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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

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Choke

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Virgil, Scott, Tracy Brothers

Can’t be bothered to come up with a neat title and summary for this right now, so calling it one of my drabbles even though it’s 2k words and longer than a bunch of my published fics, oops.

Was not what I had envisaged writing - I was actually poking through my inbox to look at prompts - but the idea stuck in my head and wanted writing, so I let it happen.

Sound was an important part of Virgil’s life. Strains of music, ivory piano keys, needle on vinyl. Machinery roaring, murmuring, humming along as oil stained his sleeves. His brothers, too many of them for silence to ever be an option, and even the quietest loud enough to fill his life.

He was familiar with so many sounds, could tell from the first vibrations what sort of attention it deserved, so when a throttled squeak sounded from next to him, he was moving before any of his other senses had registered the cause.

“Scott!” His brothers, all gathered around the table, added to the cacophony as they too scrambled to their feet, ingrained instincts pulling them towards their eldest brother like moths to a flame. Virgil was closest, and had moved first, so he was the one that won the dubious prize.

The throttled squeaking didn’t stop, somewhere on the wheezing scale, and hands were wrapped around his brother’s neck in an instinctual desperation Scott would never normally let show. Not if he had any real control over his actions.

They were first aid trained, and something like this was right in the heart of the basics, taught at school, let alone Rescue Scouts or on their professional courses. From the heaving of his brother’s shoulders, Scott still remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

It just wasn’t working.

“I’ve got you,” Virgil promised, muscles straining against flannel as he tugged the stool Scott was perched on backwards, away from the table. Dimly, he was aware of the others hovering in his periphery, not crowding the two of them but there if needed. ��Let’s get you on your feet.”

Hands still around his own throat, body taut as he tried and failed to cough up whatever had jammed itself in his windpipe, Scott didn’t fight Virgil as he pulled him upright. Already, his lips were changing hue, gaining a tint of blue that suggested it wasn’t going to be as simple as just coughing up the obstruction.

At least they were all trained first responders.

Virgil nudged Scott until he was leaning forwards, at least partially propped up by Virgil’s own strength as his hand supported his brother’s chest. There was no point in standing on ceremony; Scott was still conscious enough to know what was going to happen. He gave a warning out of habit; almost before he finished speaking, his free hand was moving, the heel of his palm driving into Scott’s back.

No change. Scott was still scrabbling at his throat, his lips still changing colour.

Virgil did it again, and again when all he got was a strangled noise that was clearly Scott trying his best to dislodge the obstruction.

Two more hits continued to be useless, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his brothers moving away – dispersing to get more equipment, he vaguely registered with the little concentration he had to spare.

The next stage, then. He bundled Scott into a pseudo-embrace, biceps pinning him in place as his hands arranged themselves, palm over fist, just below his brother’s ribcage. This was going to hurt.

In and up, a fluid yet sharp moment that jarred the entirety of the body in his arms. He got a faint wheeze in response, still nowhere near good enough. Scott’s weight was increasing against him, and Virgil knew he didn’t have long before he passed out.

Another thrust, powerful enough to raise his taller brother onto his tiptoes momentarily, failed to dislodge the offending blockage, and Virgil started mentally running through the steps he’d have to take if this failed. Steps that Scott would hate with a passion.

He pulled back sharply again.

The noise it pulled from Scott’s lips was painful, but a relief all the same as something resembling a strangled cough was accompanied by a chunk of something black and charred dropping onto the table in front of them.

“Th-” his brother wheezed. He was trembling slightly, adrenaline coursing through his body, and Virgil immediately guided him down to the floor – less of a distance to fall if he lost his balance. Scott’s hand was back at his throat, but fingers massaged rings into the skin, rather than clutching desperately.

Virgil didn’t let go.

“Water?” John offered, face still pinched with worry as he carefully knelt down in front of Scott, plastic cup in hand. Scott’s hands were still trembling as they massaged his throat; if they needed a sign to tell them how shaken their big brother was, it was in the way John held the cup to his lips for him, tilting it just enough for a few drops at a time, and Scott accepted it.

Behind him, next to Virgil, who still had both his arms firmly wrapped around Scott for support, Gordon crouched down. A tanned hand ran lightly over the site of the back slaps, making its own tracks up and down and round and around in another gesture that was supposed to be comforting. Scott didn’t make any moves to pull away, so Virgil assumed it was giving him what he needed.

“Alan’s gone to get a scanner,” John explained after a moment. Scott gave a miniscule nod of acknowledgement as Virgil lightly rested a hand over his abdomen, hoping the thrusts to clear the obstruction hadn’t done any more damage, but knowing Scott would definitely be at least bruised. He hadn’t had the luxury of holding back his considerable strength. “How are you feeling?”

Slender fingers rested on Scott’s shoulder, not far from where Gordon was still rubbing his back lightly.

“’M okay,” Scott rasped, his own hands finally falling from his throat to rest in his lap. “Thanks, Virg.”

As though Virgil would have done nothing while his brother choked. “Don’t make it a habit,” he warned, and was rewarded with a slightly pained chuckle.

“Don’t plan to,” Scott promised.

“So, which part of Grandma’s cooking was it, anyway?” Gordon asked, leaning forwards a little as if he could make out the culprit if he squinted hard enough.

Scott gave a shrug, his whole body shifting. Virgil saw the warning for what it was and tightened his hold on his brother before he could try and clamber back to his feet. With John and Gordon both joining in as well, Scott’s bid for freedom was scuppered before it began.

“There’s no rush,” Virgil reminded him pointedly. “Stay put until Alan gets back with the scanner.”

Scott groaned, but surrendered. Against three brothers he had no chance, and they all knew it.

“He won’t be long,” John reminded him. “More water, Scott?” The plastic cup was offered again; this time Scott took hold of it with his own hands, no longer visibly trembling. John obediently let go, but his hands hovered in catching range as Scott took another drink.

Alan appeared just as he lowered the cup again, medscanner clutched in one hand. He looked openly relieved to see that Scott was breathing again, but still deployed it as soon as it was in range.

The light flickered over their brother, and a moment later a holographic representation of Scott was hovering in the air in front of them. Superficial bruising, it declared, but to Virgil’s great relief there was nothing more serious than that.

All in all, Scott had escaped more or less unscathed, and with the scan proving it, they had no reason to keep Scott pinned to the floor. Virgil still insisted on helping him to his feet again, to a fond eyeroll that said Scott was humouring him, and as a unit all of the brothers returned to the table.

None of them were particularly keen to continue eating dinner. The black lump sat innocently on the table, a reminder of what their grandmother’s cooking was capable of, and after a moment of staring at their half-finished plates they unanimously decided not to risk any more of it.

“Takeout?” Gordon suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Virgil agreed, pushing the plate in front of him away. The rest of his brothers followed suit.

“I’ll go get pizza,” Scott volunteered, making his way to his feet. Virgil’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist before he could take a step – on Scott’s other side, Gordon had apparently had the same idea.

Opposite, John had already brought up a menu and started placing an order. “It’ll be ready for pickup in fifteen minutes,” he said. “It’s the usual place, Alan.”

Scott made a noise of affronted protest, but their youngest brother beamed and darted out of the kitchen with an “F.A.B!”

“Give yourself a bit longer to recover before you break the sound barrier,” Virgil told Scott, amused. His eldest brother huffed at him, but reluctantly conceded the point and sat back down again. “So, who’s clearing this up?”

John and Gordon looked at each other warily. For his part, Virgil pressed his shoulder against Scott’s, making it perfectly clear that he was needed on observation. Just in case. Neither of his other brothers seemed particularly pleased with the silent declaration, but didn’t argue. Instead, they sprung into a game of rock-paper-scissors.

John won, and settled back smugly where he sat, tablet seemingly taking up all of his attention as Gordon whined.

“It’s not so bad,” Scott told him. “Look, I’ll help.” He was halfway to standing by the time Gordon clutched at his shoulders and pushed him back down again.

“No, no,” he said. “It’s fine. You need to stay put, otherwise Virgil’ll get grumpy.” Virgil rolled his eyes; he wasn’t the only one that would protest, and they all knew it.

As Gordon started gathering up the abandoned plates, the blast shutters slid across, shutting out the retracting pool before the silver rocket launched into the sky.

Virgil saw the longing glance Scott sent his ‘bird as she rapidly vanished from sight and squeezed his shoulder.

“Food’ll be here soon,” he promised, knowing full well that that wasn’t the reason behind the look. They all got angsty whenever someone else took their ‘birds out instead, after all. “Try not to choke on it this time.”

Scott swatted at him as Gordon barked out a laugh.

“We’ll make sure to cut it up nice and small for you,” the aquanaut grinned. “After-”

In one swift motion, Scott scooped up the now-empty cup and hurled it at him. Gordon lunged to the side as it sailed past him.

“Hey!”

“Just helping you clear the table,” Scott said sunnily. His hand crept towards one of the plates and Gordon jolted forwards with another yelp to snatch it up first, even though they all knew Scott wouldn’t actually throw something breakable. Grandma would kill him if he did.

“I don’t need help from someone who couldn’t swallow his food properly,” Gordon retorted, ducking away from the swipe that comment earned him. “Why don’t you go sit by the pool for a few minutes? We’ve got half an hour until pizza.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil chipped in, taking hold of Scott’s elbow. “Let’s leave him to it.” Scott smirked in agreement and stood up, leading the way out through the once-again open shutters. Behind them, John muttered something about burning, and Virgil surmised that he wasn’t planning on becoming as crispy as whatever Scott had choked on.

Scott sprawled onto one of the loungers, and Virgil would have thought it nothing particularly out of the ordinary for the times Scott did use them, except for the hand that briefly rubbed at his throat again in passing.

It seemed to be a subconscious gesture rather than a point for concern, but Virgil pointed the scanner at him again, just to be on the safe side. Scott jumped as the light flickered over him again, and sighed when his eyes focused on the device.

“Didn’t you already do that?”

“No harm in checking twice,” Virgil pointed out. The result came back the same as before, to his relief.

Scott hummed at him, but didn’t dispute it. Then again, the result was in his favour, so he had no reason to. Content that his brother would be fine soon enough, Virgil let the conversation lapse into silence. In the kitchen, Gordon was grumbling about clearing up by himself, and every so often John sniped something in return. Normal sounds, at least when John was dirtside. Beside him, Scott was also silent, seemingly content to listen to their brothers without interrupting.

There really was no such thing as silence in their home. As long as it didn’t herald something worrying, Virgil wouldn’t have it any other way.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #drabbles #thunderwhump #thunderfluff #choke

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eunjidrabbles · 4 years ago

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YAYYYY your asks are finally open!!! hi hi im the anon may i ask for a hwasa one shot wherein reader is courting hwasa but hwasa doesn't find fem! reader attractive. after one date, hwasa decides that reader isnt really her type which r is bummed about but respects her decision. however, one day hwasa finds r's genuine character and somehow, she falls for r's charms uwu angst to big big fluff please! sorry this is long :3 i really like tropes like this thank youuu!

Just One

(I realized writing hurt/comfort stuff soothes my soul a lot. Probably because I like making it hurt and then I feel bad and try to make it warm and fluffy so no worries. Longer requests help me with plotting out the story.

Edit: Sorry this took longer than expected, I just started my first day of work again and guess who is now a barista? Also Wheein’s solo album just dropped today so go give it a listen ya’ll)

Word count: About 2.4k

Ahn Hye Jin is a goddess. Everyone who has seen her either loves her, or hate her because they want to be her. With beauty, fame and charisma that goes off the charts, who could blame when you were to be drawn in like a moth to the light? Of course given the opportunity, you chose to chase after her disregarding the fact there were probably many others like you. It was a chance given, and it would be foolish not to grab at it. Be it getting your manager to buy her favorite drinks so you can drop it off for her whenever she was at the company practicing, leaving little notes with a container of food for her to heat up when she stays back for more practicing on her own or even occasionally popping by the studio when you had some free time off your schedules, you did you best to let your presence be known to her. Management didn't know of your crush, brushing it off as admiration for your senior whose group literally built up the company, and you'd prefer for it to stay that way lest you get kicked out barely a year into debuting. Hyejin however, knew of your intentions. You've made it clear to her when you gathered up the courage to manage to stammer out a "I like you." Before you could hear whoops from Wheein and feel the stares coming from the other two older members directed at you.

Over time, you've managed to also worm your way into the rest's hearts as they realized how pure your intentions were, and how far you'd go to try take care of their strong-headed maknae. Seeing as to how Hyejin has never properly rejected you, they slowly started putting in words for you whenever they spot your gifts for her, planting what they'd hope to be the seeds that will help make their youngest happier. It started from "Look at how thoughtful she is!" To “Hey look, guess who dropped by again today~?” Each time, she would only smile and wave away at her member’s teasing as she accept her gifts with a smile.

The small interactions with Hyejin and the rest of her members were great as you slowly got to know them more, just as friends. Sharing jokes and they would sometimes even invite you up for a meal together. It wasn’t until a few weeks later of skirting around your very obvious infatuation with Hyejin did you actually put up your mind to do something. Nodding to yourself, you gathered up the courage and knocked on the door. Cheers were heard from inside and as routine, Hyejin came to the door to open it for you. Passing over her drink with a smile, she stood waiting accepted it with a small chuckle and thanks. Right before she turned away, you called out to her. Looking back at you questioningly, you took a few deep breath to try settle your pounding heart. “One date. Just give me one date. I’ll show you that I’m serious.” You could see her eyes widen in surprise and slowly cover her mouth with her hand. You shift nervously, not daring to break the eye contact. She was the one who looked away first and her gaze fell to the ground, seemingly deep in thought. Noticing the longer than usual interaction, the rest of the members curiously peeked over one another to observe the situation. Putting the pieces together, Wheein shared glances with the older members and back to her best friend and voiced out her thoughts. “Why don’t you give it a shot?” Slowly looking over to her, Hyejin studied her expression, followed by the encouraging looks Moonbyul and Yongsun was giving before going back to her own thoughts for a bit longer. All the while you stood, head slowly lowering, feeling your throat and chest slowly coiling and tightening on themselves while you prepare yourself for the rejection incoming. “So what do you have in mind?” Snapping your head up, you find her staring right at you. You could almost hear your own heartbeat as you let out a breath you didn’t even notice you were holding. Glancing past her, you see the enthusiastic nodding and thumbs up given to you by the rest of her members and you pulled out your phone. “I’ll text you the details?”

As far as records go, the company only saw this meet up as a nice meal between a member of their top girl group and their solo artist. You’ve managed to book a small table at a café that you were introduced by a few friends. It was a cozy little place near an alleyway, just a little out of the way of where the crowd would usually go. Settling down in the corner, you were both handed a small menu. Skimming over, you decided to place an order of a cup of coffee and a macaron for a sweet treat. Hyejin took a little longer to look through the menu but also ended up with just a cup of coffee. There was an awkward tension in the air as you constantly try to find topics to speak about to engage the woman sitting opposite of you when all you could get in reply was a few words in reply. With a smile, you could only nod and let the silence blanket the both of you as your drinks and snack came. Every time you looked up from sipping your drink, you could see her silently in her own thoughts and decided not to bother her lest she finds you annoying. It was when you were on the last few sips of your drinks did Hyejin finally speak up.

“I don’t want to be harsh but I don’t think we’d go well together.”

The words echoed in your head as they processed into what she was trying to say. You swallowed down the harsh reality that hit you right in your chest and nodded with a small understanding smile. “Thank you for at least giving me a chance, and of course, being honest with me.” Nodding back, Hyejin went back to sipping her drink as the silence once again settled between the both of you, this time for you to quietly nurse your heart. Setting down the empty cups, the both of your stood as you pulled out your phone and texted your manager to pick the both of you up. While waiting outside the café, Hyejin couldn’t bring herself to look at you. A part of her felt that she had led you on, despite it just being that she couldn’t understand of her own feelings. To make everything simpler for everyone, the best choice would be to reject and ignore it. A hand coming towards her in the corner of her eye surprised her, and with that she finally look at you again. “Friends?” Raising your eyebrow, you silently prayed that whatever happened wouldn’t ruin whatever relationship you had between her and her members. “Friends.” Raising her hand to shake yours, a smile bloomed across her face in relief that you held no anger towards her.

You understood that it will definitely take time to get over the fact that you had a crush on Hyejin, so you chose not to avoid it. Instead, you faced the rejection straight on, and went up to Mamamoo’s studio even more often to interact more with everyone whenever you had the time. Every now and again, you’d also have a member or two pop up in your studio to join in the chaos, much so adding up to your manager’s headache of trying to keep your appearance as an idol intact, knowing well fully that the random moments you shared with the group would most likely air out as update episodes in your mini vlog series. It took a while to realize that by taking a step back from pursuing Hyejin, that you got so much more closer to her. The awkwardness melted away and what was left was a healthy friendship.

It also took a while for Hyejin to realized how much more she had been looking to spend time with you. Or that the increasing number of comments in your vlog series were commenting on how much and fondly she looked at you. It became almost a daily thing to exchange greetings from dawn and annoy one another through text till dusk fell. It got to the point where whenever her phone’s notification rang, does she perk up and rush to it and if it was not a reply from you, she would falter and according to Wheein, “Look like a kicked puppy.” If you had a schedule when she was free, she sometimes tag along with an excuse to keep you company but if you could see her behind all the staff, you’d notice her intense gaze as she studies you. The way you moved, the way you laughed, and even to the way your chest rise and fall as you breathed. Part of her knew what was happening, but she refused to act upon it. It wasn’t fair that you were the one who risked your career to chase her only for her to reject you, and now suddenly changing her mind. You on the other hand didn’t seem to notice all the extra attention you were getting from her and it annoyed Hyejin to a certain extend. She wanted the smiles you gave to everyone directed to only her. She wanted the jokes you shared and the laughter you gave to just be shared between you two.

It drove her crazy, the more she explored her feelings for you. It made her feel things that scared her. Scenarios would appear in her head as she watches you interact with others. Your words would race through her mind as she goes about her day. Images and memories of your gifts and notes pulled on her heartstrings. Maybe. Hyejin silently thinks to herself. Just maybe, I might be crazy. Chuckling to herself as she stopped in front of a set of doors, she sighed. That’s still better than letting someone else hold you, right? Looking up at the sign that stated the opening hours, she pulled out her phone to do a quick check of the time and pushed open to step through the set of doors.

The bass vibrated throughout the entire room as music boomed from the speakers in the practice room. Your eyes were trained upon your form as you connected each movement of your body to flow with the beat of the music. Seeing how focused you were on perfecting the dance routine, your manager could only sigh in failed attempt of trying to make you promise to not overwork yourself when your comeback was right around the corner before leaving for the night. At some point through the evening, you had shed your hoodie, leaving you in a cooling sports bra and sweat pants. Despite the lesser layers, you were drenched in sweat, and your hair had fallen from their ponytail, leaving them sticking uncomfortably to your face and body. Your body cried out in exhaustion as you slowed to a halt along with the music and panted to catch your breath. Slowly pushing yourself upright again, you groaned, body resisting the idea of one last run through of the routine. Right as you were about to hit the play button on your phone again, the soundproofed door of your studio swung open.

Your squeak echoed the room and your eyes darted up and widened in surprise to meet hers through the mirror’s reflection. It took a second for your body and brain to relax when you realized that the intruder meant no harm when you noticed both her hands were occupied. Slowly turning and walking over to the back of the studio where she had moved from the door, you look at Hyejin questioningly before your gaze dropped to the contents in her hands. Instead of putting it down onto the table, she waited for you to walk over to her to pass you the warm cup of coffee and a paper bag. Carefully hold the cup in one hand, you opened the bag to see a lone macaron sitting inside. A wide smile bloomed on your face when your body understood that the sweet treat was a form of energy for you to function and you eagerly pushed it up the bag to take the first bite. You then remembered the very person that delivered it to you and with your mouth full, you could only smile even wider to her as you closed your eyes in bliss as the sugary snack awoke your senses again.

“One date.”

Your eyes snap open as your jaw stopped its movement.

“One date. Just give me one date. I’ll show you I’m worth your time.”

Your smile slowly dropped as you processed what you just heard. Looking back down at the bag and the cup of drink, you recognized the name imprinted on its sides. It was from the very café you two went to on your first and last date. Forcing yourself to look busy by continuing to slowly chewing the one bite in your mouth, you subtly turned your head towards the mirror to look at the woman, not daring to risk eye contact by looking directly at her. Even from the mirror, you could see her intense gaze, as she fidgeted her hands behind her, anxiously waiting for your answer.

“So? What do you say?”

Swallowing the now mushy mess in your mouth, you slowly looked right back at her. Lifting the drink to your lips and taking a small sip, you looked for traces of this encounter merely being a bad joke of the rejection you faced at her hand a few months ago. When you could find none, you slowly lowered the drink and sighed. Even at such mundane actions, you could see her tense up in anticipation.

You chuckle suddenly, breaking the silence and causing Hyejin to flinch. That in return made you chuckle even harder when her look of confusion and surprise slowly melt away as your laughter went on. Finally taking a breath to stop, you smiled and answered her.

“I was hoping it will be more than just one.”

#mamamoo imagines #hwasa imagines #hwasa x reader #I highkey give up on tagging properly #just look at my masterlist #hope yall enjoy

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bandaigaeru · 4 years ago

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gravitational pull - seo changbin

→genre: brief fake dating, childhood friends to weird enemies to fake lovers to real lovers →synopsis: he was a glimmering star of hope until he exploded, suspending your relationship into a seesawing gravity. →pairing: changbin x gender neutral reader →word count: 8.1k →warnings: hyunjins kinda mean at one point, mentions of alcohol

Mulch crunches beneath the adolescent shoes of your classmates. One intention is shared, in this playground warfare, and it’s to get a swing.

You disregard the heap rushing towards the ones closest, for your gaze is set on the far end of the swingset. And it is just within your reach. Your eyes narrow as you outstretch a palm, prepared to feel the coolness of the rusty chain.

The chain sways away from you beneath the harsh touch of another boy.

You stare at him with wide eyes, mouth fallen agape.

He smiles, the plastic seat dipping beneath his weight. “This one’s mine.”

A small shake in your tone as you return, “I was here first.”

“So? Everyone knows this is my swing.”

You slowly nod, taking small footsteps backwards. Hwang Hyunjin is bigger than you. And more accustomed with goons of friends. There’s no point in fighting.

Though as you start for the abandoned monkey bars (their vibrant red paint chipped to a sad haze) with blurry vision faulting your path, a voice booms over the rush between your ears.

You glance in the direction. A short boy sits in a stationary swing, smiling as though it is all he’s ever known. He waves you over.

Taking all of the precautions, you glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s talking to you. When you confirm, you drag your feet along the mulch.

You flinch when he stands, bringing guarding forearms to protect your face. The blow never comes.

“You can take my swing,” he says. You peek at him through your shield. His puffy cheeks are still indented with the smile. And his hands, not balled into a fist, lay calmly at his side.

You blink, slowly lowering your defense. “W-Why?”

He laughs, “That’s what friends are for. Duh.”

The laugh that trembles over your lips is shaky and foreign. You reach for the chain.

“I’ll push you!” he declares, rushing behind you as you steady yourself in the small seat.

He pulls you from the ground, the tips of your shoes trailing back amber woodchips.

The tip of your nose kisses the blue sky. Though, inevitably, the time comes when you must fall back to the earth. Steady hands push against your back, returning you to freedom. You find yourself grinning each time.

The next day, Changbin saves you the swing beside him. He waits until you are ready before kicking off on the ground. You swing in sync, sharing a few glances under the sun’s hugging rays.

It only takes a week before he’s begging his mother to arrange a playdate. And to your luck, he follows through with the promises, meeting you at your doorstep that Saturday. He guides you a block over to his house. He must be a good kid if his mother entrusted him with such a task, bringing two first-graders over. One returning home and one in need of a home away from home.

His mother is extremely nice, smiling at you each time you catch her eyes. She sets a plate of fruit on the coffee table while you and Changbin battle over the next Spongebob episode. His sister comes out of her room, too, asking you whether you prefer Barbies or Matchbox.

Elementary school passes like this. Recess is spent with his presence, as is lunch and gym and any class freetime. On the off days that it rains, barring you inside the school, you play Mancala. It’s totally civil. Not once does Changbin storm off when he loses. He merely shrugs and offers to set up the next round.

So unusual, though each time you find yourself smiling.

After an emotional graduation party—emotional for the teachers and family, you mean—he hands you a small piece of paper.

“What’s this?” you curiously look at him. His tie has loosened since the ceremony and his hair is ruffled by his father’s hand.

“My phone number. I won’t be in town this summer, but I still wanna keep touch with you.”

You smile down at the small digits. Neatly, you fold the post-it before slipping it into your pocket. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch as he wraps his arms around your waist. “I’m gonna miss you,” you announce, voice muffled by his shoulder.

“It’s only one summer,” he reassures. “Plus, I’ll bring you back something nice. A keychain or something.”

You laugh through the sting that stabs your body, nodding. One summer cannot mark the end of the world, you tell yourself as you watch his car drift over the hill leading into town.

ii.

On the first, dreaded, day of middle school, you scan the halls carefully. The new faces do not scare you as much as the lack of his does. Each call was sent to voicemail. And each time the dial sounded, you frantically returned the phone to the receiver. Maybe he had accidentally miswrote the number. Or maybe he was too busy to return your calls. Summer has that effect on people, you think, where you have so much fun you forget the things you used to do daily. Like a memory disorder.

You finally see him in the lunch line. A breath of fresh air invades your lungs as you rush over to him.

“Changbin! How was your summer? I called, but you never answered,” you grin, nudging his shoulder.

He does not shoot you a glance, nor does he send a glare. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued on his shoes. A sharp pain strikes your chest—that breath might have been poison.

You gently shove his shoulder again, forcing a shaky laugh as you continue, “Hello? Anyone in there?”

The boy in front of him spins on his heel. His eyes are cold, painful, as they meet yours. “Can’t you tell he doesn’t wanna talk to you?” Hyunjin scoffs. “Go somewhere else, dumbass.”

Hesitantly, you look to Changbin. Surely, he’ll defend you, right?

Right?

His eyes have traveled to the lunch menu, displayed on a TV in cheap font. Far away from this conversation.

You nod, looking back to Hyunjin. His abrasive eyes are still waiting for you, eagerly begging you to move on. “Sorry, then,” you murmur as you start for the bathroom that will become your haven.

Behind you, Hyunjin’s loud laugh taunts you. Hidden beneath it is a quieter one that stabs you in the chest. Something painful blurs your vision, twists your insides, and curls the corners of your lips as you try to fight it.

You were a fool to think he was different. Elementary promises should never be trusted.

Secondary school passes in dreary blinks. Watching Changbin run for class president. Bubbling in his name despite everything. Hearing Changbin got the lead role in Cinderella. Showing up despite the physics test you had to study for.

You wonder momentarily if Newton was behind this twisted feeling in your chest. Drawing you to him—like a moth to a flame. You even scan his sister’s Instagram from time to time, finding a picture of Changbin framed carefully beneath the stars, a twinkle in his eye.

You watch from afar as he accepts his diploma, a careful smile seated on your lips.

A bitter taste haunts your tongue as you pack for college.

“This is good for me,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll be far, far away from him. I can move on.”

Some things are better left unsaid.

iii.

Awkward introductions replay in your memory as you get ready for your first college class. Seven fifteen, physics with Professor Kim. Denoted as one of the best in the country. Physicist and professor, respectively. It would be a lie to say he didn’t take part in your decision to attend this college. And the ocean, which is only a fifteen minute walk (that’s what the RA told you when you moved in).

You arrive with a hot americano precisely on time.

As you climb the lecture hall’s steps, your eyes drift among the sea of unfamiliar faces. One in particular sticks out—a glimmer of hope among the trenches. You raise a hand to wave, a smile quirking your lips. But, at the face directly next to him, you drift back.

Evidently, you didn’t move far enough.

You stand at the edge of the aisle, glancing down at the empty seat. “Hey, is this spot empty?”

Hope looks back at you with shock glazing his features. “Oh my God, Y/N! Of course. I didn’t know you decided to come here,” Minho smiles, tugging his notebook closer to allow you more room.

You pull out the chair, glancing at the boy on the other side of him. “I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going.”

He fills the silence with his tales of life, occasionally glancing at Changbin to see if he wants to add something. Each time, he is met with the boy’s indifferent profile. Mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though not once stopping to read one of the passing captions or like a picture.

Professor Kim claps, fizzling any remaining conversation. The syllabus fades in your mind as you wonder how Changbin’s summer went. Maybe he spent it with his sister. Or perhaps he accompanied a love interest to a string of dates.

This thought shoots a concoction of contradicting emotions through your heart. You return distracted eyes to Professor Kim just as he’s dismissing class, burying a content fist into the customly tailored pocket of his navy suit. Minho turns to you immediately, filling your ears with proposals to coffee and lunch and maybe you could come to the dorm later and catch up. Changbin’s ears perk up as he begs for Minho’s eyes.

For a split second, his eyes fall on you before they dart away.

“I need to get back to my dorm,” you announce when you can finally slip into Minho’s breaths of pause. “My roommate’s waiting.”

“Who’s your roommate? Maybe we know him.”

You fight a laugh when he finally glances back at Changbin, who has long since given up. “His name’s Yang Jeongin.”

iv.

While Minho is overly focused on you, begging you to tell him what happened after he moved in tenth grade, Changbin pretends you do not exist. When the conversations trail outside of the lecture hall, he clings to Minho’s side but does not speak. His eyes stay glued to the sidewalk. Or his textbook, whose cover he seems very invested in.

So when Professor Kim announces a project, your heart thumps a little too fast.

Minho grabs your arm, “Be my partner?”

Changbin kicks his leg. “Dude.”

He glances back at him, as though nothing he has said goes against him. “What? Just join our group.”

Changbin’s eyes find yours reluctantly. They ignite a spark in your fingertips as you reach for a pen. “Can I?”

You smile as your head twitches in a nod. “Of course.”

The plan is this: meet at the library on October 15th (a Saturday, you realize) at 1 P.M. “Expect to be there long, I wanna get this done ASAP,” Minho adds as he downs the rest of your americano.

When the day finally comes, despite your daily prayers that time would somehow freeze or somehow skip over the day, you leave your dorm right when you need to. Early October aids a brusque breeze, and you wrap your jacket around you as you approach the small crosswalk. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you dread the inevitable message.

Lee Minho [12:59 P.M.]: Sorry guys, I can’t make it. Mama Lee’s in town and wants to see her favorite son.

It’s too late to go home, you realize, when shoes scrape against the cement and a sigh penetrates the silence. “I cannot stand him,” the voice mutters behind you.

You turn to him, offering pitied condolences with a small smile. “Just the two of us, huh?”

He nods. “Guess so.”

A loud hum draws closer as his foot leans down for the asphalt. You look to the source, seeing a red car barreling down the street. You gasp, grabbing Changbin’s sleeve and tugging him back on the sidewalk. The horn echoes in the back of your head like an alarm.

His eyes are wide when they find yours. “T-Thank you,” he stutters, cocking his head a little. As though, for the first time, he is taking in your appearance.

You realize your grip is still tight on his wrist and you let go, tensing up. “You’re welcome.”

In the library, you work in silence. As though nothing happened outside. As though your entire history lies merely within the timespan of a few weeks. Minho serving as the mutual friend to your forced, awkward friendship.

He shoots you a dizzying look as he turns his packet to you. “Can you look this over?”

The tip of your eraser taps a number. “This has to be meters per second, not centimeters per second.”

A small sigh tumbles over his bottom lip as he realizes, “That’s why the final answer looked so weird. Thank you.”

The corner of your lip must have an opposite gravity to it, because it curls upward without intent.

Returning to class the next Monday leaves the soft hint of a calm lavender in the air. You share a quick, almost childish, glance with Changbin before settling back into the tune of physics. Newtons and joules and all the fun things that make up energy.

The next few weeks pass with a quiet hum, one that hangs in the background and, if you lose sight of it, you’re scared you’ll lose it forever. It’s a time of your life where you will look back with a sigh and whisper, “How did I not realize how good I had it?”

At your peak, you fall onto your bed on a Friday night. Jeongin scribbles impatient homework answers while your eyes fall shut.

The storm of your phone blaring its tune awakes you.

Lee Minho calls to remind you that he expects you to arrive at his ‘rager of a birthday party.’ He tells you the address, enthusiastically repeating himself (like an auctioneer) as you try to find a pad of paper. Jeongin’s jumping up to fix his hair before you even hang up.

You’re really not sure what you expect as you drag your roommate in tow towards the destination. Though, when you feel the tremble of music and hear shouts from the lawn of the frat house, you somehow know you’re in the right place.

The foyer is packed with jumping bodies. Leaning on the stairs, a red solo cup in hand, is the man of the hour. His cheeks are dusted in a light coating of heat and, as you approach him, you notice that glitter brushes soft highlights along his cheekbones.

“Happy early birthday!” you shout over the music.

He dizzily turns to you and drags you towards his chest in a swift motion. “Y/N! Thank you for coming!”

You had no choice. It was either come to the party or admit yourself to Lee Minho’s terrifying grudge list.

Despite this, you return with a grin, “Of course!”

When he lets you go into the stale air, he shoves his cup into your hand. “Try some,” he nods.

You tip the plastic to your lips. As the liquid scrapes the back of your throat, you flinch back. “What is this?” Your face twists.

“Just vodka and Coke.”

You hastily return the cup to him and glance around. Jeongin has disappeared to a desolate corner, you presume. A spark of jealousy runs through your veins.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you find yourself asking Minho.

He points down a vacant hallway and tells you it’s the last door on your left. You thank him before scurrying in that direction.

Your knock echoes, though nothing returns. The pale wood feels cold against your cheek as you listen for any life inside. You find it safe to enter. Instantly, you press your palms against the cold marble. Identical eyes stare into each other in the mirror until your eyes slip to the pale, spotless basin. You stare into the milky dome absently, pondering why you feel so odd being here. And for a moment you forget where you are, lost in the dizzying world of your thoughts.

Until you hear the choked sob from behind the shower curtain.

It takes you by surprise. Hesitantly, you reach out for the navy shield.

“Ch-Changbin?” you stutter, staring down at the boy in a mess of shock.

His legs are drawn to his chest as trails of tears line his cheeks. He lets out a squeak as he looks up to you. Arms fall to his sides as he leans forward. Though, he appears to have no intention of stopping, surrendering himself to gravity.

Your hands find his shoulders merely moments before his nose slams into the porcelain. “Are you drunk?” you whisper.

Though, in return, he sobs. “I’m sorry.”

Something pierces your chest. Your lips part to say something, but the words are clogged in your throat.

“I was such an idiot,” he slurs, swaying gently.

“What’re you talking about?” you finally ask.

His balled fist slams against the tub. “You!” he shouts, face twisting as he releases another cry.

You flinch back.

“My mom always asks how you’re doing, no matter how many times I tell her. My sister still has a grudge. Hell, even Hwang Hyunjin thinks I’m an idiot and he’s the one who tricked me into leaving you!”

He leans his cheek against the wall, once again releasing a cry. Though, this one, he fights to hold back. It scalds the air in a whimper.

Quieter, he admits, “You were the only person I’ve ever felt safe with.”

You sigh, looking down at your shoes. Those days when you wondered what had gone wrong, staring up at your blank ceiling and trying to relive his smile as quiet tears fell to your pillow, wash down the drain.

He watches intently as you climb into the tub. You do not look at him as you slowly lean against the wall he rests his cheek on. Instead, you stare at the mahogany finish of the small cabinets. Regardless, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your cheek. In this cold porcelain cage, all you can hear is the distant thumping of music and the occasional sniffle from the boy beside you. You smile at the familiarity of it, returning you to your former years cozied up on a playground. No worries back then, you jealously note with a muted snicker.

“I missed you,” you finally say. Tears blur your vision, warping the defined lines of wood into a mess of color.

When you bring yourself to look at him, his eyes are closed. You lean a little closer to see if he’s sleeping. Reluctant lips part as he whispers, his breath hot and reeking of tequila, “I missed you too.”

vi.

One of the things you come to realize is that Changbin’s smile has never changed. There’s still that little indent where his cheeks fold over and each time he offers a glimpse at it you are returned to the days of the swing.

Thanks to the drunken night (half drunken night, you should say, since he had enough for both of you), Changbin has allowed a sneak peek back to his life. Strictly over text, though. You’re not sure why he’s never asked to meet up—maybe it’s too much too fast, you think—but you cannot find it in you to complain. He’s back after all these years and that seems to be enough.

So you endure it, texting him until the early hours of the morning and fascinating yourself over all of these things you have missed.

Seo Changbin [2:39 A.M.]: My sister and I went to the elementary school a couple of weeks ago.

Looking at your phone burns your eyes, as does the weird feeling in your chest.

Y/N [2:40 A.M.]: Really? Has it changed much?

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: The kids after us got all the cool playground equipment :(

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: I should take you there one day haha. I think that’d be fun.

You fight the giggle that wishes to flee, glancing up at a sleeping Jeongin for reassurance.

Waking up in the morning is aided with fleeting regrets, though beneath it you realize there is a small skip in your step. One that flares a heat in your face when you walk into the physics classroom and reach to meet Changbin’s eyes. And there, waiting, is his gaze and a small smile.

Maybe you have it bad for Seo Changbin, you think, as Professor Kim begins talking about Newton’s Third Law.

vii.

Yang Jeongin is broadcasting his homework onto the cheap projector he bought on Amazon for $50. “Isn’t it so cool?” he marvels as his red pen underlines a key part of his notes.

You absently nod, glaring at your textbook. Between the lines is a screaming thought that cascades a waterfall of forget towards your upcoming exam. You fail to notice your phone buzzing against your bed. Daydreams are dangerous like that.

“Y/N,” Jeongin’s voice finally snaps you out of it. You look to him, standing at the door and lazily holding the knob. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as you rush to take his spot. Before you can tug the door open, he presses a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful around him, please.”

You watch as he struts and flops down on his bed, opening a comic book above his head.

As you open the door, a little more hesitant than before the interaction with Jeongin, you smile.

Changbin is watching the end of your hall and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. When he senses your presence, he finally breaks his trance and offers a smile. He keeps his voice low, “Can I talk to you?”

You nod, ignoring the annoying thump thump of your heart, “Sure. What’s up?”

“In private,” he adds, peeking over your head at Jeongin. Maintaining his hold on the comic book, though his eyes have drifted to you with a parental glare.

You shut the door behind you. His footsteps draw towards the common area, and you follow. There’s a silence draped over you until he abruptly stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to you. “I need you to pretend to date me.”

You blink. “W-What?”

He draws his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before continuing, “I made a stupid bet and I kind of really need the money.”

A shroud of toughness hides your instant willingness to help. “What do I get out of this?”

His eyes radiate the innocence of a child. They draw you to a distant memory, one that you might have seen in a movie and forced into a memory, but you’re not sure. You were at his house after he broke his arm and he cried, those same eyes staring at you as he whined about how much it hurt. And how itchy his arm was beneath the cast.

Your heart softens, and you have to fight the crumbling beneath your feet.

“Whatever you want,” he assertively nods. “Seriously.”

You sigh. “Do you have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” he smiles, pulling you into a grateful hug. His hoodie smells vaguely of ramen with a hint of sealike cologne you might find in Lee Minho’s bathroom. You find yourself smiling as your hands rest on his back.

viii.

His hand, admittedly, feels a little odd in your hand. The last time you had held his hand was in second grade, when you went to the zoo on a field trip. Your class was already flooding into the bird exhibit with anticipation and exuberance. But you were crying your eyes out at the mere thought of seeing a parrot. (This unfounded fear is all thanks to Spongebob)

Changbin’s hand slipped into yours and slowly urged you in, mumbling that if you didn’t go you’d get stuck there forever. And then, he had whispered, the parrots might eat us alive. Even then, his hand was oddly clammy and a little sticky.

But now, as he guides you through the small neighborhood, you feel a calm mix of elation and awkwardness. Sure, this is groundbreaking material for you and your “small” crush on him. However, he’s not doing this because he likes you. He’s doing this because he needs some cash and you were a means of aiding him.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a cloud of your breath expanding from your lips. It’s only the beginning of November.

“You’ll see,” he glances over at you, a small smile painted on his pale cheeks.

There’s a small line of shrubs on your side of the sidewalk. Serving as a break in them is a metal archway, accompanied by a small wooden sign reading: Gyeonghwa Park. He turns into it, guiding you into the small fenced area. A two person swing set stands in the corner, absent seats trembling in the breeze. There’s a few wooden benches, though most are tainted in a layer of leaves.

“Ta-da,” he says, gesturing with his free arm at the small park.

You look around to the little duck statue in the corner. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are we here again?” you turn to him. His hand burns against your skin like a constant reminder.

“I can’t take you to our playground, so I thought we could settle for here as our first fake date,” he smiles. “Plus, we need couple pictures and I think this works well.”

You’re grateful for the breeze that dashes pink across your cheeks, disguising the heat that has rushed to them at his words. “R-Right,” you stutter.

He takes a seat on a leafless bench and slips his phone from his pocket. As you reluctantly sit beside him, you watch as he sends texts to his friends. Nothing regarding you, you presume, but when he feels your eyes he quickly closes the chat.

The pictures are poised carefully, his arm resting on the top of the bench behind you, your head tilted towards his as you smile. Without warning, he presses his lips to your cheek as the shutter clicks. You try not to make your flinch obvious.

He pulls back, smiling slightly as he inquires, “Should we kiss to seal the deal?”

Fire poisons your veins as you stare back at him. The invisible mark his lips had left sizzles in the air. “Do you think we should?” you whisper.

He shrugs. “It’ll make it a bit more believable. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, though.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Kiss me.”

The corners of his lips upturn a little further, sending a shiver down your spine—though maybe it was just the wind. He readjusts his phone, glancing to assure you’re both in frame, before leaning in. At first, his lips merely wander in the air before yours, as though he is thinking about the best way to do this. But then, confident lips press against yours. His touch melts away the numbness in your fingers, the shiver of the cold. In this moment of freedom, you wonder if he had ever wondered what your lips tasted like. Because you sure have.

ix.

Each of your fake dates is constructed with careful attention to detail. A trip to the movies (seeing a film you had mentioned wanting to see very briefly over text). A study ‘date’ that didn’t really feel romantic, though he brought you an americano and a fancy pen he stole from his dad’s work.

But your date today is very special. The diner is filled to the brim with hungry college students and elderly couples. In the back, bunched up against the upholstery, are Changbin’s friends. They throw their heads back to laugh as one tells a stupid joke. Changbin leads you down the aisle slowly. He squeezes your hand, whispering over his shoulder, “Thank you, again, for doing this. It means a lot.”

You smile against your will,“That’s what friends are for.”

As you approach, the new and familiar faces turn to you. Some hold smiles, others hold gaping lips.

“I didn’t think you actually found someone willing to date you,” a boy marvels.

“Let alone Y/N! How come I didn’t know you were dating?” Minho shouts, garnering certain harsh looks from neighboring booths.

A glimmering smile finds your lips as you slide into the booth beside him, “You never asked.”

He scoffs. “Am I supposed to ask when anything life-changing happens?”

Changbin files in beside you, sighing, “Not necessarily, but you talk a lot.”

“How long have you been dating?” a boy across from you asks. His cheeks are dusted with light freckles, and a friendly smile paints across his lips.

“Nearly two months,” you glance at Changbin, who nods. The finer details, he stressed, must be known like the back of your hand. A single hair out of place could be the end.

“Are you serious?” Minho booms. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted. Even his eyebrows raise in awe, scratching dull wrinkles across his forehead.

“You do talk a lot,” you mumble.

Before Minho can have the chance to shout profanities aiding his awe, another boy sighs. “Shut up and congratulate them, okay? This is karma for laughing at him when he wanted in on the bet.”

“Thank you, Chan,” Changbin smiles, wrapping an adept arm around your shoulder. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder.

As the night unfolds, queued by digging questions and the occasional groan from Minho, you nearly forget that this is an act. That when Changbin presses a kiss to your forehead it’s not real.

Outside of the diner, as his friends disperse into their means of transportation, he cups your cheeks and presses a soft kiss to your lips. When he parts, there’s a small smile and a gloss hanging over his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.

He promises to pick you up at five. All that remains is the reward, you realize. A simple favor has brought you here, waiting impatiently for his knock on your door. Your heart beats harshly against your chest.

“Why are you even messing with him?” Jeongin mutters, stirring his ramen with the tips of his chopsticks.

You glance up at him, sighing, “I’m not messing with him. I’m doing him a favor.”

“Yeah, but, why? He’s an asshole, Y/N,” he shakes his head. As he shoves the steaming noodles into his mouth, he hisses at the heat and tilts his head to the side.

You watch him as he gulps down water.

At your prolonged silence, he adds, “When is he supposed to pick you up?”

You tap your phone screen, illuminating the time. “Five minutes ago.”

Jeongin drowns his harsh words with more noodles. Though, in between bites, he says, “Maybe he’s standing you up.”

The thought has crossed your mind, though a hollow in your chest wants to believe he wouldn’t do that. Friends, if that’s what you are, don’t do that.

Seconds drift into minutes. And minutes turn into an hour. Jeongin’s gone through three more ramen cups. Your lips ache as you nervously bite them, jumping for your phone at each notification.

At half past six, Jeongin rests into your bed beside you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he wraps a cautious arm around your shoulder.

Though, you do not feel anything aside from the irritation blurring your eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks. These simple words open the floodgate.

xi.

His eyes avert yours as though they had never known you in the first place. Minho doesn’t say anything when you lower yourself in the seat beside him. Instead, he cautiously slips you a small note. Large, scratchy words read: are you okay?

You crumble the note in your palm before tucking it into your bag. He does not bother you for the rest of class. Class travels by in grueling moments. Professor Kim’s voice seems slowed, stripped of any tone. When he finally dismisses class, warning that the semester is ending soon, you haphazardly shove your things into your bag and leave.

Over your shoulder, you hear a low smack and Minho mutter, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

It hurts to admit, given that you had known from the beginning, but Seo Changbin used you. Though, despite the anger you should be feeling, you can only find yourself wondering what he needed the money so badly for.

Back at the dorm, Jeongin silently pulls a piece of cake from the small fridge and hands it to you. “Here,” he mumbles. “My friend made it for you.”

You look up at him. “Why?” Your voice is raw from desuetude, crackles like an old radio.

Jeongin bites his lip, eyes slipping to your comforter. “I told him you were having a rough time. Plus, he knows Changbin, so he knows the story.”

You take the paper plate in your fingertips, dragging it toward you. You poke the delicacy with the tip of your fork. “What’s the story?”

A sigh slips past his lips. “That you guys dated and you broke up. That’s all Changbin told them.”

You nod. He must’ve gotten the money and thrown you away.

Your phone buzzes against the mattress. Jeongin leans over to check who it is. When his eyes meet yours again, he informs, “It’s just Minho.”

So you allow yourself to look at your phone.

Lee Minho [9:20 A.M.]: I’m outside your dorm. Let me in please.

You look up to the door, though your energy is below zero. Jeongin grabs your phone, reading the message, before going to answer the door.

“Hey, Jeongin,” Minho pushes past him. He sits at the foot of your bed. “What happened?”

You blink, eyes staring into his absently. “What?”

“With Changbin. Tell me what happened, please. He won’t tell us anything and I’m starting to get worried for both of you. He’s never this quiet and you’re never this sulky,” he reluctantly rests his hand on your knee.

You look at Jeongin, who stands there with arms against his chest. He shrugs, silently telling you it’s up to you.

You sigh. “Where do I start?”

“The beginning, preferably.”

“I think I fell in love with him, but I can’t tell you when. Maybe it was when we were kids. Maybe it was at the party when he apologized,” you slowly say. The words do not feel like yours. A small pit rumbles in your stomach, begging you to continue. “He wanted a favor, to pretend to date him for that bet you guys made. I didn’t ask why he needed the money or why I should do this for him, given all he did to me. I just went with it. And things were great, as far as fake relationships go.”

In your break of silence, you find yourself smiling at all the fake dates. You wonder if the pictures still live in his phone or if he discarded them the moment he got rid of you.

“So you guys faked the whole thing?” Minho’s eyebrows furrow.

You nod. “He was supposed to pick me up on Saturday, but he stood me up. And now we’re here.”

Minho blinks. “Either Changbin’s a good actor or he’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s the latter,” Jeongin announces as he crosses to his bed.

Minho shakes his head. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t tell him what I said,” you rush. “About loving him or anything.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

After he leaves, Jeongin loudly sighs. “I knew you were in love with him.”

You look at him, slowly nodding, “I didn’t really make an effort to hide it.”

xii.

There are tears irritating your skin as you pull yourself out of bed. Surviving off of Felix’s cake and Jeongin’s ramen cups is less than attractive, but you cannot build enough will to leave your dorm. You ask Minho to take notes in physics for you and he quickly obliges, no questions asked.

Changbin, still, plagues your mind like venom. Each time you think maybe a nap is in order, you shut your eyes and see his smile. Or you’ll think of his lips on yours as he smiles into the kiss. Your eyes shoot open, chest rising heavily. Even when you stare at your ceiling too long, your brain deems it a screen for a memory to play. Casted like Jeongin’s cheap projector.

There was this once, in fourth grade when you grew bored of the swings so you relocated to the plastic blue tunnel. He blocked off one end while you took the other. On hotter days, you’d lay on top of the tunnel. One day, he looked at you across the plastic and asked, “Do you ever think we’ll be grown ups far away from each other?”

You shook your head so confidently. “No. We’re gonna live together. Like roommates.”

Jeongin comes home from his classes with a cup of coffee. He sets it on your nightstand as he whispers, “I’m spending the night at Chan’s tonight. Call me if you need anything.”

You take a sip of the americano. “Thanks, have fun.”

In his wake is a dreaded silence that reminds you of Changbin’s laugh. Time has only plagued it with a dash of depth.

Your phone buzzes. Hesitantly, you roll over and grab it. The metal is cold against your fingers.

Lee Minho [4:29 P.M.]: Hey, I need you to come to the beach. There’s something I want to show you.

The thing that tipped you over the edge when looking for a college was the beach. As you carefully scouted, the grains of sand kept drawing you back. It’s ironic as you realize that you haven’t been once, despite its proximity. You can already feel the bitter cold against your cheeks as you rise from your bed. Dots of dizziness scatter across your eyes.

The mid November air is cooler than you expected as you step out of the complex. You shove balled fists deeper into your hoodie pocket.

The walk to the beach is shorter than you had expected, only passing ten minutes. You see Minho waiting on the wooden slats leading to the sand. He jumps to preserve his heat.

“Hey,” you call out to him.

He looks to you, daring to unveil a pale hand as he waves. When you’re closer he says, “It’s fucking cold out here.”

You nod, looking out onto the vacant sand. Huddled like a speck of trash is a small figure.

“Why’d you want to meet out here?” you return to look at him, a piercing cold slashing your heart at the realization.

His face softens as he glances out towards the black speck in the sand. “Well, he wanted to meet you here but he wasn’t sure if you’d come if he texted. So he dragged me out here.”

You find yourself laughing. “And you agreed?”

“I didn’t know it was negative twenty out here,” he mutters. “So go and talk to him so I can get back in my car.”

You smile. Your heart thunders against your chest and, even though you know you shouldn’t, your feet move towards the small figure. He tugs you in, time and time again.

You glance over your shoulder when you reach him. Minho’s already gone, as though his presence was merely a ghost. You squat next to Changbin, wrapping your arms around your knees.

He looks at you, though you keep focused on the pale water. Brushing up on the sand, pulling back into the ocean.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You nod. “You always say that.”

“I really am,” he admits. “I know you probably think I’m an asshole, reasonably so, but I really am sorry for everything.”

You finally look at him. “What’d you need the money for?”

He’s taken aback. He had expected more of a heartbreaking confession, a perspective he had not once explored. “Music equipment,” he says. “It’s really for me, Chan, and Jisung.”

You nod, looking back at the water. “I was just a ragdoll so you could get that.”

“Not really,” he whispers. “It was kinda a double positive for me.”

Furrowed eyebrows turn back to him.

“I got the money,” he starts, “and I also got the luxury of pretending to be yours.”

You blink. Your voice is small, barely audible over a gust of wind, “What?”

“Every time I did something stupid that got in between us, I always knew I’d find my way back to you. I was the tide and you were the moon, reaching out and tugging me back into reality. Time and time again, as we’ve come to understand,” he nods, glancing at his red fingers, bitten by the air.

You stare at him. “So why do you keep pushing me away?”

He shrugs. “There was always the fear that you didn’t want to bring me back.”

You scoff, remembering your childhood and the way he kept drawing you closer. You shake your head, words failing you.

“So truly, I am so sorry. You still have your end of the deal, you know. You get whatever you want. You can tell me to fuck off and I’ll go home. Sure, I’d be a little heartbroken, but-”

You cut him off, “Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I treat you like shit to fuel this stupid ideology that you don’t hate me,” he admits. “Even when I don’t try to be, I’m a selfish asshole. I only kissed you because I wanted to, not because of the stupid pictures for the bet. I only asked you for the favor because I wanted to paint this stupid little picture in my head. I only stood you up because I couldn’t bring myself to face you and admit that my stupid fantasy was over.”

“That’s not selfish,” you say. “That’s just very Seo Changbin of you.”

“I really cannot tell if you hate my guts or not,” he sighs, picking up a handful of sand and watching as it trickles down again.

You shake your head. “Minho didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

You look back at the empty space where the ghost once stood. A sigh of a distant nostalgia slips from your lips—the times you’ve pictured this moment over and over in your daydreams. However, you did not imagine the bitter bite of the wind nipping at your cheeks. “That I’m in love with you.”

“You what?” he gawks, leaning a bit closer. As though his ears deceive him.

Your eyes return to his as you nod. “I love you. I probably have since we were kids. That’s the only reason I agreed to your favor. Because I, too, wanted to be a little selfish.”

His lips slowly curl up into a smile as he releases an abrasive laugh. “How much did Minho pay you to say that?”

“He didn’t. I’m being completely honest. Why else would I be here if I wasn’t stupidly in love with you, huh?”

“Really?”

“Yes, now can we speed this up? It’s fucking cold out here.”

He presses his lips against yours. You expect them to mold against yours like they had in previous weeks, but now they are fiery. It sends tingles down your spine as he cups your cheek. With those internal feelings finally suspended from your body, you can sigh a breath of relief.

You wonder if younger you would be proud.

xiii.

“Are you guys actually dating now or are you just fucking with us again?” one of Changbin’s friends, Jisung, asks as you slide into the same booth as a few weeks ago.

“They are,” Minho intervenes. “I watched them confess and everything. Like a minister.”

“Bullshit,” you mutter. “You went back to your car as soon as I got there.”

Changbin’s laugh tickles against your ear as he scoots in next to you.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t revoke the award,” the freckled boy, who you’ve now concluded is Felix, observes.

“Why?” Jisung asks, bringing the straw of his soda to his lips.

“Because we would have had to give it right back.”

His friends are very welcoming of you, despite the deception that marked your first greeting. Chan catches you in the parking lot as Changbin and Jisung fight over the extra mint the server placed on the table.

“I just want you to know,” he starts with a smile, “that he really loves you. It’s not a front, I promise.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you ask, “Those are suspicious words. How should I trust you?”

“Because he talks about you all the time. I know more about your childhood than I know about mine. Plus, he’s written three songs about you and we don’t even have the equipment to record anything yet.”

You laugh, “You’re in luck, then.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’ll find out.”

Changbin returns to your side, a sullen scowl pressed against his lips as he watches Jisung pop the mint into his mouth. Chan dismisses himself to attend to Felix attempting to teach Minho a taekwondo move.

You look over at Changbin, “You’ve written songs about me?”

His eyes widen, “No? Why would I ever do that?”

A giggle bubbles up from your stomach as you shake your head, starting off to his car. Behind you, he repeats the same question urgently.

xiv.

Seo Changbin is like a pest that flies around your head, begging your attention at all moments of the day. He invited you over to his dorm so you could study together, though when you arrived with your textbook and notes, he appeared offended.

“What?” you asked as you settled on his bed, fluffing pillows before leaning against them.

“Studying doesn’t mean studying, it means cuddling,” he pouted.

It’s lucky for him that Minho isn’t home because if he ever heard those words falling from his lips, he’d never hear the end of it.

So that’s why you’re laying your head on his pillow, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you read over your notes.

“What’s the formula for Newton’s law of universal gravitation?” you quiz him when you feel his arms start to loosen with the temptation of sleep.

He hums, “I don’t know. You’re the one with the strong magnetic force. Shouldn’t they call it Y/N’s law of universal gravitation?”

You sigh, setting the spiral notebook on his nightstand before you turn in his arms to face him. The hint of a smile already greets you. You press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “What’s your grade in physics?”

He looks up at the ceiling as he pretends to think. “38.”

“What?” you hiss, pulling back away from him as though he has an illness you didn’t know about.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he whines, pulling you back. “I only signed up for the class because it reminded me of you.”

You smile. “Why?”

He shyly pouts, “I may have gone out of my way to hear about you when we were in high school.”

“And you never thought to apologize?” you counter, your smile still reigning.

“You looked like you were doing fine without me,” he shyly admits.

“Changbin,” you shake your head. “I had no friends after Minho moved. I chased after you, thinking maybe something would happen.”

He closes his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t see me in Cinderella.”

“I saw you in Cinderella,” you laugh.

He throws his head back and whines. “The pants they put me in were two sizes too big.”

The memory of him standing on stage and having to hold up his pants, disguising it by having his hands on his hips, brings another laugh to the air. “Did they really not have any clothespins or anything?”

“No!” he exclaims, looking back into your eyes. “Fucking Hyunjin was hoarding them all!”

You feel the vibrations of your laugh against the pillow. It’s good being like this, having him tethered close.

He’s in the middle of saying something, probably further pursuing his complaints about high school or Hyunjin, but you do not care. You press your lips against his. A moment of stillness, thanks to his shock, before he kisses you back.

The only word to describe this feeling brewing in your stomach: bliss. Pure, hot bliss.

You hope gravity will keep you grounded here.

130 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

I Got The Blues. Yan Bruno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: implied manipulation, isolation, some paranoia. word count: 5k.

This isn’t how you were expecting your evening to go.

Flashing by you in a dreamlike world of blurred colors, the city of Naples at night is a picturesque sight to behold. Gone is the sun that kindly lavished the bustling streets in shades of amber and marigold, moonlight and twinkling stars taking its place. How a city can have a clear enough sky to spot stars is a miracle beyond your own knowledge, though the lights of streetlamps and buildings do dull it some; it’s not enough to diminish the greater beauty.

Butterflies dance around in your stomach, threatening to send you careening in your leather seat. Your exposed skin gratefully takes in the cool of the air conditioning that you’ve found yourself fiddling with, in hopes of quelling your inner anxiety. Every now and again, you work up the courage to look over at your date for the night. When knowing, cobalt eyes flicker to meet your gaze, all of the valiance it took to look his way melts like ice. Your muscles go taut, fingers curling into a fist atop your bare thighs, rose colored lips set into an unsteady smile to dissipate the uneasy air of your own making.

You haven’t even made it to the restaurant, and you’re already on the verge of boiling over with excitement.

Bruno Bucciarati is nothing if not a stunningly handsome man, eyes smoldering and raven hair perfectly framing his sharp face. There are plenty of mysteries in this world, now you’re able to add one of your own design. Why is it that Bruno had asked you of all people, on a fanciful date? What he had seen in you up until this point to have extended this invitation to you is up for debate. It’s not that you think poorly of yourself -- far from it -- but that Bruno’s beauty is so ethereal, that it’s hard to fathom his interest in you. Today isn’t the first time he’s expressed it, and far from the last, but you mistook it for friendliness.

“I promise I won’t bite, amore,” Bruno’s rich, velvety voice invades your ears, senses incapable of processing anything other than his presence beside you. “There’s no need to be so on edge.”

Your heartbeat increases tenfold at his good-natured teasing, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. Having conversation fill the air provides you with some much needed reprieve, a playful response of your own bubbling to the surface. “You say you won’t, but I get the feeling you may go back on your word.”

He returns your laughter with equal fervor, the skin underneath his eyes crinkling in delight. “I have to admit, it’s a tempting proposition. But I’ll save that for another time, should you let me.”

There’s no getting ahead of his game, he’s too suave and adept. You look out the window to hide how your cheeks flush, but from the pleased hum he lets out, you’re certain he knows anyways. The banter is an enjoyable aspect of your time with Bruno, though there’s an underlying factor of honesty to his words. All the compliments bestowed upon you come from a genuine place. Your mind wanders to the first time you had encountered him, a fated meeting that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

You had been jet lagged, searching frantically for a place to meet up that your native friend suggested. Directions went into your head without making proper sense, and before you knew it, you were lost. Your concerns of meeting up with your friend were soon replaced by wondering if you’d ever pinpoint where you were, the foreign area making it increasingly difficult to do so. It’s in this pitiful stupor that a well spoken man in a fine pressed suit appeared before you, asking if something was the matter.

He hadn’t looked down upon you for the admittedly embarrassing plight, instead, he said he knew the area and wouldn’t mind taking you there as it was on his way. From that point onwards, you couldn’t thank him enough, praises stumbling from your tongue. He introduced himself as Bruno Bucciarati, and the time you spent with him was enough to forget your earlier problems. The long walk to where your friend awaited was filled with pleasant conversation and humor, with some light flirting that you enjoyed a little too much. From afar he looked serious, but had a coquettish nature that drew you in like a moth to a flame.

While it would’ve normally sounded terrifying to follow a stranger to a destination in a land you weren’t familiar with, Bruno put your heart at ease. He kept an appropriate distance and observed the theoretical line in the sand, never crossing it and using adequate charm to steady your frayed nerves. Upon hearing that you were a fresh arrival to Naples, he gave a brief overview of some culture tidbits that you might find useful during your stay. What was going to be an awful afternoon turned into a memorable outing, full of adventure and discovery. To say that you were grateful would be an understatement.

Upon reaching your destination, all your anxiety from before was a thing of the past. Bruno was glad to see you off, refusing any monetary payments you tried to offer as thanks for his altruism. Instead, he asked if he could see you again at some point, to which you readily agreed. Thus began your pleasant friendship, and led to where you are now. On an excursion to a restaurant that, when you looked it up, seemed to frequent politicians and celebrities. How he managed to score a reservation at such a fine place is beyond you, but you’ll make the best of it.

Fidgeting with your purse, you consider reapplying a touch of blush to your cheeks. Your outfit choice for tonight, a simple yet form fitting black dress that ends above your knees, was the best your closet could produce for such an event. Bruno looked the part of someone who would fit into high society, and you hope the same can be said for you. From how he complimented you earlier, it induced enough confidence to make it this far.

The chauffeur pulls in front of the grandiose restaurant, and you watch as men and women dressed in designer clothing worth more than months of your paycheck climb out of sports cars. This is a large jump from the picnics and gelato outings Bruno had taken you out on before. Up until today, where romantic intentions could clearly be sighted, you only thought your relationship with him was friendly. The bouquet of deep, crimson roses he presented to you when you answered the door earlier made sure there were no confusing his intentions.

He gets out before you, coming over to your side and opening the door. Accepting the hand that he extends out, the two of you stay close together while walking towards the front of the restaurant. Up until now, it felt like another world entirely, until you heard the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore. The inside is as luxurious as you could imagine, fine glass chandeliers hanging overhead and classical music being played live. Candlelight dots the tables, the glow setting a romantic atmosphere.

Bruno speaks a few words to the hostess while you gape at the surroundings. It’s hard to believe that just this morning, you had been eating a ham sandwich to save money for bills. Now you stand in one of the grandest spots in Italy, surrounded by socialites. No one pays you any heed, much to your internal relief, instead showing the utmost respect to Bruno. He turns back to you, smiling, and the two of you are led to a private room overlooking the ocean.

“If I’m being honest, I feel a bit out of my element here.” A nervous laugh leaves your lips as you take your seat, smoothing out the bottom half of your dress. The fresh water on the table is a welcome excuse to have something in your hands, and you take the opportunity to steady yourself. Gingerly picking up the glass by the rim, feeling the coolness against your fingertips as you do so.

“You look the part,” Bruno responds in kind, steepling his fingers together and setting his head atop them. “I apologize if the atmosphere feels stifling, signorina. It isn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

Shaking your head, you place the cup down after a few sips. “Not at all. It’s beautiful, the view especially. I know I said it earlier, but… thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’ve been wanting to take you out for an evening for some time now, but I’ve been preoccupied up until this point.”

This catches your attention, an eyebrow raising in interest. Bruno has rarely spoken of his occupation, claiming the details would be a bore, but that must be what he’s referring to here. It was one of the few aspects of him that he didn’t delve into, and not wanting to seem invasive, you left it as is. Now seems like a prime opportunity to learn more about it, curiosity getting the better of you. You choose your words with care before proceeding.

“Is it a… busy season in your line of work?” You inquire with interest, hoping it doesn’t seem like you’re prying. The question is innocent enough, Bruno’s sought to learn more about your job, to which you readily answered him. His tone of voice and mannerisms, whether it be on purpose or not, always seems to command respect. It’s an aspect of him you and many others in his presence picked up on, always straightening their back in his presence and properly addressing him. Is he a politician or something…?

“You could say that.”

The opportunity is fleeting, a waiter coming over and paying great reverence to your dinner partner for the night. It’s a shame you won’t be able to push the topic further, having been interrupted and the conversation steering elsewhere. Bruno had asked beforehand if he could order in your stead. Seeing as he’s more familiar with the menu and charms of Nepotalian cuisine, you accepted, taking the opportunity to learn more about the food here. Some of the words he uses when placing an order for your antipasti you recognize, whereas others must be a dialect exclusive to this city. After the waiter hurriedly scribbles down and scurries off, Bruno’s attention is returned to you.

“So tell me, how are things with you? It’s been, what, a week or so since we last met in person?”

You nod your head to confirm, nose scrunching while thinking back on your past experiences. Truth be told, it hasn’t been the best past couple of days. The other tenants in the apartments beside you have been obnoxiously loud at unholy hours into the morning, and no matter how politely you asked them to tone it down, it made no difference. Your landlord, to make matters worse, had been on about some special fee that you need to meet by the end of the month. When looking back on your agreement, you saw nothing of the sort. You wonder if he’s trying to take advantage of the fact you’re not a native Italian speaker, but finding a new place to live on such short notice would be a nightmare. This, and you’ve been having a difficult time aligning your schedules with your friends.

“It hasn’t been the easiest,” you confess with a sheepish smile, folding the napkin from the table onto your lap. That’s what you’ve seen in movies, so it seems like the right thing to do in this proper setting. “I actually wanted to talk to you about it, but it might not be the most proper dinner topic.”

Bruno raises an eyebrow at this, before prompting you to continue. “Oh? I’d love to be of assistance to you.”

The order comes out as you explain your sticky predicament. What appears to be octopus cooked alongside tomatoes and chili peppers, mixed into a leafy green salad with a zesty lemon dressing. The flavor bursts onto your tongue, spices complementing one another perfectly as you wrap up your woeful tale of adulthood. Bruno’s attention remains solely on you throughout, looking increasingly perplexed as you recount the problems, jaw tightening with agitation on your behalf.

“It might be in your best interest to end the lease then,” Bruno considers aloud with a sorrowful expression, shaking his head in dismay for your misfortunes. “The fee for doing so would still be less than having to pay that ridiculous sum every month.”

It’s an option you considered with great displeasure. Shelling out all that money to end your lease early is a nightmare to think about, hundreds gone in the span of a second over an arbitrary bill, tacked on at the last second. The legality of it is up in the air, but your knowledge of the law surrounding tenants in Italy is… lacking, to say the least. Bruno’s affirmation of your idea serves to sour your mood, and you almost regret bringing up this grim subject on what’s meant to be a date night. Even though you planned to seek his guidance on it eventually, now may not have been the best time to do so.

Placing a forkful of steamed octopus into your mouth, you lament over the issue further. “I guess I should start looking for a new place. Everything else within range of my job is ridiculously expensive, though, so it looks like I’ll be walking a lot in the future.”

The lighthearted joke does little to lift your downtrodden spirits, your gaze now facing downwards. How pathetic Bruno must think you are, incapable of properly navigating your finances despite being an adult. It’s embarrassing to think about, your cheeks burning in indignation. He never once chastises you, instead extending his hand over the table, resting it gingerly atop your own. A gentle action like this is enough to soothe your troubled mind, the coarse pad of his thumb rubbing reassuring circles into your skin.

“To think you’ve been through so much in this short amount of time… I’m sorry to hear about all of this,” Bruno’s words are soothing to your weary soul, maturity present in his visage. You feel better about talking to him already, sensing he has a great deal of life experience. “I’ve made up my mind. [First], why not live with me?”

The sudden proposition sends your mind in a whirlwind, blinking rapidly while trying to gather your bearings. You’ve known Bruno for the time period of about three months, and while he’s been nothing but courteous towards you, there’s still a lot of secrecy surrounding him. You’d be pressed to say he isn’t charming, and that you don’t hold some form of affection toward him, but it feels so sudden.

Sensing your apprehension, Bruno continues to explain in an attempt to smoothen other any concerns. “By all means, take time to think about the idea.”

“I-It means a lot that you’d even extend the offer to me,” you stumble over your words truthfully, gulping to get a hold of yourself. “I’d feel awful to impose on you, especially on such short notice. You’ve been so considerate of me already…”

“You could never impose. I hoped I’d made my feelings for you clear, [First]. Anything you need, I want to provide it. Please, allow me to do so.”

He’s earnest, willing to overcome your apprehensions with thoughtfully crafted words and sentiments. Vacillating between two halves of yourself, you consider the options set before you. The romantic atmosphere from the restaurant is long forgotten, as you enter a reverie of contemplation. There isn’t a better option that you can think of, none of your friends living close enough or even open to the idea of a roommate. The time of splitting rent would be productive as well, letting you bolster your already deplenishing savings. Bruno has never given you reason to be alarmed, you trust the man before you.

“In that case, I’ll continue thinking about it.” You answer after a moment’s deliberation, Bruno offering a nod of the head in acceptance. He retracts his hand from your own, and you can’t help but miss the warmth and reassurance it brought. Throughout your stay in Italy, you’ve felt like a stumbling mess at times. Sure, you’re capable enough, but wading through multiple decisions while balancing your job has been a lot to deal with. Bruno, on the other hand, feels so well put together. There’s never a moment in your interactions where he falters in his decisions, always full or resolve to see things through. He feels like a pillar of support in your life, a foundation that you cling to without even noticing it. This level of reliability is what you desperately need right now.

The air is silent for a moment, aside from the clattering of silverware against plates and muted chitchat from the other patrons. You look down to your lap, feeling the full weight of his stare set upon you. It feels like the evening has been getting away, running off in a direction you didn’t mean for it to go. After all the work he’s put into treating you to a nice night out, it feels impolite to ruin the mood any further. Putting on your best, brightest smile, you swiftly change the subject.

“I never realized seafood could taste so good,” you praise the meal before you, that’s been reduced to a shadow of its former self. Only a few crumbs remain in the bowl, a nice appetizer before the food to come. “A lot of the seafood I’ve had is either chewy, or just tastes strange. Whatever you picked out is amazing.”

“A lot of it depends on the quality of the product itself. I grew up in a coastal town, so I know how to spot the difference. For octopus, the best method is the aroma. The same can be said for most seafood…”

The remainder of the evening is spent in the throes of conversation ranging from lighthearted topics, to discussions about your plans for the future. Bruno revealed a bit more information about himself, but still not enough to sate your deeply rooted curiosity. His offer from before stays present in the back of your mind, but you do everything within your power to not think dwell on it. After having dessert from his behest, the two of you make your way to the entrance once more. You can’t fathom the bill after a dinner like that, but Bruno refutes any attempts to split it, following up his earlier offer of paying for it in full.

“Thank you for everything,” you express your gratitude while getting up from the chair, glancing out the window a final time. When you look back to Bruno, his attention is set solely on your presence, eyes softening considerably. It makes your heart flutter, how he looks at you. “I enjoyed my time with you.”

“And as for your offer…”

There hasn’t been a great deal of time to think about it, but your chest feels light, like an invisible weight had been lifted. The man before you is an anchor that you never knew you needed, fastening you down in the wake of travesties. He’s well put together, offering you every courtesy known and making for delightful company. Whether what you feel is the beginning of love, or a platonic attachment, you’re uncertain. To discover things for yourself, and get a better bearing on your life, you’re ready to make a leap of your own. It reminds you of the time before moving here, this decision is minuscule in comparison to that… right? You’re not making a deal with the devil or anything.

“I think… I think I’m going to accept.”

- - -

Anytime moving is involved, it’s a stressful endeavor. You know this firsthand, having come to Italy with a few things of luggage and starting off a new life with it. Much to your surprise, everything went far smoother than you imagined. Unlike your arrival, you had help in moving your boxes of belongings to Bruno’s villa, leaving you with little to do aside offering plenty of thanks. It felt like the start of an exciting new adventure, turning over a new leaf after a string of misfortunes. Leaving behind your old apartment building felt strange, but oddly right. Working through the manner of cutting your lease short was as awful as it sounds, but Bruno was by your side for all of it.

What you can’t get off your mind, is how different your landlord acted in Bruno’s presence. When it had just been the two of you, you were treated with a complete lack of care, like your existence itself as a nuisance. There was a complete shift in demeanor upon walking into his office with Bruno by your side, like you were speaking to a different man. It reminded you of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, how he retained the same physical characteristics but adopted polite mannerisms. The whole exchange had been so jarring that you couldn’t help but ask Bruno about it, to which he offered a lackluster explanation. This haunting occurrence made you have more questions about his cryptic line of work, that you’re only fed spoonfuls of information at a time.

The two of them knew one another, but you don’t get the full spectrum of their relationship. It’s a gut feeling that it has to do with Bruno’s occupation, that he carefully skates around whenever brought up.

Mostly settled in for the evening, you’ve been lounging on the balcony of Bruno’s home. It’s a quaint house, in the suburbs of Naples, further confirming that he’s well off to some extent. The ocean is within view, the house sitting in a gated community near the water. In the distance, you hear seagulls mixed with traffic over people coming home from their jobs. You hug your knees to your chest, staring down at your phone with a frown. It’s a mild summer day, the breeze from the ocean tickling your face, but not lifting your spirit. You had texted a few friends before your move in hopes of getting their assistance, only for none of them to return your calls or messages.

It feels lonely. You feel lonely.

If it hadn’t been for Bruno’s quick thinking and connections, it would’ve been the two of you moving boxes on your lonesome. This cold shoulder behavior hurts, and you can’t help but wonder if you did something wrong without knowing it. Had there been some sort of cultural aspect you were unaware of, that offended them? Is that why they’ve been ghosting you? It’s one thing if they were busy, but you see your friend group posting regularly on social media. A sigh leaves your lips, weariness from the week’s events getting to you. It won’t do any good to dwell on these things, but insecurities haunt you like a persistent cloud.

“Is there something on your mind?”

Your head whips around at the voice behind you, settling down when you recognize Bruno. He’s in lounge wear, and you flush at the domestic sight. He’s a sight to behold, lithe frame pressed against the door and awaiting your response. It almost feels like you two are a married couple, being this casual with one another. The thought serves to fluster you further, so you push it away.

After all he’s done to assist you, it’d feel wrong to add friend troubles to the ever growing list. “N-not really, no.”

Bruno frowns at this, coming out to join you on the balcony. He takes the seat closest to you, leaning forward and gazing deep into your eyes. A hand is pressed to your bare thigh, though it stops before it can travel up in a lascivious way. Feeling his cold hand against your skin sends shivers down your spine, his knowing eyes making you shrink back into your seat. Guilt seeps into you for the lie. He seems in tune with people’s feelings, you’re no different. Instead of calling you out point blank on the falsehood, he offers reassurance.

“Remember what I said,” his tone is almost chastising, face scrunched up in displeasure. “I care about you greatly, [First]. You don’t have to carry your burdens alone.”

It comes before you can register. Tears sting the corner of your glassy eyes, silent sniffles leaving your person. As you think back to the images of your friends from last night, hanging out in one of your favorite spots with you, your lower lip trembles. Why is it that all this is happening? That you finally found a group of people that share your interests and passions, only to be left behind without an explanation? You despise how your throat clenches, each breath you take becoming more labored than the last. Bruno takes the opportunity to sit beside you, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulder and cooing into your ear.

All of it comes out like the floodgates of a dam, your head resting on his chest at his prompting. He holds you close, grounding you in reality, alternating between offering words of encouragement and peppering kisses onto your head. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt, tears streaming down your face. No longer does shame occur to you, a forgotten thing of the past. You smell his rich cologne, that mixes in with the scent of the ocean. He’s been so good to you, too good. When the world has fallen apart, Bruno picks up the shards, placing them back together with tender care. Where would you be without his support? The thought is enough to bring a fresh set of sobs, self deprecating thoughts a mantra within your tattered mind.

His warm breath fans across your face, soft lips making contact with the shell of your ear. “Amore mio, what is it that brought this on? Tell me, so that I can take care of it all.”

“I have no one…! I don’t understand, none of it makes any sense,” you sniffle into his chest, voice muffled and waning. “My friends, even my coworkers! They act like I don’t… like I don’t even exist.”

Large, reassuring hands cup either side of your damp cheeks, pulling you to look him in the eyes. His thumbs wipe away your tears, unblinking sapphire eyes steadying you. The world stops around you, nothing else registering other than his existence. How his skin feels against your own, the way his hair brushes against your face, how wonderfully close he is. He hasn’t left you, he’s still by your side. Your lips tremble, and you curse your wretched existence. A moment of clarity comes, and with it, your sobbing subsides. The two of you stay still, your face in his hands, until your hiccups are reduced to occasional sniffles. Even that fades with time, much to your relief.

You take a shaky, deep breath, hoping to gain better control of your fluctuating emotions. In the blink of an eye, Bruno leans forward, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. A noise of surprise leaves you, but before you can think to return it or move away, he pulls back. Looking up at you through heavily lidded eyes, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. The predetermined movement seems to have a physical effect on you, your face erupting into a blush. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions that Bruno brings with him.

“You’re wrong on a single account,” he murmurs, his voice sweeter than honey, ensnaring you in a web of his own making. “You have me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s strange, you think. How like two sides of the same coin, so much can go wrong, but an equal amount can go right. For every loss, Bruno has almost made up for it in some other way, an equilibrium being maintained. Will one side tip over, ruining the delicate balance, and sending you into chaos? There’s no way of knowing, yet you can’t help but wonder. Your life is interconnected to his now, for better or for worse. No longer do you care for the innate selfishness of seeking out his warmth, canting your head into his hand and closing your eyes.

“Thank you, Bruno. You’re right… I do have you.”

He seems content with your realization, a gradual smile spreading across his face. The sun has begun to set, warm colors dancing across his tanned skin. After a moment’s deliberation, he leaves your side, standing and looking towards the glass doors that lead inside.

“Let’s head inside for a cup of tea. It’s been a long day, so you shouldn’t stay up much later.”

You nod your head lazily at his suggestion, using the back of your hand to wipe away at the wetness that remains on your face. A nice warm drink sounds wonderful just about now, even in the middle of the summer. Having a task to distract yourself with is an added benefit, so you get up, following after him to the kitchen. The brisk air conditioning feels like a welcome wake up call, and you look around at the tastefully decorated surroundings. Your new home, for the time being. Life is unpredictable, if anything.

It has been an exhausting day. Or more like an exhausting past few weeks, you think. For now, your attention remains solely on the person who walks in front of you. A bashful idea pops into your head, and you catch up to Bruno and walk by his side. He looks over at you with potent curiosity, and the opportunity is present to offer a confession. “I, um… I wanted to say that you have me too. I mean it.”

Little did you know, there was never a time he believed otherwise.

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feralphoenix · 4 years ago

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HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

sup hollow knight fandom, i’m back with the picante takes again after having Noticed A Thing.

as with my previous essays i’ll put this guy up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes, since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. i will attach that in a reblog at a later point.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses canon-typical body horror and bodily boundary violations, with some side mentions of colonialism.

all game screencaps are mine. the screencap of the wiki is from the “developer notes” (style guide) section of the “cut content” page.

ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

We understand more or less how the Pale King’s plan was supposed to work. Stuff Radiance into a no-thoughts-head-empty and silent Pure Vessel to trap, isolate, and silence her, both putting an end to the Infection and killing her for good. Stick that vessel in the Black Egg, which harnesses Void BS to both keep the vessel alive indefinitely and to cover Hallownest (and its neighbors) in a time-defying stasis so that the Pale King could successfully hoard his favorite shiny FOREVER, threatened by nothing. Then put a seal on the Black Egg to prevent anyone from getting inside and harming said vessel while it’s strung up and helpless. And THEN, put protective seals on the anchors (the Dreamers) to the Black Egg seal to protect them from any external harm: The stasis means the Dreamers won't die of old age or starvation.

All in all, a pretty foolproof plan!

...except that the Dreamers are still vulnerable to having their minds breached with the moths’ magic... and the Pale King failed to take into account that his Pure Vessel was a person actually and the amount of toxic stress his training/upbringing put on them made them REALLY POORLY SUITED FOR THEIR JOB... and also that killing 99% of his million children and turning the Abyss into a landfill for baby corpses would take enough of an emotional toll on his wife and #1 enabler the White Lady that she would walk out on him, ensuring he’d only ever have one shot at this whole deal...

Basically it’s the sort of plan that an emotionally constipated, low-empathy sort of guy who pours all his points into INT and has a big fat zero for WIS might think is foolproof. It has big holes in it that the Pale King did not consider to be big holes until he got owned by the various consequences of his actions and fell down said big holes, making the shocked pikachu face all the while. Rip in die, my guy.

Anyway, there’s a lot of incidental information scattered about the game that gives us more insight into the stages of TPK’s plan. Looking at Monomon’s notes in the Archive suggests that she was probably involved in designing the Black Egg; the hidden room in the Weavers’ den points to their being the ones to blueprint the Dreamer seal; the White Palace’s hidden rooms reveal both TPK’s morbid fascination with the Void and his mea culpa wrt his motives and the Path of Pain is certainly suggestive of a lot of things. The White Lady tells us straight out that she walked out on the Pale King because she wanted no part in a second vessel batch, but how TPK didn’t handle that is only revealed via map design and some incidental dialogue from the Old Stag.

This stuff presents us with, if not a full picture, then at least a decent connect-the-dots of certain aspects of crater politics and Pale Court drama at the time, and how exactly TPK’s plan came together.

But there is still one glaring question that these cookie crumbs do not provide us an answer to:

Who shall bell the cat?

How did TPK et al manage to stuff Radiance into Hollow in the first place?

This is the subject of a lot of memes and jokes within the fandom because it's so absurd. Radiance fuckin hates that dude! She’s probably gonna be pretty wary of him considering how he stole her people in the first place! And considering the anti-colonialism slant of the writing - beyond the general sympathetic view Team Cherry gives of each indigenous bug society, Seer makes it very clear that Radiance has very good reason to take violent action against Hallownest - the answer is probably not something like “she’s just that stupid” or “she rolled a crit fail”.

Well... I have an idea of how TPK managed to get Radiance in there. It raises about as many questions as it answers, mind, but it may be someplace to start.

[desc: the hollow knight's entry in the hunter’s journal. top text/ghost’s comment reads: “Fully grown Vessel, carrying the plague’s heart within its body.” bottom text/hunter’s comment says: “The old King of Hallownest... he must have been desperate to save his crumbling little world. The sacrifices he imposed on others... all for nothing.”]

Here we have Hollow’s bestiary entry. Most of what we’re concerned with here is the top text, which says the seal has literally trapped Radiance inside their body. (First of all, ew, TPK.)

We already knew Radiance is literally actually inside Hollow, though: The Infection is leaking out of their body, and to get to fight Radiance, Ghost has to go traipsing into their sibling’s mind. So what’s significant about that here?

[desc: screencap of the outside of the black egg temple, post-infected crossroads. there are large infection blobs in the foreground and background, connected to each other by veins that come from inside the temple.]

The infection blobs are weird and get weirder if you kill enough Lightseeds for the Hunter to tell you their origin story, i.e. that the literal actual sun has been having a very long bad day and cried a lot, and some of the liquid coalesced into living flesh, and some of that living flesh took on a mind of its own to become Lightseeds. (Hollow Knight is a WILD place.)

Lightseeds are Radiance’s accidental children and share a lot of her traits: They are harmless creatures that try to avoid conflict if possible but if pushed will get creative and find ways to fight regardless of their physical limitations. (For the Lightseeds this involves hiding inside Broken Vessel’s corpse and puppeting it around to try to stab you.) They even have her same distinctive yell. And according to the Hunter, they’re born from the infection blobs. These enemies only ever appear in the Ancient Basin, which both Radiance and the Void have ransacked, and in the Infected Crossroads.

The infection blobs are connected to and sort of a weird extension of Radiance because the Infection itself is sort of a weird extension of Radiance. In the game’s internal style guide Team Cherry explains that the Infection started as an accident, not her original intention but what happened when Hallownest tried to block her out.

[desc: screencap from the wiki of style notes attached to seer that describe a sketch of radiance’s finalized backstory. text reads: “The moth tribe were (perhaps) descended from Radiance. However, the King convinced them somehow to seal Radiance away. I guess so he could rule Hallownest with his singular vision, as a god/monarch with no other gods. The moths sealed Radiance away by forgetting about her. Hallownest was born and flourished. However, the memory of Radiance lingered (eg [sic] the statue at hallownest’s crown) and soon she began to reappear in dreams and starting [sic] exerting influence. The King and the bugs of Hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the Infection. Thus the first attempt to seal Radiance failed, and the King had to try another method - the Vessel.” emphasis mine.]

Some fans have posited the blobs as deposits of pupa juice, but given Team Cherry's description of the Infection’s origins I don’t know how likely that is. Since the Void also sticks its squamous tentacles into things via veiny looking things and the Nightmare’s Heart has similar veiny nonsense in the Nightmare Realm, I wonder if it isn’t just a Meddly God Shit thing in general.

Whatever the case, the blobs are very much connected to/a part of Radiance.

And when you’re hanging around them, you will notice two things: They pulse like they’re part of a circulatory system, and you can hear Radiance's heartbeat emanating from them.

[desc: screencap of the game’s title screen with the infected menu theme in use: a glowing orange ball at the center of a lot of black tendony webbing.]

Let’s also think of the Infected menu theme, which you unlock after getting either of the endings where Ghost takes over from Hollow and absorbs Radiance out of them. Ghost is infected and then sealed inside the Black Egg in Hollow's place. It’s suggested by the animation’s staging that Radiance briefly struggles to get out of Ghost after absorbed but is ultimately stuck in them, at which point the seal is reestablished.

If you haven’t used the Infected menu theme yourself, the... interesting thing about it is that it moves organically. The light ball expands and contracts - y’know, sort of like a living organ - and so does the black webby stuff around it.

Also, Radiance’s heartbeat is included in the theme's ambiance.

[desc: hollow’s bestiary entry again]

To cut to the chase, this part of Hollow’s bestiary entry that says “the plague’s heart”? I don’t think that’s just Ghost/Team Cherry being poetic. I think there’s a good chance it’s LITERAL.

I think TPK is the sort of person who could cram a native woman’s literal living beating heart inside his own child’s body so they can use it as... say, a focus to absorb and trap her mind/spirit inside their body, too. Mr. No Cost Too Great is capable of a lot in the name of keeping other people’s claws off his Big Shiny kingdom. This is kind of his whole brand.

But also, like, yuck.

This fits the worldbuilding too; generally speaking Hollow Knight is Body Horror City. Also there’s the case of Grimm: While he and Radiance are loose counterparts at best with WILDLY disparate outlooks and ethoses, his existence serves as precedent that a Higher Being’s heart specifically can be separate from the rest of them.

As I said before, though, this DOES raise as many questions as it answers. If this is another piece in the puzzle of how TPK belled the cat, we’re now left wondering how he got Radiance’s heart to use as Hollow's focus to begin with.

We know he has access to the Dream Realm because that’s ultimately where he hid when Hollow’s seal failed, but who did he send to do the stealing and how did they get away with it? (TPK certainly wouldn’t have gone; his own life’s the one cost too great for him to willingly pay.) Was Radiance’s heart separate from her like the Nightmare’s Heart, or was it a part of her body? (I think the latter is more likely just from her personality; Grimm’s hidden heart makes sense because of how he keeps even his own servants at arm’s length emotionally, whereas Radiance is all heart all the time. I think this makes more sense with their equal opposites schtick too. But this would make for a WAY riskier mission.)

I can imagine all kinds of possibilities. None of them are definitive, but the thing they have in common is that they are all Awful... and how on-brand that is for Hollow Knight as a whole is, maybe, the most persuasive argument for It’s Literally Actually Her Real Physical Heart there could be.

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #the radiance #hk radiance #not sure if i should tag tpk bc i doubt therell be anything in here his stans will enjoy lol #long post under cut -#essay

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jaskierswolf · 3 years ago

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Yes Chef

My fic for the Novigrad Exchange! For the marvelous @ohnomybreadsticks

Ship: Calanthe/Eist Rating: E Summary: Restaurant AU with a healthy dose of smut? I don’t know. I’ll think of a better summary later 😂 AO3 link to come later on!

CW: 18+ smutty time, vaginal sex, oral sex, semi-public (they are alone but in a public setting),

The kitchen was sweltering, the chefs moving around the small space in an intricate dance that only they knew the steps to. The air was filled with a cacophony of smells; slowly roasted barbeque pulled-pork, fried onions and garlic, chocolate brownies. It all wafted around the kitchen in a mess, mouth watering and delicious. For Calanthe, there was nothing better than the hustle and bustle of a professional kitchen. She had been cooking since she was a child, her own grandmother had often let her help around the kitchen and Calanthe had been hooked. There was just something so addictive about creating masterpieces out of nothing. How could flour, butter, sugar become something entirely different? A cake, soft and melting in her mouth, flavours exploding on her tongue, almost better than sex… almost.

The industry itself attracted Calanthe like a moth to a flame. It was undoubtedly a man’s world, and that pulled her in, the need to prove herself, a competitiveness that drove her forward in life. If there was one thing in love she truly loved, it was proving that the patriarchy was absolutely shit. Whenever there was an opportunity to prove that she was better than a man, she took it, and as she grew older she learned how to use that to her advantage. It didn’t take long for her to rise above her rivals. Her ingenuity and skill in the kitchen was unmatched, and she had a remarkable talent for ruling the roost. When she spoke, people listened.

Opening her own restaurant had been a dream come true.

The Jewel of Cintra.

The cuisine wasn’t fancy but it was clever. She didn’t leave her customers hungry and wanting for more, but it was posh enough that she could charge a decent amount. It was also almost entirely locally sourced. That was the hook. Her restaurant supported local businesses, and she had crafted the menu using old traditional Cintran recipes. She was determined to preserve the Cintran way of life, especially with Nilfgaard slowly taking over the catering industry with their new wave recipes that blended old Southern style flavours with that favoured by the North, creating a brand new fusion.

Calanthe hated it. Cintra had a wealth of history and it was being wiped out.

It did keep her on her toes though, she had to constantly think up new ways to stay ahead, networking at conventions and collaborating with other local restaurants and breweries. It was draining but she thrived on it, and her head waiter, Jaskier, was an absolute blessing. He could charm any customer and handled complaints without even blinking an eye.

So naturally she was furious when he’d handed in his resignation. The idiot had been snatched right under her nose. He’d gone and fallen in love with the head chef of Kaer Morhen, a gastro pub in Kaedwan, the pair had met at one of the conventions that Jaskier had gone to in her stead. Two months later, her best waiter had announced he was moving to Kaedwan to be closer to Geralt.

And Calanthe was left to replace him.

The applicants had all been shit. No one could compare to Jaskier, lacking his charisma and easy going attitude. Those who might have stood a chance bristled at the idea of bowing to Calanthe, men who thought they could come into her restaurant and overthrow her.

The misogynistic pricks.

Yes, the applicants had all been shit… until Eist Tuirseach. He was infuriatingly good, handsome, suave and seemed to already be completely head over heels with her. So, she’d reluctantly hired him.

And she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

“Good morning, Chef!” Eist waved cheerily as she sauntered into the kitchen. He was helping Lambert wipe down the counters before service started. Her sous chef was a talented but prickly young man, and she trusted no one else to get her kitchen in order when she had her rare days off. He’d been trained under Vesemir from Kaer Morhen, but had been eager to escape Kaedwan. His boyfriend, Aiden was her pastry chef and, when they weren’t flirting up a storm in the kitchen, they were some of her most efficient workers.

Calanthe felt herself blush as Eist winked at her. She blamed the heat of the kitchen. “It’s almost five in the afternoon, Eist,” she shot back.

“Ah, but that is morning for a chef.”

Calanthe scoffed. He wasn’t entirely wrong, she was a night owl, most chefs were, if they slept at all, but she’d also seen five in the morning more times than she would have liked. Delivery days were killer, and when they had parties and events most of the team were in the kitchen early for prep.

“How are the books for tonight, Eist?” She grumbled, getting straight to business. It was easier that way.

“Fully booked as always, Chef. Nilfgaard wishes they could have our numbers. No one else can compare to your skill and talent, not to mention your beauty,” he said with a caddish grin.

The same smile he’d used to charm her in his interview.

________

“Eist Tuirseach?” Calanthe asked as a handsome young man entered her office. He was well built, roguish in looks, and reminded her of a lost puppy. He smiled brightly at her as he took her hand, his grip strong and firm and for the briefest of moments Calanthe wondered what those hands would feel like caressing her body, rough callouses against her breasts.

“Aye, that’s me. The Lady Calanthe?” Eist said, smirking as he cocked his head, making his tousled brown hair fall in front of his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and she felt a familiar warmth at her core.

Fuck.

Of course he had to be cute. He was the last applicant and she was really really hoping it would be another idiot so she could politely decline Jaskier’s request to leave before his notice was up. She wanted to keep the young waiter for as long as she could.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she lied. “I expect professionalism in my kitchen, and you will refer to me as Chef.”

And this was the point where most of her applicants had turned tail and run. Eist, however, blushed instead, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips, and there was a definite hunger in his eyes. “Yes, Chef.”

Calanthe swallowed. “Good, now… I have some questions, and at the end if you have any questions for me, you’ll be given the opportunity. Unfortunately my sous chef got called away on a family matter, but if you’d like a second person here, we can rearrange the interview.”

Eist smiled even brighter, adoration and lust shining in his eyes. “No, I think we’ll be just fine, Chef.”

____________

The bastard hadn’t stopped charming her since, and it was taking all her self control not to let him ravish her in the kitchen. They danced around each other and flirted like there was no tomorrow but… well, she didn’t want to give in. She knew what it would look like; the head chef and the head waiter dating. No. She didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to question her integrity, but after months of being around Eist, she felt weak. The way their fingers brushed whenever she passed a plate over, the easy banter that made her laugh even when she was in a terrible mood at the start of the day, the disappointment she’d felt when Eist had booked off a couple of weeks to visit his family in Skellige.

The kitchen had felt empty without him.

And she just wasn’t as good at dealing with complaints. Calanthe had a short temper, and when people complained, she couldn’t help but take it personally. She got defensive and fought back.

She needed Eist.

She hated Eist.

… Or perhaps she loved him.

“We have a party of eight booked in at half-seven. No known allergies, should be pretty straight forward, but I’ve briefed my team and let your’s know too” Eist hummed, picking up his clipboard. “Most of the other bookings are couples and smaller families.”

“Fuck,” Calanthe hissed. “I hate big groups.”

“I have no doubt that you will be flawless as always, Chef.”

“Getting the plates out in one go is a faff that I could live without,” Calanthe groaned. “Lambert!” She barked.

Lambert looked up from his station, his hair slicked back and his sleeves rolled back to his arms, revealing an intricate tattoo sleeve that went down to his wrist on his right arm, wolves running through the woods. He strolled over to her, crossing his arms in front of his chest, hazel eyes alert and attentive.

“Yes Chef?”

“You’re in charge of the party of eight, I want you working with Eist and his team. No fucking around with Aiden, understood?”

“Loud and clear, Chef,” Lambert nodded then smirked. “Can we fuck around after?”

Calanthe rolled her eyes, swatting him over the head with her palm. “Behave, wolf.”

“What?” he gaped, rubbing the back of his head. “You and Eist are worse than us, and you still claim you’re not together!”

“We’re not together.”

“Not yet, at any rate,” Eist chuckled.

Calanthe shot daggers at her waiter. “Get out of my kitchen, Eist. Before I get you for harassment.”

Eist quirked an eyebrow. “Tell me to stop, Chef, and I will, but you have yet to tell me no. One word, Calanthe,” he paused, giving her a chance to admonish him for using her name whilst they were at work, but he said it so reverently that she was too stunned into silence. “One word and I’ll stop.”

No.

The word should have been easy.

“Don’t,” she whispered, and his face fell, heartbroken, and she could already tell he wouldn’t argue. “Don’t stop.”

She felt her cheeks burn, and the eyes of their audience were piercing into her soul. So, she cleared her throat. “Right!” she snapped. “Back to work!”

The kitchen burst into life once again, giving her the privacy to wink at her waiter. “Later?” he mouthed at her, and she nodded.

The dinner service went by in a blur. It was busy enough that she didn’t have to think about anything but the quality of the food her chefs were serving. She’d rolled up her sleeves and got stuck in, flitting about between stations and helping wherever she was needed, supervising and delegating the tasks, running a tight kitchen as she always did. However, that didn’t stop her from feeling a little giddy whenever Eist flew through the double doors, looking like some kind of Oxenfurt actor in his suit, the server’s apron strapped around his waist.

Anticipation curled in her gut, the heat that crept along her skin was from more than just the ovens. There was a hunger in his eyes whenever he looked at her, and she wanted more. She wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked, whether his beard would scratch against her skin.

It was all very distracting, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything.

By the time the kitchen was cleaned up, and she’d dismissed the last of her chefs, it was past midnight. Lambert waved her off with a lewd comment and jumped onto the back of Aiden’s motorcycle, the two of them speeding off along the road.

“So,” Eist’s voice came from behind her as they stood in the doorway, watching the motorbike drive off into the distance, and Calanthe spun round in a start. “It’s just us.”

Calanthe smirked, her fingers wrapping around Eist’s tie and pulling him in for a kiss. The waiter groaned and went willingly, their lips melding together in a slow and languid kiss, noses bumping as they explored each other’s mouths. The heat crept along Calanthe’s skin, her heart fluttering in her chest. How had she denied this man for so long? She was already soaking, aching at her core with want, and soon, she grew impatient with the pace of the kiss. Nipping at Eist’s lip, she pushed their bodies together, forcing Eist back into the kitchen and towards the kitchen counter. Another day she would love to take this gorgeous man apart, fuck him over the worktops in her kitchen, but that would have to wait.

She made a mental note to keep her strap in the back of her car.

She had a very good feeling about Eist.

For now he seemed content to please her. He spun them around, helping her to wriggle out of her trousers and ruined underwear before hoisting her up onto the counter. She gasped into the kiss as his fingers teased her clit, slipping inside her wet cunt with little resistance. Calanthe’s head rolled back, her hands gripping the edge of the cold metal counter. The kitchen was quiet except for the sounds of their moans and his fingers pumping inside her. It was thrilling, everyone had gone home but there was always the off chance that someone would walk in on them. She moaned, rolling her hips to force his fingers deeper inside her.

“Fuck me, you bastard,” she gasped.

Eist just winked. “Soon, Chef.”

She expected him to finally unzip his trousers but Eist seemed to have other ideas. The waiter fell to his knees before her, pressing kisses along her inner thigh with a soft groan. Her hands threaded into his soft brown hair, guiding him towards her cunt. If he wasn’t going to fuck her then he’d better put that mouth to good use and she was tired of waiting. Eist’s stubble scratched wonderfully against her skin, a reminder of just how strong this man was, and yet he still knelt eagerly between her legs, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Fuck,” she moaned as Eist’s tongue flicked at her clit, fast and feather light and sinfully good. She thrust forward against his face and he groaned, one hand gripping at her thigh, the other joining his tongue between her wet folds. His fingers pressed inside her as he continued to lick and suck at her clit, moaning as he devoured his feast.

Calanthe’s fingers stroked through Eist’s hair as he ate her out, hips rolling against his face. She felt like she was on fire, her skin so very sensitive and every lick of his tongue had her moaning, crying out in pleasure.

“Stop,” she gasped before she could cum.

Eist groaned but pulled back, staring up at her with dark eyes. His lips were wet and glistening, and he smirked as he wiped his mouth. “Chef?”

Calanthe raised an eyebrow, barely able to catch her breath. “If you don’t get your cock inside me now, there will be consequences.” The waiter closed his eyes and moaned, a visible shudder going through him at her words. With a quick tug on his tie, Eist was once again standing. “If you like eating me out so much-” she purred, “-maybe I’ll have to find something else to feed you with.”

“Calanthe,” Eist groaned. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Why don’t you show me?” Calanthe challenged.

That seemed to finally spur the waiter into action and he met her lips in a messy kiss, the taste of her own slick on his tongue. She moaned into the kiss, desperate and wanton as he fumbled with the zip of his trousers. There was a telltale rip of foil but when he pushed inside her, fuck, it felt so good. She easily stretched around the girth of his cock but he just filled her so completely.

“I’m not going to last, Chef,” he gasped, lips never leaving her’s.

She closed her eyes. That wouldn’t be a problem, she was already so close from all his teasing before. “Get on with it!” she snapped, rocking her hips forward to the edge of the counter.

Every thrust made her cry out, obscene sounds filling her kitchen as they both chased their release. Eist panted as he left messy kisses on her neck, nipping and biting at the tender skin. Her orgasm hit her like fireworks as she clenched around his cock, sparks flying in front of her vision. She gasped wordlessly as he fucked her through the waves of pleasure that just seemed to keep coming. Calanthe swore, the pleasure beginning to wane and her body oversensitive. Eist grunted as he followed her over the edge, his thrusts becoming erratic and desperate. She caught his lips in a sloppy kiss, their breaths mingling as he slowly came back to his senses, slipping out of her with a groan.

She pressed her forehead against his as they panted breathlessly in the otherwise quiet kitchen. One hand gripped onto his shoulders while a leg was still hooked around his waist. There was a disgusting splat on the floor as the condom fell off. Calanthe tried to keep a straight face, she really did but Eist snorted and let out a hearty laugh, his fingers lacing with her’s on the countertop. Mirth bubbled up inside her, a ridiculous giggle escaping her lips as they both looked at the mess on the floor. Soon they were both laughing, hysterically and without any restraint, their post-orgasmic bliss making the whole thing seem utterly hilarious.

“You’re cleaning that up, Eist.”

He groaned, capturing her lips in another kiss with a muffled “Yes, Chef.”

Calanthe rolled her eyes and cupped Eist’s face in her hands. “You can call me Calanthe outside of work, you fool,” she said with a smirk.

And her partner seemed to melt under her touch. Eist’s face lit up in a dopey smile that made her heart skip a beat. He took her hand in his and bought her fingers up to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yes… Calanthe.”

#the witcher #calanthe/eist #calanthe x eist #queen calanthe #eist tuirseach #wolfie's witcher writing #novigrad exchange

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currywaifu · 4 years ago

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𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: maid outfit 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: tsukioka tsumugi/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.3k words

𝐚𝐧: as usual, i am very creative with titles haha. @3rdgymbros how... how long did this take? ahahaha but i asked my tsumu friends for advise on certain parts, so thank you bbs~

“We’re hosting a cafe! You’ll come visit me, right?”

From your request alone, it wasn’t difficult for Tsumugi to interpret it as you inviting him to a regular, perhaps aesthetically pleasing, cafe arranged by you and your peers. Nothing about your words nor your expression gave off anything that would convince him otherwise, so he accepted it as face value— you knew he enjoyed the ambience of cafes, after all.

“Of course I’ll go,” at the sight of your expectant gaze he agreed immediately, not putting much thought behind your explanation, or lack thereof. “I remember how competitive every department used to get.”

“Not much has changed in three years,” you shrugged, “a lot of people are doing food stuff too, and all of us want to be the course who earns the most money…”

You trailed off, the sudden upwards quirk of the corner of your lip making you look more devilish devious than the angelic nature he commonly associated with you.

“But I’m confident ours will be the best.”

Tsumugi wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t the least bit curious. This wasn’t a new situation, you trying to hide things to surprise or tease him, and like a moth to a flame he couldn’t help himself from trying to figure out more.

Maybe it’s the Psychology degree, or maybe it’s something simpler like him being your boyfriend. Regardless, the procedure was always the same from then on. First, maintain eye contact or at least keep his eyes on your face. Second, slip in a question,

“Mm? Why do you think so?”

“Well,” you tilted your head to the side, pupils trained elsewhere as though you were purposefully keeping him from getting a read on your face. “Everyone has a different concept or theme, and I think ours is easily the best.”

Even with your mostly tight-lipped disposition, he seemed to get a gist of what you could be talking about. Concept cafes were getting more popular lately, all with different gimmicks… maybe you guys were offering a special menu? Like those cafes with the colourful drinks or character meals?

When he asked you to confirm his guess, you only laughed and nodded wordlessly. That wasn't a no but there was clearly something he was missing. However before he could say anything more the two of you were already outside of your dormitory.

“Thank you for walking me back, Tsu-kun,” you lightly grasped his hands with your own, expression back to a pearly white smile and crinkled eyes as though the look previously on your face was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

“I’ll just message you which classroom I’ll be in, so remember to check your phone, okay?” you reminded him, “and if you don’t remember how to send a text back, just ask Tasuku-kun—“

“Haa… come on, I at least know that much,” he defended himself, his utterance drowning in a sea of your giggles.

“I was just teasing!”

You squeezed his hands one last time before slowly letting go of him, taking a step backwards as you began to see him off. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Definitely,” Tsumugi replied, a charming smile rivalling your own greeting you farewell, accompanied by the words of, “I’ll see you soon, my blossom.”

As he left the premises you had to wonder… how would we react when he saw you next time? Somehow… you found yourself excited just thinking about it.

Even from where Tsumugi stood at the end of the hallway, he could tell your group’s makeshift cafe was as popular as you predicted it to be, if the hustle and bustle and the constant stream of people leaving and entering the room were anything to go by.

It was easy to see why.

You texted him a few minutes ago, saying you had to be the one to welcome and assist him.

Then… were you also…?

Even as the distance began to come to a close and the anticipation started to bubble up, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you.

You stood in front of him, clad in a black, puffy, short-sleeved, Peter Pan collared mini dress with a frilly little skirt, the white trimmings stopping mid-thigh. Wrapped around your waist was a white apron with ruffled edges.

Really, the seed was already planted in his head as soon as figured out what type of cafe you were participating in, but when you brought back his attention with your words he found himself all the more embarrassed. How long had he been…?

“Tsu-kun… ah, no, I mean,” he looked up upon hearing you whisper to yourself momentarily, eyes unfailing to notice the cute little headband that crowned your head as you perked back up and fell back into script.

“Welcome back, master!”

You threw him your usual smile, but paired with how you greeted him he, all of a sudden, became too aware of the scorching heat rising on his face. In a futile attempt to hide it from you he immediately cast his gaze downwards, only to be met with a sliver of your thighs, the rest of your legs covered up by knee socks with a bow accent.

With all things said and done, there wasn’t anything too inappropriate about your outfit, what with this event being set in school, but even so it was that very innocence and charm that seemed to…

“H-huh?” He jolted as you pulled on the sleeve of his sweater, asking if he was okay and if he wasn’t so busy trying to un-fry his brain and look elsewhere he would’ve noticed a different gleam in your eyes, using your free hand to cover up your growing grin with the menu.

“I’m— I’m fine.”

No he wasn’t. If you bothered to move your hand upwards to meet his face, you probably would’ve burned yourself by the sheer warmth he was radiating. Still, you only giggled with a “master, come this way please,” as you turned around and requested he follow you.

He swallowed.

The straps of your apron met to form a cross on your back, the ends tied into a bow.

Aha, cute…

Darting his eyes away from your form momentarily, he was finally able to absorb the venue’s appearance. He’s attended classes in this room before, and while it was still quite obviously a lecture hall, the cutesy decor littered amongst the tables and chairs set a different mood for the scene.

As you led him to Tsumugi seat and handed him his menu, he was able to calm down and have his brain actually function think more rationally. You purposely left out the details to surprise him, that much was clear. As he moved his eyes away from the egg dish choices and to your face, the look of amusement you wore was evident to him, even if you tried to hide it.

If… if you were trying to play a game with him, then… he’ll do his best to compensate.

“Ahh, master, if you’re having trouble choosing then can I suggest the fried rice topped with character fried egg,” you looked at him through your lashes, connecting your index fingers together, “since it’s my master’s favourite~ ah! Or maybe the omurice? I’ll even write a special message for you, master~”

“Hmm… I’m happy with either one, since you’ll be the one serving it.”

Tsumugi watched you blink once, and then twice, watching you react to the sudden change. You probably expected him to not recover so quickly. Sure, he was still affected by how cute you looked, but as your cheeks began to be dusted with pink, he found you even more beautiful.

As you stumbled over your reply, he interrupted you with a question.

“Are you going to keep that outfit after this?”

Looking a little confused, you broke out of character and nodded.

“Then… could I see you wear it again in the future?”

want to order again?

i couldn’t figure out a way to write this in, but wouldn’t it be cute if after tsumugi finishes eating they have that thing where the maid and the customer take a photo or polaroid together?

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3 #tsumugi tsukioka #a3! x reader #cafe: dessert menu #a3! tsumugi #tsukioka tsumugi #a3! actor training game

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shadow-assassin-blix · 4 years ago

Text

Stitches

Benny Miller x reader/you

Continuing the Shawn Mendes Song Fic. Santiago is next and then I’ll be moving onto another band/theme. Uh. Some fights. Nothing really too extreme here. Enjoy.

Everything Tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one's ever left me quite this sore

Benny was watching an MMA tournament, checking out his competition for his tournament next month. Will was there with him, watching the matches with his keen eyes. Benny was… easily distracted to say the least. He smiled flirtatiously at many women who passed by him. At one point he noticed a group of women, standing off to the side. Most of them had a guy with them, all except one.

As he looked at her, he could tell she looked extremely bored. She had her arms crossed; her foot was tapping. She kept checking her phone for either the time or something to give her an escape.

After a moment, a guy joined her, handing her a clear solo cup of beer. She smiled tensely at him and would duck under his arm anytime he tried to wrap it around her. She eventually, handed the drink to one of her girlfriends, and said something to excuse herself. He watched as she walked over to the concession stand. That was when he decided to make his move.

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

You were idly standing by the concession stand, pretending to look over the menu. You were not thrilled to be there, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

While you were standing there, a guy stood nearby you. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. You noticed he was pretty handsome. Brown hair, blue eyes, a light amount of scruff, and well built.

“Having a hard time deciding what to get?” You hear him ask, as he stepped a little closer, so you could hear him.

“Oh yeah. So hard to chose between popcorn, a corndog, or a hotdog. What would you recommend?” You asked, chuckling at the situation.

“Uhh. Nothing from here. I would recommend only eating this food, if you had a lot of liquor and no taste buds left,” He joked scratching the back of his head.

You crinkled your nose in slight disgust.

“I’m Benny. What’s your name?” He asked.

You tell him yours and he smiled brightly.

“So. Don’t take this the wrong way, but this doesn’t seem to be your scene? Or rather… you don’t look thrilled to be here,” He gently probed, wanting to know.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Oh, you lured me in I couldn't sense the pain

“Oh. Um. Blind date. I hate it. Him. He’s rather touchy, and he’s just boring. My friends thought this was a good idea. After my ex broke up with me because I “wasn’t there enough.” I’m a med student. Sorry my life doesn’t revolve around you,” She informed him with an eyeroll.

“Oh? Med student? Nice. Good to know,” He teased.

“How is that good to know?” She questioned, staring at him confused.

“I’m a fighter. Uh. I have a tournament next month. So, I’m here with my brother to check out my competition. It’s nice to know a pretty doctor is all,” Benny tells her, feeling slightly awkward, thinking he overstepped.

She shook her head with a small smile, thinking he was cute.

“A fighter eh? You any good?” She asked him, biting her lip.

“Come to my tournament next month. You’ll see. Maybe I can…take you to dinner after?” Benny asked charmingly.

She smiled, looking down. She looked over at her group of friends who were apparently waiting on her. She pulled out her phone, quickly unlocking it.

“Put your number in, and text me the details,” She requested.

Benny gave her a 1000-watt smile, as he input his number, sending a text to himself, and saving himself as a contact.

He felt his phone buzz as he received the messaged.

“I’ll see ya then,” Benny stated, pressing a kiss to her cheek quickly.

He ran back over to his brother and looked back to see her still standing where he left her. Her hand was gently touching where he kissed her, and he could see her smiling softly.

Will simply rolled his eyes and shook his head at him.

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm gonna reap what I sow

It had been a week since that day, and you were nervous as you stared at your phone. You wanted to talk to Benny again. You didn’t want to wait a month. You opened up the chat he created, laughing at the name he gave himself.

“Hot Stuff”

You sent him a message simply saying ‘hi.’

Seconds later you got a response. ‘hey! How are you?’

‘I’m well. I... hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time? I just wanted to talk to you again’

‘Oh really? How did the rest of your date go with Mr. Boring?’

‘It didn’t. I ran when he went to the bathroom. He apparently thinks it was a magical date. I told him I wasn’t ready for anything more.’

‘lol. Poor guy. Shame he couldn’t see that you hated it. His loss is my gain tho’

‘Oh. Is that so? What did you gain, besides someone to tend to your wounds?’

‘A beautiful girlfriend? If you’re interested?’

She paused at that. She could feel her face warm up a bit. She bit her lip as she typed out her response.

‘Wouldn’t that imply you have to take me on a few dates before receiving that title?’

‘What are you doing for the next 3 weekends up till my fight?’

She laughed at that before typing out a response.

I'm left seeing red on my own

Got a feeling that I'm going under

The month passed by quickly. Benny had taken you out every weekend: movies, lunch/dinner, walks around the park. He made every date feel relaxed and easy. You didn’t feel like you had to be on guard or put on a façade. He made you forget about all about your dumb ex and was very supportive of your learning.

One date, he actually helped you create flashcards and study for an upcoming exam. Something Brian would never do. He always felt that the attention should be 100% on him, and to hell with your education.

Benny even made copies of your study notes, so he could quiz you randomly throughout the day. Something you appreciated greatly, because it kept the info fresh in her mind. When the exam day came around, Benny sent you flowers and candy wishing you luck. About 2 hours later, you were turning the test in online, which automatically gave you a score. 100%.

You immediately called Benny, excited, “Benny! I aced it! Thank you so much for your help!”

“Congrats baby! I knew you would ace it! Shall we… celebrate? I’ll bring over food, and we can watch movies?” He offered somewhat shyly.

“Yes! I would love that! But wait… Weren’t you supposed to hang out with your brother and friends tonight?” You asked thinking back to a previous conversation.

“I could cancel with them, it’s not a big deal,” Benny said nonchalantly.

“No. Don’t do that. They are your family. How about we celebrate after your fight on Saturday?” You countered, not wanting him to change his plans just for you.

“Alright. If you’re sure?” He asked wanting to confirm.

“I’m sure. Bye babe,” You tell him as you hang up.

“Bye!” He chirped.

But I know that I'll make it out alive

If I quit calling you my lover

Saturday rolled around fast, and after a rush of getting your badge that gave you VIP access, you were searching for someone familiar. As you were searching, a blonde man appeared before you.

“Hey Doc. I’m Will. C’mon. Benny wants to see you, seems to think you’ll bring him good luck,” Will’s voice was slightly deeper and raspier than Benny’s.

As you looked at him, you could see the resemblance between the two of them. You followed him toward the back, where the locker rooms were located. He led you down a hallway and to a room about midway. Benny was in the middle of bandaging his hands, rather poorly.

“Stop. I have no idea what you’re doing but stop,” You command moving forward.

You grabbed the bandages, undoing his work.

“No wonder you keep busting your hands. Who taught you how to wrap?” You asked him as you wrapped them properly.

You heard several chuckles.

“We keep telling him, but he refuses to listen,” Came a deep voice to your right.

You glance at the man, one of two Latino men who stood nearby. The one who talked was the kind who looked painfully handsome and knew it. The other, who wore a cap, looked sweet and was shaking his head at the scene he was seeing.

“You’re legit the only person he’s ever let touch those wraps. Us? The men he spent years in the army with? Oh no. We know nothing,” He teased, lightly shoving Benny.

“You should listen to them more often. They were correct,” You lightly admonished as you finished wrapping both of his hands.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side!” Benny exclaimed, as he tested his hands, making fists.

“Says who?” You asked him teasingly. “So, who is on the lineup?”

Will handed you the list of fighters that were supposed to be there. As you looked at the list, you noticed the first fight Benny had was against Brian Holden… Your ex.

You snorted. Loudly.

Move on

Needle and the thread

“What? What’s so funny?” Benny asked watching her reaction.

“Just... do me a favor. Your first fight? Make sure you not only win, but make sure it hurts,” She requested handing the list back to Will.

He glanced at the list and chuckled when he recognized the name. The match was in a few minutes and he had a feeling he was going to enjoy it.

Gotta get you outta my head

Gonna wind up dead

They walked out and as Benny was announced, you and the guys made your way to your seats upfront. Benny got in the cage with your ex and you were snickering.

Will leaned over as the fight began, and stated, “He really likes you, you know?”

You turned to face with a smile, “I like him a lot too. He makes me very happy.”

“He… he falls pretty hard, pretty fast. Do me a favor? Don’t break his heart, yeah?” Will requested.

“I don’t plan too,” You assured him, turning your attention back to the match, to cheer Benny on.

“WHOOOO! GO BENNY!” You cheered as Benny landed several hits onto Brian.

“They don’t allow chairs, or anything do they?” You asked all of three of them.

The three of them laughed, before Frankie, as you found out, “No. It’s not wrestling. It’s MMA, there is a bit more class here.”

“Damn. Oh well,” You said, in mock disappointment.

The fight took about 15 minutes and Benny came out on top. As Benny stepped out, he walked over to them and you hugged him in congrats.

“You did great!” You tell him.

You looked him over really quickly and noticed he had a busted lip.

“Ooh. Ouch. Does that hurt?” You ask him, digging into your bag.

He goes to answer but stopped when he watches you pull out a small med-bag.

“You.. came prepared I see?” Benny noted with a smile.

“Just… some small things. Is that weird?” You asked concerned.

“No. No it’s not weird. Let’s get to the locker room and you can tend to me,” Benny tells her appreciating the gesture.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees (falling on my knees)

A couple hours later, and few more scrapes, the tournament was over. Benny came in first and was super happy. The five of you made your way to a local bar, and order food and drinks.

“So. What do ya think of my fighting skills now?” Benny asked taking a drink of beer, basking in his win.

“Mh. You’re good. Could be better,” You teased, hiding your smile in your drink.

“OhHo! What?” Benny exclaimed pulling you to him, his hands running up your sides, tickling you.

You laughed loudly, as you squirmed away.

“Brian used to make me watch all sorts of MMA tournaments. Said it helped him get in the zone or something. I always thought it was kind of boring to be honest,” You admitted once he finally stopped.

“And now?” Benny prompted.

“I… could find a reason or two to find it enjoyable… So long as I’m not patching you up every time you forget to dodge or block a very obvious punch,” You stated with a raised eyebrow.

The guys laughed at that and as Benny dramatically clutched at his heart.

As they talked, someone strolled up next to you.

“Thought you hated fighting?” Came the somewhat nasally voice of your ex, Brian.

“No. I thought it was boring because you never bothered to explain anything. Plus. You always felt the need to interrupt my study time with a match that I just ‘had to watch.’ There’s a difference,” You replied annoyed, not even bothering to look at him.

“Don’t be a bitch. So, what you are with this asshole now?” Brian questioned, grabbing you and making you turn.

You moved to shove his hand off of you, but Will got in between you two, shoving him away. Benny also, moved to place you behind him.

“Get out. You put your hands on her again, and a busted nose will be the least of your concerns,” Will threatened.

Brian turned, acting like he was going to leave before, he swiftly turned back throwing a punch. Will dodged easily. All four of them were gearing up for a throw down but you were sick of it already.

You reached into your medical bag and pulled out your scalpel.

“BRIAN!” You shouted his name to get his attention.

He turned to you and paused when he saw the knife in your hand.

“As you very well know, I am very good with this small sharp object. Get away from me now. Stay away from me. Or I will CUT you,” You warned him brandishing it to him.

He stared at you for a moment before quickly moving away, tripping over a chair as he did so.

You put the knife back into your bag, and all four of the guys stared at you.

“What?” You asked innocently.

Benny reacted first, with loud laughter. “That… that was hot. Terrifying. But hot.”

The others shook their heads and retook their seats.

“Appears, your girl doesn’t need a knight Benny. She can handle herself quite well,” Santi remarked.

“Yeah. She’s more of a knight than you are,” Frankie teased.

“Oh yeah. What does that make me then?” Benny demanded as he pressed a kiss to your face, wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at the guys, and they you, all four of you stating at the same time, “Jester.”

You all laughed at Benny’s pout, and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“But a very cute Jester,” You try to placate.

“That sounds too similar to “very cute moose,”” He said suspiciously.

“You… remember that line from Princess Diaries 2? Really?” You asked with a giggle.

“It was the funniest part of the movie,” He mumbled looking away.

“Wait… You got him to watch what now?” Santi asked.

The rest of the evening was spent talking about some of your previous dates, while the guys told you funny stories.

You enjoyed the evening and looked forward to more dates and nights out with all of them. Benny came into your life unexpectantly but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

And now that I'm without your kisses (without you)

I'll be needing stitches (and I'll be needing stitches)

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help (begging baby please)

#benny miller #benny miller x reader #Triple Frontier #song fic

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mayraki · 5 years ago

Text

The Trained Assassin.

Spencer Reid series. Part 5 (1/2)

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Summary: Life’s not easy when you found out that instead of being trained to be a spy for the CIA, you are being trained to be an assassin, a killer. The people you wanted to stop, they were making you one. That’s when you joined the BAU to become someone new, you didn’t want to be someone’s toy. You wanted your past to be arrased, that’s all. But it’s not easy to hide a past like that.

Warning: graphic descriptions!

MASTERLIST

“A visit to the past”

The music was loud and your drink was strong, just how you liked it.

You were at a bar with the team, and the alcohol was the main character this beautiful night.

“I’m going to get another drink!” You said and Emily nodded.

You went to the bar and you noticed a really hot stranger waiting for his drink. The alcohol took over your body and you got next to him, brushing his elbow with your hand while you were reaching for the menu on the counter.

You noticed that he looked at you and you made yourself very interested in the drinks, even if you knew all of them.

“A Moscow Mule, please.” You said to the bartender and she nodded.

“You have nice taste” the man next to you said.

You looked up to him and nodded “I know” you smiled and he let out a little smile.

You had to take a good thing in your years of training, and seduction was one of them. And you were fucking good at it.

“So, are you here alone?” He asked.

“No, i’m here with my co-workers” you gave him a half smile. “You?”

“Alone” He said taking a sip from his whiskey.

You looked at Emily, JJ and Garcia on your table and they were looking at you. Garcia had her moth open in full surprise and you winked at her.

“Here you have, y/n” the bartender said and you gave her the tip.

“The bartender knows your name, you come here often?” He asked.

“Great work detective” you smiled and he let out a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s close to work” you looked down at his lips for more than two seconds, to make sure he notices your move.

He smiled and pulled out a card he had on his pocket and gave it to you “Well, let me know if you are coming back tomorrow. Maybe I’ll drop by again if you are”

You grabbed the car and looked at it.

“Lawyer. Come prepared I see?” You said “are you used to giving your number to random girls?”

“No, not at all. Only the special ones get the card”

“Oh, I see, and you think I’m special”

“Absolutely” He said with a smile.

“But baby, you haven’t seen me in action yet” you whispered in his ear and walked towards your table were the girls were waiting for you with big smiles on their faces.

“Lawyer” you put his card on the table and Garcia grabbed it.

“That was amazing” she said.

“What was?” You said taking a sip from your drink.

“You. The way you got this guy. And five others. Five guys turned their heads while you were walking. I counted.”

You laughed and suddenly felt an arm around you “What are this beautiful ladies doing?” Morgan spoked and you smiled at him.

“Waiting for you, my prince” Garcia said.

He smiled and went towards her, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

“What’s this?” Spencer asked looking at the card.

“Y/n successfully seduced a lawyer” Garcia said.

“You naughty girl!” Morgan said jokingly.

“He gave you his card? What a show off” Spencer said putting the card back on the table.

“You ok pretty boy?” Morgan asked him.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He cleared his throat.

You noticed that Garcia smirked at Morgan and you didn’t want to give much thought into it.

“I haven’t had any action in months” Emily said and everyone looked at her with surprise because of her confession.

“My poor baby girl” Garcia said.

“Teach me” Emily said looking at me with puppy eyes.

“Me?”

“Yes! That guy gave you his number in less than five minutes. You’re good, teach girl!”

JJ laughed at Emily’s sudden change.

“Alright, I can’t teach you with words. I have to show you.” She nodded and you looked around. “See? That guy over there. He’s close so you’ll be able to hear me. Look at me, but you’re a profiler, see beyond the words”

You stood up and felt Spencer move uncomfortably. You didn’t care because your were too focused on this guy.

You passed him like you were trying to look something, when you dropped ‘unintentionally’ your keys next to him.

“Hey, you dropped this”

You turned to him and gave him a smile. You grabbed your keys and looked at him up and down, but slowly and smiled even bigger.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

“Sure, whatever you want.” He said.

Alright, he’s already behind you. Easy.

“Do you believe in the phrase ‘Everything happens for a reason’?” You smiled at him to let him know that this was one of those moments.

“Yeah, absolutely” you smiled and touched his shoulder.

“I’m glad”

“Are you here alone?”

You wanted to see if the girls were listening to this, so you looked over your table but instead you locked eyes with Spencer, he looked uncomfortable, he had the most serious face you’ve ever seen on him. His drink was done and before you looked away, you noticed that he was going to take another sip even tho the drink was empty.

Is he jealous?

“No, I’m here with my friends so I can’t stay with you a lot longer”

“That’s a shame, but if you come here again, let me know” he grabbed his card and handed to you.

What’s up with work cards today?

“I will” you kissed him on the cheeck and went back to your table.

“Amazing! You have a talent” Garcia said.

A chair made a noise and it was Spencer when he stood up and went outside. You followed him with your eyes but Emily caught your attention.

“I think someone didn’t like that” she said still looking at the way Spencer went.

“What?” You asked.

“He’s been looking at you all night” JJ said.

“Really?” She nodded and you looked again at the outside door.

You were questioning if following him was a good idea.

Maybe he just wanted to get some fresh air...

You got up and went to the door just to see if he left the bar, deep down you didn’t want him to, you wanted to talk to him like last time.

But when you went outside, you immediately noticed him talking closely to a girl. Your heart skipped a beat and you quickly went inside again, trying to not give much thought into it. But something made it extremely hard.

***

“There’s been a murder last night, a woman named Evgenia Oblonsky.”

You looked up from your file as soon as that name came out of JJ’s mouth. She was one of your old teachers when you were working for the CIA.

Hotch looked at you because he knew, but you nodded telling him that you were ok.

“Her body was found at her apartment, with a shot to her head in the forehead. She used to work for the CIA”

“The CIA?” Garcia asked with a tone of shook in her voice.

“There’s no clues, no leads, there’s nothing. So they want us to get involve in this.”

You sighed once the meeting was over and Hotch called you into his office.

“You ok?” You nodded “Did you knew her?”

“Yeah, she was one of my teachers. How could they let this happend?”

“I don’t know. But I need you to go back, y/n. To the place you were trained. You know we have to talk with her co-workers and find out more about her. And you are the best shot to do so. You know them better than we do.”

You sighed. The fact that you had to go back made your skin tense.

“I’ll go. It’s just... this doesn’t feel right.”

“Why is that?”

“This is someone with experience, there’s no way that they have no leads. One of the rules they used to teach us keeps coming back to my head, ‘Make sure to never leave anything behind. Have a clear path.” I’m sure Evgenia was smart enough to leave something without the killer noticing. So the killer knew what they were doing. And probably... even trained with her”

***

The building that you were used to see for almost eleven years was in front of you. The chills it gave you made you remember the first time that you saw it when you were twelve, you were so little and full of hope that this was going to be your new home. But nothing went according to your thoughts.

Nothing changed since the last time you saw it, the walls were still a sad color of grey and the giant black door was still scary as hell. You used to think of the building as Hogwarts like in Harry Potter, but what happened inside was no magic, but the contrary.

“It is bigger than I expected” Morgan said when you two and Spencer walked into the building.

“Welcome.” A dry voice said behind you and recognised it immediately.

You turned to the voice and the woman that ‘adopted’ you 13 years ago, was in front of you. Headmaster and Agent Agnia Smirnov, with her blonde bun on top of her head, her rid lipstick and her grey clothes. Same as you remembered.

“Hi, we are Agents Morgan, y/ln, and Dr. Reid.” Morgan said and you felt that he was a little bit intimidated by her.

Derek, this is only the beginning.

“I know who you are. I heard you were coming.” And there it was, she always had to be the one who was smarter than everyone else. “If you want to talk, we can do it in my office.”

Morgan nodded “Lead the way.”

She started to walk but you knew exactly were it was, the amount of times you were in there because they had to inform you about your missions, that was something you didn’t miss.

The smell of that perfume hit you like a rock and took you back ten years ago. Walking those corridors with books on your hands and trying to remember everything for your tests. With your ballet shoes, trying not to be late for class.

When the classic music touched your ears, you knew exactly what it was. As you were walking, a giant glass took over the wall and a bunch of ballerinas appeared on the other side.

The were so connected to each other, it didn’t look that there were five dancers, it was like there was only one and the other ones were the shadows.

A flashback of your trying to remember the steps appeared on your head.

“Y/n, remember your pointy feet. Delicate hands. Delicate hands. Shoulders back. Up! Up! Up!”

“Ballet?” Morgan asked.

When he asked that question, you remembered something your old teacher used to say.

“Always keep your enemies on their toes, unless your enemy is a ballerina. That’s where they are strongest.” his face of confusion didn’t change, and he looked back at the dancers trying to think.

“What is it that you wanted to talk?” Agnia said once you stepped inside her office.

“We want to talk about Evgenia. Do you know if she was involved in anything that she wasn’t supposed to?”

“No, not that I know of” she said while sitting down at her desk.

“Maybe, she had trouble with someone. Has anyone came here that was unusual and wanted to talk to her?” Spencer asked.

“No. She was always with her students.”

Lie.

“Did she ever tell you about someone she was seeing?” Morgan asked looking around the office.

“No. We didn’t talk about that stuff. And Agent, you can stop looking at my office now, there is nothing here that can help you.” She said and you closed your eyes.

Typical.

“Sorry, thank you for your time Ms. We will leave you now.” Morgan said trying to leave that office as soon as possible.

You left the office but you knew that there was something she wasn’t telling you. She wanted to talk to you alone, that’s why she wasn’t talking and she knew you were going to figure that out.

“Guys, I think I’m going to ask her some more questions” you said.

“Are you sure you want to be there alone with her?” Morgan asked “She’s kinda...”

“Intimidating? I know. I can handle it, trust me.”

Morgan nodded and walked away but you grabbed Spencer by the arm and he looked at you.

“I need to read the file JJ put together. Could you call Garcia and tell her if she can send it to me?”

“Why don’t you ask your friend from last night to help you?”

You stood there for a second because his response took you by surprise “What?”

“Never mind....” he was going to go where Morgan went but you stopped him.

“Spencer, wait. What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s clearly not nothing. Spencer, what’s wrong?”

“Y/n! It’s nothing! I can call Garcia.” He said rolling his eyes and before you could stop him, he walked away.

You stood there for a couple of seconds in shook because you couldnt understand why Spencer was acting this way. You knew that something made him uncomfortable last night, but you didn’t think that he was this jealous.

You tried to ignore this thoughts and walked towards Agnia’s office.

“Come in, y/n” she said once you knocked on the door.

You rolled your eyes and opened the door.

“I knew you were coming back” she said while reading a paper she had on her hand.

“Well, that’s what you wanted.”

“Yes, but not like this.” She said giving you the look that she always used to give you. Since you left the CIA, she wanted you to come back, she used to see you as one of her best accomplishments.

“What aren’t you telling us?” You said going to the point. You wanted to leave.

“There’s nothing I am not telling you”

You sat down in front of her and she looked at you. “Oh, this takes me back” but she went back to her paper.

“I know what you’re thinking”

“You do? What? The work of a profiler made you more intelligent? Is that it? Is that what you want to show me?”

“No. You taught me this.” And there it was.

She put down her paper and took off her tiny glasses. Her blue eyes felt like they were penetrating you. Like she used to do. She was reading you. But you made sure you weren’t giving her much.

“What am I thinking, then?” She asked closing his glasses and putting them in order on her desk.

“You think one of your students did it.”

She try to not look uncomfortable and hide it perfectly, but thanks to her you were able to catch it.

“And what do you think?” She asked.

“The same as you.”

“It can’t be”

“You always trusted your instincts. Why change now?”

She stayed there in silence still trying to read you.

“You don’t think I did it, do you?” You asked trying to be one step before her.

“I wouldn’t think you’re capable of doing that.” she said trying to sound convincing.

“Lies. You know what I am capable of. You trained me. You made me. Isn’t that it? Why would you think I did it?”

“I don’t know”

“You don’t know? But you always knew everything”

“Don’t play games with me, y/n”

“I’m not playing games, I just want to do my job. That’s why I’m going to watch one of you classes today with my team.”

She opened her eyes widely and stood up.

“I don’t teach my students to kill their own teachers!”

And that was not what you were thinking, but you knew that she was embarrassed for it. She couldn’t face the fact that something went wrong with her teaching methods. She is the perfect one. Nothing goes wrong. It can’t.

“We will see” you said and walked quickly outside the office.

“Everything alright with you two?” Morgan asked Spencer while they were looking around in the academy.

“Who?” Spencer asked trying to avoid the question. “Maybe we can go here, hey, do you know if...?”

“Hey, don’t change the subject, you and Y/n, you seemed a little bit weird last night and the fact that you came later when we separated it means that you two talked, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Spencer said without making eye contact with Morgan.

“Hey, don’t make me profile you.” Morgan said jokingly to try break the tension. “C’mon, we’re not teenagers, it’s pretty clear what going on. With you and her, and you know it but don’t want to accept.”

“I don’t have anything to accept.”

“Ok, if you don’t, then why did you talked to her like that when you two were alone?”

“Wait, did you listened to us?”

“I came back and I didn’t want to interrupt because you clearly were having something going on in there. That’s not normal for you to react like that. She doesn’t deserve that either.

Maybe Morgan was right, Spencer did felt bad after treating you like that. Since he never talked to you about potentially having a little crush on you, it’s normal that you never suspected anything and go flirt with other guys.

You came out of Agnia’s office and immediately made eye contact with Spencer who was walking towards you.

“Hey, you did it go?” He asked.

He’s really rude and then seconds later he’s normal again?

“She thinks that one of her students did it, and to be honest, so do I.”

“Why would you think that?”

You sighed. You didn’t want to explain it. You didn’t know how. How are you going to say that this type of kills were perform by really well trained killers, and you knew because you are on of them.

“She said, that this type of kills is what they teach. One shot to the head, no leads, no sign of force entry. Everything is clean. That’s what they do. And I agree with her, this is not something we’ve seen before. I’ve told her that we’re going to see her classes, if the student is here, maybe we can catch something.” Spencer nodded. “Where’s Morgan?”

“He’s interviewing some students.” You nodded slowly and felt Spencer’s eyes on you. “Hey... I wanted to say sorry.”

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “It’s ok, sometimes we’re allowed to go crazy when it’s a case like this.”

“Yes, but the case is not why I went crazy...” he said but Morgan cut him off.

“Hotch just called me, we need to hurry. There’s been another kill.”

*****

PART 5 (2/2)

taglist: @itsarayofsunshine @whothefuckstolemykeds @haykayhesson @enigma-xlii @introvertedsin @mylovehes @infires420 @uwu-sebastianstan @my-life-is-here-soo @spencersdolore

If I didn’t tag you it’s because I can’t find you when I type your name. Sorry!

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

Once Newt and Hermann finally move in together, Newt accidentally stumbles upon Hermann's vibrator. Newt gets hard immediately just imagining his beautiful sexy husband using it on himself. Newt wants to see that. Newt wants to do that. Newt wants to see Hermann fuck himself with his vibrator, and fuck Hermann with his vibrator. Hermann's all adorably flustered when Newt brings it up, and then he sees just how turned on Newt is by the idea.

well uh. this is (as you might expect) kind of a hard 18+/not safe for work

———————-

“Need help with that?” Newt says.

Hermann heaves a small cardboard box up to his bad hip with a groan; Hermann Gottlieb is written on the side in Sharpie, in Hermann’s neat, tidy hand. All of his boxes are marked similarly. It’s kind of cute, really, that he even bothers–half of his stuff is Newt’s now anyway, and vice-versa, and truthfully has been since the lab. Odds are it’s stuffed with their shared mugs or papers Newt co-authored. “No, no,” he says. “I can manage.”

The box doesn’t look particularly heavy, but Hermann’s been quite insistent on not leaving all the heavy lifting to Newt all day, and he’s wincing in a way that means he might’ve strained himself a bit too much. Newt shoots him a small smile and places a hand on the box. “Hey, look, why don’t you take a break?” he says. “We only have a few things left. It’ll take me, like, ten minutes. Go test out the new couch. Better yet, find us some fucking dinner. I’m starving.”

The previous renter left behind a drawer full of take-out menus (which Newt discovered as he attempted to unpack their mis-matched collection of utensils earlier), and Newt’s sure at least one of them will be promising. Hermann returns the smile gratefully and relinquishes his hold on the box. Newt was right–it’s not very heavy. Pretty light, in fact. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Hermann presses a kiss to the corner of Newt’s mouth. “Is there anything you’re particularly in the mood for?”

“Nah,” Newt says, and then catches Hermann’s sleeve with his free hand to reel him in for a much filthier kiss. “Something quick. I have plans.” Those plans involve spending plenty of time breaking in their nice big, new, soft bed, before the exhaustion of the day inevitably catches up to them.

“I see,” Hermann says, and adds wryly, “Perhaps I ought to take a nap, too.”

Newt gives him another kiss for his troubles, enjoying the small sound Hermann makes into his mouth when he flicks his tongue against the seam of his lips. But when Newt pulls away, Hermann’s all business. “Do be careful with that,” he says, eyeing the box Newt took from him warily. “Its contents are–er–rather delicate.”

Mugs after all, then. Or maybe family photographs. “Kitchen?” Newt says, already headed down the hallway.

“Bedroom,” Hermann says. Oh. Newt does a one-eighty in the opposite direction. “Er–just leave it on the bureau. I’ll deal with it…later.”

Now, Newt’s no snoop, and he would certainly never go through Hermann’s possessions without permission–mutual trust, respecting boundaries, all that shit that healthy couples need–but accidents happen. He’s only trying to be helpful. He puts the box on the bureau, as Hermann instructed, but he must do it a little too hard, because its contents roll around and clatter and thud, and then–bewilderingly–begin to vibrate.

Newt shakes the box. It doesn’t stop.

He peels off the packing tape.

He’s not really sure what he expects to find in it besides the obvious: there are very few things a vibrating box deposited into a bedroom can contain, after all. Sure enough, when Newt opens the flaps, he finds himself staring down at a pretty high-end bottle of lubricant and the most expensive-looking vibrator in existence. A vibrator that’s currently buzzing. Newt flicks it off quickly, then–before he can help himself–picks it up.

Hermann has a vibrator. Hermann has a nice vibrator. It’s long, and curved, and made of a dark material that is fucking amazing to the touch. Another glance in the box reveals a small remote control, with settings in speed and rhythm all the way from one to ten, and a few bonus ones labelled with things like Pleasure Overload.

Hermann uses a vibrator that has settings for things like Pleasure Overload.

“Hol-lee shit,” Newt whistles.

Newt can picture it now: Hermann, stripped bare, face down on his bed, writhing and gasping in pleasure as he crams the vibrator into himself over and over. Begging aloud for it to go faster. Coming, untouched, all over his pasty chest, his rumpled sheets, wailing into his pillow as he fucks himself through it, not even stopping–

“Newton?” Hermann calls.

Newt throws the vibrator back into the box and tapes it messily back shut. There’s nothing to be done about his raging boner, but maybe Hermann will be too distracted by the Thai or Italian or whatever takeout to notice it. He pokes his head out of the bedroom. “Yeah, babe?” he says, heart thudding.

No Hermann in sight. Hermann’s voice comes from the living room when he speaks again. “What on Earth is keeping you?” he says. “I need to know what you want on your pizza.”

Hermann uses a vibrator. Hermann uses settings like Pleasure Overload.

“Mushrooms,” Newt croaks.

“What’s that?”

Newt swallows thickly and steps into the living room. Hermann is sprawled out on the new couch, his cane settled against one of the armrests. Luckily, he’s too engrossed in the pizza menu to look up and catch sight of Newt’s little problem. “You ought to look this over,” he says in a hum. “They have some very interesting combinations. This one has shrimp, and onions–and this one is called the Athenian, with feta cheese, black olives–oh, I forgot, you don’t like olives. Too salty, anyway. Though I suppose we could order it without if we wanted to, but that doesn’t seem to quite fit the spirit, does it…”

It isn’t like Hermann doesn’t have sex. Hermann has sex plenty, Newt as his enthusiastic witness. Hermann fucks Newt. Newt fucks Hermann. Hermann sucks Newt’s dick, and jerks him off in the shower, and moans like a whore when Newt gets his tongue in him. But a vibrator’s different, isn’t it? A vibrator isn’t just sex, and it isn’t even just jerking off–it’s a very certain kind of jerking off. A certain kind of jerking off he hasn’t even let Newt be privy to. They haven’t even used dildos together.

It’s hard to imagine the Hermann sitting in front of him now, in a moth-eaten sweater vest and smudged librarian glasses on a chain, jamming a vibe up his ass on the reg.

“Are you even listening to me?” Hermann says.

“No,” Newt admits.

Hermann scowls, but he doesn’t push Newt away when Newt plops next to him on the sofa, nor when he starts pawing at the hem of his sweater. “Newton,” Hermann says, “I thought you wanted–dinner–” Newt mouths at his neck, and Hermann gasps. The menu slips to the floor. “Newton. We haven’t finished moving everything from–”

“I don’t give a shit,” Newt says.

He pulls Hermann’s hand down and presses it at the tented front of his jeans; Hermann’s eyebrows jump. “What has gotten into you?”

“Honey,” Newt mumbles against the skin of Hermann’s neck, “can I fuck you with your vibrator?”

Hermann’s whole body tenses. He rips his hand away in the middle of what had been a pretty nice feel-around of Newt’s junk. “My what?” he echoes shrilly.

“Your vibrator,” Newt says. Oh, right, he wasn’t supposed to know about that, was he? It’s hard to think straight when he’s horny. He grins sheepishly. “I kinda accidentally looked inside the box. You could use it on yourself instead, if you want, and I could watch.” Actually, that’s kinda hotter–no effort required for Newt, and Hermann would probably be so carried away he wouldn’t mind if Newt jerked off on his chest or something. Hot, hot, hot.

Hermann isn’t a very good sport about it. “That’s,” Hermann splutters, “that’s a very personal object, Newton! And expensive! I told you–if you hadn’t been careful–I don’t go snooping through your belongings, do I?”

“It was an accident,” Newt says, and then, in a snort, “Expensive. How expensive?”

“If you must know, I saved up a month of paychecks for it,” Hermann snaps. “And it was bloody worth it. Dealing with the you day in and day out–I was tense as anything. I would’ve cracked years ago without it, and then where would we be?”

Newt sits back against the opposite arm rest with a pout. “It was a waste of money, is what it was,” he says. “Why didn’t you just ask me to lend a little hand? Or, you know.” He leers at Hermann, parting his legs slightly. Truthfully, he is a little offended, even though they didn’t start their thing until a few months after their drift–Hermann would’ve rather dropped several hundred bucks on a piece of plastic when he had a living, breathing, and very available lab partner at the ready who would’ve done anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. Give Newt a few cans of Red Bull, hide his Ritalin, Hermann wouldn’t have remembered his own name. It’s a crying fucking shame.

“Yes, but unlike you,” Hermann says, “it wasn’t a walking breeding ground for extraterrestrial bacteria.” He makes a face. “Who knows what I might’ve caught from you. Urgh.”

That one stings a little, even though Newt firmly believes that proper lab protocol is for losers, and he was completely justified in his lackadaisical approach to…well, everything. “Hey, dude, no fair,” he says, weakly. “My tests all came back clean!”

“This argument is ridiculous,” Hermann says. “We’re not using it, and that’s final.”

Twenty minutes later, Hermann is lying on their new bed with Newt’s fingers and a decent amount of that high-end lube up his ass. Hermann, despite his posturing, is a pushover when it comes to the promise of sex. “You’re going too slowly,” he complains, wriggling and pushing back against Newt’s hands.

“I’m going perfect,” Newt says. “It’s not my fault you’re impatient.” The lube feels awesome on his skin, kinda warm and tingly, and he can’t help but be a little disappointed he won’t get to feel it on his dick tonight. And that Hermann’s never broken it out before now. Hermann buys the lubricant they use in bulk, generic as hell and in these massive gallon-size jugs with a little soap-dispenser hand pump on top. Totally stupid. He can’t imagine what the Shatterdome delivery guy thought of them. “Hey, how come you don’t let us use the fancy stuff, dude?”

“You wouldn’t appreciate it,” Hermann says. “To the left, darling. Yes.” He sighs happily, melting against his mound of pillows, and gives his dick a few languid strokes. Newt withdraws his fingers.

“I think you’re good,” he declares. “What do you mean I wouldn’t appreciate it?”

Hermann gives him a look over his glasses. Newt understands his point, though he’s not ever going to admit it out loud; he gets a little carried away with how awesome everything is when he tops, sometimes, and Hermann gets carried away with it too. He’s not sure he’d even notice if they were using fancy lube. “Whatever,” he says, and hands over the vibe. “C’mon, I want to watch you already.”

“Impatient,” Hermann echoes with an eyeroll.

The vibe is switched on (on setting 5, to Newt’s disappointment, no pleasure overload yet) and after that, everything is all business.

“Often, if I’m–er–feeling up to it, I start–” Hermann presses the end of the vibe against his nipple, and his whole body shudders. “Ah. Oh. That’s–what I’d do, if you’d been–” The other nipple; another shudder. “Particularly–particularly dreadful one day.”

“Would you think of me?” Newt says with a grin.

“Absolutely not,” Hermann snaps.

He trails the vibe down his abdomen, stopping in the messy patch of dark pubic hair just above his dick–which, Newt notices happily, is fully hard and already wet at the tip. “Mm, maybe sometimes. I would now. Only I haven’t used it since we…”

“Yeah?” Newt says. He watches Hermann move the vibe in little circles over the thatch of hair, just avoiding his dick each time. “That’s hot.” All if it’s hot: Hermann thinking of Newt while he masturbates, Hermann masturbating, Hermann admitting that Newt is just so awesome in bed he hasn’t had to masturbate in months.

Hermann grazes the vibe down one thigh, shivering this time. “Most of the time I’d just–”

He pushes half the vibrator into himself in one sharp motion; his dick gives an equally sharp jerk. Newt and Hermann, meanwhile, moan in unison. “Goddamn, Hermann,” Newt whines, eyes glued to Hermann’s stretched, red rim, the sleek little bit of machine it twitches around. “That’s really hot.”

But Hermann’s eyes are screwed up tight in concentration behind his lopsided glasses, and he pays Newt no mind as he grips the base of the vibe and continues to push it deeper, breath coming out in a series of short, needy puffs. “How’s it feel?” Newt says. “Tell me, I want–”

“Very–very good.” Hermann grips his dick, tugging on it as he works the vibe in and out of himself in perfect tandem. He’s going nice and slow. Slower than Newt would go. Newt’s not surprised–Hermann told him it was meant to be stress relief, after all. (Maybe that’s why Hermann was always a bit more cheerful the morning after they’d had a nasty fight in the lab.) “Newton,” he groans.

Newt can’t help it: he bends down and kisses him. Hermann’s just too fucking sexy for him not to. Hermann groans a little louder into his mouth. “Hermann, Hermann,” Newt pants, “dude, can I–”

“You can do whatever you bloody want,” Hermann says, his voice high and breathy.

Newt takes that to heart. It’s a bit of an effort to fit his dick in alongside the vibe, but holy shit, is it worth it. Between the vibrations and Hermann clamping down impossibly tight around both Newt and the toy, he’s surprised he doesn’t pass out from just sitting there. Hermann, meanwhile–Hermann’s eyes roll back into his head, he writhes on the bed, and he grips wildly at Newt’s shoulders, and for a second Newt thinks Hermann might pass out too.

“Ah, ah–!”

“How’s’it feel?” Newt manages to croak out.

Hermann kisses him messily.

Once he’s sure he’s not about to blow it then and there, Newt reaches down and nudges the vibe in to the hilt. He knows at once when he hits Hermann’s prostate: Hermann’s whole body seizes, and shakes, and his mouth falls open in a wordless cry against Newt’s. After that, it’s over for both of them.

They lay in a sweaty, sticky heap for a little while, Hermann breathing like he’s just run a marathon, Newt already threatening to doze off like he always does after an awesome round of sex. The vibrator lays innocently between them. Finally Hermann prods at Newt’s shoulder and rouses him from his self-congratulatory afterglow. “You still have two boxes to carry in,” he says.

“Dude,” Newt whines.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #not sfw///#like for real HAHA #Anonymous

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dannyphantom-rewrite · 4 years ago

Note

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

Oh now that, that one isn't Actually a wip. It's a short story I finished ages ago that later ended up being inspiration for one of the plotlines in an anthology style audio drama podcast I want to make some day. There's 4 main characters:

The Mckellen sisters Jamie and Lady who aren't Actually sisters but pass rather well for twins since one of them is actually a changeling, Natalie Anderson, photographer and lady's GF, and Gavin Walker, a mage still haunted by the death of his fiance, Caleb Adams, mostly due to the fact that his fucking ghost won't leave him alone.

Art by @unded-bun (click image for higher quality)

I'm leaving out a lot of details, but I'd be happy to fill in the gaps if anyone asks.

I'll Also throw the story itself under a read more here, bc I'm still super proud of it even though it's a few years old now.

A small hotel on the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia. There is a Sonic Drive-in across the busy street. Bright neon lights in the window state, “Open 24/7!” A Greyhound bus is idling in the parking lot. A man, Gavin Walker, climbs off and crosses over to the hotel. He walks easily, but not confidently. Approaching the hotel’s entrance, he spots a cat eating from a plastic bowl in front of the door. The feline is small, and feral. He is black, with white paws. He does not pay Gavin any mind as he enters, only continuing to crunch on dry cat food.

There's a desk on the left side of the lobby. The receptionist smiles kindly as he checks in. Her eyes are tired. Gavin gives her a knowing nod, and travels deeper into the building. There is a sign marked, “Out Of Order.” on the elevator. This is a good thing. Gavin takes the stairs, of which there are three flights. This is also a good thing, because three is a good number. He enters the hallway, which is old, and worn. The walls bear chipped yellow paint, and the floor, faded red carpet. Gavin continues down the hall after checking the time on his phone. It is exactly 11:59PM. He turns the device off and begins to count the seconds. At sixty he has stopped in front of the elevator. The fluorescent light above him flickers. The elevator does not have an out of order sign on it. It is the same elevator as before. Gavin enters.

He presses the button for the first floor. In the lobby the check in desk is now on the opposite side of the room. The lights are off, the receptionist is gone. It is daytime outside now. The bus is gone and the Sonic is closed. The road is vacant. There is a cat outside. She is white, with black paws. She looks up at Gavin as he approaches. They lock eyes, and he kneels in front of her.

“Hello, cat.” He says.

“Hello, Mage.” Says the cat.

She flicks her tail, “What is it you seek?”

“Direction.”

She nods and stands, before making for the road. The Sonic across the street is closed, but it was never empty. A Sonic is not a sit down restaurant. Customers are expected to pull into a parking spot and order over an intercom, and then a waitress delivers their meal directly to their car. Gavin’s pretty sure places like Sonic were more common in the 1950’s, and he knows that drive in diners are a dying breed now a days. The thought gives him a strange sense of nostalgia for something he’d never actually experienced, and he shudders involuntarily.

The cat sits down in the parking spot furthest from the building. She watches as he presses the the button on the intercom, listens, ears swiveling, as they are greeted with static. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Gavin can see something moving within the darkened restaurant. An outline of a figure, only vaguely humanoid. The thing moves like a deranged ape, long, long arms dangling to the floor and dragging it forward. Its back is hunched, legs short and stumpy. Gavin can not see its face, and he does not wish to. The intercom crackles to life.

“WhAt can aH’ do fER ya’lL?” Drawls The Thing in the Sonic. It’s got a southern accent thicker than congeling visera, and the pitch of it’s voice fluctuates wildly. Gavin glances uncertainly at the cat, and she nods.

“I’m looking for Direction.”

“Ahhhhhh……” groans The Thing, “WEll, watch’ Yer goNna wanna dO is hEad doWn the road, bout maybeEEee…..foUr, five miLeS, an’ yer gOnna wanna look fer’ weEl, watch yer gonna wanna fiNd is soMeTHing’ idEaliZed, ya knOw? Like uh, somethin’ kinDa romanticized, an’ a liTtlE faKe in sOme senSe but reAlLy true in anOther, ya follow?”

“Yeah.” said Gavin, even though he did not follow at all.

“Yep,” Continued The Thing, “n’ yer gOnna wanna gEt yourself sOme rasPberRy lemONade when ya get theRe, It’s some gOod shit, lemme tell ya.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, I’ll do that.”

“Good, GoOd, That’s Good. Y'all have a niIiiccceee daaaaaay nooooow.” And then the intercom crackled once more, and returned to spewing static. Gavin released the button and looked around for the cat, hoping, maybe, for some more guidance, but she had long since abandoned him. He started walking down the road, away from the Sonic Drive-In, and The Thing inside, and hopefully towards where he needed to be.

Gavin started to think as he walked, which was not something he liked to do often. He much prefered to act in the moment without much consideration for the consequences of those actions until they themselves became the moment. Gavin did not like to think because he often thought much too deeply, and it sometimes scared him. Gavin thought about a lot of different things in quick succession, he thought about the missing greyhound bus, and The Thing in the Sonic, and wondered if the disappearance of one had to do anything with the appearance of the other. It probably did. He thought about what The Thing had told him to do, and why he was doing it. He thought about why he’d come here in the first place, to this inverted little section of Georgia. And he thought about Liminal Spaces, about busted elevators and darkened hotel hallways and empty stairwells. The air shifted suddenly as a pickup truck speed past him, it had a faded confederate flag on the back window.

Liminal Spaces, simply put, were the areas between one place and another. The small spots in the middle of point A and point B where reality seems to be altered in such a way that the change is almost imperceptible, and yet, it is still enough to leave you feeling so impossibly strange.

Liminal Spaces can also be doorways, if one knows how to properly open them.

Gavin isn’t sure how long he’s been walking down this empty stretch of road, but it’s been long enough that he can no longer see the Sonic Drive-in behind him. It’s not even a dot in the distance now, just gone, as though it were never there to begin with. He keeps going. He walks until his feet hurt, and his legs ache, and keeps going even after that. At some point he sticks his thumb out towards the road, tired enough to risk hitch-hiking, but no cars have gone by since the pickup truck. And at some point he takes a moment to rest. He sits down on the shoulder, and just breathes for a while. And then when he stands again, he sees the Cracker Barrel just down the road. Exhausted as he is, he knows it isn’t possible for him to not have seen it earlier. Gavin decides it’s best not to dwell on that, though, because this is exactly the kind of place where Cracker Barrels can just pop into existence. (Although, as he enters the restaurant, he remains somewhat annoyed that it couldn’t have decided to do it a little sooner.)

The front of the Cracker Barrel is a store selling all manner of things. There's a back corner full of vintage candy, a small section of organic make-ups, and another full of knick-knacks like salt and pepper shakers, and dreamcatchers, as well as the usual crap that tourists like to buy, T-shirts and mugs and what not. Gavin has never actually been in a “regular” Cracker Barrel, so he’s not sure if this is a completely normal thing, but he’s certain that a “regular” Cracker Barrel would not also be selling such wares as bottled crocodile tears and Unicorn meat slim jims. There aren’t a lot of people in the store, and yet Gavin finds it impossible to get a good look at any of them. The people look normal, but they move like extras in the background of a film. The only person in the room with any notable features is the waitress standing by the back. She’s short, and her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a vibrant blue. As Gavin follows her into the seating area he can't help but stare at her hair, and he finds himself thinking that it can’t possibly be dye, it’s too bright, somehow. She smiles at him as he sits, and her teeth are a just little too sharp.

Once he’s seated, she says, “Can I start you off with a drink?” Her voice has a pleasant, lilting tone to it.

Gavin thinks back to The Thing in the Sonic, “A Raspberry Lemonade? If that’s something you have here?”

She nods, and goes off to get him one. Gavin leans back in his chair and takes in his surroundings, trying to relax. The decor in the Cracker Barrel has a sort of vintage, rustic feel to it, there’s things like black and white photos, and old advertisements on the walls. All the furniture looks antique. There are quite a few other customers present. Most of them look like the same nondescript folk from the front, but a few stand out. There’s a woman in the back corner, she’s dressed in black furs and her head is an ember eyed wolf skull. She’s sitting across from a man with the skull of a stag upon his shoulders, the antlers adorned with ivy. There’s something resembling a giant moth sitting two tables away, slowly crunching its way through a Caesar salad. Occasionally, there’s a figure leaning against the kitchen doors, they look as though they’re made up of television static. Gavin’s eyes start to hurt from trying to look at them, so he turns his attention to the menu instead. The waitress returns with his Raspberry Lemonade, and he orders the Country Fried Shrimp.

Gavin takes a sip of his drink and finds that he agrees with the Thing in the sonic. It’s definitely some good shit.

“Funny seeing you around here, Gav.”

Gavin looks up from his drink, almost spills it in surprise.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gavin manages to shake his head.

Caleb Adams pulls out the chair across from him and sits. Gavin stares at him. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reads, “NORMAL HOROSCOPES: Making your day a little more magic whether you like it or not.” Gavin’s not sure if it’s supposed to be advertising for a psychic’s shop or if it’s some strange indie band he’s never heard of. Knowing Caleb, it’s probably the latter.

He finally manages to speak, “You’re dead.”

“Yeah?” Caleb leans an elbow on the table, and props his head up in his hand, his smile never wavers, “And?”

“And- and I don’t know, Fuck, I don’t know.”

The waitress briefly interrupts his existential crisis by depositing his Country Fried Shrimp on the table. Gavin looks down at it and tries to focus on the smell of greasy seafood instead of the dead man sitting across from him.

“You seem confused.” Caleb’s voice sounds uncharacteristically sympathetic.

Gavin nods.

He sighs, frowning “Eat your lunch, and then we’ll talk.”

Gavin eats what he can, but it’s a large portion, and he’s somehow not that hungry. He takes a final bite, and pushes the plate across the table, silently offering Caleb the rest of the shrimp.

The barest hint of a smile returns to his face, “Thanks, but no.” And then he’s frowning again, “Why’re you here, Gav?”

“I just went where I was told to-”

He shakes his head, “No. I don’t mean the friggin’ Cracker Barrel, I mean Here.”

And Gavin doesn’t really know what to tell him. That he’s here because he felt lost and desperate? That he didn’t know what to do anymore? That it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s fine, everything's fine and he’s just tired?

But he doesn’t tell Caleb any of that, he just says, “I miss you.” And he can’t keep his voice from cracking.

“I know you do.” Caleb places a hand over his, “But this is damn near one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done. You knew this place wouldn’t be safe for you.”

He feels numb, “I didn’t really care.”

“Gavin,” Caleb grips his hand now, “Look at me, please. I mean, really look at me.”

So he does, he looks up at him, and finally, meets his eyes.

They have not changed. Death has not reduced the amount of compassion behind them, nor faded the sea blue color. Gavin stares. Eyes are supposed to be a window into someone's soul, a way to truly see into them, and Gavin just stares because Caleb’s eyes are still capable of conveying so much, and he can feel tears running down his face…..

“It’s time to go home, Gav, okay?” He gestures to the window, and the Greyhound bus has pulled up, “Your ride's here.”

And Gavin knows has to force himself to look away and loosen his grip, and he can’t bring himself to.

“It’s alright.” He says, “It’s going to be alright. I’ll take care of the bill, Please just let go.”

And Gavin finally, Finally manages to tear himself away.

He does not feel anything but relief as he leaves, as he boards the bus and settles into a seat. He leans back, and watches through the window as the world shifts and shimmers and is suddenly dark and starry once more. As the Greyhound pulls out of the Sonic parking lot, Gavin closes his eyes, and slowly falls into the comfort of a deep, dreamless sleep.

#southern gothic #tag game #Walker& Anderson #short story #ask #jamie McKellen can and will kick your ass bitch fights the fae on the regular #gavin just needs a nap and caleb needs to stfu lmao

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blooddrop-palace · 5 years ago

Note

29 with Dante and Vergil?

(Ooooh alright! Let’s get cracking! )

29. You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?

[Some Context: Post DMC5, no real continuity to anything else.]

Eventually, getting a smart phone became a necessity. Even if it weren’t for the convenience, then it would be for the fact that people treat you like you’re a little bit crazy if you didn’t have one.

At first, Vergil and Dante were in a rare agreement that it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Eventually, under Morrison’s, Lady’s, and everyone else’s insistence, (especially Nero’s insistence,) they added “cell phone bill” to the list of bills that... admittingly, were a little easier to pay when Vergil could keep Dante “better motivated” to take on work. (There was also the matter of convenience for being able to make trips home quick with the Yamato, though Vergil will insist every time, in some manner, that he was not a taxi service.)

Now, to say that this was a big leap of technology for the Sons of Sparda would be an understatement. Though they were familiar with the existence of cell phones, neither of them owned one until now, and they have completely skipped past about three stages of the evolution of cell phones.

Figuring out the functions of the phone, however, was a different task in itself. Vergil hadn’t really had a need to touch anything keyboard based to begin with. While a touch screen was simple, figuring out where everything was on a keyboard took a bit of practice.

Still, the twins might be dense and stubborn on some things, but they weren’t entirely unable to adapt. At the very least, they understood how to use the messaging and call functions. Anything else, Nico made a big list of functions that, for the most part, the two men found no use for. (Well, for now.)

———————

Nero actually messaged them frequently. More than Nico. At least, as far as Nico was concerned, she has never messaged Vergil.

A few days after they managed to sort out the new phone situation, it was decided that the cell phones were more for the function of keeping in touch with family and friends. Business still had to come through the main line.

And while Vergil was going through some books, he froze when his phone vibrated.

He was still getting used to having this bothersome little contraption on his person. They fact that it made noise and moved (somewhat) while so close to his body made him skittish. He had considered keeping it out on the table but it became clear that he was then liable to forget it.

So his only option was to keep it in his inner coat pocket and learn to get used to it.

Fishing the phone out, he checked it, to find that it was a message from Nero:

> Hey. How are you holding up?

This was curiously cordial, though Vergil could imagine the awkward hesitance in his son’s demeanor. The anger over past transgressions had only been somewhat diffused, but if there was anything Vergil had learnt recently from Dante and Nero both, it’s that he was in a state of “forgiven but not forgotten.”

Because the kin of Sparda has had enough bullshit and would rather have something that resembled family, however long it took for them to become one.

This meant communication was part of it.

So Vergil responded:

Well. <

After a moment of thought, he realized he ought to… say something more.

And you? <

Nero’s response was considerably faster than his:

> Not bad. New phone treating you good? > Maybe I should ask if you’re treating your phone good. > Not broken yet it seems.

He felt a little insulted.

I happen to take good care of my possessions. Unlike my brother. <

> Right

Vergil found that there were both advantages and disadvantages to this type of communication. Though he himself wasn’t openly expressive, the lack of visual cues from the person he’s speaking to made conversation contain a sort of guessing game. But without being under scrutiny, there was no social disrespect for him putting his attention back in his book while there was a lack of immediate response.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed again.

> The book you left behind is old isn’t it? > Guess there’s no doubt to your words. > Glad to know you’re doing well with the phone. But can you tell Dante to call me back? Or at least text me back? Been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now.

So, that was it. He’s playing second messenger because Dante wasn’t responding.

When he comes back. I will let him know. <

> Cool. Thanks. > Hey, let me know if you ever need anything, k?

By context, Vergil figured Nero meant to say “okay.”

And this was… okay. It was a start.

I will keep that in mind. <

————————

Though when in person, Nero and Vergil sometimes had abrasive encounters, Vergil realized that Nero wasn’t any less argumentative with Dante. Their interactions were simply different.

But often, Nero messaged him about small things, when they were apart. Such as:

Nero

> Nico and I are driving by DMC. You guys want anything?

If it’s food, don’t bring Dante any more pizza. <

> Okay. What about you? Beer or anything?

Dante said yes to beer. <

> Dante always says yes to pizza and beer. I’m asking YOU damnit. > Also tell the old man to text me back himself if he wants anything!

Out of sheer pettiness that day, Nero brought no beer, but a bottle of cheap wine for Vergil.

He was satisfied with it only because Dante whined over preferential treatment.

————————

Kyrie

> Good morning Mr. Vergil! > We were wondering if you and Dante would like to have dinner with us next weekend? > A gathering without impending work, something relaxing for everyone?

It took a long amount of thinking, and Vergil thought carefully about how he couldn’t keep avoiding it. He wasn’t the most comfortable around Nero’s considerably normal family. Even Dante often made excuses to not go, judging from what Vergil had heard about the number of holiday invitations sent to his brother that never received the response of his presence.

A part of Vergil thought that this was not only the time to face the music that came with having family, but also felt somewhat comforted by the fact that if he agreed to this, Dante still had to suffer through the social gathering with him.

I am grateful for your invitation. What time would you like for us to be there by? <

> Dinner will be ready by 6, but you are welcome to arrive earlier to help, or spend some time with Nero? > The children are also curious to meet you and Dante.

Ah, the orphans… well, he had already agreed.

> Of course, I’m not holding your promise as Dante’s agreement. Please let me know if he will be arriving, also? He hasn’t responded to our messages yesterday.

————————

Nero

> Hey uh > I know Dante likes his strawberry sundaes > But what do you like?

I’m partial to something chocolate. <

> Huh. I would have thought you’d say something like blueberry.

I do not believe blueberry is a common topping on a menu. Chocolate is fine. <

> Okay. > What if I’m stopping by a special creamery? Still want chocolate?

Please. <

About half an hour later, Vergil received another message:

> I don’t care if Dante’s predictable, but if he wants his sundae, he should at least RESPOND TO MY TEXTS.

On that day, Vergil learnt what a message in all caps was supposed to mean.

————————

Nico

> Yooooo V-man > hey is Dante alive? > I found something a-maze-ing this morning!! > he might wanna see this. > but like he’s totally bad about responding so like > tell him I’ll be swinging by in an hour. > you might like this, too.

This is a little short notice. <

> Don’t care! > be there soon! > ttyl!

Nico’s messages were a bit harder to understand. For her, Vergil had to learn how to navigate basic search engines.

————————

Lady

> Where’s Dante.

I am not my brother’s keeper. <

> Right. He’s your keeper. > Where is he. He owes me money.

I understand that he has owed you money for quite some time now. < Do not come to me about his debts. < I am not responsible for his lack of good finances. <

————————

It has come to Vergil’s attention that, many times, he was being contacted simply because Dante very rarely responded.

Nero actually used the phone as a means to carry some semblance of contact with Vergil, but ultimately, even he had come to Vergil for the sake of getting Dante on the phone. (Barring that, Nero would simply call the land line. But by that point, it defeated the purpose of a cell phone, didn’t it?)

Today, while Dante was languidly flipping through another one of his tasteless magazines, Vergil decided he had enough of playing messenger.

But he had to do the roundabout thing to prove a point to his brother.

So he opened up the messenger, and found Dante’s message thread. It wasn’t that Dante didn’t use his phone. He’s called a few times. In fact, he seemed to prefer calling over texting. But it was clear that, just like his tendency to leave the shop’s phone unanswered or even unplugged, he was just as terrible about being contacted via cell phone.

Dante

Dante <

After a few seconds, Vergil heard the soft vibration of the message being received. The phone in question appeared to be within Dante’s desk.

And his brother ignored it.

So, a few minutes later, Vergil sent again:

Dante <

Another vibration.

It went ignored again.

What is the point of having a phone if you don’t answer it you imbecile <

This time, not long after Vergil heard the phone vibrate, he said out loud: “Dante. You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?”

His brother finally lowered his reading material, and said: “What? Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No. Stop ignoring your phone.”

“What is there you need to say that you can’t say yo my face?” The teasing retort on his face was anger-inducing.

“That’s not the point. It appears most everyone else has issues getting in contact with you, and I’m done playing messenger. Learn to respond to your messages, or I will not be responsible for the next time you miss something important.”

Dante waved his hand as if batting away an annoying moth. “Eh. If it’s important, it’ll get to me.”

“Because I have been making sure you found out. This ends here, Dante. At the very least, promise that you will answer your phone calls, if messaging is too much for you.”

————————

Nero

> Okay what did you do now > why is Dante messaging me suddenly about sibling abuse.

I have done nothing of that sort. Your uncle is simply being over dramatic after a few stabs from a few summoned swords, for not paying proper attention to his phone. < Next time he does not respond, I am no longer responsible for relaying a message. <

> ...okay > okay you know what sure > no one is dead and maybe this is for the better. > I’m surprised you didn’t go off on him way earlier.

I have suggested to him that if it’s his wont to ignore his messages, he ought to at least answer his phone calls. <

> Gotcha > Blow up his phone with his ringtone not his text tone. > He’d better start answering.

There is no need to blow up anything. But I make no promises on Dante’s ability to respond. <

> hell it’s a figure of speech, dad. > But thanks for trying

————————

Dante

> Hey > Hey Vergil > Hey

I’m upstairs. What seems to be the issue? <

> Holy shit you do respond.

How did you think the others were able to come to me when you didn’t respond to your phone? < Idiot. <

> Okay you know what > You win this round > I didn’t think you were getting so comfy with this phone thing

This wasn’t a competition. < That was meaningless. <

> Fine forget it > Come downstairs > We have a client.

#the only reason vergil's contact list #displays people with their names only #is because he hasn't figured out how to change it yet #otherwise dante would not be just dante in his phone #devil may cry #prompt request #vergil #dante #nero #nico #kyrie #lady #not proofread #wordborne

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goth-girlfriend · 4 years ago

Text

Hitoshi~

💜 Hitoshi is a Slytherin, not because he’s evil, because he has determination, drive ambition. Even if he looks so tired and uncaring, he’s is giving 100% to become the best he can. Now, we all know, no Slytherin is complete without their emotional support Hufflepuff. 💜The first time you met him, you weren’t sure, kinda scared, he gave off a slightly intimidating vibe, and well, you had just been assigned a project together. He was staring at you not saying anything, it became a stand off. You swallowed and (great words of all might~) clenched your butt cheeks and kinda loudly blurted out your name. “I’m (L/n) (Y/n)! It’s a strange name for Japan so just call me y/n!” You were smiling with your eyes closed but you felt your heart in your throat and kinda sick. He didn’t care still, “Hitoshi Shinso, let’s just get this over with. If you don’t want to do the work I’ll do it, just tell me.” Well you blurted out again but not as loud, “No! I’ll do my part! What are we partners for if your going to take the work and stress! It’s only fair!” The look he gave you was slightly bewildered before he went back to his normal expression. “If you want.” 💜 After getting your grade you two had made just one point away from a perfect score, definitely the highest in class, so when it came to group projects you had become a lot more attractive to those who wanted an easy grade, but what shook them to THE CORE, was the fact you’d ignore them and plop down right next to SHINSO. “So, another project.” You held out the paper to him with a closed eye smile. You could feel his stare and almost felt like an idiot until you felt the paper leave your hand, you relaxed both internally and externally with a sigh. He looked at you again and then back at the paper reading what you’d given him. Sadly for him, he didn’t know this was your ticket to jump on the friendship Express. Que the montage of different projects and study times in the library to find information. 💜 “Hitoshi! Look! A week of work done with another perfect score!” You ran up to Shinso holding the paper that held your grade, he looked at it and was about to talk until you cut him off, “So! To celebrate! I’m going to treat you to a relaxing weekend!” You linked your arm with his and pulled him with you, he wanted to resist but he’d learned early in the friend ship that it is very much in fact ✨impossible✨ 💜 For the first time, you’d have Shinso come over to your dorm, without class work to back it up. It was completely new to him, a new sight, not he didn’t direct his stare solely to work, but now he walked in head level and looked around noticing small things he’d never noticed before. The wooden book case that had school books messily stacked, while the other shelves were neatly filled with old movies, manga, and little figures, the fairy lights around the doors to the balcony and the curtain of lights that had stars placed behind an ombré blue sheer curtain. The light blue thick duvet that had the pattern of metallic stars and moons, the mountain of pillows, but the one thing he noticed over all, were the plants he could see sitting outside on your balcony. Black prince succulents, a white rose bush in bloom, stems of lavender and lilac, star lilies and regular green plants just hanging from the balcony above you, he notice a stool that had three small cacti. He realized then, there is a lot more to you then what he sees in class.

“Good morning Hitoshi!” You greeted him as you took your regular seat behind his. “Hm?” He barely looked over his shoulder to side he you, “oh, good morning.” You gave him a smile and he didn’t really smile but every now and then you’d see a small quirk in his lip and assumed it meant a smile. So you’d take what you could get from the bed head boy.

“Are you excited?” You asked in a low voice leaning forward on your desk.

“For what?” He leaning back into his seat no longer wanting to strain his neck to look over his shoulder.

“This weekend! I said we’re going to celebrate! It Friday! So tomorrow is the day! You better be ready! Because it’s going to be the works!” You started to cheer yourself on for the celebration you’d planned.

“It sounds tiresome.” He tried to play it off.

“It will be if you resist, so just go with it Toshi.” Your lips pulled into a small smile, eyes filling with a slight glow.

“Alright, tell me when we have time.” He propped he left hand on the back of his neck, he stopped when the teacher walked in announcing class to start.

Incoming Message: Sender:🏵Nerd🏵 ‘Saturday morning, meet me at the door to the dorms! I’ll take care of everything else! Don’t worry about money, or anything at all! I’d say around 8:30? I’ll be there a bit early probably but that me! So I’ll see you at 8:30! Everything is a surprise so just stick with me!’

Outgoing Message: Receiver:🏵Nerd🏵 ‘Alright, but I’d your not there I’m going back to my room.’

Incoming Message: Sender: 🏵Nerd🏵. ‘Don’t worry Toshi! Don’t you have some faith in me? Have I ever let you down?’

Incoming Message: Sender: 🏵Nerd🏵 ‘Exactly! You can’t think of a time! I’m such a good friend! ^-^ 🤍’

✨💜💜💜✨💜💜💜✨💜💜💜✨

“Over here!” I shouted trying to get Shinso’s attention before he could leave.

He turned to look at me, I smiled, his lips turned into a scowl but his eyes held a different feeling, it wasn’t noticeable, but I managed to catch it, I’m definitely the main character of my life.

“Alright, where are we going?” He asked before I even opened the door.

“I told you it’s a surprise! Sooo,” I opened the door, “Just walk with me for now.”

He stepped out and I started to lead the way, we walked in comfortable silence to town making it in a ten minute walk.

“So! I don’t know if you really care for them, but there’s this inside garden cafe place, and I heard it’s really cool, and it’s five star rating, and I know you like coffee so I wanted to bring you here!” I pulled him by his sleeve to a stop so we could face a large white building.

The front sign read “ボタニカルカフェ” Botanical Cafe. He looked at it, the front windows had displays of colorful flowers and types of coffee pre bagged, behind them large hedges to block out the rest.

“Alright I’m interested.” He said and I smiled, “Great!”

I opened the door and let him enter first, he gave me a weird look but walked in. We stood at the door until a lady came and told us, “You can sit in front behind these hedges or go through the back where the patio is.” She had a kind smile and motioned towards the room, it was beautiful, the inside was white brick, and vines were climbing up the walls, wild flowers hanging from the ceiling and rails, a small waterfall that fed into a koi pond, stand and book shelves with flowers and other things, but the best part, were the blue green and yellow budgies flying around and chirping when they would land on a swing or onto an unsuspecting person. They were precious, but I wanted to see the outside, “Where do you want to sit?” I turned to ask Shinso, he looked around and then towards the back, “How about outside?” He asked and I nodded, “Sounds good!”

We walked through the room and I stopped to pet a budgie sitting on a low book shelf it fluffed you and started chirping. I couldn’t stop, it was so cute. But eventually we made it out, and the place was beautiful! It had a mesh roof, but the space was huge! Thick green hedges with different wild flowers, in the center a three tier fountain with two budgies bathing, around it a circle of rose bushes, the floor was made of different bricks, the tables were simple thin cement type benches and tables. So many flower pots and the most beautiful flowers were everywhere! Along the mesh were Edison bulb light, the formed a circle skeins the fountain and then headed out to every corner. But what took it next level were the monarch,Blue morpho, Luna moths and Dragon tail butterfly! They fluttered around and I could help but think how beautiful they really were up close.

“Do you see this?!” I was asking to loudly luckily no one else was there.

I turned to look at Hitoshi, his jaw propped on his hand that leaned on the table, his eyes were lidded and now I could tell he had a faint smile. The corners of his lips were turned up, even if it wasn’t bit, it was nice. I smiled at him closing my eyes for a brief second before opening them to the sight of Hitoshi still smiling but this time he had a Morpho buttery on his hair just sitting there enjoying the rest.

I smiled faintly at the sight, “don’t move.” I pulled out my phone and took his picture sending it to him. He pulled out his phone to look at it, and the smile never left his lips. For that, I’m great full.

“So, what can I get for you two?” The voice broke me out of my staring trance, “Oh! We’ve never been here actually! It’s our first time.”

“Oh! Let me give you two these menus, I’ll be back in a few minutes to get your order, if you have or need change we have these small coin machines that sell butterfly food.” She pointed to a black box by the door and I nodded, “Thank you.”

We looked at the menus and I watched Shinso, he still had the same smile and I couldn’t help but stare, I’d never seen him smile genuinely, but this, this is nice. I feel like I’m over staring, but, you don’t just watch your favorite movie one time right?

“What are you getting?” I nodded at the question before looking at my menu, “No ide- Boba!” I pointed my menu, “Ah, milk tea, the best of both drinks, milk, and tea.” I looked though the flavors and after figuring out what I wanted I asked Hitoshi, “What are you going to get?”

“A coffee.” Simple answer. “Food?” I asked, he only shrugged.

“Alright then.” I mumbled and shrugged, “I’ll order!”

Just as I declared it that waiter asked, “What will you be ordering?” I jumped a bit and smiled sheepishly, “Honey Dew Avon’s milk tea with Mango bubble, he wants a coffee, also two milk bread curry buns and two orders of Takoyaki please.”

We ate and left, after I smothered a few budgies, and kissed a few budgie heads and made Hitoshi take a few pictures.

“Sooo, Hitoshi, tell me something about yourself? You don’t talk much.” I shrugged and stuffed one of my hands into my jackets pocket mimicking him the other hosing my left over boba.

“What is there to know?” He asked looking down at the sidewalk ahead of us.

“I don’t know? Your favorite flower? Color? What you do for fun? Biggest fear? Interests? Dreams? Hogwarts house? Idols? Movies? Anything really, we can both talk, you tell me something and I’ll tell you something.” He side eyed me, a crack of a smile before he started.

During the time I managed to steer us into my favorite shop to buy snacks and drink, followed by an anime shop, and few other places. I ended up buying Shinso a Purple Pearl Echeveria and a small pot of lilac flowers. We carried them back, I held the flowers while he held the Echeveria, I watch him touch the thick leaves? He seemed so amazed by it. But what I liked more than the flower was his smile, it was goofy, his eyes were still lidded but crinkled when he smiled. This is probably the biggest I’ve been seen him smile and will probably ever see him smile. I smiled down at the flowers in my hands, I’m glad, I didn’t know this would make him happy, I just wanted to treat him for working so hard and being a fair partner. But, it definitely makes me feel better knowing he enjoyed it and it wasn’t as forced as he made it seem.

“Well, the suns setting so what’s next before we head back?” His deepish voice pulled me out of my thoughts and I smiled, “Well, I was actually going to end it with a movie, I prepped my dorm because the movie theaters get way to stuffy for my liking, so! Let drop off your new plants before we watch a movie! I have a few good ones picked out!”

***Continued I Ran out of Space***

@milkteeboba I hope you enjoyed this! I’ll tag the second part as soon as it’s up! I got carried away!

#buko no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha hitoshi #bnha shinsou #mha hitoshi #mha shinsou #bnha matchup #mha matchup #bnha blog #mha blog #bnha ask blog #mha ask blog #Hitoshi match up #shinsou hitoshi

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