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sinner-as-saint · 4 years ago

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His Obsession.

Mob!Seb x Housekeeper!Reader

Run-through: You work for the notorious mob boss. You’re at his house regularly; tidying up and cleaning and surprisingly you’re not scared of him like the rest of his staff are. Sure he is authoritative, and mean but he’s never disrespectful or inappropriate, nor does he bark orders at you like he does with the guys. And you were almost certain that he barely pays attention to you. Until one evening he confronts you about something. And what starts out heated, ends in a night neither of you will ever forget…

Themes: mob!seb (because I miss him), jealous!seb, housekeeper!reader, angst, fluff, dark (ish) mob!seb

a/n: this is my thank you note to all of you :) Enjoy!

“Miss Y/N? Could you come here for a minute?”

You heard the sound of your boss’ voice. His voice.

Sebastian… You stop right at the stairs and turn around to find him standing by the door of his magnificent bedroom. One which you had cleaned and tidied just this morning itself.

You nod and he immediately walks back into his room and leaves the door open. Your heart pounded, and your body felt all cold for a second. Had you made a mistake? Was there something you did which he didn’t like?

You had heard from the butler a while ago that your boss once fired a guy for parking his favorite car in the wrong spot. The mob boss, after all, was a perfectionist. He was a very proper man with rules and regulations which had to be followed within the walls of his home. Hence, you were nervous like never before as you entered his bedroom.

He was sat on the dark grey couch by his bed, looking down at his phone and sipping on his liquor. The couch which always seemed so comfortable, and soft. But you never dared to even touch for too long, afraid to you might ruin it.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find him attractive. He was hot. He was perfect; mean, intimidating, and powerful. All of him screamed danger; but he was also the kind of man one feels naturally drawn to. His effortless bad boy charm, his authority and how he took control in the span of seconds made him lethal. Gorgeous, but lethal.

“Yes, sir?” you spoke up, trying to get his attention.

He looked up immediately and he had that no-nonsense look on his face. Oh you knew that look all too well. Earlier this week, he had the same look on as he punched the living shit out of a member of his gang who was sent to spy on his by a rival gang.

You realized that right now, as your boss looked at you, he was angry. His blue eyes were cold, and the intensity of his gaze made you shiver.

He spoke, “Yesterday was your day off, no?”

You nodded. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly through his nose; another sign pointing to his current bad mood.

You tried not to seem too intimidated by his stern gaze. “Yes sir.” You responded, still unsure of where he was taking this. Could it be perhaps that someone had messed up something while you weren’t here yesterday? But that still wouldn’t explain why he couldn’t just tell you outside.

Why did he have to call you into his room?

As soon as that question crossed your mind, Sebastian got up and walked over to you. His phone in one hand, and his drink in the other. He approached you as you stood by the end of his bed; slowly, steadily and making your heart race.

He stopped right in front of you and put his phone screen right in front of your face, showing you a picture. “Care to tell me about what’s going on in this picture?” he tilted his head to the side and stared deep into your eyes with his stormy ocean blue ones.

In front of you was a photograph. A picture of you at the club last night. You were sat on a stool by the bar, talking to a guy. His hand was on your thigh and you remember how much he was making you laugh.

You were shocked at first as you took in the details. A picture of you, out clubbing with some friends and this guy you met a few weeks ago. In fact after last night, you concluded that it’d be better if you were just friends.

“Why do you have my picture? Who took this?” you asked, keeping your calm with your boss even though you were quite irritated. Mob boss or not, how dare he spy on your personal life?

Sebastian smirked, definitely not finding anything amusing. “You tell me why you’ve been out and about with my rivals.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Rivals… what? It couldn’t be, the guy said he worked at… wait, the guy didn’t say anything about his work.

“Your rivals, sir?”

Sebastian locked his phone and threw it carelessly on the couch then turned to face you again. “Now, what does that say about me, Y/N? Why is someone who works for me, out and about with my rivals in my own club?”

His club… that explains how he must’ve have gotten the phototgraph. His people must have sent it to him. But why were they watching you?

“I didn’t know anything about all that. Why do you have people spying on me?” your irritation was taking over little by little.

He stared at you for a few more seconds as he recalled all that happened yesterday…

-flashback-

Sebastian was at home, in his study when his phone rang. He saw that it was the manager of one of his clubs calling. Weird.

He answered rather annoyed, “What is it?”

The guy spoke up, nervously. “Boss uh, your girl is here.”

Sebastian froze.

“Who’s she with?” was the first thing which came to his mind. You were at his club which meant that you couldn’t possibly be alone. For some reasons, the thought of you out clubbing with another man made him want to punch something.

Yes, he was completely spellbound by you. The big bad mob boss had lost his heart to his daily. How could he not?

You were kind, and patient and always filled the house with warmth whenever you stepped in. Not to mention that the first time he saw you, you took his breath away. And no woman had ever done that before. And from that very moment, Sebastian found himself thinking about you constantly;

When he was at work. When he wasn’t at work. When he was in a boring meeting. Even when he was in the company of other women, he was obsessed with the thought of you.

However, it was hard to get you alone and talk to you. You were always busy and he was always surrounded by his guys or his guards. And he couldn’t seem all soft with his guys around. Although, he often worried about what would happen if you find someone else. Someone less dark and dangerous, someone with a less tainted reputation than him.

You probably deserved it, but he couldn’t let that happen. No, you were his. And he would treat you like a queen, if only you’d notice him…

He tried to talk to you often, calling you up in his room for absolutely no reason. Sometimes to help him tie his tie, or other times to steam his suits. He liked having you around, but he also knew that you would never see him in that light, given who he is.

But despite that, he wasn’t going to give up. He wanted you. Needed you. Craved you. Desperately. He needed you in ways he hadn’t thought were humanly possible. He wanted you in his arms, preferably without the black uniform and little white apron you wore each day. He wanted you in his bed, naked and lying on his sheets as he shows you how well he can treat you. Oh he would treat you like a queen.

And now he learnt that you’re out and about with another man. He was pissed. The manager’s response made the mob boss see red. He was almost ready to drive all the way there and punch the fucker you were with in the face and drag you to his home.

But no, he wouldn’t do that. So you were out clubbing with his rival gang members. Oh he’ll deal with it. “Send me a picture. And follow the guy when he leaves. Also make sure Y/N doesn’t leave with him, you hear me?” he barked on the phone.

“Yes boss.”

-end of flashback-

“Because you’re mine.” he said it in an authoritative tone which both angered, and excited you. It was a confusing feeling, but you didn’t hate it entirely.

“Excuse m-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you by the waist with one arm and pulling you into him. “You heard me. Now answer me babygirl, why were you with this guy last night?”

Babygirl? Oh the audacity of this drop dead gorgeous man…

“With all due respect sir, my personal life is none of your business.” You sounded less confident than you intended to and it make Sebastian smirk.

“Oh?” he asked, amused. “Is that how it is now?” he pressed your body further into his, allowing you to feel that hard muscles of his tones body along with his body heat. “You’re gonna talk back to me?” he leaned in and nuzzled your cheek, making your heart race, “Disrespect me?” he chuckled right in your ear before pressing a kiss on the shell of your ear. You shivered at his voice.

“I don’t-,”

He cut you off again by pulling away and looking into your eyes. His stare was intense and hot, and so distracting that you didn’t realize his hand was making its way under your skirt. “You dare talk back to me?” he sounded amused, his hand reached further up your inner thigh and you shivered under his touch, “Even when you’ve been out and about, being a little whore,” he whispered, “with my rivals?”

You gasped at his choice of words, and how his fingers gently stroked along your clothed core. Where was this coming from? You also gasped at how you liked it. “I… I didn’t know.” you mumbled as you tried to hold back a moan which threatened to escape your lips due to his salacious actions.

He chuckled, applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throbbing clit and he noticed how you squirmed in front of him. “But now you do. And I’m gonna make sure that you remember from now on that you,” he leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours, “belong to me.”

You felt hazy as he pulled away from you just a couple of inches. Your heart pounded. Your body was on fire, your mind only being able to focus on only one thing – him. His mouth. His body heat. You wanted him closer all of a sudden. So close that you almost began leaning into his touch even more.

You hadn’t realized that the palms of your hands were pressed against his chest. He felt warm, and muscular. Fuck…

“Kneel.” He simply said and you were immediately in a trance. You lowered down on the carpeted floor instantly, on your knees. Sebastian just smirked and caressed your cheek gently. “I want your mouth around me. Come on, make me cum.”

That damn authoritative and powerful tone sent shivers down your spine. You quickly undid his zipper and pulled down his briefs. His hard cock stood proud and tall in front of you. Your mouth watered shamelessly at the sight of it. Thick and big, you realized you wanted him just as much.

He was bigger than any one of your past partners, and that excited you. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his length and you placed the tip against your lips, kissing it and feeling the pre cum coating your lips. You pushed your mouth against it, taking in the tip and swirling your tongue around him.

He groaned, his hand holding your head and guiding you further down his cock. You took him in your mouth slowly, inch by inch; his raw taste drove you crazy. And so did the sounds which left his mouth. Sebastian slid his hand through your slightly messy hair and gently guided your mouth up and down his cock; while slowly sipping on his liquor at the same time.

You bobbed your head around his tip a few more times and soon, he came in your mouth; sending his seeds down your throat. You swallowed whatever he gave you, and stood up after you did so.

He gripped your hips tightly as he dipped his head into the crook of his neck. His hand slipped under your skirt again and he dragged your underwear down your thighs. He placed his fingers against you and rubbed your wet folds again. You couldn’t help but moan, desperate for his touch despite this whole situation being wrong.

“Hmm. You did good, babygirl.” he whispered along your collar bones as he licked and bit the skin; leaving marks behind. Claiming his territory like he always wanted to. “But I’m not quite done with you yet.” He sounded mischievous.

He lifted his glass up to your lips. Still hazy and heart pounding, you parted your lips slightly as he tilted the glass at your lips and let some of the liquor into your mouth. You immediately liked the taste, it burned just a little as you swallowed. However he smirked and tilted the glass more than he should, and the contents went over the lip and down the sides of your mouth – dripping down your chin, your neck and your somewhat exposed chest which was making him go crazy as it is.

“Oh,” he pointed out, pretending as though all that wasn’t down on purpose, “Such a messy girl.” He sighed dramatically while undoing your apron, followed by the zip at the back of your uniform, “Now I have to clean you up.” He looked into your eyes and smirked.

You caught the naughtiness in his eyes. And next thing you knew, you were being pushed back onto his bed; half naked already. “Lay down for me sweetheart.” He ordered and you hesitated for a moment.

“Should we-,”

He cut you off by holding your jaw gently in his grasp. “Shh.” He let go of your face and leaned in to kiss your lips. His tongue gently stroking your lower lip, gathering the liquor which dripped earlier. Then his mouth trailed downwards, kissing your neck, your collar bones down to your breasts – licking and kissing and leaving behind his marks on your skin.

Your body felt hot. Burning under him as he took his time and kissed every inch of your skin. “I’ve always wondered,” he spoke up as he pressed kisses down your chest, “how sweet you must taste. And now look,” he chuckled as he kissed further down, “I get to figure it out finally.”

Maybe it was the sound of his deep voice laced with lust, or maybe it was the confession about how he thinks about you in such an intimate way; regardless, it only fueled the fire deep within you. Supporting yourself up on your elbows, you looked down at him all settled and ready in between your legs. Then you saw the shift in his eyes.

He was all cocky a second ago, but now he was feral. His fingers found their way in between your legs as well, carefully parting your wet folds before slipping inside you. Your body welcomed him in with ease.

Then his following question made your heart race. “Did he touch like this last night?”

You widened your eyes. Does he think that you slept with the guy? “What, no. I-,”

Sebastian leaned in again, and hissed in your ear. “He better not have. Else he won’t live to see another day, babygirl.” His fingers stroked you gently. “You should know, I don’t like sharing. Especially not my girl.”

Fuck… he was messing with your head so easily and wonderfully, and you were letting him.

Sebastian smirked, speeding up and finger-fucking you faster. You whined and squirmed but you wanted more. Oh you wanted more.

You threw your head back and whined loudly, your body betraying you as you felt your walls clench around his fingers. He smirked. “Oh? You wanna cum, is that it?” he leaned in closer, whispering against your mouth, “You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” he teased; chuckling darkly.

You moaned, and whined and tried your hardest to keep quiet but you ended up being loud anyways. His touch, his stare, his words… his cold rings pressing against your hot body each time he pushed his fingers deeper inside of you.

You wanted more. And he knew. “Look at you,” he whispered in awe, kissing along your jaw and biting down on your skin occasionally as his fingers took you higher…and higher, “So perfect… and all mine.” he bit down on your neck as you squirmed; wanting so desperately to crush his arrogance at once, but also wanting him to dominate you. “Cum for me. Now.”

You let go, allowing the warmth to take over you. Releasing and savoring the sweet pressure in between your legs and you came with a strained cry all over his fingers; coating them with your arousal and making his bite his lip and swear at the sight of you so… disheveled.

Your underwear was off, your bra unhooked, your little black uniform on his bedroom floor and your almost naked body on his bed sheets – this was all Sebastian’s ever dreamt of. This moment right here, and now that he had you; he wasn’t going to be easy on you.

“You’re mine.” he repeated. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm that you didn’t realize his mouth was on you again. Closer. Hotter. And determined to make you cum again, his mouth latched on to your core, the lower half of his face completely submerged in between your folds.

You moaned out loud, involuntarily, as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your sensitive bud mercilessly. Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, “You taste so good, babygirl.”

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his beard rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more. His mouth felt good. So good that you wanted more and more with each passing second.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud as your back arched off the cool satin sheets for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. Intense and hot, just like his touch. He was taking over you and you were letting him yet again. He was hard to resist, you knew that since day one.

“You’re gonna cum for me, is that it, hmm?” he whispered and got back to teasing your clit with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste.

“Please, please….” You murmured. He chuckled, his warm breath fanning your wet folds.

“Come on now, ask nicely.” He whispered, biting down on your hip bone before kissing his way back to your clit.

Your eyes flew shut and you whined, and begged – not caring if you sounded coherent or not. Once satisfied, Sebastian got back to eating you out like there was no tomorrow. The pressure in between your legs was building up nicely as well. So with a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face; your eyes watering.

He didn’t stop, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you. He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up, admiring how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, looking down at you. He had that same feral look in his eyes, the desire unhidden. Shameless, and raw. Passionate. He wanted you and he wasn’t hiding it. He wanted to own you. Ruin you in the best way possible. “Get on your hands and knees. Now.” he ordered and proceed to finish his drink before he was onto you again.

Discarding his expensive suit, lifting your hips up and securing an arm around you; you knelt in front of him on the bed, legs spread apart, hands gripping the sheets while your back faced him. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there – right behind you. Plotting all the ways in which he could play with you.

Sebastian trailed a finger lazily up your spine before sliding his fingers into your hair. He gripped your hair gently, and pulled back just enough so he got your full attention. His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble.

You could feel his warm skin, and his hard on pressing against your butt. And your heart raced in anticipation.

“You’re gonna take me nice and good, aren’t you baby?” his voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke in your ear, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. You whined and nodded, unable to hide the fact that you wanted him bad. So bad.

His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you. “Good girl.” He noted and gripped the sides of your hips tighter. He pushed into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you. You were all wet and ready for him, and he slipped inside you with ease.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he buried his cock into you. Your knuckles gripped the sheets tightly, and your head lowered as your felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive and sore from before.

You were barely able to keep yourself up, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve collapsed on the bed long ago.

“So fucking good… you’re all mine…” Sebastian spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words. The air around you smelt of sex, sweat and Sebastian’s cologne.

He pounded into you like his life depended on it. Stretching you out and filling you up each time he rammed his cock into your entrance. You moaned, worn-out and still craving more and more of him. You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and the bite on your neck, and all of the other marks he left on your skin.

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling your orgasm so close that you could almost feel it taking over you. But just as you were right on the edge, he pulled out and flipped you around. His rough manner of handling your body turned you on even more.

He smirked when he saw the look of surprise on your face. “Can’t give it to you that easily now, can we?” he chuckled. “I want you to beg for it.” He parted your legs, and settled in between them again, his cock slipping inside you once again. “Beg for me.”

His mouth soon found yours and he nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out ragged breaths. He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him. While he fucked you raw, his hand moved up to your throat again. His fingers wrapped around your throat and forced you to open your eyes and look into his. “I said,” he growled, “beg.”

A thin layer of sweat formed on his face, as he fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your lips parted as you gasped. “Sir please… please make me cum…” you whined, “I need you-,” you cut yourself off, moaning wantonly as he filled you up nicely.

He grunted and moaned shamelessly right in your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace. He pounded into you incessantly. You could feel the headboard knocking against his bedroom wall, and the sound echoing around the room, along with your moans and his growls.

“Are you gonna cum? Do you deserve it, huh?” he mocked you, his hand reaching up and grabbing your jaw tightly in his grasp. “Look at me, babygirl.” He urged you to focus on him, despite knowing that you were barely able to concentrate on anything other than how well he was fucking you.

You stared into his eyes; tears escaping your eyes, lips swollen and bruised, neck littered with his bite marks, and your eyes just as wild and passionate as his. “Are you gonna remember now? That you belong to me?” He stayed still inside you for a moment, letting you feel just how big he was. You whined and groaned as he stretched you out like no one ever did. “That you’re all mine?” he growled.

“Yes… yes, sir.” You mumbled, pleading him with your eyes. Begging him to let you cum.

Sebastian saw the desperation in your eyes. The silent plea. He knew you wouldn’t be able to take it any longer. But he had to make himself clear. “Tell me, who do you belong to? Hmm?”

“You.” you gasped. Please…

You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you gushed out around his cock; moaning and squirming in the process. He moaned out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you, filling you up again.

He didn’t pull out. He just kept his throbbing cock carefully buried in you as he lowered his face and pushed it into the crook of your neck. Both of you panting and wondering; what the hell just happened, and how did it escalate this quickly.

You recovered and tried to move, but failed miserably. Sebastian noticed and smirked to himself despite the fatigue.

“Come here,” he spoke gently pulled you into him. You settled in comfortably into his side, surprisingly. His body was warm, and he smelt familiar. “Get some sleep. I know you’re tired.”

You widened your eyes and looked up at him. He smiled and reached out to caress your cheek. “Sorry if I hurt you. I- I can’t see you with someone else.” He repeated again, “You’re mine.”

You sighed. “I work for you.” you pointed out wearily.

He scoffed. “Then congrats, you’re fired.” He said it like it was nothing. You sighed and tried to scoot away but his grip was strong. “Hey, I’m serious.” He argued. “Stay, don’t go.” He pleaded.

You were too weak and worn out to move anyways, besides his bed was comfy so you stayed. You were quiet for a minute then you spoke up. “What happens now?” you asked.

He chuckled, and his tiredness could be heard. ��Now I ask you out, and you say yes. And we live happily ever after.” He answered.

You rolled your eyes. “And my job?”

“Baby, I have enough money to last us a couple of lifetimes.”

“I refuse to be dependent on you. And certainly not a burden.” You sounded tired too.

“None of that. You’ll be my queen.”

You snuggled closer to his warm body as he covered your naked body carefully with the soft blanket. “You’re so bossy. And controlling. And mean.” You mumbled, half-way asleep.

He gave you a sleepy chuckle. “Yeah but you like me. And don’t you dare lie, I’ve seen the way you look at me.” He argued.

You chuckled faintly, eyes closing on their own. “Bossy and controlling and mean, but handsome.” You corrected yourself.

“Hmm.” He liked how he was right. “Now go to sleep babygirl, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and whispered, “I’m gonna place the world at your feet if you just ask for it. Don’t you worry about a thing, angel. You’re mine now, everything will be alright.”

At last, his girl was finally here with him. Totally, and entirely his.

---

a/n: thank you for 14K followers Sin Army! I love you guys so much. I’ll add the tag lists tomorrow I promise ;)

#sebastian stan au #mob!seb #mob!seb x reader #mob!seb smut #cherry!seb #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

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Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters/Pairing: August Walker x OFC Freya (Forest Nymph) Original Female Character is described as white/pale, short and of small build, hazel eyes, long dark hair.

Warnings (for this chapter); Talk of past abusive relationships, on the run, alcohol consumption, Daddy Kink, DD/LG, Pet names, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, hyperspermia, cum play, cum feeding, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy test.

Previous Parts:

Werewolf!Sy: Moonlight on the Sand Castle Under The Stars. Werewolf!Sy, Vampire!Walter: Chapter 1 Vampire Walter: Chapter 2

This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters. The ‘reader’ for each story will be a ‘new’ reader, so its not the same woman being with all the male characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

The blood slowly trickled across the board and off the table, coating the floor before running into the drain. August raised the heavy cleaver, and with one thunderous swipe severed the femur clean in two. The cleaver made a metallic clang that echoed around the stark tile lined room, and wiping his hands on his apron he lifted the product of his work and inspected his efforts closely. A smile spread over his lips as he looked up;

“There we go Mrs Mackenzie, a nice juicy bone for your dog”

The old woman smiled, her purple tinted grey hair in tight curls that barely moved as she nodded;

“Oh yes, that’ll be perfect! My Clarence will love it!”

At that very moment Clarence started yapping outside where he was tied to the specials chalkboard that sat on the sidewalk outside Walkers Meats, 10lbs of teeth, fur and anger wrapped into the body of a small West Highland Terrier;

“I’m sure he will. I’ll wrap it up for you and Freya will finish ringing up your order for you. We’ll get it delivered this afternoon…”

August walked around the counter and set the wrapped bone into the box, nodding to his assistant to finish up the order. She knew that the bone would be free of charge, but that Mrs Mackenzie would insist on tipping and sliding her $10 which August was more than happy for Freya to keep. The slight girl turned and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, before she quietly nodded and continued with her duties.

Returning to the butchery area August glanced up and caught sight of his reflection in the painted mirror, the design obscuring the scarring on the side of his face, giving him that moment of relief from those memories of a past long ago, a life he had left behind when he had sought out quiet solitude in the peaceful mountain town of Blackwater Lake. People minded their own business there and didn’t ask questions. If you had a skill that could help others you were welcomed into the community. How August got into the meat business is a story for another day, but as his gaze travelled across the mirror to where Freya was measuring out the wild herb mixes into small mason jars he smiled and remembered instead how she came into his life.

Pulling the sign in from the sidewalk August was exhausted. Running a business completely on his own had seemed like a good idea when he’d started, he enjoyed his own company and he distrusted anyone else to do the job to a standard he would approve of. What he hadn’t counted on was the residents of this sleepy little town not only accepting him, but joyous that he was there and wanting to talk endlessly every time they visited his store. Although he was always polite and did his best to end conversations quickly, after eight hours of it he had jaw ache and knew he would need to work well into the night on the new sides of beef that had been delivered that morning if he were to have any stock to sell the next day. He glanced longingly at the small sign that sat propped up in the window; ‘Help Needed - Enquire Within’, yet he hadn’t had any takers in the month the sign had been up.

The icy winter wind curled at his neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he let out a sigh, heaving the heavy sign into the building so it didn’t blow away in the night as a icy squall blew in from the mountains. As the door slammed shut behind him it echoed a knock around the store, but when it came again he turned and let out a far from masculine yelp; the face of a pale young woman stared back at him like a ghoul in the darkness. Clearing his throat and smoothing down his blue and white striped apron, he approached the door and opened it;

“May I help you Miss?”

She nodded down to the sign;

“Do you still need someone?”

Her teeth were chattering, and it was hardly surprising as she was barely dressed for the weather, the knitted cardigan doing little to ward off the cold wind. August opened the door to allow her to enter, looking down at the top of her head as she slunk past him.

“Let me get a pot of coffee on, you must be freezing”

As he disappeared into the back office he set the pot of coffee on to heat before grabbing an old jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, returning to where his visitor stood in the store a few moments later, handing her the jacket;

“Its cold in here, we can’t have the heat on because of the meat”

Nodding she took the jacket, her teeth still chattering;

“T-t-thanks… its still warmer than outside”

He handed her a mug of steaming coffee;

“Sorry, i don’t have any creamer or sugar…” She wrapped her delicate fingers around the mug using it more for heat than sustenance as he leant back against the counter on the other side of the store; “So… you’re wanting a job? What experience have you got? You worked in retail?”

She shook her head and muttered a quiet no, keeping her eyes averted from him as she spoke;

“But i will try anything… just looking for a new start”

“Are you running from something?” A gentle nod of her head and the way she clutched the mug tighter told August it was a someone not a something; “Look, if you’re willing to learn, work hard and pay attention, i’ll give you a trial. I’ve gotta level with you, you’re the only person who’s shown any interest in the sign, and i’m getting desperate, so if you want you can start tomorrow”

Her head snapped up and for the first time he saw her eyes, deep hazel peering out from behind long strands of dark brown hair;

“Really?”

“Yes. Really” he stated in a matter of fact way; “I’ll need to get your address and details for the wages…”

“Oh… i’m not… i’ve not got anywhere. I guess i’ll find a cheap motel…”

August paused;

“Kid, there’s no motel in town… at least not this time of year. But i might have a solution for you”

Her eyes widened in fear and August realised whatever she was running from had done more damage than she showed;

“No no, not that” he assured her; “There’s a small apartment above the shop - two in fact, i’ve got one and the other i’ve never rented out, never got round to it… its small but completely self contained, your own entrance and everything, completely secure”

Once a few forms had been filled out August had gotten the girl settled in the small studio apartment. He’d shown her how the fold out bed worked, explained that the hot water fed off the furnace for the whole building so she could use as much as she wanted. A couple of minutes after he’d left her in the apartment he knocked at her door, surprised to hear the locks sliding across at first, but then realising she needed to feel safe. When she peered around the door she almost looked surprised to see him there, as if it would be anyone else;

“Umm yeah?”

August handed her a box of things he’d scavenged from his own kitchen;

“Here’s just a few things to see you through the night… I haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, but the bread was in the freezer and it’ll defrost pretty quickly if you put it in the toaster”

He handed the box to Freya, surprised at how smooth but also small her hands were as she took it from him as they brushed against his own. She nodded and smiled;

“Thank you Mr Walker”

“Night. See you bright and early tomorrow morning”

The next morning August woke to an insistent knocking on his door. Grumbling to himself he pulled on his robe and stalked across his small apartment, pulling the door open with a thunderous look on his face, ready to give whatever maniac that was knocking on his door at 5am a piece of his mind;

“WHAT THE… oh… hi…”

Freya was standing on his doormat, a look of shock on her face;

“Hi… i’m ready to start”

“To… start?”

“Work. You said bright and early”

August ran his palm over his face;

“I… When i said…” he let out a long slow breath; “I meant 8am”

“Oh.”

That was a long day, but by lunchtime Freya had mastered the cash desk and had already started to come out of her shell, the locals more than welcoming for the tiny girl with the woodland eyes, and with her help August was able to catch up on his work.

Over the following month her input had helped August expand his products, suggesting a range of seasonings in reusable jars, where if the customer returned the mason jar they’d get a discount off the next one they purchased. He discovered she had this unfathomable knowledge of herbs and plants, but also had this connection with nature he couldn’t quite understand. He’d sometimes catch her staring out of the window at the trees blowing in the wind, as if listening to their songs that were beyond his own ears.

One thing was for sure, there was a sense of magic to her and August thanked the stars above that she walked into his store on that cold winter night.

Back in the present August was busy cleaning the cutting table as Freya busied herself with her jars - it was her own little enterprise now and one she was absolutely proud of. He could see that she kept glancing outside, gnawing on her lip;

“Freya, everything ok?”

“Yes Mr Walker. I was just thinking, the next batch wild garlic is ready to be picked, if i collect some this afternoon i can have more chimichurri mixed ready for tomorrow, and that’s when the beef delivery is coming in”

August let out a chuckle;

“How many times do I have to say to call me August…” he met her gaze with a smile; “And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. The store’s quiet and i’ll be doing deliveries in a while, so sure, go exploring”

“Thank you Mr Walker”

August rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, watching as she hung up her apron and grabbed her foraging basket, skipping out of the door and towards the creek that fed into the lake a couple of miles away.

Three hours later August was driving back along the gravel road that led into town, having made his deliveries. The spring air was damp but warm, rain threatening to spill but the clouds unwilling to release their bounty just yet. Rounding the bend he looked out over the soft marshland, the grass knee high already and he saw a familiar figure stepping through the green undergrowth. With a smile he pulled his SUV to a stop at the side of the road, stepping out of the vehicle he leaned against the door as he watched Freya as she slowly made her way through the field, before she stopped as her attention moved to the treeline. Following her gaze he watched as a bear emerged from the woods and his heart sank. The native wildlife would be coming out of hibernation, and would be grumpy and hungry. He went to shout but a sudden rush of wind silenced his voice, watching as she held her arm out and the grass flattened in front of her as if a wind devil had made its way through. Glancing back to the bear it had stopped in its tracks but was still staring at her, but then started to circle around on the spot before settling down as if for a nap.

August anxiously watched, knowing if Freya ran she could make it to the car as long as the bear was weak, but he didn’t want to risk that it hadn’t had a belly full of salmon yet, so he quickly reached into the vehicle and pulled his unregistered handgun from beneath his seat. Back at the side of the road he raised the firearm at the bear, glancing at Freya who had now spotted him waiting for her. She started to quicken her pace through the grasses, eventually breaking into a run as she neared the embankment of the road. August glanced to where the bear had been and let out a yell as he saw it was starting to approach them;

“Freya, RUN!”

Doing as he instructed she broke into a sprint, her legs carrying her through the grass and up the embankment. Flinging his door open he motioned for her to dive in, her basket being launched into the passenger footwell as she tumbled across the centre console and into the passenger seat, August launching himself into the driver's seat and gunning the engine as he slammed the door shut, the urgent crunch of tyres on loose gravel dulling the sound of the grizzly’s roar as it had caught up, but was now rapidly disappearing into the distance of the rear view mirror.

August only slowed down as he reached the urban centre of Blackwater Lake, Freya’s breathing having finally levelled out as she turned to him;

“So… there’s bears here?”

He slowed the vehicle and pulled to a stop in a parking lot before turning to her;

“Yes. And moose and cougars and mountain lions… hell sometimes I even hear howls in the night so there’s probably something wolfy up in those mountains too… We need to get you better prepared for nature” August paused; “And what was that thing you did with your hand? That made the grass flatten and the bear sit down…”

Freya shrugged;

“I’m not sure… it's just this thing i’ve always been able to do, calm animals down”

“Huh. Didn’t seem to work this time…”

She glanced at him, her eyes wide;

“I think that was because you were there…”

August let out a laugh, before sitting back in his seat;

“Okay, point taken. I need a drink. We’re at Big-G’s, I'll buy you dinner…”

August regretted his decision. He hadn’t factored in how slight Freya was in comparison to her ability to consume alcohol, so three drinks later where all he’d had was lite beer, Freya was completely wasted. The giveaway was when she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder whilst he’d been talking to Geralt - the bar owner - and she’d started to drool on his shirt. Geralt had told him to ‘get his girl home’ with a wry laugh, telling August his meal was on the house. Something had stopped August from correcting the ashen haired man, looking down at the imp of the girl leaning on him.

He’d managed to carry her to his car fairly easily but the journey up the steps at their building had been more of a challenge. He’d managed to get her to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but had been surprised when she’d also wrapped her legs around his waist. Although it meant he could use one arm to hold her up, the feel of her warm body clinging to his sent a rush of heat through his stomach straight to his groin, he was just thankful she was so out of it she didn’t notice the tent in his pants.

As he juggled his keys he found the spare for her apartment but then thought better of it, unsure how she was when she’d had alcohol, and instead opened his own apartment. Crossing the almost dark room he reached the couch and slowly lowered her down to the cushions, her whimpers of loss as he started to pull away making him pause;

“Mmmm Daddy, you’re so warm…”

Holding her still a low rumble slowly bubbled through his throat when she nuzzled against his neck;

“Daddy smells so good…” and she pressed a kiss to the stubble on his chin.

August knew she was drunk, probably didn’t even realise it was him, after all who would want someone as broken and scarred as he was, but for that briefest of moment’s he relished her touch and what was going on in her tequila addled mind. He couldn’t help himself and pressed the briefest of kiss to her cheek;

“Time to sleep now little Kitten” he muttered before reluctantly uncoupling himself from her grasp, pulling a blanket over her as she dozed on his couch. Raking his hand down his face he let out a sigh, before grabbing a glass of water and setting it onto the coffee table in front of her. A scribbled note on the back of a flyer explained that she was drunk and he wasn’t sure if she would need his help, and he didn’t want to invade her privacy of her own apartment.

Having poured himself a generous glass of vodka, August withdrew to his own bedroom, silently closing the door before stripping for bed. It was an early night but without the TV to entertain him and no desire to get lost in a book, he settled on top of the covers in just his underwear, sipping at the ice cold liquor as he willed the swelling of his loins to subside. However every time he tried to clear his mind, all he could imagine was Freya. The thought of her small body beneath his, their bodies sweaty and writhing as one. Finally with a curse he gave in to his desires, pulling his underwear down and taking his hard length into his hand, pumping dry to increase the friction as his mind descended further into taboo territory. He imagined it was her hand, calling him Daddy as she asked if she was doing it right, that her perfect lips would duck down and take his bulbous tip into her mouth, her tongue lapping at his slit as her hazel eyes would stare back up at him, wide with innocence. With a strangled cry he came in violent spurts, covering his hand and stomach in ropes of his cum, thoughts of the delicate woman in his lounge lapping at his spent seed prolonging his orgasm until he was aching and empty. With a curse he looked down at the mess he’d made, realising he needed to clean himself up.

The quiet click of his front door woke August the next morning, pushing himself up off the pillow as he heard small footsteps down the outside of the building and the quiet beep of his car being unlocked. Wondering what the hell was happening he leapt out of bed and peered out of the window, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw a dishevelled Freya gathering the wild garlic that had been scattered around his inside of his vehicle the day before.

A few minutes later the thud of his keys falling onto his doormat where she’d posted them through the letterbox sounded through his apartment, and when he went to collect them he found a small note with them;

‘Mr Walker, thank you for your help, I hope I didn't make a fool of myself last night. Your car stinks of garlic now, i’m going to walk up the creek and collect some herbs that will help reduce the odour, Freya x’

An hour later when she hadn’t returned, August set off towards the creek through the pleasant woodland, the sunlight leaving dappled patches of gold on the forest floor. Coming to the wide bend in the creek where the water was shallow, he saw the swing over the water that someone had put there years ago, mismatched ropes and a wooden seat, and how someone had now woven wildflowers into the ropes, and as he glanced upstream he saw Freya knee deep in the water, a butterfly dancing on her hand.

Something overcame him and he pulled off his boots and socks, rolling up his pants as he stepped out into the water and sat on the swing, silently watching as she charmed nature beyond a simple human’s comprehension, having control of the elements like a forest nymph. August had seen a lot of unusual things in the time he’d lived in Blackwater Lake, he knew those that had something a little special about them gravitated towards the sleepy little mountain town, so as he watched Freya make her way upstream towards him he realised there was magic in the air. Small water spouts rose from the water as she took each step, as if chasing after her touch as she stepped from rock to rock submerged under the water.

As she approached the shallow bend in the creek she finally looked up and saw August, a smile spreading over her lips;

“Hi”

“Its so pretty here, isn’t it?” she asked wistfully

“Beautiful from where i’m sitting”

She approached where he sat, stopped at arms reach, a hint of blush warming her cheeks;

“I’m sorry if I was inappropriate last night… thank you for taking care of me, i’m not a big drinker”

“You weren’t inappropriate…” he reassured her; “But it's been a while since a beautiful woman called me Daddy… since before… since before i was broken...”

Her gaze moved to the scar on the side of his face, and without a word she stepped forward and pressed her hand to the spidery scarring. In that moment August felt the magic in her touch, prickling at his skin before she nimbly climbed onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist and she lowered her lips to his, softly brushing against his as she spoke;

“You’re not broken, no more than I am…”

The kiss was soft and slow, and as her tongue started to gently tease at the seam of his lips she eased her weight completely onto his lap, her core pressing to his, the heat of their growing lust growing like an ember between them.

Her small tongue licked into his mouth, tasting him as she pressed her body flush to his chest, small whimpers coming from her as his hands splayed over her back and pulled her firmly down onto his growing arousal. When the need for oxygen finally took precedence August’s lips traced a path of kisses down her jaw and neck, her fingers winding through his dark curls as her head fell back to give him better access to the pale expanse of her collarbone;

“Oh Daddy…”

“That’s it my little one, i’m going to treat you so well, my little Kitten…” August’s mustache brushed against her heated skin as he spoke, the gentle sway of the swing letting their bodies move against each other.

Just at that moment an ominous creak sounded above them, drawing their attention up into the tree’s canopy, just in time to see the rope that held the swing up snap, plunging them down into the shallow creekwater below.

With shouts and screams the moment of passion was lost, taken over by the shock of the water hitting their heated skin. August helped Freya up, her dress plastered to her skin in much the same way his shirt was, soaked head to toe he shook the water from his hair;

“Home?”

“Yes Daddy” Freya purred, pulling into his touch as he wrapped an arm around her to help her out of the water.

Pushing in the door to his apartment, clothes were being pulled from each other's bodies even as the door was still ajar. As he pulled his shirt off, Freya’s hands were curling into the hair on his chest, an almost feral growl bubbling from her lips as she ran her hands down to his stomach and rested on the buckle of his belt. Catching her hands in his he held them gently, only speaking when she looked up and met his gaze;

“Kitten, I want to be sure you want this… You’re in total control here, you set the boundaries, you say when you need to stop. But if you do want this, i’ll be your Daddy and take care of you like a Princess”

Freya voice shook as she spoke;

“I want this… my last… he wanted to be my Daddy but didn’t treat me right. He took more than I could give…”

August lifted her small hands to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with such great care and tenderness her heart almost melted before she finally spoke again;

“We should really check for leeches”

“WHAT?!”

Freya had never seen anyone strip their clothing off quite as fast as August just had. For a big man - and a pretty tough one at that - the mere thought of little blood suckers had him stripping completely naked in a matter of seconds, Freya pulling her dress off a little slower until she stood in just her simple underwear. August was still patting himself down, turning to look at his behind;

“Am I ok?”

Freya couldn’t help herself, stepping forwards and taking two handfuls of August’s pert asscheeks, giving them a squeeze before running her palms over the perfectly rounded globes of his buttocks;

“More than ok”

In the following moments August carried her to his small bathroom, turning the shower on before he stepped under the warm jets of water, pulling her with him so he could soap her down. The scent of sandalwood of his soap as he carefully washed every inch of her body was overwhelming, taking care of her to wash any last traces of creek water from her body. He paused as he reached the apex of her thighs, waiting for her agreement which she quickly nodded for him to continue, his large hand sliding between her legs and caressing her lips. His skilled fingers soon sought out her pearl, teasing it gently from its hood before he slid a finger into her waiting heat, a cry falling from her lips which he quickly swallowed with a kiss. His work calloused hands quickly drove her to an orgasm - a first of many - and as she came she called his name, like a prayer on her lips.

Shutting the water off, August carefully lifted her out of the bath, wrapping a large towel around her before scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his bed. On the messy covers her hair clung to her skin, before he carefully lifted the long tendrils from her chest and was able to take in the sight of her petite naked body laying fresh and prone on his bed. Her hand reached out for him, pulling him close;

“Daddy, I want to feel you…”

August smiled;

“Will you be a good girl for me Kitten? Do you think you can take me? You’re awfully small, and I'm pretty big…”

She sat up, pressing a hand to his chest;

“Can I try? Can I go on top?”

Nodding August lay on the bed, propped up against the pillows, lifting her petite frame on top of him. He watched with pleasure as she wriggled down the bed, her hands gripping his thighs as she settled between his legs. Wrapping her small hands around his generous length she looked up at him as she started to give small licks to his hot flesh, her fingers struggling to encircle his meaty girth. Opening her mouth she took a good three inches between her lips straight away, a litany of curses falling from August’s lips as he felt the hot wet heat of her mouth engulf him. It was better than he could ever had imagined, and he had to grip at the bedsheets to stop himself from cumming at that very moment. Steadying his breathing he let out a low sigh before he reluctantly pulled her off, a trail of spittle hanging between his dick and her mouth;

“But Daddy, I want to taste your cum…”

“I know Kitten, but it's going to be a lot the first time, and I want to see your cunt dripping with me, knowing your tight little pussy is going to overflow with the amount I'm going to pump into you. Now be a good girl and see what you can do, let's make it fit…”

Straddling his thick thighs she positioned herself over his hard shaft, her hand holding him steady as she swiped him through her folds to douse his gnarled girth with her juices, before settling with the tip at her entrance. August ran his hands up and down her arms, comforting her and hoping to get her to relax. He was a patient man but the feel of her soaked flesh pressing against his crown was becoming a struggle not to grab her hips and pull her down until he was balls deep in one swift thrust.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Freya slowly lowered herself onto August’s shaft, going at a pace she could cope with, but the strain of holding back caused perspiration to bead on August’s forehead;

“Doing so well Kitten… I know its a lot, but you can do it… you’re so fucking tight…. Fuck…”

Taking a deep breath Freya finally let herself fall the rest of the way, feeling him part her silken walls until she was settled on his lap. Tears fell from her eyes, tiny diamonds adorning her cheeks at the overwhelming sense of fullness she was experiencing. Seeing these August kissed them away, his praises made her swell with pride as he admitted to her he was struggling not to cum from just the feeling of her tight walls engulfing him. He pushed a hand between their bodies, resting his palm on her stomach;

“Put your hand here… you’re so tiny I can feel myself deep inside you, your little tummy blown out with my dick…”

His thumb crept down and grazed at her pearl, making her cry out before yearning for more. With his ministrations she was soon relaxed enough to start to ride him, her nimble thighs bouncing on his meaty counterparts, feeling the slick push and pull as he filled her whilst she drove them towards their peak.

Unsurprisingly Freya came first, the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through her body was all too much to hold back, and she came with a silent scream, her body gripping August so tight it set him off, pushing in so deep he was sure his dick had kissed her cervix, before flooding her with endless ropes of his thick seed, soothing her inner core with his milky gift. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her to his chest, holding her tight as the floods of emotions surged through her, stroking her back tenderly.

Eventually he carefully lifted her onto the bed, peppering her bare skin with bristly kisses, before parting her thighs and leaning back to admire his handiwork, a thick sheen of white covering her swollen petals. With a single finger he carefully swiped through his mess, before holding it to her mouth;

“Taste Kitten… taste our passion…”

Holding onto his wrist she sucked the digit into her mouth, her tongue tasting their combined essence. When his finger finally dropped from her lips his gaze fell down and hers followed, her eyes going wide when she saw he was hard and ready for more. Laying back she hooked her hands behind her knees and spread herself open for him;

“Daddy, will you fill me up again, please?”

Positioning himself at her cum soaked hole August smiled, a dark hint of lust glinting in his eyes;

“It would be my pleasure Kitten”

Three weeks later

Freya chewed nervously on her lip, having circled the isles of the drug store too many times to count now, waiting for a time when there was no-one near what she needed. Finally it was the right moment and she slunk into the isle, grabbing the thin rectangular box before stepping back and bumping into someone, her item tumbling to the floor as a third set of feet appeared;

“Freya! Mrs Syverson! Good Morning!”

It was Sue from the coffee shop, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere just as Mrs Syverson had backed away from the opposite shelf to keep little baby Luna from grabbing the glass bottles of antacid medicine. Mrs Syverson immediately clocked what Freya had been holding;

“Oh Freya, could you just reach those things for me? I can’t reach down with Luna here…”

With shaking hands Freya handed the bag of cotton wool balls and the pregnancy test to the woman only a couple of years her senior, who in turn smiled at Sue as she laughed;

“Sy’s always keeping me on my toes… in more ways than one” She winked before tugging on Freya’s arm; “Sweetie, I need to place an order for a big cookout we have coming up for Sy’s birthday…”

Steering her away from town gossip Sue, Mrs Syverson lowered her voice;

“I’ll meet you outside sweetie, don’t worry about it, i saw you circling the shop”

A few minutes later Mrs Syverson appeared at the door, two drugstore bags in her hand before handing one to Freya;

“My advice, tell August now, do the test together”

“Are you sure? Do you think he’ll be angry?”

“Angry? Hell no, i think it’ll be what he wants, and no matter what the result he’s always had puppy dog eyes for you, we could all tell from the moment you walked into his life”

Peering into the bag Freya saw there was also a bag of Hershey’s kisses;

“You’ll need the sugar, to calm your nerves afterwards”

“Thanks Mrs S… i appreciate it”

“No problem Freya… and i’ll see you tomorrow, i really do need to place that order, but get today over and done with first”

That afternoon Freya and August took the test, then feasted on kisses of every kind.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker smut #august walker x ofc #henry cavill

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levihantrash · 3 years ago

Text

Priorities

For Levihan week Aug 2021 Day 2 prompt: confessions

Also based on a cute ass tumblr prompt by @sanothebreadpup <3 hope you like it!!

Summary: It’s been a while since Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long. Erwin suggested going to Levi for advice on managing prioritises. Instead, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

note: no smut but lots of spicy poetic touching

cross-posted on ao3 🤪

-----

Hange wanted to confess. It had been months since they knew that their best friend status with Levi could potentially be tweaked to include just a bit more romance, and they knew they had to be the one to take that step. As much as Levi was quick-witted on the battlefield, he wasn’t quite the risk-taker in ordinary settings. In fact, Hange figured Levi would sip tea beside them until he was greying and would probably be as content with the arrangement.

Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long.

Out-of-the-blue, though characteristically charismatic, Erwin gave the soldiers a pep-talk on how they need to know what to prioritise (i.e., humanity's victory).

Inspired, though the speech’s intended audience was clearly for new recruits, Hange tried to prioritise their tasks. Within a day, they got overwhelmed, the list being more of a reason for delay than for action. Moblit, well-meaning as always, tried to get Hange to focus on one at a time but that was unthinkable to them. One at a time meant that the confession would never happen. There was too much to research. Too much at stake. Too much for one inconsequential confession.

Unknowingly, Erwin saw Hange wringing their hands, muttering to themselves in the dining hall.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t prioritise the important stuff,” Hange grumbled. Perking up at the mention of priorities, Erwin advised Hange to seek Levi’s guidance.

“Levi only does one thing at a time once he sets his heart on it.”

Eager for a chance encounter with someone they technically already hung out with on most days, Hange asked Levi for help. More accurately, in perhaps the most roundabout manner, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

“For research,” Hange said, almost convinced by their own performance.

“You can do that yourself,” Levi said reasonably.

While starting a task was horrendously difficult, Hange was not one to give up once they began on one.

“You’re the only one here who can bake.”

Eyes narrowed, arms folded, Levi was not buying the compliment. He had a pile of papers left to read. Hange’s whims could be settled by someone with more well-matched interests and time management.

“Go ask Petra.”

Hovering nearby with another paper for her captain to sign, Petra noticed Hauge's crestfallen face.

“It’s not about the baking being done but who Hange is doing the baking with,” Petra whispered, as discreetly as she could.

"I'm busy," Levi said, loud enough for Hange to hear, heedless of Petra’s input.

“Alright.” Hange sighed, internally fuming that they should’ve found a more legitimate excuse. Bluff out something like Erwin’s orders. Levi followed Erwin’s orders without question. Hange’s requests were dealt with more scepticism. Not that Hange had the best track record of requests.

In the end, Hange prepared the baking supplies, because even if titans couldn’t stomach cake, it was an experimental endeavour. Practically speaking, they could give some baked goods to the juniors. Maybe even gift some to Levi.

Stumbling into the kitchen with too many ingredients in hand, they found Levi leaning against the entrance looking positively sullen. Upon spotting Hange, his face morphed into a more acceptable, neutral expression, nodding towards them.

"I thought you were busy!"

Levi shrugged, grabbing some of the ingredients from their arms. "I was. Didn't you want to bake?"

“I guess?”

The sudden change of mind was too abrupt for Hange to wrap their head around. A hopeful glow had unfortunately begun growing in them. Levi was being exceptionally nice today. No doubt that he was usually nice. Just not will-bake-for-your-titans kind of nice.

"Erwin said that you are really good at prioritising tasks,” Hange said, slowly digging through the cabinets for the utensils.

"Huh. Let me guess—he wants you to learn from me."

Hange scratched their head absent-mindedly. "He did tell me to ask you."

"I'm not actually very good at sticking to a task,” Levi admitted, wondering where in hell Erwin got the idea that he was focused. If he were, the paperwork would have been submitted, instead of lying around, flapping aimlessly in the wind before Petra (and Oluo) offered their generous help. He refused—every time. Levi was simply good at keeping a blank face and reporting to Erwin that he needed more time, which Erwin must have mistaken as a sign of seriousness than a sign of procrastination.

“You are! You finished work before coming have, didn't you?”

Levi didn’t breathe out a word, silently pouring through the book of recipes.

"What do you want to bake?"

Hange didn’t mind his lack of response, pondering over his poor cover-up question. "Something easy. What about bread?"

"Bread isn’t easy."

Difficulties translated into the promise of adventure for Hange. Pumped up, Hange prodded at the picture of an unremarkable loaf of chocolate banana bread.

"Let's do it anyway!"

“Suit yourself.”

-----

The small touches were the ones that were hardest to ignore. Hange felt the accidental-deliberate brush of Levi’s elbow when he reached over to choose an ingredient. Other times, he guided their hand with the right amount of strength for stirring the batter. His fingers over their stirring hand were firm and reassuring.

“You’re stirring too fast,” Levi said patiently.

“You’re distracting me,” Hange replied half-heartedly.

“Oh, am I?” The fingers left Hange’s hand. Just as Hange was about to lament their moment of folly in allowing that to happen, the fingers reached out towards their face. Forcing in a breath, Hange felt Levi’s thumb rub out a chocolate stain at the side of their lip.

“How did the chocolate get there?” Levi murmured, more to himself than to them.

“I was snacking on some of the chocolate bits a while ago…” Hange said cheekily, licking the side of their lips only to realise that Levi’s thumb was still there. Their tongue brushed his finger, and in that contact, Hange was ready to collapse from self-generated sexual tension.

Though his eyes widened noticeably, Levi quickly resumed his blasé expression. Rubbing the rest of the stain out, he walked to the tap to wash his hands. There was some hesitation, before he hurriedly turned on the tap, letting the water run for two seconds over his hands before going back to his position next to Hange.

Unsure as to whether to be offended or pleased by the sight of Levi cleaning the evidence of their encounter with such carelessness, Hange busied themselves with breaking eggs and separating yolk. If it had been Levi with a finger lined with fudge, Hange would’ve licked it spotless. With permission, of course.

To pay him back in kind, Hange plotted their own routine of touch as well. The touches became bolder, starting innocently enough. From casually brushing away hair that was poking Levi’s eye, to going behind Levi who was busy slicing up bananas and placing both hands on the counter. Their arms were now on either side of him, conveniently taller than him so that their head could peer right over his shoulder. The cutting didn’t cease—it only got more rapid, the bananas becoming neat circles in a matter of seconds. Hange let out an impressed whistle, hands not leaving the counter.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Oh, am I?”

One drop of the knife, and a swift turn later, Levi found himself staring straight into Hange’s bright, beautiful, heavily eye-bagged orbs.

"Hange, do you know why I'm in the kitchen at 2am baking for some shit-brained monsters?"

“Titans don’t have—”

“Because I have priorities.” Levi interrupted, not allowing Hange to clarify what the physical anatomy of titan subjects entailed.

Hange blinked, maintaining an oblivious exterior. “Your priorities include titan research?”

“You know what I was going to say.”

“Somewhat. I want to hear you say it out loud, though.”

Grimacing, he concentrated his gaze on Hange’s collar instead. Skin flushed, collarbones peeking out mischievously. Bad idea.

“You little shit.”

Their laugh was quieter, milder than the ones they let out on other days. “My favourite little shit! So what are your priorities?”

“Wiping the blades. Cleaning the toilet. Dusting under the tables. Doing laundry. Having enough tea. Baking with a scientist who thinks—”

Hange pressed a gentle hand on his mouth. “I get it.”

“Which part do you get?” Levi asked, enjoying the fact that when he moved his lips, they grazed Hange’s palm. How would it be like to replace that hand with their mouth?

“That you like me.” Hange grinned, tugging Levi by the straps of his apron just a bit closer.

An unexpected flash of clumsiness made Levi knock down the bag of flour, spilling it onto the floor. The fall clouded up the vicinity in white dust. Gaining confidence with obscured vision, Hange held the back of Levi’s head, tracing his undercut, admiring how his immaculately combed hair had come undone. An attractively dishevelled mess. Hange was in no hurry. Yet.

Levi, in a spur of restlessness, looked up at Hange questioningly. Eyeing their faint smirk, he tilted his head sideways, watching carefully for any sign of reluctance. An impatient “are you going to kiss me or not” from Hange; a straightforward command was what he needed to hear. No time was wasted pulling Hange into an urgent, searing kiss. Backed against the counter, hands cupping Hange’s face, Levi devoured the sensation. The taste of sugar, fruit, flour, and chocolate clung onto the entwinement, as Hange breathily pressed up against him. Erwin had warned them both. Love in the military meant the threat of loss. The possibility of sorrow. As he felt the rumble of Hange’s satisfying groan beneath his lips sending an unprecedented warmth through his body, he was certain. He would have loved Hange whether he kissed them or not. Death would happen, whether or not Hange rubbed his waist in soothing, awe-inspiring strokes. Right now, he would die in absolute bliss.

To be honest, Hange would’ve been disappointed if they didn’t end up fucking, or at least, aggressively kissing eventually. Erwin’s advice was only a stronger reminder that Hange was never one to be conservative. They loved Levi, as a comrade, as a friend, as the person whom they would kill for, if it meant saving his life. Still, having Levi sneak a hand into the bareness of their back, sucking their neck with a hot tenderness that made their head spin, they knew that chastity and platonic hugging could not be the only option.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Hange said, peeling away his jacket.

“Couldn’t tell when the right time was,” Levi said, starting on the buttons of Hange’s shirt.

The door creaked open.

“This is your idea of asking Levi for help?” Erwin said, a thick eyebrow raised as he surveyed the mess.

With some willpower, he stopped unbuttoning Hange’s shirt. Lightly pushing Hange away, Levi straightened up, less than pleased with the interruption.

“Erwin, you better have something worthwhile to say if you—”

“I’ll clean this up.” Erwin, fully recovered from his shock, was beaming.

“Huh?”

“It’s about time,” Erwin said, with the proud sincerity of an unwitting matchmaker, gesturing towards the door.

“We owe you one, Erwin!” Hange waved at him on the way out, while Levi cast him a grateful, wary glance. With his hand was secure on their back, and Hange’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was no care for an audience. Only the smell of baked goods and unfinished business fuelled their steps towards a private space. A place where they would end up in each other’s arms—spent, sweaty, and deliriously at peace.

#levihanweek2021 #lhw2021 #levihan #levi x hange #day 2 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction #aot #my writing #hanji zoe #prompt

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tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request sub! Muichiro and femdom!reader again???👀👀 I'm literally having the time of my life reading your work cause you're the only author I know who writes femdoms and who writes them WELL sjfjsjfjsjdjdjd Thank you so much for your hard work honey 💕 take care ❤️

You think so? 🥺

‘a touch too much’ / Tokito M. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, assplay, handjobs, feminine boy

words: 1,954

(a/n): Muichiro is 18+ in this, set in the Victorian Era

Everybody knows what happens when Mistress has a favorite. They get more breaks, little gifts, the ability to spend time at your side rather than being a slave to the grind. They’re competitive, ruthless, trying to work harder than everyone else for their Mistress’ attention. They’d sabotage each other if they had the chance, try to make everyone else’s lives a living hell.

It’s why your manor is so spectacularly clean; the floors impeccably glossy, the wooden railways without a hint of dust, the yards kept so finely trimmed that it seems each blade of glass is individually cut. Your staff comes to your every beck and call, waiting, just waiting, for you to slip them a little note or pull them to the side. They’ve seen what happens when one is picked, when one is lucky.

The special treatments are one thing, sure. To be able to eat an exquisite dinner by your side, to be spoiled by riches they could only dream of. But there’s the other thing, the darker, more carnal side of the process. What they crave is the mark – a neat bite mark that sits high above the collar of the uniform, just taunting everyone else. If the staff are lucky enough, they get to hear the pleasured screams coming from your private quarters, the sharp smack of skin being bruised. No… what they crave the most is your touch.

It’s what drives Muichiro, along with everyone else. He commits himself to his work, scrubs at the floors and dusts the fine china until his fingers are numb. If one wishes to be noticed by the Mistress, their work skill must be superb, and they must keep up a proper aesthetic. He’s careful to keep his nails trimmed and neat, constantly keeps watch for cracked nails and broken skin. Luckily for him, he’s been graced with a lithe, feminine body; compared to the other male staff members, he doesn’t wear the usual button up and breeches, but a female maid’s uniform instead.

At first, he thought it was ridiculous, having to be forced to wear something so humiliating, but the head maid quickly informed him that Mistress has a certain affinity to femboys, or whatever that was supposed to mean. Over time, Muichiro’s gotten used to the constant breeze flowing under his skirts, the garters and socks clinging to his slender legs. He was advised to keep up on a skincare routine, to keep his pristine skin and healthy glow. You look so much like a doll, the head maid had said to him. Muichiro planned to use his looks to his advantage as much as he could.

Even now, as he’s bent over the floor, he purposely keeps his hair tied back in a loose ponytail – it’s perfect to keep his hair out of his face while working and it’s a useful handle to yank his head back. He’s alone for the time being, so he can relax as he scrubs the immaculate floor, wiping away the nonexistent dirt and grime. If he remembers correctly, it was imported from France, if the tiny golden roses imprinted in the tile is anything to go off on.

There’s a particular clacking that catches his attention. The usual flat soled shoes the staff members wear don’t make that noise; only the head butler and maid are permitted to have shoes with heels on them. However, they must be busy with their own duties, so that can only mean—

Snapping to attention, Muichiro arches his back just enough so it doesn’t seem like he’s doing in on purpose. Although the skirt to his uniform falls to his knees when he stands, he hikes it up even further his hips to show off more of his legs. As he suspected, you come around the corner, the heels of your imported boots clacking against the floor. He pretends like he doesn’t notice your presence at first – not until the toes of your boots come into his vision, anyway.

“Everything alright?” you say. Muichiro shudders at the smokiness of your voice, at the pure, sweet honey dripping from your tone. His thighs twitch, a surge of warmth filling his lower belly.

“Mistress,” he says lightly. Setting his scrub brush to the side, he wipes his hands on his apron as he sits back on his haunches. “My apologies for not noticing you before.”

By god do you look absolutely stunning in your dress. The color of rich wine, it clings to your shape wonderfully, the thick swell of your breasts and hips accentuated by the tight cording of your corset. Muichiro can’t help but stare at your bare shoulders and neck, the delicate velvet choker wrapped around it so enticingly. With you standing over him like this, he’s feeling incredibly weak, mind turning hazy as he focuses on your polished lips.

“Working out here by yourself… Must be lonely,” you say absentmindedly. Your gaze flicks over his face and down his chest before it settles on his hands, which are folded neatly in his lap. You look back up to his face. “What’s your name?”

Muichiro’s heart kicks in his chest. “Muichiro, Mistress,” he tells you. “My name is Muichiro.”

You cock your head at him. “Well, Muichiro, why don’t you take a break? You look terribly parched.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice; shooting up from the floor, Muichiro quickly smooths his skirt and hair to make himself a bit more presentable. “I’d be honored, Mistress.”

“Fantastic,” you say. You grace him with a wonderous smile, something so utterly breathtaking that Muichiro honestly believes he might feel faint.

It starts off innocently enough – escorting him to your private study, requesting someone bring up a pot of tea (the maid who brought the tray up glared daggers at Muichiro), settling for some idle chit chat. Muichiro enjoys the time he gets to spend in your company, your luscious voice music to his ears. And maybe that’s what does it, the precious lull of your voice, your dazzling eyes. Or maybe the head maid is right and you do like seeing pretty boys like him in skirts and dresses.

Either way, in a wild spur of events, Muichiro finds himself bent over your mahogany desk, abdomen pressed to the glossy surface. The skirts of his uniform are bunched around his slender waist, his legs spread as your hands grope his perky ass. Okay, so maybe he doesn’t wear under on most days since he’s hoping you’d notice him. Maybe he’s already rock hard, his cock leaking precum.

“You walked around like this all day, doll?” you husk. He shudders at the pet name. “You were expecting this, huh? Looking all pretty, knowing that your little cock is hanging between your legs like some lewd whore.”

Muichiro stutters on a refusal, wanting to say no, he’s not a whore, but then you grab his asscheeks in such a way that it makes his heart leap to his throat. He’s not a dirty boy. He’s not.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, huh?” you breathe, dropping low over his back. Your painted lips brush against the shell of his ear; you nip at the earlobe, emitting a slight moan from him. “Admit it, doll. Tell me you were hoping that I’d bend you over my desk like this.”

“I-I didn’t—”

He cuts himself off with a cry as you spank his ass. You do it again and again, getting harsher with each strike. Muichiro scrambles on your desk, his blunt nails scratching at the surface. His cute little ass is beet red, both from your spankings and his embarrassment. He can’t deny the way his cock bobs with each spanking, how delightful it is whenever his cockhead gets caught on the material of his skirts.

“This will only be easier for you if you do as your mistress tells you.”

Oh, fuck. A whimper bubbles from the back of Muichiro’s throat. He hastily licks at his lips, tries to maintain his grasp on reality. “Mistress,” he squeaks, “I want you to fuck me.” He sounds so submissive, so pathetically weak. But he continues, throwing all caution to the wind in hopes that you would give him what he wants. “I always wanted you to flip my skirt and have your way with me.” And, to really sell his point, he cranes his neck to look at you over his shoulder. “Please, Mistress.”

You coo at his little show, your fingers tracing over the swell of his ass. “Doesn’t this little whore know how to charm a person,” you grit. Nudging your foot between him, you lightly kick at his ankles, forcing him to spread his legs. “Let your mistress see everything,” you purr. Muichiro moans as your tongue flicks at his ear.

Dropping to a crouch, you admire the sight before you. His ass is just so cute, so delightfully round and perky that you just want to bite it. His cock hangs heavily between his legs, curved towards his stomach and smearing precum all over the inside of his skirt. Reaching between his spread legs, you cup his balls, fondle them in your palm. Muichiro jolts at the feeling, his face pressing itself to the desk. He’s panting so fucking hard, and it feels like he’s going to burst.

Your hand reaches in even further, fingers wrapping around his cock and pumping it a couple of times. Muichiro’s breath hitches as your fingertip collects the precum beading on his cockhead and spreads it all over his length, the sounds getting wetter and wetter as you continue to jerk him off.

“Mistress,” Muichiro pants, “fuck – ah – that feels so good…”

He whines when you remove your hand; it quickly turns into a surprised squeal as you grab onto both of his asscheeks and pull them apart. The cool air hits his exposed hole, leaves his shivering violently. There’s the sound of you clearing your throat and then he’s wet down there. With a high-pitched keen, Muichiro tries to jerk away as your tongue suddenly flicks over the tight ring of muscle. You hold him still, though, your nails digging into his flesh as a warning.

“D-don’t use your tongue like that,” Muichiro squeaks. “It – unh – feels weird…”

Instead of answering, though, you lightly tap his ass and plunge your tongue into him. The noise that leaves Muichiro’s mouth is nothing short of animalistic; surely, all of the staff members in the manor could hear him. You do it again and again, your tongue thrusting in and out of him. Everything is too hot, too stuffy. Muichiro can’t breathe, can’t think. All he can do is call out for his mistress, beg for more, more, more. Your lips suckle around his hole, the sounds filling the room absolutely sinful.

Muichiro can’t believe what’s happening. Your lips and tongue are heavenly, so fucking good that it’s making him see stars. Your fingers tease his cock, his balls, his perineum—

Another ragged moan rips itself from the depths of his chest as Muichiro suddenly cums, thick spurts of white ruining the material of his skirt. He’s panting wildly, his eyes going wide as he realizes just what happened.

“My, my,” you purr, drawing away. “I can’t say that’s the quickest I’ve made someone cum, but it’s up there.” The tip of your finger pushes past the ring of muscle, replaces the spot where your tongue was. Muichiro’s velvety walls clamp down around the digit, a shaky groan slipping from his lips. “Tell you what, doll. We’ll have your stamina built up in no time. Do you like the sound of that, you filthy whore?”

“Yes! Yes, oh fuck yes!”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #tokito muichiro x reader #tokito muichiro #muichiro tokito #kny muichiro #request

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halloweenhoneylover · 4 years ago

Text

the closing shift

summary: coffeeshop au babey!! spencer and reader are nerds in love who also work at the campus cafe together (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this one’s for u, anon!!! sorry if this is lame, i normally don’t like coffeeshop au’s but here we are. also a warning: there is a lot of doctor who junk in here and also it’s incredibly self-indulgent but i don’t care :)

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like the power of love and human goodness?”

Spluttering frustratedly, Spencer frowned at you, “Of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that the special effects were cheesy and the plot was sometimes a little silly!”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before relenting with a sigh, focusing back on the counter you were wiping down. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the Slitheen really did not look good, and that maybe ‘Love and Monsters’ was one of the stupidest episodes of television I’ve ever watched, but you have to admit that Ten’s monologue in ‘The Satan Pit’ was one of the best pieces of writing in the whole show. ‘If I believe in one thing, I believe in her?’ How were you not screaming at your TV when you watched that!”

Spencer lips curled into a small smile as you continued rambling and absent-mindedly cleaning the counter. You were not doing a very good job, but he wasn’t about to stop your spiel. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of a ramble, and as someone who was frequently told to shut up, he would never interrupt, especially when it was about his favorite show. Especially when it was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No, he’d sit quietly and listen, thank you very much.

“Okay,” she brought her full attention back to Spencer. “I’ll forgive you for your horrible offence. If you take back what you said.”

She looked so intently in his eyes, so sincerely his knees wobbled a little. The full force of her attention was like the sun. He felt warm inside and out, but he might be burned from the intensity of its direct glare.

“Fine, season two of Doctor Who is not a complete abomination.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate the kind words.”

He nodded, turning to the back room. He’d almost made it through the doorway before he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “But season eight is better.”

A melodramatic gasp, and he felt a rag hit the back of his head, and he chuckled.

“You take that back, Spencer Reid!”

Making his way further in, his fingers found the knot behind his back, quickly untying and shrugging off the apron. “(Y/N), I only speak the truth. I’m a man of science, and science says that season eight is simply superior.”

You laughed along with him, murmuring grievances against this idiot genius. You reached behind yourself, fingers fumbling with the knot. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, you huffed and asked, “Hey, Spencer, do you think you could help me with my apron? I tied the stupid thing too tightly.”

He gulped, mumbling a sure thing in a way he hoped was nonchalant, but knowing himself, was anything but. Walking up behind you, he felt himself involuntarily shudder at your proximity, and he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in to try to keep his cool. You felt his fingers brush against your lower back, and you tried, gosh, you tried so hard to not audibly gasp (you’re not sure you succeeded). The brief contact unfortunately flooded your mind with thoughts about his long fingers that you had often admired (discreetly), and you thought about what it’d be like for him to touch you and for him to mean it, and you nearly passed out. The silence was deafening, which was funny because it seemed like you two could never shut up around each other, and the one time you needed to fill the tense air with something, there was nothing.

Finally finished with the knot, Spencer softly tapped your back twice with his index. “All done.” It came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have managed more.

“Thanks!” You spoke at normal volume and tried to put you back into regular conversation, but breaking the eerie quiet, it sounded like you were shouting.

He shot you a tight-lipped smile. “Are you all good to close up?”

“Yeah, I can hold down the fort,” you said rather breathlessly, returning his smile.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed open the back door and waved. “See you Thursday!”

“See ya.”

As soon as the door shut, you heaved a sigh of relief and let the tension out of your shoulders, staring at the ground. You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. Why did you freeze up like that? Why was it weird when he left? Why did you like him so much?

———

Thursday was Spencer’s favorite day of the week. The dining hall stocked chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles on Thursdays. He had his chemistry seminar with his favorite professor on Thursdays. Caltech’s chess club met on Thursdays. He worked his shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.

(You worked the same shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.)

Did Spencer really need a job? No, his education was entirely paid for by the school because when you have a child prodigy on your hands, you should try to keep them. And he lived in on-campus housing and ate on campus, and he didn’t have a lot of other expenses. But his advisor told him that he might get something out of doing a job that didn’t require 100% of his brain power, might get to rest his mind for a couple hours every week. He might also make a friend.

What he had not anticipated when he started at one of the various campus cafes was meeting you. He showed up to his first shift and nearly choked when he saw arguably the most beautiful girl he had ever met in the backroom putting on an apron. Your eyes lit up when you saw him. “Hey, you must be Spencer! I saw our names together on the schedule a couple times, looks like we’re gonna be work buddies!”

By the time you turned back to speak to your guys’ new manager, he noticed his jaw was completely slack, and he hoped his mouth had not been hanging too long. He also blacked out too long to ask for your name, which he was internally hitting himself over. And he hazily drifted through the training, his mind barely focusing on the coffee. To say he was distracted by the girl next to him and the way she smelled like coconuts and cotton was a major understatement. Times like these were humbling for a twenty-year-old with two and a half PhDs.

He could barely recall anything that happened until they were cleaning out the espresso machine together silently, and he was struck with a sudden need. “Hey, I never caught your name…”

“Right! My name is (Y/N),” she answered, offering him a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Neither spoke after that, both working quietly next to each other. Spencer sighed internally, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he hoped they wouldn’t spend the semester in silence. And like some higher power was listening to his wishes, you turned to him, “So, Spencer, what are you majoring in?”

Hesitant to scare you off, he tiptoed around the subject. “Right now, I’m studying chemistry.”

“Right now?”

He glanced over at you, and despite knowing you for the entirety of ten minutes, he couldn’t deny you or the inquisitive gleam in your eye even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “I’m working on my PhD in chemistry. I already have two in mathematics and engineering. Oh, and I have two BA’s in psychology and sociology.” He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the dumbfounded look on your face, and he swallowed harshly. “Um, uh—what uh, what are you studying?”

You let out a brief laugh, and for a moment, he cringed, wondering if you were laughing at him. But just a look at you and the tenderness of your features, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Blowing a puff of air out, you grinned gently, “Well, your PhD’s are putting my bachelor’s to shame, so I’m not sure I want to say.”

“No, I’m sure whatever you’re studying is cool,” he reassured you.

Pleasantly surprised by the humility of your new genius coworker, you continued, “I appreciate it. I tend to err on the side of the humanities, not much of a STEM gal myself, and right now,” you both chuckled at your little joke, “I’m studying history and political science.”

“So am I standing in the presence of a future lawyer, or maybe the next president of the United States?”

“Good question, but I’m not sure. Would you vote for me?”

Squinting at you for a moment, he nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think I would. You’ve got a kind face.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress a blush. “A kind face?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, eyes flicking over your face. You felt shy under his gaze; it’s not everyday a hot genius boy stares you down and tells you you have a ‘kind face.’

Ducking your head, you fought a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

And from then on, something clicked. You and Spencer talked for hours and hours during your shifts, joking and teasing (and grinning and blushing). He looked forward to working because that meant a chance to see you. (Except for Mondays, that was the one shift you didn’t have together, and it made Spencer want to scream. The dude he worked with, Andy, was nice enough, but the hours seemed to drag on when he didn’t have you to discuss weird sci-fi movies with.)

He was particularly looking forward to this Thursday because he knew you had a big presentation in your class about African revolution, and he wanted to hear all about it. In the brief moments of spare time at the cafe, he had helped you prepare and had listened to bits and pieces of it. This morning he’d sent you a quick good luck! text, to which you’d responded with thanks!!! and a stream of various heart emojis. He had learned early on that you were very fond of emojis, but it never stopped his heart from skipping a beat when you’d send him little hearts and smileys.

Entering the back room, he set his backpack on a hook and started to get ready for his shift. He gave a quick wave to the people from the last shift as they left, and he felt a little worry boiling in his gut because if they had left, that meant you were late, and you were never late. He wondered if something had happened in your presentation, and he was filled with dread. Solitarily manning the counter, he was ensnared in his thoughts; he couldn’t stand the idea of something going wrong and you being upset, so upset that you couldn’t come to work. He shifted uncomfortably, hand itching to grab his phone and send you a text to see if you were okay when he heard a door slam and a shriek from the backroom. “Spencer!”

Immediately, he ran to the back, expecting the worst, and he nearly fell over when you ran at him full-speed to launch into a hug. “Oof—” He recovered though, catching you, and he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and cradled the back of your head in his hand. His heart stuttered. He could get used to this.

You buried your face into his neck. “Oh, Spencer, you won’t believe it. My presentation went so well! My professor held me after class and told me I was one of his brightest students, and oh, I just don’t believe it!” He felt your face warm against him as you gushed.

“I believe it, I don’t doubt it for a second. You are so smart, (Y/N). I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”

Breathing him in for just a moment longer, you finally released him, and both of you thought how everything feels a little emptier now that you weren’t holding each other. He couldn’t help but beam at you, though.

“Really, (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit! It’s all thanks to you being patient enough to hear me blabber on and practice, so thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He got incredibly flustered at the title and hesitated over his next words before settling on a soft anytime. And he meant it.

———

The rest of your shift that day was less eventful. You recounted some of the highlights of your presentation, to which Spencer listened with rapture. There was some discussion of who was at chess club today and if anyone there was a true match for Spencer (no one was). You played your favorite game called “Who Can Make the Most Disgusting Drink Out of Four Ingredients?” (You won with a mixture of coffee, coffee grounds, an excessive amount of salt, and raspberry syrup. (Ew, (Y/N) why is it grainy?)) And now nearing midnight, you sat at one end of the bar reading your textbook while Spencer cleaned up various mugs and napkins. He snagged the broom from the backroom and began sweeping. With a quick glance up at you focused entirely on your book, he smiled softly. Pieces of your hair had drifted out from behind your ears and framed your face, and the apples of your cheeks were flushed. To put it simply, you looked ethereal, and Spencer didn’t think it should be possible for someone to look so beautiful at the end of a long day, but here you were, always defying expectations. He thought you looked like someone from those Renaissance paintings you loved so dearly, but he knew that even if someone tried to commit your grace to canvas, it’d be to no avail. He was sure no one would be able to do you justice.

Looking down at the floor he was supposed to be sweeping, he let his thoughts wander farther. He thought about what it would be like to hold you everyday like he did today. He’d be the luckiest man on Earth, that’s what. For so long he thought about asking you out, but then he knew that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. But then again, you were the impossible girl. You never did quite what he expected. And he never expected you to be into him. So maybe for once in his life, he’d go out on a limb and ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with him sometime. He’d take you to the Indian place on 12th that he knew you loved, and you’d sit in the oddly formal, always empty restaurant and laugh and giggle together because that’s what you always did together, and then maybe, he’d invite you back to his place, so you could watch Doctor Who, or maybe do other things (like hold hands), who knows?

He found himself praying to that god he didn’t believe in once again to find the courage as he finished up sweeping, and after he put the broom away, he walked up to you with butterflies running rampant in his stomach, so he could barely muster a glance at you. But he was going to finally do it.

“(Y/N), I —”

And that’s when he noticed that you had fallen asleep on your book. It had been a long day for you. He felt his heart grow tender and soft and if someone poked it, it very well might explode. His thoughts strayed to your conversation the other day and the quote you loved so much. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. He takes a step or two closer, and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with the gentlest hand, he thinks, yeah. I believe in her.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #do people read things at 2 in the morning?#lets hope so!#bc that's the only time i write :)#my sleep schedule is not :) good :)

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Text

eternal love

— A simple love story between a tattoo artist and a flower shop owner. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing

word count: 10,505

a/n: so, ngl... this was something that blew up in my mind at 2 am a few nights ago and after fighting others on whether I should write it, I finally did it!!! I super loved writing this, and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it!!!! a lil fluff for the soul, have fun :D also uh, this works for @bnhabookclub‘s event so huzzah!

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Spring was a season of renewal. The world is going back to what it once was in its beautiful glory. Baby pinks and soft greens illuminated as far as the eyes could see, the morning mist unable to freeze because of the warmth in the ground.

The gentle echoing sounds of animals, insects, and more returning to regular activity, the cold winters finally defeated. Butterflies danced in the air, birds sang in the trees, and love was in the air.

What would be perfect with love?

Flowers.

“Good morning, y/l/n-san,” an elder greeted you.

Your cheeks were already burning with exhaustion, it was only eight in the morning, and you were tired. You wiped the back of your hand to your sweating forehead, your fatigue ignored while you smiled in greeting. “Good morning!”

She stared up at you with kind eyes, her hands holding onto her cane while she cocked her head to the side, “You seem to be quite exhausted this morning.”

There wasn’t much you could say or reply with because it was true.

“Well, we finally have a whole bunch of flowers back, and with White Day approaching us, I’m trying to make sure we’re on track!” you explain, trying to fix the multiple buckets of assorted flowers that you would have outside of your store.

You were a flower shop owner.

Your entire life, you had lived a life where you had grown up working alongside your parents. This was a family business, and with your parents eldering years and you finally back from schooling, they had decided to take an impromptu trip to see the world, leaving you behind to take care of the store. It wasn’t something you minded; after all, they had allowed you to seek all of your own adventures in your life despite only being owners of a flower shop, but it was a lot of work for just yourself.

You couldn’t hire anyone to work at the store, after all, while you had never grown up to live in a moment of discomfort, it was because your parents and yourself busted your backs for this store was why it survived. But now it was just you.

Winter had been fine, the flowers never had to leave the store, but this was spring.

Renewal, return, and romance suffocated the airs of Japan, and your slow winter business was already becoming a quick and demanding spring one.

Brushing your soiled hands onto the relatively clean apron you wore, you sighed at the sight of the elder looking past you. ‘Was she that old that she spaced out in public?’ you couldn’t help but think while staring at her.

“Who’s moving into that shop there?” the elder spoke up, and you hummed, turning around to follow her extended finger.

The shop next to your family’s flower shop had been vacant for years, the last time you remember anyone being there was in middle school. Now in your early twenties, you didn’t even realize that anyone was moving in. There were a lot of men too! How you had so apparently been ignorant to their massive hustle to move things in shocked you. Damn, maybe you were past the point of exhaustion at this point…

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your eyes growing when you realized just how neater the store looked. They had obviously been working on repairing the store for some time now, the store was painted in a clean and crisp color, the brick walls scrubbed and glittering like new. It was pretty aesthetic.

“Y/l/n-san! Please help me, it’s my wife’s promotion day, and the flowers I ordered online never arrived!” a voice screamed from a distance away, and your attention turned towards a man who was sobbing while scampering his way over.

And even with your want to just stare at the army of men moving in machines you’ve never seen in your life, you exhaled softly, turning to face the scared customer.

“Of course, follow me!”

You bid your farewells to the elder and hurried inside, ready to create an arrangement of flowers that the customer would enjoy.

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Your exhaustion of the day never seemed to end, the spring day had brought a plethora of customers to your storefront. Many couples, new and old, are surfacing to pick out fresh bouquets together. Their happiness is charming, personalities warming and smiles ever so sweet. They always asked about how you were doing, how your parents were doing — after all, this was a tight community, and they asked about the new business next door.

You couldn’t respond to that last question, your face always burning up in your embarrassment of not knowing. There was no reason for you to not know, after all, it wasn’t as if you were ever doing anything that wasn’t running the store. There was no one to rely on but yourself at this point, but still, exhaustion didn’t mean you could miss the purchase and remodeling of the store right next door to you!

Soon it was nine at night, the now empty wooden carts that were once outdoors dragged back indoors of your store. You took count of your sales today, grinning to see that you had managed to sell everything you had put out today except for a few leftover peonies. You moved back towards the door, ready to turn the Open sign to the Closed side. But you paused when you saw three men walking out of the neighboring shop.

Your eyes focused on the three of them talking comfortably. You had no idea what they were saying, but still, you concentrate on them, curiosity getting the best of you. They talked for a while while you continued to peer through the glass on the door, the conversation must have been lively considering that one of the men was laughing so frequently you almost wished you could hear what they were saying. But alas, eventually, they embraced, and two of the three men entered the large truck that had been parked in the alleyway practically all day and left.

Frowning, you saw that the man was still standing out there. He was unmoving, looking at who knows what with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The night was dark, and the lights on the street did little to help you create what he looked like in your mind. But with a passing car, the soft light illuminating the man with the gentle headlights, you got a clear image of him.

Well, it would have been clear had your guts scrambled into a knot at the sight of his own eyes piercing into yours.

He had noticed you.

With a loud cry, you dove to the floor, your hands pressed against the cool wood while you thought about your next plan of action. Would he come and confront you? Stalking people like this wasn’t cool in the slightest, and if he wanted to walk over and ask you about it, you wouldn’t be able to lie in the slightest. You knew that about yourself. Or maybe it was just you freaking out? There was a solid chance that this was just you freaking out, right?

Your palms sweat while you pushed off the floor, your body trembling as if you were the starring role of some American horror movie. Sucking in your air, and with a hammering heart, you peeked through the glass. No one was out there.

Sighing in relief, you were grateful to believe that it was either your imagination that he stared at you, or he just didn’t care. But still, even with the exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones, you knew you owed him a greeting. Your mother would have your head when she returned if you didn’t. Plus, it helped that the pink peonies still sat in the bucket, their petals still strong and firm, beautiful and lively.

With a nod, you walked over to them. Grabbing the peonies, you organized the delicate flowers into a full and lush looking bouquet. You hoped that he liked flowers, and wouldn’t mind the kind you gave him, primarily because you couldn’t provide him with anything else. Nevertheless, you wrapped the flowers in a tan paper and walked out, ready to give your greetings to a newcomer.

The store felt a world away while you walked towards it, and upon stepping in front of the store, it stole your breath away.

It was a tattoo shop.

Tattoos in Japan were no longer being associated with the Yakuza, years of trying to get everyone to accept this western practice by the younger generations had finally succeeded. Tattoo shops were blooming in numbers across the country, and it seemed that your area was no different.

The outside had large windows, and without even entering the shop, you found it to be quite classy indoors. This wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a tattoo shop! You had always assumed that it was black, something similar to the gates of hell feeling. But with the sign not claiming it was closed, and the store hours showing that it was open until eleven at night, you pushed past the doors. You were glad to see that your pink peonies would make a generous splash of color in the darker colored storefront.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice ever so softly echoing against the unoccupied room. “Is anyone here?”

Cringing at what you said, you groaned. If there was no one here, would that make you a criminal? Oh god, please don’t let that be true! But if there was no one here, why would he leave with the lights on and the door unlocked?! How stupid—

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck, you’re screwed, was all you could think at first when you turned towards the black curtained hallway.

The man who stood there was tall, his shoulders wide, and legs firm. His arms — which were covered shoulders to wrists in tattoos, his right side containing only black inked tattoos, and his left in the most colorful ink you’d ever seen — were defined with muscle, stretching the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt.

A line of piercings down the cartilage of his ears, identical on both sides of his head. His hair, however, was something you’ve never seen before. Half white, half red, with an undercut and detailed shavings at his temples, it was currently held back with a thin black headband that exposed his eyes to you. He was heterochromatic, you could tell immediately by the piercing blue and dark grey eye color he held. But there was nothing to disguise your reaction when you saw the tattoo — scar? — that covered his eye like an overlarge eyepatch.

There was no smile on his face, just a quirked eyebrow and his lips set in an unamused frown.

“Is that a tattoo?!” you asked your jaw to the floor. Your fingers touched the place where the red skin on his face would be on your own.

“No,” he responded after a beat, his eyes were unbelievably annoyed. Obviously, not at all amused by your intrusion and rude words. “It’s a burn, but again, can I help you, or are you just going to stand there and stare. Not that you look the type to get tattoos, though.”

“I do have piercings, though,” you couldn’t help but defend yourself, your skin feeling like it was burning under his gaze. “But okay, yes. I mean, no! No, you can’t help me because I’m not here for your services.”

His gaze on you only seemed to intensify, a fire and ice storm erupting in his eyes while you wanted to punch yourself in the throat. Good god, be normal.

“I’m your neighbor! Well, I guess I can give you my name. Y/l/n y/n at your service,” you try, your hands thrusting out the peonies in your grasp. His gaze didn’t drop to the flowers, not even a twitch of an eye, which only coursed anxiety through your blood. “I’m the owner slash, not the owner of the flower shop! I hadn’t noticed you ever moving in except today, so I felt super bad! Um, so I just wanted to stop by and say, well, welcome! And uh, well… I just felt bad! These are peonies.”

“I know what flowers those are,” he responds, but his gaze remains unfazed.

What the hell was his problem, you thought, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as if you were being confronted by a deadly predator and not some stupid hot tattoo artist with a bad attitude.

“Oh, cool! Most people think they’re roses for whatever reason,” you laugh, looking at the flowers, your shoulder shrugging.

“I also know they’re the only flowers you had leftover from your sales today,” he spoke again, and your face twisted when you returned to his gaze again.

“Excuse me?”

“I was outside when you were pulling all your carts inside, and they were the only ones who weren’t sold today,” he shrugs, his arms crossing before his chest. The muscles on his arms only seem to expand at this, the ink dancing across his skin, forming new images in your mind while you feel like punching him in the jaw. “Is that what you feel about your new neighbor? I’m deserving of day-old flowers that you were unable to sell?”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, the frustration in your blood climbing while you held his stare. “I mean, are they new and super fresh flowers, no! But they haven’t even wilted yet because I know how to take care of my crap! I just finished the winter season where flower sales are always less than favored, so sorry I couldn’t toss you a thousand yen bouquet!”

There was a silence that floated across the room, his eyes staring into yours, and you could do nothing but stare back at him. Your shoulders rag with your uncontrolled angry breathing, what a fucking asshole he was! Who did he think he was?!

“Well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that you’re broke,” he sighs, finally taking strides over towards you. There’s a part of you that yells to leave the store immediately, and an even larger part of you that screams to step at him too, throw him off his trail! But in your indecisiveness, he stands before you, taking the flowers from your hands. “Todoroki Shouto.”

“That is so obviously not my name,” you roll your eyes, your arms folding across your chest.

There’s a small huff of air from the man, his eyes looking at you full of judgment and the smallest bits of amusement.

“Oh!” you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he tries, his eyebrow lifting again, his lip trying perking into a smirk. “But, thanks for confirming we don’t have the same name.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you from this world at this very moment; your fists shoved into the pockets of your apron.

“Okay,” you agree, your lips pursing in your horrible, horrible attempt at masking your hurt pride. “Well, I am utterly exhausted, so I am going to leave now. Have fun with your dumb tattoo shop, Todoroki-san, I am… going to sleep.”

You turned on your heel, ready to run from this shop like the devil was hot on your heels.

“Well, see you around—” he responded, your hands pressing onto the door to leave— “Y/l/n.”

The ringing of your blood in your ears heavily outweighed his voice because you didn’t even stare at him as you continued to walk down the pathway to reenter your shop. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t look back because had you, you would’ve seen Shouto’s fingers caressing the pink petals of the flower, and his lips moved to say one thing.

“Welcome.”

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It had been a week since you had seen Shouto. The new tattoo shop seemed positively overwhelmed by new customers, countless amount of young people filing into their appointment times, and the few days he had free hours. It, fortunately, did bring you new crowds of customers. Friends and couples alike bringing in the warm spring air into your shop while they bought flowers in commemoration of their new tattoos.

There was no stopping this, it seemed.

“Thank you for your service, please come again,” you called out after the giggling and slightly tipsy group of girls who happened to be your last customers of the day.

Today has been a good day.

You weren’t at all exhausted, in fact, you felt relatively light on your feet still despite it being 8:56 p.m. Since it was so late at night, and with the knowledge of there hardly ever being last-second customers you started cleaning up for the night. But as you grabbed the broom, the familiar bell of the entrance of the shop rang in your ears.

Sighing, you dropped the broom and turned towards the counter, “Welcome!”

The figure at the door shocked you, it was Shouto. He stood there with his fingers hooked in the loops of his black jeans, and the white v-neck did nothing to conceal anything about his tattoos or his dumb muscles.

“Hey!” you smiled, the smile on your face as fake as the festive flowers sitting on the counter — the ironies of working at a flower shop.

“I’m looking for recommendations,” Shouto admitted, his strides stopping him before you. “It’s one of my friends' birthdays coming soon, in a few weeks. He doesn’t like getting presents, but he likes flowers. I was hoping you could help me out here.”

Your jaw drops, words failing you seeing the way that his hair falls so elegantly between his eyes. His eyes are concentrated on the pre-arranged flower arrangements demonstrated on the table as samples and you cough.

“Uh, yes, do you know any of his favorite flowers?”

“No, he’s not really that open about his interests,” Shouto admits, his shoulders shrugging,

“When do you need the arrangement?”

“His birthday is April 20,” Shouto says, a sigh on his lips while he looks up at you. “I’m not sure if there was a time requirement to request things, especially given that you work here alone.”

“I do not work here alone!” you cry, your blood sparking in a fury. “I mean, yes, right now I do, but it’s not always like this! I’m just being a good child and letting my parents have the travels of their lifetime!”

Shouto hums, his face unconvinced, but he seems a bit perplexed, “Did I do something that first night to you?”

That takes you entirely off guard, “Excuse me?”

“Well, after the first night we officially met, you have avoided me very well.”

“I-I’m very busy with this store!”

“I walked out of the store to pick up supplies while you were speaking with your own customer. I saw you run into the door, trying to make your way back indoors.”

“You saw that?!”

“A lot of my friends say I can come off coldly at first, and I know that it’s true, and I’m trying to work on it. I, myself, was exhausted that day too because we put the entire shop together in a single day, so I let myself slip up,” Shouto admits, and you can feel your face beating in time with your embarrassed pulse. Why was this so hard? “I haven’t had the time to come over since opening, so I’m trying now.”

“So the birthday thing is a fake way to get me to talk?” you asked, your lips twitching in your losing battle to keep from smirking.

“Yes and no,” he smiles softly. It almost takes you by surprise, the smile seemed too gentle, too sweet to be on the face of someone who looked like they’d murder you in an alleyway. “I’m not that incompetent to know that I have a few weeks to give until I really need to get those plans under wraps.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles in your throat, and you sigh, unbelieving of what he was doing.

“You’re kind of weird,” you tease, untying your apron for it was now long past the store's open hours. “But since you’re not a customer, I will be asking you to leave at once.”

“But—!”

“No exceptions! I can’t be seen playing favorites, the elders will gossip,” you firmly state, moving from behind the counter to shoo him from your store.

“I want to buy a flower then,” Shouto insists, pulling out a leatherbound wallet.

Your eyes narrow, lucky bitch.

“What flower would you like?” you ask. Your customer service smile painted on your face.

“Do you happen to have any ajisai’s?” Shouto asks, and you think.

You did have some!

Nodding, you pointed your finger towards the pack where small bouquets of ajisai’s sat. Shouto nodded, walking over and grabbing one and making it back.

“That’ll be seven hundred yen,” you say the moment he arrives back.

“The sign said six hundred,” Shouto points out.

“You have me seven minutes over closing time, it’s my gratuity tip,” you tease, grinning when he places seven hundred yen down. You focus back on the cash register, inputting the last sale into it and fixing up the computer before returning your attention back to Shouto, who was staring at the flowers in his hands.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the flowers into your hands and walking away before you could yell at him.

The pink-tipped flowers sat in your hands, ajisai — or hydrangeas — were small and delicate flowers, but they were stunning in your eyes. Rolling your eyes, you put the flowers next to the fake festive ones and went to clean up, the small smile on your own face irreplaceable as you cleaned up.

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In the following weeks, you and Shouto had begun a strange friendship of sorts. Your breaks during your lunch and dinner times were accompanied by Shouto, who was always over at the time. The tattoo shop was doing exceptionally well, and because of that, he even had other artists there with him, and just gained an official piercer. They were a great crew, all bright and caring people who often had you laughing on the rare occasions you visited his shop. But Shouto always had his time slot blocked out during your breaks, and he would come over with snacks and opinions for the two of you to discuss.

He was definitely an odd person. He was very open about a lot of things, almost too honest. In weeks, you knew more about him than some of your own childhood friends, and you had been involved with most of their stories! Todoroki Shouto was someone to admire though, he was brilliant, a person who never failed to make you smile with his often idiotic tendencies.

He was smart but dumber than a rock.

But as the two of you grew comfortable, there was one thing itching at the back of your mind, the one question you always had when you saw people with tattoos.

“What do your tattoos mean?” you couldn’t help but ask, your eyes shining while looking at his arm that was poised high to deliver the cold soba noodles into his awaiting mouth. “I mean, I know there’s a lot, but one side is colorful and bold, and the other is simple and beautiful.”

Shouto finished the noodles on his chopsticks, his lips soaked with the oils on the noodles. “Do you want to know about a particular one?” he asked, resting the chopsticks down and extending his arms for you to see.

You leaned forward on the stool you were sitting on, observing the lines that created the art on his skin. You were fascinated by both sleeves, and he had incredible artwork on both sides of his arms. There was also some hidden motif behind each side, fire versus ice… But which one to ask about first?

“Can you just tell me why you have two sleeves that are starkly different?” you asked with a curious glint of your eyes. “I mean black ink on one side versus only color? Is there a reason, or was it just something that happened by accident?”

“Oh, there’s a reason for it,” Shouto adjusted on his chair, clearing his throat while he extended his arms. “You can tell just by looking at me, but my left side is what I’ve always associated with my dad: the red hair, blue eyes. My right side is something that I connect with my mom: the white hair, grey eyes. Colored tattoos are always more painful, they tell a very exact story. There isn’t any room for argument because it is seen in one way and one way only. You can deceive, and you can hide, but the truth is there. When I got my first tattoo, I still hated my dad with everything I had, and I wanted to cover every part of my body that I could that would erase him from me. Which is my left side. And like colored tattoos, he was painful, exact, and unchanging. My right side is black ink only because things become confusing, discerning, unknown—” his fingers trace the curving lines on his right arm— “you don’t know where it starts, where it ends, but it’s ever present. It’s comforting because it can change with how you need it to change. You can have other fills in its blanks, to piece together its story, but it has distinct intentions. It’s strong and adaptable.”

You take in his words, unable to think of anything but absorb his words. There’s a soft understanding to his tattoos. Once done in defiant, spoke stories of not only who he was, but who he is today.

“Okay, so I know I’m just a super lame florist, but what do you think about me getting a tattoo?” you asked, your teeth biting into your lower lip with your confusion and hope. “I mean, I’ve never really wanted one before, but that was because of social stigma and all, but seeing yours and your friends all the time… I’m curious.”

Shouto’s brows raise; he doesn’t say anything; however, studying your face.

“What are you thinking about in particular?” he asked his eyebrow scrunching, his head tilting to the side. “Anything at all?”

You blew a raspberry, your hands pressing to your lap, your shoulders falling to your ears.

“I like symbolic things a lot,” you admit with a shrug. “I don’t think I could ever get a sleeve tattoo, so I want it to make sense and have meaning to me. Like… I don’t know a sakura blossom, but maybe not that? I don’t know!”

Shouto laughs softly, the sound pleasant on your ears while you thrash your legs like a child.

“Well, I think I can help you at the very least draw you something,” he suggests, a hand offered out in a deal. “I am a tattoo artist, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you,” you playfully scoff, your arms folding across your chest while you shake your head. “I might doze off under the needle and wake up to a walking penis on my back!”

“A penis?” Shouto repeated, an award-winning smile gracing his face while you huff, your laughter failing at being masked.

“It’s what happened in middle school to people caught sleeping! Didn’t it happen to you?”

“Not at all.”

“Right, you rich kid middle schools were a breeding ground for far worse. What type of prepubescent hazing did your school do?”

“What makes you think there was hazing?”

“How could there not be!”

The doorbell chimes in the distance and the lively debate is over when you check the time, it was time to reopen it seems.

“I’ll figure out what you did back as a pubescent child,” you promise, watching as Shouto rises with you, his own alarm going off. “But would you really draw me a tattoo?”

Shouto nods, following you out to the entrance of the shop, “I will if you ask me to.”

Uncertainty sits in your stomach, you weren’t sure if it was something that you wanted right now, it had, after all, come up as a moment of trying to create conversation more than being an honest truth. But if it was something that Shouto drew for you, maybe you would.

“I’ll let you know if I want it,” you promise, your eyes closing with your warm smile.

Shouto hums in agreement, his head nodding once. He seems to hesitate for a bit and ultimately walks over to where there was a gathering of flowers and picks out a single himawari. Your eyes narrow in silent teasing when he walks it over to the counter, his hands already reaching for his wallet.

You accept the change, giving him back what you owed him, and was once again shocked to see him resting the flower in your hands.

“For you,” he smiled, his shoulders shrugging.

“You’re so weird,” you wrinkle your nose, still accepting the flower from his fingers with a bright smile. “Thank you for the beautiful himawari.”

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Shouto nodded, slipping on the beanie he had removed upon entering the warm flower shop. “See ya later, y/l/n?”

You nod, waving as he left to which he graciously flipped the sign for you to read that you were once again open. “Bye, Todoroki-san!”

Himawari flowers, otherwise known as sunflowers, always filled you with warmth and love. A flower that is known to be a personal sun on this earth without ever once providing a shred of warmth. There was no denying that it was beautiful, but you shook your head, leaving it on the table in the hallway that leads to your home above the shop. You’d dry and press it once the day was over.

Yes, you decided, that’s how it was going to go.

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“I always forget the wedding season is a thing! Stop looking at me like that, and please help me!”

Most people would never expect to see a community staple member who ran the flower shop to be on their hands and knees, holding onto the ankles of one of the most intimidating and newest members of the community while they begged for help. Well, to be honest, no one could even consider what you were doing to be begging. It was a full-on psycho messy bitch cry for help.

“I said I was going to help you already, what else do you possibly need from me?” Shouto groaned, his vans clad foot trying to wiggle you loose from his ankle. “...don’t tell me.”

“Well, you know what I’m asking then!” you whine, your eyes welling with tears at Shouto’s straight face.

Your face had an array of dried petals on your face, dirt caking the undersides of your fingernails, grass, and leaves in your hair, and desperation reeking from your face.

“My parents still aren’t back! My friends are all busy living their own lives too far away to help me properly, and you’re the only person I trust! You’re a tattoo artist, you have to have a delicate hand, right? Please help me and let me use your crew too, I promise I’ll pay!”

Shouto groans, managing to kick you free from his foot, and pulling you up to your feet so that the noisy people watching would hopefully leave. “If you want the others to help you out, you need to ask them. I’m not going to force them to do anything.”

Your eyes blow wide, excitement simmering in your cells while your hands grip onto his biceps for support, and his own hands rested on your hips.

“Really?! You’ll let me do that?!”

Shouto breathed heavily out of his nose, took a second to recompose himself before letting that small smile appear on his face. The grateful squeal that left your lips was something that shocked him, Shouto won’t lie, but it was the hug you threw around his neck that had him stumbling. He watched in a frozen trance as you stormed into his shop, arms waving animatedly above your head while you explained your need for help to his employees. He didn’t follow you in though, choosing to instead watch you from outside the shop because it was his break right now, and he wasn’t going to be spending it inside the shop.

You returned with a smug smirk on your face, dirt-smudged on your cheek while you nodded your head in victory.

“Well, it looks like I have a team,” you say with a mock casualty. “I am, what the cool kids call, persuasive.”

A weird feeling floods to the tips of Shouto’s fingers at your words was this… annoyance? There was no reason for him to be annoyed that his friends would be coming over to help you. You needed the help. So what if you wouldn’t be talking to him and only him.

“Persuasive, or annoying?” Shouto tries you, and the way you focused on him in your flustered state was enough for a small chuckle to escape his lips. Before you could respond in defense to your persuasive tongue, he was already en route towards your shop. “You wasted five minutes of my break, please don’t waste the other ten.”

He wasn’t sure what made him grin more, the loud cry of “you’re an asshole, Todoroki-san,” the childish stomping coming from behind him, or the cheerful laughter that soaked your tongue at your own silly antics. But still, the grin became a soft smile when he turned to face you, the shop door in his hand while he held it for you.

“After you.”

“Damn right, after me.”

“You guys are actually very good at this,” you marvel, peering over Shouto’s shoulder, watching as he and his coworkers assembled the vase of statement flowers.

Todoroki Shouto, Kaminari Denki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki.

Five equally large men, decked out in tattoos and piercings, with a punk look to them sat pinched together on tables meant to hold more than five men dainty arranging soft pinks and white-colored flowers with your princess pop music blaring in the background. It was very different to how they were in their shop, but it amused you to see them like this.

They were a group of childhood friends who apparently all had the same dream and worked together to make this tattoo shop. Shouto, being the most wealthy of them, had been the name signed on all the papers, explaining the reasons why he was the one you had first met those many nights ago.

But with five different weddings coming up at the moment, you were more stressed about getting these things done and fast. The good thing, however, was that it seemed most of them were striving perfectionists.

Shouto, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Shinsou were all on top of it, having only needing you to explain the arrangements once for them to get it. Kaminari took two tries, but he was also very, very social, and took his time. They were a bizarre dynamic, but it was something you enjoyed.

“Damn right we are, this shit is so fucking easy,” Bakugou responded back, shoving yet another completed arrangement your way. “And why are you just fucking staring at us? Why aren’t you helping?”

You hummed, grabbing the completed vase, and placing it with the others from this particular wedding. “Because I already met my quota, and I can’t pull out the other arrangement until you guys are done.”

“Oh, there’s another one?” Midoriya asked, handing you a completed vase.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind!” you feel your face heating while they were finishing up their final vases, Bakugou snatching some of Kaminari since he had more leftover. “I just didn’t expect you guys to haul these so quickly! And well, there’s just one left I have to do!”

“We are amazing,” Kaminari says, twirling a stem of baby’s-breath in his fingers. “I can see why you were so eager to sign us to your shop. “I make perfect commentary, Shinsou has that calming effect, Deku is sweet and kind, Shouto is obviously the closest to you, and Bakugou.”

You blinked, as did everyone else, staring at the blond who wove the baby’s-breath into the arrangement with a soft touch. Wasn’t he going to finish that sentence?

“And I what?” Bakugou growls, his ears tinging red with his annoyance.

“Hm?” Kaminari perks his eyebrows, his gaze lazily resting on the ash blond. “Oh, no, that was it!”

There was a loud screech of the chair against the floor, and Midoriya was holding back Bakugou while Kaminari screeched, hiding behind Shinsou.

“Here you go,” Shouto sighed, handing you the prior arrangement for this wedding batch.

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully, the sounds of the raging war between Bakugou and Kaminari fading into background noise while you hold Shouto’s gaze. “For all of this too, you guys are keeping me from a countless amount of all-nighters.”

“Well, as long as they don’t wreck your shop, then I guess the payment will be okay,” Shouto sighed, not bothering to even look at how Midoriya was losing ground on keeping Bakugou back.

“As long as there isn’t any blood or teeth on the floor, I’ll give it to ya,” you grin, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

While you and Shouto had gone to get the final wedding arrangements, Shinsou had managed to get Bakugou to calm down and sit. This arrangement was simple, and there were only twelve of them you needed to make, and before you knew it, everyone was leaving, waving as they went. Only Shouto stayed behind, helping you put away the chairs and the tables, while also setting the flowers into the freezer until they would be collected.

It was almost midnight by the time the two of you had cleaned up the shop, and Shouto leaned against the counter while you sprawled onto the floor, exhausted.

“I think,” you mumble, exhaustion fluttering through you. “I think Imma just, sleep here.”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Shouto sighs, walking over to you. “You’re bordering disgusting right now, and you need to shower before sleeping.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone right now,” you point your finger at him definitely. “I think I can become one with the ground right now.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Shouto decided, pulling you up to your feet. Something that made you groan and press your forehead to his chest when you got you up. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your stairs.”

Snorting, you shake your head, pushing him away, “No, it’s okay, I was just being annoying. Besides, I need to lock up down here once you leave.”

Shouto frowns, but he doesn’t move to argue with that, because it was true.

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” you insist, smiling sweetly up at the man who was wearing one of your bandanas.

“Okay,” Shouto finally agreed, moving towards the door.

When you got to the door, ready to see him out, Shouto paused.

He turned to you, his head tilting, and your lips parted to question him, but before any words could fall from your tongue, he raised his hand.

In his hand, he rested a pink arusutoromeria. It was most definitely a leftover from one of the arrangements statement flowers, but it sat daintily in his hand. Under the moonlight, it was almost ethereal in his hold, and you felt a small warmth build in your cheeks.

“That’s called stealing from my clients, ya know,” you tease, the exhaustion in you dying the moment you took the flower from his hand. “I’m going to have to take this out of your paycheck.”

“Don’t pay me,” Shouto insisted softly, his lips peeking into a half-smile. “I would’ve helped, even if you hadn’t asked.”

“That’s ridiculous, I wouldn’t have let you,” you shove his arm, but he went unmoved. His two-colored eyes shining in mirth while continuing to stare at you.

“I know,” he whispers, his gaze holding yours. “Goodnight, y/l/n.”

“Goodnight, Todoroki-san.”

Shouto licked his lips, his face wincing just the smallest bit before shaking his head, “I think you can drop the formality, we’re passed that.”

You didn’t have time to react, only whispering his last name while he exited your shop into the nighttime. But you looked down at the arusutoromeria, otherwise known as the Alstroemeria Peruvian lily. The peachy and pink waxy petals smooth under your fingertip, but it made your heart warm.

Shouto really did pick the most beautiful flowers.

But why was it always for you?

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Four ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“The shop isn’t open today, Todoroki-chan!”

Shouto turned around to see two elders watching him while he had failed to open your shop’s doors.

“Oh, thank you,” he thanked them, bowing in greetings. “Do you know why? Y/l/n didn’t mention anything yesterday?”

“We do, actually! The park hosts the summertime festival, and they’re in charge of the floral arrangements you see going on there! Y/l/n might be there right now!”

Shouto nodded, the banners that had been advertising for the said festival had been up for the past two weeks.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the two elders to themselves before returning to his own shop.

Today was a busy day, and since he wasn’t going to have time to spend his break with you, he decided he’d just move on to his latest client. Ignoring the questionative and gossiping look of Kaminari, he called on the girl who was here for her last touch up.

He’d go and see you when you returned.

It was three in the morning when you were finally back at your shop. Festivals were indeed something of exhaustion. You spent six hours putting up flowers all over people's booths and stalls in order for things to look beautiful. Then when the festival began at three in the afternoon, you’d be in your own booth handing out single roses, lilies, and tulips to lovers, friends, and family who wanted to cheer others up.

Flower sales have always confused you. Flowers, after all, were almost pointless since most of them were bought without the roots and soil. You were gifting something that was on the verge of death that wouldn’t last longer than twenty-one days if you were lucky. But you couldn’t complain, on the other hand. The people’s faces that exploded with affection and love after receiving the flowers made it worth knowing that these dying presents had meaning to them.

But festivals by yourself were hell.

Restocking the flowers, handling the money, trying to give out the flowers all by yourself had proven to be a handful. This was at the least a two-person job, and with your parents still not returning anytime soon, it was hard. You couldn’t ask anyone to help you because everyone you knew who would accept your money to work had to work until late today too.

But you had survived, as you had been for the past few months. So when you tiredly stabbed your key into the air, trying your best to get it into the lock, a sudden noise scared you.

Turning towards the sound, your tired eyes widened upon seeing Shouto walking out with a young woman next to him. She was tall, grand, and even with your tired, dried out, and blurry eyes, you could tell she was beautiful. You saw the way that politely and effortlessly giggled, her dark eyes warm and sweet while she talked to Shouto.

And Shouto, how you had entirely missed him today. But he was obviously enraptured by this woman, his facial features looking kind and sweet while they talked.

A weird feeling tightened in your stomach, what the hell was that? You blinked multiple times, your head muggy and far too foggy for your liking. This wasn’t your business, you thought, finally succeeding in opening your shop door. But with a strong pull of the wagon you had, you watched in horror as the top bins clattered to the floor.

You hauled the wagon in, desperate to get out there and get the remaining fallen items off the floor. You thought having eaten only breakfast today would have rendered you unable to be as stupidly strong as you were at that moment. But as you went to pick up the boxes, you saw Shouto approaching you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, hey, Todoroki!” you laugh, trying to lift the boxes, but you were failing at it. “I didn’t see you all day, how are you?”

Shouto shrugged, his lower lips jutting out slightly too.

“Good, I didn’t realize you were working for the festival, all day at that,” he admitted while moving to help you. “How’d it go.”

“Well,” you think about it, watching your friend take the boxes from your hands and holding them with ease despite your own fumbling. “I, um… it was hard.”

Shouto listened to you while you explained how you handled your booth on your own. How this was one of the busiest festivals your city hosted and how you hadn’t had time to relax since the festival began at three. He listened to you without making any input of his own, the occasional chuckle from hearing about entitled customers, or customers who thought buying a red rose for someone they were going to break up with was a bad idea.

Cleaning up with Shouto with you was relaxing and welcoming, his presence was always one you received, and after a long day, it was sweet and soft.

But while in his explanation as to who the lady — Yaoyorozu Momo, as he named her — was doing at his shop so late, your stomach wailed in hunger. Your face burned in embarrassment, your appetite finally remaking its appearance.

Shouto chuckled, finding glee in your horror before nodding towards the hallway that leads to the staircase of your home. He had been up there a handful of times now, and he smirked, “I’ll make you something since we didn’t eat together today.”

“How can I trust you’re a good chef,” you ask, despite already making your way to the upper level of the shop, ready to stay up even longer with Shouto.

The next hour is spent with the two of you eating and talking. The conversation between the two of you is light and flowing smoothly. You’re on the couch with him, a blanket on your laps while you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” you mumble, your exhausted body feeling warm and safe against his right side.

“Which one?” he asked, shifting his left arm towards you so that way you could continue resting on him.

“Any,” you sigh, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “They’re all beautiful.”

So he does.

Shouto tells you about the special ones first. The fire on his left wrist, the ice on the right. They were his first tattoos, something he had associated with himself since he could remember, but a symbol of how they were both significant parts, equal in their fury, but gentle, beautiful, and healing when needed. He had dizzying patterns on his right side, something he had always acquitted to being his more assertive side. The designs were distinctive and almost dizzying to look at, but each pattern he had drawn, each twist and turn meaning something. The black ink was daunting, powerful, and reserved. He even admitted to letting his friends color in the spaces where you could still see his pale flesh, it was something that he enjoyed because even being as old as he was, the childlike entertainment never left when someone did it.

His left side was stunning though, every color in the rainbow melting and mixing on his skin. This side was artistic, bold, a creation of vibrant dreams, and they warmed you up while he explained every secret behind them. He was scary on this side if you couldn’t find the outlines of each clashing drawing, but up close, with your breath gently warming his skin while you peered at his skin, you realized just how gentle it really was. It wasn’t scary or overwhelming. It was quiet, warm, and a soft gesture to who he used to be, and who he was now.

The two of you were close friends, nothing could ever say otherwise, but as the two of you lay on the couch together, you positioned between his legs, your head laying on his chest. Sleep was a mere kiss away when you snuggled into his chest, your finger pressing against the t-shirt he wore.

“I think I’m ready… for you to draw me up a tattoo… do you think you can surprise me, though? I have no ideas…” you mumbled into his chest.

“Of course,” Shouto responded back, and before you could blink, the world turned dark, sleep consuming you in a gentle embrace.

You weren’t sure if you imagined the feel of his soft lips on your forehead, but when you woke up the next morning, you were alone. The blanket was tucked around you, pillows resting under your head, and a flower sat on the coffee table before you.

A kaneshon.

A carnation.

Your cheeks warmed at the sight of it, knowing immediately that it was left behind by Shouto. Grabbing the flower within your fingers, you pressed the sweet-smelling flower to your nose. If he continued doing this, there was no stopping the way you felt towards him.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Five ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Two weeks later.

“So, what do you think of this?”

You were sitting in Shouto’s private room where he had his tattoo appointments, you were by the wall, sitting on a stool by a desk where he was showing off his tattoo design for you. It was stunning; honestly, it had everything in the world that you could be asking for.

Simple, elegant, and sophisticated.

It fit your personality, hopes, and dreams.

It was perfect.

“Wow,” you barely managed to breathe, your fingers touching the sketch he had presented to you. Was feeling it okay? You hoped so.

“Do you… do you like it?” Shouto asked, his eyes trying to read your face, but failed to see how you reacted because he was behind you.

“This is amazing, Todoroki,” you shake your head, pulling back to stare at your friend with a great smile. “I mean, I know I said I wanted you to draw me one, but I wasn’t expecting you to make it so… personalized to me.”

“...you’re special to me,” Shouto admitted, his body both relaxing and tensing under your gaze. “I had to make this special for you.”

“Well, you sure did!” you agree with a laugh, your cheeks warm with your grin. “But how much will this be?”

“4,000 yen,” Shouto answered with a straight face.

You laughed in his face, remembering that all their starting prices were much more than that, “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. How much?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Shouto confirms, his gaze unwavering. “I like you a lot, and you mean a lot to me, so I’m giving you a discount.”

Your jaw drops, you’re unable to speak, words failing you with every breath. “A discount, not a free tattoo.”

“It’s not free, I’m still making you pay.”

“Yeah, and even I know that price is absurd!”

The two of you argue for some time, the money you throw down on his desk is immediately slammed back into your wallet. You feel close to victory; that is, until Shouto threatens to make your tattoo actually free. To that, your lips twist, a defeated look in your eyes while you huff.

“Fine,” you spat, turning around ready to leave the shop, given that your break was nearing its end.

“Y/n,” he calls out suddenly, and the way that your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver. He had started to call you by your given name as of late, and to hear his warm and deep voice say your name made you wonder why you two hadn’t done this earlier. After all, the two of you were too close.

“Shouto?”

He looks ready to speak, his tongue wetting his lips while he stares at you, unsure what to say to what to do.

“What did you think of the kaneshon?”

Two weeks later and he had finally spoken about the flower he had left behind.

“It was beautiful, I loved it,” you smiled in return, but you didn’t miss the way that his eyes seemed to cloud at those words. Obviously, those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but what was it that he wanted? “Another flower to add to my collection.”

Shouto’s lips quirk into a smile, and you watch while he reaches behind his bench and pulls out a tsubaki. You’re silent as he walks it over to you, pressing the gentle stem into your hand.

“For you,” he whispers, and you can feel your heart hammering in your ears at how close he is. The dim lights of his room, the smell of ink, bleach, and, most importantly, Shouto sending your blood into a craze.

Kiss him, your brain told you, but you were frozen, too busy counting the number of eyelashes he had.

“You didn’t buy this from me, what are you doing helping my competition?” were the words that came to your mouth instead of the confession you so wanted to give.

“No,” Shouto laughs softly, and he adjusts his position almost to give you dizzying fantasies of him kissing you. “I’m growing them, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re my competition,” you tease, and Shouto sighs, his eyes rolling and nods.

“Yeah, the tattoo shop was a decoy to us becoming the best flower shop in all of Japan.”

“Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Oh, you should.”

There was no denying the fact that the distance between your bartering lips was disappearing, but the shrill beep of your alarm destroyed the space between the two of you as you stepped away. You had an appointment to get to after all.

“Um, dinner?” you ask, stumbling to the door. “Sounds good?”

Shouto nods, his lips in a small smile, “See you then.”

With the camellia clenched tightly into your hands, your blood boiling in your destroyed passions, and the sounds of the others saying goodbye while you left, you felt weird when entering your flower shop, one thought running repetitively in your mind.

You had feelings for Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Six ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You twirled the akaichurippu in your fingers.

It had been two months since you worked out you had feelings for Shouto, one week since he had given you this flower, six days since he started avoiding you, and two days since your parents had finally returned home.

With the three of you now running the shop, you were able to relax a whole bunch more. Your parents had returned on a honeymoon mode, their gazes wistful and in love, finding it almost hard to readjust to the life they had left behind for a year. It had been a year since you had met Todoroki Shouto, and you were baffling in love with him. But you had done something obviously because he was avoiding you like the plague.

He hadn’t been over in six days, and they had been such lonely days without him. Of course, once your parents had come home, it had been grossly lively with their romantic sighs and glees, but it didn’t do much to qualm the Shouto sized hole in you.

Stupid Shouto, stupid feelings, stupid everything.

Tossing the flower onto the counter, you sat up from your slumped state, watching as your dad swung your mom in a circle. Stupid parents with their stupid love, you bitterly added while puffing out your cheeks.

“Wow, what’s that look for!” your dad caught on immediately, staring at your unamused form. He trailed his gaze down to the red akaichurippu, otherwise known as the red tulip, while your mother stood up herself.

There was a shocked gasp coming from them both, and you watched as your parents approached the counter like excited children, the flower being picked up by your mother.

“Who gave you this?!” your mother asked, her eyes sparkling in glee, and your dad seemed conflicted in the same delight, and distinctive stern dad look.

“Shouto,” you sighed, your eyes rolling.

“The one that’s ignoring you?”

“The very same!”

“That’s strange,” your dad’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting. “He’s just next door, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon… why is he ignoring you after giving you the eternal love flower?”

You froze.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“The red akaichurippu flower is the symbol of eternal love,” your mom explained as if it was basic knowledge. “They’re much more romantic than a boring red rose, in my opinion. You’re also a florist y/n, why don’t you know these meanings or intentions?”

“Oh my god,” you said in horror, and you stood up, racing upstairs to grab the flowers you had dried and pressed. The flowers he had given you throughout this year.

Your parents were shocked when you slammed down the book with flowers, your fingers shaking excessively.

“What do these mean,” you demand, your fingers shaking while you point at the different flowers.

“Ajisai: apologies and gratitude.”

“Himawari: adoration, loyalty, and longevity.”

“Arusutoromeria: devotion, loyalty, ‘I like you,’ friendship.”

“Pink kaneshon: affection.”

“Tsubaki: humility, discretion, and perfect love.”

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

“I have to go!” you yelled, racing out of the store, the ringing bell and following shouts of your parents doing nothing as you ran into the tattoo shop.

“Shinsou!” you called at the purple-haired man who was staffing the front desk, obviously having no scheduled appointments today. “Is Shouto—?”

“No, he’s taking his break right now,” Shinsou smirked, his eyes full of amusement, which spoke to his knowledge of what was going on. “You can go in.”

You smiled and went down the hallways of the tattoo shop that you knew intimately. You could hear the buzzing of the tattoo guns going off in Bakugou and Midoriya’s rooms, the light chatter that came with passing Kaminari’s room until you made it to Shouto’s room.

It was quiet inside, and as you opened the door to step inside, the flower in your hand feeling heavier than lead when you saw Shouto sitting at his desk, eating cold soba slowly.

“Shouto?” you called, and Shouto didn’t move, obviously ignoring you.

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” you plead, moving towards the bench only to have him turn towards you, his eyes blank, cold, angry, and burning through you when he faced you. So maybe he wasn’t ignoring you? “Okay, uh, thank you for looking at me, but I need to explain something to you!”

“Make it quick, my break’s done in two minutes.”

A cold sweat erupts in your body, and you thrust the red tulip out.

“Eternal love,” you say quickly, your body shivering at that statement, and Shouto looks at you, then at the flower, then back at you.

“Yeah, I knew that already, idiot.”

Your jaw drops, and the smallest bits of annoyance pricks at you. You often forgot what it was like to be under his calculating words and not being at his side, laughing at the victims of his words.

“Okay, well, I didn’t,” you continue on, your fists dropping at your side, annoyance, fear, happiness, and love flooding through your body. “I’m a florist, I know that. I have lived my life as the child of florists, and I have taken on their trade, but one thing I never knew about was flower meanings.”

“What?”

You shake your head, your gaze dropping to the flower in your embarrassment, “I’ve never known any flower meaning outside of funeral flowers, the red rose, and spider lilies, but that’s because of the culture behind it, not necessarily because of the language of flowers. And I was mad at you today, so I had this flower out, and my parents who do know about flower language told me what this meant, and every other flower you’ve bought for me… I didn’t realize you were confessing to me using flowers… I didn’t ever expect a tattoo artist to know the meanings! Had you been a florist yourself, then maybe I would have thought to look up the meanings behind the flowers, but I just assumed it was you picking flowers out because they were pretty.”

“Flower tattoos are popular,” Shouto breathes, his eyes swimming with flashing emotions while he rises to his feet. “It’s sort of my job to know the difference. I mean… you brought over peonies that first night, and they’re a flower you use to welcome other people, so I figured you knew.”

“No,” you laugh breathlessly. “I only picked those out because they were the only flowers I had leftover from that day… I guess you would make an amazing florist after all,” you chuckle, your heart hammering in your whole being while he stepped closer to you. “I’m a blunt person, straightforward confessions are the only way to deal with me.”

“Most blunt confessions have always ended with rejection from me,” Shouto states, his fingers grabbing onto your waist. “That tends to scare people off.”

“Try it with me,” you whisper, your fingers resting on his broad shoulders, the shiver under your skin electrifying as you knew what was happening.

“I’m in love with you, y/l/n y/n,” Shouto grinned, and you didn’t give yourself a chance at responding because you slammed your lips against his.

It was a passionate kiss, one that had your back arched into him, the flower falling from your fingers and onto the floor. Heads tilted with your dancing lips, and fuck was every gentle caress of his lips, sending your mind in a whirl.

More and more, your lips slanted against each other, and there was no say as to what was going to happen next. You pulled away, a galaxy in both your eyes and a desire, a promise for more when he would meet your lips again.

“Shouto, your three o’clock is here!”

The two of you froze, and you laughed, your lips meeting his that sought after yours for the kiss was too short.

“We’ll talk later.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

1K notes · View notes

canvas-the-florist · 4 years ago

Text

The Store Doesn’t Have Butter

Ship: Romantic Moceit, Platonic DLAMPR (they’re all just friends, y’know?)

Warnings: Temporary main character death, blood (not in detail), swearing, vague jokes about sex, guns, injuries, suffocation mention, car accident, depictions of a depressive episode, food, there is a lot of death in this one folks be safe :)

Summary: Patton’s just having a day filled with surprises and mishaps! But he won’t let that stop him from having a good time.

Word Count: 10.4K

Patton wakes up to a happy song playing on his phone and his husband asleep next to him. He stopped the alarm, sitting up and stretching. Janus mumbled and turned to his side to look up at Patton tiredly. Patton greeted him with a smile and a kiss on the forehead, going to get out of bed to start the day. Janus grabbed his arm softly, almost complaining incoherently.

“We do this every morning, love. Can’t I just go make breakfast without you fussing about?” He asked as he reached for his glasses with his free hand and put them on.

Janus let go of Patton, squinting his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sat up, letting the blankets fall off his chest and onto his lap. “We have never had this conversation before.”

“Sure, Jan.” With one last kiss on the cheek, Patton sat up and got dressed. Janus slowly followed suit. Patton brushed out his curls and grabbed his head of hair to get a short ponytail. The shorter hairs would fall out, which Janus would call adorable, but it annoyed Patton greatly. The compromise was a few brightly colored barrettes. Janus fixed up his own hair beside him. “Dang Janus, I think we look pretty good today!”

Janus raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Yes, sure. Very fetching.” He looked like he wanted to say more but was cut off by an alarm on his watch. Janus put on his hat and walked out to the front door. “I must be off dear! If I don’t return by seven, assume that I have been kidnapped by my horrible fellow employees.”

Patton leaned against the wall next to the door. “Don’t be mean! It can’t be that bad to work with Roman and Logan, can it?”

His eyes turned dark from whatever he had experienced. “It really can.” Janus lightened up and opened the door. “Well, goodbye Patton! Remember to buy butter!”

The door closed and Patton was left with his own devices. He started by watering the plants, feeding the cat, feeding the turtle, drinking a glass of water, and feeding that murder of crows that started following the couple around a few months ago. Patton sat down on the concrete of the patio in the backyard. A few crows dropped random shiny things before flying off. He watched for a moment before picking them up, hoping to make an interesting necklace from them. Patton dropped them in a small plastic bag before moving to other things he needed to do. He didn’t have work on Mondays, so that’s when he preferred to do groceries and other errands.

It was slightly windy out, causing Patton’s cardigan to drift updraft. He gave the world a smile before walking around. A plane went by, supposedly going down towards the airport. He saw a woman chasing a dog with a leash running wild and helped her out. A group of kids were walking to school. And then he reached the grocery store. Patton went in only needing four things: Butter, bread, eggs, and bagels. He left with seven. They were out of butter too. Walking out, the wind seemed to have simmered down which he was very grateful for.

The walk back was always more frustrating. People were going to their jobs or having a day out with their families. Which meant doing the ten minute walk home with easily squishable foods was a lot more difficult. Patton was humming a song to himself when a biker collided with him, dropping the food.

“Ah, sorry man!” The person apologized.

“It’s okay!” Patton reassured, helping them up. “It’s just food. Are you alright though? That was quite the fall!”

“Oh- yeah! That was nothing.” They grabbed their bike. “Sorry about the eggs though. Have a good one!”

“You too!” Patton looked down at the food. The breads would be fine but half of the eggs had cracked and spilled over everything. He took out the carton and threw it away in the nearest trash can he could find before heading home. The cat lovingly named, Ladle, mewed at him loudly begging for attention. Janus didn’t want Ladle at first, insisting that Patton’s cat allergy was something important, but she quickly made him love her. Patton gave her a few scratches under her chin before sitting down on the couch. Ladle jumped up next to him before making her way to sleep on the windowsill. “Gosh Ladle, today has been an ordeal!”

She ignored him but he didn’t really mind. Talking to her was really just a thing for himself. Patton took a breath and decided to make lunch. Despite knowing that Janus’s lunch break wasn’t actually two hours long, Patton knew he would be on the bar stool for that duration before returning to work late. The door opened up and Patton finished making the second sandwich. Just on time.

“Hey dear! You really need to stop skipping work for-” Patton stopped as he looked up. “Oh, Roman! I didn’t expect to see you here…”

The man was covered in blood and seemed shell shocked. Roman looked over at Patton who was taking off his apron and getting a rag wet under the sink. “Pat… I’m so sorry.” Patton’s face fell before he continued but blinked away any fear and started cleaning up Roman’s face. “Logan and I, we tried to stop what happened but… Janus died.”

Patton clenched his fist around the rag and put it to his side, dropping it to the floor. He took a breath in but it broke as he felt his face warm under tears. Ladle meowed loudly in concern but Patton ignored it. Roman sat him down on the couch and hugged him. The rest of the day was a blur. He vaguely remembered letting Roman borrow some of his clothes so he could shower and clean up. Patton spent the rest of the day with a cat on his chest and the cucumber sandwiches completely forgotten.

Eventually Roman got Patton to drink some water and left him alone in the dark. Patton stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his face left evidence of his sobbing. None of it felt real. It was supposed to be fine. But the problems kept coming. Ladle jumped off his chest and he made his way to the bed. The bed sheets were still messy from that morning. Patton collapsed down on his husband’s side of the bed and surrounded himself with the comforter. The wind was almost completely gone so the only sounds outside were people’s dogs and a few birds. He turned to lay on his back and fell asleep.

Patton wakes up to a happy song playing on his phone and his husband asleep next to him. He gasps and shoots upward with a start. Breathing heavily, Patton grabbed Janus’s arm and checked to see if he was real. Janus let out a noise of complaint and pulled the blanket over his head. Patton took in a deep breath and smiled through his tears. Just a nightmare.

“We can’t do this every morning, love. Let’s go get some breakfast, okay?” Patton put on his glasses and Janus sat up, letting the blankets fall from his head to his lap.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Janus stated sarcastically. “We’ve never had this conversation before.” Patton blinked in confusion but let it slide.

“Whatever you say, Janus.” His voice hurt from the crying. Patton gave his husband a kiss on the cheek and got out of bed to get ready for the day. He did his hair in a short ponytail and put in the barrettes to get the small curls out of his face. Janus fixed up his hair beside him. Patton couldn’t shake the dream however much he wanted to. “Janus? Do you ever get bad dreams about me… getting hurt?”

Janus looked at him curiously. “How hurt are you talking about?”

“I-” Patton was cut off by the alarm on Janus’s watch. He put on his hat but looked back at Patton with concern. He gave a smile. “Go to your job, we can talk at… lunch.”

They both walked to the front door. Janus kissed Patton briefly. “Okay, dear. If I don’t return by seven, assume that I have been kidnapped by my horrible fellow employees.”

“Hey!” Patton said, ignoring the feeling of déjà vu. “Be nice and be safe. Roman and Logan aren’t that bad.”

His eyes turned dark from whatever he had experienced. “It really can.” Janus lightened up and opened the door. “Well, goodbye Patton! Remember to buy butter!” The door slammed and Patton already knew that the grocery store probably didn’t have butter. He didn’t know why he suspected that but took a deep breath. Patton had things to do today that wasn’t about moping.

He started by watering the plants, feeding the cat, feeding the turtle, drinking a glass of water, and feeding that murder of crows that started following the couple around a few months ago. Patton sat down on the concrete of the patio in the backyard. A few crows looked at him and called in concern before dropping off shiny objects and flying away. He watched for a moment, confused, before picking them up. Patton dropped them in a small plastic bag before moving to other things he needed to do. It was time to do errands but he wasn’t sure that it was going to go well. It was windy outside and at the moment people were heading to their jobs and school so the world was going to be really busy. But he did anyway, like he needed to prove something to himself.

It was slightly windy out, causing Patton’s cardigan to drift updraft. A plane went by, supposedly going down towards the airport. He saw a woman chasing a dog with a leash running wild and helped her out after a second of confusion. A group of kids were walking to school. There wasn’t any butter and he shouldn’t have expected it there. Patton stared at the empty space before buying the other things he needed: eggs, bread, and bagels.

Patton looked around with caution as he walked back, carefully weaving between families and people down the street. He was halfway home when he heard the bike. Patton turned and saw someone about to run into him so he took a step back and tumbled into the grass, hearing the eggs break and scatter. The biker stopped and helped him up.

“Ah, sorry man!” The person apologized.

“It’s… It’s okay! Are you okay?” Patton asked.

The biker looked at them quizzically. “What?”

Right, they were fine. Patton gave a smile. “Oh never mind. Have a good day!”

The biker got back on their bike. “Sorry about the eggs. Have a good one!” They zoomed past him and Patton blinked away all his thoughts, forgetting to respond. This didn’t just feel like déjà vu. He finished walking home and put away the bread and bagels.

Ladle meowed for attention and curled around Patton’s shoulders. He pet her idly as he went to sit down at the couch. It was almost time for lunch. Patton thought back to the dream and took in a shaky breath. He had to make sure. With a moment’s hesitation, he called Janus’s burner phone. Patton knew that Janus said to stop spamming him with pictures of Ladle to his burner, because it could be bad and they could be caught with whatever illegal thing he was doing… But Patton needed to know. To warn him something was about to happen.. Probably.

“Patton? Why did you call me? You know that you can’t just-”

“Janus, something bad is going to happen. You need to be safe or hide or stop whatever you’re doing!” Patton was trying to stay calm but he kept remembering Roman’s expression and crumbling to the floor. He didn’t even know what happened.

He heard Janus say something incoherent to someone else on the other end of the line before responding directly. “You’re not normally like this Patton. Why am I in danger, exactly?”

The only issue with that was that Patton didn’t know the answer to the question. This would be so much easier if Patton knew what the fuck was going on. He felt his throat dry as tears welled up. “I… You just are. Please.”

“Okay, dear. I’ll be there so-” Janus was cut off by his own screaming. Patton stood up suddenly, yelling Janus’s name and got no response. The line went dead after a minute. He threw his phone at the wall, causing Ladle to jump off his shoulders and he stared at the hole he just created. It got blurrier the more he cried. Patton heard the door open with a bloody Roman who looked just as bad as Patton remembered from the dream, if it even was one.

Roman sat on the floor next to him and gave him a hug. “I’m so sorry, Patton, I’m so sorry.” This mantra was repeated for hours before silence fell between the two of them. The room darken around them and Patton finally got up and ushered Roman to the bathroom to clean off the blood and take a shower. He got out in Patton’s oversized clothes and watched Patton as he cleaned up the floor. “Do… you need to be alone right now or should I stay with you?”

The silence was filled by the chirping of birds and people’s dogs. Patton shook his head. “Please don’t leave me alone right now.” His voice was small but he wasn’t sure how much he was actually feeling at the moment. Roman and Patton decided to sleep on the couch together with Ladle nestled by Patton’s stomach. Their backs would kill them tomorrow but that wouldn’t matter. Janus died. Patton looked at Roman’s head before taking off his glasses and closing his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t dream.

Patton wakes up to a happy song playing on his phone and his husband asleep next to him. He opened his eyes tiredly, not bothering to stop the alarm. He looked over to Janus and frowned. He finally understood what was happening, and Patton was pretty sure that he hated the answer. With a sigh he turned off the alarm and decided full heartedly that he was not going to let Janus die today, however many todays that would take.

He grabbed Janus’s arm and pulled him into a hug. Okay, he would save his husband after getting a little support. Janus flickered open his eyes in confusion but hugged back. They stayed there for a while before Patton let go to sit up and put on his glasses.

“As much as I love your affection, this seems a bit early in the morning, even for you.” Janus pointed out. Patton kept putting on his clothes, half ignoring Janus, just trying to concoct a plan that would save him. Janus got off the bed and went in front of him as he finished putting on his shirt. “Patton. What is happening today?”

Patton looked at him with a determined smile and fear in his eyes. “You’re going to go to work and I’m going to take care of all the things here. Now go! We need to get ready for the day.”

Janus complied, pretending to shrug off Patton’s demeanor and put on his clothes. Patton did up his hair in a short ponytail and 4 colorful barrettes to hide the short curly hairs that were left. Janus barely finished his hair as his watch beeped. He gave Patton a kiss on the cheek before saying, “I must be off dear! If I don’t return by seven, assume that I have been kidnapped by my horrible fellow employees.”

“Yeah, mhm, don’t be rude to them. Be safe!” Patton responded walking out to the front doorway.

Janus gave a look but opened the door. “Well, goodbye Patton! Remember to buy butter!” The door closed and Patton took out his phone to text Remus. He needed a car and someone who wouldn’t ask questions. Remus was good at both of those. As he awaited the reply he quickly went through all his chores including feeding several animals and watering the plants. Remus sent back a reply with many curses and agreed to it. Wonderful.

With that a plan was in action! Follow husband to work and find out how he keeps dying and prevent it! Easy. Patton heard a loud car horn sound repeatedly outside his house and immediately knew that Remus had arrived. He walked outside, wearing his cardigan on his arms instead of around his shoulders to show that he was serious about it. Remus smiled and moved to the passenger seat instead of getting out completely.

“Uh, Remus?” Patton got into the driver’s seat and looked at his friend awkwardly. “I thought I mentioned wanting to do this alone?”

Remus put on his seat belt. “You did, but I’m ignoring you, fuckface! Whatever the fuck you’re doing seems like a fun time and I am extremely bored.” Patton scrunched his nose and pushed up his glasses before starting the car. He knew exactly how Remus was when he was bored and wasn’t a fan of dealing with it. Perhaps someone who kind of knew Janus’s line of work could be helpful. They started driving after Patton set up a GPS route to the workplace. Remus looked at it and back at him. “We’re visiting J-anus and my brother? OH! Are you going to prank them?! It’d be so exciting to set the entire building on fire!”

Patton’s hands tightened on the wheel and glanced at his friend. “No, you know I don’t condone killing people with arson. We’re here to hopefully prevent something that’s going to happen.”

“What’s going to happen? Murder without arson?”

He stopped at a stop sign before making a left turn. Patton shrugged as he corrected the wheel. “I don’t actually know. That’s what I’m going to find out though.” It couldn’t hurt to be honest with Remus, seeing as he didn’t know if the next day was even going to exist in the first place. With a few gross conversations that led to vague responses from Patton, the two finally reached their destination. To find out what the fuck was going to happen to Janus. They walked up to the front building, Patton had a smile on his face that was apparently intimidating according to the reaction of the receptionist. “Hi, sorry to disturb you I was just wondering if Janus Lyre-Hart is in the office today? I’m his husband.”

“Sorry sir... He’s, he’s not actually here today? He was sent on a field mission with two others to deal with an issue with the company.” She stated nervously.

“Where did they go?” Remus asked with more seriousness than Patton had heard in several years. They were told the location and drove there together. Remus had seemed to gage the seriousness of the situation and adjusted SOME of his actions accordingly. “Do you think you’re going to find their entrails all over here or something?” Some actions.

Patton sighed and slammed the car door shut, looking around the place. Just a bunch of buildings. The place seemed completely normal. He noticed a few crows over an old blue wooden bar that didn’t appear significant. Patton started walking towards it and Remus followed, taking huge steps to keep up. The door creaked open and a few of the birds flew away. Patton peaked in and Remus knelt over to peak through underneath Patton’s head. The place was empty. The two stepped in.

“This isn’t as planned out as I’d like.” Patton said, even though his real thoughts were ‘I can try again tomorrow anyway’. Remus walked around, kicking over an empty trash can. It fell over making a loud sound against the floor. Patton flinched but noticed something weird with the floorboards. He kneeled down. “Huh. Hey Remus? I think we just found a trapdoor.”

“Then let’s open it!” Remus exclaimed, and he slammed his fingers around the corners, pulling up. Patton bit a protest and helped. The door lifted and slammed down on, the force of which made a wave of dust fly up. Patton coughed before looking down. There was a metal ladder on one of the walls, small rectangular slots lined up evenly all the way down to the bottom of the tunnel; it was much lower down than he expected. Remus shoved past Patton and started climbing down. He looked back up. “Come on! I wanna see what’s down here! Like a sex dungeon or just a dungeon dungeon! With worms!”

The two reached the bottom and walked until they reached a point with two turns they could go. Remus mentioned splitting up but Patton thought that it was a bad idea. So instead, the two made a right turn right into Logan, Roman, and Janus running rapidly.

“We have to go!” Roman exclaimed, grabbing Remus and Patton. They all turned and started running through to the left turn. Patton tried to look back but Logan kept his head forward. They eventually got out of the tunnels in a different exit. Janus shoved everyone into the car while Logan started the engine. Patton put on his seat belt quietly. Roman turned to look at them from the passenger seat. “What the hell are you guys doing here?!”

“Looking for you shitheads!” Remus exclaimed. “Patton said that something bad was going to happen!”

Janus looked out the window of the speeding car and grimaced. He got out a gun and Patton fought himself to keep his eyes open. It was almost lunch time, it was almost time. “They’re tailing us, Logan!” Janus turned to Patton with softness in his eyes, and his tone became more controlled. “Why do you think something bad is going to happen?”

“Does this not count as bad to you, Janus?!” Patton exclaimed, Remus pushed his back down as a bullet hit the back window. Janus looked at the glass and shrugged. Patton groaned and leaned back on Remus’s shoulder before giving a glance to the back window. There were a few nicely dressed people with guns and were shooting sporadically at the car. “Seriously?! Jan, I can’t explain what’s going to happen because I wasn’t here originally but you have to be careful!”

“I am doing my best to be safe dear, but I also need to do my job.” Janus said coldly before opening the window and shooting back. Logan made a swift turn and Patton grabbed Remus’s hand for comfort. He felt scared and angry at the same time. Janus needed to trust him on this but only Patton even knew what was going on. Next thing he knew, Roman’s arm got shot. He screamed, dropping his weapon out the car window and leaned back on his seat. Patton didn’t see a gun wound in the dreams, so this happened because of the changes he made. The guilt didn’t have time to sink in when one of the bullets hit the car wheels. Logan cursed under his breath as the car swerved and narrowly avoided a tree; it instead flipped on its side. Patton swallowed an ongoing panic in order to unbuckle his seat belt and helped Remus and Janus out of the car. Logan and Roman got caught up with the airbags. Logan quickly unbuckled and maneuvered his way out.

Patton coughed and looked at the car. “So… what now? How do we get Roman out of there?”

“Well, we can’t move him because if he broke something that could ruin his vital organs or bones permanently.” Logan hummed, nonchalantly pulling Remus back from the car. “I think that the best thing we can do now is leave immediately.”

Remus pulled back from Logan’s grasp sharply. “And just leave him here? He could die!”

“We could also die, Remus!” Janus cut in, shaking. Patton froze up, staring at the door. He had a feeling it was already too late. Janus kept yelling, the cars started arriving and the gunshots got louder. But he couldn’t turn his eyes away from the car. It was on its side and even though Patton couldn’t see him, he imagined Roman’s pain. He couldn’t move. “-Atton! You have to get up! Patton! I’m not looping you into this!”

The others had run off, leaving Roman in the car, but Janus was dragging Patton as he blinked back into hearing others again. But it was too late, Patton heard Janus cry out and looked up to him with concern. “Janus? Are you okay?”

He shook his head, tears welling up and Janus hugged him. Patton looked down and saw blood seeping into his shirt. He looked up at his husband and smiled. “I’ll be okay! I’ll be better next time. You’ll be okay next time!” The light sky hurt so he closed his eyes. He felt Janus’s arms trembling around him and wanted to comfort him. But Patton felt like he was turning into static. “Next time will be better, I promise.”

Patton woke up to the same cheerful song on his phone, tired but ready to try again. He sat up and examined his chest. It looked normal and his breathing wasn’t hindered anymore but his brain wanted to believe he was in pain. Patton looked over at Janus, who was breathing normally too. He wasn’t even crying. Janus was okay, Roman was okay, he was okay. Right? If Patton just learned how to do better this time everything would turn out fine. So, he decided not to wake up Janus. Patton closed the blinds on the window and slipped back into bed and cuddled into Janus’s side. Even if his husband did wake up, he tended not to care about following what his job wanted him to do anyways. Whatever that job actually was.

Time passed and eventually Janus did leave. Patton tried to come with him but it didn’t work. And Patton wouldn’t consider himself as stubborn as Janus was. So he let him leave and got on his bicycle to follow him. Patton had visited one of the work locations before, for a potluck or Halloween party usually set up by Roman. It was a secretive place but loved to pretend it was just a normal business.

He walked in and saw Virgil. Which was a bit unusual, seeing as he didn’t actually work with the others either. Not like Patton had much room to judge if he liked to judge. He gave a smile and waved. “Hey, kiddo! What are you up to?”

Virgil waved awkwardly as he walked over, his other hand in his hoodie. “Sup, Pat. Logan wanted to ask something from me I guess? He was being vague about this place, as always, but I just finished. Why are you here?”

He hated lying and Virgil hated being lied to. Patton wasn’t exactly sure how to explain his situation without sounding like he was joking or really sleep deprived. He gave a glance to the receptionist and looked back at his friend. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here. But I am having quite a long day, if you want to talk about it over ice cream with me?”

Patton internally high fived himself for his wonderful pun that no one would get but him.

...

“So, we’re stuck in a loop and every time Janus dies when you don’t do anything but Roman died when you tried to mess with it?” Patton nodded nervously. Virgil thought it through while taking a bite of ice cream from his paper bowl. “That sounds like a personal hell if I’ve ever heard one. Especially for you. But from what you’ve said, the loop will probably end when you manage to save everyone. I’m not sure how exactly you’ll do that but I could help out.”

“You… aren’t freaking out as much as I thought you would.” Patton knew that wasn’t phrased as well as he wanted to, but he was curious about how Virgil felt about everything going on.”

Virgil put down the plastic spoon and made eye contact with Patton. He noticed just how shaky the man was. “Oh I’m absolutely panicking right now, but it’s probably better to deal with it when tomorrow comes or something. Nothing matters right now and that is terrifying to think about. My actions are actually useless. It’s not like I’ll remember what happened right now anyway, right?”

He shook his head. “So far I think I’m the only one who knows about it.” Patton decided he’d just not tell Virgil in the next loop, he didn’t see his dark strange son daily so that wasn’t an issue. Patton didn’t want to give Virgil a panic attack every single time they talked on this day. “What should I do about it? I’ve tried coming to help, or preventing it from happening, or doing nothing, but I’m still here.” Alone.

“Well, putting my pessimism aside for a moment,” Virgil started. “You could tell Janus, Roman, and Logan about what’s happening so they can avoid doing this specific job or whatever until they have a better fleshed out plan. Or… I don’t know, figure out what they’re doing and get to it first.” He opened his mouth before closing it again, and Patton guessed that he probably had another idea that would be upsetting to hear.

Patton leaned forward. “What’s the last one, Virgil?”

“Nothing!” Virgil exclaimed. He calmed down, letting go of the ice cream bowl. “It’s just that maybe you’re supposed to… accepthisdeathandworkthroughthegrief- I don’t know it’s stupid!”

“Oh…” Virgil looked away with his arms crossed. Patton looked down at his now melted ice cream. Roman would be at his house by now but he wasn’t quite sure that it mattered. He looked back up at Virgil, trying not to cry. “I mean I can try out the other things first, right? I really don’t want anyone I love to die if I can prevent it somehow.”

“I know, Pat.” No, you don’t, Patton thought bitterly. He felt guilty but he knew he stood by his thinking no matter how rude it was.

The next time he tried to just wake up earlier, which worked just as well as you would expect. So he called Roman as soon as he woke up instead and told him everything. “So that’s why you shouldn’t do anything about whatever the hell you found earlier today. It’s doomed to fail, and I believe in you kiddo but this absolutely isn’t going to work.”

There was a sigh from the other side of the screen. “Patton, you had a weird dream about a time loop? It happens sometimes, Padre. Janus and I aren’t going to die. Remus doesn’t even work here and you don’t even know where we’re going-”

“Yes I do Roman!” He fought back. One of Virgil’s suggestions was to figure out what the others were doing and to prevent it or solve it before the others did. Patton needed to gather information for that to even work though. “You’re going to an old abandoned blue building that used to be a bar! There’s at least two entrances to the tunnels underneath it and you had a direct route about a mile away from the bar.” Patton sighed, it was hard convincing people about this much of a reach. So, it was time for a different approach. “Look, maybe it is a weird dream but it’s not nothing. Can you at least tell me what you found so I know that you guys are going to be okay?”

He hummed, contemplating for a moment before sighing. “I can’t do that, Patton. Logan and Janus are already on my case about so many things I’m not adding another to the list. We’re going to be okay today, I promise that.” Patton clenched his phone as his friend kept talking. “I’ll visit you after we’re done today! Does that sound good, padre?”

“It sounds great Roman, see you..” Patton responded, ending the call.

True to his word, Patton did hear the door creak open. Roman cried into his arms while Patton just considered what he could do next.

“Logan, is there ANY way you could do what you’re doing today later?” Patton asked, while Remus was walking through the office idly. Logan gave him a confused look as if to indicate that he wanted more information. “I’m going to be straightforward here-”

“Good luck attempting that.” Remus cut in. Logan and Patton stared at him for a moment. He shrugged. “Just saying. Keep talking about your psychic powers or whatever.”

“I’m going to be CLEAR about this.” Patton mended. “Whatever happens at your job today will end with Janus being shot and killed. I can’t really explain why, but you need to do this tomorrow, or plan something. I don’t know! This is really dangerous and I want everyone to be okay.”

There was a moment of silence between the three of them. Logan sat in his seat, thinking everything over while Remus had paused reorganizing the bookshelf to spell ‘penis’ with the first letters of the book titles. It was so silent that Patton could hear the shuffling of people walking through the halls, and the caws of birds that suspiciously sounded like crows. He took a breath and looked at the ceiling to keep himself from crying. Patton knew that he looked like a mess. He was wearing his cardigan instead of around his shoulders and he was so focused on leaving as fast as possible that his hair was completely neglected.

Logan cleared his throat. “It would be unwise for us to completely postpone our mission today.” Patton sniffed and Logan continued through seemingly unaffected. “But I suppose it would be wise to make sure we have bulletproof vests and show up more inconspicuously than we previously planned.”

“Thank you, Lo.” Patton’s voice was quiet, like a sudden breeze could shatter it.

Patton and Remus were ushered out. Remus suggested they go out to sushi to wait and see how it went. There was a place close by and Remus enjoyed eating raw meats. This was a type of food the two frequently compromised on. The drive was quiet if you tuned out whatever loud artist Remus played in his car. Patton didn’t know them but did know that they swore way more than he would normally listen to.

When the car stopped Patton didn’t move or do anything. Remus reminded him to unbuckle and get out of the car before he locked him in. He talked about not wanting his best friend to suffocate without any air and getting trapped by the safety lock completely and having to resort to eating his arm. No matter how grotesque his metaphors were, Patton appreciated knowing that Remus was there for him. He took everything Patton said in stride, not mocking or belittling him. He wasn’t a serious man and he didn’t have to be. Remus was passionate and would do anything for the people he cared about, regardless of how dangerous. Which was exactly why he had to make sure Remus and everyone else survived to some sort of future that didn’t exist yet.

The two picked up their sushi and ate there. Well, Remus did. Patton picked at his a little while listening to the ambient noises of the restaurant. “Do you think they’re going to be okay today?”

“I have no fucking clue.” Remus said. He paused to drink some of the soy sauce from the bottle. “But they stand a better chance with you fighting for them to finally use all those brain cells they’re hogging. I mean, do you hear that they weren’t even planning on wearing bullet proof vests? Do they want to become rag dolls at the end of this?”

Patton snorted, tears brimming his eyes. “I guess I really ragged on Logan, huh?”

Remus took all of Patton’s sushi in his hands and smooshed them together before eating the entire thing. With the food gone it was finally time to leave. When they arrived at the house there was already a car there. Roman’s car. Patton ran into the house to see Roman on the ground, looking very bruised with his hands covered in blood.

“What happened?” He demanded.

“Patton?” Roman asked weakly, looking up at him. “Patton! I’m so sorry, Logan and I, we tried to stop what happened but… Janus died.”

His mind was racing, hearing Remus close the door behind him but he ignored it. “How?”

“He was… umm, stabbed to death. Are you okay?”

Roman’s question was ignored. Patton sat down at the table, turned away from the twins. Stabbed. Not shot. Of course they had multiple types of weapons on them. That was an oversight he couldn’t do again. He’d find a way to save them. They can bring their own guns or knives or they could be warned about what their enemies had prepared for them. Patton’s heart was racing as his hands gripped his head. He’d know what to do.

Patton watched expectedly as Roman walked into the door. “They beat Janus to death.”

Logan went into Patton’s house holding tightly onto his bleeding leg, with his other arm against the wall to keep his balance. The two made eye contact. “Roman and Janus died when they shot the tires of the car and it crashed. I’m the only one who made it.”

“Janus was shot.”

“We just couldn’t save Logan I’m so sorry-”

“Roman was kidnapped and used against us. Janus thought they were bluffing about killing him but then they did.”

Janus died. Logan died. They all died and somehow Virgil found out before him. Roman and Janus died. Logan and Janus died. Janus died. Patton was pulling his hair out. Every time he woke up he had darker eye bags than the last time. He didn’t bother to watch as yet another one of his friends limped through the door at 3 PM on a sunny day ready to announce a tragedy.

“Patton-”

“Who died?” He asked, cutting him off. Patton looked up to see Janus. There was blood coming from his nose that was ignored and drying over his skin. It wasn’t a very common version of this day. He showed up sometimes but Janus was very frequently the one dead. “I already know someone got murdered, Jan. Please just tell me how so I can avoid it next time.”

“What? Next time-” Janus sputtered, shaking his head before looking at Patton. “What the fuck does that mean?! Roman got suffocated to death- why… Do you know what happened? Patton, what’s going on?”

A question so simple with a very difficult answer. Patton stood up to help Janus walk to a chair. Roman. Strangled. How could he warn them about that next time? Janus was talking as Patton continued to walk around the kitchen but he wasn’t listening. He wet a towel and started cleaning up Janus’s face. Janus shut up and Patton gave a tight lipped smile. “I know you aren’t going to believe me but you, Logan, and Roman have been dying every single day for me and I’m trying to make sure you’re all okay in the end. So, next time I’ll tell Logan about things to avoid doing that didn’t work out this specific time. As long as I mess with the timeline something different will happen. One of these days will turn out okay.”

Unless they don’t. Unless he really just has to accept it like Virgil said.

“So you’ve just been handed the world’s most traumatizing time loop?” Janus asked. Patton removed the bloody paper towel and threw it in the trash can. He nodded. “How long have you been stuck here? Just knowing that one of us dies?”

“I don’t know.” Patton answered honestly. He spent so much effort trying to save his friends he hadn’t bothered to keep track of time. Janus rested his hand on Patton’s arm for the littlest amount of comfort. Patton looked up at him with a sad smile, tears brimming his eyes. “What do I do? I can’t get you to stop, you won’t let me come with you, and I don’t want anyone to be hurt anymore.”

They both looked so hurt. Janus had bruises setting in just about everywhere and he winced whenever he made a movement too big or too fast. Patton just looked tired. So incredibly tired, as if he had woken up after a fitful night sleep decades ago and never went back to bed. Janus tried to say something but stopped himself. There was no clear cut answer. Why would there be? It was like he had said earlier, the world’s most traumatizing time loop and Patton was the only one with a ticket to the ride. How do you stop something that’s only goal is to make you suffer? He thought about what Virgil said and grimaced.

Patton fell into Janus’s lap and sobbed. This wasn’t fair, none of it was! And Virgil had to be right about everything. He had to let his husband die. Patton whispered his apologies over and over until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t figure out a way to save him; perhaps there wasn’t a way to save him at all.

Patton wakes up to a happy song playing on his phone and his husband asleep next to him. He didn’t stop the alarm, he didn’t do anything. Janus woke up with a yawn, only to see Patton staring blankly at the ceiling above him. The world felt devoid of life, like the more Patton looked, the world would pause before draining away before him. Janus gave him a shake, asking if he was okay, but Patton didn’t answer. It was no use. Nothing he did would work in the end anyways. Why try? Janus seemed more worried, not a common look on him. Patton looked him over and gave a smile. Would this be the last time he’d see him?

“Are you okay?” He asked, when Patton finally sat up. Patton gave him a hug and let go of it before he wouldn’t be able to. “Patton, do you need me to stay with you?”

“No, I’m okay.” The lie was breathed to life almost hesitantly. His voice felt raspy. Patton knew that this was the right thing to do, but it hurt so much. Why did it have to hurt so much? “Just, just go to work and I’ll be alright.”

So Janus did, and Patton was alright. Janus wasn’t. When Roman came to tell him of the news, Patton was still in bed on his husband’s side. Roman stayed after taking a shower, but his attempts to help were in vain. The world was draining away and there was nothing that could stop it. Roman was sleeping on the floor, holding Patton’s hand.

It kept repeating. Making Patton live the pain every single day, which wasn’t fair. He still cried when Roman would tell him that Janus died. He still made sure that Roman got cleaned up, but nothing changed. Patton couldn’t make it to yesterday, despite trying so hard to move on. Eventually he decided to keep up the routine he would normally have, trying to show the world that he was going to be okay, but that didn’t work either.

Nothing did.

He watered the plants, fed the cat and the turtle, had a glass of water, and hung out with that murder of crows that started following the couple around a few months ago. Patton threw some food at the ground in front of them before sitting down on the patio. He wasn’t really sure what to do. Going to the store probably wouldn’t be helpful, unless he managed to avoid the biker eventually. Janus was already at work and in danger already. Patton sighed and fell to his back. A crow cawed at him.

“What should I do?” He dragged his hands over his face. None of the birds responded, outside of the one that hopped onto his calf. Patton decided that was a sign to go grocery shopping, despite knowing they wouldn’t have all that’s on the list.

It was slightly windy out, causing Patton’s cardigan to drift updraft. A plane went by, supposedly going down towards the airport. He saw a woman chasing a dog with a leash running wild and helped her out. A group of kids were walking to school. And then he reached the grocery store. Patton went in only needing four things: Butter, bread, eggs, and bagels. He already knew they didn’t have butter, but put the rest in the shopping basket. Patton’s hand hovered over Janus’s favorite candy. He blinked slowly, taking a deep breath in and out, before throwing it into the basket. It wasn’t a horrible thing to indulge anyways.

Walking out, the wind had calmed down. He carefully carried his bags, skillfully dodging out of the way of the biker for the first time. Patton stopped walking to watch the person continue on, not knowing about the collision that had occurred between them before. The rest of the way was uneventful. He put away the groceries and decided to make something for Roman when he was going to stop by.

He made some sort of water based soup, Patton wasn’t sure which because he grabbed the one closest to him, only checking the label to make sure it wasn’t cream based. Last time he hadn’t, Roman got really sick. Just as Patton had finished, the door opened. He didn’t say anything and instead got a rag from a cupboard and turned on the hot water.

Roman limped in and leaned against the wall. “Pat, I’m so sorry.” Patton nodded silently, running the rag underneath the sink and started cleaning up the blood on Roman’s face. “Logan and I, we tried to stop what happened but… Janus died.”

Patton’s heart pinged in guilt, still feeling like he could do something. He took the rag off Roman’s face. “Yeah, I know. How about you go take a shower, Roman. You can borrow my clothes for tonight.” Roman had a confused expression but seemed too out of it to say anything. Patton took out some of his clothes, not able to go through Janus’s shirts. He set it outside the bathroom door and spent the rest of his time petting Ladle idly. None of this felt right.

It couldn’t be the right way to go about this, seeing as he awoke again with Janus next to him so many times after. But Patton didn’t know what he COULD do. He stood up a bit too quickly but ignored it. Patton decided he’d finally start putting up his hair again. Not that anyone would know how long he hadn’t bothered to but himself. It would just help. He put in the barrettes and stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. Sighing, Patton tied the cardigan to finish his look. Janus walked into the bathroom, brushing his incredibly long hair. He was dressed for work but had yet to grab his hat.

“Hey love, can we talk before you go to work?” Patton asked. Usually he’d be nervous about Janus misinterpreting his tone but currently things like that haven’t really mattered to him.

“Well that’s not ominous at all.” Janus replied as he nodded. He put his hair in a bun and put his hat on top. There was a strip of hair loose, highlighting the scarred side of the man’s face. The two walked to the living room. Upon seeing them, Ladle jumped off the couch and ran into the bedroom presumably to hide under something. “What did you need to talk about?”

Patton took a breath, taking in all the ways this conversation has been messed up before. “You can’t go to work today. I know what you’re going to say-”

“This day is really important,” Janus interjected while Patton said it at the same time as him with a sense of boredom. Janus narrowed his eyes. “Have you been hanging out with Remus more often? There’s no way you were able to copycat that well without practice.”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it practice if you wanted to.” Patton chuckled to himself. “But we’re getting distracted. If any of you guys, including Roman and Logan, go do the thing you need to do today you will die. It won’t be pleasant, and it will happen no matter how many precautions you decide to take. So please, take the day to plan this out better or something. But you can’t risk anything.”

Janus was very taken back but scoffed, to hide the fact he was worried. Patton knew that he wasn’t just going to give in without good reason to. He didn’t want to pull the ‘time loop’ card if he didn’t have to. If he could just move onto tomorrow with no one knowing what had happened he would be satisfied. “We are always careful, Patton. Why do you think today’s going to be any different? We haven’t died yet!”

“But you will! I don’t THINK today’s going to be different, I. KNOW. SO.” Patton was trying to stay as calm as possible, but it really sucked to do that. “If you want me to explain, I can, but it would be so much better for you just to trust me. Please.”

“Patton. I want to know what’s going on. Are you being threatened or something? Why do you believe we’re going to be hurt?” Janus asked.

He took a deep breath, Patton’s heart was breaking faster than his patience. “I’m not being threatened, Janus. I’m stuck. I’m stuck watching you die every single day, only learning when Roman comes into our house at 3 PM when I expected you to sneak out of your work place to eat food with me. And I can’t do anything about it or someone else I care about dies! So I’m stuck! Stuck knowing that it’s going to be windy today, that a biker will break the eggs I bought at the grocery store, and that I got other things there to compensate for the fact that the store doesn’t have butter!” His voice broke as he looked at Janus after he ranted loudly. “I’ve been on this day that it’s easier to focus on my small inconveniences instead of the fact that my husband dies today and I can’t do anything.”

Janus walked over to him, giving Patton a hug. Patton didn’t hug back but put his head on his chest. Everything was silent between the two of them. Janus rubbed circles into Patton’s back. Neither of them were crying. Patton had run out of tears for a long time, and Janus didn’t know enough to understand how horrible the situation was. After a few minutes, Patton pulled back. Janus looked at him, with undivided attention.

“Will you tell the others that the plan today has changed?” He asked. “I can’t let you go into danger. Not when I can do something about it.”

“At this point it would be stupid of me not to. Want to come with to make sure none of the other’s fuck up this day?” Janus suggested, Patton gave a weak smile. “I’ll work hard to not die today by planning ahead and having common sense. It might be quite difficult if your rants suggest anything.”

“Hey,” Patton interjected softly. “You have common sense! I’m not exactly sure how you die but you probably try very hard not to do it. Don’t degrade your worth, Janus.” It was ironic, seeing as how much Janus promoted taking care of yourself and your own self worth in general. Patton tried to get his normal energy but it fell short. He almost literally fell too, but Janus caught him and stood him back up. “I’ll… physically fight you.”

“Of course you will, let’s go tell the other’s okay?”

…

Patton watched as his friends huddled around Logan’s desk coming up with some sort of game plan. He was trying to listen but his exhaustion caught up to him and he mainly focused on staying awake. Roman gave him a concerned look before he kept talking. Clearly, the three were talking about him. The whole reason this was happening was because of Patton. He let Janus argue his points and kept his attention on staring at the small things on Logan’s bookshelf. It was uniform, organized by the author's last name. The only deviation being the small nick knacks and items that the other’s gave him over the years. Patton smiled, even though Logan didn’t see the purpose of the small toys, he still kept them. Things like this reminded Patton how much he loved his friends.

“Okay, what dangers are there that we aren’t prepared for?” Logan asked.

Janus thought for a moment, and looked at Patton. He just barely started listening again. “I wouldn’t really know. What about you, Patton?”

He looked up seeing all of them looking directly back. Patton took a breath. “Well, they have a whole range of weapons. If you aren’t immediately shot and manage to get into the car they’re going to shoot the tires. You could be strangled, hurt in the car wreck, manipulated into a situation where you could put someone else at risk…” Patton trailed off awkwardly. Logan, Roman, and Janus all made eye contact for a brief moment. Patton liked to imagine they could all talk to each other telepathically, even though Logan didn’t think that was logical.

“This seems like a lot,” Roman commented. “Are you sure that you’re not just overthinking every single thing that can go wrong? That sounds more like Virgil’s thing if we’re being real-”

Logan looked at him, confused. “Of course we’re being real, but I don’t see what that has to do with it.” Janus looked like he wanted to cut in but decided not to say anything, simply clearing his throat instead. “Roman the entire point of our job is to make sure we’re prepared for any given situation, why is that a problem?”

“Well, uh, it just-” Roman sputtered through his sentence. “Without taking chances and trying to plan everything out we’re not going to get anything done! How can we be expected to save anyone from danger if we spend all day just thinking about what COULD happen?”

“Without planning at all we’re not going to be able to save ourselves!” Janus argued back. “And if we die that’s not going to do anyone any good.”

He looked over at Patton with a small smile, signalling that he was going to stand up for his side of the argument, which was comforting. Janus was a very persuasive person. But in the end, Patton didn’t care what conclusion they went to as long as they lasted to the end of the day. Logan looked between his two coworkers and friends, sighing. “Well clearly we need a healthy balance instead. If we put too much weight on taking risks or preparing, it won’t be productive either way.”

“So…” Roman started. “Yerkes-Dodson curve again?”

Logan looked at him, unimpressed. “Yes, the Yerkes-Dodson curve again.”

He didn’t really understand what that was referencing, but Patton decided to speak up again. “So you’re going to spend the rest of the day coming up with a flexible but concrete plan for tomorrow?”

“That does sound like the consensus.” Janus shrugged. No one else argued.

By the time the three were done planning, Patton had fallen asleep on the chair he was on. Janus gently picked up his husband on his back. Patton’s arms fell loosely around his neck as he was coming out of unconsciousness. The car ride was quiet, and they reached home. Janus waved to Remus before heading inside, helping Patton follow along.

It was 6 PM. The longest that anyone had lived on that day. Patton was suddenly awake when he realized that. His grip on Janus’s shirt tightened significantly. But the two still didn’t say anything. Patton took out his barrettes and ponytail. He shook out his hair, looking at himself in the mirror again as he took off the cardigan. Janus was making a quick dinner for the two of them. Patton had to keep reminding himself that Janus was still there, still alive. He almost believed that something would keep going wrong, and that wouldn’t be fair. None of it seemed fair though, so it was possible. Patton gave himself a nod. “It’s going to be okay.”

After they ate, Janus and Patton got into pajamas. They laid on top of the blankets, holding hands despite facing opposite ways. Janus cleared his throat. “What are you going to do if today repeats again, Patton?”

“I don��t know.” He answered honestly. “I mean obviously I’ll try to keep you all alive but I’m going to try different things. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten. I keep thinking that you’ll die in front of me or that Roman and Logan already died and I just don’t yet. Virgil suggested that I might just have to accept the fact that you’re going to die. I certainly don’t want that to be true.”

Janus nodded solemnly. “I mean I guess it’s finally been proven that I can die now.”

Patton hit him softly with his free hand. “No jokes! This is a serious time, we gotta be serious.” Janus gave him a look, some mix between mock offended and trying desperately not to laugh. “JAn! Stop trying to make me laugh- no stop poking my face- I’m trying to have a conversation with you-” He was cut off by his own laughter, followed by his husband’s laughter. Patton’s laugh turned into crying. The two sat up. “You’ll be okay, right Jan? I don’t want this to be the last time we joke around like this. I’ll miss you so much.”

There was a pause, and then Janus cradled Patton’s check with one of his hands. “You’re strong, Patton. If anyone had the moral capability to save everyone repeatedly, it would be you. Then again, I’ll ask you to consider taking up a therapist when you do get out of the time loop, regardless of the end result.”

“Fair enough.” Patton allowed Janus to pull him into a kiss. It was short. When they pulled away Patton pulled them into a hug. “Can you stay up with me until twelve? I want to make sure that tomorrow will actually come.”

“Of course, dear.”

Time passed. Patton and Janus mostly just bothered Ladle when she went into the room, talked about things that didn’t matter, and kept each other company. Patton checked the clock on the bedside table and his phone with basically every free thought he had. Janus tried to distract him with a movie playing on his laptop, but his hand remained on his phone. They finished the movie when it turned 11 PM.

“So, should we play another movie or just scroll on our phones or something?” Janus asked. Patton hummed for a moment, giving a look. Janus narrowed his eyebrows, feigning suspicion. “Oh, you want to do a special thing don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Patton relented. “Something simple though! I haven’t made any of the loops, so it’s been awhile for me. Please? If we start now we might be able to finish before midnight!”

So they made cookies. Despite being on a time limit, the two spent plenty of it messing around. Janus ate some of the cookie dough after the chocolate chips were put in despite Patton’s insistence not to. But after a very small amount of convincing, Patton ate cookie dough as well. Janus put in the first batch of cookies at about 11:47. So maybe they should have rushed just a little bit more. Patton looked at Janus, with innocence in his expression but mischievousness in his heart. “Looks like we’re in a real time crunch now, huh?”

“Patton. We have been married for three years and four months but I’m willing to end it there if you continue to keep doing this to me.” If someone who didn’t know Janus heard him say that, they would’ve believed that he was being completely honest. Patton though, just laughed proudly. Janus sat on the floor, across from the oven, watching the cookies and pretending not to pay attention to Patton.

“Come on, Jan!” Patton exclaimed, shaking his shoulders. “If this really is the last of the time loop I got to end with a sweet pun!”

Before there could be any more arguments, or god forbid, puns the timer went off and the first batch of cookies were done. Patton took out the tray as Janus put in the next one. The two checked the time. 11:58. Janus lifted the cookie. “Looks like there’s no time to let it cool. I want to have at least one cookie if the day is going to reset anyways.”

“Well, I guess just this once, it’s okay.” Patton said, picking up his own cookie. He looked at the clock to see they only had one minute left. Patton made eye contact with Janus. “If this day repeats, I just want you to know that I’ll never stop until I save you.”

“I know.” and they both took bites into the cookies.

Patton looked at the clock after a moment. He chewed and swallowed the cookie, seeing that it was 12 AM. Patton looked quickly back at Janus, who was there and alive. Janus put down his cookie just as he was enveloped in a hug. Patton was crying already, holding onto him like he was going to disappear at any moment. “You’re alive! You’re alive… It’s finally over. I’m not stuck anymore.”

He cried into Janus’s shoulder, finally breathing in a new today.

Taglist: @rosalynravenclaw16 @genderkwerfirebird @littlefufu10 @hailcap85 @infawrit10 @dontask25 @shinekittenace @reginaofdoctorwho @harmonydiaries @tomori-outtit @wundergirllovesyou @you-gay-bitch @tradernate @vinnievinvibing @gender-guts @the-dead-and-the-decaying @qtkittencorn @elsecaller617 @made-of-love-and-loneliness @venus-virgil77 @sablesides @mainfor-theo @inge-nine @drunk-logan-cursed-facts @pastelpatton @gay-artist-626 @ace-ace-in-yo-face @lemonlinelights @mk-wastebin @kayte-wren @jaunssanders @asdfghjklicia

#sander sides #emile writes #writing #moceit #moceit timeloop au #patton sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #long post #fake shitpost #that took about 52 days total #apparently #idk that's just how long it's been since the first post about it #anyways if i need to add more content warnings please tell me

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childrenofthesunny · 4 years ago

Text

Seek Him Who My Soul Loveth (1/2)

For my spin on @gayforgoodomens‘ Priest AU, for when she wondered off-hand how Crowley and Aziraphale might go about having sex for the first time, whilst simultaneously still pining/pretending they’re not breaking their vows. So, naturally, off I went to write what’s looking like will be a 6-7,000 word fic about it.

Listen, the only thing stopping me from turning this AU into a full-blown multichapter fic is (a) my knowledge of the workings of Catholicism being limited to some brief skimming of Wikipedia and what little of church I remember from when I was 7 and (b) I already have a multichapter WIP being posted, and I know I don't have the attention span to maintain two major WIPs simultaneously.

But I want to

(That being said, this is in two parts; part two should be done in a few days.)

If you prefer, you can also read this on Ao3 @ childrenofthesun.

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

"Ah, Father Crowley, there you are! So, this is where you've been hiding all evening."

"Hardly a shock to find me out here, is it?" Crowley asked with a grin, squinting up at the cherubic middle-aged man now standing beside him. Like Crowley, he was wearing pants and a short-sleeved button-up with a clerical tab, in deference to the balmy summer weather. Unlike Crowley, he was very clean and neat, and not wearing a dirt-streaked garden apron. "I've been spending all of my free time this week working on the gardens, now that Shadwell's retired and can't go berating me for trying to do the job he wasn't even doing himself. Beyond me how he even got the job in the first place."

The other man looked around fretfully, as if expecting the former groundskeeper to leap out from behind a poorly maintained bush and start yelling at him. "Oh, I know, but you mustn't be too hard on the poor fellow. The job was more to make him feel useful than anything. But Gabriel said we couldn't justify the expense anymore."

"You were too soft on him, anyway, Aziraphale," Crowley admonished, smirking at the little huff Aziraphale let out when Crowley didn't address him by his title, as he was supposed to. "Letting him set up all that nonsense meant to ward off witches. It’s certainly never stopped Anathema from coming here to borrow one of your books."

"At least it kept him busy," Aziraphale replied, sounding slightly aggrieved. His hands fluttered briefly by his wrists, as if he wanted to fiddle with the sleeves of the cassock that was his preferred style of dress. "Although it would have been nice if he had directed some of that energy towards the upkeep of the gardens. I did try to explain to him that the grounds are consecrated, and that surely would ward off evil, but in his eyes that wasn't sufficient protection."

"I know, I tried to explain it that way, too," Crowley told him cheerfully. "Apparently, the fact that I wear sunglasses all the time means I must be in league with the Devil, so he didn't think my input was particularly useful."

"Is he not aware of your eye condition?"

"I tried to tell him what photosensitivity is, but seems he's of the school of thought that science and witchcraft are basically the same thing. The tattoos probably didn't help me make my case either."

Aziraphale made a face. "Ah."

"Yup," Crowley confirmed, and Aziraphale shook himself suddenly.

"You've distracted me, you wily old thing!" he chided.

"Younger than you," Crowley pointed out, grinning impishly and making Aziraphale glower at him with impatience.

"I was about to get cross with you," Aziraphale insisted. Crowley arched an eyebrow at him.

"Oh? Whatever for?"

Aziraphale gestured at the gardening tools in Crowley's hands. "That! It's far too late for you to be working out here, still."

"Still light out," Crowley muttered, poking rebelliously at the soil with his trowel.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in exasperation. "It's summer, of course it's still light out! That doesn't change the fact that it's almost nine thirty." He shifted his weight, arms now folded. The slowly dwindling rays of sunset caught in the white-gold curls crowning Aziraphale's head, making them glow as if from within.

Lord, but did he look like an angel.

Crowley hissed in displeasure as he begrudgingly got to his feet, the taut muscles of his back creaking in protest. Aziraphale gave him a reproving look.

"'S not like it's going to weed itself," Crowley grumbled in a half-hearted final objection, wincing again. Now that he was standing, the ache in his back was really starting to settle in. He tried to straighten to his full height, which would give him a few inches over Aziraphale, but found that his spine would only comfortably let him stand with their eyes level.

All right, maybe he had been overdoing it a bit over the past few days.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "Be that as it may, you mustn't work like this to the detriment of your own wellbeing. It will still be here in the morning. This is your home, Crowley, it isn't as if you'll be forced to leave if you don't turn the church grounds into Kew Gardens overnight."

"S'pose I would've been kicked out ages ago, if that were the case," Crowley acquiesced, rubbing some of the dirt on his hands onto his gardening apron. "Y'know, when I first came here, I was really excited to see the gardens," he admitted. "I'd heard how lovely they were, especially for such a small church. Was a bit of shock when I saw the state they were in."

What he didn't add was that, given Shadwell's constant undermining of any covert attempt he made to coax the gardens back to life, Crowley would have long ago gone and grovelled to the diocese to grant him a new assignment elsewhere. That is, had he not had a compelling reason to want to stay in Tadfield.

A middle-aged, cherubic man-shaped reason, to be specific.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to restore them to their former glory, now," Aziraphale said kindly. "There's no need for you to rush anything."

Crowley hummed in agreement, and went to bend down to pick up his tools, unable to stifle a groan as he did so. Aziraphale was quick to forestall the movement with a hand to Crowley's chest, his usual hesitance to so much as brush shoulders with Crowley vanishing under his concern. Allow me, he probably said, but Crowley couldn't hear him over the sudden rush of blood to his ears, pounding through his rapidly beating heart in a way that Aziraphale would surely be able to feel beneath his fingers.

Aziraphale said something else that Crowley's brain refused to parse, too focused on trying to keep the other priest from realising the effect the simple touch was having on him. He managed to nod, not sure what he was agreeing to, but was rather proud of himself for managing not to whimper when Aziraphale's hand pulled away.

"We'll just put these away first," Aziraphale told him, Crowley's brain function apparently restored now that they were no longer touching. Crowley dutifully trailed after him to the shed, putting his tools back in their rightful place. He grunted slightly when he reached to the small of his back to undo the ties of his garden apron, the motion tugging at the aching muscles of his shoulders. The sound alerted Aziraphale, who immediately fussed over him again, lifting the strap holding the apron around his neck for Crowley despite his protests. Crowley scowled as Aziraphale smiled serenely at him and hung the apron on its hook by the door. Secretly, however, he was glad that the dim, fading light meant that Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see that the tips of Crowley's ears had gone a hot, flaming red.

Aziraphale took the lead again as they both headed for the rectory they shared, both toeing off their shoes and leaving them in the rack by the door once they'd crossed the threshold.

"I imagine you'd want to shower before we begin," Aziraphale said as they headed into the living room. He picked up a book he'd left beside the sofa and took a seat, already thumbing it open. "Take your time, I'll be waiting here for you when you're done."

Crowley glanced down at the dirt packed under his nails, felt the sweaty stick of his shirt against his back, and couldn't help but agree. Whatever Aziraphale had had him agree to, it probably would be best if he cleaned himself up first. Not to mention it would give him a little bit of time to collect his thoughts, to slow the still traitorously fast gallop of his heart.

He headed upstairs, grabbed a change of clothes from his room, and did his best not to run to the bathroom, knowing Aziraphale would be able to hear the creak of the floorboards overhead if he did.

Once enshrined in the privacy of the bathroom, shower turned on and old pipes groaning laboriously as they slowly heated, Crowley sagged against the door and let out a long, shaky breath.

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself, flicking on the ancient exhaust fan. It rattled slowly to life, letting out the occasional whining protest, as the unbalanced blades scraped against the inside of the casing. "You're acting like… like he's about to lay down rose petals for you and take you to bed, when you know he couldn't find his way out of the closet if you gave him a torch and a map. And even if he could… he wouldn't do anything about it. You've both got your vows." He tore off his clothes and left them in a sullen pile on the floor, opening the shower door. Steam billowed out and he stepped inside quickly before too much could escape. He stood directly under the scalding spray, heedless of how his pale skin went instantly pink. His face was likely beyond sun-kissed, too, given the time he'd spent in the garden.

There wasn't much he could do about that, but at the very least he could wash the sweat from his skin, furiously scrub the dirt out from under his nails. Whatever the evening had in store for him, at least he'd be clean.

He fruitlessly tried again to piece together what Aziraphale had asked him, out in the garden. Now, though, naked and surrounded on all sides by steam, his mind only seemed to want to offer him lewd suggestions, each one more highly improbable than the last. Unbidden, he imagined Aziraphale walking into the bathroom to find out what was taking Crowley so long, then disrobing and entering the shower with Crowley, hot water cascading over them both as Aziraphale pressed him up against the tiles–

With a burst of self-disgust, Crowley realised that certain areas of his body were getting very excited indeed by such thoughts, and were responding in a way that was meant to encourage him to keep thinking those exact thoughts as he took himself in hand. He'd done it a few times in the past, now, even though it invariably left him riddled with guilt and shame. Somehow, it seemed even more egregious than usual to have a self-loathing-fuelled wank over the man he worked with, when said man was patiently awaiting his return downstairs, none the wiser.

With a sigh, he turned off the heat, standing under the cold spray for several seconds to try and keep his body from getting any funny ideas, before cutting off the water completely. Skin still pink in places, but at the very least clean, he towelled himself off, squeezing as much water out of his hair as he could. A glance in the mirror told him that he'd definitely been out in the sun too long. If he was very lucky, the skin wouldn't start peeling off over the next few days, but, given how his pale skin had historically reacted to overexposure to the sun, he wasn't exactly holding out hope. He applied some moisturiser to his face to at least draw out some of the heat, and resolved to stop being so forgetful about putting on sunscreen when he needed to.

He put on his clothes quickly, only realising once he was done that he'd gone on complete autopilot, and dressed himself as if preparing for his clerical duties, collar and all. He felt a little stupid, but knew he'd feel even stupider if he went and changed again, so he decided to leave everything as it was, and headed back downstairs. Hopefully, wearing something symbolic of the Church would help remind his unruly body, mind, and heart how they were all supposed to be behaving.

"Ready, then?" Aziraphale asked when he came back into the living room, glancing quickly at the page number before closing the book and setting it aside.

"Yep," Crowley answered, still having no idea what he'd agreed to.

"We can use my bed," Aziraphale decided. "Now that I've had a moment to think about it, the couch really is far too narrow to give us enough space to work with comfortably."

"What?" Crowley squeaked.

Aziraphale gave him an odd look. "I suppose we could do this here, with you laid out on the floor, if you'd prefer. I know that some people like a more solid surface beneath them for this sort of thing," he said, apparently unaware that he was giving Crowley a heart attack.

"You… you want me on the floor?" he managed.

Aziraphale shrugged. "Personally, I would have thought the bed would be more comfortable, but the choice is yours. This is to your benefit, after all."

"…My benefit?" Crowley asked faintly, apparently unable to do much more than echo Aziraphale's words back at him.

"Honestly, Crowley," Aziraphale replied huffily. Crowley managed to find space amidst his confusion to feel the little thrill he always did whenever Aziraphale dropped the honorific when referring to him by name. "The massage? That we discussed not twenty minutes ago, were you even listening?"

"Massage?" Crowley couldn't help but parrot. Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes. Massage. For your back. That I offered to you. Because you've been overworking yourself in the garden all week and can barely stand upright."

"Oh. Right," Crowley managed, nodding like a dashboard bobblehead on an unpaved country road. "That massage. 'Course."

"Honestly," Aziraphale huffed again, but far fonder in tone this time. "So. Out here, or on the bed?" "Bed," Crowley said before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale nodded, standing. "Shall we, then?"

Crowley nodded mutely, and when Aziraphale began to lead them both upstairs, he followed.

#good omens #good omens fic #crowley #aziraphale #crowley/aziraphale #priest au #priest aziraphale #priest crowley #sunny writes

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stagbells · 4 years ago

Text

For Me and You

From: @vivifrage

To: @superbellsubways

Written works under readmore!

Creatures called, chirped, and chirred all around. Foliage rustled; a nail tapped the heart of a fool eater and, as soon as it snapped, sliced its mock jaws free in a single slash. The nail’s wielder sighed hard, tugging the collar of his shirt to puff in some air flow. Not that getting all the same warm, sticky air to flow did much to alleviate the way his clothes stuck to his carapace, or to fan his overheated face.

As he stepped past the fool eater’s remains, the ground squished underfoot, acid diluted with pooling water and flecked with various pollens.

It was warm, muggy, and acrid, but it was home.

He readjusted the bucket’s seat in his arm. The handle was digging in, not too bad, but he’d be happy to put it down when he could. It wasn’t exactly light, and while it was like his entire body began to itch if he didn’t do some sort of training, he wasn’t as into it as he had been when he was younger. Which, really, did wandering around Greenpath not make up for it? Or gathering supplies for art?

Though he had to say, he did not mind how much more the delicateness and care of his touch came to mind these days. Precision, too, yes, as it had under Sly's tutelage, but not so much speed, nor strength. There was a new world to learn.

He rounded a corner and maskflies burst from the foliage, grey bodies flooding from green so dense it hid them completely. They chattered and clicked and darted away as Sheo waved around his face to stem off any who flew the wrong direction. Branches and leaves rustled in their wake, bobbing as if disturbed by strong wind.

Oh, if only a strong wind had passed through. Even the beat of so many maskfly wings didn't waver the heat or humidity.

Sheo sighed a hot, sticky breath, flapped his shirt again, and picked through the undergrowth. The occasional maskfly, late to the party, fluttered away before him, but he didn't hear anything trapped and unable to free itself.

Sure, sure, the dead were what gave the plants life, starting the cycle of life and nourishment all over again, but it was a rare Root priest among their already low numbers that wouldn't excuse the technical mild blasphemy of sparing an animal here and there. Compassion was a natural thing, too.

The foliage gave way to a rocky outcropping, overlooking a short drop into a small, acidic pool, dotted with boulders and lined with sturdy rocks. Only the hardiest, most acid-tolerant of Greenpath's life grew here, thin and fuzzy bursts of ferns and moss peeping out from between the rocks. The smell of it bit at his nostrils, harsh enough to make him rub his face and huff, but still, he eased himself down and sat, bucket clunking onto the rock, legs dangling over the edge.

Because he could, because the world was his to delight in and make purpose of, he swung his legs. Years ago, he would have accompanied it with a child's giggle, but that had long since deepened into a low, full chuckle.

("Matured," some would put it, but in his opinion, his voice was the least of things indicating that. Neither was the joy of swinging one's legs through the open air.)

While he was there anyways, sitting down and letting his arms ache it out for a bit, he reached around to pull his canteen from its sling on his hip. The pull of his shoulders and arms sung briefly, but not enough to warrant a grimace. Just a little scrunching of the mouthparts.

He twisted the cap off with a clean pop, threw his head back, and gulped down some of the warm, metal-tinted water.

There were ways to keep canteens and flasks cool, he understood. Pale ore, after all, with its inherent chill, served to combat the heat of the space the canteen was in, and all the actions taken upon it and its contents. But it was rare; it took either a wealthy noble or a lucky prospector to get the ore. And now, the last forge capable of handling pure ore had banked its fire and closed shop.

He would never had known this, not that long ago. Amazing, really, all the knowledge there was to share. His head swam and heart fluttered with it all.

Well, all right, the knowledge alone was not what made him feel so bubbly and joyous.

With a smile on his face, starting soft, then growing into something crooked and silly and from the heart as the idea of going home set into his head, he lifted the bucket, dropped onto the rocks below, and was off.

___

The windchimes clicked and sang their little song. It wasn’t much of a breeze, just enough to get a moment’s must off the shell, but it was something.

Sheo went out fairly often, gathering some food or potable water or things like that. So waking up to find him gone, his nail missing but a handful of fruit on the table, along with a heart painted on spare canvas, was no trouble.

The heart was signed, “Be back soon, love!”

He glanced at it again, and had to turn away for how much his heart fluttered at the sight.

He had a name, once. What one would call a proper name. None had called him it in so long, his skill had earned him the title of Nailsmith and that was it. Who he was, what he was, all he was.

Until he wasn’t.

And now he had so many names, he couldn’t keep track. Love. Dear. Darling. My love. My sweet. Cuddlebug, said with a laugh in the voice. Moss-Faced Sweetie, at times, which became Mossy. Kissums, whispered when they woke up tangled in bed in the earliest hours of the morning, and giggled themselves awake coming up with the silliest endearments they could.

He would find something again someday. Something proper, perhaps. Something for himself. Something to go with that solid thing, that realness in his core, that had been reborn upon casting the Nailsmith away.

Until then, he was more than happy to be Cuddlebug and for Sheo to be Sweetheart. To be an artist, a recluse, even, a partner, a wise soul, a someone all of his own.

Someone who leaned against the side of the hut he shared, eating fruit and letting the breeze tickle his beard.

They’d spent the day before tidying the hut, cleaning up all their art supplies, dishes, and making futile attempts to scrub some of the paint stains from Sheo’s apron and a couple from his cloak. Not for anyone, really, not besides themselves. The only visitor they ever got was their strange little friend with the pitch-black eyes.

But it felt terribly nice to do something for themselves and, in turn, each other.

A voice called out. His heart skipped a beat and he pushed off of the side of the hut, approaching the edge of the outcropping to look.

There was Sheo! Partway through the tangle of thorns serving as the front entrance to the place, his nail slung over his shoulder, a bucket hooked over his arm while he waved.

He waved back, laughing into his other hand. He knew perfectly well Sheo had no trouble traversing the course, but watching him do it with his nail and a bucket he had to keep from spilling?

Needless to say, his heart skipped a few beats as Sheo bounded along the way, using his nail for momentum, the bucket swinging this way and that.

With a whump! Sheo landed before the hut, triumphantly sliding his nail back into its sheath. He beamed, approaching with arms wide. “Hello, love!” he said, breathless. “Wonderful morning, isn’t it?”

“Muggy, that’s what it is,” he said in return, leaning in for a quick kiss and a hug. Sheo had definitely warmed up on his adventure, and the humidity clung to them both, but oh the strong arms around him and the hard breaths going soft as he listened, his head on Sheo’s chest. Even with the heat and stickiness, he couldn’t find the desire in him to part.

In the end, it was Sheo who let go to hold up his bucket. “I found some clay, it’s so fine to the touch. I just had to bring some.”

Oh, goodness. He heaved a lighthearted sigh, glancing back at the hut. “Dear, we just cleaned.”

“And we can clean again.” Sheo leaned in, mandibles brushing his temple. “But I know you’ve been thinking of modelling Dryya to finish the collection…”

“Hmm.” He couldn’t say he hadn’t been. And it would be nice, to sit together and make some more art, come up with new ideas, just hang out…

He returned the kiss, one claw cupping Sheo’s cheek. “All right. But maybe let’s set up outside today.”

“In this weather?” The look Sheo gave him almost made him laugh.

“In this weather together,” he corrected.

Sheo sighed, shaking his head. A slight grin crossed his face. “Well, all right, then. If it’s with you.”

#stagbells #summer stagbells 2021 #hollow knight #sheo #nailsmith #written work

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machinegunbun · 4 years ago

Text

this is based on a true story and i feel stupid typing out this novel

I slept with someone miles from home whenever I was 21 who looked suspiciously like Colson some details have been edited in order to protect identities/obscure timelines

Also shitty and boring it’s a rough draft forgive my URL also thought I could changw it when I made it omg

I’m gonna send this in pieces bc it just disappeared (I can’t take the hint omg)

~££~

The sound of pans clanging against a cold, concrete floor snap you back to your senses and also prompt you to press a Bluetooth earbud further into your brain, to drown it all out and get back to the flow. As the beat pounds on and on into your canal, aggressive lyrics soothing your movements into a ballet-esque orchestra repeating the task in front of you, you begin wrapping prepped food like a machine once again. Although burns, cuts, and bruises sting across your body (some of your trade, some for fun, and some from flat out vices) you pay no mind, as it is keeping you heavily grounded; Just as well, the crisp, wet, refreshing air (just faintly tinged with cigarette smoke,) of the emergency exit door wide open billow against your back, providing necessary healing and much needed relief from the aching muscles underneath your ratty shirt.

In the middle of your last piece of the steam table puzzle, you realize someone must be smoking this cigarette you smell? And it had been quite some time since your last, so it made you suddenly grit your teeth at the craving. Quickly checking the clock, you realize it is midnight, and you’re likely the last 2 in the store, so you need to hurry it up and finish cash drop. After all, it would be a long walk home in Cleveland, Ohio sleet.

You are jarred from your thoughts with a frigid, slender finger hooking your headphones around them and out of your ears. As you realize what Chipotle veteran is still left standing alongside you, you quickly pause the music and wipe your hands on a nearby towel before turning to face him.

“My bad I’m not done yet, if I’m holding you up Colson. I only have to stick this in the walk in, and count registers.”

A chuckle escaped the blonde don. He threw his hands up, so that you had to look up to see the tall, mysterious creature, as if to surrender. “I’m not a boss man, take your time. I just wanted to see if you needed a square. It’s been since lunch rush you had a break.” He stops to look at you sternly, although in fascination. “And you were here before me.”

“That’s okay,” you reassure, stacking bowls in your arms neatly, “I have to go by the gas station after this to get some.”

Colson begins snatching things from you to pace alongside you towards the cooler. “Let me help you. Take a break, I’ll GIVE you a cig, dude.”

You cringe at dude, because that is how everyone saw you no matter how many days you came in with make up and a clean apron. Nevertheless, you were grateful, and you told him as much.

You had become comfortable in the job itself the past 18 months, and you knew every employee from sheer silent and thoughtful observation, but you were sure this was the most you had talked to Colson (or the other, less attractive crew either, for that matter) and weren’t quite as content with small talk or favors. You noted sometime last week he must be having a hard time when you had to step on the line for him after an altercation with a customer, which he walked out over. First time in a year and a half, so you knew it must be serious.

Once the task was completed, Colson abruptly grabs you by the arm and forces a menthol into it.

“Let’s do that first and then we’ll blow this joint.” Ever the jokester, as he says this, he winks and pulls a joint from behind his ear.

“You got tricks,” I laugh

We walk out the back and Colson hops up onto a stack of Buffalo Rock crates to light the J. You walk a safe distance from him to light your much appreciated cigarette.

“So you don’t talk much,” Colson hisses, taking a big inhale, before continuing as he keeps the joint from running, “but I know you smoke, cause your backpack always REEKS, dude.” He cracks a smile, eyes low and beautiful eyelashes glistening in the flurries swirling around you.

You nod in acknowledgement, no sense denying that. “It’s for my glaucoma,” you joke dryly.

Colson snorts and chokes before leaning out with the bud to pass it.

“So how you be doing that shit all day? Lifting dishpans bigger than you and shit, doubles 6 days a week?” Colson inquires, and if it weren’t wishful thinking you would say he was checking you out. Hopefully not just to see if you’re a robot.

You smile meekly. “Well, you do it, too,” you remind.

“Yeah but I’m not a girl. I’m… Well, look at me,” he boasts playfully from atop his King of the Hill stack, arms spread out to show off, as the makeshift throne wobbles slightly below. “I’m six-foot-foe,” he smirks, holding fingers up as he annunciates.

You have to laugh at his gloating. “Well, as long as I want to eat, I’ll be here,” you dismiss as gently as you can. try as you might, This brings up the uncomfortable memory of your first month here, when Colson silently pushed a plate of steak towards you on your break after watching you struggling to stay vertical.

Colson knits a brow as brushes your fingertips softly to take the blunt back. “Another question, do you really be walking home, alone, in this shit every night?” He motions to the snow beginning to swirl.

“Yeah, I do what I have to. It was rough at first, now it’s like meditation. Only, like, 15 minutes,” you dismiss. You know you could have a car by now if you could give up the pills, and you feel the shame, all too familiar, welling up like a tight ball in your stomach.

“Well I can tell you you ain’t doing that shit tonight,” he affirms seriously, “cause I got a whip now!” His tone of concern Cascades easily info one of excitement.

You’re blushing now, whyyy? You’d been able to avoid everyone up to this point, sans your dealer. “You really don’t have to do that,” you say, though the wind off your face did sound more and more intoxicating as it whipped around the two of you.

“I INSIST,” he barks, putting the roach out between two fingers.

You make quick work of counting the registers while Colson stared on, expression unreadable. You grow more self conscious with each single you lay down , but try to ignore it.

“Damn, you a pro at this,” he snorts, sticking the same stack of hundreds through the bill counter over and over. “You one with the bands or something. Almost faster than this thing,’ he motions to the machine on the desk.

"And that’s a wrap,” you conclude, stacking drawers inside the safe with a quickness. “I’m just gonna change and we can leave.”

Cautiously and curiously, Colson stands in the doorway, waiting.

“Oh, my bad, you might wanna do that in private,” he smirks, stepping to the side.

Quickly you pull the door closed to the tiny office and pretend you aren’t trying to see if Colson is looking thru the small glass window, while you quickly strip to a crop top, sweatpants and a light jacket. Once finished, you attempt to gather your composure, and exit to find him scrambling to gather his as well.

You head in silence to his car, a used ‘96 Toyota. Once inside, Colson shakes and rubs his hands together, flicking a heater on immediately. “Sh-it, it is freezing,” he remarks, warming his hands by his mouth, eyes grazing across you, “aren’t you dying in that??” He motions to your flannel.

“Business as usual,” you say. If only he knew how many pharmaceuticals and trauma went into that demeanor.

“Shid, fuck that,” he resists, and begins digging in his backseat. “Here, this is Slim’s, wear it to make me feel better.”

You slip the jacket over your lap and give a nod of appreciation. You hated feeling like a homeless hopeless.

Colson reaches for the auxiliary cord and stops himself from pulling his phone from his pocket. You try hard not to stare at his briefs peeking over his belt.

“Let’s see what you’re bobbing your head to all day,” he smiles, hand out.

You oblige, only to realize who it was paused on.

“Oh, wait, not that playlis–”

“Dawg, is this my shit??” Colson almost screams, although curiously he doesn’t seem creeped out, he’s… Excited?

“Uh…” You bite your lip. “You… Did promote it constantly. Well, still do,” you stammer.

“No, no. Do NOT be embarrassed, this is fuckin sick! Incredible,” he whispers in disbelief, hooking up the cord, as he pulls a devil’s horn with the other hand. “We have a fan!” He triumphs before putting it in reverse and backing away.

“So, I was thinking…” He trails, fingers drumming almost nervously on the steering wheel, “we could hang at my place for a bit? Our names are next to each other on the schedule, so I know you have TWO whole days off, too,” he reminds, almost shutting down any attempt at refusal.

“I have smoke,” you offer, “but no wraps.”

Colson grins big. “Perfect, I got both at the house.”

***

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ohpedromypedro · 4 years ago

Text

I Love It When You Say That

A/N: @manuphantom wanted a second part for More Than Okay, so here it is! The well awaited part 2 she’s been looking for. 😘💕 Big thanks to @bxbyriku for the Spanish translations, you’re the real MVP 😩🙌🏼

word count: 5.8k (this is literally 20% plot and 80% smut, sorrynotsorry)

pairings/characters: Pedro Pascal x f!Reader, minor oc for the fic.

warnings: smut smut smut, but passionate smut. oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex with use of birth control by reader, lots of swearing, fluff if you squint

summary: no please, I suck at them

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Your coworker Zena snaps her fingers in front of your face, bringing you back to reality and out of your rapidly running mind.

“Huh?” You snap out of it when her hand invades your vision, looking at her with raised brows. “You said something?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, wiping down the counters by the espresso machines. “Asked what you were doing after work?”

“Oh,” you blush, shaking your head with a smile as you continue washing mugs at the sink. “I’m sorry Z, was sort of daydreaming. I...I have a date tonight.”

“You do? Who with?” She grins, leaning in close as if you’re telling her the biggest secret in the world and she’s a million percent into it.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” You laugh, playfully shoving her away.

“Try me.”

“Did I tell you what happened on my birthday several months ago?” You bite your lip, looking at her with a slight head tilt.

“Well your birthday was before you started working here, so no.” She laughs.

“Long story short, no one remembered, not even my own family, so I found myself sitting in a park miles from my apartment just crying, knees tucked to my chest and face burrowed in my arms. While I was there sitting under a tree an absolute mess, someone started talking to me, asking if I were okay and why I was crying under a tree; eventually after a few shoulder shrugs and head shakes from me in response to his questions, he asked that if he introduced himself by name would it make me feel more comfortable talking to him, so I nodded in response… Well, it was Pedro Pascal. You know, Prince Oberyn Martell from Game of Thrones?”

“Okay one, I’m sorry you had a shitty birthday,” she frowned. “And two, you’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“See that’s the thing, it was shitty until by some Godly miracle Pedro Pascal happened to be in that same exact park as me and when he found out I was crying under a tree on my birthday, he went out of his way to make it better.” You bite your lip thinking about it, the smile on your face genuine. Z notices that.

“What did he do?” She asks with pure interest, occasionally glancing over at the coffee shop’s entrance for any new customers.

“Took me to dinner and a movie.”

“Cliché.”

“Yes, but it was delicious food and the movie at the drive-in was a surprise.” You smile.

“Which was?” She quirks her head in question.

“His movie, one of my faves too, Bloodsucking Bastards.” You sigh dreamily and she just laughs.

“Let me guess, he’s a vampire in this movie?”

“Head vampire,” you smirk.

“Hot.”

“Right?” You laugh softly, giving your head a shake. “But... but that’s not all.”

“Oh? You fuck him?” She asks, eyebrows raised high.

“No!” You blush, hard. “But he did kiss me… many times. And...And when he dropped me back off at my apartment after the movie, he...gave me his number.”

“To keep in touch?” She grins, looking somewhat genuinely happy for you.

“Yeah! He....he sends me good morning texts every single morning…” you bite your lip with a smile. “And tonight is I guess technically our second date since he took me out to dinner for my birthday, but...this time our date is going to be spent inside for a more private, relaxing setting.”

“That’s romantic.” She smirks, hint of a suggestive tone in her words.

“Yeah, it is.” Your cheeks couldn’t be any more hot. “It’s also our first time seeing each other since my birthday cause you know, filming and such.”

“It’s nice that he still wants to see you despite being a busy bee with acting life.”

“It’s more than nice,” you grin wide, looking at her with eyes full of genuine happiness. “It’s beyond anything I could ever ask for, he’s...he’s more than just a silly celebrity crush, you know?”

“I understand that.” Z grins. “You’ve got to actually spend time with him, he took you out for your birthday for God’s sake, so yeah I can definitely understand that you’ll feel for him as more than just that.”

“He’s the sweetest, most caring, adorkable, and handsomest man out there.”

“I bet,” she giggles, hearing the bell above the door ding to alert there’s a new customer and going over to the front counter to greet them. “Hi! Welcome to-- oh, you’re...wow… May I help you?” She looks up at the new customer awestruck, Pedro Pascal himself standing there with a cheesy grin.

“I’m here not for a coffee, thank you, but just to pick up Miss Y/N over there.” He points to where you’re still standing at the sink washing and drying the coffee mugs and spoons by hand, humming to yourself. Z smiles when she looks over at you and decides to make this a little fun before she alerts you that he’s here.

“You must be the vampire guy she was telling me about. Bloodsucking Bastards or something?” She smirks, looking up at him with a small tilt of her head. “I prefer Prince Oberyn, if I’m being honest.”

Pedro laughs softly, giving his head a shake with an amused smile. “Yes, I am that vampire guy from Bloodsucking Bastards and I am honored that you enjoyed my role as Oberyn.” His eyes flick back over to you, watching with an adoring gaze as you place the mugs and spoons back in their designated spots after drying your hands with a clean dish towel.

“I’ll let her know you’re here,” Z murmurs quietly to him, seeing in his eyes alone how much he truly feels for you.

Z goes over to you and gives your shoulder a light tap, gaining your attention immediately. She has a look in her eyes that seems both mischievous and amazed and you can’t help but give your head a curious tilt when you look up at her. What she says next has your heart thumping in your chest.

“Your vampire boyfriend is here to pick you up.”

Your gaze quickly moves to the front counter and your eyes light right up at the sight of Pedro standing there smiling at you.

“Bye,” is all you say before you pull your apron off and toss it onto the counter, quickly grabbing your purse from the small associate break room so you can meet Pedro by the front counter. “Hi,” you smile widely when you step out of the work area, allowing him to right away engulf you into a warm embrace, which you happily return.

“Hey, hermosa. Ready for our date night in?” He grins, pulling back to gaze down at you while his hands rest on your waist, the two of you completely unaware that Zena is ducking behind the counter to secretly watch your interaction. If only she had some popcorn...

“More than ready,” you whisper, yet again another blush coating your cheeks tonight. “I’ve missed…” You bite your lip and move your gaze elsewhere, too nervous to say what you want to say in case of scaring him away for being so forward.

“I missed you too,” he says it for you, reaching one of his hands up to gently brush his thumb against your cheek so he can gain your attention again, a genuine look in his eyes. “Missed that beautiful smile of yours.”

“Awwwww!” Z chimes in, the two of you breaking your gaze to see her standing at the counter with a wide smile and hand over her heart, as if in an adoring way.

“Oh shut up,” you mumble with a shy smile and Pedro only chuckles.

“Come on,” he smiles, taking one of your hands in his own and sending a small wave Zena’s way, leading you out of the shop. “Let’s get to your place for our date, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You grin.

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

“Did you want something scary or not scary?” You ask Pedro with a smile, flipping through the movie options on Netflix.

“Depends, will the answer change whether I get to hold you in my arms during the movie or not?” He inquires with a soft smile of his own while carrying the few snacks the two of you picked out together into the living room. You blush at his response, but smile up at him when he places everything down on the coffee table.

“Do you want to hold me during the movie?”

“Yes,” he states simply, but with adoration and you can’t help but grin.

“Then no, the answer will not change depending on what genre you choose.” You reach out for his hand, gently pulling him down onto the couch next to you and bringing your freehand up to gently rest against his cheek which he leans into, just staring into his eyes for a moment while you admire his company. Ever since your birthday you just can’t help but to truly appreciate Pedro Pascal more as a person and there’s so much you wish to do to pay him back as a way to show your appreciation. “I owe the world to you, Pedro Pascal.”

“You are my world.” He whispers and your face says it all, you weren’t expecting that from Pedro Pascal himself, not yet at least.

“I am?” You whisper right back, tears already welling in your eyes.

“Fate brought me into that park on your birthday, Y/N… I never quite believed in it, at least not until you.” His own freehand comes up to rest against your now damp cheek, his gaze never leaving yours as he wipes away the few tears that escape your vision. “I knew from the moment I met those tear filled eyes the first time that you were going to change the course of the rest of my life...and boy was I right. You, I just…I can’t get you out of my mind. I film scenes with many wonderful and beautiful women, but none of them occupy my mind the way you do...none of them come close to you, your courage, your passion... I think about you and that bright smile of yours, that adorable genuine laugh that brought so much joy to my heart and ears when we watched Bloodsucking Bastards, your cute little giggles when something I said amused you and those eyes...like gazing into a whole new and beautiful galaxy. Such beauty, everything about you...”

You’re stunned, absolutely stunned. Your gaze is soft, but wide and full of adoration. This man who you’ve grown to love over the years because of his incredible acting skills and his downright glowing personality, is practically confessing his love to you without actually using the term, yet. You’re at a loss for words, unable to even comprehend any to begin with, so you respond by leaning in for a deep, passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotion into it. Pedro’s response is immediate, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest while kissing you with as much fervor in return. After a few long moments, the two of you pull back to catch your breath and he lets his forehead press to yours with a wide smile.

“I definitely missed your lips too… Such beautiful, kissable lips,” He murmurs, smiling when he hears your giggle.

“Ditto, mister.” You smile, moving your fingers to gently card through his hair. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly for me…”

“Love is the only term that comes to mind when I look at you.” He pulls you against his chest with a soft murmur, sitting you sideways on his lap and moving to press his lips to your forehead.

“I…” You bite your lip softly, looking up at him as he cradles you against him. “I love you too.” You whisper, judging by his wide grin that he was hoping you’d say that.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he hums softly, moving to give you one more deep kiss while holding you tighter against him.

Your arms move to wrap around his neck, pulling yourself up further where your faces are level with one another and letting out a content sigh when one of his hands instinctively grabs you by the leg and pulls it over his lap so that you’re comfortably straddling him. His other hand moves to hold you by the waist as the two of you momentarily get lost in your heated kiss, your lips molded against one another’s like the perfect puzzle pieces. You’ve never had a kiss this real before or one as passionate and full of love; everything about this moment screams that this is it, this is what life’s intentions are for you.

After several minutes of slow, passionate kissing and allowing your hands to freely explore one another, you pull back to breathe again, moving your hands to cup his face.

“I wish to show you how much I love and appreciate everything about you, Pedro…” You murmur quietly, moving your hands to gently rub circles along his chest. He hums at the soothing sensation, looking up at you while his hands stay seated on your waist.

“How so?” He muses, rubbing his thumbs into your sides and smiling at the way you melt into the feeling.

“With my lips,” you sigh contentedly, studying the way Pedro’s eyes light up with blown pupils at the mention of your lips being how you’ll show your love and appreciation. You smile. “I want to kiss every inch, crevice and curve of your perfectly toned skin, kiss every one of your cute little tattoos to mark my admiration for each of them and how they’re a part of what makes you you.”

Pedro doesn’t let you speak another word, only presses another kiss to your lips while shifting to stand up from the couch with your legs wrapped firm around his waist. “Which way to your bedroom, hermosa?”

“Second door down the hall on the right.” You breathe, carding your fingers through his hair and kissing him once more before dipping your head to start kissing along his jawline toward his neck while he walks the two of you toward your bedroom. His low groan makes you smile and urges you to leave a playful nip to one of his throat’s sensitive areas before finishing with a gentle kiss.

“Mmmm you’re a dream come true.” He sighs, opening the door of your room with a quick gentle kick of his foot against the bottom corner.

“That would be you, mister.” You giggle softly, grinning when he drops you onto your bed after getting the door kicked open and closed and moving to lay comfortably before him.

“Me? I’m just Pedro Pascal.” He chuckles, climbing his way up and along the bed until he’s hovering face to face with you, his lips finding his way to the curve of your jaw now.

“You’re more than that,” you say breathlessly, moving your fingers into his hair again. “You’re more than just the sum of what Hollywood makes you out to be… I love you for who you show me when we’re together, not only for what Hollywood shows. You are more than just Pedro Pascal the actor, you are José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, the man I shamelessly fell even harder for after he saved my birthday from being the absolute worst one to ever happen to me.”

“You deserved every minute of what I did for you,” he murmurs against your skin, pulling back to gaze down at you with admiration. “I appreciate everything you say to and about me, hermosa. Every word.”

“I mean every one and I will always stand by them.” You whisper with reassurance, your lips finding his once more. “Now please, let’s prove to each other how true our words are?”

“Yes,” he smiles, moving away so he can rub his hands up and along your sides. “And you’re sure you’re ready for a step this big?”

“Yes,” you breathe, grabbing his hands and lowering them toward the hem of the comfortable sweatpants you changed into after arriving home from work, your eyes showing how ready you really are. “Please.”

Pedro smiles and nods immediately, lightly gripping the hem of your sweats and pulling them down and off your ankles, leaving you in just your black laced panties you wear beneath. His hands go for your cotton t-shirt next, sitting up a bit so you can help him to get it pulled up and over your head, a blush burning at your cheeks as his gaze takes in your form laid out for him, your matching bra and panties a pleasing sight to his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful…” He muses in a gentle tone of voice, gliding his hands along your soft skin and smiling when goosebumps start erupting from his touch. “Your body reacts so naturally to me…” He leans forward to kiss from the edge of your shoulder toward your neck where he nuzzles his face against it, his lips and teeth eliciting soft gasps from you.

“Pedro…” You tilt your head, your fingers once again brushing through his dark locks.

“Hmm?” He hums in an inquiring tone, moving his lips from your neck down to your chest to start kissing at the swell of your breasts.

“Oh…” A soft moan escapes your lips when he reaches your breasts, your fingers giving a light clench in his hair. “Please,” you whimper softly, using your freehand to start tugging on his own shirt, which he immediately leans back so he can help you pull it off and toss it to the side. Your hands go for his pants next, getting the button undone and watching as he momentarily moves to the edge of the bed to kick them off and let them join his shirt, now only in his boxers as he climbs right back over you.

“Better?” He chuckles, letting his hands gently roam along each inch of your skin they can reach.

“Almost,” you murmur, shifting your positions in a quick blink of an eye so he’s now laid against the pillows and you’re straddling him by the waist, your hands tracing over each inch of his sun-kissed chest. “Now it’s better.” You smile down at him before starting to trail kisses along his skin the way he did you, starting from his lips and working your way from his neck, along his shoulders, down his chest and over every inch of his stomach.

“Bebita…” He sighs pleasantly, watching you shower him with love and affection with that pretty mouth of yours.

You have him speechless from the way your lips move over every inch of his skin that you can reach in your current position, him wanting so badly to have his hands on you in some way, but enjoying too much of the attention you’re so willingly giving him. It’s something he doesn’t receive very often and he doesn’t have the heart or even want to stop you from doing it. When you start kissing down the center of his stomach toward the waistband of his boxers, his breath hitches and you can only smirk at the small sound when it escapes him.

You look up at him through your lashes as your mouth hovers just over his clothed cock, your warm breath hitting his hardening length through the thin fabric of his boxers and making him visibly shiver. You smile this time and lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his twitching member as your actions cause him to grow harder. Your gaze is trained on the obvious size of him beneath his boxers and you can feel your cheeks burning again knowing you finally get to feel and experience what you’ve only gotten to think or dream about before you met him. You’ve always had a hunch that he’s an endowed man, pictures are obvious evidence of that, but seeing it for yourself in this moment for the first time has you wetter than a waterfall.

You gaze up at him when your fingers reach for the waistband of his boxers, your eyes asking for permission before pulling them off, even though you already can tell he wants them gone. With a quick nod of his head and a gentle brush of his thumb against your cheek, you quickly slide his boxers from around his waist, your cheeks even hotter now as his entire length springs free. You feel your mouth water at the sight of him, immediately dropping your head to kiss at the base of cock before trailing your tongue along the entire underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” Pedro gasps, his eyes wide and lust blown as he watches you work your tongue along his length. When you stop at his swollen, precum leaking head to swirl your tongue in circles and collect the few beads of cum dripping from him, he lets out a deep groan, his fingers moving right into your hair. “Bebita…”

“Hmmm?” You repeat the hum he made at you minutes earlier, smirking when you take his tip into your mouth and suck on it as if it’s a lollipop.

“Oh bebita, your mouth feels so good.” He breathes, moving his fingers through your hair toward the back of your head and choking on air when you suddenly hollow your cheeks and take him further into your mouth and down your throat, your fingers wrapped around the base of his length to hold what you can’t reach just yet. “Holy fucking shit,” he groans louder this time, his hips bucking up into your mouth.

“Mmm…” You hum around him in response, swirling your tongue a few times before pulling back almost completely then taking him right back into and down your throat, gagging a bit the deeper he goes.

You repeat your actions several times, breathing through your nose with every bob of your head and letting out a deep moan when you take the entirety of his length down your throat, your nose pressed right against his pubic area.

“Jesus, bebita, if you keep that up I’m gonna cum and I’m not ready to cum yet.” He groans, clutching his fingers in your hair. He watches as you slowly pull off his cock, your lips swollen and eyes glossy when you gaze up at him.

“Sorry,” you bite your lip, moving back up his body to press a deep kiss to his lips, gasping when he has you flipped onto your back and pinned to your bed beneath him.

“It’s okay, but now it’s my turn.” He smirks, kissing and making his way down your body until his face is level with your clothed core, his fingers massaging into your thighs before curling around the waistband of your panties and slowly pulling them down, revealing your pretty dripping folds for him. “Fuck… What a pretty little pussy you have, bebita.”

Pedro dives right in, doesn’t even give you a chance to say a word before he starts swirling his tongue in circles around your clit and sucking it into his mouth. Your moans are instantaneous and he hums as he pushes his tongue right into your aching heat, groan rumbling through his chest when he tastes the sweet juices of your pussy.

“You taste so good, bebita… I desire to wake you up like this every morning...” He muses as he gives his lips a small lick, going right back to sucking at your clit and slowly easing two of his fingers inside of you, giving them a few small scissoring motions.

“Oh Pedro. Please,” you gasp, cheeks burning again at his words, wishing you could wake up to this every morning like he desires. If that’s what he wants then he can have it.

“Mmmm yeah? Is that what you want too, bebita?” He rasps, moving his fingers in and out of you while gently curling them against your spongy walls, humming and sucking your clit back into his mouth.

“Mmm oh yes,” you moan out, giving your walls a squeeze around his perfect fingers and bucking your hips against them and his tongue. “F-fuck, please don’t stop!” You plead with a soft cry, dropping your hand to card your fingers through his hair as he pleasures you with his mouth and fingers.

“I won’t,” he murmurs, picking up the pace of his fingers and curling them right against your sweet spot, lapping and sucking at your clit to coax you toward that high slowly burning inside you.

“Just like that!” You gasp, squeezing around his fingers again and giving his hair a gentle tug. “Oh fuck it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, hermosa?” He coos, repeating his actions and earning himself another soft cry from you.

“Yes! ’m s-so close already, oh please don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” he reminds you with a small smirk, continuing his licks and sucks on your clit and the rapid thrusts of his fingers against that same spot inside you until you’re finally coming undone for him.

“Oh Pedro!” You cum the moment your walls clamp down around his fingers when his pace quickens, soft wails of pleasure leaving your lips the longer he gives your clit harsh sucks to extend the high of your orgasm even more. “Fuck! Yes!”

“Mmmm.” He groans against your folds, lapping up every drop of your release while his fingers give one more curl inside you. “You taste so good, hermosa. I could feast on you for hours.”

“I need you,” you murmur with a soft pant, your fingers loosening in his hair. “Please.”

“Bebita…” Pedro coos, pulling his fingers from inside you and slowly making his way back up toward your face, leaving a gentle trail of kisses in his wake. “Tell me what you need.” He murmurs, pulling you forward off the bed and pressing his lips to your shoulders to leave a trail of soft kisses while his hands reach around to unclasp your bra.

“I need you inside me, please. I...I want you to take what’s yours,” you plead with wide doe eyes, sighing in content at the feel of his lips kissing further along your skin after getting your bra pulled off and thrown to your bedroom floor.

“Yeah?” He grins, gently pushing you to lay back again while moving to press a deep kiss to your lips, settling between your legs with a low hum. “That all?” He smirks, hint of a tease in his tone as he kisses down your chin and toward your breasts, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and giving it a soothing suck.

“Mmm I want--” you moan, moving your fingers into his hair again after he takes your other nipple in his mouth and sucks the way he did the first time. “--your big cock, please… Want to feel how w-wide you stretch my tight little pussy and n-no condom either, I’m on-- fuck, I’m on birth control.”

“Joder, nena. ¿Dónde estuviste toda mi vida?” He groans deeply, moving back up to kiss your lips deeply while pressing the head of his cock at your entrance. “Are you ready for me, bebita?” translation: fuck baby, where have you been all my life?

“Yes,” you whisper, wrapping your legs firm around his waist when he starts to slowly push his hips forward, allowing your warm walls to swallow up his cockhead and the first few inches of his length. Your head tilts back with parted lips as he slowly fills you, finally letting out the loud moan building in your throat when he finishes burying himself to the hilt inside of you. “Oh Pedro...”

“Fuck you’re so tight, bebita.” Pedro hisses, giving your walls time to adjust to the burning stretch of his cock before starting his movements. Pressing his lips to yours once more after a few moments of letting you adjust, he slowly pulls his hips back, the two of you moaning in unison. “You feel so good, hermosa…” He murmurs into the kiss, one of his hands holding your right arm above your head while the other cups your cheek, pushing himself back inside of you with a deep groan.

“Oh yes, you stretch m-me so well…” You moan along with him, your hand in his hair pulling him further into the kiss as you start rocking yourself against him. “P-Please make love to me, baby.”

“Joder, te amo.” He groans, bringing both of his arms over to rest on each side of your head while slowly pulling his hips back again, pressing a deeper kiss to your lips and with more fervor than you’ve ever experienced when he pushes right back in, repeating the slow motions of his previous thrust.

“Te amo, Pedro…” You murmur into the kiss, both your arms now slipped around his neck and holding him close against your chest while he repeatedly makes his slow back and forth thrusts inside of you. “Oh g-god, baby...”

“‘m not gonna last long, bebita… Fuck, you feel better than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.” He buries his face against the crook of your neck with a groan, leaving chaste kisses as he lovingly fucks into you.

“Mmmm f-faster, please.” You moan, tilting your head sideways to give him better access to your neck while he kisses your sensitive skin, biting your lip at the groan that leaves his throat from your request before he starts picking up his pace. “Y-yes, like that, oh please don’t stop!”

“I love it when you say that,” he groans more, thrusting as deep as he can go with every gradual increase in his pace. “You love how good I make you feel, huh bebita? Finally get to feel the things you could only ever fantasize or dream about?”

“Mmmm yes!” You admit without shame, your eyes rolling back the faster and deeper he sends his cock inside of you, squeezing your legs tighter around his middle so your heels are pressing into his lower back. “E-Everything I’ve ever dr-dreamed it to be, oh god Pedro!”

“I love the sounds you make for me, bebita… Your beautiful moans and cries of my name…like music to my ears, music I wish to hear and cherish for the rest of my existence.” He murmurs tenderly while pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, pulling back so he can gaze down at you as he gives your breasts a gentle caress and squeeze, continuing his deep and fast thrusts.

“I want...it too, I-- Oh…” You moan again, arching your back into his touch to your breasts and pressing your ankles hard against his ass, simultaneously pushing him even deeper inside of you. “Oh right there.” You groan, your fists balled up in the sheets.

“Fuck,” he grunts in response to the way you push him deeper into your warm center, his immediate reaction being to hit that same spot over and over again, both of you groaning at how great it feels. “Right here?” He grins, gently tweaking your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Yeah!” You gasp, rocking your hips against his own to match his forward thrusts into you, your head thrown back as a soft, deeper moan escapes your open mouth. “I’m gonna cum, oh god I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum with me, bebita.” He groans, leaning down again to kiss you with extreme fervor, one of his hands dropped so he can rub quick circles on your clit, eliciting a cry from you at the sudden attention to your bundle of nerves.

You kiss him harder now, throwing your arms around his neck again and hugging him closer as he coaxes the two of you toward your rising climaxes, your walls fluttering around him with his every thrust. “I’m so close I’m so close I’m so close!” You whine and with one hard thrust right against your cervix and a few more rubs to your clit, Pedro has you coming undone beneath him, your walls clamped down around him as you cum hard and in turn trigger his own release, your body trembling in his embrace as your orgasm rips through you. “Oh yes!”

“Joder bebita,” he moans as he fills you, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he continues his thrusts, still aiming for your deepest areas to help ride both of you through your highs.

“Oh Pedro, I--” You groan softly, fisting your fingers in his hair at his continued thrusts into you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “--fuck!”

You’re the one left speechless now by how mind blowing sex with this man is, how intimate and passionate he is as he makes love to you and how verbal he can be, the Spanish spoken words and phrases the cherry on top of it all. You just can’t believe how lucky you are to have someone to love you like this, so intimately, and you’re even more blessed that it’s Pedro Pascal himself.

The two of you are panting by the time Pedro pulls out of you, his forehead gently resting against your shoulder while you both catch your breath, unable to contain the smiles wide on your faces. If you were able to read minds, Pedro’s thoughts would for sure make that smile wider and even your cheeks a lot hotter.

“Wow…” You breathe, lightly scratching your nails at the nape of his neck. “That was…”

“Everything you’ve ever dreamed it to be?” He teases, lifting his head to give you a playful smirk.

“Yes,” you giggle, leaning forward to capture his lips for a deep kiss. “I love you, Pedro…”

“Te quiero más que a nada en el mundo.” He murmurs against your parted lips, slowly pulling back and giving your thighs a firm massage. “Now wait right here for me, okay?” translation: I love you more than anything in the entire world.

“Where’re you going?” You pout and he just chuckles.

“Bathroom.”

“S’right there,” you point to the bathroom just off your room and again he chuckles.

“I’ve noticed, hermosa.”

Pedro gives you one more kiss before carefully moving off of you and heading to the bathroom to grab a nice warm wet washcloth to clean you with, giving himself a quick wipe down with a cloth of his own before rejoining you in the bedroom.

You smile when you see him reappear out of the bathroom, gaze landing on the washcloth in his hand and you become flustered at the thought of him tenderly cleaning you up after making love to you. He smiles down at you as he climbs back on the bed, taking the warm cloth and washing your sensitive area as gentle as possible, being sure to get your thighs too. You sigh softly.

“I’ll miss this while you’re away...”

“Miss it? I’m taking you with me.”

Other translations:

bebita: baby, hermosa: beautiful, joder: fuck, te amo: I love you (duh)

Everything taglist: @halefirewarrior @takemepedropascal @wildcard566 @readsalot73 @talesfromtheguild @msmona @oberynispunk @whiskeyxinxaxteacup @pedrosdoll @ah-callie

Pedro taglist: @manuphantom @unadulterated-neckherolover @luna-longbott0m @hanelijoy @bxbyriku @lireandcampfire

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #nsft #writing #ohpedromypedro

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clevermonkey93 · 4 years ago

Text

Mr Frilly part 2

Part 1

Jaskier makes pizza with Geralt and Ciri. It’s cute and fluffy. Oh and they flirt.

also on ao3

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Jaskier wasn’t nervous. He absolutely wasn’t nervous. Except he was. He totally was because he had a dinner date – was it even a date? It’s just dinner, come on Jask – with a gorgeous hunk of a complete dork of a dad that was utterly besotted with his angelic little gremlin. And Jaskier had just met him. Just met Geralt and Ciri and already he was determined not to blow it. Frankly, Jaskier didn’t care if Geralt wasn’t interested – he's probably ten years older than me, he’s got a kid, he might be straight-straight not just kinda straight – but he so desperately wanted to spend more time with them both and get to know them.

God knows he could use some more friends. Valdo seemed to have left their relationship with all their mutual friends, but I suppose that’s what happens when you date a guy from university for four years and just make friends with all his music friends and –

Jaskier wanted so badly to get this right.

Which is why he stood outside the Rivia house – a beautiful old tall town house which Jaskier would have bet has one of those gorgeous long winding gardens – with a distinctly not-rubbish film and some flowers. A simple but beautiful bunch of wildflowers that Jaskier had stared at for at least fifteen minutes at the shop after he’d left Geralt and Ciri in confectionary. He’d decided to risk it but they’re white and delicate so if he's read the vibe completely wrong they’re obviously for Ciri.

He knocked. Geralt said not to ring the doorbell because next door has a baby.

Oh God I should have changed. Why am I still wearing my shopping clothes and this dumb scarf –

“Hey, Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked up to see Geralt at the doorway, long white hair tied up now and an apron at his waist – oh man why is that sexy?

He had a flour smudge on his cheek and his shirt was covered in flecks. Jaskier was about to tease him and ask why he’s only got a tiny apron when he's wearing a black shirt when he heard footsteps behind the man.

“Mr Frilly!” Ciri cheered as she joined them in the doorway. She was wearing a full-size apron which on a child should look utterly ridiculous but she was also wearing an expression that said she was in charge.

“Already started on dinner I see!” Jaskier said with a grin.

Geralt looked down at his shirt and gave a very sweet shrug before standing to the side and gesturing for Jaskier to join them inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he offered. Ciri had already bounded back down the hallway so Jaskier shuffled in and started to wiggle his shoes off with his feet. This inadvertently drew attention to the flowers in his hand.

“Uh, I brought these,” Jaskier started, studying Geralt’s face carefully. Beneath the white smudge of flour there was a distinct pink blush. He didn’t think Geralt looked uncomfortable but oh God it’s so hard to tell. “I brought these.” He repeated quietly.

Jaskier inched the flowers forward to Geralt and thank God he took them. Geralt smiled. No doubt there, that was a proper nice smile.

“Thank you, Jaskier,” he said softly. Jaskier felt Geralt's hand on his shoulder and he was about to say something when –

“Daddy, the dough has gotten SO big!”

Jaskier and Geralt shared a little laugh before Geralt lead him further into the house.

The kitchen was in surprising order considering the state of the chefs, and Jaskier and Geralt walked in to find Ciri proudly holding up a bowl of proofing dough.

“I’ll show you how to make a base,” Ciri said excitedly.

“Wash your hands, Ciri,” Geralt reminded her and Jaskier also took his turn at the sink. As he dried his hands, we watched Geralt dig around a cupboard for a vase, as though he hadn’t used one in a long time, before carefully arranging the flowers to sit in the middle of the kitchen table.

It was a wonderfully sweet evening. Jaskier and Ciri both managed to get covered in flour as they tried to shape pizza crusts while Geralt seemed to be able to do it blind and helping them at the same time.

Jaskier had figured they’d be using tomato puree (he won’t admit to how many years at university he’d lived on pasta and tomato puree) but Geralt brought over a pan of homemade tomato sauce that smelled so good. Even better was the proud little smile he made when Jaskier told him how good it smelled. Best yet was the blush and sudden inhale Geralt didn’t manage to hide when Jaskier couldn’t resist sticking a finger in to try a lick.

“Toppings!” Ciri exclaimed as she carried what Jaskier assumed was a stack of everything from the fridge. Cheese quickly went absolutely everywhere as they each assembled a pizza and it turned out the pair had a tradition of making an extra Frankenstein pizza with every topping.

They loaded them into the oven – “Daddy's going to build a pizza oven in the garden next spring,” Ciri excitedly informed Jaskier. “But they’re still good in the oven.”

Geralt started to clear up while the pizzas cooked, and Ciri immediately vanished. Jaskier stood next to him at the sink to dry things up.

“Thank you for asking me over,” Jaskier said, even though it was clearly Ciri that asked. “I'm really glad I’m here.”

Geralt Hmmed at that, and Jaskier had started to notice it might be his default setting but it sounded like a happy Hmm at least. “What would your Saturday night have been otherwise?” Geralt asked.

“Oh, um,” Jaskier hesitated and dammit he knew he was blushing but he’s going to think I'm so naive and just struggling and – “Well, I’m usually performing at some venue or another, if I’ve managed to get any bookings.” He looked over at Geralt and he seemed interested, not like he suddenly regretted inviting a hipster over, so, “I sing and, uh, play guitar. Among other things.”

Geralt nodded, and definitely didn’t look at Jaskier's mouth when he bit his lip nervously, except Jaskier definitely saw his eyes dart down.

Jaskier shrugged. “But nobody knows me around here. Not yet anyway,” Jaskier laughed quietly. “I’m on at the open mic night this week at Posada's –”

“The live night at The Mandrake is pretty good,” Geralt cut in. Jaskier couldn’t have contained his smile even if he’d tried. Honestly, so many people laughed at him for still trying and –

Breathe, Jask.

“Yeah? What kind of music do they usually have? I mean, well, a lot of my covers usually go down really well, but I also play a lot of my own songs,” Jaskier asked as he dried up the last bowl. Damn it, he was starting to ramble. But he looked over again at Geralt and the man was nodding, and Jaskier thought he might have Hmmed again. Silently though. Jaskier got a little distracted again watching Geralt dry his hands on Jaskier's dish towel and then start to put things away.

“Hmm? What sort of things do you write?” Geralt finally asked, and he definitely stood closer than he needed to as he reached around Jaskier to pick crockery up from the counter.

Jaskier was absolutely not about to reply something like meeting hot dads at the supermarket when the oven timer beeped loudly.

“Pizza!!”

Jaskier jumped a little at Ciri's sudden – immediate – reappearance and although he had no real reason to blush, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Geralt laughed ever so quietly. Jaskier eyed him carefully as the man's mouth turned up in the slightest smirk. Oh, Geralt was teasing him.

Jaskier flicked the dish towel at Geralt before joining Ciri at the oven, taking the mitts from her before she could try to hurt herself carrying too many hot pizzas. They took the pizzas to the lounge and before Jaskier could worry about where he should sit, Ciri sat him in the middle of the sofa because that’s where guests sit, Mr. Frilly.

“What film are we watching?” Ciri asked, sat on the floor in front of the telly to get to the DVD player.

“Oh!” Jaskier popped up again and went to his bag. “Have you guys seen The Princess Bride?”

Ciri had not and Gert agreed it was a not-rubbish film. Not that Jaskier would have judged him too harshly if he didn’t liked his favourite film.

He sat between Geralt and Ciri as they ate pizza, and Jaskier definitely agreed it was at least the best pizza in town and quite frankly until he tried ‘Papa Vesemir's’ pizza, he was willing to say best ever. They watched the film, Geralt and Jaskier both half watching Ciri watch it for the first time. When Geralt took his hair out from its bun, Jaskier couldn’t help but reach over to tuck a stray lock behind his ear before Geralt tied half of it back anyway.

Away from the warm kitchen, it cooled down quickly in the lounge so Geralt pulled the throw blanket over them from the back of the sofa. He laughed softly when Jaskier stole the opportunity to tuck in closer as his arms were raised, and then laughed properly when Ciri used Jaskier's distraction to steal his frilly scarf.

Jaskier must have dozed off towards the end of the film because he woke up to Geralt carefully easing him up from leaning against his chest as the credits rolled. “Just putting Ciri to bed.”

Ah, yes, parenting to be done. Jaskier blinked himself awake somewhat while Geralt followed Ciri upstairs. As he listened to muffled arguments about whether she'd brushed her teeth for long enough and how many stories she needed before sleep, Jaskier took their cleared plates back to the kitchen.

He was putting the last of the clean dishes away when Geralt reappeared.

“The princess sleeps?” Jaskier asked softly. Geralt Hmmed at him, leaning against the door frame in a way that looked far too good for him to not be aware.

“Are you awake now?” Geralt teased, and Jaskier admirably resisted sticking his tongue out. Really though, he only resisted because he finally closed the distance between them and leaned up, hopeful, towards Geralt. He was pretty sure, but Oh god what if he really had misread things –

Geralt kissed him. He kissed him softly, steadily and with a firm hand holding Jaskier's hip to his waist.

Jaskier sighed, only loud enough for Geralt to just hear. “Yeah, I'm awake.”

#I wrote a thing #geraskier #geraskier fanfic #witcher fanfic #geraskier modern au #single dad geralt #jaskier has the hots for single dad geralt #geraskier being cute #geraskier snuggles #ciri is the sweetest angel gremlin #all fluff no plot

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frostsinth · 5 years ago

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The Secret We Keep - Pt. 3

Part 1|2 - MasterList

So, I’m kind of in love with this goofy, awkward pair of fools. I’ve already mostly written the next part, so if the interest holds, I’ll post it soon. My usual rule of thumb is at least a day in-between posts and at least thirty notes to post the next part.

This part is pretty long, I think, so hopefully you guys enjoy these two as well. This will be quite the slow burn of mostly gooey fluff and snuff. Buckle in for the ride folks. As always, comments and reblogs are what I live for. Thank you for your continued support and love!

Also, check out my new one-shot with a Goblin King (who may look suspiciously familiar) and his arranged marriage with a Prince from the neighboring human kingdom. You can find it on my MasterList. If there’s interest in it, I’ll post more.

I worked hard over the next few days. I went to my favorite farmer who I knew always had good, healthy stock and purchased three pigs for a gold coin and some silver. Then I went to the woods and gathered some fresh wild herbs, setting them to dry in the rafters as soon as I got back. I couldn’t help but continuously glance at the wildflower bouquet on my table as I did. That evening, when the sun had gone down and the temperature cooled, I took my old beaten up shovel to the dirt in the center of the yard. It took half the night, but I soon had a pit deep enough and wide enough for the three pigs. I spent the next day gathering rock and kindling, waiting for the beasts to be delivered. I went and bought as many bottles of the gin as the silver I had left would buy. On the third day, I hoisted up the pigs and drained and gutted them before prepping them and filling them with seasoning.

I filled the pit with vegetation once the stones had heated up from the wood and kindling, then dragged each big pig in. It was a lot of work that took most of the day and part of the night. I was covered in sweat and dirt by the time I had covered the pigs back up to cook through til the next day. I practically collapsed in my bed and slept well past dawn.

Four days. It had been four days now. I could barely sit still, pacing back and forth around the yard. Late morning, I started to dig the pigs up. The aroma filled the air with its succulent smell, and I had many visitors come to the shop inquiring after it. Each time the door opened, I would jump up with excitement, only to be crushed when it wasn’t him. I sold most of my spare meat, and got a fair few commission promises for more once my patrons learned the pit roasted pigs were not going to be for sale. I went over to the trough multiple times to scrub the dirt off myself. Around midday, I even washed and brushed out my hair anxiously. I basted and re-seasoned the pigs to keep them moist as the remaining heat in the coals kept them warm. I wrung my hands nervously; much longer and they would dry out.

I changed my dress after the sun passed its zenith. There wouldn’t be much labor left for the day, and I felt fairly certain I could keep myself clean through it.

I was washing my hands for the umpteenth time when I heard the tell tale sign of the door scratching across the floor. I tried to calm myself. Probably just another customer enticed by the smell. I tried to remind myself how many times I had gotten my hopes up already just to be disappointed. It didn’t stop me from hurrying to the shop front.

I nearly dropped from shock when I went into the shop front and saw not just one big, burly orc, but three. Standing hunched, shoulder to shoulder, inside my store.

Quickly composing myself, I smiled, wiping my hands on my fresh apron.

“Welcome back!” I greeted Hans, hoping I didn’t sound too excited.

He grunted, and jerked his head over his shoulder at the pair of orcs with him. “They’ll need the gate opened.”

I glanced at them. “O-oh, yes! Of course… I’ll meet you back there.”

I wasn’t sure how I thought the reunion would go, but that was hardly it. A little disappointed, I turned and made my way to the small yard to unlatch the gate. I heard a heavy, sauntering step behind me, which had me glancing over my shoulder. Just in time to see Hans duck through the back door to follow me into the yard. My heart leapt a little at the sight.

I swallowed nervously, but gave him a small smile. The others must have gone around the outside, and I quickly bustled over to the gate, trying to distract myself. Didn’t want to keep them waiting long. My nervous hands fumbled uselessly with the latch for a moment, before finally managing to slide it back with a grunt. I dug my shoulder into the wood and started to push.

I nearly fell over as my overexertion suddenly became unnecessary and the wood pulled away from me. I realized Hans’ big body fit neatly over top of mine without touching it. He swung the heavy gate open easily as I caught myself from face planting into the dirt. His companions waited on the other side.

I straightened with a small huff, resting my hands on my hips. Then I gave the other two another welcoming smile. Which suddenly dropped away as I realized their arms were full. One had fresh sawn logs and planks tucked under each huge arm. The other had another load, as well as a crate of what looked like tools and other odds and ends. I opened my mouth to question, but Hans waved them in before I could and gestured to the empty corner. Effectively cutting me off in the process. They passed me by without much more than a polite nod to deposit their goods. I slipped around them and over to Hans.

“What’s all that?” I asked him, still a little stunned.

“Supplies.” He grunted, as if it were obvious, but then sauntered away again over to the cooking pit.

I saw him eyeing it, as well as the rusty shovel leaning against the wall nearby. He considered the huge piles of dirt surrounding the pit and the heavy rocks the pigs were roasting on. I heard him give a loud grunt as he shook his head, hands crossing over his broad chest. His thick brow knitted and a scowl settled on his lips. I felt my stomach roll in knots, worried that perhaps this was not quite what he had meant. Perhaps I had taken too much creative license choosing to pit roast the pigs rather than on a spit as I’m sure he had intended me to.

“We could smell them from the edge of the town, ma’am.” Came a friendly, raspy voice, “They smells right good!”

I turned, taking in the orc who spoke. I gave him a kind smile, blushing a little. He was not nearly as large as Hans, with a thinner waist and more slender muscle. But was still more than a foot taller than me. His skin was also a more vivid green, and he had a long beard that was braided thickly down his chest with various bones and beads. His grin grew as I appraised him, and I noticed one of his tusks was broken off at the tip.

“I hope you’ll enjoy it!” I managed to reply politely, still smiling.

“Bar’tok!” Roared Hans, and the orc before me winced slightly.

He dipped his head to me, then quickly went over to the edge of the pit. Carefully, he reached in and lifted up a pig. He tossed it up over one shoulder, easily as a sack of flour, and I was surprised it wasn’t still too hot to handle in such a manner. The other orc bent down and picked up the other, juggling it the same way. My heart sank again as I realized there was only Hans left to take the final pig. Perhaps this wouldn’t quite be the visit I had envisioned.

I hesitantly wandered over, rubbing my arm with one hand. The big, dark skinned orc was considering the last pig. His companions had already disappeared out of sight with their loads. But Hans glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and blew a big puff of air between his thick lips.

“Too much for us.” He grunted, then shrugged. “You’ll have to keep this one.”

My eyes shot open. “Wh-what?”

He shrugged again, striding past me towards the gate. At first I thought he was leaving, but instead he tugged the big wooden gate shut with the slightest flex of his huge arm and latched it. My heart raced in my chest, and I realized my mouth was hanging open a little when he turned back to face me.

“You can sell it.”

I closed my gaping mouth and shook my head. “You already paid for this pig. I can’t just sell something that’s already been bought!”

Again, Hans shrugged. “Three is too much. You already did the work, so keep the pay.”

I sighed in frustration, and started to raise a hand to argue. But he didn’t give me the chance to reply. The burly orc made his way over to the pile of wood and other supplies, cracking his knuckles. With his back to me, he began to unstrap his armor.

Blood rushed to my face at the sight, and I nearly swooned. I looked back and forth between the pig in the pit and the big orc, my thoughts racing. I watched as he dropped his armor on the stumps, then turned back to me in just his tunic and trousers.

“Where do you want it?”

I blinked at him stupidly, and he jerked his chin pointedly at the pig. I looked over at it, then back at him. I tossed my hands up exasperatedly.

“In the shop then.” I relented, sighing heavily. No way I was going to out stubborn an orc.

He shouldered the big beast easily and maneuvered his way quickly into the shop. I heard him drop it onto the counter with a thud, then made his way back into the yard and over to the pile of supplies his men had brought in.

“What are you doing now?” I demanded, but before he could answer, I heard the scrape of old wood on the dirt floor. I shook a finger at him. “Wait here.”

It was a customer, eagerly thumbing coins in his palm. Over the next hour, the shop flooded with more customers. Apparently rumor had quickly spread that there was extra roast pig after all. At first I felt guilty selling off something I had been commissioned for. But I quickly began to wonder if this had been the big orc’s intent all along. And I was far too busy carving the carcass into sellable chunks to think on it too much. Before dusk hit I had carved and sold off the last of the pig, even down to the ears. I breathed a sigh of relief when the last customer left. I latched the door behind them and closed the shutters. More than a little exhausted. I tucked the last of the coins into a small pouch and returned it to its hiding place behind the counter.

Remembering my original guest with a little hitch in my breath, I quickly went back to the yard, my pulse ricocheting against my skin. Now that the chatter had died down, the soft thud of a hammer filled the evening air. I went to investigate exactly what the orc had been up to. Worried what I might find had kept him preoccupied over the last hour.

His back was to me when I came out, and I found him shirtless again. I paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame and crossing my arms over my chest. I was too tired and flustered to hide my open gawking of his big, muscular body. It seemed he had built me a door from the fresh wood he had brought, and was currently installing it on shiny new hinges. The remainder of the previous was stacked in a neat pile by the gate, and I almost had to marvel at his efficiency. I rolled my eyes and walked over, skirting the huge pit in the center of the yard.

“You know you don’t have to do that.” I told him, coming up beside his right elbow.

The big orc jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I almost laughed at the sight. To think a big orc like him had anything to fear. He turned, considering me over one huge shoulder. Then he grunted, testing the door one last time. After a few moments of silence, it seemed like he wasn’t planning on saying anything in response. I wrung my hands together nervously. Wondering if he was mad.

“...Are you staying for dinner?” I finally managed to ask.

Again, he didn’t answer, picking up the tools and tossing them into the crate he had brought. I saw him glance at me out of the corner of his eye, as if debating something. He reached up, rubbing his chin between his large thumb and index finger. I noticed his beard seemed a little less scruffy than before; the curly black hairs didn’t go as far down his neck, and there was a neat line along his cheek.

“Did you shave?” I blurted out, then quickly sucked in a breath. My ears burned in embarrassment at my outburst.

He paused, dropping his hand. Then turned towards me. I found his big slate eyes just as entrancing as the last time, and my heart fluttered in my throat. He seemed uncomfortable then, and his gaze fell away. His hand came up again, rubbing at the back of his neck. The big orc gave a deep grunt, which sounded affirmative. He almost looked... Bashful.

His reaction brought another flush to my cheeks, and I tried to turn away to hide my smile. But my movement brought my eyes back to the pit, and I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. Remembering how irritated he had looked when he had first seen the roast pigs. I shuffled my weight from foot to foot, and rubbed at the back of my own neck.

“... I-I have your change…” I stammered, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the remaining gold coins. Gods knew I had made more than enough from the sale of the pig to return both. “Here-”

He caught my wrist as I started to hold the coins out to him. I jumped, startled by his sudden touch. When I turned to look at him, he was scowling again. His brow scrunched over his big nose, his lips tight and curled down. The expression somehow made his tusks look bigger. I blinked at him nervously. Yet his grip on my wrist was surprisingly gentle, if firm. Still, he took a step closer, looming over me. I tilted my head back to hold his gaze.

“You did too much work.” He growled, both fiercely and quietly. He cast his free hand over towards the pits, and his scowl deepened.

I followed his gesture, frowning a little myself. “A good sized pig on a skewer would be hard to control and cook evenly; keeping the natural juices was easier in the pit. Especially three pigs simultaneously! And pit roasting just makes the flavor really pop! One of the best ways-”

The big orc growled again, silencing me in the middle of my explanation. Shaking his head, he dropped my wrist. He still looked quite cross, and the sore look darkened his features a little. My frown deepened as my confusion did. I glanced over at the pit again, feeling a lump in my throat.

“.... I am sorry… I seem to have upset you, but I’m not sure why… Did I do something wrong? It was not my intent, I swear. If I’ve insulted you, or if you were displeased with the roast...”

“No.” He grunted, his rumbling voice cutting through me. He gave a big, heavy sigh, shaking his head slowly. “No… You did nothing wrong.”

He reached out again, more slowly this time, brushing his fingers against the arm he had released. I felt his thumb move, tracing the soft skin on my wrist. I hesitated, looking down at his hand. It slid along my palm to scoop my fingers against his knuckles. The coins fell from my loosened grasp to the ground, clinking together softly. He didn’t even spare them a glance. I was suddenly reminded of his very bare chest so close to my person, and felt a little heat rise to my cheeks. I craned my head back to meet his gaze again, and he looked at me through his dark lashes. We stayed that way for a long moment, then he breathed another deep sigh.

“I intended to repay your kindness,” He began quietly, “But instead gave you more work.”

He ran his thumb over my knuckles slowly. I felt my hand quiver a little beneath his touch. I forced myself to focus on his words instead, turning them over. I glanced down at the coins half buried in the dirt.

“... I don’t want your money, Hans.” I breathed finally. I dared to reach up and place my hand on his wrist, even though it shook a little as I did. “I’d rather just…” I stopped, finding myself unable to finish, and dropped off. I couldn’t bear to look at him. My ears felt so hot I thought they might just fall off or catch fire on the sides of my head. “...Will you stay for dinner?”

I felt his large hand under mine give a gentle squeeze, then the big orc sounded his familiar affirmative grunt. I couldn’t help but smile a little at it. Slowly, he released my hand, letting it fall away from his. I rubbed at my arms shyly, turning slightly as if to go to the house.

I almost jumped as his big hand came into my view. He bent in his index finger and gently tucked it under my chin. Lightly tilting my head back to look up at him again. His face had softened. Gone was the last remains of his previous scowl, his thick lips relaxed, his heavy brow smooth. And those deep, slate blue eyes, twinkling in the last light of the dusk. I felt a smile forming on my own lips, as well as a fresh flush coming to my cheeks. I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding yet.

“... I thought you might like some steak tonight..” I told him softly.

I saw those big blues dart down to my lips as he nodded. A tiny shiver ran down my spine, and my mouth parted slightly. His thumb came up, and I trembled as he gently touched my bottom lip.

“I-I got more gin, too,” I stammered, flustered, his thumb pulling back slightly to allow my lips to form the words, “You seemed to like it last time.”

Another nod, and he slowly dropped his hand. I quickly regretted having spoken, and felt hollow for having lost his touch. I tried not to stare at him as he turned, walking over to the trough of water. While he slowly splashed water over himself, I turned to the pits off by the wall. I had readied some steak, and now that the dry rub had set, I fanned the fires and placed them on the hot irons. They sizzled immediately, and I tried to pretend it was the heat from the cooking that filled my face. I could hear Hans shuffling and splashing behind me, and it took all my strength not to sneak a peek at him as he washed up. I could almost imagine the water rolling over his bare skin, and my mouth felt a little dry at the thought.

Four minutes on each side, and the steaks were ready. I reached for a cleaned and polished slab of wood, forking each on to it. The sun had mostly set by now, with only the last touches of its light licking at the edge of the horizon. I chanced a glance out of the corner of my eye and saw Hans slowly putting on his tunic again. My tongue felt uncomfortably large as a touch of disappointment stabbed at my chest. Not that the orc’s taut chest and abdomen were much subdued by the clingy material, I reminded myself. And of course the orc still had many other distracting qualities for me to stumble over during dinner

I turned, making my way back to the house. Our eyes happened to meet as I walked past him, and I smiled shyly. His big brow twitched, and he pushed his great mane of hair back. Following a few steps behind me to duck into my room.

“The door looks great, thank you!” I told him, setting the steaks on the table, “I already feel safer, not having to worry it might fall apart in the next storm.” I went to the larder next, pulling out some small cherry tomatoes I had found growing wild near an abandoned farm. “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to practically dislocate my shoulder to get it open.” As I turned back to set the tomatoes on the table, I noticed a scowl settling on his face. I almost smiled, but hid it as I fetched one of the bottles of gin. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I always sleep with a knife under my pillow.” I teased.

He didn’t seem to find that amusing, eyeing me as I struggled to open the bottle. His big hand came out, pulling the gin from my grasp. He placed the errant cork between his large canines, and with a short jerk and a twist, it came popping out. I smiled again, fetching the bread and drinking horns.

“I may not look it, but I can take care of myself.” I assured him, settling onto the bench across from him. He filled our horns, giving a soft grunt. “What about you? Sure, maybe you can lift a barn, but you apparently don’t eat very well. That’s not taking care of yourself either.”

His slate blue eyes flicked up to my face as he recorked the bottle. His lips twitched a little, and I thought perhaps he was smirking at my comment. But he didn’t answer right away, picking up a tomato and popping it into his mouth. He rolled it about with his big tongue contemplatively for a moment. I took a deep drink from my cup, elating at the feeling of the liquid courage sliding down my throat.

“I get by.”

I laughed lightly. “And so do I.” I brought my carving knife over, polishing the edge with a clean cloth. “I have managed completely on my own for the last year, after all.” I pointed out, cutting the steaks into manageable strips. I noticed him eyeing my knife, and I smiled shyly. “Sorry, I’d let you cut your own steak, but I only have this one knife left.” I placed it to the side and picked up a piece, holding it out to him to try. “Nor I don’t have company often.”

He delicately took the piece from my fingers, and I was certain our fingers didn’t need to brush quite so long as they did. But I felt my skin tingling from the touch. I brought them to my mouth, quickly catching the juice with my lips before it trickled down my hands. His eyes followed me as I did, and I felt the heat rising into my ears. I distracted myself by taking another sip of the gin. And by sip, I mean draining half the cup.

Hans savored the bite of meat I had given him, chewing it slowly as he watched me. He even smacked his lips together in pleasure. Reaching over, he uncorked the bottle and refilled my cup for me. Then picked up his own, draining it back quickly before refilling it as well.

“Your mate does not keep you company?” He asked quietly, taking up another morsel of meat as he did.

I looked at him, surprised, a bite of steak halfway to my lips. I even laughed at the ridiculousness of his question.

“You’re joking. Mate? I don’t have a mate.”

The corner of his lips twitched, and I realized belatedly that he had just managed to ask if I was available without actually posing the question. I felt my face flush, picking up my cup and taking another sip in between bites of steak. I shot him a sly look over the top of my drinking horn. After all, two could play at that game.

“Though I suppose you ask because you must miss your mate terribly while you travel.”

He paused, a blood sopped piece of bread halfway to his mouth at my words. His brows shifted, and he seemed suddenly very focused on his hand. I resisted the urge to smile. He finished the bread and another large piece of meat in tense silence while I took another sip of the gin and popped a few tomatoes into my mouth. It occurred to me quite suddenly that I might not like his answer, and he knew it. Hence the delay. I had a sudden sinking feeling, realizing he might actually have a mate. He might actually be inquiring after mine because, of course I should have a husband! Otherwise why else would I let strange men into my house. Unless he intended a mistress. Did orcs take second wives? My panicked mind raced. I suddenly felt my cheeks burning hot at my thoughts, and tore off some bread to hide my sudden influx of embarrassment, accompanying it with more steak.

The big orc cleared his throat, dropping his hand. “... I have no mate either.” He said finally.

I let out my breath in a woosh. And perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed like his cheeks had become a shade darker around his thick beard. He cleared his throat again, his gaze falling to the nearly empty plates and picking up the bottle of gin to refill my glass.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are trying to get me drunk.” I teased, desperate to break the tension that had suddenly settled into the air between us. “Though I’m sure a handsome guy like you doesn’t usually need to resort to such measures-”

Hans fumbled with the bottle at the word ‘handsome’, his eyes shooting wide. I saw it slipping from his big hand, and tried to reach out to steady it. But instead, the orc jerked in surprise at my movement, and the bottle slipped further from his control. Neither of us was quick enough, and the glass dropped. It hit the table, spilling gin everywhere as it bounced, then rolled. I gave a little squeal as the liquor splashed down my front, jumping up. I leapt to try and catch it, and wacked my head into Hans, as he dove for it too. It escaped both of us, rolling off the table and shattering on the ground. The sound reverberated in the sudden silence after it.

I fell back, clutching my forehead in both hands, my vision spinning. My ankles were drenched with gin, and I heard more dripping off the table. Hans looked wide eyed between me and the shattered bottle, his big mouth dropping open a little. He tried to move quickly around the table to my side, and ended up bumping it with his wide hip. The flower pitcher, unsettled by the table’s movement, teetered precariously, then it too toppled off the table. I saw Hans wince as it shattered on the ground as well.

I looked at the mess in the dirt, then the table. Then up at the towering orc, who appeared even more massive in the tiny house and had an expression of abject mortification on his face. And I started to laugh, still with one palm pressed to my throbbing head.

Hans shuffled his feet, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I… I’m sorry I-”

I waved my hand at him, dismissing his apology as my laughter turned to wheezing. I was smiling so much my face hurt, and I slowly started to stand.

“Oh, no, it’s absolutely alright! No, I should be the sorry one, I didn’t mean to startle you…” I took a deep, steadying breath, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle my lingering chuckles, “I was… I was too bold, I apologize. The gin seems to have gone straight to my head- ow,” I winced as my skull continued to throb, then shot him a tiny smile, “Don’t worry yourself, honestly.”

He looked doubtful, his brow bunched up again. I saw him glance at the mess, slack jawed, shuffling his weight nervously. I grabbed a cloth from the counter, spreading it out and dropping to my knees to pick up the remnants of shattered glass and ceramic. I began sweeping them carefully with the flat of my hand onto the cloth.

“You don’t need to do that,” Hans objected, and with a thud that shook the ground, I found him on his knees beside me.

I smiled, careful not to look at him in case I might burst into flame at the sight of him. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

How could I be so stupid? How could I just blatantly blurt out something so bold? I berated myself silently. I hoped against hope that maybe we would just be able to forget my comment and be able to move on with the evening. Hoped that he wouldn’t be put off at all, or frightened away. I mean, what if he was just being friendly? What if he didn’t see me… that way?

In his traditional response, he growled softly, using his own large palm to sweep up more of the shards onto the cloth square. I chanced a glance up at him, wondering what he was thinking, and found his brow furrowed. His mouth was in a tight line, and I saw him clench his jaw while I watched. His dark hair fell around his face, and I became distracted by his blue eyes searching the ground for more pieces.

I gave a sharp gasp of surprise as one of the larger shards cut into my hand. I quickly dropped the piece, clutching my palm and pulling it towards my chest. Another low growl rumbled in the air, and suddenly Hans was there. He crouched over me, one hand on my back, the other reaching for my hand.

“Ah! That was foolish of me, I’m sorry,” I gushed, “No, please, don’t fuss. It’s just a little cut.”

But he still took my hand in his, despite my protests. He pulled it closer to himself, using his thumb to gently part my fingers. I winced a little at the sight. The cut was deeper than I had first thought, and ran from the side of my index finger to the center of my palm. Dark red blood oozed out, enough that my hand was already coated and the excess had started to drip off the edges.

Still, I was far more interested in the way Hans cradled my wounded hand in the palm of his, and the way his other hand felt nice and warm against my back. My face was growing hotter by the second. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and wondered if that was why my hand seemed to be bleeding so much.

“Come.” He grunted, still cupping my palm gently, but moving to stand.

I didn’t have the willpower to protest my own self-sufficiency at that moment, so followed along without complaint. He quickly led the way out the door, turning and steering me towards the water trough. The sun had fully set now, and the only light in the yard came from the candles inside the house spilling their glow out the open door. The orc seemed unbothered by the low light, and positioned me beside the edge of the trough.

I stiffened suddenly as I felt the full heat of him at my back. He curled around me, holding my hand in his, and gently easing it below the surface of the water. My besotted mind swirled uselessly, and I was pretty sure my mouth dropped open. I was glad he couldn’t see my dumbfounded face. All I could think about was the way his chest felt against my back, the way his muscles moved as he tenderly cleaned my palm with his big thumbs. His shoulders were so broad, even with his arms fully extended I still fit neatly in between them. I could see them, out the corners of my eyes, brushing against mine as he rubbed at my wound. I could feel his breath in my ear, and had to fight the shiver that sought to run down my spine.

“I-I guess I’m not really proving that I can take care of myself, huh?” I mumbled, attempting a lighthearted tone and trying to distract myself. “I’m sorry; I’m sure this is not how you wanted to spend your night. It’s alright, you don’t need to fuss over me…”

“It’s not alright.” He growled softly, and his voice reverberated in the air next to my ear. “I should not have allowed this to happen.”

I managed a soft laugh, though I wondered if he could hear the slight tremor in my voice. “Not have allowed it? Can you predict the future now, Hans? Control everything at all times?” I curled my fingers around his, stilling his movement for a moment. “It was an accident. A foolish one, but also a harmless one. And my fault more than yours.”

His responding grumble vibrated in his chest at my back. I closed my eyes, taking a steadying breath. His administrations to my hand had stopped when I had curled my fingers about his, and he carefully pulled his hands back now, untangling them from mine. I almost staggered to the side as his supporting arms retreated, my bones having forgotten their own solidity at his touch. I traced my own thumb over the cut, washing off the last of the blood. As I felt the heat of his body slip away, I chanced a glance at him over my shoulder.

“Wait here.” He instructed, then disappeared back into the house.

I heard the clink and shuffling of glass, and the rustling of furniture. It sounded like he was moving the bench and tables. I hesitated, longing to see exactly what he was up to. But I heeded his words. And I did not have to wait long. When he returned, a small square cloth was clutched in one hand. He must have found my clean linens, and came back over to me with it promptly.

Taking my arm gently, he steered me back into the light from the doorway, turning me to face him. He took up my hand again, and carefully wrapped the clean cloth around it. Tying it and tucking the ends out of the way.

To my surprise, once he finished he dropped my hands only to cup my face in his. Tilting my head back. My eyes widened slightly as he turned my face this way and that. Heat shot up my neck and filled my cheeks, and I blinked at him stupidly. But his eyes didn’t meet mine. Instead, they seemed to be considering my forehead. He slid one hand up, tracing his palm over the spot.

I belatedly remembered headbutting him, and wondered if perhaps there was a sizable bump on my face. Though I wasn’t sure if my sudden inability to focus had anything to do with having knocked skulls with an orc. I supposed it was possible it was the gin that had set me back instead. But I honestly doubted it was either making my breath catch in my throat.

Hans paused, one palm against my temple with his fingers trailing in my hair. The other lingering on my cheek. His stormy blue eyes sought out mine from behind his dark lashes, and catching sight of them made my heart flutter in my chest. He seemed to freeze briefly, and our breath mingled together in the night air between us.

“You were not.” He said after a long, quiet moment.

I blinked a few times, trying to sort his voice through the fog in my head. “I was not... What?”

He ran his thumb out, tracing my lips. “Before. When you said you were too bold… you were not.” His other hand traced over the back of my head, smoothing down my hair. “... and I should have been more bold.”

I nearly squeaked at his words, and had to clamp my lips tightly shut to keep myself from making a peep. But I could not keep myself from quivering as he ran his hand into my hair at the base of my neck. His touch was so warm. So firm and strong and yet so gentle and tender.

With the gin as my courage, I reached up, resting my own hand on top of his at my cheek. I even leaned into his palm, and felt my eyelids dip. It felt so nice, his skin against mine. His warmth. Even the smell of him in the air, despite being dosed with the scent of gin and a tiny hint of blood.

But then he pulled back, dropping his hands away and clearing his throat.

“... I should be going.”

My heart sank with my hopes, deep into the pit of my stomach. But I resisted the urge to reach out to him. To lunge forward and wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his broad chest. My ears turned pink at the thought, and I wrung my hands a little.

“O-of course… It’s late.” I almost whispered. I hoped my disappointment didn’t weigh as heavily in my voice as it did in my chest.

I found I couldn’t look at him, and so wrapped my arms about myself as I stood there quietly. I heard him shuffle across the yard, heard him pick up his armor. Heard it slap against him as he slung it over his shoulder.

My feet moved of their own accord; over to the gate. Sliding the latch back and shoving it open for him. But I still didn’t look at him. I was certain if I did all my weakness would come to the surface and I would make a fool of myself. Beg him to stay. Offer him another dinner. Offer him another entire bottle of gin. Offer him companionable silence, if that’s what he wanted. Anything at all. Just for the chance to spend a little longer with him. Part of me berated myself for such thoughts. Of course he wasn’t interested! He was an orc! A big, strong orc, with lots of talents and obviously a well paying job. Surely he could have anyone he wanted. With all those options, why would he want some little butcher girl?

I heard his big footsteps, and took a few steps back to make room for him to leave out the gate. His boots filled my view, and he paused beside me. He gave a grunt, one of his appreciative ones, I thought. I saw his feet turning to carry their master out into the marketplace again. I blinked my eyes stubbornly, trying to wipe aside their burning edges. His halting footsteps began to fade. Then I thought I heard them stop abruptly, followed by a soft thump of something hitting the dirt and a quiet growl. I frowned through my burning eyes, because now I seemed to be imagining that the sound was getting louder again.

All of a sudden, a great big arm swept around my waist. I gasped as his large hand plunged back into my hair at the base of my skull and he tilted my head up to face him. But the gasp was promptly cut short as the great hulking orc curled over me and crushed his lips against mine.

My initial surprise was quickly replaced by a burning heat. My wide eyes closed, my arms wrapped around his big neck. I felt his thick hair falling like a curtain around me; I could smell nothing but his deep, musky scent. My heart pounded like a drum in my ears, and my breath was shallow and distracted. His mouth tasted sweet; of gin and the dry rub from the meat. He pressed his strong lips firmly but gently to mine, his big hand guiding me against him. As he felt me melt into his arms and respond to his kiss, Hans pulled me closer to himself, practically bending me in half with his eagerness. I molded myself to his body, feeling his firm chest pressed against mine, giddy with the fact that he kissed me so deeply that he lifted me off my feet.

All too soon, he reluctantly pulled back. Leaving me panting, with my eyes fluttering open to meet his waiting hooded blues. Slowly, he leaned closer and rested his forehead against mine. I smiled, burying the fingers of one hand into his thick mane of hair and sliding the other around to cup his jaw as he slowly placed my feet back on the ground.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” He breathed, and my mouth caught his words right as they left his.

My smile grew, nearly splitting my face. “What stopped you?”

He gave a deep grunt in answer, and I saw his dark eyes flick down to my lips again. When my own eyes dropped to his, I saw his tongue come out and slowly trace his bottom lip. I swallowed the desire to simply close that gap and lean forward to kiss him again. I feared ruining this moment or scaring him off. Despite his strength and size, I felt the orc was more shy than he would ever let on. Timid even, at least when it came to affection.

And so slowly, very slowly, he unwrapped himself from around me. I felt his warmth leaving as bitterly as a door opening into a snowstorm. I felt myself almost shivering from the sudden cold. I retracted my arms equally slowly, wrapping them around myself to ward off the chill left by his absence. But one of his hands lingered, his fingers trailing along the edge of my jaw.

“I’ll be back…” He promised, his deep voice sounding more than a little breathy, “In a day or two… as soon as I’m able.”

“I’ll be here.” I replied, unable to hide my grin.

The corners of his lips twitched, and his brow softened as he looked down at me. Reluctantly, he backed away, his fingers lingering against my skin until I was out of the reach of his long arms. He still watched me for a few steps, walking backwards. Finally, he turned, scooping up his armor again from where he had abandoned it on the ground.

I watched his broad back fade into the silver moonlight, reaching up to pinch myself to see if it was all real.

...

Bar’tok was waiting at the edge of the town. He grinned as the larger orc approached. The deep scowl shot back at him had the younger man quickly clearing his throat and wiping away his smile.

“The roast was delivered, as per your instruction Boss.” He told Hans, falling into step beside him. “And the boys were well fed with the other; they are ready and raring to go.”

The taller orc grunted, dawning his armor without halting a step. The pair moved with purpose to the war hogs snuffing at the treeline beyond the town’s borders. Hans strapped the last buckle of his armor, slapping his hog’s shoulder as the beast shuffled eagerly. Bar’tok wrapped his fingers in the sparse mane of his own mount, then hesitated.

“You know, Boss,” He started, chewing the inside of his cheek, “The boys and I can handle this raid, if you’d rather stay-”

The responding growl sounded more like a rumbling roar deep in the throat of the big orc, and reverberated off the trunks around them. The fierce look shot at his second had the man quickly raising his hands and shaking his head apologetically. Before the larger orc could follow up on the silent threat, Bar’tok bounded into his mounts’ saddle and cleared his throat again apologetically. Hanste’kosh traded his scowl for a dark glare, big brow furrowed, and his companion swallowed nervously.

But the big orc merely yanked the reins of his mount, redirecting the hog with his huge thighs to turn and head deeper into the woods. When his boss was a safe distance away, Bar’tok heaved a deep sigh of relief, glancing over his shoulder. He wondered if that sweet little butcher girl had any idea what kind of trouble she was getting into.

....

UPDATE: Part four HERE

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