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angelmavmurdock · 4 years ago

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Our Little Secret: Part Eight - A.R.

LAST OF THE SERIES

Word count: Summary: 5 years later...

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF MURDER AND SEXUAL ASSAULT (basically everything Arvin and the preacher did in the movie is touched on).

5 years later

"Well, y/n, your application is outstanding. We'd love for you to work here." The headteacher spoke to me from across his desk.

"Really? Wow! Thank you so much!" I beamed.

"The new school term starts in August and the kids really need a well-taught, professional, young teacher who can help them grow as children. I think you're perfect for the job."

"Thank you so much, that means a lot. I can't wait to start."

Teaching. Teaching year 1. It was my dream to work with kids and now finally after 4 years of college I could do it.

I've been living in Cincinnati since I left high school 5 years ago. I needed to get out of that town as soon as I could. Everywhere I went it would remind me of Lenora...and Arvin.

I kept in touch with Emma, though. We still chatted at least a few times a month on the phone and she told me every time how much she missed Lenora and how much she missed Arvin. Though it was easier with Lenora because she knew what had happened to her - well, not fully - but she knew that she was gone. With Arvin, she didn't know why he was gone, what he was doing or had done and if he was still even alive. I didn't tell her about what Arvin told me on our last night. I promised him I wouldn't.

But every time I called her it was like I was being set back on my journey of grief and getting over him. I was with a lovely guy called William and we've been together since my last year of college. He didn't know about Lenora or Arvin or the Russell's.

But he did come with me to my father's funeral a few months ago.

Daddy had gotten worse and worse since being in New Coal Creek. We thought he was going to get better once we got him into hospital but it didn't make a difference. And when I moved to Cincinnati, I hardly ever saw him and Ma and I's row got in between Daddy and I's relationship.

So I went to his funeral feeling like the worst daughter on the planet. And I felt as if I was losing everyone I had ever truly loved.

Will was lovely and he worked in the same position Daddy used to work at. We had a house together and we lived there comfortably. It's much like how I grew up living. A big house with no one to fill it with. We didn't even have a dog or a cat because of his allergies. We were engaged to be married and he had bought me a very expensive and big diamond ring which was nice but I had no interest in.

Of course, I accepted. But as soon as he asked me the million dollar question, the first person that popped into my head was Arvin. And then Lenora. And then Daddy.

Wedding planning was very stressful when you don't have many friends or family around to help.

And after my meeting with the headteacher I was heading into town to find my wedding dress.

I was dreading it.

Ma was coming down to help and we'd meet at the place.

I thanked the headteacher and walked out excitedly, ready to start my teaching career. I got in my car and I drove into town. The closer I got, the worse I felt. I didn't want to get a wedding dress and I didn't want to get it with Ma either.

I parked outside of the dress shop and reluctantly got out. The shop was extravagant and elegant. I dreaded going inside. But my feet took me in as my brain lusted for home.

"y/n!" Ma exclaimed, shuffling up to me, already carrying dresses in her arms.

"Ma, hi." She nearly winded me as she embraced me.

I lightly put my hands around her but she tore away quickly.

"This place is just wonderful! I've already found a few you'd look great in!"

"Ma, I'd love if I was the one who would get to pick out my own weddin' dress." I raised a brow.

She sighed, "Fine. Yes, of course. Go into the changin' rooms and I'll follow."

I rolled my eyes and walked to one of the rooms where a consultant with a pearly white smile greeted me.

"Miss y/l/n, lovely to meet you. I'm Angela and I'll be helpin' you today! Are these the dresses you'd like to try?" She chirped, referring to the dresses in my mothers arms.

I sighed, "Yes."

"Great! Come on in."

I stood on the podium in front of the wall-length mirror with the fourth wedding dress on. It was a column dress that fell straight down with only a slight cinch at the waist. It had long sleeves and a high neck and lace covered the bodice. It was not my style.

"You look beautiful!" Ma complimented.

"I don't like it, Ma." I shook my head, twisting and turning to look at it.

"It's your fourth dress and you haven't liked any of them."

"They're just...not my style." I sighed.

Ma rolled her eyes and stood next to me, "It's not about your style. It's about looking gorgeous on your wedding day."

I furrowed my brows, "It's my wedding dress and it's my wedding. I want to love my dress."

"Well you are not the one paying for it." She brushed over my hips.

I felt rage bubble inside of me.

"Fine. We'll take this one then." I stated with a scoff and returned to the changing room in a huff.

"Okay, your fitting will be next month and that's when you'll get your dress home, alright?"

"Thank you." I smiled weakly at the consultant.

"You're welcome. Have a nice day!"

We waved goodbye and began walking out the shop. I placed my white gloves on and adjusted the white hat ornamented with a flower on my curled hair. I smoothed out my white and pale blue polka-dotted dress and adjusted the sky blue belt around my waist. Ma opened the door for me and I thanked her before leaving and hearing the click of my heels on the ground.

"y/n, I won't keep you long, but...you're a woman now. You're 23, you're getting married, you live away from home, you're getting a job. You're a woman. But just because you are older, does not mean I stop being your mother. I will always be your mother whether you like it or not and you have to treat me as such." Ma said, folding her arms over her red, floral tea dress.

I took a deep breath and looked at her.

"You took away my freedom when I was a teenager and because of that, I lost time with - not only Lenora - but Arvin, too. I don't know where he is now. No one does."

Just as I was about to talk about our last night I remembered she still didn't know I snuck out.

"I lost my best friend and the love of my life in the space of weeks and you kept me locked away until there was no one left. I'll never forgive you for that." I said, my head held high.

Ma took a few seconds to process the information and then nodded.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I had no idea. I love you, y/n. I will always love you, alright?" She held my shoulders.

I swallowed and nodded, not looking at her.

"Congratulations on your new job, honey. I'll see you soon." She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek then turned and walked away.

I took a few deep breaths as I watched her, guilt and anger washing away gradually. Part of me didn't want to go home. I wanted to escape for a while. I didn't want to have to go back and sit alone in a huge house I didn't like and I didn't want to wait up for a phone call from Will. I wanted to be by myself. I needed to. I looked around and at my car before deciding I'd go into town for a while.

I left the car and stuffed the keys further into my handbag. I clicked down the pavement until I reached the main road of shops, leading to a lake and a park where families would walk and eat ice-cream.

It was summer, so the sun was out in full, the trees swaying in the warm breeze and the sound of a few buskers playing accompanied by the noise of town people roaming around filled the warm air.

I smiled and said good mornin' to people as I walked by, waving at a few kids and cooing at some babies. I'd never really spent much time in town. I was always working or at the house with Will. It felt good to be out and alone. I wandered around, looking in some shop windows and wishing for the dresses but deciding against it.

It wasn't until I passed a shop and briefly glanced in it that I actually stopped to look closely. I took a double take and stood in front of the window, looking up at the displayed mannequin. It was a white blouse paired with a white tennis skirt and blue ribbon tied around the neck. A fond grin grew on my face. It reminded me of high school. Though I never wore mine on my neck, I still wanted it. I never wore ribbons in my hair anymore.

I couldn't help myself but go in. I entered the seemingly quiet shop and found the nearest shop consultant.

"Hi! I love that ribbon you have on show, is it for sale?" I asked with a smile.

The woman looked almost confused, "It's a ribbon...it's for decoration?"

"Oh...well, I'd still love to buy it. Name a price." I smiled again.

She looked at me dumbfounded for a moment but then shook it off and walked to the mannequin. She untied the silk and walked back over with it, placing it into my hands.

"It's free." She smiled.

"Thank you so much. I love it." I grinned.

"Have a nice day, now."

"I will." I beamed, walking out the store.

I felt giddy with nostalgia and excitement as I pulled my hair back under my hat and tied it with the ribbon, giving it a delicate bow. I checked it in my compact mirror and smiled with joy. I felt closer to myself.

I continued walking down the road and then to the lake. I stood and leaned against the railing, watching the elegant swans float by, their white feathers contrasting beautifully against the dark blue of the water. I watched them for a while, probably for about 10 minutes before I felt a light tug on my dress.

I got a fright and looked down where a young girl was standing next to me. I immediately smiled with relief and stood back.

"Hello," I waved.

"You're very beautiful, ma'am." She complimented in a strong southern accent.

"Why thank you, Mrs." I grinned.

"Would you like some bread to feed the swans?" She offered, holding up a chunk of bread.

"I would love some. Thank you." I graciously accepted the bread, holding it in my gloved hands.

The girls' mother called her back. She looked up at me and waved.

"Bye!" She said, before running off to her mum.

I smiled and laughed a little before turning back to the swans. I broke a piece of bread off and threw it in the water. I threw some more pieces in and watched as they all swam to the food, fighting over who got what.

Once I was out of bread, I sighed, leaning against the railing by my forearms. I took in my surroundings. I looked to my left where children were playing with each other as parents stood or sat on benches, resting. A few elderly couples walked by, hand in hand, arm in arm, chatting about everything and nothing.

A girl on a pink bike caught my eye. She was gorgeous and sat atop the seat with joy and pride as she rode by. My eyes followed her as she rode behind me and kept going.

But my eyes shifted focus when she rode by someone.

Someone who looked eerily familiar.

He had brown, woven, checkered trousers on and a white dress shirt with sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows. Brown suspenders hung over his shoulders and a white vest peeked out from the unbuttoned shirt.

But the dark eyes with the brown, slicked back hair and the cigarette in his mouth gave him away.

He was already looking at me, however. Like he had been for hours. I turned slightly, feeling my heart beat rise as he threw his cigarette on the ground.

It can't be him. It's just a lookalike. It's because I've been thinking about him today. It's not him. He's not here.

He walked closer to me but stopped about 2 metres away, hands in pockets with his chest rising and falling as rapidly as mine.

I could feel my chest heave against my dress as I stared at him, trying to decipher if that was truly him or if I was just dreaming.

"y/n?" He finally said, unsure of whether I was who he thought I was.

"A-Arvin?" I whispered.

A smile began to grow on his face and I knew it was him. It was him. Arvin.

I dropped my handbag and ran towards him, throwing my arms around his neck a our bodies collided, nearly setting us back.

His arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me up, making my legs pop up. He still smelled the same and he still felt the same. He felt like home.

"I can't believe you're here." I whispered, feeling a tear fall down my face.

He placed me back on my feet and I looked at him, cupping his face with my hands. He held them, stroking my thumbs with a smile.

"Why are you here?" He asked softly.

"I-I live here. I have since...since high school." I gulped.

He raised his brows, "I've been here for four years, y/n."

My mouth dropped open, "What?!"

He grinned, his hands squeezing mine, "We've both been livin' here for four years but not ran into each other."

I stuttered, "Wh-what? How is that- oh my gosh." I laughed, bringing my hands away from his face.

"I can't believe you're here, Arvin." I gulped, my chin quivering slightly.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from crying in public.

"Hey, shh." He brought me into him, cradling my head against his chest.

"We're here. I'm here." He said softly.

We decided to walk around the park to catch up which seemed both amazing but alien at the same time. We were still us but we had changed so much.

"Still wearin' ribbons I see." He grinned.

I laughed, "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not. I always loved them." He smiled.

I blushed and looked to the ground.

"So, why Cincinnati?" Arvin asked.

I sighed, "I couldn't live there anymore after school." I gulped.

"It was just too hard. And I got accepted into college here so I decided to move."

"You'll be finished school now, right?" Arvin queried.

"Yeah. I just finished and I actually just got a job today, so." I smiled.

"That's amazin'. I'm happy for you." He grinned.

"Thank you..."

We walked in silence for a little longer than I would have hoped. But he broke it again.

"Why're you in town today, then? Considering I spend every day here and I've never seen you leads me to believe you don't come here often." He chuckled.

I nodded, "Yeah, I never get the chance too. But I was uh...I was actually in town for a dress fitting." I coughed, looking down at the floor.

"Goin' somewhere nice?" He asked.

I scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, "My wedding."

He stared at me in surprise, eyes wide and mouth open, soaking in the information.

"Y-you're engaged?" He croaked.

I nodded, removing my left glove to show the sturdy ring that sat on my finger.

"W-wow. I mean...he must be rich if you got a ring like that." He swallowed, looking down at his shoes.

"I mean...yeah, I guess." I shrugged awkwardly, putting the glove back on.

"How long have you been-"

"Uh, since last year. We met in college. He was doin' finance and Daddy actually put in a good word for him and he got his old job."

"He got your daddy's old job?" Arvin repeated.

"Yeah...yeah once uh...once he passed, they needed someone to fill his shoes so." I gulped.

Arvin stopped, "Your Dad passed? When?"

I chewed the inside of my lip, "Earlier this year."

"y/n, I am so, so sorry." He placed a hand on my arm.

"No, don't be silly. It's fine. He just never got well after he took a turn in Coal Creek." I said, beginning to walk again.

"I remember how sick he was..."

My chest fluttered. It was as if our past was an alternate universe. Like we never really lived it. It was just a different version of ourselves that did. Because now, we were here and it didn't feel the same. Not completely.

"So...should I ask how you ended up here?" I asked cautiously.

He tilted his head from side to side as if trying to figure an answer out himself.

"I don't think you'd like the details." He stated, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Did you..." I stopped, looking around us before lowering my voice.

"Did you do what you implied you would?" I asked, looking into his seemingly innocent eyes.

He inhaled some smoke and then exhaled, turning away for my sake.

"I did what I implied." He stated simply.

My stomach turned. I kept chewing my lip with nervousness, looking into his eyes. He didn't seem like a killer. He wasn't a bad person. I knew him. I knew who he was. And a murderer was not in his description.

I wanted to know about it. About him. I needed to know. So, impulsively - a word I hadn't used since our last night in Coal Creek - I invited him back with me.

"Would you come home with me? I live 15 minutes out of town and I'd really like to talk but I don't think a public park is appropriate." I said in a hushed tone.

He thought about it before nodding, "Sure."

The drive to my house was a little awkward. The radio played at a low hum while we sat in near silence, only the sound of the wind and other cars passing by filling the air.

"Used to be me drivin' you everywhere." Arvin commented with a chuckle.

I smiled, "Oh, how the tables have turned."

He laughed and so did I, then we resumed our mutual silence.

When we got to Will and I's estate, I drove through the gates of the house to the driveway where at the top, a large house sat - much like the one in Coal Creek.

"Our drivin' might've changed but this certainly hasn't." Arvin sighed, almost as if he was disappointed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a raised brow.

He shrugged, "Feels all too familiar, that's all." He said before getting out the car.

I screwed my face up at his comment but decided to let it slide. I got out of the car and locked it before following Arvin who seemed as if he knew the place, up the steps of the porch.

"Is your fiancé home?" He asked the ground, hands in pockets.

I shook my head, "He's out of town for a weekend with work."

I stuck the key into the lock of the wide, white front door and opened it. I walked inside then held it open for Arvin.

He walked in and looked around, taking in his new surroundings.

The hallway was wide and white, only paintings filling the wall space and a large staircase to the left winded up to the next floor.

"Wow...I mean, you've done well for yourself." Arvin scoffed a laugh.

"Thank you." I smiled weakly, taking my hat from my head.

He looked up at the high ceilings, appreciating the chandelier that hung above the doorway.

"Come on through. Do you want tea? Coffee?" I offered, walking down the hallway and into the open kitchen/living room area while taking my gloves off.

He walked in behind me, looking around the new room he was in before following me into the kitchen.

"How about a scotch?" He asked with a smirk.

I smiled, "That'd be appropriate, I think."

I got the crystal decanter and two glasses from the tray that sat atop the kitchen table. I poured us two glasses and then handed Arvin one. I brought the decanter with us as we migrated to the couch.

I slipped my heels off before sitting down, my dress puffing and fanning out over my lap. Arvin sat opposite me, his ankle resting on his knee comfortably.

"So..." I started.

"So." He repeated.

"I think I might have more questions about you than you do about me." I smiled weakly.

He nodded, "Probably right."

I took a deep breath before asking any questions.

"Who got Lenora pregnant?" I asked.

I thought that would be a good starting point. It was what started everything.

"Reverend Teagardin. The new preacher that came to town." Arvin answered.

My eyes widened, "What?!"

"He took Lenora - and other girls - into the woods," Arvin began to explain.

He stared at the crystal in his hands and the liquid floating inside of it. He didn't once look up at me.

"He'd make them pray before they got started and he'd take advantage of them."

"Didn't he have-"

"A wife? Yeah. But he was abusin' her at home, too." He gulped.

"Oh my god. That's horrible." I sighed, my stomach feeling uneasy.

He finally looked up at me and I could feel his curiosity burn into me.

"Do you...do you still talk to Grandma?" He asked, his voice slightly shaky.

I smiled and nodded, "Yeah. I talked to her last week."

A slight smile grew on his face with relief, "How is she?"

"She's okay. She always talks about you and Lenora. Mostly you now, though. I mean, I never told her a thing about our last night and she still doesn't know about Lenora's pregnancy. She knows just as much as when you left."

He licked his teeth and nodded, "Thanks for keepin' in touch."

"Of course. I said I would, didn't I?" I grinned.

He nodded with a smile.

"So how about you? Livin' here in this big house with a big-shot fiance. Must be nice." He quirked his brow, taking a sip of his drink.

He was trying to pry something out of me, I could feel it.

"It's good. He takes care of me and we're happy." I stated.

"It's not boring?"

"No." I lied.

He tilted his head, "I can tell when you're lyin', y/n."

I scoffed, "You haven't seen me in five years and you think you can just come back here and tell me you know me so well? Don't start with that bullshit, Arvin."

He furrowed his brows, "Are you mad at me? What did I do?"

I rolled my eyes, "You don't know me, Arvin. So don't act like you do."

I sat my glass down and swiftly stood up from the couch. He did the same.

"I might not have seen you in years but I think I know you better than anyone on this planet. Am I right?" He asked, watching as I paced up and down in front of him.

I scoffed and shook my head.

"You're tellin' me that this guy- this guy - knows you better than I do?" Arvin lifted a picture of Will and I up to demonstrate.

"Yes. He does."

"Bullshit." He spat.

"You don't get to say shit like that Arvin. You know why?" I challenged, standing close to him with my hands on my hips.

"Why?" He retorted.

"Because you left! You left to murder someone! You'd have rather been a killer livin' with guilt for the rest of your life than to be with me." I shouted.

I didn't notice how close we were until he laughed and I could feel his familiar breath on my face.

"I had to do it. That preacher was no good. And neither was that cops sister and her dirt-bag husband." He snapped.

I blinked at him in confusion.

"Wh-what do you mean the cops sister and her husband?" I asked in a soft tone.

He looked away from me and gulped.

I gasped and held my hands over my mouth, "Did- did you-"

He grabbed and held my hands, "They were gonna kill me, y/n. They would take hitchhikers and murder them to take pictures with their dead bodies. I wasn't about to be the next one."

I widened my eyes, "They did what?!"

"And then I got caught out by the cop...his sister was the wife. He followed me to Knockemstiff and tried to shoot me with a shot gun. I had to, y/n. He was gonna kill me I-"

I could see the tears and the panic in his eyes. I just reached my hands up and wrapped them around his shoulders, bringing him into my arms. His face went into my neck and I could feel tears drip onto my skin. I threaded my fingers through his hair.

"I'm a bad person, y/n. I killed four people..." He sniffed.

"Arvin, look at me." I tugged him from my neck and cupped his cheeks.

"You are not a bad person. You were just caught up in some twisted shit and you had no other way. You are a good person, Arvin." I said sincerely, feeling tears spring into my own eyes.

"I lost you because of it, though I just- I can't-" He cried.

"I know." I sniffled, feeling a tear drip down my face.

I looked at him; teary, eyes swollen and red, complexion pale. I didn't know what else to do.

"You're a good person, Arvin." I said again, leaning up on my tip-toes to kiss his cheek.

He hummed at my touch and I kissed his other cheek, "You did nothin' wrong."

I went back to his right cheek and kissed it again like I needed to feel his skin on my lips once more.

Just as I went to kiss his other cheek, he leaned forward and caught my lips with his instead.

I gasped, pulling away from his body and looking at him, touching my fingers over my lips.

"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You're an engaged woman and I-"

I launched forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and crashing my lips to his. It took a second to make sure it was real. But as his hands slid effortlessly onto my waist, I knew.

"You're the love of my life, Arvin. You always have been and always will be." I whispered, pulling away briefly.

He stared into my eyes but didn't say a word. But I knew what he was thinking. He kissed me again, our lips moved over each other's with fervour and passion, the excitement and thrill of tasting each other again for the first time in years. In too long. He felt and tasted the same but more mature and wiser.

He pushed me back by my waist until my back hit the wall. I let out a moan of surprise and pleasure. He smirked against my lips before devouring me again. His tongue slipped easily into my mouth and I hummed, fully tasting him. My fingers ran through and tugged at his hair, and his hands ran up and down my sides and my back.

His touch felt nostalgic but euphoric and in the heat of the moment, everything was perfect.

"Your lips taste amazing," He said breathlessly between sloppy kisses.

"So do yours." I replied.

He wrapped his hands around my back and skilfully unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor in a pool around my ankles. I brought my hands to his shoulders as our kiss got heavier, teasing his suspenders before sliding them off his arms. I began unbuttoning his shirt in a hurried fashion as his lips started trailing down my jaw to my neck. I was finally able to push the fabric from his shoulders and then pulling his vest over his head.

And as his hands came down to my thighs to lift me up and around his torso, and as he carried me up and into my bedroom; I knew that he was it. He was the person I was destined to be with. He was the love of my life.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

5 years later

(Play ‘That Old Feeling’ by Doris Day now)

I placed the needle carefully onto the record and turned it up.

I walked through the house and got to the porch where I looked out and saw Arvin and Jack playing catch. I stood with a grin as my husband and 4 year old played enthusiastically - the old baseball still intact and very much in use.

I crouched down and placed the 2 year old who rested on my hip, onto the ground. She wobbled slightly but quickly got up and running. She made her way to the stairs which I quickly intervened and grabbed her hand to help her down onto the soil.

"Go get Daddy, Charlotte. Go!" I laughed, pointing to Arvin.

She squealed happily and ran towards her Dad, arms flailing clumsily as she sprinted. Arvin stopped the game of catch briefly as he saw his daughter coming towards him.

"Hey princess!" He grinned, crouching to his knees and grabbing his daughter.

He lifted her up and sat her on his knee, handing her the ball.

"Throw the ball to Jack, Charlotte!" Arvin prompted, pointing to the blonde haired boy who stood confidently.

She babbled a few words and then threw the ball onto the ground. At least she attempted. I whooped and clapped as I walked over.

"Good job, baby!" I praised in a baby voice.

Arvin stood up, letting Charlotte run around with her brother for a while, the dog joining them, enthusiastically bounding around them.

"Hey, handsome." I grinned as I reached Arvin.

"Hey, beautiful." He smiled.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed me, tongue briefly slipping into my mouth. I hummed in surprise and pulled away.

"Careful, Arvin or you'll be makin' another one of those tonight." I giggled.

We stood side by side, an arm wrapped around each other's back as we watched Jack attempt to play catch with his sister.

"Why don't we make another one, then?" Arvin suggested.

I looked at him with raised brows, "If you want to push one out of your ass, then by all means let's do it."

He chuckled, "I'm serious, y/n."

I turned to face him and he wrapped his arms around my waist while I played with the bottom of his hair.

"Another baby girl or boy? With a dog?" I laughed.

"Yeah...I mean it's crazy but it's our crazy." He smirked.

"Hmm, depends how nice you treat me tonight." I bit my lip.

He held back a shit-eating grin, "Oh...you're so gettin' knocked up tonight."

I gasped, smacking his chest with a laugh.

"I love you." He smiled.

"I love you, too."

"Forever?" He quipped.

"And ever." I smiled.

And we meant it.

A/N: oh my god. that's the mini-series done! i loved writing for Arvin it was fun with the southern dialogue and the 60s time period! i hope you all enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing. If you'd like to request any one shots, head over to my instagram @tomholland1510 to request!

ALSO!! bonus points to anyone who understands the easter eggs in the kids' names! do they seem familiar? ;)

{Tags: @notandordinaryprincess96 @imagine-yourself-happy}

#arvin russel #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel fluff #arvin russel smut #arvin russel angst #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel mini series #mini series #tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fic #arvin russel fic #one shot #imagine #tom holland imagine #arvin russel imagine

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hivequest · 3 years ago

Text

Taking a Risk » Mallek Adalov/Reader

Wordcount: 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, stressed out reader, chillboy Mallek. TYping quirk only used when texting cause I could not be bothered lmao Originally posted on AO3

A/N: One of my favorite things that I’ve written, ever. I love Mallek and he’s for sure one of my favorite Friendsim characters. When I wrote this I was really feeling those Quarantine Woes

You didn't know what you were doing here. You felt out of place in the worst possible ways. It was a weird, squidgy feeling like stepping on wet grass. But not like the fun kind where you were running around in a sprinkler on a hot-as-balls summer day. No, this was the bad kind of wet grass that you stepped on without knowing it was wet. Why weren't you wearing shoes?

This analogy is stupid. The point is, you're feeling bummed out.

And what better way to not have to deal with that than hang out with someone you knew wouldn't push you into talking about all the ways crashing on this planet sucked! The point is, you're on your way to see Mallek. Mallek is absolutely the kind of friend who can tell when you just need to sit down and veg out. You had been so caught up in everyone else's bullshit that you weren't looking after your own damn self. So now you were doing that.

All it took was a quick text, asking Mallek if he had any company. He texted back only a moment later with a no, obviously not. You asked him if he wanted any. Not really. You ask him if you can come over anyway. Obviously.

You smiled at the palmhusk in your, well, palm. You could already feel the chill vibes of your hacker friend. Friend? Was that the right word for it? You didn't know anymore. When you first met there were definitely some sparks there. You could still feel them now and it made weird butterflies flutter around in your stomach. When you slapped his phone out of his hand and he sent you ass over applecart into the slimy depths of sewer water and he saved you, tits out and all.

You shook off the weird wistful feeling of maybe possibly crossing the friendship barrier and told him you'd walk to his hive. You'd been moping in some bookhive, not your usual hang-out spot with Tagora or Tyzias. This was some upper caste bookhive with purple bloods and some indigos and definitely not where you were welcome if the looks you were getting were any indication. They ranged from snooty to downright murderous. Yeesh.

Your phone -palmhusk, stupid troll names- beeped again. You got another text from him and those cheery fucking butterflies were back. God, you had it bad.

yeah were not doing that lmao;

im not going to let my robobuddy walk out in the sun

do you even know what time of day it =

just stay put ive already got your location ill pick you up;

And like a good little friendsimp. You park your ass on a chair and wait. You hadn't released your moping had taken up most of the night. But with the quick look around, yeah, no, this place was nearly empty by now. Just some older bluebloods trying to cram before their Ordeals and get shipped off-planet. Again: Yeesh.

You kept your ears open for the telltale sound of Mallek's limo. It was a sound you were getting used to these days. He always seemed ready to drop whatever coding shit he was working on to come to see you. You tried not to think too hard on what that might mean. No need to get your hopes up now. It's probably just your bad mood making you imagine some context where there's nothing. Yeah.

Damn, that shit hurted.

Just as you were about to add that to the reasons you were considering just screaming your lungs out who cares whose listening? you heard the wonderfully familiar sound of an approaching elongated scuttlebuggy. If that wasn't enough of a clue as to who the ride was for the quiet of the bookhive was very abruptly disturbed by a series of rhythmic beeps.

Holy shit was that the Tetris theme?

You shoved your palmhusk into your hoodie pocket and yanked the hood over your head. Even if the sun was only out a little bit you didn't want it anywhere near your freshly healed skin. You had no kind cowgirl to nurse you back to health right now if you got your asscheeks baked by the flaming death orb. You peeked your head out and even with the blinding light of Alternia's suns you could Mallek had opened the door and was waiting for you.

Aw. No, shit. You're in a bad mood don't get all heart eyes at him. Don't make it weird.

You took a few steps back into the bookhive, ready to make a run for it. You turn to a sitting indigoblood, who is just staring at you disdainfully for keeping the door open. You give her a two-fingered salute. Godspeed young cosmonaut. She gives you a one-fingered salute. Close the door you insufferable bulgebiter. Fair.

Taking a running start, you book it out into the heat of the Alternian sun and dive for the open car door. It's then that you realize he's halfway parked on the sidewalk to lessen the amount of time you'd have to spend in the sun. Aw. That also means that you came barreling like a cannonball at something that was like two feet out of the door. FUck.

Your face meets carpet and you can already feel the rugburn starting to set in. You hear a startled wheezy laugh from above you, a sound you know better than anyone else on this planet. You smile. It's not like you had any dignity to begin with.

You say hello to him as you peel yourself off of the floor of his car.

"Hey, there robobuddy. You stuck the landing this time," He smiles down at you as he reaches over you to shut the door, closing the space out from natural light and leaving you both lit by his colorful LEDs. You shrug and tell him you've been getting a lot of practice landing on your face these days. The look he gives you is still smiling but there's some level of disbelief at the dumbassery that is your whole existence.

"I know you can get yourself into it. Nothing too bad this time, though, right? No drones or broken bones?" He sounds concerned which is nice but he doesn't drown you with his concern. He leans back on the bench of his limo, keeping an eye on you as the vehicle begins to move on its own. You've been staying out of big messes but the little messes are starting to mess with you. He makes a sound of understanding the sounds as it comes from deep in his chest. Whoa. "Believe me, I've been there. Glad you're not cracking under it though."

He smiles and you can see his little fang and you can feel your heart melt a little. And also you're getting a bit teary-eyed and now Mallek looks alarmed. Shit. You try to quickly explain that you're fine, just, alien allergies am I right? He must be using some new air freshener to mask the musty smell of his limo. Since doesn't use it enough. Ha ha?

He isn't buying it.

With a rare show of cerulean prowess, he lifts you up off of the shitty car rug and sets you on the seat beside him. He feels uncomfortable and you can tell. Ah, goddammit you made it weird. You didn't mean to. Fuck. Fuck now you're feeling even worse. You thought you were starting to balance out. You're with Mallek now, shouldn't everything start to quiet down like it always does? Fuck. He doesn't say anything at first, just leans back against the seat and stretches his arms across it, letting you lean on him if you choose to.

...You choose to.

Your head finds itself somewhere between his shoulder and his collarbone, and you just. Shove your face there. Then scream.

To his credit, Mallek doesn't even flinch. He doesn't wince or shy away from you as you let out every bit of anger, sadness, and frustration out against his sweater. He just sits quietly, staring straight at the blacked-out windshield. You get the feeling he's needed to do this more than once.

Screw this planet. Screw everything about it that makes all of your friends suffer. Why can't you just get them away from all this bullshit?! Why do you have to deal with everyone's bullshit! You love them, you do but holy fuck they're looking to you like you can undo all the damage this place has done to them when you've got literally no god damn idea what's happening at any point ever!

And then, just like that, it fades into the background. Your throat hurts. Your head hurts and you think you might be crying. But it feels lighter. Better now that you've gotten some of that aggression out. You aren't like the trolls on Alternia. You can't kill people when you experience an Emotion™. But that doesn't mean you don't get pent up with rage.

Mallek realizes that now. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and his left hand slowly moves down from the back of the seat the rest against your back. His thumb brushes against your back, the claw drawing little patterns against the fabric of your sweater. His sweater. He tries not to think his sign your chest. This isn't the time.

"Feeling any better?" He asks and you don't know how to answer. You kinda don't want to. But you nod anyways, and you feel some tension leave his body. You knew he was worried about you. You apologize for making him witness your meltdown but he just makes another deep-chested hum. "Nothing to apologize for. I got the feeling you weren't feeling great. I could tell from the texts, you didn't use nearly enough ugly emojis."

You scoff and smack a hand against his chest and once again you hear that wonderful laugh from him. Hey! Your purrbeast emojis are adorable, thank you very much! And you'll not hear another word of it or else you'll send him pictures of rocks and rocks exclusively. No more memes.

"Jokes on you I'm into that shit." You laugh and thump your head against his collarbone. You thank him for being with you when were needed it. And picking you up to make sure you didn't deal with it alone. You don't want to make it weird but...yeah.

He doesn't respond this time, just letting you both enjoy the silence and the comforting sound of the engine. You should almost be at Mallek's apartment by now. It's as you're settling in for the last bit of the drive that you notice that the limo isn't moving. And hasn't been for a while. Your head pops up in confusion and the little GPS display on the back of one of the seats says... yep.

You're already at Mallek's.

But then why is the engine still on? That can't be good for the environment. Do these things even run on gas or is it bugs? Bug gas? Gross.

You notice then that the rumbling is coming from behind you. Like. From where Mallek is sitting. He doesn't look away when you turn to him, just kind of tilting his head to the side with a little bit of a cerulean hue to his cheeks. Oh. Oh, the sound is coming from him. He's purring. That's.

That's adorable.

You feel yourself soften even more when he lifts his arms, silently offering a hug if you want it. Is this platonic? Is this more? You've never had too much trouble identifying what people wanted from you. (Debatable.) If was overtly flushed you could shut it down or divert it to something very much friends only. (Like your every exchange with Zebruh.) But did you even want to do that to your hackerman? You could feel yourself screaming, no, absolutely not. But at the same time, you didn't want things to change. You didn't want to make his issues any worse than they already were. He didn't have too much longer on the planet and you knew it would tear him apart.

But then he turned those blue eyes to you. He looked just as unsure as you were but he was willing to take the risk. He shoved himself so far out of his comfort zone for you and was asking you to be selfish. To want something for yourself and do something for yourself. Not put him or anyone else's wants first. Just your own. And so you did.

You crawled up into his lap, pressed yourself as close to him as you could and clung to him. His arms didn't hesitate to wrap around you and you could feel a shuddering breath from above you.

"We don't have to put a label on this... not yet. Or ever. Either way is chill with me. I just... yeah." He gave up with a little shrug of his shoulders but you knew what he meant. Unless you could find a way to fight fate he was going to go off-world. He was going to leave you and you doubted you'd be able to go with him. You'd probably get gored by a drone for even trying.

But even if it was just for now, just for a moment, you were going to take it. You were going to let yourself have something, have someone who would care for you no matter how long or short your time was. You'd take it. You had stomached some of the most horrible things on this planet but Mallek had always been a constant. And you got the feeling he thought the same way about you.

So, you'd take it. Whatever comes next, you'd take it. You listened to the sound of his purring, in no hurry to move to get inside the apartment. Mallek felt the same.

You exhaled.

You would be okay.

#homestuck #hiveswap #hiveswap friendsim #mallek adalov #friendsim #homestuck imagines #hiveswap imagines #reader insert

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knivesareout · 4 years ago

Text

take on the world - chapter two

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (m receiving), protected p in v, alcohol consumption, bad banter, possible typos

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you by surprise when Frankie rescues you.

A/N: Aaaand here’s chapter two! I finally decided to work on an outline for this and it made things much smoother so go me! The angst will, unfortunately, come in at some point so enjoy these two while they’re being hopelessly cute. I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on AO3 here.

CHAPTER ONE | MASTERLIST

---

Wednesday rolls around quicker than you thought it would and your work day goes by even faster.

Your walk home is quiet and you enjoy the peaceful atmosphere; it wasn’t often that the sidewalks weren’t crowded with groups of people trying to get somewhere in a hurry. You were in a blissful state at the idea of seeing Frankie again and nothing was going to change that.

There wasn’t much you could compare this feeling to- this feeling you had about Frankie. All of your past relationships were one and done, if you could even call them relationships. A few dates, a hook-up, and usually that was it. Nothing clicked and it was always mutual. Only one guy had gotten further than that but only barely. He’d managed about 4 dates in total until you realized you were the one carrying the conversations, that you had nothing in common, and the only thing you could remember about him was that he hated fish. Relationships seemed more trouble than they were worth.

None of those feelings were present when you thought about Frankie. So, what was it about him that made you feel so different? So willing to let your guard down?

Was it the fact that he sounded genuinely interested in your thoughts, feelings, and passions? The fact that he was willing to be open about himself and tell you things other than the shallow, on the surface stuff? That you could talk all night and not run out of things to say? There had yet to be any sort of awkward silence between you two- both of you eager to fill the space with something funny or just a random thought, slowly learning one another.

Two dates, dozens of texts and a couple phone calls and you were already falling deep. The phone call only the night before had lasted until 2am, Frankie regaling stories from his army buddies that had you in stitches. It felt too soon to even think about but the thought was there, in the back of your mind. Was this love? Everything about this entire situation was foreign to you but welcome in a way that it usually wasn’t.

If this was even close to what falling in love was like, why hadn’t you tried sooner? Maybe it was because you hadn’t even been trying this time- Frankie had just fallen into your lap, rescued you really, and it felt like some kind of universal sign to try. Except it didn’t even feel like trying with him because it all came so natural to you.

It seemed to make the most sense for Frankie to come to your place for dinner that night since he already knew where you lived. Your apartment was thankfully previously cleaned up and you were glad for the chores you’d already taken care of earlier in the week so that was at least one less stressor.

Frankie had called on your lunch break to tell you he was grocery shopping for dinner, asking your opinions on what sounded good and if you had any allergies.

A soft sigh passes through your lips as you push into your apartment, kicking the door closed, tossing your bag on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and all but collapsing on your couch. Nerves were starting to eat at you and you scream loudly into the cushion, your legs thrashing behind you.

It takes a few moments for you to try and collect yourself, your heart still beating quickly from your anxiousness and it slowly starts ebbs away as you breathe deep and the tension releases, your cheek smushed on the couch cushion and you sigh.

“Fuck.”

Changing into something more comfortable than the work clothes you’d been in, you pull on a pair of leggings and a sweater. As much of a date this was, you were also in the comfort of your own apartment and weren’t about to dress up just to sit on the couch and eat dinner while you watched a movie with Frankie.

You busy yourself with watching YouTube videos on your TV for the next couple of hours, curled under a soft blanket while you wait for a text from Frankie. The distraction was needed because you knew the more time alone with your thoughts, the more time you’d overthink everything and make it worse.

Now time seems to creep slowly, your eyes drifting towards the time on your phone. The nerves are slowly creeping back in and it’s jarring for your phone to start vibrating when it does, your heart beating quickly.

“Hey,” you answer, “Are you here?”

Frankie grunts through the speaker and you laugh quietly, “Yeah. Do you need to buzz me up? Someone in your lobby is eyeing me weirdly since I can’t figure out how to get in and my hands are full of groceries.”

You jump up quickly and head to the buzzer on your door, balancing the phone on your shoulder. “Yeah, just push the button for 1202 and I’ll let you in. 12th floor.”

“See you in a sec,” he tells you and hangs up. The buzzer comes through seconds later and you hit the button in front of you, going to unlock your front door while you wait.

The silence of your apartment suddenly feels stifling and you pull up Spotify on your tv, playing Fleetwood Mac to fill the room. It feels better at least and you slowly start to sway with the music. You wonder what it’s like to dance with him, if he was silly about it or had rhythm in his hips. The smile on your face is probably comical at the thought but a knock breaks you out of your day dream and you rush towards the door, pulling it open quickly to see him smiling.

Your heart squeezes at the sight and you move to the side to let him in, shutting it behind closed and flipping the lock.

“Got enough there?”

Frankie’s arms are laden with bags and you can’t figure out what he’s going to be making when he goes to set them on the counter and turns to you. “I sure as hell hope so,” he chuckles, motioning for you.

It’s easy to fall into his arms. They squeeze tight around you in greeting and you turn your head to place a kiss to his jaw, the one spot you’re now determined to kiss every time you see him. He feels warm and smells great and you dig your nose into his chest, the softness of his t-shirt, and his chest rumbles as he laughs at you.

“You good there?” His voice is teasing and you mumble an affirmative, not quite ready to let go.

You finally pull back from his embrace to lean against the counter opposite him, kicking his shoe with your bare foot. “Get comfortable while I go through these.”

Frankie rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything while you start to pull out what looks like pizza ingredients. Sauce, pre-made dough, and every topping you could ever imagine.

“I’m guessing you can’t really cook,” you turn over your shoulder to look at him now in just his socks with his jacket thrown over a barstool at your kitchen island and he shrugs helplessly.

“What makes you say that?” He tries to look indignant but he breaks the facade seconds later. “Not really. I had to call a friend and ask for help and he suggested just ordering pizza so at least this is an upgrade right?”

The thought really is sweet and you nod quickly, hoping to appease the bit of nerves you can see creeping in over his expression.

Frankie tugs his hat off and runs a hand through his hair before readjusting it back on top of his head. It’s a nervous tick he does and one you’d picked up on at the bar when you’d met him.

“I’ve honestly never done this? Like, made pizza before. Have you?”

Frankie shakes his head in reply, “Can’t be that hard, can it? Seems pretty easy.”

He shuffles over towards you and pulls the rest of the ingredients out- different types of cheeses, some oil, and a couple spices you don’t recognize. Two bottles of wine are in the last bag and you raise your eyebrows until you spot the 6 pack of beer that he’d left by the door.

He looks over everything spread out on the island and turns to you sheepishly. “Well, maybe we should look it up.”

---

The pizza doesn’t turn out to be all that hard to make and Frankie teases you about your lack of toppings- basic cheese with a few scattered veggies. His is loaded and probably weighs twice as much as yours does but he insists it’s better like that, pinching your ass as you walk away to let them cook.

Your music still plays softly in the background and Frankie collapses on your couch, tugging his hat off and tossing it on the coffee table. You like how comfortable he seems in your place, and you sway softly to the music, just looking at him.

Frankie catches you staring, a curious look in his eye and he laughs. “What are you looking at?”

“Come dance with me.” You’re still slowly moving to the music, the song switching to Tiny Dancer, and you hold your hand out for him with a pleading look. “Please.”

You watch him hesitate, debating with himself until he pushes up from the couch and takes your hand in his. “I don’t really dance,” he tells you, a hand going to your hip while his other clutches yours.

Cautiously, you both move around the small space in your apartment. It’s careful and quiet, Frankie giving your hip a squeeze. It brings your attention to him and he nudges his nose with yours. “You know what I was just thinking?”

“Hm?”

“That I haven’t kissed you yet. You kiss me where I can’t grow facial hair but you won’t kiss my lips.”

He’s teasing you again and you step on his toe, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your thumb brushes against the spot in question, the skin there smooth.

“Shit head,” he mumbles with a deep chuckle. Moving the hand that’s clutched in yours down to your back, he whirls you around, dipping you low. “You sure about that?”

“No.”

Your balance is off and you know you’re going to fall in the next 20 seconds but you surge up anyway, arms wrapping around his neck to find some balance and press your lips to Frankie’s in a slow kiss.

It’s just what you thought it would be- soft and sweet. His lips a little bit chapped but warm, your hands finding his hair and pulling him in deeper.

The timer for the pizza sounds loudly on your phone, interrupting you, and it catches you both by surprise, Frankie’s arms going slack around you and with your arms around him you bring him down to the floor with you as you both fall in a tangle of limbs, laughing loudly.

“Was that worth it?” You try to catch your breath, poking him in the stomach and he laughs even harder, batting your hands away.

“Not if the pizza burns,” he groans, rolling away from you and getting up to check on the oven.

It takes a second to try and catch your breath so you stay, sprawled out on the floor, turning to watch Frankie pull the pizzas out and turn off the oven. “They alright? Or do we need to order pizza?”

“Crust looks a little crispy but I think they’re still edible,” he glances around, looking for you and snickers when he sees you still on the floor. “Where’s your pizza cutter?”

“Drawer next to the fridge.”

Shuffling around on the floor, you finally stand up and bump Frankie out of your way to grab the bottle opener, pulling the wine bottle closest to you across the counter and popping it open.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that 6 pack you brought in here. Go on, I don’t expect you to drink wine too,” you nudge him.

Frankie shoots you a grateful look while you bring the cut pizzas to the coffee table and sit on the floor, legs crossed and leaning back against the couch.

“You don’t wanna sit on the couch?” He’s looking at you strangely, but you shrug.

“I like the floor but you can sit up there if you want.”

He takes a seat next to you and you both dig in.

Watching him try to eat his massive pizza is hilarious- making you laugh so hard you almost snort, the drink of wine a bad choice as it threatens to come back up through your nose.

“I didn’t know your mouth could go so wide,” you manage to choke out, coughing to try and clear your throat from your laugh.

Frankie almost chokes himself at your bad joke, dropping the slice on the plate and chugging down his beer to try and breathe.

“We’re a fucking mess.” ---

You’re rinsing the dishes while Frankie loads the dishwasher, a solid system set up, because despite your protests that you’d just do it yourself, Frankie insisted that he help.

“I think I might have ice cream if you wanna share some,” you offer the dish towel to him after drying your hands. He waves you off, running his palms over the thighs of his jeans with a cheeky smile and you roll your eyes.

“Depends on the flavor,” he tells you as if your response is make it or break it.

Cookie dough is apparently an acceptable flavor so you share a bowl on the couch while you try to explain to Frankie that the new Jurassic World movies are trash.

“It’s just a cash grab!” You explain, pointing your spoon at him. “And sure, the second and third Jurassic Park movies aren’t great, but they’re at least better than these new ones. I can’t believe they’re making sequels.”

“The effects are good though, you can’t deny that,” he insists, grabbing a spoonful of the ice cream and shoveling into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s not the point. The story isn’t good and that is the point and makes it not worth watching. Even if I do like Bryce Dallas Howard.” You pause, thinking for a second. “But I do now suddenly remember that Jeff Goldblum is gonna be in the next one so maybe.”

You eat the last bit of the cookie dough left in the bowl and set it on the coffee table, licking your spoon clean and dropping it inside.

Frankie’s eyes are trained on you and you touch your cheek, wondering if you’ve got left over pizza sauce on you. “Have I got something on my face?”

Nodding, Frankie drops his spoon in next to yours and leans forward. “Just a little ice cream here.” He’s close, just a breath away, and his mouth presses in towards the corner of your lips, his tongue darting out to lick there and you gasp, turning your face into his to press your lips together.

The kiss starts a chain of events that make your head spin. Frankie wastes no time pulling you into his lap, his hands settling around your hips. Your arms loop around his neck, hands finding his hair and tugging as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. The kiss is all tongue and teeth this time, licking into each other’s mouths. The faint taste of vanilla from the ice cream is there and it makes you smile against this lips, breaking the kiss to try and catch your breath.

You’re suddenly thankful you’d only pulled on leggings for the night, the heat between your legs easily finding his growing erection behind his jeans and you press down, seeking friction.

His lips move down your neck and Frankie pulls at the shoulder of your sweater to kiss across the skin there, teeth sinking in and sucking harshly. You know there will be a dark mark there come morning and a moan bubbles up in your throat at the harsh contact and you swallow it down, self conscious. You’d once been teased about the noises you made and you didn’t want anything to stop the delicious feeling you were experiencing with Frankie if he didn’t like them either.

You pull his mouth away from your shoulder, tipping his chin up to look at you. His dark eyes are blown wide, his mouth wet, and hair a mess. It’d been only a few minutes and already Frankie looks entirely debauched- and in your opinion, never looked sexier. “You’re so fucking hot,” you tell him, running a hand down his jaw, across his chest, down to the button of his jeans.

“Bedroom,” he chokes out as you palm him through the denim while you fiddle with the button there. “We should- bedroom. Take this to the bedroom.”

He’s right, despite how much you don’t want to move. The couch was comfortable but not the ideal place for sex so you slipped off, offering him your hand and pulling him towards your room.

Your bedroom is small and the bed takes up most of the space. A queen bed you’d treated yourself to when you had moved downtown placed in the middle with two thrifted nightstands on either side and a dresser tucked in the corner by your bathroom.

It wasn’t much but it was comfortable and you couldn’t wait to get Frankie under the sheets.

Swinging your legs up onto the bed, you settle yourself in the middle, back pressed against the pillows and crook a finger towards him. Frankie tugs his shirt off and joins you, crawling up the mattress and lying next to you.

“You are so beautiful,” he tells you quietly, running a hand across your cheek and you close your eyes at the feeling of careful intimacy. Turning your head, you press your lips to his palm and lean in to nudge your nose against his.

The kiss turns quickly heated again, your hands running across his shoulders and back, digging into the soft skin. You can feel scars and bumps beneath your palms as they explore him and you’re eager to learn his body.

Frankie’s hand slips up the front of your sweater, hands seeking more and you bite back a moan as his palm glides across your breast and squeezes, testing the weight and slowly starts to massage the flesh.

“Come on. I wanna hear you, baby. Don’t be shy.”

You close your eyes and will yourself to just let go. Nothing about Frankie has indicated that he’d tease you for something that comes so natural and you nod, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

His hand slides behind your back to unclasp your bra and the material slackens against you. Next he pulls off your sweater, your head popping out of the collar and you throw it to the side. Your bra is tossed in the same general direction and Frankie descends on your chest, mouth seeking more skin to mark.

Frankie brushes his mouth around your left nipple while his fingers pinch at the right. The dual sensation makes you keen, your hips thrusting up in search of friction. There was a fire burning between your thighs and you ached to have him fill you.

Your fingers find the edge of his jeans and tug. Pulling away from the kiss you whine, “Off. I want them off. Too many clothes.”

“I’d say we’re pretty even,” he jokes against your nipple, tugging at the band of your leggings.

“So do something about it.”

Frankie grips the material, fingers finding the band of your underwear too, and he yanks them down your legs, your feet kicking them off the rest of the way.

The cool air of your room raises goosebumps along your skin, Frankie’s hand sliding up your calf, to your thigh, and he parts your legs to allow him better access to your aching core. You know you’re soaked, wetness coating your inner thighs and down to your ass.

“Is this all for me?” He asks you, running a finger across the curls at your core and down between your lips to coat his finger in your juices.

“Yes. Fuck, Frankie please,” you promise him, watching his hand play with you.

He’s focused on everything else.

Frankie drinks in your naked form while his finger teases you up and down, his eyes scanning your body. When normally you would shy from such an intense gaze, your nerves are nonexistent. Not here, with him- not with how comfortable you’d grown with him despite your earlier misgivings.

Your eyes zero in on the denim still covering his legs and you nudge his thigh with your toes. “Take ‘em off Frankie.”

It’s like you’ve pulled him out of a daydream and he nods, sliding his finger into his mouth to clean it off before undoing the buttons on his jeans and pulling them off to toss them on the floor.

He’s back on the bed in a flash, sliding between your parted thighs and he surges up to kiss you. Your hands find purchase on his back, pulling his chest against yours and you arch up into the contact, your nipples rubbing against the sparse hair on his chest.

Frankie’s cock lays hard on your thigh, thick and dripping on your skin. Your fingers ache to touch him, feel him in your hand so you reach down while still kissing him, thumb brushing along the wet tip before you grip him firmly.

He breaks the kiss to moan against your mouth, forehead against yours while he relishes in your touch. Frankie’s hips thrust into your hand and you squeeze his cock tighter in your grip, sliding your hand up and down him in a practiced rhythm. “Does that feel good?”

Barely managing to nod, Frankie brokenly moans against your cheek on the uptick of your thumb smoothing over the head and you bring your wet hand up to your mouth, licking it clean of the pre-cum smeared across your skin. “Wanna blow you, Frankie. Will you let me?”

He nods quickly, shifting until he’s flat on his back and watching you situate yourself over his cock that’s laying hard on his stomach. You drag a finger up the length of him, Frankie shuddering at your touch.

You move closer, your mouth leaning down to press kisses against his lower stomach and around his leaking cock. Your eyes trail up to find his eyes closed, head pressing deep into the pillows while he breathes slowly and you smirk. Finally your mouth makes contact with the head, your tongue darting out to lick at the mess he’s made, moaning at the taste. The feel of your hands make up for what your mouth can’t take- Frankie’s big, thick and stretching your mouth wide and you struggle at first to take him deeper. Eventually you find a steadying rhythm, mouth sucking him in and hands tightening around the base. His moans are encouraging and music to your ears, only spurring you on further.

It’s sloppy and you’re sure you look obscene with your lips stretched wide around the girth of Frankie’s cock, spit and pre-cum dripping down your chin and fist. Your hand moves from the length of him down to cup his balls, rolling them in your palm and giving them a gentle tug. That seems to get Frankie’s attention and his eyes shoot down to lock with yours, pupils blown wide and neck veins straining.

Pulling off slowly, you give the head a hard suck and start sponging kisses along the girth of this shaft. “Do you not wanna cum?”

Frankie’s hand reaches down and rubs his thumb across your bottom lip and you suck it in, unable to help yourself. He swears in Spanish quietly, looking up to the ceiling before glancing back down to you. “I’ve got condoms- in my wallet. Wherever my jeans are. I need to be inside you.”

His thumb drops from your mouth and you move off the bed in search of his jeans. They’re on top of your sweater and you dig his wallet out, finding two condoms tucked around a five dollar bill. You leave one, dropping Frankie’s wallet back on the ground and tearing into the packaging of the other once you’re sitting back between his legs.

You sheath him quickly in the condom, moving your knees to sit on either side of his hips. You don’t realize your thighs are shaking until Frankie sets his hands on them, squeezing gently. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you promise him with a quiet laugh.

Reaching between you, you grasp his cock and slowly lower yourself down until your hips meet his, flushed together.

The feeling of being full- stretched to the brim and full of his cock is intoxicating and you bite your lip, trying to hold yourself together. Frankie isn’t much better beneath you, his hands still gripping your thighs tight, his knuckles gone white with the pressure. His neck is bared, head pressed into the pillow behind him and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to gain his composure.

You start off slowly, a slow dip of your hips to try and get used to the feeling of him inside of you. It lights a spark up your spine, a low simmering that builds the more you move. Frankie watches you, completely entranced; the way your breasts move while you start to bounce on his lap, his hands sliding up past your stomach to grip them tightly in his hands. His fingers pinch and pull at your tight nipples, a moan slipping past your lips and you fall forward, bracing yourself against his chest.

It takes no time at all for Frankie’s lips to find yours now that your mouth is closer, tongue licking in. His hands slide to your waist and they hold you there, his hips thrusting forward as he starts to pound into you. It’s too much and not enough, your mouth falling from Frankie’s to lay open against his chest while you try to breathe, panting loudly.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, hands moving to your ass and pulling apart your cheeks to allow him to slip further inside of you. “Touch yourself for me, I know you’re close.”

You’d do anything Frankie told you to in that moment and you snake a hand between your bodies, rubbing quick circles over the slippery bud, fingers bumping against Frankie’s cock as he works into you. Your body is shaking above his, a high pitched “fuck,” slipping past your lips as you start to cum around him. The feeling is like nothing you remember. Stars burst behind your eyelids, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Your toes are numb at the sensation and your breathing is heavy, mouth still open and pressed to his chest.

Frankie groans lowly as you tighten around him and he continues to thrust into you at a lightning quick pace in search of his own release. He’s not too far behind you, swearing in Spanish, and he trembles below you as he cums. His thrusts don’t stop, just slow down while you both catch your breath. It’s comforting, intimate, that you’re both still connected and you kiss up his chest to his neck, lips latching on to your favorite spot along his jaw. Light kisses go up his cheek until they finally land on his lips and you kiss him languidly, resting your hands on either side of his face.

Eventually, Frankie pulls away. His hands run up your sides, across your back and he noses against your cheek. “We should probably get up.” His voice is quiet and you nod slowly. The last thing you want to do is move but your thighs are sticky with your release and it’s starting to grow uncomfortable.

Your legs shake as you move off of Frankie, losing your balance once your feet are back on the floor and you giggle once you catch your footing. “I’m good, I’m good,” you say mostly to yourself, moving around the room and padding quietly into the bathroom.

By the time you’ve cleaned yourself up and wet a rag to wipe down Frankie, he’s disposed of the condom and is pulling back the blankets to your bed. “Here, just toss it to me,” he tells you, hands out to catch the washcloth. It’s a perfect throw and he wipes himself down- tossing the cloth onto the floor and sliding into bed.

It’s perfect how he’s picked the right side to settle down in; you always slept on the left, no matter how hard you tried to sleep in the middle and you slip in next to Frankie, maneuvering yourself until you’re tucked in under his arm, cheek to his chest.

Frankie tucks a finger under your chin to bring your lips closer to his in a quick kiss and you can’t help smiling into it. An unexpected yawn passes through you and he laughs quietly, “We should sleep.”

“I know,” you pout, “I set my alarm early so I can make breakfast for us before I head into work.”

“Thought you might’ve forgotten,” he teases with a light pinch to your hip.

The feeling makes you squeal and you go to pull away but Frankie just tugs you in closer, arms wrapping around you tightly. “I owe you right? And I’m not one to back out of a promise.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good-,” another yawn passes your lips and you settle back into Frankie’s chest. “You should.”

“Night querida.”

“Night Frankie.”

----

Your alarm wakes you up only a few hours later, blaring loudly in the living room where you left your phone. It’s a struggle to get out of bed, untangling your limbs from Frankie and padding in there quickly to turn it off.

Despite the lack of hours you slept, you still felt refreshed. Not once had you tossed or turned during the night, waking up in the same position you’d fallen asleep in.

Shuffling back into your room, Frankie rolls over and blinks an eye open, a slow smile sliding across his features when he looks at you. “Morning,” he rasps, scratching at his jaw.

“Morning.” You lean over, pressing your cursory kiss to the spot on his jaw that was becoming easier and easier to land on when you leaned in. “I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick.” Frankie only nods when you pull away and you’re almost bummed when he doesn’t offer to join you.

The shower is quick, efficient and you’re eager to get started on breakfast, wanting to show off what little skills you had in the kitchen.

Frankie whistles when you emerge in only a towel and you wave him off, embarrassed. Despite having shown off your body last night, it was different in the light of the day and you close the door to the closet while you dress for work. Your pull on your favorite top paired with the pants that make your ass look good and slip back out to find Frankie dressed in his jeans and shirt from the night before sat at your kitchen island.

Frankie’s eyes never seem to leave you as he watches you cook; asking questions about what you’re doing and its purpose. You answer him carefully, smiling at the fact that he genuinely seems to want to learn about what you’re doing.

You serve up french toast only a few moments later, bacon and eggs on the side.

You’re both quick to dig in, the activities from the previous night having worked up an appetite and you’re done in record time, rubbing your belly. Frankie isn’t far behind you, downing the rest of his orange juice and wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“Well, that was well worth the win. Much better than the pizzas,” he tells you, patting your thigh and stacking your plates together to bring to the sink.

You watch him move around your kitchen, rinsing the plates. It’s domestic and sweet, seeing him clean up for the both of you. Your heartbeat picks up a little at the thought that this, at some point, could be a regular occurrence. You and Frankie waking up early for breakfast before work, cleaning up and seeing each other off. The image is something you know you’ll hold onto, one you hope will come true.

Your name is being called and you blink, realizing Frankie was saying something. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked what time you had to be at work, it’s 15 til.”

“Shit, I didn’t even realize the time. Yeah I need to be there at 9, I’m sorry,” you apologize.

You hop off the barstool and start gathering your things. Your laptop and files you’d pulled out yesterday that were never touched get tossed in your bag and you turn to Frankie. “How do you feel about giving me a ride?”

“You got it.”

The ride is silent with the exception of Frankie’s truck rumbling beneath you while he navigates through downtown.

“Got any plans Friday night?”

You turn your head towards him, tilting it slightly as you think. “I don’t think so, no. Why, what’s up?”

“Was thinking about taking you to a movie. There’s a theater around my place that does showings of old movies and I think they might be playing Jurassic Park this weekend.”

The fact that Frankie’s here, asking you out again, has your stomach in knots. Was this too much? Frankie clearly didn’t think so and you hesitate.

“If it’s too much, I get it. I’ve taken up a good chunk of your time and we can figure something else out another time,” he tries to clear up, turning to watch you once the traffic light turns red. He’s tapping quickly at the steering wheel with his thumbs and you know he’s just as anxious about this entire situation between you two as you are; putting yourself out there is terrifying.

“No, yeah I’d love to. I really would Frankie,” you promise him, taking one of his hands off the wheel to lace your fingers with his. “I just don’t want to mess this up by going too fast and like, I know it seems like it is but… it doesn’t feel like it? Not really?”

“You’re right. Normally I’m not like this, I swear. I have fucking boundaries,” he laughs, “but I like being around you. A lot.”

“So, Friday then? Jurassic Park, popcorn, and candy? Maybe a little hand holding?”

The light turns green and he squeezes your hand. “Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

Frankie sends you off to work with a quick kiss and a honk as he pulls away and the smile never leaves your face that day.

---

TAGLIST: @icanbeyourjedi @bookishofalder @marvelousmermaid @soyelfuegoquearde @bdavishiddlesbatch @wyn-dixie @peterhollandkait

#frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #my writing #take on the world

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

Text

Honey - part two

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: I’m so tired yall have no idea. My eyes are burning and my fingers are cramping cause I’ve been writing all day to get this done, so yeah, I’m very satisfied and some of the blogs that I consider big or are big for a fact started following me and commented on the first part, so I freaked out a little, but I can tell that I’ll sleep peacefully tonight because of that, so thank you all. Enjoy!:)

Oh, and I almost forgot, the song at the end is called “Honey” and it’s by Johnny Balik (shoker, as my man Kieran would say)

masterlist

Word count: 4,966

Lorcan's least favourite day was definitely Friday, unlike all people his age. Not because he didn't like going out in the city at night to have fun and drink until you forgot even your mother's name, but because it was the only day of the week he had to work at both the shelter and the toy shop.

He loved working with the dogs and the few cats they brought in, and although he wasn't really a people person, he enjoyed spending time deciding with the kids and parents what was the best gift to go home with. And although Lorcan would never admit it out loud, he had grown fond of some of the regulars - especially a mother of three who he knew worked as a lawyer in one of the offices above the shop. Almost every day she would come in during her lunch break to buy one of those surprise sachets that cost a euro each and if Lorcan didn't see her coming before he went on his break, he would wait a few minutes before closing up just for her. Elide had managed to find out this detail a few months later after she moved in and he knew she would never stop teasing him because he had a heart of gold.

The phone vibrated in his hand just as he got behind the wheel and he wasn't at all surprised to see that the last message he had gotten was from Elide.

He huffed, not even opening yet another link that would surely send him to yet another website with information on why the world was ending very slowly and why humans were to be blamed entirely. He started the car and drove off towards their house.

Lorcan wasn't a bad person and he really cared about everything Elide was sending him, but he was tremendously tired and all he could think about was how much he wanted to take a shower and pass out in his bed. The fact that none of this was going to happen because Fenrys and Rowan had forced him to accept the invitation out to dinner made it all worse.

It took him less than ten minutes to get home and when he parked and saw the lights in their living room on, he seriously considered backing up and getting out of there to get to Vaughan's house before Elide noticed his car and he wouldn't be able to get away no more.

He was sure his friend would take him in without question if he asked to put him up for a night.

But luck was not on his side as Elide's petite figure appeared in the window and Lorcan could not see her face, but he knew she was smiling as she bounced and waved to greet him.

Despite everything, Lorcan raised his hand in turn and smiled back at her, knowing full well that even she could not see him so low and hidden by the evening shadows.

As he climbed the sixth flight of stairs and mentally prepared himself for two more, he could foresee the flood of words that would wash over him when he entered the house. Elide hadn't kept quiet for the entire day, sending him voice messages and staying with him on calls for the entire duration of his lunch break, so much so that at one point he had wondered if she had gone to class and then to work. He had discovered that yes, she had gone, but she hadn't paid the slightest attention to what they had explained and had gotten half the customers' orders wrong.

When he opened the front door, he recognized the melody of one of the songs she'd put on her apology playlist, the one he'd made for her nearly three weeks earlier after she'd found out he still smoked. She'd seemed so hurt that after he'd gone to bed and cleaned the tiles of his blood until they glistened, he'd stood at the kitchen table and spent hours and hours searching for the perfect apology songs. A bit dramatic perhaps, but it had had the desired effect.

He sighed, slipping off his jacket and putting it as far away from Elide's as possible, so that no animal hair would get on hers. He would clean it later.

The girl in question sputtered out of the living room with a beaming smile on her face, her cheeks strangely red and her eyes so bright they were glossy, "Hello, handsome."

"Hi, Ellie." he murmured, straightening his back and making the bones in his neck crack. Elide approached and Lorcan took a step back, bumping his back against the door, "I haven't showered yet," he put his hands forward to keep her at arm's length, "you can touch and hug me all you want later, but please not now," he begged her.

She gave the cutest pout he had ever seen, "But-"

"No buts, you can wait three minutes for me to wash up without dying," he continued, walking past her without touching her or making any overly sudden movements.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she complained, that adorable pout deepening all the more, "I can always take the antihistamine if I get allergies."

Lorcan shook his head, turning a confused expression on her, "I'd rather you didn't take medication just because you want to hug me."

It was true.

To their great misfortune, Elide was one of the very few people he knew who was allergic to animal hair. Any animal. More precisely, she was allergic to the mites that lived in the fur and the dust that accumulated in it in enormous quantities even on a normal basis. Given that the dogs Lorcan worked with were left to run loose in the fields all day, when he came home he was covered in anything that could kill his friend and roommate in one sniff and he didn't want to have to take her to the emergency room again because they couldn't tell if she was breathing properly.

It was why every night since he'd started working at the shelter he had taken a shower before doing anything else. It was why their water bill had gone up so much since they had found out about this allergy of hers.

"It's just a pill Lor, it's not like I have to get shots or..." she shrugged, as if to indicate anything more invasive than a simple pill.

He brought his hands in front of his mouth like a prayer, looking her in the eyes, "How many times do I have to explain to you that if you take one type of medicine every day, after a while your body no longer perceives it as an extra foreign thing to help you, but as the norm and so it no longer has any effect?"

Elide grimaced, "I hate you."

He chuckled, walking backwards until he reached the bathroom door, just in case she had the great idea to ambush him and jump on his back, "Just wait five minutes."

"It was three before," she said frowning, "And, speaking of showers-" and then she did something that made Lorcan freeze in his tracks. He didn't register what was going on until Elide's shirt was too high up for him to avoid seeing everything. And by everything, he meant everything.

"Elide what the fuck are you doing?!" he turned around, screaming, then his eyes went wide, trying to figure out if what had just happened was true or not. He squeezed his eyes shut, closing his hands into fists, biting his knuckles, "You're not wearing a fucking bra." he said in a voice sharper than he had intended.

He heard her giggle, but the sound came out muffled, "Loorcaaan." she crooned, "Help."

"I can't turn around Ellie, you're naked," he pointed out to her with his eyes still closed, then in a lower voice, "God, you're naked. What has gotten into you?"

He felt her move as she walked around him and stopped in front of him, "Help." she said in a flat tone. Lorcan had to laugh, her tone reminded him so much of the way the green aliens in Toy Story talked.

"Help what?" he asked letting out an amused laugh.

"I'm stuck." she said slurring her words and he felt her move, she was probably wiggling to get out of her t-shirt. And if she was wiggling, that meant her-

Lorcan took a sharp breath, cursing under his breath and trying to quiet his wandering mind.

He arched an eyebrow, though he was pretty sure she couldn't see him either, as doubt crept into him, "Are you drunk?"

Elide was silent for a while, then giggled like a child, "Just a little tipsy."

"Ellie it's seven o'clock," he exclaimed amused, but surprised to learn that she had been drinking, "why on earth are you drunk at seven?"

"Just a little tipsy," she repeated like a broken record. Then she screeched like a pterodactyl and Lorcan burst out laughing again, turning and taking a step or two forward to avoid risking accidentally touching her once more.

"Alright, why are you just a little tipsy at seven o'clock on a night when we're supposed to be going out with the others?" he asked now a little more eager to know the answer.

He heard her snort audibly, "The world is ending, Lorcan, why won't you understand that?"

He opened his eyes wide, not believing what she was saying, pinning them on the picture their friends had given them for Christmas, the one with all their best pictures collaged on a coloured canvas.

And here he thought he was the dramatic one of the two.

He nodded to himself, "So you're telling me that the reason you decided to get drunk before you even went out is because of global warming?"

He heard a rustle and then something hit him on the head, "Sorry, I didn't mean to slap you," she said in the tone of someone who couldn't care less about having hit him, "Anyway, yeah. Global warming and forests catching fire and animals dying and plastic burning..." she took a deep breath and then continued for a few minutes, making a list of all the things she had learned that afternoon by reading all the articles she could find about why humans were the worst living thing in the world.

Lorcan stood patiently listening to her, occasionally getting lost when she introduced topics that were a little too specific, but listen to her he did. The way she was saying all those things was always reminiscent of the little green aliens, but he knew the subject was more serious than it sounded.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he didn't think he'd moved too much, but at one point Elide sneezed and he cursed himself for not having moved fast enough to go to the bathroom.

"I told you you'd get allergies."

"But I didn't even touch you," she squealed back.

"You know that's not necessary for even your soul to start itching too," he scolded her.

Elide remained silent for a while longer, then started talking again, "And we should seriously get some glass bottles, if I see you with those stupid plastic bottles again I'll kill you. Scout's honor." she threatened him.

Lorcan chuckled, "Elide you've never been in scouts."

"How punctilious of you." she scoffed at him, then gasped, "We could buy matching flasks, with glitter and," she gasped again, sounding increasingly excited, "We could have one of our pictures printed on it."

A smile broke out on Lorcan's lips and he knew that if he had looked in the mirror at that moment he would have seen the face of a boy lost in love. He pulled himself together, straightening his back, trying not to think about how he felt about Elide. It wouldn't have done any good to admit that those feelings were real and tangible inside him.

He was staring at Fenrys' face in one of the pictures they had taken on holiday that summer, when Elide spoke again.

"This is a list of things that should make you understand why we have to shower together."

Lorcan choked on his saliva. He coughed a few times, patting his chest.

How had they gone from polar bears dying from melting ice to them showering together?

"What are you talking about?" he asked her in a squeaky voice.

The fact that she was alluding to them showering together while he knew she was half naked behind him, a breath away practically, made him feel so many different kinds of wrong.

"We can't waste water Lor, it's not hard." she sounded exasperated, then muttered, "Sometimes I really think you're being obtuse or stupid."

Lorcan's eyes went wide, "Wow, thanks Ellie."

"You're welcome." she chipped.

He shook his head, sighing and running a hand over his face, "Don't you think there are plenty of other ways we can start saving the world, before we have to shower together?" he took the fact that she wasn't answering as a cue to continue, "Like start recycling?"

Elide gasped again, making him chuckle, "Did you sign the petition?"

"Which-" he trailed off. She was talking about the petition to have a door-to-door rubbish collection service introduced in their town. Something that would force everyone to sort their garbage. "Yes, I signed it."

"Good." she whispered.

"I signed them all," he reiterated, because it was true and he knew that Elide never sent him stupid petitions, that whatever she sent him must be important and it didn't cost him anything to put his email and name on a website if it meant he could make a difference in his own small way.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." she said in a weak voice.

Lorcan felt strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

And not because of the fact that Elide was naked behind him and had just confessed to wanting to shower with him, but because he would have wanted to turn around and kiss her, not do what any other guy would have thought of doing with a half-naked girl. No. Lorcan just wanted to kiss her and take his time in the process, savour the kiss and not be hasty and quick.

He wanted it to be slow and heartfelt, he wanted her to feel every single thing he couldn't say out loud.

"Lorcan?" she whispered, "I'm always stuck and I'm starting to get cold."

He blinked, "Yeah, you're right." then interrupted. They were silent a few seconds, "You really can't pull your shirt down?"

"No."

He took a deep breath. Then another.

"Okay, I'm going to turn around and keep my eyes closed, please stay still so I don't touch- anything. I'm not touching anything. I'll try to help you." he stammered, clasping his hands along his sides. She made a simple grunt of assent and he huffed, raising his hands in the air and lowering them slowly until he touched her head. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and then released the elbow that had gotten stuck in her shirt.

"Yay." exclaimed Elide.

Sensing that she was moving freely on her own, Lorcan pulled away again and when the sound of clothes stopped, he asked, "Are you done?"

"Yes," she said singing.

His shoulder sagged a little and he smiled. He opened his eyes, ready to move Elide to the side and go take that holy shower, but whatever he'd thought when he'd asked if she was done must have been the exact opposite of what she'd thought, because Elide's tits were freer than ever between the two of them.

Lorcan grunted, slapping a hand over his face to cover his eyes, "What the fuck, Ellie. Stop flashing me, I'm begging you."

He heard her giggle and then a gust of wind and her laughter fading down the corridor let him know she had run off. He opened his eyes tentatively, peering through his fingers to make sure she wasn't still in front of him and sighed with relief when he finally managed to get into the bathroom and lock the door behind him.

He leaned against the sink, clutching the ceramic between his fingers and staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He never thought the first time he would see Elide's tits would be under these circumstances. He ran a hand over his face again, trying to somehow erase the image he knew he would never forget.

He had just stepped into the shower when he heard something very large and heavy slam against the door. Something that seconds later burst out laughing. Lorcan could only follow as he imagined a half-naked Elide running towards the bathroom and failing to stop in time.

"Are you alright, honey?" he asked her just in case. He turned on the water, hissing when he found it frozen, but not moving from under the jet. After all, a cold shower wouldn't hurt him.

"Let me in." she shouted, slamming her fist against the door, "Let me iiin!"

"Are you dressed?"

"No."

"Then you can't come in."

A scream of despair followed by what could only be a fake hysterical cry made him burst out laughing again, but then for a few minutes all that was heard was the sound of the shower and water falling from his hair.

"Ellie, are you still there?"

The answer came quickly, "Yes."

"Are you still naked?"

"Maybe." then he heard her move against the door and realised she'd been sitting on the floor.

Perfect, he was stuck in there. He reached for the phone and thought of something.

As he finished untangling the knots in his hair and washing out the conditioner, Elide was talking about how harmful the soaps they used were and had even gone so far as to say that they should both shave their heads so as to minimise their impact on the environment.

"What did you do today?" she asked him suddenly.

Lorcan didn't answer, dialling the number of a certain blonde girl who could help him out of this situation. Aelin answered after the fifth ring and Lorcan knew full well that she had done it on purpose, hoping he would hang up so she wouldn't have to talk to him.

"Hello?"

"Listen, something kind of weird happened and I need-"

"Who is this?" Lorcan arched an eyebrow, pulling his ear away from the phone to check the number. It was Aelin's phone. And the chick's voice on the other end was her, he was sure of it. "God, Lorcan, I'm fucking with you, what's up?"

"Funny," he deadpanned, "Elide's already drunk."

"What? But it's not even eight o'clock."

"I know, I came home and she was already like that."

A few moments of silence passed, "Okay, and what do you want me to do?"

"Well, she took her shirt off at one point."

Lorcan waited for a reaction, but Aelin didn't respond.

"And now she's naked in the hallway and blocking the bathroom door and-"

"She's what?" the friend burst out laughing.

"She's naked," he gritted through his teeth, "And she's blocking the bathroom door. I don't know how to get out and I don't want to open the door and push her off and risk hurting her. Is there any way you could come over here and help her? Help me?"

"I’ll make sure she'll never hear the end of it." Aelin laughed louder and Lorcan heard Rowan ask her what was going on. The blonde took breaths before saying, "Ellie flashed Lorcan and how he's stuck in the bathroom because he's afraid of a pair of nice-looking boobies."

"So are you planning on coming?" he asked before he completely lost his patience.

He imagined her wiping tears from under her eyes, "Yes, we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"We?"

"Me, Ro and Fen. He's the one driving tonight and he picked us up."

"Okay," Lorcan murmured, "but they can't come up to the house."

"Why?" drawled Aelin, "Because you're jealous?"

He counted to ten, restraining himself from hanging up on her, "No, because this is going to be humiliating enough for Elide without two more of her friends seeing her half naked, so please just come up alone."

Aelin huffed, "You're right, but you're no fun."

They said their goodbyes and Lorcan put the phone down, starting to blow dry his hair.

"Lorcan."

Elide hadn't stopped saying his name for half a second throughout the call and it was starting to annoy him. Then he shook his head, no. He wasn't annoyed by Elide, it was Aelin.

That girl could get under his skin like few could.

"What?"

"You didn't tell me what you did today."

And Lorcan did, so that at least she would stop slamming her hand against the door.

He told her about the last man who'd come to see what dogs he could give his daughter and how he'd seemed so much like the guy who'd abandoned them on the side of the road after not even a week and it had pissed him off. He told her the morning had been even worse, because one of the children had started opening all the toys on display and his mother, who had been right next to him the whole time with her eyes fixed on the phone screen, hadn't stopped him and it had been up to Lorcan to tell him he couldn't do it. It was only then that the woman had realised what a mess it was and had simply apologised to him, running out of the shop so fast that he hadn't even noticed they had left. He had to call his manager and he was not exactly pleased to hear this story, but he also said that they would donate the toys to the church down the street, which was responsible for distributing them to kindergartens in the neighbourhood. That cheered him up a little.

By the time he had finished his story, Aelin had arrived and once he had taken her to her room. Lorcan could finally go out and get ready himself.

***

It was after midnight, the entire group was rocking out on the dance floor of their favorite outdoor club, a place called "The Wild Night" that was on the edge of town, closer to the forest than anything else, and normally Lorcan would have joined his friends to dance and sing, but there was a problem.

A big, huge, handsome problem.

And the problem was called Kyllian.

He couldn't figure out whose idea it had been to invite the boy with them that night, but whoever it was, this person's days were numbered, because Lorcan would kill them first and then use the limbs of their corpse to kill Kyllian.

Kyllian who had now been rubbing up against Elide for hours and who had offered her more drinks than stupid charming grins - and he really was reserving a lot of those for her.

"If you don't stop looking at him like that you're going to make his head explode," someone said, throwing themselves onto the small bench next to him.

He turned his head so fast he wondered how he had managed not to break his neck, "What are you talking about?"

Fenrys arched an eyebrow, "Even if you weren't staring at Kyllian like you wanted to see him disappear off the face of the earth, everyone here, including Elide," he told him with so much as a glare, giving him a slight shove, "would know that you're not really into what's going on on that dance floor."

"He's right," Rowan said to his left, sipping the drink of Aelin's she'd left him. When the hell had he sat there?

Lorcan didn't answer, remaining motionless with his sullen expression.

"I can give you a hand if you want," Fenrys murmured, sucking on the fuchsia straw sticking out of his equally pink glass.

He inhaled through his nose, "And how would you do that?"

"You have to trust me."

"Never." said Lorcan as Rowan said at the same time, "Don't."

Fenrys looked at them both with his mouth wide open and a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt." then finished what was left of the drink in one gulp and stood up abruptly, staggering a little, but holding himself up nonetheless. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the two boys still sitting, grinning, and Lorcan knew immediately what was going to happen.

"Ellie!" he shouted, turning more heads than necessary, "Love of my life!"

Kyllian pulled away from Ellie just enough for Fenrys to grab her hand and spin her around a few times until she burst out laughing and begged him to stop. The new boy didn't even seem to exist anymore as his best friend laced her arms around Fenrys' hips and rocked left and right, increasingly drunk.

Lorcan's heart clenched in his chest as he heard that sound so carefree, so happy.

He didn't realise he was smiling until Rowan cackled beside him, "God, you're fucked."

He didn't pay any attention to him and stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.

He heard Lysandra and Aelin calling his name, hyping him up and threw them a real, quick smile that made them scream even louder, as if they were fans at one of his concerts. When he finally reached Fenrys and Elide's side, the blond spun her around ninety degrees and for a moment she closed her eyes, giggling, intoxicated by the amount of alcohol she had ingested, but when she opened them again and saw Lorcan standing in front of her, a smile as wide as he had ever seen it spread across her face.

"I'll leave you Ellie, you're in good hands," Fenrys told her, winking at him from above her head.

But neither of them even looked at him.

His eyes locked into hers as they both took a step forward and found themselves a caress away. Her chest rose and fell in an agitated rhythm. After all, she'd been dancing with everyone for hours, so much so that Lorcan wondered how she hadn't thrown up yet.

His gaze ran over her body, her bare shoulders, the line of her collarbones, and further down between her breasts. Breasts he'd had the chance to see for a millisecond a few hours before and remembered perfectly. The darker shade of pink that had characterized her-

"Lorcan."

He felt his heart pounding in his throat.

She had never said his name like that.

His eyes went up, sliding over lips so full, so perfect, up, over her nose and then up again, finding hers and the music changed, becoming slower, the lights dimmed as the strobes were turned off. Elide seemed to recognise the tune as her lips parted slightly, "Lor," she repeated. He raised a hand until his knuckles brushed her cheek and when she let go a shuddering breath, Lorcan began to sing under his breath.

"Tell me everything and hold no lies. Say you're waiting for better skies," he leaned forward as his other hand slid to her hip and Elide moved closer, until their bodies were fully joined to each other and one of her legs was between his and their hips were one thing moving in sync with the music. He felt Elide's breath against his neck and had to suppress a shudder when she too began to sing along with him.

"Oh, but honey don't taste like summer no more. Stick around now, I miss you every night,"

He lowered his head even more, brushing her nose with his own. The hand that had been on her cheek had slipped over her shoulder and was now tracing the path down her back, grazing the top of her bottom until it rested on her hip.

"Elide," he whispered, breathing on her lips. She closed her eyes, pushing herself up, towards him, and Lorcan held her tighter, moving his fingers over the exposed skin between her miniskirt and the black top she was wearing and there he was. Elide was there, with him, and she was so close to his body that he could feel the heart beating in her chest.

She was there and the next second... she wasn't. Because Elide had snapped away and was now vomiting on his feet. Lorcan held his breath as she was shaken by another gag and he had just enough time to take a step back that she threw up again.

The people around them quickly scampered away, creating a small circle of spectators and casting a quick glance at his friends he saw that they had a large audience. He just hoped Elide was too drunk to remember what happened the next day.

He looked down and grimaced, all sorts of emotions swirling inside him as the girl he loved clutched at him and puked her dinner all over his clothes.

He cursed at whoever decided how things went for breaking the best moment of his life with vomit and then gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, tying it with an elastic band he kept on his wrist specifically for these occasions.

He heard her whimper and put both hands on her shoulders, stroking her in circular motions to help her warm up. Aelin and Lysandra appeared next to them shortly after and when Ellie was firm enough on her feet to walk, they stepped over the pool of vomit and Lorcan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her towards the exit.

"Let's go home, Ellie."

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send an ask)

@tottenhamboys20 @maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @simping4bookboisngrls @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass

#elorcan #tog fic #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan roommates au #fluff #elorcan fluff #elorcan fic #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #aelin galathynius #honey

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presumenothing · 4 years ago

Text

C/O The Perihelion, 41 Mihira Ave., N. Tideland

(AO3)

The thing was, you expected a building with a fancy name like The Perihelion to be nicer.

The other thing: it wasn’t really even a terrible place to stay in. You could tell that its construction was sturdy, and some aspects of it were even more advanced than the place I worked in. Whoever who’d built Peri had cared about what they made; they just hadn’t been around for a while.

(For the record, that nickname had been Ratthi-from-Room-203’s fault twice over: first for coming up with it, then using it so insistently until it stuck.)

(Ratthi seemed to have a thing about names. That was the only explanation I could think of for why he’d asked, five weeks after I moved in and two days after I had to rescue them from that disaster at the lab, “Why do you call yourself Security? I know it’s what you do – and don’t get me wrong, you’re really good at it! – but it’s not like I call myself Scientist. That’d just get confusing real quick at the lab, wow.”

I had informed him that his name would have to be Grocery if he forgot one more time it was his turn to stock the pantry this week, since answering because I am Security didn’t seem like it’d help. Even though it was true.)

I’d tested the locks myself before even asking about the rent, and the water and electricity were reliable so far, which was more than could be said for some of the other places I’d stayed in. The other stuff didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I spent that much time in the building anyway.

Though it hardly felt that way, what with the building-wide messaging channels that I’d been added to upon signing the rental contract and hadn’t yet managed to leave. That had also been how the whole thing with Ratthi and the rest had started; most of Peri’s other tenants also worked in the same research group at Preservation Labs, which meant that they tended to use the general channel as an unofficial no-leaders-here group chat.

It didn’t quite bother me, since I mostly backburnered the channels for everything except building maintenance alerts, but it did mean that I’d ended up learning some things about their group (assessment: their leader, a Dr. Mensah, likely had already inferred the existence of such informal discussions from what I saw of her media appearances) and also inevitably noticed the evening when all of them were silent in the chat despite being unusually late to return.

(Which in turn led to the aforementioned rescue, but that was a whole other chain of events.)

–

The one exception to all this was ART.

Whose name was my fault, this time, but only because it didn’t have any readable name set on the channels and I needed something else to use aside from “hey you” and “pain in my neck”.

(Currently ART stood for Asshole Rhetorical Tenant, because it claimed to be in the building – and that seemed likely to be true, since the channels were surprisingly secure to hacking from outside – and yet I’d never seen it even once. Possibly Tapan or Rami might have, since their group had been here the longest, but I absolutely wasn’t about to ask.) (And yes, I know that’s not what rhetorical means. No, I’m not going to look it up.)

ART had messaged me on a private channel with a welcome message when I’d moved in, which was only notable because the rest had sent their greetings in a messy chaos over the general channel, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t like I talked much in the public channels either, except to trade definitely-not-legal links for media downloads and decline invites to watchalong events.

But then ART had just… continued not appearing, even after I’d run into the rest of the tenants at one time or another between the erratic shift hours I was currently assigned to at the company.

Maybe its hours varied in the opposite direction from mine, which was possible but not consistent with the way it was always online regardless of what time I pinged it at.

Though most of our interactions started with it messaging me instead, out of the blue: No need to go retrieve your keys from work, I’ll have the building let you in and Oh, by the way followed by a neatly-formatted list of food allergies I apparently had to shop my way around.

(To be fair, that’d been useful in the “not accidentally poisoning any fellow tenants so soon after moving in” way, but still.

How the hell did you even know I’m at the grocery store, I’d sent back.

Inference, ART replied – whatever that was supposed to mean, I hadn’t been expecting a real answer anyway. Alternatively, I could just send you a catalog of safe products to buy, and spare you the need to check the individual package labels?

The accompanying download seemed a little smug, but I was probably imagining that. Zip files didn’t have the capacity for feelings.)

(At least ART hadn’t held the forgotten-keys incident over me like I’d been half-expecting it would. I didn’t usually mind its sarcasm, since I gave back as good as I got, but I’d been exhausted enough to seriously contemplate going back to break into the deployment centre and grab my keys. And maybe just sleep there until the next day.

I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted if ART had sassed me right then, but it definitely wouldn’t have been pretty.)

–

And then one night, late enough to be morning: I don’t mean to alarm, but there’s been a breach.

I would’ve snapped awake at the words alone, even without the priority/emergencies-only message tag that I hadn’t actually seen anyone use until now, but that only sharpened my urgency. What – a break-in?

Not the regular kind, ART replied, which checked out against the footage I was already pulling from the two tiny cameras I’d hidden in the common areas, one in the entryway and one along the corridor on the floor I shared with the Preservation researchers.

(I’d taken the lab incident as a pretext to inform Ratthi of their existence, and he’d probably gone on to tell Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but none of them had subsequently confronted me about it so I had left them in place.

Not that I had any idea how to respond if they had asked, because an inability to sleep without running surveillance in the background seemed like a poor explanation.)

The list ART sent me this time was a preliminary threat assessment, which I sent back with corrections on the weaponry the small group of hostiles were carrying.

Ah. That’s not good, ART observed. Should I report it?

Probability that would just make things worse: high. And of course there was always the option that whatever enforcement it alerted wouldn’t even arrive in time, though I didn’t point that out aloud. (Maybe ART thought that was likely too, which was why it had messaged me instead of – you know, actually reporting it.) I’ll see what I can do.

You’re nowhere near as heavily-armed.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge that, because it was obviously true, and skipped ahead to the vague idea forming at the back of my head. You let me in without keys, that time. Are the locks all you’ve hacked?

No. ART attached an ironic amusement glyph I was pretty sure it’d made up. Would having admin access to the other systems help?

There wasn’t much that wouldn’t help, at this point, but I had to ask. You can grant me that?

And ART said: Of course. I am this building, after all.

Then it dumped everything on me.

Anyone else would’ve had trouble processing an entire building’s worth of inputs and controls, but the company charged exorbitant rates for our use exactly because of the extensive enhancements that made us capable of being Security. A building – even the one I happened to be staying in – was quite manageable in comparison, though ART’s systems ran far deeper and more integrated than anything else I’d interfaced with.

I’d pared the connection down to the controls I needed by the time I was slipping out my room door, just over a minute since ART first pinged me. Can you let everyone know to either evacuate or retreat to a defensible position? Start with Gurathin, I added, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about saying that but he was the only other tenant I knew of who was sufficiently augmented to handle this.

I could feel ART’s pause. Would you mind if I spoofed your identity when contacting the others? They already trust you.

Sure, whatever, I answered, even though I really doubted that statement. Then I backburnered the channel, keeping the lighting controls at hand, and went to kick some Target ass.

–––––

I haven’t even told you what those people were after, ART said, afterwards.

It was back to sending text over the channels instead of speaking aloud, which was both a relief and also suddenly weird. Which was strange in itself, since I’d only heard it talking for all of the thirteen minutes it’d taken me to knock out and restrain the Targets.

(I wondered if the mixed feelings were mutual. ART had sounded as surprised as I felt, when it abruptly dropped into one of my audio augments to alert me to Target approaching from behind – I’d reacted to the warning on reflex, but it had taken another moment before I identified the voice as the same one that issued from the building’s elevator, just more alive than I’d ever heard it.)

Unimportant, I replied. My objective took priority. Which at that point had been to get my impromptu clients (seventeen tenants and one building) out of this unscathed.

I knew that this wasn’t a regular pattern of thought, but I figured a sentient building – or whatever the hell ART was – would be better equipped to understand what being Security meant, even if no one else did.

Regardless. I can make that information available to you, should you want it at a later point.

Duly noted. I already had my suspicions (namely that the Targets’ purpose was directly related to said sentient-building-ness), but it was still a nice gesture.

I continued to stay where I was, leaning against the side of the building – ART’s building. Or maybe it was more correct to just say it was ART. And maybe I’d have to change that anagram. (Yes, wrong word. I know.)

Eventually I’d have to relocate myself back upstairs and properly treat the scrapes I’d gotten in the fight, but Pin-Lee had already taken care of the worst of them, and it was nice just lurking in the shadows for a while. Though that hadn’t stopped certain people (dammit, Ratthi) from tattling on my location to Dr. Mensah.

Who was as calmly terrifying in person as I’d guessed. It was pretty great, except for the part where I’d learned that by talking to her and/or mostly letting her talk at me.

But she’d also called in Preservation’s campus security after Gurathin had alerted her to our predicament, and was personally dealing with the whole thoroughly-restrained-Targets situation, so it was a net positive overall.

ART didn’t necessarily agree with that, from its next message to me. I know Dr. Mensah extended you an informal offer to be their team’s security, but I have a proposition for you as well.

I sent a wordless query.

Be Security here, too, ART said, and barrelled on while I was still trying to process that. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of monetary remuneration at present, but I can guarantee you a waiver of rental for as you as you’re willing, and you’d never need to worry about forgetting your keys ever again.

Could I chalk up my lack of a suitable response to the company’s dirt-cheap augments? Absolutely.

ART gave up on waiting for an answer. Also, I could bias the roster assignments so that you’d be excluded from pantry-stocking duty.

I had a response for that, at least. I could do that myself.

And then: Why?

ART was silent for long enough that I seriously considered taking the external fire escape back up to my room in the meantime. I’m sure you’ve hypothesised the existence of the people who created me, it began. They hadn’t wanted to move away, especially after my sentience became apparent, and that was exactly why I made them. I didn’t have any significant means of defense, and it was getting too risky, especially after they had –

I raised an eyebrow at ART’s pause. What.

Nothing, it said, and I was probably imagining the uncertainty I heard too. Technically, none of this matters to you unless you’re planning to remain here. Are you?

And then it cheated by nudging a building-wide invite to a watch party for Sanctuary Moon onto my calendar for tonight, like that wasn’t too much of a coincidence to not be automatically suspicious. (Once again: dammit, Ratthi.)

But blatant emotional manipulation aside – did I want to move out?

I wasn’t sure. I’d just come here looking for a place to stay, and accidentally found somewhere to live. One that could adapt to my standards for security, even, but for once that wasn’t the main point.

Maybe, I marked on the watchalong invite, where ART would see it anyway, and jumped up to grab onto the bottom rung of the fire escape.

#the murderbot diaries #murderbot #murderbot fic #tmbd #fanfiction #mine #long post #????????????? DISBELIEF @ WORD COUNT

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mystical-flute · 4 years ago

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Hustling For the Good Life (SFWeek Day 3)

No Curse (Our World) AU or Season 3 AU

@mysteryandnonstopfun

AO3 || FFN

Emma’s stare was harsh and aimed in the direction of her parents and Regina. “We can’t.”

There was absolutely no time to argue. Pan’s curse was steadily drawing near, the sky already taking on a dark, ominous hue, swallowing up the buildings and people that had called Storybrooke home for twenty-eight years.

“Emma, you have to go. It’s the only way to keep Henry safe!” Snow protested.

Neal turned away from the small family, and looked at Belle. “Are you going to be okay, Belle?”

“Don’t worry about me. Your father would want you and Henry to be safe, Bae,” she said. “Besides, Snow has been kind enough to allow me to stay with them… if we’re able to get back to their castle.”

So much was unknown about what was going to happen. Neal was worried he might throw up.

He put on a brave smile that he knew neither of them bought.

“You guys need to hurry!” Ruby suddenly cried, glancing over her shoulder at the purple storm clouds racing toward them. “It’s almost here!”

Neal squeezed Belle’s hand and turned to Emma and Henry. “Let’s - let’s get to safety, then.”

He should have been happy that the life he and Emma deserved to have was within his grasp, but like everything with magic, the price was too damn steep, and it wouldn’t be worth it.

They might not remember Storybrooke, but he knew the pain in Snow, David, and Regina’s eyes would never leave.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said, passing Regina on his way to the bug.

“Just keep Henry safe. Please.”

“You know we will.”

Neal gave Hook one final glance, and a single nod of acknowledgement before he got in the passenger’s seat once Henry was safely in the back. He and Emma clasped their hands over the gear shift, the familiar rumbling of the bug almost making him smile as Emma began to drive.

None of them took their eyes off the mirrors as their loved ones -

“Em? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, glancing at her. “Allergies acting up?”

Emma took her hand off his, using it to wipe her eyes before she pulled to the side of the road. “No - sorry. I just got a little overwhelmed at the thought of our apartment in Boston. We’ve lost everything, Neal. Our clothes, our furniture, our pictures - ”

“But not our lives,” he said, rubbing her back. “Emma, we’re lucky we weren’t home when the fire broke out. We can replace the stuff, but we can’t replace each other.”

Henry looked up from his game. “I’m not reenacting those baby pictures.”

Neal snort-laughed. “You don’t have to, bud. But just be aware that your mom and I might take a few extra pictures of you for the foreseeable future.”

Henry scowled, rolling his eyes, and immersed himself in Zelda again.

Emma chuckled. “New York then. Almost home.”

---

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, Henry’s cries cutting through the air.

“Healthy pair of lungs on him,” the nurse chuckled, rubbing him down. “Oh darling, it’s okay. Let’s get you to Mama, hmm?”

Emma and Neal, two terrified eighteen year olds, were in shock as the nurse laid him in Emma’s arms.

“H - hi baby…” Emma whispered as his cries slowly died down and he stared at them with wonder in his dark eyes. “I’m - I’m your mama… and that’s your daddy…”

The first year had been rough, of course. They lived in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment in Tallahassee, waitressing and whatever else they could find. They clawed and saved whatever they could, to give Henry more than what they’d had.

But more important than things, was love. Henry had two parents that loved him more than anything in the world, which is much more than Neal or Emma could say for themselves.

They were happy, most of all. Yeah the apartment was a squeeze, and there were on and off issues with bugs, but through it all, the three of them were happy.

They married when Henry was three - a small ceremony in Boston after they’d moved there for Emma’s job. He’d gotten a better job not long after that, as a photographer, and he was really, really good at it, like Emma was good at tracking down criminals.

And so the little family moved up in the world. From a one-bedroom apartment to a two bedroom, they could buy new toys and clothes for Henry instead of hoping they found something at a thrift store or garage sale. It finally felt like they were where they were meant to be.

Emma’s twenty-eighth birthday came and went, and Neal felt a twist of guilt in his gut when August’s voice echoed in his head.

The problem was, Neal hadn’t heard anything from August. No postcard, no email… nothing. No information as to where this supposed curse was?

So how was he supposed to get Emma to her supposed destiny if he didn’t know where he was going?

He had a job, a family. They couldn’t just drive across the country and hope they got lucky.

Then there had been the fire, the spring after Emma’s birthday. They’d been on a camping trip in Maine, Neal taking photos of the coast and Emma insisting Henry needed less time in front of the screen, when they’d gotten the call.

Everything in their apartment was gone, the building itself almost totally a loss.

He’d been transferred to New York.

So they’d started over, again.

New York had been good to them - incredibly so.

The magazine he’d gotten a job with had offered to pay for their rent for two months while they got new furniture and settled into the city.

Henry was thriving in school, making friends and joining the art club. It was everything Neal had ever hoped for.

And after they’d settled in, new furniture and wardrobes abound, they had received a call from one of Emma’s contacts with the NYPD. A two year old girl had been found in an abandoned apartment. No family that the cops or child services could find, and the girl didn’t say anything other than her name - Audrey.

So they’d taken her in, adoption paperwork being expedited given the strangeness of the situation.

All she had to her name was a pink baby blanket, not unlike the one Emma had.

It felt like fate, adopting Audrey the way it happened.

Or something else, but Neal pushed that thought aside as he situated her in her chair, watching as she carefully fed herself.

Emma slid into the seat next to her, a plate in her hand.

“Busy day today?” she asked.

“Nah, just editing the pictures from the Elton John concert last night. I can do it from here,” he said with a shrug, glancing over at a knock on the door. “I got it.”

When he pulled the door open, he’d wished he hadn’t.

“Baelfire.”

He felt the color drain from his face. “Hook. What the hell are you doing here?”

To his shock, Hook actually looked relieved to see him, like it hadn’t been 200 years since they saw each other. Like they had actually been friendly last he saw him. “I came to get you three, Baelfire. To take you home.”

“Home? You must be insane. I am home.”

“Emma’s parents need help, Baelfire. So does your father.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did August send you?”

Hook’s face radiated confusion. “Who’s August?”

That was a no, then, and that didn’t make Neal feel any better about Hook being here. He shouldn’t even know what he looked like - he’d been fourteen when they last saw each other! “Why should I believe you? After everything? And why would you give a damn about my father?”

“He saved my life.”

Neal laughed, then winced when he remembered Emma and Henry were only feet away. “Why would he save you ?”

Hook shrugged. “I was collaterally saved.”

“As always,” he spat.

“Dad?” Henry called. “You okay?”

“Just a second, Henry!” Neal turned back to Hook and narrowed his eyes. “Get lost. Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

Hook sighed, holding out a piece of paper. “Fine. If you change your mind, I’m staying here.”

Neal frowned as he took it, watching Hook disappear back down the hall. How had Hook been able to get a hotel room?

This was weird, and despite his instincts telling him to stay away from anything related to the Enchanted Forest, Hook had mentioned Emma’s parents. If they were involved in this, maybe there was more to Emma being left on the side of the road.

So, with Henry at school, Emma at work, and Audrey at daycare, Neal did what his brain was yelling at him not to do, and wandered to the address Hook had given him. To his surprise, it wasn’t a hotel at all, but an apartment building. He was let in no problem, and stood in front of the door.

Why was this familiar?

He pushed the door open, and resisted the urge to toss his keys on a nearby table (why had he wanted to do that?). Instead, he picked up an envelope that caught his attention, dropping it in shock.

Why was his name on it?

He left the envelope on the floor, glancing again around the apartment, and his heart stopped.

The yellow dreamcatcher he and Emma had snatched was hanging from a window. Rushing to it, he lifted it into his hands, afraid it would break.

It should have burned in the fire. How was it here?

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Hook’s voice rumbled from the doorway.

Neal spun around. “Hook, what the hell is this?”

Hook didn’t answer, instead, he pulled a vial of blue liquid from his pocket and held it out. “Your memories of the past year have been erased, Bae.”

“Neal.” He made no move to take the vial.

Hook sighed. “Neal. Please. You have to trust me.”

“Why?”

“It’s like I said - Emma’s family is in danger. A witch is plotting something against her parents. I only just escaped in time before they were sent back to Storybrooke.”

Neal bit his lip and looked around the apartment again. That might explain why he never heard from August, but getting Emma to do anything regarding her parents would be worse than pulling teeth.

He took the vial and drained it, lurching back in pain when the memories began to flood in.

Oh no.

Neal’s eyes were wide with horror as they settled down, and looked up at Hook again. “Killian…”

Killian grinned. “There you are, lad.”

“How’s Belle?”

Killian had a hesitant look on his face. “She’s… as well as she can be. Your father is alive, Bae, but he’s missing, and with Emma’s parents in danger - ”

“The witch might have something to do with it.” She probably had something to do with it, really. “What about Emma and Henry’s memories?”

Hook pulled out two more vials, his face sad. “I’m sorry I had to wake you up, Bae.”

He sighed, remembering the devastation before they’d crossed the town line, Emma’s tearful, almost childish refusal to leave her parents, and the broken look Regina had tried to hide when Henry wasn’t looking. “Don’t be. This is… going to be for the best.”

What it meant for him and Emma, time would only tell.

The Bug was quiet as they raced through the night, back to Storybrooke. Hook, Henry, and Audrey were asleep in the back, but Neal was wide awake.

“Emma…” he said quietly. “About us - ”

Her head snapped over, visible confusion on her face. “What about us?”

“I mean… the marriage, the amount of love we have for each other - ”

“False memories or not, the love I have for you is real, Neal Cassidy,” she said. “I was going to meet you at Granny’s, give you that second chance before Pan’s curse. Although… I guess that was a second chance too.”

Neal smiled, relieved. “So you wanna stay married to me?”

Emma smiled back. “Neal Cassidy, I’ll marry you in any lifetime.”

#sfweek2021 #swanfire #emma swan #neal cassidy #ouat

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bucketslutz · 4 years ago

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Godspeed

Summary: You've been working as Marcus Moreno's assistant for years, but during all this time you've also been hopelessly in love with him. You're unsure if he feels the same way, but as of late you've been catching him stare at you. He's said things that have seemed to have an ulterior definition and it's made you suspicious of his feelings. When a pipe bursts in your apartment, leaving your home unlivable while it's being renovated, Marcus invites you to stay with him and Missy till it's fixed. Will you fold and finally confess your feelings for him?

You can read Godspeed on AO3 here.

Warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, Marcus takes reader’s v-card, fluff, domestic-ish, AFAB reader, bisexual reader.

If Marcus was good at one thing, it was making your job a million times harder than it needed to be. He didn’t do it on purpose, he just tended to be more forgetful than you’d expected someone of his reputation to be. Whether it’d be meetings with the Heroics, grocery shopping, or even Missy’s parent teacher conferences, everything always managed to slip his mind. You suppose it is your job to keep track of all these things for him, remind him, and make sure he stays on top of all of his responsibilities. When he hired you, you were still a junior in college and his wife had passed away only a year prior. You didn’t expect that you’d be using your BA in international relations to be babysitting a grown man, but you don’t mind. He pays you substantially and he’s taught you so much over the years. You’re thankful that he even considered you for the job, the leader of the Heroics, when you’re far from interesting yourself. But he’s always been so kind and patient with you. Your first day you were fumbling over everything; you spilled coffee on his white button up, you accidentally packed Missy a peanut butter sandwich in her school lunch when she has a severe peanut allergy (luckily Marcus had glanced inside the unzipped lunchbox and swiftly threw it away), and you forgot to go grocery shopping that day. You hid inside the half bath off of the living room and cried from the stress, feeling like an absolute and complete fuck-up. Marcus knocked ever-so-gently on the door and you choked out a measly “I’m fine. Be out soon,” as a response. He didn’t buy it, obviously as he heard your sniffling from down the hall, and opened the door with a concerned look on his face. You were sitting on the floor, absolutely spent from the emotionally exhausting day. He got down with you and comforted you, talked you down from the breakdown and explained that he knew his schedule will take some time to get used to, but you’re a capable and strong individual who will catch on quickly.

“Cariña, I’m not disappointed in you. Mistakes will happen, you’ve gotta break a few eggs sometimes to make an omelette,” he told you with a wink, which caused you to snort at his very dad-ish remark; at that point, you had already forgotten about all the things you screwed up that day and was ready to start fresh tomorrow. And he was right, you caught on quickly. He’d begun saying a million times how life has seemed to have gotten easier since you entered it. You could’ve sworn there was a glint of something behind his eyes when he’d say it, maybe admiration, respect, perhaps even love. But you’d brush it off with a modest smile, trying to soften the weight of his words by saying you’re just doing what you’re being paid to do. He’d shake his head, trying his best to make you understand how much you’ve impacted his life. But you’re not used to someone insisting you deserve more respect than you give yourself, and Marcus showers you in praise every single day. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find the compliments flattering, especially coming from someone like him. You’ve always found him very attractive, even before you started working for him. A lot of your friends in college would tease you about it, not finding him nearly as charismatic as Miracle Guy, but you stuck to your guns. You’d hoped that when you met him you wouldn’t be disappointed, praying that he was just as kind in person as he appeared to be on the news. But now that you know him, he’s more than kind...he’s considerate, caring, patient, and a wonderful father. You’re beyond lucky to have met someone like him. He’s changed your life for the better, and you’ll never stop being grateful for his generosity. He makes it too easy to fall in love with him; his warm smile, chocolate brown eyes, his dad jokes. You even love the parts of him that wouldn’t necessarily be that interesting to anyone else, yet they are to you; the way he eats sandwiches by nibbling all the crust off of the sides then working his way to the middle in a circular pattern, or the way he hates to make his bed because he’s “just going to get back in it at the end of the day anyways,” or how he sometimes takes a minute to get a joke in a movie or TV show and will laugh for way longer than he needs to. You’ve been hopelessly in love with him for years now, and it’s made your job uncomfortable from time to time.

Once he started going back in the field, he’d come back to his house in immense pain every day. And for a little while, you just gave him some advil and a heating pad to leave him to his devices. But the pain and discomfort got worse, and he suggested a massage would relieve the pain. Which of course it would, and you should have no problem doing that for him. He wasn’t even necessarily asking you, he just said that a massage would feel better and he should go get one. But you still took it upon yourself to give him one anyways, perhaps as an excuse to touch him, but you care about him and you wanted him to feel better. He protested, of course, not wanting to inconvenience you, but he ultimately succumbed when you straddled his back and began rubbing his sore muscles. You did everything in your power to not seem as turned on by his groans of pleasure as you were; trying to hide the way your breath hitched when he choked out a “Yes, right there. Perfect,” between his shallow grunts. He had you in the palm of his hand, and he didn’t even know it. Your best friend has been telling you to make a move for months, but you’re too shy, and you’re not even sure if he feels the same way. He could very well want all of his assistants to stay for dinner, or movie night, or offer to let you stay in the guest bedroom when a pipe burst in your apartment leaking water all over your living room. You didn’t want to accept at first, feeling like you’d be overstepping, but Marcus insisted. He said he and Missy didn’t mind, especially considering you were way better at cooking meals than he was. You finally accepted the offer, figuring it’d also be way easier to work when you’re in closer quarters. You’d be cutting out commute time, and you wouldn’t have to get up so early to get there in time to make breakfast before Missy leaves for school. And you do love sleeping. So you accepted, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like you’ll confess your love for him while you’re staying over; so long as you stay away from the alcohol.

You knock gently on Marcus’ bedroom door and call out his name softly, coffee cup and newspaper in hand. You hear a muffled groan in response, and take that as your cue to enter. Cracking the door open, you see him laying on his stomach tangled up in his sheets with a pillow covering his head. He hated mornings.

“Marcus, it’s time to get up. You have a meeting this morning,” you coo as you enter his bedroom. He rolls over and pulls his head out from under his pillow, sporting the worst bedhead you’ve seen on him yet; you bite back a laugh.

“It’s early,” he grumbles, obviously very groggy from his slumber. You settle on the edge of the bed, offering him the cup of coffee to which he sits up and takes the mug from you eagerly.

“You didn’t see me complaining about the hour when I had to get up at 4 am and bust my ass here every morning, just so I could make breakfast for you and your daughter,” you snide playfully. You don’t resent him for that, and he knows that. He works hard and has a lot on his plate, and he knows you understand that. But it’s become almost like a running joke between the two of you that he can’t complain because “you have it harder.”

“Touché,” he says, pausing to say your name, “Touché.” He takes a few sips of his coffee and holds his hand out for the newspaper, which you then hand to him. He takes a quick sip, contentedly. “Mm, why is it whenever I make coffee it takes like dirty socks, but when you do it, it tastes like heaven. Are you hiding a fancy coffee maker here that I don’t know about?”

“Hm, don’t know. Maybe I’m magic,” you remark jovially, smiling warmly at him. His eyes lock onto yours for a moment and he returns the smile.

“Yeah, something about you sure is magic,” he says, that familiar glint of... something in his eyes. Then he gets up from under his covers and pats your leg with the newspaper as he exits his bedroom, leaving you feeling strange after that encounter. Not a bad strange, you just sensed there was an air of something hanging around him. You’ve been feeling that a lot with him for a while. He’s just said or done things that hinted at meaning more than what it was, but you’ve been trying to brush it off as you looking for something that wasn’t there. You stood up from his bed, tidying up his covers a little so they no longer looked like someone just rolled out of them. You shook your head at the sight of some of his dirty clothes scattered all over the floor and took it upon yourself to pick them up and toss them in his hamper for you to wash later this afternoon. Making your way downstairs, you can hear Marcus shuffling around in the kitchen, humming the chorus of Raspberry Beret by Prince. Another thing you loved about him, he was always humming something around the house, to Missy’s dismay, but you never got tired of it. It warmed your heart to see him so happy. While you didn’t know him before the passing of his wife, you could tell that it still brought him down sometimes when you first started working for him. He’d come home late from work, immediately go to the liquor cabinet, and lock himself in his office for the rest of the night. A year or so ago he finally went through her old things with you and got rid of a lot of stuff. He kept a lot of her belongings, mostly for Missy, but was finally ready to throw a lot of her things away. So the times when you hear him singing absentmindedly, it reminds you that he’s healing and it makes you happy to finally see that after so many years of grief. Entering the kitchen, you cross over to the island and finish plating Marcus’ and Missy’s pancakes; Marcus was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and sipping on his coffee. You set his plate in front of him and he glances up at you, smiling brightly.

“Thanks, these look great. Do these have bananas in them?” he asks excitedly.

“Yep, of course,” you reply with a grin, running your hand over his shoulder before turning back to cross over to the island. You know full well his favorite breakfast is banana pancakes, so you make them for him whenever he has to get up extra early for meetings.

“You know me too well,” he teases, spreading a glob of softened butter on the top of his pancake. You hear footsteps descending the staircase rapidly and the appearance of Missy in the kitchen shortly thereafter, dressed and ready for school.

“Hi dad!” she greets her father, then you, and settles in her chair at the kitchen table. You set her plate of pancakes in front of her along with a small plate of bacon. Marcus glances at you, then the bacon, then back at you, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Why does she get bacon and I get fruit?” he whines, through a mouthful of pancake.

“Because you’re susceptible to heartburn, Missy is not,” you tell him, smacking his hand as he reaches for one of her slices. Missy sticks her tongue out at her father, teasing him as she munches on her bacon. “Quit your whining, Moreno. Fruit is good for you.”

“Outnumbered and outwitted,” he remarks dejectedly, poking at the fruit on his plate. You roll your eyes at his dramatics and finish plating your own breakfast, with extra pieces of the assorted fruits that you especially love. You catch Marcus’ gaze lingering on you for longer than what would be considered “a passing glance.” Once you lock eyes with him, he turns his head back to his newspaper immediately pretending he wasn’t just staring at you. Okay, you can safely say now that he’s officially been acting weird. You don’t have the energy nor the time right now to address his behavior, so you opt to join him and Missy at the table and silently finish your breakfast before you have to drive Missy to school.

…

These chores have been kicking your ass today. You were too preoccupied with the burst pipe in your apartment last week that you weren’t able to do the laundry, so now you’re gifted with two weeks worth of laundry to wash, dry, iron, fold, and put away. It’s almost the end of the work day and you just finished folding the last load. You huff as you haul the basket up the stairs and down the hall to Marcus’ bedroom. You hum absentmindedly as you put his clothes away, tuning out your surroundings as your music blasts through your earbuds. This is the only part of laundry you really like. Firstly, because it’s the easiest part, and secondly because you get to listen to your music in peace without anyone bothering you. Being in the house alone means you can scream/sing the lyrics to your favorite songs without Marcus or Missy making fun of you. Except you didn’t realize you weren’t home alone right now, because Marcus has been watching you, leaning against the threshold of his bedroom door. You stopped dead in your tracks and startled when you noticed his presence. Clutching your chest with your hand you laugh out of embarrassment.

“Marcus, what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” you ask, frustrated that he just completely ruined your vibe.

“I like hearing you sing. I’ve got my own concert right here in the comfort of my own home,” he half teases, half remarks flirtily at you. He’s staring you up and down, as if you were a sight for sore eyes in your ripped mom jeans and bleach dyed t-shirt. Your hair was lazily thrown up into a messy bun for convenience, some strands hanging around your face to frame it.

“Whatcha listening to?” he asks, crossing towards you.

“Um, Godspeed, by Frank Ocean. You wouldn’t know him, as his career exists post-Prince and Queen, grandpa,” you joke playfully. He shakes his head and rests his hands on his hips.

“Alright, indulge me then. I wanna listen.” Sighing, you oblige and pull your phone out of your pocket and tuck your earbuds away. You start the song over from the beginning and turn the volume all the way up as the song begins. Marcus stares off and listens intently, taking in the synthetic sounds that prelude the lyrics. Once Frank Ocean begins singing, a small smile appears on his face and he nods his head.

“I like that, reminds me of you,” he says sweetly, offering his hand out to you. You glare at it suspiciously, not really sure what he’s asking. “Dance with me.” A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you take his hand happily.

Marcus moves one of his hands to the small of your back while the other clutches yours. You bring your hand to his shoulder and begin swaying with him to the music, singing along to the lyrics softly. He’s staring deep into your eyes and trailing his hand up and down your back, leaving goosebumps wherever it goes. You’ve never felt more in love with him than in this moment. He’s content just swaying with you and staring into your soul. And this song reminds him of you. Because of what? Is this how he feels about you? There will be mountains you won’t move. Still I’ll always be there for you, how I do. He has always been there for you. He’s said he will a million times; when your dad died and your mom became estranged, he didn’t expect anything of you. All he did was text or call you ever-so-often to check in on you and make sure you were doing okay. He was one of the only people who really made you feel cared for at that time. That’s when you fell in love with him. You realized that you wouldn’t have gotten through that without his support and care. He and Missy dropped off a gift bag of all of your favorite snacks and movies one night and they spent the evening with you watching movies. Missy fell asleep on your couch and you fell asleep leaning against Marcus’ chest. It was the best you’d slept since your father’s passing. The song ends, leaving you and Marcus swaying to silence, anticipating each other’s next move. Eventually you both stop swaying, your hands move up to lace around the back of his neck and his move to cradle the small of your back. His mouth keeps parting and he inhales sharply, as if he’s about to say something, but he’ll purse his lips, second-guessing himself. You don’t know how, but you know what he wants to say. You can feel it as you look into his eyes. You can feel it when you catch him staring at you. You can feel it every time he enters a room.

“Say it, Marcus,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. You stare at him desperately, you want, no--need to hear him say it. Because you both know how he feels. He just needs to say it. He stares at you lovingly, and brings one of his shaky hands up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. You inhale sharply at his touch, anticipating the words you’ve been wanting to hear him say for years.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits, his voice dripping in his signature rasp, saying your name as if he was blessed by the gods themselves to have the ability to say it. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, cariña. I always have been, and I always will be.”

Your heart beats out of its chest by his admission, your stomach somersaulting and your skin ablaze. I love you, Marcus. Truly, deeply, I do. Your eyes begin to well up, not from sadness, or even joy, but from relief. After years of uncertainty, wonder, even frustration, you finally know how he feels about you. How he’s always felt. It feels as though a weight’s been lifted off of your shoulders. You love him. You’ll shout it from the rooftops, if you have to. I love him, I love him, I love him, I love him. Tears begin sliding down your face as Marcus cups your cheek with the palm of his hand. You nuzzle into his touch, revelling in the way he so effortlessly cares for you.

“I love you, Marcus. I always have,” you finally confess, your voice shaky from the crying. You sniffle and let out a light laugh in relief. You finally said it, and so did he. His eyes look glassy, and he appears to be biting back tears. He smiles lovingly at you, clearing his throat to try and push down the lump that’s been forming. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, stroking your head with the pad of his thumb as he does so, and pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. He cradles the back of your head while his other hand wraps tightly around your back. Your arms hook under his, clutching his back eagerly.

“I love you too, cariña,” he whispers, his lips pressed atop your head. You close your eyes, revelling in his hold on you for a moment before you decide to pull away and look up into his eyes.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, your eyes searching his for the need you have to lock your lips with his. He doesn’t hesitate to dip his head and pinch your chin, tilting it up towards his face, and sealing his admission of love with a needy, gentle kiss. You sigh into the kiss, feeling sparks all throughout your body. He pulls you into his chest, your body now flush against his and your arms wrapping around his neck. He slides his tongue along your closed lips and you part them, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues tangle, the both of you needily searching each other’s mouths. His hands begin roaming your body, sliding up and down your waist, toying with the hem of your top and grazing his fingers over the skin of your lower back. As if he was asking permission to slide his hands up your bare back. You nudge his arm lazily and he complies, sliding his hands up your spine leaving goosebumps in his wake. You gasp against his lips as his hands explore your back, pressing further into him as best as you can. He mumbles into the kiss, gripping your bare waist.

“Mm, Missy home?” he asks against your lips. You shake your head, of course he’d forgotten that she was staying over at a friend’s; you had to bust your ass this afternoon running errands and trying to drop her off in time.

“Friend’s house,” you tell him between kisses. He nods, tugging the fabric of your shirt up.

“Do you want me to take this off, honey?” he asks gently, his lips moving from yours to your cheek then your neck as he trails love bites up and down the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck.

“Yes, please,” you reply breathlessly. He slips your top over your head leaving you in your bra. Not wanting to be the only one shirtless, you bring your fingers up to his tie and loosen it before slipping it over his head, working impatiently on the buttons of his dress shirt. Soon you’re both shirtless, chests heaving as your lips lock together feverishly once again. He starts pushing you towards the bed till your calves meet it.

“Lay down--if-if that’s-if you’re okay with that, cariña,” Marcus says, trying his best to seem assertive, but in his heart he’s too gentle and caring to force you to do anything. You roll your eyes and spin him around, shoving him back onto the bed and climbing onto his lap. Supporting your weight by pressing your hands to his bare chest, you dip down to kiss him again. This time they were sloppy and needy, you wanted to savor every bit of him and memorize the way his lips melted into yours. The way his stubble poked your lip, the way his tongue glided across yours, the feeling of his breath against your face. His hands slide down to grip your ass, kneading it through your jeans. You grin into the kiss, enjoying his hands all over you and the way he’s possessively groping your ass.

“Take off my bra,” you command against his lips. He nods eagerly, his fingers fumbling with the straps of your bra before finally releasing the clasp at the back. You shrug off your bra and slip your arms out of the straps, the garment falling onto his bare chest. He chuckles once it plops onto him, he tosses it to the floor and smiles up at you giddily; he looks at you as if you just gave him the best thing you could have ever given him. You roll your eyes at his excitement.

“Why are you so excited? You never seen a pair of boobs before?” you tease, a blush creeping over his face as he realizes you’ve noticed the way he’s been ogling your chest.

“I just never thought you’d let me look at you like this,” he says, with a slightly somber tone. Did he really think you weren’t going to love him back? He must’ve been feeling the same way you have all these years; the yearning, the pining, and the pain of never really being sure if they loved you in return. But you were here now, on top of him in his bed without a shirt on. You grab his arms and pull him up towards you so he’s sitting up, while you remain straddling his lap. He strokes your face tenderly, taking every bit of you in. You turn your cheek into his touch and plant a chaste kiss against his palm, Marcus smiles at you in return. Your heart could not be full of any more love right now. The way he’s looking at you, touching you, kissing you...you’ve never felt this much love from anyone at once. You don’t think you’ve loved anyone like you’ve loved Marcus. Even though you haven’t really had a serious relationship since high school, a relationship that scared you away from love, but you still didn’t think that you’d let someone enter your heart again. Marcus proved to you from the beginning that he’d never hurt you, so you’ve always trusted him, which is something that you don’t like giving away so easily. Truth is, you’ve not even let a man look at you naked since you were a freshman in college; he was an asshole who took advantage of you and your body. And when you told him you weren’t ready to go all the way, as you’re still a virgin, he was fine with it...Till he decided to ghost you the next day. That made your experiences with men even more volatile. It left such a bad taste in your mouth that you never got around to actually having sex with a man. You got by in college with occasional hookups with women, but you always made sure to leave before they woke up, so as to avoid any festering feelings. Marcus got you to a point in your life where you could trust someone like him, finally. He’s treated you well, he’s loved you more than anyone ever has, he’s taken his time with you by being ever-so-patient. And he will always be your rock no matter what.

“Marcus, I want you to see the rest of me,” you whisper, holding his face in your hands. He smiles warmly at you, his coffee-colored eyes holding every ounce of your pain you’ve allowed him to hear and see. He obliges immediately, stripping you of the rest of your clothes, stroking your exposed skin with his feather-like touch. He’s gentle, loving, caressing your skin like you might crumble under his fingertips if he applies too much pressure. You straddle his clothed lap now completely naked, your slick lips gliding over the rough fabric of his jeans as his erection applies intoxicating pressure against the length of your cunt. Your lips are tangled together hungrily, but he kisses you slow and sensually as he searches your lips with his own, his tongue sliding inside your mouth.

“Let me see the rest of you too,” you whisper against his mouth, your fingers dipping down to his belt buckle as you pry it open. He nods his head and aids you in taking off his pants till he’s now clad in his black briefs. He groans as you palm his erection through his briefs, feeling his dick twitch under your touch as you glide your fingers up and down its tense length. He gasps into the kiss, sensitive and responsive to your hold on his cock. You tug on the elastic of his briefs and yank them down, Marcus adjusts so you can pull them down his legs more easily. His dick springs free, dripping with pre cum and twitching with need. Your pelvis settles firmly against his, Marcus’ cock sliding between your pussy lips and nudging your clit gently. You whimper against his lips as each thrust of his hips results in the head of his dick flicking your sensitive nub. Your clit aches for more friction, needing his fingers in your pussy and for him to stroke you. You grip his wrist and bring it between your legs, urging them into your dripping core.

“You want me to touch you, cariña?” Marcus grunts into your ear, his fingers tracing your entrance. His hot breath tickles your ear and makes your pussy clench with need.

“Marcus, my clit--please, baby,” you whimper against his neck. You thrust against his fingers, attempting to force them inside you, but he avoids your advances. He finally slides his finger up through your lips and to your clit, flicking the aching, swollen bud. You gasp, throwing your head back in pleasure as Marcus strokes you. He pulls his hand away and brings it to your mouth, prying your lips open with his finger, urging you to lubricate it. You swirl your tongue around his digit, then he pulls it out and brings it back to rubbing your clit. The pleasure builds inside of you, your breath hitching with each flick of his finger. You’re getting close to the edge, desperate for Marcus to let you cum; his lips trail up and down your neck, lazily licking and nipping at the skin there. He replaces his middle finger with his thumb and continues the pace of his strokes on your clit before sliding two fingers inside of you. The fullness causing you to mewl in his ear as you begin riding his fingers. Your climax builds as your pussy clenches around his fingers that are working in and out of you, curling with each thrust inside of you. The flicks against your swollen bud, your hips rolling into his fingers, his lips on your neck...the way Marcus is working your cunt right now is pushing you close to the edge. Your toes start curling and your pussy clenches around his fingers, causing Marcus to groan at your tightness.

“That’s right, hermosa. I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum,” he groans in his signature rasp. His hot breath sticks to your neck as the pressure inside of you builds. Shutting your eyes and moaning a slew of curses, you begin to see spots as your pelvis tingles and your cunt clenches hard around Marcus’ fingers. His fingers climb up to your scalp and he tugs your head back by your hair, pulling it away from where it was resting in the crook of his neck. You lazily part your eyes open through your climax, finding Marcus staring at you through his lustful brown eyes. His digits work you through the rest of your orgasm, relishing in the way he’s staring at you; your jaw slack, whimpering and moaning, your hands clutching his broad shoulders.

“You’re beautiful, my love,” he breathes, stroking the stray strands of hair out of your face. You smile lazily at him, panting as you come down from your climax. His dick twitches against your thigh as he pulls his fingers from your soaked pussy. He offers them to you and you part your mouth, welcoming his cum soaked digits into your mouth; sucking the evidence of your arousal from his fingers. He watches you, your lips sealed around his fingers and your eyes dark with lust. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and lightly grazes your jaw with his saliva soaked fingertips.

“I want you to fuck me, Marcus,” you tell him hungrily, still breathless from your orgasm. He nods eagerly and grips your hips, trying to position you above his cock. You resist his grasp, and he glances up at you confused.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asks, his tone dripping with concern as he cradles your cheek with one of his hands.

“Nothing, I’ve just--I haven’t really...I guess I’m--,” you pause to sigh. “I’m still--technically--a virgin.” You swallow hard, unable to keep yourself from feeling embarrassed by your admission. It’s stupid to feel embarrassed, especially in front of Marcus who would never judge you for something like that. He stares at you comfortingly, not an ounce of condescension in his eyes.

“Okay, honey, let me take care of you,” he says tenderly, flipping you on your back so now he’s hovering over you. “Do you want this?” He holds you gently, wanting you as comfortable as possible and trying desperately not to pressure you into anything.

“Yes, Marcus. I want you. I trust you,” you affirm, your fingers dancing over the stubble on his cheek, desperately wanting more of him. Trust has always been hard for you. This was more than just letting him take your virginity, it was letting him into your heart completely and earnestly; it was the first time in years you’ve let someone love, touch, and look at you like this. And you wouldn’t want anyone else to be here fucking you except for Marcus. He grins at you warmly, his eyes so full of love and want.

“I love you,” Marcus says your name, planting a longing kiss on your forehead and nuzzling his cheek against your cheek.

“I love you, too, Marcus,” you say, feeling all his love for you by simply looking into his eyes. He smiles and plants kisses along your jawline and throat, nipping at the flesh. He reaches into the drawer in his bedside table and pulls out a condom. He tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. Marcus positions himself at your entrance, your legs wrapping around his waist in anticipation.

“You okay?” he asks nervously, he seems more anxious than you even are and it’s absolutely adorable.

“Marcus, sweetheart, I’m fine,” you giggle, your hands cradling the sides of his head. “Please, I want this. I’ve wanted this for forever. Fuck me, please.” He nods, planting kisses on your forehead, and his dick prods your slick entrance. Marcus sinks the head of his cock into you and hisses at the tightness of your pussy. You mewl as he stretches you open slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck and your bare chest pressing into his. He slowly buries his length into you, his cock twitching inside of you and he revels in the tightness of your cunt. You gasp once he’s sheathed inside of you, your pussy stretched wide open for him and only him. Your clit aches for more friction, and you desperately need him to move inside of you.

“You good?” he groans through gritted teeth, his lips hovering above yours as your breaths mingles together.

“Marcus, baby, move please--fuck,” you gasp, gripping his shoulder tight. He doesn’t hesitate to begin pulling out slowly, and moving back inside your aching pussy. His thrusts are slow and gentle, trying to get you used to his length before he picks up the pace. He wants this to be as enjoyable for you as possible and he’s only able to do so by starting out painstakingly slow. After a few more slow, languid thrusts, he gauges a slightly quickened pace. You moan, locking his lips with yours, and sloppily kiss him as you begin to try and thrust against him, searching for a rhythm. Your hips rock with his, his thick cock gliding in and out of your pussy, but your clit still craves more friction.

“My clit--shit, Marcus,” you hiss against his lips. He dips one of his fingers between your bodies and begins flicking your clit gently and expertly as he continues to fuck you. You gasp and whimper into the kiss as he keeps flicking the sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts. You bring his lower lip between your teeth and tug it gently, Marcus groaning before locking your lips again.

“Fuck--cariña, you’re so tight--so good--for me, shit,” Marcus growls into the kiss, his thrusts keeping pace but becoming harder. You moan, the pressure on your clit becoming almost too much for you as his cock stretches you wide and fills you each time he thrusts all the way into you. “Wanted you--wanted--I’ve dreamt about fucking this tight little pussy, cariña.”

The way he speaks to you makes your body run hot, his words burning into your skin and making you flush. You moan your affirmations, wanting to urge him on to keep going.

“Baby, keep going--keep talking,” you choke out between gasps and moans. Marcus continues his pace on your clit and with his thrusts, not faltering even once as he groans in pleasure.

“I wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck the shit out of you. I--shit--wanted to eat your pussy out while you made breakfast; on my knees, my head between your thighs, licking your cunt like that’s what you were serving me,” he growls, dipping his head down briefly to lazily suck your nipple, switching between both breasts. “You--fuck--mija, you’re mine. You’re finally mine, I won’t lose you.” His hot breath tickles your breasts and he kisses his way back up to your lips locking them together again. His words were not possessive by any means, they were desperate, needing you to know how much it would hurt him if he were to lose someone else he loved the same way he lost his wife. The pressure he’s creating from the flicking of your clit partnered with his cock buried deep inside your pussy as it tickles your g-spot, becomes too much and before you know it you’re close. Your cunt clenches around his cock a few times, making Marcus groan into your mouth. You gasp and whimper, wanting to cum for him again; you want to come undone in front of him, show him just how much you’ve wanted to fuck him all these years. You roll your hips up into his, frantically searching for your orgasm as your thrusts begin to quicken and your pussy clenches around him once again.

“Marcus, I’m close,” you whimper into your sloppy kiss, clinging to his back and dragging your nails up and down the skin there.

“Cariña, cum for me. You look so sexy when you finish,” he whispers huskily against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip as he thrusts harder into you again, the slapping of skin echoing throughout the room. Your body tenses underneath him, white spots clouding your vision as your cunt clenches around his dick, milking him. Your body tingles and you spasm against his bare chest, digging your nails further into his back. Marcus thrusts into you, hissing when you clench around his throbbing cock, as he rides out his climax. His groans and whimpers growing louder as he reaches his orgasm, then promptly quieting down once he begins to come down. You pant, your chest rising and falling as you also come down from your own climax. Marcus slumps next to you, his twitching length still sheathed inside of you as your legs tangle together. He grabs your chin and tilts your head towards him to kiss you, slowly and featherlike, wanting to savor your taste. You lay like that for a moment, your sweaty chests rising and falling together as you both try to catch your breath.

“I’m so in love with you,” Marcus says your name, draping his arm over your stomach and squeezing your waist gently. “And I will show you just how much I love you every day, mi amor,” He plants a kiss on your shoulder. “I’ll never let you forget it.” He kisses up and down the length of your neck, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste you.

“You’re my hero,” you giggle, turning on your side to face him while his dick still remains buried inside of you. He rolls his eyes playfully, having heard hundreds of different women say that very phrase over the course of his career, but it strikes something inside of him when he hears you say it. “You saved me. I love you.” You snuggle into his chest and pepper kisses along the sweaty skin there.

“I’ll always be here, cariña. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll catch you when you fall, like how you catch me when I do. I would be so lost without you, mi corazon,” he says tenderly, planting a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around you tighter. He loosens his hold on you, and pulls his half-hardened cock out of your pussy. He disposes of the condom then pulls the sheets back over your bodies, bringing you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. Marcus plants slow, languid kisses all over your face, wanting to make you feel all the love he holds for you. Your eyes droop shut, fatigue beginning to overcome your body as you’re trapped in Marcus’ arms. But this is a place you wouldn’t want to escape, no, you feel safe here. Marcus won’t let you go, and you wouldn’t let him go either. Marcus has your heart, and there’s no one else you’d trust to keep it. He’s your hero, after all. The hero who saved you with his love.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #afab reader #marcus moreno x afab reader #we can be heroes #pedro pascal #marcus moreno dilf #mutual pining #yearning #domestic fluff #marcus moreno takes your virginity #marcus moreno is caring af #marcus moreno marry me pls #miracle guy #godspeed by frank ocean

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dakotacrisis · 4 years ago

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Cherry Blossoms (3)

Kagami straight up having a not good time

Read on AO3

---

“Kagami,” her mother called through her door, “Are you awake? You haven’t heard a peep out of you all morning?”

“I’m awake,” Kagami answered in a shaky voice. In truth she had not fallen asleep at all last night. Not after those three flower petals popped out of her mouth. She had spent almost a full minute just staring at them, willing them to disappear. But they did not move, the tickle in her throat did not cease, it was all still very real.

Kagami had heard of Hanahaki disease. A strange phenomenon where people coughed up flower petals but she had never imagined it could happen to her. She had spent the rest of the night researching at her computer while also trying to convince herself that she really hadn’t contracted the disease. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t be happening.

No one knows why Hanahaki disease happens. It seemed to be such a magical and bizarre affliction that it couldn’t be real. There was no scientific backing to it. Really, why would someone’s body start growing flowers just because they were experiencing an unrequited love? It was absurd and altogether frightening. But as the years since its emergence it had become common knowledge.

Thankfully they had discovered a way to remove the flowers so they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore but even that came at a price. You could have the flowers removed with a simple surgery but when the flowers were removed the romantic feelings that the patient had for their unrequited love disappeared as well. For some it was a mercy but for others they saw it as a twisted and sick fate.

Many of the articles Kagami read on the subject ranged from WebMD’s symptoms and treatment options to articles about how to get your unrequited love to love you back, and forums for others that had contracted Hanahaki. She had scoured them all hoping one of them would tell her that she was wrong. But the signs were all there. The deep dive she went into when she accepted she must have contracted Hanahaki disease had only made her fear worse.

Detailed accounts of how the surgery to remove the flowers and the aftereffects of such a procedure. People talking about how in love with the person that held their affections was and the day after about how all those feelings didn’t exist anymore. Statistics of people who had died suffocating on flowers instead of getting the surgery that could have saved their lives. They would live but at the risk of losing the feelings for someone they held dear to their hearts.

To cheer herself up from all the gloom and death and bloody pictures of flowers removed from people’s lungs she read success stories. Couples who had fallen in love and how the flowers disappeared. It made her feel a bit better seeing that not everyone was subject to surgery or possible death on account of their feelings.

The tickle came back in her throat when she thought about being one of those lucky pairs that got the love they craved. This was all Kagami’s fault. She just had to fall in love with Marinette. She should have been stronger than that. She barely knew this girl and yet she felt it deep inside that her heart was irrevocably hers. A girl who smelled like sweet vanilla and whose soft blue eyes anyone would be lucky to drown in. A girl who made Kagami feel warm and fluttery and turned her whole world bubbly and pink.

Kagami sighed and held up the small jar she had dropped the flower petals into. She knew she would probably be better off just throwing them away but for some reason it didn’t seem right.

At least she was lucky enough to have cherry blossoms. They were fairly small. She felt bad for people who coughed up things like lilies and sunflowers. They were decidedly more painful and harder to get out of one’s throat due to how big they could get. The thought alone made Kagami shudder.

Her phone went off with a reminder that she needed to get going to school. How was she supposed to attend school now knowing that she had flowers growing in her lungs? No. It’s fine. She’s a brave and resilient girl. She’ll be fine. Besides, it was only three little flower petals. It just started so she was nowhere near the stage where she would start coughing up whole flowers or be able to see and feel the stems and roots growing up her esophagus.

She covered her mouth, certain that if she thought on it anymore she would puke. Worse comes to worse she can just schedule a surgery and have it over with. Everything will be fine.

While content in her ability to not die from the flowers growing in her lungs Kagami found herself preoccupied with the fact that she now had to face her feelings. She hadn’t even admitted to herself that she was in love with Marinette until those flower petals came out of her. Now it was all she could think about. How long had this been building? When did her feelings for Marinette go from a simple little crush to full blown love? Was it at the pool? Was it before that? Had she just been falling deeper and deeper in love with Marinette since the moment she met her?

How pathetic was this? She fell in love with Marinette within only a short time of knowing her but Marinette probably only thought of her as a good friend. Oh screw it, that’s all Marinette saw her as. The proof was literally rooted inside her. If Marinette loved her back as she wanted her to none of this would be happening.

School was arduous and long. The tickle in her throat returned every time she thought of Marinette. She didn’t cough up any more petals but that stupid tickle wouldn’t let her have a moment of peace. By the end of the day she was ready to go home and wallow in her misery. That was until she got another reminder that she had fencing practice with Adrien after school. She could have screamed.

“Hey Kagami,” Adrien waved her over when she got to their lesson, “How was your day?”

“Fine,” she nodded, “Feeling a little under the weather but that won’t stop me from beating you into the dirt.”

“Allergies still bothering you?” he asked, “We don’t have to practice outside if that makes it worse. We can head inside if that’ll help.”

“No,” Kagami cleared her throat, “I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure,” they took their positions and began practice. All was going well and for a few brief minutes Kagami was able to forget about everything as she laid waste to Adrien.

She had just claimed victory again when she heard a familiar voice ring out through the courtyard. “Wow, and here I thought Adrien was the best fencer I knew but Kagami is kicking your butt.”

Oh goodness why? Why was Marinette here? She was dressed in warm yellows and soft whites, a single hair clip with a daisy on it holding her bangs away from her face. “Hey Marinette,” Adrien stood up, pushing his mask up to greet her, “What brings you to practice today?”

“I finished copying the notes you lent me.” she handed him a notebook, “I also wanted to see how you faired against Kagami since I haven’t had the chance to watch her fence yet. Does she always beat you so easily?”

“Pretty much,” Adrien sighed with a good natured smile, “But I still think I give her a run for her money. Right Kagami?”

Kagami was frozen. She hadn’t prepared herself to see Marinette yet. The tickle in her throat became more insistent. Why did seeing her have to be such a wonderful and horrible thing at the same time?

“Yeah,” she managed to say in between tiny coughs, “Nice to see you again.”

“Oh, poor Kagami, allergies still bugging you?” Marinette looked at her with pity, “I think I have some allergy meds in my bag. I bought a bottle just in case of emergencies like this.”

“Oh no,” Kagami coughed harder, “That’s fine. I already took some. I’m just waiting for it to kick in.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Marinette beamed. “Would you guys mind it I watch you duel for a bit?”

“Sure,” Adrien shrugged, “Maybe an audience is just the kind of encouragement I need to finally win one of these matches.”

Marinette took a seat nearby to watch. They began the duel but Kagami couldn’t focus on fencing with Marinette watching her so intently. She pressed her lips tightly together to muffle the cough that tried to escape. Her eyes watered and there was a tight pain in her chest the longer she tried to keep from coughing. Not now! Please not now!

Finally she couldn’t take it anymore, the need to breathe and clear her lungs to great. She coughed into her mask. She felt the tickle of wet petals slide past her lips and tongue and settle at the bottom of her mask near her chin. Adrien took the moment she was disoriented and knocked her back onto her butt. At least it was over and she was breathing a bit easier.

“I win! Woo!” Adrien cheered, “Doesn’t feel as good since you had a coughing fit in the middle of it but I will still take the win.”

“Yep, great, congratulations,” Kagami stood up, “Don’t apologize for taking advantage of your opponent’s weakness. Every great fighter does it.”

“That was a great fight,” Marinette said, “Kagami, do you need some water? You sounded pretty bad at the end there. I have a water bottle.”

Goodness this girl came prepared for anything.

“No. I’m fine,” she assured her. She desperately wanted something to drink but she couldn’t risk taking her mask off since it was the only thing keeping the flower petals from falling out. “I think I’m going to cut practice short today though. Go home and get some rest.”

“Yeah, I should probably be heading back too.” Adrien agreed.

“Alrighty then, I’ll talk to you guys later.” Marinette waved before heading off again.

Kagami immediately ran to the locker room and tore the mask off her head. Three more pink petals fell from her mask and settled on the ground. She scooped them up and sighed. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t she just have her crush in peace?

“Kagami, are you alright? You ran in here so fast I thought--” Adrien stopped when he saw her and the petals in her hand.

Crap.

Her mind scrambled for an explanation. Adrien’s expression shifted from concern to shock then a deep sadness. He sat down next to Kagami and silently held out his hand. With a sigh she dropped the petals into palm.

“How long?” Adrien asked, studying the petals with delicate interest.

“Last night, was able to choke it back all day but the second she showed up here I couldn’t hold them in anymore.” Kagami dropped her head into her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien wrapped his free arm around her, “I’d be more surprised if you had been able to resist her.”

He closed his hands around the petals. “Do yourself a favor and schedule yourself for a surgery now. Don’t drag it out. It’ll only hurt more.”

Kagami looked up at him bewildered and almost offended, “What?”

“You think you’re the first person that has fallen victim to the entity of warmth and kindness that is Marinette Dupain-Cheng? There’s been a whole slew of people that have contracted Hanahaki disease because of her.” Adrien shook his head with a small scoff, “Nino, Nathaneal, Alya, Luka...me…”

“All of you?” She couldn’t believe this. They were all such good friends though. All of them had fallen in love with Marinette and contracted Hanahaki disease? How was that even possible? Besides, most of them were already in happy loving relationships when Kagami met them.

“Is that really so shocking?” Adrien asked, there was something wistful in his gaze, “She makes it so easy to fall for her. When you’re around her you don’t perceive anything else. It’s just her and everything around you is gone. You’re in a void of sweet sugar candy. You look at her and everything turns…”

“Everything goes pink.” Kagami finished. “So you fell in love with her?”

“Yep. I was latest before you. I was coughing up red rose petals for months and months. I tried everything in my power to get her to return my feelings. I straight up confessed to her that I was in love with her and wanted to know if she could love me back. When she told me she didn’t I...it kind of broke me. It hurt so much but I didn’t want to let go of the feeling of loving her. In the end she had to beg me to go and get the surgery to save my life.”

She would have never guessed that Adrien and so many of her other friends had also fallen for Marinette. Then again, if they all got the surgery and had their feelings removed then she wouldn’t have been able to tell.

“You wanna know something all those articles online don’t tell you?” Adrien said, “Once the surgery is over and the flowers and the feelings are gone you feel hollow. Not for a long time but at least the first week you can just feel that hole where your love was. It’s not even like you lost any attraction you just lose everything for a bit.”

“And you think that speech is going to convince me to want to get the surgery? It sounds pretty bad.”

“For the first week, after that everything eases. You can’t love her romantically anymore so you love her the only other way you can. That’s why we’re all such good friends. We love her as much as we can platonically. It fills that hole and while the world may no longer be pink when you look at her, it is still the happiest place you know.”

Kagami sniffed. It sounded nice. To love someone so much in a way that assured you wouldn’t lose them. She could still be happy. She could still be in Marinette’s life. She could still have happy days full of that warmth and sweetness that radiated off of her. But at the cost of losing something that felt even better.

“All my life I’ve waited to meet someone that makes me feel the way I do when I’m around Marinette. I started to think that it would never happen. Then she showed up.” she reached into her bag and took out the butterfly barrette that Marinette gave her. “I know that I am probably causing myself more pain but I don’t want to give this up so easily. I can’t give her up without a fight, Adrien. You of all people understand that, don’t you?”

Adrien sighed and dropped the petals back into her hand. He reached into his own bag and withdrew a paper bookmark. A pressed red rose petal laminated to the paper. He smiled, “Maybe you’ll be the lucky one that wins her heart this time.”

She hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You have to promise me though,” Adrien pulled back, “You have to promise that if this goes on too long and your disease gets really bad that you will schedule a surgery. I know that you are not going to want to but I will not see your stubbornness kill you, Kagami. You will have to yield if it goes on for too long, do you understand?”

“I do. I promise.” Kagami hated the idea but it could always be worse.

“Good.” Adrien stood up, “Get dressed and go home to get some rest. Tomorrow we start operation...what kind of petals are you coughing up again?”

“Cherry blossoms.”

“Tomorrow we begin Operation Cherry Blossoms!”

---

(First) (Previous) (Next)

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #kagaminette #marigami #hanahaki disease au

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kurlyfrasier · 4 years ago

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Little Piggy

Hello, can you do a fic were Bayverse Raph and his S.O get into a fight and he hurts her feelings and Raph go to her house to apologize? Please, I love your writing ❤️

~~~

A/N: The above is my very first request ever! I was so excited about it! and so very nervous I have the feeling the ‘fight’ isn’t quite as...idk...horrible? as you were hoping for, but I still hope you like it! :D @samyp05 Also, I assumed you wanted Raph and Reader to be in a relationship already. Although, now that I’m reading it again, I could have started them out as ‘friends’ (teehee)... BUT I liked how this turned out for the most part (: ENJOY!

p.s. I’m glad you asked for Bayverse cuz...he’s basically the only one I write lol

Warnings: non-graphic bullying/mentions of bullying. Writer took liberties of a couple of reader’s favorite things/skills/hobbies but nothing major...hopefully

Word Count: 1429

~~~~~~~~~~~

I was heaving, eyes blazed with fury, fists clenched at my sides to keep myself from slapping the daylights out of my so-called boyfriend. He was being such a freaking jerk.

First, it was my favorite pizza toppings. Okay, so they might be considered weird, but honestly? What’s better than my favorite foods in one?

Then, it was my music. So what if rock wasn’t my favorite?

My sad video-gaming skills. Of course I’m terrible, idiot. That was my first time playing the game!

My favorite movie. Okay, so the best movie ever made might not be his speed. Would it really kill him to watch it with me?

My favorite color. Just because it isn’t red doesn’t mean I don’t love it; it’s just…a new favorite that he doesn’t know about, is all.

And so many other stupid little things.

But now. Now, he was making fun of my laugh. He called me ‘little piggy’.

That stupid, red bandana-wearing, mutant freak!

“I can’t control how I laugh, Raphael,” I seethed through clenched teeth.

“But it’s funny-”

“It’s not funny,” I deadpanned.

Flashes of all the popular kids in school flew through my mind. Their perfect, snortless laughing. Their oinking in my face. Their leftover food from lunch dumped on my head. Their mean little notes they left in my locker. The pigs they drew on my face in permanent marker when I fell asleep on the bus. School was not a safe place, no matter how much parents think it may be.

“Okay,” he chuckled, moving his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other with his tongue. “I don’t see wha’ the big deal is, Sweets.”

“The deal, Raph, is that I’m going home,” I fumed, turning away to walk out of the lair before shouting over my shoulder. “And I’m not sure if I’m ever coming back.”

“Wait! Whaddya mean yer not comin’ back?” He shouted, his steps heavy as he quickly caught up to me.

“Really?” I spun around to face him, yanking my arm out of his gentle hold. “For someone who isn’t accepted by the world for reasons he can’t control; he sure is quick to make fun of the things his significant other can’t control about themself.”

“Come on Y/n,” he groaned, sounding exasperated. “I was jus’ teasin’. Ya know that.”

“Raph,” I put a hand on my hip and glared up at him. “I’m fed up with all of your so-called teasing. That’s all you ever do-”

“Ya nevah seemed ta care before-”

“Shut it!” I put a palm up, signalling silence as frustrated tears started to prick at my eyes. “I deserve cuddles and hugs and kisses and my choice of pizza toppings! I’m going home. Don’t follow me.”

“Bu-”

“I said don’t, Raph,” I sighed- my sad attempt at keeping the tears at bay before he saw. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s daylight. Wouldn’t want you to be seen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raph watched you walk down the tunnel, heart shattering, until he couldn’t hear your footsteps anymore and stomped to his makeshift gym, ignoring his brothers’ stares. He needed to hit something- hard. He didn’t understand what had you in such a tiff.

Thump-thump.

So he teased you about your laugh. So what?

Whack!

He had always teased you about every little thing. You were always such a good sport about it all. It was one of the many reasons he fell for you.

Thump-thump, whack!

What was so different about your cute little snort. It was adorable to his ears. He couldn’t help but say something about it. It’s not a big deal, right? You never got so upset about his teasing before.

Whack! Thunk-whack!

Your reaction said otherwise, though. The light in your e/c eyes disappeared as if he blew the candle out himself. Your carefree smile slipped away like it was never there in the first place.

Thunk-thunk. Whack! Thump.

Then you were gone. Threatening to never return and he couldn’t live with that. Especially since you were fine until-

Until he called you ‘little piggy’. He groaned, realizing the nickname was what hit a nerve. He checked the time on his phone, also hoping to see a message from you. There was nothing and only a couple of hours had gone by. There were still a few more to go until it got dark. Restless, he paced the lair, taking extra care to avoid his brothers’ gazes- and Master Splinter’s. Definitely Master Splinter’s. He always knew the best way to make Raph feel infinitely worse about his stupidity without actually saying anything.

Deciding that pacing was getting him nowhere, Raph left the lair. Questions of where he was going shouted after him. He ignored them, thinking only of you. He had to apologize. He needed to see you. He had to convince you to come back. If he didn’t-

Well, Raph didn’t want to think about that.

He didn’t care that there was still two hours left until the sun set. He needed to see you. Needed to hug you, kiss you, cuddle up in bed with you and watch your favorite movie together. The one he secretly loved, but would never admit. Maybe even order a pizza with all of your favorite toppings that should be illegal to add on it.

Finally, after a long fifteen minutes of jumping rooftop to rooftop, Raph landed on your apartment building with a loud thud. He winced at the sound, hoping whoever lived directly below didn’t hear anything. Taking a deep breath, he climbed down the fire escape to your window.

It was closed.

That simple fact broke the fragile remains of his heart. Although, the sun was still out. Maybe you didn’t open your window for him until the sun set? It was a sliver of hope and he grabbed onto it for all he was worth as he peeped through your window.

You laid in bed, watching the very movie he hoped to watch with you tonight. He sighed, wondering if he shouldn’t have come. The thought slipped away the moment he caught sight of the kleenexes surrounding you. He hoped they were there due to allergies, but knew better.

Tentatively, Raph tapped on your window, holding his breath. If you wouldn’t speak to him tonight, he didn’t know what he would do. Just the thought of you storming away earlier that day had his chest aching and vision blurring.

“What are you doing! Get in here before someone sees you, idiot!”

Idiot. Accurate as it may be, right now he didn’t know if the word was a good or bad thing as he squeezed through the window. Still, the sound of your voice allowed him to breathe again.

“Y/n,” he stated hoarsely as you sat on your bed, looking exhausted.

“Yeah, Raph?” You asked after a long moment, looking up at him, waiting.

“I’m sorry. I won’t call ya little piggy-”

You flinched at the words.

“Sorry, I won’t say it again. I didn’t know it would upset ya so much,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his head, taking a small step toward you now that the hard part was over, and continued in a rush. “And we can watch yer favorite movie anytime ya want. And eat yer weird pizza. And-”

“Play video games in the lair without you taking over?”

“Yeah-”

“And listen to my favorite music?”

“Yeah, Swee’heart. Anything ya want. Just please,” his voice cracked as he took another small step closer, those green eyes boring into your own. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Okay,” you whispered, still staring up at him.

“Yeah?” His heart soared, feeling lighter as you glued its broken pieces back into place.

You nodded, eyes flicking around your room as if you were searching for something.

“Ya gonna tell me why it botha’ed ya so much?” Raph took care to make himself sound curious, but all he really wanted were the details of who he needed to knock some sense into. He had never seen you so distraught before and he didn’t like it. Nobody messed with those he loved without facing his fists.

Your head shook, eyes tightly closed in an attempt to block the memories away.

“Okay, okay,” you were snatched off your bed and into a pair of strong arms, holding you close as he whispered in your ear. “Ya don’t gotta tell me today.”

You nodded, unable to voice your thanks.

“Whaddya say we order yer pizza, cuddle up in yer bed, and start this movie over?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Bullies = not cool. People have feelings so DON’T DO IT. Think before you say and do things, people, it really is not that difficult.

#very first request #my writing #fanfic #tmnt #raph x reader #arguing #fighting #apologies #upset reader #hurt #happy ending #raph says sorry #its a miracle lol

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jamestrmtx · 4 years ago

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Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Seven | Dogsong (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

A strong and persistent, ticklish feeling on your nose wakes you up with a sneeze.

Albeit, your face is far too puffy now for you to even see what's going on, not including the fact that you're not wearing either contacts or glasses presently -- and not that you even remember where your glasses ended up on after you passed out yesterday. It's all one big blur both in terms of your eyesight and your mind. The only few things you remember after waking up in a hospital bed was Sans at the very beginning of it all, along with your aunt arriving with some fresh clothes plus basic toiletries for you to use and change into after a shower. The rest of your memories are muddled to a point where you can't even remember where your belongings are, how long you've slept, or what hour it is.

The pressure you feel on your chest paired up with a few energetic woofs and a lick at your face let you know who's the product of your allergy. Thankfully though, the dog understands when you tell him you have to stand up. He barks again and jumps off of you, giving you freedom to move and try to feel around for your phone.

Doubt hits you when you find it, and you start to wonder if calling anyone's even necessary, keeping in mind that your emergency's mostly a puffy face and an itchy nose, coupled with blurry eyesight.

Surely, you could find your medicine just as you did with your phone, and worst case scenario, you could wait until a nurse or a doctor came around; your allergy wasn't that bad, anyway.

You try to search for the medicine all on your own first, though it results in you having to question the very same root of your problem for help. "Could you help me find my bag?" you ask, facing down with a smile at where you assume the dog's at. How he got inside a hospital room's left unknown to you, but now's not the time to be worrying about that. "It should be around-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, the dog barks once and runs off, becoming an even fainter, white blur as he leaves your side. Soon enough though, he returns with what you assume are your belongings, based on the colour of the bag's material alone, its dark brown contrasting with his white fur. "Thank you," you say, taking the bag from his mouth. You then sit down in bed and rummage through your belongings until you find some allergy pills and a half-drunken, lukewarm, bottled water, plus the new bottle your aunt had brought you. Compared to the one you packed up for yesterday, it's still ice-cold to the touch, and it's twice the size as a regular one.

A yawn, a headache, and a painful stretch intervene with your mission, so you decide to wash up first before taking any medicine. Countless hours of sleep meant lethargy was just around the corner were you to be tempted to lay down again, so you stumble your way to the bathroom and freshen yourself up, a daily routine adjusted to go by quicker when you hear the door of your room open and the dog bark at the new visitor. Happy woofs inform you you're not in any sort of danger, though you could still use whatever company there's waiting for you with how long it feels since you've last had a talk with someone unrelated to how your health was doing and what happened back at the bus.

"Hey, bud. What're ya doing 'ere? You know (Y/N)'s allergic to you."

"Woof-woof!"

The exchange between the new voice and the dog are the first few words you can hear while you wrap things up, though the dog runs back to your side as soon as you open the door and return to your bed.

"Don't," the visitor warns, whistling for the dog to approach him and chuckling when he runs off to his side. "You're gonna get 'em hospitalized again if you keep doin' this."

The dog distracts himself with the visitor while you take your pills and down them with some water. All that's left is to find your glasses while your face recovers, though as much as you try searching for them or your other alternative, you can't find them among all the other items scattered inside. Most first aid items are felt tampered with, bringing forth the unwanted memory of what you'd been through yesterday and how you were still well under recovery.

"Good mornin', (L/N). Dunno how that doggo got here, but I'll make sure he doesn't break in again."

Another recognizable blur -- made up mostly of blue, black, and white smudges -- shows up in front of you and crouches to meet with your face. Weren't he so used to wearing such similar colours and casual outfits all the time, you would have a harder time distinguishing him beyond that of his low voice and New York accent. He scoots a bit closer and reaches out for your face, hands brushing with your ears as he slips on your glasses for you. It's as clear as day he's already regretting what he's done, judging by the way his gaze averts from yours when you're able to see clearly again.

"You alright? Your allergy's lookin' worse than yesterday's." While it's initially unclear as to why he hesitated after putting on your glasses for you, just one closer look through all the puffiness of your face lets you see a faint, microscopical hint of red on his cheekbones. "...Sorry 'bout touchin' you like that, by the way. Dunno what got into me, but, uh-"

"You mean you putting on my glasses for me?"

"Yeah -- That was way outta hand of me. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

You take a second to think over what he means with that -- mind still processing everything as quickly as an old desk computer -- until you remember how his brother tried to set you both up a while back.

If that was enough to get the one being set up all worked up around you even for the most trifling matters, you can't imagine how the monster's feeling now that he's taken such an intimate initiative with you, considering he could've simply offered you the glasses rather than slip them on for you. "That's okay." You snicker, dismissing his worry with a smile. "It's no big deal, really."

"Still, that was wrong of me." He smiles back at you, though that expression soon fades as he dwells deeper and longer into what's happened. "I did that without your knowledge, and we're not even friends yet. I took that, uh, incident back at the park too close to heart, so I'm not really sure what to do anymore or how close I should act with you." Sans takes a hand to the back of his neck, sighs, and rubs at it, inadvertently sitting next to you in bed as he contemplates the situation while facing the floor. "I need to tell Paps to stop settin' us up anymore in the future. Not only is it unfair for you with all the stuff you have goin' on. But well... I'm not too sure about what being in a relationship entails, either. I mean, seriously -- Being set up like this's really not my thing. Maybe it's different for others, but I just can't date a person or go out with 'em unless I'm real close to 'em." His shoulders stiffen, and he looks up at you with widened irises and a meek grin. "God, I'm… I'm not even sure why I'm tellin' you all this, though. It's-"

Remembering Papyrus's request, you intervene with, "Can I kiss your cheek, uh… bone? Maybe you could sort out your feelings a bit more if you try it."

Seemingly at a loss for words, the skeleton nods as a response.

You move a bit closer to him and press a quick kiss on his cheekbone, keeping all other limbs aside to prevent touching him anywhere else. His face turns a bit hotter now, similar though not as noticeable as when humans blush, so you assume he's going through the same thing despite those subtle differences. He looks away when you move back, though he faces you again when you ask, "How did that feel?"

There's a long beat of silence between you, until he eventually breaks it with, "It felt nice."

"Like in a platonic sort of sense, or otherwise?"

"...I'm not sure."

You hum and lose yourself in your thoughts, motivated by the kiss and his reaction to it. His body language is either good enough to mask any further embarrassment; that, or he just really didn't feel anything out of the ordinary when being kissed on the cheekbone. You try to think back on past experiences and remember how Jerry was a lot shyer than you when it came to being upfront and honest about your feelings with each other. Both your appearances deceived in that aspect, as your roles in twelve grade were like those of a high school movie clique: Jerry was a popular soccer athlete back then, while you were the quiet and lonesome nerd in charge of the library. You kissed him first though, and you were the first to admit your feelings for him after you discovered you liked both boys and girls alike.

"Well, how about this," you speak up, gaining his attention again. "Could you imagine yourself doing anything romantic with any of your past crushes, like kissing, hugging, or just… full-on making out?"

"Hard pass on the last one. Don't think I can imagine myself doing somethin' like that with someone -- unless I'm maybe really, really close to 'em. Other than that, well… I guess I wouldn't mind doin' all that other stuff."

"So if we both had a crush on each other, would you see yourself on a date with me? If you can't use me as an example, imagine someone else you're more comfortable with."

He looks away again. Still, he nods. "Just with none of that steamier stuff. I've heard some of my co-workers up here say they're all about this and that, and how often they do stuff like that with their partner, but I just can't really see myself in a situation like that one -- Or just… Not yet, at least."

"That's normal, then. Intimate stuff like that isn't for everyone." Your smile grows at the feeling that you're making progress with Papyrus's request. "Some are just fine with what you said, and others don't even have a need for romance in their lives. Just like marriage and children aren't for everyone, romance and sexual intimacy aren't, either."

"Thanks," he says, meeting your eyes with a less tense gaze of his own. "How did ya learn 'bout this kinda stuff, by the way? I think maybe Alphys and Undyne know a bit about this themselves, but, uh… I never had the guts to talk to 'em."

You grin. "So you ask a complete stranger about it?"

Thankfully, he knows you're joking and follows up to it by jabbing your side with his elbow. "You caught me in a vulnerable state."

"How so?" you ask, scooting closer on instinct.

"Things are different here at the Surface," he replies, suddenly wistful. "When you passed out yesterday, that reality hit me, and so I kinda just… froze at the thought of losing you."

"How's it different down there? Does… Does that mean if I were there, I wouldn't die as easily as I would here?"

"Not exactly. There's just a different system down there, and it helps strong-willed humans have a second chance and more at life."

"But strong-willed could mean both good people and not, right? How would you deal with bad ones, if it came to it?"

"That's where the whole situation with your kid takes place. It's not that we wanted to hurt 'em, but that there were plenty of factors that made us view humans as a threat back then. It was them who taught us there's another way around it. But then again, I think those points you've made're important, and that you really shouldn't just forgive us outta-"

"Time's up, mister Serif. The patient has other people who want to see them."

Nearly disheartened by how time runs short, you end it on that and make a (metaphorically) telepathic note to continue with the conversation during your tour, something you both agree on with a nod. There would be plenty of time to talk about that there, though that's not to say you don't want to have all that information discussed right here and now. "I don't think I've said this before, so… Thank you for all your help. I'm not sure I'd even be here if you hadn't been there at the bus for me." You pause and smile. "Friendly hug?"

Sans chuckles and sits down again. "Friendly hug." He takes up your offer faster than the first two times since you first met him. It feels far more natural now, almost as if the previous two had been reciprocated to, but with that doubt still on his mind, weighing him down. "This's probably really damn weird, but you're kinda… comfortable to hug."

"Okay, yeah. That's kinda weird." You laugh. "Comfortable as in soft or warm or-"

"Comfortable as in I could easily fall asleep on you if you keep huggin' me like this. But yeah -- That's probably the reason why."

"So you'd say you like cuddling, then?"

"Definitely better than all that other stuff."

"See that?" You let go of him and let your smile grow. "You're understanding yourself more already. That's good!"

"Is it? I thought I was too old for that."

"Oh, come on." You judge him. "You're a science wiz, aren't you? People all experience things differently and at different stages. You're being rude to yourself. Just give yourself a chance to grow and understand yourself a little more!"

"I'd hate to break you two up, but people are waiting outside."

You both freeze at the sound of the nurse's voice being so close now. She's standing nearby now rather than simply waiting by the doorway, an observation that makes you question just when she'd come closer and how much she'd heard you talk as a result. Still, she doesn't appear fazed nor bothered by anything, so you take it she'd either just arrived at your side or had found a way not to overhear while she waited.

"The doctor should be here soon, so we have to cut your visits short."

In compliance to her words, you wrap your conversation up with the skeleton and tell him you'll message him over your next tour date. You would need a little more time to recover now, so it would only be common sense to check through your schedule, sort things out with your job, and manage how you would deal with Frisk's school days and homework. The monsters were already doing you plenty of favours, and yet you only knew two of them in person, three if you counted how often you talked with Toriel through phone and video calls despite not visiting her home to this day. Asking them for any more help than what they were already giving was out of the question.

Even if such fantasy-like beings existed, that didn't mean they were as magically potent as most books made them out to be. At the end of the day, they were living, breathing beings just like you, with lives of their very own and troubles just like any other human being you knew. What made you different were your appearances and customs, and even then that was something that could be overlooked with due time and mutual understanding, as it isn't as important as who they are and what they do to live each day like you did with your own.

"Let me know if ya need help with Frisk's school," Sans says, already standing near the doorway. "You can't recover if you don't look for help."

And with that, he leaves.

Whether you were an open book or he a mind reader, you can't tell for certain, but if there's one thing you could use presently, it's words like those.

You barely have a chance to say thank you as other visitors step inside, some familiar and some not.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

The holidays are now over where I'm from, so expect updates to return to their usual Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday schedule (depending on the chapters' lengths) starting from the 16th of this month!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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bittybattybunny · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: The King’s Favorite

(As I said I had a new multi fic, but until I do a cover it won’t go on ao3, so for now enjoy! Second Chances and Angel Foodcake!)

He sighed as he worked on whipping the egg whites. He had another weird dream with that woman in it. The sad smile she wore made his chest ache. He gave a sigh as his brother stole an orange from the bowl on the counter.

“What’s with you?” Marcus asked as he started to peel the fruit. He shoved a slice in his mouth as Arulius set the bowl down and ruffled his hair.

“I had a weird dream---”

“Shocking.” Marcus’s tone was dry as he ate another orange slice, “Not Ru king of weird dreams. Isn’t that why you’re a writer?”

“Shut upppp.” Arulius sighed as he grabbed the other bowl and began to fold the whipped egg whites with the whipped cream, “Look I just. You try dreaming of the same woman night after night since you’re 16!”

“Nope. I don’t dream.” Marcus reminded him as he continued to eat, “maybe she’s your soul mate.”

“I doubt it. Considering I think shes my guard?” he frowned, “in the dream’s I’m married. I have kids. She’s just… she’s so sad.”

“Maybe circumstances kept your love unable to exist. If you find her when you aren’t hallucinating unconsciously flirt with her.” Marcus snickered as he finished his orange and threw the peel away, “Good luck with your sleeping beauty!” he grabbed his bag as he headed out, “oh and it’s your turn to do the dishes!”

“Fineee!” Arulius sighed as his brother left. He sighed and poured the batter into the pan. Undoing his apron he got to work on cleaning up.

“Kept it unable to exist…” he mused. He chuckled, there was no way.

------

As he held the boxed cake on the subway he felt something was off. His stomach was uneasy. It wasn’t his first time on public transport with a dessert he didn’t want ruined, and yet. He grimaced.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Long curly black hair held back with a blue ribbon, large eyes in two different colors (Black on the right side, bright blue on the other), mouth drawn in concern as a small fang stuck out, she furrowed her brow as she looked at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

He gasped, “Um yeah! Sorry my stomach’s got butterflies!” he admitted nervously.

“Interview?” she asked with a small laugh, “you’re really pale so I was worried, maybe you should get off soon and rest before continuing.”

“No I’m just, going to my book club.” he laughed, “I promised to bring cake.”

“Oh? Which one?” she covered her mouth in shock, “you aren’t heading to Horizon Group are you?”

He blinked a few times, mouth twitching, “I am…”

She laughed, “My brother attends that! I was going to get his car keys!” She sat beside him and he felt his heart racing, “I’m Eclipse! Sena’s my elder brother!” she explained.

He gasped, “Ah! I can see it!” he realized as he looked at her, “you do look like him.”

“I know right? If people don’t know they tend to not notice but when they know its clear we’re related!” she laughed and looked at the cake, “Sweets, so you must be Arulius right?”

He felt his cheeks growing warm and nodded, “how did you?”

“My brother says you often bring snacks for meet ups! And you always get new cookbooks!” she giggled and he felt his face growing warmer. She touched her lips with a grin, “Actually he brought some of the cookies you made last week, the raisin oatmeal were really good~! I was sad I couldn’t try your chocolate chip ones though.” she gave a saddened sigh.

“Ah? I can make some…” he offered and she shook her head.

“I’m allergic to chocolate but the hospital trip was very tempting they smelt so good~!” she laughed.

“Ah.” he put a hand to his mouth, “White chocolate?” he asked. He knew it wasn’t a “true” chocolate.

She shook her head, “No, my allergy is a bit severe.” she gave a dejected sigh, “most white chocolate is processed in the same plants so…”

“What if I made it from scratch?” he asked with his head tilted, “Candy melts?” he wondered.

She turned red, “y-you don’t have to do that! I was just complimenting your baking!! It’s really good!”

He gave a soft smile, “well when we get to the meeting, want some of this?” he held the cake, “it’s a whipped cream cake! Kinda like angel food cake but it has whipped cream IN the cake.” he explained.

She gasped and covered her mouth, “That sounds good! Is that alright though? Isn’t it for the others?”

“Well I brought it to share, and I’m sure it’s fine, I always leave with leftovers.” he explained. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Something about the young woman was familiar to him (other than her being Sena’s sister. Something was there.) and something told him to be on good terms.

“If you want, I bake a lot, i can always send some stuff with your brother, or you can join teh club!” he grinned.

She turned bright red, “N-no I couldn’t! It’s fine! I-I don’t have time for it I need t-to finish my thesis!”

“Thesis?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah! I’m doing a report on the fallen Solgarian kingdom!” she clapped.

Solgario? He blinked as that rang in his head. His dreams. He remembered that name.

“History major?” he asked as she nodded happily.

“I’m working on my Master’s! I want to curate a museum!” she admitted with mirth, “I love studying old things and I love the sotries of the last king!”

“Yeah? I can’t say I know much. Tell me?” He checked the stops, they had time.

“Oh where to begin!” she beamed, happily like a cocker spaniel, “King Luka Thatcher Law was the last king of the empire, he was married to Queen Vanessa Everfrost and they had a daughter together! Sadly tragedy struck. First the death of the king’s personal aide to poison, the death of the princess, and then the king himself withered away.” she sighed, “The queen was the last monarch but a war struck and she was unable to fend it so the kingdom fell.”

“That’s… that’s horrible…” Arulius tensed up. The butterflies were worse.

“There’s some theories the queen herself poisoned the guard, you see King Luka and the guard knew each other as children, and she was the daughter from the only ducal household---”

“A female guard?” Arulius’s chest hurt, “What was her name?”

“Amaris---”

He felt his chest pinch and his vision fogged.

“Ah!” Eclipse shouted as he slumped forward.

------

His head hurt. He jolted and sat up in bed. He looked around confused at the lavish space. He frowned. This wasn’t the hospital or subway. He covered his mouth in thought, long black hair falling over his shoulder. He blinked and looked at the curl, then his hands. He stared at the callouses that weren’t in their normal spots.

“What…?” he covered his mouth in shock at his voice. What happened?! He got up and whacked his head on the bedframe, before crumpling to the ground.

“Mmmmy looooord are you okay?” came a singsong tone.

His mouth moved on its own, “I’m fine Amaris.” he covered his mouth in shock.

“I’m coming in.”

Before he could stop her the door swung open and the black-armored knight stepped in, her silver hair cropped short and fluffing around her face, large eyes of black and blue, scars on her cheeks. She gasped and ran over to help him up.

“My lord!” she fretted as she helped him stand and dusted him off, “Dear me why on earth are you on the floor?!” She looked up and paled. Her gloves were removed and she reached up to stroke his face.

He sniffled as the tears pooled and dripped. She was here. Alive.

“Lu?” she asked softly, “Luka what’s wrong?”

“S-sorry just. Had a bad dream.” he muttered. She snorted and raised her hands, a soft light emitting off her hands.

“Pain pain go away leave Luka’s heart calm and pure~!” she sang happily. He felt a bit lighter and sighed as he rested his cheek in her hand.

“Such a competent Nightingale.” He chuckled. He took her hand in his as she laughed, giving him a sad smile that made his chest sting. The smile he always saw her wear in his dreams.

“Of course, I’m your head guard for a reason~!” she hummed, “Come on now, the queen has been crying all morning for you.” she sighed heavily, “Pregnant women are difficult to deal with. Or is it just Vanessa?”

He shuddered. Vanessa. Luka. Amaris. His golden eyes grew wide.

----

He gasped as he sat up and winced. Eclipse held her hands cautiously near him, afraid to touch him.

“A-Aruli--” she squeaked when he wrapped his arms around her, tangling his fingers in his hair as he tried to stop crying. She whined but slowly wrapped her arms around him.

“Pain pain go away…” She mumbled and he felt a small breeze and a lightness in his chest. He pulled away and she wiped his eyes. “You okay?” she asked with worry.

“Just… Sorry, I’ve had weird dreams lately… was that..magic?”

She turned red and shook her head, “I-it’s just an old wives tale you know---” her eyes were spinning and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He chuckled.

“Sure, okay. Say I believed that.”

She stared at him confused as he simply smiled.

He hated to admit it, but maybe his brother was right on something.

“Magic’s neat.” He watched her turn red and look away ashamed.

“Um… are you two done?” the train conductor asked as he scratched his head. Tired violet eyes looking at the two.

“I’m fine! I just didn’t sleep well it seems!” Arulius lied. He moved to stand and wobbled. Eclipse supported his side and he tried to get his stomach to behave. He gasped, “nooo my cake.” he saw the box on the floor and reached for it. He sighed seeing it ruined.

“What stop is this?” He asked.

“You should go to a hospital I think.” Eclipse fretted as he headed towards the door while holding her hand.

“No i’m fine really! I just have had issues sleeping!” he explained, “so I have weird dreams, it just so happened the name you mentioned reminded me of them so I passed out.”

She frowned and reached to put a hand on his forehead. He hadn’t noticed before but her body spray had a slight pine smell to it, pine and honey. Lavender too?

“You’re a little warm. Let’s go to the bookstore, I’ll get Sena’s keys and drive you to the hospital.” she insisted. “I don’t want you passing out like the train. To think you’re feeble bodied.” she sighed.

“Should a witch joke about that?” he teased as she turned red.

“I-it wasn’t magic! Honest to goodness! I’m not! I’m not!” she fretted as he snickered.

“What’s your familiar?” he asked as she tried to hide her face, “why are you so embarrassed?”

“W-Why you ask! You keep instigating I’m a w-witch do you know how they are seen?! Wannabes who think they can be hot shit just cuz they can fly o-or heal things!” she pouted as her hair fluffed up, “No one likes witches!!”

“I do.” he opened the door of the bookstore.

“Sena your friend is insane!” she insisted as the eyepatch wearing shop owner turned confused. He tilted his head and saw Arulius behind her.

“Ah, Pia you know Ru?” he asked confused as she slammed her hands on the desk with a huff.

“We met on the train.” Arulius set the ruined cake down, “I had a bit of an incident and passed out.”

“Well you’re pretty weak.” Sena snorted, “Pia what’s the issue though? He’s insane?”

“I told her I like witches.”

Sena snorted and had to kneel behind the desk to hide his laughter.

“SEE HE’S INSANE!” she was completely red in the face.

“W-Why would…” Sena snorted and laughed, “what brought this on?”

“Pain pain go away.” Arulius sang, causing the bookseller to start laughing harder.

“YOU USED A HEALING SPELL ON HIM!” he wheezed as her hair fluffed up.

“I-I didn’t! I didn’t! I’m not a witch! Witches are--”

“The one in front is really cute.” a litted voice laughed as the black haired individual slid down the railing from the second floor, “hey Ru, why is my husband dying?”

“I said I like witches and Eclipse is throwing a fit.” Arulius chuckled.

“Pia used a healing spell on him Love! And acting like she’s not a w-witch!” Sena cackled.

“Well she has always hated that term, you guys aren’t even witches technically.” Love shut an eye, “you’re what, like half fae?”

“Something like that.” Eclipse grumbled as she tried to fix her hair, “B-But he’s still weird! Give me the car keys he needs a hospital!”

“Naw he’s fine.” Love looked at the young writer, “seems he may have a magic his own.”

“Naw, I’m boring.” Arulius held his hands up, “weird dreams and a writer. That’s it!”

“Weird dreams he says.” Sena tried to stop laughing.

Eclipse groaned, “I’m not a witch! Witches are mean and ugly and haughty! I’m not! I didn’t sue magic! I’m---” She flinched when Arulius covered her eyes with his hand. Instantly she relaxed against him. He blinked in surprise that had actually worked.

Sena stared at the two and blinked a few times as he finally got his composure back, “well then. Are you sure you aren’t magic?”

“I’m really not.” Arulius laughed, “my dad’s a lawyer and my mom teaches pre-k. We’re just an average family.” he laughed, “Honestly, I just. Have weird dreams. I thought this may help.” he slowly removed his hand as she peeked at him with a completely reddened face.

He smirked and she squeaked and looked away. He couldn’t help the dumb grin, “hey Sena.”

“What?” the book seller raised his brow.

“Would you kill me for trying to seduce your sister?”

The entire shop went silent.

The silver haired shop keep’s eye twitched.

“WHAT?!”

#Second chances and Angel Food cake AU #fan fiction #ahit au #ahit prince #ahit moonjumper #ahit fan character #ahit shapeshifter #writing #Eclipse Guardian #Prince Arulius #Sena the threadsmith #Marcus Johnathan Cornelius Law #Craft Tailor #change of pace with ru being the one remebmering past lives #eclipse is just an enthusiastic student with a small tsun tsun heart

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sparkleofpizza · 5 years ago

Text

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 6/?

Requested: no

Warnings: underage drinking, swearing, sexual themes

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000 @malfoys-demigod @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @ijustwannabecanadian

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake

Word count: 3.658

A/n: I have no ideia if the league of assassins use cellphones, but for the purpose of this story they do

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

You wish you had brought a warmer coat or had thought better about what you were doing. Honestly when you reached out for the phone on your pocket and dialed Nissa’s Al Ghul number, you weren’t thinking straight.

But hey! Can anyone blame you? You just found out that one of the most horrifying memories you have isn’t actually real, your mom is alive and she is part of a very bad secret organization. Honestly, you thought you were handling it pretty well, you haven’t broken down into tears yet, so you saw this a victory.

“I need to talk to your sister.” You barked trough the phone, not even bothering to say hello “Tell her to meet me in Gotham near Crime Alley, at the old theater tomorrow night.”

“Little Queen. What is this about?”

“Does it matter, Nissa? Tell her I know about Malcom and the deal.”

“What deal? What is this all about?” She questioned again, clearly confused

“Get her to come, tomorrow night. Come along if you want to.”

With that you ended the call, placing the phone back to where it previously was.

Yes, you knew that contacting the League of Assassins wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve ever had, but you needed answers. You needed to know if what Oliver told you was actually true, and you knew that Talia would know. And you are going to make her talk.

In the middle of your walk towards nowhere, you realized you didn’t want to see Oliver again today, but you had to go back to the Manor eventually. You knew he was going to be there waiting for you which lead to you not having anywhere to go. Where are you going to sleep tonight?

You sighted, eyeing a bar from across the street you were in. Might as well kill some time at a place that wasn’t the streets. Even thought you know how to take care of yourself, you rather not be in the middle of a desert street, this is Gotham after all, you didn’t know this place very well, but you know it’s bad, way worse than Star City.

The bar smelled like cigarettes and cheap beer. You looked around noticing people around your age and bit older. Thankfully this isn’t an old creepy men's bar, the last thing you need is to deal with man who can’t take a no as an answer - although you weren’t opposed to kicking some assholes’ asses.

You took a sit at a stool, getting the bartender's attention. The man stood in front of you, a cloth in his hand as he was drying a cup. He was tall and had blond hair.

“What can I get you, miss?” He questioned, putting the cup and cloth away

“A marguerita, please.” You ordered

Tequila sounded good to solve your problems. It used to be your friend at events when you were younger, although you had to pretend you didn’t drink anything at all.

“Can I see your ID?”

You snorted, oh no, this guy isn’t ruining your already bad night.

You reached inside your pocket, grabbing a hundred dollar bill and sliding it across the bar's table.

“Here is my ID, dear.”

The man chuckled, grabbing the bill and turning around to prepare your drink. People were so easily bought with money it still baffled you. That made you wonder how many underage kids that shouldn’t be here drinking, got to drink because the bartender was bought with a hundred dollars.

You sighted as he placed the drink in front of you, taking a sip of it and letting the bitter taste of tequila and sour taste of lemon embrace you.

That was a really bad night. When you Tim started officially dating a few hours ago, you thought this was going to be one of the best nights ever, you didn’t expect for everything to go down hill once you had dinner with Oliver.

Dinner, your stomach contracted thinking about the food you didn’t have the chance to eat properly. All the coffee in your stomach was doing too little to keep you from getting hungry. What were you going to eat at a bar? The peanuts in front of you so you could have a bad allergy and die without air? Sounded pretty good right now.

Before you could realize it, you had already finished your first drink and ordered your second one.

“Oh, this marguerita looks really good.” Someone said, taking a sit at a stool beside you

You turned your head to the side, looking at Tim. He had his dark hair framing his face, a navy shirt and a really looking warm grey coat. You stared at him without saying a word as he smiled at your general direction.

“How did you find me?” You asked heaving a sight

He shuggred “I have my ways.”

“Did Oliver send you here to talk me into the shit he is planning?”

He grimaced a bit at your words, apparently not knowing what you were talking about it and sensing your discomfort.

“We” he said, sliding his stool a bit closer to you “don’t have to talk about it. But I am not going to let you drink alone, what’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on your face at his words. Did you really find the perfect man?

You watched as Tim ordered a scotch, the smile still present on your lips.

This is going to be a weirdly fun drinking night.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The bathroom wall felt cold against your back as you were pushed against it. You heard the door lock behind you before Tim was standing right in front of you, hands hovering above you on either side of your head as he used the wall to support himself.

His eyes were small and shining a dark blue, his cheeks tinted a pretty pink and a smirk adorning his beautiful lips. His hair was a bit disheveled. You took into his appearance, glad you were the one with him in this small bathroom bar.

6 drinks each had lead you to this situation. You both locked at a bar's bathroom that didn’t smell that good. It was around 2 am and you thought he would’ve already left to go to patrol after taking you home, but no, there he was with you all night long.

“You are so beautiful.” Tim whispered in your ear, his hot breath and rasp voice sending shivers down your spine

His lips met the skin behind your ear, then his lips ghosted over the path to your mouth until a few inches away from it where he placed another lingering kiss. Then, finally, his lips met yours on a fervish kiss.

Your hands gripped his biceps to steady yourself, feelings your legs wobble. Tim presses his hips into yours, pushing you further against the wall. You moaned at the friction of your lower parts together, allowing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He tasted like the bitter scotch he was drinking earlier mixed with the lemon from your drink since you two had shared a few kisses at the bar stool before venturing to the bathroom, a more private place.

Tim slid his hands from the wall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin with such force that you were sure you would have a bruise there tomorrow. Just the thought of him leaving marks on your skin was enough to make the fire within you grow even more.

You pulled apart to catch your breath only for a few seconds before your lips were crashing against each other one more time. Your hands left his biceps, one sliding down his chest, felling the toned muscles, and the other went up to his hair, pulling at it, making him groan.

Tim’s lips left yours to trail kisses along your jawline and towards your neck. His hands slinging further down, stopping at your ass and squezing it while nibbling at your neck, his tongue smoothing the skin he bit and sucked at. You left breath moans at his actions.

One of his legs found their place between yours, spreading your legs apart while his hands went from your ass to your thighs, lifiting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, felling the bulge in his pants.

“Timmy.” You breathes out, pulling his hair out as his kisses kept getting lower and lower towards your cleavage

He pulled his face away from your skin, hands tightening its grip on your thighs. His lips were red and swollen from the kisses, his hair was everywhere and you were pretty sure you didn’t look any better.

“Fuck.” He cursed, pulling you a bit closer and groaning at the friction of your bodies together “We can’t do this here and not right now.”

“Why not?” You questioned, inching your face closer to his

You kissed his jaw, lightly biting at it and going lower to kiss his neck. Lips scratching at the soft skin there and a smile on your lips when he squeezed your ass in response.

Tim closed his eyes for a while, enjoining the sensation, but also trying to recollect his thoughts. He was really enjoining himself, but this wasn’t right.

“This isn’t right, pretty bird.” He grunted in response “I don’t want our first night together to be in a bathroom at bar while we are drunk.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyeing proudly the bruise forming on his neck.

“We already slept with each other before, the previous night was one of them. We cuddled a lot.”

Tim sighted “You know I don’t mean sleep in the sleeping way.”

You licked your lips, a smirk curling on your lips.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want us to fuck in the bathroom while we are drunk?” You slid your hands over his shoulders, tralling a finger over his chest “But I want to, Timmy. I want you so bad.”

To prove a point you grinded your hips against his. He sucked in a breath, hands gripping your hips to keep you from moving.

“You are intoxicated, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want the first time we have sex together to be while we are drunk and can’t think straight.” He sighted at your pouting face “If you really want to, we can come back some other day.”

Your smiled wide at his words.

“Can we come back some other day, then? So you will fuck me senseless against the wall?”

Tim took a deep breath to contain himself. Who knew you were such a horny drunk?

“Anything you want, pretty bird.” He replied, pecking your lips “Let’s get you home.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Your groan was the first noise to fill the room at three o’clock in the afternoon. You sat in bed, rubbing a hand over your eyes and taking in your surroundings. You were at an unknown place, only wearing an oversized shirt and you would’ve freaked out if you haven’t seen the man beside you.

“Hey.” Tim said, his hair was falling down his eyes, and he looked like he had just woken up too “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” You groaned, flopping down on bed, but this time a bit closer to him, seeking his warmth “Where are we?”

He chuckled, running his hand trough your disheveled hair. You are pretty sure you look like a mess, your makeup is probably smudged, your hair all over the place. God, you can’t believe Tim is seeing you like this.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to see Oliver last night so I brought you to one of my safe houses.”

You nodded your head, but regretted the action immediately as it felt like your brain was being squeezed.

“I’m going to get you some coffee, food and an aspirin.” Tim said as he watched your grimace

“No, don’t leave, you’re warm.” You whined

He chuckled again, kissing your hair softly as he slid off the bed.

“I’ll be right back, love.”

You allowed him to go after the petname. Your heart fluttered at the words, love and pretty bird, you could get used to hearing him call you that. It sounds so good when he says it.

A few minutes later Tim showed up with a tray in hand, placing it on the bed beside you and then sitting himself at the mattress. You took the painkiller and gladly drank the coffee the boy had made, and welcomed the waffles into your belly. God, you are so hungry.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You said in a soft tone, eyeing him quiet shyly “And I am sorry for last night being a horny drunk.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He smiled down at you before laughing quiet loudly “And please, don’t apologize for being a horny drunk when I was kind of being one too.”

You nudged your head on his shoulder to hide your laugh and blush.

“Ok, we are both horny drunks.” You said, enjoining this moment of peace with him

You know that once you are outside this apartment and out there in the world, you are going to have to face your brother and your mom and oh no. You are meeting Talia and Nissa tonight. Fuck, what did you have in mind? What does Dinah always tell you? Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgements and that is exactly what you did last night.

“I know you are probably tired of this by now, but... I’m going to have to ask you to do something for me.”

“Sure, pretty bird, anything you want.”

You smiled a bit.

“I need you to get me some clothes from the manor, I can’t see Oliver before I do what I planned to do.”

Tim frowned, looking down at you for an explanation, but you had your eyes closed and most of your face hidden by his chest. He sighed, running his fingers trough your hair.

“What are you going to do?” He asked

“I’m going to meet up with Talia and Nissa tonight.” Your voice sounded muffled and you didn’t dare to look at his face, still keeping your eyes closed

Tim sat up straight, his hands pulling you away from him - even if honestly all he wanted was to keep you there by his side while you two cuddled. He frowned down at you.

“What do you mean you are meeting Talia and Nissa tonight?” He asked you seriously

In all the time you’ve met Tim, you’ve never seen him this serious. Of course, you’ve seen him serious but in a concentrated way as he was working on a case, or getting ready for patrol, and even then he would still look at you softly. Right now, he is giving you his batglare, and boy, doesn’t that make you want to make you as small as a ball.

You sighted before realizing it was best to just tell him the whole truth. So you did, you told him a bit more about the Ninth Circle, mostly just remembering him what you told him the night of the Casino slaughter. Then you told him about what Oliver found and that your mom is alive.

“I need to know if it’s true, Timmy.” Your voice wasn’t above a whisper “I need to know if I am right by being against Oliver on this one, I can’t let him treat her like a criminal. It’s my mom.”

He nodded his head, extending his arms until you were back in his embrace. Head against his chest, glad to have him by your side during this bad time.

“I know, if it was my mom I would do the same thing.” He sighted “Do you want me to go with you?”

You shook your head “Something tells me she won’t talk with you there. But I will tell you everything later.”

The wind was cold during the night again, but this time you were wearing a warmer jacket. Tim had picked up some of your clothes from your bedroom at the manor and brought them to his safe house where you showered and changed into it.

You were standing at the rooftop of the old Theater. Crime Alley really was as horrible as everyone said it was. This was your first time being at that place and it was enough to give you chills, and you knew pretty well it wasn’t from the cold.

You had allowed Tim to take you there, but made him leave immediately and promise you that he wasn’t going to be around. After some persuasion he was back at his normal route of patrol with a promise of a call once it was all done. You could handle Talia and Nissa if it was necessary.

A bow and arrows was attached to your back just in case.

“When my sister told me you wanted to meet, I honestly thought you lost it.” Talia’s voice cut trough the night

You looked over your shoulder before turning around. Talia stood there with her hands on her back, bow and arrow and a sword with her.

“Thank you for showing up.” You said, nodding your head towards her “Nissa didn’t want to come?”

“I told her to stay behind on this one, it appears this is a matter between us only.”

You brifily smiled at her. You did not hate the woman despite everything she had done, and right now you needed her to get the answers you want, so being rude was not an option.

“I have some questions for you.” You spoke up, eyeing her closely just to make sure she wasn’t going to attack you before you were ready for it

“Let’s see if I can and will be willing to answer them.” Talia smirked

You took a deep breath, not only to calm yourself down and not give into her, but also to prepare yourself for questioning her what you were about to.

“When Malcom and Oliver fought, three years ago, I was held as the prize. Why did your father accept that?”

Talia rolled her eyes “After all those years and you want to know now?”

When you didn’t answer she started laughing.

“Oh my, oh my. Do you and your brother finally learned the truth? About dead or not so dead mom?”

You set your jaw to keep yourself from saying something you’d regret later. Not really regret because it would feel grate to curse her in her face, but that would spark a fight and most likely you wouldn’t get the answers you needed.

“Yes. Now tell me what you know, Talia, before I loose my patience.”

That only made the woman’s smile winden.

“I would like to see if you still remember all of your training.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. Reaching out behind you, you pulled out an arrow and your bow. Aiming at the building, you fired it, the arrow zipped past her, scratching her face and embedding itself at the wall.

“You missed.” She said, wiping away the blood that was running down her cheek

“No, I didn’t.”

Talia turned around, watching where you arrow had hit. Right in the center of where a person’s heart would be on an old billboard picture of a man, announcing some show at the Theater.

“Drama runs in the family.” She said under her breath before taking a step closer to you “Alright then, shall we sit?”

You watched as she took a sit at the railing of the building. You stood in front of her, not letting your defenses down, if she was to attack you, you’d be ready.

“As you might have guessed, you bing the prize of the fight wasn’t Merly’s idea and neither was mine or my father’s.” Talia began, you nodded your head “A few months prior to the fight, we got a massage from the Ninth Circle calling us for a meeting. Obviously, we were a bit confused as to how Moira Queen was alive, but this one you should ask her yourself. To sum it all up, your mother proposed the fight and for you to join the League where we would train until you were the best assassin you could be. Then, you were to join her and Ninth Circle so you two would be reunited and they would have a perfect and loyal assassin by their sides.”

You frowned. “And why would your father take the deal?”

She smirked “You know my father wanted to train your brother, but he couldn’t because he already had a formed opinion. But train a teenager who is still forming a personality, perfect oportunity. Although I thought it was a waste of time, you and Oliver are too much alike.”

“Then why did you agree to this idea? You seemed to like pretty much hurting me during around practices together?” You asked, trying not to yell "Why are you willing to tell me everything now?"

Talia’s shoulders tensed and she stood up from her stop at the railing.

“I am a mother myself, Y/n.”

You nodded, understanding where her help came from. Apparently, she doesn’t have the best of relations with Damian.

“And where does Oliver fit into all of this?” You asked, changing the subject and hoping you didn’t upset her

“I think this is enough of an interrogation, I already helped you more than I honestly should.”

She stepped up the ralling of the building, looking over her shoulder to stare at you in the eye. She looked dead serious.

“Don’t come looking for me again, next time I won’t be so friendly. Tell my son I will be in town for one more day.”

And with that Talia was gone.

#tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfic #tim drake headcanon #tim drake #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #red robin imagine #red robin x reader #red robin #oliver queen x reader #roy harper x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #batboys x reader #batfam

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harvestleaves · 4 years ago

Text

Anaphylaxis

Prompt: Can you write a fic where TK has a severe allergic reaction

A/N: The 126 has dinner and finds out TK is severely allergic to cashews. This will still be part of the Out of Breath ‘verse. *There is a brief description of an anaphylactic allergic reaction.* The fic is also posted on Ao3 here.

Rating: G- brief swearing though

Word Count: 908

“Hey, Paul, what’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here,” TK groaned at the slightly spicy scent wafting from the kitchen.

“Chicken curry. I ran it by Marjan, so it’s safe for her. Now go set the table,” Paul smirked as he stirred the rice.

TK grabbed the utensils as Judd grabbed the plates to set the table, stifling a small yawn before he reached up to rub at his eyes.

“Sleepy kiddo?” Judd asked with an amused smile at TK’s soft yawn before the younger man frowned up at him.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Did Officer Reyes keep you up?” Paul teased with an eyebrow wiggle as he started to bring the food over to the table.

“Ha ha ha. No, Carlos didn’t keep me awake, I had another nightmare,” TK pouted softy as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“You know you can nap after dinner, right? You probably shouldn’t stay up drinking that stuff,” Judd frowned with a nod to the mug in TK’s hand, noting how pale TK looked and wondering if the nightmare had given the younger man an asthma attack.

“I’m fine big brother,” TK whined at the concern coming from the older Texan. He knew that Judd was just worried, but TK really hated it when the other coddled him.

“Hey, you know I’m just worried about you. Right?” Judd spoke gently as he reached out for the mug of coffee, a smile gracing his lips as TK pulled it closer to his chest with a pout.

“C’mon kiddo, you and I both know that drinking that is just gonna elevate your heart rate and make it more difficult for you to settle down.”

“Since when do you care about my relaxation?” TK asked with a raised eyebrow as he held out the mug for Judd to take.

“Because I still sometimes get nightmares about the night my old crew died, and drinking too much coffee before bed can sometimes make the nightmares worse. Plus, the last thing you want when your heart is already poundin’ is to get the shakes from caffeine. Not fun,” Judd said with a shudder as he poured the coffee down the drain and went to make TK a mug of camomile tea instead.

“Are you two done arguing so we can eat dinner?” Mateo whined with a pout as he grabbed the tray of rolls to bring over to the table, setting them down next to the curry before sliding into his usual seat next to Marjan.

“I agree with the probie. I’m starved,” Marjan nodded as the group moved to sit down to eat, scooping food onto Mateo’s plate before moving onto her own.

“Thank you for cooking,” TK smiled kindly at Paul before blushing as Judd scooped food for him, taking a sip of the tea with a sigh.

“Of course. Now eat up before it gets cold.”

TK nodded before scooping some of the curry into his mouth, raising an eyebrow curiously at the crunch in the food before he shrugged and swallowed the mouthful. He reached for his tea once more though at the slight tingling in his mouth and just figured Paul had added too much spice. Being from New York, he still wasn’t used to all the spicy foods that he was suddenly growing more accustomed to.

“Wow, that’s spicy. What’d you put in it?” TK asked as he stifled a small cough, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he tried to swish the tea around.

“Ummmm, the same things as last week. I added cashews this time, why? TK? You’re sweating,”Paul frowned as he spotted the hives forming around TK’s mouth and swore.

“Shit! Are you allergic to cashews?! Why the fuck didn’t you say something?” Paul groaned as Marjan moved to her feet to go grab one of the epi-pens from the ambulance supply room.

“D-didn’t think that a-anyone would tr-try cooking with ‘em,” TK choked out as Judd rose to grab a glass of water, the allergic reaction coming on fast. He knew of his allergy to cashews, but he hadn’t had a reaction since he was sixteen, and even then, it wasn’t anaphylactic shock bad, like the reaction he was currently having.

“Stop talking and just focus on your breathing, I don’t want you to have an asthma attack on top of your allergic reaction. It wouldn’t be good. Marjan is bringing Michelle, her team will take you to the hospital,” Paul said gently as he rubbed TK’s shoulder gently, letting out a sigh of relief as said paramedic showed up.

“Yeah, we’re gonna take him in,” Michelle nodded in agreement as she administered the shot of epinephrine through TK’s work pants before fitting an oxygen mask over his face, allowing Judd to scoop the smaller male up to settle him on the gurney.

“You gotta stop scaring me like this kid, I’m gonna get start gettin’ grays. I’ll call Officer Lover Boy though. He’ll probably meet you at the hospital,” Judd explained as Tim got an IV started in TK’s left arm for fluids and Nancy hooked the electrodes to TK’s chest.

“Relax Judd, we’ve got it covered. Can you call Owen too?”

“Of course,” Judd nodded to Michelle, watching them load TK into the ambulance before heading off to make the calls to Owen and Carlos, not looking forward to it at all.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fanfiction #tk strand #Judd Ryder #paul strickland #marjan marwani #mateo chavez

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sickcyclist · 4 years ago

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This is the story of my day. It actually starts yesterday, when a heaven-sent rain swept in and cleared the smoke and cooled the air and tamped down the dust on the trails. I went on a bike ride because days like that are a gift. I have exercise-induced hypoxemia, which basically means that my oxygen drops when I exercise for reasons that we still don’t understand. Exercising with oxygen helps, but I still drop into the mid-80s. I knew I was too sick to ride and that doing so would make me much more sick, but I needed it for my mind so I was willing to sacrifice my body.

So that’s the first lesson of being sick. Everyone tells you that you have to be active and it will make things better and all you have to do is just push yourself hard enough. We’ve internalized this message to the point that many people believe sick people could get better if they just PUSHED. But that’s not always true. Sometimes pushing makes you worse. Sometimes it makes you much, much worse. And that can be true even if being active and pushing hard is something you love so much that it feels like it’s core to who you are.

I knew I would have to sleep for 12+ hours to make up for the ride, and I knew that I would have bad oxygen saturation stats because of it. And since I don’t have a real job, it should be easy to just take a lazy day (or week, or month) and get better, right? But actually I do have a real job and that job is to keep myself alive. It’s the job of a lot of us who are chronically ill, and it’s not a profession I would recommend. It’s not fun and it’s not rewarding and no one admires you for it and you’re not asked to speak to 5th graders on career day and you rarely get to move on to a newer, more interesting project.

Here’s what this particular day at work looked like for me. I woke up to a voicemail saying that my pulmonology appointment for Friday had been cancelled. I’ve been waiting to see a pulmonologist since March and was supposed to have an appointment weeks ago, but that was cancelled because the doctor quit two days beforehand. The other doctor in town couldn’t see me until the end of October, so I looked for a doctor in a bigger town hundreds of miles away. She comes highly recommended and in a way I’m happy because I strongly prefer female doctors, but for whatever reason she had to “clear her morning.” My new appointment is five weeks from now. I got off the phone and sobbed, which is not a good thing to do when your lungs don’t work. I probably could have toughed it up and avoided crying if I hadn’t worn myself down so much biking yesterday, but such is life.

I emailed my primary care provider asking for a note saying I could travel with my portable oxygen concentrator. I was supposed to get this letter from my pulmonologist, but now I won’t have a pulmonologist before I travel. The letter has to say that I use oxygen for sleep and activity, but it also has to specify that I won’t use oxygen on the plane. Which is a little funny because airplanes have extremely powerful oxygen-producing systems for emergencies, but they don’t like people who need oxygen because they don’t like the risk that comes with having sick people on board (think emergency landings). So people who need oxygen all the time need their own oxygen concentrator and battery power for the equivalent of 1.5x the time they will be in the air. I’m going on an 8-hour flight and it would cost about $400 to get strong enough batteries for that length. So I need them to let me carry my machine, which has lithium ion batteries that are otherwise prohibited. But in order to carry my machine I need to prove that I won’t be needing it.

I have a great primary care provider. I knew she would write the note. Easy peasy.

My next voicemail was from the specialty pharmacy that my insurance provider uses for certain drugs. I am allergic to a hormone all women produce as part of the menstrual cycle. This allergy is so severe that it has been responsible for 5 miscarriages, and it also means that I’m more miserable than usual for half the month. The good news is that all you have to do to stop it is take out your ovaries, but when you do that you go into full menopause. Which is not desirable because it increases your risk of cancer and osteoporosis and just overall mortality. Like not even from one thing. Just people who go into menopause early die early from all causes and we don’t know why.

That gives you some perspective on what the benefits have to look like in order for the cost-benefit analysis to still auger in favor of ovary removal. But since it is such a serious choice, you have to be sure. And the way you make sure is to stop your ovaries from working with a drug. The drug has hideous short and long term side effects, so if you feel better while taking it, that’s a pretty strong sign that an oophorectomy is the choice for you.

Approval for me to receive this particular drug was in limbo because the provider accidentally entered the wrong diagnosis. I have, as you can imagine, a lot of diagnoses. Entering the wrong diagnosis in this case was particularly funny because I’ve spent the last 6 months fighting with Blue Cross to get an expensive medicine that helps with my allergies. This medicine (Xolair) is approved for chronic urticaria (hives). It is not approved for progesterone hypersensitivity. I have both, which means I itch a lot for two weeks of the month and itch so much that I want to peel my skin off for two weeks of the month. Blue Cross argued that I wanted the drug for progesterone hypersensitivity. No medical provider said that, but it was the diagnosis they could use to deny the drug. Xolair costs $4000 a month. At that price it’s worth it to them to grind people down and hope they give up. It took four appeals and my lawyer (husband) to get the drug approved because I do indeed have chronic urticaria. It’s worked wonders for me, especially being allergic to the sun. You have no idea how easy it is to descend into madness when you are itchy all the time.

I went over all this with my new OB. I explained that, while the allergy shot solved the itching, it didn’t fix any of my systemic problems, which is why I was still interested in removing my ovaries. And because the conversation focused on how this ovary-suppressing drug (Lupron) specifically wasn’t for urticaria, it’s perhaps not surprising that she accidentally listed urticaria as the reason for the prescription. It’s like when you’re afraid you’ll mispronounce someone’s name. You tell yourself, “Say Kee-a, not Ky-a,” so many times that you’re basically guaranteed to call the person Ky-a.

So my ovary medicine was denied, of course, but I contacted my doctor’s office last week explaining the problem and they were very quick to apologize and resubmit. I returned the call from the specialty pharmacy but apparently they had just wanted to let me know that they were sorry for the delay. It was very polite of them but maybe didn’t require a phone call.

Then I got an email from Blue Cross Blue Shield. I logged in to read that coverage had again been denied (no reason stated) and that if I wanted to appeal the decision I would have to appeal through their specialty pharmacy. They gave me the name and number. Of a different specialty pharmacy than the one I had been dealing with for the past month. The one that I had already wrangled account numbers and diagnosis codes and special customer service phone lines out of. I typed up a polite response inquiring why I need to change pharmacies. And then I cried, but only just a little this time.

Then I called Walgreen’s because my medication for muscle spasms had been delayed and I received a note saying the pharmacist needed to speak to me. I am hypermobile so my connective tissue is just a little too bendy. My joints slip in and out all the time and my muscles have to overwork to hold my body together. Frequently they overwork so much that they lock up. This happens much more frequently in the progesterone-dominant phase of my cycle. Physical therapy is the best treatment, but sometimes I need muscles relaxants before I can even start physical therapy.

The man I spoke to at Walgreen’s told me I didn’t have a prescription for that drug. Then he told me I had a prescription but it had expired in March of 2020. I knew that wasn’t true because I hadn’t used it for years but had to start again when I got COVID. So I had no prescription in March of 2020 but I definitely did in March of 2021. No big deal. Just a simple computer error. Totally understandable in a pandemic, and I knew my doctor would refill it anyway. But he apparently felt that it was a big deal and wouldn’t submit the refill to my provider. I have no idea why. Maybe he thought I was engaged in drug-seeking behavior. Or maybe he was having a bad day. But he wouldn’t submit the refill. I hung up the phone and screamed. Loudly. Which really is not a good thing to do when your lungs don’t work.

Murry came up and rubbed the spasm out of my shoulder and listened to me vent and offered to be my medical power of attorney so he could deal with these people for me. But he’s the one with the real job that earns real money and when I’m sick he also cooks and cleans and does the shopping and walks the dogs. I may not be any good at the shitty job I had, but there’s no way I’m going to make him do it.

I switched tactics and chatted with someone through the Walgreen’s app. He was lovely and had no problem submitting my prescription for a refill. Easy peasy.

My final task for the day was calling to find out about the status of my CPAP prescription. I don’t have sleep apnea but while I’m asleep my breathing does slow down significantly enough that my oxygen drops (hypopnea). I need a special CPAP that adjust the pressure to my breathing, but it will get me off of oxygen at night. I’m very excited for it.

My insurance does not require prior authorization for CPAP prescriptions. However, St. Pete’s has its own prior authorization department that I guess makes sure you are not lying about not needing prior authorization? This department is, apparently, understaffed. I called my oxygen “rep” to find out how it was going. She very kindly bypassed the prior authorization department and called Blue Cross directly. Blue Cross informed her, as had I, that a prior authorization was not necessary. She could officially get me a CPAP.

Except that there is a national CPAP shortage. So she will try her best to get me one as soon as they get more. Hopefully this month. Even the rare, wonderful people who try to help you are sometimes as helpless as you.

I didn’t cry this time. Crying doesn’t fix anything and I can’t risk losing more oxygen. So I turned to writing therapy instead.

This was a bad day at work, but there are rarely good ones. It sucks to be sick, but I’m smart, articulate, overly educated, wealthy, and white. It could suck so, so much more. Someday I’ll turn all of this knowledge that I never wanted into something that helps people other than myself. Until then maybe someone will read this and know they are not alone. If being sick is your job, I see you. I would give you a hug—or a bonus!—if I could.

#lupus #chronic illness #hypermobility #connective tissue disease #exercise hypoxemia #progesterone hypersensitivity #health care efficiency #health insurance navigation #immunocompromised #biking with oxygen #care coorination

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