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charliemwrites · 10 months ago

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A reader x Simon commission piece I just recently finished for my sweet bean N.W. I had a lot of fun writing a little scenario I never would have thought up on my own!

(Reader is described with FAB anatomy, but no gendered pronouns are used. No sensitive content warnings, just spice.)

It’s a perfect day.

The sun is a bright golden marble in a perfect jewel sky, toasting the sand into a powdery bed. There are only wisps of flossy cloud to interrupt the light, a feathery salt-soaked breeze to soften the edge of heat. The water is nothing but lazy ripples, foamy waves crawling up the coastline before slithering back.

And your coworker is soaking wet.

When you first signed on as a lifeguard, you didn’t expect more than some extra pocket money. A little financial cushion while you finished working through your master’s program. A chance to get some sunshine instead of holing up in your room. Maybe the occasional bit of eye candy while you fished children out of the shallows and fussed at families for littering around the barbecue grills.

You didn’t expect Simon “Walking Wet Dream” Riley. (Okay, that’s not his actual nickname – apparently it’s “Ghost.” Because of course it is.) You didn’t expect his big, fuck-off muscles, or his perfect sun-bleached hair, or the dark ink of his tattoos, or…

Well.

You got more than just eye candy when Mister Price hired you. Simon is a whole damn feast. Especially when he’s fresh from a cool-down swim, red trunks weighed down by water and tides, revealing the tantalizing curves of his hips. Droplets skittering over the bulges and divots of his body, sparkling in the sun…

“Excuse me?”

You try not to jolt, head jerking to the guy that hopefully hasn’t been standing there too long. He looks about your age, maybe a bit older. Wavy, chin-length brown hair and eyes nearly as blue as the water. Pretty, in a young Instagram prince kind of way. Maybe your type in another time – the time Before Simon.

“Hi,” you say quickly, “did you need something?”

“Do you have any plasters?” he asks. “My little brother scraped his knee.”

You glance at the kid shuffling just behind him, his knees dirtied and one red with a bit of blood. Nothing serious, you determine, but could use some first aid.

“Oh, poor thing!” you say. “C’mon, we have some bandages in the shack.”

You wave to get Simon’s attention, make the quick hand-sign indicating you’ll be gone for a moment. He notices you, the two boys, then nods and makes his way back to his usual lookout spot.

The shack is a quiet, cool oasis away from the heat. You’ve dozed off next to the mist fan more times than you care to admit, only to be woken by Simon pressing a cold water bottle to your cheek. It used to annoy you, but now you appreciate the reminder to hydrate.

There’s a robust first aid kit in one of the cabinets, though you groan a bit when you see how high Simon’s stashed it this time. Damned tall man; you could swear he does it on purpose. You try to reach it on your toes, but when that doesn’t work, you jump a bit. Still no luck. You’re going to have to get the stepstool at this rate.

“Here, I’ve got it.”

You jump a bit as Insta-Prince comes up behind you, sliding in close before you can scoot out of the way. He stretches his arm over your head, tugging the kit down from the shelf. When you glance up – concerned about something falling on you – you find him smirking down at you.

“Thanks,” you say trying not to snatch it out of his hands.

“Seems like an… inconvenient place to put that,” he muses.

You sit the younger brother on a plastic chair near the door and kneel, kit open on the floor. “We usually keep it lower… I think Simon forgets I’m shorter than him.”

The kid winces a bit at the sting of wound wash but puts on a brave face when you smile at him.

“Seems pretty rude. Is he hard to work with?” Insta-Prince asks.

You hesitate, trying to think of how to respond. Simon was intimidating, at first. Dark eyes and stoic expression, he was difficult to read. Always within a stone’s throw, you used to feel like he was hovering. Like he didn’t think you could do your job right.

Over the months, though, that insecurity has bridged into a tentative friendship. Even if he’s not talkative himself, he lets you chat to your heart’s content. Keeps you hydrated, reminds you to eat snacks and apply sunscreen. Even handles the rowdier beachgoers when they break rules, his bigger stature and sharp glare enough to cow even the most entitled people.

“No, he’s—”

“What’s the hold up?”

You glance up at Simon’s broad form angled in the shack’s doorway. His eyes aren’t on you or the kid, though. They’re on Insta-Prince – standing a little close to you, now that you’re not focused on the younger brother.

“Just finishing up,” you answer, smoothing a waterproof bandage over the scrape. “You did great, buddy, high five!”

That earns you a little smile and the requested high-five as the kid hops out of the chair. When you stand, Simon’s eyes flick to you. Darker than deep water, something swimming within that you can discern from the surface. It makes you fidgety, like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t.

“Remember to log it,” he rumbles.

“On it!” You lean over the wooden counter to pluck the clipboard from the wall on the other side, relieved that someone put the pen back for once.

“So, you have to write down all the injuries people get?” Insta-Prince asks, trying for casual conversation. The air feels oddly stifling, and gets worse when he settles closer, peeking around to see the sheet.

“Just if we use medical supplies,” you answer, scribbling quickly.

“Lifeguards only in the shack, kid,” Simon interrupts. “Get moving.”

You try not to snort in amusement. While Simon might tolerate you, he’s got a general disdain for most beachgoers – ironic considering how adamant he is about safety. But he seems to find the average person a nuisance to be constantly monitored and herded away from trouble. Like a shepherd with a flock of particularly stupid sheep.

“My brother was hurt, man, give me a break,” Insta-Prince protests, annoyed.

“And now he’s not,” Simon replies. “You should catch up with him. Kids need to be watched, isn’t that right, sunshine?”

You hum absently in agreement, signing off on the injury log with your initials. There’s a beat of silence that itches at the back of your mind. When you look up, Simon’s arching an eyebrow at the guy, thick arms crossed across his barrel chest.

Sir, firearms are not allowed on the beach, you think, before wrenching your eyes from Simon’s biceps.

“Did you need anything else?” you ask Insta-Prince.

“Just what time you get off work,” he replies, giving you big, soft, hopeful eyes.

You blink, a bit shocked. Flirting happens rarely for you, except maybe platonically with Soap or Gaz. To be fair, you’re not exactly the female lifeguard idol that most people would fantasize about. Half the time you jog around in shorts and a rash-guard, more comfortable in unisex swimwear and keeping the worst of the sun off yourself. Helpful to avoid wardrobe malfunctions if a panicking swimmer grabs at you.

Besides, you’re not really looking to get hit on. Hard to keep an eye out for emergencies if someone’s chatting your ear off for a shag by the restrooms. (You didn’t think people really did that until Farah groaned about it at the bonfire when you first hired.) Still, now that it’s happening… you don’t hate it. This guy is objectively attractive, apparently cares about his younger sibling enough to get him first-aid, and is weathering Simon’s increasingly annoyed scowl.

You figure there’s no harm. Not like someone else is showing a similar interest.

“At sunset,” you answer. “So, uh…”

“6:30,” Simon offers.

You shoot him a grateful look as the kid begins scooting for the door, skirting around Simon’s wider, thicker frame. Christ, the difference is stark. You tug at the front of your rash-guard to relieve some of the sudden heat.

“Maybe I’ll see you then,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

You stare after him for a second. He didn’t even ask for your name. “Huh.”

“The hell was that, sunshine?” Simon grouses.

You turn to him and shrug. “No idea.”

“Really now?” he scoffs.

You shake your head, already agitated by the whole thing for no reason you can pinpoint. Lean over the counter again to hang up the clipboard. “Really.”

“This isn’t a place for your silly summer fantasies and little meet-cutes,” he growls. “This is a real job, with real lives on the line.”

You twist around, brows furrowed as your mouth drops open in offense. “I know that.”

“Do you? Then why the fuck were you in here flirting?”

“I was helping the kid,” you argue, “you saw him!”

“Real convenient, that. When the older one’s been eye-fucking you all damn day.”

Any snappy retorts drown in the shock of his crass language and the accusation. All day? That guy? And Simon noticed? Never mind all that – Simon would seriously think you’d use a kid’s injury as an excuse to… what? Get cozy with an attractive stranger while on duty?

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you huff, “but I need to get back out there.”

As you pass, a big, rough hand snaps out and catches your elbow. You come up short, half-turning towards him, face hot. Equal parts angry and ashamed for some reason. Summer romance your ass.

“Get it together,” he orders.

You click your tongue at him. “Same to you.”

You wrench your arm back and storm out onto the sand, snatching your floatie from the shack railing along the way. Don’t know what jellyfish stung his ass, but you hope he figures it out. Don’t think your self-esteem can take another round of… whatever that was.

The rest of the day passes tense and slow. Without Simon to talk to, and the beach relatively peaceful, you’re left to fixate on the incident in the shack. What was that about? You thought for sure you’d grown on Simon a bit. Sure, you’re one of the younger lifeguards, which is why Price assigned you to Simon’s post, but you’ve worked hard. You thought you’d proven yourself.

Checking your watch, you find that it’s nearly 6:30. The sun doesn’t seem that low yet, but the beach got empty while you were idly keeping watch. Might as well pack it in, you figure.

Not even thinking of Insta-Prince when you hop up the little wooden steps to the shack. Simon isn’t back from wherever he’s monitoring yet, and you’d like to be clear before that changes. Just in case he’s still in a bad mood.

You shed your blue swim-shorts and rash-guard on the counter, leaving you in the more standard one-piece. Roll your shoulders a bit uncomfortably, itching to squeeze into your binder after a day with tits-out. You’ve gotten accustomed to the sensation of leaving it off for the job, but you’d still prefer to wear it when safe.

You flop onto the counter, reaching over the side to fish your bag out from its cubby. Of course, that’s the exact moment that you hear Simon’s heavy step on that creaky board by the doorway.

“Bloody hell,” you think you hear him mutter.

“I’m just about to head out,” you assure him.

“Meeting up with that knob?”

Your temper flares. You abandon your bag and land on your feet, spinning around. Come up (very) short when Simon’s right there, not enough room to breathe without your chests brushing. But you don’t allow yourself to be deterred.

“So, what if I am?” you challenge.

His eyes darken, then narrow. “This isn’t a game you want to play, sunshine.”

“Maybe I do,” you insist, planting your hands on your hips.

He exhales slow and heavy, boxes you in against the counter with hands on either side of you. Your stupid, traitorous heart skips a beat, then trips into double time. Normally he wears a rash-guard too, but not today. No, today it’s swathes of tanned, scarred skin. And it’s so, so close to yours.

“You won’t win,” he warns.

Your tongue feels heavy and clumsy, maybe because your thoughts feel the same way. Now, you’re not always the most aware of “signals,” but there aren’t many other ways to interpret someone near-pinning you to a counter with smoldering eyes.

You scramble to review the earlier confrontation through a new lens. The way Simon glared at Insta-Prince, not you – until you seemed open to his interest. Oh. Ohhhh.

You wet your lips; the way his eyes lock onto the movement bolsters your courage.

“What if… I don’t want to win?” you ask.

His eyes dart up to yours, something a little sharper than longing when he whispers, “I’d make you a sore loser.”

An unexpected laugh bursts out of you; his teeth flash in a crooked smile as he scoops you up so easily. He sits you on edge of the counter and steps between your thighs, pelvis bumping against yours. You gasp, head dropping to stare wide-eyed at the frankly monstrous bulge in his trunks.

“W-wow,” you mumble faintly, thighs squeezing around his hips.

“C’mere, sunshine,” he growls, cupping your jaw.

You tilt your face up, sigh softly as his mouth slots over yours. He tastes like blue powerade and sea salt, tongue curling against yours when you grant him enthusiastic access.

Your hands make scattered, eager work of exploring him, unsure where you want to touch first, just that you have to. He’s as solid as you always expected, densely packed muscle under healthy, hydrated layers of fat. Sun-warm beneath your palms, shudders as your skim them dangerously close low on his twitching abdomen.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging gently at the shoulder strap of your swimsuit.

“Yeah,” you mumble, wriggling closer.

He huffs in amusement, peeling the elastic material over your arms and down your chest while you scatter kisses over his jaw and neck. You gasp into his peck when his calloused thumbs brush your hard nipples. Just a small touch, yet electricity is racing up and down your spine.

“This alright?” he checks.

You hum the affirmative, pressing into his touch as he pinches and rolls the sensitive peaks, slow searching. Reclaims your mouth to swallow each and every little mewl and moan that spills off your tongue. You can’t help rocking against him, hot and hard through the thin layers of swimwear.

“Simon,” you whine against his mouth, “c’mon.”

“Impatient,” he teases, nipping your bottom lip.

“You’ve kept me waiting long enough,” you complain, tugging at his trunks.

“I know, sunshine,” he coos, “just wait a bit longer.”

He takes the tiniest step back, fingers hooking in your swimsuit again to roll it the rest of the way off. You lift your hips to help, nearly squirming as strings of slick web between the fabric and your pussy. But Simon seems hypnotized, snapping the strands with his fingers and following them back to your swollen cunt.

“Fuck, all this for me, baby?” he rasps.

You make an embarrassed noise – which quickly graduates into an alarmed squeal when he drops to his knees.

“Simon, wait, I’ve been working all day and—”

“Don’ give a fuck,” he growls, “I’ve been dying to taste you for weeks.”

He yanks your thighs over his big, strong shoulders and dives in. It’s messy and obscenely loud, filling up the tiny shack and all the empty space in your head. Would be embarrassing if you had any room for something so frivolous. Instead, you’re gone on the way he sucks your clit and laps thirstily at your entrance. Utterly obsessed with the deep, throaty groans that leave you throbbing.

It's been a while, true, but you know he’d have you on edge so fast regardless. And he does, rushing up on it like a building, rolling wave. The devastating kind that’ll drown you in unyielding currents.

“Wait, wait,” you squeak, tugging at his coarse hair.

To his credit, he stops instantly, though he sounds absolutely gutted about it. Pulls back licking his lips like a cat with cream, chin practically dripping.

“Alright?” he asks, voice shredded to ribbons.

“I just,” you pant, “I just w-wasn’t ready to – to… I wanna cum on your cock. Please, Si?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He surges up, pressing you down flat to kiss you stupid(er) and senseless. The taste of you isn’t as offensive as you expected, not coming from his tongue. “You’ll get anything you want if you keep talking like that.”

“Just want you.”

He helps you off the counter, drags you by the wrist to the plastic chair by the doorway. You’re about to protest – no way can that chair support someone his size, never mind both of you. But then he’s spinning you around, crushing you to his chest, and yanking you down into his lap. Any such nonsense as good sense dissolves like a sandcastle.

You can feel the length of him pressing hot and a little wet against your spine. (So, so high up your spine, good god). When he freed himself from his swim-trunks, you’re not sure, nor do you care at this moment. Your priorities narrow down to one absolute necessity: getting him inside you now, now, now.

“Easy now, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” he purrs in your ear. “Let me help.”

He curls big hands around your hips, tight enough that you relish the bruises that may bloom there later. Supports your weight as if it’s nothing to him, propping you over his lap as you line up his cock, dragging the flushed head through your pooling wetness. He curses low and rough, sinking you down until the tip catches on your entrance.

“There we are,” he grits, hands flexing in your soft flesh. “Nice and slow now, sunshine.”

If you had your way, he’d already be balls deep in your aching pussy. But his grip is firm and unrelenting, lowering you inch by thick inch down his shaft. You back and squeeze around him, encouraging him deeper, faster, helpless little noises escaping from your gaping mouth.

“That’s it, halfway there,” he breathes. “Doing so well.”

You choke. Halfway?! You already feel stuffed, walls gripping every contour of his cock like you were made for him.

He twitches inside you, bulbous, leaking head grinding deliciously, and your resolve cracks right down the middle. You dig your nails into his thighs and slam your hips down, crying out as he buries deep inside. Can feel him nudging your cervix, stretching your silky walls, all the way down to where your opening is sealed tight around the base of him.

“Fuck,” he snarls.

“F-feels so good,” you whimper, head falling forward as you clench around him.

Oh, you are definitely going to be so perfectly sore after this. You can’t fucking wait.

“If you’re that impatient to be ruined,” he chuckles breathlessly, “best brace yourself, lovie.”

You barely manage to get your feet planted before he’s fucking up into you, hard and mean. Just what you want, what you need. Your head falls back to cry your pleasure to the shack roof as you bounce. Rocking your hips each time he bottoms out, grinding him against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you. It’s mind-numbing; you’re leaking around him, know it must be dripping onto the floor at this point.

He snakes a hand around to your front. Brushes where the two of you are connected, the strange and dangerous sensation making tears prick at your eyes. Then his fingers skip up to your needy, oversensitive clit. You almost want to stop him, already so overwhelmed with pleasure. But again, anything like coherent thought is ripped away on a tide of ecstasy when he begins rubbing quick, tight circles.

Your rhythm faulters at the new stimulation, but Simon just widens his stance. It changes the angle, drags the head so perfectly against your g-spot. With the hand still on your hip, he starts jerking you down to meet each thrust. It’s slightly slower, but so much sweeter, combined with the rhythm he’s strumming on your clit.

Your orgasm rises like a tsunami, higher and higher, a devastating force building up inside.

“Simon,” you keen, “Simon, I’m gonna – right there…”

“That’s it, sunshine. Get me nice and wet with your cum.”

That voice, saying such filth in your ear, sends you over the edge. You nearly convulse, eyes rolling back in your head as you scream. Back arching, writhing and gripping crescents into his thighs. And you can feel yourself gushing all over him, onto the floor.

“Yes, yes, fuck, just like that.”

You’re near limp as he keeps hammering into you, practically using you like a toy to get himself off. The thought alone makes you squeeze around him again, a powerful aftershock bringing another flood of wetness. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, crying into his ear, begging him to cum inside you, fill you up…

He crashes his mouth into yours as he cums, groaning into your lax mouth, jerking violently into your overstimulated pussy. You swear you can feel him spurting inside you, thick and white-hot. It feels… it feels…

You break the kiss to suck in a deep breath, lightheaded and still squeaky with pleasure. Simon trails soothing kisses over your shoulder, grip easing up to caress over the forming finger marks. You hum softly, voice husky. Flutter your eyes open and blink at the pink sky out the window.

“Is it… is it just now sunset?” you ask.

Simon chuckles against your ear. “Looks like I was about thirty minutes off. Whoops.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #commissioned work #ko fi commissions #simon x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #lifeguard au #beach au #simon ghost riley

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thinking-about-sw33ts · 3 years ago

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αѕ ρяσмιѕє∂ нєяє ιѕ σиє σf тнє fαиfι¢ѕ!! ι ωιℓℓ ρσѕт тнє σтнєя σиє αѕ ωєℓℓ, ѕσ ∂σи'т ωσяяу! αи∂ αѕ αℓωαуѕ ιf тнєяє αяє αиу ѕρєℓℓιиg мιѕтαкє(ѕ)/єяяσя(ѕ), ρℓєαѕє тєℓℓ мє αи∂ ι ωιℓℓ fιχ ιт тнє ѕαмє gσєѕ fσя тнє тяαиѕℓαтισи(ѕ)!! αи∂ мαувє fσя α fєω σf тнє ∂єfιиιтισи(ѕ)! αgαιи, αℓℓ σf тнєѕє ωιℓℓ вє σи ωαттα∂ тσσ!

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⭐️Corsets⭐️

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Anime:

🗝Nanbaka🗝

Supporting ship(s):

🎥Tsukumo🎥 X 💢Honey💢

Type:

🌸Fluff🌸

🌶Spicy🌶

AU(Alternative Universe):

🗝Normal🗝

Love interest for Reader:

🛠Trois🛠

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🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

“For the last game! Is of course, the sake barrel tournament!” Mitsuru claimed, while floating over the roaring audience. After explaining what the objective was, the game soon began.

Samon immediately charged after Kiji, while Honey and Trois quickly ran towards the large wooden barrel, with cell 8 on their tail.

I feel myself getting worried, knowing that Trois and Honey weren’t really much of a fighter. So cell 8 beating them wouldn't really be much of a surprise.

“Quit it Monkey! Don’t you dare ruin my makeup! Do you know how much time I spent on this!” Kiji cried out, using his dual weapons to dodge Samon’s swinging staff.

“Shut up, Pheasant!” Samon shouted, trying to at least hit one of the pressure spots on Kiji’s body.

Suddenly Trois grabs Honey’s leg before swinging him around, and tossing him towards the wooden sake barrel, Honey landing perfectly in the middle, breaking the wooden seal over the wooden sake barrel, before falling in, and getting soaked by the sake.

The audience being completely silent, clearly shocked by what Trois had done, before roaring out cheers of excitement.

“And there ya have it folks! Seems like Building 3 finally won the new year's tournament, for once!” Mitsuru announced over the mic, clearly pumped up.

Suddenly Kiji brings one of his hands, and places it on his hip, striking a victorious pose. “Hmp, and that’s what you all get for doubting me.” Kiji purred out, his confidence showing.

Honey soon rises from the wooden sake barrel about to shout at Trois for what he just did, before trying to process everything that had happened staring back at the said frenchie.

Once he realizes what had happened he gets out of the barrel before cheering himself. Trois on the other hand stares at me, before flashing a charming, but gentle smile.

I felt my cheeks getting warm, before smiling back. Giving him a thumbs up. “Aren’t you going to give him a victory kiss, inmate 6?” Ahato asked, giving me a closed-eyed smile.

“I suppose so.” I replied, leaning against the red railings, desperately trying to calm down my raging blush. Soon enough Cell 6 returned back to their seats. Each boy being seated on my side.

“I, Ahato, is always and very impressed with what you do! You did great, Kiji Onee-sama! We’ll finally get a raise!~” Ahato fanboyed, high-fiving Kiji with both of his arms.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Mon Amour~” Trois asked, tapping his cheek with his pointer finger. I rolled my (E/C) coloured eyes at him, before giving in, and giving him a victory kiss on his cheek.

While Honey sat on the other side of me, completely ignoring the both of us. The warden soon started her speech congratulating the winning building.

During said speech I had managed to nudge Honey’s arm using my elbow, catching his attention. I pointed to a different building, building 13.

While pointing to the said different building, I was also directly pointing at a certain pink haired shinobi. This action made Honey blush, turning his gaze away from me, and staring at the shinobi.

‘He totally has the hots for him.’ I thought to myself smugly, while smirking. From the corner of my eye, I saw the said shinobi waving at Honey, which Honey waved back. A little smile grazing his face.

‘I didn’t know he could make that face.’ I thought to myself, finally ignoring the two of them, and focusing on the speech.

Soon enough, the speech was over, and the feast took place! After the feast we got escorted back to our cell. “Goodnight you three!~” Kiji announced, doing his final rounds before going home.

Suddenly Honey raises himself using his elbows. Trois doing the same shortly after. While I just turned at them, laying down, too lazy to sit up.

“This year was nice.” Trois commented, smiling softly. “Another year, where I get to see your hideous face, once again, Trois.” Honey teased, a smirk planted on his face. Trois ignored his comment, paying attention to me.

“What did you two want, exactly?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. “A lingerie viewing exhibit~” Both of them purred out, clearly excited. A little blush could be seen on their cheeks. While their eyes sparkled.

I just shivered, not knowing why they’re so fascinated with women’s underwear. “Lights out!” Ahato announced, before shortly shutting off the lights after. “What about you, (Y/N)?” Trois asked, while Honey didn’t say anything. Although, clearly listening in.

“A phone that stores all genres of Manga, Manhua, Manhwas, and Anime!” I announced, excited. My (E/C) eyes sparkling. “That sounds nice.” Trois commented, a small smile grazing his features.

Soon enough Honey slowly went to sleep, snuggling deeper inside his dark purple futon, the both of us following shortly after. Trois slowly gets up from his mint green futon, and slips in my (Y/F/C) futon.

Trois held me protectively, yet softly, his legs tangled with mine. He raises a few of my (H/C) coloured hair out of my forehead, before planting a soft kiss. Giving my lips a small peck as well. I placed my hand on his cheek, caressing it. He softly grabs my wrist, before planting another kiss directly on it.

Giving me yet another gentle loving smile. Me, softly smiling back.

“Ugh, get a room.” Honey groaned out, annoyed. “Says the one who has a crush on that ninja from building 13.” I replied, annoyed as well, clearly just trying to enjoy peace, and quiet with my lover.

“What!?”

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🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

The next day soon came, as well as our prizes. After eating breakfast in the cafeteria. Feeling absolute euphoria eating (Y/F/F), my favorite!~

While Trois ate some Cream stew, and Honey a clam chowder. We quickly got escorted to Kazari’s lab by Kiji. “Oh, hello there number 6. Just wait here, while I grab your prize.” Kazari explained, hurrying to go get the prize from another room.

I sat on a chair, patiently waiting for Kazari to come back. Soon after she comes back with a (Y/F/C) coloured phone, which she hands to me.

“It has all the latest Mangas and Animes, along with some of the oldest ones, and ones in between.” Kazari added, petting my head.

“Thank you so much Kazari!~” I cheered, quickly opening the phone. Hopping on a Manga I’ve always wanted to read. Soon enough we got to the boy’s prize.

Trois inviting Uno, thinking he might want to see it as well, much to Honey’s dismay. Kiji soon comes back, fetching us, before taking us to another separate room. The boys quickly head inside, clearly excited.

“Oh my~” Both boys mutter out, surprised. Once they settle down from their excitement, they scatter looking at the different lingeries, bras, and panties.

“Oh my god! This is pure heaven!~” Honey cheered, looking at the different selections of panties. “They even have white lace~” He mutters out, reading the sign on the bottom. His emerald eyes sparkling with endearment.

Uno soon joins in, entering through the door, before looking at a certain baby blue lingerie two piece set. His ocean coloured eyes sparkling with excitement.

I just stare at the unnecessary commotion their making, my (E/C) orbs judging them ever so slightly. As much as I loved my perverted boyfriend, Trois, sometimes his pervertedness can get out of hand.

I quickly go back to reading (F/M) on my(Y/F/C) phone, ignoring them, and leaning against the wall. That focus slowly breaking from the commotion the boys were making.

I walk around, looking at the different things as well. Before stumbling on a plain (Y/F/C) corset vest. ‘I have been wanting to try a corset for the last few days.’ I wondered to myself, not knowing that I was actually muttering it out. All of a sudden I felt someone hugging me from behind, making me jump, since I was surprised.

I looked behind me only to instantly calm down, seeing that it was only Trois. He places a few strands of my (H/L) (H/C) behind my ear, before trailing a few light, fluttery kisses down my neck. I chuckle, the sensation making me feel slightly ticklish. Making me blush lightly.

“Did that one catch your eye, mon chéri~” Trois asks, his deep rose coloured eyes showing nothing but mischief. “And what if I say yes?” I asked him back, wondering what he had stored.

“Ugh! I told you before, get a fucking room!”

“Damn pretty boy!”

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✨Timeskip✨

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🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

“Apparently Honey was allowed to stay at cell 11, building 13 for the night.” Trois explained, using his towel to dry his hair, before brushing it. I nod, to show that I was listening.

“Lights out!” Kiji announces, before doing another round. Soon after the lights shut off, covering us in total darkness. The only light coming from the moon in the starry sky.

“I got you a little of something (Y/N).”

“And what might that be?”

I sat up from my (Y/F/C) futon, curious for what he got me. He quickly goes towards one of the white fancy wardrobes, pulling on one of the bottom drawers, before fetching a medium sized (Y/F/C) wrapped box.

He hands me the box, excited for me to open it. Once I opened it, I realized that it was the corset vest I took a liking to. “How did you even get this?” I asked him, generally surprised, before excitement took place.

He ignored my question, quickly pecking my lips. “You’re too cute for your own good, Mon Amour.” Trois purred out, taking my hand, and kissing it.

“Such a gentleman~” I praised him, feeding his ever growing ego. “Do you mind if you put it on me?” I ask him, turning away in order to hide my red face. “Whatever you need sweetheart~”

Trois sits beside me, before grabbing my wrist, which makes me fall directly on his lap, facing him. He quickly fetches the corset, placing it on me.

I hook the pieces on the front. I feel Trois’ hands on each side of my hips, guiding them up and down, before getting the two strings from the back of the corset, wrapping it around his hands, and pulling.

I slightly jumped, getting startled, before relaxing once again. Once he had completely pulled them he quickly tied them. “You look like an absolute God/Goddess in that (Y/N).” Trois whispers into my ear, before placing his head on my shoulder, cuddling me.

He soon raises his head, capturing my lips against his. Our tongues moved smoothly against each other. We quickly pulled apart, since the need for air was growing stronger. A string of saliva connecting to each other’s lips.

We both panted, clearly out of breath. He headed over to my neck, covering it with noticeable hickeys, and love bites. Before I could moan, I covered my mouth with my hand, so that I wouldn’t make any embarrassing noises.

“People can see them.” I panted out, blush covering my cheeks, from what had earlier happened. “Good~ People can see that you're mine.” Trois replied, smirking to himself.

“Oh my God! Trois what are you doing!” Kiji shrieked out, shining his flashlight on us. “Wait, is that the corset from the exhibit?!” Honey questions, a mixture of surprise and disgust hinted in his voice. “Honey weren’t you supposed to be with your ninja boyfriend!” I questioned back, panicking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translation(s):

• Mon Amour = My Love.

• Mon Cherie = My Dear.

Definition(s):

• (Y/F/C) = Your Favorite Colour.

• (Y/N) = Your Name.

• (H/L) = Hair Length.

• (H/C) = Hair Colour.

• (F/M) = Favorite Manga/Manhua/Manhwa.

• (E/C) = Eye Colour.

• (Y/F/F) = Your Favorite Food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Hiii i saw your matchups/cakes and I LOVE THEM. English is not my first language so i am sorry for any wrong spelings and grammar use lol. Can a Get a boy from Hq?????? I am a capricorn, with a lot of fire sign in my chart. ISTP. Tall girl, 175cm. Dark blond hair to under my shoulders, blue eyes. Lean bulid, but mby a little broad shoulders and waist. Enything else is normal ig. I indeed have cheek bones and jawline, a caps face traits a think. Stretch marked on my ass and things. Im just gonna keep my personality short cuz i dont know how to talk about myself. Im Shy and intro and first, then i will open up and become a messy and late-coming person. Im never on time to anything. Once you know me and logical thinking, feisty, dark humor type of funny, sly, stubborn, determind, strong minded, oberetiv and a daredevil. I will do enything for somthing in return. Nobody can hold me back. I am also a Clumsy person, a will let a word og two slip and offend somone, will break or forget somthing. Im always there my friends, help them out with everthing and my door is always open for them. Street smart all the way, i Can talk about enything and give tips and trix on enything. Im not the Life of the party, in a party im either outside or taking care of Ppl or i am sipping for other ppls drinks. I listen to pop/rock but i Can vibe to anything. I also love pasta. And cats, but im allergic): I overthink a lot, tend to bottle up on my emotions and then just let it burst when im alone. I got bullied as a kid, thats why i keep to myself and have Some close friends and then friends i dont trust that much. I like long lasting realtionships and friendships. I wont settle for somthing that i dont belive will work. I just want to feel safe and loved and held, lol. Am i rly ugly cryer btw so i wont look into another persons eyes. I train a lot, do sport shooting, wresle a lot with my friends and dad in a safe way ofc. I love to have a friendly and funny wtesle. I lough a lot. I said i do sport shooting, and i hate it when ppl take it the wrong way and starts to compare it to illegal activity. That my biggest pet peeve, and loud chewers. I LOVE CHEES AND CARD GAMES. Also late night means and snacks. My favorite time is like late at night, after sundown. Late night walks. Laser tag or paint ball is a must, Water and pillow fights AGH my dreams. Also, just to chill in a bathtub👌🏻✨Pfffff Idk what more. I would like a boy form Haikyuu, whos taller than me. Would be up to my randome and mby dangerous ideas, but also calm and relaxing when it fits the mood. Dosent need to know how to comfort a crying person, just like do the basics and ill be fine. THANK YOU SO MUCH😘

@sussebassen

Romantic Matchup

Tendou Satori

How Y’all Met

Ahhhh

Y’all had a class together

And EVERY SINGLE DAY you would show up late

Every. Single. Day

It doesn’t matter if you we’re 5 minutes late, or 15 minutes late

You never showed up on time

This peeked Tendous interest...

So, he asked you about it

You then explained how you never try to be late, it just always happened

Then one day

Satori was walking to class

The bell was going to ring soon so he was trying to hurry

Then he saw you

You were also just trying to get to class ON TIME for once

But you tripped...

And you fell...

And ALL of your papers went everywhere 🥲

You silently cursed to yourself before rushing to pick up your things

And you we’re startled when a certain redhead began to help you

You guys had gathered all of your things before RUNNING to get to class

And you guys were still able to make it on time 😃

The teacher made a remark that maybe you should hang around Tendou more often if it gets you to class on time

Little did he know that you would do just that

Apparently you both had similar interests

So you guys became really good friends

And feeling began to bloom over time

Poor bb was to scared to confess to you tho :(

He didn’t want to scare off one of the only friends he had

Of course he told all of this to Ushijima

And of course Ushijimas LOUD MOUTH

spilled the beans

Unintentionally of course

But still

He just didn’t get the gist that all of this was supposed to be a secret

So one day when he and Tendou were walking together

They saw you

And Ushijima was just like “ah your that person that Tendou likes correct?”

You:😳

Him:🙂

Tendou: 🥲

Tendou then took you aside and properly confessed his feelings

He was 100% sure you were gonna reject him

“I like you too Tendou”

I’m sorry what????

He was SHOCKED

Baffled

Beguiled

But SUPER DUPER HAPPY

he pulled you in for a bone crushing hug

And promised to be the best bf ever

Awww my boy luvs ya

What They Love About You

Ight I’m just gonna say it...

Mans ADORES your stretch marks

He thinks they’re so cool!!!

He often compares you to a tiger because of them

Oof

He LOVES your sense of humor

He also has a darker sense of humor

So you guys mesh very well when it comes to that

Loves that you have the combo of being sly and a daredevil

If there’s one thing satori loves...

It’s pranks

So those traits of yours make pranks so much easier to pull off 😩

He loves how he can talk to you about ANYTHING

He knows that if he’s ever distressed about something he can go to you

So he’s vv grateful for that 🙏

Favorite Things To Do Together

Oh he LOVES to play card games

His favorites is slap Jack

WARNING: he gets REALLY into that game

So he hits HARD

So be prepared...

He 100% swoops you away to stores in the middle of the night

Have you guys been caught sneaking out?

Yes

Was that the last time you did it?

Absolutely not

LASER TAGGGGGG

YOU WILL GET DESTROYED

MANS IS THE KING OF LASER TAG

So just take that L

Also paintball

He’s not that good at paintball

Mans aim is booty

But he still likes to play!

Random Hc

You’d actually be quite shocked on how chill he could be

Like sometimes he just reads his manga sin silence

If you want to talk then sure

But those are the moments he prefers to be quiet

The reason he’s so good at laser tag...

Is because kids used to target him 🥲

So he had to adapt...

And now he’s a pro!

If you ever want to talk to him about your bullyed past

ON GOD mans is always there for you

He knows what it feels like

So his goal is to comfort you when it comes to that

Honestly

Mf chews loud...

So that’s something you’d have to work on 😃

But he’ll try his best to stop if it bothers you THAT much

Astrology

Capricorn + Taurus

When Taurus and Capricorn come together in a love match, it’s a practical, sensible partnership.

These two Signs share a certain down-to-earth logic and interest in efficiency.

Taurus is not interested in risking more than is necessary in terms of emotional connection and involvement, and Capricorn is similarly disinterested in risk, but more in terms of money and career.

Capricorn’s career is one of the great focuses of their lives; they’re interested in scaling the heights and tend to set very high standards for themselves to adhere to.

Taurus has high standards as well, but regarding love, relationships and possessions.

These two signs admire ones dedication and strength, but, while they have this in common as well as a dependable, realistic, somewhat conservative approach to life (Capricorn more than Taurus), a love relationship between them can go stale fast.

The problem? They’re actually rather different at their cores.

Taurus may begin to find Capricorn too conservative and restrictive

Capricorn may start to think Taurus is too lazy and doesn’t care enough about career and status.

If Taurus can encourage Capricorn to relax a little and appreciate the fruits of labor, and if Capricorn can help motivate Taurus to achieve goals and make dreams a reality, their union can be smooth, happy and long-lasting.

Overall Aesthetic

Chaotic Teenage Romance

Songs

Electric Love- BØRNS

Line Without a Hook- Ricky Montgomery

Scrawny- Wallows

Hey Lover- Wabie

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu matchups #tendou #tendou x reader #tendou headcanon #tendou x y/n #tendou hcs #tendou satori #submission

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

Text

Male changeling x female reader - Part Three (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Wow, I’ve had Issues™ trying to post this tonight. Anyway, here is a late Sunday treat for you, after being up on my Patreon for a week on early release.

This is part three, in which we go to the Spring Equinox Festival in the little village of Iska's Well, and meet someone there that we were not expecting!

Contents: fluff, smut, a bit of feels/angst amid the smut, some more smut, and a sappy ending. Knotting, unprotected sex (fem. reader is on the Pill), and Dunnock's shape-shifting. Words: 5189

Previously: the reader took some time off work to go back to her father’s old cabin in the woods just outside of the tiny hamlet of Iska’s Well, where she rescued a monstrous creature - part bear, part wolf, part... fae - from a nasty trap, and realised that those ethereal blue eyes were the same shade as those of the little boy with whom she used to play in the woods there as a child...

Part One, Part Two

The equinox festival was just as Dunnock had said - the entirety of the little hamlet, plus the outlying farmsteads and houses, poured into the clearing between the trees, filling it with lively music and chatter. Someone had organised a hog roast, and there was a vegetarian stand too, while in another corner a couple of local cider and schnapps makers had set up stalls of their own. The mile or so walk along the road from the cabin had warmed you up since there as still a bit of a nip to the air, but the huge bonfire that was crackling merrily in the centre of the clearing provided a welcome source of heat and light, as well as a focus for the gathering.

A small folk band had assembled on one side of the clearing and their lighthearted tunes drifted across the crackling fire towards you, drawing you in like a chant in a temple.

You weren’t usually the type who just showed up at things like this on your own, but something about the event had seemed more inviting than usual, and the moment that Martha from the village store noticed your arrival, she bustled over and began to coo over you.

“Oh, my dear, you look lovely!” Martha crooned, “I’m so glad you came. Let’s get you a drink and introduce you to some folks, alright?”

“Sure,” you smiled, amused by her genuine warmth and somewhat busybody nature. The only thing that was lacking was Dunnock. Of course, he couldn’t have attended something like this with so many people, and your heart weighed heavy in your chest at his absence.

It became clear almost instantly that Martha was trying to set you up with someone’s nephew, much to the chagrin of both of you. However, the moment you both cottoned on, you grinned at each other and reached an unspoken agreement to get along just to get them to stop fussing.

Robin, it turned out, was actually incredibly sweet, and not interested in the least bit in women, and you sat on a log together and spoke for almost an hour about his work as a potter. He had just begun to experiment with using the natural clay of the area to make his wares, slips, and glazes, and was selling both online and in the local shop. Interesting though it was, after a while you started to get a little chilly. Rubbing your arms, you had just amicably excused yourself and stood up with the intention of heading closer to the large fire in the centre of the gathering when a movement out of the corner of your eye snagged your attention away from quiet Robin and his talk of pottery.

A tall, broad-shouldered man had just arrived and was apparently staring straight at you from across the leaping flames. Sparks whirled suddenly upwards into the sky as a fire-blanched log crumbled further into the heart of the blaze, and as they twisted wildly and glittered like white hot moths, you caught a flash of intense, supernatural blue on the far side.

Your heart lurched and leapt in your chest and you instinctively turned your eyes upwards to look for the moon in the sky.

A huge, pearlescent, completely full moon hung low over the trees, silvering the needles with its soft light and you gasped as you snapped your attention back to the young man. Dunnock’s words about only being able to shift on the full moon washed back into your mind and your jaw went slack as you stared at the stranger.

Wearing a well-loved and much-patched, waxed fabric jacket in a nondescript shade of brown, he walked slowly around the stones of the fire pit, with hands shoved deep into his pockets and his gaze locked on your face. When he came to a halt in front of you, you stared openly at him.

“Dunnock?” you hissed and his full lips twitched, eyes twinkling. He had a short, dark beard that looked surprisingly well-cared for, and although his skin was weathered, it still carried all those myriad freckles you remembered from the little barefoot boy. “Is it really you?”

He blinked slowly - that telltale, slow, almost lazy movement giving him away as much as the colour of the eyes behind the long, thick lashes. “Surprised?” he asked in a husky baritone.

“Uh, yeah?” you snorted, smacking him playfully on the chest with the back of your hand. “Look at you! Wow! And why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

His answering chuckle - low and deeply satisfied - set heat tingling between your legs and you bit your lower lip. His blue gaze shifted to your mouth as he replied, “I wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

“Well you did!” you laughed. “And wow, you… you grew up handsome!” You laughed and brushed your index finger fleetingly along his dark, close-cropped beard and added, “I like this.”

Before he could answer, Martha had reappeared at your elbow like an unwanted hummingbird and looking a little put out at the potential rival for your affections. She looked Dunnock up and down as if he were the town’s unwholesome rascal, and tutted softly. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” she said rather tartly.

You looked from her to Dunnock and unthinkingly opened your mouth, “This is…”

“Dan,” he interrupted, extending a rough hand to her. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Martha,” she said and he quirked his lips a little and inclined his head. “You two know each other then?”

“Oh, we go way back,” you grinned, digging Dunnock in the ribs. His torso was invitingly solid beneath the softness of the jacket. “I just didn’t know he was going to be here tonight.”

The changeling was still grinning his lopsided smirk when Martha’s little gaggle of friends appeared to sweep her away like an unwelcome flock of cooing doves, and he tugged your arm and twitched his head towards the other side of the fire pit where there was a small dance space.

“Dance with me,” he murmured in your ear and you nodded, suddenly breathless as he slid his hands into yours.

You weren’t the only ones moving softly to the folky music from the little group nearby, but everything faded to two pinpricks of blue in no time. It felt like the most natural thing in the world as Dunnock’s rough hand slid to your waist. He held you close and you inhaled the soft, mossy scent of him.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, letting your bodies take over, pressing closer and closer with each step until you tilted your head to look up at him and saw an even brighter blue light burning in his gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered without breaking step. His grip twitched slightly and he blurted, “I want to kiss you…”

With a smile you slid your hand from his shoulder up to his neck and gently scrunched a fistful of the grey-brown hair at the nape of his neck in your fingers. He swallowed - growling audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, pupils widening, pulse thudding in his neck. Gently drawing him down to you, you kissed him.

The soft groan he made as the two of you kissed kindled something warm, flickering, and a little fragile inside you again. He kissed you breathless until you drew back, laughing quietly. His hand had sunk to the very base of your spine, and he stared at you with slightly glassy eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you again,” he admitted.

“I didn’t know it was a full moon tonight, otherwise I might have stayed at the cabin instead of coming here.”

He twirled you softly beneath his outstretched arm, resuming the dance as if you’d never paused. “Then I wouldn’t have got to dance with you,” he said in a low, soft voice. Gods, but it was doing things to you that you hadn’t known your body wanted to do any more. It made you ache everywhere, inside and out until you weren’t sure you could bear it any longer.

The warmth of his palms and the closeness of his body drew you even closer to him and you laid your cheek against his chest. “Would you still have… looked like this if you’d come to the cabin tonight?” you asked hesitantly.

“Mn,” he hummed. “I wanted to show you, but I was… in two minds.”

Your head twitched up to look at him and you found a complicated expression on his handsome face. “Why?”

He rolled his big blue eyes and shook his head. “Can’t you guess? I look like… that for most of the month…”

“And you think I’d, what, regret you showing me this somehow?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Dunnock…?”

“Mmm?”

“Kiss me again?”

Unquestioningly, he did, and you poured as much of your heart into the gesture as you could, this time leaving him breathless and dazed instead. “Stop,” he growled playfully, “People are staring.”

“Let them.”

How long you danced and talked and shared food beneath the moon that night, you couldn’t have said, but it felt like hours. The moon rose fully and then began to dip towards the trees as midnight came and went.

“You want to head back to the cabin?” Dunnock eventually asked as the pair of you sat on the log, fingers intertwined in his lap, thumbs tracing idle arcs over each other’s skin.

For an answer, you stretched up and kissed him and he laughed quietly, though he returned the gesture with the same enthusiasm he’d had for it all night. With a nod, you slipped away through the trees with him. You could feel the eyes of a few of the remaining village folk boring into your retreating backs and figured you’d probably be the talk of the place for a while. Whatever. Let them gossip away.

The pair of you had barely gone ten paces when he winced and grunted softly.

“Dunnock?”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, catching your hand in his and squeezing fiercely. He stopped walking and drew you close to him with an easy tug, and then with a fervour that had apparently only been in the background before, he kissed you so hard you saw stars. Groaning behind the kiss, he backed you up against a tall pine and ran his hands along your jaw and into your hair, breathing hard.

With a frenzied gasp, you tipped your head to one side and he began to leave nipping, rough kisses down the exposed skin, all teeth and tongue and desire.

“I want you, Dunnock,” you found yourself moaning, rolling your hips against him and finding him more than half hard already.

He bit off another grunt and buried his nose against your neck. “I want you too,” he snarled. “Gods, I want you…”

“Come on then,” you grinned, wriggling free and tugging him down the path through the pines towards the road.

He walked beside you, holding your hand and protecting you from any oncoming traffic by placing himself between you and it, though you only passed one car on your whole walk back.

The moment you stepped off the road and onto the gravel track that led to the cabin, he kissed you again.

Tactile in a way that you’d only suspected until now, Dunnock was a sensitive and vocal lover. Soft, animalistic growls emanated from him from time to time, reminding you that he was not human despite his current appearance. When his eyes were closed, it was easy to forget that he was a changeling, a Fae, and that he spent much of his time in a form that was very much not-human.

At the foot of the stairs to the cabin, he lost patience completely and picked you up, hoisting you up so that you had to hook your thighs around his hips while he held you. He backed you into the cabin door hard enough to drive the wind from your chest for a moment, and he began to growl and snarl softly as he kissed every inch of exposed skin that he could reach.

“You’re so beautiful,” he chanted over and over as he worshipped you, setting your skin tingling with each kiss, each nip of his teeth, the scratch of his beard and the press of his fingers into the muscles and curves of your body.

You were wet and shivering with want by the time you finally managed to convince him to put you down long enough to unlock the cabin door. In a rush punctuated with more kisses, the pair of you began to strip in the living area of the cabin. You only managed to get his shirt off before he was back, hands beneath your own top, lifting it up so that he could kiss down between your breasts before dropping down to kiss your bare stomach on his knees with obvious reverence.

It took some work, but you finally convinced him to get back on his feet so you could finish undressing him, and you worked your fingers into the corded muscles of his back in encouragement. He threw his head back and let out a broken, shuddering moan; half howl and half snarl. None of the noises he made could have been mistaken for human in the slightest.

“You like that?” you asked, raking your nails over his tanned back before shifting them to undo the old brass buckle of his worn leather belt and the button of his jeans.

“Mnph,” he grunted before surging forwards and tipping you carefully back onto the hearth rug. He loomed over you, biceps bunched as they bore his weight with easy grace while his hips ground against your body.

“Clothes off,” you barked, cutting off roughly as he drew back the cup of your bra to lave his tongue around your hardening nipple before taking it between his teeth and sucking briefly. “Ah - Dunnock!” you grunted. The sound of his name seemed to penetrate the fog clouding his mind and he leaned back.

“I…” he blinked slightly, still holding a perfect, unwavering plank above you. “I shouldn’t…” he faltered, panting. “We should…”

“We should keep going,” you encouraged emphatically, “But we need to take the rest of our clothes off first.”

“Are you sure?” he asked in a tiny voice, doubt flooding into his handsome features. “I’m not even human…”

“I know,” you smiled. “Dunnock, I want you.”

His blue eyes rolled closed and he lowered himself back down to lie atop you, his weight pressing you into the soft rug beneath as he breathed in the scent of your skin and hair for a moment.

“Dunnock?”

He groaned again but didn’t move.

“What is it?”

“My name,” he finally mumbled into your hair. “When you speak my name…”

“But it’s not your True Name,” you scoffed, remembering what he’d said about the Fae and the power of True Names. “Is it?”

“I have no other,” he said and you went perfectly still beneath him.

“Tonight…” you began, casting your mind back, “When I introduced you to Martha… You stopped me speaking your name.”

“Mmm.”

“Dunnock…”

He shuddered almost violently and mouthed at your pulse point with his teeth, grinding his groin against you; claiming you.

“Dunnock…” you whispered right against the shell of his ear and he let out another fractured, wounded noise. “Roll over…” you said, encouraging him to lie on his back so that you could finally finish undressing him.

He splayed out almost comically, arms outstretched, thighs slightly apart, chest rising and falling rapidly as his inhuman, lust-blown eyes tracked your every movement. Your fingers worked the still-open waistband of his jeans down and over his hips, and he helped a little by lifting himself up. His legs were lean and muscled, and as you skated your palms up his bare thighs, he shuddered and began to gasp and pant. His erection made an obvious tent in his boxers and you palmed it, feeling the hard heat of him, and he tipped his head back, exposing his throat, and keened.

As his thighs began to tremble, you continued to palm him through the fabric of his boxers and he rocked his head from side to side under the delicious torment. Eventually he grunted your name and moved as if trying to take himself in his hand and do what you had only hinted at. Swatting his hand away, you relented and drew his black boxer-briefs off as well.

His erection sprang free, printing a bead of pre-come onto his abs and leaving a connecting line from his stomach to his cock. It twitched and you watched his balls clench a little under your gaze. “You’re beautiful, Dun,” you smiled.

His answering reaction wasn’t quite what you’d expected, and his eyes turned sad.

Hoping to distract him from his thoughts, you took his cock in your hand and ducked low to lick a long stripe from base to tip. He reared a little into the gesture and then fell back against the rug, head clonking on the floor as he collapsed. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck, that’s - ah - that’s so good…” he panted as you squeezed his cock and worked your hand up his shaft, your free hand cupping his balls and stroking them gently.

When you thumbed through the pre-come that was beading profusely at the tip, he gave another broken grunt and his hips rose again, toes curling.

“You’re so sensitive,” you smiled.

“I…” he began, but he cut off, cheeks flushing. The heat crept down his face, warmth spreading visibly all the way to his collarbones. He tried again. “I’ve never…”

That made you pause. “You’ve never been with anyone?”

He shook his head, eyes closed.

Heat roared inside you knowing that he trusted you enough to do this with you, and you redoubled your efforts to make this feel good for him.

It obviously worked because he slowly became a shivering, whimpering mess as you worked him, easing off when it got too much, and increasing the pressure when he started to relax again.

“You’re going to kill me,” he rasped some time later. “Please… I can’t…” and he eased himself up onto one shaky elbow and looked at you with those searingly blue eyes. “Please…” he breathed.

“You want me to make you come?” you asked. “Or do you want…” you bit your lip. You were on the pill, and clean, and if he hadn’t been with anyone, it should be safe enough… It wasn’t exactly safe sex, per se, but somehow you figured you could deal with anything else later. The risks were low enough. “Do you want to go further?”

Shyly, he nodded.

“Which?”

“Further. I want you… it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days…”

“You’ve thought about me while getting off at night, have you?” you asked teasingly, suddenly imagining Dunnock as he was in his other form, huge and dark, with those big teeth and clawed hands, lying on his back in a bed of bracken with his big cock in his hand, moaning your name. You felt yourself grow wetter at the mere thought of it, lust coiling.

Dunnock gasped again, but this time it wasn’t anything you’d done. He grunted softly in pain and grimaced, his stomach clenching.

“Dunnock? You ok?”

“Mn,” he hummed, though he’d gone a shade or two paler. “Please…?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking a touch frantic.

“Alright…” you smiled. “How do you want me?”

He looked up at you and seemed a little lost for words.

“You want me to ride you?” you asked coyly, trailing a fingertip up his thigh and sending him sprawling flat onto his back again. “Yes?”

Dunnock nodded, cock twitching and drooling. “Yes…”

Straddling his hips, you dragged your wet heat over him and he arched into you, mouth opening. His canines were longer than you remembered them being, but you didn’t have time to think more on that as he adjusted his position beneath you and his tip slid inside you.

He froze, but you instinctively rocked back against him, taking him deep inside you and he let out a long, low, keening howl that was anything but human.

After pausing to let yourself adjust to taking his cock fully inside you at that intense angle, you rolled your hips a few times and his breath began to quicken, harsh and loud.

“Oh gods,” he swore, writhing a little. “Oh gods… You feel so good. You’re so tight… so hot… I… oh gods… I can’t…”

The way he filled you was delicious, enough to drive the air from your lungs with the perfection of each stroke, and you’d pitched forwards with your hands braced on his shoulders. Sweat glistened at the ‘v’ of his throat, and he was noticeably trembling all over. His skin was still paler than you recalled from earlier.

“Dunnock?” you asked and he whimpered. Pausing your rhythm, you called his name again, but this time he didn’t respond. “Dunnock? Look at me?”

Reluctantly, he did and you found his eyes blazing even brighter. “I…” he struggled to talk suddenly and tears rimmed his eyes. “I think I’m going to shift…” he whispered. “I can feel it… I… Oh gods, no… I’m sorry…”

Tears spilled suddenly down his cheeks and disappeared into his thick, ash brown hair, and his hands moved to your hips with a fluttering hesitancy that reminded you of butterfly wings.

“No…” he all but sobbed.

“You need me to move?” you asked and he nodded.

Drawing off him left you feeling empty, but your concern for Dunnock took precedent over anything else.

He’d begun to spasm a little now and he pushed himself up onto all fours, cock somehow still flushed hard and drooling pre-come liberally onto the bare floorboards despite the pain evident in the rest of his body. “Don’t look,” he hissed, but the sound turned into a growl as his back rounded like an angry cat and thick, black hair began to ripple down his spine from the nape of his neck to his tail bone. “Please…” His voice distorted, becoming deeper and rougher as his body changed.

There was nowhere for you to go while he shifted, but you looked away, and in only minute or so, it was over. “Dunnock?” you asked when the dull crack of shifting bones had faded and all that filled the room was the sound of his heavy breathing.

“It’s over,” he said in a winded, dejected voice.

There, still hunched over on all fours but much larger, was the Dunnock you had met in the forest: dark, rippling fur; large paws, claws; a slender, strong body; stocky hind legs and long forelimbs; a head somewhere between that of a wolf and a bear, with long canines and fierce blue eyes; and the soft, leaf-shaped ears of a deer.

You had barely moved from where you’d rolled out of his way, but now you came back to him on your hands and knees and sat beside him. He turned his face away, ears pinned flat against his head, horrified.

“Dunnock, look at me,” you said again.

“No…” he snarled, voice a little deeper now, but just as rough as before. “I… I should go.”

“Please don’t…” you blurted, reaching for his arm.

He flinched away as your fingers touched his soft fur, but you refused to let go. Squeezing the solid band of muscle around his upper arm, you shook him gently. “Dunnock…” you repeated. “Nothing’s changed…”

In a flash, he whipped his head around to face you, eyes blazing, teeth bared. “Everything has changed,” he snarled; a vicious, volatile creature. “Look at me!”

“I am looking!” you fired back fiercely. “And I’m telling you that nothing has changed about the way I feel for you.”

At that, Dunnock went completely still. Unblinkingly, he stared at you, and then lowered one hip to the ground to sit, stunned, and continue staring at you.

“Say something?” you half laughed, vaguely thinking about covering up now. Was it too late? Had the moment truly passed?

“What do you want me to say?” he asked in a heartbreakingly broken whisper. “I wanted one night with you. And I couldn’t even have that…”

“Sun’s not up yet,” you smiled. “Though I’m assuming the moon has set?”

“Probably,” he said. “I don’t normally stay shifted for the whole night anyway. I thought… I thought I had more time…”

An idea occurred to you and you shuffled a little closer. He watched you warily, but let you put your hands on his flank. You stroked gentle circles there, smiling as he involuntarily began to stretch that hind leg out under the invitation of your touch, taloned toes flexing. “Lie down again for me?” you asked and to your surprise, he complied.

He didn’t take his intense eyes off you though.

Splaying your fingers wide, you ran them the ‘wrong’ way up through the thick fur of his belly and chest, and he shuddered bodily, head rocking back again.

Nothing’s changed, Dunnock,” you said again, and mounted his hips in a single smooth motion as if straddling a skittish horse. He was significantly larger like this, and his cock had retreated into what appeared to be a large sheath, covered with short, velvety black fur. As you rocked your hips over it, feeling it nudge luxuriantly against your wet, swollen clit, he let out another dark moan and whispered your name.

“You… You don’t have to…” he began, but you cut him off with a second roll of your hips.

“I want to,” you said fiercely, grabbing a fistful of the thick fur at his shoulders in each hand and tugging. “I want you, Dunnock.”

In response, he rocked his hips against you a little and his jaw slackened a touch to reveal the monstrous teeth behind his black lips. It didn’t take him long for his cock to slide free of the sheath, and you glanced down to see that it was thick, beautiful, flushed red, and drooling everywhere.

To your surprise, a second later, he rose up and bowled you over onto your back to switch positions with you. “Is this alright?” he managed to gasp as he paused with his tip lined up with you, teasing you.

“Yes!” you cried, spreading your legs wider in invitation. “Please, Dunnock, I need you.”

In his present form, he loomed over you, dark and hulking and nothing but muscle and teeth and fur and blazing blue eyes. He seated himself inside you in a single stroke that left you both winded and reeling.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed, bringing his muzzle down to your ear. His hot breath fanned out over your skin and down your neck, bringing goosebumps to life along your whole body, and sparking pleasure along your spine with the sheer size of him inside you like this.

“Move, Dunnock,” you grunted, reaching for his ribs with your hands and scratching your nails along his skin.

A series of tremors ran through him, though whether it was from your touch or the repeated use of his name, you couldn’t tell, but either way, he did start moving. Slowly at first, as though afraid of hurting you, he nudged his hips against yours, but when you hooked your legs up around his waist and drew yourself further onto his cock, he let out a deep, shuddering growl.

His teeth clacked as his jaw worked, and a moment later he had opened his mouth and latched his maw gently around your neck. He was holding you in place with everything he had as he picked up the speed and force of his pace, pounding into you. Soon, each thrust had you seeing stars, and he seemed to be stretching you wider and wider each time. Drool slid down your neck from between his teeth and his rough tongue laved at your skin before he withdrew the sharp points of his teeth and reared up, catching you deep and making your back arch. The sensations were almost too much. A searing, white hot need was building, coiling, crescendoing inside you in a way you’d never experienced before.

“I’m going to knot you…” he suddenly admitted, raising his head. The thought of that took you by surprise and then left you delighted at the idea. “Fuck… I…”

“Dunnock!” you gasped, snatching breaths between each powerful, mind-blankingly beautiful stroke. “I want you. I’m so close. Dunnock, I want all of you…”

And with that, you felt what had to be the knot at the base of his cock slide inside you. A second later, Dunnock came with a roar, hips flush to yours as he emptied himself into you. Over and over his hips almost spasmed, his powerful legs thrusting into you as deep as he could get, filling you, and as he came, so your own vision blanked out and you clenched around him.

“Oh gods,” you heard him curse as you came, milking every drop from him. “Fuck… oh gods…” and the rest of his orgasm rammed into him. Every muscle was locked, rigid and trembling as the force of it ripped through him.

It took a long time for his orgasm to fade, but when it did, he seemed to crumple, all the strength leaving his immensely powerful body in one go. He sagged forwards on top of you, barely taking his weight on his elbows as his spine bowed downwards and he lay on top of you, seated deep and breathing hard.

Your hands traced patterns through his fur until he was finally able to withdraw some minutes later, the loss of his knot and cock leaving you almost devastatingly empty again. His release slid out of you, over your thighs and onto the floorboards. He whispered your name and you felt the power of it thrum through you.

In answer, you breathed his own True Name back at him. “Dunnock…”

After that, he staggered to his feet and then easily picked you up, placing your exhausted body onto the bed in the corner. He joined you after a perfunctory clean, and the heat of his body as he nuzzled up beside you sent you drifting towards a blissful sleep. “Stay?” you managed to hiss. “Please? Don’t go back to the forest tonight.”

“Mm,” he replied, tucking you tightly against his side with a lethal-taloned paw and drawing the covers up over both of you. “I’ll stay.”

With the comforting pressure of his body cocooning yours and the weight of his arm slung over your waist, you let your body be finally claimed by sleep; memories of sparking embers and searing blue eyes swirling through your mind’s eye.

“Dunnock,” you breathed one more time as you teetered on the fragile edge of waking and sleeping.

“Mmm?”

“Dunnock.”

___

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#exophilia #changeling #fae #male fae #male fae x female reader #male monster #female reader #changeling x reader #male changeling x female reader #fae boyfriend #changeling boyfriend

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enjennie · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2 - Coffee Boy and a Chess Tournament

Chapter 1

Chapter 3 - Here

Word count: 2.5k

The girls were in a frenzy when they got to know about Yuri’s mystery coffee man. The girls in question would be Seoyun, Hyebin and Cho with the exception of Minjae, who had some student council business and ran off before they could have lunch together.

“Oh my, who could this be? Describe him to me once more,” Cho had her arm looped through Yuri’s as they walked out of the dining hall after having their lunch. Seoyun and Hyebin walked a few steps in front of them. Yuri couldn’t help but giggle, a week hasn’t gone by yet but a boy had already managed to catch her eye. She thought about his face for a moment, and started describing it to Cho. “Well, he had kind of a messy hair look. Had a varsity jacket on and wore all black underneath. Really bright eyes and oh don’t even get me started about his smile,” Yuri almost swooned.

Cho repeatedly starts hitting Yuri’s arm, uncontrollably giggling and shaking her by the shoulders. “He was wearing a varsity jacket? So he must be on the team!”

“Probably? I’m not sure which sport, though,” Yuri tells Cho, but Cho only shook her off. “There’s only one varsity team, silly. The Neos,” Cho explained, making big motions with her hands, but Yuri was no longer focusing on what she was saying when the mystery man himself had come striding in front of them.

Yuri hurriedly gets Cho’s attention by tapping on her arm and whispering, “That’s him! Over there,” Cho follows Yuri’s eyes and the two look onto the field that stretched acres. “No way,” Cho’s eyes widened, pulling her sunglasses down to make sure she was seeing correctly. “Na Jaemin?” the girl exclaimed.

“Are you sure it’s him?”

Seoyun, Cho, Yuri and Hyebin were now sat on a picnic bench in the quad, huddled together and discussing the situation at hand. “It all makes sense, of course it’s him! I should’ve known when Yuri said coffee!” Cho facepalmed at her own ignorance.

Cho is the elite’s main source of information. She knows what’s the latest news about anyone within the campus. Knows where to get the best drugs, who’s throwing the parties, and where. She’ll get to know anything, all with one swipe on her phone. Which is why she felt foolish for not thinking about Na Jaemin, Oakwood��s heartthrob and one of their elite members. The boy who can send any girl to their feet with one look. “I just didn’t expect it… I don’t know why after Yeeun I didn’t think Jaemin had it in him to date,”

Yuri’s head turn in light of the information. “Yeeun, my roommate?”

Seoyun nodded, “The two dated for the first two semesters of freshmen year, then broke off when Yeeun and Jeno got caught hooking up at a party,” she explained to the dumbfounded girl. Yuri frowned, “Was that why-“

“That’s why I told you not to meddle with Jeno,”

“Did Yeeun and Jeno date then?”

“Yes, for a while. Like, two weeks a while. We’ve never seen Jaemin and Jeno be apart for so long we thought it was over for good, but I guess they worked it out in the summer since they’re pals again,”

Yuri’s head was spinning at this point. She hadn’t even met Yeeun yet, so she tried not to get her perception of her roommate get affected by the things she’s hearing about her.

After a while, the group of girls pack it up and start heading back to the dorms when Cho receives a text regarding a party. “Of course, it’s one of Jeno’s parties. So he can fish out the girls he wants to play with for the year,” Minjae, who’d joined them a few minutes before, rolled her eyes. Cho and Hyebin on the other hand didn’t share her distaste for the male. “You can’t deny, Jeno throws the best parties,”

She couldn’t. It was true. But she was uninterested.

“11pm chess tournament, first 5th at the Lee Estate,”

Yuri blinked, registering the unfamiliar terms. “First fifth?”

Minjae put her arm around the girl as she elucidated to the somehow always clueless Yuri. “The first fifth would mean this Friday. We use codes like chess tournament or board games to talk about upcoming parties. We change it up every now and then, though. To prevent weasels,”

Yuri understood right away, but didn’t think there would be a need for these types of stuff.

“Isn’t college all about parties?” Yuri asked, matter of factly, humouring Minjae and Seoyun. “Then you came to the wrong school. Oakwood doesn’t allow parties, this is where rich families send their troubled children they don’t have time for. Discipline here is no joke,”

Yuri wondered how she never knew this about the school she’d done extensive research about before applying to.

The week flew by quickly, and soon enough Yuri found herself on the fifth of the week. She managed to survive all her classes and was pretty satisfied with how well she’s coping up. Despite being new to her surroundings, she’s only gotten lost in the campus twice. Which is a record, for newbies apparently. Hyebin told Yuri about her first time getting lost at Oakwood and she ended up at the teacher’s locker rooms. She recalled having to squat under a desk for hours, praying to god no one would use the desk she was under. Both girls had a laugh about it.

Today would be the party, but before that, they had to join orgs and clubs. Minjae, as student body secretary, already has the council as her club. Seoyun on the other hand, signed up for theater along with Renjun. Cho and Hyebin, were nowhere in sight which forced Yuri to go about club hunting on her own.

She’d thought about it for the whole week, however she wasn’t entirely sure yet. Originally, she would just join any orgs her friends were in but she can’t run for student body, and neither can she act so that was out of the question.

Yuri looked around her, flocks of people gathered in small and big groups, already looking like they were all familiar with each other. She dug her hands deep in her pockets and sighed before catching sight of somewhere that actually interested her.

Student Publication club, their banner was straight to the point and plain. A boy in a similar looking varsity as Yuri had seen Jaemin and Jeno wearing sat in front of the desk, beside him was Cho, who Yuri was glad to see. She walked towards them and waved when Cho’s eyes met hers.

“Yuri! Did you join a club yet?” Cho enthused. Yuri shook her head, and the boy beside Cho lifts his eyes from the paper he was reading.

“Depends, are you guys still hiring?” Yuri inspected the sign up sheet displayed on their table, which had a good amount of names scribbled on it already. Cho hands her a pen, “You’re so in. This is Mark, pub president,”

“I’d appreciate if you stopped calling our club a pub,” the said Mark scolds. “Nice to meet you I’m Mark Lee,” he stretched his hand forward and Yuri shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Mark,”

Mark has dark hair that fell over his forehead and round eyes that pierced through Yuri’s. He has high cheekbones and a nicely defined jawline. Mark flashes Yuri a smile and she’s stunned by it.

When will I stop getting surprised by all the hot boys that roam this school?

“Hi, losers. How’s it going?” a boy with hair that resembled a lion’s mane had walked up to the table. He had full lips and cute cheeks.

“Speak for yourself, Donghyuck,” Cho retorts at the boy.

The boy faces Yuri, giving her a curt smile. “Oh, are you signing up? I got a tip for you… run now,” he says, before receiving a firm backhand smack from Mark who’d leaned over the table. Yuri laughed, watching the two boys wrestle. “It’s almost time. I reckon no one else wants to sign up, so what do you say we wrap up?” Cho nudges Mark and he agrees. “Yuri? Want to go together?”

“Sure,”

“Oh you’re the Yuri I’ve been hearing about. Hi, I’m Donghyuck, you can call me Hyuck for short,” the boy had gotten himself out of Mark’s headlock and fixed himself up. “The Yuri you’ve been hearing about?” Yuri asked.

Hyuck nods, “Renjun hit you with the soccer ball, right?” he chuckled and Yuri wanted to curl up into a ball right then and there. “Is that what I’m known for now?” Yuri scrunched her nose, cringing. Hyuck laughed, his eyes glimmered and he pats her shoulder as a form of consoling. “That’s fine, I was known as the bread boy last year… I shoved a whole roll into my mouth and the photos weren’t pretty,” he looked scornfully as he remembered his past.

Yuri’s lips curled into a smile and she laughed at Hyuck’s little story.

“Yuri, c’mon,” Cho pulls on Yuri’s arm and the two mutter a quick goodbye to each other before Yuri’s swept away.

“So you’ve met her,”

The boys were gathered in the field, by the bleachers. The soccer team was already their club, so they didn’t have to go club searching and signing up. Donghyuck and Mark had caught up to Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun who were sat, sharing a blunt.

“Yeah. You guys didn’t tell me she was that much of a stunner, I could’ve prepared for a better first impression,” muttered Hyuck, who had his hair in a mess and a lazy outfit to match.

Renjun scoffed, “Please, I hit her with a soccer ball. How’s that for a first impression?”

The boys shared laughs and Jeno looks over at Jaemin, who was looking through his camera checking the shots he was able to take from the event.

“Someone’s quiet,” Jeno comments.

Jaemin’s head shot up, already knowing it was him. “What?”

“I heard from Seoyun that you left quite an impression on Yuri,” Jeno sported a sly grin on his face. Jaemin rolls his eyes, looking back down at his camera.

“I just gave her coffee because she looked like she was gonna die without it,”

“Right,” Renjun murmured.

“Shut up, Renjun,” the boy hissed.

Yuri was confused. Not only did Minjae just push a Versace dress to her chest, complete with Louboutins to match, she also told her to ‘keep it’.

“Wait, but why?” uttered Yuri, examining the dress and shoes that probably cost more than all her life spending totaled. Minjae didn’t bat an eye as she pulled out another dress from her wardrobe in a stone blue shade, putting it against her body to check if it was what she was going for. “I don’t think red suits me, but I reckon it’d look good on you though, so keep it,” she mutters.

“I can’t take this, Minjae. But thank you,” Yuri mused as she put down the dress and shoes on the bed. Minjae turned around and crossed her arms. “Then what will you wear to the party?”

“I think I have a Zara dress somewhere,” Yuri shrugged.

“You can’t be caught dead in a Zara dress. We’re not in our 30s yet! Put this on. It’s an order,” Minjae took the dress and pushes it into Yuri’s hands once more. The girl could only abide.

Once dressed, the girls go about their plan to meet up at Hyebin’s dorm. Sneaking past the RA and professors going on rounds, they arrived without getting caught. By 10:30, they were removing their heels to get ready to make their escape through Hyebin’s terrace.

“You want me to jump?” Yuri gasped, looking down at the height in which they had to come down from.

The rest of the girls had already made their way down, strategically climbing down using the rope they’d tied to the railing of the terrace. They were now waiting for Yuri, who looked like a cat scared for its life.

“You’ve got… three girls to catch you, don’t worry!” called Seoyun in a hushed voice.

“We have 2 minutes until the guard comes back around,” Minjae looked down at her phone.

“Granted, it’s our fault for not telling her beforehand that she’d be coming down at least 3 meters high off a balcony,” Hyebin looked up at Yuri in pity. “Come on, girl! You got this,” encouraged Seoyun at her poor friend.

Yuri’s heart raced and with sweaty hands, she threw her legs over the railing and grabbed onto the rope, hugging it for dear life. She probably flashed the three girls but her only agenda was to really get to the ground safe, and so she did.

“Great! Nice one, Yuri. Come on,” Seoyun had her heels in hand and she grabs Yuri’s with the other, pulling her to the direction of the trees for their getaway. Seoyun, Hyebin, Yuri and Minjae ran altogether until they reach a secluded area, unfamiliar to Yuri.

“Now,” Seoyun puts her heels back on. “The fun starts,” she continued, before running towards to a hooded figure in the distance and being engulfed in a hug. She pulls the person into the light, revealing Renjun.

“You girls ready to party?” yelled an ecstatic Jeno, who’d appeared from a convertible car parked behind Renjun.

I’ve gone down a 3 meter high balcony in the tiniest dress ever, Yuri thought. This better be one hell of a party.

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evakuality · 5 years ago

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Based on a prompt by @j-purplesunsets-rainydays: I just thought of another prompt for you 😅 davenzi, enemies to lovers: their entire group is going to a cabin for a few days, though Matteo and David for X reason don't get along. They get there early, before everyone else, for whatever reason, but a bad snow storm hits and the others can't get to the cabin, so David and Matteo are stuck together there! It's cliche but I think you could really make it amazing

This isn’t quite what I had intended from that prompt, but here we are. Chapter one of a planned eight! Many many thanks to @kapplebougher who did an amazing and speedy beta job for me, and to my cheerleaders - you know who you are!

Snowbound, chapter one

It’s quiet as David presses his forehead to the cool panes of the glass and stares outside. That’s something for which he’s genuinely grateful because it means he can try to get his racing thoughts into some semblance of order before he has to play nice for several days. He’s had major reservations about this trip ever since Abdi first suggested it when he was five beers into a great night and everything had seemed equally hilarious, exciting and easily achieved. To Abdi anyway. None of those things is even remotely true, definitely weren’t true at the time, and yet they had made it work in the end. Sort of.

David’s on a train in charge of an entire large bag filled with food and alcohol while most of the others are going to follow later in a car. Which they could technically have brought the food in, but into which they apparently weren’t able to fit it considering the mountains of other important stuff they were trailing. Like skis, a snowboard or two and lots of warm clothes. Make ‘having no room for the food’ point one on the list of reasons why this trip was a badly organised, blatantly stupid idea.

David sighs as he drags his eyes back inside the carriage and looks around him. Looks at Matteo, who’s dozing in the corner of the seat opposite David. That’s the biggest problem, and that’s why David had reservations about this from the start. Not that anyone listened to him. That’s point two on the long list of why this was not a good idea. Though in terms of how large it loomed in the list of ‘reasons why David should not do this’ it’s right up there, and probably should have its own points track and not just ending up lumped in with all the other much less important reasons.

The thing about Matteo is that he shines and stings in David’s life in equal measure.

The thing with them has always baffled everyone around them. Fuck, half the time it baffles David. There was a small moment in time when he’d thought they were connecting. Back when he was newly arrived from the raw, rough experience at his old school and Matteo had smiled at him a few times, David had thought he might even have made a friend. Someone he could share thoughts with, relaxing into the new sensation of smoking weed and rambling about everything and nothing for hours.

But he was swiftly disillusioned of that idea when Matteo had retreated into himself as early as the next day, his smiles coming less often over the next week, clipped and cut off and eventually fading to nothingness alongside short, rough dismissals of any attempt to connect again. That it was something to do with David was obvious when Matteo was with his friends. With them, he’d spark into life, laughing, pushing, teasing. He had the energy he’d had on that one glittering evening they’d spent together. So watching Matteo with those others, fresh from the wounds inflicted at his old school, David had run and hidden. From that moment he was careful to stay as far from Matteo as he could get, unwilling to suffer anymore at the hands of people who flash hot and cold and always have some sort of verbal weapon hidden under the cover of their friendliness when it appears.

Huffing again, David turns back to look out the window. Thinking about Matteo just serves to raise his blood pressure, sending both an aching thought about what might have been if Matteo hadn’t been such an ass and a stabbing anger at how blasé he seems to be about the whole thing now that they’re thrown together so often through chance. Well, chance and a group of people who don’t let anyone stay distant once they’ve decided they want to be friends. Blocking out the sight of Matteo sitting there in front of David is the best way to keep his carefully cultivated calm. Once they’re all at the cabin with the boys it should be fine. It’s never quite as hard to be polite when it’s not just the two of them. So it’s something of a blessing that Matteo is asleep and David isn’t forced to make awkward small talk with him.

Instead he can focus on the beauty of the world outside his window. Darkness is drawing in around the train and with it come some small flurries of snow. They dance, fidgeting spinners through the air as the train rattles onwards through the landscape, beautiful and fragile. Watching them, David lets himself drift, following their forms with his eyes and his heart and leaving his own troubles slumbering on the seat opposite. There’ll be time enough to worry about all that once they get to their destination.

“How are we supposed to get to the cabin?” Matteo asks, his voice clipped, weariness seeping in even though he’s been asleep for the last hour at least.

David kicks at the heavy bag by his feet, finding it impossible to move and wondering glumly how they’re going to move it at all, let alone get it to the cabin.

“David?” Matteo says, irritation slipping into his voice, and David’s gaze snaps up to Matteo’s. The exhaustion is actually easy to read even in the shadowy light in front of the station, or maybe it’s so easy to see because of the way it throws all the planes and angles of Matteo’s face into relief and plays up all the hidden shadows reflected on it. Dark smudges are visible under his eyes and his body is slumped against the stone wall in a way that looks more like genuine need for support than affectation. David shrugs.

“Dunno,” he murmurs. “Uber?”

Matteo’s lips purse as if the idea is distasteful, but he too looks down at the bag stuffed full of food and seems to recognise the inevitability. He sighs and pulls out his phone. Within moments he nods and looks over at David again.

“It’s on its way,” he says. “We should get this stuff out the front I suppose.”

David nods, relieved to have something to do other than stand around making this awkward chat with Matteo in the dim lighting that calls back to the hallway in which they’d first talked. The hallway and conversation in which David had first thought he might manage to belong in the new school that was so terrifying after everything he’d been through.

Between them, they manage to perch their personal bags over their shoulders and drag the food bag through the brightly lit entrance hall and out to the cracked and broken pavement out the front. They stand together, panting breaths sending puffs of misty air out into the deepening dusk as the day slips even closer into night. The snow is falling faster now, no longer dancing but now coming down as if with purpose. David shivers as he looks at the flakes, rushing towards their inevitable soggy end now rather than twisting and dancing as if on spirited legs. The wind is cutting through the hoodie he’s wearing, whistling in under the open edges of his jacket and making him shudder with the cold.

Beside him, Matteo has lit up a smoke of some sort, and David doesn’t want to know what type of smoke it might be. It’s enough that it smells terrible, the smoke acrid in the gusts of wind whipping around them, but that somehow Matteo makes it look good. His eyes when he blows the smoke out flicker closed, his head tips back and David is drawn to the long length of his throat exposed by the movement. Which is almost as infuriating as the revolting smell.

“How long before it gets here?” David asks, trying to shake off the sudden flush of heat that Matteo’s smoking has dragged into his own body, swamping it and masking the chill of the night.

That might have been a mistake as Matteo looks over at him, the smudges under his eye almost invisible now and his eyes a deep reflective blue in the artificial lights as his hair flops down over his face. It’s so reminiscent of their first discussion under harsh lights outside a school room, that David has to suck in a breath and drop his own eyes to the ground, focusing instead on the scuffed shoes he’s chosen to wear.

“It’s about five minutes away,” Matteo says, and David nods morosely. Five minutes. Might as well be an eternity.

“Why can’t either of us drive?” David asks, not really intending to be heard but Matteo huffs out a tiny laugh drawing David’s eyes right back up to his face.

“Because we’re lazy fucks,” he says, his eyes glinting as he takes another drag on the smoke between his fingers, then offers it to David.

The smell crashes over him again, and he wrinkles his nose. Shakes his head. There’s a flicker of something on Matteo’s face, his eyes shutter for a brief moment before he nods and takes another drag himself. The hint of a smile is gone, and when Matteo turns his back to the wall and looks up at the sky David knows the conversation is done.

This always happens. There’s some small start at camaraderie or conversation, but then it shuts down almost as soon as it begins, leaving David ill at ease, body thrumming from a desire he can’t explain and head stuffed full of contradictory thoughts. Matteo is at once enthralling and exasperating, never opening up enough to let David see inside. As if that one long ago conversation was all David was ever to be allowed to see and to know and everything else is cut off before it can even begin. It stabs at him again that Matteo isn’t like this with anyone else. With them he’s charming and open, teasing and sarcastic, alive in a way that David is never allowed to see if they’re ever alone in this way. Not that David wants to be allowed inside. He just wishes he knew what the hell he’d done to make Matteo this different around him.

There was part of him, back then, that had wondered if Matteo was some sort of asshole who’d worked out David’s secret from that evening they’d shared and rejected him because of that. Back then, it was all rough and raw and cut him to the bone whenever he ran up against the prejudices of others. It’s not as bad now, not when he’s lived long enough in the world to feel more secure in his own skin. He’s much less likely to give in to the desire to run and to hide. Still. The lingering feelings from those days colour every interaction with Matteo and it always ends like this. Stilted conversations that go nowhere and a Matteo who’s closed off and shut down.

Before he can let his thoughts darken any more, headlights flash around the corner and a small boxy car slides up next to them. Matteo’s bending to look into the window, and laughing at something the driver has said, all hints of his earlier tiredness dissipating as he turns to grab their bags and fling them into the car’s backseat. The contrast is so stark that David can’t help the pain that lances through him as he climbs into the back seat next to the pile of bags.

It only takes about ten minutes to get to the cabin, but in that time the snow becomes heavier until it’s almost impossible to see as they make their way through the night, headlights barely making any headway against the thickening shroud as it falls. The driver has stopped cracking jokes and started squinting through the windscreen, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel and his face a mask of concentration. Matteo has subsided too, his exhaustion obvious in the way he lets himself flop back against the headrest. It all leaves David to the joys of his own thoughts, which are not particularly peaceful.

Sighing in relief as they arrive, he’s able to shake off the approaching melancholy and get their belongings safely stored into the cabin. David looks around him as they stand just inside the entrance. It looks pleasant enough, this cabin they’ve rented, with a large open plan kitchen taking up most of the space at one end of the long room, and a table breaking the space between it and the living area which is filled with plump couches and overstuffed chairs. Thankfully, there’s a wall heater as well as the fire place with wood neatly stacked inside. It’s so cold in the unheated room that David is shivering again, and he knows there’s no way that fire will generate any heat any time soon.

Matteo seems to have had a similar thought, because he strides over to the heater and pushes a few buttons.

“Putting that on the highest it will go,” he says as he turns back to the luggage they��ve stacked just inside the front door and starts pulling out the various foodstuffs they’ve brought with them.

Part of David wants to argue, to push back against the assumption that Matteo gets to be in charge and making all those sorts of decisions. But a bigger part of him knows that’s unreasonable and knows that if he’d been the one to turn it on he’d have done exactly the same thing, so he just hums an affirmation and bends to help Matteo with the food. They work in near silence, with the occasional query about where to store certain foods the only discussion.

David wouldn’t call it uncomfortable exactly, but he can tell just how tired Matteo is and just how much he wants to be away from David. The chilly tension from the station remains with them, and David hopes like hell that the rest of the boys aren’t too far away. He needs their cheerful exuberance to make it through this trip with any sort of enjoyment. This frosty, barely-there communication Matteo has going on is putting a huge dampener on David’s experience of this time.

The chill in the air wears off as they work, pushed away both by the heater’s warmth and the effort of heaving things around, but the chill between the two of them lingers. David wistfully hopes that by the time they’re done their company will have arrived. He’s not sure how much longer he can endure this silence and tension once he has nothing to focus on and they’re forced into some weird semblance of intimacy.

They’re just about finished, storing the last few beers into the suitably large fridge, when Matteo’s phone pings loudly. He shoves the beers he’s holding deeper into the fridge and by the time he’s dragged the phone out of his pocket it has sounded twice more.

Matteo’s face flickers as he reads the messages and his lips crease into an angry line.

“Fuck,” he says softly, so quietly that David is sure he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he can’t help the inquisitive hum he makes.

Matteo’s eyes snap up to him as if he’s just realised David is still here with him.

“The boys aren’t coming,” he says, his face flushing as he drops his gaze away from David’s. There’s resignation and irritation in his voice and a scowl on his face. David winces. That’s one possibility he hadn’t even considered, too consumed by the need for the rest of the boys and their enlivening presence perhaps.

“What? Why?”

“Snow storm, apparently. They can’t get through. Stuck at some little hotel somewhere on the road.”

That’s just great, David thinks viciously. The boys were supposed to be his buffer. They were supposed to make this thing something like fun. Instead he’s stuck here with someone who clearly finds his company less than ideal. Someone who David himself finds difficult to get through to, and with whom he has a complicated history. Worse, the boys have all the equipment with them, so there’s no chance even for skiing or snowboarding to get him away from the supremely awkward moments he can already sense looming in his future.

He flings the door open and looks outside. Indeed, the snow has piled up so there’s about a foot drifted against the cabin already. It’s not stopping anytime soon, either, as the flakes are falling so steadily now that it’s impossible to make out one from another. Any hope of the boys getting through to rescue David stutters to a halt, lost in the chilled white wall piling up in front of him.

Beside him, Matteo huffs his own irritation.

“Fuck,” he says again, louder this time.

David has to agree with that sentiment as he closes the door, blocking out the unwelcome sight of the silent, muffled white world building its armour against them. Fuck, indeed.

#druck #davenzi #my fic stuff #my prompt stuff

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halfbloodglader · 5 years ago

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And Yet (Minho)

Minho x ACE! reader -1,700 words

because we love a best friendo Minho :)

The rain had started and in no time soon was it going to disappear. Every single one of the Gladers was quick to fight against time and pack up any last bits of their work before they became saturated. Minho, however, rest quite contently with his legs up in his hammock. He’d been back from the maze for a while now having decided to turn back around noon after seeing clouds building overhead. Chuckling to himself, he leaned back and put his arms behind his head, letting his mind slip off to whatever dimension it pleased.

Today, that just happened to be his running partner. That seemed to be a pretty common topic for his brain to latch onto as of lately. Anytime he had the slightest moment of silence, she filled his mind and there was no way of shaking it. Minho was fairly self-aware and knew it wasn’t because he was infatuated or in love with his best friend. His understanding of their relationship didn’t stop the invasive thoughts, though. As of late, he’d just been blaming it on the fact that he spent most of every day with her and he cared deeply for his friend.

If you cared enough about someone, of course they’d be on your mind all the time.

“Where’s Y/N?” Newt broke Minho’s daydream like a glacier shifting, his face far too close and the overgrown mop of blonde hair shrouding his eyes. “It’s almost dinner, go find her would you?”

Minho recoiled when Newt smacked his shoulder impatiently. The runner scowled and sat himself up with a huff. “Ah, I guess I could do that. How much you gonna pay me?”

Still frustrated, Newt kicked Minho’s feet which now hung out from his hammock. “Nothing, Minho! She’s your friend too and I’ve got other things to deal with right now!” He threw his arms up in the direction of the homestead, the doorway crammed with boys trying to escape the sudden deluge.

“Sheesh, apparently not even time for a joke.” Minho chuckled and stood up, patting Newt’s shoulder. “Don’t worry man, I’ll find her.”

“Good, get your lazy butt out of here!” Newt, for some reason, yet again tried to kick at Minho as he jogged off.

As quickly as he could, Minho darted for the deadheads in order to take cover under the trees. It really was a no-brainer surrounding the case of the missing Y/N. She’d be in the maproom. She was a runner, liked quiet places where she could be alone and was possibly even more invested than Minho in finding a way out.

Somedays, Minho felt sorry for her. She was the only girl here. Even though she did just find holding her own and got on well with everyone, she was still stuck in a stone box with fifty boys. It couldn’t be easy. There truly was no question as to what factors might have played into her becoming a runner.

Other days, he was so glad she was here and was the only girl. No matter what, her opinion was valued above anyone else's. Frankly, she always had the best ideas, too. She cared for everyone and was the ears ready to receive at a moments notice when someone needed a place to mail their worries off to. In no way would this place be the same if she wasn’t here. And of all the girls in the world, she was probably the best of them all to be placed here the Glade. One, because she was very easygoing and had the attitude of one of the boys. Secondly, she had never shown interest in anyone here and had no problem kindly declining romantic advances.

Just as he expected, opening up the maproom door, there was Y/N, half reclined against the wall. Some papers in her hands and feet every so slowly sliding away from her body on the loose-dirt floor. Quietly, Minho approached without her noticing and put his foot out to stop her feet from sliding anymore. Noticing the sudden halt of her feet, she lowered the papers and looked up to see Minho with a classic smirk carved deep into his face.

“Newt send you?” Y/N asked, shifting her position so she was sitting up against the wall straighter, disregarding the papers.

Minho tilt his head in question and sat across from her on the floor. “Yeah…how’d you know?”

Y/N stifled a little laugh and rolled her eyes. “He comes looking for me everyday before dinner. He must be busy with this storm though.”

“Oh my god, he’s busy alright.” Minho complained. “He kicked me, twice!”

“Wow!” Y/N gasped very animatedly, as if pretending to be shocked. “Two kicks? He must be super stressed!”

Minho broke into laughter and so did Y/N. They sat gasping for breath for a little while before finally collecting themselves and standing up.

“So,” Minho went and opened the door. “Want to head back to the homestead and grab some dinner?”

“Yeah, sure.” Y/N agreed, putting on her shoes and bracing herself for the cold rain. She cheerily smiled up at Minho as she scrunched her shoulders up, ready to be hit with the cold.

“It’s not too bad,” Minho pushed Y/N out of the door haphazardly and followed behind her. “Especially if you run!” He blew past the girl, breaking into a sprint.

Minho hardly beat her there.

“Finally,” Newt grumbled as he ushered the pair into the homestead and hurried to shut the door, preventing as much rain from pelting in as possible. “I thought you two got swept away in a flood or something as equally ridiculous.”

“Now that would have been interesting,” Minho nodded in amusement, pursing his lips and then looking to Y/N and trying to not break out in laughter. Newt was sure in a mood today.

“Go get your bloody dinners and head off to bed.” Newt ordered. “Because the sooner you do, the sooner I can get to bed. And I swear, if you two cause a ruckus I’ll—“

“We got it, Newt.” Y/N assured. “I’ll make sure Minho doesn’t burn the place down.”

“Good that.” He thanked the girl and let out a sigh of relief as he walked off.

Snickering, Y/N and Minho got their meals and ate with a few of the other boys. After a while of talking, everyone decided it was time to pack it in and so Y/N and Minho said their goodnights before heading upstairs to his room. Many, many nights had the pair spent in here on rainy nights just sitting on the floor, talking about anything and everything.

Just as usual, they situated themselves on the floor, staring out the window, talking about whatever first popped into their heads. Nights like these, they didn’t talk about the maze. When storms rolled in, it was their time to forget the world and all of their heavy burdens. It was their time to be the young people they truly were.

After endless questions and horrible topics of discussion, Minho felt the allure of sleep enticing him. However, there had been one untouched topic that had been weighing on his mind for the past few hours. Granted, he’d been curious about it for a long time, but he’d never been itching this bad to actually find out.

“Okay, you don’t have to answer this question, and I might be stepping over some major boundaries here.” Minho suddenly seemed much more awake. “But…”

“Minho, it’s fine.” Y/N assured.

The keeper of the runners felt his confidence wavering. “I guess I’m confused about…well, I’ve never been able to understand…Understand why you aren’t with anyone. As in…”

"I know what you mean,” She stopped him before he had to further embarrass himself trying to find the right words to explain what he was thinking.

“There’s so many people here who would be with you in the blink of an eye given the chance. There’s no shortage of people who like you.” He said sternly, trying to catch her eyes in the dim light. “And yet…? You choose to be alone?”

Y/N was silent. Minho feared he’d hurt her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this up—“ Panicked, he tried to trace his steps back.

Y/N then shrugged and spoke softly. “I’m not alone though, I have all of you. I choose to not be with anyone like that because I don’t feel the need to. I don’t want to. It just isn’t an interest to me. As far as I can remember, it never has been.”

In the dark room, only slightly illuminated by the sheet lighting outside, Minho reached out and threw his arms over the shoulders of his friend. Y/N’s arms fell under his and she rest her head in the crook of his neck. They embraced one another tightly. Minho squeezed so hard his arms began to seize and Y/N felt how much he cared right deep in her chest. She cared just as much back.

Love came in so many different forms, especially here in the Glade. One could be more than happy and have a life full of intimacy without needing to fall into a relationship like most people expected. Some types of love didn’t need a label or to be explained. They simply had to be felt.

Minho did love her, in a way. And, now, he figured she loved him back just as well.

“Thank you for being such a good friend, Minho.” The girl gave Minho one last tight embrace before letting go.

Minho left his hands on her shoulders as she sat across from him. He smiled. “Thank you for being the best running partner I’ve ever had.”

Y/N looked shocked, but in a playful way. “You…did you just say something nice?”

“Aye!” He snapped. “You caught me in a tender moment! It’s between us! Only us!”

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fanfictionfortheappreciative · 4 years ago

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Support Group - Chapter Two

Ao3 link :)

CHAPTER 2

My whole morning was just like regular. Breakfast in the main hall, where I ate too much food as a force of habit - when my brain realized food was free and in large numbers, it made a connection to the times I had been forced to starve in my closet for days, and from that moment I hoarded food into my body. The consequences of this were that I would be walking around with a tummy ache all morning, but the upset stomach was still way easier than going against the childhood trauma.

After breakfast we went to the common room, and hung out in there. Yes, we were all traumatized young adults who fought and won a war, but we were also still kids, and being lazy on a Saturday is just an important part of being a student. So, while Hermione was searching through flyers and applications for job positions and study possibilities - we still did not know how to get her to relax, although being with Ron had helped a bit - Ron and I were lazily sitting on the couch looking through some albums of the Chudley Cannons, while ignoring the Transfiguration essay that had to be done by Monday.

It was a normal Saturday, but the support group flyer kept appearing in my thoughts. Who had put it there? Which of the Slytherins would it be, and mostly, who would show up? It was not a secret, you know, that everyone still struggled and some people were in need of more support than they were getting. It wasn’t a secret, and not even taboo to talk about really, but it just felt weird to openly share some of the stuff your mind goes through. Nobody wants to remind each other of those bad times, and if your sharing of memories could awaken traumatic feelings in someone else, why not keep them to yourself?

So that is why most talks and memories were shared on late nights, with one of your best friends, while the rest was a sleep. Hushed whispers about nightmares that kept appearing, the people you missed and the way Hogwarts had changed. Late, silent nights.

Thatś why this sudden appearance of a so-called Support Group was… Out of the ordinary, and sparked my curiosity. Maybe I would drop by, say hello and goodbye and leave again, just to see what it was about. But then, they might expect me to share war memories, and that was definitely not something I would be up for. Sharing was a sore subject for me, something I barely even did with Hermione and Ron. Sometimes I did, when I woke up from a nightmare or came back from a flashback, cause I couldn’t just not tell them anything, but the days and weeks I felt hollow and numb 24/7? There was no use in telling them. They would just feel guilty about not being able to help, and apart from numb and hollow, regret would also be added to my emotions.

The rest of morning I spent weighing curiosity against anxiety, and when lunchtime came I still had not made up my mind. That was, until Neville walked over, came sitting next to us and started talking.

“Hey guys! What are you doing today? I was considering homework, but I think I can postpone that til tomorrow, don’t you? Anyway, did you see the new posters? The support group thing? It’s surprising huh?” He grabbed a croissant, put it in his mouth, and looked at us, expectantly.

I didn’t dare reply, as I had not yet made up my mind, but Hermione had already opened her mouth.

“I saw, yes. I don’t think it’s that surprising at all, Neville. In fact, creating a group where people can go when they need help is wonderful.”

“Oh, so are you gonna go?”, I asked, carefully not revealing any interest in my voice. If Hermione was going, then I could just tag along with her, and if both of us were there maybe people wouldn’t expect me to talk. I could just be the quiet Boy who Lived and she’d be the representative of our trio adventures.

“Don’t think so, no. I’m a little busy with all these program applications and to be honest if I ever want to talk I can just go to you two or Ginny, you know”.

She had a point, most of the people in our circle had enough friends or family to go to when in need. That’s why the Slytherin part was not that surprising; they often did not have these connections. Still, with my very close group of friends, I still had nowhere to go or vent. I talked to Sirius and Remus sometimes. I would sneak out of bed at 2 am, not being able to sleep, and go to look at the stars. Sometimes I could actually see Sirius up in the sky. Sitting there, I would start talking and talking about what was keeping me awake, and although it helped, there was not any response, and I think I needed a response.

Sitting at the lunch table I thought about Sirius, about the late night one-way talks, and about the fact that if they were alive, any of them, they would want me to seek a response.

So right there and then, I decided I would go.

“I’m going, yes”, I blurted out. It got me some weird looks.

“I did not know you were that into therapy and support? When did that happen, mate?”, Ron asked me, rightfully so. We both weren’t the touchy feely type.

“Yeah, I know… I’m just curious, and maybe some people will appreciate me being there”. Shit. Was that too cocky? I saw Hermione looking at me observingly, but I did my best to avoid her glance and tried to recover myself.

“You know, cause maybe not everyone is comfortable sharing their stories, cause they uhh, feel like it wasn’t that bad, but if I share something light but bothersome, you know, they might think ‘Oh, if Harry Potter shares that, I can share this’, right?”, I proposed. This wasn’t going smoothly, but they seemed convinced and Hermione’s look stopped being intense. Phew.

“Yeah, guess so”, Neville continued “Maybe I’ll go as well, but not this time… Still a little awkward for me… With the snake and stuff”, he finished. Neville grabbed another two croissants and left the table, walking over to Ginny and starting a conversation there. Ron and Hermione picked up the conversation on Hermione’s study programs abroad, but I did not pay attention anymore. I had made my decision, and I was gonna hold myself to it. Support group it was, then.

It was five minutes to three when I made my way to the Charms classroom. I didn’t want to be early, but I wanted to be late even less. It would have been a bit too ‘Harry’ of me to stumble in 10 minutes late to a war support group and be like “Hey guys, I’m the savior”. Could not do that. Very inappropriate.

The classroom had been adjusted to a more welcoming setting, which had been achieved by moving the school banks in a circle and having no one sit at McGonagall's desk, which was smart, I don't think she would have liked that. On the board was written in chalk, in a very classy handwriting:

"Support group: first meeting. Introduce yourself. Share information in the manner you want. Listen to others. Feel free."

A good message, a little cold maybe, but good. Walking into the classroom, it appeared that despite my efforts of being casual, I still was one of the earliest people there. Better than being late. Most of them were young students, the kids who had been first and second years during the battle. There were about three of them, all Hufflepuff, gathered around at a single desk. They looked vulnerable, and I felt slightly impressed by their bravery of showing up to an event like this. In my second year, there were amazingly many things I would have done, and did, to avoid talking about my problems. To be fair, with the snake and all, I shouldn’t blame myself for that.

The other people looked as they had come here on their own. A few Slytherins, around my age, or 7th years. I’d expected them. It was their meeting. Still, there was tension. Blaise was there, his dark eyes looking down at the desk, focused on picking the grout out of the wooden cracks. A few others were next to him, the Slytherin kids who always used to hang around Snape. Then there was Luna, which surprised me, but only a little. Distracted as always, she was talking to the moving cat pictures that were on McGonagall's desk, and they seemed to be talking back. Curious.

There didn’t seem to be anyone who was taking charge, I noticed. The person who wrote the message on the board couldn’t be one of these kids, right? Maybe they tried to be casual, just like me, and were actually succeeding at it, I thought. Although, the briefness of all the messaging did seem to belong to a strict person. Well, nothing to do but wait.

“Hello everyone, good to see you all, I’m, uhm, Harry”, and as I spoke I realized that I did not have to introduce myself to these people. And that I was an idiot.

“We know Potter, I think we noticed you sometime last year”, Blaise snickered, but not in a mean-spirited way, just regular, Slytherin sarcasm.

I had learned to understand it, a little. It wasn’t like I was never sarcastic, I’d just always thought the Slytherins were mean and cruel. But in actually talking to them, I’d discovered they were blunt and full of jokes that only they understood, but without ill intent. Most of the time, that is.

“Well it said introduce yourself,” I tried to recover, “and after that to share information the way I want to. So, er, hi I’m Harry, and the war still really sucks?” Apparently it had become absolutely impossible for me to act normal and casual anymore. Lovely.

The Hufflepuff kids looked up at me in a confused admiration. They whispered something to each other.

“This is Nicky, this is Mary, and I’m Robb, and we think the war sucks too”. It was a little black haired boy who said this, bright eyes and dark features. He couldn’t be older than 13. How were these kids so cool?

“Thanks Robb,” I responded, “does anyone know when our host is coming in? I don’t want to act like this whole ‘the war sucks’ thing is me taking over the meeting… Do you guys have infor-”

“Terribly sorry to be late everyone. Extremely bad manners, I know. I hope you all have made yourself comfortable and have had the opportunity to introduce yourselves a little. I’m not sure it is neccesary, but nontheless I shall introduce myself as well. My name is-”

“Draco?”, I blurted out, quite suddenly and loudly.

“Well yes, Draco it is, thanks for the introduction, Potter.’ He said this with a tone of amused surprise, and not the snark I was used to, and might even have deserved in this situation. Attempt number three of acting normal, ruined that too.

“I’m, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just, not what I was expecting and all that. Please continue”, I responded in my most civil tone, trying to show him, and everyone else, that I was not going to have a duel with Draco right here right now.

“Thanks, will do. Anyway, hereby I open our first group session of post-war support, there’s tea in the corner and I’d love to hear everyone’s names. Let’s get started, yes?”

#drarry #fic #drarry fic #fanfiction #multichapter #draco malfoy #draco x harry #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic

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pancake-man · 5 years ago

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PRUMANO SECRET VALENTINES

Hey @anamelodemelo! I’m a little(almost two months) late, but I was your prumano secret valentine! Big thanks to @prumano-week for organising this whole thing and @snowywolff for kicking my butt into gear to finish this.

Your prompts were Kiss, Funny, Fancy, Date, Nyotalia and I tried to cover all of them! I used fannames because I couldn’t find any good names for the Nyo!s, so Nyo!Prussia is Zoe and Nyo!Romano is Elena! I hope you enjoy it!

Kissing + Mishaps = Kisshaps

They’ve been doing the same thing for years, curled up in blankets and surrounded by junk food, a cheesy movie neither of them has ever heard of blaring on the screen across the room. The same thing, except it’s changed. Both of them have grown, but not much, perpetually stuck below 5’4. Elena’s room has gone from pink hues and stuffed animals to reds and greens and potted succulents on the windowsill. Zoe cut off most of her long hair and Elena wears makeup now. But they’re still the same kids who met years ago on a playground.

So now it’s Elena with her back against the mattress, sitting on the floor because she’s too lazy to get her glasses and she wants to see, dammit, and Zoe up on the bed, laying on her back with an entire bowl of chips balanced on her stomach.

The actor in the film has lost his shirt, again, and Zoe is laughing her ass off making fun of the script and costume department and everything else, really. Elena isn’t sure what about the plot requires the hero to be shirtless, but she’s not paying attention anyways. The flashing lights of cheap CGI reflect on Zoe’s face, making her stand out in the dark room.

Zoe bites her lip and sucks in a breath as the scene shifts. It’s the hero’s younger sister, and the villain(Elena thinks, she’s still not sure what the plot is) They’re fighting, knives out and teeth bared until the sister has the other woman pinned to the ground. The actresses are panting, and Elena feels her own heart beat badump, badump, badump.

The women on screen press their lips together, cheesy and dramatic. “What does that feel like?” She asks, blurts out, because Zoe has experience and she doesn’t. Elena asks because she’s curious, because she’s never kissed a boy, let alone a girl, and what’s on screen is never like in real life.

Zoe hums, sticks her tongue between her teeth like she’s always done. “Just like kissing a boy, I guess.”

Elena’s nails dig into her palm. “Never done that.”

Zoe doesn’t respond for a moment. Then Elena hears the rustle of blankets as her friend rolls over. “Oh. It’s- um. It’s like there’s this space in your chest that you never knew was there, and then it’s just-” She pops her lips. “Filled.”

Elena hums. Her face feels on fire. “I get it,” she says, even though she doesn’t. The movie has moved onto another fight scene, this time with more men and explosions. Neither of them are interested anymore.

Again the sound of blankets, then Elena feels breath on the back of her neck. She turns around and Zoe is right there, so close. “I didn’t explain very well, did I?” Zoe’s lips move around the words, and Elena can’t decide whether to look at them or Zoe’s eyes.

“No, it’s- fine. It’s fine.”

“I could just show you.”

“Don’t be a fucking weirdo,” Elena laughs, but it sounds fake and hollow. She leans forward.

It’s nothing like how Zoe described. It’s actually kinda terrible. Elena goes in with her lips puckered like a blowfish and Zoe goes straight for a French. Zoe groans and Elena can feel the vibrations go straight through her. Zoe pulls away, taking all of her warmth and too-much-ness with her.

“What the fuck was that shitty excuse for a first kiss, asshole?” Elena begins, but then Zoe smushes her cheeks between her hands and guides her up onto the bed. She’s sitting between Zoe’s legs now, and Zoe uses her hands to move Elena’s head around like a doll, tilting it just so that when they meet again, it’s a thousand times better than the first.

Gasps are quickly swallowed up by hungry lips as eyes close and hands move around each other. Zoe is still tangled in pillows and fluff, leaving a barrier between them that feels like miles of distance. Fingers are running through Elena’s hair, pulling at the tangled curls until she whines and retaliates by digging her nails into Zoe’s shoulders.

Elena feels- wait, is that teeth? Something sharp hits her lip and she yelps, jumping back and hitting Zoe square in the face with her head. Elena looks up to see an awful fountain of blood burst forth from Zoe’s nose- all over her clean bedsheets. Goddammit.

“Shit I’m sorry-” She starts to say, but Zoe cuts her off with a wheeze.

“No! No it’s fine, I’m just gonna-” Zoe starts to stand up, but their cocoon of blankets is still wrapped around her legs and she falls backwards. Elena reaches out for her and insead falls right on top of her, wedged between the wall and the bed.

“Oh, MOTHER-”

---

“Seriously I’m so sorry that probably hurt like a son of a b-”

“Dude you’ve already apologised like, a billion times. It’s no sweat.”

“Zoe. Your arm is literally broken.”

“Yeah but it’s fine, see?” Zoe lifts up her arm, twisted at a horrible angle, and waves. “Can’t feel a thing.”

“I’m pretty sure not being able to feel your arm is really fucking bad! As in very not good! Kaput, nicht so gut.”

“Dude your accent is terrible,” Zoe laughs, with a loud snort at the end that nearly makes Elena swerve off the road. Driving with Zoe was usually distracting, let alone in the middle of the night when she had a broken arm. The arm that broke after they made out. That arm.

“Why are you still calling me dude? I feel like we’ve passed that point,” Elena rolls her eyes. But really… Maybe that kiss hadn’t meant anything to Zoe. Maybe Elena was just another girl. Maybe they really were just on ‘dude’ terms.

Zoe shuts up for once, which normally would be great but now it just makes Elena more nervous, and she blows through a red light. “Jesus fucked a cow on a whole wheat bun, Elena! Keep your eyes on the road!”

“I’m sorry!” Elena blurts again, for the billion-and-first time. “You’re really distracting!”

“What?”

“Don’t be an asshole, you know what I mean!”

“No seriously, what? I’m just me.”

Elena groans. She wishes she could pull over and have a proper conversation, but no, she needs to get Zoe to the hospital before she bleeds out or something. “You know, like, everytime you do stuff I just can’t focus.”

“Oh?” Elena is keeping her eyes on the road like a good driver, but she can hear the stupid smirk in Zoe’s voice. “Like what?”

“Like! I don’t know! Fuck!”

Zoe snorts.

“Not like that!” Elena bites her lip and tries to find the words. “Like that right there! When you snort! It’s really fucking cute! And I liked your long hair but now that it’s short I mean- shit, have you ever looked in a mirror? You’re hot! Really hot! And I’ve known you my whole life so you’re kinda like my sister but not because that would be weird, you’re so much better and… fuck!” She didn’t mean to ramble that long. She glances over at Zoe, quickly, just to see her reaction.

Zoe is quiet. She’s holding her arm close to her chest, so it must actually hurt, and she’s just being a bitch about it.

“Sorry, I know I’m not your type-”

“Dude, I thought you were straight.” Zoe moves her good hand over Elena’s. It’s awkward reaching over her seatbelt and broken arm, and Elena’s hands are still on the wheel so it probably isn’t safe, but Elena’s heart does flip-flops anyways.

“I mean… I don’t know what I am. I’ve never… liked anyone else.” Elena takes a deep breath. “Just you.”

Silence from Zoe again. Then- another snort. She starts laughing. “Dude! I thought you were straight!”

Angry tears prick Elena’s eyes. “Fuck off, bastard! I’m driving you to the hospital, don’t be a dick about my feelings!”

“No! No no no.” Zoe pulls her hand away and holds it up in surrender. Elena’s hand feels cold. “I meant, If I knew you were into- well, into me, I would’ve asked you out a long time ago.”

Now Elena does slam on the breaks and pull over. There’s nobody behind them, thank god, but Zoe is still thrown forward and it jars her arm. She cries out and curls into herself.

“Fuck! Sorry, I just- what?” Elena unbuckles her seatbelt and tries to help Zoe back up. She’s crying- no, wait, she’s just laughing again. Zoe unfurls and launches herself at Elena’s face, slamming their lips together in a way that’s definitely painful. Just another bruise to add to the growing list.

Zoe pulls away with that cute smirk of hers. “I like you too, dumbass.”

Elena gasps in offense and punches her. In the arm. Which is broken. Zoe crumples again. “Right! Fuck! Hospital! Sorry!” She rebuckles and starts the car again.

Emergency room staff are the best. They’ve seen so much weird shit that they don’t blink at two teenage girls stumbling in at three in the morning, covered in blood and attached at the mouth. They barely notice at all, actually, and Elena has to fight to get any kind of immediate attention. She stays in the room through the whole ordeal(almost puking at the sight of Zoe’s arm being set into place) and peppers many more apologies throughout the night(Apparently Zoe’s nose is broken too. Elena peppers in kisses for good measure).

The adrenaline of driving your friend(?) to the hospital in the middle of the night is finally leaving her body when the nurse finally leaves the room, and from the looks of it Zoe is just as tired. She’s all wrapped up in bandages, just like the blankets they’d left at home. The hospital chair Elena was given feels about as comfy as Zoe’s bed looks.

“Mmf mhm hh meh?” Zoe says eloquently.

“What?” Elena replies in kind.

“Bunch of fuckin’ messes aren’t we?”

“Ha. Yeah. You look worse than me.”

Zoe snorts, smirks. “You’re just as covered in blood.”

Elena’s eyes widen. “No way,” she retorts as she fumbles for her phone. Sure enough, when she opens her camera she can see her face is smeared with blood, especially around her lips. From Zoe’s bloody nose. “Oh, GROSS!” She gags and grabs some of Zoe’s bandages to wipe the rapidly-drying mess off. Zoe only laughs harder, wheezing an ‘ow’ between each snort.

“Did you mean it?” Elena asks, cutting off Zoe’s laughing fit.

“All of it.”

“So, uh, wanna go to prom?”

“Sure, fuck it.”

“Fuck you.”

“On the first date? Elena, you foxy little-”

“Fuck you!”

Prom is two weeks later. Zoe’s cast is covered in black lace to match her dress. They look baller. There’s a lot of making out after. And this time, nobody ends up in the ER.

#prumano #hetalia #aph prussia #aph romano #hws prussia #hws romano #mine #my writing #lark writes #prumano valentines #seriously im so sorry this is so late!#i really hope it was worth the wait #happy valentines!

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emeraldinthesky · 4 years ago

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STRANGE TRAILS - Chapter 2 - Kiss for the Dead

Victoria was smoking by the backdoor: it was about mid-morning, and they hadn't slept since their departure from the headquarters. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than ever, and her facial features appeared almost stretched by gravity. She took a long, lazy drag from her cigarette but when that gesture yielded no results, she searched the pocket of her lab coat for her lighter. The flame danced around in the moist wind then vanished under the metal lid of the zippo. She stared ahead, now with smoke-filled lungs, although she could hardly make out any detail of the wooden, pine-y area at the back of the building. The air was fresh, although she knew it would only give her a more difficult time to readjust to the pungent scent of rotting flesh she'd gotten so used to in the past few hours. They were certainly past the tricky part: that hour of the night when they are both unable to verbalize their thoughts, as if fatigue saw shut their mouths. These were usually the minutes the investigation came to a painful halt - painful, because they weren't making progress, and that also meant they couldn't go to sleep anytime soon. Their colleagues, Chris and Jeremy chose that very time to return to the hotel and catch up on some sleep. Albert was somewhat sore about it, but Vicky didn't bat an eye; if they're ready with their work, by all means, they shouldn't stay for the entertainment of two (frustrated) pantomimes. Luckily, that period passed just half an hour after the boys left, and since then, they were bouncing ideas off each other, at some point resorting to grotesque and eccentric reenaction of the crime. The denier checked on them, only to spin around and leave the very next second.

It has barely been minutes since she was away. Of course, she had met the doctor and two other men down the hallway, but it never occurred to her that she would arrive back to an already escalated fight, or that their investigation was going to be cut short. Cooper and the Sheriff were already there and Vicky could hear the arguing from the end of the hallway – and stepping into a room filled with angry men pointing at each other sure made her consider taking a longer break. However, it changed instantly when she learned about the reason. '...Cuff him!' Albert insisted, instructing the agent. 'He won't release Laura's body to the funeral. He's not human.' Doctor Hayward opposed as he was joined by Harry. The woman knew this was only fuel to the fire; she heard enough of Albert's doubts about the sheriff's mental capacity, and just as she expected, her boss was quick to voice his opinion. It happened in the blink of an eye, and the forensic scientist received a punch from the town sheriff, that sent him right on top of the DB in question. Cooper sent his new colleague out to the car, and Victoria took the opportunity to soften – and potentially talk some sense into – the agent. 'Look, Dale, I don't like to agree with Albert.' She began after rushing up to him. 'But we can't properly perform an autopsy in a day.' 'Vicky, this funeral is important to the people. They need it to pay their respect to their passed loved one.' The black-haired man explained. He remained calm and spoke with a gentler tone, so she knew she could still persuade him into another couple hours or even a day. 'I know, but is the ritual more important than finding out the truth?' She darted back, trying with all her consciousness left to keep her voice quiet and decent. Apparently, she failed. 'Miss Davis.' Cooper's voice changed uncharacteristically authoritative, and his posture became more erect. 'We need the body to be handed over to the funeral. You knew the time limit before you started your work.' The woman's face turned bright red, even under the paleness from the all-nighter. Her brown eyes turned darker and despite the glasses, Cooper would've sworn to feel little sparks darting off from them into his direction - and not the type he enjoyed. 'Oh, I hope you'll have a time limit on your work once.' She muttered without batting an eye, but then refocused her attention to the old doc. 'Please, give us a second to clean up the body so we can hand it over in proper shape.' She asked in a surprisingly respectful, calm manner, then turned to Mr Horne investigating the corpse. 'Sir, Mr...?' 'Horne.' The man replied. 'Mr. Horne. Remind me again why are you here?' 'I am the representative of Laura Palmer's family in their absence.' 'Splendid. Then with all due respect: leave and don't come in 'till I say so.' Then, she spun around to her now a bit disheveled superior. 'Albert, you give me that or God sees my soul I'll drill a hole into your forehead.' 'You'll need my help if you want to be ready by noon.' The forensic pathologist pointed out. 'You won't be any help if you keep screwing around.' Vicky retorted. Cooper left the autopsy room with a mischievous smile on his face, keeping down a chuckle as he walked back to the police car. He knew he was somewhat responsible for the scene that escalated from the other, and he admittedly enjoyed how bossy Victoria was able to be, even around men; or especially around men. She'd singlehandedly put all grown men in the room to their place, and she was the only one that could manage Albert's behaviour - but, truth to be told, Coop feared he would be the next in line for his attitude. He did phone her after returning to the Great Northern the night before, to invite her to the funeral, but after this slip of his, he doubted she would join them in the cemetery.

Even when Albert delivered the reports and results in the conference room, she was nowhere to be found; this definitely signaled to Dale that he might have overstepped a line, because Victoria was eager to attend to these meetings - she often did more than analysing the evidence before her, peeking behind the curtains. The red velvet ones. Although they weren't always so glamourous. However, it was only the sour scientist, describing their findings while not missing one single opportunity to make a foul remark which ultimately prompted the sheriff to storm out of the room. Dale took this opportunity to enquire about the current state of the woman in question (interestingly, that not being Laura Palmer) - or rather his state on her dashboard. 'Why weren't you joined by Miss Davis?' 'Oh, you two had a quarrel alright if both of you call each other by their last name.' Albert noted with his usual, straight face. Cooper knew this spelled trouble: she rarely resorted to referring to him by his surname; not to him, specifically, but to others, unless they were in a stiff or unfamiliar setting. Her boss, however weird that sounds, did not check that box. 'So she's angry?' The agent insisted. 'I've been having my ass kicked since you stepped out of the morgue if that answers your question.' The other man admitted. 'Coop, even I wouldn't take that entitled authoritarian handling from you lightly. And it is quite unlike you to begin with.' 'You're right, Albert.' The other nodded. 'I don't know what got into me.' 'Anyway, make amends with her as soon as possible, because she takes the case from here.' 'What do you mean?' 'She's getting a promotion.' The scientist explained. 'Only a formality, but this is her test run. You two will have to work closely together so it's better to be on speaking terms.' 'I don't argue she well deserves one, but I admit, this promotion seems quite out of the blue for me. Did something happen I didn't know about?' The black-haired man insisted, a strange feeling twisting his stomach and chest. He wasn't short of fleeting theories, yet his reaction was primarily emotional - and he was feeling worse than at the beginning of this conversation. 'Seemed like the right time to me.' The scientist shrugged.

***

A Ford pickup parked just by the cemetery and the mourning crowd; its light blue upper section was still shining clean, but the darker-toned half was covered in dust and dirt. One would have expected a tall, well-built man to step out from the driver's seat, but instead, a young woman dressed in a long black dress emerged; although much of her attire was covered with an elegant coat that cut off mid-calf. Her shiny high heels dug deep into the moist ground as she hopped out of the car. She had her dirty blond hair up in a tight french twist to cover her unkempt locks, and her makeup made you forget she had just arrived there from more than 24 hours spent above a dead body - the very corpse they were about to hoist to the ground. Cooper's eyes must have lingered on her longer than they should have, as the sheriff nudged him from his left. 'Friends, are we?' He asked with a knowing smile. Vicky joined them, after Cooper gestured her to stand by his side. He put his arm around her shoulder - he knew she would probably faint into the grave gaping before them otherwise. Little he knew of the coming scene. Audrey shot a jealous look towards the pair; her blue eyes were ice-cold and ready for the kill. A poisonous feeling emerged from her heart and she puffed her face in anger, slightly pouting her mouth. It was almost unacceptable that someone, almost ten years older than her, could blow her out of the picture. Yet it wasn't the teenage beauty starting the scene, but Bobby Briggs as he caught glimpse of the biker his late girlfriend was seeing behind his back. The tragic gathering took a turn for the grotesque, the whole turmoil culminating into the father falling on top of the coffin and the levers misfunctioning at the worst possible time.

It was the second man falling on top of the poor dead girl that day.

After the mayhem died down, the agent accompanied his colleague to her truck: 'Miss Davis, can I interest you in a coffee at the Double R? You have to try that pie.' 'Only if you quit calling me Miss Davis.' Vicky smiled back, and from the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, it was oblivious that she was open for reconciliation. 'You're staying in Twin Peaks?' Cooper asked as she hopped into her car. 'Since Albert refuses to.' Vicky smiled then gestured to the man. 'Hop in, Coop.'

As they stepped into the diner, the agent had his arm around her waist. Although he barely even touched her, it was a gesture that bordered being protective, defending her from the weather and her slim figure from the curious eyes of other men. They unconsciously leaned in towards each other, already laughing loudly at an earlier case; the woman was never able to stay mad at him for long. She faintly pushed his chest away as she walked up to the counter, and Cooper followed, sitting down by her side on a barstool. 'Your wife, Agent Cooper?' Norma asked as she placed the clean white cups in front of them. 'Oh, I wish!' The man replied with a wide smile. 'Victoria Davis, forensic pathologist. She came to help me investigate the Palmer girl's case; an extremely skilled investigator I'm happy to have on my team.' 'So you'll stay with us, Miss Davis?' Norma turned to her as she served them coffee, filling the empty cups with the hot, dark beverage. The aroma instantly filled the air, and Victoria couldn't help, but inhale a little deeper to fill her lungs with the scent that was much more refined than the one of the coffees at the lab. 'Well, as long as they don't relocate me to somewhere else. I'll assist the Sheriff and Agent Cooper with the forensic evidence.' She explained. 'Now Miss, I haven't slept in two days and this man promised me a pie. What would you suggest?' 'I'd recommend the blueberry pie, fresh from the oven.' The woman in the turquoise dress replied in her usual, melodic tone. She was always a delight, and seemingly found joy in the playful conversation, but especially now, it was as if she was up to something. 'Sounds perfect. Two slices, please.' Cooper ordered, and Norma left with a smile.

'I'm glad you came to the funeral.' The man said as he took the cup into his hand. 'It was an experience. I've seen men mourning their daughters, but this was quite a spectacle. Seems like this whole town gone crazy by this tragedy.' 'There really is something, isn't there?' 'The poor girl can't even rest peacefully in the ground, that's for sure.' The blonde eyed the steaming coffee ahead of her. 'She couldn't on the autopsy table either.' 'You mean Albert?' She finally turned to Coop. 'You know how he is. He's tired from the car ride here, we pulled an all-nighter and now he's throwing a tantrum like a kid when you try to tear his toys from him.' Cooper chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. His eyes wandered to her hands that were lazily caressing the edge of the cup. 'You look lovely.' He said, and they both paused for a moment when they caught each other's gaze. 'And you are sharp as always.' She smiled back. A brief silence settled between them: the woman turned her attention the brown beverage before her as if she was staring into a crystal ball - and indeed, her eye colour matched the shade of the coffee so perfectly, it could have easily been mistaken for a mirror. Coop eyed her intently, but with patience; and admittedly, he reexplored her features since they last met a month ago, still in the burning deserts of Nevada. Her skin hanged onto some of the gold freckles obtained under the bright sun (or she visited home in-between, but he brushed that idea from his head), and the scar on her neck was still faintly pink. Her hands were dry from the weather and the endless handwashing, fingernails cut short without any nail polish, and nothing on her fingers beside that small birthmark on her left index finger. A scent of amber, spices and orange lingered around her; the very perfume that enchanted him at their first handshake. She was the same woman he said goodbye to in Las Vegas, but something seemed different besides her tired posture. 'Vicky, is everything alright?' He asked and his voice gave away how worried he was. 'Oh, yeah. Sorry I just zoned out… You know how it is.' 'Are things going well?' 'I'd say so.' She nodded after taking a premature, hot sip of her coffee. 'There're just… Many things going on at the same time.' 'I've heard they offered you a promotion.' 'They did. I haven't accepted it just yet. We agreed that this case would be a sort of… Test.' She was twirling a cigarette around in her hand, then turned to Cooper without lighting it. 'You, on the other hand. Seems like you enjoy your stay here.' Vicky pointed out, her attitude much more easygoing now. 'I do!' The agent exclaimed. 'Have you seen those tall trees? Douglas firs.' 'They're mighty for sure.' She agreed as the pies were placed in front of them, and they both gave Norma an enthusiastic smile of gratitude. 'They look like they could reach the sky. And I did miss a little greenery in Las Vegas.' 'That was one hell of a Christmas.' He nodded as he took a bite of the pie. 'I wasn't this excited on Christmas Eve since I was 7.' Vicky became much more enthusiastic, especially since the combination of caffeine and sugar hit her bloodstream - and also, since she was having a lighthearted conversation with her best friend; all four of which, minus the caffeine, were missing from her everydays. 'Well, the New Year's Eve of the last year of the decade was certainly memorable.' 'Yes, you were like James Bond.' She joked nudging him from the side. 'Although you weren't able to sport this tan coat there. Is that why you prefer this climate?' 'There is something intangible about this place that makes me gravitate towards it. The people here; they are simple yet there's so much complexity and warmth. I haven't experienced this combination anywhere else.' He took a sip of his coffee. 'This town. It's so mundane, and the people living in it are so - human. I have grown to consider investing in a property here.' 'I knew you craved simplicity but so much so?' 'It is not so much about the simplicity but the community.' Cooper corrected. 'I see.' She nodded. 'So… Am I invited for the housewarming?' 'Vicky, you're invited to my house at any and all times.' This was the moment when they were painfully reminded of the fact that they both still had keys to the other's apartment; but that might be up for a change, in both of their lives, very soon. They simultaneously darted their eyes towards the table. 'As a matter of fact, I have grown to know you as someone who appreciates the simple way of living.' Cooper pointed out. 'And warm weather.' She added. The man knew that well: they were in the middle of dating when she invited him over to her family's vacation house. It was in a rural area of Texas, surrounded by forest and not a single soul besides the neighbours half a mile away. They sometimes got together for a barbecue night, or Vicky begged them to let her ride the horses, but the two of them spent most of their time alone. It was actually one of the afternoons he remembered most clear - they settled down at a field after an especially strenuous hike, lying in the grass as the sun slowly sunk under the horizon. She rested her head on his chest, and they listened to the faint change of sounds as daytime blended into evening; but the weather remained comfortably warm. 'Dale, I gotta admit, I'm pretty tired. Do you mind if we return to the hotel?' 'Not at all.' He replied in a softspoken tone he haven't used in a while. One that implied closeness and caring, that made him lose his composed façade; one he last used in the middle of August, 1987.

He drove themselves back to the wooden hotel – it has been a hot minute since he was on the driver seat of the truck as Victoria was always insistent on driving. She might have driven his own car more than he, himself.

'Vicky…' Coop began before they departed in the hallway. 'I am so sorry about how I talked to you today at the morgue.' 'It's okay, Dale. We have a stressful job and are human.' 'No, it is not okay.' The man insisted. 'You are my co-worker and friend. Your input into the investigation is vital and I should appreciate the work you do. My attitude didn't represent those values I hold dear, nor did I gave you the respect you deserve. I can assure you it won't happen again. Not to mention that you were right.' 'What you say my dear? I'm afraid my hearing is…' She imitated an old woman, cupping her ear with her hand and jokingly leaned closer, but Cooper was already grinning. 'I said, ma'am…' He elevated his voice and leaned towards her ear himself. 'That I'm sorry for your loss of hearing!' They burst into laughter that echoed through the wooden corridor. The pair surely woke a couple residents, but it was the least of their worries. They were friends again.

Right?

#twin peaks #twin peaks fanfiction #agent cooper #dale cooper #chapter 2

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replicantdeviancy · 5 years ago

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──── ⌈ ∞ ⌋ ───── All was quiet in the little cabin near the woods, barely a hint of movement within as the hour was late. Supper was long since served & the kitchen tidied, though the scent of seasoned meat still lingered in the air, teasing the senses. The fire burned low in the hearth, what was left of the logs once stacked in a sizable pile lay smoldering, burnt through with a glowing red that offered a cozy atmosphere to the small space of the living area.

Connor sat comfortably in the large chair by the hearth, a book in hand & a fur blanket in his lap. A chair which had been designated as Hank’s when they both first established a sense of cohabitation some weeks ago, though the rule seemed to have gone by the wayside at a point neither could recall. The boy wasn’t bothering anything so the old man never said a word. Connor liked to think it was a show of affection.

Engrossed in the words printed upon the yellowing pages before him, the silent night creature did pause at times only momentarily, allowed his hand holding the book to slowly come to rest in his lap as he stared out the window nearest him & let his mind wander. It had begun to snow yesterday & would likely continue for days. Winter had come to Michigan once again & the boy felt a sense of gratitude knowing he would not be spending another one outdoors. Often in the past he would remain closer to the nearby native tribe of which he had found companionship with through mutual understanding, but they were far more resilient than he, having grown & lived in such a frigid environment all their lives.

Connor desperately missed the feeling of simple warmth during those months. He was thankful for the shelter as well as the company.

Hank had long since drifted off to the bedroom, leaving his housemate to enjoy his library while he slept the night away, as any normal person should. All the while the strange boy he held company with would read until dawn to be found by mornings light drowsing on the couch. He would sleep well into the day, only to be disturbed into wakefulness some time in the early evening by the sounds of movement & the promise of food. Then the cycle would begin anew.

Such was the way of things during these lazy days without another bounty to track or law to be upheld. Perhaps later today Hank would wake him to help with chores, put him to work chopping firewood or mending something he had managed to tear in his clumsiness like his trousers last week. Perhaps he would take him into the woods to go hunting again with Sumo. He rather liked that. The stillness of it, the waiting as they listened diligently to the sounds of nature all around them, eye fixed upon the prize. He liked sharing those moments with Hank, like it connected them on a deeper level.

As it was, the marshal was the only person in all of Detroit that knew what he was, in every sense of it. At the time of the discovery Hank had flinched, but he had not faltered, having chosen to spare the gentle young monster whom had inadvertently become his partner. Maybe it was his kindness & reliability that had spared him a bullet at his most vulnerable, or could it have been sentiment? Regardless of the reason, Connor found himself better for it. How perfectly beautiful it was when someone understood, was accepting of him & his nature. Hank was a steadfast kind of man. His partner could appreciate that.

As the snow began falling just a little bit harder the distinct sound of booted footsteps on the wooden porch caught his attention. A moment later a knock sounded from the door, loud & very insistent. The jarring noise woke Sumo from his slumber & he lumbered to his feet from his bed in the corner of the room to bark at the sudden intruder. Connor’s full attention was on the door as he set his book to the side & stood, crawling out from under the blanket. Disappointed for having the warmth escape yet his curiosity mounted when the knock came again, more insistent this time. A call was heard from beyond the door.

❝ Hank! You in there? It’s Ben. ❞ Ben? What could Mr. Collins be needing so urgently that he had trekked to the edges of town at such an hour? Connor’s eyes narrowed with interest, head tilted faintly to the side. As he made his way to the door he made certain that his clothing was firmly in place, the collar of his shirt buttoned to his throat. Only when he deemed himself presentable did he open the door. The surprise on the robust man’s face was immediately apparent.

❝ Mr. Collins? ❞ he questioned, door cracked only just enough to greet their impromptu guest without letting too much of the winter cold in. ❝ Quite the late hour to be calling on Marshal Anderson, isn’t it? ❞

The shorter man practically floundered in his confusion. ❝ Connor? ❞

❝ Yes, sir? ❞ He blinked once, rather innocently, his thin form leaning against the door frame. Ben looked the boy up & down once, attempting to gather himself from the surprise of seeing such an unexpected figure in his old friend’s cabin. Hank hadn’t suddenly become the type of man to pick up strays, had he?

❝ What the hell are you doing here? ❞

Another blink. ❝ I live here. ❞ Ben released a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. Apparently Hank had indeed become that type of man. Who would have thought?

❝ Is Hank here? ❞ he queried, hopeful. ❝ It’s a matter of some urgency. ❞ The dark haired boy nodded once, unfazed as always.

❝ Yes, sir. ❞ A short pause. Connor continued to stare him down. Ben shifted his weight from one foot to the other, growing uncomfortable under that gaze. No matter how warm & seemingly innocent the youth appeared, he always felt as though he were being looked at through the eyes of a predator when Connor fixed a firm stare his way. He gestured, impatient.

❝ Well, will you get him? ❞

❝ What’s happened? ❞ The boy sniffed the air lightly, brows furrowing lightly in vexation. He could smell blood on the man, residual & cleaned some time ago but blood nevertheless. Ben frowned at the question.

❝ It’s official police business, Connor, ❞ he retorted. ❝ Be a good boy & get the marshal for me. ❞ Dejected but not entirely without understanding, Connor retreated back into the house with a soft ❝ Of course ❞ leaving the door open should the man feel so inclined to venture indoors. Connor stopped at the door to the bedroom, knocked softly as he called out to him, informing the man that his friend was there. Strange kid, so archaic in his politeness. But then again, Hank would have protested had he simply barged into his room unannounced. Maybe the boy was onto something.

@lieutenantgivesnoshits

#lieutenantgivenoshits #ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶰᶫʸ ᵒᶰᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᶫᵈ ▓ Sanguine Stained ▓

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missroserose · 6 years ago

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Sunflower

Happy @harringroveweekoflove! This bit of smutty fluff was inspired by @eternalgoldfish‘s untitled roommate AU. Hope you don’t mind, love, I couldn’t leave it there...

{cw: adult content, dirty talk, mild kink, Billy Hargrove’s fingers}

The first time, it’s not his fault. Their clothes are constantly getting mixed up on the floor. He hadn’t realized they were Billy’s sweats. Hell—he suppresses a strangely hysterical giggle—he doesn’t even have to worry about washing off the come stains.

He does have to worry about Billy. Standing behind him, hand wrapped around Steve’s still-hard cock. Holding Steve up as he pants, regains his breath. Feels the flush that’s crept up his chest, his neck, heated his skin.

Steve didn’t know he swung this way. Didn’t realize either of them did.

But whatever. It’s just a hand.

A hand, and a voice. A drunk voice. Murmuring filthy promises in his ear in a tone that would make Satan himself part his lips.

Steve’s head is lolling back on Billy’s shoulder, like a sunflower too heavy for its stalk. In a way he’s abruptly aware is baring his throat. And Billy’s behind him, so it’s not quite submission, but it’s close.

“Pretty boy,” that voice says in his ear, soothing, enticing. “Always knew you’d be so pretty. Coming apart in my arms like that.” It’s almost a croon, sinful, delicious. “Wearing my clothes. How fucking gorgeous are you going to look wearing my spunk? Pretty pearl necklace for a pretty pretty boy…”

Steve shivers. No. This has to stop now. He pulls away with an effort, turns. “Billy, look. I’m sorry. I won’t wear your clothes again.”

Billy’s grin is drunk, lazy, but not sloppy. “You sure ‘bout that? ‘Cause you look great.” He takes a surprisingly steady step forward, hooks his fingers into the waistband of the sweats. Pulls Steve closer. “Make me want to do all kinds of things to you—”

Steve lays a hand on Billy’s chest. “It’s not like that, okay? I just…this was a one-time thing.”

A pause, as this sinks in to Billy’s thick skull. Steve watches his expression change. “Oh. I get it. No homo, right? Like, you’ll come all over my hand, but you’re not queer?” Billy makes a disgusted noise in his throat, pushes Steve away. “Whatever, asshole.”

“No, it’s not like—” Steve trails off as Billy leaves, slams the door. “Fuck.”

Three days of Billy being gone. Billy’s Instagram feed is full of pictures of parties. Beer pong, glow paint, girls. Girls with glowing neon necklaces and stripes of UV reactive paint across their cleavage. Girls with tequila running down their bellies. Girls in wet t-shirts, draped over Billy’s beer-drenched shoulders.

Steve considers reporting a TOS violation, but closes the app instead, determined to study. Falls asleep at his laptop. Wakes when a balled-up t-shirt hits him in the back of the head.

“Hey roomie, it’s time to work out.”

Steve silently curses his past self who thought it was a good idea to be workout buddies with his roommate. His ridiculously ripped, ridiculously hot, ridiculously ridiculous roommate. But he grunts and gets up, grateful, at least, that it was a clean t-shirt.

He should know. He did all of Billy’s laundry for him.

The second time, it’s maybe his fault. It’s hard to wrap your lips around a guy’s cock without having some say in the matter.

Then again, he’s really only returning the favor. So it’s kind of Billy’s fault still.

Billy’s thick. Girthy. But Steve’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and he sucks Billy down like he’s apologizing, like he’s promising never again, baby, I’ll never hurt you like that ever.

Billy’s fucking into it. Any lingering doubts Steve had about his roommate’s sexuality are shoved aside—Billy’s fingers are in his hair, tight, curses and praise spilling from his lips as he leans back against his desk. “Shit, babe, you feel so fucking good,” he’s muttering, and if he didn’t have Billy’s cock in his mouth Steve would grit his teeth, wondering how many people he’s said exactly that to in the past. How many stock phrases of encouragement he keeps in his toolbox, keyed to this sensation or that movement. But it’s whatever. Whatever it takes to get him off. To give him the best head of his life.

Steve kind of hates that he’s so determined to feed his roommate’s ego, but there it is.

He’s always been a bit competitive.

So he slides his tongue along the shaft, lets his lips stretch, makes little slurping sounds, getting really enthusiastic—and Billy’s getting louder, more insistent, and Steve’s swirling his tongue underneath the head now, pumping Billy with one hand, spit-slick and obscene, feels Billy’s cock pulse as fingers tighten in his hair, and hot jizz is flooding his throat and he’s swallowing him down without complaint.

Billy’s still gasping when Steve pulls back, hollowing his cheeks until he comes off with a satisfied pop.

“God, I love your mouth,” Billy says, eyes heavy-lidded as they take in Steve. And because he apparently doesn’t know when to quit, he tugs Steve up by the hair, lets go, only to use his thumb to wipe away an errant drop of something unmentionable from the corner of Steve’s mouth. “How did I not know you could do that?”

Steve grins, wide. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

“Fuck. I feel like I could bench press 400 pounds. Or run a mile. Or get shitfaced and dance all night.” Steve feels warm at the praise, but then Billy’s holding his phone up, selfie-camera showing their faces in the desklamp byglow. “C’mon. Start-of-the-evening photo. Then we go out and get shitfaced. Go dancing.”

“Dude, your dick is still out.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a face picture, nobody will know.” Billy waggles his eyebrows. “Though maybe they’ll guess…”

And Steve suddenly goes cold. Pushes the camera away. “No, dude. I don’t want to be on your trophy wall. And I don’t want to go out and get drunk either. I’ve got class tomorrow.”

“So what?” Billy sets the phone down, tucks himself away, picks a shirt up off the (once again covered) floor. “We get drunk, we study. We’ve done it before.” Steve just looks at him; he raises his eyebrows, opens his hands. “What, do you want me to ask you out? Like we’re in middle school?”

Steve just sighs and turns away, ignores the painful wobbling in his chest. “Life isn’t an endless party, Hargrove. Some of us have more important shit to do than work out and drink.” And if he stays, Billy’s going to leave, so Steve pulls on his shoes, a sweater, picks up his backpack and keys. “I’m going to the library. I’ll see you later.”

Out of the corner of his eye, before the door closes behind him, he sees Billy’s face, and he feels a wash of regret in his belly—he’d swear to god his asshole roommate looks hurt. But then the door closes, and Steve shakes his head, certain he’s imagining things.

The third time definitely isn’t his fault.

Steve can’t control the fact that he occasionally has nightmares, even years after anything creepy has happened to him. Even after the dream has faded, the images still haunt him—his hometown overgrown by vines and leaves, air thick with spores, friends speared by branches or torn apart by monsters. He lies on his bed in the dark, body curled in on itself toward the wall, listening to Billy’s snores. Sobs uncontrollably, does his best to swallow the sounds, feels grateful that he’s never been the type for dramatic screams in the middle of the night.

As the worst of the storm passes, he realizes that he hasn’t heard Billy snore in a while. Debates calling out his roommate’s name, but doesn’t trust his voice to stay steady. Then he’s startled by the sensation of his mattress shifting, dipping under the weight of Billy’s not-inconsiderable frame.

“Hey, man. It’s okay.” Billy’s voice, quiet in his ear; one thick, strong arm circles around his waist, pulls him close. “It’s just a bad dream.”

Somehow that only makes his body shudder, only brings forth a fresh burst of tears, hot shame spilling out onto Steve’s cheeks. Billy makes a soothing hum, strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“It’s okay if you’re homesick,” the voice continues; it’s quiet and certain the way it is when he’s whispering filth into Steve’s ear, but different. Talking just to talk, to be present here in the dark, a rope Steve can cling to to pull out of his own head. “I get homesick sometimes, and I don’t even like my home. Plus it’s, like, a couple hours away. You’re way further from home than I’ve ever been…”

Eventually, Steve quiets, breaths smoothing out, body relaxing. Billy still holds him close, kisses the back of his head, the curve of his ear. Steve shivers, presses back into Billy’s frame, and admits, just for a moment, just to himself, how nice it is to feel cared for.

The fourth time…might be Steve’s fault. A little.

It’s Billy’s birthday, and Steve wants to surprise him with something nice. Hits on the perfect idea—a turntable. Reaches into his own birthday-money savings to get a nice one, spends an entire fucking day on the Internet figuring out how to set the damn thing up, nabs some vintage records. The Scorpions. Pink Floyd. Def Leppard. The Who. And some newer stuff, too—Billy might be the worst roommate, but he’s got decent taste in music.

Billy is out late that night, and Steve might be obsessively refreshing Instagram to see if he’s staying the night with some new squeeze. But only because, if so, he can stop pretending to work on this History paper and go to bed. Definitely not because he’s hoping Billy will come home. After all, there’s no reason he can’t give him his present tomorrow—

The sound of the key in the lock has him dashing across the room. And just as the door opens, Steve’s got the needle dropping.

Billy comes in, and he’s blinking, nonplussed, as if a Post Malone and Swae Lee collaboration is something brand new and foreign. Steve smiles, bopping his head along. “Hey, roomie. Happy birthday.”

Billy still looks confused. “I thought you hated my music?”

“Some of it doesn’t suck.” Steve motions to the setup, on the shelf over Billy’s desk. The turntable, the receiver, the slightly battered records sitting next to the speakers. “I got you a new player. Hope you don’t mind.”

His roommate moves over to his side of the room, seems hypnotized by the spinning record. “This is for me?”

“And the records.” Steve’s about bursting. “Found some good deals at a thrift shop.” Billy’s still quiet, and Steve is starting to worry. “Hargrove? Everything all right?”

Billy turns, and Steve’s never seen this expression on his face before. Something strangely cracked down the middle, jagged but soft. “You did this for me?”

Steve laughs a little, walks over to him, bumps his hips into Billy’s. Takes his hands. “I don’t see any other birthday boys around. C’mon.” And he tugs Billy forward, slides his arms around Billy’s neck, swivels his hips meaningfully.

And Billy, who can dance because of course he can, catches on, puts his hands on Steve’s hips, pulls him even closer. There’s a moment of confusion as they fight over who leads, but Billy slides his arm around Steve’s back, and Steve remembers the solid feel of Billy’s body that night. He lets go, allows himself to melt into the embrace; a moment later, they’re swiveling and twirling in tandem, laughing as they dodge piles of clothing on the floor.

The song is over too soon; Billy’s cheeks are a little pink, his blue eyes sparkling. Steve screws up his courage, reaches forward, and gives him a little peck on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Billy.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Steve can feel something change between them. For a moment, he panics, afraid he’s messed things up. But Billy only reaches up, brushes his face with his fingertips. Threads those same fingertips through Steve’s hair. Pulls him close until their lips meet.

And Steve realizes he’s never kissed Billy Hargrove before.

He wonders why he’s waited so long.

The fifth time, it’s definitely Steve’s fault.

It’s Steve’s fault because it’s been two weeks since Billy’s birthday, since they kissed, and Billy’s barely so much as touched him.

It wasn’t like it was even that deep a kiss. You could almost describe it as “chaste”, if you could describe anything Billy Hargrove was involved with as “chaste”. Mouth mostly closed, no tongue.

But since then, since Billy had said “thank you” and pled exhaustion, things have been…normal. Working out. Studying. Getting drunk. Getting drunk and then studying and then going to class on two hours’ sleep because they’re twenty years old and invincible.

Things are normal, and Steve is scrabbling at the walls. What is Billy waiting for? Did Steve screw it up worse than he’d thought? Does Billy just want to forget everything?

To make the whole thing even more surreal, the stream of girls have largely disappeared from Billy’s Instagram. He still posts, but mostly pictures of food, party selfies, the occasional now-playing post with one of the records Steve bought him.

Steve can’t figure it out, but if Billy wants to pretend nothing’s changed, well, Steve’s family wrote the fucking book on that. So he pretends right along with him. Pretends he’s into studying. Pretends he’s into working out. Pretends he’s into his roommate a normal amount.

Actually, it turns out that he doesn’t have to pretend to like working out. He feels better afterward. Helps to clear his head, keep the nightmares away. And as much as he dislikes the studying, Billy and their study benders are the reason he’s passing all his classes, so.

So Steve can maybe be forgiven for being a little blindsided when he’s home one afternoon, sitting on the bed in old clothes, when Billy comes in dressed to impress. Tight jeans, cologne, shirt open down to the navel, because this is southern California and it’s ridiculously warm outside in March. And he’s carrying a flower.

A sunflower.

“Hey,” he says, uncharacteristically quiet, as he sits at the foot of the bed. “I’m…I’m not good with relationships. Never really done them before. And I…I don’t think of you as a trophy. I don’t think of anyone as trophies, really—my Instagram isn’t for bragging, it’s for remembering. Because there are so many things in my life I’d rather forget, and I’m afraid if I don’t post about the good times I’ll forget them too.”

“Billy,” Steve’s voice is quiet.

Billy keeps going, with the increasingly frenzied determination of someone afraid of what will happen if they stop. “And I’ve had so many good times with you, and I started to think about why that is, and I realized it’s because you make them happen. And I wonder if that isn’t what love is. Someone who puts in the effort to make sure you have more good memories together than bad ones. And I’ve never really had that before—”

“Billy,” Steve’s voice is a little louder this time, but it’s still not enough to break through.

“—I don’t know if I can have this, or if I’ll mess it up or whatever, but the point is that I want you. Like, I want to fuck you, I want to see you wearing my come, I want to hear your voice as I split you apart on my fingers or maybe my cock—” Steve finds his mouth suddenly dry— “but also I want to hold you at night. I want to keep hearing those little grumbling noises you make when I wake you up to go work out. I want to find whatever it is that gives you nightmares and crush it. I want you in my life, Steve, and if you need me to ask you out like a seventh-grader, I’ll do it. So.” He clears his throat, holds out the sunflower. “Will you go out with me?”

Steve feels a smile slowly spread across his face. “Billy.”

Billy blinks, eyes seeming to focus on Steve for the first time. “What?”

And Steve’s smile grows wider as he takes the flower, caresses the petals, sets it carefully aside on the bedside table. “Didn’t you remember? It’s laundry day.”

Billy looks down, sees Steve dressed in Billy’s Thrasher shirt, in his old sweats, and a moment later Steve is in his arms, Billy’s weight bearing them both down onto the bed as he plasters their lips together, as their hands roam each other’s bodies, fingertips finding heated skin as their tongues caress, Steve’s moan soft in his throat as his rapidly-filling cock bumps against Billy’s constrained erection.

After a moment, Billy comes up for air, looking down at Steve as if he can’t quite believe he’s there. “Fuck. There’re so many things I want to do to you I’m not even sure where to start.” He runs a hand down Steve’s side, and Steve feels the heat even through the clothes, feels the answering heat rising up to his skin. “Tell me what you want.”

Steve finds his courage. “You said something about splitting me apart?” Smiles a little. “D’you think you can do it while I’m still wearing your clothes?”

Billy’s grin is slow, predatory. “I’ll do you one better than that, sweetheart.” He reaches over to Steve’s bedside table, grabs lube. “Lie back and relax. I’m going to make you feel amazing.”

And some part of Steve can’t quite believe this is happening, that he’s about to let Billy Hargrove—practically the school bicycle—fuck him, but here he is, and there’s no denying the way he’s hard in the borrowed sweats. He palms himself a little through the fabric, eyes hot on Billy’s hands as his roommate turns back to him, sees what he’s up to. “Nuh-uh,” Billy says, smile curving his lips again. “Hands over your head. Grip the headboard. If you let go, I’ll stop.”

It’s a threat, and a filthy fucking promise, and Steve can practically feel the flush creeping up his skin as he obeys, raises his arms overhead. Billy reaches over, fingers catching in the waistband, as he tugs the sweats down. Steve isn’t wearing underwear, and he sucks in a breath as his cock springs free, cool air suddenly caressing sensitive skin.

“God,” Billy says, almost reverently. “So fucking beautiful.” He brings his head down, nuzzles the join of Steve’s thigh with his lips, breath hot on Steve’s skin, before pulling away. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Steve sighs, lets his head fall back onto the pillow, hears the snap of the lube bottle. Feels Billy’s fingers, a moment later, sliding into the space between his legs. The waistband of the sweats is still around Steve’s knees, and the lube leaves an obscene trail of wetness on the insides of his thighs, but Billy is talking again, like he always does when he’s turned on, soft-voiced promises of things to come, even as his fingers find Steve’s hole.

The sensation is unfamiliar, and Steve sucks in a breath, but Billy just holds there a moment, stroking the sensitive rim. And as his finger begins to press, he nuzzles soft kisses against Steve’s skin—his thighs, his belly, his navel. “God, you’re so tight for me. All for me. I can’t believe it. Just breathe, baby. You know how much I fucking want you.”

Steve breathes. Lets go of the uncertainty, the anxiety, the wondering who Billy would be with right now if it wasn’t for him—because it is him, he’s here, and Billy’s finger is pressing up into him, and it’s unfamiliar but not bad, not with those lips pressing praise into his skin, not with Billy’s breath hot on his skin and Billy’s face brushing against his aching cock and Jesus fuck—

Steve can hear his own ragged cry, can feel Billy’s grin against his belly. “I thought you’d like that, pretty boy.”

“I didn’t—didn’t even know—” Steve’s voice breaks off into a ragged whine as Billy does something with his finger, something that sets off a shock wave of pleasure, expanding through his nerves. “Fuck, I didn’t know—”

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Two fingers now, pressing. “Keep breathing. Let me in.”

Steve’s eyes are shut tight, his breath ragged, and Billy’s barely touched his cock. Steve bites his lower lip, breath catching in his throat as Billy kisses closer in, until those fingers crook in and down and there it is again, that sensation of expansion, of heat, fire fizzling through every single one of his nerves, and again—

“You’re going to come like this.” Billy’s voice is soft, deep, certain; an inevitability settling deep into Steve’s hindbrain. “You’re going to come, just like this, on nothing but my fingers. You’re going to paint my shirt with your spunk, and you’re going to beg me to do it again, to take you in my mouth, to fuck you, to give you everything I have, and I will—”

“Please—” Steve is gasping, the words and the kisses and the strange overwhelming sensation flooding his body, those wicked fingers eliciting sensations that fill him, whiten his knuckles, push tears from his eyes. “Fuck, please, Billy, let me come—please—”

And even with his eyes closed, Steve can see the grin on Billy’s face, can hear it in his voice. “Just for me, pretty boy. Come for me.”

Another press, and another, and Steve is full, is spilling over, is spilling out, wrecked moans overflowing from his lips, sobs wracking his frame, whole body convulsing as Billy presses in and up, demanding everything Steve has to give. And he gives it, willingly, lets it go, until he feels free and light and empty. Even gives his quiet sobs into Billy’s mouth, after, when he comes up for a kiss.

It’s not Steve’s fault, the way he looks at Billy then, tears clinging to his eyelashes, creating a halo of light around Billy’s golden hair. Anyone would have done the same, in his position. Surrendered to Billy Hargrove’s hands, his care, his pure joy in giving this to Steve.

It’s totally Steve’s fault how Billy looks at him. Like something bright, and beautiful, and completely unexpected, and all the more precious for its rarity.

Like a sunflower, in the middle of a grey winter’s day.

#harringrove #harringroveweekoflove #loveweekifao #roommates au #cw: mild kink #cw: dirty talk #cw: billy hargrove's fingers #fluff #my writing

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jinterlude · 6 years ago

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Two Faced (Ch.4)

➵ Pairing(s): Gang!Jungkook x Female!OC & Gang!Mark Lee x Female!OC x Gang!Seokjin

➵ Genre(s): College!AU, Mafia/Gang!AU, Angst, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Love Triangle & Slight-Fluff

➵ Warning(s): None for this chapter

➵ Words: 4.4K

➵ Co-writer: @softjeon

➵ Summary: Two girls. Two gangs. One craved absolute control over the city of Seoul. While, the other simply craved sleep and good grades. Now, what do these two ladies have in common? Simple. They have nothing in common—or so they think. Everyone knows the saying, “never judge a book by its cover”, so maybe there is something more to these two than meets the eye…especially when one of them is suddenly thrown into the underground life. Loyalties will be tested. Romance will blossom. Yup. Sounds like an average college day…

« Previously | Next Time »

Chapter 4 - So My Roomie is a Gang Leader

A few days later, Sumin still had yet to crack the mystery that was Sowon. Whenever they attended classes, meaning Sumin dragged her roommate along because she had grown tired of Sowon’s professor looking at her like they had no idea what she was talking about, Sowon behaved like the first time they had meant. Yet when they were back home, the lazy roommate turned into this confident, almost cold-hearted person.

Seriously, Sumin practically experienced whiplash from the many times that Sowon had abruptly changed personas. However, the innocent little lady refused to give up until she uncovered the truth about Sowon and her mysterious group of boys.

To this day, Sumin doesn’t know what they do, how they met Sowon, or even why the sudden silence whenever she came into the room?

So many questions yet so little time—especially now since Sowon was currently shoving every single style of dress at her, demanding that she’d try them on.

“Wait, try this dress on!” yelled Sowon as she threw yet another short and tight dress over the dressing room door.

Sumin groaned loudly. Sowon didn’t quite understand Sumin’s reasoning for disliking the whole “going to the club”. Though, deep down. Sumin knew that Sowon could care less about what she disliked—well—for the most part.

“Sowon! I think this dress is shorter than the last one you chucked at me…!” Sumin whined; her eyes widened as she took in her reflection. All she saw was legs, legs, and more legs. Oh, she couldn’t forget the semi-exposure of her cleavage too…

Sumin chuckled, secretly finding Sumin’s discomfort a bit amusing. The secretive gang leader knew what she was doing. She was never oblivious to Sumin’s body type, especially, when she noticed that this petite girl had some curves to her. How did she noticed? It’s simple, really. Sowon had noticed when Sumin was being trained by Seokjin. Honestly, after that day, Sowon questioned why her innocent little roomie never wore anything tight. Like, a nicely fitted blouse, or even a cocktail type of dress that accentuated her best features.

If Sumin thought Sowon was a mystery, then Sumin would be like a cold-case for Sowon.

Two girls with their own hidden secrets.

Sounds like a fun game…

Hours had passed, and the two girls finally left the clothing store with two shopping bags in each arm.

“I still think you should’ve gotten that cute black dress. I think you would’ve looked cute in that lace.” commented Sowon, pouting cutely.

Sumin grimaced, “Weren’t you the one that told me that the dress looked like something a mom would wear, though?” She pointed out, giving her roomie a knowing look.

Sowon laughed, “I was using reverse-psychology on you. Honestly, I wanted you to get that dress since it represents your personality quite well.”

Sumin tilted her head slightly; confusion slowly appeared on her face.

“How so?” She asked.

Sowon simply hummed in response as she thought about how she could explain it without unknowingly offending her sunshine.

“Just trust me, okay?” Sowon winked at her roommate playfully and lead her back to her car. Sumin still had no idea what this all was about and she seriously had no idea why she was playing along. Maybe she liked the rush of it all a little too much already.

When they parked in front of Sowon’s mansion again, Sumin just followed the leader as always.

“You will have some last minute training with Jin in a bit.” Sowon announced as she turned and walked a little backwards until they were in her room that she normally shared with Jungkook but when Sumin stayed over—it was theirs. It was always put her in a rather good mood whenever she thought about how that even occurred.

Apparently, Sumin had pulled her aside one night, telling her that she won’t stay in a random room nor will sleep with any of the boys. Sowon sat down at the edge of her bed as she eyed the slightly nervous Sumin, who still had no idea what it was all about. Biting her lip, Sowon contemplated for a while. She needed to let Sumin in. Either way it would get quite dangerous for her. Sumin must have an idea already on who she really was, but still—the innocent girl stayed quiet and in a weird way, she trusted Sowon.

Now standing in their shared bedroom, Sumin groaned, throwing her head back. After what seemed like an eternity of shopping, the last thing the tired girl wanted to do was train with Seokjin. Even more so, when she didn’t have a clear explanation as to why she had to train in the first place. When she originally asked Sowon why she had to train, the older woman would simply say,

“Because, I can easily break you with my hugs, and I don’t want to accidentally kill you one day.”

Sighing loudly, Sumin flopped on her bed, well Jungkook’s, and stared blankly at the ceiling while Sowon eyed her with this amusing gleam in her eye. She knew that Sumin could be lazy but, at the same time, she displayed more advanced athletic skills when she felt like that.

Too bad that those moments were rare. Like, Sowon showing up to her classes rare.

“Okay, come on, you book worm,” Sowon walked up to Sumin and grabbed her wrists, “You don’t want Jinnie to wait for you forever, right?” She questioned as she roughly yanked Sumin up, earning a tiny yelp from her roomie.

Sumin whined again, but soon submitted to Sowon. If she didn’t do it now, she knew that Sowon would resort to more drastic methods, and the last time that happened, Sumin ended up on Seokjin’s lap, wearing nothing but her sleeping shirt.

Yeah...she firmly believed that she accidentally turned him on…

Sowon smiled brightly before tossing Sumin her workout gear. She then pushed the girl into the bathroom and said to meet her in the training room.

As she walked out, this interesting idea began to formulate in her devious mind. This scheming like smirk slowly graced her beautiful face the more the idea solidified.

“I think I should pay Yoongi a visit…” She thought sweetly as the sounds the of her heels echoed throughout the empty corridor.

Now, standing in the middle of the training room, Sumin tightened her ponytail. She couldn’t quite understand why Seokjin told her to put her hair up, but she simply shrugged it off and did as she was told. Once her hair was secured enough, she moved on to stretching out her muscles, though, she did it half-assed.

Seokjin shook his head softly, chuckling at how his princess wasn’t taking this training seriously. Maybe she would once her life was on the line.

Then, it hit him. That’s what he’d do to get her to exert all of her strength.

“Okay, princess,” He began, walking to the center and standing in front of Sumin, “I need you to punch me.” He instructed as he got into a fighting stance.

Sumin froze; her doe-like eyes widened. Was he messing with her? He had to be since their previous training sessions only required her throwing knives at a target or knowing how to prep a gun.

Now, he wanted her to punch him.

Nope. Not going to happen.

“What?! I’m not going to punch you!” She practically shrieked, not wanting to harm the pretty boy for doing absolutely nothing to her.

Seokjin gave her look, “You need to be able to defend yourself, especially when you can’t get to your gun or even a simple knife.” He explained, taking step forward towards Sumin, who then took a step back.

Her heart raced against her chest. Her breathing became sporadic. There’s the whole defending herself thing again. Since day one, he had always told her that the reason for learning about weaponry, concocting the perfect escape route, etc. was because she needed to learn how to defend herself from anything and everything.

What was going on?

“Defend myself from what?!” yelled Sumin, finally fed up with being kept in the dark.

“From enemies,” A sudden voice behind Sumin said, when an arm already wrapped around her neck and quickly brought her to the ground. Sumin was completely knocked off her balance.

Sowon laughed, when Sumin tried to threw her hands at her, flapping them like birds. But somehow Sumin grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed Sowon down, making the older woman squeal a little, before she quickly caught her wrist and brought it up Sumin’s head. “What the fuck, Sowon!” Sumin shouted, and the boys around cheered as the two girls were rolling around, fighting each other off. It didn’t take long for Sowon to have the upper hand again, pinning both hands up over Sumin’s head, while she was sitting comfortably on Sumin’s waist.

“Now, sunshine,” Sowon said a little out of breath, “Do you ever heard something about ‘Bangtan’?”

Sumin squirmed underneath Sowon. A faint blush crept on her face, not because that she was aroused or anything, but because that this was the most skin-on-skin contact that she ever experienced and—she hated it. She wanted Sowon to get off her right now. While, with the other person, Sowon refused to weaken her grip until Sumin answered her.

“You know...you can keep squirming all you want, but I’m not getting up until you answer…” She declared, chuckling softly at Sumin’s failed attempts of freeing herself.

With a final spurt of strength, Sumin flopped back down and finally answered Sowon but shaking her head as the word, “no”, escaped her tired lips.

“Oh, really?” Sowon said and let go of Sumin’s wrists and sat herself up a little more, “That’s honestly…disappointing. But what did I expect?”

The leader got up from Sumin’s body and held out a hand for her to grab to pull her up. Not even caring about dusting off her clothes, Sumin stared at Sowon, demanding answers. Her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Okay, so…,” Sowon finally started and turned towards her boys, “Did you hear about the new drug that has been going around campus for a while now?” She licked her lips with a knowing smile when Sumin nodded frantically. She had heard about it and seen it. It was designed to make the students more efficient and awake but also left them on a very ‘high’ and mentally fucked up state afterwards. “Well, hi…that was me,” Sowon threw her hair back and proudly turned around before she introduced herself once again, but this time it was accurate, “Hi, I’m Sowon, leader of ‘Bangtan’. I own a drug and weaponry business and basically every club you know…is mine. This is the world I live in… and you’re in it now.”

Sumin stood there in silence, practically like a zombie since her soul pretty much left her body. Her brain went into overdrive as it tried its hardest to process the information that she had learned.

Then, her mouth formed a tiny “O”. Tiny whispers spewed from her lips as she repeated every other word that she had heard come out of Sowon’s lips.

“So...you are a gang leader that owns clubs, deals in drugs and weaponry, and more than likely does other illegal stuff…” Sumin trailed on, while Sowon and the rest of Bangtan nod their head. “That doesn’t mean you can neglect your studies since you have seven other people to handle that stuff for you.” She added.

The second she said, this giant wave of confusion crashed onto Bangtan. Okay. That wasn’t the reaction they were looking for.

“You’re not going to run to the cops and rat us out?” Seokjin questioned; his words dripped with caution.

Sumin simply shook her head.

This caused even more confusion with the gang.

“Why not?” Jungkook asked, finding a bit too weird that this outsider wasn’t running to the police.

“Well, by the looks on your face, that is something that you’d expect. Besides, I’m pretty positive that one of you guys would’ve shot me dead before I could even make it to the front door.” She kindly explained, displaying her intelligence to them. A quiet click of a gun was heard, when everyone stared at Yoongi for a second.

“What? I mean…that’s what I’m supposed to do right?” Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and secured his gun back in his holster.

Sowon stared at Sumin, blinking a few times, as now it was her turn to wrap her mind around Sumin’s words. She knew that Sumin was quite smart, but she didn’t know that she could be street smart given her naive nature. Her innocent little sunshine had yet to cease in impressing her.

Now, after seeing Sumin’s street smarts, her plan on luring out NCT’s leader would officially be foolproof…

“Good!” Sowon clapped in her hands, happy that her plan was working out, but before she could turn around, Sumin held her back.

“But now…what do I have to do with all of this?” She asked, raising her eyebrow as she looked up at the gang leader.

“Oh, right,” Sowon chuckled and cupped Sumin’s cheek sweetly, “You my dear are my bait. I need someone that they don’t expect, someone innocent as you. You won’t get hurt, trust me.” Sumin furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to speak but the leader was interrupting her already, explaining every important information she needed to know and leaving out a few little details. “It’s easy,” She nodded, “We go in, you find out what the leader looks like and I can finally take them down. Then you can go back to your boring life and I can finally stop pretending to be a student.”

Sowon smiled at Sumin, though inside, she couldn’t help but be nervous as well. It wasn’t like she was going after any gang. NCT was a force to be reckoned with, or else Sowon wouldn’t have to hide to keep safe. They made it clear before—they wanted her. Dead or Alive. They truly did not care. And sometimes, if no one was around, Sowon couldn’t help but feel it. The fear. The anxiety. With great power comes great responsibility. And ‘Bangtan’ was her family. She needed them all to be safe. And now that Sumin was in the picture, Sowon had one more person to look out for.

Straightening her shoulders, Sowon hugged Sumin, kissing the top of her hair before she simply turned without saying a word.

Jungkook’s eyes followed her retreating body, before he looked back at Sumin. He knew she wouldn’t ever forgive herself if something happened to her. As much as the leader wouldn’t admit it, Jungkook knew how much Sumin already meant to her. She wouldn’t survive another life taken away from her.

“Wait...did she just say that I was being used as bait?!” shrieked Sumin once Sowon left the room.

The rest of the fellas shielded their precious ears as they nodded their heads. Did they truly believe that Sumin would be safe luring this invisible man out?

Probably not.

Would they let something happen to her?

Never.

“Just trust us, princess,” Seokjin began, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, “While, we do appear cold and can easily murder someone without exerting too much effort, we are one big family, and we never let our family get hurt. Okay?” He reassured the nervous woman, smiling softly.

Sumin sighed, still unsure if he meant what he said; however, if it meant that she would be allowed to go back to her academics and having a sense of normalcy, then…

“Okay. I’ll do it. When do I have to this baiting thing?” She asked, trying to keep her voice nice and calm but ultimately failed when it wavered near the end.

Seokjin turned to Jungkook, who knew everything and anything that Sowon planned. One of the many perks of dating the leader.

“This Saturday.” Jungkook answered shortly.

Sumin faked a laugh, “Great…”

Before she knew it, Saturday arrived quickly. From receiving more hand-to-hand combat training to going over brief notes of NCT, Sumin didn’t realize that it had indeed become Saturday. It finally registered when Sowon pushed her into the bathroom, shoved a navy-blue cocktail dress, and matching heels.

“Oh! Leave your hair down!” The pushy leader suggested as she fixed the positioning of her wig. Instead of her natural dark locks, she now dawned this hazel brown color that slowly faded into this purple ombre.

After what seemed like hours, Sumin emerged from the bathroom. Her hair cascaded down the sides of her face like a waterfall. Her makeup highlighted her best facial features while the navy-blue dress clung nicely against her body. On her feet were these black heels that paired nicely.

Sowon couldn’t help but do this wolf whistle at the girl. Damn, Sumin cleaned up nicely. She still appeared to be this innocent lady yet now looked to have ulterior motives.

The gang leader’s eyes did a quick glance over. Sumin looked great but something was missing. Then, she suddenly snapped her fingers and rushed to the dresser. Her hands grasped one of her many jewelry boxes and opened it. She then pulled out this nice diamond and sapphire bracelet and walked back to Sumin.

“Wear this.” She instructed nicely, even though she pretty much clasped it around Sumin’s wrist.

Sumin eyed the extravagant bracelet and asked her why she needed to wear this. To which Sowon answered,

“Not only does this complete your look, but it also has a hidden tracker and microphone just in case NCT’s leader decides to be a creeper and kidnap you.”

Sumin chuckled nervously as her eyes flickered to the bracelet again. Great, she hadn’t even thought about the possibility of being kidnapped until Sowon put that image in her head. Sowon noted the sudden nervous emotion within Sumin and patted the girl on head; a weird yet sweet attempt on calming the girl.

“No matter what...you will be protected by either myself or one of the guys.” Sowon reassured before pulling her into a warm, comforting hug.

Sumin stood there, at first, but soon returned the hug. It was a simple action yet it meant so much the younger girl. She never had any friends, so it truly got lonely sometimes.

But ever since Sowon came into her life, it had been one interesting adventure. And to think...the journey was only just beginning...

“You ready to turn on some hormonal boys, minus Yoongi and Jimin, of course.” Sumin heard Sowon say in a teasing voice. Of course Sowon, the never tiring seductress, wanted to torture the fellas.

Sumin simply rolled her eyes but displayed an amused grin on her face. Sowon was definitely rubbing off on her.

Exiting the room, the girls sauntered their way towards the staircase. The way their body spoke was if they were saying that they were ready to take on whoever and whatever that came at them.

As they neared the staircase, it was eerily quiet. Nothing but the sounds of their heels hitting the marble stairs were heard as they descended down the steps. Everyone was busy with getting themselves ready. Putting their guns into their holsters. That was until each fella heard this clinking sound. Each of their heads snapped towards the stairwell. Some of their jaws dropped as they couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the girls’ beauty. No one dared to say too much, though Seokjin’s eyes were fixated on Sumin’s body for a little too long. Damn…she looked good.

Sowon was walking over to Jungkook right away, letting him take her in his embrace as they both turned away from the group a little more.

“You good?” Jungkook asked sweetly, pushing a strand of Sowon’s fake hair behind her ear, as she nodded. “Sure,” She smiled a bit too nervous for Jungkook’s liking.

“She will do fine.” He reassured her.

“I know, I’m just…,” Sowon sighed. She hated how easily Jungkook could read her. Her eyes flickered over to Sumin and the leader flashed her a confident smile and a wink, before she wrapped her arms around Jungkook’s neck.

“Stay close,” The leader whispered, placing a soft kiss right below his pulse point, making him shiver. “As soon as we got everything we need to know,” She cupped Jungkook’s cheek, her lips only inches away from his, “I want her to be out of there. Unharmed.”

Jungkook sighed softly as a tiny grin appeared on his handsome face.

“On Seokjin’s honor, I’m damn sure that she’ll remain unharmed while on this mission.” He stated quietly before closing the gap between their lips, indulging in the sweetest and most addicting kisses that Sowon always offered him.

While with Sumin, she couldn’t help but watch the couple engage the most passionate kiss ever. Part of her, silently wished that she too could experience that strong sense of intimacy—that feeling of being loved. Yet, with the other half, she was completely content with being by herself—right?

“Alright, my sweet sunshine! Time to get the show on the road!” shouted Sowon, pulling Sumin out of her contradicting thoughts.

Sumin simply smiled in response as Seokjin walked up to her and stood by her side. He gently placed a hand on her bare shoulder, ignoring the jolts of electricity that surged through his veins.

“Everything will be fine,” He paused, taking the moment to courageously place a sweet kiss on her temple, “Hoseok and I will be watching you from a nearby booth, and Taehyung will mimic your movements from a distance,” He then turned her towards him; their eyes locked on each other, “No matter what, I will make sure nothing harms you.” He declared, pulling her into a hug.

Sumin stood there, allowing the man to hug her. She slightly lifted her arms to return the hug but soon dropped them when Seokjin released her from his warm embrace. This warm, almost loving, smile appeared on his face as Seokjin observed the faint blush invade Sumin’s already rosy cheeks.

“Thanks…” She mumbled; her eyes remained glued on the tile floor as she messed with the bracelet that Sowon gave her.

Seokjin found her shy exterior quite adorable as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, escorting her to the cars.

“Took you guys long enough…!” Sowon shouted as she watched the two finally exit the luxurious house.

Sumin rolled her eyes as she, slowly but surely, made her way to Sowon and the rest of Bangtan, minus Seokjin. He trailed right behind her with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his pants.

Sowon eyed her cute little sunshine with an interesting gleam in her eyes as she hooked their arms together.

“Remember, the plan is to lure NCT’s leader out and then gain some useful knowledge that we can use against him. Okay?” The confident yet secretly scared gang leader reminded Sumin.

Sumin simply gave her a thumbs up before entering the vehicle.

Sowon nodded to herself with this confident smirk written all over her face. This plan was going to work.

She just knew it…

The ride to the club was fairly quiet. The only words spoken were only to see if Namjoon’s equipment worked. Sowon’s eyes were fixated on the road, her hand firmly placed in Jungkook’s who was staring out of the window. Sumin watched the two of them for a while, wondering about them. How they had met, if Jungkook had always been around or if it was one of those fairly odd love stories. She giggled, imagining Sowon being romantic and before she noticed, they arrived a few streets away from their destination.

“C’mon, sunshine,” Sowon held out her hand for Sumin to take, leaving the boys behind as they drove off again. Swinging their hands back and forth, Sowon was humming quietly, acting like they weren’t on a mission but in fact on their way to party. Rubbing her hands over Sumin’s arms, she kept the younger warm as they stood in the line to get inside.

“Normally I use my god given tools to get in quick, but we can’t get any extra attention tonight,” The leader mumbled and fixed a lock of Sumin’s hair.

Sumin only nodded, understanding her friend’s decision to keep a low profile. However, the almost frozen woman wished the line went a little bit faster. Also, there was no breeze. If there wasn’t a breeze, then tonight would’ve been perfect for her. After all, she did prefer the cold over the heat.

“I wonder why the line isn’t moving...the club couldn’t be a capacity already…” Sowon mumbled, hoping that Sumin didn’t hear her as she did.

Unfortunately, she did. Sumin looked at the leader and flashed a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay, Sowon,” She began, “Besides, don’t you want a lot of people here tonight?” She asked, not knowing that a certain group of people had been listening. The joys of having advanced technology installed all over the establishment.

In a dark room, hidden from the eyes of the many clubbers, there sat an unknown figure; the person’s eyes remained fixated on Sumin’s face.

“I know that look, Mark… and no you can’t keep her.” joked a man with silver-hair.

The young man, with raven dark locks, simply smirked. He could waste his breathe on entertaining his right-hand man, but he decided that his words were better suited for that unknown gorgeous woman that entered the camera’s line of sight.

The black-haired man stood up, grabbing his leather jacket from the now vacant seat. He quickly put it on, covering his white dress shirt, and walked over to the door.

Using two fingers, he gestured for his men to follow him out.

A boy with reddish-orange hair stared at his leader with nothing but confusion. Mark never left their special room without a good reason. Intel had shown that no enemy gang members were dumb enough to show up tonight, so why the sudden appearance?

“You know...if you want her, Mark, we can go fetch her for you. No reason for you to expose yourself to the people out there.” said the confused boy.

Mark stopped in his tracks. He then glanced over his shoulder, revealing this practically devilish smirk, and said,

“I know that, Haechan, but I believe that my future girlfriend deserves my presence, don’t you think?”

A/N: And there you have it guys! NCT is officially in the house! (N-City, We Gotta Go Get Them)! What do you guys think of their appearance? Do you like seeing Mark as the leader of the gang instead of TY- Track himself? lol Let us know!

Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/and an ask in mine or Jey’s inbox! We love hearing your thoughts!

- Kim

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kurojiri · 6 years ago

Text

Their echoed shadows

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing:Tom Riddle/ Cedric Diggory Gen: Tom Riddle & Teddy Lupin, Cedric Diggory & Teddy Lupin Summary: Teddy Lupin always had a big heart. It came to no one’s surprise when he wanted to befriend the portraits of Tom Riddle and Cedric Diggory. A/N: Next Gen AU, Young Portrait Tom Riddle/ Portrait Cedric Diggory, with commentary of Teddy Lupin. Word Count: 4,291

“I find the best way to love someone is not to change them, but instead, to help them reveal the greatest version of himself.”— Steve Maraboli

Or read on ao3

Strangely, it had been Teddy that had started the communication. He had been a young boy, small but still filled with big dreams. Before he had been eleven and a student, Teddy had been given permission to wander Hogwarts when he and his godfather, Harry walked in the hallways and while they've talked with some of the professors. In those occasions, Teddy had watched and chatted with the portraits that had welcomed him. He loved it. They all each had their own stories, with all the different colors and palettes awing him when he visited each time. They all had their landscapes and moods. It made the wizarding world always fascinating for him. For Teddy, it had been fun to interact with them. The conversations almost perfectly mimicked real people. And that had been why he wanted to talk to them. Tom and Cedric. They were both two interesting people. One with dark hair and fair skin that hardly conversed with others. He somehow always had to sport a borderline sneer close to his lips when anyone tried to actively talk to him. (It somehow reminded him when his cousin Draco and godfather were in the middle of a passionate argument. Like for quidditch games or when Uncle Harry wore the jumpers that made cousin Draco feel disgusted to be seen next to him.) He could be friendly enough, and for Teddy, he liked Tom well enough. He just needed help in having friendly conversations.

Which, reminded him of Cedric. He, who was bright and cheerful at first glance, he had that type of aura around him. Cedric had been a great person when he had been alive too apparently. Although, Teddy would never get a straight answer from anyone that had known him no matter how many times he politely asked or overheard, he just knew the bare minimal that he knew that Cedric was the perfect first portrait friend for Tom to have. They were two opposite personalities that Teddy wanted to interact. And Cedric had humored him too in that day when he asked him if he would help Tom loosen his walls and shields, he kept since his portrait had been discovered and allowed to be put inside Hogwarts. The older Hufflepuff had liked the idea more when he had finished asking him. And, it had kicked it off when Teddy spirited through the summer hallways. Hogwarts had been a little quiet but, it still had made Cedric smile as he followed Teddy. His godfather Harry, in the background had looked confused but allowed Teddy to wander around. Nine years old was old enough to have some freedom, especially when there were house elves and other thousands of portraits to watch over him. When he first saw him, Teddy had remembered how pretty the background had been. A sleek couch, a wide library with sunlight that only spring could have had made the room cozy and refined. Tom had been painted wearing a nice relaxed white shirt with ironed slacks and polished shoes. His hair had been sleek too, and when he looked at Teddy his face had been pretty. (Even if it morphed into a scowl and hesitant nod when Teddy lingered in front of him.) He had been able to see how lonely he had been too, as other portraits watched Teddy smile at Tom. At that time, Teddy had given his name, but he had not known Tom’s name. No. It hadn’t been simple back then, Teddy had tried his best but it had been Uncle Harry that answered it when he called him out. He had been about to call him out again, but when he noticed who he was introducing himself to Uncle Harry had automatically reached over to firmly pull Teddy away. “Tom?” His godfather’s voice had been deadly calm. He had questions, of course, and as tense as he had been back then, Teddy knew his godfather would find whatever answers he wanted soon enough. “I never figured you’d be the type to have portraits of yourself back then. Not until—” He stopped himself when felt Teddy’s glaze. “Never mind that, how are you?” He still looked both output for having to run into someone he knew before. The same kind of look reserved for when Teddy knew that meant Tom had been something related to his godfather’s past. Either for the war he fought or school related. Tom, who had been carefully analyzing them didn’t look surprised of how protective his godfather had been. “I am fine. However, I do not know you.” His body still had resembled like a caged animal. “I was created during the very beginning of my fifth year in Hogwarts back in 1942.” It had been a big deal. For Uncle Harry at least, but he never did find out when Teddy had still been a young boy. Yet, Teddy understood that Tom, and Uncle Harry had a history with each other, just not the portrait that they both found in Hogwarts. But it still had been the beginning when Teddy knew what he wanted to do with Tom and his lonely corner where his portrait had been displayed.

One well-known fact about Teddy Lupin, is that once he wanted to be friends with someone, he would do his damn best to achieve that. Whether they were animals, portraits, or people, Teddy had known his role in the world. His own heart had been shaped for that kind of love and empathy. It had been why it had been easy to persuade a kindred spirit like Cedric to join his cause. They both, Teddy and Cedric were willing to be friends with him.

There were no hidden agendas.

Even if at first Tom had been hesitated and very standoffish when Teddy had announced his and Cedric’s arrival. With Cedric being a portrait person, it had given Tom more subtle reactions as Teddy coaxed Tom to allow Cedric to get closer. That day Cedric didn’t step inside Tom’s domain, but he had been able to introduce himself.

It had been a taxing and slow afternoon that day, but Teddy had been happy that Tom did not outright banish them. Or the next day or the day after that. But he had been jealous that Cedric had more time and opportunities to greet Tom than Teddy could. The nine-year-old didn’t deny it, but he had also been very happy to hear that Tom had slowly been nodding off to Cedric’s babbles. (It still had been a little rude that Tom read his books when Teddy and Cedric talked to him, but Teddy had also been stubborn and practically punctual with his greetings.)

Those first days had turned to weeks. Before he knew it, Teddy had to say goodbye. It had been sad that there had not been a portrait he could take for Tom and Cedric to visit him back at home, but with Hogwarts starting again Teddy had managed to have some hours dedicated to Hogwarts during the holidays, provided that a professor or other adult with permission to be in campus would be there to monitor him.

But that had been good enough for him as he noticed Tom getting used to their company.

Just as much as Teddy loved seeing Cedric’s youthful face smiling bigger each time Teddy waved at him. Or when he found out who his parents were.

“Your mom was Tonks? She was a brilliant Hufflepuff.”

Cedric had been a little shocked when he saw Teddy’s hair spontaneously switch colors. But he had also been quick to smile and reassure him too. He could see why Cedric had been made a prefect.

“And also, Professor Lupin too? Incredible. He was of the best Defense teachers I ever had the pleasure of having. You have both their best qualities. (They would be proud of you, and the person you are becoming.)”

With his smile and kind eyes seeing him, and taking in his features Teddy had always felt comfortable when he visited Cedric. He was like the perfect big brother and sort of uncle that a portrait could be. And companion when he checked on Tom. The winter season had been kind, with the layers he wore and not the multiple ones that he would need later on as December roared. Since summer, Tom had still been stony in some topics.

But it hadn’t been that bad. Unlike his godfather, his cousins Draco and Ginny had accepted his bundling friendship with Tom. They had also memories with other versions of Tom. One with an old dairy, and one of an older man. They never told him the whole stories, but they had also seemed to understand what Teddy wanted. As well, they had in turn visited Tom in Hogwarts during the Winter Holidays.

It had been awkward.

When it concerned cousin Draco, Teddy had caught his skin turn pale and somewhat stiff when Tom looked at them both. Cedric had not been there, but Teddy’s warm smiles had done a decent job for Tom to get a feel of his future (and very dead) version’s outcome. His mood had been sullen and reluctant, but Teddy had also been careful when his cousin Ginny’s turn had been a little more talkative. In her end, at least with her red hair pulled into a tight bun and Luna by her side.

Tom had answered their questions, but they all knew his replies would never mean much. She had known Dairy Tom, and Portrait Tom was similar, but not the exact shade she was looking for. Just like how cousin Draco found the youthful face of Tom Riddle to be an alien moment for himself. It had all been accumulated to both his cousins Ginny and Draco to finding their separate perceptions of peace for themselves. They never fully did explain what they saw or needed, but Tom and Teddy welcomed the lazy days when Cedric came into the frame.

Nobody would ever fully know what would have happened if Cedric and Tom were alive at the same as teenagers; but it had been something else entirely that occupied Teddy’s own musings. Each time he saw them both he could see the walls getting lower. Spring came, and Cedric greeted him first when Teddy went to the same corner with Cedric sitting next to Tom. The window had been opened and the curtains were pulled apart. The distance was still palpable, but he had known that Tom was the type to slowly bring others into his circle.

Something that the other Tom versions were capable too, but for other reasons and missions. (He had heard the subplot to that when his godfather thought Teddy couldn’t catch his words.) That spring holiday came and went faster but when he reached ten that summer it had opened another set of memories of watching Cedric work his magic.

“Must you two always be so jolly loud this early in the day?”

Cedric and Teddy would always reply with loud chuckling and giggling respectively as they continued making horrible jokes. Tom would look annoyed, but never too much that it would hurt Teddy’s feelings. They each all knew by then that Tom had a soft side, a rare shade that Teddy wished the other Tom had been comfortable to see and feel with ease that his portrait did.

“Honestly, why I bother with you two, I’ll never know.”

Portraits were not like ghosts. He had been told that. Multiple of times as he grew up. And he knew. Teddy knew.

But it still didn’t stop him from wondering.

He may have been young, but Teddy loved to socialize and see every day as a new beginning and chapter he couldn't wait to start. It had been why Uncle Harry liked taking him to Hogwarts. They both shared a lot, and at the same time, were different in constitution. Magic, and Hogwarts were special to both of them, and it showed when his godfather eventually gained the job as professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, it had been rightfully earned and Teddy had been proud of him. His grandmother had said the same when he had been shown the room his godfather would use in September.

“Uncle Harry, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Teddy. What do you need?”

“Tom.”

“Potter.”

The portraits were just painting with enchantments that many artists learned how to do. Teddy had loved visiting many, and he had also loved watching the process too when he had been allowed. His cousin Ginny took up painting sometime before he had been born. He saw the rows of landscapes and portraits, some living some not. It all had been lovely, and he knew she loved it dearly.

One time she showed him a portrait of his parents that she made when he had been five. Back then, he had been memorized at the likeness and life she brought to them. But they had not been his parents, they hadn’t met them their living versions, so they had been silent. Left to the imagination of how his cousin Ginny remembered them. Along with their secrets not being shared with them.

(But it had been the start of his quest.

To finding a soul beneath their lines and colors.

To each and every other painting he met since then too.)

Something about painting had become a hobby for him too. He had never been a particularly great artist, but he had fun with it. Abstract shapes had been his expertise, and the freedom to mix his emotions helped him too. It had made his cousins Draco and Ginny to also bond too. Those days when they all went to the painting room his grandmother converted, they all talked about whatever had been in their heads. Silly things, normal boring adult things and funny things.

He loved it when they made animals, or when ocean waves swirled. Each of them had made Teddy see the world they shared with him, it connected him to their hearts. Edward Remus Lupin may have been ten almost eleven but even back then, he realized something profounding. Life was wondrous, dangerous and daring. But with them passing along their wisdoms and experiences Teddy would be fine. He would seek his own adventures and answers. But all at the same time, he knew he would be loved fiercely by both his past, present and future choices and people he’d met on his journey.

Just like how Cedric had and maybe Tom.

(But he couldn’t ever be completely sure. Because, sometimes his gut would fall and his heart felt like it broke. Tom Riddle was a mystery, but he had also been a boy back then. With dreams, aspirations. He couldn’t have been unloved for his whole life.

Because then Teddy—because, then he wouldn’t be able to stop looking at him. And wondering why. Why would the world be so cruel to certain people?)

He ventured out and spent more time seeing his godfather talking to Tom more too. It had been slower than compared to his cousin Ginny, but that had made sense she was a Weasley through and through. She was a wildfire; she always made rounds to figure her emotions and then seek solutions. His cousin Ron had said so too as well his Aunt Hermione when they heard about the times his cousin sought out Tom during the holidays. Compared to them, few people went up to Tom.

Students and faculty alike didn’t pursue Tom like he and Cedric did. But it had come to portrait animals to poke their bodies to Tom’s couch. (Apparently it had been a comfortable couch that many other portrait people wanted to visit.) It had been funny to see Tom shuffle with either being a good host and being anti-social. Teddy could only guess that Tom had few memories and conversations to fully understand and replicate the other Tom from 1942. It explained why sometimes his outbursts came along too.

They were ragged, and uneven when Tom had a row with Cedric. Those rare times had made Teddy sad. As if, he saw the flaws that the other Tom must have faced alone. They hurt him when Tom wouldn’t want to see him too. He was sure it hurt Cedric too when they couldn’t reach a hidden Tom in the castle.

It had been his godfather that spoke to him gently. The summer holiday was looming and with the letter freshly placed on top of the table Teddy couldn’t mask a smile. His hair, deeply dark blue had mirrored him.

“Tom had always had a hard time letting others close to him.” His hair had been tucked behind his ears. His godfather’s hands wrapped him into a hug. “Portrait Tom or other versions of him alike have that same fear to an extent. That doesn’t mean you should take it to heart when he said he didn’t like you. Knowing the git, he must have been scared that you and Cedric are very close friends for him.”

Teddy didn’t let go of his godfather. “But how can someone be scared to be loved?”

The pause had frozen his own heart when he felt one hand brush away the tears from his face. Green vibrant eyes that Teddy always known and loved had that faraway look again. His glasses dropped a bit from his nose, making it easier to see the indents he had for wearing his glasses every day.

“Sometimes, love can be pretty scary. And sometimes people like Tom weren’t always given the same opportunities like the rest to know how it is to be loved or to love others so easily.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No. It’s not.”

Teddy’s heart hurt. Even when his godfather had been close and hugged him tightly. And even though he could guess the correct answer, he still couldn’t help but ask.

His head rested on the crook of his godfather’s neck. “Did anyone ever love him? The one from before?”

His godfather didn’t look at him directly, but he nonetheless answered quietly. “His mother loved him.”

Teddy looked at the portrait of a pack of Crups. “And besides her? Were there any others that were his friends? A second family to watch over him?”

“I don’t know, Teddy. I—never asked the Tom I knew if he did. He had other priorities then.”

The next time he saw Tom, Cedric had already cleaned up most of the mess. It had been cumbersome for Tom to apologize, but Teddy had been the one to understand what Tom couldn’t outright say. He didn’t bring up the outburst, but he had been thankful to see this Tom be loved.

It had been the only thing that helped him when he helped Cedric bring back a smile to Tom’s face.

Teddy preferred that version of him. Smiling and having a light in his eyes. Portrait or not, Teddy knew that they were alive to some extent, which meant that they deserve respect too.

They returned to a relatively fun summer with Teddy catching them up. The stories they all shared were what helped him connect to them, and it showed how much of a big heart he had for anyone and everyone. It also granted him more of a firsthand experience of seeing Tom have the capacity to be free, charming and happy. The stories that he'd been able to learned from them had always been rewarding. And with Tom, it had always felt heavier but meaningful, because he knew how little Tom really revealed outwardly.

Unlike Cedric, who loved to talk, Tom was the type to hide his emotions and lessons in riddles and metaphors. Something, that could have been seen as extra and dramatic. But with Teddy, he liked the challenge. More so when his godfather came along. It had been two years, and with September coming, he hadn’t hidden how much he laughed when Tom and his godfather sassed each other.

It must have been therapeutic for both. Cedric had told him so as he grew older. But when he firsthand witnessed it, Teddy knew too. That and how much everyone else eventually caved to see how much Teddy could make virtually everyone smile at his vicinity. That had been a particular reason why he had been able to keep seeing Tom and Cedric in Hogwarts when he hadn’t been a student before.

(Teddy had noticed how his godfather had laughed at Tom’s face from the very beginning when he saw Teddy’s screaming his name in greeting. And when he chased Tom all around the castle until he acknowledged him. He had been known for being a very persistent kid since he could form sentences as a babe.)

When August came to a close Teddy saw another change to Tom and Cedric. But before he could address it, he had to leave with a brief goodbye. He would return very soon, but before that he would ride to Hogwarts in the infamous train and see what house would fit him for the next seven years.

His godfather would not be in the train ride, but he did have the luxury of having some sweets from his grandmother provided him with. His anxiety didn’t fully stop him from saying hello to other first years, and other older students that recognized him from his time in the holidays in Hogwarts. It made it memorable when he spent most of that day laughing and making acquaintances and friends. It reminded him of how wonderful it felt to be eleven, and ready to learn earnestly to perfect his magic. That and it had been his chance to try out seven years without any super disasters onto his belt.

He had remembered the looks he got when most of his uncles and aunts had asked him to be careful and not follow his father, mother and godfather’s luck to bring too much trouble. Or when they all chuckled when his godfather gave him a playful hug and a certain map somewhat tucked into his pocket.

Once the hat chosen his fate and the name, Hufflepuff had been announced Teddy couldn’t have helped but feel his eyes water by the amount of emotions overwhelming from inside his body. From the faculty table he saw his godfather beam at him. He wobbled out of the chair but as he did that, he couldn’t help but raised a fist out in triumph.

Like mother, like son his hair turned to bubblegum pink in honor of her as he sat down at his House where the other students alike smiled and greeted him. It felt like he arrived to his second home.

The rest of the way into his common room had helped when he saw Cedric greeting other returning students and saying hello to the rest of the first years. He didn’t miss the friendly wink when Teddy smiled at him as he went straight to the dorm room to find his bed. He knew he was proud of him too as he took one last look at his yellow and black tie before he changed for bed.

The early morning brought a smiling Cedric with a Tom that looked both disgruntled but happy to see Teddy. He watched Tom peer at the tie and common room he had been forced to travel away from his domain. His lips twitched to nice smile, the one that made Teddy smile freely and cheekily.

“Not much of a shock really, considering how much you loved to pecked and mothered like a mother hen.”

Tom sat down at a random empty portrait of a kitchen. Cedric did too when he picked up an apple. He admired it before looking at Teddy with a huge grin.

“You’ll make Hufflepuff proud. I can already see it: Future Quidditch Captain and prefect in fifth year.” Cedric had known about Teddy’s wishes to hold up his parent's legacies.

Tom smiled more openly with the common room still empty. “Head Boy in your seventh too.”

Teddy chuckled as they followed him out to the common room. Tom always had the perfect posture when he walked, but over the course of the two years he had Cedric poke at him. He had Cedric put an arm over his shoulder like what friends did all the time. It made him approachable, and human. But what he didn’t expect was the soft and intimate kiss Cedric gave Tom on the forehead and cheek when they reached the entrance to the main hall.

“Ew!! Come on, I’m about to eat you two.” Teddy dramatically said with a fake gag.

They all knew he was happy for them. But it still had been fun to see how far Tom came when he first had arrived to Hogwarts. He rolled his eyes while Cedric amped up the dramatics with loud kissing noises at Teddy’s direction first before he started to aim some raspberries kisses at Tom. Few people didn’t bat an eye at Teddy having fun with two portrait people, but some of the younger generations did.

Cedric gladly greeted some of the other vocal students first while Tom stayed behind him and quietly watched both Teddy and Cedric entertain the rest.

Teddy may have not been able to meet the real Tom Riddle or Cedric Diggory, but he was fine with who he did meet. They were their own versions, with their personalized lives too. Besides, he did after all get to help the Tom he got to meet, and see this Cedric get his own happy ending too.

That was its own victory after all.

#hpminorcharnet #hprarepairnet #rppnet #gen #background relationship #next gen hp #Teddy Lupin #Tom Riddle #Cedric Diggory #portrait Tom Riddle #portrait Cedric Diggory #tom riddle x cedric diggory #fic: 1-5k #Tes: Their echoed shadows

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httpwarmth · 6 years ago

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until the world comes crashing down // two

words: 1602 0.1 0.2 a/n: this chapter is actually disgustingly cute but i love it so much. enjoy!

Peter racks his brain for the remaining of the class. He can’t be bothered to listen to Mrs. Salgas introduce the rigorous class and ignores her warns about the difficulties that comes along with this class. He could make it through, he practically lived, breathed and slept science. He spent most of class wondering if he should turn around and talk to Ashe at the end of class.

His nerves told him that Ashe probably didn’t even remember who he was. That third grade was so long ago and the year that they become best friends was a memory that she blocked. A different part of him reassured him that there’s no way Ashe could just forget him that easily. They had a bond and she didn’t seem like the type to just forget.

His mind already in jitters by the time the bell rang, dismissing first period, he let his nervousness take over and his body went on autopilot. He gathered up everything in a whirlwind, throwing his notebook and pencil into his back, no doubt that he was going to lose his pencil in a mere few hours when he would be too lazy to dig through his backpack.

“I see that you finally cut your hair.” A familiar voice rang out from behind Peter. A voice that could stop oceans from raging, and cause mountains to bow for her. As for Peter, he automatically froze and his head whipped over to Ashe who was putting a pair of wire rimmed glass into a case. “Did you finally start cleaning your room too?” She stared up at him with a smirk, snapping her case shut and dropping it into the backpack.

Now, that he could actually stare at Ashe, he could see how much she had grown in the years the two were separated. Of course, Peter had grown too but that was probably due to the superhuman powers he was given. She didn’t wear her hair in a sleek ponytail anymore. It flowed in soft waves down to her shoulder and bounced every time she moved her head in the slightest. It was the deepest ebony Peter had ever seen and they seemed to match the darkness of her brown eyes. All in all, it looked like she cared about the way that others saw her. She took care of her appearance and took extra time to make herself presentable.

“You remember?” Is all that Peter can manage out, practically gawking at her. The nervous butterflies in his stomach have settled themselves down back into somewhat of a hibernation.

Her eyebrows furrow for a second before a smile grows on her face. “Of course! How could I forget a face like that?” She teases.

Peter can feel his own face start to flush and he opens his mouth, probably to stutter out some lame response but Ned cuts in before Peter can embarrass himself even more. “You two know each other?” Ned had made his way over to Peter’s desk. Probably to collect the boy and shoo him off to his next class.

“Yeah,” Peter finally tears his gaze away to look over at Ned who own eyes were focused mainly on Ashe. His lips parted and a confused expression sat on his face. “We, uh, went to elementary school together.”

“Just third grade though.” She reminisces, and throws Ned a quick stellar smile that seemed to make both boys melt. She throws her backpack over one shoulder. “But what a pair of third graders we were. Ashe and Peter, they couldn’t separate us. We were ready to take on the world.”

“You were ready to take on the world.” Peter reminds her, his voice still a little hoarse and shocked. He couldn’t believe how easy Ashe was talking to him, as if the two never stopped being friends. Peter’s throat was so dry, he couldn’t remember what it was like to be able to swallow. “I was just along for the ride.” He mutters.

Peter can feel Ned’s gaze on his profile, as he had finally stopped looking at Ashe. Peter, however, couldn’t break eye contact with the girl. She shrugs her shoulders and sends him a lazy grin. “Same thing.” She mutters before starting to walk away backwards. Her phone dings and she quickly pulls it out of her back pocket, unlocking it with one hand. She staggers for a moment, staring down at her phone. For a mere moment, a frown crosses her face but when she looks back up at the duo, the smile is back. “I’ll see you around Peter?” She asks before her eyes focus on Ned. “And Peter’s friend?”

“I’m Ned.” Ned mutters quickly. Still with the dumb shocked expression on his face.

“And Ned.” She confirms with a nod of her head before spinning around on her heel and leaving the classroom, back on her phone. The two can hear her heels clacking for a split second before they’re mixed in with the rest of the students, trying to get to class.

“Gentlemen?” Mrs. Salgas calls out. “Don’t you two have a class to get to?” It was now the teacher’s planning period and her classroom was now stagnant, Ned and Peter the only two left.

Coming back into focus after what seemed like a dream, Peter nodded and grabbed his backpack, taking Ned with him.

“Do you think you and Ashe are going to be friends again?” Was the first question out of Ned’s mouth when Peter saw him after school. His hands gripped at his backpack straps and his eyes were wide, curious. This was apparently, as big of a deal to Ned as when he found out that Peter was Spiderman.

Peter shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant. On the inside, he was wondering the same thing. Of course, he wanted to be friends with Ashe again. He wanted to see how Ashe had become and if she was still able to think up responses lighting fast. Ashe was a spunky third grader who let her mouth run a little too much, and Peter was always there to clean up the mess she left behind. Was she still the same? Or did she know when to bite her tongue? Had she grown up and matured too quickly? “Maybe.”

“Peter!” He heard someone call after him and the clack of heels caused his stomach to drop. It was a good drop though, it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders as he knew that voice and those heels. When Peter slowed down and turned around, a smile couldn’t help but appear at the sight of Ashe’s chunky black heels speed walking their way down the practically empty hall. The few stragglers who remained in the hallway couldn’t get less about the group of three.

She had her wire rimmed glasses on the top of her head, pushing back most of her hair except for a few strands but seemed to fall in her walking over. She held a stack of different colored papers in her hands, even though she had a perfectly good backpack right there. She made looking like a mess look amazing.

“Do you know any good places to eat around here? I’m starving.” She inquiries, staring up and him. Ned’s suddenly gone quiet but still stays stuck by Peter’s side.

Peter pauses for a second, trying to rack his brain for the best place that she could eat. “Uhh.” He mutters. He wanted to tell Ashe of a good enough place that would be suitable for her.

“The thai place, Peter.” Ned quipped up, slightly bumping into him. “Their food is amazing.” He tells Ashe. He seems to have warmed up to her quickly, compared to this morning when all he could do was stare at her and sputter out his name. Peter, on the other hand, was still having some troubles.

“Do you like thai food?” He turns back to the girl who nods vigorously.

A smile spreads across her face. “Do you two mind taking me there? I have no sense of direction anymore.” She asks.

Peter’s heart races for a quick moment as he glances over at Ned. Ned’s already staring at him and the two share the same look. Ned turns back to face Ashe. “I actually have somewhere to be. You two go, though. It’ll be fun.” He rambles before shooting Peter a quick smile and turning away.

Peter watches him go. Him and Ned did not share the same look, instead they were on two opposite ends of what the look meant. Ned meant it as the two of them should just go and Peter meant it as he needed Ned there with them.

“Come on, Parker.” Ashe grabs his hand, causing Peter to turn back and face her. His hands immediately clam up as her soft hand holds his. She’s stronger than she looks. “Show me around the town, I can’t wait for the food.” She looks up at him and he’s frozen. He stares at the fact that he’s holding her hand and he forgets how to breathe. His face flushes because this rarely happened in the third grade. It was just that one time when Ashe laughed until she had no more giggles left in her. Now, it was Ashe’s first day back and Peter can’t count on one hand how many times he’s been dumbfounded over this girl.

Her smile is contagious though as he finds himself smiling. Maybe Ashe being back will help him. Or she could completely end him.

“Come on.”

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