why are you?” she fired back. “We are here for the Arl, not to save the entire village."

“Look around,” he told her. “Who will help these people if I do not?”

“Yet to accept a kiss? From that woman? Shall we keep our list? Leliana, that girl in the chantry, the tavern wench…me….”

He didn’t care if Alistair, Leliana, and Sten were all watching. “You know what I feel for you is different,” he muttered.

“Oh? Is it?”

“Shall I kiss you now to prove it?”

“But I do wonder if you would, gallant knight from a story book? You—”

He took her hand and pulled their bodies closer together, her words disappearing. “Am I a knight, or rogue?” he asked her. “No. I’m a Grey Warden.”

She bit her lip, mesmerized by his. Oh, to have done it then before battle, in front of his companions.

It was a nice thought, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

“I won’t kiss you now,” he said, “though a kiss before battle is what the bards sing of. I’d rather wait to kiss you when you aren’t so…salty. Kisses taste better that way.”

The temptress, Witch of the Wilds smiled, both agreeing with him, and knowing he did indeed want her lips and her lips alone. She stood by his side in battle, and then stood by his side come morning when the village remained. When Bella thanked him again after they came to the tavern with for complimentary glass of mead—a small reprieve before they would head to Castle Redcliffe— Morrigan said nothing and merely stood by his side, her arm pressed against his. When his mead sat untouched on the counter after a few sips, she took his glass and took a sip.

“I suppose I am to wait till after we storm the castle?” she asked.

“If I find a small grotto to take you. I hear kisses happen only in beautiful places.”

“Then we should do it anywhere you are.”

He flushed with vanity. He knew he looked tired, with dark, purplish circles under his eyes and scraggly hair that was growing out, though at least it had some wave to it. He lost weight as well, as his cheeks were hollower. His beard was growing as well, and he knew soon he would need to trim it. Frankly, he looked like what he was: a tired man who slept in the woods and was forced to settle every squabble in Redcliffe Village. And yet the Witch of the Wilds, who looked at radiant as she did when he first met her, would have him anywhere. She liked him as he was: tired and frankly annoyed.

He took one last sip of mead before suggesting they meet Teagan. After that, he would be one step closer to his kiss.

Or, not.

***I always wanted to write Morrigan x Warden. I was so close to making the Warden in In Waking Dreams a male that romanced Morrigan and had Kieran with her, but I chickened out and went with what I was most familiar with, a female Cousland who romanced Alistair. Well, 2020. Time to do the creative things that once scared me lol. If I had the will I’d rewrite IWD just to stick in Morrigan and Rowan, but that would be too hard and mess with the timeline, of Cullen and Lyd’s relationship, because the hero of Ferelden is Hawke’s Warden contact in this fic, and there’s no way Rowan wouldn’t visit his wife and son....I mean maybe I can do it but I don’t have the energy, I’d rather just keep IWD as it is, and I do like the Warden in that fic.

Anyway this fic reminds me a lot of a play---fitting because Rowan was once an actor. I really enjoy their dialogue and banter and I think Rowan’s knightish, charming ways come across in his dialogue. Also I’m proud of the way the story is told. It’s his memories, interspersed with the current time, also switches to Morrigan at Skyhold. ****

5. In Waking Dreams: Dragon Age, Cullen x Quiz

Lydia knew it immediately before he handed it to her, the book of Ferelden myths and legends, with the story of Cliodna, the Avvar priestess who roamed the world looking for her lover nestled within the pages. Lydia had a copy before, though different than the one Cullen handed to her. This was the one his mother held in her hands as she read to her children, the one that survived the Blight to be held in Cullen’s hands again, to be given to his lover.

“Cliodna and Concohbar,” Lydia said thumbing through the pages, captivated by the drawing of the long, dark-haired woman, reunited and swimming in the constellations with the man she loved, the final illustration of the book. Her gaze fell back to Cullen, his expression soft.

“Us,” she said.

“We’re us,” he said. “But they do remind of a certain couple I know.” He caressed her face. “We’re in the same constellation, you and I.”

They couldn’t wait. They made love upstairs in his room, the book safely tucked away on his dresser. He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off her clothes one by one, slowly and savoring each new patch of revealed skin. He pressed a kiss to her belly as she stood fully nude and himself still clothed—though she helped him rid himself of his shirt as he kicked off his boots and pushed down his trousers and smalls. She sat on his thighs, slid her hands down his body, filled herself with him to the brim. He wrote love letters of a happy birthday on her body, made her come against his hand as she thrust herself down and back upon him, riding his thighs as his calloused hands dug into her hips. Moonlight spilled through the gap in his roof, creating her favorite painting—one of a reverent, loving Cullen—a slight Commander to him in the way he whispered how good she felt, how her want was leaking on him, but unquestionably he was her Cullen.

She spoke his name, a chant and prayer stronger than one she ever prayed to the Maker, his arms wrapping around her and grasping as he shuddered and came, pouring inside of her, resting his head against her beating heart.

“My darling,” she said, covered in both their sweats. “My love.”

“Be honest,” he said against her breasts, peering at her. “Would you have preferred our secret place, something else today? You said you wanted quiet.”

She stroked his bearded face, tousled his hair. “What you all did was perfect. And you coordinated it?”

“Mostly Josephine. But I had some ideas.”

She grinned. “Darling. You have given me the happiest of days.”

***Well, I always wanted to continue IWD, just got caught up in other fandoms. Plus I didn’t think I was ready yet. Believe me I tried but I had no clue where to start. Well, I finally learned: Lydia’s birthday, Cullen throwing her a party. Actually I do enjoy this whole chapter--it’s Lydia and Cullen being romantic and fun and throwing out their pet names, the two just enjoying each other as they are. It’s so refreshing to see them happy and not uptight in a canon fic, because oooh boy rereading the fic and getting back into the world made me realize just how damn dramatic they are, lol. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, we high drama here or we go home. Anyway, really happy to be back, like over the moon even, and I had a reader tell me my writing has improved since I finished in 2018. So, it was quite nice to hear, quite affirming.******

Part of me has never gotten rid of my innate flowy language, but I do think I have improved with just saying what I need to say with no embellishment at certain points.

#aeon #cullen x inquisitor #warden x morrigan #arthur morgan x charlotte balfour #jaime x brienne #braime #arthur morgan #cullen rutherford #dragon age #resident evil #rdr2

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youllneverknowrac · 4 years

Text

Oscar Diaz-Defend

For @harringtoncastle

You weren’t one to usually get in confrontations, always wanting to be the better person and resolve things with a mature conversation. However when you were mad and pushed to the point of snapping, the whole world was going to know. That’s why you gave Monse two chances of talking about your boyfriend before you confronted Cesar about it. It was just the two of you home, Oscar out doing who knows what and Cesar just coming back from dropping said person off.

“I need to talk to you.” You tell him as he walks back in.

“Okay.” He chuckles awkwardly,”Um is everything alright?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Is it alright that you let your little girlfriend talk about your brother so poorly?” You ask

“What? What are you talking about?” He asks, looking everywhere but you.

“Don’t play dumb Cesar. How are you going to let her say shit about him? He’s your older brother, your blood. He takes care of you, he feeds you, he buys you clothes, he puts up with all of your shit. You’re suppose to stand up for him, just like he would for you.”

“Look Y/N, it’s not like that. I do defend him, but she just doesn’t agree with what he does.” He tries to defend with a shake of his head,”I don’t think of Oscar like she does.”

“You telling her to ‘stop’, isn’t defending.” You scoff,”How could you even be with her? I heard the two of you talking about it more than once so that means you’re not putting a stop to anything. None of what she’s saying is right and you know that, your brother does what he does for us to survive and to have a roof over our head.”

“I know Y/N, I know.” He tells you as he runs a hand through his head,”I’ll talk to her about it again, for real this time. She won’t say anything else about him ever again.”

“You better.” You warn,”Cause if you don’t and I hear her say something else about Oscar I’m going to do much more than just talk to her. You can trust me on that. Do you understand? I’m not playing around Cesar, I’m over her and her fucking mouth.”

“Yes, I understand. She’s not going to say anything else. Te lo prometo.” He promises,”Can I go to my room now please? I’m gonna give her a call.”

“Go.” You wave him off with a shake of your head. Heading to the kitchen to grab your phone, replying to a message from Oscar before retreating to your bedroom to wait for him. Still furious at the teenage girl, knowing that if she said anything else you would keep your promise and defend your man. No doubt in your mind that if the roles were switched Oscar would defend you as soon as you were even mentioned.

It was Friday night which meant a party was in full swing at the Diaz household. The music was thumping, Oscar was on the grill, Santos’s were scattered around the house, and you were dancing with a few of your homegirls. Cesar actually deciding to join you guys tonight, which was a nice surprise since he was usually gone with his friends or Monse on the weekend’s.

“Hi handsome.” You grin widely as you come up to your boyfriend after the song ended, a few drinks in at this point,”Smells good over here, watcha got for me?”

“Here, prueba esto.” Oscar chuckles at your drunken appearance, grabbing a piece of the carne asada and holding it out for you.

You lean forward and take it with your mouth, quickly chewing the delicious meat before swallowing,”Good job papi, save me some tacos for later. I’m gonna go dance some more. I just wanted to come check on you.”

“Aye, give me a besito before leaving.” He barks, leaning his head away from the grill with puckered lips.

“Come here.” You smile and press your hands on either side of his face, giving him a sweet kiss,”Don’t let the food burn.” You remind, giving him one more peck before running off with a laugh to find your friends,”Oh, I need to pee first.” You say to yourself as you come to a abrupt halt and make a beeline for the house. Which was always off limits to the party goers, with the exception of a few. You walk in and head for the bathroom, muffled voices coming from Cesar’s room causing you to stop and eavesdrop.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset? I wanted to stay and chill with my brother, is that so bad?” You hear Cesar say, his voice sounding drained and tired.

“Yes it’s bad! You chose your gang banging brother over us. We’re suppose to be your real family Cesar, yet here you are partying with all of the Santos.” Monse snaps,”I thought you wanted better than this life? It seems to me like you just want to end up like Oscar, partying your life away until you end up in prison for trying to be a badass.”

“Monse, oh my god. Just stop already.” He groans,”He’s my brother. That is never going to change, he will always be in my life. You can’t keep talking shit about him, I’ve talked to you about this already.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter, you were suppose to hang out with me tonight and you chose to stay here and party with a bunch of prison rats!” She shouts, which is when you’ve had enough. She wasn’t going to be talking about Oscar in that manner while standing in his house and she definitely wasn’t going to get away with yelling at Cesar.

“Yeah, see what you’re not about to do is raise your voice at him.” You start off as you push open his door,”And you’re definitely not going to talk about Oscar.”

“Y/N, please just go back outside.” Cesar interjects as he grabs a hold of your upper arm.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you, this is between me and him.” Monse says, her voice much quieter than it was moments ago,”Cesar bailed on his plans with us.”

“Monse, don’t.” He says as you wiggle out of his grasp.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You inform your future brother in law as you take a step towards his girl,”I told you to check your bitch Cesar, yet here she is running her mouth in our house.”

“I’m not a bitch.” Monse reply’s with a shake of her head,”Cesar’s the bitch that can’t say no to his brother. You’re going to end up just like him. Throwing your life away...I’m not going to stick by your side and watch you throw away your life like Y/N is. I’m leaving.” She says, Cesar grabbing a hold of you once again as she pushes past you and bumps her scrawny little arm with yours.

“Let her go.” He says with a deep breath,”She’s just upset.”

“No, fuck that.” You say as you push him away,”Quit touching me Cesar, I’m done.” You add as you leave the room, going after the girl.

“Hey!” You shout as you come up behind her, delivering a shove to her back that causes her to stumble off of the last step of the porch,”You’re not leaving until you apologize to everybody that lives in my house!” You tell her, a few people taking notice of the situation. Sad Eyez being one of them as he goes to grab Oscar from the grill.

“Well I’m not apologizing.” She shrugs as she turns around to face you,”I meant every word I said, cause it’s all true.”

“Nothing you said is true bitch!” You scream as you grow more exasperated,”You’re just upset because Cesar doesn’t want to follow every single one of you’re demands so your taking it out on Oscar. He’s not your little toy Monse, he’s his own person and can do whatever he wants.”

“You’re crazy.” She chuckles dryly, your eyebrow raising as you take another step towards her.

“What?” You ask,”Did I hear you right?”

“You did. I said you’re cra...” She begins to say, getting cut off when she sees your hand raising and flying towards her face.m, her body flinching in fear. However your palm wasn’t able to connect, your fingers and nails barley digging into her cheek as your being pulled back.

“Mamas what are you doing?” Oscar asks as he holds you firmly to his chest,”Talk to me.”

“Let me go.” You tell him,”She needs to learn to stop running her fucking mouth.”

“About what? What’s she saying?” He asks, Cesar standing next to her not knowing what to do.

“She’s talking shit about you. Saying all sort of out of pocket things.” You tell him, still struggling in his arms as you try to grab Monse by her flannel shirt,”Now she’s calling me fucking crazy cause I’m trying to defend you.”

“Aight, it’s okay mami.” Oscar says,”Get your girl and taker her home fool. Go.” He orders Cesar

“No, let me get her.” You tell him frustratedly, the alcohol and anger running through you not a good combination,”Let go of me!”

“Oye, eso es suficiente, cálmate. I’m not gonna let you fight a 14 year old.” Oscar chuckles, this whole situation amusing to him,”Cesar, go now.” He repeats,”You.” He points to Joker,”Go with them, make sure he gets back here with no problems.”

Joker nods, putting his hand on Monse’s back to escort her off of the lawn. Cesar scratching his head awkwardly as he follows them,”Why did you do that?” You ask Oscar

“I’m not about to let my girl make a fool out of herself.” Oscar smirks,”If I let you go are you gonna take off? Cause I ain’t got my running shoes on mamita, so give me a chance to get warmed up.”

“I don’t run.” You smack,”I’m fine as long as I never see that little bitch again, let me go.” You sigh as you try to pull his arm from around your waist.

“She’s a stupid teenager, I don’t hold it against her.” Oscar shrugs as he lets you go so you can actually turn around to face him,”That’s why I never bring it up.”

“You mean to tell me that you’ve heard her talk about you?” You ask

“Yes, our house isn’t exactly that big.” Oscar laughs,”I don’t care what she says, as long as she ain’t talking about you behind your back then I’m straight.”

“Here I am trying to defend you and shit, and you don’t even care.” You say as you look up into his eyes with a playful groan,”Fighting a kid would not be a good look for me.”

“Aye, I appreciate you trying to defend my honor and what not.” Oscar teases,”But you ain’t gotta do all that, I can handle my own.”

“I know you can, but I still don’t want any one to talk badly on your name.” You tell him, this time you being the one to wrap your arms around him,”Only I get to do that.”

“Mhm, thank you mami.” Oscar smiles, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours,”I don’t know how I would be alive in this world with out you here to protect me from little girls.”

“Shut up.” You laugh and let your head fall back,”It’s not funny.”

“It was pretty funny.” He reply’s, going in for another kiss,”You good?”

“Yeah, now I am.” You nod

“I ain’t gotta worry about you trying to rip another girls head off, do I? It seems like my baby’s a scrapper now.”

“No I’m not, I’ll be on my best behavior.” You promise with a eye roll as you pull away from Oscar,”Get back to the grill, and bring me some food.”

“Can I get a fucking please, no soy tu perra.”

“Please papi.” You laugh

“I’ll come find you in a bit, tacos in hand.”

“Love you!” You shout as you begin to walk away. Finding your friends who wanted to know everything about what went down. All of them agreeing that they would probably do the same thing if it came to their significant other. Their words making you feel a little less embarrassed about the whole situation. Hopefully no more teen girls talking shit would be in your immediate future, cause then you would probably have to repeat what went down tonight. At the end of the day nobody was going to get away with talking down on Oscar, not as long as you were around. Which would be always.

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