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hotchswifey · 1 year ago

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professor hotchner - aaron hotchner x reader smut

(okay, i wrote this 2 years ago, it's on my ao3 (same username), no judgements pls, i cba to rewrite it better or even reread it- i have spell-checked it!

warnings: smut, oral (f rec and m rec), fingering

word count: 5180)

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You walked into your criminal psychology class. Alternatively, you walked into the course with the hot professor.

You had initially taken the class out of pure interest, planning to take one or two classes (to get a gist of what “criminal psychology” was really about) and then swap it out for something more like your major- but then you saw him. Professor Aaron Hotchner. The unreasonably attractive professor- the man you had fantasised about for the last four months

- sat at the back of the lecture hall. Not that you had initially; you had sat near the front. The closer to the attractive professor, the better, right? Wrong. You weren’t being precisely subtle about your attraction (then again, neither was anybody else), but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. At least you had the decorum to move to the back. Every else? Not so much.

You got out your textbook (the heaviest textbook you had) alongside your notepad and a pen as he walked into the room. The way he walked, alongside everything else he did, oozed confidence. He stopped at his desk, set his briefcase down on the desk, took out his laptop and set the suitcase beside the desk.

As he set up the projector, you stared at him. His attire was impeccable. A tailored black suit with a perfectly-tied tie and a Rolex on his right wrist. He looked expensive- he was expensive. You were sure that Rolex cost more money than you had ever owned in your entire life.

He started talking, and you could feel the wet patch growing in your panties. It was bad. he was talking about serial murderers and rapists, yet here you were… there had to be something wrong with you.

You weren’t listening to the lecture. You should have been, really. You didn’t want to fail this class. And you were going to with your most recent grade.

“and that will be all, thank you.”

where had the time gone? the lecture was an hour and a half…

whilst putting your textbook, notepad and pen back into your bookbag. Professor Hotchner called your name, causing your head to fly up.

“May I see you in my office?”

shit.

You must have looked like a deer stuck in headlights, you thought. Other students were snickering as they passed your seat at the back. You were in trouble. That was the only explanation. What had you done? There was nothing besides getting a c- on your latest test.

Was this about the c-?

You nodded your head shyly, your heart already speeding up. Shit. Shit. Shit. What were you going to do? You were going to have to go to his office. Alone. With your hot professor whom you had been harbouring quite the crush on.

It wasn’t just that he was hot (although that did play a significant part); it was also his demeanour. he was… mature. More mature than the boys at the university. He was in control of the room. Whichever room he was in, he was in control. He always stood with such dominance. One look directed towards someone, and they immediately shut up.

But he was also caring. You saw that when his son came to visit sometimes. That was partly why you moved to the back at first. A woman, who you presumed to be his girlfriend or wife (though he wore no ring), came in with a young boy. However, other students were too curious and asked him who she was. His Ex-wife’s sister was a babysitter for him and his son.

He was caring but in control. He was a perfect balance. he was-

Professor Hotchner’s voice was louder this time as he said your name, cutting off your thoughts. You immediately looked at him, your head flying up, grabbing your packed book bag and moving towards his office, directly connected to the lecture hall. You passed him with your head tilted downwards, a blush already spreading across your cheeks and neck even though you couldn’t see him. And because you couldn’t see him, you didn’t see the smirk inhibiting his face.

You stopped just behind the two chairs in front of his desk and heard him close the door. Looking around his office, you noticed it probably looked like every other professor’s office- but it was different. It was his. A few papers stacked up (the one on top marked with a large red “c+”), books on bookshelves with many placed lazily in front of them. A picture of his son and himself on the desk- cute. There was also a navy blue couch between two overflowing bookshelves.

“Please, sit down,” his voice was calm as he walked towards the desk, holding an outstretched hand as a gesture. You did as he asked, removing the bookbag from your shoulder and onto the floor next to the chair where you sat. He had removed his suit jacket, hanging it on the back of the door, causing a deeper blush to cover your face- damn, he looks good- and sat down in his brown leather office chair.

“do you know why you’re here?” yes. Wait, no. It couldn’t have been the c-. he was a harsh marker, and more or less everybody else had failed. In fact, you had gotten one of the highest marks in the class, if not the highest. It didn’t make sense. Professor Hotchner sighed. Is he disappointed?

“you seem to be… distracted in my class,” he started, your eyes moving quickly from the frame to him before moving away even faster; his brown eyes were full of concern, his fingers laced together as he leaned his elbows against the cherry wood desk. “I know you are capable of higher grades. I wondered if something was bothering you.” you looked back at him. His eyes were soft- he was actually concerned. And he believed you could get a higher grade. he actually thought you could-

you cleared your throat, unwilling to let his words, words he had just thrown casually into conversation, consume your thoughts. “nothing, it’s- um, nothing,” you looked away from his brown eyes before you drowned in them. It was stupid, really. You couldn’t even look your professor in the eye. Your professor.

“If there is anything, my office is always open until 7 pm,” he smiled at you. Tall, brooding Professor Hotchner smiled at you. You felt compelled to tell him. Tell him that he has been distracting you. Tell him you hadn’t been listening to a word he had been saying and that c- was pure luck. Tell him that he was the one you fantasised about at night. Every night for the last four months.

“actually-” you cut yourself off before you could continue. Shit.

“actually?” he asked, tilting his head to get you to look him in the eye. God, why did I say anything?!

“um- nothing. Um- the-thank you for, err- for this,” you grabbed your bag, standing up, hoping to whichever deity was out there that you could escape the office without further questioning. No such luck. The gods were not on your side today. Professor Hotchner said your name again, standing up, towering over you with his stature. Gods.

“Is there any way I can make up the grade?” you asked, looking at him properly for the first time since you entered the office. Gods. He was more handsome this close. Alone in his office with him standing before you, concerned about your wellbeing- he had become more attractive to you. Something you had thought was impossible.

Why did I say that?!

“I’m afraid not. If you do better on your next paper, it could bring up your final grade,” he looked sorry. Genuinely sorry. It was nice. It was attractive. He clearly cared for you for his students.

“Are you sure, professor?” gods. Was I actually going to go through with this? You batted your eyelashes up at him, looking at him as innocently as possible. He sucked in a sharp breath. Bingo.

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Professor,” you cut him off, “I’m sure there’s something I can do,” you smiled at him, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. he looked at you, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a straight line like he was debating whether or not to take you up on what you were implying,

suddenly, he walked- or instead marched- towards the office door, locking it and closing the blinds on the window next to the door. He didn’t turn back around, instead of leaning his hand against the lock whilst the other twitched at his side.

“Need I remind you that what your proposing is against university policy? I could lose my job-”

“And I could lose my scholarship,” you said quickly. You knew the risks. You knew all about it. The moment you returned to your dorm after his class, you and your friends immediately looked up the dating policy at the university. They had giggled at you for acting like some kind of schoolgirl with a crush- it had been a fun night.

He turned back around at that, his fingers still twitching. He was debating it. Seriously debating it. You stared at each other for about a minute and had never felt your heartbeat so fast. This could be it. This could be the moment you get to sleep with your hot professor- a man you definitely knew wasn’t going to be like the college boys you had had thus far- or this could be the moment when he kicked you out of his class for inappropriate behaviour, or worse, the university.

He walked towards you, stopping in front of you, looking down at you with parted lips.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he whispered, moving his large hands to cup your cheeks, rubbing his thumb against your left cheekbone, as his eyes darted over your face- your lips, jawline, and eyes.

“I know,” you whispered back, your hands moving around his neck. You leaned up to kiss him. His kiss was- well, it was Professor Aaron Hotchner. It was gentle and sweet, but you could tell he was in control. It was subtle.

It wasn’t like he was shoving his tongue down your throat, something those college boys thought was a great display of dominance- it was subtle. He gently nipped at your lower lip, causing you to giggle and him, in response, to smile against your lips. One of his hands wound around the back of your head, pressing your lips more firmly against his.

He slowly walked you backwards until the back of your shins hit the couch, gently lowering you onto it. He was positioned between your legs, supporting himself with one hand against the cushioned crest rail. He pulled away from your lips and looked down at you as you panted.

“hi…” you whispered, out of breath. His lips quirked up, his hand adjusting to support himself better.

“hello…” his voice, deeper than usual, trailed off as he dipped his head back down to your lips, kissing them shortly before moving down to your jawline; his other hand pulled your shirt over your head. You threw it beside the couch or roughly beside the sofa. Your fingers scratched the back of his head, your other hand moving lazily up and down his waist.

His mouth was hot against your flushed flesh. He started to pepper kisses along your neck, sliding onto his knees whilst still kissing your neck.

His surprisingly smooth hands ran up, and down your jean-clad shins- gods, you regretted not wearing a skirt today. His hands gradually made their way higher until they met your lower thighs. You moved your hands to run through his soft dark hair.

One of his hands dug into the couch to cup your ass as his other hand unbuttoned your high-waisted trousers. Moaning as he squeezed your ass, you removed your shirt, pulling it above your head before throwing it beside the comfortable couch. Having left his hair, your hands went to help professor hotchner unbutton your jeans. How many buttons do these jeans bloody need?!

When you both unbuttoned them, his hand under your ass pushed you up slightly, allowing him to pull them down his legs. Your movements were impatient as you helped him remove them. God, you wanted him.

He pulled them clean off your legs just after you slipped off your flats, throwing your jeans and shoes roughly to where you had thrown your shirt, leaving you in just your panties and bra. Which were not matching. Damn.

Not that he cared anyway. You- his attractive and cute student- was naked on his couch; he couldn’t care less.

His hands continued their previous ministrations, rubbing up and down your thighs, occasionally squeezing your upper inner thigh. His lips soon joined them- as did your moans. His mouth made its way up from your thighs, alternating between them until he met your panties.

He knew this was wrong. he knew it was wrong since the moment he invited you into his office. he knew he was setting himself up for failure.

But he couldn’t care less.

Plus, he was enjoying seeing the wet patch in your panties.

He pressed a kiss against your clit, causing a soft moan to leave your lips as you lift your hips slightly, encouraging him.

“pretty girl…” professor hotchner’s voice was more husky than usual. More attractive than usual. How that was possible, you hadn’t a clue. You whimpered at his words, revelling in the praise.

He moved your pretty panties to the side with two thick fingers; he paused for a second, taking you in. he was right- you were pretty. You lifted your head, looking at him and staring at you. No other sight had ever been so heavenly. You dropped your head back as you tightened around nothing and groaned.

He pressed another kiss to your clit- your bare clit this time, causing your hips to buck involuntarily, not expecting the sudden touch.

“sensitive, are we?” his words were sensual, causing you to get wetter than you already were. You let out a quick, ‘mm, hmm’ in a whimper, lifting your hips to entice him to touch you more.

You reached behind yourself, slightly arching your back, to remove your bra as he licked a line from your opening to your clit. You unhooked your bra and let out a loud moan, your back arching even further. One of your hands moved to your professor’s hair, lightly gripping it, causing him to groan. The vibrations from his vocalisation contribute to your growing orgasm.

His tongue circled your clit, his hands spreading your thighs even more. He started to pull your panties off of you, your hips lifting on instinct, and threw them vaguely where the rest of your clothes were. He lifted one of your thighs onto his shoulder to open you up for him even further, and your heel dug into his shoulder blade as his movements became too much pleasure for you.

You looked down at him again. Gods. His hair was tousled from where you had run your fingers through it, his coffee eyes meeting yours, and you felt him smirk against you. You tightened around nothing once again as your head fell back against the navy settee, groaning loudly.

His previous circling had turned to suckling. Your “light gripping” had turned into tight fistfuls of hair. You quickly let go, gripping the seat in fistfuls of blue instead. Your moans, whimpers, and whines echoed off the walls, and his smirk grew, once again, against you.

Just as you started to tighten around nothing again, two of his colossal fingers began to tease your entrance. And your hand flew to his teasing one, gripping his wrist. Your fingers didn’t even encircle his wrist.

Earlier on your thigh, his other hand grazed your body to your breast before kneading it. Your moans grew in volume and frequency as your other hand gripped his other wrist.

His teasing casually moved onto, gently fingering you with his middle finger. His movements were soft, quickly finding your special spot and caressing it. His movements were perfect- he knew what he was doing. God, did he know what he was doing.

He added another finger, curling them into you, pinching your nipple simultaneously, causing your hips to buck again- your mewling becoming louder with your orgasm rapidly approaching. The hand squeezing your breast moved to your lower stomach, holding you down. fuck, he’s strong.

“oh? Right there, hmm?” he was mocking you. By the fucking gods, it was attractive. He had pulled away from your clit slightly, his words causing his lips to graze against your nerve endings.

“Oh, god. Please, professor,” you were past the point of caring about anything other than your professor, his tongue and his fingers.

Professor Hotchner added another finger, stretching your tight little hole for him, causing your grip on his wrists to tighten. He smiled against your clit, still sucking on it when he noticed your reaction. His fingers continued prodding against your spongy flesh, and he had begun quietly humming around your clit, causing vibrations to spread through your core.

“I’m gonna-” You cut yourself off with a gasp, hands leaving his wrists to grip at the cushion, then moving back to his wrists as you flailed to grab onto something to ground yourself, his actions too much to handle.

Combining your impending orgasm with his humming, suckling, and prodding, you swore you would implode.

“gonna cum?” your professor asked. He was mocking you again. You knew he was because he knew you were about to cum. And you knew that he knew that you knew. Maybe that shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

When he spoke, he pulled away slightly to get his words out, causing a high whine to leave your lips as you attempted to lift your hips to meet his mouth again. His hand on your stomach held you down, and he had begun to rub his thumb and forth over your pelvic bone. He chuckled loudly at your neediness.

“you gonna be a good girl for your professor and cum?” fuck. fuck. fuck. His words caused your hips to buck (or at least to attempt to, anyway) and multiple curse words to leave your mouth as you took in all the stimulation he provided. After his words, he immediately started sucking and humming at your clit, once more.

His words tipped you over the edge into your bliss. It was the best orgasm you had ever had in your entire life. Maybe it was because it was Professor Hotchner; perhaps it was because you hadn’t had sex in four months since you first joined his class.

Your fingers gripped the couch to the point where you were sure it was going to leave a permanent mark. And your heel dug into his back harder, your thighs shaking and the one on his shoulder going to close around his head.

He didn’t let up his movements, continuing at the same rhythm- he knew what he was doing.

You didn’t know how long you were seeing stars, but you knew it felt like a good eternity.

When you finally came down, he slowed his movements slightly to bring you down gently.

“Jesus fucking Christ, professor,” you gasped out, your panting- instead of your moans- filling the room, along with his slight laughter. His hand had stopped fingering you instead of rubbing up and down your thighs.

“mmm, that good then?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing your body as he moved up it, his hands rubbing the underside of the thigh still on his shoulder.

“shut up,” you reply, still out of breath as his lips meet your collarbone. You hadn’t realised until now that not only did he look expensive, but he also smelt it. You presumed it had to be Gucci- it would match his tie.

You looked down at him, starting to rake your hands through his soft hair, noticing he was beginning to form a hickey on your clavicle. fuck. If this was all you had to remember this by, you sure as hell weren’t complaining.

Looking down at him, you noticed how much he was tenting his slacks. he looked big already. Your hands left his hair to fumble at his slacks- your post-orgasm bliss making your hands shake too much to unbutton them, never mind unzip them.

Professor Hotchner had made his way to your plump lips, smiling and giggling- you never thought you would hear your professor giggle. He came to your aid, unbuttoning and unzipping them before you pushed them down to his knees and underwear. You didn’t get enough time to look at him.

“shut up,” you mumbled again. Whilst doing this, he hadn’t left your lips not once, moving his lips against yours- they just seemed to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Though you could probably bring that up to his skill.

“Now, now,” he started, barely pulling away from you, “I don’t think you want that,” of course, you didn’t want that. Nobody in your position could ever want that. His voice was partly what was getting you off. What you did want to do was…

You pushed him off you, sitting up and taking him by the hand. You moved you two until he was standing against the couch, and you were where he previously was. His eyes roamed over you, and you blushed heavily, suddenly feeling under scrutiny. Despite your warm flush, you realised the room was colder than ever as you stood without clothes.

“cold?” he asked quietly. He looked like he was ready to go turn on the heating.

“sit down,” you demanded quickly- you didn’t care that it was cold, and you swore to the gods that if he was going to turn on the heating and stop this, for even thirty seconds, you would cry.

He sat down with his legs slightly spread as you slowly sank to your knees. His hand immediately approaches your cheeks to rub his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbone. You finally looked at him and pushed his black trousers down to his ankles. fuck. You had expected him to be big (look at him), but this was. Wow.

You moved his thighs apart even more with small hands as he wound one hand into your hair and the other to trace your jawline. You looked up at him- he had been reticent. He was smiling down at you. It was strange, actually. Not the whole situation (although that was strange)-the adoration in his eyes was weird. But definitely not in the wrong way.

You brought your view back to his cock, eyeing it. He was huge. And really pretty. Everything about him was pretty. At the base, he had black hair, slightly curly but definitely groomed. His head was angry-looking and leaking- Jesus fucking Christ, was he really this turned on just by eating you out?

You touched your lips to kiss the tip, causing Professor Hotchner to bring his hands to your hair while groaning. You decided you wanted to hear more of that, taking the entire tip into your mouth, lightly sucking.

His grip on your hair got tighter as his moans got louder, his hips starting to buck much like yours- you would have tried to hold them down like he had done to you, but you knew your efforts would be futile, him being much bigger than you. he tasted salty- good, but salty- as you lapped up the precum.

His grip on your hair pushed you down to take more of him. You followed his silent command, hollowing your cheeks to make sure you didn’t accidentally scrape your teeth against him- he had just made gave you the best orgasm of your life, and you certainly didn’t want to provide him with the worst blow job of his life after that.

You took as much as you comfortably could, your other hands moving up and down the rest of his shaft; your mouth didn’t cover- the other one starting to play with his balls. Strings of curse words and pet names were leaving his lips as he began to put your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

“shit, sweetheart-” he bucked his hips harshly, forcing you to take more of him and gag. You relaxed your throat, knowing it was a mistake on his part, pulling away to just take the tip in your mouth as you caught your breath. You hummed around him, trying to communicate that you were fine; that caused his hips to jump, too.

His grip on your hair pulled you off of him, causing you to look up at him, face covered in precum and drool. You heard him swear quietly.

“c’mere,” he mumbled, letting your hair fall from his hands, helping you stand and straddle his lap, his hands immediately resting on your hips. Instantly, he was on your lips, kissing you roughly, impatiently- you had never seen professor hotchner impatient. He was patient with his students, no matter how blatantly stupid they were being (to spend more time with him, you presumed- there’s no way someone can be that stupid).

Now? he was gripping you like you were to float away like a helium balloon, and you certainly felt like you were going to. Your hands moved over to his shoulders to give you something to balance on as you ground your bare pussy onto his cock.

He stood up, causing you to squeak, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands were holding you up by your ass as he walked you over to his suit jacket he had previously hung up on the back of the door. He put your back to the curtain in front of the side window, holding you up with one hand as the other went into the inner suit jacket, searching.

He pulled out a condom, “wow. really, professor?” you looked at him in disbelief. He let out a laugh.

“I do have a life, I know,” he deadpanned but still smiled at you.

“I don’t believe that,” you said, your smile growing.

“oh? why’s that?”

“your office is always open until 7,” you mumbled, kissing him roughly, grabbing the condom from him and opening it. You rubbed your thumb over his head, causing a groan to leave his lips, before rolling the condom onto his thick shaft.

Your movements were quick as he entered you- you were both just as needy as each other (although you assumed he was more so- considering he hadn’t even cum yet). He lined himself up to you, slowly pushing it in. You had thought taking him in your mouth was difficult, but now? Your head fell back against the wall with a thud, but you ignored it instead of gripping onto his shoulders in a vain attempt to ground yourself.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, and his hand returned to your ass after he lined himself up. His grip on you was becoming tighter the deeper inside you he went.

When he bottomed out, you both let out a simultaneous groan, staying still for a few seconds to take in the situation- your professor was balls-deep inside you. he was balls-deep inside his student.

Despite the moral dilemma he was currently facing, there was no way in all hell that he would pull out now. He started rocking his hips gently, letting out quiet moans into your neck as your hand scraped through his hair and your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape.

“Professor,” you moaned out. The title seemed to trigger something inside Professor Hotchner, and he sped up until his pace was fast, rough, and brutal. He didn’t let up, even as you clawed at his shoulders, digging your nails into the ironed dress shirt.

You were sure, had you been against the door, that it would’ve broken off the hinges. And you were convinced that if anybody was inside his lecture hall, they would know what you two were doing- how could they not? It wasn’t like you two were being quiet.

He continued kissing up and down your throat, holding you up with one hand under your ass (which he occasionally squeezed, causing you to jolt against him), and whispering dirty words into your skin.

“sweet girl… you’re so pretty for me,” he said, against your collarbone, his pace relentless, “letting your professor fuck you like a dirty little whore,” your toes curled at his words, your second orgasm hitting you like a moving train.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your grip on him tightened, grinding yourself onto him; your other hand moved down to rub quick, harsh circles on your clit. Back arched against the wall, you accidentally shoved your tits into Professor Hotchner’s face- something he was taking advantage of. Your vision blurred, tears forming in your eyes as you squeezed them shut, your moans growing louder as the seconds passed.

“Oh, god, professor! Please, please, please,” you weren’t quite sure what you were begging for, your words falling easily from your lips without meaning. Your voice felt foreign to your own ears as they rang.

Professor Hotchner continued his rough strokes through your orgasm, not stopping or fumbling once. His grip on you tightened as he came inside you, your cunt squeezing him dry as you pressed his body against yours, almost slumping against you.

You both stayed there for a while longer, panting and trying to catch your breath. His hands continued to smooth over your exposed flesh, his head buried in the crook of your neck. as your scratched lazily up and down his hair, your head against the wall.

He pulled out of you soft and let you down, gently, careful not to hurt you. he was quick to pull up and zip up his slacks again as you went in search of your clothes. The silence was killing you- the post-orgasm clarity hitting you both with what you had just done. Not that you regretted it. But you knew it was- well, wrong. It was against many rules and policies, but you certainly didn’t regret it.

And neither did he.

You got dressed quickly, putting on your trousers and shirt, slipping back on your dolly shoes and grabbing your bookbag, professor hotchner watching you the entire time. You smiled up at him, trying not to be quite awkward about this- you wanted it to happen again and acting awkward was not the way to go around that.

“See you on Thursday, professor,” you smiled at him again, walking out of the office and through the lecture hall, your smile growing into a smirk.

Aaron shook his head after you left, scoffing then smiling- you were really something else, huh?

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut

216 notes · View notes

dearest-painter · 10 months ago

Note

OMG THANK YOU SOOO MUCH AND HERE ARE MY HEADCANONS IF THEY WERE IN OUR PRESENT TIME:3

GYARU!READER

They would definitely do and film grwm routines but some of them being “grwm to go fight someone”

And also “GRWM about talking about stuff I hate”

Used to work at Sephora cause they argued and fought one of the customers

Now miserably works at Waffle House and hates how the stuff gets under their acrylic nails

Has had a fight with someone over the cloths they were gonna buy and yandere romantic Gary ended up being their getaway driver or him helping gyaru!reader while acting like he hates them

Only uses emoticons when insulting someone

Has Ratio many people on twitter

Goes live while doing their hair and user12638627 joining in, definitely not yandere romantic Gary(or Gary would use his account while typing in Hate, but has a whole collection of gyaru!readers vids saved on tiktok secretly)

A lot of pics of them and their clothing check are on Pinterest and the gyarus Pinterest users loves them

Cries like Trisha paytas

SCENE!READER

Is very popular on MySpace

Does tutorials on how to do kandi like different types of bracelets, purses, keychains, ect

Also does grwm on tiktok but on YouTube it’s kinda long(example:https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-MToB72v6_0&list=LL&index=1&t=61s&pp=gAQBiAQB)

Did a tiktok of them and Jimmy and Pete, all together, dancing to nightcore version of be my bad boy or everytime we touch(which got like 1 million likes)

Ether ignores a hate comment or just reply’s to them with ”:3” or any emoticon

But yandere platonic Gary goes after those who types hate comments and stuff like “wrist reveal” and makes a lot of accounts terrorizing them and manages to find their bloodline on Facebook until they blocked him

Is followed by yandere platonic Gary, Jimmy, pete, the nerds, and Johnny on tiktok

Yandere platonic gary films a vid of him and his sibling(scene!reader) while it read “when you and your sibling has a different clothing style”

Does outfit checks

LOLITA!READER

Yandere platonic Jimmy does vids of him helping his younger sibling(Lolita!reader) with their hair

Their mom bought lolita!reader that lolita dress from Amazon and yandere platonic Jimmy had to explain to his mom the reason why it was wrong and that other people like Lolita!reader avoids that mistake and he ended up buying a different dress from bodyline, lace market, Taobao or any Lolita website cause their mom didn’t understand

Plays on roblox and the game being the most played by them would be royale high and them having a lot of expensive clothing sets on the game and playing with Jimmy along with Pete and surprisingly gary would play with them(but Gary would only play to ether troll or with the others because of boredom)

Roblox username is unicorngirl something

Ratios everybody who hates on their older sibling vids

Has told a kid(who they were arguing with)on roblox that they should shut up cause they are probably like 5 and should give their mom the phone back and that it’s bedtime

Has almost gotten lost by a crowd of people when them and Jimmy tried to go to their class cause a Tardy sweep was happening(and Jimmy had to hold on to their hand)

Argues with grown ass adults(only when they are being disrespectful to them or Jimmy)

Has an amazing reading level and is very smart for their age(Gary or the jocks definitely didn’t commented an 🤓 under a post of Lolita!reader and the schools post being about their intelligence while being young from the schools page)

Jimmys and Lolita!readers mom flexes about how Lolita!reader is the only gen alpha that knows how to read and spell and isn’t disrespectful (Lolita!reader birthdate is ether 2012, 2013 or 2014)

Thinks kids who goes to Sephora are dumb

Offoptic: right now I can imagine gyaru!reader doing their work on Waffle House while miserably trying to get the stuff out under from the acrylics and saying some storylines while getting ready, scene!reader giving yandere platonic gary, Jimmy, pete,the nerds some of the kandi they made, and the trio(Yandere platonic Jimmy, gary, and pete) playing fashion famous with Lolita!reader, and Gary being pissed that someone is copying him, and on shark attack, Lolita!reader and jimmy trying to kill the shark while one of them were yelling to drive faster to Gary and Gary being pissed and blaming it on Pete(at the end, the shark ends up catching them and killing yandere platonic jimmy and Gary while pete and Lolita!reader manages to get away by jumping off the moment the shark was about to eat them but they end up dying at the end when the shark finds them)

Omfg I love this so much but I do love the idea that Gyaru!reader warms up to it because of their coworkers but also the fact, they get free drama that finally doesn’t involve them

#✉️mail arrived✉️#genderfluid enity answers!

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lovelyiida2 · 3 years ago

Text

SUMMARY: Todoroki isn’t known to his class for being the most “social” among others. How does he prove them wrong? Obviously create a fake online relationship with a girl from another class!

SERIES

WARNINGS: grandpa Todoroki, maybe some spelling errors?, cringey asl on your part ig

WORDS: 1.2k

—

Ah, the social dilemmas of a teenager.

“Todoroki have you seen that one video?” Denki asks.

“What video?” He responds, his response makes Denki confused, a little offended actually. “Y’know, the most viral video out there with that guy on a flying guitar?” Imitating said man on the flying guitar while describing said viral video.

“No, I haven’t sorry” Todoroki responds. This leads to a disappointed groan from Denki, which also leads to him showing the video to Todoroki so that they can talk about it.

Kirishima and Todoroki decided to have a quick tutoring session before a big test coming up.

“Just send me the homework answers to my insta.”“What’s that?” He asks.

“What do you mean you don’t know what Instagram is?” Kirishima laughs.

Todoroki sat and thought for a moment of what Instagram could possibly be. Before he could think any longer, Kirishima shakes his head taps his shoulder.

“It’s alright man, just text it to me—you really are like a grandpa.” He laughs again before leaving Todoroki’s dorm. Shutting the door he’s still left in confusion.

‘So what is Instagram?’

Conclusion is, Todoroki is not social in the slightest.

He’s the type of person to only look at stocks on his phone. The only reason why we know this is because he avidly does this from time to time with Iida during lunch.

Even if Todoroki has all his classmates’ numbers (besides Mineta for obvious reasons), he only talks to them in person. The only time he’ll send a text or call, is if it was an actual emergency.

“Why don’t you just call me instead? I gave you my number for a reason so that you don’t have to come to my room before curfew to talk to me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry Midorya, I’ll make sure to stop this habit.

”His friends have tried putting him in group chats or tried to FaceTime him, but he never answers or will usually leave them on read.

And that’s just the type of guy he is.He’s currently hyper-fixated on his future and current work to become a pro-hero. And due to his past, he was never really able to become a social butterfly like his other friends.

Seeing them talk about that one embarrassing photo they posted on their story that apparently everyone but him saw—or just seeing them text and call each other and bond. He can feel quite jealous at times.

Sometimes lonely…

But oh, does he want to prove them wrong.

Todoroki thought about asking his friends to start talking to him more electronically, but he knew it would be too much for him and would easily go back to his old ways.

So the next big idea he thought was social media.

Instagram, like Kirishima “suggested.”

Of course he figured out what Instagram was. It’s a photo and video social networking app, it least what is said on the website description.

When he downloaded the app the thought of it was fun, but putting it into action was quite nerving. Why the hell is it so hard to find a username?

Last time he checked there was only one Shoto Todoroki, but there seems to be several in different variations of working all over the world I guess. So he went with the second thing that came to his mind.

@halfandhalf

So now what? A step by step starters guide that is!

Step 1. Add profile photo (that’s what Instagram told him)

Oh, this is hard.

He didn’t really have any photos in his camera roll besides this photo of cold soba his mom made a while back ago…

Shouldn’t be a problem.

Step 2. Add name and description

Shoto Todoroki.

Description? Shoto Todoroki.

Step 3. Follow friends!

A screen appears showing him a list of all his contacts that have Instagram. It was alarming how out of touch he was with the rest of the class. Hell, even Aizawa had one.

Frowning, he begins to feel overwhelmed. Well there’s always a skip button for a reason.

He doesn’t want to follow anyone just yet, he wants to adapt before he goes around and follows random people.

Step 4. Follow favorite subjects

Shouldn’t be too hard, what is his favorite subject?He doesn’t mind English. So he follows the English hashtag.

Step 5. Make your first post!

Things are getting intense.

So intense, he wanted his first post to be impressive. So impressive, he started to think about it hard. So hard, he was thought about it all the way into the night and into the next day during class.

So hard, that when he was walking to lunch he so happened to bump into you.

As books and papers scatter along the white polished floor. Repeated apologies fill the embarrassing encounter.

“Sorry, I was distracted with something.” He says as he hands you your notebook. “You must’ve been pretty damn busy to bump into me that hard. What is it anyways?”

Straightening out your school shirt you raise your eyebrows in question.Todoroki wasn’t sure wether or not he wanted to tell you why he was so out of touch with reality due to social media. But he’ll come to a conclusion when he realizes that’s a norm among humans.

He then thought to himself, she doesn’t know him. Maybe she can help?

“I-I need your help with something, if you don’t mind” he says. Taking out his phone from his pocket he shows the screen to you.

“I’m new to this whole, Instagram thing.” He avoids eye contact out of sheer embarrassment he’s feeling right now.“

And I need to make my first post, you don’t need to help me if you don’t want to.”

Is she gonna make fun of him?

Get called a grandpa?

You then take the phone from his hand go to his camera app. Turning the camera to the floor, you then took a photo of you and Todoroki’s shoes.

Handing the phone back to him she smiles, “just make a caption and you’re all set!”

A caption?

“Sorry, I don’t know what that is. Could you show me?” He asks. Nodding you select the photo you took and pointed to the words “write a caption” on greed out text.

“A caption is like—a subtext to the main thing showed. So put something along the lines that relates to then photo.

”Nodding to himself he begins to conjure up his first ever caption. Finishing up he turns his phone back to you.

“Bumping into you, that sounds like some love story. I like it.” You chuckle to yourself. “Here I’ll tag myself.”

After playing around with some buttons, a name popped up on the photo she took. “Is that your Instagram?”

Todoroki questions, you nod and you presses the post button.

Todoroki flinches at the sudden action.

Posted 3 seconds ago.

‘Bumping into you.’

“And if you want to follow me just tap the photo and click my name, I can be your first friend” you smile.

His first friend?

Doing as you told he goes to your page, @theoneandonlyy/n

You had over 1k followers, and actively posted on it. Maybe making one new friend wouldn’t be too bad.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

yes, I know it’s really short. Things should get longer when more parts come up. Leave comments down below on how I did!

#mha headcanons #todoroki shōto #todoroki x you #todoroki fluff #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #mha x you #mha #mha todoroki #mha imagines #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha insert #bnha x reader

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years ago

Note

Sorry to hear that you had a bummer of a day. Oddly enough, as you posted, I was trying to reblog a virtual hug thing but couldn't remember how to spell your username. So wait for that hug, if you want it, I mean. As for angst, I'm not too good at coming up with it on the spot, but something for Kegboys maybe?

awe thanks, hun <33 i know this was a very long time ago. but i have finally come up with a prompt i think will be to your liking :) enjoy.

It all began on homecoming night. Steve was senior king dressed in a fresh suit and the plastic theatre department crown. He disappeared before Bianca Harlem had the chance to lasso him into a dance. It would have only taken her disappointed and desperate-for-attention, deep set eyes for Steve to relent.

Which is exactly why Tommy and Billy filed him out of the gym and to the back of the school where the football field light just barely reached them and the music from inside scattered through the crack in the door.

Steve had one arm wrapped around Billy’s hip and his palm flat against the surface of his ass. While the other hand held Tommy’s against his tummy while the latter pressed against him from behind. All three of them switched weight on their feet in time with each other. Billy’s right arm rested on his shoulder and cupped Tommy’s cheek where it was snuggled securely into the crook of Steve’s neck. He didn’t mind when Tommy would step a little on the heels of his father’s hand-me-down shoes that he’d promised to keep in mint condition for the night. Neither did he feel a twinge of maliciousness when Billy stepped on his toes.

“I’m surprised you two aren’t whining about Elvis.”

Billy winked, “We know how much you love The King.” Steve opened his mouth, ready to agree, and then shut it tight when Tommy started up with an all too familiar type of laugh.

“Get it?” Tommy asked against his neck as he looked up to the cloudy night sky.

“Yeah, I got it.”

Mrs. Harrington was a quiet woman. She didn’t speak much english, both due to reluctance and the fact that much of her time was spent away in southern Europe anyway. His mother was delicate with time and stubborn as cement when it came to her son. She’d met Nancy only once and told him to get rid of her once she’d left. She’d said the same about his first grade friend, Harold. And the the third grade tutor, Abigail. His very first girlfriend, Florence.

So, walking into the house to see her sitting in her chair was shocking to say the least. Steve had his arms wrapped around both his boyfriends’ waists. The crown was crooked, his shoes were slightly scuffed, and his tie was knotted around his skull at the forehead pulling back his messed up hair.

His mother’s eyes only widened a fraction once she caught sight of them. Steve was the only one to notice it. He was curious, so he went along with it. Mama had never been wrong in the past. Abigail had started calling him names after two weeks. Harold had been determined to stick bugs in his ears so they’d “eat his brain” and he’d lose his spot as line leader. Florence stole money from his wallet every time he left her alone.

She smiled, something else only he noticed due to how small of a thing it was. “Benvenuto,” she nodded to them. Tommy and Billy were both under scrutiny. Steve proudly returned a greeting of his own and kept his boys close as she took them in. “Due?” (“Two?”)

“Sì, Mama.” (“Yes, Mama.”)

Her eyes narrowed on Billy and she hummed long and tunefully. “Non lui.” (“Not him.”)

Steve paled, he felt all of his blood leave and a chill kick up in his bones, “Wh— Mama?”

She did not stop herself, “Silenzio e ascolti.” (“Hush and listen.”)

Steve couldn’t look at Billy, barely managed to keep any focus on Tommy either. So he walked them to the door and let them figure out the rest as more of his world crumbled away.

And even as he watched them accept the pressured demand, Steve couldn’t help but think maybe Mama was wrong. Because Billy Hargrove shared the same teardrop tracks as the rest of them.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #tommy hagan #stranger things #kegboys #keg boys #is my italian on perfect point? maybe. maybe not. but i *tried* to remember my sentence structure #either way i tried #mrs. harrington #steve harrington’s mother

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Omg can you write about coops going live on instagram and answering TONS of fans questions? And just being domestic and cute together in general

I can, yes! This is partially the 450 celebration--to the lovely person who suggested writing a sequel to one of my favorites, please know that I love and appreciate you! Coop credit goes to @lumosinlove

Check out Part 1 here

“Is it working? I think it’s working.” An explosion of hearts covered the screen and Remus’ eyebrows rose. “Yep, definitely working. Hello, Instagram! I’m Remus Lupin, winger for the Lions.”

“And I’m Sirius Black, center and team captain.” Sirius waved at the phone. “We had a great time answering your questions last month and we figured we’d come back to do it again, since there were so many people we couldn’t get around to in those few minutes.”

“I can already see a bunch coming in. Should we start?” Remus asked, turning to him with a small smile.

“You go first.”

“Alright, first question….” He squinted at the screen. “How long have we been together? We’ve been dating for just over a year now, but we’ve known each other for three-ish.”

Sirius snorted when he read the next question. “What do we do in our free time? It’s cute that you think we have free time. Um, we read a lot. Sometimes I’ll play video games with the guys.”

“If we have a free weekend, we’ll go hiking or take a short road trip. Practice takes up four or five hours a day, so we’re very low-key, which I think surprises people.” Remus scrolled down a bit. “What are our favorite foods?”

“Don’t say it.” Sirius said immediately. “Don’t you dare.”

“Fine, fine.” Just as Sirius began to answer, he coughed, “pineapple pizza.”

“No!” Sirius smacked Remus on the arm with a pillow as he laughed. “Menace. My favorite food is pasta, because it’s versatile and I’m not a heathen. All of you who are agreeing with him, stop it right now. I’m very disappointed in your tastebuds. Next question…do either of us cook? We do, yeah.”

Remus gave him a look. “Do you, though?”

“That’s a funny thing to hear coming from the man who said he’d die for one of my grilled cheeses yesterday,” Sirius countered.

“Fair point. Yes, we both cook, but I generally do it more often because I enjoy it.”

Sirius looked back at the camera with sad eyes. “He kicked me out of the kitchen last week.”

“You kept stealing bites of soup!” Remus laughed. “It wasn’t even done, you could have gotten salmonella!”

“You can’t get salmonella from soup,” Sirius scoffed. The comment section went wild. “…apparently you can. Huh.”

“Next question, before we get too off-track. Who is the more dramatic one?” Remus folded his hands and rested his chin on top. “I’m giving you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You’re plenty dramatic.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Moving on! Oooo, this one is for me specifically.” He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Remus’ waist as he read. “Sirius: does Regulus—you spelled that wrong by the way, there’s only one ‘g’—does Regulus still live with you? If yes, how does that work?”

“I’m telling him someone spelled his name wrong,” Remus said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “He’ll get a kick out of it.”

“He’ll be so pissed,” Sirius agreed. “Nope, Reg moved out a few months ago and now lives with Pascal Dumais, but it was really neat to have him around. He’s still got a room here and it was nice spending so much time with him after we didn’t talk for a while. He’s awful about vacuuming, though.”

“Aw, people think that’s cute.” Remus smiled as he read the responses. “Ohoho, people are getting nosy. What do we argue about the most?”

“I’m not sure, actually. Maybe chores?”

“I was going to say practice time. We’ve gotten into a couple tiffs about watching tape or running drills after we get home.”

“That’s true.” Sirius frowned at the screen. “For those of you who apparently think that’s all one-sided: it’s really not.”

“He came downstairs to get me at ten or eleven at night the other day. We’re both hockey nerds, so it happens from time to time.”

“Are we going to keep doing tiktoks? Oh, for sure, they’re a ton of fun.”

“Absolutely. Where else am I going to get the inspiration to glue things shut just to irritate him?”

Sirius shook his head with a smile. “Diablotin.”

“Nothing like being called a gremlin by your fiancé,” Remus laughed, tapping the screen. “Okay…who’s the best in bed?”

“I’d say we both sleep really well,” Sirius said. “You talk sometimes, which is really funny.”

Remus glanced over. “Do I really?”

“Yep. I think you were grocery shopping the other night. You kept saying orange juice very adamantly.”

“Interesting. I agree, though, we both value sleep.”

“There are too many questions!” Sirius scooted forward and sifted through them. “To jay-mac 2001, we both love kids and might have some in a few years. No, mermaid queen, we don’t really have friends outside of hockey because we don’t have lives outside of hockey—” Remus leaned his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder as he laughed. “—but I’m sure that will change someday. Oh, here’s a fun one: what are our love languages?”

“Our what?”

“Love languages. Like the Buzzfeed quiz Pots made us take last week.” The screen lit up and Sirius looked offended. “Of course we know what Buzzfeed is! We’re 25, you fuckers!”

“I think mine was quality time.”

Sirius pulled Remus’ arm further around his shoulders and leaned into his side with a smile. “It’s physical affection,” he singsonged, making him laugh. “Your turn.”

“Have you finally found your song?” Remus read aloud. “I think so! We did an interview a while back and there was a question about our ‘couple song’, which we didn’t have at the time.”

“That didn’t answer the question, sweetheart.”

“Oh! Shit, sorry. It’s La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf.”

Sirius read the next question and snorted. “This is convenient. Who swears more?”

Remus looked away. “It’s, uh, a tie.”

“That’s such a lie.”

He sighed. “It’s probably me.”

“You taught a literal baby to swear.” Sirius turned back to the camera with a wicked grin. “Harry’s first word was ‘Loops’, but his second was ‘shit’ and there’s an eighty percent chance he learned it from Re.”

“Changing the subject!” Remus cleared his throat, then smiled. “Aw, I like this one. What’s the compliment you get most often from your partner?”

“Does it have to be verbal?”

“Sirius.”

Sirius’ eyes went wide. “Not like that! Oh, fuck, I did not mean that! You always touch my hair, so I figured that was a compliment. Merde.”

Remus shook his head. “We need a supervisor again. Anyways, you talk about my freckles all the time and it’s adorable.”

“You’re adorable.”

“Sap.”

“Yeah.” Sirius kissed his cheek. “What’s the best date I’ve ever been on? We went ice skating at the local rink a few weeks ago and it was so much fun. I had never done that before.”

Remus’ eyebrows rose. “I thought for sure you would say the aquarium.”

“The aqu—oh, right! With the jellyfish arch!”

“Yeah!”

“Now it’s a tie, I can’t decide.”

“That’s fair. From spaceman93: who tops? We actually don’t have a bunk bed, though that would be cool as hell! Do you think Ikea sells them?”

“We should check.”

The screen exploded into activity again and Remus did a double-take. “Yes, we do buy our furniture from Ikea, there’s no need to sound so shocked. This person—I can’t read your username, sorry—wants to know which of us is more cuddly.”

“Definitely me,” Sirius said.

“For sure. I like cuddling people, but only a select few. I mean, I’m assuming you guys saw the Cap cuddles slideshow at our last game.” He laughed when Sirius turned pink. “Why are you embarrassed? It was cute!”

“There’s a hashtag now!” Sirius complained. “I have a reputation.” Remus rolled his eyes fondly as Sirius looked for the next question. “Ha! Do we ever get jealous?”

“Yes, but not for the reasons people might think.”

Sirius laughed quietly. “We went out to a bar for Kasey’s birthday a month or so ago—”

“Oh, please no.”

“—and a young lady was hitting on me, not taking the hint—”

“Jesus.”

“—so Re comes out of nowhere and kisses me full on the mouth in front of everyone.” He snickered and Remus hid his face in his hands. “It was kinda hot, not gonna lie. Really funny looking back, though. Your turn, sweetheart.”

“Who is clumsier? Ooh, we’re both disasters off the ice. I tripped over the carpet about twenty minutes ago.”

“I’ve run into every doorframe in this house at least twice.” Sirius grimaced. “If I could just tape my skates to my feet and always be on ice, that would be much safer.”

Remus cocked his head to the side. “I dunno, it would be hard to sleep in them.”

“I do that all that time.”

“That’s true, you take a nap in the hall at least once a week in full gear.”

“Reverse Edward Scissorhands.” They had to take a moment to stop laughing before Sirius turned back to the phone. “Mon dieu. Alright, what do we have next…when did you know I was ‘the one’? When did you know, mon amour?”

“Breaking out the nicknames, very snazzy,” Remus teased as he rested his chin on his hand. “I think it was just an accumulation of things, and then one day I went ‘oh shit’ and just knew. Sometime around New Year’s, maybe?”

“You only made it two months?” Sirius teased, nudging him lightly.

“Shush, you.” Remus nudged him back. “I knew I wanted to propose when I came home from hanging out with Leo and you were napping with the dog. You had done the dishes and left Avatar on so we could watch it together, and I opened the door and knew that I wanted that moment forever.”

Sirius smile was unbearably soft, and he kissed Remus on the cheek as hearts filled the comments section. “I’ve never seen so many keysmashes in my life,” he laughed when he looked back to it. “Hey, someone addressed one to you specifically.”

“Really?” He leaned forward eagerly. “To Remus, do you feel like part of the team yet? I do, a hundred percent! It helped that I was close with a lot of the guys from being the PT, so those friendships carried over really well. Being a player on the roster has only made that better and it’s the best job in the world.”

“Who has the better smile? We’re going to say each other, so I think we’ll leave that one to the comments—fuck, that was a bad idea, it’s moving too fast for me to read!” Sirius tapped the screen desperately, then gave up and waited for the scrolling to slow down. “Ask each other one question you’ve always wanted to know the answer to.”

“Do you actually want to get your ears pierced?” Remus asked. “You talked about it a while ago but I wasn’t sure if you were kidding.”

Sirius thought for a minute, biting his lip. “Y’know, I might. It was one of those things where it started as a joke and then I kept thinking about it. I’m not sure, hockey’s not the best sport to have things that can catch and tear.” They both winced at the idea. “My turn. What is it about pineapple pizza that you actually enjoy?”

“It annoys you.” Remus laughed as Sirius rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I honestly don’t know why I like it so much. There’s something about the sweetness that goes so well with the regular pizza taste. Okay, last question for me: how many freckles do I have? Not many right now.”

“So many in the summer,” Sirius said dreamily. “That’s the best part of summertime and the only reason I like Florida. They might have bouncy ice, but it’s worth it to see the freckles pop.”

“Whew, Florida’s getting mad in the comments!” Remus grinned. “Get some real ice, then come talk to us.”

“Final question, then we really have to go. What does your partner look best in?” Sirius drummed his fingers on his knees. “His jersey. Or my jersey. He does own a pair of skinny jeans, though, and that was the closest thing to a religious experience I’ve ever had.”

“They’re comfortable.” Remus shrugged, but he looked rather self-satisfied. “That’s all we have time for, folks, but thanks for joining us!”

“Go Lions!”

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css1992 · 3 years ago

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

What the fuck was he thinking?

That was the first thought in Peter’s mind when he opened his eyes the next morning and remembered what he had done the night before. Agreeing to meet with a subscriber, really, how dumb was that? It was one of those things he did before bed when his brain was too slow to make good decisions and then the next morning there were consequences. Consequences. Peter couldn’t deal with fucking consequences, he was still struggling with the fallout of his other terrible life choices.

I should cancel, he thought, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to wake himself up.

He should definitely cancel. Right. It was only reasonable. He could tell Tony he slept on it and realized it wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Or he could just say he was sick – for the foreseeable future. Or something. He would figure it out as he typed.

He sighed heavily and reached for his phone on the nightstand, pulling up his chat with Tony. He was going to call the whole thing off – he was! – but he made one crucial mistake. Before he started typing an excuse, he re-read the conversation from the night before. He didn’t understand why or how, but Tony’s words just – inebriated him, and by re-reading them, he was put under his spell all over again.

I need to see you, he said.

Not want. Not would like. Need. The word choice wasn’t lost on Peter, but he wondered if he was reading too much into it, if maybe Tony just said the first thing that came to mind without giving it much thought. But it couldn’t be casual, could it? Nobody would say they needed something casually.

Right?

He pictured the older man holding him close, whispering in his ear, “I need to see you”, until, somehow, in his imagination, words got lost somewhere and it became, “I need you”. Peter shivered just thinking about it. He was sure his voice would exude power and confidence, he just knew it, he wouldn’t be able to resist Tony’s commands, and yet–

Please.

He asked nicely. Peter was hyper-aware of the fact that the word “please” had an unreasonable and slightly concerning effect on him, he should probably talk to someone about that, but it just did. It fucking did. Tony could have demanded whatever he wanted – and embarrassingly, Peter would have probably said yes. He could have been an asshole about it, pushy, like some other people were, but no. He was…

I’ll treat you right.

Peter never stood a chance, he realized, sighing, letting his phone fall off his hand and onto the bed. That man knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he? Peter wondered if he was that transparent, if anyone who talked to him for more than five minutes could see how needy he was, how badly he craved affection. If so, how embarrassing was that? A touch-starved porn star with feelings?

Ex-porn star, his brain supplied, and Peter rolled his eyes at himself. But still, technically, he was not a porn star anymore, he was more like… A model. A social media influencer? An adult entertainer. He could settle for that.

He picked his phone back up and looked at the chat, re-reading their conversation from the night before, over and over again. At least it didn’t seem like he thought Peter was a hooker – well, he hadn’t offered money, so Peter assumed he meant it as a casual meeting, not a business transaction. Nothing else has to happen, he promised. Nobody would ask a hooker out not expecting anything else to happen.

Right?

While he freaked out wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into, his phone beeped and vibrated in his hand, as he got a notification saying he had a text from an unknown number. He frowned, because not a lot of people had his number, but when he opened the text message, his heart dropped to his stomach.

“Hey, babe, it’s Quent. I saw you unblocked me on Instagram. Can we talk?”

He felt immediately dizzy, his vision blurred and his hands shook. His only reaction was to throw the phone as far away from him as he could, as if it was on fire. His throat closed up and breathing became harder, he thought he might suffocate, as he sat up on the bed and tried to take deep breaths. Deep breaths. Tried not to get lost in his –

“I can’t do this anymore, Pete,” was the first thing he said the minute the younger man walked out of the en suite bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

“Do what?” He asked, confused, tilting his head to the side. He watched as Beck slowly got out of bed and walked to him. Peter noticed he wasn’t naked anymore, he had put on some pants and a t-shirt. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the situation.

“This. Us.” He gestured between them and Peter stared at him for a few seconds, as the words flew around in his head, refusing to provide any meaning. After a couple of minutes, he laughed weakly, even though his eyes burned and his chest felt crushed. Beck’s expression remained impassive.

“You’re joking, right?” Even as he asked that, he knew in his heart that he wasn’t. His face fell when Beck simply shook his head. “Quent… What...” He didn’t even know what to say, what to ask. He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, trying to stop his eyes from watering, Beck hated it when he cried for no reason. “Listen, let’s just – let’s just talk about this, I’m sure–“

“There’s nothing to talk about, Peter, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.” He took the two steps that separated them and ran a hand down the younger man’s wet cheek and Peter grasped it desperately, as if it could make him stay. “You’re immature, needy and quite frankly… a little boring for someone who gets fucked for a living.”

“I can do better, Quent, I can change, please don’t – don’t leave me,” he begged quietly, voice cracking, barely audible over the sound of his own sobs. Beck winced, pulling his hand away.“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please… Please, don’t leave me...” He shut his eyes tightly, trying to wake up from that nightmare. Just a few minutes earlier, everything was fine, they filmed a scene, Beck told him to get in the shower and the minute he walked back into the bedroom everything went to shit, how the fuck did that happen?

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Peter. Look at you, listen to yourself right now. It’s… Pathetic.” He looked at him like he was the saddest sight he had ever seen, a mixture of pity and disgust, annoyance and impatience. Peter remembered a time when he looked at him like he was precious, like he was the most important person in the world… What went wrong? Where did he fuck up? How could he fix it?

“Quent, I-I – you’re all I–“

“That’s the problem, Pete,” he scoffed, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. “I’m tired of being your everything, it’s exhausting. You’re exhausting.” He leaned against the wall next to the bedroom’s door, as Peter freaked out just a few feet away, thinking he was having an actual heart attack from how bad hearing that fucking hurt. “I don’t love you anymore.”

He was pulled from his memories when the doorbell rang and his heart jumped. Could it be him at the door? He couldn’t have found him, he had no idea where Ned and MJ lived – hell, he had no idea where Peter went, he didn’t even bother to ask. For all he knew, Peter could be living on the streets. He knew he had no money, no family, and he didn’t fucking care, he just fucking kicked him out, he barely gave him time to pack all of his things, his eyes were cold, arms crossed over his chest as he waited impatiently for Peter to leave. And he begged and kept begging, and–

Fuck, he was losing it. He was going back to that dark place he had barely crawled out from just weeks earlier.

He took a deep, calming breath and shook his head, trying to get his emotions under control. It was not Beck at the door. He had no way of finding him, and Peter knew he wouldn’t even try to. The only reason he had to contact him was probably a job. He knew a lot of people in the porn industry would still try to book him through Beck, since he was his agent for so long. That was obviously the reason he was trying to reach out. Money. As always. That was all.

So he took another deep breath and walked slowly to the front door. When he checked the peephole, Ned and MJ were casually standing outside, talking to each other like nothing was wrong in the world. He didn’t think twice and yanked the door open.

“Get dressed, loser, we’re going– what the fuck!?” MJ’s eyes almost jumped out of their sockets once she took a look at him. He knew he must look like garbage, he had no idea how he was even standing on his own two feet, he felt like his whole body was falling to pieces. He threw his arms around Ned, who was closest to him, and the older boy just pulled him close and let him bury his face in his neck, not missing a beat.

“Shh, it’s ok, buddy. Everything’s fine now.” He rubbed his back gently and Peter cried a little harder, a mixture of relief, sadness and regret filling his chest, leaving him confused and exhausted all at once. “Come on, let’s sit down for a minute. MJ, bring him some water, will you?” He pushed him lightly inside the apartment and directed him to the only piece of furniture in the living room, crouching down in front of him as MJ rummaged his tiny kitchen. “You ok, man?”

“I’m ok, I’m ok. It’s just… one of those days.” He forced a smile, trying to dry his face with the collar of his shirt. He didn’t want to tell them that Beck had tried to reach out, it would only cause them to worry unnecessarily. They were the ones who had convinced him to block his number, even if Peter insisted Beck would never call.

MJ hurried back from the kitchen and thrust a glass of water in his face, seeming a little nervous and completely out of her element. He realized that it was probably the first time they ever saw him in such bad shape, he didn’t have the energy to try to put up a strong front for them, which he always did, ever since he was a ten-year old boy. They had seen him cry before, of course, just probably not like that. Peter felt like shit and he knew he looked like it, too.

He drank the water that was offered to him just to have an excuse not to talk for a few seconds, as he tried to cool down and get himself back under control. MJ was fidgeting, standing beside Ned who was sitting on the floor, rubbing Peter’s knees comfortingly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ned asked, squeezing his leg, and he shook his head firmly.

“No, thanks. I’m fine, really. Did you have plans for today?” He looked at his friends and noticed they both had their jackets on and looked ready to go out. It was, after all, a sunny Saturday morning. “I’ll go get dressed right now.” He tried to get up from the armchair but MJ placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, we can stay in, if you want.” She assured him, still looking a little freaked out, which was funny to watch. She was never very good at comforting people.

“No, that’s stupid, come on,” He got up, forcing Ned to do the same, and headed to the bedroom, but the older boy grabbed his arm before he could go too far.

“Don’t worry, c’mon, let’s go down to our apartment, at least we have a couch.”

Peter wanted to insist that he was okay to go out, but if he was honest with himself, he was... not okay. To do anything. And he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

So he just nodded at his friends and followed them downstairs. Back at their place, he plopped down on the couch with MJ next to him, as Ned headed for the kitchen. He came back with ice cream and three spoons and Peter smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture.

“So… Bad day?” Ned asked sympathetically as Peter pretended to focus on the frozen desert.

“Bad day,” he answered, simply, with a small smile on his face, and his friend nodded in understanding.

“Did something happen or…?” He insisted and Peter stuffed his mouth with enough ice-cream to give himself a brain freeze, just so he could avoid talking for a while. He shrugged.

“No, just… Memories.”

“Of course,” MJ scoffed, as she stabbed the ice-cream with her spoon. “That asshole. I can’t believe he gets to be your first love. That fucking sucks.” Peter was sure MJ didn’t mean to make him feel bad – or rather, worse – but he hadn’t even thought about that yet. The fact that Beck was his first love. His first everything, really. Nothing could ever change that fact. He swallowed the lump in his throat with a spoonful of chocolate chip ice-cream. “Don’t worry, one day you’ll find a decent man who will show you what a healthy relationship looks like, you know. That perv deprived you of even that.” MJ shook her head and Peter sighed, wincing.

“I don’t think I can find a decent man, MJ,” he mumbled, looking down at the ice-cream pint. “I’m a certified whore now. Imagine Prince Charming googling my name and finding my gang bang video, or the fisting one.” He scoffed, shaking his head. He didn’t dare to look up at his friends, he played with the melting ice-cream and shrugged. “I’m sorry for the mental image.” His face was burning red, he hated to talk about his videos with them, but they needed a reality check. He was pretty sure they never watched the videos, so they had no idea how bad the situation was.

“Good thing you’re not looking for Prince Charming, then, Cinderella.” She rolled her eyes. “You need a man who understands that sex is just sex, it doesn’t matter how many people you slept with, or if it was filmed or not. Besides, it was just a fucking job, like any other, people use their bodies to work. Writers use their hands, waiters use their legs, you used your ass, so-fucking-what?” MJ argued and she genuinely seemed to believe her own words, which made Peter laugh a little and feel relieved that his friend didn’t think badly of him. That made one of them.

The thing was, it was a beautiful speech, big words, great ideas, but none of it meant anything because it wasn’t real. He believed MJ thought like that, but most people didn’t. Most people would look at him differently knowing he used to do porn and knowing that he still did solo stuff on Just4Fans. They would think it was fine to fantasize about him, it was fine to jerk off to him, maybe it would even be fine to have sex with him casually, but have a serious relationship with him? Probably not.

He must have been distracted for a while and jumped up a little when he felt Ned’s hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dude. Not everyone is that narrow-minded, you know. At the end of the day, it’s just porn. A lot of people do it, even more people watch it, it’s not that big of a deal.” Ned shrugged and Peter looked at him a little surprised. He didn’t look freaked out at all by what he said earlier, which – he didn’t think he would be rude or anything, he just didn’t expect him to be so cool about it.

He smiled at him and nodded.

Peter spent the rest of the day at their place and gradually started feeling a little more like himself, a little calmer. His head hurt from such a rough morning, but having his friends by his side helped a lot. They had pizza for lunch and binge watched a sitcom for seven hours straight, which helped keep all the intrusive thoughts at bay. Well, mostly.

When he got home that night, he picked up his phone that was still lying on the floor. The screen was cracked, but at least it was still working. He quickly blocked Beck’s Instagram and his new number before he could think twice about it, and only then did he notice there was a message from Tony waiting for him, from a few hours earlier.

“Hey, gorgeous. How’s your day? I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Can’t wait to see you.”

For some weird reason, reading that message soothed him. It should have freaked him out, sent him over the edge again, but it didn’t. He had forgotten all about the fact that he agreed to meet Tony, but he was glad he did. He felt exhausted from all the emotions he had to deal with all day long and he thought he didn’t want to do anything but sleep it off, but talking to Tony sounded like an even better idea somehow.

“Not so good, I’m a little tired, but I’ll survive. How was yours, daddy?”

He wasn’t surprised when he got an answer right away.

“I’m sorry to hear that, kitten. I’d give you a foot rub if I was there, would that help?” Peter couldn’t help but smile at that message, which was a little shocking to him, he thought he had lost the ability to do that hours ago.

“That would help a lot, daddy.” He sighed, rolling onto his side, burying himself under the covers. “I wish you were here.” He didn’t expect to mean it so much, not when he was talking to a virtual stranger, but Tony had such a weird effect on him when they talked. Peter felt like he knew him, like they were intimate, like he was safe. And none of that made any sense, but he couldn’t help it.

“I wish I were there, too. I’d take good care of you.” Fuck, and he kept saying those things. Those beautiful things that made his stomach turn and his head hurt and his heart go wild. He was so fucked. “Dinner’s still up? Does Thursday night work for you?”

“Thursday works fine. I’m just a little nervous.” He curled on his side, looking closely at the cracked screen. Immediately, Tony started typing an answer.

“Please don’t be, sweetheart, I promise you’ll have a good time. We’ll have a nice meal, some fine wine, a good talk. What’s not to like?” That was exactly what Peter thought the previous night, and it had made perfect sense in his head. When he woke up, though, it didn’t sound reasonable at all. And now there he was, hypnotized again by Tony’s charm.

“I don’t know.” He bit his lip, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say or if it would be weird.

“Then, please, don’t worry. You can leave at any second if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“Okay.” He replied, worrying his bottom lip, working up the nerve to say what was on his mind. “Look, you know I’m not, like… a prostitute, right? Nor an escort. I just post dirty pictures online, which might be misleading, but I’m not a sex worker. I hope you know that.” There, he said it. He held his breath as he waited for Tony’s answer, who kept typing for what felt like ages.

“To be completely honest, no, I was not sure, and I didn’t want to offend you by asking, but this changes nothing. I didn’t ask to meet you for that, I hope you know. I just really need to see you in person. I like talking to you here, but I’d love to hear your voice, see your smile, make you laugh. I promise I have no ulterior motives.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Peter joked lightly, because it seemed like Tony always knew what to say to wrap him around his little finger.

“I am, baby, I promise. You’ll see.”

He was pretty sure he had heard similar promises before, beautiful words without any meaning. Still, for some reason, it wasn’t hard to believe him.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list): @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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starryeyes-darkestnights · 4 years ago

Text

Wicked Game

Part 4 of We Dance Together Now

An O’Knutzy au where Leo and Logan are still playing for the Lions, but Finn is a musician/grad student they met by chance on a roadie to Montreal.

Here are the first few parts!

Part 1 - Jingle Bell Rock

Part 2 - This City

Part 3 - Shut Up and Drive

I also stuck this up on AO3, my username there is the same :)

I struggled a LOT with this chapter. I’m still not sure it’s done what I wanted it to do, but I hope it works. And I hope you like it :)

I’m suuuuuper excited for the next one, I’ve had it half-written since I started this fic!

These beautiful characters and their world belong to the incredible @lumosinlove

The songs referenced are My Shot, from Hamilton, and Wicked Game, which has several remixes that could work here, but I was listening to the Yola Recoba version, personally.

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

Leo

“Thanks for helping today, Tremz.” Leo leaned against the entry wall and watched Logan slip on his shoes.

“No problem,” Logan looked up at him, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “You needed someone big and strong to carry your boxes up the stairs. Who am I to leave a damsel in distress?” He stood and flexed his biceps.

Leo rolled his eyes and shoved Logan toward the door. He could hear Finn laughing behind him. “Get out.”

Logan looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Your wish is my command, princess.” Leo moved to shove him again, but Logan snatched up his bag and ducked out the door before he could reach him. “You love me!” he yelled as he jogged down the hall. Leo just shook his head at the older boy’s antics and turned the lock behind him before flopping down on the couch with a tired groan.

The three of them had just finished setting up his new room. In Finn’s apartment. Where he lived now. With Finn. He was still wrapping his head around it. It was crazy to think he didn’t have to pack up his stuff and move somewhere else again next week; that he had blankets that hadn’t been slept on by a hundred people before him. Finn was a godsend of a human being.

He was also a walking tornado of a human being, and Leo’s current state of exhaustion was a result of today being a shining example of both of those traits.

Since he’d been living in hotels all year Leo didn’t own any furniture of his own, which meant he had spent his Friday morning going from store to store buying what he needed. Finn had volunteered to drive, and Logan had tagged along too. The two of them had also very kindly volunteered to spend their afternoon helping him build everything. It was very, very nice of them, and Leo had been incredibly grateful for their company, and for their help… at least until they actually started putting things together. It had been funny at first, watching Logan and Finn jump headlong in to building things without taking the time to read the instructions. But the resultant failures had meant that Leo had to unbuild everything they touched, actually read the instructions, and then give them explicit directions on how to put it back together properly. Instead of the few hours Leo had expected to spend on it, the whole thing had taken them until the late evening, and now Leo was exhausted and ready to relax.

He heard Finn wander into the living room after him, and his smiling face appeared over the back of the couch above him. “What’s up, Marigold?”

Leo closed his eyes, trying not to roll them as he let out an exasperated chuckle. “Finn. That is STILL a terrible nickname.”

“It is not.”

“Yes it is. ‘What’s up marigold’ makes no sense. ‘What’s up buttercup’ works because it rhymes.” He opened his eyes back up to emphasize his point. “Marigold does not rhyme. At all.”

Finn just shrugged, pushing himself back up to walk around the couch. “You should have thought of that before you accepted it in the first place.”

“I didn’t accept it! I just gave up trying to argue with you two and- ugh. Never mind.”

“That’s what I thought.” Finn grinned. “Plus, I googled marigolds after that night because I didn’t actually know what they were, and the name suits you.”

“What?” Leo looked at him, curious. “Why?”

Finn’s expression faltered for a second as he lifted Leo’s feet to sit on the other end of the couch. He put them back down in his lap, making Leo’s heart skip a beat. When he spoke again, his voice was a little softer. “Your hair shines like them, in the sun. Golden.”

Leo had to work to keep his face neutral. That was… sweet. And unexpected. Finn was always doing things he didn’t expect.

Before he could think of a response, Finn’s cocky grin was back in place. “Also, calling you marigold makes you grumpy, which, like, never happens, so I’m never giving it up.”

Leo didn’t even try to hide it this time as he rolled his eyes affectionately, lifting his legs and giving Finn a gentle kick with his socked feet. “Whatever,” he laughed. “I’m going to shower. Have you seen that duffel bag Logan brought in? It has all my comfortable clothes.”

Finn just pointed wordlessly to entryway where he and Logan had dumped a few of Leo’s bags, abandoning unpacking them in favour of wreaking utter havoc trying to build his bedroom furniture.

Leo wandered over and grabbed the Lions duffel off the floor, pausing as he lifted it. He didn’t’ remember it being this empty… he unzipped it, suspicious, and sure enough, he found Logan’s training gear inside.

He groaned. “Damn it.”

Finn looked over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Logan took my bag. This is his stuff.”

“Oh. Shit.” He looked from the bag up to Leo, and then popped up from the couch. “No worries, I have a solution!” he called, jogging toward his bedroom.

Leo, curious yet again, gently put Logan’s bag back down and started to follow. As he reached the corner, Finn popped back out of his room with a pile of clothes in his hands, almost crashing into him as he gave a little squeak.

“Ahh! Oh my god, why are you right there!? You scared the shit out of me. Learn to make noise when you walk.”

Leo chuckled at that, a memory of Logan saying that exact phrase to him the first night they watched Finn play running through his mind. “You and Logan are scarily similar sometimes, you know that?”

“What?” A confused look crossed Finn’s face.

Leo just smiled, and Finn shook his head.

“You know what, never mind. I don’t think I want to know. Here.” He passed Leo a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “You can sleep in these tonight and we’ll get your stuff from Logan tomorrow. They’re both pretty big on me so I’m hoping they’ll fit you properly.”

Leo, taken aback by the gesture, accepted the pile with a surprised but grateful smile. “Oh. Thank you, Finn. You didn’t have to do that.”

Finn shrugged, his wide brown eyes twinkling. “I know where you live. I’ll get them back.”

---

But as Leo pulled the shirt on after his shower, he decided that Finn was not, in fact, getting it back. It was soft. And it smelled like Finn. He breathed in deeply. It was silly, he knew, to cling to this little bit of him- to pretend it was Finn, instead of his clothes, that he was allowed to have. But he was doing it anyway. He could let himself have this little thing. He turned to look in the mirror and let out a surprised snort. “Of course.” He chuckled to himself.

He padded out to the living room, where Fin was still lying on the couch, a book in his hand.

“I thought you were joking about loving the Eagles.” He teased, his mouth quirking up on one side.

Finn sat up and looked over at him, a strange look crossing his face as he took in Leo’s appearance. It was gone before Leo could read into it, replaced with a dramatic showing of mock outrage.

“One does not joke about the Eagles, Leo!” He gestured down at the band logo stretched across Leo’s chest. “That logo is a badge of honour. Wear it with pride.”

Leo just shook his head, amused. “Aye, aye, captain.” He saluted Finn. “Thanks again. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Finn waved goodnight and Leo slipped back into his room, turning off the lights and smiling up at the city lights flickering across the ceiling. His ceiling, now. He chewed on his lip for a second, thinking, before getting back out of bed and walking softly to the living room.

Finn looked up at him when he entered, and whatever Leo had been about to say immediately caught in his throat. The warm lamplight was sending soft shadows across Finn’s features, making his freckles glow against the pale of his skin. He was curled into the corner of the couch, book in his hands and a blanket wrapped around him, and Leo wanted nothing more in that moment than to be there too, cuddled up beside this beautiful boy. His heart pulled in his chest.

He realized he was staring when Finn spoke up and broke the spell. “What’s up, Leo?” his smile was soft, gentle. “Do you need something? Can I get you anything?”

Leo straightened up at that, shaking his head. “No, no. I’m good. Thank you. And I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you, and I won’t keep you, but I just wanted to say thank you. For having me here. You didn’t have to offer up your space, and I appreciate it. It really means a lot.”

Finn closed his book and leaned forward; his expression sincere as he locked eyes with Leo. “I’m just glad you’re happy. You deserve to have a home. I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else.”

And when Leo went back to his room that night, he fell asleep quickly, breathing in the scent of Finn and, for the first time since he came to this city, finally feeling at home.

---

Finn

The next few months passed by quickly for Finn, everything blurring together in an exhausting but happy mess of work and play. He had thought it would be more of a learning curve, sharing his space with Leo after living alone for the past 4 years- and some days it was a bit weird, remembering that there was another person around and he couldn’t just play guitar at 2am, or work through melodies in the shower when Leo was sleeping- but he wouldn’t change it back for anything.

He’d always known he was insanely lucky to live in the apartment he did (his parents had bought it as an investment property when he first moved to Gryffindor- perks of their jobs in real estate). Very few college students had the privilege of even a single spare room, let alone two, and not worrying about needing roommates to pay rent had saved him from needing to share the space with strangers. But it had been lonely.

Now, when he was finished his long day on campus studying, or working on his music, he actually looked forward to going home- even if it was only to meet up with Leo and leave again. After that first celebration he had gone to with Leo and Logan, it had become routine for them to invite him to join them for any dinners or parties that weren’t team-exclusive. He went to every one that he could and had ended up making some pretty good friends in that crowd. In particular, him and Kasey’s girlfriend Natalie had struck up a fun friendship. She was also a musician, and the two of them had gotten together several times over the past few months just to play.

The boys had also asked him to let them know his gig schedule, and they had been there for every single show they weren’t working during. Finn liked having them there, knowing he would have their company as soon as he got off stage. They always had a drink waiting for him, and they usually found somewhere to go dance for the rest of the evening. Logan was always making fun of how Leo used to hate going out, but they danced together often now, and it was one of Finn’s favourite things.

Any nights they didn’t spend working, or with the team, or at one of Finns gigs, they usually spent together just the three of them, squeezed into a booth at Sid’s or lounging around the living room at Finn and Leo’s, playing video games and watching movies. Him and Leo had made the excellent discovery that Pixar movies almost always made Logan cry, though Logan denied it exceptionally violently every time they called him out. It was worth a pillow to the face to be able to tease him though.

Logan stayed over most of those evenings, in the spare room Finn had started thinking of as his. They’d built another bed for him and everything after Finn had woken up the first night he stayed over and seen how cramped he was on the couch. It wasn’t built for hockey players to sleep on and he didn’t like the idea of Logan being uncomfortable. He wanted everyone to feel at home in his place.

Some days it was just Finn and Leo at home, while Logan spent time with the Dumais family. Finn liked those days too. It was nice, hanging out with Leo one on one. The two of them often used the time to do chores, and he had been pleased to find out that they were much more enjoyable with Leo’s company. Grocery shopping with Leo was one of his favourites, riding the cart like a scooter up and down the aisles while Leo picked out everything they needed for dinner, and grabbing all the snacks that he knew Logan liked, so they could always be there when he came by. And he particularly enjoyed coming home and putting things away while Leo cooked, both of them singing along to the radio as the apartment filled with the smells of Leo’s southern recipes.

On quiet nights, he liked wandering into Leo’s room for company, the two of them laying next to each other on Leo’s giant bed and talking about books. One of the first nights he had done that, he had noticed his own t-shirt, the one he had lent Leo his first night, and that had curiously gone missing shortly after, hanging up on Leo’s closet door. Leo had been flustered, apologizing for snagging it from Finn’s clean laundry, and explaining that it was ‘just really comfortable’. Finn had tried very hard to hide the mini heart attack he was sure he was having at the idea of Leo choosing to wear his clothes, and he must have done an alright job of it because Leo continued to steal it often enough that it had just become another routine thing between them. Finn pretended to make fun of Leo for it, but he really liked it. He had taken to folding it and dropping it into Leo’s laundry basket when he wasn’t looking.

The addition of Leo’s warm presence, and of Logan’s fiery, mischievous energy, had made his big, cold apartment feel like home. There was always something happening, and it was never boring- sometimes to an extreme degree when Logan was around. Finn still had scars on his hand from Leo’s 19th birthday in February, when he had let Logan convince him that baking a cake wouldn’t be as difficult as it sounded (‘people do it all the time Finn, how hard can it possibly be?’). He had been wrong, as they discovered when he flipped what should have been a cooked cake upside down over the counter, and it turned out to be just a pan full of very hot batter that went all over Finn’s hands. It had stuck to him like very, very hot glue and the two of them had gone into full panic mode. Luckily, Leo had chosen that moment to come home from lunch with Remus, and he got everything under control. He had been exasperated, and quite concerned, but Finn liked to think he had appreciated their effort. Plus, Logan had felt guilty about it for weeks afterward, which Finn had initially felt bad about but then had started to take advantage of by (very dramatically) requesting him to do more and more ridiculous favours. Logan had stopped feeling guilty somewhere in between the request to build him an entire pillow fort (so he could heal in utmost comfort), and the request to do an interpretive dance to Ice, Ice, Baby (so he could feel like his burned hands were encased in ice).

When they were out of town for games, Finn missed having them around. Everything felt too… empty. But they were constantly in touch via their group chat, Leo sending videos of the cities they explored after games, and Logan sending pictures of Leo looking affectionately annoyed at Logan for dragging him out of the hotel to go and do said exploring. Those videos often included appearances from other Lions, usually making terrible 3 Musketeers jokes about them. On one memorable occasion, James had popped in to compare them to SpongeBob, Patrick, and Squidward. That one had positively delighted Finn, not least because Logan’s reaction to realizing he was the Squidward in that analogy had been gold. James had had to run.

Finn didn’t blame them for joking about it. He knew it was a bit strange, the way that they had become so inseparable, so fast. But he didn’t mind. When he looked at them in those videos—the wild in Logan’s eyes, the calm in Leo’s— he was reminded of how they pulled out the best of both those sides of his own personality. He never felt more like himself than he did with them. *

---

Logan

One evening at the end of April, Logan sat sandwiched between Leo and Finn on their living room couch, a steering wheel in his hands. He was deeply focused on steering his car around a particularly dastardly curve when Finn jumped up, knocking Logan’s elbow and sending his character careening off a cliff as he screeched at the TV. “Cheating!! Leo! You’re cheating! Logan! He’s cheating!”

Logan, disgruntled now as he watched himself drop down to last place, just glared up at him. “You knocked me off a cliff. Don’t look at me for sympathy right now.”

Leo just continued playing calmly. “It’s not cheating Finn. I threw a banana at you. If you don’t want to get hit with bananas, don’t drive so close to me.”

“This is insane. Nobody is supposed to be this good at Mario Kart. It’s MARIO KART!” Finn flopped dramatically back down into his spot, groaning. “How have you won every single race?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Finn.”

“This is bullshit.”

Logan snorted, dropping his controller as he crossed the finish line in last place for the 4th time that night. “Says the guy who wins every single round of Halo.”

“Well, if you would stop and think before just picking the biggest bombs and sending your army running headfirst into every battle, maybe you too could win a strategy game.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You are weirdly good at Halo, Finn.” Leo tossed out. “It’s kind of creepy watching the wheels turn in your head while you play.”

Logan watched, amused, as Finn gasped and glared at Leo in mock offense. “Well then. When the aliens finally invade here and you guys need a team leader to get you through the hordes and into a safe haven, you can find your own general. I’ll be over there helping people who DON’T call me creepy.”

It was Logan’s turn to be offended. “Hey! I didn’t call you creepy.”

Finn considered him for a moment. “Hmm. That’s true.”

He wrapped an arm around Logan’s neck and stuck his tongue out at Leo. “I’ll be over here keeping LOGAN alive, while you get your brains eaten.”

Logan tried to fight back the blush he could feel creeping up his cheeks as Finn’s arm pulled him in. Finn, Logan had discovered, was a very affectionate person, and while his comfort in sharing his personal space had grown on Logan and Leo as well—they were constantly in contact as they shoved together onto the couch—it still made Logan’s pulse pick up every time he felt them close to him.

Leo snorted out a laugh at Finn’s threat as he put down his controller. “I’ll take my chances.” he replied as he stood and stretched, looking out the window at the setting sun. “It’s getting late. Anybody hungry?”

Logan’s stomach actually grumbled out loud at the mention of food.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Leo laughed as he headed out of the living room.

Logan, somewhat reluctantly, pulled himself out of Finn’s hold and followed Leo into the kitchen, plunking himself down on one of the island barstools as Leo started pulling things out of the fridge. Finn disappeared into his room and came back to sit next to Logan a few seconds later, a book in his hand.

“You want to read?” He looked at Logan questioningly.

Logan just nodded at him as he spun around on his stool, slowly relaxing into his seat as the sound of Finn’s voice took over the kitchen, mingling with the sounds of Leo quietly chopping vegetables at the counter next to them.

A few weeks ago, when Leo and Finn were trying to pull him into an argument about book to movie adaptations, Logan had accidentally let it slip that he had never read The Hobbit. The two of them had been borderline offended, which Logan found hilarious, but it had then led to them asking him about other books, and Logan had been forced to admit that not only had he never read The Hobbit, but he had never read any book for fun.

It wasn’t something he liked to talk about, because he always worried it would make him look stupid, but he hated reading. Having to keep his focus on the page, keeping his hands still as they held the book… he just couldn’t handle it. When Leo and Finn had picked up on the fact that it was a sensitive topic, they had dropped it without asking him any more questions, which he had been grateful for. But the two of them still wanted to show him that stories could be fun outside of movie form, and when it became clear that there was no way in hell Logan was picking up a book himself, Finn had come up with a compromise: he would read a book to him. Logan hadn’t been convinced, but he appreciated the thought and figured he could just tune him out if he got bored, so he agreed.

So Finn had read the first chapter of The Hobbit to him and Leo while Leo cooked that night, and, to his surprise, Logan had found himself completely absorbed. It was kind of like listening to a podcast, but with Finn’s intoxicating voice playing all the parts.

It had become a routine after that—Finn reading to them as Leo cooked, and Leo reading to Finn and Logan as they cleaned up after. They always waited for him to read the next part, and it was one of his favourite parts of being at their apartment now. The combination of the sound of Finn’s voice and the smell of Leo’s cooking, made him feel safe.

That evening, Logan was the first to finish eating, and he leaned his chair back away from the table with a satisfied sigh, reaching over to ruffle Leo’s hair from where he was sitting next to him. “Fuck, Knutty, that was amazing. As always.”

Leo smiled back at him, blonde curls now falling over his eyes in a way that was absolutely not adorable. “Thanks, Tremz. I’m glad you guys liked it.”

Finn made a noise at that. “Liked it? Leo, I have genuinely never eaten better in my entire life than I have since you moved in here.”

Well. That provided Logan an excellent segue into his mission for the evening. He let his chair fall back down and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “If that is true, Finn, then I think that you should do something to pay him back.”

Finn looked up from his plate with a mouth full of pasta, brown eyes narrowing suspiciously as he looked between Logan and an amused looking Leo, who had immediately caught on to what Logan was doing. “Oh?”

“Yes. We have a game next Friday, and you’re invited to come. I think that should suffice as payment.”

“Oohh.” Finn plastered on a very fake smile. “That sounds very… interesting. Let me check my schedule and see what I have going on.”

Logan rolled his eyes at Finn’s feigned interest. He had turned down their offers to come to games repeatedly since they had met.

“We have your schedule, idiote. We know you don’t have a show OR an exam. And—” Logan decided to move to his next tactic: guilt, “—you have to come this time. It’s a deciding game for the play-offs. If we lose, you won’t be able to watch us play again until next season.”

“I see.” Finn didn’t look convinced.

“Finn!” Logan tossed his balled-up napkin at him, making him laugh. “You are possibly the only person in this city who would turn down offers to come watch NHL games for free. From the box! MULTIPLE TIMES!”

“I cannot possibly be the only person in this entire city who doesn’t follow hockey.”

When neither Leo nor Logan bothered to respond to that, just continuing to look at him, Finn’s grin fell. He looked uncertain now, and his face turned serious as he looked each of them in the eye. “But… you guys know I support you, right? I follow all your scores and your… game… time, point, things, or whatever online. I even bought a hoodie!”

That was true and it had almost killed Logan the first time he had seen Finn in Lion’s colours. It still made his heart beat faster every time he thought of it. Which wasn’t helping him at the present moment.

Finn sighed. “I just think it’s a waste of a ticket for me to go when I have no idea what is happening. I don’t want to embarrass you guys”

Leo interjected then, pointing his fork at Finn. “First of all, you are never embarrassing. Well, usually not – “

“Fair.” Finn admitted.

Leo shot him a look. “—and not about this, for sure. And second, it’s not a waste of a ticket. We all get to invite our family and friends and stuff this game, and neither Logan’s family nor mine are able to make it. And all of our other friends are either on the team or related to them. So, if you don’t use the ticket, nobody will. Plus,” he set his fork down, his voice gentle, “we want you to come.”

Finn’s face softened, and Logan decided now was time to pull out his Hail Mary. “Also,” he waited until Finn looked over to him, “Natalie’s going to be there. And she already asked us if you were going to come this time.”

He bit back a triumphant smirk as Finn perked up at that. He knew they had him now. Finn and Natalie had hit it off really well the moment they met. So well in fact, that he had almost been jealous. But he wasn’t jealous. Because he had nothing to be jealous of. Finn was just a friend. A friend who was currently living rent-free in his mind wearing that goddamn Lions hoodie, but a friend nonetheless.

Finn pushed his empty plate to the middle of the table. “Well.” His eyes sparkled as he folded his arms and looked between them. “You should have led with that.”

---

Finn

One week later, Finn stood against the glass in the team box, cursing himself for agreeing to come to this game. He had never been more stressed in his life, every muscle in his body tense as he watched the puck bounce from player to player in front of Leo’s net. He had a brand-new respect for Leo’s unflappable demeanour. There was no way he could handle being the last stop between the other team and a goal- he was almost having a nervous breakdown just watching. But Leo was in his element: calm, controlled, moving fluidly around his net and mirroring the puck effortlessly. Finn had never seen someone so focused, so intent. When the other team finally took their shot and Leo snatched it out of the air, Finn let out a relieved breath. His heart was going a million miles a minute, just like it had been for the last hour that the game had been tied 1-1. “Oh my god,” he murmured, dropping his face into his hands. “This is so stressful. How do you guys watch this all the time?”

Natalie laughed next to him. “It can be pretty crazy.”

“You look perfectly relaxed.” Finn replied grumpily. It was true. She was much calmer than he was.

“I’m not as calm on the inside. But I have faith in these guys. I know they can win this.” She paused for a second. “It also helps that Kase is benched for this game with his leg. I’m a wreck when he’s in net during important games. Thank God for Leo Knut.”

“Thank God for Leo Knut?” Finn muttered reproachfully in response. His attention was pulled back to the ice as the puck was dropped again, still in their end. “Thank God for Leo Knut my ass, Leo Knut is the reason I might be seeing God soon. I’m going to have a fucking heart attACK! AH!” He shrieked the end of his sentence as one of the Ravenclaw players crashed into Leo, knocking him backwards into a goal post in a way that looked dangerous. His stomach dropped as Leo went down. He shot a panicked look at Natalie. “What the fuck! That can’t be allowed! Is that allowed?!?” He didn’t wait for an answer before looking up at the giant screens above the ice, currently zoomed in on Leo’s determinedly blank face as he slowly pulled his knees back underneath him. He was definitely going to give him a heart attack.

“No.” Natalie looked unhappy. “No, it’s not allowed. But he’s ok, Finn.”

He’s ok. Finn let out a shaky breath. He looked back down to the ice and was watching Leo stand up and reach for a water bottle when, all of a sudden, the crowd started to yell. Confused, he looked back up at the screens. Instead of Leo, there was now a close-up view of Logan, currently with one fist wrapped around the jersey of the player who had slammed into Leo, the other throwing punches.

Finn’s jaw dropped, his heart jumping up to meet it. Logan’s face was fierce. Angry. That energy that always seemed to be coiled around him, simmering just below the surface, was out in full force. His restraints were gone, and holy shit it was beautiful. Seeing those impossibly green eyes flashing dark with passion… it was lighting something on fire inside of Finn.

The other player was half a foot taller than Logan, but Lo had him down on the ice in seconds, spitting angry words in his face as the referees pulled him away. Finn watched Logan skate to the penalty box, swallowing hard as he took in the way his chest was heaving under his jersey. Holy. Fuck.

He felt heat creeping up his neck, and knew his face was going to turn bright red and give him away if he didn’t distract himself immediately. So he forced his attention back down to where the rest of the team was checking on Leo.

Leo. Logan had unleashed in defense of Leo.

Finn felt the now-familiar twist in his chest that sometimes accompanied seeing the two of them together. The feeling that there was something more between them than they were willing to admit.

Thankfully, Natalie mistook the look on his face for concern, and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s fine Finn, Logan fights all the time. He’s not hurt, he’ll be back on the ice in time to play the last three minutes. And Leo’s already ready to keep playing”

Finn just groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “I am never watching another hockey game again.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but five minutes later Finn watched Logan jump out of the penalty box and take off across the ice, dancing between the other players as he stole the puck and shot toward the net with a searing purpose. And when the goal alarm went off and the entire arena jumped to their feet to celebrate- when Logan was tackled by his teammates, and Leo was skating celebratory circles around his net, and Finn could see the smiles radiating off both of them from where he stood- Finn realized that if he ever wanted to be able to keep his friendships with these boys, it had to be true. Because if he ever watched them play another hockey game again, he would fall in love.

---

“O’Hara, think fast!”

Finn barely had time to register the beer being thrown his way before Leo reached out and snatched it out of the air in front of his chest. “Bliz, how many times do we have to tell you to not throw solid objects at people. Not everybody has your reflexes.”

But Kasey wasn’t listening, already turned around to head back into the living room of Sirius’ house, where they had all convened to celebrate their win. Finn had been grateful for the location- he didn’t think he could handle watching Leo and Logan getting hit on at a club all night tonight. He was still on edge.

Leo rolled his eyes at Kasey’s retreating back and handed the drink to Finn. “I’d wait a second to open that. Sorry, he does this all the time. We’ve had more than one black eye on the team from a drunken Kasey drink bomb.”

Finn chuckled. “No worries. Thanks for the save.”

Leo brightened adorably. “It’s my job!”

“And you are absolutely INCREDIBLE at it my friend!” A pair of arms wrapped around Leo’s neck from behind and a slightly buzzed and very excited James appeared over his shoulder. “MVP of the game, my man! You killed it! We’re going to the play-offs, baby!”

He whooped as he ruffled Leo’s golden hair, still slightly damp from his post-game shower. Leo’s cheeks flushed a deep red as he accepted James’ fist bump. “I just played. Thank you though.”

“And he’s humble too! How are you still single dude? Someone should have scooped you up ages ago.”

Leo’s cheeks somehow turned even deeper red as he shot a quick look up at Finn, and Finn heard Lily’s amused voice as she slid in from behind them, wrapping an arm around James’ waist and pulling him off of Leo. “Leave the poor guy alone James. He just wants to celebrate in peace.”

Leo smiled gratefully at Lily, looking relieved when Kasey and Natalie returned to the kitchen, Talker in tow. Leo jumped into their conversation as the group of them settled in around the room, talking and laughing above the music playing from the built-in speakers. Finn held back for a moment, taking the opportunity to scan the living room from where him and Leo were leaning against the kitchen island. He caught a glimpse of familiar dark curls under a snapback, and Logan’s eyes met his from across the room. Logan grinned, excusing himself from a conversation with Remus and heading towards them.

“Hey,” Logan’s breath was warm on Finn’s cheek as he leaned in to be heard over the voices in the room. “How did you like the game?”

Finn fought to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. He was still reeling from his decidedly unwelcome epiphany earlier that evening, and it was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get a handle on himself soon. He cleared his throat, looking straight ahead instead of turning to meet Logan’s gaze. “It was the most stressful few hours of my entire life. I’m never doing it again.” He winced at the way his voice cracked. Traitorous voice box. “And for the record, you are NOT a ‘perfectly reasonable player’.”

Logan tilted his head back and laughed openly at that. Finn let himself look then. Despite everything, it was nice to see him so relaxed and happy.

“Well, I’m glad you at least came to this one. Even if you judge me.”

He leaned back next to Finn, shoulders brushing, and Finn watched as he scanned the room. A moment later, a glint appeared in shorter boy’s eye, his smile turning mischievous. Finn turned to follow his gaze, looking for what had prompted the change. He caught sight of James, still in his game jersey, and Lily, laughingly trying her best to get him to take it off.

He heard Logan call out to them. “Hey Pots! Did you hear your jerseys are only the third most popular on the Lion’s shop now?”

James froze, turning to them with his eyes wide. “What?”

He rounded on Logan. “Who told you that? Who beat me?” His expression turned to outrage. “Who could possibly have beaten me?!”

Finn held back a laugh at James reaction, letting out a loud cough instead. One that sounded very suspiciously like the word ‘bullshit’. He heard Leo do the exact same beside him and turned to catch his eye with a grin and a high-five. The two of them had made a game over the past few months of seeing who could catch Logan the fastest when he started his game of poking the bear- something that was hilarious to them and endlessly irritating to Logan.

Right on cue, Logan let out an exasperated noise. “Guys! You are no fun! Stop doing that!”

James’ head twisted back and forth between Logan and Finn as he pieced it together. “Wait… what??” He gasped at Logan, looking betrayed. “Tremz! Did you make that up? How could you! You almost gave me a heart attack on this glorious evening!”

Logan shot a mock glare at Leo and Finn, but his face cracked into a grin when he turned back to James. “You should have seen your face.”

James looked like he was about to respond, but at just that moment, a familiar beat started to play over the speakers. Someone in the living room cheered and turned up the volume, and James whooped, throwing his hands in the air. Finn smirked as he followed suit, pushing away from the counter to join him in the middle of the room.

---

Logan

Logan frowned when Finn stepped away from him- he liked feeling his warmth against his side. He watched as Finn moved after James, turning to look back at Logan and grinning as he sang along to the lyrics of the song now playing loudly through the house. Logan loved Finn’s singing voice. He smiled back and was about to go join him when something weird caught his attention, making him do a double take.

It wasn’t unusual for Finn to jump into the middle of a room to give a performance of a song. He did it all the time. At home, at the club, at parties. It was quintessential Finn behaviour.

But now, the entire rest of the room was joining him. Every single one of his friends had abandoned their conversations to chant along with the opening lyrics of this song Logan had never heard before. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion as he spun around to look behind him. The living room was the same, everyone starting to move away from the walls and stand from the couches. Only Leo had stayed where he was, a few feet away from Logan.

“What the hell?” He muttered.

He turned back around to question Finn, only to find him no longer looking his way. Instead, he was now face to face with Talker in the middle of the room, the two of them rapping dramatically to one another. Logan lifted an eyebrow, letting out a short, surprised laugh as he watched the two of them.

“I’ma get a scholarship to King’s College,

I probably shouldn’t brag,

But dag, I amaze and astonish”

The rest of the room was still singing along. It was beyond weird. “What. The fuck. Is happening?” Logan asked nobody in particular.

The rhythm of the song slowed a bit, and Finn turned back toward Leo and Logan, sliding smoothly over in front of them. His brown eyes sparkled as his gaze locked with Logan’s, singing directly to him.

“I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal

Tryin’ to reach my goal, my power of speech, unimpeachable”

Logan leaned closer to Leo, his only ally in this insanity, but Finn had pointed dramatically to the younger boy and Leo laughed, stepping away from the counter and picking up the lyrics from the next line, pointing at himself as he sang:

“Only nineteen but my mind is older

These New York City streets get colder, I shoulder

Every burden, every disadvantage I have learned to manage…”

Logan shot a surprised glare at Leo. Traitor. And now Finn was singing along again, and both of them were pointing at him, waiting for him to pick up the next line but Logan truly, truly had no idea what this was.

Finn looked at him with mock outrage when he realized Logan wasn’t faking his ignorance, straightening his back as he lifted his hands in a very ‘what the heck?’ sort of gesture.

Logan started to roll his eyes, but then all of a sudden, the beat changed again, and Finn’s hands were by his head and he was walking backward, winding his hips in a way that Logan had never seen him move before. A way that should be illegal.

His eyes were still locked on Logan’s, but where they had been filled with humour a moment ago, now they were burning with something intense that was sending Logan into a complete tailspin.

“I am the AL-EX-AN-D-ER, we are, meant to be.”

His emotions were already running high after their win, and now Finn was standing in front of him, moving like that, looking at him like that. He heard himself let out a shaky breath and snapped his jaw shut, swallowing hard and jerking his eyes away from Finn, desperate for something else to focus on. His gaze landed on Leo, right next to him, which was not better.

Leo. He could see his toned chest through the fitted t-shirt he was wearing, and he wanted to reach out and touch. Fuck.

He could feel all the walls he had built up over the past four months crumbling down around him, and he started to panic. He was supposed to be getting over his feelings for Leo. Not growing them. Not adding Finn into the mix.

His breathing sped up. How was he this gone, for both of them? Was that even possible??

Pull it together Tremblay. He tried to talk himself down. Leo was his teammate. They were both his friends- friends like he had never had before. Those walls were there for a good fucking reason. He didn’t want to risk them.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, straightening his spine and pushing his shoulders back. He could do this. He looked back up and watched as Finn crooked a finger at him, calling him in to dance with them. The same way they always did when they were out together. His face was open and happy again. He just looked like normal Finn now. This was familiar. He could do this. The song kept playing.

“Hey yo I’m just like my country

I’m young, scrappy and hungry

And I’m not throwing away my, shot!”

He took one step closer, and… nope. It would appear he could not, in fact, do this. He couldn’t handle familiar right now. He was buzzed, and high on adrenaline from the game, and this song was in his bones and if he was going to get himself out of this spiral, he needed to be away from the boys that were causing it.

He shook his head at Finn and forced a tight smile, watching him shrug his acceptance and turn to James instead. Logan turned to head over to where Sirius was stood in the corner of the living room, the only other person who looked as bewildered as he was by the scene. He had barely taken a step before a long arm wrapped around his shoulders from behind, pulling in him close to the strong chest he was trying to run away from. He closed his eyes, feeling his body tense as Leo’s low voice sounded in his ear, his skin warm against Logan’s own. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as Leo sang, off-key as usual, in some sort of horrible French accent.

“I dream of life without a monarchy

The unrest in France will lead to ‘onarchy?

Onarchy? How you say, how you, oh, anarchy?

When I fight I make the other side panicky with my, shot!”

It was hilarious, but feeling Leo this close to him right now, in this moment, was overload. It took everything he had to pull out of Leo’s grasp, grabbing his wrist and spinning underneath him. He stood on his tiptoes to let Leo spin too, and then gently shoved him back toward Finn. He knew Leo would assume he was following, so he turned back to the living room and slid into place next to Sirius.

He stood there, watching Nado and Kuny—how the hell did even Kuny know this song??—singing drunkenly on top of the couch, and tried to will his heart into submission.

After a few moments, Sirius’ voice sounded next to him. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

Logan shook his head, glancing over. “Non. But apparently we should be looking into it.”

Sirius just nodded, looking at him. Logan liked this about Sirius. He was quiet, and he didn’t mind if people were quiet around him. He always seemed to know when Logan needed a minute. He guessed that’s what made him a good captain. Logan felt calmer just being beside him. The two of them stood together in silence for a few minutes, until the whole house broke out into a chorus of ‘whoa’’s, and Sirius glanced over at him again. “You ok?”

“I’ll be better once this fucking song ends. How long is this thing?”

Sirius laughed at that, agreeing, and Logan felt his confidence coming back. He felt safer there, in the corner, watching Finn and Leo from afar. The distance had at least allowed his heart to stop pinging around his chest like a goddamn pinball machine. He was feeling, if not completely back in control, at least much more so than before.

“I’m good, Cap.” He meant it.

Sirius’ eyes were on his. “Ok. You know I’m here though, if you need me.”

“I know.” He shot Sirius a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sirius. Really.”

Sirius nodded, turning away as the song finally ended. Someone switched over to a dance playlist, and the living room turned into a de facto dance floor. Logan and Sirius stayed where they were for another song, until everyone else seemed to be either dancing, or involved in a game of what looked like Spoons at the dining room table. Logan drained the last of his rum and coke and turned to Sirius as he pushed off the wall toward the now empty kitchen. “I’m going to get another drink. You want anything?”

“No thanks. I’m good.” Sirius responded quietly, his expression soft. Logan followed his gaze over to where Loops was dancing with Lily and smiled. He clapped Sirius on the shoulder. “Ok, Cap. Have fun.”

---

A few shots and nearly an hour later, Logan was feeling as close to normal as he figured he would be able to pull off that night, teaching the Hoedown Throwdown choreography to a very enthusiastic Leo and Finn as someone’s country playlist blasted through the house. The team’s excitement for their freshly earned play-off spot had rubbed off on him again over the past hour, and he was enjoying himself, even if he was still a bit on edge.

It only took a few songs for them to ace the dance, and after they killed it to some song about chicken and tractors that Finn had sang every single word to, there was a break in the music while Nat and Talker argued over who got to choose next. They took the opportunity to their breath.

“Well, since we’re waiting anyway, I’m going to go grab another drink.” Finn swiped a hand through his sweat-tousled hair and looked between Logan and Leo. “Do you want anything?”

Leo shook his head, eyes bright against his dance-flushed cheeks. “No thanks. I think I’m done drinking for the night. We have a team meeting early tomorrow I don’t want to be hungover for.”

Logan still had half a drink in his hand, so Finn took off to the kitchen and left the two of them to discuss who they could drag into their next dance, which Finn had decided for reasons Logan didn’t understand, to try and learn as a square instead of a triangle.

A new song finally started to play as they scanned the room, and as the beat came across the speakers, Logan recognized it with a frustrated groan.

Wicked Games. One of the few songs that he used to have multiple versions of on his playlist. A song that he had had to take off said playlist, because it got him in his head about Finn and Leo.

Of course someone would put this song on right when he had gotten his shit back together. Of fucking course.

He took a long drink from his glass and looked up at Leo, who was still looking around the room for participants. He watched as the colour-changing living room lighting lit up the taller boy’s face: blue, then green, then orange.

“The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you”

Leo glanced over at him, and then did a double take, turning to fully face him. He scanned Logan’s face, eyebrows furrowing as concern flashed through his warm blue eyes. Logan sighed through his nose. Fucking Knutty. He always knew.

“And I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you”

When Logan didn’t make a move to explain anything, Leo just nodded and took a step back.

“You know what?” he started. “Let’s just do it as three. Finn’ll get over it. I don’t want to dance with anyone else right now.”

Logan knew Leo was only saying it for his sake. But he couldn’t be bothered to try and pretend he was down for an audience right now, so he just nodded and stepped into what would be his place in the triangle when Finn came back. Leo turned to assess the space around them, and Logan let himself watch again. He never got sick of looking at Leo. Kind, thoughtful, annoyingly perceptive, beautiful Leo. The lyrics of the song repeated, over and over.

“No I, don’t wanna fall in love, with you.”

“I think we’re going to need more room. Or someone’s going to get hurt.” Leo mused as he looked at the floor around them, trying to work out the logistics of the coordinated drunk jumping that was going to happen. One of his curls fell over his eyes. Logan resisted the urge to reach up and move it away.

“What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you”

Logan’s chest twisted and he pulled his gaze away. Fuck this song. He was going to kill Talkie for this. He could feel himself taking a nose-dive back to where he had been earlier that evening. Why couldn’t he shake these feelings tonight? He could always shake them. He was a master at shaking off feelings. This was ridiculous.

He decided to look for something they could push out of the way for more space, to give himself something to focus on. That was a task he could do.

But before he could move, a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, the weight of a full-grown hockey player landing on his back and making him stumble forward. Pots’ voice was teasing in his ear. “Wicked Game is right, hey Tremzy??”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he froze in place, half bent over trying to regain his balance. Had Pots noticed? Was he being obvious?

“W-what?” he choked out.

James pulled him up and spun around him until they were face to face, his grin lopsided and his eyes a little glazed from the drinks he had clearly been celebrating with. “Wicked Game! Because you played a wicked game! Get it!? You got us the game winner, Tremz.” He looked wobbly on his feet, smiling dreamily. “You got us to the playoffs.”

Relief flooded Logan’s system. He hadn’t noticed. Nobody noticed. It was fine.

It didn’t feel fine.

“Oh. Ya, I guess.” He forced a little laugh.

“Come, my baby Canadian.” James bowed toward him, extending a hand. “I owe you this dance for getting me one step closer to my baby bathing in the cup.”

“Shut up, Pots.” Logan turned as an annoyed voice sounded behind them. Sirius, the inventor of superstition himself, walked by and smacked James gently upside the head. “Knock on wood. Now.”

“Ow,” James grumbled, rubbing his head and knocking on the doorframe he watched Sirius walk through, “how does he do that? It’s like he has a seventh sense for bad luck.”

Logan prayed James would follow Sirius away. But instead he just grinned and shoved Logan toward the center of the dance floor.

Logan did not want to be there anymore. James had freaked him out, and the stupid song was still playing. For the second time that night he wished he knew where the fucking skip button was located in this ridiculously oversized house.

Logan grabbed James’ arm and pulled him to a stop, leaning into him to prevent him going further. He turned on his best fake smile. “Hey Pots. I know I got the goal, but do you know who you really owe this dance to?”

James looked at him suspiciously. “Who?”

“Leo. We wouldn’t have won without his unreal performance tonight. You should get him first.”

James gasped. “You are right, Tremblay. Ok. I will get him first. But I will be back for you! Don’t move!”

Logan watched James wobble backward across the living room, shooting finger guns back at Logan until he crashed into a very amused-looking Leo.

When Logan figured the two of them were engaged enough to not notice him leaving, he slipped off in search of a quiet place to hang out for a while. He found a dark hallway off the end of the dining room and slid down to sit on the hardwood floor. His hands were shaking again as he pulled out his phone and opened the group chat he had with his sisters.

He missed his sisters. He hadn’t told them about his feelings for either of the boys—for any boy, really—but he knew that if he messaged them, they would talk him down without prying. And that was what he wanted right now. He shot off a simple, ‘you guys awake?’ message, and waited for the reply.

---

Leo

Leo was wandering around the main floor of Sirius’ house, looking for Logan. He was worried about him. Logan had been on edge all night, keeping his distance and forcing smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. Leo could tell he was trying to hide something, and after catching the way he had looked at Finn in the kitchen earlier, it wasn’t hard to guess what that something was.

He had been watching Logan and Finn dance around each other, figuratively and literally, for months now. It was hard, watching these boys—these boys that made him ache with how each of them had burrowed their way into his soul—watch each other. It made him feel like he was drowning.

He had told himself when he came to Gryffindor that he was here for hockey, that he wasn’t going to get involved with anyone. Get attached to anyone. But here he was, the world’s biggest idiot, falling head over heels for not one, but two of the literal worst possible people to fall for. His home roommate and his travel roommate. Both, to the best of his knowledge, very closeted. Both very interested in someone else. Both very interested in each other. It was a bit of a disaster.

But disaster or not, Leo wasn’t going to let Logan feel like he was alone tonight. He knew firsthand how much support from the people who love you mattered, even if you weren’t ready to talk about it yet.

He poked his head into the kitchen and found Finn, looking deep in conversation with Natalie, but Logan wasn’t with him. He was a bit concerned about Finn, too. He also seemed a bit off this evening, and he never had come back from his last drink break. But Finn was safe with Natalie for now, so Logan was his priority for the moment.

He checked a few more rooms before he caught a glimpse of Logan’s ever-present snapback out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting on the floor in the dark end of an empty hallway, the glow from his phone screen lighting up his face.

Leo moved cautiously toward him, and when he didn’t look up, slid to the floor to sit next to him.

“Hey.” He offered softly.

Logan looked up at him with a small, fleeting smile, his usually bright green eyes looking tired. “Hey.”

Leo scanned his face, trying to decide whether Logan wanted to talk. “What are you up to?”

“Just texting my sisters.”

Leo nodded, understanding, and looked away, giving Logan the chance to go back to his phone if he wanted to. Logan looked back down at the screen and typed out a final message before clicking the screen off and shoving it back in his pocket.

They sat quietly next to each other for a few minutes, just listening to the music. After a while, Logan broke the silence.

“It’s crazy that we’re heading to the playoffs.” He said quietly.

That made Leo smile a bit. He looked back over at Logan. “You played incredible tonight.” He said sincerely. “All season, really. I think we earned it.”

Logan’s lips quirked up a bit at the compliment. “Thanks, Nutty. We really did.”

They fell back into their comfortable silence, sitting shoulder to shoulder and watching what they could see of the dining room down the hall. In the lights of the party, Pots and Sirius were teasing Remus about something they couldn’t hear. Remus blushed a deep red and Sirius laughed as he pulled him in for a kiss.

“We’re really lucky.” Leo said, hoping that Logan knew he wasn’t just talking about the game anymore. When Logan didn’t respond, he looked over to see him pulling at the seams of his jeans, looking like he might be on the verge of tears. The sight pulled at Leo’s chest. He wanted to take Logan’s face in his hands and wipe away that look forever.

But he knew that wasn’t what Logan wanted. So instead he stood, holding out a hand to the shorter boy. He would be here for him in whatever way Logan needed. “You wanna get another drink? Or are you ready to head out?”

Logan looked up at him with reddened eyes, and Leo’s heart felt like it was breaking with every beat. And when Logan put his hand in his and the sparks flooded over his whole body, Leo closed his eyes and willed them away.

---

#sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #Coast To Coast

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years ago

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looking where you shouldn’t: d.d

brief summary: david decides to prank you by hiding in your closet, but as you begin to undress he realises how bad this situation has become

word count: 1.2k requested: yes by the sweet @squishybebe love the username doll warnings: mentions of nudity and blood

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

“You know, Dave,” Natalie starts as David finishes explaining his latest prank idea with a bright smile. “I don’t think this is your best idea, I mean, it is Y/n after all.”

David’s smile begins to drop as he shuffles on the sofa. “But that’s why it’s so funny, she’s so easy to freak out she won’t expect it.” David justifies his idea, but Natalie remains unconvinced. “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

Natalie pulls a face, looking over to Ilya for backup. “Because it’s Y/n,” Ilya states, a short laugh following.

“Yeah?” David repeats himself, noting the shared expression shared between two of his closest friends.

“And you’re kinda in love with her, David.” Ilya spells it out, and David laughs forcefully as he leans back in the sofa, crossing his arms.

“I, I do not.” David tries to lie, but Ilya and Natalie know him too well for him to lie with ease. “Am not with Y/n.” He scoffs in response. “It’s just a prank and she’s the easiest to scare.” David explains.

“Sure thing, Dave.” Natalie sighs.

At your current stage in life, you thought you’d be further than where you are now. You recently broke up with your long term boyfriend, moved out of the apartment you shared together and you’re currently living in one of Scott’s spare rooms. It wasn’t what you anticipated happening, but you’re trying to focus on the bright side - whatever it may be.

Walking into the house with bags filled with shopping, you groan loudly as you place it all on the counter. “No one gonna help me?” You call out, taking out food packages. “Jay? Scott? Jac?”

No one responds and you sigh. “Hey, Y/n.” Scott walks into the kitchen, causing you to jump and throw a bag of cashews at him. “Wow, coming at me nuts first?” He jokes, causing you to sigh.

“I thought no one was in.” You raise an eyebrow, but Scott shakes his head. “Everyone’s outside, kinda crashed out after last night. Wanna come in the sauna or pool?” Scott suggests.

“Sounds like heaven.” You say happily, closing your eyes before snapping out of your daydream. “Let me put this all away, and I’ll change into something else.”

With that, Scott wanders back outside and you quickly put away the shopping.

Humming to yourself, you walk into your room, closing the bedroom door and locking it. “Ugh, where’s my top?” You question aloud, oblivious to David being crammed in one of your wardrobes, his camera in hand filming through the small gap.

He watches as you reach into one of your drawers, finding the top as you place it on the bed. “Oh no.” He internally groans as you lift your top up, flinging it to one side as you begin to undo your bra. “Fuck.” He bites his lip, realising how wrong this is.

David shuts off his camera and opens the door, hoping he could get out unnoticed. But as he slides the door open from behind you, his foot gets caught in something and falls face first into your floor.

You scream loudly at the sound, turning around and throw your shoe. “What the fuck!” You yell as David scrambles to his feet, clutching his face as blood pours from his nose.

Outside of your room, Scott and Jay run over. “It’s locked!” Jay exclaims and they begin to force all their body weight against the door until it cracks open.

As they burst in, they freeze as you stand in your bra and shorts whilst David has his camera in one hand as the other covers his bloody nose.

Scott sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “David, I gave you that spare key in case of an emergency.” Scott explains and moves past David over to you. “Are you alright?” He questions, resting his hands on your shoulders as your heartbeat refuses to calm down.

Looking over at David, you can see the horror in his eyes. “Y/n, I am so sorry. It was supposed to be a prank, I didn’t know you were going to get changed.” David rambles, shifting uncomfortably as he moves from side to side.

“David, just give a girl some warning.” You chuckle, trying to keep your eyes level with his as Jay laughs.

“Oh, he’s got a fucking boner!” Jay yells like a child, causing David’s cheek to burn up.

“Alright, everyone out. Let me help David.” You say, guiding everyone out and Scott glances back, raising an eyebrow. “His nose you dipshit.” You groan, trying to hide your smile. “And you gotta fix the door too.” You add as they all wander back outside, leaving you alone with David in your room.

Once you hear the back door closing, you turn back to face David who clutches his nose. “Y/n, I, I really am sorry.” David repeats himself, still standing uneasily as you chuckle.

“David, it’s alright. Come on, let me help you get this sorted.” You motion for him to follow you into the bathroom, and as he does you point to the closed toilet seat. “It won’t eat you.” You joke as David pulls on his jeans, taking a seat.

Sitting quietly, David watches as you tie your hair back. “It’s only a bit of blood, it’s not a problem.” He speaks up, unable to stop the pressure building up in his crotch.

You roll your eyes before reaching into the cupboard. “Least let me clean it?” You ask quietly with that angelic tone causing David to groan internally. As he nods, you kneel down in front of him, reaching up as you place your hand over his.

Removing his hand from his face, you try not to wince at the sight. “Is it bad? Cause if it is don’t tell me.” David uneasily laughs as he rests his hands over his arising issue.

“It could be worse considering you fell face-first onto marble flooring.” You smile to him as you begin to dab away the dried blood. “Is this too much pressure?” You question, but David shakes his head as he closes his eyes, unsure where to look as you help clean him up.

“I know I’ve apologised already, but I was only going to jump out at you, make you scream.” David shrugs a shoulder, opening his eyes to see yours squint as you laugh. “Didn’t mean to be all weird and pedoey.”

You shake your head as you take away the cotton from his face, now looking like his usual self. “If you wanted to see me naked, you just have to ask David.” You smirk to him before rising back to your feet, throwing the bloody cotton into the trash.

David clears his throat as he looks up at you. “I, I’ll bear that in mind.” He mutters as you step away.

“I’ll be outside with the others if you feel like joining.” You slowly walk away, hoping what he saw will leave a lasting impression.

Safe to say, it definitely did.

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princess-of-riviaa · 4 years ago

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Meet Me, Love Me chapter 2: daddys_pr1ncess

Chapter 1: The Lieutenant

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Erin)

Series Summary: After meeting a woman on the dating site Meet Me, Love Me, Walter finds himself falling into a messy web of lies, deceit, and heartbreak.

Chapter Summary: Erin does her best to stay professional around Lieutenant Marshall, which doesn’t last for very long.

Warning(s): masturbating, spanking, slight angst

Word Count: 2,488

“Valdez, you’re with Lieutenant Marshall today,” Officer Romero says before continuing down her list of every intern’s daily task.

Erin’s eyes pop. Today is her first day of field training. She’ll get to be front and center to all the action, which is the entire reason she signed up to be an intern in the first place. She’s been looking forward to this day for weeks. But why are they sending her out with a lieutenant instead of a cop with a lower position and less important things to do? And why, of all people, did it have to Walter she’s paired up with?

“You’re the guy I’ve been sexting for the last month,” she’d said that day in the restaurant as she realized that Lieutenant Walter Marshall was the.lieutenant, AKA the man she’d been calling daddy for the last three weeks. She’d never wished to be swallowed up by the earth more than she had in that moment. “Wait--you’re the guy who’s been sexting me!”

Holy shit.

She spent her mornings taking this guy’s coffee order and her nights making videos for him to jerk off to. How the hell was she supposed to show her face at work now that she knew what his dick looked like, had practically memorized every detail of it after all the pictures he’d sent her of his hard-on?

“What the hell do we do now?” she had asked, not necessarily to him, but to anyone who was listening and had the slightest bit of an answer.

“The only thing we can do.” There’s a reluctance in Lieutenant Marshall’s--Walter’s voice that she’d never heard before.

For some stupid reason, she let herself hope. Hope that he would say something along the lines of I know this is probably breaking twenty HR rules but let’s keep talking anyways, now do you wanna go to my place and fuck? Call her a hopeless romantic, or a stupid idiot. She’s not sure there’s much difference. But her chest had tightened and her heart had fluttered in those few seconds between his sentences.

And then he said: “We can’t do this anymore. We have to stop talking right now. Neither one of us knew who the other was when we started this… this… whatever this was. But it’s over. It has to be.”

Of course, she understood why he did it. Not only was it wrong to keep doing it while they worked together, but he was about ten positions above her, and that made it even worse. He had to save his job and his reputation.

She understood the logic behind it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Now, a week later, she’s being assigned to him for the day. The wound is still fresh. She still finds herself reaching for her phone to text him, only to stop herself when she opens the app and sees his username. She still reads their texts as she's lying in bed at night, feeling like a clingy idiot. They no longer riled her up now, they only make her start to cry. It’s stupid, she knows that. It wasn’t a real relationship. But she misses having him there, misses talking to someone at all hours of the day. So how the hell is she supposed to act professional around him today?

Once Officer Romero has given her instructions, Erin walks up to her and says, “Sorry, but I thought--”

The older lady holds up a hand, silencing Erin. “First, don’t ever start a sentence with ‘sorry, but..’. If you’re going to say something, you gotta mean it. I expect that kind of confidence in you before you pass your training.”

Erin nods. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I mean… uh, I was just…”

Someone calls Officer Romero’s name and she excuses herself. Just as she starts to walk down the hall she passes Walter on his way in. She tells him that Erin is going to be under him today and--god, what is wrong with her for finding something dirty in that?--Walter stops in his tracks. He looks around the room until he spots Erin. She tries to give an apologetic smile but it feels more like a grimace.

This is going to be a long day.

An hour later, Walter has settled in, scanned through paperwork, had his three cups of black coffee, and Erin decides it’s time to head down to his unmarked Ford Explorer and wait for him. She’s in an actual police uniform today--normally she’s in sweats and a police t-shirt--and though it’s something that would make her giddy with excitement, the thought of spending her first day out in the field with Walter is killing her buzz.

Walter doesn’t say anything as he makes his way to his car and hits the unlock button on his keys. Erin slides into the passenger seat. Walter turns on the car and adjusts the AC and the police radio without even acknowledging her presence.

“So, I want you to know that I didn’t do anything,” Erin explains. “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Officer Romero just randomly assigned me to you--”

He silences her with a look.

She hesitates before adding, “I just… don’t want you to think that I’m not respecting your wishes. I’m not trying to make your job harder for you.”

His expression slightly softens. Slightly.

Erin doesn’t let her mouth get away from her this time. The car is tense and silent as Walter switches into drive and heads off down the highway. Erin doesn’t know where they’re going but he looks like a man on a mission so she doesn’t question it.

They spend the first two hours in silence. No calls come in. They just sit on a part of the highway directly between the two biggest cities in the area and wait for a call on the radio that never comes. Neither one of them speaks. Walter finally speeds off down the highway around eleven. Erin thinks he’s been notified of a crime that she isn’t aware of, and is slightly disappointed when they pull into a McDonald’s drive-thru.

“What are we doing here?” she asks.

He ignores her as he pulls up to the window and orders half the menu. He doesn’t even ask if she wants anything before finishing the order.

“Walter?” she asks, then quickly corrects herself. “Er, Lieutenant Marshall?”

He still ignores her. Once he’s paid and gotten the three bags of food, he drives back to their waiting point along the highway. Erin can only stay quiet for a few more minutes.

“I’m putting in a complaint when we get back to the station,” she tells him.

He finally looks at her, giving her a look that says, why the hell are you going to do that?

She just stares at him with a look of her own. If you want me to explain myself, you’ll have to talk.

“Why are you putting in a complaint?” he sighs.

“You’re being completely unprofessional.” Normally she’d be too shy to speak to an officer like this, but she’s had enough of the stupid chip on his shoulder. Plus, he’s seen her naked, so there’s nothing left to be shy about with him.

“I’m not doing anything,” Walter protests.

“Exactly!” Erin agrees. “The point of taking me with you is to teach me stuff. We’ve already wasted half our shift and you’ve taught me nothing, except that you eat enough for a family of four!”

“I only eat once a day,” Walter argues, like that changes anything.

Erin rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“And what is your point? Do you actually have one or do you just feel like yelling?”

“My point is that you’re discriminating against me,” she says. “You’re letting the whole ‘Meet Me, Love Me’ thing get in your head and you’re using it as a wall between us. You can ignore me for the rest of your life. Fine. But not today. You don’t get to not teach me just because you regret our relationship. So act professional and teach me, Walter!”

He doesn’t say anything. Erin opens her mouth to yell at him some more, when she recognizes the strange new look on his face. His eyes are glazed over and his mouth slightly parted as he stares at Erin’s mouth like he’s under a spell. Erin’s face burns as she realizes what he’s no doubt thinking about: she likes to be a brat sometimes just to get a reaction out of him. He punishes her accordingly every time, but it’s the hottest thing to both of them. Walter loves laying down the law--his law--and Erin loves being punished. Intense heat wets her panties and she squeezes her legs together. He notices. His gaze jumps to her legs immediately and he fucking licks his lips. Is he trying to kill her?

“Walter--” she says, her voice shaking, but Walter’s phone goes off before she can say anything else.

He answers the call and, just like that, the moment is over.

“I’m needed back at the station,” he explains as he hangs up the phone. That’s all he says for the rest of the drive.

…

That night, after enjoying a couple glasses of wine, Erin locks herself in her room, away from her roommates, and decides to watch Pornhub on her laptop. She hasn’t needed to do this in a while; usually sexting with Walter is enough to make her satisfied. So having to look up adult videos is just another bitter reminder that whatever they had--a fling? A relationship?--is done. She may or may not have pulled up her Meet Me, Love Me messages with Walter beforehand, reading through their own conversations as a strange form of roleplay.

What she does do, however, is hit the record button on her phone without realizing. Once she shuts her phone off for the night, it automatically stops recording. And somehow, either through her tipsiness or her fatigue, she hits send. The video of her masturbating--and moaning Walter’s name as she cums--goes straight to the lieutenant himself.

…

The next morning, Walter drags her into a windowless janitor’s closet, his nails digging into her arm. He’s never been rough with her before--occasionally he’ll use harsh words when she’s been acting like a brat, but they’ve never been in physical contact for this to happen, and she has a strange and possibly psychotic gratefulness that his touch will leave bruises on her arm, a reminder that he’s not just some figment of her imagination.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he growls in a whisper-shout, cautious of the people on the other side of the door.

She has no idea what he’s talking about. She says as much.

“Don’t play dumb with me, you dirty little brat,” he spits.

Erin’s going straight to hell for the way those words--and his angry growl--sends heat straight to her core.

Walter continues, “That cute little speech you gave yesterday about wanting to stay professional… you don’t get to say shit like that and then send me videos like the one from last night.”

“What video are you…?” And then it hits her. She has no memory of sending him anything, no memory of even making a video. “Walter, I didn’t mean--”

He takes a step towards her, his shoes now flush with hers. Their chests brush against each other with every inhale. Erin has to crane her neck all the way back to look him in the eye. Dominance radiates off of him, as strong as his cologne, and fuck does it make her wet. She tries to keep her breathing steady, to not make it obvious that her heart is racing, but it gets harder the longer he looks at her with that anger in his eyes. It’s as terrifying as it is arousing.

Walter puts his hands on either side of her head, trapping her. His face is so close to hers that she can feel his breath against her cheeks. “You moaned my goddamn name when you came. You said my name--and you’re really trying to stand here and convince me that you hadn’t meant that video for me?”

“Walter--” Erin begins, her voice shaking, but she can’t get anything more than his name out before his hands are on her hips and he’s spinning her to face the wall. He presses his body against hers. His warmth envelopes her but it makes her shiver. She wants him. God, does she want him. She’d willingly let him fuck her right here and now, damn whoever might walk in on them.

“My name,” he growls in her ear, “is Lieutenant, got it?”

“Yes,” she whimpers. It’s taking every ounce of self-control to not beg him to fuck her. She can feel his erection against her ass; this is just as exciting to him. She wants that cock inside of her, moving between her walls and teasing her pussy, splitting her open as he enters her, fucking her so hard that she can’t walk after.

“Yes, what?” he spits.

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Her arousal is already soaking her panties. She wonders if he can smell it, the way she can smell his arousal.

“Good girl.” He’s really trying to kill her, isn’t he? He knows exactly what that praise does to her, how it makes her weak in the knees. “Now be good and don’t scream.”

Erin pauses, but before she can ask what he’s doing he yanks her pants down. She gasps, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the cool air hits her asscheeks. And then she gasps again--for an entirely different reason--when Walter begins to knead her cheeks in his hands.

Her Latina heritage blessed her with curves, which includes a big butt. She used to be embarrassed of it her entire life. And then she started dating guys and realized they like touching her big butt as much as she likes it being touched. But Walter’s hands are big enough to make her feel small, even as he touches the biggest part on her body, and that does something to her that she’s never experienced. Something she can’t explain but she knows she likes.

And then he spanks her. His hands come down roughly on both of her cheeks and she gasps, more at the sound than the pain. But when the sting finally registers, it’s not completely unbearable. In fact, there’s something about the way her skin burns that makes it… addicting. She wants him to spank her again.

And he does.

Three more times, on each cheek. He doesn’t bother to be gentle with her. The masochist in her loves it.

And later, as she feels the ghost of his hands with every passing second, she smiles to herself. That video had been sent on accident, but she’d do it over again in a heartbeat.

***

Tag Squad:

@agniavateira @hnryycvll @littlefreya @celestial-vomit @lestersglitterglue @watermeloncavill @honeychicana @penwieldingdreamer @mary-ann84 @elixasays @buckysgoldenheart @noz4a2 @trippedmetaldetector @omgkatinka @lunedelorient @aphrodites-punch @yespolkadotkitty @sweetybuzz25 @iloveyouyen @deathonyourtongue @utterlyhopeful @wondersofdreaming @tsukuyomi011 @the-soot-sprite @desperate-and-broken @jayismz @emelinelovesjc @palaiasaurus64 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @henrythickcavill @secretlyactivated @madbaddic7ed @persephonehemingway @geralt-of-baevia @stargazingfangirl18 @thedarkplume @spookypeachx @pensieveforyourthoughts @aletheladyinred @littlemissthistle @designerwriterchic @becs-bunker @angelic-kisses13 @captainbigdy @sestrasasylum @radaofrivia @boundtomyfate @wednesdaybraids @harlotforhenry @radkesgirl83 @xuxszx @kitkatd7

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #walter marshall #walter marshall smut #walter marshall night hunter #night hunter #nomis #henry cavill nomis

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calligraphist-artemisia · 4 years ago

Text

14 | Ritual

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 14: Ritual.

Summary: Alternate Universe - Magic. All Pidge wanted to know was who her soulmate was. And if all of her attempts at using divination to find out were not going to work for her, then she'd just have to develop her own ritual for it. Nothing could go wrong with that, right?

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.

- - - - -

14 | Ritual

The Castle of Lions was the premiere magical institute of Altea and notoriously difficult to be accepted into even for the best and brightest. They only accepted a maximum of five students per year and Pidge was blessed to count herself among the four chosen in the first year she applied. It meant there was plenty of individual training and enough room for everyone to have their own space to practice and study their chosen Craft.

Pidge loved her room. It was a circular space located at the top of the western tower and came equipped with a bathroom that she was rapidly coming to appreciate. Three windows allowed light to filter in whenever she pulled back her heavy curtains and there was a door that opened onto a tiny balcony that was perfect for stargazing.

Most important, it was her space and she could do whatever she wished without worrying about being interrupted.

She was especially grateful for that as she prepared for her newest ritual, one designed to allow her to divine the identity of her soulmate. It was a concept that fascinated her from the first time it was mentioned by High Priestess Melenor, but also one that felt completely out of reach for Pidge because of one very big reason.

She was awful at all forms of divination.

And from all of her studies, the tried and true method of ascertaining the identity of one's soulmate was through some form of that magical art. There was simply no other way.

Pidge threw herself into the process, taking the time to break down all of the steps and test out a few different ways. She'd gone through a full month of mediation and attempting Astral travel, but found it nearly impossible to quiet her mind long enough to achieve that goal.

When it became clear that meditating wasn't the right path for her, she moved onto the various forms of scrying, starting with the classic crystal ball. And although she tried it with several different types of crystal, she didn't find one that she “vibed” with enough for it to actually work and gave up on that path after two frustrating weeks. She spent another week with a shallow bowl of water and a quartz crystal cluster. And then a round mirror. And then a piece of hematite lit only by candlelight.

All of that brought her to the decision that the only way she would succeed in her goal would be if she crafted her own ritual. She'd had moderate success with Dream Magic in the past and hoped that it could be useful for what she intended.

Pidge took every step that she could think of the ensure the highest chance of success. Her room was already cleansed after her last ritual, so she began with a relaxing bath with purifying salts and herbs and remained there until her head felt clear and light, her magical energy brimming beneath the surface of her skin in anticipation.

She slipped on a simple cotton dress and clasped a band of hematite around her right ankle to help keep her grounded through the process. Next came a circlet crafted from silver, which had a sun-and-moon centerpiece made of sunstone and moonstone, locked by a small diamond on either side. It centered neatly over her brow.

She was ready.

Pidge gathered up the rest of her tools and began to arrange them in the center of the room, taking care with each item and focusing on her purpose. Using a piece of kunzite, she carved her chosen runes into the proper candles before setting them down around her. A stick of sandalwood incense was lit last and she stood with the kunzite in her hands and watched as the smoke curled up into the air.

She breathed in and then released that breath, feeling her magic rise in answer to her call, before turning to the north to begin the opening of her circle, calling in each elemental force to request their aid in her ritual as she lit each candle.

With energy swirling around her, Pidge slowly sat cross-legged in the center of the circle and closed her eyes. She held on tight to her intent, refusing to stray to any other thought.

She wanted to find her soulmate.

She wanted to know who they were and where she could find them.

The candlelight flared along with her magic as her spell took hold. Pidge could feel the heat of the flames. The thickness in the air. The scent of sandalwood, heavy around her.

It continued to build, higher and higher, until the next thing Pidge knew the soft early morning sun was shining in through the windows and all of her limbs were stiff and sore from apparently passing out on the floor.

Pidge groaned as she sat up, blearily looking around and taking note of the fully-melted candles and the stick of incense that was completely burned out. The kunzite was still in her hands, held onto so tightly that it left behind marks when she finally let it go.

As she examined the indents it left, she noticed something else unusual.

Encircling her right wrist was some kind of band of silver ink that was no more than a centimeter wide, comprised of intricate spirals that formed some sort of pattern, but not one that held any meaning as far as Pidge knew. She studied it for a moment, her tired brain working to try and make sense of it all, but a knock at the door interrupted her and she quickly jumped up.

“Just a minute!” she called out.

Pidge hesitated at the edge of the circle and then stepped back into the center. She took a moment to steady her breathing and then went through the steps to close the circle, taking the time to thank each of the elemental forces for their aid. Only then did she hurry around and prepare for the day.

Cleaning up would have to wait.

Another knock and the sound of her friend, Lance, calling for her had Pidge rolling her eyes at his impatience. She checked her reflection and took an extra minute to remove the circlet and place it back into its box before answering the door.

“You have got to learn some patience,” she said before Lance could open his mouth.

“Hey, I'm not the one running abnormally late,” he responded. “You didn't stay up all night reading again, did you? I don't know how you lose track of time doing that.”

“Some of us came here to actually learn and study.”

“Ouch. I'm wounded. My heart!” Lance placed one hand over his chest and dramatically swooned. “Your cruelty breaks my spirit! And after I brought you breakfast!”

Pidge's stomach growled when she caught side of the cloth-wrapped bundle in Lance's hands. “So should I profess my undying devotion to you now or do you want to wait until there are other people around?”

Lance laughed and handed over the food as they left the tower and headed towards their first lesson of the day with Alchemist Alfor. He chatted about whatever came to his mind while Pidge devoured the sandwich and made reaffirming noises so he knew she was still paying attention. She finished it as they passed under the arch marking the potions and alchemy wing of the castle and, coincidentally, came across the other two students of their year – all-around sweetheart Hunk Garrett and his more hot-tempered friend, Keith Hawkins, who also happened to be embroiled in an intense rivalry with Pidge.

The two pairs came to a dead stop beneath the archway.

Pidge was in no mood to deal with him so early in the morning and especially not after yet another failed attempt at divination spellcrafting, so she pretended as though he didn't exist as Hunk and Lance jumped into a lively conversation to try and lift the atmosphere around them.

“Anyway, there's a note on Alfor's door asking us to meet in the Four Seasons Courtyard for our lesson today. That's why we're on our way back through,” Hunk explained.

“Lucky for us that we ran into you!” Lance laughed as he slung an arm across Hunk's shoulders. “Do you think we're gathering ingredients for something? Or does he have another lecture on how our environment affects alchemic equations?”

Hunk shrugged. “Guess we'll find out once we get there.”

The two walked ahead, leaving Pidge and Keith to silently follow behind them. Pidge used every ounce of her willpower to keep her mouth shut and not look over at her rival, telling herself that it wouldn't be worth getting into an argument right before class.

It was when they arrived in the courtyard that everything went wrong.

Pidge tried to walk towards Lance to sit with him like she always did but was stopped by Keith grabbing her wrist and tugging her back towards him. She whirled on him, a snarl on her lips, only to be interrupted by his own furious remark -

“What the fuck? Let go of me, Holt!”

“I am not holding onto you! Why would I, Hawkins?” she snapped back.

In unison, they glared at their wrists, each seeking to prove that they were right, only to discover that they were both wrong. There was nothing there, though Pidge continued to feel pressure around her wrist as though there was something holding onto her.

“Is there a problem over here?” asked Alchemist Alfor as he approached.

Keith tried to yank his hand away from the invisible force but it only served to make Pidge stumble forward and throw a another glare in his direction.

“Alright, alright. Calm down,” Alfor said before either of them could start speaking again. He, like everyone else in the castle, was well aware of the animosity between the two of them. “I'm sure this is someone's idea of a prank and we can get it sorted out quickly. Lets take a look at what's going on, shall we?” He held his hand out over theirs and murmured a few words. Within seconds, a twisted braid of gold and silver appeared around their wrists, with a short chain connecting them.

Keith frowned. “What is that?”

“Fascinating... I've never seen anything like it,” Alfor admitted. “I would wager that the silver is related to some form of soul magic, but I'm unsure of what the gold represents. Melenor would be the best to ask about this sort of thing, unless either of you has an idea?”

Pidge's blood turned to ice in her veins.

Soul magic.

It couldn't be.

Not him!

“He is not my soulmate,” Pidge refused, unaware that she was speaking aloud.

Keith's eyes flashed with something Pidge couldn't define and he tensed his jaw before responding. “Who would ever want you to be their soulmate, Holt?”

Alfor must have called for backup while Pidge wasn't paying attention, because suddenly Battle Mage Shiro was there and was hurrying them to Melenor's office while Alfor stayed behind to teach Hunk and Lance the lesson he had planned for the day. It was there that Melenor confirmed her husbands thoughts that soul magic was involved, with the silver strand representing femininity while the gold represented masculinity – a perfect balance symbolizing the bond between them.

Pidge had no choice but the tell them about the ritual she performed and how it was designed to reveal her soulmate, and from there Melenor came up with a plan to help them.

“You will live together for one week. If you cannot learn to get along in that time, I will undue the spell tying you together. I want to make it clear that you will give this your best effort. Magic has bonded the two of you together for a reason and I should think that both of you would endeavor to learn why.”

So there they were, in the brand new set of rooms they were being allowed to borrow for one week while they lived together, unable to move more than a few feet apart. Neither of them spoke for the first hour, until Keith finally sat down and refused to budge, his violet eyes hard as he stared up at her.

“I don't understand what your problem with me is,” he said.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“I'm serious. From the very first day we met you've treated me like I'm the scum of the earth. What did I ever do to you?” Keith demanded.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond, but Keith wasn't finished.

“Imagine it's your first day in the most prestigious magical institute in the world and as you're leaving your first class you finally see your soulmate. And at first you think it's just another dream, like all of the others you've had since you were old enough to understand what a soulmate is, but when you try to talk to her it all turns into a nightmare.

“At first I thought you were just stressed, but that wasn't right, was it? Because you get along with everyone else in this school. Just not me. So what is it, Holt? What did I do to you that was so horrible that you need to turn every chance meeting into a confrontation?”

The hot flash of fury that Pidge felt when he first started talking dissipated the moment he spoke of his dreams. A heavy, cold weight settled in the pit of her stomach as her mind worked to comprehend what she was hearing. “You... you knew this whole time? Why didn't you ever say something?”

“What was the point? I knew it would only end in rejection. You proved me right about that earlier,” Keith responded. The heat was gone from his voice, replaced by a deep sorrow.

Pidge sat on the floor next to him and pulled her knees up against her chest, thinking back to her first week at the Castle of Lions. It had been a massive change from the rigorous structure and rules of the Galaxy Garrison where she previously studied and she remembered struggling to adapt to a new environment. It took her a moment to place when her first interaction with Keith, an event she blocked from her mind because it didn't seem worth remembering aside from it being the starting place of their rivalry. A rivalry she was starting to think was almost entirely one-sided.

She had volunteered to try and solve an alchemic equation Alfor presented to them and when she was finished, Keith was the first to speak up and offer a critique on her work. She remembered the flush of anger at being called out for making what, in hindsight, was a stupid mistake that spoiled the rest of her work, and then the embarrassment as two students of another year started sniggering to themselves over it. The fact that Keith completely snubbed her as they all left the classroom served to cement in her mind that he was challenging her intellect and from that day on she refused to show weakness.

She breathed out softly and pressed her forehead to the tops of her knees.

Had she really based their rivalry on a simple misunderstanding?

Had her time at the Galaxy Garrison really impaired her social skills that much? Lance was always joking about it, but maybe there was some truth to that.

The competitive atmosphere. The constant drive to do better and be the best. Maybe she carried that with her to the Castle of Lions and let it influence the way she interacted with her peers. She thought she was getting better at it with help from Lance and speaking with their instructors, but those first few weeks...

That first interaction with Keith, when he corrected her and then didn't say a word to her after that – so different from the Garrison, where rivalries were encouraged as a way to push one another to do better. That lack of acknowledgment for it made her feel as though he was looking down on her. Like she was unworthy of being considered an equal.

“Keith, I... I'm so sorry,” she murmured, unsure how to put all of her thoughts into the right words. “I don't know what else to say. All of this is my fault. Our fighting. This chain tying us together. I've never been great at divination and I've been trying for months to use it to find my soulmate – to find you – and after all of that I ended up making a spell and well... I guess Magic got tired of being ignored, so it found a way to make things more obvious for me. And here you've known all along! I can't imagine how that must have felt.”

She snapped her mouth shut and uttered another quick apology as she realized she had started rambling.

“I didn't mean what I said before,” Keith said after a moment of silence. “About how no one would want to be your soulmate? I didn't mean that.”

Pidge lifted her head from her knees. “I kind of deserved it. I've been awful to you.”

“And I was awful right back,” Keith responded, a sudden spark of passion to his voice as he twisted to look at her. “We've both said and done things that we regret. I'm not going to sit here and go over all of it when it'll only make us feel worse. Look, we're stuck together for at least a week, right?”

Pidge nodded.

“Then let's make the best of that time. By, uh, talking things through, I guess. I don't know how people normally do this sort of thing,” he admitted.

“Neither do I,” Pidge said with a grimace. “But we're smart. We can figure it out.”

Keith made a curious sound, but didn't voice whatever he was thinking. Instead, he stuck out his left hand to her – the one with the gold-and-silver chain clasped around his wrist. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Pidge agreed, grasping his left hand with her right.

The chain loosened ever-so-slightly between them.

#voltron #kidgetober #kidgetober 2020 #fanfiction #day 14: ritual #week 2: myths & magic #this one got a little long on me #testing out some ideas for an original work here

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munchiezxx · 5 years ago

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kingdom keepers book 2 rerelease changes

i finally finished the second kingdom keepers rerelease! this one took a lot longer to read because like i expected, this one has a LOT more changed compared to the first. overall, i would say that if you were recommending the series to someone younger, give them the rewrite. if you’re a long-time fan, it’s probably not necessary for you to buy again unless you’re curious.

if you’re nitpicky like me, i have everything under the cut! this one’s gonna be a lot longer than the first, though.

i’m not sure where to start with this, so i’m just gonna start with the overall and then go into the details.

- first of all, the rewrite is 42 pages shorter than the original. there were only a few places where large chunks were taken out, but i’ll go over anything major when it comes up. the majority of what was taken out was just a lot of extra detail. the book feels very consolidated, ESPECIALLY the last third. it seems like as the book goes on, it gets more and more paraphrased. this can be good and bad, because the original book has a tendency to overexplain sometimes, but you do lose some character. most of the details that were taken out weren’t anything necessary, but it does make the book seem a little more juvenile than it already was.

a lot of sentences were spliced, shortened, and paraphrased. sometimes doing more ‘tell’ rather than ‘show.’ i assume this is to make it fit a younger grade level, but it does make the book seemed a little more dumbed down. this happens a bit in the dialogue, too, like a piece of dialogue would be changed to “willa explained (original dialogue).”

for some reason, every few chapters, a chapter would be almost completely rewritten with the exact same things happening. i have no idea why they did this, because a lot of times it would just be a reworded version of a perfectly fine sentence, just using different synonyms.

the dialogue is also changed quite a bit to make the characters nicer. (especially maybeck.) some was also changed to sound a little more ‘normal,’ but occasionally it made the book seem a little less dated. overall, it’s less ‘quippy’. one big example i saw of this was during finn’s fight with maleficent in chapter 49:

i’m not really sure how to explain all of this any further, so if you’re curious, i’d recommend just reading the book. it was pretty interesting to see what was changed even though it felt unnecessary at times. i spent the last half of the book reading one on top of the other, it took a few days.

now with that out of the way, we can get into the details!

- this is my number one favorite change: JEZ WAS FINALLY CHANGED TO JESS!! this bothered me for YEARS and i know it’s a change that people really wanted.

- the VMK situation is handled by explaining that VMK was an old video game that was shut down used by the imagineers and operates in the same way that it did in the original. i’m not sure why they used that terrible workaround in the first rewrite, but oh well.

- obviously, the DSs are no longer and they communicate through text. the biggest tragedy of this is that their usernames were taken away. RIP to willatree, mybest, philitup, angelface13, and panda. the messaging dialogue has been changed by a LOT, they type in the same way that they would speak. no more shorthand, all proper punctuation. i would like to say this a good thing but there are some quips that will be dearly missed

- cameras are accessed by a DVC booth instead of the animalcam.

- flights of wonder was mentioned, which closed in 2018

- apparently deVine (the character) has actually been spelled ‘diVine’ this whole time? they didn’t change it for this one but i didn’t know it was spelled wrong all this time so i guess it doesn’t matter

- our first iconic dialogue casualty is “devine,” “thank you.” i don’t know why

- the mention of maybeck’s supposed little sister was left in, which i know was a big mistake that always bothered people. however, the scene where he mentions being an only child was cut down by a lot and the sentence is removed, so i guess that means maybeck canonically has a younger sister now ??? i don’t remember if he mentions being an only child in any other books or not, but if you know, let me know so i can look out for it in the future rewrites

- the sorcerer’s hat is still in dhs. in the next paragraph, a kodak booth is changed to a photopass booth. i do not know how that is the one thing that got changed on that page. also, no more HSM show and GMR is changed to MMRR

- maybeck can no longer allowed to swear. instead of “son of a ___” (that’s what the actual dialogue bubble says, they’re not allowed to say bitch in a disney novel) he says “sands of a beach.” the line “only he didn’t say dang” is cut. so is “only he didn’t say freaking.” is this for better or for worse i can not say, but i wish they had at LEAST let him say bitch

- chapter 44, where they get the fob from the trash can, takes place in pandora instead and he just grabs it from a plant. this is the only scene in pandora which is kinda sad but also i don’t know what else they could have done

- around here is where i wasn’t able to keep track of what scenes were cut down besides the major cuts, so i’d say the last 100 pages are paraphrased the most.

- in chapter 49, the scene where finn fights by maleficent that i used as example earlier, is changed quite a bit. there’s less shouting, the scene seems a lot more calm and it’s strange. less quips.

- when it’s revealed that jess is in the tiger yard, “willa gasped” is changed to “willa coughed.” this was so weird that i had to include it

- every scene where philby and wayne are fighting overtakers in VMK are cut down by a LOT. the first chapter of this scene is changed from 6 1/2 pages to 2 1/2. this was always a weird plot point to me, but it didn’t really help clarify it, either

- chapter 60, with maybeck and willa in dinosaur, is also cut by quite a bit. 14 pages to 7 1/2. it’s mostly the last half of the scene, they find the server quickly and don’t describe cutting the wires, it just cuts off when willa finds the server. they don’t get to hug at the end. :(

- in ch 61, a paragraph is added in where charlene misquotes “if you can dream it” as a walt disney quote, which is just a personal pet peeve

- the final fight with maleficent and chernabog is nearly word-for-word the same, which was surprising considering most of the scenes leading up to it were changed drastically.

- finally, my number one most anticipated change that probably isn’t important to anyone else... maleficent is no longer misspelled as “maleficant”!!!!! when i was a kid this was THE funniest thing in the world to me. i’m a little sad

and that’s all i’ve got for you! phew that was a LOT. if there’s anything else i didn’t mention that you’re curious about, feel free to ask! this one actually felt like a rewrite, so there were some other changes i didn’t find significant enough to mention. i’ll be picking up disney in shadow today so that should be...interesting. thanks for reading!

#kingdom keepers #dear god this took so much effort i hope someone reads this #long post

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highqueenofelfhame · 5 years ago

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Rowaelin gets pregnant after trying so hard and many failed attempts, make it super fluffy and make me cry with how in love they are thank you ily xxx

It wasn’t particularly unusual for her Royal Majesty the Queen to be late to breakfast. It was, however, unusual that she skip the meal entirely and not show up at any point in the hour. Usually she was roughly fifteen minutes late, slipping through the door behind Rowan’s seat and dropped a kiss to the side of his neck before plopping down into the seat next to his. This morning, the doors didn’t open except when the other males of the court filed into the dining hall. When he focused his ears in the direction of their rooms, he didn’t pick up on the familiar rise and fall of her walking pattern but picked up on nothing.

No Aelin.

“Did you see Aelin on your way down?” Rowan asked Fenrys, setting his cup of tea back on the saucer near his plate.

“I knocked but nobody answered. Last night she told me she wanted to go over —“ but Rowan was already pushing to his feet, the door slamming shut behind him. Distantly he heard Fenrys trail off and mumble a sarcastic good morning as he took off at a sprint, encouraging the wind to push him further, faster.

A century and a half and every time he wasn’t one hundred percent certain where she was, anxiety flooded his veins as though she were lost to him again.

So when he burst through the door of their rooms and found her sound asleep with her face burrowed into the blankets, his heart stuttered against his chest so hard he thought the bones might shatter. It took him a moment to ground himself, to breathe in her scent and let it soothe his lungs. Let the sight of her curled up in their bed burn into his memory to ease the image of her naked, chained in iron, and sobbing from the backs of his eyelids. It took him a moment, took him willing the tears away until he finally approached her and dropped to his knees at her bedside.

“Fireheart,” he said softly, his hand running down the side of her face and through her hair.

“I’m not feeling well.” Her voice was raspy and thick with sleep, the sound music to his ears. Aelin turned her face and left a lingering kiss on the palm of his hand that made his lips turn up into a smile.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“I can’t move a rutting inch without being so nauseous I might die from it.” One of her turquoise eyes squinted open, a hand raising to shield her eyes from the sunlight coming in through the window. “It hit a few hours ago but I’ve had these off and on spells the last few days? But not this bad.”

Rowan frowned, green eyes scanning over her body as though he could see straight through the blankets and down to her body. Every atom of his being sang to protect her from the unseen threat, to pull what ailed her from her blood and never let it harm her again. “Maybe we should call for a healer.”

Aelin didn’t get the chance to respond because, as soon as the sentence had left his lips, she was doubled over the side of the bed and throwing up all over the King of Terrasen.

~*~

“You’re beautiful,” he told her, dabbing a washcloth along her brow. Aelin snorted and shoved his hand away, but Rowan simply laced their fingers and kissed her forehead.

“Of course I am. You’re lucky to have me.” It had been three days, and healers had been in and out of their quarters ever since. Over the course of the last few days Aelin had stayed in bed under the too-watchful eye of her mate.

Rowan was beginning to notice the way the hard and lean muscles that lined her body began to soften. Changes that were imperceptible to the human eye but to Rowan, she may as well have dyed her hair again. He didn’t miss anything when it came to his wife. The flat planes of her stomach had began to come to a curve ever so slightly and it seemed to be the only comfort that her soul wasn’t preparing to vacate her bones.

He couldn’t allow himself to entertain the alternative.

After the eighth day, the sickness eased to some degree. The Queen was prowling the castle again with her King always close behind or at her immediate side. By the tenth she was claiming to feel much better, but Rowan could still smell the sickness on her. It smelled sweet and twisted its way around her scent — even the parts that were twined with his own.

He watched her carefully though she complained. He helped her with all of the most basic parts of her work, even going as far as to help her sit. That seemed to annoy her the most, his hand on her elbow and the other on her back.

“You act like I’m an invalid.”

“I act like you were unable to get out of bed a week ago. I act worried.” She had rolled her eyes and tilted her chin up, offering pillowy lips for a soft and tender kiss.

On day nine, she had fainted while walking down the hall. Aelin had been mid-sentence, telling him he was a fussy buzzard and she was fine. It was the first time she had seemed agitated about any of it. Rowan had been the one to catch her.

“Is she okay?” He pressed, raking his fingers through silver hair as the healer left the room.

“She would like to speak with —“ the old woman didn’t get to finish before Rowan was inside and sitting on the edge of the bed. The color had bloomed back into her cheeks and her lips were no longer pale. He kissed her then, sighing when he felt her smile.

“Ro,” she whispered, her thumbs running over his cheekbones while he pressed soft kisses over her brow. “Rowan.”

Aelin’s hands caught his, lacing their fists into elegant knots that she brought to rest on her stomach. Her stomach that was more full and pronounced than it had ever been, swollen and protruding only just. It didn’t take much for him to realize it, for him to know what she was getting at. The thought that had been tugging at the edges of his mind for months now when she had first missed her cycle. The dream he hadn’t allowed himself to conjure because of the hundred and twenty-something years they had been trying to conceive a child to absolutely no avail. A dream they had started to accept as a living nightmare, that they may never have a child.

“You — we?” Words were lost, completely obliterated as she nodded and let out a quiet sob. Rowan’s face was instantly buried in her neck, breathing in deeper to melt the scent into every fiber of his being. His cheeks were rosy and wet with tears as he kissed her mouth over and over before trailing his mouth down to her navel, lips dragging against her skin.

“For this child I have prayed,” he whispered against her skin, his eyes looking up at the last living God and her in turn looking back down at him. The only deity he would ever kneel for or worship, aside from the sweet babe she now carried in her womb.

@starseternalnighttriumphant @musicmaam @city-of-fae @myfeyrelady @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @nalgenewhore @rhysands-highlady @tangledraysofsunshine @awesome--username

I just woke up sry if I didn’t tag

#rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #drabbles

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queensdivas · 5 years ago

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A Damned Soul Chapter 1 (Gwil Fic)

So something new has popped out of my brain earlier this week and one thing that I love to do is avoid homework and papers as much as I possibly can!

I’m warning yall right now! This isn’t gonna be a light hearted fan fic! It’s got witches, vampires, magic, death, fluff, angst and of course and eventually...smut! I’m really gonna have fun with this one because I enjoy learning and writing everything under the sun.

I also will be posting this on Wattpad if it’s easier for you to read there instead of here. (TOTH-Girl is my username on Wattpad). If you would like to be tagged just let me know and I will be more than happy to tag you!

Here we go ladies and gents..I hope you all enjoy this possible train wreck of a fic!

Next Chapter

Masterlist

@mexifangorl @leah-halliwell92 @bonafiderocketqueen

The flame crackles,

Spitting shining sparks

And ashes and fire

Into the warming air.

It’s always fighting,

It’s Always changing,

Seems always so close

To life.

To it’s burning,

But beyond its brilliance

The fire defies, denies

And defeats it’s death.

Patience, I believe,

Is learned in the view.

Because with strength and defiance,

The coals burn anew.

-Sandra Osborne

I’d like to think that when you’re executed in public it’s because of the fact you’ve done something horribly wrong. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go anyhow? When you’re in the 13th century England.. eh. Not so much. Being a woman is already hard enough in this time. Being a women whose about to be burned at the stake because she's a full blooded witch..just absolutely peachy.

“BURN HER!” The village began to scream as I was beginning to enter the village by the priest. A village that once welcomed me to heal their sick, to help women give birth without passing away, and even teach them simple remedies. And now that a church has brought their God...Well..you see how it’s going now.

Escorted to the top of the wood pile then was shoved against the wooden stake as I just started into the soul of man who dragged me out of my home. The priest...hypocritical bastard! My wrists were bound so tight that it was beginning to cut through my skin already when I tried to at least get somewhat comfortable before I die..and might as well spew the truth and call the priest out for being an absolute hypocrite!

“You poor minded fool who has a twelve year old locked in the basement of the church. Tell me. Doesn’t your God tell you to love all men! To love thy neighbor! Great job at loving thy neighbor you old bastard. I’d like to remind you that your savior Jesus hung around a prostitute in his life when he was preaching your word! Yet he loved her because he preached to love thy neighbor! You are all massive hypocrites who are so caught up in your daft religion that you’ve forgotten the true meaning of love! Go on then! Burn me! It will make you feel better that the only thing you have in your life is religion! I refuse to give you the benefit of me begging for my life!” Screaming to them as moed their torches towards the oil soaked wood. The priest opened his bible to start spewing bible verses from the wretched book!

“I condemn they to die by fire for going against the nature of God's will! By the spirit of judgement and the spirit of burning! For it is on this day that atonement shall be made for you to cleanse you! You will be cleaned from all your sins before the Lord! Be not conformed to this world! But be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind! That ye may prove what is good, and what is acceptable, and perfect for the will of God! In the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit! May God have mercy on your soul! Any final words before you are taken to the almighty.” His final words echoed in my mind as I looked out into the crowd..

“I’ve been good to you...I’ve been good to all of you as you have been for me. Those who are sane..please hear my final words and I hope that they carry with you through time. Do not follow the path that this priest has laid out because he is a liar...a crook..and no religion should make one kill another! True religion should be love..not execution like this man.” Grinning at the priest as he slammed the Bible shut to walk towards one of the villagers. Yanking the torch from one of them and holding it right over the oil.

“I condemn you to hell!” He screamed then I tried to lean down close to him with my grin still bright.

“Can’t wait to see you down there then.” Leaning back up then taking one last glance through the crowd.

His eyes were glowing red even though he wore a black cloak to hide himself from the audience. Though a normal human wouldn’t be able to see this, but I could see him in complete rage. He’s smart enough to know that stepping in would only kill him in the end...he’s already lost most of energy for being outside in the first place.

We just...we never get the timing right in our lives.. it’s in the end when everything begins playing back again..and again…

~~~~~

The last book from the moving back fit perfectly on the shelf! Nieve floated the last jar of sunflower seeds up to the top of the seed shelf. Now all that’s left is to bless and protect the new building then step up the tablet for payment and we’re open for business!

Nieve yanked down the tapestry we had over the wall to reveal the new mural she had painted on the only empty wall space we have that’s not a bookshelf. The mural was a woman out in a very high grass field with the sun setting. The setting was a very green blue that had white clouds spread across the entire wall.

“Probably my best work since Campbelltown.” Nodding in agreement as I slid down the ladder so I could see the mural and all its glory.

“Beautiful. Nice job Nieve.” Telling her as she put her arm on my shoulder.

“Is everything ready?” She walked over to her pile of brushes so that she could start cleaning up before we open.

“All that’s left is setting up the tablet. Spices and herbs are on the shelves, books in place, and the reading table is all set to go.” It’s not that I don’t mind that I do most of the work for setting up the shop. I love setting it up because everything has a place and needs to be done right. Sort of a perfectionist.

“Tell ya what. You get the tablet all set up and I’ll get the place ready for casting out the bad jujus. Should I use cedar or pine this time?” She walked into the back and began cleaning her brushes.

“Cedar.” Yelling back as I took a glimpse around the shop for a moment. Shop number four I believe now. Don’t think that we go absolutely bankrupt then move on to the next town. On the contrary. As witches we can make our own money if done right and it was our last order given through our teacher Madame Rouge.

Madame Rouge was our mentor who trained us in the ways of becoming a grande witch. She would always move her shops to small towards across the Uk and even Ireland some times. The ultimate goal of moving around constantly is that we help fellow witches and warlocks who either hide in the shadows from the world or even help them with perfecting their spells.

But all good things must come to an end. One night Madame Rouge decided to take the evening off so she could rest and we found her passed away in the night with a note for her after life instructions. The first goal being that we continue her work on going across the country to help

Madame Rouge was my mentor who helped me with spells, hexes, becoming one with the gifts I’ve acquired. It was as if I found my new home with Madame Rouge and Nieve eventually joined us after she turned 18. But all good things must come to an end. Madame Rouge was reaching the end of her life and told us to go across the country to save other fellow witches and warlocks who are casted out. When she passed away. Nieve and I set off on our journey throughout the entire country with now calling an abandoned library home in Balmedie Scotland!

Finishing up the last few details on the tablet as Nieve closed her book to grab the sage that also had rosemary, juniper, and a hit of cedar in it. Rosemary allows for fresh new starts, juniper for bringing a comfort feeling for us and any new sort of people coming in and out, then the cedar for basically cutting off those bad jujus out of the store.

“You almost ready?” Nodding as I put the tablet onto the stand as I pulled out my rose gold evil eye necklace and grabbed the box of matches from under the counter. She lit the end of the sage as we began with the door and saying the incantation.

“Blessed be that light energy to come..blessed be that good souls wander through our store.” It’s a simple incantation that does the trick about 90% of the time. It’s almost impossible to keep bad juju away from your living dwelling because it’s as powerful as good juju. Besides. Incantations don’t need to be super long anyhow since if you’re in an emergency situation, you won’t have the time to say a one hundred word spell.

Once we finished the doorway, a customer already poked their head in as I let her continue onward with the blessing. It was a very old lady with her tiny pug and came into the store. She looked around for a moment as I approached her with my hands rubbing together.

“Good afternoon! Welcome to Le Rouge! Is there anything I can help you with?” She snapped her fingers so the pug would sit then flicking her finger to lock the door to the shop. OH god..did we enter ministry territory?

“My name is Madame Maia Whyte. I’m from The Ministry obviously and I’ve heard about you two through the grapevine. You must be Robin La Torneau and Nieve Macleenan We’ve been watching you two for the past few years. The ministry is very pleased on what you two are trying to do and are sitting very well with us. If you should require anything from us then feel free to give us a call.” A business card came out of her pocket as I looked to see only a number on the card.

“Thank you Madame Whyte. We’ll keep this handy.” Smiling as she nodded then proceeded to leave the shop. Didn’t realize we were causing that much good in the UK anyhow. I know our fellow brothers and sisters over in America are having a difficult time with everyone hating each other.

The Parliament of Witches and Warlocks was formed a little after the 9th century when we were beginning to be cooked alive, being drowned, and hung by humans who were scared of us. But it wasn’t just humans who were coming after us after a while. Would you believe me if I told you vampires are also running around this world of ours causing mayhem? Just sounds unbelievable doesn’t it? We can cross that bridge in the future with that whole long history lesson.

This is it! A new store! A fresh start in a little off the coast town. What could possibly happen to us out here!?

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kamino-ink · 6 years ago

Text

Human Canvas | Bang Chan

✧ Genre: Soulmate!au, fluff, wee angst

✧ Summary: You were six years old when you got an inkling of what kind of person your soulmate is; they would draw little doodles on their arms all day, and you would draw back. But as an adult, its as if you two are at war with each other, with them covering your right arm with tattoos and you occasionally painting on your left arm for the fun of it.

✧ Word Count: 2.9k

✧ Want to read other parts of this series? Check out my masterlist!

✧

Growing up as a child in the era of booming technological advances and rising platforms of social media, it was hard not to become a member of at least one standing media presence. In your case, you were a well-known star on Instagram, showing off your strange yet classical renditions of paintings on the canvases covered with colors - or, on other occasions, your left arm.

As a child you loved to experiment with colors and silly doodles, even if you didn't have the creative capacity to paint your own designs. Your mother would frequently have to force you to take baths so she could scrub the childish splashes of color off of your arm - however on one occasion, you had noticed a little sketch of what looked to be a sad excuse of a shark on your right arm. Here’s the thing, your right hand was the only one that could paint or draw, so you had zero clue as to how or why the shark got on there.

When you’d asked your mother about it, her lips had suddenly parted as wide as the sea. “Honey, quick - write something on your arm!” She had told you, her shaking fingers handing you a blue-ink pen she had been writing with just moments ago. You didn't question her, since you were still just a kid that listened dutifully to everything your parents told you to do, and wrote out the word ‘hello.’ on your left arm.

Within seconds you felt a strange sensation on your opposite arm; when you glanced over at it in confusion, you saw red ink being scribbled onto your bare skin to spell out ‘who are you?’

That same day, your mother had the “the talk” with you - in which she explained that every single person on Earth had someone they were essentially destined to be with; no one knew why or how it came to be, but the evidence was there.

Your mother recounted on how she found her soulmate, your father, in high school. Apparently her bond was one where she could write something down, anything, on any sort of material and it would appear on the closest object (albeit reasonable) within minutes by your father. It was somewhat similar to your bond with this other kid, except if you drew something on your skin, it would appear on the same part of his body in seconds.

The boy you were bonded with, Chan, was apparently ambidextrous but preferred writing with his left hand, which was why he never doodled on the same arm as you. Within months you two had made interesting splashes of colors, silly sketches, and much more on each other’s skin.

However, as you got older, this came to be a rather pressing issue; in one of your college classes, you had been in the midst of a serious presentation when the professor cleared his throat awkwardly to signal you to stop. You’d looked over to him in confusion, as well as your giggling classmates, only to glance down at your right arm now covered in some rather... inappropriate designs. Why did you have to wear short sleeves that day?

In retaliation, you casually asked Chan what classes he took at school and when he had them; clearly he mistook your questions as just plain old curiosity, because the next day during his history class you had decided to paint a mural of bright yellows and pinks onto his skin. He was stuck with the neon colors all day, as none of his friends would lend him a jacket or coat in favor of laughing their asses off at him.

From then on it was like an all out war - he would doodle obscurities on your arm and you would stain his some ugly combination of colors. Then, one day, you’d woken up to a fucking tattoo on your right arm.

You were tempted to rant about it in a caption on a post, but decided you were better than that. Instead you took out all of your frustrations on painting your left arm with a plethora of delightful blues and yellows, creating a sort of rendition to the piece Starry Night by Van Gogh.

You snapped a picture of your artwork, feeling quite proud of yourself, and posted it on your Instagram page, it being only one of the many other art pieces you had on your page. In minutes the comments had been flooded with mostly positive remarks and a few mindful critiques, not that you minded; feedback was feedback, and all of it would hopefully further your progress as an aspiring artist.

Still, you knew that you needed to find Chan before he put even more tattoos on your body; you were a person who kind of needed to be presented as classy, and that meant no tattoos on your skin - sure you found it ridiculous, but you also didn't mind the pay you got from your job at the hospital.

“Y/N - is that, is that a tattoo?”

“For the love of - zip it, Minho!” You hiss at your amused yet stunned coworker, a fellow nurse by the name of Lee Minho. Both of you had gone through the basic stages of medical school together, and now you both happened to be some of the best nurses the hospital had seen in ages; so naturally, the two of you were rather close. “I didn't choose to have it, okay? That stupid soulmate of mine got it a few weeks ago.” You explain softly under your breath so passing doctors and nurses couldn't hear you.

Minho lets out a small noise of understanding, though his lips are still pulled into an amused smirk. “I see, I see. But why don't you just let it be seen, it's actually really cool.”

You sigh at his question, knowing he was just curious as to why you didn't want to show it off or anything. It wasn't like tattoos weren't allowed, per say, but you knew that it came off as more professional if the ink wasn't visible, no matter how cool it looked on your arm. “It’s just more professional this way, Minho. Don't get me wrong, I think the design is really interesting and beautiful, but now I have to wear long sleeves even though its hot as hell in here.”

“Fair point. So, you don't know where this Chan guys lives, or what his full name is?” The nurse asks, waving to a senior doctor that passes by you with a clipboard in hand.

“Nope.” You reply simply.

“Then why not ask him? All you need to do is write it somewhere on your arm, right?” He presses on, the curiosity eating him alive as to why you hadn't just asked your soulmate who exactly he was and where he lived so you two could actually meet each other.

You blink at him, once, twice, and then once more. “You... have a point,” you admit to the man, who is now smirking all too victoriously at you, “but - whenever I asked for his name all those years ago, he said that his nickname was Chan. I’m guessing he doesn’t like his real name or isn’t ready to find me yet.”

Minho whines at your explanation, his fingers going to the that had ridden up to expose the ink, tugging it down for you. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask now, right? I mean, you’re both adults now. There’s no way that he doesn’t want to meet you yet.”

You shrug softly to yourself, subconsciously tracing over the part of the sleeve that was covering the tattoo. While you had been ready to finally meet your soulmate, you had an odd hunch that Chan just wasn't ready, and you were afraid to accidently pressure him into it so soon.

“I’ll think about it.”

About a week later you finally decided that you really needed to find Chan, because he had gotten yet another tattoo on his arm - now along with the stunning rose covered in dark thorns just under your shoulder, there was a shorter cluster of thorny stems; it seemed like he was working towards getting a full sleeve.

It's not like you disliked the tattoos - in fact, you were amazed that you didn’t have to go through the pain or process of spending the money on the beautiful designs. You just wanted to lay out a few ground rules - like, nothing on the face... what, tons of people got face tattoos these days, you had a right to be worried about what else the guy wanted on his - and your - skin.

You’d been in the middle of scrolling through your feed, a french fry lazily resting between your lips as you nibbled on the salty snack, your eyes trained on the bright screen of your phone. Suddenly you stopped mid chew, eyes widening at what had caught your attention.

It was the same exact tattoo inked onto your right arm, except the stems had been extended towards the wrist where they wrapped around the skin to look like roots, and there were falling, wilting rose petals drifting down the sketch. Within seconds you had clicked on the suggested account’s username, waiting anxiously as it redirected you to an account run by what appeared to be a tattoo parlor. If you were right about the sleeve being an original design, then that meant there was a big possibility Chan had gotten his ink done at this particular parlor.

Furthering your investigation and completely abandoning the fries next to you, you click on the linked website in the parlor’s description, praying it wasn’t too far away.

Oh my god, you thought to yourself in a mixture of pure shock and growing excitement, staring at the directions from the map that had popped up when you allowed it to use your location, its only three miles away!

Not caring that you were still wearing loose sweatpants covered in cat hair along with a baggy, very wrinkled shirt, you literally jumped out of bed to run and slip a pair of shoes on, swinging your door open and shutting it quickly. You stared down at your phone as you hopped into your car, activating the GPS as you began your drive to the tattoo parlor.

The entire drive you felt like you were either going to puke or cry - maybe both. After all this time, after all those years of communicating through scribbles of messily written words on your skin, along with the silly drawings, you might actually be able to meet Chan... your soulmate.

When you arrived it was just another hour before it closed for the night, so you could only hope that someone working there would recognize the tattoo on your arm and be able to tell you who else got it recently. You quickly locked your car, nearly dropping your keys you were so jittery, and walked into the parlor. At the front desk there was a man with dyed blonde hair and darker brown roots, and the second you walked in he had glanced up at you with a warm, welcoming smile.

“H-hi,” you breathe out after a second of silence, still trying to catch your breath from rushing out of your house so fast, “um, weird question, but has anyone else gotten a tattoo like this recently?” You ask the receptionist, turning and lifting your sleeve so the entire piece was visible.

The man lets out a small hum, looking up at you from the desk curiously. “Our main tattoo artist designed that himself a while ago, he’s been working up to a full sleeve since about... four weeks ago, maybe?”

“Is - is his name Chan, by chance?”

“That’s his sort of nickname around here, yeah. His actual name is Chris. Are you... a friend of his?” He asks you, chuckling softly at your disheveled head of hair and red cheeks. Clearly you had been in a rush.

You shake your head at first, but remember that you are the guy’s soulmate, and technically you have known each other since you were kids - in a sense. “Is he here, right now?”

The receptionist nods again, jerking his head to a door behind the desk. “Yeah, he’s alone cleaning up right now. Go ahead.”

You send him a thankful smile, nearly stumbling into the corner of his desk as you walk slowly towards the door that is acting as the only barrier between yourself and your soulmate. Your mind is screaming at you to walk away out of sheer fear, but your heart is pounding so hard in your chest that you ignore any other thoughts racking your brain - and you walk inside.

Holy shit he’s gorgeous. Is the first thing that pops inside your head when your eyes land on the man, his right arm dotting the same tattoo on yours, his hair a pretty sort of silver color. The man raised an eyebrow at you, then glanced down at your arm as you quite literally held it out towards him.

“Um... what am I looking at?” Chan hesitates on his words, glancing back up at you in confusion. Your eyebrows furrow in wonder; was he seriously choosing now of all times to play around?

“We have the same tattoo, Chan - it’s me, Y/N!” You insist after an awkward pause, only to recoil in shock as his eyes narrow into a glare.

“Alright sweetheart, you’ve gotta be high as shit right now because I don’t see one dot of ink on that damn arm.” The artist retorts lowly, as if he was offended by your rash outburst. “I don’t believe you - Y/N would have to have my design on her arm, and you don’t.”

Your lips part in hurt, and a bit of... pride? Here Chan was, standing right before you with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring down at you because he thought you were some random chick claiming to be his soulmate.

Then it hit you.

“Um - you know what - never mind, I guess I got confused.” You apologize to the man. “Actually I came in to get a - a tattoo. I completely forgot to make an appointment, so I can come back tomorrow or-”

“Just lay down and tell me what you want, I could care less about an appointment right now. No one else is scheduled to come in.” Chan instructs and you listen, going to lie down on the leather chair. You were nuts - here you were, getting your first real tattoo just to try and prove that you were his soulmate. Were there easier ways to do so? Obviously, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins mixed with the loss of any rational thought had skewed any other possible plans to convince Chan of your identity.

“Can I get... three birds on the back of my shoulder?” You blurt out suddenly, knowing that it was a simple tattoo. Chan hums at your choice, telling you to lift your shirt off so he can prep your skin. He tells you that he has a design like that and shows it to you for approval, and you of course nod in agreement and wait for him to get everything ready.

The next thirty minutes go by as a blur, with Chan inking your left shoulder with tiny black birds and tiny details of wind and feathers. Once he’s done patching it up, you tap his arm to catch his attention.

“Can you um... look at your shoulder?” You ask him, your cheeks heating up when he snorts at you in disbelief. You’re not sure if he’s just trying to flatter you, since to him you were some weirdo who’d popped into his tattoo parlor out of nowhere for no real rhyme or reason; but he does as you suggest, walking over to a mirror hung onto the wall. He dips the hem of his shirt downward and tilts his head to see - nothing.

There wasn’t a trio of black birds on his skin.

“Holy shit - you really are Y/N, aren't you?”

You glance up at the baffled man in bewilderment, wondering how he had figured it own even though your tattoo hadn’t showed up on his shoulder.

“Didn't you... didn't you see the birds?” He questions you quickly, only to furrow his eyebrows when you shake your head slowly. “Wait - maybe, maybe we can’t see what we’ve done to the other person’s body - I’ve heard of it before, in cases like this-” The silver haired man starts to speak a mile a minute, taking short steps towards you with each rushed word that escaped his lips.

“Sometimes, when soulmates are close to each other in terms of distance, the bond acts on its own and can make a sort of - barrier, I guess? Here, look at your wrist.” He says after he’s grabbed a stray pen from his cluttered counter, doing a quick doodle on his own wrist. You flatter him, looking down to see a cute little smiley face staring back up at you - then you glance to his wrist, seeing the same exact doodle in black ink.

“You can see it, right?” You nod, too shocked to speak. You had finally found him, your actual soulmate.

Chan lets the pen drop to the floor and wraps his arms around your body tightly, pulling you into his chest.

“You found me, Y/N.”

✧

A/N - thanks, I hate it! :)

#skzwriters #stray kids au #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids #stray kids soulmate au #bang chan #chan soulmate au #chan scenario #chan imagine #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff

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