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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

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texas heat

pairing: dean winchester x disabled!female reader

summary: when the texas heat causes a bad flare up in your body, you lose your temper with dean. but that doesn't stop him from taking care of you.

warnings: swearing, angst, dean being a charming fucker, fluffy ending

word count: 2.9k

a/n: a huge thank you to my darling @mars-rants-a-lot for trusting me with this, and being so informative and helpful to make sure this was as accurate as possible. i hope this brings the comfort you were looking for. this one's for you. 🖤 as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Being in the car for three hours straight did nothing to help the sour mood that you had woken up in. Despite changing sitting positions several times to the extent your body could handle, you couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the Impala. Not only did your lower back feel incredibly stiff, like a tense rubber band that had been stretched entirely too thin, there was also a sharp pain aching in your knees. Someone might as well have taken a white hot iron to them with a vengeance.

When Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of a motel, you didn’t wait for him to assist you in getting out like you normally did. Instead, the second he shifted the gear into park, you pushed open the passenger side door, antagonizing the sting of merciless arthritis even further along the column of your wrist as if you had tossed a lit match into a bone dry field. Putting your cane down firmly on the concrete, you attempted to use it along with the door handle as leverage to push yourself upwards. The Texas heat was even more unforgiving as it seared your skin without a layer of glass protecting it, and you could already feel sweat beading along your hair, like some kind of saltwater crown.

While you were struggling and sweltering, Dean had quickly jogged around to your side, pushing the door open further and ducking down to be eye level with you.

“Whoa, easy there sweetheart. Lemme help ya.”

He wore that dazzling toothy grin that you adored so much, and his subtle charming dimples that settled above the edges of his lips were on full display. Dean was already reaching out to place his hand on your waist to help you get out of the car, just like he had done a thousand times before. But between the blazing heat and the searing pain spreading throughout your body like catastrophic wildfire, you didn’t find it nearly as endearing as you normally did.

It snapped the final paperthin straw of patience that you had.

Shoving his hand away spitefully with all the force you could muster in your agonizingly sore wrist, you narrowed your eyes into vexed slits and glared up at Dean.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. I’m disabled, not helpless. Can you just back off?”

The bright smile on Dean’s lips fell harder than an angel from grace, and clouds of shock and perplexity suddenly cast over his handsome features. It was as if his crisp green eyes had turned sour with dejection when your acidic words reached his heart, leaving searing scars in their angry path. Dean Winchester, who had spent his entire life hunting monsters and demons and every kind of evil imaginable, was completely frozen on the spot. You had never lashed out at him before, and he couldn’t produce a single clue in his brain to figure out what he had done wrong to upset you.

Getting out of the Impala on your own was harder than competing in an Olympic sport you hadn’t trained for, and it only depleted your energy even further. The ground seemed to be wobbling under your feet the way a bridge in a fun house would, and you abruptly began to rue your decision to stand up so quickly after sitting in a car for three hours. The wind was knocked out of your lungs by your own impatience, and the weight of your frustration settled on your chest brick by brick with every step you attempted to take. The unforgiving stiffness in your wrist made it extremely difficult to grasp the handle of your cane. Medusa might as well have turned your hand to stone with the way you couldn’t move your fingers under the handle of the cane, or grasp it at all.

Every little thing only fueled your resentment towards your own body, and it made you want to scream. Not even three minutes of trying to walk towards the motel room on your own, and your heart was palpitating furiously beneath your rib cage while you floundered with panic trying to breathe. The sun’s rays nearly blinded you, forcing you to tilt your head down, afflicting you with a sense of vertigo that had everything around you spinning faster than a rogue carousel. A dull headache began to throb at the base of your skull, rising louder in volume the more the extreme heat depleted your body of hydration, rendering it a barren desert. The sweat streaming down your skin was almost molten, and it caused your clothes to stick uncomfortably to your body like a foreign second skin.

Dean’s name was caught in the back of your throat, but your mouth was so dry, and your tongue felt like it had shriveled three sizes, that you couldn’t get it out. The sound of your cane clamoring against the concrete barely registered in your ears, and for a moment, your vision went completely black. But as you felt yourself free falling into some kind of abyss, a pair of strong arms caught you.

Floating in and out of consciousness, the comforting pressure and warmth surrounding you made you feel like you were wrapped in your favorite anxiety blanket. But then you smelt the familiar cologne of gunpowder, whiskey, and mint. You knew exactly who that scent belonged to. You would recognize the melody of Dean’s steady heartbeat anywhere. It had lulled you to sleep on several occasions. An arctic blast suddenly nipped at your heated cheeks, and it caused you to sigh in content feeling the way it lowered your body’s internal temperature.

The moment you felt the pressure and warmth becoming faint, your eyes snapped open, and you stared up at Dean in pure panic. He took in the alarm written clearly on your features, and reached out to gently take your hand as he bent down slightly to adjust the pillows behind your head.

“I’m just gonna go get your bag, alright? Be right back.”

The soothing timbre of his unspoken promise soothed your anxiety slightly, and Dean’s protective gaze remained on you while he rounded the motel bed and headed for the door. He liked to keep an extra bag for you in the Impala just in case you were ever running low on anything. You had once made the joke that he could do a pop up weapons depot and a hospital right out of his trunk.

In record timing, Dean was crossing the threshold of the motel room and was over to you in less than four strides. Sometimes you forgot just how fast he was. Those adorable bowlegs could really move. There was a look of pure concentration embedded on his sharp features while he pulled out various items from the bag. His petal pink lips were pursed slightly in a faint pout, chestnut brows were drawn together, and the crystal green of his eyes had darkened considerably in a way you’d only seen when he and Sam were getting ready for a hunt.

“Dean-”

“Don’t talk. You need water.”

The faint croaking of your dehydrated vocal chords barely registered any volume in the quiet hotel room. Meanwhile Dean’s gruff command seemed to echo off the tacky red and orange art deco wallpaper that was peeling at the crown molding and baseboards. You watched him remorsefully as he mixed a strawberry electrolyte packet with a bottle of water and shook it mercilessly. He always remembered to get your favorite flavor.

Dean twisted the cap off the water bottle and set it on the night stand for a moment. Snaking his arm behind your back, he carefully sat you up gingerly, positioning the pillows behind your back and neck to allow you to sit up comfortably. After placing a heating pad against your lower back, he delicately lowered your back against the pillows and grasped two pain reliever pills between his thumb and index finger and held them in front of your mouth.

“Here, take these.”

“Dean-”

“Don’t argue with me when I can see how much pain you’re in. Take ‘em.”

You knew better than to argue with him when he had his mind set on something. Parting your lips just enough for him to drop the pills into your mouth, you gazed up at him softly as he brought the bottle of water to your lips and gently slipped his left hand into your hair to cradle the back of your head.

“Drink the whole thing. Take your time.”

The juxtaposition of Dean being so firm yet so gentle with you at the same time always amazed you. It was rare you ever saw him treat anyone else like that, and it made you think he reserved it just for you. Your heart wanted to believe it was because he cared about you, really cared, and that he wanted to spark that fuse of friendship to explode into something colorful and more like you did. But your brain dismissed that it was simply because you were disabled and that you were vital to him and Sam as their person behind the scenes.

After finishing the entire water, Dean set the empty bottle down on the nightstand and turned the heating pad on medium heat. The bloom of warmth slowly started to ease the ache in your lower back, and you were suddenly aware of the pain in your jaw from clenching it so hard during your grueling POTS flare up. Dean swiftly but tenderly removed the braces from your wrists and knees to allow your body to sink into relaxation. He carefully removed your shoes and slipped tall compression socks on your feet before unfolding your weighted anxiety blanket and placing it over you delicately and tucking you in.

The air was still thick and tense with your treacherous treatment of him earlier, and the guilt pooling in your stomach nearly made you nauseous. He didn’t deserve that. He was just trying to help you. He was always trying to help.

“Dean, I'm sorry.”

Dean’s entire body language changed as soon as he heard the tears in your voice. His broad shoulders visibly relaxed beneath his forest green flannel, and his hardened features morphed into a soft look of empathy. His eyes were back to their normal shade of enchanting green, and they were shining with understanding and compassion. Letting out a deep exhale through his nose, Dean took a seat on the bed next to you and hunched over slightly, resting his elbows on his denim covered thighs.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“I was mean-”

“You weren’t mean. You’re havin’ a bad day, and you’re struggling, and I didn’t catch it. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Leave it to Dean Winchester to try and shoulder the blame for something that was nowhere near his fault. Emerald guilt was already forming around the outer rim of his irises, and even though there was still a lingering flame nipping at the nerves in your wrist, you stiffly reached out for one of his hands. As soon as Dean caught your fingers in his peripheral, he instinctively enveloped your hand delicately in his larger one. His hands were always so warm, and even though they were a bit rough with scars and callouses from a lifetime of trying to be the best soldier, to you they felt soothing and were a sense of tangible comfort.

“Listen to me. What happens to my body is not your fault. It’s out of your control just as much as it’s out of mine.”

“We were on the road for three hours straight. I shoulda stopped, given you breaks from sittin’ so long. I shoulda made sure there was enough refrigerant in the tank. The A/C wasn’t hardly blastin’ a damn thing. I shoulda just left you at the motel in Arkansas-”

“You said you didn’t want to leave me alone because Sam-”

“I know, and I didn’t. But better you bein’ in a nice cool motel than fuckin’ Texas. The heat here’s too much for you, sweetheart. I shoulda known how it was gonna hit you. I shoulda made sure you were drinkin’ your electrolytes the whole ride-”

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze to halt his self-condemnation, he finally met your gaze. A tender smile graced your lips as you shakily lifted your hand up to place on the side of his cheek, enjoying the slight tickle of his coarse scruff against your palm. He instantly leaned into your touch, and his body deflated slightly in content at the contact. You brushed your thumb along his sharp cheekbone to the best of your ability and let out a gentle sigh, shaking your head slightly as you gazed at him in adoration.

“You take on too much, D. The weight of the world isn’t yours to carry.”

“I’m not worried about the world. I’m worried about you.”

The firmness in his deep voice and the intensity of his gaze nearly knocked the wind out of you all over again. You weren’t used to him being so serious unless it was regarding a case or something with Sam.

“I’m alright-”

“You blacked out.”

“And you caught me and took care of me, like you always do.”

You were too exhausted to argue with over the over six feet of pure stubbornness sitting in front of you. The electrolytes were steadily getting rid of your cotton mouth and foreboding sense of dehydration, and the heating pad felt marvelous against your agitated lower back. The motel bed surprisingly did not feel like it was made of cardboard, and the pillows Dean had placed around you almost felt cloudlike. As you closed your heavy eyelids and let out a deep exhale, you could still feel Dean’s intense gaze on you, and an idea to melt the icy tension suddenly popped into your head.

“You know D, there is actually…one thing that I think would really help me right now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin, hearing Dean shuffle closer on the bed. Even though your eyes were closed, you knew exactly what look of concern and curiosity was plastered on his features.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Peeking one of your eyes open, you stared up at him with faux innocence.

“Well…I mean…I don’t want you to go out of your way, you do have a case to work-”

Dean shook his head firmly and gestured with his chin down in your direction.

“Tell me whatcha need.”

Letting out an overly dramatic sigh, you brought your hand up to place the back of it against your forehead, like a damsel in distress in an old Hollywood movie, as your lips pursed into a distressed pout.

“Salted Caramel ice cream.”

Dean’s expression of concern quickly vanished into a deadpan look that let you know he was absolutely and completely done with you, and it made you burst into stomach cramping laughter. Dean tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling in exasperation, as if he was silently asking God why me.

“And I thought Sammy was dramatic.”

When he swiftly stood up from the bed, you attempted to hide your grin while staring up at him in faux annoyance.

“Hey, you have to be nice to people that are disabled.”

Dean arched one of his chestnut brows as he turned his head to stare over at you in a playful look of defiance.

“Not if they’re a brat.”

When he opened the door to the hotel, you couldn’t help but giggle at the look on his face.

“Oh! You know what would also really help? Frescas con crema. But make sure it’s-”

“Strawberry. I know. Drink your damn salt water. And do not put on Criminal Minds.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know how you sweat when that one guy with the dorky haircut and permanent frown shows up.”

“You mean Hotch?”

Dean pursed his full lips in slight annoyance seeing the grin on your face and the slight purr to your voice when you said his name. Tilting your head to the side slightly, the mischievous grin stretched further over your lips.

“You know Dean, you have that exact same ‘dorky’ haircut.”

Dean let out a dry scoff and crossed his arms across his chest, face twisted up in absolute rejection.

“No I don’t. Mine is way better than his.”

“You’re kinda frowny sometimes too. And you do have an FBI badge.”

Dean’s expression melted slightly into a look of recognition, like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. Before you could tease him anymore about it, he grabbed the remote and placed it on the tv stand across the room, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction.

“No TV, take a nap.”

“But Dean!”

“Nap, young lady!”

As Dean shut the door behind him and you watched him through the window stalk over to the Impala pouting like a child, you couldn’t help but laugh. Once the roar of the engine faded down the street, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and smirked to yourself as you opened an app to pick up on the last episode of Criminal Minds you had left off on.

“Sorry, D. You’re not coming between me and Hotch.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x disabled!female reader #dean winchester x disabled!fem reader #dean winchester x disabled!f reader #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic

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morgysfics · 13 days ago

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LSTPN.

After a race that didn't go as planned for Max Verstappen, he seeks out his rival, Charles Leclerc, to apologise, or more, vent in hopes that they can make amends. Those amends, Charles believes he can fix in his own way.

Word count: 2.3k

Fluffy fluffy fluff

“Max?”

“Sorry, is this, uh, a bad time?”

Charles stood almost dumbfounded by his hotel room door, holding the handle as he held it open – his grip flexing around the metal handle before his hand fell to his side. His bright green hues, like doe-eyed china dolls, stared up slightly at his longtime rival Max Verstappen, who was lingering in the hallway in front of him.

Furrowing his brows together as his lashes fluttered, almost to compose himself once again, Charles offered Max a small smile. “N– No, not at all. What's wrong?”

“With what happened on the track,” Max replied, his usual hoarse low voice seemingly being brought up a notch as a soft tone caught his words, despite the somewhat annoyed expression that lingered on his features. One that Charles was much too familiar with. “Everything happened all at once. I wanted to say sorry but–”

“Sorry?” Charles asked, cutting Max off, Charles' own confused expression shifting into perplexity. “We both DNF’d, Max, but it wasn't your fault.”

A small gruff sound rumbled past Max’s plump lips before he crossed his arms over his chest. “It got heated. If Lando just gave up…” He seemed to mumble that last part. “Fuck sake,” Max sighed as he uncrossed his arms. Bringing his hand to his head, his fingertips brushed along the dark blonde hairs that decorated his widow's peak. “I don't want any bad blood between us.”

Hearing those words fall from Max’s lips caused Charles’ confused look to cast over to an annoyed one, though, his expression fell soft – like his irritation wasn't genuine. He huffed slightly, his shoulders falling as he shook his head. “There's nothing like that here, you don't need to worry.”

That disappointed and almost vexed expression pressured into Max’s face was one that Charles wasn't familiar with – at least the disappointment. If anyone could pick out the different creases and lines that shadowed Max Verstappen’s face into expressions, it was Charles Leclerc. Just as his rival's driving skills, Charles knew how Max truly felt. About anything. Everything.

“We will fight for a championship again some day, Max,” Charles smiled up at him, those famous dimples caressing his cheeks, so much so that every time Max saw that smile, those little dents finding Charles’ delightful expression, Max couldn't help but melt a little inside. That hard exterior of his wasn't shifted by many people, if not anyone… but Charles.

Another huff seemed to leave the Dutchman as he finally nodded to the Monégasque before him. “Yeah, well, at least we know how to do this right.”

“Hah,” Charles let out a small laugh, his head falling forward a little as he did – those dimples finding his cheeks again which, of course, Max wouldn't miss for the world. “Well,” Charles started again, lifting his attention to Max once again, “everyone else is too easy for you, right?”

That comment caused Max's brows to rise on his forehead, his blue eyes rounded for a swift moment before a smile caught his lips. “That somethin’ you really think?”

A pause came from Charles after he nodded. His eyes drew away from Max for a moment before stepping to the side and offering for Max to join him in the hotel room – Charles knew he would just be sitting alone anyway, and that they had no flights to catch any time soon.

“Wait, you're sure?” Max asked, watching as Charles stepped away from the doorway.

“Yeah, come in,” Charles replied before walking away, and over towards the water bottle that lingered silently and still on the table beside the large window that outsaw the city of Las Vegas. “I heard your onboard, by the way.”

A low chuckle fell from Max’s lips as he walked inside, his blue eyes scanning the expensive hotel room before closing the door behind him. “Think George would save us again?”

“Hm,” Charles hummed with the bottle of water to his lips. After taking a sip and pulling the bottle away, his eyes found Max again who seemed to be staring outside of the window to the right of Charles. “Maybe. It's like this,” he shrugged a little, his lips pursing out with indifference.

It's like this. Max had heard that phrase many times from Charles, especially after disappointing races during interviews and press conferences. Max would be lying if he didn't pick up Charles' vocab quirks every now and then himself.

“It’s not for me to say but,” Max perked up, his hands finding the pockets of his black skinny jeans as his attention found Charles who was lingering at his side now, “you shouldn't give up so easily. It's not like you.”

A twitch of confusion and intrigue caught Charles' brows as he turned to Max, his water bottle still in hand. “What do you mean?” he asked, attempting to piece Max’s words together in his head.

“After racing together for so long, I know we've had our differences,” Max explained, his hand going out a little as he began to speak – his hand gestures being all too well known from the Dutchman. “But lately, you don't fight back off track. I don't know what kind of bullshit they pull in Ferrari but–”

Max felt himself stop speaking when he watched Charles shake his head, a small smile caressing his face. “I don't need to,” Charles replied, a softness finding his tone. “It’s true, sometimes I want to. I do,” he spoke, a reassuring stillness lingering in his words now. “But I don't need to. I'll catch up to you, Max,” he added, smiling to his childhood rival and friend. “You don't have to worry about me.”

Listening to Charles explain himself, every word that passed his lips, Max took every single of them seriously. When it came to racing, Max always did – and when it came to Charles…

“Okay, I trust your word on that,” Max replied, his attention never wavering from Charles as the two locked eyes; a tension seemed to lay heavy in the air, as it always seemed to when Max and Charles were alone together. Whether it be in the cooldown room, a press conference, or standing on a podium together. “Don't go down easy.”

Shifting his eyes back to the window; Charles admired the city that lay out before them, his green hues darting across the lights as if they were reflections of the stars in the night sky above it. “I won't,” Charles said with a small flutter in those two words.

“Who knows,” Max perked up, as he walked over towards the corner of a room where Charles had laid out a keyboard on a stand, a chair tucked in close to the instrument, “maybe we'll have another inchident.”

A playful laugh immediately fell from Charles' lips, his brows flying up for a moment at that damn word. “That would be so bad?” he asked, turning to finding Max lingering by the keyboard. “Oh, yeah, I, uh, I forgot to put that away yesterday.”

“Written anything new?” Max asked, curious as his eyes danced across the black and white keys that decorated along the keyboard; some black keys slightly faded from their use.

“I'm trying to work on something, yes,” Charles nodded as he drew closer to the keyboard. “Monaco,” he added. “Something for my win in Monaco.”

“Something special, then,” Max smiled, those words causing Charles’ eyes to rivet towards Max, a glimmer that caught in them that Max could easily see.

“If you're going to ask, then just ask,” Charles teased, his attention focused on Max, his words pulling Max’s eyes from the keyboard to the man addressing him.

“Heh,” Max chuckled, his teeth baring slightly as lines found the corners of his mouth with the smile. “I’m all ears.”

A small hum vibrated behind Charles’ lips as he found himself sitting on the chair that faced the keyboard, his eyes shifting back and forth across the keys before placing his fingertips across them – a prettier decoration, Max thought.

“MON24?” Max asked, still smiling.

“Maybe,” Charles murmured softly. Slowly, his fingers danced across the keys – his eyes following the sheet of paper that lay neatly on the stand before him, clearly written out with the Monégasque’s own handwriting.

As soon as those notes found Max’s ears, his brows raised slightly and his lips parted – Max would admit that he wasn't a fan of music in general, he never had the time nor patience to listen to anything, at least recent music. But the way Charles played, the way his hands drifted along the instrument, each key finding home under the pressure of his fingertips, it could only be described as something beautiful. And Max Verstappen would never use that word lightly.

When Charles played the last few notes, the sound rang out for a mere moment before the hotel found its soft silence once more. “It's not perfect right now, I'm still–”

“I think it is,” Max interrupted immediately, his low voice causing Charles to look up from the keys and to Max’s serious expression.

“T– Thank you, Max,” Charles replied, a light peach shade finding his cheeks as he smiled up at his guest. “Have you ever played something like this before?”

Max simply shook his head before signing and shrugging a little. “I never had the time to. Never had pressure to be the best at anythin’ besides racin’.”

“Would you like to try?” Charles asked, that kind politeness that usually peppered his words was one that even Max Verstappen himself couldn't deny.

“I wouldn't wanna break– Woah, hey!”

Charles reached out and pulled on Max’s forearm and sat him on the chair with him, the two sitting on one half each side. It wasn't ideal but, even if not said out loud, neither of them would say so.

“Do you know the keys, Max?” Charles asked, though there was a hint of sarcasm finding his tone – a smirk hiding behind his otherwise kind smile. “Here,” he added before once again laying his fingers across the keys. “Do what I do.”

Max, hesitantly so, reached out and placed his fingers on the keys that were lower on the instrument. The Dutchman awkwardly shifted forward to relax his hand a little more before his blue eyes reoriented back to Charles who was sitting snug at his side. “I think you're enjoyin’ this more than you're sayin’.”

A soft hum followed a boyish chuckle fell from Charles' lips before perking up again, “And you're not good at following. So, try your best.”

That comment caused a scoff catch in Max's throat before straightening his posture a little more. “Oh, that so? Fuckin’ watch me.”

Charles’ brows perked a little at Max’s tone, though, it wasn't because he wasn't used to that – if anything, Charles knew Max’s profanity more than anyone else, and Charles, at least recently, took kindly to it. No, Charles was excited. Excited to teach Max something. To have Max follow Charles for once. It was… new.

As Charles’ hands began to leap across the keys, forming another soft yet soft melody, his attention soon enough fell to Max again who was watching him. “These two, then this one, and then these two. It's not so bad.”

“Easy,” Max replied confidently before his own fingers found the keys, he nailed them all perfectly – of course, Max was good at most things, besides…

“Hah, Max, you can't just press the keys and expect a song,” Charles chuckled softly.

The Monégasque’s words caused Max’s expression to shift to one of confusion, a flash of wonder as he attempted to piece Charles' words together like a puzzle. “Well, I pressed them, no? Made a pretty little tune? Beep boop beep. See, that time I didn't even have to press the keys.”

“Nononono,” Charles chuckled, it was obvious he tried for a small moment to be dour but Max’s routined sarcastic and blunt manner, as usual, seemed to always bring a joyful expression to Charles’ face. Of course, Max wouldn't admit it out loud, but that was always his goal whenever he was in Charles' company.

“No?” Max cooed, an almost flirty tone finding his confident and playful demeanour. “Not even like this?” he perked up again before prodding down on Charles' finger that lay rest on the keys, forcing a single note to ring out bluntly.

“Hey,” Charles laughed again, his cheeks seemingly shifting a pinkish shade as he turned to Max at his side. “I know I welcomed the aggression but you are surprising me every time.”

A hum rumbled behind Max’s peachy lips as he listened to Charles speak. Max’s ocean blue hues didn't waver from the man cozied up at his side, it was obvious to everyone who ever even caught a glimpse of Charles Leclerc that he was beyond stereotypically pretty, but being this close to him, every time that Max was happy to, only proved that much to him that Charles was surely a man to be admired.

“You're staring,” Charles spoke with a blunt yet soft tone, his attention catching Max before shifting away a little, finding the keyboard before them once again.

“Do you not want me to?”

The brunette found himself licking his lips for a moment before biting down on them slightly, the flutter of his green eyes scanned the keyboard in front of him before turning to Max. “Please watch your mouth, Max.”

Those words brought a curled smile to Max’s lips, his teeth baring a little as his fixation on Charles continued to bore into him like a hunter to prey. It was that very trait from Max that caused uncomfort from others… but never Charles.

“You know I never do that.”

A thoughtful silence fell over Charles for a mere few seconds, his eyes shifting back and forth between Max’s intense gaze. Soon enough, Charles reached out slowly and gently fixed the collar of Max’s Red Bull shirt. Clearly, Max hadn't even changed out of his team shirt before rushing to Charles' hotel room to vent.

“I know,” Charles replied softly. “Now, stay with me.”

“Hm?” Max hummed in question, hoping for Charles to continue.

Charles smiled kindly to Max before parting his heart shaped lips once again, “I do want to teach you a thing or two still.”

#mfic.txt #genre: fluff #media: formula one #chara: max verstappen #chara: charles leclerc #x: lestappen #/#F1

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1800titz · 1 year ago

Text

Little more TDIAG to tide you over

Was she a good girl for him? No. Isla certainly wasn’t.

She admits, after a moment of deliberative lull, “No, Sir.”

Sir, she’s tacked on, politely — without coaxing, Harry notes. It’s the first thing he notes, in fact, besides her candid confession of misconduct. After that, it’s the way her body language has morphed from joking to tensed, to the way her fingers rub together in her lap, to the way her chest rolls lightly with her slow, bated breaths.

“No?” he prods softly, pondering on her admission, “You weren’t a good girl?”

Behind his ribcage, his heart kicks it up a notch from priorly peaceful equilibrium into a wild, racketing hammer. Because if she tells him what he thinks she’s going to tell him, if she confirms his suspicions and proves that he hadn’t spent Monday night driving himself mad, with hands raking restively through his tendrils in lieu of getting a good night’s rest post her late night call, then—

“I …touched myself, Sir.”

And there it is.

Isla bites into her cheek when faced with his hum of acknowledgement — of course the sound is coated with condescension, as if he’d expected her to fail.

“And you came, I assume?” jade glimmers between lengthy lashes and shadows of an unnecessary disguise as he tacks on, “I mean, I’d hope disappointing me was worth it, at least.”

It — what? Isla toes at the back of her opposite ankle, a crease working between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t — I don’t know,” she blows out a breath, “how to answer this question.”

“You don’t know if you came?” his own eyebrows rise in teasing, inflection jestingly incredulous. It’s a good sign, for now, the young woman thinks. She’d expected green to turn steely, but he seems keen on poking at her — which she’ll take rather than to be confronted by his demeanor of disdain.

“No— I,” she sighs, craning her neck back and crossing her arms as the dominant’s pillowy mouth twitches, “I did,” upon the glint of warning to his expression, even mostly bridled by rubber, the submissive curbs the exasperation that’s leaked into her tone, backtracking softly, “I mean, I don’t — I wasn’t trying to disappoint you.”

“Mm.”

“And — well, anyways. I think you should be the opposite of disappointed, considering I came clean,” the twist she takes on the circumstances, to Harry, are a little appalling.

He just sort of hums, entertained, and states, “S’that where the bar is, now?” and upon her vexed look, commences a slow clap, “Applause for the bare minimum.”

“Amnesty,” she cocks her head, sitting up a bit, unperturbed by his derisive sarcasm, “is a thing, by the way, if you weren’t aware.”

At that, he literally feels the dimples poke into place beside the curl of his smile. “You’re quite funny.”

“I know,” Isla tells him after a moment, her shoulders sagging as she tips her chin to her hands and picks at her nails her voice low, “I’m hilarious.”

Harry brushes a pleather-clad palm over her thigh before he bats at her hands. He clears his throat. “How many times?”

Her face tips up, like she’s confused by the inquiry, and the man clarifies, “How many times did you touch yourself?”

Rather than persisting with the jittery habit of nail picking, she mollifies by tracing down his chest, over his dress shirt, sort of hoping to smooth out the incoming tension of the scene in the same way her touch smooths the fabric, “Just once.”

“Tell me,” she watches his tongue peek over before his swipes over his lips, and her vision only flits away for a mere moment when she feels his colossal palm squeezing at her hip, “how you did it.”

She blinks up at him, like the request baffles her.

“S’not that difficult of a task. Well,” Harry pauses, and his eyes roll to the side with the patronizing dig, “The first one wasn’t either, but.”

“I—“ the young woman’s jaw sets as she lifts her chin at the jab and she declares with resolve (plucky, Harry thinks, considering the circumstances), “with my vibrator.”

Vibrator. Interesting. He hadn’t heard it on the other end of the phone — sneaky girl. The chatter from the television, obnoxiously loud, floats to the forefront of his mind, then.

“Okay,” he nudges with his chin, “Getting somewhere…”

“Third setting,” Isla states, deadpan in decibel, “and I came.”

And then his palm locks, softly, over the back of her neck, and he physically guides her to lean forward against him. The dominant’s strawberry lips brush over Isla’s ear as he speaks, low and tantalizing, and then that same mouth pastes to an expanse of skin just below.

“Details, little miss. And less attitude. Paint me a picture.”

Oh — her pulse stutters.

“Were you,” his mouth alternates between questioning and pressing open-mouthed kisses that incite chills to bloom over her flesh, “watching something? Thinking of something? Hm?”

The young woman’s unsure of the cause behind the sudden, sensual twist in their discussion, but she tries to bare her neck a bit, quite literally the furthest from complaining.

“I — the TV was on. But I was thinking about you,” she admits, and the dominant slides the opposite hand around the curvature of her hip, fondling over the side of her thigh.

“What about?”

“Your—“ the man’s mouth curls up lewdly against her skin in response to the stutter he coaxes as his hand ventures to her backside, squeezing — the way her throat bobs with a swallow, “your hands, touching me. Your mouth — on my, on my—“

“Your…?” Harry wheedles tauntingly, his hand tracing its way back onto her front and teasing at the hem of her underwear.

Isla’s confession comes breathy, and her legs splay apart a smidge when he dips his forefinger past the barrier just a tad, brushing over the smooth, sensitive crease between her pelvis and her thigh, “My pussy.”

“Mm. S’that all?”

“No,” her lashes flutter behind the lace, “I thought about — about your cock. Thought about you fucking my mouth, and,” her speech dies off as his fingers wriggle further beneath her panties and brush against her clit.

“And?”

“and I thought about you,” Isla swallows, screwing her eyes shut, “…holding my nose, as you did it. So I couldn’t breathe.”

The pads of his fingers stutter in their caress. Shit. His nostrils flare at the filthy admission, and the way desire teems through his veins and arousal coils through his tummy at the thought is pure, hedonistic darkness. When Harry asks her, “What else?” his voice is considerably huskier against the crook of her neck.

“I thought about you slapping me — my face,” her chest rolls as his fingers dip and gather gushing slickness — she knows she’s ludicrously wet, reliving the fantasies that’d become tucked away in the dells of her mind, in combination with his soft touch, will sort of fucking do that. It all has her feeling as if a fucking furnace glows angrily between her thighs. “I thought about—“ her jaw sets as she tips her head back, and he nips at her earlobe, “you spanking me for touching myself. How sore I would be over the next few days, having to sit at work.”

“Spanking you with what?” Harry’s cadence comes muffled and heady against her skin.

“Just — just your hand,” Isla’s heart races in her chest as he draws circles, like it beats in laps that trace the track of the motion.

The dominant presses open-mouthed kisses to her skin, crooning, “Just my hand? Y’dont think you deserve the paddle or the strap for disobeying me?”

Isla doesn’t think much of anything when his tongue pokes out and glides over straining muscle.

“Whatever,” she swallows, his fingers fisting desperately at the sturdy muscle of his thigh, “Whatever you want, Sir.”

“S’not whatever I want, though,” he hums, “It’s about what you deserve. So what,” his fingers press a little harder, his cadence grows a little hungrier, “do you think you deserve?”

“I — I deserve whatever you decide I deserve, Sir.”

“Mm. Well. I think,” Isla gasps and jolts, her breath morphing into a soft whimper when he pinches her clit between his digits, “You don’t deserve to entertain any of those little fantasies. Not after you couldn’t follow one simple rule.”

#tdiag teaser #dom harry styles #harry styles smut

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pinkmirth · 4 years ago

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ (ch.1 | feenin')

—𝑶𝑵𝑬.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | WK: 2.8K

Frenzied cheers buzzed throughout the raving auditorium, the basketball’s reverberating bounces against the slick court floor adding onto the thrill. This match was nothing but hyped, but in a good way so.

The sports chants of the college goers sounded rather foreign to you, since it wasn’t like you attended Stohess University anyway. The fellow audience around you were at the edge of their seats, hailing their team’s basketball players as the raving shouts began to sound borderline intoxicating. So much so that you couldn’t help but clap along to another school’s anthem.

“Havin’ fun?” Marco questions, the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile that showcased his quirky dimples. You beamed right back at the freckled male, plush lips curved into a grin of your own.

It all seemed trivial, just a friendly collegiate basketball match that your friends Jean and Marco had invited you to free of charge, but it was all the break you needed from your own studies and more.

“Hell yeah I am,” you chuckled in reply, “but you know what’d make it better?”

His doe brown eyes flitted between you and the vibrant box of candy in hand, which was seemingly low in supply after you and him dipped your hands in for a bite a countless number of times.

“A refill on these, yeah?” His claims were just as what you were thinking, earning your brief nod of agreement. Marco subtly shook the snackbox within his hold, the spare pieces left beginning to rattle around with the motion.

“You read my mind, Coco,” you grinned, rising up from your reserved seat with spare cash stuffed into your back pocket. “I’ll be right back, ‘aight?” He sends you a brief smile in compliance.

“Get the sour patch this time!”

“You got sour patch money..?”

He pursed his lips momentarily, unsure as to whether you had been joking or not. “M’just messing ‘round with you, Coco,” you snickered with a teasing grin, slipping a hand into your pocket to retrieve the few bucks. “It’s on me.” Was all you said before making your way through the crowded stands, descending down stair after stair.

“It’s only the first game of the season, and our pride and joy, the Stohess Scouts, are already dominating tonight’s guest competitors!” the commentator boomed through the mic, their voice adding onto the various noises that filled the gymnasium. “We’re calling for a halftime, but let’s keep our fingers crossed that Kirschtein can pull through with a fair amount of two-pointers by the upcoming final quarter—“

The mentioned name of your close friend makes you beam with pride, content that your Jeanie was the star of the show. You set eyes on the brunette from where you stood, who was now making his way to the sidelines for a desperately needed and duly earned swig of water, his light brown hair in a disarray of stray strands fraying out from underneath the simple hairband you’d given him a while back.

You eagerly began to flit down the stands to reach him, striding past the poor row of benched players, from the injured to the water boy.

Jean eventually takes notice of your arrival and instantly beams, subtle puffs of air leaving his agape lips after all the running and dribbling and such that came with game day.

The first thing you do is taunt upon your arrival,“Y’all had better win, Jeanie.”

As always, Jean only smirks. “You doubting that I won’t bring that trophy home, Pookie?” you playfully grimaced and let out a stifled laugh over the somewhat embarrassing nickname— one that you made up when the pair of you were seven, and it's the same one that he’s been holding onto for all these years, even at nineteen.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said you aren’t lookin’ pretty damn promising out there,” your reply is genuine, the soft grin that you display causing Jean to display one of his own. It was an affable, never ending cycle— you’d tease and he’d do it right back, until the both of you would laugh over it and depart with a brief smile.

“M’getting snacks, I’ll be back before the breaktime ends, okay?” Kirschtein briefly nods in compliance, sending a few adjusting tugs to the white basketball sleeve hugging his bicep before departing with the sharp squeak of his shoes sprinting against the court floor.

Once again, you find yourself strolling past every individual seated on the benches. You’re speed-walking alongside them, anticipating to retrieve a couple snacks for you and Marco, until something— Someone catches your eye.

It was brisk and almost too sudden, but flashes of green meet your line of vision. You managed to make out the blur of thick brows, long dark hair having been thrown into the messiest attempted bun, a modest, charming smile, and a pair of turquoise irises that seemingly peered into your own with an intensity that made you take it personal. Yet, you hardly even caught a good glimpse of their face, whoever they were.

You passed by said person a good thirty seconds ago, already pushing your way past the double doors and over to the vending machines stationed along the semi-populated hallway, but that striking gaze was still heavily implanted within your mind.

Hazy green-grey eyes, you recalled, accompanied with them shooting you the briefest grin just as you whisked by. Though, as recent as it was, that was all in the past now.

You glance around to see a decent handful of people here to buy food of their own, being perched at other vending machines. The snack-wielding contrivance before you isn't drawing much attention and doesn’t have an awaiting crowd standing around for a bag of potato chips, so you withdraw the dollars from your back pocket and attempt to straighten them out a bit before inserting them into the slot.

“Wow,”

This sudden breathy gasp from a “random whoever” is something that you take notice of, but it isn’t enough to rip your attention away from your scavenge for Marco’s sour patch. To their dismay, you do nothing but continue with what you came to do. In your opinion, whoever that was had been getting a bit too close for comfort..

Albeit the evident way you choose to ignore, another whistle resounds, along with an unpleasantly suggestive hum. It sounds somewhat louder, and it seems much closer than before. You can’t help but tear your gaze away from slot E7 and look up, since it seems so directed towards you.

You've hardly turned around before being met with the abrupt presence of a stranger uninvitingly looming beside you, the man’s beaming grin seeming sickeningly sweet. Almost too approachable.

“Oh, I’m sorry to pop up out of the blue,” his apologies come out within a chuckle, and as inviting as he attempts to seem, your brows only furrow. “—but you really caught my attention!” He was greatly unfamiliar to you, some white male around your age with shaggy auburn hair and chestnut colored eyes in contrast. Despite his subtle charm, you weren't growing a liking to him and his stupid little smile.

“Oh,” You muse with a dull hum, pursing your glossed lips before releasing them with a slight pop, “Did I really?” His nod is too enthusiastic, and you hardly try to cover up the mug-like expression that overtook your features, eyes grazing across his plain face uninterestedly. You promptly slide the dollars right back into your pocket, “Nice to know. Can you mind your own now?”

“Wait! I'm not meaning to be a bother, but.. I don’t see girls like you around much..” You're instantly encased with a shiver of deep cringe, one that annoyingly scurries up your spine and makes your lip twitch into a vexed glower.

You emitted the most exaggerated huff, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, all the while glancing at the sheen glass of the vending machine to see your own reflection. It was plastered all across your face, yet this dense-ass man still couldn't get it; you were pissed-off.

Great. You internally groan, Another snow roach who thinks I’m exotic.

“I really appreciate how different you look,” Was he really still rambling on, despite knowing damn well that you were growing uncomfortable? Or maybe, he was just an utter dumbass and couldn't take the painfully obvious hints.

“You wanna know what I’d appreciate, hm?” You say sharply, taking a swift inhale through your nose, “If you left me alone.”

Your smooth, placid voice was the first thing that Eren heard when he trotted into the hallway, that of which sounded dulcet and intriguingly accentuated, but more annoyed than anything else. He turns the corner and is met with the sight of a bastard that looked too smug for his own good, and a girl, such a pretty girl, whose melanated skin even found a way to gleam under the shitty fluorescent school lights.

It then clicks in Eren’s mind, briefly but distinctively. You were the person who'd strolled by the bench that he was sitting on earlier. You were also the same one who did a double take upon seeing him, glancing once— No, twice, with those captivating eyes of yours. He remembered the way his leg started to bop along the floor with a newfound excitement that he just couldn't place. Though, more than anything else, Eren recalled that he did the exact same; hold his gaze and grin at the sight of you.

“Ah, but you can spare me a minute more, can’t you?” You respond with the swift roll of your eyes, eliciting an exasperated groan, “Nigga, I said bye.” Eren’s thick, neat brows falter into a furrowed position, looking upon the scenario that was being splayed out before him, which everyone else in that hall was seemingly content with ignoring. It couldn't have only been him that saw that this bastard was relentlessly bothering you, could it?

“Woah, no need to get aggressive,” Eren’s expression contorts into a grimace upon hearing every little word, the tips of his ears red with brewing rage. Despite his matured will to control his daily outburst of emotions, it was safe to say that he'd never exactly gotten past his trial of anger issues since he was a kid.

“Listen, this is my nice way of tellin’ you to fuck off, but I can get aggressive if you want.” Your offer sounds downright threatening, “Do you really want that?”

You’re snappy and direct, and Eren can't deny that he likes that. Though, as much as he's growing fond of your strong will and defensiveness, he knows he can't stand idly by all day, he just can't. Besides, everyone knew well— It was practically Eren Jaeger’s forte to intervene.

The green eyed male eventually begins to make his way towards the scene in the form of subtle limps, being cautious of his ankle sprain as he grows closer, which was the reasoning behind him being benched in the first place.

You were much too preoccupied with that cheeky, unrelenting bastard to notice the way that Eren was gradually coming over, anyway. What could he say? He was a fan of the element of surprise.

You halt in the middle of your opposing rant, growing aware of another’s emerging presence. You're yet again bombarded with somebody else making their way beside you with an act of stealth that you were unknowingly soon to be thankful of.

Before you get the chance to merely peer in their direction, tall, a long haired male clad in the black and grey Stohess basketball uniform is towering alongside you, his toned, burly arm slinking around your shoulder.

This sudden proximity leaves your head spinning in the best way possible, and how could it not? You don’t know a single thing about this alluring stranger, but he’s close, so close, and it gets your heart and mind racing miles in a minute. You were subtly, but instantly enraptured once the weight of his arm rests comfortably upon you.

Eren doesn’t pay the confused male not one glance, but instead tends to you and your own state of delighted shock. “Play it cool, alright? I wanna help.” Your breath instinctively hitches once he leans down to ease out his whispered plan into your ear, flashing you a consoling half smile.

You return a brief nod before dragging your eyes along the male’s face, which looks so much better up close. Your interpretation of his image was more literal and precise than you thought to be; The dark, long tresses that had been pulled back with the aid of a thin elastic scrunchie, his expressively thick brows, pink lips that upturned into a supportive smirk, and those sea-green eyes that left you feeling weak right in the knees.

Albeit Eren’s prior grin, he eventually turns his attention towards the unrelenting man for a second or two. In that moment, his expression speedily grew all the more intense, practically sharper than before, and contorted into something of a scowl. Although, you can tell he’s trying so hard to channel his temper and mask away his revulsion.

“I’ve been, ah.. waiting for you to come back to your seat!” Eren begins to improvise, flashing you a subtle gleam that made it seem as though the pair of you were familiar with each other. “S’been a while since then."

He purses his lips within a pause, nimble fingers draping along your shoulder before shooting you a reassuring squeeze, "Is it ‘cause this bastard is keeping you occupied? He’s bothering you, isn't he?”

You're damn near close to stammering over the words that were bound to leave your mouth. Though, it doesn't take much for you to regain yourself. Your lips fall slightly agape all the while you briskly dragged your line of vision along his charming features, but your response follows after in a quick manner. It was just that you couldn't help how his unnerving gaze left you mesmerized.

“—Yes. Yes he is.” You hum, accompanying the claim with your hands crossing over your chest as you leaned into his grasp, in an attempt to appear convincing. Your confession sounded assured and stern, which was the complete opposite of how girls would act around him.

Eren knew well of the doting effect that he had on females— It was hard to forget when he’d merely ask for a spare pencil and wind up with an unasked phone number in return. Though, he admired the way you saw him as any other person and played along so well.

The brown-haired male scornfully laughs, and just the sound of him leaves you feeling uncomfy, “Whaddya' mean? We were just having a small chat, isn't that right?” Your contorted expression is full-fledged disrespectful, and Eren has to stifle his chuckle over your unsmiling glare and scrunched up nose. Damn, were you entertaining.

“Small chat, huh? Well, it was real one sided..” You voice out an irked murmur, “You're over exaggerating, you just haven’t warmed up to me yet—”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Eren makes a very much intended interruption, “I’d say that she doesn’t want to mingle with a sorry bastard that should leave her alone already.” You note at the subtle flex of Eren’s clenching jaw, signifying the way his already weary patience was running rather thin.

“Bastard—? Wait, who even are you?”

“Who am I, huh?” scoffs the green eyed male alongside you, a twinge of drawled hesitance in his voice. Eren pauses momentarily, only now beginning to realize that his little hero act wasn’t as planned out as he thought to be.

What could he say that would be persuasive enough to get this sorry fucker to leave you alone other than throwing fists unnecessarily? Jaeger’s emerald-hued eyes eventually light up in the dawn of an idea. One that he’s somewhat unsure of, but it’s much better than nothing.

Besides, this plan of his had been set in stone by the very moment he had draped his bare arm around you and shot you that all-too-suggestive smile, so he might as well finish what he started.

Eren’s touch trails downwards swiftly, spreading riveting tingles from your shoulder down to your forearm, then along your wrist, and even past there. His hand is now encasing the left side of your hip as his lithe fingers press into the curve of your supple waist. He takes a light inhale, giving you a light squeeze with his large palm, as though signaling for you to brace yourself over what he was bound to say.

“—I'm her boyfriend.”

—𝑭𝑰𝑵.

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Reputation

Synopsis: Henry and his girl can’t get enough from one another. They keep finding themselves in rather sticky and lusty situations while other actors are present around them. 🤭

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, exhibition kink, public display of affection, dirty language, slight fingering, daddy kink.

A/N: This is by request made for thigh riding! I see this as a slight sequel to Putting up a Show and Good Girl just because in my mind they are the same couple. Many thanks again to the marvellous @agniavateira for doing the beta! Masterlist is here.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed! Thank you for reading as always :)

PR fucking nightmare - that’s what our managers call us.

They thought it would go away after our first year of dating. But the sad truth is, Henry just loves to touch, and I’m a hot-blooded woman who loves to fuck shit up. Three years in being married and the line is so goddamn blurry by now; I am never quite certain which one of us initiates it, nor do I even care.

I see my bear sitting sprawled across the red leather sofas, legs spread open as he can never keep them shut. I know I’m terribly biased but that black tuxedo suit sure as hell looks great on his strong figure, especially with the crooked bowtie and the beard he’s been growing for his new movie role.

And as if the bad boy vibes and big dick energy he sends everywhere wasn’t enough, the half-empty Grey Goose bottle on the round golden table next to him and the slight sweat that covers his forehead is a red flag that we are definitely getting into trouble tonight.

Bring it on.

Armie is sitting right next to him, telling him about some scheme by the gesture he is making with his hands. But I can tell Henry has other things on his mind. I can feel his eyes looking at me even when I am standing far away. Our gazes meet, he offers me a mischievous smile, showing off the large dimples of his cheeks. This is what I call a wet, slippery invention.

I blush and look away. I mean, I have Rebecca Ferguson holding my forearms. That woman makes me want to invite her into our bedroom, but Henry doesn’t like sharing, not even with women. It doesn’t matter how much I’d pout and beg, he likes me all to himself, and he loves it when others can see that I am his.

It’s always his hand between my thighs, riding up higher, thumb tickling at my clit teasingly. We sat through an entire acceptance speech with him working me hard. If anyone looks closely at that video on Youtube, you can see the exact moment when he hits the spot.

Sorry, Leo, I wasn’t smiling because you won.

This is us being subtle. Hotels and parties, however, are a different story. We already had a manager quit on us because we made sure the entire floor hears what we are doing through the night.

Rebecca kisses me on the cheek, the gorgeous Swedish redhead is already tipsy, and I’ve had my second glass of wine. She’s in a red satin dress, her impressive breasts showing through her cleavage. I also spot a few freckles on her chest. It makes me pout and look at Henry, who shakes his head in refusal.

“Where is your hubby anyway?” she asks playfully, and I point in the direction of where he is sitting. Armie is just getting up, leaving Henry alone. He pours himself some more vodka, fills the glass with ice and then takes a sip with a lustful gaze. That’s probably my cue to keep him company and take that glass away.

That video when he told everyone to get naked will forever be online. He also has a tendency to start making impressions of others when he is flustered, and I can’t contain my laughter when that happens.

“He’s too drunk to get up.” I sigh, shaking my head while he makes playful, sad faces at me. I shrug and take my phone out my purse, seeing two text messages from him.

Henry: “Where are you, babygirl?” Henry: “I want to squeeze that ass.”

I text him back “Armie’s? Go for it. Can we have Rebecca, pleaaaaase?”

He reads my reply, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in complete refusal.

“Not. sharing. you. Do you want me to spank you in front of all these people?”

Rebecca is oddly enough very touchy-feely, her hand sliding down my forearms while she speaks about how wonderful Henry is, and how fun it was to work with him on MI6.

“He’s not like all the other ones, he is an actual friend,” she explains to me, her beautiful green eyes lighting up.

“I know, that’s how he got me, pretended to be my friend for years.” I chuckle, remembering the times we were still just friends. If you look at videos of us from interviews and photos from events from the time we worked together, you’d think we’ve been dating already. He always touched me subtly, his eyes staring at me intently when I speak. And of course, no one cracks him up the way I do.

But Henry waited 5 years for both of us to be single at the same time to “kidnap” me during a walk with our dogs at the forest, where I’d literally be unable to run away. He did that so he can tell me he’s been in love and growing in love with me ever since we met.

I smile at the sweet memory. I held my tears when that word left his lips.

“I’ll come to say hello later, I’m starving,” she says and rubs her belly gently. I nod and lean forward to kiss her, deliberately kissing her soft, red-painted lips for Henry to see. Us girls, we really don’t mind.

As I turn to face him, he is already frowning. He’s not amused by my vexing behaviour. I give him my best angelic posture, batting my lashes and holding my hands together while my head is tilted to the side. In that pale blue and silver dress, I might look like some saint right now, but my darling knows I’ve come from south to heaven.

I make my way to him, walking slowly, a smile both in my eyes and between my cheeks. I can feel the fire burning in my chest, the sight of him is dashing, those thick thighs ever so inviting. He spreads his legs even wider, the bulge in his groin made only for me. He has his pinky finger pressed between his teeth while checking me out.

My body heeds his calling, I’m tingling wet.

I stand in front of him, my cheeks warm as if this is a first hook up of some sort. Henry rises his beautiful blues to stare straight into my eyes. The beaming lights in the hall make his sweaty skin glow in neon pink and gold, his eyes flashing bright as the different colours dance across his face.

“How many of those have you had?” I ask, gesturing at the glass, noticing the half-empty bottle. I hope not too much, I expect to be rammed tonight when we return to the hotel.

He shrugs, putting the glass away without bothering to finish it. He is British, and boy, he can drink a lot. He is not as half as flustered as a different guy would be, but yes, he is certainly quite drunk. Enough to give me that look of his-one eyebrow rising up-while his eyes drink in my dress, cleavage, ass, and that slit that runs from my legs to my thighs.

My friends asked me if Henry is an ass or tits man, to which my answer was “he is ‘all of me’ man.”

“Gotta love women's liberation.” He speaks in a deep, low voice, gesturing at my provocative dress.

“Come to daddy.” He demands, holding out his hand for me to come and sit on his thigh. To which I am more than happy to comply.

I spread my legs, moving to straddle his muscular thigh. There is a burning sensation at my core as my pelvis meets his taut muscle. My body always reacts to his touch. Henry’s hands immediately take my face, thumbs stroking at my cheeks.

“Why do you tease me, beautiful?” he murmurs, his fierce gaze tracing my face, always taken by me, memorizing every freckle and flaw as if it’s the first time we ever sit so close. God, he makes me feel so beautiful even in my ugliest of ugly days.

I lean forward to get even closer, my ass riding up his leg and my hands reach out to tug at his white buttoned shirt. “Oh, Henry-Bear, it’s. So. much. fun.”

Someone sits right next to us on the big red sofa, saying a friendly hello. We answer at the same time, without breaking eye contact. We never bother looking who is the actor, producer, or whatever who moved to bug us. Too lost in our own little mist of admiration. Henry’s fingers descend from my face to my neck, fingers skirting down my neck sensually.

“You know what I love about these ceremonies and parties?” he asks as he leans closer to whisper in my ear and then places a wet, lingering kiss on my shoulder. His chin pushes the straps of my dress away, letting it fall on my forearm as if by accident. I let it glide, shivering as the coarse hair of his beard marks my flesh.

“I get to show you off while you’re wearing these outrageous dresses and everyone knows I am taking you home to fuck you until sunrise.”

I chuckle lustfully, my tongue pressed between my teeth. “Last time we didn’t even make it home remember?” I hum gently, feeling his rough touch on my breasts. The tip of his thumbs circles my nipples, teasing them to harden through the thin fabric of my dress. I wouldn’t give a fuck if Henry had me topless right now and sink his fangs in my tits for everyone to see. But he is far too selfish, I was made for his eyes and his eyes only.

He settles for a “chaste” show, laying a kiss beneath my chin and then pressing his face at my cleavage, inhaling the scent of my body lotion before nibbling at my breast through my dress. His breath smells like vodka-sweet and spicy at once.

“I remember, Cumberbatch saw the whole thing,” he answers, his hands holding my ribs, slightly guiding me to move my body on top of his thigh in ghostlike movements. I am searing hot, my mound feels as if it’s seconds from catching fire. I am certain he can feel it, his blue eyes now hazy and dreamlike as they watch the pink tint that runs through my neck to my cheeks.

“Fuck me, daddy, I am so horny!”

My whisper comes out as half a cry, weak and desperate. My body is a void, it suffers without his touch, it aches when we’re disjointed. I hope we’ll never stop feeling this way toward one another.

“Ride me, babygirl.” he urges me, raising his thigh up higher, so I’ll slide down closer. The friction makes me lose sight for a moment. My vision blurs as I throb wet and hot onto him. Good thing his trousers are black, otherwise, everyone would be able to detect the wetness I am leaving on his pants.

I can’t reject his decree, my body needs him.

“You like it when they watch, don’t you?” he asks me with a slightly slurred voice. His hands glide down to squeeze my ass, assisting me in dancing on the rock-hard muscle of his leg. I am grinding slow and rough, shifting my weight forward, my right hand reaching his other thigh, clawing at him with growing pleasure.

Everyone is looking at us, I am sure, some embarrassed and perhaps even appalled. How puritan of you Hollywood. These people formed their own religion and hidden sex clubs. But I am convinced many enjoy this facade and discreetly salute us, some probably holding out their cameras.

I roll my hips up and clench my inner thighs, whimpering as my body begins to tremble.

It doesn’t matter who is staring while I ride him so passionately, seeking my pleasure with urgency while Henry’s hands support me, saddling my hips and pulling me toward him. We don’t see anyone else. We’re locked into one another, the way we always did, just like when Henry had a girlfriend, when we were “just friends” when I dated that asshole. We’d walk into a room, and it was just me and him, hearts and chest bursting with love.

Every moment we couldn’t have one another was stolen from us, we now fight to own it back.

“I’d sit you on my face in front of everyone, but I think Gretchen would kill us.” Henry half whispers against my throat and then licks up my neck as I lift my chin to the ceiling with gaping lips. He has his hand between my legs, drawing at my centre and sneaking between the slit of my dress to finish the job.

“Fuck!” he teases my clit, his middle finger travelling at my seams. My entire existence shudders. The bass of the music blasts through my chest, my eardrums throb, and my eyes see all the colours of the neon at once as my cunt implodes with orgasmic bliss. Henry steals my gasp into his mouth, his hand pressing my cheeks, crushing my mouth with hunger.

Who could ever hate us for our expression of true love?

I gasp feverishly, holding onto him as if I’m about to fall. Henry’s lips are on my temple and then my cheek. Pressing against me and not moving away. He envelops me in his big arms, a clear statement to all our viewers that I am his and he is mine. We both move our heads to see who's been sitting next to us this entire time.

Alec Baldwin and Jake Gyllenhaal. They pretend not to stare, at least Alec does. Jake gives us a wide, knowing smile. Everyone else has also been staring as I hear the whispers and gasps.

“Really? They did that again!?”

We bump our foreheads together and snicker with delight. Like we ever gave a fuck about being caught. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. We just can’t get our hands off of each other.

“Better call Gretchen now.” I tell Henry, hanging my arm around his thick neck.

“Before or after I fuck you in one of the back rooms here?”

#Henry Cavill #Smut #Henry Cavill Smut #Henry Cavill Fic #Henry Cavill x OFC #Henry cavill fanfic #Fanfic #henrycavillsmut #henrycavillfanfic #henrycavillxofc #henrycavillfic

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supremeuppityone · 3 years ago

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Klaroline fanfic update: A Beautiful Symmetry

Just posted a new chapter in my Klaroline series, A Beautiful Symmetry, Chapter 170: Dimpled Green-Eyed Monster.

Canonish in which Klaus should be irritated that Caroline spitefully undaggered Rebekah, but first he needs to closely monitor the dimwitted quarterback’s attempts at courting the vexing blonde. Because that was HIS vexing blonde.

Here’s a peek:

He had a slack-jawed way about him. Klaus had noticed it from his very first encounter with Matt when he was impersonating Alaric. Also, he had a flat, dull stare. Stupid, inconsequential human.

And yet, Matt had managed to make Caroline smile twice in the space of five minutes. Damn it — three times now. Klaus’ gaze flashed an angry gold as he studied the half-witted quarterback further. Absolutely nothing remarkable about the lad. Perhaps he was a shade taller than average? Was that it? Women were genetically predisposed to seek out mates whose characteristics marked them as good providers.

Klaus paused mid-stretch, grumbling to himself. He had no need for such puffery. He already was quite tall. Many members of his village had commented on it. Finally, the useless boy left to perform some menial task in the back, and Klaus casually sauntered over to Caroline, quickly preparing several witty quips for their typical stimulating banter. And he absolutely did not stand on his tiptoes.

Caroline glanced up from her booth, blue eyes wordlessly questioning his presence.

A myriad of clever phrases danced on the tip of his tongue. “I’m above average height for my people.” Biting back a groan at his ham-fisted blunder, he couldn’t help but add defensively, “And just so you know, humans as a whole were shorter centuries ago.”

Please read and review the full chapter here:

AO3

FFnet

#klaroline #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline fanfic

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bjorkncaddel · 10 months ago

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𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 how she was making herself of a fool that night, mostly because her day seemed to end badly in her opinion, she saw someone she avoided seeing, her former fiance. She does not have any romantic feelings towards him. Perhaps that was the reason as to she lost control of how much alcohol she ingested that night. She was regaining her energy from climbing to here, in her neighbor's place, then she sat on the floor in lethargic motion, her hair slightly messy and strands on her face that were crimson from the alcohol in her blood system, and her pupils were dilated and reddish because of her alcoholic beverage. ❛ Onyx. ❜ She corrected herself with the tip she obtained from him. To be fair, she hardly knows her name at this point.

❛ Onyx, I didn't mean to barge on you like this. It was the only window I recognized from the outside. ❜ Needless to say, the only window with so much green that feels like it will overflow everywhere in that building, from her point of view. He is a bit vexing, she thinks, but there is something peculiar about him she finds interesting behind their petty fights. Unexplainable. Neva was embarrassed to be at his place like this. ❛ Sorry. ❜ She was genuinely sorry for disturbing him, but not sorry for climbing to get home as soon as she could. She grabbed his hand and stood up, her movements still very lethargic, and slubbish. ❛ Maybe I should find a job in Cirque du Soleil then. ❜ She jests, observing him and noticing him laughing. ❛ I ⏤ Uh… I, just think you didn't know how to laugh.❜ She says between now hiccups that was lingering, she always sees him way too serious when they are not bickering over stupidity. Was that a compliment? Maybe. ❛ Lucky?! About what? ❜ Okay, that was something she had no idea what he was talking about… Upon his next words, she cackled as if she heard a joke, dimples showing on her cheeks, resting a hand over her covered tummy with coat, and a hand of her resting on the table to feel more balanced. ❛ I would accept tea, or maybe something strong, but the truth is I just annoyed you too much for today. So, I don't want to abuse your patience. I had a bad night, I don't intend to make it worse. That's why I shall make my way out of here.❜ She admitted that, although this is not his business, everyone is allowed to have a day bad, right?

❛ I go climbing every weekend. It is one of my sports. ❜ That wasn't the same thing, but maybe her physical activity helped?! ❛ Not in the broken fire escape obviously, sir. ❜ Habit, the habit of calling anyone she isn't close to sir, or miss, ma'am. ❛ It seems like it did the trick today. And you are welcome I'm back intact. I just wanna go home, so I was willing to do ah, everything. ❜ As if she hasn't proven the point by climbing drunk the way she was. And this cold… ❛ I don't know where he is. But I left my keys in place. My phone battery died. So I plan to take a nap at my door, and I know he will eventually open the door, tomorrow or whatever.❜ That was her plan. Sleeping in her doorframe until her roommate arrives. Onyx seems not so bad… But she had no idea if the thoughts came because she was drunk, or because he seemed kind of nice right now?! Both?! ⏤ Her chin was quivering from the coldness she felt, despite being dressed well and warm to the weather.

The dim light illuminated her flushed face and disheveled hair. Onyx observed her with a mixture of amusement and perplexity as she made her grand entrance. A set of piercing blue eyes charmed Onyx for a moment as he watched her lay upon the floor. He’d almost forgotten about his fiddle-leaf fig. But wait what was that— Phoenix?!?

“That’s not my name, Snowflake. Try again; you can do this. Starts with an O.”

Onyx, though initially vexed by Neva's inebriated escapade into his carefully curated green haven, discovered the difficulty of maintaining annoyance when confronted with her disarming nature. There was an undeniable charm in her spontaneity and the way she blurred the lines of the tiny rivalry that had developed between their respective spaces. Beneath his mild frustration, a subtle yearning stirred—a desire to understand the enigma behind the cascade of platinum hair and the infectious energy that accompanied her. The irritation began to dissipate, revealing a genuine curiosity that surpassed the boundaries of their minor territorial skirmish. After all, his unapologetic pettiness acted as a ruse, enticing her to embark on the chaos that was being Onyx’s neighborhood.

A subtle smile danced at the corners of his mouth as he approached her sprawled form on the floor. The combination of her clumsiness and tipsy demeanor struck a chord, and he couldn't help but be charmed by the unexpected visit. "Quite the acrobatics," he quipped, extending a hand to help her up. He couldn't deny the amusing energy she brought in with her. He couldn’t have dreamed of a better interruption of his day-to-day. As he assisted her to her feet, he couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. “You must be freezing. Should I get you some tea, or do you have a preference for more liquor?” he snorted, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, you’re lucky.” Lucky about what— ? Onyx having a soft spot for damsels in distress? Lucky that she didn’t knock over a pot? Lucky that he was home? “And how exactly did you manage to climb your way up here? You could have fallen. Thank you for coming up in one piece. I don't think I would have been in the mood to deal with the ambulance.”

The pungent aroma of alcohol clung to her, adding an extra layer to the mix of scents in his apartment. “I guess…” Pretending to think the offer over, he finally extends a belated invitation. “You're welcome to stay until you figure out your key situation. Where did you say Oliver is again?"

#— onyx harper.#— neva & onyx.#gcldrushes #tw: alcohol mentions #tw: toxic relationship mentions

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zoetriestobecoolbutnope · 6 years ago

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Mistletoe and Whitestone 2: Part Three

We’re on time today! (Ehhh)

“How are you feeling, darling?” Percy squeezes her hand. Since they took off from a private airfield this morning, Vex’s eyes haven’t left the window in the side of the jet, keeping her eyes fixed on New York, the ocean, and now the growing stretches of green and grey of England. Trinket has been a great comfort, resting his head on her feet, snatching food from her tray table.

“I’m alright.” Vex turns away from the window. “Thanks for turning this into an official state visit. So I can actually land.”

“Of course.” He kisses her hand. “Who knows, maybe we’ll meet the Queen.”

Their plane touches down on the military airstrip reserved for dignitaries visiting the UK. Vex lets out a long sigh as the Whitestone National Guard begin to secure the plane, and greet the local ground crew and security.

“Let’s go,” Percy stands, brushing some invisible lint from his suit pants.

“You look lovely, darling.” Vex adjusts his baby blue tie, pronouncing the dimple in the center. “Very dignified. Very sexy.”

This would be Percy’s twentieth state visit as King over the last five years. Vex never got tired of watching her fiance exit the plane, buttoning his suit jacket, smoothing back his hair, then offering her his hand.

Vex keeps holding on Percy’s hand like a lifeline as she steps on British soil for the first time since she was eighteen.

Keep reading on AO3

Read Mistletoe and Whitestone 2 from the start

Read Mistletoe and Whitestone (Original Flavor) from the start

#Zoe writes shit #mistletoe and whitestone #mistletoe and whitestone 2: royal wedding bitches #perc'ahlia #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #fanfic #critfic #critical role fanfic #vox machina #vex is a journalist percy is a prince it's cute as shit #PressVerse #back by popular demand #part three of twelve #part four is TOMORROW

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god-fucking-dammit-mizutani · 7 years ago

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Here’s my reveal for the @tddkexchange for @ryanismynamee. Looks like you got 2 gifts for this??? So heyo hope you had a super great Holiday season! Also hope you like extra cheese because this. is literally just cheesy domestic fluff because I can.

Title: Ornaments

Words: ~2,694

Prompt: Cute Domestic Fluff

Summary: It’s their first Christmas together... Sort of.

A dense, gray worm of putty lines the rail of the living room window, an absolute eyesore, and the current bane of Shouto’s existence.

It’s one of many vexing issues inherited from the previous owner, and though Izuku had successfully propped the window ajar most of the summer without fracturing the wood, neither of them had been able to fully scrape the clay away without incidence. Air whistles through the newly formed cracks in the glaze now, singing Shouto to consciousness, concentrated breaths of winter blowing along the fringe of his bangs and tickling his nose.

It is the scream of a siren, ultimately though, that creeps in with the cold and startles a part of him to wakening, and Shouto comes to the sensation of a weight already settled against his lower torso.

Soft, a voice in the back of his head needles to the forefront. Disturbingly, the timbre sounds still like his father’s. Sharp, accusatory. Frowning, he wonders if the old man’s voice is a permanent fixture, tattooed somewhere in his mind that cannot be erased or scarred over. You’re going soft.

The panic is distinctly his own.

The book, he remembers reading--had every intention to read when he settled up against the alcove wall by the window that afternoon--lays flattened against his chest. Shouto hears the paper crinkle with each breath he inhales, slightly shaky and quieted with force, and the other weight shifts until something round, yet decidedly pointed, pinches at Shouto’s ribcage.

“Sorry,” it says after he makes a few inaudible groans, flicking his wrist in a silent plea to move. Shouto let’s his hand fall limply, nerves plummeting in the wake of the familiar voice. The cheek under Shouto’s fingers feels cold still from the outside. He wills the temperature of his left side to rise, Izuku humming appreciatively as his own hand encircles Shouto’s. He doesn’t wait for Shouto’s eyes to fully stay open now that he’s shown signs of being awake, regaling him with anecdotes of his evening.

Izuku takes a deep breath, “And you can buy pellets or carrots and feed them.” Shouto nods along, eyes just barely supporting his upper lids, his fingers swirling around strands of green hair. Izuku leans in further, slumping over the bay window seat, nose just about aligned to the spine of the forgotten book, using Shouto’s stomach for his own cushion.

Izuku has yet to shed his jacket, though his shoes have been dispersed about the room, like bread crumbs to the door. A tall package levies against the frame of the living room entrance. It must have been a ruckus, carrying something that hefty through the house and Shouto feels worry pinch his nerves again. Have his defenses waned so quickly, so ineffectively since Yuuei--since Izuku-- that he no longer hears footsteps in his sleep?

Another bout of sirens sound off in the distance. Red lights bounce on the fog culminating outside. His ears ping for any static on the Hero Scanner, but all that echoes back is the sound of their own breathing. It must be a controlled civilian matter, he reasons, but his fingers twitch anxiously.

Izuku tugs on them, kissing the pads affectionately one by one. “Traffic accident,” he says without needing Shouto to voice his concerns. A siren light catches in his eyes and Shouto subdues his amusement; Izuku looks as if he’s captured a glint of Christmas for a brief moment. “Ochako’s clearing it now.” After a beat he adds, “No injuries.”

“Mm,” Shouto nods. The knowledge leaves him more sedated, drowsiness creeping back over his eyelids. “S’good to hear.”

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Izuku whines. Through half drawn eyes, Shouto watches him pluck the book off his chest, dog earring the page that had already been wrinkled by his chest, and drops it on the cushion by Shouto’s right arm. Izuku's jacket rustles and thunks to the floor. He looms over Shouto, tugging gently on his arms. It’s heartwarming. More than it should be, he thinks. But for someone who’s light workout days include bench pressing haul trucks, Izuku always takes conscious care when handling others, when handling Shouto.

He lets himself be pulled into a sitting position, but slumps forward into Izuku’s chest. His arms fall limply around the other’s waist and Shouto murmurs a sleepy, half joking, “Night,” as he noses under the collar of Izuku’s hoodie.

“Come on,” Izuku gives another half hearted whine, but Shouto can still feel the shiver he fails to suppress. “I got the tree. You promised, Shouto...”

Shouto thinks of the giant box in the entryway, of Izuku’s stray shopping mall tales. Yesterday’s half asleep promise comes back to him, about plastic trees and decorations, and he gives a faux dramatic huff.

Izuku nudges his chin with light, scarred fingers, pulls Shouto from the warmth of his collar, and leaves a few chaste kisses to his lips. Shouto can feel the cricks in his neck, souvenirs of his stray nap.

“Come on,” Izuku pleads again, lips turning upwards. Shouto’s raise to match as he leans in again, pressing their lips for a second longer. “It’s our first Christmas together,” Izuku breathes in to his mouth, pulls him closer with a world ending kind of kiss. Shouto almost forgets himself in it; the world, windows that don’t work, trees, Christmas.

“It’s our sixth,” Shouto corrects him. His hands have found their way to Izuku’s face, palms resting over the swell of his beloved’s cheeks when he grins back at Shouto, lovingly, adoringly. Shouto barely has to tug, barely curl his fingers a centimeter before Izuku succumbs to his silent request for another kiss.

“Married.” He emphasizes the word with a peppering of his lips, to the side of Shouto’s mouth, the curve of a dimple, the tip of his nose. Izuku’s eyes gleam, living emeralds in the dark of their dwelling. “We’re married, Shouto.”

Almost a year, Shouto nearly volleys back, but Izuku looks as excited as if it were the same night they took their vows. The excitement catches like a match, sets a warmth in his chest that his own quirk cannot replicate, and Shouto feels his body tingle the same way it had that night with nerves, and a happiness he hadn’t quite expected.

“Oh,” he says instead, blinking lazily. “I’ll stay awake.” His voice still crackles with sleep, but he rubs the corner of his eyes with the heel of his palms.

Izuku glows. He leaves with a quick peck to Shouto’s cheek, “I’ll get the decorations.”

Without Izuku, the alcove feels cold again. Beside him the window shutters, wind knocking against the single pane like a distressed visitor. Several cars blear down the street, casting shadows on the wall. Izuku finally returns with several boxes in hand, using the edge of one to swipe on the living room lights. Shouto hisses at the unexpected sting, shielding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

“Sorry,” Izuku says, absently. He listens to the jingle of ornaments as his husband kicks the boxes around, setting into work with a flurry of mutterings and ripping cardboard. By the time Shouto’s eyes adjust to the light, Izuku has just placed the last piece of their new fake tree into its slot, hands working to shape the artificial pines into a fuller image. Shouto’s heart beams watching the man, reverent and focused.

December brings life to Izuku in more ways than just a healthy flush to his cheeks. He loves Christmas in the same vein as Western children do, has ever since an interview with All Might aired where the man admitted he celebrated the holiday. His mother had encouraged it, and Shouto had felt overwhelmed the first time they’d invited him to Christmas dinner when they’d started dating, showered him in thoughtful gifts and cheer.

Shouto pads across the room, slumping into the couch closer by. Izuku hands him a candle from one of his shopping bags and Shouto wills a single flame to the tip of one of his fingers. The wick sets off with a small crackle, and Shouto takes it from his husband’s hand to set it on the coffee table. “Forest fantasy,” Izuku tells him.

“Smells nice,” Shouto says.

Izuku hums, “Lady at the mall suggested it.” Shouto turns to catch the hook of a frown on Izuku’s lips. “It’s not really the same, but I thought… I thought it was close enough.”

Shouto’s no longer sure if he’s talking to him or at the tree, but he nods anyway. His eyes drift back to the candle, the tiny flicker working over a pool of slowly melting wax, splashing the scent of pine about the living room. He knows for Izuku that close enough is not exactly the same, and Shouto feels a small clench in his chest. A plastic tree had been their compromise this year, his own idea. Easier to care for, less likely to dry out and burn if they were careless, if they couldn’t come home. In their line of work, there were no promises of tomorrow.

With an exclamation of ‘aha!’ the lights flicker on in Shouto’s peripheral. Warm, crooked fingers lace through the white of his hair and Shouto stares back up at his husband’s soft face, though the other’s eyes are on his handiwork, admiringly.

“Still awake,” Shouto says, automatically. Izuku breathes a laugh, like the sort he puffs against Shouto’s lip between kisses and, oh, he loves the sound of it more than music.

“I got some extra lights, too. They were half off,” Izuku adds. “We could string them around the tree. I think it’d look nice. Extra lights. Hide all the, uh, empty space and… uh, wiry branches.” Izuku’s fingers absently scrunch through his hair and Shouto leans into the touch. His thumb rubs short, soothing circles into his scalp and Shouto thinks he could just about purr, or fall into another nap. But he promised.

“Do you want me to start on the ornaments?”

“Would you?” Shouto almost regrets bringing it up when Izuku retracts his fingers to grab for his bag of extra lights across the room.

Shouto hoists himself up from the couch, limbs protesting all the way to the floor. He kneels before the boxes marked ‘XMas Decorations’ in Izuku’s messy scrawl and runs the index finger of his left hand over the packing tape, polypropylene giving way easily under the right pressure of heat. He catches Izuku watching him from the tree now where he’s draping lights over branches. His green eyes gleam with wonder, as if he’s thrilled to learn another trick from Shouto’s quirk. Likely, he is.

The boxes take barely any time to open like this and Shouto takes to laying the ornaments out on the floor, uncrumpling them from their tissue paper prisons. His eyes hover over each of them, quietly arranging their place on the tree in his mind’s eye. In six years he has memorized the story behind each one, watching Izuku excitedly recount them every year as he placed them on the tree. Family vacations, stories of All Might, of the friend’s who had gifted them; Shouto knows them all.

He reaches for the bulkiest ceramic likeness of his former teacher, a rather defined image of All Might in his prime. A classic. Izuku’s first ever, and favorite, ornament. A gift from his mother from their first celebrated Christmas together. It is always, always, always front and center--

Izuku’s hand comes down to brush over his own, thwarting him from grabbing at the figurine. Shouto is momentarily transfixed by the way candlelight refracts and shimmers about the ring of gold on his finger there.

“Hold on! I-I almost forgot,” Izuku murmurs. His right hand moves through his dark curls, a dusting of pink highlighting above his cheek bones. Adorable. Shouto is still as every bit charmed by this man now as he was six years ago in the simplest of ways. “I got something for you. For us, kind of…”

There’s a tingling sensation that lights up the nerves in his chest as Izuku pads back across the room to his supply of forgotten bags. He returns with a fairly large sized one that looks almost emptied save for the slight sag to the side where something weighs it down to a corner.

“I figured it could be like a… a tradition of ours, maybe? If you want to, that is! I think its normal for families--I mean, one’s who decorate at least. Like once a year we can go out and get one together. Well I got it this year, so maybe you can do it next time?” Izuku regards the bag, his voice slowly turning to gibberish as his free hand covers the underside of his chin. Shouto feels the breath of a laugh leave his lungs.

“Izuku,” he tries to no avail.

“Izuku,” he attempts again. His spouse seems to acknowledge the sound of his name, head tilting just barely a few centimeters towards the source, but it doesn’t quite cut off the stream of consciousness that has led to Izuku’s personal debate on if themes are important or unnecessary.

“Can I see it?” Shouto finally asks, lightly huffing.

Izuku laughs, finally pulled from his reveries and relinquishes the present into Shouto’s awaiting hands. It’s even lighter than he suspects. He reaches into the bag, ever aware of Izuku’s intense stare on his face, and pulls out a wad of tissue paper.

“I got it custom,” Izuku explains as Shouto peels the first layer of tape and paper away. His hands come up to rest on his face, but Shouto has already seen the plume of red surfacing there. “And-And I know you like cats so I…I thought you’d like it. I know it’s cheesy, but I couldn’t resist.”

Shouto divides his attention between his husband’s prattle and the gift in his hands, catching Izuku’s excitement once more somewhere in his own chest.

He exposes a tiny, clay cat ear first, followed by it’s head. Shouto wastes no time in undressing the ornament from there, using a delicate hold to the clay neck as leverage while tugging the paper away from it and reveals the second cat, it’s mirror image on the right. Shouto holds the figure up to his eyes, fingers poking through the thread looped about the center and letting the ornament sway to rest against the tilt of his palm with a nice weight. His breath hitches a moment.

It’s a fairly rustic looking ornament, a deep gray and very little frill to it but it leaves a vibrant impression on him. The cats are full figured, sitting back to back with their heads tilted towards one another, and he finds them just endearing enough to look at, but they do not cause the swell in his chest. Between them, their tails intertwine, up and around, until they shape a little heart filled with an ivory plating. In the center of the heart, engraved with ornate cursive, is both of their names and the message 'Our First Christmas'.

“You were right,” Shouto says with a short laugh. “It’s very cheesy.”

"I was-- I was thinking," Izuku says, looking bashfully at Shouto through his fingers, "we could put it at the center this year. If-If you want to, I mean!"

It is odd, Shouto finds, to be completely at peace with the idea that his heart could just burst, it feels so overwhelmingly full.

"Yeah," he finally manages, "I would like that."

Izuku visibly relaxes, lights dancing in the highlights of his dark hair. The urge to kiss him thrums in Shouto's veins as second nature to him now as fire. He is mindful of the land mine of ceramics and delicate baubles between them as he leans forward. Izuku meets him, as always, halfway across the divide.

Soft, he muses, but this time tonight when he thinks it, the voice is his own and the connotation light, bubbly. Just the way he feels when his hands are in Izuku’s hair, when he tastes his husband’s smile on his own lips.

#tddkexchange #tododeku #ryanismynamee #bnha #I need a better writing tag but meh #so anyway I'm literally posting this in the very last second #sparkle garbage

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lukeysgirl · 7 years ago

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The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.3

Part T H R E E

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 3.5+k

AN: aha yikes, i guess my story is sorta boring if it took so long to get part 3 released x.x but i will keep up with this one and hope 100 notes will gradually become an easy achievement. ty to ya’ll that are down about the story, it makes me so happy :) xx

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E

Wednesday

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you muttered within your friend group as you all entered the school. “I’ll go to the stupid tree.”

All your friends stared at you, pure shock dancing in their essence. The pairs of blue, green and brown eyes were a little overbearing, but expected. In sync, the girls squealed before grabbing you hostage in a group hug. You groaned, enjoying their embrace but dreading the heat that came with it.

“So what made you change your mind?” Alexis asked as you 4 walked down the hallway to your lockers. They were all spread out, more or less, but nearby so you guys could meet up whenever. You began solving the Masterlock for yours, paying inconsistent attention to the girls.

“Could it be that you were finally curious?” Des swooned, listening to her voice behind you as Savannah leaned against the lockers next to yours. Her blue eyes were burning into you.

“Or maybe you finally decided to take a chance with love?” Savannah teased, smirking as you continued tampering with your lock. Managing to open it, you open your locker door that helped block Savannah from view. You were quick to ignore their guesses as you switched textbooks and slammed your locker shut.

“Whatever the reason, you should be happy I give enough of a shit to actually go check it out,” you said simply, continuing your walk down the hallway to where the library was. The girls tailed you, quickly sorting their lockers to reach you. Right at the entrance of the library, you found several other seniors already sat, using up their study hall in gossip or actually studying.

“We are happy,” Des exclaims, her chocolaty hand holding onto your shoulder. “We’re just surprised that you changed your mind so... suddenly.”

Because I asked Idiot Hemmings for help, you thought. But it’d be almost shameful to think you needed any sort of comprehension assistance from a academically-demotivated, party boy like him.

“I managed to decipher the song,” you lie, staring blankly down your math textbook to hyperbolas. “I think it suggests for me to go there at the beginning of lunch.”

“The beginning?” Alexis asked, resting her head on your other shoulder as you slowed down for her to keep up. “How come?”

“Well, it’s a walk to get over there and a walk back,” you said simply, that part being the only thing that you made sense of from Luke’s predicament. “So the beginning would make sense.”

“Then the next question is who has free period before lunch to set this up?” Des inquired, having that very question provoke your thoughts.

It does do much of narrowing down. You already figured this out as the boy would play his guitar during your English period, the period before lunch. But you hadn’t given it too much thought then until Odessa had put it out there. It really made you contemplate more on the situation.

“But all of us can’t check!” Savannah peeped from the back. She quickly went in front of you and began walking backwards, her blond hair flowing towards you but not quite touching you. “We all have class before lunch.”

“Well fuck,” you said monotonously, finding a spot right by the anatomy room door. You lean against the unused lockers and slid down til your bum hit the cool, green tiles. Filthy, you thought as you began taking off your bag. “I guess that idea is scratched.”

“Maybe we can ask the boys,” Alexis suggested, sliding down to take a seat right beside you. You felt her soft navy blue sweater tickle your arm, the warmth of it now spreading to you like disease.

“No!” Des exclaims, taking a seat across from the two of you with Savannah joining her. She tossed her braids behind her shoulder as she rummaged through her ocher, leather bag. “I want just us to solve this, remember?”

Shit, you thought, biting the tip of your tongue with your teeth. You forgot that Des was completely set on solving this stupid mystery with just you girls. But you had asked Luke for assistance. But she hadn’t made that statement as an official pact, so it was alright... right?

“But Des, you can’t be so stubborn like that, it’s not gonna--” Alexis began to talk, but you immediately shut her out from the incoming music flowing through your other ear.

“...’l-lie, I try to hide... but now you know it.’“

Singing, approaching from the end of the hallway at a corner. You looked over there and wondered, eyes wide from the voice. Could it be?... No, preposterous! But that tone, the way he’s straining it. The perfect level of clean high pitch with a delicious aftertaste of rasp. That voice, dancing with the guitar playing. Such familiarity...

Pause. Without real thought, you pushed the textbook off your legs and darted on your feet. The calls of your friends with wander on their tongues was deemed as background sound in your head. You had to know-- had to see who was the owner of the voice. You saw the corner, the door at the end of the very hallway before taking a dashing right to see your potential fate.

“...’That I’m at an all time--’” You turned the corner, panting as you scanned your sight. You blinked twice in pure shock to know who owned that very voice.

The blond-haired, blue-eyed devil, Luke Hemmings. He was leaning against the lockers, in his usual black skinny jeans and band shirt. Other kids were ornate in the hall, attempting to study but surely that never stopped Luke from being a brag. Then, with all the girls around him who own brain capacities worth of a teaspoon, they only fueled his urge to be so loud.

“Low low, low-low-low... low low, low low, low-low-low-- low low, low low...” Luke sang, his eyes closed as he let the music take him over. You admitted, though he was being obnoxious to the studious, he was very musically inclined. You found yourself distracted by the sound until those icy eyes opened and spotted you.

You stood there, chest heaving, as Luke stared into your eyes, wander and something else you couldn’t quite make up.

“Y/N, hey!” Luke stopped strumming and cursed his lips into a gentle smile. You sighed, attempting to regain your breath as you listened to feet race towards you. The girls came from the corridor, looking at your distant expression at the blonde boy.

“Girl, wassup?” Des murmured towards you, having you blink a few times before fully regaining yourself. Looking away from Luke, you felt embarrassed. You had dashed all this way, expecting something that wasn’t it.

“Nothing,” you said quietly, looking back at Luke with ease. He had been stood there, small dimples lightly denting under his cheeks as he looked at you. Those blue eyes gleamed, cheeks now rosy with a slightly faster breathing pace. “I just couldn’t study because Guitar Boy over here has no respect for his surroundings.”

“M’sorry about that, Y/N,” Luke apologized sincerely, scratching the back of his head sheepishly as he slide his guitar to his back.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Lukey,” a voice chimed, having your eye twitch from the absolute annoyance of it. High pitched and bitchy, a combination that never kissed your ears well. “You were providing a nice tune in this boring hallway.”

“I never called his singing bad, Nadia,” you said simply, watching as a redhead came from behind Luke. Nadia Winters, standing tall in all her silky glory, rested her hands on her hips. Jewelry hung from her ears and neck, from brands that you couldn’t even pronounce. Scarlet lips pursed, with the bottom lip too thin and the top shaped like chihuahua ears. And then those haunting blue eyes--

If anything, she was the true blue-eyed devil.

“And I never asked what you did or didn’t say,” Nadia hissed, having you roll your eyes. She had way too much attitude for a girl who can’t even pick up a textbook.

“What the fuck you just said?” Des spat, her attitude ringing free as she began to front. But you were quick to get in front of her, glancing back as you stared at the ground. “Y/N--”

“She’s a waste of energy,” you murmured.

“Not all of us are energy conservation enthusiasts like you, Y/N!” Des growled, having you nod your head slowly.

“I don’t care-- of all people to put your energy on, don’t put it on that one,” you emphasized. Des had huffed a bit, tossing her braids back before bringing herself back, too. Nadia glared, allowing Des to vex as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Good job taming your animal, Y/N,” Nadia said with a smirk. Des gritted her teeth, having you taking her hand and squeeze it. Of all situations you wanted to be in, you did not want to get into a fight. Especially not with someone like Nadia, who can barely handle being fronted. You’d feel bad.

“You know I could let her just pounce you right now, right?” You highlighted, hoping she understood the luck she had. “Anyways, I just wasted so much energy on you that I’ve developed a migraine. Just fuck off so I can take my leave.”

“How dare you?” Nadia hissed, beginning to walk to you. But before she could, Luke had grabbed her upper arm, haltering her with his strong hold. She turned to look at him, confused as Luke stared at you. His ocean eyes gleamed, locking his pair with yours with this insane intensity you didn’t ask for.

“See you around, Y/N,” Luke said quietly, giving you a small, soft smile. It irked you a bit, knowing how genuine and kind Luke actually was behind his pompous being. You couldn’t comprehend these two personalities, so it pissed you off quite a bit.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, turning away to save yourself from his gaze. Walking back to your corridor, you heard him begin to strum again and shook your head.

“Y/N, what happened?” Savannah asked quietly, watching at your newly developed vexation. You felt a vein rise on your temples, a headache yearning to brew as you walked back to your textbook. Sliding back down to the floor, you pick it up and resume reading the text.

“Y/N, quit being mute,” Alexis urged, nudging your shoulder as you continued reading. She leaned closer to your face, feeling the tip of her nose barely brushing your cheek. “You’re so stubborn!”

“Is that your word of the day, Lex?” You hummed, flipping the page to analyze more text. “Stubborn.”

“Yes, because you and Des are super stubborn!” Alexis points out, having you shake your head in denial as you looked up at Des. She was pretending to be shocked, her eyes completely wide with her straight hand over her mouth.

“I’m not stubborn!” Des denied out loud, having you grin widely before diverting your eyes back down to the textbook. You listened as the two girls bickered, having people feel intimidated to walk past the two of them to go to the proceeding hallway. But it was quickly interrupted when you felt a Rice Krispy Treat hit your forehead.

“’You’re not you when you’re hungry,’” Savannah quoted, having you grab the blue-wrapped treat. You squinted just a bit to notice it also contained mini M&Ms. You looked up to see Savannah, only to see that Des was already munching on her treat.

“You’re askin’ for it, Sav,” you mumbled before stubbornly unwrapping the bar to take a bite. The rest of the girls had laughed at you as you quietly ate the food Savannah had given you.

“This is gonna suck.”

“Good luck!” Savannah chanted sweetly, clapping her hands together as the sun shined upon her pastel pink nails. You were slouched in front of her, already exhausted as wind picked up in the air around you. Stood on both sides were Des and Alexis, both staring at you with content. Savannah planted her hands on your shoulders for inclusion.

There you 4 were, stood at the concrete part of the schools courtyard. Several gray lunch tables were outside as well, looking like moons on the gum-ornate concrete. Just a few feet from you began the grass, seeing as many flowers were spread all around in it. Tree were also ornate all over, going from chestnut oaks to red maples. And all the way at the back, where vacancy resided, was the big, pink cherry tree.

“Why am I doing this?” You huffed, complete doubt finally surfacing. Your eyes just kept looking at the tree, seeing it just sat at the distance, unknown to what’s to happen.

“Because you’re finally going to take a chance at something that could be amazing,” Alexis encouraged, shaking your right shoulder excitedly. Des shook your left while Savannah draped her arms over your shoulders from behind.

“Now go get ‘em!” With a sudden push, you were on your feet and tripped a few feet forward.

You sighed, looking down at the granola bar in your hand. This was your quick lunch so you had something before going home. You had to admit it-- you were nervous. You didn’t really know what to expect. Whoever this boy is-- the musically inclined, well-read artist-- must be coming out of his box to be doing this. Especially with a girl such as yourself.

“Go already!” Des shouted, having you glance back at the 3 girls before looking back forward. Gulping, you aimed your eyes at the pink tree and began walking. The wind picked up a bit when you came closer, rubbing your exposed arms a bit as you walked. Your heart, for some peculiar reason, was racing.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Grass crunched under your feet as you began slowing down. The cherry tree bark was introduced to you more clearly, ragged dents look as though done by a dagger. It was a lovely umber color, one you can only see due to the shade provided by the hues of pink petals. Through the slivers of the branches, light came through and shined a light on the bark, making it look more of a tawny brown.

Wind came back a little harsher, striking the tree with it’s force. The branches danced around you, having you look up to finally see what you were there for. In front of you, ornate with pink petals dancing all over you, were the notes, the white dollops flowing with the wind. There were about 8 total, it seemed. 7 on the left side, and one hanging on the right, low enough that reached your head.

You looked around cautiously, seeing if there was any body nearby. You even looked back at the school, which looked way further than it actually was. You noticed your friends, finding them so small in comparison to being just a few inches from them. They looked like small brushes of paint of a piece that wouldn’t work without them.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your 3 best friends.

Snapping your attention back to the tree, you go closer to the trunk cautiously and place your hand on it. You felt the strikes of holes and the rigidness that was the wood. Splinters could be taking hold of your fingers but you hadn’t pressed your hand too hard against it. But it felt nice, seeing how not intimidating this tree really is. Not that it was intimidating anyways.

“Hey, Guitar Dude?” You called out, hoping you’d get some sort of response. “If you’re here, d’you mind coming out? I’d rather not go through some really complicated adventure, okay?”

Nothing. No voice came to relieve you with answers, no words coming from another to reassure you of your sanity. It was sad, really, feeling like you’re talking to yourself. It just frustrated you more about this entire thing.

Taking steps to the left, you dragged your fingers along the bark before your fingertips merely brushed it. You looked at the notes closely, seeing as they danced with the wind. You noticed swipes of black, reaching up and grabbing one to halt it from it’s dance with nature. Flipping it, you found the number ‘3′ on it. They’re in order, you thought. Backing up, you found the first one and slowly un-knotted the transparent elastic that held it. Holding it lower, you looked at the ‘1′ written and quickly flipped the note open.

Hi Y/N. Before beginning anything, I just want to say how happy I am that you’ve finally decided to read my words. I wanted so badly to give them to you, and now you’re finally taking them.

You grabbed note ‘2′ down and read.

I know this seems real creepy, and it is, honestly. You must think I’m some frigid stalker who can’t confront you because I’m scared. I don’t like to think I’m frigid or a stalker, but I am scared to confront you, considering who I am.

Nervously, note ‘3′ entered your old.

But I know you, and I know you wouldn’t be one to judge. But I think you’ve already assessed me, and probably dislike me. Which is unfortunate, really, and I hate that that is the image you own of me.

Note ‘4.’

You may not know me right now, but you will soon. I promise. But for now, I can admit that I do know you. I notice you, notice the things you do. Everything Everything is your current favorite book. Last month, it was Looking For Alaska.

‘5.’

You don’t act so careless, and you’re so smart beyond belief. You study so hard, you have your future set and locked. But it doesn’t seem like you’re having much fun now, huh?

How does he... you thought, holding 5 notes in your left hand to grab number ‘6.’

I know this is super cheesy and gross, but I see you, Y/N. I see how much of an exciting person you are past your thick shell. And it’s not for me or anyone else to see. I want you to see you and I want to see your smile when you do.

Note ‘7.’

This is a complete shot in the dark, but do you mind if we get to know each other this way? I know it’s annoying for you to miss your precious nap time at lunch, but I really think it’s worth it. If you don’t, I’ll back off and trash the song. But if you give me the chance, I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll even buy you lunch so you don’t have to bring any. I’ll throw it out, too!

You slowly added note ‘7′ to your stack as you held them in your hand. The corners dented into your skin annoyingly, but you didn’t want the wind to take his words. You wanted to keep them, reread them to comprehend, to understand why your heart is racing.

This is absurd...

You walked over to the other side of the tree, only to find the number ‘8′ and the word ‘Yank’ under it. You grabbed the string of elastic and pulled it down, only to hear something fall behind you. You flinched and turned around to see a red marker sat on the grass. Now this is getting really absurd.

Picking it up, you turned back to the note and opened it. You giggled to see what it said.

It was just like one of those love notes you’d get in the 4th grade. It had the word ‘circle’ at the top and below it were two choices: yes or no. You couldn’t believe it. This guy was obviously still a child, even with the way he has articulated his ask and persistence over someone like yourself. But... what’s the point of breathing without living?

You circled ‘yes.’

Walking away from the pink tree, you couldn’t help but wonder if this is the right choice. Could he be someone that becomes very important to you? Is that okay if he did? It made you nervous as you began peeling open your granola bar to take a bite. Shoving the notes into your pocket, you munched happily on the food. But as you walked, you noticed Des waiting for you at the school.

“Where’s the other two?” You called to her as you went. But getting closer, you noticed how stressed she was. Her eyebrows were pulled up, worry drunk in her brown eyes as she began waving to you.

“You’re gonna be late, Y/N!” She rushed, having you turn your legs on as the two of you dashed into the school. “Luke is covering you-- you’re a few minutes late but Ms. Lee isn’t in the class right now.”

“Covering me?” You said exasperated, finding yourself panting harshly as you turned the corridor to see your classroom in sight. “Fuck, thanks Des!”

“Girl, no problem!” She chanted, standing still with her hands on her hips as you resumed running. Fuck fuck fuck. You glanced back to wave at Des before you entered the classroom. Your fellow classmates ogled you, but you hadn’t bothered with the eyes as you took your bag off your seat and sat down. You quickly fished your required materials as you listened to Luke’s voice ring from outside the room.

“...But Ms. Lee, this cut is serious!” Luke said with woe, having him come to view as he was showing his hand off to your teacher. You watched as Ms. Lee rolled her eyes and stared at the tall, lanky boy with annoyance.

“Luke, you’ve managed to make me 5 minutes late to my class over a paper cut,” Ms. Lee hummed, entering the classroom full of small giggles and snorts. Luke was acting persistent, showing his hand at her desk but she was quick to put her hand up. “Take a seat, Hemmings. The cut will not kill you, I assure you.”

Several classmates laughed as Luke lent them a smirk. He joined the sit beside yours and was quick to fold his arms on the table and lay his head on them. He slowly closed his eyes, giving you a breif stare before doing so. You looked at his hand, seeing the small cut in his toned skin. Conversation ensued as Ms. Lee began preparing the course for the day.

“You covered for me,” you said quietly, glancing over to see him reveal his azure eyes once more. He nodded, letting out a yawn. “Tired?”

“Hungry, really,” Luke admitted with a lazy smile. “Skipped lunch.”

Without hesitation, you slid your wrapped, half-eaten granola bar to him. He watched, his eyes widening at your sudden gesture. You looked back down to your notebook and opened it to a clean page, picking up your pen to prepare to jot down today’s gesture. You grew impatient for the blonde boy to take your offering, but he still seemed puzzled.

“I still owe you,” you muttered at him. “But this is thanks for distracting her so she didn’t catch me late.”

With a smug smile, Luke took the granola bar and took an audible, yet satisfying, bite.

aha yay! please lemme know whatcha think here and ill see ya another time !

138 notes · View notes

queenieschronicles · 8 years ago

Text

Deals Part 2

Jughead x Reader

Summary: It’s a give and take world. You and Jughead are going to have to make some deals to get to know one another.

Word Count: 2290

Warnings: Like one cuss word.

A/N: The second part turned into more of a bridge for the third part of the series. I hope you enjoy! Sorry for the length!

Originally posted by elizabethccoper

You promised your mom you’d be back after the movies, but not before you grilled you about the details. Where are you going? Twilight Drive-In. Who are you going with? Jughead, a boy from school (at least you assumed). Who names their kids Jughead? Some pretty chill people. What movie are you watching? Rebel Without A Cause. I love James Dean, maybe I should go? No, absolutely not.

You gave her one last kiss before whining that you had a movie to catch. Not to mention, you had to get there and find a good spot for the movie. You pulled up, paid your five dollars, and found yourself a spot near the front.

You locked up the 67’ mustang convertible and meandered about. It was a shame about them tearing this place down. You always enjoyed a good drive in.

Stepping under the awning of the concession stand, you propped up on the metal counter. “Hi, can I get a large popcorn and a cherry cola, please?” You laid out a five but the kid told you the concessions were being paid through the ticket sales tonight.

You nodded and tucked the five in your jacket pocket. The white screen sparked to life. A short drive in commercial started rolling. Dancing popcorn, smiling fountain drinks, and some raisinettes jumping around, nothing put a smile on your face faster.

“I’d pay to see that a thousand more times.”

A smile spread wide over your face; you folded your lower lip in, your teeth gently biting down.

“Dancing popcorn really gets me going too.” You turned your attention to Jughead, who had his eyes trained on you.

“That’s gonna be hard to emulate.” He teased. He grabbed the popcorn from the ledge and handed you the cola.

You pumped the straw dispenser and took two bendy straws. You took a sip from the smaller one and held it up to Jug’s mouth. He happily took the taller one and took a drink.

“Aren’t you the saint of generosity?”

You laughed,” I’m nothing, if not giving.”

He nodded,” Oh yeah,” He snarked,” so generous you made me work for your name.”

You nudged him with your shoulder and popped some popcorn in your mouth.

You unlocked the car,” Well, this is it.”

“Who are you?” He studied your vehicle no doubt noting the make and model. A s

You blushed,” It’s my dad’s. He bought it right out of high school. I promise, it’s not mine.”

You were vexed that you felt so awkward while he was so composed and unapologetic. He was wearing his serpent jacket again which extenuated that dastardly smirk on his lips. The soft engraving of laugh lines made him soft and real.

“You going to watch the movie or stare at me the whole night?”

“Sorry, I was trying figure out if I was Grease or not. This whole situation seems a bit familiar.” You looked around.

“What are you looking for?” He questioned with a half-smile.

“Rizzo and Kenickie. They’ve got to be around here somewhere.” He pulled you back down by the hem of your shirt. Your laughter was filled with vitality and honest humor.

He rolled his eyes at you, leaning into the corner of the seat. He focused on you with amused eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I was thinking. Are we going to get in trouble with this?” His brows knotted.

“I mean you’re a serpent,” You tugged at the lapel of the black leather,” aren’t you sworn to only date pink ladies or something? Or would they be green ladies? I don’t know, I’m not into that classification stuff.”

“So, you consider this a date?”

You took a swig of coke,” That’s the only thing you got from that whole spiel?” Out of all the important points. “Honestly, Juggie, you could have serious repercussions for not keeping to the code.”

“Am I pirate now?” His dimple shown for a just a second as he beamed through his chewing. Your heart constricted as you held his gaze.

“All I’m saying is I don’t think I can be the Sandy to your Zuko.” You looked away from him. Your chin tilted up and your smile soft. “I don’t smoke.”

“I don’t either.” He countered with a lifted brow.

“I don’t do girl groups with some really far out agenda.”

He laughed,” You’re reaching now.”

Turned back to him. His head leaned to the side as he studied you. He licked his lips in contemplation. “Well,” He folded his hands in his lap,” do you do bands of misfits?”

You brows tied in curiosity. “I’m listening.”

Jughead pointed to an old, mildly kempt truck that held a group of kids. They all seemed normal enough. One was a good looking kid, smiley and preppy. One girl with a high pony tail and clean cut clothes. Another girl with a gorgeous fur overcoat and rich silky hair. A boy with hair like embers who wore a letterman.

“Oh, I got the movie all wrong. You’re part of the breakfast club.” You teased gently.

A wry smile betrayed his disapproval of your poking. “Well, wanna join? It’s free.”

You rubbed your arm gently. His offer was upfront. You should have been excited. You looked at the group, all sharing a big blanket and laughing.

“You’re a loner.”

You blinked away your mental distance. You sighed,” I thought you might have been one too.”

“I was one.” He offered. He looked over his shoulder at the group of friends. “They wouldn’t let me be, so I decided to join them.” The fondness expressed from him was enough to make you smile.

“I thought there was only room for one loner in the group?”

“Hardly. Bender was a loner in his own right and Allison was most definitely a loner.” He displayed his knowledge of the classics with ease and confidence.

“A fellow movie buff, how comforting.” You shoveled some popcorn in your mouth.

He took the last sip of cola from your drink. “Care to accompany me to get more?”

You nodded, grabbing the popcorn for good measure. It’s not like you needed it for the movie. You hadn’t been paying attention to it anyway. The two of you weaved amongst the cars. Your shoulders brushing every other step.

His fingers brushed yours, pulling them away,” Where’s your jacket?”

“In the car.” You gave him a meek smile.

He exhaled a short puff through his nose whilst shaking his head. You curtailed him up to the concessions.

“Hey Donald, can we have a cherry cola refill?” The miserable kid behind the stand nodded. You felt bad for people who had no joy in serving. It was hard.

You leaned against the brick and stared at the screen. You felt Jug’s eyes on your face. You peeked over at him and delighted him with a grin.

“If I let you wear my jacket, will you go with me to say hi to my friends?” He had this hopeful look on his face you didn’t know how to resist.

“More deals?” You inhaled slowly.

He nodded sheepishly, a boyish grin on his soft features. The dimple that made an appearance sealed the deal. Damnit. The chill in the air nipped your nose and hugged your arms. You’d take the awkward first meeting over freezing another moment longer.

“Deal.”

You barely finished the hard ‘D’ when he held his jacket out for you to slip your arms into. His warmth immediately surrounded you. You nestled in close. It was like a hot mug of cocoa after a cold day. Jughead took the lapels in hand and tugged it into place.

You stepped into him, looking up,” Is it a good fit?”

“I’ve decided you make all clothing look better.” He let you go after a quick wink.

You shivered with delight. He was unaware and collecting the snacks. You held the drink in one hand and he cradled the popcorn. You had almost forgotten the deal back there, but as you fell into step with Jughead toward the truck full of strangers, you could feel the hairs on your arm stand on end.

You thought you might faint. You bit your lower lip anxiously. The static of your nerves must have spread to him, because he took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

You two exchanged a dynamic look. His confidence was reassuring. You didn’t know what you had to be worried about. It was then you realized the leather jacket didn’t give him

You could already see the curious looks from Jughead’s friends. You were riddled with nerves. You released a shaky breath before giving them all a big smile. Jughead held your hand gently. He waved at his friends, who all exchanged glances with a mix of astonished joy and curiosity.

“Jughead, who is this lovely lady?” The brunette chirped while giving Jughead a delighted smile.

“Hey Kev. Guys, this is (Y/N).” He smiled at you.

Kevin took your hand in his and gave it a warm shake,” I’m Kevin. You must tell me all about yourself.”

You laughed bashfully. The raven-haired girl piped up,” Down, Kev.” She loomed above you in the bed of the truck,” I’m Veronica Lodge. Welcome to Riverdale.”

“Thank you.” You shook her hand before receiving another hand. It belonged to a blond with a very comforting smile.

“I’m Betty Cooper, your guide to the ways of Riverdale High.” You felt a surge of relief. You thought you were going to be wreck on Monday. You had Jughead, but the thought of taking on a new high school was overwhelming.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys. I look forward to the tour. You’ll have to tell me the scoop on everything and everyone.” You smiled at her.

Before Archie could make his introduction, Kevin chimed in. “Oh, we have the inside on everything. We have who’s dating, who’s hating, and who’s hooking up. We’ve got the dirt on everyone.”

You laughed and Jughead rolled his eyes next to you. Veronica backed him up,” You won’t be lost at all.”

School on Monday didn’t seem so daunting. You thought in such a small town you’d have trouble being accepted. Who knew hitting a stranger in the head would turn out so well?

The redhead approached you and Jughead with a warm smile. “I’m Archie, Jughead’s best friend.”

You shook his hand,” That’s an interesting pair. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“We’d stick around guys, but there’s more room in her car.” Jughead rubbed the back of his neck after meeting the gaze of his friends. They were definitely going to talk. Actually, Kevin was going to talk.

You waved,” It was nice to meet you guys. See you Monday!” You turned with Jughead who put a hand in the air after his friends all said their goodbyes.

“That wasn’t so bad. They seem nice.” You smiled up at him.

He pulled you in,” It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

The two of you finished the film and sat in silence for a moment.

“You never answered my question.” His voice was low and near a whisper.

You stirred next to him.

“Did you consider this a date?”

You wanted it to be a date. It felt pretty nice to be relaxing with someone who wasn’t a pusher. He made her laugh. This was part of a deal though and that was wear she tripped over the idea.

“You said I could read your manuscript if I came.”

His lips fell. He was reeling from your comment. The air between you already cooling.

“I came because I wanted to see you.”

He nodded slowly, weighing the information. He took a long drink and set it down. You could see a faint smile peeking from the straw.

You were grateful with the ease of honesty between the two of you. You were, after all, two acquaintances. Besides, you figured he’d wanted to see you. Why would he skip an evening with his friends?

“I do still owe you the manuscripts.” He looked down at your buzzing phone. “I suspect we’ll have to make another deal though for that to happen?”

You frowned staring at your mother’s name on the phone screen. “I suppose we must.”

“Let me walk you to school on Monday. I’ll bring the manuscripts.”

You nodded,” Sounds solid.” You watched a few cars drive off. “Do you need a ride, Jughead?”

He shook his head and motioned to the truck,” No need. I’ll catch a ride with them. I’m staying with Archie, but thank you.”

You began removing his jacket, but he stopped you,” Keep it for collateral.”

You shrugged back into it with a smile,” Very well.”

He exited your vehicle taking the remnants of your popcorn and soda throwing them away. He came to the driver-side and smiled down at you. “Goodnight, basket case.”

“Goodnight, criminal.” You beamed.

He began to walk away but you caught his hand. “Wait, you’re not leaving me for the second time with no way to reach you.”

He smirked playfully. He did want you to think about him all night without any word. You plucked his phone out of his hand and put your number in.

“Don’t forget to use it.” You smiled before pulling off.

You forced your mother to wait for the details of your date until the morning. You needed a shower. Maybe even a cold one. Jughead wasted no time in texting you that night. You texted him up until you crawled into your bed.

You were about to turn the light off when small, rapid pattering came at your window.

Fear gripped you as you peered out into the darkness.

#cole sprouse #jughead jones #cole x reader #cole sprouse x reader #jughead x reader #cole sprouse fic #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fic #jughead fic #cole sprouse imagine #jughead imagine #riverdale imagine #queeniewrites

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theimaginesyouneveraskedfor · 8 years ago

Text

Save Yourself

It weighs heavier on one's heart I could tell right from the start that Sweeter ones are hard to come across

You never expected imprisonment to be enjoyable, but as it turned out, it was torturous. You sat just inside the iron bars embedded in the thicketed corridors of Mirkwood palace. You could hear voices, low amidst the disgruntled hush of dwarves. Worse even, you could see the source of the whispers and the nuances of their coquettish exchange. You hissed as jealousy seared your spine and turned your attention to scratching away the dried dirt which lined the palms of your hand.

Keeping your head lowered, you peeked over once more as you tried to remain covert. The auburn-haired elf tossed back her silky hair and her green eyes flickered bemusedly. Kili smiled, a gesture which had often set your heart to flutter, but when roused by the elf, it turned you feral. You could have broken the damned she-elf if it not for the bars holding you at bay.

You shook your head and sighed darkly, your eyes catching another set of irises as you tore them away from the infuriating scene. Fili watched you from across the corridor, curious and knowing all the same. You grumbled and shifted your back to the bars, embarrassed that he had witnessed your envious turmoil. If only the other Durin would notice your chagrin.

Only hours ago, Kili had been rambling at your side. Albeit, he was disoriented by the air of Mirkwood forest and unable to produce a coherent thought, but he has been with you. Focused on you. Not distracted by some dainty elf.

You picked at a stray thread hanging from your cuff, your anger causing you to tear it entirely from the cloth. Your sleeve hung even looser from your arm and the chill of the cell crept up your back, cold against the bars. You shivered and tucked your hands into your sleeves, yawning despite the tension which kept your body rigid. You let your head loll against the iron and closed your eyes in resignation. You were tempted to check if the elf lingered still but it would only add to the boil of your emotions.

As your eyelids began to thicken with the weight of your exhaustion, a subtle scoff, more amused than disproving, opened them. You peered over your shoulder, twisting slightly to see the elf failing to conceal a half-grin as she turned away from Kili’s cell. She finally stepped away from his bars but Kili’s warm brown eyes followed her with longing down the corridor, further stoking your unease. Even if she was gone, her presence remained as a dark cloud over you.

You felt the eerie sense of another’s gaze and once more turned to find Fili intent on you. You snarled and rolled your eyes, vexed by yet another Durin. One seemed not to even recall your existence and the other, seemed to be entirely entertained by it. Your confinement was the least of your problems as you sat trapped between the wily princes.

Well there is more than meets the eye Heart like yours is rare to find Someone else's gain will be my loss

You couldn’t help but bite your nails as you watched Kili from across the cramped, musty room of the bargeman’s home. Fili sat beside him, bent over the sallow dwarf as he clutched at the wound in his leg. Despite Oin’s care, the younger Durin seemed little better and your own concern was mirrored by his brother’s.

The dark circles under Kili’s eyes were stark against the sweat glistening across his weakened palour and you suppressed a worried hum as Fili helped him lay down beneath a patched woolen blanket. The older prince rose with one last look towards his ailing brother before turning his attention to the sullen dwarves huddled around the room in small pairs. You were the only of the Company who sat alone and he did not fail to notice, his eyes finding you swiftly.

He crossed the room, his boots causing the salty floorboards to creak and sat beside you silently, crossing his arms across his knees as he pulled them up before him. He sighed and lowered his head, his golden locks falling forward as he did. You could see him mulling his words before he spoke and waited patiently, yourself unable to render a coherent syllable.

“He’ll be fine,” Fili assured with brittle certainty, “He can’t not be.” He reached up and rubbed his beard with his stocky fingers, “But what about you?” He looked over at you grimly, “You alright?”

“Y-yes,” You stuttered and swallowed dryly, “I’m just…tired.”

“Y/N,” The corner of his mouth twitched and his dimples deepened, “Don’t worry about Kili. I mean it. He’ll be fine. It’s only a flesh wound. He’s had worse. You know that as well as I.”

“Mmm,” You grumbled and ran a finger across your lip anxiously, “I guess.”

“Aw, come on, Y/N,” Fili nudged you lightly with his elbow, “Cheer up. At least we’re no longer behind bars.”

“At least? Now we’re trapped in this mildewed house when the Mountain is so close,” You tried to keep the whine from your voice, “How long do we hide here?”

“Ugh, you’re beginning to sound like by uncle,” He chuckled and his blue eyes followed yours as they wandered back to the reclining Kili. His chest rose softly with drowsy breaths and a quiet snore escaped his lips, a reassuring rumble in the solemn chamber, “Y/N, don’t worry so much. I swear, he’s not going anywhere without me.”

“Sorry,” You apologized as you righted your posture and rubbed your neck awkwardly, “I know you’re right, I just…”

“You’re tired, like everyone else,” He finished for you, his eyes boring into as he left some thought unspoken, “I think it’d be best if we took my brother’s lead and lay down while we can. Knowing Thorin’s impetuous ways, we’ll likely not have much of a chance after tonight.”

“Likely not,” You agreed and let your shoulders slump, hiding a yawn behind your hand, “Thanks, Fili. I know I can be a bit…”

“Please, we’re all a little mad sometimes. And after the journey we’ve had, it’s too be expected.” He placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet with an achy groan, “I’ll keep an eye on Kili, not that he needs it. And you,” He pointed a single finger at you with a motherly air, “Get some sleep.”

“Alright,” You couldn’t help a small smile as he gave you one last sharp look and turned on his heel, sauntering back to his brother’s side swiftly.

You glanced around the room to find many of the company already taking Fili’s advice. Bilbo was curled into a ball in the corner, only feet away from Bofur and his brothers who snored in a heap by the single hearth. The other dwarves had settled in similar groupings but for the king and his ever-loyal comrade, Dwalin. Both sat stiffly against the wall, arms crossed and lips drawn as they issued gristly whispers to each other. They were plotting some ruse but you were much too tired to pry.

You stretched your legs out and lowered yourself onto your side, tucking your arm under your head with another prolonged yawn. Your eyes met Fili’s once more as he laid next to his sickly brother and he smiled at you gently. It was as if he knew something but would not say what. Perhaps he had caught onto your none-so-subtle longing for his brother, not that it would be very difficult to guess at.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the thought, embarrassed that your emotions were so transparent. Thinking on it made his words seem teasing, ingenuine, and you realized that you may have misinterpreted ridicule for concern. How pathetic were you? Fawning after Kili like some lost pup and all the while being so oblivious to your own indiscretion.

If only I had strength to change your mind Oh for what you need You will not seek Choose your words before you speak Can you see that all you've got is time?

When Kili arrived at the Mountain, you were relieved to see him recovered and looking well. As he limped next to Fili, you couldn’t help the smile which broadened across your face. It was a brief reprieve from the oppression of Thorin’s dragon sickness. You raced up the walkways until you found the princes trying to navigate through the dark corridors and resisted the urge to wrap your arms around the younger of the pair.

“You made it,” You exclaimed, “Oh, it’s been so miserable here…and I was so worried. Your leg-”

“Is fine,” Kili assured, placing his hand on your shoulder, “You worry too much. About me, anyhow. It seems you should be concerned for my uncle.”

“Yes, very concerned,” Fili grumbled, “He’s not himself, is he?”

“Surely not,” You answered, “But he won’t hear anyone. All he does is rave about the Arkenstone and if for one minute he sees us idle, he seems like to run us through.”

“Not much of a surprise,” Fili frowned, ever the more sober of the two, “Mother had mentioned that it may happen.”

“She did,” Kili leaned against the wall and rubbed his leg, “This damned wound is so itchy.”

“Are you well?” You inhaled sharply.

“I told you, I’m well enough. It’s more annoying than anything,” He pushed himself from the wall, “If it wasn’t for Tauriel-”

“Tauriel?” You growled, your eyes narrowing, “The elf?”

“The very one,” He issued a dreamy sigh, “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. Pray Mahal that I see her again and can thank her for her efforts.”

“Mmm,” Your smile faded slowly and Fili shook his head at you, “Well, I doubt we’ll ever see the sun again lest we find your uncle’s cursed gem.”

“I will see her again,” Kili vowed and you turned to hide your derisive scowl, “In more than my dreams.”

You pushed away your emotion, forcing a vacant stare as you looked back to the dark-haired prince, distracted by the fantasies swirling behind his fawn-like eyes. You gulped awkwardly, your presence entirely forgotten by Kili, and peeked over at his brother who shared a similar air of exasperation. He offered a shrug and consoling smile and you merely turned your back to the pair with a huff.

“Well, I’m off to continue the search,” You stated plainly, “Before Thorin notices my absence.”

Don't give in to that feeling Don't give in darkness and faith, yeah You should be safe, yeah, with someone else

The battle was hard-won but you had survived and so too had the blood of Durin. Barely. All three heirs to the Mountain had been wounded and laid feeble behind closed doors. Your own fortune was little better; a slice across your thigh and another down your forearm. A staggering blow had turned your left eye swollen and purple and your lip split.

You were well enough to walk on your own strength, unlike both princes and the king, and so you trod the corridors of Erebor, eager to check on the youngest of your liege. For two days, you had visited Kili and offered what little comfort you could as he lay prone in agony. He was all you thought of, worrying that he may not be so fortunate as he had been in Laketown, and you nagged Oin constantly for word of his condition.

You stopped before his chamber and raised your hand, rapping on it as you swayed on your feet anxiously. You waited but received no answer and knocked again, patiently staring at the door as the door handle finally jiggled. Your elation was deflated as the door opened and revealed to you was a face you had hoped to never see again. Tauriel looked down at you in her serene manner and you glanced past her to Kili who watched her with intensity. It was the most alert he had appeared in days.

“I…uh,” You sputtered as you looked from dwarf to elf, “Was just coming to check in on Kili.”

“Again?” Kili smiled but did not tear his eyes from Tauriel, “You were just here this morning.”

“Yes, but you were tired and I—I can see you’re busy. My apologies,” You shifted on your feet as heat stung your cheeks, “I’ll come back later, then.”

“You don’t have, too,” Kili pleaded, though he seemed little bothered by your discomfort, “Tauriel only just arrived and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the company.”

“No, no, please,” You waved away his empty invitation, “I’ll let you be.”

You turned before either could argue further, not that you thought they would, and marched down the corridor as anger began to seethe within you. You had thought the elf gone. Was she so foolish as too choose a dwarf over her home? And Kili. How enamored he was with the elf. What a dope! He had known you for much longer, could trust you and yet he acted as if he loved her. It could not be. Not so soon.

As you turned the corner, you nearly stomped straight into Oin as he pulled shut a heavy stone door. He grimace as you slid to a sharp stop and looked you over with his discerning eyes. “You here to see the prince?”

“Um,” You bit your lip, only then realizing you were before Fili’s chamber. You had been selfish in not visiting him sooner, “Sure…I mean, yes.”

“Aye, I suppose it would do him well,” The medic drawled, “Give it a knock and go in. He’s the only just awoken.”

“Right,” You smiled awkwardly and the grey-haired dwarf slowly retreated down the hall without another word.

You turned to the stone and frowned at it guiltily. Fili wouldn’t know that you had waited so long but you still felt terrible. Despite being so distracted by his brother, you could not help but feel beholden to the other for his support in the last weeks.

While Kili fawned over his elven paramour, Fili had been right there at your side. Surely, he knew how it stung you to see the one you loved fall for another. What, with how ardently he tried to cheer you and keep your attentions elsewhere.

You knocked hesitantly and dug your toe into the floor, waiting for a response.

“Come in,” The voice was weak yet welcoming, “Please. I’m afraid I’m in no state to open the door myself.”

You hovered your hand above the handle before clutching it, pushing inward slowly to the dimly lit chamber flickering in the light of a half dozen low-burning lamps. Fili’s blue eyes were pale and shadowed with dark bags, his shoulder wrapped with stained bandages which continued down his torso. He looked frail as he sat against a stack of pillows but nonetheless he smiled as you entered, closing the door behind you with a low groan.

“Y/N,” He greeted brightly, “Oh, thank Mahal you’re here. Oin’s rather dull company and I’m in enough agony as it is.”

“Hmmp,” You forced a chuckle as you slowly neared his bedside, “How do you feel?”

“As good as I look, likely,” He kidded and gestured weakly for you to sit on the cushioned stool next to his bed, “You look worse, I’d say. Unhappy…annoyed?”

“Yes, well, I won’t burden you with my woes,” You lowered yourself onto the seat, “Not when you’re already in such a state.”

“Please, I long for any form of intrigue,” He pleaded and shifted against his pillows, “Wait, I know what it is,” His eyes glimmered and you looked away meekly, “It’s Kili, isn’t it? As per usual, you’re working yourself up over my lout of a brother-”

“He’s wounded. As savagely as you,” You argued defensively, “Would you not even ask how he fairs?”

“I know how he fairs, Oin informed me quite thoroughly of my kin’s recovery,” He shook his head, “Then he reprimanded me for not being so quick to wake. Said I took my damned time in rejoining the living.”

“And did he tell you who has come to visit your brother? Who sits beside him and would nurse him back to health in our dear medic’s stead?”

“No, but I’ve a feeling it’s what has you so riled? Please, tell me before your ears begin to smoke with your fury,” He teased and you sighed, resisting the urge to box the wounded prince across the shoulder.

“The elf,” You mumbled, “Tauriel or whatever her stupid name is.”

“Mahal, Y/N, you need to get over him,” Fili exclaimed, clutching his ribs at his sudden outburst, “And yourself. Maybe he loves her or maybe he doesn’t but acting the fool won’t make it any different.”

“Fili, I—You don’t know what you speak of,” You accused and pouted as you glared back at him.

“I do,” Fili insisted, “I’m not as oblivious as my brother. I know you love him, it’s not hard to see. But you need to realize that you’re worth more than that.

“You’re better than being the dam who dreamily clings to his heels as he chases another.” He sighed and inhaled deeply wincing at the pain it sent through him, “Just give it time. And space. If it’s meant to be, it will sort itself out but you do yourself little good worrying yourself over it. Leave him be. Think of yourself…realize what you truly want.”

“It’s…not fair,” You croaked as your shoulders slumped, “I thought…Kili and I, we’ve been best friends for so long and I thought—I guess I was only lying to myself.”

“Y/N, please,” Fili reached out his hand and you slowly took it, feeling the roughened skin of his palm, “Just breath, alright? You’ll be fine. Everything will turn out as it should but please, oh,” His voice peaked in compassion, “Don’t cry.”

“Sorry,” You wiped away the tears with your free hand and sniffled, “I don’t want to cry but it just hurts so bad.”

“You don’t know that he doesn’t love you yet,” Fili offered as he closed his fingers snugly around your hand, “How could he not?” His smile stunted your tears and your own lips curved in return, “Now, enough about that cursed prince. Tell me what you’ve been up to while I’ve been asleep…besides wringing your hands over my brother.”

Tell your secrets to the night You do yours and I do mine So we won't have to keep them all inside

Every day you had knocked at Kili’s door, you found the she-elf in his presence and every day he seemed to notice you less. Frustrated and unable to bear the scene any longer, you abandoned your visits and went directly to Fili’s chambers instead. You had always made certain to see him after you checked in with his brother and you were gladdened each day to find him stronger than the one before.

When you were with Fili, you forgot about Kili and the crack he had etched into your heart and the less you saw him, the less you thought of it. This day, you passed Kili’s rooms without a thought and skipped to a halt before Fili’s. You rapped on the stone melodically and clung to the bundle under your arm tightly. You heard stirring from within and were surprised when Fili opened the door himself, revealing a triumphant grin as he greeted you.

“Y/N, you’re here!” He held the door for support and waved you inside, “Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” You stepped through the stone arch and he closed the door carefully behind you, “You’re on your feet, I see.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” He moved slowly but steadily as he crossed to a chair and offered you the seat, “I’m still a bit shaky, but it’s not so bad once I’m up and about.”

“Well, I’ve a surprise for you,” You waved away his offer of a seat, “To make your day even better.”

“You do?” He eyed the bundle eagerly, “And what possibly could be better than this.” He attempted to twirl on his feet but ended up stumbling into the chair he had meant for you, “Oi!”

“Are you alright?” You gasped, withholding the chuckle the display tempted from you.

“Quite,” He answered and righted himself in the chair, “Now get to your surprise before I lose interest.”

“I don’t think you could,” You giggled and set down the bundle on the table next to him, unrolling the cloth with a chink of metal, “Dwalin found these. Said they were for the taking so…I took a few I thought you’d like.”

You revealed the row of knives; ten in total, varying in length and a size, some curved and others straight. “Most are in fair condition but I figured you could repair any that need it once your well enough to work in the forge. Or I could, and--”

“Y/N,” The gravity of his tone silenced you, “I…thank you. This is so kind of you and-” He rubbed his beard with an odd expression and tried to hide the red budding in his cheeks, “You did mean to give these to me, right?”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“They aren’t some gift rejected by my brother-”

“What? No,” You were shocked by the insinuation, “Not at all. I saw them and I thought of you. I know that you’ve been trapped in this room for so long and you lost so many of your knives back in Mirkwood and I…thought you’d like them.”

“I do, I do,” He asserted and his lips twitched, “I just—Never thought you’d think of me when I wasn’t right standing right in front of you.”

“Oh,” You pondered his words and the weight returned to your chest. You backed away and sat upon the bench just across from Fili. “I’m done…with Kili. You know, I don’t really think it was meant to be. Even if it were, he found another and I can’t waste my life yearning after him.” Your thoughts spilled out as remorse overcame you, “And I’m sorry, Fili. I’ve treated you as a pawn. I’ve used you so unfairly in my grief. I’ve been selfish and-”

“Don’t be sorry,” He said evenly, “You’ve no need. All I ever wanted was for you to take care of yourself, Y/N. My brother…he was no good for you. All he ever did was torture you and I couldn’t stand to watch it any longer.”

“I…” You exhaled and looked away, knitting your fingers together anxiously, “Why? Why did you care so much?”

Your question went unanswered as silence overtook the chamber, the air strained between the two of you as you avoided each other’s eyes. You thought of the past weeks and the many visits you had made to Fili. How every day you were ever more keen to see him. How the moment you had claimed those knives, you could only think of how big a smile he would wear. How his eyes would sparkle and you would see in him the longing you had never received from Kili.

Your heart faltered and your head spun. A sudden realization rose like a fog around you and you were trapped in the haze.

“Fili,” You turned to him with widened eyes, “I…” Your mouth hung open as you tried to sort through your thoughts, “I think I love you.”

His deep chuckle shook you as he tossed back his head. He laughed and clutched at his sides as he bent over in his chair, wiping away tears which rose. You watched dumbfounded until he straightened himself in his seat and sniffed away his mirth.

“Y/N,” He sputtered and cleared his throat, steadying himself, “How I’ve longed to hear you say those words. All these years I’ve watched you grovel at my brother’s feet and trip over yourself for his heart. Every day was torment for I loved you. Truly. I knew it was not the same infatuation you harboured for Kili, it was more.”

Fili shook his head and looked away, swallowing harshly as he chose his words. “I love you, Y/N. You’re the one. My One. There is no doubt in my mind of that. I only regret that me being near-death was the only manner in which it could become obvious to you.”

“Fili, I’m so sorry, I never—how could I be so blind?”

“I am not mad, Y/N,” He stood slowly, pushing himself with the help of his chair, dragging his feet over to sit beside you on the bench, “We suffered the same pain. The same unrequited love. Until now,” He took your hands in his, his thumbs caressing your skin softly, “You’re still the One. You always will be.”

Cutting of any further response, Fili leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You pulled your hand from his and touched his cheek, running your nails through the thick swath of his beard. Slowly, you back away, savouring the warmth of his kiss, and looked into his eyes wondrously.

“You were right,” You breathed, “I was a fool.”

#kili #fili #the hobbit #fic #one shot

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sasha-rochester · 8 years ago

Text

RP connections thingy

Full Name: Sasha Elizabeth Rochester Race: Midlander Hyur Sex: Female Occupation: Scholar, Researcher, Alchemist, Independent Mage.

Personality type (laid back, militant, high strung, etc):

Equipped with smooth words, a disarming smile, and a keen eye for what she can use to her benefit, she sees the world as her playground for lies and deception. Her demeanor is pleasant and charming, always keeping a friendly though somewhat distant disposition. Seductive, provocative and perhaps a little cheeky, she takes pleasure from keeping others off-balance.

To those she can benefit from, this mask will be kept almost permanently plastered on her face, always willing to please and seduce. Analytical to the core, she will inspect and morph into what she believes others expect her to be, from the foolish, harmless damsel in distress, to the cunning archmage. Give her a stage she desires and she will put on a show. To her, all truths are malleable and easily bent, words are nothing but child's play. People she considers fools or threatening will see another side of her, however. And they will soon discover that the coy smile bears sharp teeth and a sharper tongue. While she doesn't seek to harm, her patience is often limited towards those she deems incompetent, and her sweet words will turn into bitter sarcasm and condescending arrogance.

Due to a distaste towards violence, she has a strong inclination towards battles of wit when facing conflict. Sasha also implements under-handed tactics, and more than anything, persuasion. She sees fists and blades as the arms of savages, and will frown upon those who see them as their first resort.

Despite her seemingly refined demeanor, she can be quite reckless and childish in her pursuit of magical power, having an absolute fascination for aetherial phenomena. She doesn't care that aether harms her. So long as she can feel the rush of magic surging through her veins, she will always be motivated to look for more. Due to her aetherial sensitivity, her obsession with magic has proven many times to be highly detrimental to her condition. She stubbornly insists on continuing to push herself further and further, caring not for the consequences.

Manipulative, self-destructive, scheming, secretive, and distrustful, it's easy to portray her under a negative light when people discover that part of her nature, but in her eyes, her tactics are nothing but a shell that protects her from a harsh, ruthless world. With few enemies and even fewer friends, she feels deep affection and loyalty towards those who choose to stand by her side, even after witnessing the best and worst of her.

What does your character look like?:

Face Sasha has a very pale, clear complexion. She has a white birth mark on her left cheekbone, but no blemishes besides that. In a way, she looks like a porcelain doll. Her eyes are large, framed by thick, dark eyelashes. Colour-wise, they are what one would call a ‘forest green’, Green with a yellower undertone than blue. Her features could be described as delicate and femenine, with a thin nose, rounded, high cheekbones, and plump lips. Her face is relatively long, with a small chin and jaw. I would say her face is heart-shaped, and yes, her hairline does have a small widow’s peak. Body Her body, much like her face, is diligently cared for. Her waistline would be like the classical femenine hourglass. She’s considered somewhat busty, but not as much as some of her friends. Her hips are proportional to this. She’s fairly slender, but lacks any good muscle definition save for her lower torso and legs. Her arms are likely a lost cause. I’d say her frame is medium to small. She also has the ‘dimples of venus’ on her lower back.

Favorite hobby:

Magic

Alchemy

Reading

Forming Connections

Motto they live by:

“ Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception.”

Favorite type of environment:

She is very fond of the night--Particularily near the sea or the ocean. She also enjoys places that she considers lively bastions of civilization, like Ul’dah. Otherwise, give her a warm, starry night, a candle, and some books.

Friends/Allies:

(I can’t write down all her connections because I will murder my fingers that way. I will name her closest allies, or those she has had for the longest time. Excluding X’elo from this one.)

Edda Eglatine (@lodsamone) Edda is someone she finds deightfully entertaining and disarming, despite the fact Edda herself is played as a very awkward, uptight character. Sasha sees a kindred spirit in what she could have been, and seeks to break Edda’s uptight and timid exterior. Lorentz Rivers (@andarion) He put up with so much of her shit and still protects her. He also isn’t scared to knock her out when she’s being irrational or violent. I guess he’s O.K. OOC, kind of a loser nerd. Issabel Drake (@twelvesavethequeen) There’s a friendly competition between both of them. Sasha genuinely find her company charming and enjoyable, albeit vexxing at times. There are too many things they share in common for her not to constantly compare herself to Issabel. Gogonji Gegenji (@gegenji) She cares about this man as much as she admires him. In a way, she sees Gogonji as a mentor. She values his counsel and input more than any other of her allies or friends. Miziutte Zuiremand (@themizyin) Though their interactions are limited, she genuinely cares about Miziutte and truly wants to establish a healthy, lasting friendship with her. In a way, despite their different backgrounds, she sees a kindred spirit in academic pursuit.

Who they admire:

Her grandmother (Caroline Chamberlain), though she admittedly does it because she idolizes her. Sasha admires Caroline as much as she fears and distrusts her. Their relationship is somewhat toxic and abusive, as they both idealize each other to the point of an unhealthy obsession to meet each other’s expectations.

What do they hope to do 10 years from now?:

Take over the world and let there be a dominion of the uncontrollable power of aeth--Okay, no. Just kidding. She hopes to become a renowned and respected archmage and scholar. Her ultimate goal is to be the kind of mage people write legends about, to her, that’s the only way she can truly honor her bloodline. She hates the fact her ancestors are so much greater than her, so she truly hopes she one day will surpass them.

Are they single? If not, who is their spouse/partner/life mate?:

Happily married to X’elo Maimhov.

What do they look for in friends?:

People she can use. No, seriously. People she can use.

If they walked into a bar and saw a talking slug, what would their reaction be?:

Be disgusted and fascinated. Would likely observe it for quite a long time. If the talking slug was somewhat intelligent, she may try to carry a conversation, but again, she may be utterly repulsed by the idea.

OOC:

Usual Playtime: 6-7 p.m. EST

Server: Balmung

FC/Guild: <<Thorn>>

Looking for (friends, ships, hate ships, shady connections, etc.):

EVERYTHING. All of it. You want to stab her? Go ahead.

RP Hooks: If you’re from Sharlayan: Sasha’s grandmother, Caroline Chamberlain, is a well-known professor and scholar who is native to Sharlayan. She doesn’t travel outside the city state much, but she certainly has a lot of connections within. It’s not difficult for me to set something up from this angle. If you’re from Ul’dah: She does not have a terribly good reputation, but hey! She’s known for being rich! And manipulative. And dishonest. Also, people die around her a lot, especially people who are inconvenient to her. But hey! Money! Also she spends like 90% of her time in Ul’dah. If you’re in The Shroud: She travels to the Shroud a lot, mainly for research and alchemical ingredients. Usually goes with a bodyguard, but may go alone if she’s in a bad/incompetent mood. Aether there fucks her up. If you’re a Mage in any city-state: Sasha loooooves fellow mages. She has a record of academic excellence and is seen as competent in most, if not all forms of magic available to the Eorzean general public. Any magic is a common ground for her. If you have connections to the Ul’dahn or Lominsan criminal underground: Sasha’s former husband, Stefan Delumiere, used to have a big influence on the criminal underworld up until he dissappeared. He mainly dealt with the black market for “alternative medicine” (If you know what I mean). He was also known as a lying, scheming, criminal piece of shit. A complete con-man. The chances of him marrying her for the money are high. If your character is a Noble of any sorts (or stupidly rich): Sasha is a very socially aware character, so if your character comes from a wealthy family like her own, chances are, she has heard about them. There’s also a high possibility that there are pre-existing relations between her family and your character’s own. This can be settled OOC. If you’re an Alchemist: She is often found in the Alchemist’s guild, but if not, she is more than open to people who share her love for Alchemy. If you’re a scholar: Same as Alchemist. She appreciates people she can have a common ground with. Sasha should be back in the RP Scene next month, after a 6 month hiatus to Sharlayan.

#asks

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sariasprincy · 8 years ago

Text

Where it Happened vi - ItaSaku

Part i Part ii Part iii Part iv Part v Part vi (here) Part vii

Update: RATED M for adult themes.

Please note this is a very long chapter. Don’t ask how - I don’t know. Thanks again @beyondthemoor for betaing and your suggestions!

Where it Happened part vi

Sakura dropped her patient’s chart onto the counter at the nurses’ station before she pulled her scrub cap from her head. A loose lock fell across her face and she swept it back and ensured her hair was still secured in the intricate braid Ino had tied together for her before she flipped open the file. Updating patient information had become so natural that her pen moved swiftly across the page, only pausing to double check lab numbers as she filled the data in.

She was just about finished when she realized a shadow had fallen across her. Her pen stilled and she peeked a glance up only to grow confused as she realized she didn’t recognize the man standing before her. He did look vaguely familiar with his strong jawline and high cheekbones. His black eyes only emphasized his stunning, aristocratic features, and they seemed to dance in the overhead light as he smiled at her.

“Hi there. You’re beautiful.”

Flummoxed, Sakura blinked. “Uhh...thank you?”

He leaned towards her as his gaze traveled over her chart. “A Septal Myectomy,” he read as he gazed up at her again. “That’s a complicated procedure. You must be very good with your hands.” His innuendo was only too clear as he smiled at her. “Any issues removing the thickened muscle wall through the aortic valve?”

Sakura’s brow arched minutely as she gauged the stranger before her. She was impressed with his medical knowledge but only too aware that he was flirting with her as he grinned cheekily at her. He was using his looks to his advantage and they both knew it too, but she found herself more entertained by the man than vexed, and she smiled somewhat haughtily. “None. I was flawless.”

“That you are,” he said. His grin widened causing dimples to appear in the corners of his mouth. She warmed under his stare but she gave no outward indication as he leaned against the counter. “Perhaps you can help me then.” His smile faded as he placed a hand over his chest and looked at her seriously. “I’ve been having some unusual symptoms lately.”

“What kind of symptoms?” she asked slowly.

“My heartbeat has been erratic, my blood pressure is through the roof, and I feel flushed all over.”

Sakura tapped her pen against her chart slowly as she shot him an unimpressed look. “Tell me, does describing your arousal normally work for you?”

His grin returned as he shrugged unapologetically. “Depends if they have a medical degree or not.”

“And if they do?” she countered.

Her met her gaze evenly as he leaned closer. “Then I tell them they have the most stunning green eyes I’ve ever seen until they agree to join me for dinner.”

“Just dinner?”

His dimples returned as his smile widened. “Well if you wanted to come over for dessert afterwards, I wouldn’t say no.”

Sakura understood the implication of his words and against her better judgement, she snorted. She wondered how he had so easily managed to manipulate their conversation to make it sound like it was her idea, but rather than be offended by his obvious sexual harassment, she was amused. “You don’t even know my name.”

“And my world is all the more less because of it.”

She shook her head but her smile was only too obvious as she finally lowered her pen and held out her hand. “Sakura.”

“Shisui?”

The pair turned abruptly. Itachi stood at the other end of the nurses’ desk, his expression openly surprised as he stared at the male on the other side of the counter. Sakura glanced between the two. “You two know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Itachi muttered.

Shisui’s grin didn’t waver as he pushed away from the counter to approach him. Stunned, Sakura watched as he threw his arm over Itachi’s shoulders as he locked him in a half-hug. “Don’t be like that, baby cousin. You’ll make me think you didn’t miss me.”

Oh. That’s why he looked so familiar to her. Now that they were standing side-by-side, the pair almost looked like twins. The only notable difference was their hairstyles. While Shisui’s was short in wild curls, Itachi’s fell over his shoulder and long, silky strands; but their locks were the same impossibly dark shade of black. They both shared the same angular features and even stood at the same height. Shisui’s shoulders were broader making him appear larger but Itachi made up for it with his unmoving demeanor.

“Shisui, what are you doing here?” Itachi asked. It was hard to tell if it was surprise or irritation coloring his tone.

His cousin was far easier to read as he shot him an amused look. “Have you been ignoring Auntie Mikoto again? She said she was going to call you to remind you about the party tonight. Not that you need reminding; your memory was always better than mine.”

“Yes, I am aware of the function this evening,” Itachi said shortly. It was definitely annoyance in his voice.

Shisui ignored it as he cocked his head. “Good. Then I can assume that your valve repair tonight was intentionally scheduled late.”

Itachi’s mouth pressed into a thin line but he didn’t reply as Sakura’s pager suddenly sounded. The pair turned to her abruptly and she started as she realized she had been caught eavesdropping. Now that they were both peering at her, she realized just how intense their obsidian gazes were as they pinned her in place and she flushed under their stares. Pulling her pager from her hip, she used the device as a means to busy herself. She read the quick message before she closed her patient chart and handed it to the nurse manning the desk.

“Trauma?” Itachi asked.

Sakura smiled regretfully. “Consult.”

His shoulders deflated minutely and he slid his gaze back to Shisui as his cousin beamed. “Good! They don’t need you right now. Which means that you can show me the cafeteria because I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“It is not even noon, Shisui.”

Sakura bit back her laugh as Shisui shrugged. Itachi heaved a silent sigh but she didn’t miss the small upward curve in the corner of his mouth as if he had been in this exact situation with his cousin time and time again. However, she forced her attention to turn as she collected her scrub cap from the counter before she slowly walked backwards towards the elevators. “I’ll page you if I need you.”

He shot her a look that silently requested she do it sooner rather than later before the two men headed the opposite direction towards the cafeteria. Sakura watched them go a moment before she finally turned around and headed down the hall.

It had turned out to be a surprisingly busy day. After her consult, Sakura had been pulled into an emergency surgery as a car accident victim had suffered a crushed sternum. She had worked with Kakashi for hours as they repaired the damage but the injury had proved to be too much and they had been forced to ‘pack’ their patient to allow their body time to rest. The next twenty-four hours were crucial which was why Sakura had ordered Hanabi to keep a close eye on the young male.

“Well that could have gone better.”

Sakura glanced at Kakashi as she stretched her hands over her head. “It could have gone worse,” she countered.

He hummed in agreement as they watched the nurses wheel the patient out of the room. Only after they had disappeared down the hall did she and Kakashi turn away and head towards the surgical board. Conversation filled the wide hallway as surgeons and nurses chatted. Sakura observed the board silently as Kakashi erased their surgery from OR 2. It didn’t escape her notice that Itachi’s valve replacement was no longer on the schedule and she frowned curiously as she wondered if Shisui had convinced him to push back the procedure until the following day.

“I would have no complaints being in the middle of that.”

Ino’s familiar voice immediately caught Sakura’s notice. She glanced down the nurses’ station until her eyes landed on her blonde friend. She was standing with none other than Tenten as the pair stared down the hall, their body language suggesting that they were yet again gossiping. It drew an amused smirk to her face and she silently approached the pair to see who it was that had captured their attention. It shouldn’t have surprised her to find their gazes locked on Itachi and Shisui. They were standing together as they discussed something privately, but it was the fact that Shisui was no longer dressed in street clothes and instead donning a pair of dark blue, attending scrubs that made her eyes narrow curiously.

Gazing back to the board, Sakura briefly reviewed the schedule again only for her brow to arch in surprise as she realized he was in fact a surgeon. He was slated to be in surgery in less than an hour. That would explain how he knew what a Septal Myectomy was, she supposed.

“You wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week,” Tenten teased as Sakura turned back to the women.

Ino simply shrugged. “It would totally be worth it though.”

“You two and your fantasies, I swear,” Sakura laughed.

The women visibly started as they spun around to face her. Upon sight of her, Tenten released a relieved breath while Ino’s hands flew to her hips. “Will you stop doing that! Besides,” she continued , lowering her voice, “if you try and tell me that you haven’t fantasized about riding Itachi in an on-call room, I’ll write ‘liar’ across your forehead.”

“He’s attractive, I’ll admit it,” Sakura shrugged unapologetically. “But unlike you, he’s also my boss.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t fantasize,” Tenten muttered.

Ino quickly agreed with her before she glanced back to where the two men were still speaking. “Well what about tall-dark-and-handsome? He isn’t your boss.”

“His cousin?” Sakura asked.

Both Tenten and Ino turned to her abruptly and her smirk faded as her blonde friend stared at her suspiciously. “How do you know who he is?”

Sakura pointed towards the surgical board. “Did you really think Itachi was doing a Facial Reconstruction this afternoon?” The pair followed her pointed finger and blinked in surprise at the name on the board. While they were distracted, Sakura added nonchalantly, “And also because he tried to get in my pants this morning.”

Ino rounded on her incredulously. “And you said no?”

“Who is getting into your pants?”

The trio turned to the newcomer to find Kakashi had stopped next to them. Ino immediately snapped her mouth shut while Tenten flushed a light shade of pink; however, Sakura only laughed as she waved her hand in the air dismissively. “No one. My pants are staying on, thank you.”

“Pity,” he murmured. “You have nice legs. And an amazing ass. It might be good for you to take them off every now and then.”

“‘kashi!” However he was already walking away, his soft chuckles trailing after him. Sakura merely shook her head, her grin obvious, before she turned back to Ino. “Stop spreading rumors.”

The blonde waited until Kakashi was out of sight before she frowned. “I’m just saying. You haven’t been laid in a while and it’s never a good thing for a surgeon to be stressed.”

“You know what would make me less stressed? You not telling me that I’m stressed.”

Ino looked ready to retort but the words never left her mouth as Shisui walked by. He called a greeting to her that was accompanied by a grin and a wink, causing an automatic smile to cross her face as she returned his call. However, he didn’t stay to talk as he continued towards the operating rooms.

When Sakura turned back to Tenten and Ino, they were staring at her. “What?”

Ino crossed her arms, her expression proud as if she had proved a point. “When you two finally do it, will you at least let me know how it was?”

“Do what?”

Sakura’s entire body went ridge as she recognized that smooth, masculine voice. It was fortunate her back was to Itachi because she was certain he would have noticed the slight pinkness that was sure to be dusting her cheeks. Ino and Tenten looked like deer caught in the headlights and she quickly shot them a look that told them to walk away. Immediately.

“Uhh...nothing,” Tenten said shortly. “I have rounds. Bye.”

Ino quickly followed, not even bothering to make an excuse, and Sakura waited until the heat had died from her face before she finally turned around. Itachi was standing at the counter directly behind her as he reviewed a chart and she breathed a silent sigh of relief when she saw he seemed more preoccupied with the file than receiving an answer to his question.

“Shisui’s a plastic surgeon?” she asked, changing the subject.

Itachi didn’t glance at her as he updated the information. “He is.”

She didn’t miss the stiffness in his voice. “What? You’re not happy to see him?”

“He is my best friend. Of course, I am,” he answered. Then his pen stilled as he sighed. “However, he is only here because the Annual Association of Surgeons is tonight.”

“Ahh, so that’s the party you’re going to tonight. You don’t want to go?”

Itachi slid a flat look her way. “It is not exactly my idea of a good time.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged as he returned to his chart. “I think it could be fun.”

“Do you want to come?”

Sakura stilled. She blinked in surprise at his abrupt question and opened her mouth but it was a moment before she found her voice. “Excuse me?”

Itachi looked up from the patient file to gaze at her. “Would you like to go to the party tonight?”

The way his obsidian eyes seemed to pierce right through her made her warm down to her very soul. She swallowed thickly before answering, “That is a very generous invitation, but unfortunately I already have other arrangements tonight. Next time though?”

Guilt ripped through her at the look of disappointment that flickered behind his eyes. His expression remained otherwise unreadable as he closed his patient chart and stepped away from the nurses’ station. “Yes, of course.”

Confused, Sakura watched him walk away only to suddenly realize he had misunderstood her. The need to chase after him and explain put her feet into motion but she stopped as her pager called for her attention. She chewed her lip indecisively but was eventually forced to turned away to respond to the page. Itachi would come to understand later that night.

The grand hotel stood bright and tall against the dark backdrop of the night. External lights brightened the building, drawing attention to the event and inviting guests to the entrance. A line of expensive limousines filled the circle driveway as finely dressed men and women arrived. Everything about the lavish decor promised that the event would not be one to forget.

However, all the effort and work was lost on Itachi as he gazed down at his phone for the umpteenth time. He suppressed a sigh at finding his text and email inboxes were still empty. He only needed one trauma.

“You know, you should at least act like you wanna be here.”

Itachi raised his gaze to peer at Shisui. His cousin was lounging comfortably across from him with a mostly empty glass of champagne. His expensive three-piece suit made him appear younger but his hair was still as wild and unruly as usual.

Itachi merely arched a brow as he finally pocketed his phone. “You and I both know my feelings on these types of functions.”

“Yes, yes, you hate being the center of attention just because of your name, I know.” He finished his drink and placed the glass in the cupholder before he relaxed back again. “You think I enjoy it? Why do you think I always drink at these functions? For fun?”

“Yes,” Itachi answered flatly.

Shisui waved his hand carelessly. “Alright, well maybe I do.” Then his gaze turned serious. “Just have a drink and try to play nice. Mikoto hasn’t said anything but she hasn’t been exactly happy while you’ve been gone. She’s missed you.”

Itachi didn’t reply but a small frown settled upon his face. He knew his mother had felt his absence even if she hadn’t said so during their numerous phone calls in recent weeks, and a twinge of guilt settled under his breastbone. It was only one night. He supposed he could make an effort, if only for her.

The moment their limo pulled up to the curb, Shisui slipped out. Itachi followed more languidly before the pair made their way up the carpeted stairs to the entrance of the party. The inside decor was even more posh than the entrance with stunning lights that accentuated the high ceiling and brought a sense of warmth about the room.

The affair was already mostly in swing as surgeons from all over the country mingled with food and drink in hand. Itachi immediately recognized a few well-known doctors, but the longer they stood, they more aware he became of the gazes and whispers they were creating. It appeared word would soon be spread that the Uchiha family had arrived.

However, he was forced out of his inward brooding as Shisui grasped him by the arm and tugged him off to one side. After a moment, he realized what it was that had captured his cousin’s attention as the crowd parted to reveal his mother.

Even from across the room, he saw her brilliant eyes brighten as they landed on him. A wide smile stretched across her beautiful face and she quickly ended her current conversation before she stepped away to meet them. “Itachi,” she beamed. Unsurprisingly, she drew him into a tight hug that lasted a few moments before she stepped back to examine him. “I’m so relieved you could make it. I hear the hospital has been keeping you busy.”

“No busier than the usual,” he returned.

She looked both beautiful and powerful as she always did in a black evening gown that was form-fitting, yet modest. It didn’t escape his attention that there were a few grey hairs amongst her dark raven locks he hadn’t noticed before, but he hide his frown as he bent to kiss her cheek. “I have missed you.”

“I missed you too. You look well,” Mikoto continued. She brushed away any creases she made on his suit before she glanced at Shisui. “I suppose I have you to thank for dragging him out of surgery.”

“He was always very easy to guilt trip,” his cousin smirked.

Itachi slipped him an unimpressed look as Mikoto smiled in amusement. However, the moment was broken as the Uchiha matriarch suddenly perked up. “Oh, would you two excuse me for a moment? It appears Nara Shikaku has just arrived. I want to speak with him about his latest Neurology research before I lose him to the rest of the crowd.”

With a promise to meet again before the main dinner, she disappeared into the party. Itachi watched her go before he glanced at his cousin who had taken to eyeing a table packed with snacks on the far side of the room. “You believe you guilt tripped me into coming?”

“Of course. I’ve been doing it since you were five,” he said nonchalantly. Upon his stare, Shisui glanced back at him before he sighed. “Oh, come on. Ever since your falling out with-” he stopped abruptly before he said her name, “you-know-who, you’ve been avoiding your parents.

“You refuse to speak to your dad, you purposely choose times your mom is unavailable to call, and if I’m lucky, I might receive a text message. The only person not affected by all of this is Sasuke. Your brother probably doesn’t even know what happened considering he’s off halfway across the world. This entire situation has uprooted all of us. I know that’s why you came here to work, so don’t bother making excuses like ‘your new hospital is one of the best in the country’.”

“It is one of the best hospitals in the country,” Itachi countered smoothly. “Tsunade has been awarded multiple prestigious awards for her work. It is an honor to work under her.”

Shisui scoffed lightly. “Excuse. But I’m not here to argue with you about this tonight. We’ll do it tomorrow. Tonight, I plan on eating too much steak and drinking too much champagne.”

As always, his cousin managed to draw an amused smirk from him even when he wanted nothing more than to be annoyed; and with a shake of his head, he followed his best friend towards the table. They slipped between attendees, stopping to chat politely with surgeons as their names were called.

They had barely made it halfway across the room when Itachi heard his name called again. He turned expectantly and blinked in surprise as he recognized someone he hadn’t seen since in nearly a decade. “Kisame.”

Itachi had forgotten just how large the man was as he easily towered over the rest of the crowd, but he would recognize that cocky grin anywhere. “It’s been a long time, Weasel.”

“So it has,” he agreed. It had been so long he had nearly forgotten the nickname the older man had given him. “I see you have matured since our intern year.”

Kisame merely smirked. “And I see you’re just as frosty as ever. Still stealing surgeries?”

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Itachi said lightly. However, there was an amused curve in the corner of his mouth as he recalled the numerous procedures Itachi had weaseled his way into. He should have known Kisame would never let it go.

“And what of yourself?” Itachi continued. “Last I had heard, your boards had been so successful, you beat out all the candidates in the running for Amegakure. I was not aware you had even applied.”

“I hadn’t,” he retorted. “I suppose you can I say I learned from the best.”

Itachi chuckled lightly. A smart reply balanced on the tip of his tongue but it was left unsaid as a flash of pink caught the corner of his eye and drew his gaze. It took him a moment to find what it was that had captured his attention, but then he recognized her amongst the sea of bodies as she crossed the room.

Sakura.

Even in a room full of richly dressed guests, she stood out in her white dress. She slipped through the crowd easily until she came to stop next to Tsunade. She greeted the surgeons already speaking with their Chief before she leaned forward to whisper something privately in the older woman’s ear.

With sudden understanding, it occurred to Itachi why she had been unable to accompany him tonight. She had already been invited by the Chief. Whatever suspicions he had about their relationship suddenly seemed less outlandish as he realized he had been right: they knew one another on a personal level. Curiosity stirred within him as he watched their interaction.

With her back to him, Itachi was unable to make out Tsunade’s expression as Sakura spoke but his eyes caught movement as she accepted something from the older woman before she excused herself again. He tracked her movements as she made her way towards the opposite wall and in the general direction of the bar until she disappeared amongst the many attendees.

Pulling his gaze from her, Itachi faced Kisame once more . “You will have to excuse me. There’s something I must see to.”

In his distraction, someone else had approached to speak with his old colleague. Kisame glanced up at him and waved him off before he returned to his conversation. Itachi backed away before he weaved his way towards the bar where he assumed Sakura had vanished to. It appeared he had guessed right for as he approached, he found her waiting patiently along the long counter.

She set a glass down in front of her as she smiled at the bartender. “Sake, please.”

He returned her smile as he took her glass and put it aside before he reached for a fresh one. “Coming right up.”

As soon as the bartender turned away, Itachi made himself known. “You have a most unusual relationship with the Chief.”

Sakura turned her head to gaze at him, causing her pale pink hair to fall over her shoulder in soft curls with the movement. It took him a moment to realize that the brilliant shine in her hair was caused by the silver clips keeping her bangs out of her face as they caught the light, but it was her eyes that drew his attention. They were rimmed with subtle eyeliner and shadow, making her sharp intellect glimmer behind her dark emerald irises.

She looked absolutely stunning as a sly smile crossed her face. “I promise it’s not as unusual as you think.”

“A family friend then?” he asked innocently as he stepped up to the bar until they could converse more privately. “Or perhaps a longtime mentor?”

“Well I can’t tell you all my secrets,” she teased. “How then would I get out of trouble when I choose to disobey you?”

“Are you planning a mutiny?”

Sakura shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. Depends if there’s a case worth mutinying for.”

“Well at least I know where I stand.”

Her smile widened before she turned back to the bar as the bartender returned with her order. Itachi allowed himself a moment to observe the modest dip of her halter and the subtle swell of her hips under her dress before the material fell in a waterfall of silk to the floor. She was wearing heels, a fact he knew only because he didn’t have to tilt his chin down to speak with her.

It surprised him to learn that he had grown so familiar to her in the times they stood together during surgery and while consulting that he was accustomed to the simply things such as her height. She normally stood level with his chin, while now he could meet her gaze evenly. Even the subtle smell of her shampoo had become a familiarity. It was muted now with the faint perfume she had chosen to wear for the occasion, but it didn’t smell any less pleasantly.

“What?”

Itachi’s gaze found hers again and he blinked as he realized he had been caught staring. However, he didn’t let his thoughts show outwardly as he smiled lightly. “I have just grown used to your scrubs. I was beginning to believe you were unable to come tonight because they were the only attire you owned.”

“I think what you meant to say was ‘Sakura, you look nice tonight’,” she said smartly. “And I didn’t tell you I couldn’t come, Itachi. Only that I had other arrangements.”

It was the first time that he could recall of her using his given name and for the first time that night, he felt himself relax. Sakura had a way of putting her patients at ease and it appeared the same held true outside their line of work. The moment he and Shisui had entered the event, he could feel the stares as their name hung over their heads, but the way Sakura was smiling at him now as quiet laughter reflected in her eyes made him feel as though he wasn’t the son of a prestigious family; he was just simply Itachi.

“My mistake then,” he murmured.

Her smile widened before her gaze visibly traveled over him once. “I have to say I am enjoying the suit more than the scrubs. Although, we all already know you do those scrubs justice.”

He warmed at her bold words but his curiosity also stirred and he arched his brow. “We?”

“Oh, come on. A genius like you? You can’t tell me that even after all these months, you haven’t heard Ino gossiping about you.”

A memory of Sakura standing with the blonde General Surgeon and their friend from Ortho from that afternoon sudden roused in his mind. He hadn’t understood their looks of mortification at the time as he had been too preoccupied with other things, but he supposed it all did make sense. His family seemed to have that effect on others.

“I see,” he murmured. “They are expecting us to sleep together.”

“Actually, they think I’m going to sleep with Shisui.” Upon his look of bemusement, Sakura laughed. “I promise I’m not going to. I’ve known him for all of twelve hours and even I can see he’s a flirt. He’s cute but not my type. Besides I’m sure he’s already found someone else to preoccupy him.”

Itachi wondered if she realized just how accurate her statement was. It was somewhat amazing his cousin hadn’t had any claims of sexual harassment filed against him as he must have slept with nearly every nurse and resident at his previous and current hospital. The fact that she had drawn such an observation in so little time was quite amusing.

“And what of yourself?” he asked. His gaze briefly drifted down to her untouched glass on the counter. “Will sake be keeping you company tonight?”

“It’s for the Chief. I’m sober tonight, I’m afraid.”

“The better to make your escape back to the hospital?”

Sakura eyed him for a moment as a small, knowing smile crossed her face. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.” Then she arched her brow. “Not that I see a drink in your hand. Waiting for Hanabi’s call?”

A smirk was his only reply before they were approached by another. “Sakura.”

Her teasing gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she turned to answer the call of her name. Immediately her amusement fell as her expression shifted to one of genuine, confused shock. “Shizune? What are you doing here? I thought you were across the world completing your work.”

Itachi too gazed at the dark-haired woman. He didn’t recognize her, but given by Sakura’s reaction it appeared the two women were long acquainted, even if their body language suggested they were uncertain how to interact.

“I was until a few days ago,” Shizune answered. “I only just arrived this morning.”

“You’ve been gone for three years. What are you doing here?” There was no hostility to Sakura’s question; merely pure confusion as she stared wide-eyed.

“I know,” she said as she smiled regretfully. Then she glanced at Itachi. “I’m sorry. I interrupted.”

“No,” Sakura said quickly. She turned to him and flashed him an apologetic look. “Can we talk later?”

Without pause, Itachi nodded. He knew a dismissal when he saw one. “Of course. Enjoy your evening.”

He backed away respectfully, leaving the two women to speak privately, before his attention turned to searching for Shisui. However, he chanced one glance back at Sakura as she and Shizune moved away from the bar as curiosity tugged on him.

It was slowly becoming more and more apparent to him that he knew very little about Sakura. While he had come to learn her skill and thought process well in recent months, her personal life still remained a mystery to him and he felt himself drawn to her. Sakura was highly intelligent and incredibly gift, but also private - a fact he found most unusual given her expressiveness. Given their first surgery together the first week of his arrival, he had expected them to buttheads frequently but she was turning out to be someone he enjoyed speaking with and someone that kept him on his toes on an intellectual level.

As he watched her disappear back into the crowd, his parting thought was he sincerely hoped it was not the last he saw of her that evening.

Sakura paced the large ballroom slowly. Her gaze travelled over the guests still in attendance as she walked with no particular destination in mind. It just felt good to move as it relieved the ache her heels had created in the soles of her feet after having stood and listened to the many surgeons do their best to impress Tsunade for so long.

That had been until a few minutes ago when Shizune had finally made her presence known to the Chief. Just as Sakura had expected, she had been surprised. And then angry. The pair had chosen to take their long overdue conversation elsewhere only too aware that a continued discussion within the party would draw unwanted attention, leaving Sakura to her own devices.

With the Chief now gone, she no longer had any reason to stay and she weighed her options slowly as she circled the room. She was sure she would be of more use back at the hospital or far more comfortable at home, but she found no reason to make a beeline for the door. She was after all still in the presence of some of the highest regarded surgeons in the country.

There were some faces she recognized from medical journals and previous conferences she had attended in the past but for the most part, many remained unknown to her. From her past experience, she had learned that the more prestigious surgeons always had a fluctuating crowd around them as guests attempted to meet their idols and get their names known to them.

It didn’t surprise her in the least to see Itachi was one of those surgeons. She hadn’t been looking for him but her gaze had been drawn by the ever-constant flow of company that stopped to speak with him and Shisui. The pair were conversing with another male she didn’t recognize but given by his expression, it appeared he had been attempting to tell them a story for some time now as he continued to be interrupted.

From her vantage, it was difficult to tell if Itachi was relieved or irritated by the disruptions. She was unable to see Shisui’s expression but judging by Itachi’s, it was apparent he wanted nothing more than to make an escape.

A small smirk crossed Sakura’s face as she watched the latest guest interrupt to introduce herself. She was tall and gorgeous in a bold, red dress as she smiled and took his hand in a demure touch. However, it didn’t escape Sakura’s notice that her hand lingered longer than necessary as she expressed her admiration for his work - or at least Sakura assumed that was what she was doing. It was the usual conversation start at these types of gatherings. It was usually followed by an offer to get a drink.

However, to her surprise, Itachi merely withdrew his hand politely before he returned his attention to the man telling his story. His dismissal was clear and she didn’t miss the look of disappointment that crossed the woman’s face. His blatant rejection stirred amusement within her as she wondered if this was a normality for him during these events.

“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Doctor Nara. If you ever find yourself in my neck of the woods, please don’t hesitate to visit.”

At that familiar name, Sakura’s attention piqued. She turned to locate the conversation and caught a glimpse of a fairly young looking man shaking hands with an older gentleman a small distance from her. “I will be sure to give you a call.”

With his back to her, Sakura wasn’t entirely sure if she recognized the man that had been addressed but her curiosity always got the best of her and she quietly approached as his acquaintance excused himself. “Doctor Nara. Any relation to Nara Shikamaru?” she asked.

It was only her years as a surgeon that kept her from blinking in surprise as he turned to face her. He was quite handsome but her eyes were automatically drawn to the two long, deep scars that ran across his face - one along his temple and the other down one cheek. He appeared most intimidating with his intense gaze but it quickly softened as he smiled. “Shikamaru? He’s my son.”

Sakura smiled at his answer. “I’ve worked with him for a number of years. I wasn’t aware Shika had any other family within the medical field,” she said not unkindly. “Is he here tonight?”

The man laughed lightly. “If you are really acquainted with him, you should know that he refuses to attend these types of events.”

“I guess I should. Too bothersome, I suppose.”

At Shikamaru’s familiar complaint, the older man chuckled before he held out his hand. “Bothersome is right. I’m Doctor Nara Shikaku.”

Sakura’s smile widened as she accepted his hand and introduced herself.

For some time, the pair spoke uninterrupted. It surprised Sakura to learn that her go-to Radiologist had in fact completed a Neurology fellowship after his father, but had later decided to pursue a career in nuclear medicine after he had discovered an interest in medical imaging techniques. Ino had rumored to her that Shikamaru was by all definitions a genius - albeit a laidback one - but she had thought it to just be gossip until she spoke with his father.

It quickly became apparent to her that Shikamaru got his intelligence from his dad. Shikaku was equal parts brilliant and intimidating, even to her who was already so accustomed to being in the presence of some of the country’s sharpest minds. He was motivated and determined in continuing the medical society’s understanding of the brain, using all of his free time to do research and explore scientific concepts that seemed impossible even given the current day and age.

Sakura was enraptured with their conversation and felt disappointment when Shikaku’s wife finally found him and insisted on pulling him away. Her mind was still whirling as she watched him disappear into the crowd but eventually she forced herself to look away as she pulled her phone from her clutch. She had to tell Ino about her experience. She didn’t doubt her blonde friend would grill her for information as she had never actually met any of Shikamaru’s family personally, even after being close friends with him for years. She shot off the message quickly before she returned her phone to her purse again.

It appeared the party was still in full swing as the many guests continued to mingle at and around the bar. Her gaze wandered a moment as she studied the many faces. To her surprise, she found Itachi with Shisui still standing in the same spot and still donning the same expression. There was a new man standing before them and judging by how quickly Shisui was draining his champagne, his story was just as uninteresting as the rest. A small, amused smile crossed her face but it was pity that finally motivated her to move forward.

“In all my years of surgery, I had never seen a man with this many stab wounds. I was surprised he was able to speak at all,” the man said enthusiastically.

Shisui hummed conversationally before he took another large drink from his glass. It was apparent that even the normally talkative male was impatient for the story to wrap up but neither he nor Itachi seemed willing to excuse themselves and she briefly wondered what it was that made them reluctant to dismiss him.

“We did our best to control the bleeding but we knew we had to get him into surgery as soon as possible. I believe we counted six wounds before we decided to move him. Of course, a laparotomy was the only option-.”

“Did you consider non-operative management?” Sakura suddenly chimed in. “It’s far less invasive with a much better recovery time.”

Upon sight of her, Shisui immediately perked up while Itachi glanced her way. She stopped beside him but didn’t spare him a look as she addressed the male surgeon. It was apparent that he was unimpressed and perhaps a bit put off by her sudden arrival, but she merely smiled politely as she engaged him in a professional debate.

“No,” he answered. “My patient was already hypotensive. He was in shock.”

“Hypotension could be caused by a number of medications. Did you ask if he was taking anything?” Sakura asked. She purposely made her tone overly polite and she worded her question modestly so as not to come off as aggressive and challenging. If there was one thing she had learned over the years, it was male surgeons easily became offended when questioned by women.

“He said he was not.”

Sakura arched her brow subtly. It was not uncommon for patients to lie - whether intentionally or not, it was a fact that they all did - and she briefly wondered if he honestly believed his patient or if he was purposely being short with her. She could only assume it was the latter, but she hid her amusement that she had so easily riled him.

“Was there any peritonitis?” she asked, referring to the inflammation of the tissue lining the inner wall of the abdomen.

“Surprisingly, no, which is why we took him to get a CT,” he continued. She didn’t miss the way his body language turned subtly authoritative as his hand came to rest on his hip. “It revealed the knife had clipped his liver so we performed a laparoscopy.”

Sakura chose to ignore his defensive tone as she nodded thoughtfully. “Studies have shown that stab wound patients with injured organs can still be successfully managed without one. And it even results in a shorter hospital stay, hence why it might be preferred.”

“And what study would that be?”

“It was published in the Scandinavian Journal of Trauma some years ago.”

A deep frown settled upon his face upon her answer. She didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered to Itachi and Shisui but when neither male spoke in his defense, his attention slipped back to Sakura. “I suppose I will have to look it up some time then.” He smiled tightly before he pulled his phone from his pocket. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Sakura silently watched him walk away. The moment he was out of earshot, her personality reemerged as she pouted at his retreating form. “I don’t think he liked me very much.”

She turned to face the pair as Itachi shot her a mildly amused look and Shisui grinned. “No one likes a know-it-all.”

The corner of her mouth curved into a smirk as she cocked her head. “You do. You’ve been impressed with me since the moment you laid eyes on me, Shisui,” she teased airily.

“I will admit I like laying eyes on you,” he flirted as his gaze travelled over her form slowly. “I wasn’t aware you were here tonight. You should have called me. I would have let you be my arm candy.”

“Shisui, where are your manners? I personally know your parents raised you better than that.”

Shisui froze as an ‘oh shit’ expression crossed his face. Sakura saw him flash Itachi a look of help before he finally turned around with a placating smile to face the woman that had scolded him. “Auntie Mikoto, I was just teasing.”

The older woman shot him a warning as she approached before her gaze fell to Sakura. “I apologize, dear. I promise he isn’t normally so crass.”

Sakura simply smiled. “I get the feeling he is.”

Mikoto shot her a knowing look before she glanced at Itachi. He took his cue immediately as Shisui took their distraction to slip away unnoticed. “Mother, this is Dr. Haruno Sakura. She works in my department at the hospital. Sakura, meet my mother, Uchiha Mikoto.”

Upon her name, Sakura blinked in bewilderment as she suddenly realized who exactly she was standing before. It seemed so obvious now with her familiar, stunning looks and brilliant, dark eyes. She didn’t know why she hadn’t realized it before. Auntie Mikoto, as Shisui had addressed her.

Automatically Sakura felt herself become a little flustered. This was not only Itachi’s mother but also the founder of the Uchiha Foundation, a woman that had made remarkable breakthroughs for not only science but women in the field as well. She forced herself to breathe as she held her hand out. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr Uchiha. Your contributions to the medical community have been immeasurable just in recent years.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Mikoto said demurely. She accepted her hand before she eyed Sakura curiously. “I must ask though, if you work under Itachi, you must be a Cardiovascular Surgeon as well. Where does your knowledge of trauma surgery come from?”

Sakura hid her surprise. She hadn’t been aware Mikoto had heard her blatant interruption into Itachi and Shisui’s conversation and she swallowed as she hoped she hadn’t come off as egotistical or arrogant. “I was raised by trauma surgeons. It’s always been a point of interest to me, even though I chose to specialize in another field.”

“Your parents are surgeons then as well?”

Her expression was politely curious, but Sakura found herself hesitate. It was a complicated answer and she fought for the words to describe her circumstances without seeming dismissive or belittling. However, before she could form a reply, an attention-drawing beep sounded from her purse. She smiled apologetically as she snapped open her clutch and withdrew her phone. “Excuse me.”

Quickly she silenced the device before she read the message displayed on the screen. Her expression turned solemn as she read the message from Kakashi.

“What is it?” Itachi asked.

“My car accident victim just crashed. Kakashi is rushing him back into the OR,” she said as she typed a quick reply. “I should get back to the hospital.”

“Of course,” Mikoto nodded understandingly. “We’ll call you a car immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Sakura smiled at the older woman and turned to Itachi to excuse herself before she made her leave towards the main door, but something about his expression gave her pause. There seemed to be a hidden glint of disappointment in his gaze and perhaps a small hint of anticipation that made her reluctant to leave him behind. She already knew she only needed to ask.

“Actually, I hate to pull you away from the party, but I could really use your hands, Itachi. Would you mind joining me?”

She saw his brow pinched minutely as he stared at her curiously, but eventually he nodded. “Yes, of course. ” He then turned to his mother. “I apologize, but I must go.”

Mikoto sighed but there was a small playing on her lips. “I suppose I’ve tortured you long enough tonight. Fine, go. Save a life.”

A relieved smile passed his face and Sakura purposely busied herself with adjusting her purse to give them the appearance of privacy as he stepped forward to place a kiss on her cheek. As Itachi turned back to her, Sakura said a polite farewell to Mikoto before she led the way to the main entrance.

Outside, Itachi waited beside her on the stairs for their car to pick them up. Silence stretched between them as she checked the incoming messages on her phone for updates on her patients. She absorbed the information quietly and mentally considered all the scenarios of what could happen next until she heard Itachi clear his throat lightly. “You do not need me, do you?”

Slowly she looked up from her phone to gaze at him. Immediately she realized he had seen through her lie and it relieved her to find an amused curve playing in the corners of his mouth. She shot him a sly smile. “Of course not. I’m an excellent surgeon. But I figured this would be enough to let you escape for the evening. Unless of course you would rather return to the endless admirers.”

He sent her a subtle look that expressed exactly how he felt, causing her to laugh lightly before he cocked a brow at her. “Is your patient even crashing?”

“Unfortunately yes,” she said as her smile slowly faded. Her gaze returned to her phone again as another message came through. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I could use your hands. I would honestly appreciate it if you joined me in the OR.”

With her attention focused on the latest update, she missed the warm smile Itachi sent her way before he placed a hand to the small of her back and gently urged her forward as their car pulled up to the curb.

“I believe I will take you up on that offer.”

to be continued...

#itasaku #itachi #sakura #where it happened #part vi #shisui #mikoto #kisame #nara shikaku #so much going on this chapter #i feel tired just posting this thing #but i'm glad it's finally done #happy monday!#now the next two chapters i have planned out #but what i'm doing after that is kinda vague #and spoilers #yes sasuke will come around at some point #just gotta be patient

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