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sweetsbfreex · 3 years ago

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a styles vacation to Hawaii

Summary: a little continuation of this family. The styles take a vacation to Hawaii with mild bumps in the road.

a/n: no warnings, but harry is not famous in this. I’ve never been to Hawaii and do not much of the hawaiian attire/culture, i just did research and put what i found. If there’s any misconceptions or if i’ve offended anyone by accident pls lmk!

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Harry

“Honey, you have to let go so we’re not late for the plane” Harry grunts, trying to stealthily pull Ava away from her hold on Milo.

“No! We can’t leave Mimi” she cries out, cuddling her face into the pup’s fur even more.

“Mimi has to stay with nan, honey” From his tone you can tell he’s losing patience.

It’s a definite eyesore. The whole situation takes place on your mother's porch. You were all meant to say your goodbyes before the three of you–– no Milo–– go off on a small vacation to Hawaii.

Ava is holding on to the australian shepherd, not letting up one bit. You would think she glued herself onto him without anyone knowing, with how she latched on.

Milo in front of your mother's feet, enjoying what he thinks is a hug it seems. Only letting out long whines when Ava's sobs get out of control.

Harry is standing behind Ava, bent at the wait trying to pry her off her best friend.

You're crouched beside her, a hand on her back, trying to convince her to let go.

Ava's poor grandmother stands in the doorway. A look of agony on her face as she watches it all go down.

The–– now three year old–– has been throwing a hissy fit in the car, holding onto Milo's paw. Ever since Harry informed her how they were going to her nan's house to drop off Milo and then hurry to the plane. She saw the news like a terrible taste in her mouth, while she stared at you both in the rearview mirror eyes widened.

You know how much the two love each other, but you didn't expect her to throw a fit like this.

“Ava I know you’re upset but, you gotta let go honey so Mimi can have fun with grandma. Don’t you want to go on the airplane, hm? Weren’t you excited about it?” You ask her, beginning to unclasp one hand and go for the other, trying to bring into your arms.

But with quickness, she remembered the only way she would be able to go on this vacation. Without Milo, she wraps her arms around Milo again.

“Baby, Milo has to stay. Dog’s aren’t allowed in Hawaii” At this moment, Harry is willing to try anything.

“They’re not?” she asks, tilting her head back a little to see her father’s face.

“Nope, Milo won’t have fun there. He’ll have more fun with Nana” he tells her, bringing his thumbs down to wipe away the tears.

“...I wanna stay with Mimi!”

Milo doesn’t eject this idea, letting his chin rest on her small shoulder. You and Harry huff in frustration, glancing at each other. Your mother...well she’s had enough of whatever foolishness you and H are pulling right now.

“Okay enough of this” your mother starts, gaining everyone’s attention. “Ava, honeybee, Tell Milo and your grandma see you later and let go of him so you can have fun on your trip with your parents.” She says this with a stern, yet loving tone. Down to business and nothing else.

“Yes nana” she mumbles, placing a few kisses to Milo’s cheek and glides to your mom.

You and Harry look at each other in an instant, eyes wide at the way your mother fixed the problem in less than a minute. A mutual look of what the fuck, as in the what the fuck were you possibly doing wrong.

“Thanks mum.” Harry says sheepish, looking at the calming little one swaying in your mother’s arms.

“Yeah thanks mom” you say, standing up straight.

“No problem, Now get going, before she fusses again”

You all exchange your see you laters. Ava has yet another sweet moment with Milo. While Harry tells her she won't be staying in Hawaii forever and Milo won't stay with Nana forever. As you're driving away you all wave at the two, Ava yelling to Milo.

“Bye Mimi! See you soon! Don’t chase a squirrel when I’m gone!” She yells out the window, her arm waving in the wind.

You and Harry share a chuckle. Despite what she may think, Milo has never chased a squirrel in his life. She's watched it once on a cartoon and it somehow filled her heard with the imaginary scenario.

When both her grandmother and bestfriend are out of sight, she turns her head to the other window. A solemn look on her face, looking out the window like the Kermit the Frog meme.

You play the Frozen 2 soundtrack for the less pouty girl behind you. But when you don't hear the shrill sound of her singing, you look behind you to see an upset look upon her cherub face.

Her bottom lip is juts out, her hands fisted and arms crossed.

“You okay?” you ask her, turning in your seat to cradle her knee.

She’s dressed cutesy in a matching sweat set and a cute beanie rested over her plaits.

“No. I’m upset and I wanna yell” she looks at you, resting her case, before she turns her head back to its original spot.

Harry peeks at the interaction through the rear view mirror; an eyebrow quirked. One hand on the wheel while the other takes its natural spot in your lap, your fingers tangled with his.

“Why are you upset?” you ask.

“Because…” she groans, trying to figure out her ‘big feelings’. “You left Mimi and now he’ll hate me”

“He won’t hate you, you’re his favorite person”

“You guys don’t love me either!” She whines, glaring out the window. Wigging in her spot, causing your hand to fall from her knee.

“That’s not true! We love you” you exclaim, in a loving manner.

“Then get Mimi”

“Mimi is staying with grandma Ava, enough.” Harry’s voice catches her attention immediately. “ It's okay to be upset but Hawaii doesn’t accept dogs, remember?”

She only huffs, dropping her hands from her chest.

“Can you play the when I am older song, please mommy?” she almost whispers.

You accept her request, turning so you’re seated right. Playing the song and hearing her sing eases your glazed stare a bit. Releasing a breath and closing your eyes as you rest your head against the window adds a bit to your release.

Harry raises the entangled hands away from your lap, placing an adored kiss to the back of your hand. Sending a quick questioning look your way.

“I’m fine” you send back, in a smile. No mother wants to hear those words.

He can’t do much with him driving and with Ava in the car. So he places a kiss to the back of your hand once more, and extends his hand so he caresses the back of your neck.

“You’re doing a great job, stop being so hard on yourself” he encourages.

If your mom was here she’d give you a tip or two on how you and Harry are too soft on Ava. You couldn’t help leaving all the disciplining to Harry, you probably were definitely too soft on her at times.

Through all the pouting, belting of kid songs, and Harry's annoying jokes and teasing. Five hours later you've made it to the resort.

At the moment, Harry was checking you both in while you and Ava looked around the gift shop. When you feel someone’s arm come around your shoulder, you jump. But the feeling of his cold rings and brings you down.

“Scared me, don’t do that” a breath of relief follows as you tilt your head back onto his shoulder. He gets the memo immediately, leaning down for a peck to the lips.

“Made a friend in the lobby.” He tells you like nothing. Eyes shifting at his little girl looking through the stuffed animals and keychains.

“Are you okay?” you ask in disbelief.

“What?” he laughs, one eyebrow perched.

“Like in the head”

“I’m not following…”

“Why are you so good at making friends with strangers this easily? Seriously.”

He laughs you off like it’s nothing, but it’s uncomic. You wish you could blame it on being shy, but compared to Harry it was not that easy for you to chat up strangers enough that you become acquaintances.

Your husband could make friends with a duck if he wanted to. Everywhere you went. Whether in the ice cream shop a few miles away at home or the park where you took Ava all the time .He was always chatting with someone, in the end pulling you in.

He only laughs it off, beyond doubt enjoying the look on your face. “We agreed to save each other a seat at the Luau tonight, for whoever gets there first. Talked to the husband actually, but you’ll see”

“You’re insane” you tease him.

“Can I have this?” A teal, stuffed sea turtle is thrusts in the direction of you and Harry.

“How do we ask nicely” you say.

“Can I get this?” she smiles, a smile so sweet, your tooth hurts from looking at it. She’s the most adorable thing and knows exactly how to use it to her advantage.

“My sweet little baby.” Harry crooned, advancing to her, lifting her into his tattooed arms. Placing a series of kisses to her plump cheeks. She giggles, never wanting the affection to stop. “You can have it,” he tells her. “Let’s go to the till.”

“Harry you didn’t even check the price” you chimed in.

“Shh. We’re having a moment” he acknowledged. He outstretches his arm, so his palm meets your face gently. You laugh into it, before you smack his wrist away, then placing a light kiss to his wrist when he whines.

It’s some hours later. You’re all getting ready for the hotel’s hosted dinner/Luau tonight. The three of you took a two and a half hour nap.

You were touching up your light makeup while Harry got Ava ready. He lost two rounds of rock-paper-scissors and now must deal with the havoc that is dressing Ava.

“Baby, get the trousers mommy picked out for you” you Harey him tell Ava.

“Trousers?” She says the word with confusion, “Don’t have trousers babe? That’s a silly word.”

Then you hear the raspy laugh of Harry.

“Your pants, get your pants and your top too”

Not even a minute later do you hear Harry asking her to stop wiggling around.

Harry walks in the bathroom, a giggling Ava sat on his hip.

Harry adores a very laid back...dad look you could say. The back of the white wife beater he’s wearing get’s covered by a black button up shirt with flamingos patterned all over it. He’s also wearing a pair of shorts and his favorite vans.

Ava’s tucked into a set. a cami top with matching flared pants and sunflowers ornamented the black fabric.

“Oooh look at mumma, beautiful huh?” he asks Ava, extending one hand towards you, once you clasp your hands in his, he spins you letting his eyes sink in.

“Yeah!”

“Thank you both” you smile as Harry tugs you in for a swift kiss.

You had picked out an angelic, ivory crochet set. The top you’re wearing shows off your midriff and the long, flowy skirt matches with beautiful lace detailing.

You turn to Ava to give her a kiss on her cheek. “You look so handsome.” you tell Harry, letting your hand run through his hair. “And you look so adorable, you like your outfit?” taking her from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah, I like the flowers–– Can I have some too?” she points to the plethora of makeup products spread over the bathroom counter.

Looking over at Harry for his confirmation, he nods. You take the brush running it over the blush, before brushing it over her chubby cheeks and her nose.

“Tickles,” she laughs, pushing your hand away.

“Are you ladies ready to go?”

“Wow! Look the fires!” She points at the lines of tiki torches submerged into the sand, jumping as she sits on your hip.

The layout is stunning. There’s a stage for the performance, round tables spread out everywhere across the beach, and a buffet in the back.

Most of the tables are already filled, albeit the show was to start in like twenty minutes.

“There they are, over there” Harry indicated, his hand waving back at a family of four.

With Harry’s hand settled on your back, he weaved the three of you to the table.

“Hey Shawn.” Harry greeted, their hands clasped together as they brought each other in, clapping each other on the back.

Shawn was a tall man, a few inches taller than Harry, and very built. He had amazing brown skin, clear like a mirror, and was bald––which he pulled off effortlessly.

“This is my wife, y/n and my daughter Ava” he smiled at the two of you, while you shook hands with Shawn and asked Ava to say a hello. Which she did, like bursting a ball of energy as put her hands out for a handshake like she watched her parents do. It caused a laugh out of everyone. She didn’t know why they were laughing at her, but she enjoyed the attention.

“This is my wife Avni” you hugged, as close as you could, with a petite, expecting Indian woman. She was radiant as she smiled at you and Harry. “These are my kids Grey and Aster” you shook hands with them both.

Grey looked about Ava’s age, bouncy coils moving as he bobbed up and down in his seat. His sister, who looked in her tweens, sported the same hair texture. Aster more silent of the two sent her greetings kindly.

“And the third is still cooking in here” he laughed, setting his hands down on Avni’s early protruding belly.

With that joke, you understand exactly how the two of them got to know each other, as Harry joined in with his laugh. The wives chuckled amongst themselves.

“How far along are you?” you solicited.

“Three and a half months” Avni smiled proudly, rubbing both hands around her belly.

You cooed, “It’s amazing, you’re literally glowing. You're making me miss being pregnant” you joke.

“Okay! Enough of that. One little devil is enough.” Harry tickles your side, as a result you jab his side with your elbow gently, as he grins down at you. “We’re gonna go get some food,” he informs the couple.

Now everyone’s sitting around the table anticipating for the show to start. Conversation running pretty smoothly. The four of you were even able to make a few plans for the week you are here for. You had gotten a high chair for Ava to sit and eat in, but she wasn’t having it. Failing around while reaching for you.

In result, she’s now sitting in your lap, bouncing side to side. Munching on her French fries, chicken, and sipping on her pineapple juice.

“Taste good?” Harry asks his toddler.

“Mhm” she hums, shoving her thumb into his face.

“I can tell” he chuckles, extending a napkin to wipe her face clean.

You tilt your head down closer to hers, to see sauce around her mouth, some of it on her cheek even.

“Daddy.”

“Hm, baby?”

“Mimi would like this, he loves the chicken mommy gives me”

“You give Mimi your chicken?”

“No”

You both laugh it off, not seeing the point in correcting her.

“Who’s Mimi”

“Mimi is our dog, he's big and he can talk!” Ava answered, her voice ringing with excitement.

“Dog’s can’t talk!” The high-pitched voice of Grey argued, eye brows pitched together.

“That’s a fib, Mimi talks to me all the time!” she defended.

Thankfully, the show was beginning, two young women and four young men came out on stage. Dressed in their traditional Hula attire.

You and Avni shared a grateful smile, knowing neither of you would know how to suppress their little spiff.

The dance is mesmerizing and it was nice with the sun almost setting as a background. Light hues of orange shaded the sea as the night took over the rest. Everyone watched in awh, clapping when it was appropriate. The women’s skirt flowed amongst the air like water.

Harry’s arm propps on the back of your chair. During the performance you feel his fingers run against the back of your neck.

You turn your head towards, trying not to disturb the entranced little girl on your lap. “What?” you mouth.

“It’s beautiful” he whispers to you.

“I know” you tell him, smiling when he rolls his eyes at you.

At some point in the show, the original dancers plus a few more stepped off the stage. An array of Lei’s on their arms, watching as they put Leis around their chosen person’s neck. During this time a woman walks behind Harry, setting one around his neck.

You laugh at the shocked look on his face and the way he fixes his posture. She places a grip onto his arm, making him stand up so she could guide her to the rest of the others. Avni gets chosen too.

The smile on your face makes your face hurt as you watch Harry “dance” up there. The man definitely didn’t have the bet rhythm but he’s having fun and you loved that.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!...” Ava cheered on her father, clapping her hands. Harry looks towards her, waving. She gets even more excited chanting his title louder.

She's Not interrupting anything, you’re surprised he heard her in the first place. But also not, she always knew how to project her voice when needed.

A little over a minute goes by when Ava raises her hand and keeps it up there until you’re able to flag down someone for a lei, which you both get. The both of you walk up to Harry and you set Ava on the ground.

A slight circle forms as you three hold hands together. Just swaying. Sometimes letting go because Harry wanted to spin the two of you. It’s a beautiful image, you're sure. All the glee you could hold in your body transpires in the way you danced with them.

When you’re walking back to your hotel room, your arms are hooked with Harry’s and your head rests on his shoulder. An almost asleep Ava in his arm. He stops to bring his free hand around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Thank you for giving me this, I love you” he whispers against your lips.

Last night, after the dinner and the Hula, Ava had facetimed Nana. To be honest, she had wanted to say a goodnight to Milo, but talking to her grandmother was always a plus. She was still dressed in her outfit, you and Harry getting ready for the night, so you could then focus on her.

She sat up against the headboard, Your giant phone–– compared to her hands–– held in her tiny ones. You were looking through her duffle bag for her pyjamas when you heard…

“Look Mimi, I saved you chicken”, her small teeth bared, holding up a piece of her chicken from dinner. Your phone is now being propped up against a pillow.

You looked up to watch her pull a piece of chicken from her...pant pocket.

That was the point you reavulated yourself as a parent and had to think about what kind of kid you and Harry were possibly raising.

“Harry!” you called for him.

He walked out, an eyebrow quirked.

“Look.” you hiss, voice low.

‘God…’ Harry thinks. “Where’d she get that chicken from?” he asks, running his towel over his hair.

“Her pocket! Why are you so casual about this?”

“Angel...you had a baby with me, what’d you expect?” he questions, seriously questions you this.

“You’re fixing it then, Mr. mini-me”

Presently, you’re all at the beach. Three towels and three umbrellas lay in/on the sand. You’ve rubbed sunscreen on Ava twice now and have had to remind Harry three times. After last time there was no way you’d be rubbing aloe vera on him all night.

“Baby you’re dripping it.” You sigh, reaching over to wipe her chin of the chocolate ice cream she was eating, from a cup you might add. “Do you want me to feed it to you?”

“No, thank you” she replies, kicking her feet out.

You’ve all swam a bit, but now are on a mini break from the water and saw they were selling ice cream close by.

It’s pretty quiet between the three of you, too busy enjoying your treat.

She gasps, “Daddy you’re a fibber” Ava says indifferently, slurping even more of her ice cream from her spoon.

He guffaws, caught off guard from her statement. He shifts towards the two of you. The way the wind blows his hair and the sun makes the green in his eyes even brighter catches you off guard–– the sight of his abs doesn’t hurt either.

You also knew it wouldn’t be long until his hair gained some highlights and his freckles would be more prompt. You couldn’t wait.

“How’m I a fibber, messy?” squinting down at her.

“Look!”she points, “There’s a puppy right there”

There is, you turn your eyes to where her fingers point to see a woman walking a black Dachshund.

Harry turns his head towards him, a sad look on his face. “You’re right baby. I’m a fibber. I’m sorry”

Ava hurls from her seat to latch her arms around his neck, “It’s okay daddy, now Mimi can come next time” she tells him.

If there’s one thing about Ava, it’s how much she hates sadness. Unless it’s from her. Then it’s perfectly okay. She hates sadness so much, she particularly had a dislike for the character from Inside out. Until you had to explain to her how sadness is something that is okay and needed from time to time, Like in the movie.

After her round of affection towards Harry, she emplaces herself into his lap.

“Daddy. Mommy.”

You both hum an answer.

“It looks like a hot dog” she eyes the dog while it trots down the sand.

“It does huh?” Harry answers, brushing her flyaways back. All while you laugh into your palm.

Your hands feel tingly when you wrap it around Harry’s neck, pulling him into you. His head lays against your shoulder.

Definitely a vacation to remember and cherish.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

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sabraeal · 2 years ago

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If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

A million years ago (2018), I held a raffle to celebrate having 500 followers, and @bubblesthemonsterartist was the winner of the grand prize-- five fics of her choosing. These and the other winners were all supposed to have their fics post in 2019, over the 12 weeks I was taking off after I had my second son. Unfortunately, MANY THINGS OCCURRED, and now I have finally, FINALLY made it through all my backlog to grant Joanna her wishes. And this was her first request, because I left her BOY in the SNOW on her BIRTHDAY 🤣

Gray light filters through her sheer curtains, hesitantly washing over her room as if it would hate to impose. It has none of the determination of the winter sun, muting pastels into something just shy of monochrome, like a reel of film left out of its can to age. It’s...nice. Cozy even; the perfect weather for a day where there’s no classes to rush to nor study sessions to sweat through, no place to go nor person she needs to be. She’s just Chizuru, and for a moment, that’s enough.

It never lasts.

Her phone vibrates across the bedside table, tooting and carrying on until it bumps into the lamp, buzzing angrily at the inconvenience. It’s barely a breath’s worth of fuss, but Chizuru flops over, brushing her fingers over the screen like touch might soothe it. Or at least, she tries-- the sleeve of her sweater’s slumped, making paws where fingers should be.

Chizuru blinks, but sleep clings stubbornly to her lashes, making the world bleary and indistinct. It takes a good rub to get them clear, wool scratching where she can’t shake away her sleeve, and--

And this is Father’s cardigan, the one she’d kept before everything went into storage. He might not be a large man, but it’s too big for her by far; she wears it around the house when she’s got a craving to be cozy, but it’s not meant for bed. Even now it’s knotted up in the blanket, toggles tangled in the crochet, tugging in places never meant to give.

Her hand hovers, a flinch away from one of those knots. “This isn’t my blanket...?”

Not the one she sleeps under, at least. No, this is a throw, one she keeps across the room on her desk chair for when the little space heater beneath it manages to serve better as a footrest. And when she moves it aside--

Oh my, those are her jeans. The same ones from yesterday, along with the worn T-shirt she changed into after Yamazaki--

“Yamazaki,” she gasps, scrambling for the phone. It takes shoving her sleeves up past her elbows, but she scoops it up, cradling it in both her palms. Oh, how she misses her tiny flip phone, even if Shinpachi called it dinosaur technology; at least then she’d been able to hold it and type at the same time. Now she just has to swipe with her thumbs, hoping it’ll rouse enough to show the home screen.

It flickers on, reluctantly informing her that it’s 10:24 am, and she has a blast email from the university, one that reminds the student body to drive safely and make good decisions over break. There’s also a text from Sen, one that starts, busy now but we can drop by after xmas 🎄, and below that--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Arrived at my parents. Hope I didn’t keep you up. Sleep well.

Chizuru groans, forehead dropping to her fists. After that whole production about him checking in, and she couldn’t even do him the favor of staying awake long enough to appreciate it.

[Me] Oh please don’t worry about me!! I fell asleep waiting 😂

It’d be silly to wait for him to reply. Her phone slips from her fingers, cradled by the crochet slung between her legs. If she was asleep before he got in, it would only make sense that he was still--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Must have been pretty tired. I only live 20min out.

[Me] You must have taken longer than that! It’s 20 min under regular driving conditions but there was all that snow

There’s a long pause, long enough that Chizuru pecks out, Right?, fingers hesitating over each letter. Her thumb’s hovering right over SEND when the phone buzzes, screen scrolling up to read:

[Suzumu Yamazaki] Almost called last night but glad I didn’t. Looks like you needed that sleep :)

[Me] Oh no don’t worry!! I wouldn’t have minded!! It would be nice to hear your voice

“Oh!” The phone jolts from her fingers, shock making even the rubber case sear. That’s what she gets for typing too fast for her brain to catch up; sure, it had sounded so nice in her head, but now that it’s out in the cold hard reality of text...

It’s too much. Like she’s trying to-- to--

Susumu Yamazaki is typing...

“Please don’t,” she moans, slapping her hands over her ears. “I didn’t mean it! I mean, I did, but not in a weird way. Ugh.”

The message disappears. No, flickers, on and off, until it finally settles back to a steady, Susumu Yamazaki is typing...

There’s no reason for him to take that long to reply, not unless he’s trying to find a polite way to say, you’re being really weird, or maybe, is there something wrong with you?

She can’t watch. Mercifully, the screen flicks off. It may not change the fact that he’s writing a scathing dissertation about her poor socialization, but at least she doesn’t have to witness it.

It does, however, display, [Hachiro] eta 30min

“Wh-what?”

Her fingers fumble across the screen, never quite managing to slide up enough to get it open, not until she picks it up in one hand and shakes. It shouldn’t work-- percussive maintenance only works on machines with cogs and springs, Saito has told her too many times to count, not computer chips-- and yet, here she sits, staring down at a string of texts timestamped twenty minutes ago.

[Hachiro] good morning chizu! mom has me out running her chores today 😒 but looks like some of them are going to take me past your place maybe if i have time i’ll swing by your place been a while since we’ve been able to hang out 😄 k all done eta 30min

“Oh,” she breathes. “But what am I going to do with Souji?”

When Chizuru had first moved in to the house, hair shorn and clothes baggy, hoping that her compression bra could do the heavy lifting when it came to masculine body shapes, the doorbell had been a stately sort of tune. Bing-bong ding-dong, the mark of a Real Adult entering their home, like Professor Hijikata, or sometimes even Dean Kondo.

Westminster chime, Shinpachi told her, with so much confidence she could only stare. What? I can know stuff. They used it at my school.

Private school. Souji tossed his hair out of his eyes. Fuckin’ prep.

Hey! Shinpachi’s a big guy, only a few inches shy of Harada and twice as wide in the shoulders. But even still, he can shrink so small, folding in on himself like a sulking child. I don’t think there’s any need for-- for hurtful language.

Harada only snorted, Rich kid.

Either way, she’d liked that one. Sure, it went on a little long, and if they got multiple packages in a day the halls started to feel a little cloister-like, as if she’d really been sent away to a nunnery the way Father used to tease. But at least when she answered the door, people looked impressed, or at least impassive.

That is not the chime that rings today, though.

“I didn’t even know they made doorbells with that,” Harada mutters from under his covers as she sprints past, tearing the towel from her head.

They don’t, Chizuru’s pretty sure, but she doesn’t have the breath to reply, or even curse Souji’s ability to turn even the most innocuous objects into landmines. No, she only has enough to manage a shrill, “I’ve got it!” before pounding down the stairs, hoping she can move quicker than Souji’s sense for chaos.

She flings open the door, wet hair stiffening in the cold, and there is Hachiro, perfect as always, a smile already dawning on his handsome face.

“Morning, Chizu.” He lifts a gloved hand, shaking the snow from his lazy curls. “It’s good to--” Hachiro blinks-- “is that ‘Through the Fire and Flames?’“

“Sorry to make you rush.” Hachiro toes off his shoes-- boots, really, by their treads, but they still look nicer than anything else on the tray-- not dripping a single drop of slush onto the floor. “You’re usually such an early riser, I never thought you’d still be...” He hesitates, clearing his throat. “...In bed.”

It’s silly to blush, but she does, ducking her head against her shoulder. “I was, um, up late last night. Not for bad reasons! Just, er, dragged my feet getting to bed.”

“It’s quiet in here today.” He steps up beside her, his elbow giving hers a playful bump. “Are we alone for once?”

“Er...no. Harada’s in bed, last I checked.” She’s not really sure he knows there’s hours before noon, but that’s not what Hachiro’s asking. “And Souji is, um...around, I’m sure. Somewhere.”

His mouth twists, but it smooths to handsomeness so quick it’s barely more than a trick of the eye. “Good thing I brought breakfast, then.”

He holds up a bag, glossy and bright and oh-so pink, the logo cute, if unfamiliar. “Mom had me go into town today, and it took me right past that new pastry place. The one that used to be Mastudaira’s?”

“Ah, that one! It’s...Meiji now?” She pushes up to her toes, peeking through the handles for a glimpse of wax paper and crackled crusts. The reality, however, leaves her disappointed; instead of vanilla cream or cinnamon custard, she just sees...cardboard. Sleek, branded cardboard with pink ribbons wrapped around it, but still, she settles back on her heels underwhelmed. “Let me go get some plates. Maybe even a knife, or um, forks?”

Hachiro’s dimple deepens, smile tugged to one side. “Hands should be fine, Chizu. They’re not that fancy.”

“Oh, er, right.” Her cheeks burn as she pads past him toward the kitchen. “Just plates then.”

She expects him to duck into the parlor; the front one is typically where guests drift toward, the TV and sectional conveying entertainment area without the undeniable frat boy aura of the back parlor’s pool table and darts. But instead, Hachiro follows her into the kitchen, settling the bag on the counter as she drags out her step stool.

The cabinets aren’t terribly high-- if she stands on tip-toe, she can even reach the lower shelf with only the smallest tweak in her shoulder. It’s just that the top one, or well, either of the middle ones--

“Do you want me to get them?” He steps up behind her, close enough that she can feel the chill rolling off his skin, even through his sweater. “I don’t mind, you know. Must have these long arms for a reason.”

“No, no,” she assure him, getting one knee up onto the marble. “I can get them. Please, take a seat. We can--” ah, is it awkward to ask if he want to go to the parlor now that they’re already here? Would that seem pointed, like she’s insinuating he did something wrong, or-- “pick wherever you’d like to sit. I’ll be down in just a moment.”

His jaw sets, the way it used to before he’d start a scrap with one of the neighborhood boys, but instead of resorting to a full nelson to get his way, Hachiro simply steps back with a sigh. “If you say so.”

I’ve been small my whole life, she nearly tells him, I think I know how to manage it by now. It’s the sort of thing nine-year-old Chizuru would have said, puffed up and proud as she pumped higher and higher on the swings. She’d broken her arm jumping off them, fighting back tears as Hachiro ran to get the teacher.

“I’ve been wanting to try this for a while,” she says instead.

He glances up, wide-eyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. My dad came out this way for work trips all the time, and he would tell me how delicious their specials were. Linguini and clams. Roasted quail on yam puree. All sorts of stuff.” Her smile twists, wry as she hops down, two plates in hand. “When I first came out here, I thought I could at least save up for a table at Matsudaira’s, even if it was just for myself. I was heartbroken when I saw the empty storefront.”

“I would never have guessed. When we were kids you hated that sort of thing.” His head tilts, curious, watching her beneath heavy lids as she sets the dish in front of him. “Is that something that interests you now?”

“Oh, no.” She hops up onto the stool, feet dangling from the rungs. “I just thought...I don’t know. It’s silly really. I mean, since my dad liked it, I just thought...”

Chizuru’s not good at this, the whole...talking about it thing. Her feelings are so...so vast, like looking out over prairie as the lightning comes down, or an ocean as the storm rises. She’s not like the professor, able to take these things and distill them down to their essence, plastering perfection onto the page for everyone else to consume. They don’t squeeze down into those little boxes, becoming something easy to handle, they’re just--

“It would make you feel like you’re with him.”

Her chin jerks up, meeting his patient smile. “That’s what you mean right? If you could do something he enjoyed so much, it might feel like the distance wasn’t so much.”

Warmth blooms beneath her breast, a heat that scintillates out to her limbs and back, chest squeezing tight. Even sitting there, her skin tingling, she can’t decide whether it’s a good feeling, or...something else. Something complicated.

“Yes. That.” The words leave her on a gasp, a sigh she no longer has the breath for. It’s silly to be so worked up, to care so much about not having to explain, that she sets her hands to work, glossy bag slipping against her fingers. “But then Meiji opened up, and I know it’s not the same thing, not even a little, but...”

“It’s close enough.” The bag’s top clenches shut as he puts his hand over hers, giving her a squeeze she feels down to her toes. One that stops as quickly as it starts; she barely has time to blink before he’s retreated to his side of the table, smile slanted and inscrutable. “Once he’s done with his done with his sabbatical, I’m sure your father would love to go with you.”

There’s something lodged between the muscles of her throat, brittle as a pitted stone and ragged as a sob, and she can’t trust herself to speak around it, not without risking its escape. So she nods instead, the motion doing nothing to knock it loose, only ache.

She tries to grab the boxes, flimsy little things that bend under the weight of her grip, but her fingers keep falling numbly off them, nicking her knuckles on their corners. It’s as if her hands know what to do, but her mind can’t focus on making them do it, at least not with any sort of skill.

“You’ll like what I picked, I think,” Hachiro tells her, lifting up one of the boxes with a delicacy and elegance she could only dream of. “I haven’t seen them around here before. They’re called maritozzi.”

“It...sounds fancy,” she agrees, glancing dubiously down at the package he’s placed in her palms. “It’s not...hard to eat, is it?”

His mouth quirks at a corner, and for a moment, he looks almost as roguish as he had at age ten, just minus the bruises. He’d been chubbier then, all the sweeping curves of his face softened by baby fat and his nanny’s cooking, but beneath that it’s the same bones, the same boy that had cried when a bully pushed him off the jungle gym, and then sat on him a week later when he’d tried to do it to Chizuru.

“Not at all.” His voice is different now, not deep like his father’s but full. Masculine, but pretty enough that the choir director would still compliment him if he ever went back. “They’re deceptively simple, actually.”

She braces herself, pressing at the corners until the paper hinge gives, and then-- “Oh.”

“See?” Hachiro’s too kind to laugh, but she hears the hint of one his his voice as she lifts the little bun from its box, careful to keep cream off her fingers. “Nothing to be worried about.”

There really is nothing strange about them, save that she’s never seen anything quite like them. The roll’s only the size of her palm, split down the middle and filled to the brim with black-flecked whipped cream, smoothed over until it looks natural, as if it were all one piece. “Is that real vanilla?”

His shoulder lifts, casual. “So I would assume.”

She takes a bite, or at least she tries to-- like anything with a filling, she nearly has to unhinge her jaw to keep cream from making a bid for freedom. But that first taste hits her tongue, and oh, it’s so, so good.

“So,” Hachiro hums. “Where is your father now?”

Her mouth is full-- he knows it’s full, he just saw her take a bite-- and yet he’s sitting there so mildly, as if it’s normal to hold a conversation this way, like she might not choke herself trying to swallow enough down to speak. Not that she wants to-- oh no, she needs every second plausible chewing can give her if she wants a believable answer, one that won’t make him give her that look, the one he had the morning he moved away--

“Er...” She takes one last swallow, loud enough that his eyebrows lift at the gulp. “I’m not quite sure! He moves around a lot for his research. I think...the South Pacific right now? His connection’s been iffy since he left the mainland.”

“Too bad,” he drawls, too mild to be sincere. “I take it that means he won’t be home for Christmas?”

She picks off a piece of roll, dipping it in the cream. “Ah...no. But, um, I think he’s going to call tonight!”

“That’s something.” Mr. Iba used to have a way of saying nothing so nicely it sounded like a judgement, and it’s clear that Hachiro’s inherited his gift. “Do you have anything planned for Christmas Day?”

“N-no.” It hadn’t bothered her, not really, but now that she’s said it out loud it feels...sad. Incomplete. Like watching an orphan in the first act of a holiday film, before Santa or the spirit of Christmas or whatever gets involved. “I’m just staying in, I think.”

His eyebrows lift higher. “Here?”

It’s not until she glances up, trailing an assessing eye over the kitchen’s corners, that she realizes the house is hardly festive. There’s a tree in the front parlor-- it used to be by the side of the highway, growing quite peacefully past the guardrail before Shinpachi and Heisuke had driven by a few weeks ago, pulling over and declaring it the perfect Christmas tree, and chopped it down with a set of hatchets they found under the seat of the SUV. It’s been a funny story to relay to Sen-- it’s only illegal if you get caught, she’d said, but Kiku says they’re stupid-- but when she looks at Hachiro...

Ah, well, the son of a judge may not have the same opinion about it. Nor appreciate their dubiously legal decor.

“It’ll be fun!” Chizuru says instead, forcing a smile onto her face. “Hajime left me his Netflix password, so I have all the Christmas Prince movies right at my fingertips!”

“That sounds like a pretty nice day, actually.” To her surprise, he’s sincere, smiling as he take his own bite of his bun. “Though I don’t think Saito’s going to forgive you for the damage you’ll do to his recommendeds.”

Her mouth twitches behind her napkin. “Don’t worry, he told me I could watch whatever I wanted...as long as I stay on the profile he made for me.”

A grin breaks across his lips, just as mischievous as when he used to pluck his mother’s cookies off the counter. “Oh, I see, you’ve already been quarantined.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘special accommodations,’“ she informs him, doing a terrible job of hiding her smile. “It’s very kind he offered at all. He denies he even has an account when Souji asks.”

“Who could blame him?” Hachiro rubs his fingers, dislodging crumbs while his good humor smooths to vague distaste. “I shudder to think what might entertain that guy.”

True crime documentaries and Tarantino movies from her experience, but Chizuru doubts that will help her any. Not when his first impression of Souji had been ‘that guy looks like he pulled wings off flies for fun as a kid.’

“Anyway.” Hachiro clears his throat, arms folding stiffly behind his empty plate. How he eats so quickly, she’ll never know; she’s only three bites in and already her stomach is protesting. “I know you have you plans, but my mom wanted me to ask if you’d come over out place for dinner tomorrow. Her and dad are dying for an excuse to see you again.”

“O-oh!” Her cheeks heat, warm enough she’s sure he can see it. “Would they really--? Um...”

It’s been years since she’s seen them; the same with Hachiro until she tripped over him outside Hijikata’s class. But her memories of them, of their kitchen--

It’s like another home, one warmer and more full than her own. There had certainly been weeks where she’d been there more often than her own house. The ones where Father had to work late on his research, leaving her with leftovers-- and her too short to reach the microwave. But it had never occurred to her that she might be anything more than a suffered annoyance, yet one more mouth to feed when they had two growing boys. To be a wanted guest in a home like that...

Her mouth works, and she takes a bite of her pastry, waiting until is sits like lead in her stomach before she says, “I...I couldn’t possibly impose--”

“Of course you can.” He laughs, so easy, so careless, as if it should be obvious. “It’s hardly an imposition when you’re invited. Look, she even put you on my list! Right under dropping off the charity gifts, it says, get Chizuru--”

Her hand flicks up, deflecting the paper he pulls from his pocket. “I believe you,” she squeaks, barely able to look at it. “You don’t have to, um, show me.”

He hesitates, a smirk shoring up one side of his smile as he slips it back in. “All right. But you’ll come, won’t you? I’ll even pick you up.”

“Um...” His offer’s more than tempting, but the thought of showing up in their home empty-handed... “I don’t think--”

“If you’re worrying about gifts, don’t.”

Chizuru jolts in her seat, feet just barely catching her before she can topple out of it. How did he--?

“My mom said to say your presence is present enough. It’s corny, but she means it.” His gaze flicks to hers, too warm to hold, like cider fresh from the pot. “I think so too, if that matters.”

“Oh,” she breathes. It’s all so nice, but it’s also too much, like sticking frostbitten hands right into the fire, and she doesn’t know if she’s warming up or burning--

“You know, Iba, I can tell you hang out with Hijikata.” Souji sweeps into the kitchen like funeral shroud, leaving a pall over the kitchen with nothing more than a drawl. “You both don’t know how to take a hint. And by that I mean, the door is over there.”

“Okita,” Hachiro manages, his smile so saccharine her teeth ache. “I see you’ve decided to make another attempt at human socialization. I applaud your courage.”

When Souji grins it’s all teeth, prowling around until he stands at her shoulder. “Well, you know, I keep telling myself that no matter what I do, I’ll never sound as stupid as you striking out. And then I have all the motivation I need to keep going on.”

“We all have to find inspiration somewhere, even if it’s only from our own imagination.” Hachiro glows with a grace so serene that paintings of saints would patina with envy. “Ah, it seems I didn’t bring enough pastries for all of us. Looks like you’ll have to go figure out something else on your own.”

“It’s okay.” A long fingers reach past her shoulder, plucking the bun off her plate. There’s a soft crackle right above her ear, and oh, she doesn’t need to turn around to know where the crumbs tumbling down her shoulder come from. “I figured something out.”

“That,” Hachiro grits out, his smile finally as strained as his patience, “is for Chizuru.”

Souji’s arm dangles lazily off her shoulder, hand close enough that if he just tensed his fingers enough to curl, he’d brush below her clavicle. It’s...distracting. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

“I think--”

“So are you actually gonna go to this loser’s house? Hang out with his parents?” Souji snorts, bending close enough for his hair to tickle over her ear. “Food poisoning sounds more fun.”

A breath hisses between Hachiro’s teeth, but still he only says, so calm, “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

Around the last of her pastry, Souji mumbles an unfortunately clear, “No.” With a swallow, he adds, “I’m having fun right now.”

“Is that so?” Hachiro’s mouth cants to a dangerous angle. “Then maybe you could--”

There is an end to this suggestion, Chizuru can see the way his mouth moves to make it, eyes glinting like a knife beneath the kitchen lights. But it’s impossible to make out what it might be, not with what sounds like a stampede coming down the back stairs.

“Hey, guys anyone seen my shir--” Harada hauls himself up short, nearly clipping his head on the top of the door. “Oh, how you doin’, Iba? Didn’t expect to see you here.”

One arm hooked over the chair back shifts Hachiro’s posture from high alert to casually confident, Souji entirely forgotten. “It was short notice. Sorry for the surprise.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” His giant hand paws at the towel slung around his shoulder, lifting it to dab at his hairline, and-- oh no, he’s not-- he’s--

“Would it kill you to keep your clothes on?” Souji grumbles, slinking from her shoulders to glare from a safe distance like a particularly hostile housecat.

The past three months had exposed her to so much bared boy flesh-- so much she’s sure Shinpachi only begrudgingly tolerates any clothes that aren’t made out of jersey or spandex-- that it’s practically the wallpaper now, utterly unnoticeable unless she’s got her nose pressed to it. But now that Harada is here, strolling through the kitchen, shirtless and dripping right in front of Hachiro, casually advertising her every day, well--

Chizuru can’t blame Souji; she’d like an excuse to slip out of this situation too.

“It might.” Harada scratches at the scar that bisects his stomach, thoughtful. “So does this mean the professor’s coming by too?”

Hachiro laughs, shaking his head, as if just gym shorts were a perfectly normal outfit for a grown man to wear in company. “No, as much as I’d like to see him today, I’m afraid it’s only me. I just stopped in to invite Chizuru to Christmas dinner.”

There’s no reason for it, not at all-- only minutes ago the offer had been as welcome a surprise as it was terrifying-- but now ever muscle stiffens, her knuckles white where they grip the countertop. As if somehow everyone knowing made it-- it--

A coy smirk hovers at the corners of his mouth, a silent tease ready to unravel her. “Oh, that sounds--” Harada glances down at where she sits, and his confusion snuffs his mischief as quick as a match-- “er...nice?”

“You mean stupid,” Souji mutters, but if Hachiro hears him, he doesn’t show it.

“I think so too.” It’s hard to resist when he smiles at her, bright and warm as the best summer day. “My parents will be so happy to see you again.”

“Oh.” Harada’s eyes widen until she can see whites around them. “That’s, uh...I didn’t realize you guys were...serious?”

Chizuru’s hands fly up, waving as if that might help dispel-- er, whatever this is. “Ah! That’s not-- we’re not together. We’re just-- we were neighbors in elementary school. I’ve explained this before...”

“O...kay,” Harada says, just as Souji adds, “See, I told you it was stupid.”

“They haven’t seen her for a long time,” Hachiro explains smoothly, making it all sound so normal, the way she never could. “That’s why they’re so excited.”

“It’s very kind of you to, um, offer, but I don’t--” Guilt’s been nibbling at her since he invited her, but now it takes huge, gulping bites, her confidence as tattered as lettuce left in the crisper. “I mean, do you really think that, er--?”

“Really collecting husbands now, aren’t you, Chizuru?” Souji snorts. “Don’t you already have one stalker that thinks you’re married to him? And now this jackoff’s taking you to meet his parents.”

Hachiro finally turns to him, flushed and out of patience. “Do you have a problem?”

“Yeah, your fa--”

“I--I’m not!” Her hands slap the counter, too loud, but it gets their attention, as little as she likes having it. “I mean, not collecting husbands. No, I mean, I’m not doing that either, but I’m also--” she takes a steeling breath-- “I’m not going. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Hachiro’s brow knits, the skin there as furrowed as his frown below. “You don’t need to listen to him, Chizuru. There’s nothing wrong about coming over, or weird either. You’re always welcome at our house.”

“I’m not. I mean, I know, I’m not listening to him. It’s just--”

There’s a thousand things she wants to say, a hundred explanations that bloom and rot off the vine. But none of them fit, none of them are what she means. There’s no way to say, it still feels too intimate without implying I don’t want to lead you on, nor I miss my dad without also saying I’m going to waste my life waiting for a phone call.

“I’m not,” she repeats, stronger this time. “Thank you for the invitation, Hachiro, it means a lot to me. But, um, I just finished exams last night, and I’ve really been looking forward to some down time. I just don’t think I’m ready to be good company.”

“You’re always good company,” he tells her, unconvinced. “But if you’re sure...”

“We’ll take good care of her.” Harada slings an arms around her shoulders, squeezing her close enough to catch a whiff of his bodywash. “I promise, no sad Chizuru. And maybe you can stop by again after the holidays and hang. Shinpachi and Saito are gonna be sad they missed you, man.”

Hachiro spares her one last lingering look before he sighs, easing into his laid-back lounge. “Sounds like a good time. Maybe we can even get Toshi in on it...”

He might be on errand for his mom, but Hachiro hardly seems in a hurry when he makes his way to the door, the late afternoon sun already threatening to fall behind the horizon.

“You’ll call me if you change you mind?” he mutters as he zips his coat, sending her a concerned glance. “Really, I’m happy to come out and get you, Any time.”

“R-really!” She pats his shoulder, giving him her best big-girl smile. “I’ll be fine. But thank you. If I do change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

His gloved hand lingers on the handle for a long moment before he manages, “Merry Christmas, Chizu.”

“Ah, you too!” He’s nearly got the door shut behind him when she adds, “Tell your parents I said hello!”

It closes with a soft shunk, the cold air displaced with a huff, and she slumps, all the tension gone out of her limbs--

“Wow,” Harada snorts. “You know, I thought Shinpachi could come on a little strong, but that was a whole other weight class. You should have told me he was your ex, I wouldn’t have backed him up.”

“He’s not! He’s just...overprotective.” She’s flushed as she slips past him to the kitchen, desperate to avoid that knowing side-eye. “He used to look out for me when we were small, and then we lost touch, and now...I...I guess he feels like it’s his job to make sure I’m taken care of.”

He nods, arms folding across his chest-- a detail she can note now that he’s put on a shirt. “So he’s making up for lost time.”

It’s weird to think of it like that, like taking care of her might be something to miss, rather just a burden that’s been foisted upon him. “Ah, I...guess, yeah.”

Souji scoffs from his corner, perched up by the sink like a judgemental cat. “Making up for lost blue balls is more like it.”

Harada ignores him, stepping close to put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, if you want to do a Christmas thing, we can just do one here. It may be just the three of us--”

“Count me out.” Souji hops off his perch, clinging to the walls like he expects someone to chase him out with a broom. Or worse, try to pet him. “I don’t do lame ass Christmas stuff.”

“All right.” Harada huffs out a laugh as Souji skulks up the stairs, shaking his head. “Just the two of us then. Maybe we’ll pop some movies on TV, make some popcorn? I can even get some hot chocolate going as long as you don’t mind it coming from a packet.”

He winks, and for a moment, it sounds...so nice. To be able to sit her phone on the arm of the couch and not have to worry about whether she might miss a call, or about whether she’s interrupting by taking it. To have company while she waits, a distraction, something to make her feel less like she’s missing Christmas, and more like something new--

“Mine will be slutty, of course,” he rumbles, so close to her side he nearly looms. There’s a smile when he says it, a twinkle in his eye, and sure it’s supposed to be a joke, but-- but she’s been here long enough to know that friend tends to be a stepping stone to fuckbuddy when it comes to Harada. Not something he plans, but something he falls into; a fiction he fools himself into believing right up until his flavor of the week walks out of his room in his shirt.

Movies and cocoa sounds like the perfect evening with friends, but there’s also something...intimate about it. Two people on that couch, curled up in one corner, sharing heat under the same blanket...Harada might have the best of intentions, but she’s not convinced he knows how to hang out with a girl and not have sex. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, so to speak, so long as everyone is having a good time. But for Chizuru...

Chizuru can imagine it. She would lay her head on his shoulder-- or rather, somewhere in the vacinity of his shoulder-- letting his hand creep around her rib cage, thumb brushing right below the lower limits of her bra. It would shock her; she’s not the type of girl who lets boys this close, but Harada’s always felt safe, treating her more like a mascot than a woman. She’d look up, confused, and he’d look down, fond, and then he’d lean in, bending down, and down--

and down--

Ah, he’s just...too tall for her. Sen may have told her that was part of the fun when it came to being just a hair below average, but when Chizuru considers the health of his spine--

She turns her head, hiding her grimace. “No, I think I’m-- I’ll be fine on my own.”

It’s Harada’s turn to look concerned now. “Are you sure, Chizuru? It’s really no problem for me to--?”

“I’m sure,” she says, firmer, in the same tone her father used to keep inspectors from asking more questions. The last thing she needs is for him to get the idea in his head to why; your height is daunting, is not an answer she want to have to explain, nor is, and I think you’re too experienced to stop at holding hands, too.

“Don’t worry,” she says instead, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “A day by myself is just what I need. Now, what do we want for dinner?”

It’s dark by the time she gets back to her room, her bedside table the only light in the room. She pads over to it, curious, wondering just why she might have left it--

“Oh no,” she gasps, hurrying over. “My phone, I’ve left it here all day!”

Missed texts and university emails stretch across the screen, but she doesn’t spare them a glance, thumb nudging her past every icon until she’s sure-- no voicemail, no missed calls, no emails with greetings from tropical climes. It’s Christmas wherever Father is, but he hasn’t thought of her.

“He’s not up yet,” she tells herself, the sound of the words calming her when thoughts can’t. “There’s lots of time zones in the Pacific. He’s probably just in one that’s still asleep. Waiting for Santa, I bet!”

That gets her to laugh, the strange ache in her chest easing as she settles on the bed, looking through what’s she’s missed. More holiday greetings from Sen and Kimigiku it seems, filled with semi-ironic usage of stickers; a message from Hijikata telling her to take it easy over break, and not to let the boys run her ragged; blast texts from classmates she’s friendly with, impersonal maybe, but Chizuru’s happy to be thought of; and--

[Susumu Yamazaki] I could call now if you like

She blinks, stymied. “Call? Why would he...?”

With a tap the chat unfurls beneath her fingertips. The message its at the bottom of the screen, timestamp that morning, a few minutes after her own text, one that read--

“Oh!” She claps a hand to her cheek, mortified. “Oh my gosh.”

[Me] I’m so sorry!! I didn’t see this until now!! Hachiro sprung a surprise visit on me. I had to get ready quick!! 😱 Well actually I was asleep when he sent the text. 😴 So it wasn’t meant to be a surprise. But it was!! 🤣

She sighs, letting the phone drop to her lap. Yamazaki’s at home with his parents, doing...whatever families do at holidays. It’s too much to hope he’s sitting around, waiting for her text even after she let him sit for a whole day unanswered. It’d be her just deserts to wait for hours, hoping--

[Susumu Yamazaki] That would do it.

She stares, speechless, her thumbs hanging limp on the screen. “Is he really...?”

[Susumu Yamazaki] Iba hasn’t been by in a while. Did you have a good time?

[Me] It was nice to see him! 😄 His parents wanted him to invite me over for Christmas. Hachiro must have told them my dad’s on sabbatical.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Is that were you’ll be tomorrow? That was kind of them.

[Me] Ah no. It felt too weird to see them for such a big event when we haven’t seen each other for like seven years. And plus I don’t have gifts! 😂

[Susumu Yamazaki] Iba’s parents wouldn’t care about something like that. Not if they’re anything like him.

[Me] Ah I didn’t mean to imply they would!! 😧 They definitely wouldn’t!! They’re so kind!! It just...felt rude. And I wanted to wait for my dad to call. So staying in seems like the best option all around.😄

[Susumu Yamazaki] Is there something planned at the house? Never asked you guys, I guess.

[Me] Sanosuke offered to do something festive tomorrow, but Souji isn’t interested.🤭

[Susumu Yamazaki] Okita hasn’t met a positive experience he couldn’t make worse. So what are you doing with Harada?

[Me] Nothing!! 😂 Sano is super nice. He’s just also very...friendly? A little too friendly I guess. I know he didn’t mean anything by it but being alone just the two of us... You know how he is.

[Susumu Yamazaki] lol Didn’t want to tell you what to do. But he has his reputation for a reason. Will you be okay by yourself? Or is it cool to not have plans?

I’m fine!! sits in the box, ready to send, but for once, Chizuru hesitates. It’s easy to give out niceties to Harada or Hachiro-- they want to be assured she’s all right, that they don’t have to worry about her. But Yamazaki has never asked her a question he doesn’t want a real answer to. To give him some stock response...it feels like lying, even if it was to put him at ease.

[Me] A little of both if that makes sense?

There’s no delay before he replies, I don’t want to pry. Do you want to talk about it?

Her fingers squeeze tight around the case, rubber buttons biting into the fleshy bits of her knuckles. She’s not used to doing this, to admitting things aren’t always sunshine, but somehow it’s easier to press the buttons than it is to speak the words, and once she starts it pours out of her, flooding the screen.

[Me] It’s just that Christmas was a big deal with my dad. It’s weird to not do anything for it? But also no one can be my dad? So if I spent it with other people I’d feel like I’d have to prentend it’s just as good. So if I’m by myself there’s no pressure to do that. I can just let it be bad or only okay. No one has to feel like they’re not enough. But also that feels a little lonely? So I don’t know. At least this way I’m the only one who has to worry about it.

The second she finishes, a tidal wave of regret threats to pull her under, to drown her in her own words. What was she thinking, telling him all that? He can’t have possibly wanted--

[Susumu Yamzaki] If you want

Chizuru blinks, eyes fixed to the screen. It’s a mistake, she knows; only half a sentence and there’s a frantic way Susumu Yamazaki is typing keeps showing up on her screen before it disappears once again. But still, she can’t look away, not when she’s pours all her thoughts out like pus from a boil, and his first reaction isn’t, Ew.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Sorry. Cat was helping.

She’s known Yamazaki for three months, and yet that’s the most personal piece of information she’s ever heard about him. She want to ask him all about it, whether it’s male or female, if it’s a calico or a tabby or something else she’s never heard of. Siamese, maybe? She can picture him with one of those.

Her lips clamp together, trying to swallow down a wiry giggle. Yamazaki has a cat. Or at least his parents do. There’s one on him right now, weaving through his arms, trying to get attention as he types. And he’s giving it to her instead.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Anyway. If you get lonely you can call me. I certainly don’t mind that I’m not your dad.

[Me] I’d like that. As long as you don’t mind that I WILL be watching the Christmas Prince and its associated films.

[Susumu Yamazaki] We can watch them together. There’s an app. It will be a relief to have an excuse not to interact with my family for a few hours.

There’s a knot in her throat when she hesitates, slowly typing out, If you don’t mind.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Not at all. I’ve been asked a total of nine times why I’m not going into acupunture. Even the Christmas Prince will be an improvement.

[Me] Okay!! Do you mind waiting a little bit? I’m waiting for my dad to call.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Take as long as you need.

When she wakes up, it’s with a start. The bedside lamp is off-- ah, she doesn’t remember doing that-- and so it’s with her hands that she reaches out, trying to locate rubber corners through her covers.

“I can’t believe I missed it,” she gasps, ragged with frustration. “He finally calls, and I’m not even--”

The screen lights up when she lifts it, but it doesn’t show a call, oh no, but--

[😽] dont say i never get u guys ne thing 🤗

She blinks, kitty face coming into focus. “The house chat?”

[😽] merry xmas u mfs 🎄🎅 www.ujkyo.edu/news dont say i never get u guys ne thing 🤗

#yamachi #hakuouki #my fic #modern au #college au #If the Mind Is Willing #LARP AU #i thought i would be getting to the beginning of the LARP reveal with this chapte #but iba took over for a little while #and then yamazaki and chizuru were being cute #and i can't be held accountable for how these end up at 7K okay #but let me say next chapter will have more LARP reveal than you can shake a stick at #and nagakura in an ugly christmas sweater

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cas-kingdom · 4 years ago

Text

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?” he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost

2K notes · View notes

jungwonenthusiast · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Take You to Heaven

pairing: dom! Jeno x fem! reader

genre: smut

warnings: protected sex, oral (female recieving), degradation, Jeno has a small pain kink

word count: 2.9 k

A/N: in this fic jeno kinda just dives into being a dom without a conversation with the reader if they are okay with the things he’s doing. i know for most this is a given but do not do this in real life!! please make sure your partner is consenting to being a sub and genuinely wants to do everything. sorry just felt like saying that :)

The place is a little bit dark and there’s only a few people.

“I’m nervous.” you say, following him close behind.

“Don’t be, it’ll just be us.” He gets into the square and looks at you. “I’m gonna teach you how to fight in case anyone other than me pushes you over at the skatepark.”

“Other than you?” you eye him.

“Yup.” He says while wrapping white tape around his hands.

“And why do you get special privileges?” you cross your arms.

He stops. “Because we’ve been friends since the beginning of time?”

You giggle. “That’s reasonable.”

He grabs your hands and pulls you to be standing in front of him. “Alright now hold your fists up, guard your face.”

You do as he says.

“Good,” he nods and holds his hands up, palms facing you. “give me a punch.”

“Like hard?” you ask nervously.

“As hard as you can.” he says.

You give him a solid punch. You’re not afraid of hurting him, you guys used to fist fight all the time.

“Come on, harder.” he says.

You try again.

“Harder.” he says firmly.

You hit him as hard as possible and his hand flies back.

“Atta-girl.” He smiles at you. That makes you tingle a bit. You can feel your cheeks get hot. “Now keep going.”

“Oh my god,” you exhale maybe half an hour later. “I’m tired.”

“But we’ve only gotten started.” He shakes your shoulder.

“I’m tireddd.” You whine.

“Come one darling I know you’ve got a few more hits in you.” he says. Darling? Jeno has always been charming, but never so upfront like this.

“I’m confident that I don’t.” You start to sit down.

He grabs your hands to pull you up and he nearly does but you let gravity drag you down.

“Come on get up.” He tugs at you again.

“Nope.” You shake you head.

“Come onnn.” He grabs your ribcage, ready to pick you up.

You squeal. “No no no.”

He stops. “Get up then.”

You don’t move.

“You’re asking for this.” he says before sweeping you off the ground. Jesus he’s strong.

“Hey!” you’re both in a giggling fit. “Let fucking go!”

“You’re the one with your legs wrapped around me.” He says and you freeze, embarrassed.

You unravel from him and he puts you down.

“You ready to go again?” he says.

“I told you I’m tired dude.” You groan and start to sit down again. He’s about to grab you when you roll away from him.

“You’re so lazy man.” he scoffs and plops down next to you.

“I know, I’m not ashamed.” you cross your arms over your chest and shut your eyes, the dim lights glow orange behind your eyelids.

You hear him moving next to you, then you feel something on your shoulder. Your eyes fly open to get a peek, and it’s him, laying down next to you with his forehead pressed against you.

“I missed you,” he pulls away to look at you, his face is alarmingly close to yours. “Why are you always so busy with school?”

“Because I actually want to be successful.” you joke and he rolls his eyes.

“Hey now,” he says. Wow he’s handsome. You always knew that he was cute, but in the last few years he got all tall, his voice dropped, and his figure got insane. Sometimes you catch yourself staring at him a little too long whenever he comes over to swim. “I don’t want to go home. Can I stay at your place?” He overlaps your ankle with his.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You wanna go now?”

“Sure,” he leaps to his feet and holds a hand out for you. “I didn’t really get to teach you much though.”

You adjust your shirt. “We used to fight all the time, I think I have enough practice from that.”

“You were pretty good.” he picks up his backpack. “I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.”

“You deserved it alright.” You follow him to the car.

“I did not!” he argues.

“Telling your best friend’s crush that she likes him is a perfect reason to get a clump of dirt in the mouth.” You hop in and buckle your seatbelt.

“I’ll get you back one day.”

Jeno drives with one hand. The other is always out the window or on the gear shift. You secretly wish his free hand was on your thigh though, and you’ve been thinking that for a couple of years now.

He plops down onto your bed as you put your purse down.

“Why are your covers so soft.” you turn to find him cuddling your duvet.

You laugh and get on the bed next to him. “Let’s watch Shameless.” you grab the remote connected to your Apple TV.

“Fionaa,” he ogles.

“She could be your mom.” you remark, only a little jealous.

“I love me a good milf.” he says, making you laugh.

Your room is dark a little chilly. You’re under the covers now and getting nervous whenever you feel his leg against yours.

Get it together, why are you being weird? This is normal. But is it?

“I don’t get why she’s with him,” he sneers. “I’m so much hotter than Jimmy, don’t you think?” he turns to you.

“I’m not answering that.” you look away and he pokes your side. “Hey!’

“Come on, I’m hotter than him no?” he persists, grabbing at your side.

You slap his hand away. “I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” he sits up and throws the blanket off of you. “I will tickle you.”

You get ready to run away but he grabs you before you get the chance. He throws you down, scratching lightly at your ribs and pinching your sides.

You try to be angry but you can’t help but laugh. “Stop stop stop!’ he doesn’t. “Truce!”

“I’m not stopping until you say I’m hotter than Jimmy!” he climbs onto of you, knees beside your hips. You’re laughing too hard to think about it though.

“Literally everyone is hotter than Jimmy!” You yelp. “Stop it now!”

“Not good enough!” He’s still going. You can feel your shirt starting to shimmy up.

“Fine, fine! You’re hotter than Jimmy!” You exhale when he stops.

“See how easy that was?” he smiles, still on top of you. His cheeky smile fades though, and soon you’re both sitting there in silence. Your shirt is hiked up high enough to see the bottom of your bra.

You’re trying to think of something to say when he leans down and kisses you. A long, soft kiss. His hands are warm on either side of your face.

You’re too shocked to move.

He pulls away quickly. “Shit, sorry. I-” he stops. “Sorry.

He’s about to get off when you grab him and crash your lips against his. He catches himself and melts into the kiss, his hand finding your bare waist.

You pull away from him, breathing embarrassing heavily.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” he says softly.

You frown. “You’re so corny.”

He rolls his eyes. “You really have to ruin every moment huh?”

“This isn’t a moment,” you argue.

He cocks and eyebrow. “You sure? I’m on top of you and you’re half-naked.”

You tug your shirt back down. “I am not.” He pouts. “See, you just lost torso privileges.”

He groans. “So bossy.” then dips back down to kiss you.

You’ve made out with people before, but with him it just feels so different. Maybe it’s because you’ve wanted it for so long. He smells like Prada and his lips are like velvet.

He kisses hungrily. To be honest, most boys do, but it doesn’t feel like he’s starving, it feels like he’s savoring you.

He pulls away and goes for your neck, kissing you like you’re made of glass.

You slither your fingers underneath his hoodie. “Take it off.” you say and he complies, throwing the garment on your bedroom floor.

You flip him over onto his back, desperate to get a taste of his skin.

You trace every bone and every muscle on his stomach and place tender kisses everywhere you can reach.

He pulls you up, wanting another taste of your mouth. He grips your hips tight and pushes you down onto his hard on, earning a small gasp from you.

You can feel yourself getting worked up, that fire inside of you burning brighter than ever.

You grind down on him and he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.” he whispers and wraps an arm around your waist and lays you on your back. He pushes your shirt up and plants kisses from your neck all the way to the band of your pants. He looks at you, asking for permission and you nod. He tugs your pants off and throws them to the side. Your knees fall together, trying to cover up.

“Hey.” he chuckles at you. “None of that.”

“I’m shy.” you whine.

He rolls his eyes. “Since when have you been shy?” He spreads your legs open and settles between your thighs.

He kisses the tender skin of your hips and inner thighs. Your heart is thumping in anticipation. His thumb skims over your clothed core and you shiver. He leans down again and you’re ready to feel something but all you get is a kiss on the edge of your underwear. You whine.

“What’s wrong?” he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re gonna have to tell me.” he comes up to kiss your neck. “Or I’m just gonna stay here,” he kisses your thigh “and kiss you until you’re begging for me.”

“When did you start to think it’s okay to tease me.” you huff at him.

He bites lightly at your soft skin and you flinch. “Come on,”

You want him so bad it nearly burns, but your ego is getting in the way.

“I know you need this,” he licks a stripe up your thigh, “you’ve been so stressed about school lately. I bet you haven’t gotten off in months.”

Your knees knock back together and he bumps them open. “Come on, when’s the last time you hooked up with someone?”

“Maybe-” you start.

“The last time where someone actually made you finish.” he cuts you off.

That makes you laugh. “December I think?”

His fingers are trailing up and down your clothed core. “That’s way too long ago, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, trying your best to control your breathing. “So do something about it.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” he says.

You swallow your pride with a big gulp. “Please?”

He smirks. “Say it again.”

“Please?” you squirm.

“Please what?” he tugs at your underwear.

“Please… please eat me out.” you say softly and you see him smile.

“Your wish is my command.” he throws your leg over his shoulder and pulls your underwear to the side, like a fucking professional.

He gives you one long, gentle lick and you feel your body relax.

He kisses your thigh again before diving in and running his tongue over your clit in delicious circles. You tug at his hair and you let out a loud whine. You feel him moan against you and you let go of your grip.

“No, no, keep doing that,” he says and you give him a questioning look. “I like it.” he shines you a smile.

He goes back to tasting you and he’s so damn good at it that your eyes roll back. You haven’t felt this good in so long.

He runs his tongue over your clit over and over in waves and soon your legs are starting to tremble.

“Fuck,” you whisper and he smiles. Your thighs start to close but he pushes them up, keeping you spread and pretty for him.

You start to roll your hips onto his tongue and he moans.

You’re so, so close to seeing those stars behind your eyelids when he pulls away.

“The fuck was that for?” you complain and he laughs.

“Why? Were you about to cum?” he snickers. “Do I make you feel that good?”

“Yes,” you admit, “please keep going.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Please? Please I need it.” you beg and you watch his eyes change from teasing to deviant. He smiles and leans back down.

He’s sucking your clit when he slides one finger nice and slow into you. You gasp a little when he pushes up.

“So fucking wet.” he whispers and pushes in another.

He curls his fingers and you whine out loud.

“Fuck yes.” you say.

He turns to look at the mirror next to your bed. “Look at yourself.” he says.

“What?” you ask.

“You heard me,” he says, still pumping his fingers into you. “Look at yourself, I want you to see how good I make you feel.”

You almost cum just from hearing him say that. Since when was he likes this. This Jeno is so different from the Jeno you usually know, but this alter ego makes everything so much hotter.

You obey and look at yourself. Spread open and eager for him, taking his fingers as you should.

“Feel nice?” he comes up to give you a kiss, you can taste your juices on him, syrupy and cloying.

You nod and look into his eyes, he slaps your cheek lightly. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” You listen and he starts to drive his fingers into you harder.

“Fuck!” you grab his wrist. “Don’t stop.”

He leans down again to get another taste of you when you start to shake.

You watch your face contort from all the pleasure when finally, you’re shot into the clouds and you’re touching the fucking moon.

Jeno kisses you again. You crave him so bad, you want him inside of you and not just because you know it’ll feel damn good, but because you want to be connected.

“Fuck me now.” you say softly.

“Really?” he asks, smiling. So bipolar. “Do you have a condom?”

You roll your eyes and reach over to your nightstand to dig through the drawer for a condom.

He tugs his sweats down and strokes his length before rolling the condom on.

He’s hard as a fucking rock and you point it out.

“I can’t help it. Nearly everything you do makes me hard, how do you expect me to react when you’re cumming on my face.” he says while gliding the tip over your pussy.

You hiss. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” he kisses your neck. “How bad do you want me to fuck you?”

“Really really bad.” You look at him pathetically. “Please fuck me,” you say. “I want you to fill me up.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “What a good slut. You were a brat for bit but look at you, already learning to be good for me.”

Your body is still zinging from the last orgasm and you nearly cry out when he pushes into you.

“Fuck,” he growls. He’s big, just the perfect amount of big to hit your g spot with every thrust.

“You feel so good.” you whine.

“I bet I do.” he says while fucking you agonizingly slow.

“Faster.” you plead.

“Only because you’ve been good.” he starts to pick up the pace and you grab at his back, digging your nails into the ridges of muscle.

He groans and bites softly at your neck.

How does this feel so fucking good? You think to yourself as the tip of his cock brushes against your spot.

He kisses your collarbone before pounding you, holding the headboard above you for leverage.

You curse loudly and hold onto him as tight as you can.

“Touch yourself.” he tells you and you do as you're told right away.

His cock fucking you deep and your fingers on your clit make your eyes roll back for the hundredth time of the night.

“Do you wanna cum?” he asks.

You nod, desperate for release. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he smiles. “Go on then, cum on this cock.”

His words finally send you over the edge. You have to remind yourself to come back to Earth as you're floating in space.

“Fuck.” he groans into your neck. He takes his hand through his hair and kisses you. “You’re so pretty.”

You blush, then blush even more because you’re blushing just because he called you pretty after fucking you like a pornstar.

He slumps down next to you then pulls your body close to his so that you’re face to face.

“Was I okay?” he asks. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I was so rough.”

You giggle. “No it’s okay, I liked it. Is your back okay?”

He turns his head to try to get a look. “I don’t know,” he flips around to show you. “how does it look?”

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit.” You touch the streaks of red going from his shoulder blades to his lower back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Is it bad?” he laughs. “Take a picture, I wanna see.”

You reach at your nightstand for your phone and snap a picture.

“Don’t kill me.” you wince as you hand him your phone.

He takes it and laughs. “Holy fuck. Guess I was dicking you down good.” he smirks at you and you punch his arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was doing it that hard.” you say, a little embarrassed.

“Nah, I think it’s hot. I can’t wait to show Jaemin.”

You punch him again. “Don’t you dare. He’s gonna think I’m a fucking psycho!”

#nct #nct smut #jeno smut

370 notes · View notes

hops-hunny · 4 years ago

Text

What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.6k

Request: N/A

Summary: When two beautiful people fall in love, everything can go right. Or, the one where Blaise gets the girl of his dreams.

Warnings: None?? Mentions of past self hate, positive use of the word fat.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. Enjoy!

Fat. It was a word (Y/n) had thrown at her from a young age but had grown to become neutral with as she got older. See, the (y/h/h) was fortunate enough to grow up in a household with her dear aunt Marlene who brought her up on the principle that ‘fat and ugly were not synonymous’ which she found herself quite fortunate of. You see, Marlene herself was an extravagant woman. She never stepped out of the house unless she was runway ready, long acrylic nails, hair curled in the prettiest of waves, and a face of makeup that could put anyone to shame. Marlene found her niece to be reminiscent of herself when she was younger. But, she also knew no matter the great example she showed her and the encouragement she’d give her, the world around her would affect the way she viewed herself until she reached a certain age.

However luckily for (Y/n), that age was when she hit the ripe age of 14. She was sick of it. Sick of feeling like a prisoner of her own body. Sick of hiding from mirrors, sick of wearing clothes that fit her like potato sacks just to hide the figure that she was naturally born with. Why should she have to feel bad because the world wasn’t ready to accept her for who she was? Why should she have to hide away due to a bit of extra weight and fat? So, after a long night of crying she decided from that day forward she would do her absolute best to at least accept her body for what it was. She didn’t wanna skip meals anymore just to make everyone around her comfortable. She didn’t want to avoid clothes that made her figure less of a figure. She wanted to live and be free in the body she was currently in.

If she could go back to where she was when she was 14, she’d tell herself she had exceeded that limitation. She was far beyond just accepting herself for who she was, she loved who she was. (Y/n) found herself falling in love with a new thing about herself every time she found herself blessed with the fortune of time to look in a mirror. Whether it was the way the rolls of her back reminded her of the ocean or the bumps and lumps around her hip area that were reminiscent of clouds, she loved every bit of herself. Even though it took her time to get there, she didn't regret it one bit.

Her confidence and demeanor attracted a lot of positive attention wherever she went. Her friends adored her and so did many other people around the castle! There was always a few wronguns here and there but that goes without saying. Even if you change your outlook on life, in a society where fat is a sin there will always be your self proclaimed saints. The more popular opinion shared throughout the castle though was ‘if she could find love in herself, why shouldn’t I be able to as well?’. Although it’s hard for one girl to change the world, she came quite close to it, always offering a shoulder to anyone in need and a helpful word of advice to anyone on the path of self acceptance and love.

There was one person who noticed her much more than that. Some would say it was a crush but no, it went quite deeper than that. He found himself being absolutely enamored by her. Her confidence, her positivity, her ever radiant beauty. All those things he found to be addicting, entrancing. Never had he come across a woman of any sorts who was so sure of herself, so proud to be in the skin she was born in. (Y/n) knew who she was and honestly? It was fucking hot. Blaise Zabini wasn’t one to make wild claims which is why when he thought about how he felt, he was very sure of the feeling. He absolutely adored the goddess that was (Y/n) (L/n). So why was it so hard to say it to her?

The way she made him feel had him in a whirlwind of emotions. A lot of the times, he was infuriated. Not by the way she made him feel, but the way she made him act. Blaise was always a hit with women from all houses around hogwarts. Why wouldn’t he be? When you’re a tall, dark, and handsome man with oodles of charismatic charm and yes, a fat load of cash, who wouldn’t wanna be yours? He could have any woman he wanted wrapped around his finger before he even opened his mouth. But around her, around her? His mouth would close as soon as it opened. He’d feel a rush of heat move to his face and his ears would start ringing. What was this feeling? This feeling that made him act so idiotic. This feeling that had him awake late at night, wondering what it would be like if he only said-

“Hi.” his head snapped up at the sound of a familiar warm voice. The same voice that made his heart race wildly, the same voice that made him act like one of those stupid fucking Hufflepuffs. All nerves and scurrying to find something, anything to say. There she was right in front of him, looking uncharacteristically shy. She had her arms behind her back one hand gripping at her other wrist as she looked up at him through thick lashes. “Have I wronged you in any way?”

“Hm?” he hummed out, still dazed as he looked down at her with a soft look present on his face. He cleared his throat slightly, pulling at the collar of his shirt that was suddenly too tight. Too constricting, too-

“Have I wronged you? I always see you staring at me quite a bit.” she repeated, gaining her confidence back some. God was he always this bloody gorgeous? Well, to her he was. She had her eye on him ever since she’d ran into him on the train back in first year. “I know I’m quite pretty, but I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate that. No?” she questioned, taking a step closer to him. She felt her hands grow sweaty at the smell of his aftershave, a sharp smell in comparison to her own strawberry body mist.

Was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Why couldn’t he tell? He always could tell. Many upon many times he found himself rejecting women before they could even get the chance to confess how they felt. So why now, why with her could he not? Was this- was this nerves? “My girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that. I-I mean I don’t have a girlfriend!” he stumbled out, cursing under his breath slightly. He felt himself grow quite warm as he heard her giggle. He looked up at the sound once more wishing he hadn’t. She looked radiant in the glow of the late evening sun. Her round cheeks prominent as her face turned up in a smile before she quirked a brow at him.

“Ah I see then. You don’t have a girlfriend but you were staring?” she questioned, feeling a bit guilty about how she was enjoying the usually calm and collected boy lose his composure. His face fell straight before processing what she said. (Y/n) could see a whirlwind of emotions happen behind his eyes in such a short period of time. ‘Isn’t it funny that only a few years prior this would have been me? I can’t wait to tell Rose-Marie about this later.’

“I-I.. you know what? Yeah I do stare at you quite a bit. More often than not, I find myself staring at you.” he closed the distance between them, her soft frame pressing against his tone one. He lifted two of his fingers up to her chin, lifting her head softly. “How could I not? You’re an absolute work of art. Only the most worthy of men should be able to gaze at such a rare beauty and I find myself to be very worthy.” he whispered softly, his dark umber eyes staring into the (h/c) haired girl’s (e/c) ones.

It */was crazy how with such few words, he could make her feel so breathless, so woozy. Was she awake right now? The moment she had been waiting for since first year was currently right in front of her. The years spent dreaming, pining from a distance all gone in a few words. She smiled up at him, placing a soft hand on the man’s toned chest. Even through his clothes she could feel that he had a nice build to him. “I suppose you’re worthy. I mean look at us, we’re both beautiful. Imagine the gallery of art we’d be together.” she said, confident in her words as she bat her eyelashes. (Y/n) would be damned if she was the only one left breathless and flustered after this exchange.

“Well, why imagine dear? I’ll be taking you to Hogsmeade this weekend.” He said, turning around as he began to walk off. She was stunned. Was this the infamous charm she had heard him having? As much as (Y/n) had heard about how charming and suave Blaise was, she had never heard of him asking anyone out for a date. Knowing this gave her her own boost of confidence.

“You will be? What makes you so sure I’ll be there?” Blaise froze, turning his head back at the girl’s teasing words. He smirked. She really was something else.

“Oh I know. I wasn’t the only one staring all this time, I saw you too.” he winked laughing some before turning around walking off. (Y/n) felt herself smiling some as she shook her head before her eyes widened.

“Wait, what am I gonna wear?!”

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

There was exactly 30 minutes until Blaise was meant to arrive and (Y/n) was nowhere near ready yet. See, she had planned on being ready early, even going as far as to get up at the time she usually did for class. However, after an impromptu dance session in her underwear her luck had run out. She wasn’t completely unprepared though, her hair had been done the night before and her makeup not taking much time, the main cause of concern was her outfit.

The problem wasn’t a lack of clothes, it was quite the opposite. She had so many clothes that she had absolutely no idea of what to wear! She frustratedly slammed her fist on the pile of clothes in front of her letting out a few choice words. In a moment of defeat, she looked up at her empty wardrobe- wait a second. (Y/n) quickly scrambled to her wardrobe, slipping and sliding on the sea of clothes that lined the way before quickly yanking out the clothes covered hanger. On the hanger was a two piece set.

The top was a wisteria purple crop top with puffy short sleeves, the skirt the same exact shade with a ruffle hem. “This is perfect! Where did this come from?” she said, checking herself out in the mirror. The outfit clung to her plush body, every curve visible and apparent. The girl smiled, smoothing her hand over the outline of her stomach that was apparent through her skirt. Years ago she would’ve been bothered by the entire concept of the outfit but now the outline of her figure made her smile like an old friend. She quickly put on a pair of white chunky sneakers, accessorizing the outfit with a few necklaces and rings as well just in time to hear a knock on the door. She did another once over in the mirror before quickly running to the door pulling it open to reveal Blaise standing there. She felt her face grow warm at his appearance.

He wore a form fitting maroon sweatshirt that he had rolled up to his elbows, a pair of jeans that weren’t skinny but fit to his figure in the most flattering of ways, and a pair of expensive shoes from some brand she couldn’t even begin to try and pronounce. In his hands were a bouquet of flowers composed of forget me nots, baby’s breath, and daisies. Blaise was in awe. He had seen her outside of her uniform a plethora of times but knowing that she had dressed up so nicely just to go on a date with him made his heart soar. “Wow, you look breathtaking. Look at you!” he hyped her up, grabbing her hand. He held their entwined fingers above their heads, signaling for her to spin around. “Lovely, absolutely divine. I can’t believe I’m going on a date with a deity.” he said, smile growing more as (Y/n) grew shyer.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Zabini. You look great, maroon is definitely your color.” she gushed, closing the door to her room. She looked down at their still entwined fingers, squeezing his large calloused hand with her small chubby one before bringing her gaze up to his face. Unsurprisingly, he was already looking at her.

“Thank you, dove. Let’s get going shall we? I’ve got a ton I wanna do with you and such a short amount of time. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

“We shall.”

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

The first place they arrived at was a building she had seen many times during her visits to Hogsmeade but had never been in. It was an old brick building with a paintbrush on an old rusty sign above it.

“An art store?” she questioned, looking up at him confused but not against his choice. They both walked in, a sound of a bell dinging as they did so. She looked around in awe at the abundance of supplies. The store was sort of stuffy and crowded but that was a part of its charm. Blaise scratched at the back of his neck nervously as he watched her roam around.

“Yeah I don’t know if I mentioned it before but I enjoy doing art in my freetime. I thought I’d take you to one of my favorite places first.” He said, walking up behind her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “A-and well, everytime I imagined going on a date with you, I always pictured the two of us showing each other our favorite hidden gems. We can leave if you wa-”

“That won’t be necessary. This is really cool and I’ve always wanted to learn more about art! I’m more of a reader and writer myself.” she said, grabbing his hand. Blaise let out a huge breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in in the first place before dragging her off in the direction of his favorite brand of oil paints. The two walked hand in hand, exploring his favorite parts of the store. When he’d see something he used himself or was familiar with, he’d explain it to her, rambling off about it excitedly.

Blaise wasn’t normally the type of guy to speak many words but being around (Y/n) brought out that side of him. It wasn’t that his friends were bad per say, they just weren’t very fond of listening to things that didn’t pertain to them which he was more than fine with. However, it was nice having an outlet to share his interest for once. He loved that she would ask questions about things and even let him talk about his own work. Most girls he talked to never really cared to listen to what he had to say, often spending more time kissing him breathless than listening to the words that flew from his lips. But (Y/n) was very attentive, listening to everything he had to say, eyes full of the same excitement he held.

“Alright, I think I’ve bought everything I’ve needed from here. Your pick, where do you wanna go?” he questioned, grabbing the girl’s hand again as they walked out of the small art store. He offered the old man behind a small smile before turning his attention back to his date. (Y/n) thought about it, humming as she tried to figure out before her eyes lit up.

“I have the perfect place! Come on Blaise, you’re gonna love it.” she exclaimed before taking off down the street, dragging him along with her. He smiled fondly at her letting her lead the way.

“This something I could get used to.” he muttered, trying his best to keep up with her pace.

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

About 10 minutes later, they arrived in front of what looked to be a bookstore. Blaise looked around, swiping his fingers across the dusty books. “Welcome to the place where I spend most of my time when coming to Hogsmeade. It may look like just a bookstore but you’ll see why it's not in just a minute.” she said. Blaise watched as the girl got on her hands and knees and began to crawl making a ‘spspsps’ noise. He was confused, rightfully so but he didn’t question her actions. All of a sudden, a floof of white fur came crawling over to the girl purring as she scratched behind its ears.

“It’s a cat bookstore! How cool is that? There’s a bunch of these little guys just running around here.” she said, standing up with the kitten in her hands. Blaise’s heart beat wildly at the sight. She looked too cute with the kitten in her hand, holding it gently against her soft chest. He was brought from his thoughts as he felt something brush against his leg. He had to stop himself from losing it at the sight of the little calico cat brushing against his leg.

“Hi there little guy.” he cooed softly, reaching a hand down to pet the cat’s head. The cat jumped up to meet his hand before it could land, nuzzling its fuzzy little head against the boy's head as he purred loudly.

“That’s not the only thing. They also carry some muggle literature too! Don’t tell anyone though, it’s a secret.” she said, placing the kitten down as she began to browse the books on the old wooden shelves.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” he promised, eyes never leaving her curvy figure. She looked right at home in the book store, reading the titles like they were old friends. “I’m a bit of a muggle literature fan myself. Ever heard of Shakespear?” he asked. (Y/n) looked at him with wide eyes before nodding. She would’ve never expected that from the man, knowing how against all things muggle related purebloods slytherins were. He walked over to her tilting her head up as he looked into her eyes. “ What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” he whispered, dragging his thumb along her bottom lip. Her breath hitched slightly as she began to scowl as he walked off laughing some.

“Jerk! That was not funny.” she said, punching him in the arm as she glared up at him.

“Wasn’t supposed to be, love. You just look too cute when you’re nervous!”

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

It had been a few weeks since their date and (Y/n) was starting to grow nervous. She and Blaise hadn’t been on another one and it confused her deeply. She had an amazing time on their date, in fact it had been the best one she had ever been on! Did he not feel the same? Maybe he had commitment issues? It couldn’t have been her. No, she had done everything right. She spoke well mannered, bantered back and forth with him, and she looked bloody amazing.

She sighed, opening the door to her dorm. It had been a long week. She threw off her robes before turning to her dresser before gasping. On top of the dresser laid a huge painting surrounded in a beautiful antique golden frame. She hesitantly walked over to it, brushing her fingers along it before looking at the note attached. Opening the wax sealed envelope she began reading the note out loud.

“My dearest rose, how are you? I apologize deeply for my lack of presence. Not being near you for so long deeply hurt me so but it was not in vain. You see, after spending such a lovely time with you that day, I felt extremely inspired. Your beauty deserves to be captured in something far more grand than a simple photograph so I painted you this. I hope to see you soon. To my greatest muse, Blaise Zabini.” she smiled as she read the words, goosebumps going up her arms. Blaise was indeed a talented artist. In photo realistic detail was a large painting of her smiling with the white kitten from before in her hands. She was lost for words. Never had someone done something so amazing for her. “Do I really look this beautiful? Is this how he sees me?” she asked no one in particular.

“It is and you are. You’re absolutely gorgeous.” she jumped at the sound of the deep voice. Turning her head she saw the man she had been thinking of for weeks. Slowly she walked over to him, smiling before wrapping her arms around him hugging him tightly. Blaise froze for a bit, not used to receiving such gentle forms of affection. He pulled back before placing a soft peck on her lips.

“Let me take you out again tomorrow, yeah?” he asked her in a soft tone. She simply nodded before standing on her tiptoes initiating another lovely kiss. Blaise wrapped his arms around her soft waist, bringing her closer to him.

“I really am one lucky bloke.”

#blaise zabini #blaise x reader #blaise x y/n #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini x you #blaise zabini x y/n #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #plus size reader #chubby reader

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Late in the Night | Part Four

Previous part

Prompt: Friends have a bet how long it will take the ship to get together (Content Challenge Day 7)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1602

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

^^ Hey! If I haven't commented on your post(s) yet, it just means I haven't gotten the chance to read them. School has been ramping up, but as I have free moments, I'll be going back and looking at all your challenge posts <3

A/n: You guys...IT'S THE LAST PROMPT OF THE CONTENT CHALLENGE! What?! Thank you so much to everyone who participated and interacted with our posts. I had such a blast creating this past week and getting to know each and every one of you. I think it would be fun to do something like this again in the future, so let me know if you would like to be involved in planning/get updates!

As always, I encourage you to check out the accounts tagged above and our masterlists! You can find the challenge masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, enjoy :)

Aragorn waits, keeping an eye on the trees.

The minute his friends from the eastern inn arrive, they will leave town.

He had a pleasant night — private room, hot bath, well-prepared meals — but is ready to get back on their journey. For all he knows, the brief rest he allowed them could have already cost them vital time.

That thought causes him to pace.

“Calm yourself, dear friend, they will be along shortly,” Gandalf councils.

Aragorn tries to heed the wise wizard’s advice. Sure enough, he soon hears the light sounds of feet crushing grass and twigs, and knows they are close.

The four of them break into sight at roughly the same time, and Aragorn notices two things:

One, Legolas and Y/n refuse to look at each other.

Two, Gimli wears a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Aragorn knows he must speak with the dwarf as soon as possible.

Something has happened.

Merry, who doesn’t get enough credit for his observation skills, notices the oddities too, and elbows Pippin in the side. Their eyes grow wide, and it takes everything in them not to shout guesses as to what this means.

It is a good while before Aragorn, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli have a chance to convene and discuss the new development. All four of them, though of course dedicated to the task at hand, desperately want a resolution to their ongoing bet.

It had started innocently enough.

Merry made an off-hand comment about how well Legolas and Y/n seem to get along. Gimli noticed the lass was a clumsier fighter when Legolas was watching. Aragorn realized his friend seemed nervous around the human woman. Pippin saw how each of them smiled brighter when the other was near.

Somehow or other, the four of them had put together their observations, and the rest is history.

The bet was born.

Each of them had put down fifteen coins and a deadline, losing the coins if Legolas and Y/n did not become a couple by the deadline, and winning coins if they did. Knowing his friend’s shy nature well, Aragorn had given the two the lengthiest allowance — six months. Pippin and Merry recognized the bold nature of humans, and guessed it would only take four months for Y/n to speak her mind and Legolas to reciprocate. Gimli, on the other hand, thought the two were already head-over-heels for each other and wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, and had given them only a month and a half.

Each participant, knowing his deadline was drawing nearer, had taken steps to push the two in the right direction.

The hobbit friends moved Legolas’ and Y/n’s bedrolls closer when they weren’t looking.

Aragorn put them on watch together. A lot. To the point where he actually felt bad about the bags under Y/n’s eyes.

But Gimli, perhaps, had been the boldest of them all, and proudly tells his friends so the moment they are alone much later that evening.

“Quickly, they are suspicious why it took four of us to gather firewood and herbs,” Aragorn mutters, darting a quick glance in the direction of camp.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Pippin squeaks, then throws a hand over his mouth, knowing he might alert Legolas with his volume.

“Alright, listen up lads.” Gimli grins and proudly tells his tale. “Boromir and I got to the inn first, as planned, and the innkeeper asked how many were in our party. I said two, and the innkeeper made a comment how it was good we didn’t have more folk waiting outside, as his inn was almost full. Well, that got me thinkin’, so I inquired how many more rooms were available. The innkeeper said two, not including the ones Boromir and I purchased. So I whipped out my velvet pouch and paid for another room, fibbin’ a bit and saying I might have a lady friend visiting and wasn’t sure if she would want to sleep in my room or not after our activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows in response to the stunned looks of his friend.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly, a bemused smile setting in his lips. “So you paid for an extra room just to force Legolas and Y/n into sharing?”

“Right you are,” Gimli grins, placing his fists on his hips. “It wasna even that expensive — I’ll make it back three times over, now that I’ve won this thing.”

“Ah, ah, ah, hold on,” Merry holds up a hand, halting Gimli’s gloat. “You can’t prove they did or said anything to start a courtship, so you haven’t won!”

“They won’t even look at each other and the elf’s as red as a strawberry, of course something happened,” Gimli practically shouts.

Aragorn, reliably a voice of reason, intervenes. “We shall have to inquire then, but be smart about it. We do not want to jeopardize their potential courtship with our game.”

The companions agree, then quickly turn to the forest, gathering firewood and herbs to supplement Sam’s soup and their cover story.

{***}

Back at camp, Legolas sits on a low tree branch, keeping watch over all his friends.

But mostly Y/n.

He cannot pull his eyes from her face. She sits on a rock, staring into the fire, absently cleaning the mud from her boots. Without permission, his mind goes back to the way he held her this morning, tucked against his chest, her leg wrapped around his. It was wildly improper, and he should be ashamed of himself.

But he doesn’t feel ashamed. Because the way they woke up this morning didn’t feel improper, it felt natural. With all his heart, Legolas wants to wake up like that every morning — his favorite person kept safely against his side. He wants to guard her and give her a wonderful life and bring her home and have his people adore her, too.

Legolas’ resolve hardens, because he knows he can no longer keep this to himself. Y/n has a right to know how he feels, because it affects her too.

He pushes himself from the branch, landing on the ground in silence. With four long strides, he stops beside her, reaching down a hand. “Will you talk with me?”

She looks up at him, nerves like she’s never felt before erupting within her. But she gathers her courage, forces what she hopes is a smile, and takes Legolas’ hand.

She wonders what he’ll say.

All day, she had been lost in embarrassment. Somehow in the night, she’d thrown her leg over his and practically attached herself to his chest — who does that?! And he’d said nothing when they woke up, only got up and went about his routine like normal.

So obviously, he doesn’t feel anything for her.

And that’s what this conversation has to be about.

Briefly, though, she allows herself to remember what it felt like to be in his embrace, and knows that she will cherish that feeling forever.

The warmth of his hand in hers helps her hold on to that memory and, to her surprise, when they reach a secluded spot, he does not let go. No, he takes her other hand in his, clutching both tightly.

Legolas nearly shakes with nerves, and he wonders if she can tell? Does she know how he feels like he might be sick? Oh, he has never felt anxiety like this before, and desperately wishes for it to be gone.

So he wastes no time in putting himself out of his misery.

“I want to be with you.”

Y/n blinks. Surely she can’t have heard him correctly? “What?”

Legolas sighs — her reaction gives him no indication how she feels either way. He bolsters his courage, and tries again. “I feel affection for each member of this Fellowship. But whereas I love the others as if they were my kin, I am unable to deny that how I love you is different. Elves live long lives and thus take matters of the heart very seriously. And, well,” he shrugs, all eloquence leaving him the moment he sees the shy, hopeful smile spread across her lips. “My heart is with you.”

Y/n can hardly believe her ears. She thought that he didn’t…that there was no chance of…but rather than dwell on all her miscalculations, or the myriad of dangers that haunt their future, she decides to just enjoy the moment. She throws her arms around Legolas’ neck, and he grips her tightly against him.

She turns her cheek to rest on his shoulder, unable to contain her grin. “You hold mine as well. I love you, Legolas.”

He pulls back only to rest his forehead against hers, head swimming from the joy of her acceptance and at being this close to her. “And I love you.” She lets out a giddy laugh and he closes his eyes, soaking in the sound. But then he focuses again, for there is something important he still must ask. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

Y/n can’t help herself from bumping her nose against his affectionately, and it feels so wonderful, so free to be with him this way. She has no desire for her future to continue without him, and so, her answer is found easily. “Of course.”

Relief settles in Legolas’ bones, the nerves finally leaving him and being replaced with happiness.

Just as their lips meet, the four friends break through the tree-line, back from collecting supplies.

Gimli’s triumphant shout can be heard for miles.

“Pay up, lads!”

A/n The end! This is the last chapter of this mini-series! Thanks for sticking with me as I had some fun with this one. I keep tag-lists, so at any time, just let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything. I’m in the planning stages of a Haldir x OC fic, and while I usually stay away from OC’s, I just cannot fathom typing “Y/n” for the length that I’m planning on making that story. So be on the lookout for that! Hope you all are taking care of yourselves and please know that my inbox is always open. Lots of love!

LITN tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama @hirokosoul @wellfuckmyexistence @ipsychosocial @anjhope1 @my-lotr-obsession-is-unhealthy

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fungifaggot · 4 years ago

Text

Please Take Me Home...

A/n: Back again with an annual post wahoo. Anyway, I hope yall are doing okay and staying safe. (Heads up I didn’t edit this well)

!Feel free to send constructive criticism!

Summary: Peter is drunk and alone and he wants to go home. Little did he know, asking you for a ride home would be one of the best decisions he ever made.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, underaged drinking, sad peter, Ion kno.

The music was loud and the air was warm. The house was full of nearly one hundred sweaty bodies colliding into one another, yet somehow Peter managed to still feel alone.

Deep breaths he told himself

Yet with every passing gasp for air the sensation of suffocating only grew stronger. He wanted to get out of there, and he wanted to get out now.

For the past hour he had been on a search for Ned and Mj, and as much as it pained him to do so, he was coming to terms with the fact that they had left him, and therefore so did his ride. (Not that they'd ever do that, but let's just assume they thought he had already left or something)

Good god did he wish that he had never been talked into coming, and god did he wish that he wasn’t still there.

Yet no matter how hard he wished or how tight he shut his eyes, every time they opened he was still there. Surrounded. Not only by people, but with booze, loud music, and the disgusting warmth that was radiating off the flesh of every sweaty intoxicated teenager.

At that very moment everything was wrong. His head was throbbing, rhythmic pounding clouding any coherent thought he had, and surely the loud bass wasn’t helping

Peter knew that you also had attended the party, but subconsciously he had been trying his best to avoid you in any way possible.

You see, it wasn't because he disliked you or anything. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

You and Peter got along great. The bond between You, Mj, Ned, and Peter was unbreakable and he loved spending time with you, but despite your friendly personality, Peter was appalled at the idea of talking to you. He couldn’t help it. Any time he was around you, he reeked of insecurity. Feeling as though he wasn’t good enough. You weren’t popular per say, but the way you held yourself in such a laid back yet confident manner had somehow managed to leave a great impression with just about everyone. And it was that fact about you that made Peter doubt himself. He’d tell himself that he was much too boring or too ‘lame’ to be around you. And although he knew you’d never think that about him yourself, he’d instantaneously tense up and get painfully awkward the second you walked into the room, and that alone that made him fear your presence.

(It also didn't really help that he had the worst crush on you.. Like seriously the worst. As in staying up till 2:00 am stalking your social media type of bad.)

Despite Peter's dread, he was beginning to realize that he wasn't exactly given a choice. There was no one else in the house even remotely worth talking to except you. And with that in mind Peter began his second search of the night.

It only took him about two solid minutes to give up, in which he resorted to just tapping someone on the shoulder and asking.

“HEY! DO YOU KNOW WHERE (Y/N) IS?” He shouted, unable to hear his own voice over the sound of the blaring music.

“OH YEAH! HE’S UPSTAIRS IN THE ROOM TO THE LEFT...I THINK” Was the slurred response he received.

“OH UHH OKAY. THANK YOU” Peter replied.

“YEAH ANYTIME MAN” he heard behind him as he beelined to the staircase.

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth he reminded himself as he made his way up the stairs, trying to build up courage with every step he passed.

He took one last deep breath, attempting to calm the violent shaking occurring within his hands. He formed them into a fist and brought one up to the door, sending a knock that would echo throughout the hallway.

“Come in~” he heard from behind the door, giving him permission to enter.

As soon as the door creaked open, he was met face to face with a thick cloud of smoke. He stepped inside, taking in a deep breath, flooding his nose with the stench of marijuana before almost immediately making eye contact with you.

“Peteyyyy” You sang out, halting the conversation you were previously having

,but before Peter had the chance to respond, his voice hitched in the back of his throat and an overwhelming feeling of warmth tremored throughout his body. He knew something bad was about to happen. He knew he was going to puke...

“Uhhh, s-sorry. Wrong room.” He muttered out, making a 180 degree turn before bolting out the door. His palms began to sweat and his mouth salivated heavily. He tried to breathe and suppress the violent urge to puke, but knew that there was no hope. He ran to the closest bathroom, not bothering to knock as he bursted through the door slamming it shut behind him. He made his way to the (thankfully already open) toilet and emptied out his stomach. He continued to gag, and eventually made himself comfortable on the bathroom floor when he felt he was finished. He flushed the contents down and rested his cheek on the toilet seat only to then perk his head up when he heard a light knock on the bathroom door.

“Hey Petey, you doin’ okay in there?”

“Y-yeah im okay! Just a little...tired that's all!” He rushed out, internally smacking himself in the face. “Just a little tired”? What the fuck Peter.

He heard the door open and rushed into a sitting position, trying to appear as normal.

You sauntered in, closing the toilet lid and taking a seat on it.

“You doin’ okay?” You repeated.

“Yeah, i’m just fine. Y’know.. like I said.” He responded, flashing you a forced smile.

You rolled your eyes at him and gave his hair a gentle pet.

“You sure? You seem... off.” you uttered, handing him a bottle of water.

Peter sighed accepting your offer, moving his eyes down to his feet.

“I just don’t really want to be here right now.” he said before taking a swig.

“Shit...I’m sorry.” you sighed out.

“There anything I could do to help?”

Peter brought his sorrow filled eyes back up to yours,

“I-is there any way you could take me home?”

“Fuck. Baby you know I would if I could, but I’m uh... not exactly sober right now.” You responded, guilt lacing your words, as you began to regret your decisions.

“Baby”. He knew it was a word that you’d throw around to any of your close friends, but he couldn't suppress the warm feeling that burned throughout his body when it rolled off your tongue.

Peter let out a shy chuckle continuing to sip from the bottle and replied

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Looks like neither of us are driving.” You said with a deep chuckle.

“Where’s Ned and Mj? I bet they’d help.” You asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Gone.”

“Oh...” Was all you could find yourself responding with.

You stood up from where you sat, extending your hand out to Peter.

“Lets get outta here. Even if it's just for a bit.” You said with a slanted smile.

You helped him up slowly, placing your free hand on his lower back, directing him towards the door.

Peter waited at the top of the stairs while you notified your friends of your departure.

As soon as you returned you took a hold of his hand and guided him down the stairs and out the door. A small gust of wind met your face as the door shut behind you. The sweat gathered on the back of Peter's neck began to fade and the throbbing in his head lessened. Not completely, but enough for it to be bearable.

“Feels good to be out of there huh?” You said almost as if you had read his mind, compelling him to nod in agreement.

The two of you began to walk in a random direction, hands still together. Peter's mind racing a million miles a minute.

“Where did Ned and Mj go?”

“Is (Y/n) annoyed that he has to spend time with me?”

“Oh god, my hands are sweating aren't they…”

“What... you nervous or somethin?” You giggled, raising your connected hands into the air and squishing them together to emphasize the fact that they were sticky.

If it weren’t for the fact that it was nearly 1:00 in the morning and there were no cars out, Peter swore he would’ve jumped in front of one without hesitation.

“Oh um, i’m sorry...” He muttered, embarrassment flooding his system, so much to the point it nearly put the boy in tears.

“Awe, c’mon I'm just kidding around” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Oh ha-haaa” Peter replied sarcastically, sending you a childish pout.

You bumped your hip into his as a friendly gesture, causing him to stumble a bit.

“It’s...cute.”

“Cute.” He muttered, moreso to himself than you.

The two of you continued to walk, not even sure where it was you planned on going. The silence grew thicker with every passing second, but Peter was much too caught up in his own thoughts to even notice. You released his grip, bringing him back to reality, and went to dig around your pocket.

“Aha-” you brought your hand back up, displaying a pair of airpods (or any bluetooth ones idrc)

“You want it?” You asked, wiggling your phone in the air.

“O-oh! Sure!” he said, snatching it and placing it in his ear.

You put on (S/n). (‘Song name’, I humbly recommend ‘One Last Time by Summer Salt’) Peter's nerves settled as the rhythm of the song blared through his ears, drowning out his pesky thoughts.

You grabbed his hand again and started to swing it to the beat. Peter stared at you in awe as you swayed your head from side to side, meandering a bit as you walked. Eventually you swung your arm around Peter's shoulder, forcing him to move with you. If it weren't for the alcohol he probably would have laughed it off and nudged you, but instead he immitated your actions and began to sway overdramatically. That continued until you came to an abrupt stop and pointed. Peter followed you gaze, finding himself staring at a park.

You looked at him for a long second before bolting off towards the park without warning.

“Hey!” Peter yelped out, out eventually following your lead.

You ran and clumsily dove into a swing set, pushing yourself up off the ground, in a ‘superman’ pose before you came back down, dragging your hands and feet through the wood chips. You swung back and forth a few times before Peter came up and pushed your back so you rose up once again.

“Excuse you!” You laughed out flailing your legs in attempt to get him off of you, before ‘gracefully’ sliding off so that you stumbled for a second before ending up on your ass.

“You look like a dumbass” Peter said with a bright smile, kicking some wood chips at you.

You stood up, brushing your self off while looking him in the eyes

“and you love it” you said with a wink.

“Shut up” He said, lightly shoving your chest and turning away to hide his blush.

After that the two of you messed around, sliding down slides, and fucking around on the monkey bars until you eventually ended up laying down in a grass field looking up at the stars.

The two of you talked about everything. College, work, the party, Peters ‘internship’, everything.

“Why don’t we talk more?” you sighed out as you sat back up.

“I don’t know...” Peter lied, whilst clumsily rolling over to rest his head on your thigh.

“Well. We should.” You stated, moving so that you were looking down into his eyes. You stayed in the position for what felt like forever, enjoying the gentle wind, as you analyzed Peters features.

You pulled out your phone, breaking the silence after reading the time

2:30 am

“You wanna head back?” You asked, ruffling Peter's hair.

“Back where exactly?”

“My place?”

“Sure” Peter yawned.

You turned your music back up once you were both standing, hands interlocking once again as you started your adventure for the second time that night.

Once you returned to the house, you saw that the lights were still on and the music was very much still blaring.

You opened the car door on Peters side before walking around and getting in yourself.

As the two of you got seated Peter handed you your head phone back and let his body relax.

You reached into the back and pulled up a soft blanket, handing it to Peter.

You turned the radio on, keeping the volume low as you gave yourself some time to completely sober up. You turned to Peter so you could continue the conversation from earlier, only to be met with a sleeping boy.

Drool dribbled from his lips and slight snores emitted from him. His hair was a mess and boy did he not look comfortable, but you thought it was sweet nonetheless.

You pulled your phone out and snapped a picture of him.

You were definitely gonna show him that in the morning

After about another 30 minutes of simply relaxing, you turned the key and drove off.

Peter mumbled in his sleep as you nudged him for what was probably the hundredth time, only waking up when you smacked him in the back of the head. You led him to the apartment door and unlocked it, kicking your shoes off to the side as soon as you entered.

Once you reached your room, you swung the door open, signaling for him to enter before you.

“Such a gentleman” Peter said in a groggy voice, before making himself comfortable and plopping onto your bed. He nearly fell back asleep until he was abruptly hit by a flock of clothes.

“There ya go- figured you’d want em’ since we're covered in dirt.” You chuckled

“Oh yeah...and this” tossing him a brand new toothbrush.

You tore your shirt off and chucked it into a random corner, grabbing some clean sweatpants as you made your way to the bathroom.

You turned around at the door, noticing that Peter had been staring at you

“I’ll be right back”

After brushing your teeth and changing, you came back out. Peter taking your previous position in the bathroom.

In the meantime you got comfortable, rearranging the pillows so that they were equally distributed.

Peter eventually came back out dressed in your clothes, looking almost as if he were drowning in your hoodie. If you could have snapped a picture right then and there, you would have, but simply seeing him like that was enough for you.

You lifted up the blanket signalling for him to join you, and he did so after turning off all the lights.

You both laid next to each other in the dark for a bit before you heard Peter turn to face you.

You turned your head just so that you could just make out his general figure. Despite it being dark, you could see that Peter was looking up at you with his puppy like eyes.

“Could you uhm... could you maybe hold me?” He stammered out.

You smiled softly, not that he could see it, and wrapped an arm around his chest, pulling him into you, and allowing himself to burrow in and get as warm as possible.

“Of course Peter” you whispered into his hair

“Of course...”

___________

Tags:

@marvelgbtposts @eliotsbambimargo @ethanharli @baldsaitama @malereaderinsert @malereader-inserts @myfeetkeepdancing @malereaderimagines @dis-boi-be-a-gay-peter @jerod-writes @katsukispicycaramel @luv-hqs @sinfulcries

(literally let me know asap if my tags are annoying you LMAO)

#male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #seme male reader #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #dom male reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman

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gilsgirl · 2 years ago

Text

911 Lone Star Season 4 - My Thoughts

[Long Post Warning]

🚒

Oh hey tumblr, it's me! I've had this idea in my head for a while and thought that since most of my tumblr following is Spam-bots and inactive/deleted accounts (There's a few of you who are still active, so heyyy thanks for still following me!) that I would do my first one on Tumblr. I would love to start Youtube channel, but I still feel a bit shy.

I used to write a lot! If you have been following my blog since, geez, 2012 you know that. Unfortunately, I have been in a very long period of writers block. I'm hoping getting creative ideas on the page will help me start to write again.

The idea I have is to explain what I would want to see happen, or what I would do if I was one of the story writers of some of my favorite shows upcoming seasons. Or even what I think will be happening in these upcoming seasons. I hope this makes sense lol!

The first show I want to deep dive into has been my hyper-fixation show for the past several months (thanks @iboatedhere 🤣). I mean, I have watched the first three seasons of this show maybe 15 times at this point! I just found out a couple weeks ago that they have started production for season 4, and I am so excited to see what is in store! Of course the show I am talking about is 911 Lone Star!

Let's begin:

What I think will happen/What I want to happen

Sectioned by character:

Owen

This man annoys me 10/10 so I hope we see him continue to go to therapy.

I really enjoyed the storyline they gave us at the end of season 3 with Owen returning to California to say goodbye to his father.

I could see the half-brother doing the same thing, coming to Austin trying to connect to his father's past. I also love that irl the actor playing Owen's half-brother is Rob Lowe's brother. That is cool!

Owen telling TK about his past. Does TK know he's named after Owen's brother?

I want Owen and Catherine back together - I know they're toxic af, but I love two type-A characters bouncing off each other!

TK/Carlos (they're together because their relationship is a main storyline)

Jesus....

If they injure this man again...*clenches fist*

Role reverse with Carlos? Carlos gets injured, and TK is at the bedside.

Here's how I would do it: Carlos takes his detective test, passes. Gets put on this high profile case. While investigating, gets kidnapped. Not just for several hours like TK/Tommy/Nancy is that one episode, but for weeks. Then the TK sobriety storyline could tie into this as well. Obviously, when he is found he's relatively okay. They could also tie this into the Judd PTSD storyline too.

Tarlos wedding

less fade to black scenes...this is why I wish that this show wasn't on cable TV. They do fade to black for all the romance aspects. Nancy and Mateo, TK and Carlos, Owen and Catherine.

Paul

I just want this man to be HAPPY! Please 🙏

I would love to see the sister come back in some way, that would be a cool idea

Judd

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the Wyatt storyline! I think it saved his character tbh

I would love to see more from this storyline, but from the season 3 finale it made it seem like Wyatt is going off to college and won't be around.

More about the accident at the beginning of the show. PTSD doesn't just go away like they portrayed.

Maybe during a BBQ the grill does that thing that grills do where the flame

Marjan

Much like Paul, I want Marjan to be on a call and click with someone they are saving.

Maybe she gets hurt on a call. Nothing big, but needs to be out for a couple weeks.

She bumps into this person during that time and starts to secretly date them.

OF COURSE Paul is the first to sniff that shit out! He is her BFF, obviously!

Nancy

GIVE ME A NANCY BACKSTORY!

I want to know why she decided to become an EMT. In the O.G. 911 they did this for Hen and it was a really cool concept.

Similar, there is an episode where she talks about her sister, show me the family!!!

More scenes between her and Mateo. I STG is the writers make them break up I will do something detrimental...

Mateo

(similar to Nancy) GIVE ME A BACKSTORY!!

They hinted at a backstory several times: Dad being in Guadalajara, and being a DREAMER. That is great bones for a backstory! Just saying.

You can tell that Mateo and Nancy's characters were never meant to be apart of the ensemble, but the audience loved their characters so much that they now have storylines. I am excited to see where the writers take them.

Tommy

One of the twins starts getting in trouble at school

Maybe series finale, or series middle finale the twin sets a fire in the school? Or does that seem too much?

Tommy embracing the single Mom life, finally feeling steady in her routine.

It also would be a good idea for Tommy to think that she see's her late husband at one of their scenes. Starts seeing him everywhere. It's not him though, just a man that looks like him.

🚒

What I would write

🚑 Judd goes to surprise visit Wyatt, only to find out that he dropped out of college. He can't get a hold of him, and goes to work. On a call, a new firehouse shows up with fancy gear, tech, truck and their new tech guy...Wyatt.

🚒 Add a single season character, who's exit at the end of the season makes for good drama! AKA this character gets k!lled off. My initial thoughts would be a untamable, young firefighter with survivors guilt, like Judd, gets sent to Owens team

#Thishasbeeninmydraftsforawhile #911 lone star #owen strand #tk strand #judd x grace #wyatt harris #tommy vega #nancy gillian #mateo chavez #marjan marwani #paul strickland #carlos reyes #tarlos #let me know your predictions

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jtrbluv · 4 years ago

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resolutely, yours. | kth

summary: When your best-friend slash pain-in-your-ass, Kim Seokjin, drags you to a New Year’s Eve party that you didn’t want to go to in the first place, what better way is there to pass the time than to stay sober and watch all your classmates go berserk? Well, that is until Kim Taehyung steps into the picture, of course.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.7k+

warnings: profanity, slight alcohol consumption, implied drug usage (two words only, i swear), college party antics should say enough

A/N: first fic of the year! W O O! this was supposed to be for tae’s birthday but i guess it’s fitting since it is the new year. a special thanks to miss mei @sugacouture for her likeness and @koushiningg aka the eternal hypewoman. this fic (drabble) is rly short but i do have a lot coming up in store! for now, hope u enjoy and happy new year everyone!

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You are going to murder Kim Seokjin.

The spiked punch that fills your red solo cup up to its brim has been waiting to be quaffed down for thirty-seven minutes now. Roughly five minutes before that, Seokjin had somehow managed to drag you through the front doors of the fraternity party he’s been wanting you to accompany him to for weeks now.

And it only takes ten minutes for the proclaimed party animal and people-person, Kim Seokjin, to vanish from your side. He leaves you to fend for yourself in a jungle full of plastered college students—priorities at the moment are to either drink so much liquid regret that they can’t even remember their own names, or to find someone to make out with when the clock strikes at midnight. From simple observation, you notice that most, if not everyone here, fall under both categories.

Well, the exception being you, of course.

One thing to note is that you actually do have a decent tolerance for alcohol. You were no stranger to it, and it would serve as a dutiful companion to you when times called for it. Like last week after your last final that you knew you fucking bombed.

However, the humidity of the room due to the accumulation of bodies that left little to no room for fresh air, in addition to the strong stench of alcohol mixed with sweat mixed with God knows what, just was not the ideal place for you to get wasted. It didn’t stand close in comparison to drinking with a solid group of close friends, or by yourself in the comfort of your bed while a shitty rom-com plays in the background on your laptop.

The atmosphere is suffocating all of your senses— tears pricking at the corners of your eyes due to the strong odor of the room, the curled front pieces of your hair dampening and sticking to your temples, your mouth and throat dry as the Sahara Desert because, of fucking course, there is absolutely no water to be seen.

The small black dress and heels that Seokjin forced you to wear was worsening the situation greatly—your legs practically glued stuck to the stool you were sitting on, leading to ugly red marks and stinging skin if you tried to stand up.

You could not take being inside any longer. Instead of passing out from being piss drunk, you were almost adamant that you were going to pass out from the grueling mix of heat exhaustion and secondhand high.

Your grip on the solo cup significantly tightens, nearly crushing the plastic in half. You quickly stand up from the stool you were sitting in, the sensation akin to getting your legs waxed as you take a deep inhale through your nose, mentally preparing yourself to dive into this sea of financially obligated, depressed monsters.

Peculiarly, you manage to shove your way through a good chunk of the mass, your eyes set on the door that leads towards the balcony. Your ankles almost completely give into your weight a concerning number of times, and if it wasn’t for all of the arms of oblivious partygoers that you had clung onto for dear life, you probably wouldn’t be able to stand on your own two feet by now.

Solely occupied with trying to navigate your way through the crowd, you don’t even realize that someone bumped into you and spilled your drink all over your dress until you reach the balcony. The cold, night breeze passes over your body, leaving chills on the huge wet patch on your dress. The one goddamn time your dress sees the light of day, you just so happen to find a way to ruin it.

“Fucking hell!” You holler into the vacant balcony, your hands coming up to carefully poke at the wet patch on your dress. You wince as the soaked, freezing fabric comes in contact with your bare stomach. Angry, you chug down the rest of the drink inside your cup and chuck it off the balcony, too enraged to even react to its strong taste.

Shivering, you walk deeper onto the balcony, cradling yourself and staring at your shoes, a string of curses spewing from your lips. You scold yourself for not bringing a jacket while simultaneously plotting your revenge against Seokjin. A pair of black loafers intrude your vision, accompanied by a husky voice that calls out to you,

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

Your head shoots up, your eyes meeting the ones of the man standing in front of you. He towers above you significantly despite you wearing heels. His eyes are only a tad obscured by the soft, brown curls of his hair, perfectly styled and gelled to have that ‘purposefully messy’ look. The only difference being that models stood no chance against him when he was the blueprint himself. The black button up he’s clad in exquisitely accentuates every crevice of his lean, chiseled body. And his eyes that were already alluring on their own, were adorn with hazel-colored contacts that you swear you could stare at for hours upon hours. He is so otherworldly beautiful, you temporarily forget to breathe.

And you also forget that you are just staring at him, and he is staring back at you with a smile.

Times like this is when you wish you were at least a little buzzed. Sober ‘you’ is way too socially inept to fend for themself sadly. “O-oh i’m fine, someone just spilled their drink on me.”

Maybe it’s the way the moon sits behind him and casts a halo-like glow around his figure or how he’s just been staring straight into your eyes this whole time, like it’s second nature whilst you can only hold eye contact with him for two seconds before instinctively shying away. To say that his presence frightened you was an understatement. You were about to take cover and hide under the patio table like a five-year-old if he kept looking at you like that.

He blinks, his mouth stretching into a wide grin, rectangular-shaped and having the ability to ease your nerves. He places his drink on a patio table, dusting his hands on his pants, “Here, I’ll get you some napkins, just stay here.”

Stunned, it isn’t until he leaves that you yell out to him as he steps back inside the chaos, “Thank you!”

You carefully sit down on a patio chair, your arms still wrapped around your shivering torso while you try to breathe warm air into your cupped hands.

The man steps out onto the balcony minutes later, his fists full of paper towels as he hands them to you. “Here you go.”

You graciously take them, blotting your dress with the paper towels, your nose scrunching at the scent of alcohol that you had no choice but to inhale. “Thank you so much, really.” You say— still very much shocked to know that chivalry isn't quite dead yet. “It’s Taehyung, right?”

He nods, “Yeah, and you’re Y/N?

Your pause, your hand hovering over your dress as you look up and nod with a forced smile, “No but really, thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sorry that it happened in the first place,” he says apologetically, as if it was his fault, “it seems like everyone’s already out of their minds, and it isn’t even midnight yet.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” you assure him, which seems to work because his eyes soften a bit, “besides, I guess it’s my fault for coming here in the first place. I knew something like this was gonna happen and now here I am, smelling like cheap, convenience store vodka.”

He chuckles, and you swear you’ve never been so elated to make someone laugh until now, “I somehow managed to beat the crowd. I’ve literally just been standing out here by myself for a good hour now.”

You sigh in envy, “Must be nice.”

“Too bad you couldn’t make it, it’s been awfully quiet up here.” He says, pivoting on his heel to look at the rest of the empty balcony.

Your eyes trail to the commotion inside the house, the crowd still going strong, “Are we really the only sober ones here?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, we’re just the only ones stupid enough to show up at a college party on New Year’s Eve, expecting to have a good time sober while everyone’s getting plastered.”

The unexpected truth pill causes you to enter a fit of laughter, small clouds of air leaving your mouth every time you exhale. He laughs along with you. “Yeah we are pretty stupid, I do admit.” You concur, while rubbing at your arms that were covered in goosebumps.

“Do you want my jacket?” He asks you while pointing to the black blazer that’s slung on top of the chair next to you.

You wrinkle your nose, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, before I put it on you myself,” he giggles with a roll of his eyes.

Shaking your head, you grab the blazer and wrap it around your shoulders. You stand up from your seat and turn towards him, brow quirked. “A-are you not cold? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“I’m fine, I swear,” he counters, reaching out to help you slip your arms into his huge jacket sleeves, “I’m also not wearing a sleeveless dress.” He teases, eyeing you up and down as he takes in how oversized his jacket is on you. He thinks it looks much better when you’re wearing it, but he won’t tell you that.

“Right…” you drag out, following his footsteps as he motions you to follow him towards the edge of the balcony.

You two stand next to each other, leaning against the edge, arms nearly brushing against one another.

“So Taehyung, what brings you here in the first place?” You ask, knowing that he seems just as displeased to be here as much as you are.

“I got dragged here by a friend, Park Jimin, in particular.” He responds with a frown, “I have no idea where the fuck he is now, he literally left me as soon as we got here.”

Turning towards him incredulously, your brows raise and the corner of your lip curls into a smirk, “You don’t say.”

Confused, but also curious about the expression painted across your face, he quirks a brow, “Hm?”

You close your mouth, crossing your arms tighter around yourself, “I got dragged here by a friend too. Kim Seokjin. That asshole left me as soon as we got here too.”

He steps back, scoffing in disbelief, “Wow, we really just got stood up by our own friends.” Taehyung proclaims into the vacant balcony, for both him and you— the thought of it sounding even more pathetic after being said out loud.

“They’re pretty goddamn close to losing that title now.” You quip, shaking your head in dismay.

His head rocks back, a lively laugh leaving his lips due to your comment which makes you smile at the fact that you are even able to make him laugh like this.

“Damn it Y/N, you should’ve came out sooner, we could’ve been having a good time out here.” He tells you with a pout as his laughter starts to dwindle.

Sighing heavily, you too, feel regretful about the missed opportunity, “I really should have.”

He nudges you with his elbow, “At least you’re here now.”

The bass-boosted music from inside the house ceases, the room becoming momentarily quieter while someone bellows out, “Hey look, it’s the countdown!”

Everyone’s focus shifts towards the gigantic flat screen TV that hung above the fireplace, making you realize where the fraternity funds truly go to. You and Taehyung exchange glances before shrugging and moving closer to all the commotion since it was New Year’s Eve, above all.

He leans against the doorframe and you stay close to his side, the number ten flashing brightly on the screen—the crowd’s shouts getting louder as it reaches the final ten seconds of the year.

Instead of shouting out the numbers with the rest of the mass, you and Taehyung are simply witnessing it all fold out in silence.

“EIGHT!”

‘You got any New Year’s resolutions?!” You nudge him while attempting to yell over the noise.

His head whips towards you, “Me?!”

“SEVEN!”

Your brows furrow, “Does it look like I’m talking to anyone else?!”

His mouth splits into a grin once more, folding over in laughter just enough to meet eye-to-eye with you.

“SIX!”

“I mean! I didn’t have one originally!”

The crease in your brows dissipate, “Well, what changed?!”

“FIVE!”

His head tilts to the side, “I came here!”

You mirror his head tilt, confused as ever, “Um, so you wanna go to more parties next year?!”

“FOUR!”

He slaps a palm against his forehead, “From what you know about me, does it look like I like parties?!”

“How the hell would I know?!”

His jaw drops, “Y/N—!”

“THREE!”

“—I wanna get to know you better Y/N!”

Your jaw drops as well, “What?! Me?!”

“TWO!”

“Is there any other Y/N standing in front of me?!”

“I– oh...”

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The crowd shouts together in unison despite all being under the influence. A confetti cannon erupts, flying around the room and falling into people’s hair as the mass starts to split into pairs, all partaking in the traditional New Year’s kiss that you personally haven’t had much luck in participating in yourself.

You rip your gaze away to look at Taehyung. He smiles, pulling a piece of confetti out of hair, making your cheeks flush. “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Taehyung.”

The small amount of alcohol you consumed when you first stepped foot onto the balcony leaves you slightly buzzed. Just enough to leave you with the right amount of courage to vouch for the nickname.

You take a daring step towards the man in front of you, “I also have a resolution of my own, Taehyung.”

He takes an even more daring step towards you, having the audacity to lean down— your faces only inches apart. “And what is that, may I ask?”

Grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, you close the gap in between the two of you, locking your lips with his. The kiss isn’t short enough to be a peck but isn’t long enough to be considered making out. You pull away enough to be able to see his face, “Is to get to know you better too.”

He chuckles, “Y/N, your lips taste like spiked punch.”

Pouting, you bump your forehead into his, “All I drank was whatever you saw me have at the balcony, I swear.”

He pecks your nose, your frown immediately wiping away as he does so, “I trust you.”

You smile, giving him a peck on the mouth, “As you should.”

“I’d kiss you again, but you probably can’t stand being here any longer. Let’s get out of here.” He tells you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You slide your arm onto his, interlocking his fingers with your own, “I think you’ve already completed your resolution Taehyung. You seem to know me so well already.”

Pushing through the crowd, he hooks an arm onto your waist while he shoves a path for you two to get through, “Too bad I don’t know where you wanna go though.”

You hum, thinking for a moment before your grumbling stomach answers for you, “I’m hungry, let’s go grab burgers or something.”

You don’t see the way Taehyung is fondly staring at you because you’re too busy trying to open the front door. At last, you manage to pry it open, stepping back outside while Taehyung’s holding you in his arms. It’s not that cold this time.

Taehyung’s hands land on both of your shoulders— turning you around to face him as he swiftly latches his lips onto yours. You stumble back, but his hand is quick to support you as he kisses you deeply. You kiss him back, letting your fingers curl around the curls of his hair.

He pulls back this time, letting his forehead rest on yours, “Y/N, I think you are the one that’s completed your resolution. How the hell did you know that I fucking love burgers?”

MASTERLIST

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endlessymphony · 4 years ago

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🧸 Congrats on 50! It is very much so deserved and so are all the future followers! If it’s not too much could I request a fluffy blurb with the one and only Remus Lupin, like a classic friends to lovers awkward and sweet first date shenanigans? Ilyyyy

thank u my beloved anon! <3

i think i’m in love with you. (pt. 1???)

pairing - remus lupin x reader

summary - the good ol’ best friends to lovers trope

warnings - cussing, lots of awkwardness, mentions of underage drinking

a/n - this is vaguely inspired by my ‘you are the kind of boy that they write love songs about.’ spotify playlist— because it’s adorable + has the same vibe

a/n continued; pls let me know if you guys want me to continue this fic to include the date! i honestly think this is just so sweet and cute, and would love to hear some feedback about it :) (might make it a two parter if y’all like it enough!!)

you and remus had been friends since fourth year, and while it wasn’t quite the ‘perfect’ first impression that brought you together, recalling the memory makes you smile nonetheless. most would claim that first impressions are truly everything, but you would beg to differ- seeing as being drenched in pumpkin juice by a very apologetic and slightly aloof boy has now led to one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

tonight was just an average friday night in the gryffindor dorms as the marauders were hosting their usual ‘study’ night; obviously there was lots of chatter and laughter with an absence of any real studying happening, the name only aided in the fight against being caught by any teachers.

you and remus had claimed the couch whilst lily, james and sirius were scattered about the floor, peter sitting in a chair beside the couch.

glasses in hand, you were all slightly tipsy off of combinations of muggle alcohol that sirius managed to get his hands on, chests feeling as if they were alight. your skin tingled, brain and tongue feeling fuzzy as you laughed along with the others about something that james said.

you looked over at remus and caught him staring at you, you made brief eye contact before he looked away, a bit shy, but you giggled at decided to brush it off.

“you guys will never guess what i got for us tonight.” sirius started, legs slightly wobbly as he stood up. he reached into his pocket and retrieved a vial of veritaserum, “what better way to play truth or dare... then with some of this?”

you all looked around at each-other skeptically, knowing all about what that tiny vial can do to friendships, relationships, and your head. “i say we do it.” james pipes up, a smirk coming to his face. “...unless any of you have something to hide.” he turns to look at you and remus, raising his eyebrows a bit. you and remus turned to look at once another, cheeks darkening as your faces start to heat up. you look away quickly and try to ignore it, again.

ignore that feeling pooling in your stomach. the way your heart begins to flutter when you lock gazes. no, it can’t mean anything, right?

you all eventually give in to sirius’ antics, passing around the vial- everyone taking a shot. you’re the one to finish off the potion, it was an odd taste, your face contorting as you swallow it. not sweet, but not bitter, but also not sour- somehow all three combined to be one of the weirdest things you’ve ever tasted.

you place the glass vial down on the table in front of you, everyone waiting for the potion to take its effect. you sipped on your drink as you waited, hoping the taste of whatever lily mixed up would wash away the taste of the veritaserum.

and soon enough the ‘truth’ serum, as its called, began to work its magic on the rest of the group and yourself. your thoughts began to run- what if i mention the way that remus makes me feel? no, y/n, we’re not doing that tonight, plus no one will ask about it anyways. well, you spoke-thought too soon. everyone knew in some way or another that you and remus each had a thing for one another, so why not play on it when you’re both forced to tell the truth?

lily turned to the two of you with a wicked grin, just finishing up her dare, which you had missed due to the fact that you were consumed by your thoughts. her voice snapped you out of the haze, “so, y/n, truth or dare?” she drawled. both were terrible options. you knew that if you chose dare, you would end up licking someone’s foot or running down the corridor topless. but! truth was all the more terrifying. though, you suppose it’s the lesser embarrassing one of the two.

“truth.” you responded flatly, mumbling under your breath begging the universe to not mention remus. “what’s going on with you and remus, hm? do you like each-other?” her eyes glinted mischievously as she swirled the remnants of the drink in her hand around her cup. you wanted to say ‘nothing!’ but that wasn’t happening, mouth going before mind.

“i think he’s cute, and he gives me this weird butterfly feeling in my chest and sometimes talking to him makes me feel nauseous because i’m so nervous, maybe i think i’m in love with him.” you slapped your hand over your mouth to stop what felt like a stream of verbal diarrhea, eyes widening at what you just said. “shit, fuck. remus, i’m so sorry.” you said turning to him as you stood up.

you could almost cry from the embarrassment, well, that’s what you were doing as you speed walked back to your dorm. you couldn’t stay there, not after that, and you definitely couldn’t face remus. you just told your best friend you were in love with him, for merlins sake! if that wasn’t going to ruin the friendship- no, don’t even go there. that will ruin the friendship.

you launched yourself onto your bed, door shutting behind you. burying your head in the pillows, you just wished the mattress would swallow you so that you didn’t have to face reality. tears were scarce by this point, most of them streaming down your cheeks as you sped away into the hall.

remus was still sitting in the common room, dumbfounded. “shit.” he mumbled, mind completely scattered after your turn. james and sirius turned to him, sympathetically, well as sympathetically as they could until sirius cocked an eyebrow and started to muse, “you gonna go get them lover-boy?”

“yeah-“ he smoothed his hands on his sweater, “i am.” remus stood up and took after you, knowing that you always holed yourself up in your dorm whenever anything upset you. ‘they’re bound to be wrapped in blankets, face in the pillows’ he thought.

and that’s how you were exactly. wrapped in a crocheted blanket, face in the pillows. you didn’t know if you wanted to scream, or cry, or just run away and get a new identity and start a new life at beauxbatons or something as a transfer student.

remus reached your dorm, fist quivering as he started to knock on your door. “y/n.” he called, voice wavering. you sat up, “the doors open, rem.” he peeked in, a goofy grin coming to his face. “there you are.” he chimed, closing the door behind him as he walked in, sitting on your bed beside you.

“you always do that, y’know? whenever you’re upset or embarrassed, you always wrap yourself in that blanket and lay face down. sometimes you scream, or cry, or just end up taking a nap.” he chuckles lightly. “i hope you don’t feel bad about earlier.” remus stares at his feet, tapping one against the hardwood flooring. “i just don’t wanna ruin our friendship with my stupid crush.” you admit, feeling defeated, but he chuckles again.

you turn to look at him and cock your head, “what’s so funny?” you feel even worse, is he mocking you right now? laughing in your face? ouch- remus you absolute douchebag.

but it’s none of that, “well, y/n, to put it plainly, i think i’m in love with you too.” he stops his foot, looking up at you. your eyes meet, hearts both racing. “oh.” is all you can manage. his eyes dart back to the floor, “would, uh” he clears his throat slightly, “could i kiss you? maybe? would that be okay?” remus’ face starts to turn pink, a colour that you always thought complimented him quite well.

“yeah. that would be fine.” you replied, breathlessly. him saying that completely winded you. he gently placed his pointer finger under your chin, thumb bumping against your bottom lip as he leaned in. your eyes fluttered shut as you met him in the middle, lips brushing. it took everything in you not to just die then and there.

you bumped noses a few times throughout the kiss, giggles filling the room as you both pulled away- feeling the same breathless feeling once more. “so, this isn’t gonna ruin our friendship, right?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips. “of course not, if anything, now i just want you to be my best-friend AND my partner.”

“that would be lovely, rem.” you smiled even wider, pulling him in for another kiss.

maybe this whole awkward and messy confession wasn’t as bad as you thought.

#it’s fizzy approved™️#zo’s requests <3 #harry potter universe #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #hp fandom #atyd remus #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x you #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

Text

90′s LOVE (Sungchan x you, Mark)

The MV IS OUT!! and I really like their concept. This is like how EXO nailed the football concept and now NCT nailed the Hockey concept!! I am so excited that I have this in my mind...

I hope this is not boring and yeah give Sungchan some more love!

warning : i don’t want to soil the plot, but there’s some kiss..

PART TWO HERE

You bend to untie your skating shoes; you're done with today's skating class. The locker is already crowded with the trainee for the next schedule. The ice hockey team from your club is here to play today. They're the best team in town, NCT U Dinosaur and next week they are playing against Gorillas. You bet it will be an interesting match with the Dinos winning of course, there's no doubt with that tall new center they have and the super tight bond between the players. It's like their mind is already connected and they can always pass the puck with ease. You excuse your way to your own locker, well with their padded costumes and tall bodies, you're struggling to find your way to the locker.

"Excuse me," you say between each steps and the members are all friendly to you, hey they always meet you because your class is before theirs and so you always see them preparing themselves. "Oh hey there (y/n)," Mark, your best friend and secret crush, greets you with a quick side hug. He squishes your shoulder and you just laugh nervously obviously surprised and shy from what he did. He's super friendly with you to the point where you wish he can see you as someone more than a friend. He lets you go when his other friend calls him and you make your way to the end of the locker. "I see someone is left behind again," a tall shadow appears on your peripheral views. You sigh, knowing this is once again Sungchan teasing you for your one-sided crush on Mark. Well, you knew Sungchan earlier than you knew Mark, Sungchan once went to the same elementary school as you did, so there's nothing awkward between the two of you. You got separated but meet one another again in this skating rink. Him as a hockey player, you as a figure skater. "Shut up, he's called over." You try to push the negative thought away.

Deep inside your heart, you still have the slightest hope that Mark is liking you back. Sungchan just laughs at you, he puts his hand over your head wanting to ruffle your hair, but your bun doesn't allow him to. He awkwardly puts his hand down, lucky you did not realize this. "So, you're going to stay and watch us practice?" Sungchan has hope in his tone. You look around and see your brother Ten already entering the Barn (the rink). "I guess I have to wait for Ten." you stuff your skates into your bags and grab your slippers. "Oh okay cool. Wish me luck I need to warm up." Sungchan smiles to you, you just click your tongue, "Okay big boy, good luck." you fist bump him and he makes his way out of the room. You change your clothes and make yourself comfortable in the bleachers. With one cup of hot tea and a phone in your other hand, you waste your time on the internet. "Hey you wanna go home?" Ten skates to your side and asks over the rink. You see the time, and shake your head, "I got nothing to do, I'll watch you. Focus," you shoo him away and he just pulls you his nose scrunch face. Their practice ended nicely, and you have your eyes glued to Mark on all of the game. Dude, he's a good wing man and Sungchan is a tough center. His scoring is accurate and he's super calm in the midst of the game. Your brother is playing as a wing man too. Practice ended with Mark's team winning and they all crowded the room back with their sweaty bodies. After a shower, you find yourself going home with your brother. "Next week is game day, you must watch us!" Ten says excitedly on the way home inside the bus. "Sure, I mean I am on a term break for preparing the state skating, I can watch your games." You squeeze your brother's hand. "How's your practice today?" he asks you this time. You shake your head, "Not good, I cannot do the quad axel yet and my biggest rival, Taeyong, can do that easily. I mean even when we skate on different categories... I still feel I lost to him." Ten hugs you from the side and cheers you up, "Hey you're doing great okay, you just need a few more practices It's okay." You shake your head, "It's not. He did it in two tries and I still can't do it. Maybe mom is right, figure skating is not for me." Ten looks at you in amusement, "The hell are you saying? You worked hard from seven years old and you're thinking of stopping because of one move where people acknowledge as something nearly impossible to be done?!" You laugh at yourself, "Silly? maybe I should join the hockey team. Maybe Mark will pay more attention to me." You're open to your brother about your feelings, he knows your silly one sided crush on Mark and Ten has already told you repeatedly to move on, but you're so stubborn. "Still not over him eh?" Ten changes the topic. You blush and nod your head, "He's so sweet." Ten actually knows Mark is always sweet with everyone, no he is not a player. He is just warm and welcoming to all girls, Ten knows Mark longer than you but you never listen your brother. "For once can you listen to me?" he desperately sighs, you shake your head. Ten stops. "Let me just tell you this, someone else is always there for you, but when you're busy counting stars, you forgot the moon." Ten shuts his mouth afterwards and you find his sentence confusing. What is wrong with Ten? Sungchan goes back home with his roommate, Mark. Together they walk under the warm moon and talk about random things until Mark asks Sungchan about you. "So I heard you know (Y/n) right?" The taller guy just nods his head, "Yeah why?" "It's just that is she available?" Mark directly asks this and Sungchan is surprised, is he interested in her? No way this is happening. Sungchan notices the small smile Mark tries to hide but failed. "Well as far as I know she is not seeing anyone." Sungchan admits he really wants to lie and say you're not available, but you will kill him. "Oh a cute girl like her is still single?" Mark's eyes dilate twice in size. Sungchan rolls his eyes, "Maybe because she is waiting for someone to make the move." Mark whistles, "Classic, and you? You're dating anyone?" Sungchan blushes, "No one in the moment." Mark just nods his head, "Uh maybe you can ask her out, you seem to like her." Sungchan almost froze on his steps, wait was he really obvious? He wants to yell at Mark "Oh hell yeah I am asking her out when I know she has a crush on you... you dense..." He holds his words and just toss Mark a silly look, "Nah, not now. She's not interested in me." "Why not try?" Mark nonchalantly asks. Sungchan wishes he can spill the beans, but no he can't inside his heart he only scream "Because I know that I will just be her rebound when she realizes you're really not interested in her." "I don't know Mark, why don't you try win her if you like her." Sungchan tosses back the bomb and Mark just chuckles "I am already committed." "Hell what? You never told me!" Mark blushes, "Well it's not usual so I'm not really telling anyone." Sungchan understands and touches the shorter's shoulder, "Who is he?" Mark smiles, "Haechan, it's Haechan our defence." Sungchan smiles happily for his brother, he slaps his back, "Congrats bro!" Mark just giggles, "Thanks, come on let's go in!" They arrive at their apartment and Sungchan feels his head breaking down.

So how can he tell you Mark is unavailable, and he knows you'll be so heart broken. Sungchan thought of all the possibilities and ended up sleeping. He didn't see you anymore until the game day. You are there sitting on the bleachers with your oldest brother, Taemin and the two of you are super excited. You see Sungchan on his way to the dressing room and you dash quickly to see him, you just want to wish him luck. "Sungchan-ie!!" you reach his hand and he stops in track, looking back he sees you "Oh it's you!" his smile erupts. You hand him a chocolate bar, "Good luck! Score many points today okay? Play safe" you pat his back and he can't hide his silly face, "Thanks, I will do my best. Hey where are you going?" he asks when you move away. You mouthed MARK and leave him. That's when he realizes he should've stopped you from looking Mark but he's too late. Sungchan sees you frozen in track by the door of the locker room, the energy drink you bring for Mark falls to the ground and before he can reach for you, you've ran away. Sungchan wants to run after you but his captain Winwin calls him. "Shit," Sungchan sees Mark and Haechan on the corner making out and his smart brain is enough to understand you learn the truth the hard way.

Sungchan is a professional, once he is in the Barn, he’s busy with the game and he sets aside all of the emotion and problems. He’s determined to console you after the game, so first he needs to win this game and then win your heart.

The game ended with fantastic scores, Sungchan performs very well and scores many today. You cheer excitedly by Taemin’s side. The two of you jumping excitedly when the team wins.

You’re still sad when you saw Mark earlier, but here you are once again in the waiting room congratulating everyone in the team. You hold your tears when you get a hug from Mark. His hug sure feels different now, you know it you really stand no chance. You walk to your other friend, Sungchan and you surprise him with a hug. You never hug him first, but today you feel like he’s the only one you can trust.

“Congratulations” you whisper and Sungchan excitedly picks you up from the floor. You yelp but let him pick you up, well he’s way taller than you.

“Sorry,” he whispers back, “Sorry I did not run to you earlier.”

You gulp, oh so he saw you. “No don’t be. I’m fine. You need to focus on the game earlier.”

“Yeah I did, all because you came here and gave me the luck I need.” He still has you levitating and clinging to his big tall frame.

You squirm in his touch, “Okay put me down,”

“No. Not until you cry yourself and calm down.”

Your lips tremble, Sungchan sure is a smart man.

“I am not going to cry,” you lie to him

Sungchan shakes his head, “You will. I know you want to cry now. He’s gone already, no one is here you can cry.”

You sigh, “Please.. please put me down.”

He puts you down and sits beside you.

“I am a fool wasn’t I?” You bite your lips, eyes already wet.

Sungchan pulls you into his embrace, “Pour it all out.”

You stain his jersey with tears, and you punch his chest angrily.

“It hurts,” those are the last words you say before closing your eyes and just feeling the warmth Sungchan gives.

Ten comes into the room and catches the scene, he quickly runs to take you over and lets Sungchan changes his clothes first. The younger man did what Ten said and Ten also knew what happened. Well earlier once the game ended, he clearly saw Mark kissing his boyfriend, and Ten knows you’re crying because of that.

You look up to Ten and with hiccups you ask him, “Hyung, I focused on the star.. and now when the star is gone… did I lost my moon too?”

Ten sighs, you remember what he said that night. Ten looks into the tall man who’s cleaning up his gears and smiles, he rubs your back and brings your teary face to see him, “Hey you did not lose the moon. I can assure you, this time the moon is still here.”

“Really?” you sniffle

Ten brushes your hair away, “Yes honey, you just have to look closely.”

Your eyes catch Sungchan’s tall figure and everything clicks.

“I’ll try, I don’t want to rush…” you shy away from Ten’s gaze.

Ten smiles, “It’s okay, he waited this long, he can wait a bit more.”

Sungchan hears that and just smile, he leaves the room so you two can talk more privately, but deep inside his heart he knows if he plays the game right, he can win your heart now.

endddd

please support nct u 90′s love, be it streaming or just appreciate their music and maybe tell someone else about the song! It brings back memories :D

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bugsbucky · 4 years ago

Text

Cotton Clouds

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: Hiii lovely! Could I kindly request a Bucky x plus!size reader - she is really shy and insecure about her body weight and is more like the chef to the avengers (cooking breakfast and dinner for them and that kind of stuff) she is also being secretly bullied by a lower rank agent and one day the bully shoves her and she falls over, hurting herself and Bucky saw everything and just!! Protective Bucky is my life. Please don't rush! There's no pressure from me 🖤 love you!!

Warnings: Angst, body shaming, insecurities, bullying, asshole agents, protective!Bucky, protective!Steve (kinda), language, broken noses, a little pussy that probably shat his pants, fluff, happy endings.

Word Count: 3,007

Authors Notes: thank you dear anon for sending in this request. I’ve combined this request for the @the-ss-horniest-book-club 24 hour surprise drabble and Summer Loving Challenge and I chose Rooftop bar/restaurant.

If anyone ever makes you feel this shitty, you just tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. Nobody, NOBODY has the right to degrade you for your weight or anything else for that matter. If they are bullying you, it only means there is a problem with their own reflection and it’s not actually you. You’re loved and James Buchanan Barnes loves and worships you so much.

My taglist is actually open so if you’d like to join please feel free to send me a message/ask :)

Since becoming a part of the Avenger family as their personal cook, you’ve established strong bonds with just about everyone on the team. They accepted you for who you were and never once made a disrespectful comment or snicker about your soft belly or thick thighs. Of course, it didn’t stop you from wishing you had a figure like Nat or Wanda, but the team didn’t make you feel less of a human and despite their kindness, you often still felt out of place and insecure about your weight. The one person who made you feel extra special was Bucky Barnes. During movie nights his fingers would circle your soft waist, his hugs also lasted a lot longer than what was considered necessary. Over time, the two of you became close friends. You ended up developing a small crush on him, imagining yourself waking up in his arms every morning and reminding you just how beautiful you are.

Around them, you were shy and barely spoke a word other than a good morning greeting or an ‘enjoy your meal’ as you dished out their food you had cooked. You were preparing some bacon and toast in the kitchen when James, an agent on the lower rank pranced into the kitchen, puffing his chest out and grinning at your shock of seeing him.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks and takes a step closer, forcing you to take one step back. Your eyes flicked over his shoulder and saw 3 other of his friends snickering near the doorway.

“S-sure.” your voice croaked, ignoring the splutter from the coffee pot.

“Do you sleep in a bed like a normal human being, or do you sleep on the beach like a whale? I’m not sure where whales your size sleep.” The laughter behind James formed a lump in your throat.

“Morning folks! Uh James, you’re not supposed to be in here.” Steve walked in with his Captain America suit on and warned. His hands just above his belt as he took the burning bacon off the gas.

“Sorry Captain. Just had to ask Y/N for something.” James winked and smiled innocently at Steve. You never told anyone about the things James would say to you. They were far too embarrassing and you were secretly scared they felt the same way but just didn’t have the heart to say anything.

“No problem. Just don’t let it happen again.” Steve warned as James left, reaching up in the cupboard for a mug. He looks at you briefly, concern washes over his face as he saw you were batting tears away. “Hey are you okay? He didn’t do anything to you did he?” Steve wondered, folding his broad arms across his chest.

“No no! I’m fine really. Breakfast won’t be too long.” you lied and busied yourself in the kitchen that Tony had put in especially for your needs.

“Okay well look, if he or anyone is giving you any problems, you come to me alright? We don’t tolerate harassment here.” Steve gave your shoulder a squeeze, the words on the tip of your tongue that this has been going on for months. You want to tell Steve that but you’re hesitant and bite your tongue, just nodding and thanking the captain for caring so much. You quickly pull yourself back together and resume the task of breakfast.

Your hesitancy didn’t go amiss by Steve. He knew you wanted to say something but you were so shy he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He didn’t want you suffering either and since the team were leaving for a one month mission, he chose to ask Bucky to stay behind to keep an eye on things. Since Bucky was sidelined from an injury to his flesh arm, he wouldn’t have gone on this mission anyway.

Once breakfast to the Avengers was served and they were happy, you quickly untied the apron from around your waist and hung it on the hook. The kitchen was cleaned and you headed back to your room for a much needed shower and break. You would normally join the team for breakfast but after the question James asked, you quickly came up with an excuse why you wouldn’t be joining them today.

Your gaze was kept to the floor as you walked and your shoulder bumped into someone else’s. Before you could apologise, an obnoxious laugh pierced your ears.

“Watch where you’re going you glonk!” It was James and you sighed.

“Sorry.” you muttered and steadied yourself. Pulling your baggy shirt away from your stomach.

“Wouldn’t bother doing that. Unless you can stick a bag over your head and hide your ugly mug too.” James snickered, encouraged by the roaring laughter of his friends standing behind him, throwing the occasion comment in your face too.

“I said I was sorry!” hot tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving behind a wet streak in the process. “I’m sorry for everything!” you crumbled under the pressure. Apologising to this asshole for what exactly? For being softer than the other girls who worked in the compound? For being too shy to stand up for yourself? For not being good enough? In truth, you didn’t know why you were apologising. You were doing nothing wrong.

“Apologising won’t mean shit to me!” James taunted walking behind you and giving you a hard shove. You fall forwards, your knees hitting the hard marble floors first. Your hands stop your face from smashing against the floor.

“HEY!” a loud voice and footsteps echo through the hallway. The friends of James all scattered and ran down the hall as Bucky stalked towards you. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you recognised Bucky’s voice, of course you did. It was your favourite voice in the compound because it belonged to your crush. Bucky was a sweetheart, always making sure you felt better about yourself. He was quiet just like you, but the confidence he would give you made you feel so much better about yourself. Of course, it didn’t work so well since James started bullying you.

You peeked up. Bucky’s nostrils were flared, his jaw clenched and his eyes insanely wide, anger swirling around behind his irises. His metal arm whirring down by his side as he clenched and unclenched his fist. He saw what this jerk had done to you and no woman should be treated like that.

James remained silent, looking like a deer in headlights. Bucky wasn’t impressed by his lack of answers and with his metal arm, shoved James against the wall and his hand wrapped around his throat squeezing his windpipe slightly.

“You gonna talk now huh? Where have your fucking balls gone?” Bucky spat in his face, his flesh arm in a sling pressed against his chest.

“I- I am sorry!” James was gasping for air and Bucky eased off his throat just a little.

“How long has this been going on?” Bucky wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

As their confrontation was just getting started, you pushed yourself up off the floor ignoring the aching in your knees as you stood next to Bucky. Your hand on his metal arm to try and diffuse the situation. It was no use, Bucky hated bullies and he wasn’t going to let go of this guy’s throat until he had the answers he was asking.

“HOW LONG?!?!” Bucky roared, saliva spraying James’ face. You have never seen Bucky like this, so enraged and protective. It was almost like something or someone had woken The Winter Soldier up inside of him.

Bucky liked you a lot. He liked your soft belly, thick thighs and rosy red cheeks. Your disheveled hair in the mornings and your cooking was absolutely amazing. To him, you were the perfect wife. Without you even knowing, Bucky would often daydream about the two of you living in the country with your children and you baking some homemade pies. The two of you were like the perfect balance in his eyes, you were soft and fluffy and a sweetheart and he was damn sure no man or woman was going to ever hurt you.

“Months.” James gasped out. This angered Bucky more as he growled in his face.

“Bucky.” your voice was quiet as you pleaded with him, his eyes momentarily flicking down to yours with your soft eyes staring back at him that he loved so much. Bucky released his grip from his throat, but not before punching him square in the nose. The audible crack made you cringe and you brought your hands up to cover your mouth as blood dripped from the obvious broken nose.

“Let me tell you something you little shit. If you EVER approach Y/N again, if you EVER breathe in her direction or lay one dirty finger on her again and I promise you, not only will I break every finger on your hand and your legs but I’ll make sure you’re kicked off the team. Do you understand me you fucking asshole? You touch or speak to her ONE MORE TIME and don’t you dare test my patience.”

“Y-es Sergeant Barnes.” James was full on crying, either from the pain of his nose or the threats Bucky was spewing in his face or the combination of the two, you weren’t sure but as soon as Bucky stepped back and pulled your body close to his, James took off staggering up the hall, occasionally glancing back to make sure the winter soldier wasn’t following him, leaving droplets of blood as a trail.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” Bucky’s softer voice took you by surprise. His metal appendages stroked your warm cheeks and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You shook her head and Bucky’s eyes narrowed. Your knees were badly bruised and he clicked his tongue. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and he walked you back to your room in silence. The anger was still radiating off him, just his very heavy breathing filling the silence. His disbelief that any human could hurt you the way James did. If you were not there, he most likely would have ripped him a new asshole. But since you weren’t a fighter, he didn’t want you scared or panicked.

When you eventually got back to your room, Bucky marveled at how beautiful, neat and tidy the space was. Books scattered over a couple of shelves and your computer neatly placed in the middle of a white desk with your pink and white office chair. You reminded him of a fluffy pink cloud with some chunks of marshmallows.

He loved the aesthetic comfort it provided.

“Wow this is so beautiful.” He complimented as you sat on the end of your bed. You smiled back sheepishly, feeling the warmth of the blush creep back up your neck and cheeks.

“Thank you.” you sighed. Bucky’s eyes were soft and so blue. You could stare into them for hours.

“You’re welcome doll. He won’t bother you again and if he does, you tell me immediately. I won’t be so kind next time.”

“I know. I’m just… ashamed.” you dipped your head and fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

“Doll, let me tell you something.” Bucky sighed as he took a seat next to you, throwing his arm back over your shoulder. Nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest, breathing in his fresh sandalwood scent. “As a man who grew up in the really old days and a man who was given the best eyesight. I can honestly say, with my hand on my heart that you are really gorgeous, beautiful and so special. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, the fault is with him, not you. Maybe he’s jealous because he doesn’t have killer thighs or something.” you chuckled into his chest, his heart pounding against your ear.

“You think I’m special?” your question was muffled but he heard you clearly. Your eyes glancing down at his thick thighs.

“Of course I do. You’re the first person I look for when I enter a room doll.”

“Thank you Bucky. You’re just amazing in every way.” You pulled away with a triumph toothy grin on your face and pink tinted cheeks.

“Don’t have to keep thankin’ me doll. Though if you really wanna say thanks, accept my invitation and come to dinner with me tonight.” he cocked an eyebrow and your anxiety washed through you.

“Wh-where?”

“There’s this rooftop restaurant Sam recommended and I really want to go but I don’t want to go alone.” he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the hairs on the back of his neck. “Please?” and out came the puppy eyes. You chuckled and nodded your head.

“Sure. Of course.” Bucky grinned and leaned in and pressed a kiss to your rounded cheek.

“Thanks doll. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.”

A few hours later

A loud knock - metal on wood sounded at your door and you sighed, checking out your attire for this evening. After hours of wondering what to wear and taking Nat’s advice and smoothed the dress over with your hands, giving one final look in the long mirror. You slipped into your expensive heels and opened the door. You gasped, Bucky was wearing a dark navy sweater with a collar, one arm missing as he kept it under the sweater and dark clad jeans matched with his combat boots. You saw the silver chain shining around his neck and you assumed he was wearing the dog tags he recently retrieved, his hair slicked back into a low bun in the nape of his neck, a day old stubble peppered his chin and cheeks and you were tempted to run your fingertips over the prickly hairs. While you were busy ogling his attire, he was also checking you out. Your choice of dress was gorgeous and it hugged your curves just perfectly, revealing just the right amount of cleavage that Bucky knew he would have a hard time keeping his eyes off during dinner. Your makeup was nothing too crazy, opting for a natural look.

“Wow doll, you look amazing.” Bucky gulped and shifted on the balls of his feet.

“You absolutely do too, Buck.” you exchanged a smile and walked down the hall with him, occasionally stealing glances at one another. When the two of you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, he offered his arm and you gladly took it.

The restaurant Bucky took you to was absolutely perfect. A single candle in the middle of the 2 seater table with a rose in a vase. Champagne in a bucket of ice.

“People are staring.” you stated as Bucky pulled your chair out for you. He leaned down and kissed your cheek lovingly, causing an eruption of tingles in the pit of your belly.

“Let ‘em stare. Probably just jealous because I’m with the most sexiest woman here.” he spoke nonchalantly. You giggled and hid behind your hands. The city lights illuminated both of your features as you sat and talked about everything and anything that came to mind.

Bucky told you about the new music he was listening to and how he didn’t like it. You laughed and agreed and told him to listen to some 80s with a promise you’ll personally create him a playlist. Bucky told jokes and you laughed heartily. Exchanging flirty glances and smiles every now and then. The one thing that really set your soul on fire was when you caught him glancing at your chest and licking his lips. You were grateful to Nat for the suggestion of a push up bra to push your boobs together and made a mental note to thank her later.

“I have something for you.” Bucky said, putting down his glass of champagne and reaching into his front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small black velvet box and put it down in front of you. He laughed at the look on your face. “Don’t worry, it’s not an engagement ring.” he clarified and you blew some air out. Picking up the little black box, you gasped when you flicked the lid open. Wedged between the slit was an expensive looking silver ring with diamonds.

“Bucky! Oh my god! What is this?” Was he sure it wasn’t an engagement ring? The two of you weren’t even dating, surely he wouldn’t.

“It’s a promise ring. I was going to give it to you on the weekend when I was hoping you’d go to dinner with me when we were alone in the compound but things changed.” his chuckle turned into a smile and you mirrored it.

“It’s absolutely gorgeous!” removing the ring from the box, you slip it onto your finger and it fits like a glove. How he guessed your size was anyone’s guess.

“Doll. I promise you that I will be here to protect you. Nobody will ever dare speak a bad word to you again. But I also promise to take care of you and make you smile and laugh every single day. I care about you so much and I mean everything I’m saying. If you’ll have me of course.”

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. He really did mean them.

“My weight. It really doesn’t bother you?” you bit your lip with your eyebrows raised.

“No it absolutely doesn’t. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to spend a long time proving it to you that I love you and your body the way it is. I’ve waited a really long time for you doll. So, will you be mine?”

“Always.” Bucky reached over and grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“My doll.”

“My Bucky.”

“Forever your Bucky, doll. Let’s order dessert then we can go home and have some real dessert.” he winked and you chuckled, dipping your head and blushing for the hundredth time today.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7 @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @crushedbyhyperbole @deanthedemon @sarge-barnes-sir @emilylyoness @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @littleredstarfish @kitkatd7

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fanfictionfansmiction · 4 years ago

Text

Look At Me

This is a Sirius x Reader piece I wrote. The summary is you’re in love with him (obvs) and you’re out drinking together. You’ll have to read it if you want to know more because I don’t know how to do summaries! Word count: 1846

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Sometimes when I look at Sirius, I try to read his mind. Tonight, in the local muggle pub I sip my rum and coke staring as inconspicuously as I can at him. I think I’ll finally do it. The rest of the gang are distracted in their own little worlds. Perfect for me, I think I’ve finally cracked it. He stands on the outside of a conversation, eyes glistening. I sip my drink, look up and see him unexpectedly looking back. I am afraid if I blink, I might miss it. The look of yearning on his face. It brings out this urge in me to hold him. To wrap him up in my arms and never let him go. But I do not blink, and I look a little closer, my mind begins to wander is it me he is yearning for. I know that I want him in every meaning of the word. Does he feel the same for me? I look away from him and I notice a girl our age behind me with raven hair and crimson lipstick that elicits a poisonous envy within me. This goddess come to life has poise and mystery, she is elegant and distant. All in the unknown, I tell myself. That is why I hate horror films. All the suspense and all that you do not see is what makes itself horror. Right now, that is how I see her, as a beautiful horror. Something I cannot take my eyes off. She is everything I wish I were and part of me knows I too would jump, eyes closed, at the opportunity to be with her just once. Is that what he longs for? Mystery and darkness. All the things you could imagine and things you would not dare wish for.

I look back at him. All of him. His icy eyes that I always saw more as the sky on a sunny day but now I see them how she would. He too is mysterious. Leather clad and brooding. Tattoos disappearing under sleeves you cannot help but want to trace. His inky hair that falls guiltily over his face like he is already broken your heart. I know he will. I know I will let him. Is it me your looking for? I want to ask. Am I all mystery and elegance? No, I do not think I am. I am the familiar option. I am warm sand after an icy cold swim. I have my own good qualities. I know this but I do not know if this will be enough. This time I look at James, Remus and Peter. They are not looking at me. James holding his heavy head up sloppily with his toned arm gazes all wide eyed and wishful at Lily. Who laughs with a stranger at the bar. Brushing her auburn locks over her shoulder. James’ sighs so cartoon like I must stop myself from laughing. Then I move to Remus who picks at the sleeve of his knitted jumper while talking animatedly to a small chubby girl about some muggle literature. She seems to be having fun as she softly hits his arm. Peter is chatting quietly to two tall men who have such dark circles under their eyes I feel the need to tell them to rest. I take a longer look at Peter who is chewing at his lip. He is a little drunker than the rest and I see his face go red. He tells a joke, and the tall men laugh, it softens their faces, and they do not seem as tired. My eyes make their way back to Sirius who seems to be talking to me. His pale cheeks reddening as he notices I have not been paying attention. “What?” I mouth to him taking the last mouthful of my drink. “I said are you hungry?” He chuckles pushing himself round the table, so he is standing beside me. I forget how familiar he is to me. He is so inviting I feel something tug inside me. As if something is saying you love him for Christ sake just tell him! But the timing is not right! I snipe back to myself. It never will be. That is my plan. To never tell him because how could I ruin something so precious to me? I hold him so closely in my heart I could not live with myself if I ruined this. “Hello oh.” He says with that grin growing. He shakes my shoulders as if to wake me up. “Um, isn’t a little early for that?” I say. “I know you Love, you’re always hungry at pre drinks and I cannot listen to you talk about pizza while dancing to the muggle music one more time! So, I figure I feed you now and then if you’re still hungry later we can share a kebab or something?” He says absentmindedly twirling a stray piece of my hair. The heat rises from my neck threatening to give me away. I clear my throat. “Are you sure? I know how important it is to solidify the lady friend for the evening early on so you get the prettiest one and you can tell in here because it’s well lit.” I say a little sourer than intended. “Who says that’s not what I’m doing?” He retorts shifting his weight. “Are you trying to bed me by offering me takeaway?” I ask amused. “I wouldn’t have worded it like that because now you sound like a prostitute who gets paid in food.” “You never know, it sounds like a solid business plan to me.” I laugh. Then Sirius laughs with me. We leave the pub arms intertwined wandering toward the pizza place down the road. It’s gotten colder since we arrived in the crowded pub and now, I am wondering why I didn’t bring a coat. I look up at Sirius with a wide grin because this is my favourite part of the night and now, I have been promised it twice. Not the food, but this little walk to the takeaway. Where we giggle and bump into each other. It feels so intimate despite the crowds of drunks. “What are we getting Love?” He asks stuffing his hands into his pocket and bringing out a twenty-pound note. “I was thinking something spicy but put your money away I’ve got this one.” I insist attempting to push myself into the small takeaway. But he stops me and before I know it, he is in there and he is ordering then he pays and tips the guys generously. He pops outside. Leaning against the window he smugly grins at me as though he has bested me. Which is ridiculous but I cannot stop myself from going into the takeaway and ordering something myself and matching his tip. He clearly protests shaking his head with feigned annoyance. He turns his head away, but I see him laughing. “Let’s go.” He laughs taking our orders from the ledge and wandering back to the pub. “Did you see who Remi was talking to?” I say chewing on the crust of the pizza. “Yeah, I think they work together at the book shop. He fancies her. Obviously.” “She definitely likes him.” “How can you tell?” He asks with genuine curiosity as he takes a large bite of my cheesy chips. “It’s all in the eyes Sirius. Her entire face softened when she looked at him. Like he was a puppy she had seen after the worst day of her life.” I ask batting his hand away so I too can fill my mouth with cheesy chips. “So, what do you see in my eyes when I look at you?” He asks and I’m not sure if he’s teasing me. I know that I do not want to play this game. It will end up with me in tears and him leaving with someone else. Sensing the shift in my attitude he stops and turns to me. He takes the food boxes and leans them on a nearby bench before turning his body to me and looking at me. Really looking at me. “I’m not messing around Love. What do you see when I look at you?” He says softly as though he is afraid, afraid that I will break. For a moment we stand there in the golden light from the lamppost. Just the two of us there like a painting. A moment in time where the silence is deafening. I look at him like I did in the pub and I am confused. He has got that same look on his face. Soft and forgiving. His big grey eyes warm and loving. I suddenly feel so stupid. So blind and ridiculous. “I see love. I see warmth and forgiveness. Something else that I can’t quite place.” I whisper. It feels more like a prayer. Wishing on a shooting star or a coin thrown into a fountain. Something I have thrown away without thought. Without thinking what it really means if he feels the same. What happens after the happy ending? Where we end up. How it really feels to be loved. If I could throw myself away with a coin. I look up and I see he is still looking at me. Suddenly I feel very shy. I feel naked and wounded. I did not just tell him what I saw I told him what I wanted to see in him. Revealing much more of myself than intended. So, I ask him “What do you see?” in a small breathless voice. He drags a hand through his hair and rests his chin on his fist. He focuses and in such a comical manner I cannot help but smile because suddenly this all feels so silly. So childish. I keep looking at him and see a small scar above his brow. Something he probably got from childhood and I think about everything I do about him. If it’s enough. I think about how he used to help the younger students who were being bullied. How he’d bring Remus chocolate when he was down. Or how he always gives money to the homeless or the charity people on the street. He was hopeless at cooking but would always make sure the boys had a home cooked meal to come back to when they lived in that tiny flat together. Under all the flirting and joking Sirius is the kindest most giving person I have ever known. Suddenly I feel like I could cry because has anyone ever shown him the same kindest. Has anyone ever looked after him? “Why do you look so sad?” He asks with a strange look on his face. “Because I just realised that I want to look after you Sirius. If you’ll let me.” I say taking his large hand in mine. I see his face change. As though that was the last thing, he thought I’d say. “Alright Love,” He says, “I think I’d like that.”

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chemicallady · 4 years ago

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Science and Vision

Part I

A/N: let's start something completely new! Hope you'll like the idea. I dont know how many parts I'll write. Let's see what happens togheter.

Once, Greg said that he has to choice between science or 'something else'. And he chose science. What it someone we is going to bump into is thinking otherwise.

I'm also using the characters of Frank Diners, introduced in episode 13x02! A couple of years before those (terrible) event.

Important: this parts are dreams

Couple: Greg Sanders/Female!Reader

Category: Romantic, Supernatural, Phychic, a little of angst of course.

Content Warning: mention to cases in which is involved a kidnap and a murder. Csi classical stuff.

Summary: Reader is a powerful psychic, as her grandmother. Unfortunately, this gift doesn't help her in paying the rent, but as his mom always says 'anything happen without a reason'.

Reader starts to believe that when a series of drammatic nightmares start to keep you company during the night. And the subject is always the same, like a video, replied over and over again....

*****

Las Vegas, December 5th 2010

《Sorry Vincent! I'm late!》

You make your entrance at your work place - Frank's Diner- and you notice both officers Akers and Mitchell laught softly at you from their position at the bench.

《Traffic is tremendous tonight》, you try to explain yourself, keeping your apron and put it on. Your boss is in the kitchen, so he doesn't notice your delay. Owen, his brother, grinns from the front desk, like he doesn't mind at all. Picking a pen and your notebook, you look at the two officers with a charming smile. 《What can I serve to you, gentlemen?》

Andy orders the usual coffee with bacon and eggs, even if is like three in the morning. The bell on the door rings again and four people are now coming into. The last one, the guy who is talking with Owen, is the one who always caught your attention. Greg Sanders, CSI, hot material. He is also funny and interesting.

A total match.

But probably too smart to notice a waitress. Little does he know that you have a master degree. You are the new one in here and most of the clients are cops. Cops never ask too much and if the do, well.... it's an interview.

《Ei (y/n)》 , sayis a man, smiling at you with his usual kindness. 《Are you on shift tonight? Isn't this your day off?》

《What can I say, Nicky?》, is your answer, keeping a pitcher full of hot coffee. You fill a cup for him while you are still speaking. 《I need some extra money. I have some problems with my car, actually...》

《Again?》 Sara asks you, keeping the mug you're offering to her. 《Maybe is time to change that tin can.》

Akers captures your attentions with a joke. 《Maybe that's why you're always late!》

You start to pretend to be offended, putting and hand on your chest. Greg laughs and answers for you. 《It's a '69 Chevy Chevelle, Sara. (Y/n) cant just throw that piece of history away.》

《Thanks Sanders, you truly are a man of culture》 , you says, bright smile and a little wink, while Edie grinns next to you. 《That car is a part of me》

《The oldest one, I presume》 , Catherine tosses at you, 《Sorry to bother your discussion about ancient veichles but we are on a case and we need some fuel to work. Can we order now, (y/n)? You are in front 9f a group of hungry forensics. 》

《Of couse you can!》 Vincent appears somewhere next to you. 《Edie will keep your orders guys! (Y/n) has a big mouth ... hasn't she?》

Everyone laugh while you blush a little, biting your tongue to avoid a rude tense. Dahlia comes to the bench, asking for her usual milkshake that you are more than happy to prepare for her. Just to hide how much you are embarrassed. The CSI stay for almost 30 minutes and you cant help yourself but searching for Greg's gaze. He gives you some in return, but the two of you don't speak till it's time to say goodnight.

《Which one?》, Dahlia asks you, while you are still pointing the door with both your eyes, as you are waiting him to come back and ask you out one of those days.

《Don't know what are you talking about》, is you flat answer while the realisation that he is gone again without your number arrives.

《Stokes or Sanders?》, the blonde ask again. Edie smiles, clearly enjoyed by the situation. You know that she is only happy to have a co worker but also too shy to ask first. There is Dahlia for this.

You sigh, 《Am I so obvious?》

《You look so helpless, baby girl》, Dahlia continues, playing with her long amazing hair. 《You didn't answer sweety.》

You have your back on a corner. Once a Marines, always a Marine and Dahlia is proving this theory to you right now. So you decide to let it go. 《The cutest...》

Edie keeps the dirty mugs, smiling even brighter. 《So Sanders》

《We need to arrange a date》, is the last statement from Dahlia, before she goes on Owen to pay. She lefts 5 bucks as a tip, and a malicious smile. 《Because if we have to wait the both of you, guys.... nights in Vegas are long, but not that much!》

◇◇◇◇◇◇

The crowd is melting in front of your eyes. All that is matter right now is him.

His eyes on the road, is smile....

The sound of the music is far away from you and you can enjoy the sweet sound of his voice.

The place is dark and quiet and you feel safe with him.

He is your only hope.

Your courage....

No one have never understood you like he can. You two meant to each other.

So why is he so mad at you?

And then the pain arrives.

Is impossible to handle it.

Your hands are painted in crimson and you are loosing your balance...

....The room is so cold.

The silence is heavier than you think.

And the Emptiness is swallowing you all, piece to piece, slowly....

◇◇◇◇◇

Here we go again. Another shift, beyond the bench with an headache caused by lack of sleep. It's the same old story since.... you can recall.

You've started to have this nightmare almost two weeks ago, when you moved to Vegas. It's funny, you run away from ghosts just to bump into new ones.

But this time is different. Is more...

Powerful and you are helpless because you can't just go to the doctor and tell him 'hi, I'm a psychic and my visions are too strong while I try to sleep. Can you prescribe me Valium? A family storage please.'

Everyone will change their behavior towards you if they only know...

Same old story, again.

And you are so tired to move away every time you feel uncomfortable.

Is a lonely condition because you have to keep this secret for yourself.

You are the mad one, in the end. The crazy girl who can see the 'emotions' of dead people. Their last moments. And you grow tired of being the freak.

You want to be normal.

You want to be less lonely.

《Ei (y/n). You look so pale, what's going on?》

Your eyes meet Greg's ones when you hear him speak. A tiny smile appears on your lips, while you rise your hand to keep a mug full of coffee for the agent. 《 Have you ever sperimented how awful is being tired but incapable of fell asleep?》

《Please don't tell me》, is his answer, while he is smiling at you. You can't help yourself but think that is so cute. 《Thank you for the coffee.》

《Do you want to eat something?》

《No, I'm fine (y/n). I just want to review this case. I hope I won't bother you if I stay here at the bench for a bit.》

So charming.

He would never bother you.

Another smile and then you come back to work, serving coffee and keeping orders to the abitudinary clients. Greg stays much longer than 'a bit', by the way. An hour passed and he is still there. Is almost the dawn and you are going to end your shift. You are so tired...

You will probably walk home; you are too messy to drive.

You come back to Greg and you lean against the bar, yawning in your fist. 《May I ask you about this case?》

He sighs. 《An answer for and answer.》

《Then ask, Sanders.》

He looks at you with a small grinn. 《Why you can't sleep? Did you partied all night at the Mediterranean?》

A small laught abandon you month. 《 I wish. I just had a nightmare....》 He looks sorry for you, but it's fine. 《So? The case?》

He goes through his file before he shows you a picture. You barely hear what he says next. 《A girl disappeared a couple of weeks ago. Her name is Nina Foster, a university student. She was the head cheerleader of the college's football team and she went missed since the last.... (y/n), are you ok?》

You are barely breathing now. 《Oh my God.》

《What?》 , he asks without understand what's wrong. 《Do you know her?》

《I didn't. 》 you reply. 《.... I have dreamt about her. My nightmares....》 your hand traces slowly the line of the jaw in the pic, before speak again. 《I saw her being stabbed in the belly..... I think she is dead.》

....That probably wasn't a good idea.

~ continue ~

#greg sanders #greg sanders x reader #greg sanders imagine #greg sanders fanfiction #csi x reader #csi fanfiction #csi fic #csi

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