#can you tell i wrote this drunk as a skunk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boizandgurlzinthehouse · 2 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁*𝐓𝐂𝐇 ; 𝐆𝐔𝐍-𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋? 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋.

summary: getting to y/n, the hard part is coming only now. how much can the new girl fit into the trio?

wordcount: 3.209k (seems too short idk)

tw: swearing, y/n is a little bit bitchy (but only if it's needed, we aren't pick mes don't worry girlies), woo-jin is a tease, terrible written chat messages, gun-woo is still a cutie and i love him sooo much.

author's note: i made a spotify playlist for this fanfic, like it and listen to it if you want babies

part 1 playlist link!!

gun-woo tossed and turned after he got into bed, kissing his mother goodnight. turn after turn, sigh after sigh, his eyes constantly returned to the paper that y/n gave him. he wanted to talk to her, to continue their conversation about boxing, martial arts and other things like her job. she seemed so cool with her tattoos, and could absolutely imagine her as she poured drink after drink, mixing cocktails and counting money with that fast, bill-flipping technique, collecting receipts from the counter, shouting at rude customers as the neon lights changed on her skin. she also guessed that he wasn’t a drinker –he wasn’t as cool as woo-jin, yeah… and he also wasn't a man of words. as gun-woo thought these things, he realized that he weighed his chances for y/n. no, he can’t do that! y/n surely has a boyfriend, or many guys who want to be her boyfriend, who can tell jokes… and tell their thoughts about things… damn, again.

turning on his side, grabbing his phone and the paper, he typed in the number. gun-woo hoped that the girl wasn’t giving them a faux number, as they upset her at the beginning. but the words she wrote, that they’re gonna figure out these things… maybe he should just trust his luck. but what to write to y/n?

are you awake?

no, that’s so oblivious that he wants to talk to her.

did you get home safe?

another no… too emotional. looking at y/n, she sure doesn't like guys who drool over her and looking for her safety and needs. gun-woo thought about calling woo-jin to ask him about this, woo-jin seemed like a guy who was experienced, but after the first fiasco in the restaurant, gun-woo came to the decision that woo-jin can’t know about this. and after that, he would scold him for waking him up at midnight.

gun-woo

are you sure about this? that you’re in? it’s gunwoo.

maybe this will do it. gun-woo didn’t think much, he just sent. after seeing the delivered bubble, he instantly knew that this was a bad idea, y/n was surely asleep. and after that, it’s rude to question someone after they made a decision or a promise so heavy like in this situation. gun-woo wanted to delete the message, but before unlocking the phone, he saw that y/n sent him a message. his heartbeat got a little faster, and his pupils narrowed –maybe from her, maybe from the sudden light.

y/n

are you doubting me now, gun-woo?

gun-woo

no, of course not! it’s just dangerous.

y/n

you think i don't know danger? i meet danger every night when i don’t serve the customers who are drunk as skunks.

gun-woo smiled. on the screen he saw that the girl began to type again, but she stopped, and waited when he began to write the answer.

gun-woo

aren’t you tired? working and training all day is surely exhausting.

y/n

only a little. but why aren't you sleeping? i thought i’m the only one who was awake.

he sighed.

gun-woo

just thinking about what’s gonna happen tomorrow.

y/n

be cool, i’m not gonna fight if hyeon-ju is okay.

gun-woo

no, not about that! about catching those men who are behind smile capital. but that’s nice from you.

y/n

oh, yeah. well, don’t worry. i saw your friend on the tv, he’s good, and you’re good too. and not to brag, but i’m good too. really good.

smiling, gun-woo turned on his back. it was more comfortable to type this way. he imagined as y/n laid in bed the same as him. maybe she was smiling too, at least he hoped.

gun-woo

i believe that. otherwise, hyeon-ju wouldn't want to talk to you.

he typed again.

gun-woo

don’t tell this back to woo-jin, but when you went out, he said he felt himself in life danger when you grabbed his wrist.

y/n

hahaha

this one is funny.

i just wanted to be ready for possible harassment. a couple weeks ago, some creep was walking on those streets, a girl who i know called the police but they weren't catched.

gun-woo

i would never hurt people who are weaker than me.

y/n

i don’t even talk about you, dummy. but that’s good to know. i can protect myself if needed.

gun-woo

i know, just in case. you can never know.

y/n

you are nice, gun-woo.

watch out for yourself, people these days are using this for no good.

gun-woo

i’m going to, thanks y/n. my diligence and good heart are my two mainstays.

y/n

it was good talking to you, gun-woo, but now i’m going to sleep. it’s nearly two am.

gun-woo checked the time. damn, it really was that late? he needs to sleep, too. but it was so nice to talk to her. maybe tomorrow, they could talk about it further. he really inquired himself about who y/n was, and what she did, even if they just met today.

gun-woo

you are right, i’m going too.

goodnight, y/n!

y/n

good night to you too, gun-woo.

don’t be late tomorrow!

locking his phone, gun-woo looked out of the window that was beside his bed, and after a couple of moments, he let the idiot smile spread on his lips, just as the warmth under his skin. he didn’t know why it caused him so much giddiness to talk with her. but he sure gotta hide it tomorrow. anyway, yang jae-myeong was still on the streets, stealing IDs and making more and more money to smile capital, and the director of smile capital was still beating off little people with his toy-soldiers, tying roguish loans. they're gonna catch him, and then move onto the next step.

with y/n.

[ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏 ]

tomorrow noon, gun-woo walked to the place they came to an agreement. he didn’t write to y/n, he had to help his mother and didn't want to seem clingy, but he hoped that the girl would be there. seeing woo-jin on the corner, the other also looked across the crossway, but there was no one who seemed like y/n.

“i hope she comes, otherwise we can’t go to hyeon-ju. it would be terrible” woo-jin said instead of saying hello, but gun-woo had to agree with him. on the other hand, she wouldn't chat with her if she wasn’t gonna meet them, would she?

“she sure gonna come, she said to me yesterday that this is a personal business to her.” at his words, woo-jin began to smirk, nudging his shoulder.

“really? and where did she say this? between the bedsheets?” gun-woo rolled his eyes.

“woo-jin, give me a break! there’s nothing between us, why would there be any? we only met yesterday, she’s nice, that’s it.”

“well, you wasn't the one who almost broke your wrist and got beaten up.”

“stop dramatizing, woo. she’s just afraid because there were some creeps on the streets a couple weeks ago.” he replied, looking constantly in every direction.

“yeah, yeah… wait, what? how do you know this?” he asked, and gun-woo suddenly felt exposed.

“it was… it was in the news, you didn’t read it? or… social media, instagram?” gun-woo tried to cover the truth, but woo-jin totally saw through his façade.

“you have her phone number, don’t you? you got it, and used it for yourself too!” he spoke up, louder this time, gun-woo didn't want other people to look at them, like in the restaurant when woo-jin got to know that he is an ex-marine just like the other, and was afraid that y/n accidentally gonna hear it, too.

“no, not! i have her number, but only for hyeon-ju! after all, this was our task too!”

and in the worst possible moment, gun-woo’s phone pinged.

“who is it?” woo-jin asked, tilting his head. warmth began to spread on gun-woo’s neck, as always when he was nervous and flustered. somehow, he knew that woo-jin knew who it was.

“i don't know, maybe hyeon-ju? how would i know?” he responded, searching for his phone in his pocket. his heartbeat increased a little bit. a little bit? i’m not gonna be a liar, gun-woo’s heartbeat increased from sea level to the tokyo tower in one second.

y/n

gonna be there in minutes. my boss is a literal asshole.

gun-woo’s brain had to figure out the last word, because in the next moment woo-jin took away his phone. trying to get it, gun-woo leant for it, but he couldn’t get the phone from his friend as he turned his back. gun-woo got around him to take his phone back.

“you not only seduce the new girl, but you are a liar too!” woo-jin 'tsked with his teeth and slapped his shoulder. gun-woo locked the phone.

“no, i’m not! seriously, woo-jin, just get off from the topic, and–” before he could continue, his friend pointed in front of them. there she was, y/n. wearing baggy jeans and a sweater, she bidded with her hand before she crossed the crosswalk. in the last moments, gun-woo turned to woo-jin, trying to mutter.

“don’t say any word to her about this, okay?”

“about what?” y/n asked, tucking away her earphones. gun-woo looked at him, and then looked at woo-jin.

“about… that we are going to hyeon-ju. so the two of you can talk. is that okay?” he asked, y/n nodded, and waited for them to show the way. woo-jin wiggled his eyebrows, gun-woo rolled his eyes. this is gonna be a long day.

arriving at the library, they rarely talked, but on the threshold of the gates, y/n stopped them. taking off the mask, she looked at the two.

“seriously, before i go in… does hyeon-ju have any obsession or craze?”

“why?” woo-jin asked. y/n sighed, and began to talk.

“because i don’t work with crazy people! my boss is crazy enough, and i won’t gonna die or get seriously injured because somebody gets itchy in its mind!”

“don’t worry, y/n, hyeon-ju doesn’t have any obsession. maybe she’s grumpy, but… only a little bit.”

“not so little bit”, woo-jin murmured, but before y/n could make reservations, gun-woo shook his head.

“i think… you’re gonna get along with her. it’s gonna be fine. please, trust us enough to have a talk with her.”

y/n looked in his eyes, then looked away. breathing in and out, she shrugged her shoulders.

“whatever, i have to see her with my own eyes to make a decision. please, lead me in.”

with much pleasure, gun-woo opened the door.

[ 𝐘/𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ]

strangely, gun-woo’s personality was calming to her. she just got done with her work –listing the drinks they need to drink as she was the so-called little boss of the bar she worked in– when gun-woo wrote to her, but it lit up her night. y/n thought about it, about him at night, from the second she got home, as she underdressed, showered, washed her teeth, removed her makeup, cleaned her face, creamed her tattoos, and got into her pajamas, to the second she got into bed. she had many experiences with guys, and although on the outside, her co-workers always saw her with another guy, in reality, she never did anything with anyone. everybody wanted to be much better than their usual selves on the internet, or for a little while she served them drinks, bragging about cars, chicks and parties, but in the meantime, y/n knew that all of this is a monstrous humbug. for a while, she stopped meeting or dating anyone because of this –disappointed about the people she was working with, but also sad because which good, handsome and good-hearted guy would want a girl who has tattoos, fights in gyms and works in a bar? the guys she wanted to date could never introduce her to their families, and the ones she knew could easily give her away to human traffickers in exchange for some drugs. but, maybe these things were called consequences, isn't it?

she also didn’t know why she told gun-woo about her job and stuff. maybe, it was just good to talk to somebody without bad intentions, with someone who didn’t want to seem more than he already was. when she told him she thought he’s not a drinker, he wasn’t beating the table and calling her out to drink, and when she suggested that he wanted to protect her, he also didn’t want to be a macho man. maybe it was the whole guy’s simplicity that got her –or maybe his cute eyes and the way his eyes scrunched when he smiled.

following the guys, she took off her jacket and mask, looking around. a simple bookstore, nothing else –but at the same time, it was everything that her father told her about. she was interested in hyeon-ju, she worked with girls constantly in the bar, but in a life-danger situation… it’s gonna be different.

“are you two here?” it was surely the other girl, and then y/n saw her: they were almost the same height, showing off two entirely different worlds. hyeon-ju’s hair was cool, actually, but y/n could never imagine herself with a hair short like this; she liked to twirl and style it. hyeon-ju seemed to be clear and determined – y/n liked it.

“yeah, and we brought y/n with ourselves!” woo-jin sang, hyeon-ju sat down, and pointed to the chair across the short table. y/n looked at the guys behind her, then looked at the girl.

“you want me to sit there?” she asked, scratching behind her ear.

“yes, please.” y/n nodded. she won’t do anything without a ‘please’, especially not in the beginning. giving the respect for each part of the deal was the most important deal.

“okay… so, i heard from these two that you are working on dragging smile capital down. i’ll answer everything you ask, but i have questions too.” she began. hyeon-ju nodded.

“i heard about you from my granddad’s phone calls. do you or your family know my grandfather?”

y/n shaked a little bit. that night’s memories were sharp, like she was there again.

“yes, my father. he… knows sir choi. and his friends too.”

“how did your father get into connection with my grandfather?”

“sorry, but i don’t answer personal questions. but i can tell you, that my father is not an enemy, and it isn't about the loans.”

“what is that you can’t tell? did something happen to your father?” y/n furrowed her eyebrows at this question. it made her a little bit uncomfortable.

“why, what did happen to your father if you live with your granddad now?”

hyeon-ju looked at the guys. a pregnant silence fell on the atmosphere of the bookstore.

“i should have asked my granddad about you. maybe he would tell me that you are mocking and taunting people.”

y/n scoffed. brushing the tattoos on her fingers, she looked into the girl’s eyes again. she felt that the guys beside them were nervous, but she didn’t care. gun-woo was fine, woo-jin was okay, but this girl… this girl was bitter.

“i taunt you because i feel cornered. anyway, why does my personal intentions matter if i want to help? my purpose is to kill that fucker who’s behind all of that smile capital shit. if our purposes match, i think we should work together.” y/n leaned forward.

she didn’t want to sell her every secret. why would she need it? it was much deeper than she could just tell it in the beginning. and maybe, if being a little bitch because she doesn’t tell her deepest, darkest memories, then so be it. maybe, another time she’s gonna tell them… if they survive, or if they can make a deal.

hyeon-ju sat in silence, looking at the guys, then looking at y/n. furrowing her brows, the girl sighed.

“if i say that we are going to stalk a man from smile capital tonight, would you come?” she asked. y/n thinked a little bit, scratching her chin with her nails.

“i think so. my tuesdays are always free.”

“okay then, i have to make sure that you’re in, and you're not gonna back out if things get serious.”

“wait, wait, wait, what is the plan? because, i guess the three of you already talked about it. if it’s just stalking and some sneaking, then i’m in. but if it’s some dead-beating or weapon kinda shit, then i’m out.”

“what difference does it make?” woo-jin asked, getting a glare from hyeon-ju. the three looked at y/n, who picked at her nails, shrugging her shoulders again.

“i guess, in the beginning, maybe we couldn’t work out together. and if we get into life-threatening danger immediately, we die right then and there.”

hyeon-ju nodded. maybe they finally agreed on something.

“okay, then it’s just sneaking and following around. there’s a man, yang jae-myeong, who took a loan from my grandfather. i got to follow him, but i want the three of you to go after him. watch what and how they do things, how many they are, if they use weapons, or anything. that’s all. if you’re as good as my grandfather said on the phone, then we can talk about more things later. deal?”

hyeon-ju offered her hand to y/n to shake it. y/n thought about the risks: if they get caught by this yang jae-myeong, then, possibly this girl’s further plans’ gonna unravel. because a girl like this, with dark clothes and leather jacket, she sure has a bigger plan than these hide and seek and tag-games. swallowing, y/n looked at gun-woo. he hadn’t had a mask on, his lips were full, and a massive band aid was on the left side of his face. his eyes had faith and determination.

nevermind. if she can’t avenge what happened to her family, what happened in the past, then at least she’s going to work on a better future.

reaching for hyeon-ju’s hand, she shook it with a little, devilish smile.

“deal.”

[ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏 ]

after the ‘meeting’, woo-jin, gun-woo and y/n went to eat somewhere. woo-jin talked on his phone with someone, while gun-woo and y/n got into a conversation.

“do you think i’m always gonna have a shitty relationship with hyeon-ju ?” y/n asked, lamenting about the conversation. gun-woo looked at her.

“no, hyeon-ju’s just a little bit… harsh. but don’t be angry at her, please.”

the girl shook her head,

“i’m not angry at her, don’t worry. just became a little bit pissed about her questions. you know, the personal ones.”

“is it… really that bad? that bad that sometimes… you don't even want to think about it?” gun-woo asked. y/n looked away, pulling the hem of her sweater on the back of her hands. pulling up her eyebrows, then letting them fall, the right corner of her lips twitched.

“yeah. but… if we get along well together… maybe i’m gonna tell you. but for now, i gotta make it right with hyeon-ju. it wouldn’t be good if we get into a fight in the middle of a fight, isn't it?”

gun-woo laughed. deep inside, he wanted to know what happened to y/n, and wanted to comfort her better than anything. but that’s for later.

“no, that wouldn't be good. remember, no claws, okay?”

now y/n was the one who laughed, as they turned down on the street.

"yeah, i know. only strokes."

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃.

author's note: thanks for the likes on the first part girlies, here's the second part. if work lets me, i'm gonna post every 2-3 days, i think that's okay. and like the spotify playlist!! i often gonna add new songs. bye babes

taglist: @fairyhani @castleninja

(ask for tag in taglist in comment or here)

#bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds netflix #bloodhounds imagines #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds #gun woo x reader #gun woo imagines #woo jin x reader #woo do hwan #netflix korea

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 2 months ago

Note

Thank you for answering the question!

So, the idea I have for the request with the Trio + Greta is this:

You know how when Edouard was killed and his body was used to be turned into a night creature, and even though he was a night creature, still saved Annette?

How would the Trio + Greta react to going through that scenario like what happened between Annette and Edouard? As in, them taking the place of Annette while their friend taking the place of Edouard.

A/N: Sorry for taking forever to answer this, it's been months. Oh my god, time flies! Can someone please make it stop?! But back to the topic at hand, I have to say I went into Nocturne all hyped for Maria (and while I still love her so much, she’s best girl!), I also fell in love with Edouard’s character. He’s so sweet and sensitive, and I appreciate how he encouraged the others to be open and vulnerable to acknowledge/process their grief. I recall a tumblr post that was like these Nocturne characters’ are facing the same problems as their predecessors, but at least this time, their emotional IQs have gone way up! So *fingers crossed*, here’s hoping the main cast won’t get as traumatized this time around. (Oh, who am I kidding? It’s Castlevania. Of course, they’re all gonna end up traumatized.)

Oh, and I wrote this in the third person as opposed to a first-person Reader-Insert, I hope that’s okay!

TW: Brief Mentions of Violence; Death; Heavy Angst (Reader Beware!)

The Trio + Greta React to Their GN! Friend Getting Turned Into a Night Creature:

Trevor:

In the heat of battle, he barely has time to register, much less process, his friend’s death.

By the time the fight is over and he’s realized what’s happened, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of his chest, and he’s already begun to blame himself, regardless of whether or not it was his fault.

He’s a Belmont, he should've known better. Simply by associating with them, he was practically digging his friends’ grave. He shouldn’t have let them come along, he should've scared them away. Fuck! Why didn’t he push them away like he did everyone else? Out of all of the people to stay and get put in danger, why did it have to be the one person he cared so much about?

So in his guilt and grief, Trevor does what he does best: drink. He drinks to excess the first night without his friend at his side. And as well as the second. And then the third.

If he’s with Sypha and Alucard (and/or Greta in Village Belmont at the time of his friend’s death, this is the point where they'd step in and cut off his booze.) If Trevor’s alone, however, you can bet he spends a good week or so drunk as a skunk, and completely out of his mind.

When the alcohol doesn’t numb the pain anymore, he tries to jump ahead to acceptance, telling himself that it was unavoidable, that his curse will always rob him of his happiness, of his friends and family in the end. Of course, like some sick twisted turn of fate, just as he accepts it was out of his hands, a familiar face re-enters his life.

When Trevor first encounters his friend as a night creature, he doesn’t recognize that it’s them straight away. He’s a monster hunter and he attacks on autopilot— monsters’ appearances be damned. And when he does finally recognize that this night creature has been forged from the body of his deceased friend, he assumes, like all the other forged creatures he’s fought before, that it’s merely his friend’s corpse being used as a vessel for a damned soul.

Then Trevor loses his footing as well as his weapon. But when his former friend turned night creature has a chance to deal Trevor a scathing blow, they hesitate, and instead choose to stare Trevor down rather than attack him. It’s at this moment, that Trevor realizes with a lurch of his stomach, that this isn’t a night creature in the body of his friend, but that this night creature is his friend.

He thinks he’s going to be sick, but before that happens a separate night creature aims to attack. Trevor quickly crawls to retrieve his whip only to turn around to see that he doesn’t need it: his night creature friend turns on its fellow beasts and rips them apart limb by limb.

The two of them sit in the deafening silence that follows, each one eyeing the other up, waiting for someone to finally break the spell of concentration and make their move.

Trevor’s friend moves first, speaking in a rough, deep voice: “Tre..v..or,” it manages to get out.

As much as it pains him, as much as he knows his next move will haunt him for the rest of his natural life, Trevor blinks away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and charges ever so quickly towards the creature. His former friend turned monster has no time to react to what’s happening by the time Trevor’s knife is piercing through their chest.

“I’m sorry…” Trevor rasps out, guilt beginning to consume him once again. “‘S all my fault.”

Trevor is the last Belmont alive. Belmonts were trained to find and kill monsters. At least, that’s what Trevor keeps telling himself as he looks down at the corpse of his friend for the second time.

Belmonts hunt monsters, and they protect people.

And yet, standing there, Trevor feels that’s never been more of a lie.

Sypha:

Sypha tries like hell to save her friend, she really does. She creates defensive ice shields, rings of fire, hell even an ice cube around her friend all in an attempt to keep them safe from harm during battle.

But no matter what she tries, no matter how incredible she is at multitasking: it’s not enough. Something happens, something else gets her attention, someone else’s immediate safety takes precedence. Just for one moment, she turns her back on her friend, assuming they’d be alright for that long.

When Sypha returns to find her friend dying or dead, she lets out the most guttural scream, as icicles and fireballs rain down from the sky above her effectively squashing any remaining enemies. In her grief, her power surges through her, unstoppable like a nuclear reaction. She doesn’t just strike her enemies dead, she obliterates what remains of their corpses until they are nothing but ash and smoke.

Sypha, being from a large nomadic family, takes it upon herself to track down her friends' surviving relatives (if they have any) and bring their remains back to them. Being the kind of curious person Sypha is, she’s likely to know a fair amount about her friends' culture and religion. If there are specific burial rites she knows her friend would have liked observed, she wants them adhered to and she refuses to leave her friend's corpse until they’ve been officially put to rest.

But on her journey back (either to her friend’s family or the cemetery outside of Village Belmont), she’s attacked on the road by rogue vampires. Luckily, she and her companions make it out unscathed. Unfortunately, however, it seems those monsters have taken her friends' corpses with them.

Sypha mourns for a second time, not only the loss of her friend’s life but the loss of any closure she might have been hoping to create. Despite them no longer living, she feels as if she’s somehow managed to let them down a second time.

The next time she’s defending a crowd of folks against hordes of night creatures, Sypha is extra cautious, her friend’s death still fresh on her mind. And as the cruel mistress fate would have it, the image of her friend becomes real in front of her. Only this time, they’ve changed. They’ve mutated into something beastly with scales, claws, and horns, leaving only their face— eyes, nose, and mouth— and voice unchanged.

Initially, Sypha refuses to listen to this fraudulent night creature’s words, deeming their entire resemblance nothing more than a devilish trick. But when their former friend-turned-night-creature suddenly turns on its fellow beasts, tearing them apart before they can attack Sypha or her friends, Sypha is forced to confront the possibility that this creature still has her friend's soul trapped inside.

Sypha keeps up her defensive magic and ushers everyone else away. She makes it so it’s just her and her former friend left standing out on the battlefield.

Keeping a flame in one hand, Sypha raises the other in greeting, her large eyes widening as the creature mirrors her movements.

Sypha’s torn. On one hand, if her friend’s soul is still in there, they could be trapped and suffering, waiting for the release of either death or salvation to set them free, much like how her soul was trapped when she lost to the Cyclops. On the other hand, if her friend is still in there somewhere, maybe it’s only their form that’s changed, and their personality has not. Is it possible for a night creature to exist and not be violent?

It’s one hell of a risk to take, however. And Sypha knows she can’t risk the fate of Village Belmont, of all those orphan children, hell, of her children, because of a guilty conscience.

“Leave,” she says, advancing towards her former friend. “Do not return!” She sends a blast of fire in their general direction, herding them away.

“Go!” She screams, sending even greater flames.

The night creature frowns, backing up, confused. They cock their head to the side as if to ask why Sypha’s doing this. The confusion lasts only a moment before a hardened expression comes over them. They slowly nod before dragging their monstrous body far beyond the tree line, far away from Village Belmont.

Through her teary blurred vision, Sypha watches her former friend-turned-monster leave, a look of sorrow on both their faces.

Sypha makes a mental note to research ways of freeing her friend from their curse, should she come across them again. In the meantime, she hopes for their safety and asks that God (as much as he hates her) take mercy on her companion.

Sypha feels their current existence is punishment enough.

Alucard:

Alucard is not there when his friend is killed, a fact that haunts him long after their demise. He was not present for his Mother’s death either, and due to the manner of her murder, he was left without a body to mourn. Alucard knows fate is a cruel mistress, but to repeat such a grief with his dear friend, it’s almost too much to bear.

Still, Alucard’s not one to actively wallow, so he sulks for a short period before returning to his many duties as protector and curator of his father’s castle and the Belmont hold. He plays with the children, he and Greta teach the willing adults how to fight, and he even takes to cleaning up his old nursery to welcome Trevor’s and Sypha's incoming child.

On all outside fronts, Alucard appears the same as he was, but on the inside, his chest aches, and his stomach weighs heavily in his gut. Internally, he’s full of ‘what-ifs’:

Perhaps, if he taught his friend more defensive techniques before the battle. Or if he had only encouraged them to run rather than fight, they might still be here within these cold castle walls. Sure, he and the others may have ended up teasing his friend for being cowardly, and Alucard’s certain that would embarrass them, but my god— what’d Alucard give for his friend to be alive and embarrassed rather than dead.

After some time, Alucard finds his mind less and less occupied by his sorrow over his friend’s demise, and instead, begins to fill the space with fond memories. He recalls their first meeting, their first fight together, and their first night wandering the ruins of the Belmont hold.

Their ill-fated reunion starts with an alert from one of the watchtowers, then a second yell from a guard, before Alucard finds himself running, magical blade drawn, into a horde of beastly night creatures.

Aluccard’s on them before they can set upon the other guards. He makes quick work of two with his longsword and wounds a third with his claws. None of the night creatures' attacks are surprising, with every move they make, either Alucard or another fighter such as Greta can slice them down where they stand.

All appears to be well in hand when a rough voice calls for help just beyond the tree line. Wasting no time, Alucard proceeds alone, instructing the others to hang back in the instance it’s a trap.

To Alucard’s credit, it is a trap. Just not the one he was expecting.

A night creature, more on the smaller side, emerges from the shadows on all fours. On its side a large wound gushes red, the mark appearing to be from another creature as opposed to a human blade.

But that is not what catches Alucard’s attention. Rather, it is the voice of the night creature that sounds so similar.

With rising horror, frozen in place Alucard watches as the twisted, tortured body of his former friend pulls itself closer and closer. The creature pleads with Alucard by name, begging for their friend to make the pain stop.

It is not the first time Alucard has seen such magic. When the rebis reanimated in his childhood bedroom, he could see the souls of his parents struggling to house themselves within the rebis’ one body. It was such a horrifying sight, Alucard had to close his eyes and look away, but here, with his former friend’s clawed hand gripping his shin, no such possibility exists.

Alucard knows what he must do, he knows it’s only fair to end his friend’s life, to prevent them from suffering any further torment. Then why can’t he do it?

Alucard raises his blade using magic, preparing to slice his friend’s head off cleanly, when the creature lets out a final gurgle before falling still.

The blade continues to hover in the air as Alucard falls to his knees weeping. Somehow every time he believes to be past this pain, even more befalls him.

Alucard allows himself to grieve, hoping this time is the last.

Greta:

Greta’s no stranger to loss. She’s lost several men and villagers to the night creature attacks long before Alucard came into the picture. Being the Village Head, she’s found she’s left with little time to grieve, but perhaps, that is for the better.

Once Village Belmont is established, and Alucard is reunited with his friends, Greta allows herself to mourn the loss of her villagers, showing their remains respect by burying them in the Village Belmont cemetery. Of course, not every one of her lost friends has a body to bury.

In one of the night creature’s original attacks, they had taken the corpses of their victims as well as some folks still alive, presumably to eat or devour later.

One of Greta’s dear friends was among them, and while she wishes more than anything she could have held their hand and comforted them as they bled out, as she did a handful of others, there’s no going back to change the past— what’s done is done.

Greta takes a vote, and the villagers agree to put up a Gravemarker anyway, just as a way of honoring their memory.

It happens just as she exits the castle to give the good news of the arrival of Sypha and Trevor’s new baby. The many houses around Castlevania are lit up with merriment when a handful of stray monsters decide to attack.

Greta takes the lead on the defense, holding her own until she finds herself accidentally backed into a corner one night by a creature that almost looks like an overgrown dog. She’s surprised she let herself be so foolish but she’s even more surprised by the beast’s refusal to strike.

Confused, Greta analyzes the creature further, gasping in shock when she recognizes the pair of eyes that stare back at her. It couldn’t be. Could it? And if it is, what does this mean?

Greta thinks back to when she first met Alucard. Granted, she and her people knew he was not human, but his reputation as a savior preceded him. Perhaps, she considers, it is possible then, for a night creature to also go against its primal nature and choose the same.

She manages to push the creature back, calling for other armed members to surround it until Alucard can come and get a better look. Greta asks the dhampir what he thinks, if it’s possible this is her friend transformed, or if she’s letting sentiment get the better of her.

Alucard admits that he’s read of certain necromancers and forge masters possessing the ability to maintain pre-existing souls when forging newly twisted monsters, however, this particular experience would be a first. It could very well be Greta’s friend, their soul in this body, but it could also just be their corpse.

They decide to consult Trevor.

The three of them discuss back and forth as to what to do with this miniature night creature so long Sypha herself comes out, demanding to know why the hell she just left her newborn with a midwife to come get Trevor’s disappearing ass who said he’d be right back before walking out after the birth of their firstborn son?!

Everyone ends up at a loss.

Unphased by all the arguing, the night creature has since started to playfully catch sticks and stones, which some braver children have thrown at them.

Sypha agrees to leash the night creature within a magic circle until they can figure out what to do with it. At this point, the night creature curls up into a ball of scales and fur and promptly falls asleep.

“Well,” Greta says, “I suppose we didn’t need that Gravemarker after all.”

A/N: Sorry for the sort of cop-out ending with Greta’s, I just couldn't bring myself to end hers on a sad note as well, so instead, she gets a night creature guard dog bff to accompany her around Village Belmont! Also, if I had to pick a Castlevania character to be surprisingly chill about their friend becoming a reanimated creature, it’d be her. (Well, Hector first and then Greta but you see my point.)

As always, if you enjoyed this, please Like & REBLOG!

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#trevor belmont x reader #sypha belnades x reader #alucard x reader #alucard castevania #greta castlevania #greta x reader #castlevania #hc #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #alucard tepes #greta danesti

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justsomeoneunordinary · 1 year ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Tagged by @togaki-kun, thank you! 💕

I always feel a bit silly recommending my own work because I’m “just” a short one-shots writer and don’t do anything huge such as worldbuilding, but hey, any fic is creative work, no matter the length, so…

1. Simulacrum (Madara/Tobirama, 4.2k, NR)

Tobirama has memory issues.

I can’t really say much about this fic because no matter what I say, it would be a spoiler. All I can say is that I stepped out of my usual comfort zone and challenged myself with this—and that I pretty much nailed it. I am extremely proud of all the reactions I received :)

2. In Another Time (Bucky/Tony, 1k, T)

It’s the jokes and the smiles and the intelligence behind those bright blue eyes. It’s the way Bucky drawls when he talks. It’s their night walks in the dark under the stars and how the air between them seems to spark. And before Tony knows it, he catches himself staring at those cherry red lips, imagining pulling Bucky behind the trees to steal a kiss. Though as lovely the thought is, as heavy crushes reality upon him and reminds him where and who they are. This is neither place nor time Tony belongs to—he belongs to Rhodey and Pepper and Happy. To F.R.I.D.A.Y. and his bots. To the future. Or, How a chain of certain accidental events lead to certain unexpected feelings with an uncertain future ahead of them.

I just really like the style I wrote this in. The rhymes, the back-and-forth play with the past, present and future to the point that I had readers tell me they had to re-read it to fully grasp everything (positively), the flow of the fic and the way I put so much story into so little words. This one will forever be one of my favorite fics because of its uniqueness.

3. A Sensei’s Job (Does Not Entail This) (Koharu & Tobirama, 1.9k, G)

When Tobirama decided to set a good example by taking on the role of a Jounin-sensei to prepare young Genin fresh out of the ninja academy for the life of a shiobi, he had been a bit nervous, but on the whole, he had been excited and looked forward to the experience and sharing his knowledge with Konoha’s future shinobi. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this, however. “My body is betraying meee!” Or, Koharu struggles with puberty, and Tobirama struggles with a teenager going through puberty.

Honestly, I’m just proud of the pacing and the dialogue of this wee friend here. Those are the two things I struggle the most; my pacing is always off, sometimes more, sometimes less, but it’s just never truly right (except for short ficlets), and dialogue is something I fail so much at that I have multiple fics with no dialogue at all because it’s just so much easier for me to write that way. Here, though? Here both are just right. This fic is nothing special, it’s really just a silly little thing to make you laugh, but I love coming back to it because it just reads so smoothly like no other of my fics. And also, because re-reading it never fails to brighten my day.

4. Sternhagelvoll (Madara/Tobirama, 2.2k, T)

Senju Tobirama stands in front of his house in the middle of the night with a goat on a leash. Senju. Fucking. Tobirama. Stands in front of his house. In the middle of the night. With a goat on a leash. “Are you drunk?” “Like a skunk,” Tobirama confirms, promptly collapsing at his feet. The goat bleats.

Look, humor and crack are my thing. It’s what I write the most and it’s what I’m best at. This one is special tho because it’s hands down the funniest I’ve written so far. I cracked up so hard while writing that I had to take several breaks, and I crack up at the same lines when I re-read it again. I’m just really proud of how fucking funny this one is, and that’s it.

5. Captivated Hearts (Hashirama/Mito, 3.1k, M)

Tobirama repeatedly enters the Land of the Dead to steal Mito’s souls and reanimate them, confident that she won’t catch him, when in reality, it would be so easy for her to pull him in by the foot he so carelessly sets into her realm. But Tobirama has a brother. Senju Hashirama, also known as Inari, is the kami of agriculture, rice, sake and various other things—and he has the kindest eyes Mito has ever seen in a man. With his sun-kissed skin and blinding smile, the warmth he radiates from within, and the joy he brings wherever he goes, he shines brighter than Amaterasu could ever dream of. Mito wants him.

I just love how I wrote Mito and HashiMito here. This fic is really not one of my best written ones—I definitely have better fics—but I still count it to my favorites because as much as I love wholesome HashiMito, I really wanted something in a slightly more grey-ish, dubious area for these two, and I wanted to explore Mito differently than she usually is portrayed in fics. It’s nothing special per se, but it’s special to me, so I consider it one of my proudest fics.

Funny enough, my most popular story that makes me practically a one-hit-wonder didn’t make it on the list but to be honest, I don’t even know why that time travel TobiIzu fic is so popular. It’s one of my better ones, but personally, I don’t count it as one of my proudest xD

Tagging: @iam93percentstardust @pleasetakethis @madbuns and you if you would like to share your proudest fics as well! Please feel yourself tagged from me ♥️

#tag game #may writes

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oldguy56-world · 1 year ago

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Free Willy

We were walking in the mall and a couple of signs popped out at me. One was in a world famous chocolate place that advertised 'Buy 75 balls for $42 and get 25 for free.' This one struck me because during Mother's day and Father's day they advertised '100 balls for $40.' So if I am understanding this correctly the free balls are actually costing you $2 more than they just had been.

The second place is a famous village that sells bikinis. (never guess which place I am referring to) This one had 'free robe when you spend $300 in the store.' Call me crazy (I know, I know but play along please) but is something really free when you have to spend $300? Can't they be honest and call it a bonus or gift with purchase? I suppose the word free has been proven to be a bigger lure.

So in this world of ever-escalating prices is anything truly free anymore? I have done some research because I am basically cheap and things that are really free are near and dear to my heart. Let's look at these items:

Air. Yes it is free but it should be given the poor quality. I suppose that if it ever gets cleaned up somehow we will have to pay for it like with a clean air tax. I am not suggesting that. Damn I should not have even put it in print. Please disregard.

Advice. A lot of people know a lot of things these days. Unfortunately these are not the people offering advice for free. Those people charge. The ones offering up advice for free seem to know very little about a lot of things and feel the need to share this lack of knowledge.

Free samples. While there are fewer and fewer examples of these in the grocery stores you can still find them. I have found that you can go back an average of 12.7 times before they tell you to get lost. Just be careful to find out before you go in if they have samples. Should you drive to 22 different stores to find the samples the food may be free but you have just spent $17 in gas finding it. Tricky business.

Smelling things. Lots of marvelous aromas out there. The problem is you cannot turn it off should you run over a skunk or drive by a dump.

Running into an old friend. This is always free but the value depends on how old and how much of a friend they were. Not fun if you run into 'Wedgie Walter' in the mall.

Memories. This one can be fantastic especially if the memories are not yours or real. They open up a whole new world to you.

Hangovers. Getting drunk costs money but the hangover doesn't. I suppose technically this falls under the category of gift with purchase

Riding in the back of a police car. Would be even better if they let you fire up the siren. Bonus is a free place to stay for a few days. This one was offered up by a couple of my interns.

Did you know that Michael Jackson wrote the theme to Free Willy because he thought it was about being allowed to take your pants off anywhere, anytime?

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: The best thing that is free is spending time with your family, and hugging them when you do.

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years ago

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Ignorance Is Blitzed (Part 7)

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initially thought.

Warnings: SMUT! YA GIRL FINALLY WROTE THE SMUT!, light angst, fluff, SMUT, Ron is a dom but he’s so into you he turns into a soft!dom, Reader is a mess, Ron is a tease, SMUT!

~ ~ ~ ~

Lewis Nixon was a dead man.

Even if Ron’s sudden (if not minute) PDA hadn’t clued you in to the fact that someone had told him about Nuremberg, the look of fear in Lewis’s eyes when you’d caught his gaze basically confirmed it.

You’d mumbled something about getting some air to Ron as you watched Lewis hightail it out of there, hot on his heels as he tried to escape the wrath that you were sure showed plainly on your face.

He doesn’t get far.

When you catch his elbow in what seemed to be the hotel staff’s dining room, he whines like a wounded animal and holds his hands up pleadingly.

“I swear to God I, thought you’d told him already—”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Nix scoffed at that, despite the fear clearly paling his face.

“Okay, one- people were going to find out eventually. Two? How in the hell was i supposed to know that you hadn’t told your boyfriend—”

“Not my boyfriend—”

“—yes he is your boyfriend- about it? And three: and he doesn’t even seem to be mad about it!”

You scoff at that, hands going to your hips as you stare at him in disbelief.

“It wasn’t something for you to tell- if the news that I was being asked to go in hadn’t come from you in the first place, I’d never have told you either! No one was supposed to know—!”

“What were you going to do, just dump him and disappear?!”

Your rebuttal sticks in your throat, guilt flooding through your veins at the bluntness of his question.

It must show on your face, because Lewis furrows his brows and looks at you in disbelief.

“No… Y/N, you aren’t seriously trying to tell me that you—?”

“I was giving him a clean break. I am giving him a clean break.”

You’d made the decision after you’d heard about Ron’s decision to stay with Easy and go to Japan, when you’d realized that neither of you were going to be going home anytime soon.

In Ron’s case, he may not come home at all- and if you knew him as well as you thought you did, you knew what that would mean for the two of you.

Hollow promises to keep in touch, followed by equally well-intentioned agreements to find the other when it all was over, both of you ultimately knowing in your heart of hearts that those commitments would inevitably fizzle out and die the moment the going got tough.

You didn’t want that, didn’t want to trap Ron in something that was destined to fail from the get-go.

As much as he liked you, cared for you, you also knew who he was. What he would always be.

A ruthless, brilliant soldier, ready to lay it all on the line at the first opportunity. And you loved him too much to ever ask him to be anything else.

He deserved to find happiness- even if it wasn’t with you.

Nix looked at you pityingly, a forlorn look on his face as he digested what you’d said.

“Look, I don’t know the guy well,” he mumbled, clearing his throat and taking a step towards you to rest a hand on your tense shoulder. “But anyone with eyes can see that you mean a lot to him.”

You nod and offer him a tight smile, eyes drifting downward to avoid letting any potential tears come to the surface. “I know I do- I don’t doubt that. It’s not about how things are right now, though. We don’t get to live in the right now for much longer.”

The hand on your shoulder squeezes at the muscle there, a small sound of admonishment escaping under Lew’s breath as you feel him watch you. He doesn’t like what you’re saying- you can tell that he wants to argue that you’re being ridiculous.

But even he knows that it wouldn’t be of any use. It wouldn’t change your mind.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here, Y/N. I’d bet if the others knew, they wouldn’t like it much either.”

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek as you look back up at him and nod. “Guess I’m breaking up with all of you, aren’t I?”

Nixon’s eyes are shining, and you wonder if he’d be this upset if he were 100% sober. When you step into him to embrace him, he beats you to the punch and wraps his arms around you quickly, taking a deep breath that seems to make his chest expand to twice his size.

“I suppose you’re right. Not that being dumped ever stopped me before,” he gives you a sad smile when he eventually releases you, giving your shoulder a final pat before taking his hands away.

“Don’t be surprised when I show up at your window, drunk as a skunk and proclaiming my undying love for you at 3 am sometime in the near future.”

As you open your mouth to reply, you see Nix’s focus flick to something past your shoulder.

Even if you hadn’t seen the fear on the man’s face, you still would’ve known that it was Ron.

Because of course it would be him.

Gritting your teeth, you sigh and close your eyes. Dread tasted sour on your tongue as you turned your head to peer over your shoulder, flinching at the look of silent fury marring his handsome face. Sniffing, you force yourself to speak despite the tightness clenching at your throat.

“You should go, Lew,” you say quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lewis says nothing as you turn around to face Ron, the sound of his retreating footsteps barely registering in your ears as anxiety sends blood thrumming loudly in your ears. Ron’s sharp eyes make you feel impossibly small, and you think you can now understand what everyone else had been talking about for the past few years. Ron was scary. You did feel scared.

“You and I need to get some things straightened out.”

His words are clipped, and if he sees you flinch at the tone in his voice he doesn’t show it. You inhale shakily, realizing you had been holding your breath for too long and wetting your lips as you searched for the right words to say.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, Ron turns on his heel and begins to stride off, and once you are able to unstick the soles of your shoes from the floor you trail after him cautiously. When you reach the doorway, you see that he’s stopped a few paces from the door frame, waiting. In a move that surprises you, he uncurls his hand from the fist it had been in and holds it out to you, eyes heavy and dark and trained on you.

Quickly, you flicker your eyes between his face and his hand, only stepping forward and taking it after you’ve mustered up enough confidence that it wasn’t going to be something you regretted doing. You’d never had someone mad at you like this before, at least not for as intimate a reason as he was now. Of course, you’d never allowed yourself to care for someone like this before either- maybe this mortifying combination of guilt and heartbreak was normal.

The moment your hand finds his, he turns away from you and starts walking again, and as you follow you realize that he’s leading you towards the room you both share. There's no softness in the way his hand holds yours, the grip firm and unyielding. It almost makes you feel like a child being pulled off for a private scolding from a parent.

You hate it.

The journey to your room is both too long and not nearly long enough, and it’s only when he opens the door and releases your hand that you fear that you may never get the chance to feel his touch ever again. That reality was already one you’d been dreading, with him leaving so soon to go where you could not follow. The thought of that time coming sooner because of something like this was devastating.

You stand in front of the door once it closes, ready to have him ask you to leave at a moment’s notice. Unblinking, you watch him shirk off his jacket and toss it on a nearby chair, shrugging the suspenders down from his shoulders with a spark of agitation. His hair has begun to fall into disarray, and the idea of him hating you while looking so unfairly handsome makes your heart tighten painfully in your chest.

Unwilling to wait out the inevitable for a moment longer, you clear your throat at steel yourself.

“Ron-”

“You don’t get to hide that kind of shit from me.”

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his voice quiet and uncomfortably devoid of emotion. As he walks over to the table that held a decanter of whiskey and fine crystal glasses to pour a drink, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear and try again

“I was just trying to give—”

“—give me a 'clean break', yeah. I heard.”

Bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip, you watch as he clenches his jaw and swallows.

“Did you ever think about asking me what I wanted?“

That does throw you, and as he sets the glass down and turns to look at you you make no move to hide the look of confusion on your face. Glancing down at your shoes, you shake your head softly and try and find your voice once more

“I- but you don’t want this. You don’t want to be tied down—”

“And what makes you so confident that you know what I want, huh?”

There's clear anger in his voice now, and you look up just in time to watch him walk over to you. You straighten as he comes to a stop right before you, hands braced on his hips as he all but glowers down at you.

“You don’t get to make those sort of decisions for me- got it?”

He emphasizes the bite on the ‘t’ in ‘it’, the puff of air from his breath hitting your face.

When you make to turn away from him, one of his hands flashes up to grip your jaw- his touch gentle but authoritative enough that you know it’d be a bad idea to go against it. Something about the movement irks you, makes your heart beat faster from something much darker than fear or dread. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tilt your head back infinitesimally. Defiantly.

Ron notices, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Last time I checked, you aren’t a mind reader- and even if you were, you’d be a shit one because if you think what I want is anything other than you, you really don’t know me at all.”

“Stop it, Ron,” you mutter quietly, watching as his eyes flicker down to your mouth before dragging back up to meet your eyes again. “You’re being mean.”

He exhales sharply at that, a ghost of a rueful smile quirking his mouth before shaking his head.

“Am I?”

When you roll your eyes, he steps into you even more, using his hold on your jaw to tilt your head back further so you are still able to hold his glare.

“Like it or not, Y/N, you’re it for me- you got that? If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine- but know that I’d tear this whole entire goddamned continent apart if you wanted me to—”

“Why!?” you snap, his declaration bringing forth the sadness you’d managed to temporarily quell.

At the sight of tears refilling your eyes, Ron’s brows furrow and some of the darkness leaves his face. Shaking your head imploringly, you bring a hand up to circle his wrist.

“You could do anything, be anywhere with anyone you wanted! We….we’re just children, Ronald- and I love you but I’d never delude myself into pretending that I know the first thing about how to do this- any of this!”

You bring your other hand up to rest lightly on his chest, lowering your gaze to look at the slight tremble of your fingers as you do so.

“You were born for greatness, born to lead and fight and conquer….but all I was born to do was just exist for other people- like my parents or my family or whoever else needed something from me. Then, eventually, become somebody’s wife and give him a family. But….. I threw away any chance of that future in order to be here, and now that this is ending I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!”

Swallowing in a vain attempt to keep your voice from breaking, you look back up at him, offering him a small, shaky smile.

“I won’t drag you down that mess with me, you deserve more than that- than me. I won’t ruin you, too—”

“Y/N,” Ron murmurs admonishingly.

“What?!”

With an ease that you two had only just begun to establish, he seals his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up and forcing you to take the first deep breath you’d taken in a long time. There’s an edge of desperation to it- just as there had been in your first kiss back all those months ago in Foy.

Only this time his lips taste like whiskey and something a tinge more wicked.

A promise of more.

Breaking the kiss but keeping his face close you yours, Ron brings his other hand up to cup your face. Brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, he eyes you softly.

“Don’t tell me what I deserve.”

Kiss.

“Stop telling me what to do.”

Kiss

“Let me conquer.”

This kiss is filthy, his lips plush and confident and unafraid in their mission to leave you completely mindless. Ron has stepped so close to you that your head has tilted all the way back into his hands, his fingers purposefully twisting in your roots so he has more control over the kiss.

Despite the fact that he’s never handled you this way before- you have no desire to ask him to slow down or be gentler.

You like it. You want more.

When you whimper into his mouth, you can feel him grin briefly before sliding one hand down your back to fist at the material of your shirt and bunching it free from where it had been tucked into the back of your pants.

Up until now, Ron had been nothing but gentle when it came to you- and while you knew him to be dominant and ruthless in battle you’d considered what his temperament would be like as a lover. Clearly, the confidence translated.

You slide the hand that had been on his chest up and around his shoulders, your elbow hooking around his neck and pulling him closer. As you nip at his bottom lip, Ron hums low in his chest. The hand he’d had on the small of your back has moved down to grip at your ass, and with a quick peck he pulls back slightly.

“Hold on,” he grumbles, and just as you open your mouth to ask for clarification Ron wraps his arms around your hips and lifts you so you’re having to lean into him, your feet stumbling across the floor as he turns you both and quickly walks the both of you to the bed.

He’s barely set you down before his hands find the hem of your blouse again, rucking it up your sides before your brain catches up with him and you tear it over your head. Your skin feels hot, and it feels even hotter at the feeling of Ron’s lips mouthing at the tops of your breasts as you fumble with the clasp of your bra.

“Shit,” you hear yourself curse, hating your fingers for being so uncoordinated. Undeterred by the fabric of the bra you’d pinched from one of the homes the lot of you had been asked to secure a week ago, Ron bites softly at your nipples until they stiffen. When you finally unhook the fastenings, he pulls the cups of the bra down easily and continues his attentions.

You curse again, head swimming at the realization that his own fingers have found the zipper of your pants and begun to pull it down. Carding your hands through his hair, you desperately try and calm your breathing while distantly realizing that he’s still fully clothed.

“Ron,” you gasp, looking down your chest and meeting his bright eyes as he sucks marks down the valley between your breasts. “I wanna see you—”

His hum is dark as he mockingly tilts his head at you, successfully pulling the fabric of your trousers down your hips until gravity takes over and it all pools at your feet.

“You are seeing me,” he insists quietly, trailing his blunt fingernails down your hips until they catch your underwear and shucking them down your legs as well. When you frown he bites some of the skin just under your left breast, chuckling wickedly at the squeak of surprise you’re unable to hide.

“Take your shirt off!” you nearly whine, your head falling back as he laves at the bite with his tongue. “You’re not being- shit….you’re being unfair—!”

“Then do something about it.”

You do whine at that, too frustrated to worry about being gentle as you take your hands from his hair to claw at his shirt- bunching and pulling at the fabric covering his back until you manage to get enough in your fists to pull it gracelessly over his head. Pure want has boiled your blood like a fever, with the only two thoughts in your mind being more more more and faster faster faster.

Before you can work his shirt any further down his arms, he shoves you back unceremoniously onto the bed, quick to pull your hips to the edge of the bed before bothering to continue undressing himself.

With a nearly comical desperation, you toe off your shoes, licking your dry lips as you watch the muscles of his torso bunch and lengthen as he strips the remainder of his clothing off- his eyes on you the entire time and his gaze doing nothing to calm the heaving of your chest.

“Christ, look at you,” he says quietly, a clear note of pride in his voice. “Too pretty for your own good, aren’t you?”

You blush at that, swallowing audibly at the praise and squeezing your eyes shut.

It all just was so much….

When you open your eyes again, you moan at the sight of him kneeling before you and pulling at your legs until they were over his shoulders. As you start to sit up you are pushed back down again by his hand on your chest, the feeling of his breath on your sex robbing you of any speech capabilities you had previously possessed.

“Just like that,” he commands gently. “Stay just like that.”

Maybe it was because it had been a while since you’d had any sort of sexual intimacy with another person, or perhaps it had more to do with the fact that your previous sexual partners hadn’t been particularly invested in the act, but one thing was for certain:

Ron Speirs was unfathomably good at cunnilingus.

You could only gape stupidly at the ceiling with your mouth open in a silent scream of overwhelm as he took your clit between his lips and absolutely ruined you- his tongue and teeth and fingers tearing you away from reality with a nearly cruel proficiency. It was almost humiliating how effectively he dismantled your already tenuous sense of composure, and if you had any sense of pride left you probably would’ve hated him for it.

He was making a mess of you, and he was doing it too easily.

Feeling a sheen of sweat glisten your skin, you can only hold onto him as your body trembles- and it’s all you can do to keep your hips on the bed as your back arches and your body rocks.

“Ron, please….I’m gonna cum—” you hear yourself choke out in warning, squeezing your eyes shut as something burning hot and sugar-sweet builds deliciously in your lower belly

“Oh yeah?” you feel him ask, one of his arms hooking around your hips to help still you. “Want to bet?”

Your eyes flash open

“What—?!”

You nearly howl in fury when he takes his mouth away, instantly sitting up to watch in betrayed dismay as he curls two fingers inside of you and adds a new kind of stimulation- one that keeps you on that cruel precipice without offering you any sort of relief.

He smirks up at you, and any affection you’d previously held for him is jeopardized by his clear mirth at the situation.

“Sorry, Sweetheart,” Ron says lowly, nothing in his voice conveying any sort of remorse. “But you don’t get to call the shots right now.”

You open and close your mouth desperately, unable to decide which sort of response would get you what you wanted. A frustrated shriek slips out in the interim, and when his smile broadens you remove your hands from his hair and smack at his head.

“Jesus Christ, Ron! What’s the matter with you—?!”

“Do you have any idea how good you taste, Y/N?” He continues as if you hadn’t spoken at all, ducking down to place a greedy kiss to your sex before pulling back again. “To think you were going to have me leave without letting me get my mouth on the source….absolutely heartless—”

“I get it, okay? Fuck Ron! What more do you want me to do?”

You wince at the addition to a third finger inside of you, the stretch adding the tiniest bit of ache to your horribly prolonged almost-orgasm. The forearm across your hips holds you down when you try to squirm in any direction in hopes of getting some more stimulation.

“Apologize.”

You widen your eyes at him, a scowl on your face as you look down your panting chest at him. “What?”

Like the cruel bastard he is, Ron shrugs as if the solution to all of this has been obvious the whole time.

“Say you’re sorry, and I’ll make it all better.”

Shaking your head, you hear yourself scoff. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You yelp as he turns his head to bite your thigh, fisting a handful of his hair to pull him away.

Smoothing the flat of his tongue over the bite, he closes his eyes wistfully and sighs.

“Close, but that’s not what I want to hear,” Ron says before tilting his head and looking back up at you, the tendons in his forearm pronounced as his fingers tirelessly continue their strokes inside of you.

“Say it. Say ‘Ron, I’m sorry.”

Biting the insides of your cheeks, you fix him with a glare and sigh with frustration.

“Fine! I’m sorry, okay? I’m really fucking sorry, Ron!”

He purses his lips, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. You whimper as he slides his fingers out from inside you, but before you can think yourself victorious Ron uses those fingers to start rolling your clit- still keeping you on the edge while giving you just a hint of what you needed.

“Goddamnit, RONALD—!”

“Tell me that you deserve me,” he demands, his words taking on a gravelly tone. As you search his eyes, you see a heartbreaking shine of sincerity staring back at you. “Say it and then I’ll let you cum.”

Your throat is becoming tight, an unexpected wave of emotion hitting you and bringing tears to your eyes. The hand not currently torturing your clit squeezes your hip, and with a shake of your head you close your eyes.

“I-I deserve you,” you acquiesce, feeling your lower lip threatening to quiver. “I’m sorry.”

“Gutes Mädchen (good girl).”

Your head falls back with a moan as he latches his mouth to you again, body bowing as he ruthlessly finishes what he’d started and destroys you- sending you spiraling into bright euphoria and letting you float in the heat of it. You’re suddenly thankful for the arm across your hips, for it’s the only thing anchoring you to the real world as you shake for him.

“So perfect,” you can hear him saying, his voice now at your ear as you become aware of the press of his cock between your lower lips. “You’re the most perfect thing I've ever seen.”

Whining pathetically, you tilt your head back and clutch at his back.

“Please,” you beg, eyelids heavy and gaze unfocused. “Please—”

He doesn’t draw it out this time, quickly hooking his arm under your left leg and opening your hips so he can press himself inside of you. Still wrung out for your orgasm, you can only cry out softly at the feeling of him bottoming out, a broken sound of his own vibrating through his chest into yours.

You’ve never considered Ron to be a particularly talkative person, so when he begins to babble it catches you off guard while simultaneously endearing him to you further.

“I can’t believe how good you feel You surely were sent to ruin me God you’re such a good girl Better than I could’ve imagined Squeezing me so tightly I don’t want to be without you I want nothing else than this In what world would you think that I wouldn’t adore you I am yours entirely you ridiculous woman Shit I can feel you shaking Getting so tight Fuck do that again Are you going to cum again I want to hear you scream….”

Too lost in his words, you don’t know if you actually screamed as you came again- but you do know that at some point you’ve turned your head and sealed your lips to his. His hips stutter as he cums with a breath shout, his free hand dancing up and down your side with a carnal desperation that you could understand but not replicate- not now.

Because now you are well and truly wrung out.

The weight of Ron’s body atop yours is welcome, and the sweet way he kisses you is almost too much for your fragile mind to process.

“Y/N?”

Ron’s voice is soft, and as you blink your eyes open you cannot help but smile satedly up at him. He looks beautiful, and the soft way he’s looking at you makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Hm?”

He brings a hand to your face and smooths some of your hair behind your torn ear.

“You weren’t born for someone else,” he says the words carefully, as if he is struggling with ensuring that they are the right ones. “But…. I’m starting to think that maybe I was. Or that, maybe we were…..Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

Taking his face between your hands, you take a deep breath and let your eyes drift across his handsome face.

Lifting your head, you lightly press your lips to his and sigh.

“Yeah, Ron….I think I do.”

He deepens the kiss, pulling you with him as he rolls to the side and holds you against him.

“Mo Leannan,” he murmurs into your hair as you rest your cheek against his chest. “Mo Chridhe.”

You furrowed your brow, the words unfamiliar and in a language you could not identify. It was common knowledge that Ron spoke a passable level of German, but from the way his mouth wrapped around these words, you wondered if he was fluent in another language and had just never told you about it.

“What did you say?” you asked softly, exhaustion having crept into both of your bodies and rendered you mostly immobile.

Humming, Ron wraps the hand you’d rested on his chest in his and brings it up to his face so he can kiss your palm.

“Later,” he says sleepily before lowering your joined hands to rest on his sternum. “I’ll tell you later. Rest.”

And because you believe him, you do as he says and allow yourself to be swept away.

~ ~ ~

HELLO AND HI! This took forever and a day to write but only bc I overthought everyhting and got distracted by other shiny things SO WHOOPS MY B! Anyhoo- I love ya’ll and remember to hydrate!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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saigonharrington · 4 years ago

Text

Wish you were sober // g.w

I am sorry but I had another idea in my mind so I wrote it.

It’s angsty and fluffy at the same time. I don’t know, I feel like I am writing down all that stuff just to make myself feel better since I can’t shift 🤧

Also I have a lot of ideas and I thought about doing a songlist? Where you can request something with certain character (I mean I already have ideas so if no one will be requesting I just write it as I created it) and I think I would be able to write for Cedric Diggory, Oliver Wood and Stiles Stilinski from teen wolf. If someone asks for another character I might have reject it if I do not like that character or do not know it so well. I don’t really like ( or can) writing smuts, about death or pregnancy sorry. But I’ll tell more in songlist post. Just tell me if at least one person is interested in this please?

Now back to the one shot

George Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 2,2k I guess

Y/F/N - your friend’s name

No specific year, I also didn’t want to make specific house but Y/N is not from gryffindor because of the long walk to dorms.

I don’t want to write summary because I feel like I will spoil everything. Just read it.

Warning: drinking, people being drunk and telling things, Y/N issues about low self-esteem and things like that oh and mistakes & mix of American and British English probably

Also it means a lot to me if you reblog and/or comment my work 🥺🥺 so please do it I love to integrate with you guys

Hogwarts has always been a magical place. And I do not mean literal magic. Just the atmosphere that this place held. So now imagine how parties at common rooms looked like. Especially when it was the birthday party of famous quidditch commentator - Lee Jordan. He had friends in all the houses, so Gryffindor’s common room was overcrowded that day.

The whole room was decorated with funny and random stuff found at the last minute. Fred and George organized everything, so even though decorations looked a bit odd, there was a lot of food and alcohol. I didn’t really like the feeling of being drunk, so I only drank a little champagne while we sang happy birthday. Unfortunately, not a lot of people thought the same. Seems like I am the only one person who is sober.

I came to the party with my one and only friend, since I wasn’t so talkative, and I considered myself an introvert, but now I regretted that I do not have more people to talk to. Y/F/N’s liked partying. Even if she swore she’ll be by my side for the whole night, I lost her after like ten minutes. There I was, sitting here all alone, observing everyone closely. Frankly speaking, I was looking for one specific person, the party maker - George Weasley. I fancied him for almost a year now, since he sat next to me at potions, and snapped back at Snape that one time when he wanted to humiliate me for the mistake that I made then. We talked from time to time, but it wasn’t that deep, just random things like “How was your day?” or complaining about teachers. Then why did I feel butterflies every freaking time he looked and smiled at me? I’d like to know. He sat behind me and Y/F/N at some lessons and I think sometimes he was eavesdropping, but maybe I’m just going insane to prove that maybe somehow he likes me back.

And then I saw him. Dancing with his friends’ group and being really close to some girl, I think her name was Katie. I immediately felt something in my stomach, but definitely not butterflies. It was jealousy. Why I was like that? We weren’t even friends, he would not look at me like that, who could want to have a crush on a girl that isn’t beautiful and open to people? Who’s afraid of commitment and physical contact. Probably, or should I say, for sure - no one.

“I think I’m gonna go back to our dorm.” I said to Y/F/N when I finally found her.

“Okay. Do what you want. Just do not cry, please. Take care of yourself, we’ll talk tomorrow.” She replied, turning back to her dance partner. I exited the common room, wanting to walk back to my dorm, but something held me back.

“Wait.” Said someone with a familiar voice, so I stopped. “I want to talk.”

“Why?” I asked, wandering slowly through the corridor.

“Just wanted to make sure that you’ll get back safe to your dorm.” He explained, which made me blush.

“That’s sweet, but maybe you should worry about yourself. You’re drunk as a skunk”

“I feel perfectly fine. I can walk straight by your side, so I don’t see the problem.” George laughed hiding hands in the pockets.

“Get to the point, I do not want to argue at the moment.” I said, yawning.

“Why did you walk out of the party? I feel offended. You know, I half-organized that, so it’s also half-my-fault.”

“I came there with my friend, but she definitely does not need me anymore. And I am not the greatest friend of Lee, so why would I like to stay?”

“Well, you could talk with me. And drink with me, it would be fun since I never really saw you relaxed.”

“I’d feel relaxed if I wouldn’t have to take care of someone drunk.”

“You talk about me?”

“I’m not drunk so answer yourself. Maybe you should go back to your common room. I bet your girlfriend waits for you.”

“Which one?” He asked playfully, but I wasn’t in the mood for joking.

“I think her name is Katie.”

“That’s not my girlfriend. Why did you think so?”

“You were pretty close tonight…”

“Oh, so you were watching me?”

“I’m just quite observant. I wasn’t stalking you.” I lied. As soon as I saw him in the crowd I couldn’t take my eyes off him. And he didn’t notice but only because of alcohol.

“That’s a shame. Because if I saw you earlier, I’d stare at you for the whole night. You dressed nicely.”

“Thank you. Can I go to my dorm now? I want to sleep.”

“Yeah let’s go.” George said, opening the door.

“You’re not going with me. Please go back to the party. They are probably looking for you.”

“I don’t want to go because it’s you I want to spend the time with. Don’t you get it Y/N?” He asked. “I fancy you.”

“I wish you were sober if you plan to exclaim things like that. Please don’t make fun of me, it’s not funny.” I said calmly, becoming extremely sad.

“I’m not joking.”

“You will not remember this tomorrow, please let me go.”

“Y/N now you’re joking. Can’t you see it? I really like you. A lot. But you never let me talk to you for long. Your friend is always by your side, and she terrifies me. I never got the time to admit my feelings.”

I wanted to feel happy. I really did. But how could I? He won’t remember it tomorrow, and I am gonna be the one who’s heartbroken because I won’t have the courage to speak to him about it. What if he denies what he said? What am I supposed to do?

“You’re drunk, and you don’t know what are you talking about. You have probably mistaken me for someone else.

“Gosh, you’re so oblivious. Why can’t you understand that I love you.” He shouted, starting to get angry.

“Maybe I don’t want to! I don’t want to. Okay? Why would you love me? Look at yourself, you’re so funny and outgoing and generous... We don’t belong together. You don’t desire to be with a person like me, trust me. Now please go away. Please.” I said with tears in my eyes, then I walked to the dorm, trying to cover my face. I made sure that George won’t follow me by putting a spell on the door. Y/F/N will know how to break it if she comes late.

I didn’t have the energy to change clothes, so I stayed like that, crying myself to sleep.

The next day I woke up looking like a monster. I had messy hair and my clothes were crumpled.

“Seems like I wasn’t the one having a rough night.” My friend started, after looking at me. “But you weren’t drinking, what happened? I saw you and George walking…”

“He said that he loves me.” I explained with no emotions.

“It’s good, right? You have a crush on him, then what’s the problem?”

“He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it. And he doesn’t remember it today for sure.”

“That’s not true, I heard that people are actually honest after drinking.” She added.

“How could he love me? I’m unlovable. He probably joked.”

“Hey, I love you, so I’m pretty sure he is able to too. Let’s go for breakfast. Maybe we’ll see him, and he’ll be kind enough to talk to you and explain what he had in his mind.”

But he wasn’t. Y/F/N and I were staring at him for the whole thirty minutes, but he wasn’t able to even look up. He looked sad, but maybe it’s because of not remembering a thing. Or he feels embarrassed.

Y/F/N tried to cheer me up through the day, but nothing was working. The fact that we crossed paths with George a couple of times made me feel even worse. Why did I expect him to talk to me? If he doesn’t remember anything, then he doesn’t know that we talked. Maybe I should make the first move.

“Do it.” Y/F/N encouraged me. “Otherwise you will not know what he has in mind. Sometimes you gotta help the man to open up. And don’t run away. Just explain to him why you’re afraid of commitment and stuff like that. He’ll understand.”

“Do you think so? I doubted. “I need to be like three hundred percent sure.”

‘Yes, go to him! He’s now only with his brother, you have a chance.”

I wasn’t so sure and confident as Y/F/N expected me to be. But I didn’t want to disappoint her and cause more problems, so I decided to at least try to talk to him. The worst he can do is make me cry, it’s nothing new since it happened last night, so no need to be afraid.

“Hey, um, can I talk with George?” I asked, therefore Fred nodded and walked away to their friends. “Do you have something to tell me?” I asked another question directly to him.

“You came to me. Don’t you have something to tell?”

“Actually I wanted to ask if you remember anything from last night.”

“Merlin, have I done something stupid? I knew I shouldn’t drink that much.” He tried to break the tension.

“Yeah you said a lot of stupid things. You kind of confessed to me that you… you know.” I couldn’t even say the word ‘love’.

“Oh I remember this. But it wasn’t dumb since it’s true.” He said trying to make eye contact.

“So why do I feel like you were avoiding me?”

“I was. Because I also remember your reaction.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I overreacted a bit…” I started explaining.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to make excuses. I get it.”

“No George, it’s not like that. I do want to be with you. I like you. I just don’t think I’m able to. I don’t feel ready for these kinds of things. It’s new.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry. And don’t be afraid of something new. How can you know what it will look like if you don’t want to try? I don’t like you just because you’re pretty. It is one of the reasons, but not the main one. I like you because you’re you. Because you’re making cute, funny faces when Snape says something to you, because of your little dance when you get a good grade. I noticed many things you do. And we don’t even have to rush, I want you to open to me, talk a little more and spend some time alone. I want to help you.”

“Well, maybe you’re right. So what does that make us?”

“What do you want us to be? I’ve just said that I can wait. You know how I feel about you, so now it’s your turn. It won’t hurt me if you want to be friends. I know I have to gain your trust. We have to get to know each other.”

“I’m ready to do it.” The courage appeared sudeenly and I don’t know why, but I liked it.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now, do you have something else to do?”

“No, I would love to spend time with you.”

We went to the library, where we sat in the corner and talk quietly about random things. It turned out that we have a lot in common, and I feel pretty comfortable around him. I managed to speak about all of my issues and I didn’t cry. Maybe building a healthy relationship wasn’t that hard?

“You know George?” I changed the subject. “You said that you remember what I did yesterday. I admitted that I fancy you. And you fancy me back. What can possibly go wrong? If two people like each other in that way, they can be friends and lovers at once. I guess it is like that. I base my knowledge on the muggle movies so correct me if I’m wrong. What I’m trying to say is…” I panicked and turned my face to the other side.

“Y/N.” George called my name and gently put his hands on my cheeks to make me see him. “Can I kiss you then?” He asked for permission so I nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry if I’m a bad kisser. You’ll be my first.” I spoke the truth.

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna learn since I’m planning to kiss you every two minutes.” He leaned to me and kissed me slowly, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

It was amazing, I opened up to him and for once I cried happy tears. My friend would be so proud.

“Does that make me your girlfriend?”

“See, you’re getting cocky. I like that.”

“Answer the question, Weasley.”

“Godric, why the surname? I didn’t do anything bad. But yes. You can be my girlfriend.”

“Well, thank you for your kind acceptance.”

“I didn’t know that I signed up for that much sassiness.”

“You can always break up with me, I won’t stop you.”

“No can do. You won’t get rid of me so easily. Now let’s go, we have to tell Freddie and your friend.”

And with that we left the library, smiling so wide that we looked like psychopaths.

#hp #Harry Potter #hp fanfic #Harry Potter fanfic #George #weasley #George weasley #George weasley x reader #George weasley one shot #george weasley imagines #Oliver wood #Cedric diggory #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #Spotify #George weasley angst #George weasley fluff

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taxicabinmemphis · 4 years ago

Note

48. “I’m a little drunk right now.” + 52. “Are you showing off for me?” Logan x Janus, Roman, or Virgil (I don't care who out of those three), Logan being the drunk one. The other side finds them in or by a bar, they weren't there before or while Logan got drunk

so my mind saw this and went from broke: logince woke: loginceit/roloceit bespoke: analoginceit/roloanxceit

(tw swearing, alcohol, food, kissing without consent sorry)

(please forgive the inaccuracies for drunken behavior, hangovers, and that I wrote way too much lol. also logan is a teacher or professor and roman can cook but it’s hardly mentioned)

Logan rested his head on the bar table, just having downed a shot of vodka. His three roommates who he just so happened to be in love with got together a couple of days ago, but only decided to tell him this morning.

The worst part was, he understood why they were together. They made sense. In his very professional and totally-not-drunk opinion, Logan didn’t fit. Despite this, he was still head over heels.

He liked three people and instead of liking him, they liked each other. It was just his luck. So now he was here, drinking away the emotional pain.

He lifted his head off the table and asked the bartender for another shot of vodka. The bartender gave him a concerned look but complied.

Logan was lifting the glass to his lips when he heard it.

“Logan! Oh my god, Logan!”

Logan snorted, taking a small sip from the vodka. The person calling his name sounded like Roman. He set the shot glass down and someone then grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Logan was just able to make out the beloved face of Roman looking at him in concern.

“Oh, thank goodness I found you!” he exclaimed in relief. “I’m gonna text Janus and Virgil.”

“What do you want, Roman?” Logan slurred.

“What do I want?!” Roman repeated incredulously. “I want to make sure you’re alright. You said you were going out to get lunch and would be back in an hour and a half but you weren’t! It’s eleven right now!”

“So what? Ten hours longer than expected, not too bad.”

“Not too bad? Janus, Virgil, and I were worried sick!”

Logan shrugged sloppily. “Not my fault.”

“Are you blaming us for worrying about you?”

Logan took another sip of vodka, clearly more calm about the situation than the flailing Roman.

“Roommates normally don’t scream at each other for not telling each other their every plan for the day. It’s not my fault y’all are overbearing.”

“Overbearing? Over-fucking-bearing?! You told us you would return, and you didn’t! Virgil was yelling about car crashes and kidnapping and murder and scared the shit out of me and Janus! We just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Logan stated. “I’m a little drunk right now, but besides that I’m good.”

Logan’s attention was stolen by Virgil and Janus racing over to where the two of them were. They were both wide-eyed and out of breath.

“Logan!” Virgil said, grazing his hand over Logan’s shoulder as if to make sure he was real. “Roman, is he okay?”

“He said he’s a little drunk, but fine,” Roman said angrily.

Janus gave Logan a once-over. “A little drunk, my ass. Bartender!” he called. The bartender turned. “How much has this nerd had?”

“I don’t have the recollection to be precise, so drunk as a skunk is all I can tell you, dude,” they replied.

Logan’s three love interests made various noises of discontent. Logan rolled his eyes and went to take another sip of vodka.

“Ah, no,” Janus said, taking the glass from Logan’s hands. “No more for you.”

“Can’t you just let me get drunk in peace?” Logan asked.

Virgil shook his head, motioning the bartender back over to take his drink. They did and gave the four a look.

“You gonna take him home?” they asked.

Logan sighed, taking out his wallet. “Putting up a fight will only draw attention and there’s three of you and one of me. I’ll go with them.”

He handed the bartender his card to pay.

“Nonsense, let me pay,” Roman offered.

Logan snorted. “Fuck off, Roman. You’ve been overbearing since you got here, can’t you let me have this?”

Roman looked taken aback and even a little hurt. The bartender cautiously took Logan’s outstretched card, likely not wanting to upset someone sober and angry.

Once Logan had paid, he got off the bar seat and stood shakily, crossing his arms. He was hardly standing up but didn’t want his three roommates to notice.

“Who’s gonna drive me?” he asked.

“We walked, as we were checking around everywhere. I, currently the most competent gay as you are drunk, will drive,” Janus stated, holding out his hand for Logan’s car keys.

Logan fumbled for his keys, getting them out of his pocket with shaky hands and giving them to Janus. Virgil frowned in concern at Logan’s movements.

“Are you sure you’re alright, L?” Virgil inquired. “You’re rarely this unbalanced.”

“He’s drunk, V, what do you expect?” Janus pocketed the keys. “Let’s go.”

The four started to walk out of the bar. Virgil took Janus’ free hand, Logan suppressing a sad whine. He looked down and wished he could stir in his feelings away from his roommates. However, they just so happened to be naturally caring and worried people who wouldn’t leave him alone.

His negative thoughts consumed his focus, prompting him to lose his balance. He started to fall, only for a pair of strong arms to catch him.

“Woah there, you good?” Roman asked.

“Fine,” Logan mumbled, trying to get back on his feet but slipping again.

“You’re really drunk, huh?” Roman seemed much calmer than before. “Here, let me help you.”

“N...no,” Logan protested quietly.

Roman either didn’t hear him or didn’t care as he picked up Logan bridal style. Logan had no choice but to put his arms around Roman’s shoulders. Fortunately for him, his blush could be attributed to the high amount of alcohol he had consumed. He saw Janus and Virgil glance at them, a look on their face similar to that of their friend Patton’s when he saw a kitten.

“Aww...” Virgil cooed. “Look at you two.”

“It’s disgusting and not cute at all,” Janus agreed with a smile.

“Put me down,” Logan huffed.

“Nope,” Roman said with a grin.

Logan frowned, pausing for a second. “I don’t need to be carried, especially not like this. Are you showing off for me?”

Roman’s face reddened.

“Wait no, it’s not that...you wanna show your boyfriends you’re strong,” Logan said, his slurred words dragging out the final word longer than intended.

Virgil snorted. “Is that what it is, Roman?” Virgil opened the door to the bar for his roommates.

“Whatever, you two.”

They walked out to Logan’s car, Janus unlocking the door and sitting in the driver’s seat. Roman opened the back door and set Logan in the car before taking the passenger seat. Virgil sat on Logan’s left.

The drive to their shared apartment was short and next to silent, Logan starting to show signs of fatigue. Eventually, Janus pulled the car into the driveway. He stopped and turned off the car but didn’t get out immediately, instead throwing his head back against the seat in exhaustion.

Virgil felt something hit his shoulder, and saw that Logan had passed out on his shoulder.

The anxious emo’s mouth opened in awe and he decided to brush Logan’s hair out of his eyes.

“Look,” Virgil called to his boyfriends. “He’s asleep on my shoulder.”

Roman let out an “aww” and Janus chuckled.

“Let’s get him inside,” he suggested.

Virgil sighed in disappointment and pushed Logan’s shoulder to wake him up. Eventually, he did, and when he noticed where his head was, he shot himself into a sitting position. Virgil’s heart sank a little in disappointment.

Roman opened Logan’s door and offered the now awake side his hand. Logan unbuckled his seat belt after four unsuccessful tries and refused Roman’s hand. The refusal was a mistake, however, as Logan almost fell again.

Roman caught him, shaking his head in disapproval. “Just let me help you sometimes, Teach. I don’t bite.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Roman picked Logan up again and followed Janus and Virgil. They eventually made it to their apartment, Janus unlocking and opening the door for them. Roman placed Logan gently on the couch in a sitting position. Virgil sat next to him and Roman sat in an armchair across from them.

“Where do you want your keys, Logan?” Janus asked. “I’d hate for you to be unable to find them tomorrow.”

“Coffee table is fine till morning,” Logan murmured, Janus hardly catching what he said. He set the keys there and stayed standing.

“Should we ask him why he was gone for so long?” Roman asked.

Janus shook his head. “No. We’ll do it in the morning. Look at him, he’s already drifting off.”

They watched as Logan fell asleep again, leaning over towards Virgil. Virgil grinned at this, guiding Logan’s head to his lap.

“We should let him sleep. Then, we can ask him after lunch.” Janus stood behind the chair Roman was sitting at, putting his hands on Roman’s shoulders.

Roman turned to Janus. “Why wait that long? I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” Virgil agreed. “He could be going through some shit we don’t know about.”

“He’ll have a hangover. We don’t want to trouble him or put a lot on his mind when he’s in pain.”

The two nodded. Virgil started to run his fingers through Logan’s hair, appreciating its softness. He removed Logan’s glasses, smiling at how pretty his face was even without the spectacles that completed his look.

“He’s so pretty,” Virgil said quietly.

Janus hummed in agreement.

“It’s a pity we couldn’t tell him like we planned to when he returned from lunch,” Roman stated.

“We can tell him tomorrow,” Janus assured him.

“Unless he’s going through some bad shit, then we shouldn’t bother him with feelings-y stuff,” Virgil objected.

“Of course,” Janus agreed.

They stared at him in silence for a moment, Virgil finally deciding to wake him.

“Hmm? Virgil?” Logan asked sleepily.

“Let’s get you in bed, L,” Virgil said, a tired smile on his face.

---

Logan put his fork down, just having finished Roman’s delicious lunch of chicken alfredo. His headache was going away and he no longer felt sore or dizzy. He was close to getting back to normal, but he was still pretty tired and sometimes felt a little nauseous. And he was also a little bit irritable.

Roman immediately took his plate, Logan starting to object as Roman was being so nice to him but nothing leaving his lips.

Virgil and Janus had both finished already, and were now talking in the living room. Virgil was on an armchair and Janus was on the sofa, seeming to be deep in conversation.

“Logan,” Roman started, walking over to his friend. “Would you be so kind as to sit with us in the living room?”

Logan nodded, standing up and pushing his chair in. Roman took his hand and gestured to the sofa, where Logan sat on Janus’ left and Roman on Logan’s left.

“Hey there, L,” Virgil greeted. “Feeling better?”

“Significantly,” Logan answered. “Thank you for dealing with me.”

“It’s no problem,” Roman replied, putting his arm on the sofa, behind Logan’s head. “You’re kinda cute when you’re out of it.”

Logan glared at him. “I have no desire to be cute.”

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but you can’t always get what you want,” said Virgil with a short laugh.

“Logan,” Janus started seriously after a moment, “we wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh dear,” Logan said quietly, before sighing. “What did I do wrong this time?”

Virgil gave him a sympathetic look. “You’ve done nothing wrong, L, we just wanted to talk to you. And ask you a couple of things.”

“Alright, I suppose I have no way out of this. Fire away, as they say.”

“Why did you say you would come back in an hour and a half, only to...well, not?” Roman asked, starting the conversation.

Logan shrugged. “I guess I forgot I promised I’d return soon.”

“No text?” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“It wouldn’t track for me to forget my plans but remember to text you about changing them, would it?”

Virgil’s confusion erased from his face.

“Fair, but why were you gone so long without returning? Where did you go?” Roman queried. “Ten hours is a lot of time.”

“I got lunch, went to the park, walked in the park, went to Starbucks which had quite a long line, went to the library, and then the bar. I have a great love for books, remember? I could spend days at the library.”

Janus nodded. “Why did you go to the bar?”

“I wanted to drink.”

“Alone?” Roman asked.

“For a long time?” Virgil continued.

Logan shrugged.

“Why did you get drunk?” Janus asked bluntly.

Logan stared at him strangely. Logan wondered why all three of them were so intent on digging into his personal life and reasons for everything.

“Does it matter?” Logan shot back. “Why do y’all care, anyway? I wouldn’t ask these questions of a roommate, myself.”

“You’re not just our roommate, L,” Virgil objected. He got off his chair and moved to sit on the coffee table, directly in front of Logan.

Roman and Janus nodded in agreement.

“Yes, and you’ve gotta stop using that as an excuse to not answer our questions or doubt the validity of our reasons for them.” Janus gave Logan a pointed look.

Logan snorted. “What are we then? Friends? Still doesn’t make your inquiries unnatural.” The three boyfriends shared a look. “Can’t you just let me live?”

“We want to know if something is troubling you, Logan,” Janus stated, cutting to the chase. “If there’s something troublesome going on in your life, we’d hate to know about it so we can help you if we can, or at least understand you.”

“We also have something else to talk with you about and don’t want to talk with you about it if you’re in a bad place,” Roman added.

Logan closed his eyes, put his head down, and massaged his temples. They were probably going to ask him to move out as they were now in a romantic relationship and wouldn’t want him around and disturbing their time together.

Logan didn’t want to tell them that something bad was bothering him—he figured it would be easiest to get this over with. And if he did tell them something was bothering him, they would likely try to force it out of him and Logan did not want that. So, he decided to lie, despite having no ill intentions towards them.

“Nothing is bothering me; I’m fine,” Logan stated. “You all can talk to me about what you have on your minds.”

Logan’s roommates shared a look.

“I can tell you’re lying, Logan,” Janus said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Logan said sharply, lifted his head to face Janus. “Nothing of major consequence is troubling me, do you understand? You three clearly have something you want to talk with me about. Please get it over with.”

“Logan...” Virgil protested weakly.

“We can tell something’s bothering you,” Roman said slowly.

Logan turned away from Janus to look between Roman and Virgil. His face contorted into one of accusation and irritation. “What’s bothering me is you three’s pushy and presumptuous attitude towards my every action these past twenty-four hours and your blatant refusal to take my requests and statements to heart! I don’t owe any of you anything so stop acting like it.”

Yeah, that might’ve been a little too rude and a little too blunt, but glossing over the matter at hand and not listening to what Logan wanted out of them was getting on his nerves. The three should either get to the point or leave him alone. Sitting here and coddling over him was doing nothing.

Each of Logan’s roommates acquired a look of pain and offense, some more than others. Virgil looked like he had been physically pushed back and his eyes were wide with pain swimming in his irises, Roman’s mouth was open and he had a hand on his chest, and Janus looked down in shame.

“We apologize, Logan,” Janus said after a long silence. “We have gone a bit too far with the interrogating and the digging into your actions which we have no business in. We simply want to make sure you’re okay.”

“And you’ve asked three fucking times in this conversation and gotten the same answer,” Logan snarled. “My not being in constant contact and not spending time in your presence doesn’t mean I’m in trouble. My life doesn’t revolve around any of your presences. I’m fine, so just tell me what you wanted to.”

Roman looked between his boyfriends carefully. “Well, now might not be a good time anymore, considering the sharp turn the conversation has taken.”

“Oh, so my irritation with your obsessive actions has made you unable to continue?” Logan asked sarcastically. “I guess it’s not too important, then.”

“No!” Virgil exclaimed quickly, putting a hand on Logan’s knee, only to remove it when Logan flinched at the contact. “It’s v-very important, but...” he trailed off.

“It’s delicate as well,” Janus completed for him. “It shouldn’t be addressed with-”

“Irritation? Anger?” Logan interrupted. He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m done with those right now. I have to accept that the three of you either worry too much or overstep your relationships with people. I’m just exhausted, okay? So it’s probably best for you to tell me now before I get too tired of your presences to listen anymore.”

The last comment seemed to strike another blow to Logan’s roommates. Logan sighed when he noticed this. His hangover was making him get too careless.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blunt about that,” Logan muttered. “Though, I guess it won’t matter much longer.” The last part was extremely quiet.

“What?!” the three all asked.

“Oh dear, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Logan asked, exhausted with himself.

They nodded.

“Are you...”

“I’m fine, Virgil. For the last fucking time. I’m just pretty damn sure I know what you’re gonna ask of me,” Logan assured his anxious friend.

“You do?” Roman asked, perking up.

Janus put a hand to his forehead. “No, he doesn’t. He thinks he does. If he did, he wouldn’t have said that, much less thought it.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Roman agreed.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “No, I’m pretty sure I know.”

“What is it, then?” Roman challenged.

“You want me to move out,” Logan stated tiredly. “And don’t worry, I won’t-”

“Stop,” Virgil said, holding out his hand as a gesture for Logan to stop talking. “Right now. I don’t wanna hear it. Too painful.”

Roman nodded vigorously in agreement.

“I’m not wrong, so why not let me say it?” Logan argued.

“Yes, Logan. You’re not wrong,” Janus said sarcastically. “We only went out of our way to walk wherever we could think of to find you last night, waited till later in the day to even talk with you about this, ask you personal questions and repeatedly ask if you were alright, and check to make sure you aren’t in a bad place, just so we could tell you to move out. Makes complete sense.”

Logan frowned in confusion, face acquiring a slightly pink tint. “I...I don’t really believe you. What else could it be?”

“Well, why don’t you sit back and find out?” Roman asked, a small smirk on his face.

Logan looked between their unwavering stares that showed no signs of deception, before conceding and leaning back. “Alright, go ahead.”

“To preface, we in no way mean to pressure you,” Janus started sincerely. “And if you do feel uncomfortable with us after this, we will understand if you want to move out. We can even help you find an apartment.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “I was righ-”

Virgil put his index finger over Logan’s mouth. “No, you weren’t. Moving out is not what we want at all. Janus is just saying we will understand if that is what you want after this. And we will be down for helping you, as we care about you and want you to be in a healthy and safe living situation.”

“We’d honestly be devas-”

“Roman,” Janus interrupted. “We don’t want to pressure or guilt him.”

Roman nodded and didn’t finish, electing to take Logan’s hand between both of his instead. Virgil reached at Logan’s right hand. Janus noticed this and that Virgil couldn’t reach and gave Logan’s hand to Virgil. The emo took it, and ran his fingers over the back of Logan’s hand. Logan’s cheeks went slightly pink.

“Logan, we have something to confess to you,” Janus said quietly.

“It is of great importance,” Roman continued.

“And we mean it from the bottom of our hearts,” Virgil finished sincerely.

“The three of us got together after that one dinner we all had a three days ago.”

“You left early, however, and had ‘business to attend to’ or whatever,” Roman continued after Janus.

“We were all being flirtatious with each other that night, and so it really just came about naturally,” Virgil said, looking pleasantly nostalgic. “We just kinda asked what the three of us were to each other a few minutes after you left and we decided on boyfriends.”

“However, we also needed to talk to you. We were going to after you returned from lunch,” Janus told Logan.

“That’s why we were so worried and I was so angry,” Roman admitted. “I wanted to get to tell you this and not have to put it off.”

Logan didn’t think he could take much more of this; they were unknowingly playing with his heart and it was torture. “Can you please just tell me?” he asked weakly, practically begging for them to end this and break his heart once more.

They looked at each other for a moment, then back to Logan, a silence coming over them for half a minute. Virgil, however, decided to break it.

“You’re so fucking lovely, L,” he said passionately.

Logan looked at him in surprise, like a deer in the headlights.

“And analyzing your previous statements and actions, you likely don’t want what we do,” Virgil continued, looking disheartened. “You likely don’t feel the same.”

“But we love you so much,” Roman confessed.

“And we want you,” Janus finished. “In our hearts, minds, and relationship.”

Logan was too shocked to speak. They wanted him? They loved him? He left the conversation at dinner to grade papers because the flirting going on around him was making him both flustered and jealous, but if he stayed...

They were asking him to join their relationship. They didn’t want him to move out, they wanted him to be more to them. And did Logan want that too?

God, yes.

“I...”

He didn’t know how to speak anymore.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Janus stated. “Virgil was right. It would be unwise to presume you feel the same for us, considering your irritation with us. If you’d like, we can leave you to your thoughts and-”

Logan turned his head and cut him off with a kiss. Janus’ eyes widened, and he kissed back, putting a hand on Logan’s jaw. Logan would do the same if he wasn’t holding hands with Roman and Virgil.

They parted after a minute, and Logan was finally able to find words.

“I have a romantic interest in the three of you as well,” Logan said breathlessly.

Roman squealed, taking one of his hands away from Logan’s and using it to turn his head.

“May I kiss you?” Roman asked excitedly.

Logan nodded.

Roman connected their lips. His arm went around Logan’s waist, and he squeezed Logan’s hand tighter.

The two pulled away after a second. Logan turned his head away from Roman slowly and stared at Virgil.

The emo, looking absolutely ecstatic, got off the coffee table. He sat on Logan’s lap and tilted Logan’s chin up to face him with the hand that wasn’t holding Logan’s hand.

“I don’t supposed I can kiss you as well?” Virgil asked with a teasing tone, running his hand through Logan’s hair.

“You’re welcome to,” Logan consented.

Virgil grinned and captured Logan’s lips in a passionate kiss.

This one got sooooo far away from me I’m so sorry. Hope you enjoyed! If you were just really looking for a single ship and not poly for the four of them, shoot me an ask and I’ll write it! (My brain just went “you say ‘or’ I say ‘and’” and decided to do all lol). Thanks, this one was really fun.

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returningwriter · 5 years ago

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Date Night Blues

@humaninprogress77 asked: Ok but where is the fix of Kara going to a date with William but getting drunk bc she doesn’t want to be there and she just thinks about Lena and then flies drunk to talk to Lena while she is drunk???

Kara was totally good to fly or so she thought right up until she crashed on Lena’s balcony and ended up in a heap with her head in a flower pot.

The date with William had been so awkward that it had led her to take them to the alien dive bar to try to make it less so, but a few dozen shots of some kind of alien scotch later she’d bailed.

Truth be told, the entire night she’d been thinking about Lena. Talking about how great Lena was or had been. Wishing she was doing these things with Lena. It had been very Lena Luthor-centric, to say the least!

So she’d faked needing the bathroom and then used her super-speed to flee for her life without as much as a sorry or a it’s not you, it’s me, lame excuse. And now she was ready to throw up in a flower pot and Rao she could hear the balcony door opening and then she could smell Lena.

“Kara?” the raven-haired beauty, yes beauty because Lena Luthor was freaking gorgeous and she was done with pretending to be straight, despite what her friends and family kept saying!

“Hiii, so I guess you’re wondering why I’m here with my head in your flowerpot uh?” she asked and shakily got to her feet.

“Among other things and are you… are you drunk?” Lena asked with the mother of all raised eyebrows and she burst out giggling.

“No! I’m way beyond drunk you sexy CEO you! I’m totally and utterly poo-faced!” she declared as she flung out her arms triumphantly and punched a hole in the wall.

“Oops!” she giggled way to hard and shook the dust and plaster from her hand.

“Do I want to know what brought you to this state?” Lena asked calmly and motioned with a manicured hand at the sorry state of her right now. Rumbled pink shirt, crooked glasses, flushed cheeks, and ruffled ponytail. Yes, she was a drunken mess!

“You’re the big brain genius, can you tell me why does dating suck so bad? Like really bad!” she asked dropping her arms to her sides with a defeated sigh. Then she pouted like a moody kid.

“Bad date, uh?” Lena asked biting down on her knuckle trying not to laugh at her drunken antics, but she’d missed seeing that little smile. At least the green-eyed girl wasn’t being mean or stand-offish tonight.

“The worst! I think it’s because I don’t like guys, girls are prettier and you’re the prettiest!” she hiccuped and Lena was actually super pretty tonight. Wearing her raven-dark hair down, with no makeup on, in an old baggy red sweater and faded blue jeans.

“My, aren’t you out and proud tonight,” Lena commented and she frowned at her friend.

“Says you, Miss checking me out all the time! Yeah, I noticed! Thanks for the flowers by the way!” she shot back with a snort but then the world started spinning and she leaned against the balcony railing. Lena didn’t answer her accusations but the green-eyed genius did pause before speaking.

"Kara why don’t you come in and I’ll make us some tea?” Lena offered softly at seeing her stumbling around.

“I don’t want tea! I want you to be my friend again! I want to undo this mess, I even tried to undo it but it didn’t work!” she mumbled and yanked off her glasses which made her suit appear. Why hadn’t she stayed in the reality where Lena had pleaded the fifth?

“Stupid activation trigger!” she whined and slid down to the ground in defeat.

“It sounds like you had a really rough night,” Lena said still sounding gentle and sat down next to her on the balcony floor.

“Don’t pretend to be nice to me,” she replied feeling mopey now as the sad parts of being drunk as a skunk hit.

“I get it, coming out is hard but why did you come to me? We’re not exactly on the best of terms these days,” the pretty smelling girl asked and she groaned.

“Because I want to be friends again but also because I think you’re all kinds of hot but that’s because I’m super drunk and I’ll just go now!” she blurted drunkenly, now embarrassed too and tried to stand up but Lena grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

As she allowed herself to be pulled back down she felt dizzy and warm inside and had Lena’s eyes always been that green? Dizzy, again she felt so dizzy, like Red Kryptonite dizzy but better!

“As much as I appreciate the kind words, you are as you said very drunk,” Lena said and it made her blush. Then her X-ray vision kicked in!

Rao! All that pale skin and those soft curves and she forced herself to look away before she was caught staring, but caught she was.

“Now who is checking out who?” the sexy CEO girl asked and bit into her lower lip and Great Krypton’s Ghost, she wanted the Earth to open up and swallow her whole! But she also wanted to kiss those lips. Drunken bravery for the win!

Lena felt sorry for her friend, despite everything she still considered Kara a friend, three years of badly hidden love and affection didn’t go away that easily it would seem. Here she was, Kara Danvers, Supergirl, drunkenly complimenting her on her looks and pouring her little blonde heart out and it was cute but also sad.

“My offer stands, come inside and mmph!” she was cut off when Kara kissed her and it took all of her willpower not to kiss the blonde hero back.

Fireworks were going off in her head though and the blonde tasted like cherries and scotch. Like a love-struck teenager, she closed her eyes but held her hands above her head and away from Kara’s tempting muscular arms

“Oh fiddlesticks, Lena I’m so sorry like I’m all the sorries!” Kara blurted out and having only a split second to stop the blonde from fleeing like a scared puppy, she put her finger on the girl’s glistening lips.

“Come inside and I’ll make us some tea?” she asked hopefully this time and then couldn’t stop herself from giggling when Kara went cross-eyed trying to drunkenly look at her finger.

This would have to be done slowly she decided. Kara was, despite everything, the sweetest girl she’d ever met and in no way did she want to take advantage of her in her current very drunken state.

“Nod once for yes,” she instructed the thoroughly confused and drunk blonde and like the adorable puppy she was, Kara gave a slow nod and she felt the smile blossoming against her finger. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

Wrote this on my phone so sorry if it’s a mess!

#supercorp #kara x lena #kara danvers #lena luthor #fan ficlet #prompt fill #lena lesbian luthor #supercorp au #supercorpau #these two dorks #drunk kara

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mowulf · 5 years ago

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How to Train your Downer: CH5

<–|Start|—> (Next Week!)

Here’s this weeks chapter! In which everything goes really well! Right up until it doesn't. As always, you can read the whole thing (so far) over here!

The door opened and Green looked up from his mug of coffee expecting Davies to walk through the door. Curfew was in a few moments and even officers weren’t exempt (unless they were working the night shift, of course). Instead, Arthur entered and shut the door carefully behind him. He had a new mask - of course he would. Green expected nothing less - and wore an expression of vague confusion.

Green knit his brows. “You’re back?”

Arthur startled but quickly recovered. His face blanked and he feigned disinterest as he moved to join the doctor in the kitchen. “Yeah, guess I am,” he said as he opened the fridge. A moment of silence, then he shut the door.

Green watched in idle curiosity before he finally sighed and pulled out an empty notebook. Seemed Davies was right after all. With that in mind, he would need to retake all of his notes. The knowledge that Davies was right was irritating, if only because Arthur should have followed all of the pre established rules. Also, Davies would never let him live this down.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked suddenly.

Green looked up in time to see Arthur carefully peel the mask off his face with a relieved sigh. How much should he say? At what point would Arthur decide he’d had enough and just fuck off back outside? With a shrug, Green answered, “Keeping notes for work. You aren’t the only one we’ve got our eyes on.”

Oh that caught Arthur’s interest. He tried to feign disinterest, but Green specialized in reading people. Any good Joy doctor worth his salt had to be an absolute pro at body language, so he caught the way Arthur’s head cocked as he stood a bit taller.

Perhaps…?

No. It would never work. And Davies would almost certainly shut the idea down.

But maybe?

With proper training, perhaps he could use Arthur to sniff out other downers. Provide enough incentive and surely the lad wouldn’t object. If nothing else, self preservation would win out. No, Davies would absolutely not allow it if that were the case. Fine. He’d just have to find something else he could use. How food-motivated was Arthur?

“Stop that.”

Green blinked. He must have been thinking too loud - as Davies put it - because Arthur had hunched defensively and was shooting daggers his way. “Sorry,” he muttered without thinking as he quickly wrote down his thoughts in the notebook. Perhaps Arthur could be more useful than previously anticipated. And whatever Davies was doing was working. Surely-

The door opened again, bringing with it a cacophony of laughter and yelling. Lord. Green snapped the notebook shut and turned to see who had followed Davies home this time. Oddly enough, Arthur approached Davies with a smile despite his apprehensive body language and the way he regarded the other two officers with obvious suspicion and distrust.

Green watched with interest as Arthur greeted them with a cheerful smile only to have Davies - drunk as a skunk - grab either side of his face and rub like he would a pet. Arthur tried to bat him away initially but quickly gave up while Davies cooed this and that. There was too much noise to pick out exactly what was being said, but Green could tell Arthur was conflicted about the attention he was receiving.

Finally, Arthur extricated himself and absconded upstairs to the privacy and relative quiet of his own room. The door was slammed for emphasis, though Green wondered how much was intent and how much was from nervous tension. Either way, Davies bid his fellows farewell and finally quiet descended and he could return his attention to his coffee.

A pair of hands pressed into his shoulders and Green smiled as he reached up to knock Davies’ cap off and run fingers through his hair. “Told you he’d come back,” Davies said smugly.

“So you did,” Green conceded at last. “So you did.”

------

Arthur reclined in the seat as he enjoyed the sun on his face. Since his first adventure he’d made a point of getting out every day regardless of the weather. (Once, Green had tried to keep him inside. He’d waited for an opportunity and then slipped out the kitchen window.) The novelty of the collar still brought attention, but by pretending it didn’t exist - and by virtue of having a new mask - people quickly picked up on the fact that it just wasn’t that big of a deal and would typically go about their own business.

Not that the attention was unwanted. Arthur had quickly learned that a year of isolation left him starved for company. Even idle pleasantries provided little doses of serotonin that he craved.

Now, though, was the time to people watch. Turned out, another side effect of isolation was not being able to keep up with the changing trends which left him far behind the times. So he sat and watched and listened.

“Arthur?”

He looked over. “Valerie?” He flushed and silently thanked whatever powers that be that he was wearing a mask to hide the worst of it. He motioned for her to join him and smile as she took a seat. “Lovely day for it.”

“That it is!” She stretched her legs out before he tucked them under the bench somewhat and crossed her ankles. They enjoyed a moment of peace until she broke it with a soft, “Thanks for coming to see me. I was beginning to think you weren’t interested.”

Arthur flushed harder and nodded. “It was… fun.”

Valerie covered her mouth as she chuckled before placing a hand on his knee. “I had a lot of fun, and I’d really like to get together with you again. If you’re okay with that.”

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. At last he said, “I don’t know. I mean, I had a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong! But… I just… I don’t know…”

“You want something more than just a ‘casual encounter’?”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a bit longer. Arthur watched people pass by and picked up snippets of conversations here and there while Valerie mulled over the conversation.

“You know,” she said at last, “I wouldn’t mind getting tea sometime. I know a nice cafe nearby. We could chat and get to know each other better.” She looked over at him and watched as it was his turn to mull over the offer. Finally he nodded.

“That does sound nice.” He smiled at her. “I’d really like that.”

“Afternoon tea?”

“Sounds lovely.”

With a final farewell, she stood up and trotted off. Arthur watched her go with a small smile. Her energy was infectious and having the opportunity to go on a date with her? A happy tingle ran up his spine.

He’d have to be careful, though. Valerie rivaled the Joy doctors when it came to reading people and he didn’t need her figuring out that he wasn’t on Joy. Out of everyone, she was the last person he wanted to find out.

Largely because he really liked her.

He stretched his legs out with a sigh and tilted his head back. He was ready to close his eyes and get lost in his thoughts when a familiar face caught his eye. Was that Marcum? Arthur cocked his head to get a better look. Yup, it most certainly was.

Marcum was absurdly tall, even compared to the other officers. But what really stood out to Arthur was just how approachable the man was. Perhaps it was habit and conditioning, but every constable he’d run across exuded an air of aggression. Marcum, on the other hand, just felt friendlier. Like he’d actually help even if he knew Arthur was a downer.

He watched as Marcum and another officer strolled along, chatting about who knows what. They traded playful shoves periodically and Arthur snorted. Guess even officers were prone to horsing around periodically.

Arthur leaned forward to prop his head in his chin as he watched. It was odd just how personable Marcum was. Surely he would have known such an outlier of an officer. His brows knit as he tried to shuffle through the names and faces of the officers that he did know, only to draw a blank. Had new officers been hired while he’d been locked up? Or maybe there’d been some kind of reorganization. That would make sense, considering Arthur knew the names and basic personalities of every officer that patrolled the Parade District. It was useful knowledge for when he had to schmooze his way out of trouble or beg a favor (or convince someone to look the other way while he did something particularly illegal).

But he didn’t know anything about Marcum. This was dangerous territory now, and begged the question of how many other officers were now patrolling that he had no history with.

“Hey there.”

If anyone ever asked, Arthur would vehemently deny the high pitched noise of distress he’d clearly never made. He would, however, admit that he had slid off the bench intending to stand up, only to have his hip choose that moment to give out and send him tumbling to the ground. Marcum laughed and stepped around the bench to help Arthur back to his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you so badly. I thought you saw me coming since you were watching so intently.”

Arthur flushed and quickly looked away because wow, he did not mean to give off that impression. With a small wave, he said, “It’s fine. I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings. Shouldn’t you be patrolling, though?”

Marcum shrugged. “It’s fine. There’s two others patrolling for situations like this.”

“You mean so you can flirt around?”

Now it was Marcum’s turn to blush, though he didn’t deny anything. Arthur gave him a smug look for a minute before his survival instinct finally caught up and he realized that he’d basically accused a person of power.

Maybe a look of panic had flashed across his face, or maybe it was the shift in his body language, but Marcum was quick to say, “Woah, hey. What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” Arthur forced on a too bright smile and glanced around nervously. He needed to get home. Now. He wasn’t sure he could keep up the facade for much longer.

Marcum slung an arm around Arthur’s shoulder and angled them, Arthur noticed, so as to hide Arthur in such a way that he was out of immediate view. That was… considerate? Kind? And also a sign of a much more pressing issue. “What are you doing?” he hissed, making sure no one else overheard.

“Listen,” the arm around his shoulders tightened and Arthur found himself gently pressed into Marcum’s chest, “every Joy doctor and constable in the area knows you aren’t on Joy and that you aren’t allowed to take any for the foreseeable future, but no one else knows this.” Fear spiked through Arthur. Old hurts and phantom pains shot through his body, a reminder of every beating he’d been on the receiving end of. “Hey.” He couldn’t breathe. He had to get home. “Arthur.” Davies would protect him. Davies would keep him safe. He’d promised. He’d promised. “Arthur!”

The distressed whisper pulled Arthur somewhat back to the moment. He didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until he was suddenly acutely aware of it. Marcum was still pressed against him and, judging by the concerned expression he wore and the rapid beating of his heart, had no idea what to do. Taking a gulp of air, he wrapped his arms around Marcum and hissed, “Shut up. Just, for once in your goddamned life shut up.”

Deep breaths. Slow down. Stop. Think. What did he see? His gaze darted around until it locked on a colorful shop sign. That was one thing. And the cobblestones of the road. Oh, and people. A few had paused as they passed by to get a look at him, but Marcum’s presence seemed to assure them that the situation was under control.

Okay. Okay, yes. Good start.

Uh…

Right, okay. Next step: feel. He flexed his fingers against the surprisingly rough texture of the uniform. He’d never really noticed because he’d always avoided physical contact with officers. Even with Davies, his main interactions had involved a lot of biting and screaming. Didn’t exactly leave a whole lot of time for fondling fabrics. As he pressed further into Marcum, his face found a smooth button and he allowed himself a moment to marvel at the drastic difference in textures. There wasn’t really anything else to run his fingers over without making an already uncomfortable situation even worse, so he moved on to the final step.

Taking in a deep breath, Arthur allowed himself to close his eyes and focus on his nose. Marcum smelled of sweat and spice, with a hint of some kind of perfume. He took another deep breath. He recognized that perfume. Why? Where had he smelled it?

Valerie.

His brain rocketed back to that night in the club, when she had pressed herself against him. She’d worn a unique perfume. Floral with a hint of spice. He blinked and leaned back to pull Marcum down to his level, pressed his nose into the crook of Marcum’s neck and inhaled. It seemed more concentrated on the uniform’s lapels.

Interesting.

“Arth-”

“You wouldn’t happen to know a Valerie, would you?”

“You mean my wife?”

If he weren't still standing, Arthur would swear that his heart had stopped. The blood drained from his face and he was vaguely aware of Marcum’s rapidly growing distress. “What,” he grabbed Marum’s lapels and pulled so that they were face-to-face, “do you mean you’re married to her? I am not some cheap fling you can use to cheat on your wife!” He let go and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Oh god, what had he gotten himself into this time?

Was this going to be his life from now on? A tragicomedy of mistakes?

“Woah, hey, no. Okay.” Marcum grabbed Arthur by the shoulders to pull his attention back. “I am not cheating on her. She is fully aware that I see other people. We both do. It’s… complicated.” He glanced around quickly. “And definitely a conversation for somewhere a bit more private.”

“I have a date with her!” A pause. “I think.” Oh lord, he’d forgotten to ask when she wanted to get afternoon tea.

Marcum practically lit up with excitement at the panicked statement. “You do? That’s wonderful! I don’t think we’ve ever fancied the same person before! Everyone’s always going after one or the other.”

“Now is not the time!” Arthur pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes with a low growl. “I need to get home, now, or I am going to lose my shit right fucking here.”

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s- yeah. That’s probably a good idea.” Marcum let Arthur take the lead, though he kept himself close just in case. Arthur managed to barely keep himself together for the agonizingly long trip back to Davies’ home. He was reaching for the door when Marcum grabbed his other wrist and said, “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but I barely know you. I just… I’m sorry.”

Arthur gave him a quick, pained look before he finally twisted out of the man’s grip and disappeared inside and slammed the door shut. The solid wood of the door pressed against his back provided a level of security that he desperately needed. He sank to the floor slowly and curled into a tight ball. Grabbing fistfulls of hair, he finally, finally allowed himself to fall apart into a panicked, sobbing mess.

#we happy few #arthur #arthur hastings #bobby #joy doctor #purely self indulgent

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rwbyremnants · 5 years ago

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WARNINGS: domestic/child abuse, burning-related injury, occasional smut, minor character death. Some brief incest in the MUCH later chapters. Not affiliated with the similarly-named fanfic by DinasEmrys (which I haven't read, just saw the name when checking to see if the name I liked for this was already taken).

Welcome to probably THE longest solo project I've ever done! This version of Vale is set in America in the late 1950s, the era of greasers and sock hops - even though I didn’t make a big deal about trying to be SUPER period accurate. The fic does go a little off the rails in the latter half, but not too badly. It's going to be a long and bumpy ride but I hope you'll strap in, I had a LOOOOOT of fun with this one. Enjoy, cats and kittens!

=Chapter 1

"Announcing the arrival of Her Majesty, Princess Schnee."

For the fifth time that day, Weiss Schnee tried to walk as fast as she could past the rough girls who hung out in front of locker 134. The Dragons , whispers in the cafeteria had informed her. They were always there, always dressed in matching black leather jackets with yellow stripes down the sleeves, and always said uncouth things about most of the “nice girls” in school. She knew they were just ignorant and poor, and clearly had no idea what they were talking about. Her parents had told her as much, and she always trusted her parents. Why would they ever steer her wrong?

However, the stares from the blonde with the vaguely Asian features were different. Sure, the brunette with the flaming eyes and the one in the beret and aviator sunglasses just jeered and flipped her off, yelled things or giggled along with the rest. The amber-eyed vixen blew a cheeky kiss. But the expression of the one with such long, luxurious blonde hair was almost captivated. Obsessed. That look got to her, even if she couldn't figure out why.

"Gonna get you, Schnee," she catcalled again, causing her other four or five associates to burst out laughing. But she wasn't laughing - just grinning darkly. "Gonna get you, get you, GET youuuuu..."

"You will not!" Weiss finally snapped. This had been going on for over a week and she had reached her limit. The clique looked vaguely surprised she had spoken up, waiting to hear more. "You'll show me the respect I deserve as a fellow human being, you... you BRUTE!"

The others started going "WOOOOOO", but the ringleader - Weiss was only guessing, she didn’t know the first thing about gangs - ignored them and walked right up to her, away from the pack. She stood her ground, even though she could feel her heart thudding up into her throat in terror the closer she got.

"You want me to be a brute," she growled in a low voice - one for just the two of them. “You like it.”

"No, I… don’t be a pest. I want you to leave me alone. All of you!"

"They will. If you let me be a brute to you. Just me."

Blinking, she took a slight step back. "Wh-what on earth are you talking about?! No, I don't want anyone to be a brute to me! Go take a long walk off a short pier!"

"Let me. Just once. If you still don't like it... we'll all back off." Her index finger flashed out and ran along the scar on Weiss's cheek, just below her left eye. The one mark disfiguring her otherwise-flawless features. "Yang Xiao Long will make you forget whatever put that on your pretty face, baby."

Weiss felt her stomach disappear. Nobody was impolite enough to comment on her scar - usually. The memory that went along with it always made it hard for her to think, or to respond. "You... w-what... I- that's none of your-"

“Great. Meet me after you get outta cheerleading practice. Parking lot. Don't be late or I'll be rougher... unless that's what you want." Then she waved over her shoulder and went back to her friends as they hooted and stomped their feet, clapping her on the back as if she had accomplished something.

Funny thing was, she might really have. As Weiss hurried on to class, she realised she was probably going to do exactly what the Dragon called Yang asked. And she didn't understand why.

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

"You came."

All of Weiss's books were pressed to her chest protectively as she glanced around the bustling car park. It was a security blanket measure - a shield that gave her a false sense of safety. "I did. You, um... you said you'd leave me alone if I don't like, um, whatever it is you're going to do, so j-just get it over with."

"Not so fast," the blonde hoodlum said as she sat on her motorcycle. All of her "girls" had one, but the other bikes were gone; she had told them to take off without her, apparently. "Hop on."

"No."

Yang's eyebrows went up. "Little Miss Schnee, what can the matter be?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you ."

"Ohhhh. You sure about that?" Standing up from the leather saddle of her mechanical steed, she slowly paced around behind Weiss, moving with the languid grace of a wild cat stalking its prey. When she had reached her back, she began pushing gently - it wasn't even hard, or "rough" as she had promised earlier. Just a nudging until she was standing up against the metal frame of the Harley.

"You... have a beautiful bike." Why did she say that? There was absolutely no need for her to compliment that delinquent's motorcycle!

"Pretty great, yeah. Needs one more accessory."

Gulping, she tried to look over her shoulder, but Yang was hovering directly in the blind spot behind her head. "And... what is that?"

Strong hands encircled her waist, lifted her easily into the air - and she did yelp, but it was weak, pathetic. She was ashamed of that yelp, and the next one that came when she felt her butt connecting with a leather seat.

"Got it now; a little paper-shaker with baby blue eyes. Perfect ornament."

The hands weren't leaving her hips. Then other hips were pressing into the backs of hers, cold leather grazing her arms and making her shiver. Hot breath on her neck. Her skin crawled even as her heart pounded and her mouth went dry.

"Stop," she begged in a whisper.

"I can't, Schnee. Not until I've been your ‘brute’, remember? Then I'm gone if you want me gone." Her face leaned over and she gave her a level, penetrating gaze from inches away. "Unless you can't even handle that much."

Why did she find it so hard to say a simple "no" to this woman? Her lips were speaking before she gave them any commands.

"I can handle whatever you got."

Her mouth split into a grin as she reached forward and gripped the handlebars, revving the engine. "Good. I won't hold back."

They peeled out from the curb, and Weiss felt her heart shooting into her throat. She’d never gone so fast before! Surely this wasn’t safe, and they had no protective gear! But Yang was completely confident behind her, a warm, solid presence. If she wasn’t afraid, then neither was Weiss. Even if she was and just wanted to appear as if she wasn’t. However, there was one question filling her mind: where were they going?

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

Arriving didn’t answer the question at all.

"What... is this place?"

"A bar." After killing the engine, her flaxen-haired captor hopped off her bike, then turned to lift Weiss down. Her hands were like hot vice grips, but were gone just as quickly once she set her down.

"Wait, I'm not- we are not old enough! To go in there, I mean!"

"Relax," she laughed harshly. "They have food, too - and they don't serve kids booze. Even though I’ve seen Cinder get some under the table before."

Weiss’s heart was pounding as she looked up at the dark brown edifice. Smoky windows, bluesy rock music coming from the walls. A sign that said "Junior's" that flashed in pink neon letters above the door - and other neon signs of various colours advertising brands of alcohol. Never in her life had she come within fifty feet of such a place. Her stomach was a mess of butterflies.

The door opened. Two people came out, kissing. Two MEN. One blonde, and one whose hair was the least natural shade of blue she'd ever seen. And they didn't seem to care that two girls were standing around nearby - ones that weren't old enough to drink as much as they probably had.

"C'mon, we'll grab my usual table."

"Oh... okay." And Weiss found herself stumbling along behind her, trying to keep up.

Inside was worse. Dingy floors, bad lighting, and a powerful smell of liquor. The patrons at the bar were all drunk as skunks with an assortment of empty glasses in front of them. The booths and tables were evenly split between people with food and people without. Yang headed straight for one and plunked down, putting both feet up on the seat opposite her so that Weiss had no choice but to squeeze in next to her on the bench.

"Hey," she purred, looping an arm around her back. Weiss only gulped, and she motioned for the waitress to come over. "Two gut busters and an order of fries. Oh, and what do you want to drink? Scotch and soda?"

"Just a soda," she replied meekly while Yang grinned, amused with herself. She hated hearing herself sound so weak, but the waitress - with her muscled arms and no-nonsense attitude - made her feel like making any sudden moves or speaking out of turn would mean her death. She tried again. "Cherry cola."

"Same," Yang said smoothly. "I like cherries." Her designs on Weiss had to be obvious, but the waitress didn't seem to care - and didn't speak. She just wrote down their orders and went into the back.

"Are… you sure the food is… safe for human consumption?"

"Hey, I've been eating here since I was a half-pint. Never did me any harm."

"That's debatable."

The thug's face twisted into a slight sneer. She leaned closer and closer, eyes heavy-lidded and scowling, breath heaving. For a few seconds, Weiss had no idea what she was going to do - hit her? Kiss her? Shove her onto the floor and tell her she was worthless? All the possibilities played out in her mind, and she hated them all. Or didn't. She couldn't be sure, couldn't be sure of anything.

But then Yang grinned and muttered, "I knew I liked you. Like how you stand up to me. Nobody else at school does. Got spunk, and I like it."

"But I don’t like it, though. This, this… whatever this is." Breathing shallow and fast, she ignored the two glasses of soda left at their table and kept going, as if she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. "And I don't know what's wrong with me, why I'm here with you, I… I loathe you! Hate everything about you, that smug face, your 'tough girl' act, ALL of it! I can't stand your existence!"

"Really? Why are you here then, if you hate my guts?" Weiss didn't answer, so she leaned in and pressed her lips right up against her ear. Their bodies were so close she could feel the heat pouring off her chest from her low-cut top. "You're curious. And your curiosity is going to get you brute -alized."

The emphasis on the first half of "brutalized" worried her a lot less than if there had been no emphasis at all, but she still was sitting there, biting her bottom lip and trying not to cry or run away, trying not to lash out again for fear of what might happen if she did.

"You like that. Right there." Still whispering, she raised her other hand and began to caress Weiss's shoulder. "You need this feeling. The rush. Pampered little princess like you has never had it before anywhere in your life, and I give it to you, and you hate that I'm where you can get it… but you want the rush more than you want to tell me to get lost."

"M-maybe! Maybe I do, but I hate this, and I hate myself for not hating this enough! Why do you even do this to girls? Why me?! Y-you… you're too…"

The minute the tears were leaking down her cheeks, even though her face barely changed, Yang's hand came up to cup the back of her head and pull her into her shoulder. Weiss clutched at her back as hard as she could, nails digging into the leather. She was surprised at herself for not pushing Yang away - what was the matter with her?

"Alright. Alright, nobody's really hurting you. You're fine. Sorry if I pushed too hard."

"You did! You wanted me to break!"

"Not break. Just... break on through to the other side. The wild side." Pulling back, she wiped the tears away with one thumb - as if she'd done it before. Maybe many times. "Sometimes, you gotta push through the pain to get to the good stuff. Nothing worth having comes for free, right?"

Somehow, even though the "sorry" had seemed insincere at first, the piercing nature of her violet eyes and the way she wasn't blinking, wasn't looking away as she soothed her with well-placed words, convinced Weiss that she might really mean what she said. And the heart in her throat was telling her to trust that. To trust her .

"Really?" Sniffling and hating how she sounded, she shrugged and asked, "What kind of good stuff?"

"Later," she chuckled provocatively. Then her expression softened the slightest amount as she said, "But I bet you're starting to feel better right about... now."

Against all sanity, she was. The brief moment of crying and confrontation had made her a lot less fearful, less ready to snap. She still wasn't sure if she should actually trust a girl like Yang, but she no longer wanted to run screaming to the bathroom and sob into a toilet bowl.

"Yeah. There ya go."

"And there you go," said the waitress in her gruff voice as she put a plate down in front of each of them, and a basket of fries between. Without saying anything else, she left the check on the table and sauntered away.

"Wait until you try these," she said with a little less toughness and a little more earnest excitement. "You'll never go back to Mickey D's again."

"I don't go there in the first place." However, they did look like pretty solid burgers - overflowing with tomatoes and pickles, semi-melted cheese dripping down the bottom bun. She picked hers up to inspect, curling her lip.

"It won't bite. Well... not since yesterday."

Weiss decided to ignore that ominous comment and took a bite. It was every bit as delicious as Yang claimed, though the grease running down her chin made her panic and grab a napkin to catch it before it ruined her clothes. Yang chuckled but didn’t mention it otherwise; simply dug into her own food and watched the prim and proper girl feed her face.

"How is it?" she finally asked about halfway through the burger.

"It's… so wrong that it's right."

Grinning wolfishly, she leaned in and took a bite of the other end of the burger - away from Weiss's mouth, but trapping it between them for the briefest of seconds. Pulling back, she chewed and swallowed, then whispered, "Welcome to my world."

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

Half an hour later, Yang's motorcycle was growling through the old neighbourhoods, sending echoes off the buildings. Still having no idea where she was being taken, Weiss tried not to act surprised when they pulled up in front of the old abandoned train depot.

"Oh," she breathed when Yang hopped off. "This… is it? Your hideout?"

"That's not how I think of it," she grunted as she helped Weiss down and started toward the broken-down shell of a building. Shifting a couple of boards aside, she managed to edge her way through the door - and her hand remained on the boards for Weiss to step through.

"You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack."

"There are probably a thousand ways to get tetanus in there!" No response. Letting out a frustrated growl, Weiss stomped forward and tried to squirm her way through the opening without letting anything touch her.

All she got for her trouble was a swat on the backside, one that caused her to shriek - and Yang to shriek with laughter. Ignoring that as best she could, she followed her up the nearby set of stairs to the old offices, and through one of the open doorways.

Inside were several old wooden chairs, and a comfortable couch that had seen far better days. On top of the couch was a crisp, clean linen sheet, which helped to lessen her disgust. In addition, there were two tables, the smaller one covered in candles of various sizes. As the sun was just beginning to set, Yang wasted no time taking out a Zippo and lighting them.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," Weiss told her, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"We’re barely getting started, Schnee," Yang said, turning back to her. When Weiss tensed, she lowered herself down into a bestial stance. "Gonna get you, GET you, GE-"

"STOP THAT." Yang was grinning, but she did stand up from her crouch, one hand on her hip. "Now, I… I don't know what exactly you thought you were going to do with me here, but there's not going to be any-"

Her words cut off when she felt Yang's hands alight upon her hips, thumbs massaging her gently. Dark eyes stabbing down into hers, even though they were barely visible in the low lighting. There had to be words left that could take her out of this situation, that would force the uncouth girl in the leather to release a princess of such high breeding. Why couldn't she think? Why did being this close cloud her brain?

"Any what?" Weiss dropped her gaze, so Yang urged, "Go on."

"Hanky panky."

The leader laughed in her face. Actually laughed, loudly and riotously, and Weiss felt her cheeks colour for an entirely new reason now: embarrassment. "Seriously?! That's how you wanna put it?!"

"Then how would you put it, if you're so, so… well-travelled?!"

One hand reached up to her neck, grabbing it from behind - not just cupping it, but the fingertips digging into either side. Her heart stopped, her stomach tightened into a knot. And before her mind could catch up with current events, Yang was kissing her, pressing hot lips into hers and sliding them across each other, tugging gently at Weiss's lower one. Everything about her body was completely useless as she stood there and took it, as she let this insane event that she could never have envisioned unfold, starring a double of herself who apparently had no willpower at all.

But it felt better than anything she'd ever experienced, even if she hated thinking that. Better than walking in the rain when she was a small child, better than her bed in the morning when she didn't want to get up. Better enough to be the best.

When Yang finally pulled her away with that strong hand, she breathed, "Words... don't really work for that."

Slowly, Weiss's hand came up and brushed her own lips. That really happened. Some girl from her school - some GIRL - had just taken away her first kiss. Maybe it had been perfect in every way other than its origin, but that was still a first she could never do over again.

"Hey, what is it?" Yang asked, eyebrows knitting slightly as she leaned in - and the instant she did, she set off a reaction.

SLAP!

The blonde's eyes were so wide they looked like they might fall out. Hand pressed to her cheek, she slowly turned back to look at Weiss, who was standing there, huffing and puffing with her fists clenched down by her sides, arms straight, blue eyes sparking and jaw clenched.

"You hit me," Yang said in a low voice.

"I did!" she snapped angrily. "Wh… what are you going to do about it, you neanderthal? Push me down? Make me yours, or hurt me, o-or kill me, or what?! I don't care! I'm… I'm not your toy!"

Weiss was fully prepared to bolt from the room at a moment's notice. Yes, she was a cheerleader and a star athlete in physical education class, but she had a feeling that if she got in a fight with Yang, she would lose. And perhaps not survive the encounter.

But she was not prepared for the pain that slowly crept into the thug’s face. Revulsion, confusion. Lowering her hand, she did indeed close it into a fist, but what she said was very different from Weiss’s expectations.

"You really think… I would ever harm a hair on your head? That I'm that kind of person?"

"How should I know?! All you ever do is say you're going to 'get' me!" Her arms gestured at their surroundings, at the remote and abandoned nature of them. "Well, you have me now! Are you going to finish 'getting' me or not?!"

Then Yang's face started to get more and more angry. She wasn't moving, but she also wasn't saying anything else. More than anything, Weiss found that to be terrifying - because she couldn't figure out what it meant.

Not wasting any more time, she fled out the doorway and down the stairs. Whether she had a ride home or not, she didn't want to spend another moment with the brute. She had done her time.

Of course Weiss expected to hear the racket of the motorcycle coming up from behind. Her insides clenched in fear at the sound, but she'd known it was a possibility.

"GET ON!"

"NO!" she called over without even looking, arms tucked tight around her body. "Leave me alone!"

"I can't, you stupid nitwit! Get on the bike!"

Finally, Weiss's pace slowed and she turned to glare at the blonde, trying to ignore the intensity in her face - to ignore the fullness of the lips that had just done unspeakable things moments ago. "Not going anywhere with you, ever again! You tried to take advantage of me!"

"I did not! I tried to wake you up outta that boring life you have! You're not happy without a little spice - and you know it!" Glancing at the road ahead of her, she repeated, "But this ain't about that! Get on!"

"Never again, okay?! I..." Finally, she stopped, and Yang followed suit. "You shouldn't have done that, you didn’t even ask! I'm not a… whatever you are, that isn't me, and you had no right to try to t-turn me into one! And I think you knew that, so you pretending you're not to blame is so childish!"

Her hand reached out for Weiss's forearm. "Schnee-"

"SHUT UP! Don't touch me!" Jerking away, she started to walk again. "Just leave me alone! Go find another target for your candles and your… your advances!"

"This ain't about me!" Vaulting off her bike, she grabbed Weiss from behind. "Get on the bike, right now, you goddamn idiot!"

"WHAT?!" Struggling, she tried to kick Yang - and succeeded. Didn't seem to make a bit of difference. "Let me go! What are you doing - how dare you go any further after I specif-"

"QUIET!" she hissed hard. "You don't want them to hear us!"

"MAYBE I DO! MAYBE I WANT THE WHOLE WORLD TO HEAR ME!"

Losing her patience, Yang spun her around and glared directly into her eyes, talking more quietly than ever. "You don't know where you are, cupcake. This place, it's safe for me. Barely . Not for you. So I'm not letting you out of my sight until you're back in the La La Land you normally call home."

"Excuse me?! I didn't ASK you to protect me!"

"Who cares?" Yang growled. "Doesn't matter if either of us wants that. It's just happening. Get on or I'll literally roll along next to you the whole way, but I promise you're gonna be in a lot more danger the slower we go."

Finally, the fog from the kiss seemed to roll back within Weiss's mind, and she saw how Yang was actually shaking . Not from rage, but from anxiety - from fear on her behalf. This was the first time she had ever looked afraid of anything to her knowledge, and that stopped her from responding with another flippant dismissal.

"You're serious. There are really… this is where a dangerous element hangs out?" A brief nod. "Then why would you bring me here?!"

"Like I said, nobody will scrap with me. They know they'll go down; even if they take me, my girls will come for revenge. On the other hand, a little piece of penny candy like you, walking all by herself? That’s no challenge at all." Her hand reached up to Weiss's cheek, but when she saw her flinch she stopped an inch away. "Just... do us both a favour and get on the damn bike. I'll take you home."

The prospect caused Weiss to glare. "You really will? No games, no detours, nothing?"

"Promise."

"Schnees stand by their promises. They also don't forgive people who break them." Glancing over her shoulder at how one of the streetlights was flickering on and off, she took a step toward the bike. "This is your last chance. Don't toy with me."

"Scout's honour." Then she picked Weiss up and sat her on the bike, as before, and slid on behind her. "You better… Yang on tight." The roar of the engine drowned out the sound of Weiss's groan at the horrible line.

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

By the time Yang followed Weiss's clipped directions to her house in Atlas Heights - a neighbourhood where Yang's noisy hog was most certainly unwelcome - both of them had calmed down significantly, though there was still a great deal of tension. After helping her down, Yang allowed the engine to idle as she turned to her.

"You stopped a little short," Weiss remarked.

"Wouldn't want your mommy and daddy to see you getting dropped off by me." Reaching down into her saddlebag, she produced Weiss's books and pushed them into her arms gently. "Take it easy, Schnee."

"Wait." Yang didn't say anything or move. "You… I don't know if you were being honest about the danger back there or not. But even if you exaggerated slightly, I guess I appreciate being driven home."

"Believe me, I undersold it. You gotta be tough as nails to hang out in my neck of the woods. The only reason nobody messes with my creampuff little sister is because they know she's my little sister. And the Dragons are always safe, of course."

That made her blink slightly. "You have a little sister?"

"Yeah, she's a junior. Why, that surprise you?" Then she grinned, half-wolfishly but half-wan. "Probably thought I grew out of some kind of tree fungus."

"The possibility had crossed my mind, yes." Biting her lip, she glanced over toward her house, then back. "What happened… in the depot. Why did you have to do it? That was the scariest, most horrible thing that ever happened in my life."

"You liked it." When Weiss ground her teeth together, Yang held up both hands. "Just calling 'em like I see 'em, Princess. If you really didn't want me to kiss you, it never would have happened; you're not some weakling, even if you’re not a roughneck like me. So somewhere, deep down, you were at least curious, even if that's all there was to it. And now you satisfied that curiosity. You’re welcome."

Weiss wanted to shout at her, to deny everything. But there was no use in delaying the inevitable. "So maybe it did feel good. That does not mean I wanted it with you, and does not mean I want it to happen again, alright?!"

"Fine. It won't." Yang's smile finally faded again. "And I won't bother you again at school; none of the Dragons will. You tried being with a brute, and I think you liked it more than you want to admit… but if you're really done with your test drive, that's cool. Held up your end of the bargain, so I'm not gonna go back on my word."

"Fine. Guess that's honourable of you. See you in class." With that, she turned and walked up the sidewalk.

“Night, Schnee.”

But when she got to her door, she couldn't help but look again. Yang was still on her bike, still staring up at the house. Waiting for her to make it safely inside. Her mouth dropped open, but she decided to suppress any and all urges to call out to her, or otherwise alter her course. They had already agreed to leave things that way. So she gave a brief wave and went inside, and that was that.

Except it wasn't. After she had unloaded her books, finished what little homework she had left to do and readied for bed, there was no longer anything to distract her from the intrusive thoughts about Yang's kiss. About how much more exhilarated she had felt than ever before in the entirety of her short life. Against her will and all her best planning, she rolled over and squealed into the pillow at the thought of what had happened.

First kisses always do that to a person.

#Princess and The Dragons #freezerburn #freezerburn fanfic #1950s AU #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years ago

Text

Unpack My Heart With Words

Read on AO3 HERE

@violetreddie @constantreaderfool @xandertheundead @tinyarmedtrex @eds-trashmouth @mrs-vh

Chapter Six: Thus of every grief in heart he with thee doth bear a part

From: Unknown Number:

How dare you make me worry about you.

The phone, sat on his chest, burns a hole straight down to Richie’s rapidly thumping heart. The messages, from an ostensibly unknown number, were imprinted on the inside of Richie’s eyelids.

blink – how dare you make me worry about you – blink – today was a fucking disaster – blink – how dare you make me worry about you – blink – make me worry about you – blink – worry about you

There was no question as to who sent those texts, and Richie could practically hear Eddie’s snotty tone ringing in his ears.

“You didn’t text me when you got in, you said you’d text me and let me know you’re safe but you didn’t”

“Eds, baby, I’m sorry, I forgot”

“I was fucking worried, Richie”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry”

“It’s not fair of you to make me worry like that”

“Baby, you’re killing me, I’m sorry”

“How dare you make me worry about you”

The familiar words burrowed deep into Richie’s gut.

To: Unknown Number:

Eds?

From: Unknown Number:

It’s Eddie. Where were you?

To: Eds:

trying not to vomit soz will b there on Mon

From: Eds:

Good. Feel better.

Richie doesn’t sleep at all that night.

– X –

The morning after the night before isn’t a rehearsal day. They have every Sunday off. Richie silently thanks a God he doesn’t believe in that he doesn’t have to face Eddie for another twenty-four hours. That gives him time to prepare, to try to school himself out of feeling too much. It doesn’t work, because as soon as Working for the Weekend starts pumping out of his speakers Richie is nearly sick into his cereal as he remembers leaping around his shitty little flat with Eddie, drunks as skunks on shitty three pound cider and a whole lotta love.

He decides to walk it off. Like a stomach ache. Or a cramp.

Richie aimlessly wanders the streets, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck like a dormant boa constrictor, pressing just firmly enough so that the constant pressure against his throat reminds him that he’s alive. His hands are numb. He can’t feel his heart.

Eddie had always hated the cold. He’d bitched and moaned when Richie dragged him out into the January cold, hats jammed on heads and clasped hands buried in coat pockets. Richie always laughed as Eddie’s nose always turned bright red, where it poked out above his scarf. A red scarf with a large black check. Soft. Always smelt like soft cotton. Sandalwood. Eddie.

Richie adjusted the red scarf around his neck. It was practically threadbare.

Richie used to love the cold. The kiss of the frost, the sparkling of the black ice on the road. The puffs of air when Eddie spoke, spiralling into the air. Dancing on the wind that bit at their noses, ears, eyelashes. Eddie would always huddle into him, a penguin seeking shelter from arctic gales. Richie would welcome him in with open arms. He’d let Eddie gut him, and sleep inside his still-steaming carcass for warmth, if he’d asked.

Perhaps he still would.

Richie walks until he finds himself in the park that sits on the outskirts of the city. The plush grass is still wet from the morning’s rain. Trees litter the border, and people scurry across the surface like ants, ever busy. Richie stands and stares at them, cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t bother to try and catch it when it falls, cherry red fading to inky, dull black.

A bizarrely familiar figure crosses the park.

The figure walks across the field, holding tightly to a lead attached to a large black Labrador that bounds next to them. The stilted, harsh lines of the figure remind Richie of late nights and early mornings, of running through London with fire in his veins.

The closer the figure gets the more familiar he looks, until he’s stood right in front of Richie and of course it’s Eddie.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Uh – yeah. Yeah I feel alright now, Eds, don’t you worry about me”

“How many times am I going to have to tell you not to call me that before you listen to me?” Eddie huffs.

“Oh, infinity and one more time, Eds. Infinity and one”

“Were you really sick?”

“Something like that”

“Are you going to tell me the truth?”

“Probably not”

“He likes you”

Richie glances up at Eddie, from where he’s crouched on the floor scratching the Labrador’s ears.

“Lots of people like me”

“He doesn’t normally like strangers”

“I guess he knows I’m not a stranger”

Richie watches Eddie close his eyes.

“Are you not?”

“No”

“I haven’t seen you for over a decade”

“Doesn’t mean I’m a stranger”

“I wish you were a stranger”

“I know”

“I wish you weren’t my Hamlet”

“Do you really?”

A pause.

“No, not really”

“It’s really great to see you again, Eds. I missed you”

“I – Yeah. You too, Rich”

Richie watches Eddie walk away.

– X –

“Jesus Christ, woman! I do have ribs you know. I am not, in fact, an invertebrate”

“Coulda fooled me”

“Wh–what?”

“I have no idea. Now shut up, I gotta adjust your inseam”

The costume department of the RSC was a jungle of dresses, powdered wigs, crowns, swords, handkerchiefs, and, of course, a large Papier Mache donkey’s head hanging from the ceiling attached to thin wires. Richie was standing on a rickety wooden chair, balanced precariously whilst Beverly Marsh, head of costume, poked and prodded at him.

“I need to take around 50 measurements, Rich, so you gotta stay still for me so we can work as quickly as possible. I’ve got to do the first fitting of Mike’s dress later, and god knows how long it’ll take me to pin the corset around his waist”

“Bev?”

“Hmm?” Bev responded absently, pins sticking out of her mouth. Brave.

“You were in my year at RADA, right?”

“Yup”

“Do you remember Eddie?”

“Sort of. I was only in one class with him, and I dropped out of that to take more costume classes but – Motherfucker! Leather really is the most annoying fabric to work with, I swear to God, why did Eddie have to decide that this damn production needed you to be wearing skin-tight leather fucking trousers”

“We both know why he made that decision, Miss Marsh, have you seen my ass”

Bev stepped backwards, bringing her hand up to stroke her chin pensively as she stared at Richie’s leather-clad ass.

“So?” Richie prompted, waggling his ass at Bev as much as the constricting leather would allow.

“Yeahhhh,” Bev drawled, still stroking her chin, “I still don’t get it”

“You’re a fucking liar, my ass is great. Eds says that – I mean, Eddie used to say that – Aw, fuck”

Bev patted Richie’s arm comfortingly, helping him down off the chair.

“D’ya wanna grab a smoke?”

“Aw, Dahlin’, I thought you’d never ask”

Bev helped Richie shuck off the tight leather trousers, and they walked out into the biting November cold. Leaning against the wall, they puffed on their cigarettes in silence, listening to the wind whip around the walls.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Richie instantly knows what Bev means. She wants him to tell her about why he didn’t show up yesterday.

“About what?”

He’s not going to tell her if she doesn’t work for it.

“You know exactly what, why didn’t you show yesterday?” Bev responds, sharp as a knife but her words don’t slice at Richie’s skin.

“Red, we both know that you know exactly what happened yesterday” Richie deadpans, flicking the cigarette butt into the gutter. Bev offers him another one, but he declines with one sharp shake of his head.

“Do you still love him?”

“Aw, hell. What kind of a question is that?”

“The questioning kind”

“I haven’t seen him for fourteen years”

“And?”

“He left me”

“And?”

“He left me! He walked away. He made it pretty fucking clear he didn’t want me anymore”

Bev hums, flicking her own cigarette into the gutter. It lands next to Richie’s.

“He wrote to you, though?”

“He did”

“Did you ever respond?”

Richie stares at Bev with tired, don’t push it eyes. She doesn’t push it.

– X –

The door to the office was closed, and three minutes had passed since Richie was supposed to knock.

Three minutes, twenty-four seconds …

Eddie was waiting for him on the other side of the door. The days rehearsal had gone pretty well. He’d worked on the ‘get thee to a nunnery!’ scene with Mike, which had gone unexpectedly well. Mike Hanlon, it seemed, was an absolute tour-de-force and his Ophelia was heartbreakingly sympathetic. A rather large part of Richie’s brain was ecstatic that he’d have someone so technically skilled to bounce off of, but a small, nasty part of Richie’s brain was worried that Ophelia would steal the show. He’d have to work on that.

Three minutes, fifty-five seconds …

Richie still hasn’t knocked on the door. He nearly has, twice. He has raised his clenched hand to the door twice, and twice he has lowered it again without making contact.

Four minutes, three seconds …

Perhaps he will never knock.

Four minutes, fifty-nine seconds …

Perhaps he is locked in a cyclical system of nearly-knocking-but-never-knocking.

Five minutes …

The door swung open.

“Richie?”

Where the closed door once was, Eddie was now standing, hands on his hips, confusion imprinted onto his brow.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh – Yeah, yeah, sorry, I was just about to knock”

“You’ve been stood out here for five minutes”

“How did you know?”

“I could see your shadow under the door”

“Ah. Well, I was just about to knock, though, honest”

The ghost of a smile chased its way across Eddie’s face, left to right, until it had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. His eyes remained brighter, though, stars reflected onto the irises. Eddie stood to the side, motioning for Richie to walk into the office. Richie slunk into the room, standing awkwardly in the corner as Eddie rounded the desk and sat down behind it.

“Whatcha wanna see me about, then?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about your no show on Saturday. You don’t have to tell me the reason you didn’t turn up, I understand that we are all complex life forms and some of us are more complex than others, but –”

A disbelieving snort forced its way out of Richie’s nose before he could stop it.

“Problem?” Eddie challenged, crossing his arms across his chest defensively.

“Nope. No problem, not at all”

“Richard”

“Edward”

“Can we – can we not play these stupid games? I thought we’d be more mature than this, that we’d be able to get past all this animosity and act like adults. We have a job to do. You have a job to do. Please fucking act like it”

Richie blinked.

“Sorry, Eddie”

“It’s okay, Rich. I’m just – you really screwed us over on Saturday. I had to get Bowers to stand in,” Eddie stopped talking to scrub his fists into his eye-sockets, before continuing, “and he’s … he can’t do it properly. He’s not – You do it…”

Richie blinked again.

“You can’t just not show up. You can’t do that to me, to us” Eddie implored, eyes and eyebrows earnest as ever.

“I won’t, I won’t do it again, Eds, I promise”

From his current position, standing in the corner of the small office like a spare part, Richie thought that Eddie looked awfully small. He’d always been small, of course, a tiny firecracker threatening to explode in your hands and burn off your fingerprints, but this Eddie was not that Eddie. Past Eddie, Richie’s Eddie, didn’t have these eyes that looked permanently punched by tiredness, frown lines etched into his forehead, or shoulders that dropped when he thought no-one was looking. This Eddie, not-Richie’s-Eddie, made Richie’s heart thump with something past-compassion and not-quite-yearning. Sitting behind the desk was a black sweater clad, fully formed human being that Richie didn’t recognise, with glasses and wrinkles and a slightly wonky front left canine. It wasn’t wonky when Richie had known him, when he’d been Richie’s-Eddie, he’d have known, he’d stared at the sun in Eddie’s smile that many times.

Richie wanted to ask Eddie why his tooth was wonky, and why the skin around his nailbeds was red and raw, but he didn’t.

“S’that all?” is what Richie said instead, rubbing at his left bicep furiously, scratching a phantom-itch.

“Yeah, yeah, you can go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Good work today. You work excellently with Mike”

Richie wanted to take advantage of this seemingly unguarded Eddie, sit down in the uncomfortable looking chair and rip his still beating heart out of his chest and serve it to Eddie on a platter.

Why did you leave me?

But he didn’t. Instead he waved his fingers at Eddie, an aborted attempt at a wave, and left the room.

– X –

Hamlet and Horatio haven’t spoken for fourteen years. Richie hasn’t spoken to Stan for fourteen years, and he can’t remember how to talk to his former-best-friend without causing him to roll his eyes. What makes this worse is that the pit of jealousy in Richie’s stomach grows ever stronger each time Stan stays behind after rehearsal for one-to-one sessions with Eddie.

Richie has never had a one-to-one session with Eddie. He knows he’s going to have a one-to-one session, to work on the various soliloquys. He knows this, and yet his gut still twists angrily every time Eddie dismisses them for the day, and Stan follows him back into his office. Smiling. Eddie smiles when he looks at Stan, but his mouth only twitches when he looks at Richie. It’s not a smile. It’s more like a grimace, but not quite as heated.

It all explodes before Richie realises he’d detonated.

“Why are you giving Horatio more attention than me? I’m supposed to be the lead!”

Richie holds his breath.

The rest of the cast filter out of the rehearsal space like liquid.

“Pardon?”

“I mean – I guess – No, you know what, I’m confused. I’m supposed to be the lead, and we’ve been rehearsing for nearly two weeks and we haven’t worked on my soliloquys yet”

Stan rolls his eyes. Richie wants to scream.

“Stop being a fucking child, Richie”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the lead. We all know this, it’s not like we’ve forgotten, but that doesn’t mean that this whole production revolves around you”

“I just thought that–”

Stan strides over to where Richie was standing, and stands toe to toe with him. Faces close, breath mingling. They were close enough that Stan could headbutt him right now, if he wanted to. Richie doesn’t think he would.

“You don’t have a claim to his time anymore, Rich” Stan whispers, and it’s kind, his voice is kind and soft but the words burn through Richie’s skin like acid.

Richie steps backwards, burnt.

“Woah, woah woah, Stanely the fucking Manly, I never said anything about that, this is purely professional”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“It doesn’t look very professional”

“Well it is!”

Neither of them say anything, just look at each other. Waiting for the other to strike.

– X –

The sky is mottled with stars. Stan’s humming a song that Richie doesn’t recognise as they lie on the grass out the back of Richie’s apartment building.

“You’re my best friend, you know”

“Aw, is this soft hours with Stan?”

Stan huffs out a laugh and smacks Richie on the stomach.

“Yeah, yeah it fuckin’ is”

“You’re my best friend, too” Richie replies, honest as the day is long.

They don’t say anything else. They don’t have to.

– X –

“What happened to us?” Richie asks, not wanting to hear the answer that he’s sure Stan is going to give him, anyway.

“There hasn’t been an ‘us’ since you ignored me when Eddie left,” Stan replies, eyes downcast, “I missed you, Rich, I rang you for two fucking years, of course I missed you. But this petulant child isn’t you. You need to sort it out. You can’t draw him in when you’re pushing everyone else out”

Only then does Richie remember that Eddie has been in the room the entire time, that Eddie has heard everything.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak #hamlet au #theatre au #thefutureisbright #ao3 #unpack my heart with words #unpack my heart

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fourangers · 6 years ago

Text

Some bad porn can turn out to be good (1/3)

Summary: “Why are you watching porn on broad daylight and…is this…is this a blond guy fucking a japanese man?”

Who would have thought that porn watching could have such enlightening results. NaruSasu, blow job, anal sex, mutual pining without angst, Comedy, Romance, AU working in an advertisement agency. Some InoSaku.

AO3 link | ffnet link

--.--

Naruto was bored.

He already finished his very nutritional cup of ramen (it’s vegetable flavored, so it had all the necessary components for a complete meal right), played all the games he had in his smartphone and he still had more or less half an hour to kill. His friends were still busy with their work, the food court was completely empty and he wasn’t in the mood for a quick nap.

Wrinkling his nose, Naruto flipped his phone over and over, before letting it rest on the table, groaning. He was so bored. He already refreshed instagram like...thousand times and there wasn’t anything new. Same thing with facebook and twitter.

He took a long glance to the left, and then to the right. Moving to a table that was more or less placed at the corner of the room, he adjusted himself on his seat. Perhaps he could use this opportunity to relieve some tension caused by yesterday’s dream. After wasting long minutes browsing to fit exactly with his particular criteria, he widened his legs and clicked play.

⏤.⏤

Sighing, Sasuke rubbed his eyes while he sent his e-mail. Finally, after struggling for hours he came up with a good slogan title, also wrote some short texts to be used on smaller pieces. He was famished and his take out meal was getting colder by the minute. Glancing at the clock, he went to the food court with bag in hand, glad that it was usually deserted in that hour.

He noticed in an instant the bright golden hair from afar and his steps veered in that direction, ready for a greeting. However, as he was approaching Naruto, he saw those blue eyes very focused on whatever thing was displayed on the smartphone, probably some video of some sort.

Usually in this case Sasuke would just give a quick acknowledgement, then he would eat in another table. While he was circling around to pat Naruto’s shoulder though, his eyes picked some suspicious rhythmical movement from the video. This dumbass couldn’t possibly...glaring, Sasuke grunted.

“Hey.”

“HOLY FU⏤” Naruto shrieked, jumping from his seat. He almost fell from his chair, turning around, gawking in disbelief. “What the fuck man, don’t scare me like that!”

Sasuke snorted, now that the smartphone dropped to the table, he could properly peruse the content inside it. “I can’t believe that you’re watching porn right now.”

“I-I⏤!” Naruto scrambled to pick his gadget, resisting the urge to flip the screen down. He raised his chin in defiance, grumbling. “I was bored.”

“You’re watching porn while on work.” There was no way he was mistaken what he was witnessing, with the top plunging the monstrous cock in the bottom’s round ass, and the well-rehearsed moans and grunts coming from those porn actors.

“Not at work!” Naruto defended himself, in earnest. “It’s my lunch time, and in this moment I can relax and take some time for myself.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Sasuke muttered, stomach making pleasant flips when he realized that Naruto was watching intercourse between two men . At last, all his queries concerning the blond’s sexuality were now answered. With some positive and unexpected addendums, as he perused the video closer. “Honestly, why are you watching porn on broad daylight and…is this…is this a blond guy fucking a japanese man?”

Sasuke was actually mildly impressed how Naruto managed to keep a poker face, despite blushing from head to toe. “Hey, it’s a free country you know. I can watch whatever the fuck I want.”

“...hn.” Interesting how that dumbass didn’t answer his question. Shifting, he placed one hand on the back of Naruto’s seat, whispering close to his ear. “I can’t believe that there are really people out there who would have watched porn on lunch time, this is a first for me.”

Naruto glowered back, raising his elbow to widen their gap as he stood up. “Yeah well, I have done nothing criminal, bastard. ‘Kay, lunchtime is over, gotta go.”

Sasuke huffed, cursing himself for this momentary lack of quick thinking to avoid such misunderstanding. Next time, instead of teasing Naruto, he should have offered himself to reenact that porn video.

⏤.⏤

From the moment Naruto stepped in their ad agency, as corny as it might sound, Sasuke was smitten. Friendly, warm, an easygoing personality fitting with his wide grin and lively eyes.

His first impression towards other coworkers was vastly different though. Tall with a built physique, he had a undercut hair with earlobe expanders, leather bracelets, wearing a fitting black t-shirt that had a huge neon-orange skull drawing on it, complemented with a low cut shorts and a black belt adorned with small metal spikes. Everything about him screamed ‘Punk’, adding with fact that he had a gigantic japanese 9-tailed fox tattoo that started from his neck and covered his entire right arm, some piercings on his face and one barbell on the middle of his tongue (yes, Sasuke already pictured the tongue wrapping around his length). Naruto was quite an intimidating figure to say the least.

However, after just mere days working with him, people were quick to realize that his bright behavior really didn’t match to their preconceptions. He wasn’t one that shouted anarchy and burned books, but was rather the homey type that your mother would love to have him on Sunday lunches.

Once such knowledge sank in, a good number of suitors popped up from all spectrum of genders, much to Sasuke’s annoyance. There was a full-on investigation with some previous coworkers he used to work with, gossiping with friends and snooping around. There were many questions rather he was straight, or gay, maybe bi, all with inconclusive results.

Some rumors said that he was dating some woman who used to have a crush on him since forever, only to break up once he realized that he couldn’t really reciprocate her. Others said that he dated some childhood male friend for a very long time until it became lukewarm and they broke up in amicable terms. Whatever it was, he recently came out from a long relationship and wanted to take a break for now.

Sasuke could understand this, logically, comprehend even, and respected Naruto’s decision to cool down for a while. But as time kept passing by with soiled sheets, longing gazes, small crush turning into a Romance Angst 30 multi-chapter pining fanfiction, Sasuke concluded that, well, maybe it’s time to help Naruto moving on. Yes, turn a new page in his life, refresh, take a new path that it better have him included in this, hopefully as his new steady boyfriend in hand.

It’d be so much easier if Sasuke was only physically attracted to Naruto, not form any kind of attachment whatsoever. However, as he kept spending more time with this blond dumbass, he was getting increasingly enamoured with Naruto’s various facets. His genuine smiles even after he faced many adversities, his unyielding determination, his optimistic way of looking at life, everything.

And whenever he’d notice blue eyes clouded in contemplation, Sasuke really wanted to reach Naruto out and tell him that it’s ok to reveal the darkness in his heart.

Once Sasuke came to term with his feelings towards Naruto, it appeared he only had this simple task of asking him out, right. Well…the biggest problem was that Naruto was the densest idiot that had ever graced in his life. People could practically throw themselves on his lap and he’d wonder if they were having a heart attack or something. Sasuke himself had his own fair share of failed attempts of flirting with no significant results, that blond moron only thought that his teasing was out of friendly competition, nothing more.

Almost a whole fucking year have passed, frustration amounting in each day. For someone who was really talkative, Naruto kept his personal life pretty much in private. And even if he’s really expressive, Sasuke had a hard time reading if Naruto was into him.

In a last desperate resort, Sasuke tried to use their company’s annual party to get some answers, any answer. Whether Naruto was into guys, or he’s just a straight blond dumbass, or he had anyone he might fancy, hopefully Sasuke would gear this situation to more fruitful results.

Company parties brew all kinds of miracles and chaos, uncovering burrowed secrets, with many twists and turns that provided enough gossip material for a month. It loosens up any uptight person into the biggest diva in those party. It even revealed many facets of a person, as Sasuke could never forget how Sakura ended up making out with her supposed “best friend” Ino, occupying the bathroom for long, long hours, only to return both disheveled and flushed. (they began dating from that day onward) This was a good opportunity to get closer to Naruto while they both get drunk as skunk.

Unfortunately for him, Naruto, who was forever the 100% boy scout, promised the ladies to drive them safely to their respective homes, not drinking one drop of alcohol while everyone around him was getting smashed. Honestly, why couldn’t they ask for an uber or something; Sasuke wondered while he brooded between sips of sake.

At last, seeing Naruto watching gay porn, it seems that the gods had finally answered his prayers. Now that he cooled down, he needed to recalculate that Naruto might only be into Japanese guys, not him specifically. That doesn’t matter anyways. Naruto was attracted to men so all is fair game now. He just had to act faster before anyone else noticed about this too.

⏤.⏤

Slamming the door stall, Naruto sat on the toilet seat, messing with his hair.

Oh God, he’s so screwed, he’s so fucking doomed. He really shouldn’t have watched that porn video. There’s no way Sasuke wouldn’t grasp everything together and he’s really scared what would happen next.

Honestly, he wasn’t supposed to feel this attracted to Sasuke. Even though they work in the same sector, they were part of different teams, taking care of different clients and would only meet whenever everyone would go out to eat lunch or go to a bar after work, with some occasional short talk if they stumble on each other through the corridors.

In these pockets of interaction, Naruto was becoming increasingly fascinated towards Sasuke. Extremely smart, quick with sharp snarks and sarcastic humor, Sasuke might look unapproachable for most people, but he cast such alluring spell to Naruto. They could spend hours talking about any subject, from the existential questions to the most inane things happening in their lives. They had many points of view in common, also respecting their differing opinions even if they engaged in a healthy debate now and then.

And, well, like every art director, he was all into pleasant aesthetics and Sasuke was definitely included high in this list. Piercing dark eyes, smooth alabaster skin accentuating his high cheekbones, his face was perfect in all symmetrical proportions, body chiseled out like the finest Golden Ratio there is. (forgive Naruto for the momentary show of nerdism) He always stood out with his stylish clothes, posture lax but in a very cool way, with his hands in his pockets and chin slightly raised giving out a sophisticated aura.

It’s been a while since he was in the dating department, so admittedly Naruto wouldn’t know how exactly he’s supposed to approach him. Plus, he made up his mind that he shouldn’t try anyways, to benefit of them all.

The thing was…Naruto always thought that Sasuke was kind of out of his league, you know? He was way too attractive, too cultured with a high intellect that was too much for a regular dude like him. Shikamaru rolled his eyes, insisting that Naruto should at least test it out since the UST between those two were going off the roof but the blond man remained resolute.

…he heard stories. About how Sasuke never engaged in any serious relationship, settled only with casuals and one-night stands. So considering that Naruto was becoming more and more attached to him, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to accept only getting physical aspect of this.

The solution then? Denial denial denial. Yeah, forget how much he enjoyed having Sasuke around, how it seemed that time stopped around them, and yet it would fly by in an instant. Forget about all the countless times he yearned to touch Sasuke’s face, feel the soft touch of his lips.

His sketchbook was getting filled with drawings of Sasuke and it’s really not his damn fault that this bastard was this photogenic, he also couldn’t explain the urge to be next to that brooding man, just so Sasuke would feel less lonely. But when he saw much to his utmost terror that he was now adding himself into these sketches, doodling him kissing Sasuke or some tender cuddling, Naruto realized that maybe he didn’t do a good job keeping his feelings at bay. His little crush was turning a little too intense to his own taste and he’s honest to God hoping he’s not becoming too creepy. Better burn those doodles to a crisp and draw harmless things like flowers or whatever.

But now, all his efforts he had done to suppress himself had evaporated with his slip. Most positive scenario was Sasuke not connecting the glaring points (very unlikely, since that damn bastard is a genius) and only teasing him from time to time. Worst scenario would be Sasuke actively pursuing him and Naruto wouldn’t know if he’d be able to resist him and then have his heart broken by the end of it all. He better get ready with whatever situation it might hold in the future.

Days had passed nevertheless and nothing happened. A week went through and there was no reaction coming from Sasuke. Naruto didn’t know if he needed to get more paranoid because if Sasuke was silent, he’s plotting. He witnessed first hand how shrewd that man could get, changing various clients’ mind to accept their envisioned marketing campaigns and he really wasn’t looking forward to be the next victim.

Interaction was inevitable considering they work in the same room, but they were plenty busy juggling with their tasks to properly chat on that week. This was enough to make Naruto relax for a bit, taking a quick break as he went outside for a snack.

“I don’t think he needs a bun. He’s fine with sausage by itself.”

“WHAT THE FU⏤” Naruto swiveled around once he heard the familiar baritone voice, as the street vendor winced from his loud scream. “Fuck man! Why do you have to creep on me from behind all the time?!”

“It’s really not my fault when you’re such a airheaded blond.” Sasuke muttered, while he asked for a cup of coffee.

When Naruto accepted his grilled sausage, he scowled. “Hey, and since when you can order food that was supposed to be mine?”

“I’m just speeding up the process so I can get my own coffee soon, and ordered based on previous assumptions that you like big thick sausages. Or am I wrong in such assessment?”

Sasuke didn’t miss how the bewildered face turned crimson red once Naruto caught the innuendo. Naruto grabbed his arm, hissing. “About that last time, I swear to God if you spread this around I⏤”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Sasuke answered monotonously.

Naruto loosened the tight grip around his arm. “Uh⏤really?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about it.” Sasuke turned around, sipping his coffee. On the corner of his vision, he saw Naruto’s shoulders sagging in relief, walking behind him as they went back to the office.

He made sure he memorized for later use when Naruto absentmindedly thrust the sausage in his mouth.

“Hm. At least I finally figured out how you’re able to swallow copious amount of food without gagging.”

Naruto coughed and choked in response. “God, you’re such a bastard.” He narrowed his eyes ready for a venomous glare but stopped at once when Sasuke curled an amused smirk. Geez, why did Sasuke had such an attractive smile, and whyyyy was his heart racing like a silly highschool girl? This is so fucking stupid.

While Naruto was having his internal battle, Sasuke was inwardly patting himself on the back for another mission accomplished. If this situation followed through smoothly according to his strategic plans, he’ll have passionate sex with Naruto by the end of this month, for sure.

--.--

AN: This story was supposed to be a pure PWP but then I was like "wait, I need to give a good reason for those two to boink" and this monster of a fic happened. Lord help me. (but still, I'd really enjoy if you guys will leave a review)

Chapter 2

#NaruSasu #snstext #sn fic #SNS #drabble #lemon

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bookmawkish · 6 years ago

Text

Suddenly His Problem [Heckyl: DINO CHARGE CANON DIVERGENCE]

No I don’t know why I wrote this when I have so many other ideas (and much better prompts) and I’m not incapably drunk why would you think that

@worldoftherandom because you are my partner in Heckyl crime

People didn’t phone Chase at work. They really didn’t. Truth be told, if you’d asked him, he probably would have said that the old landline hitched to the wall just inside the supply cupboard door didn’t even work. However, his own feeling about it regardless, as he’s cleaning up the kitchen on the first Saturday night after the world almost ended (and hell, the world almost ending certainly put people in the mood to eat out. The café had been packed to bursting for the past two days) the phone rings. Persistently.

Chase is alone except for Ivan, who is out front trying to hurry up the last few stragglers to finish their Cretaceous Cheesecake and pay their bills. He’s loading the dishwasher, and has to wipe off his hands and stumble quickly to the wall - he makes it just in time.

“Hello?” he says, letting all his bafflement come out plainly in his tone.

“That the Dino Bite Café?” says an unfamiliar male voice. British accent. The line is noisy. A lot of background chatter, and music, and the clamour of a busy room.

“Yeah?” says Chase, still none the wiser.

“Ah, great,” the voice says, and they do sound relieved, whoever they are. “Thought you’d have all gone home already. Who am I speaking to?”

“Uh, Chase. Chase Randall. The cook.”

“Hi Chase. It’s Gary from The Inkwell down the street.”

Chase’s frown deepens. The Inkwell was a bar. Not one of the nicest ones in town, but still a bar. “Look, can you come down here and pick up your friend? He’s not looking too great and I don’t want to just throw him out like that, you know?”

Chase is instantly thrown into turmoil. Tyler? Riley? Not Ivan, Ivan’s here.

“What friend?” is all he can manage.

“Ah, sorry, he works for you, I assumed he was your friend, you guys all seem pretty tight in there. Your waiter? The tall one with the sharp suit?”

When Chase, startled, doesn’t immediately respond Gary continues, starting to sound doubtful. “Ellis recognised him, said he worked for you? He took her order when she came in for her birthday a while ago. I asked if she was sure, she said she was, no other bloke in town has blue hair -”

“That’s him,” Chase blurts out, more to himself than to the phone. “That’s Heckyl.”

“Heckyl?” repeats Gary, evidently both amused and incredulous. “Well, that explains a lot. If my parents had named me Heckyl I’d’ve been getting drunk every night.”

Chase’s mind races. Heckyl. Who had disappeared entirely after giving them the tipoff about the greenzillas. Who had not turned up to fight alongside Snide or Sledge or the Rangers or anyone during the final battle. Who had adamantly denied that there was any good in him or anything on Earth worth saving. Where had he been this whole time? And, more importantly, what was he doing right now in a dive bar?

Chase voiced that final query aloud, and Gary barked a hoarse laugh. “He’s drunk as a skunk, mate. That’s why I called you. Normally I just chuck the drunks out in the street at the end of the night, but your buddy here looks like he’s about ready to drop right now and it’s hours til closing. Plus he‘s drinking me out of vodka and I‘m pretty sure he‘s run out of cash.”

Vodka? Chase is finding all this very hard to process. For some reason he cannot fathom, Heckyl being incapably drunk in a bar has suddenly become his problem. Heckyl. He must have made a strangled sort of sound, because Gary misinterprets it, and hastens to reassure him. “Look, he’s okay, all right? He’s just had enough. More than enough. He’s going to be sick as a dog when he sobers up. Can you come down? I’ll keep an eye on him until you get here.”

“I’ll - I’ll be right there,” says Chase, because there really isn’t anything else he can say, and Gary, after thanking him profusely and Britishly, rings off.

Chase stands in the kitchen for a long moment, frozen to the spot with complete shock, then remembers that Heckyl has powers. And a completely uncontrollable temper. And now, quite likely, a much lowered set of inhibitions due to liquor.

He tears out of the kitchen in a panic, dragging off his apron as he goes, and almost runs straight into Ivan, who is chaperoning a couple of old ladies out into the night. Ivan sees the look on Chase’s face, hastens the customers with a huge grin and pats on the arm, then turns, all business.

“What is it? What has happened? Where is the fight?”

“I need you to come with me to a bar,” says Chase, caught in a fit of agonised anxiety. “Right now.”

He’s never been so grateful for Ivan’s unwavering faith. The knight does not question. He simply pulls off his own apron, folds it neatly onto the nearest table, and locks the doors dutifully as they both hurry out into the dark street.

When they reach The Inkwell, it’s not hard to find Gary. He’s the big man behind the bar, remonstrating with one of his staff. It would be difficult to imagine anyone more Gary-like than Gary: muscular, tattooed, absolutely no nonsense but friendly as all hell. He also has a purpling bruise on the side of his jaw.

Chase hurries to the bar and waits in agitation as Gary finishes up his conversation. He can’t help but scan the crowded bar, looking for Heckyl. God knows, Heckyl was bad enough in general, but angry drunk Heckyl would be something else entirely. Ivan, hanging back at Chase’s shoulder, looks quizzical. He still has no idea what they’re doing here.

“- told you to cut him off,” Gary was saying.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” the bartender was saying. “He - he didn’t look that drunk. Or sound it.”

“Ah, get out of here,” Gary growls, evidently unimpressed by his staff’s observational skills, and turns away. Chase’s intently anxious expression evidently draws his eye, and he raises a hand, jabs a finger in the Ranger’s direction.

“Now you must be Chase Randall. Thanks for coming. Come round, I’ve stashed your buddy in back. He took a bit of offence at my cutting him off, and seeing as he packs a pretty punch for such a skinny guy, I thought I’d better put him somewhere to cool down.”

“I am so sorry about him,” Chase says, mortified because the bruise suddenly makes horrible sense, but Gary waves this off.

“He’s drunk, kiddo, he ain’t himself. I didn’t have the heart to call the cops on him. He was nice as pie to start off with. Very polite, if a bit sarcastic. But if you ask me he was miserable as all crap when he started drinking, and drinking hasn’t made him any happier. Maybe you can talk out his problems with him once he’s slept it off, might help. Anyway.”

He’s led them both to a door marked “Private Bar”. “Usually use this for parties. Your friend Heckyl is a pity party all by himself if you ask me. Take as long as you need, when you’re ready, take him out the back. There’s a fire door, it’s not alarmed, just push the bar and go on out.” And he holds the door open. Chase takes a deep breath, and walks in.

#gary is probably me #but also I am incapably drunk so Heckyl is me #Chase Randall #Heckyl #power rangers fanfic #power rangers dino charge #dino supercharge #ivan of zandar #drunk

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