#did i dry them almost out with the first doodle? clearly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bella-rose29 · 10 months ago

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ok first of all I am screaming with joy bc I thought I would never find this fic again and also I'm so glad I did

second of all everyone go read this because it's incredible

Wordlessly, he opens his arms and she crumbles into them without hesitation, burying her face in his shoulder. omg 🥺

She mumbles eventually, using a finger to trace the outline of one of the many unflattering doodles of Lockwood on the thinking cloth. *cue the interview where Cameron lists three (four) words to describe lockwood, and says he's beautiful, handsome-*

Chances are they’ll be back to their obnoxiously happy ways within the week, but if he doesn’t treat this as seriously as Lucy is clearly feeling it is then he might as well turn in his best friend title on the spot. I love their friendship omg

She’s still fully dressed from the day, passed out on top of her blankets with a book laying open beside her. It’s so easy to picture her laying on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, fighting to try and make it through just one more chapter before the weight of her eyelids won and sleep finally overcame her. that's so me

If he hadn’t already, this would have been the moment he fell in love. my hEART-

“It’s time to wake up, beautiful.” He says, the last part slipping out unbidden. oh dear I think I might need my bucket before I melt too much

He’s completely forgotten how to function, torn between blindly following her wishes and remembering why he’s in her room this late to begin with. fueisjhfsuhgiusrh I have no other words

“Oh my god. I AM SO SORRY.” She shrieks, flailing away from him with such vigour that she throws herself straight off the opposite edge of the bed. He dives across the bed in a valiant attempt to catch her but he’s just a hair too late, the echoing thud of her body hitting the floor making him wince sympathetically. 😭😂 I snorted so loudly omg

There’s a stutter in her step and a brief scrambling noise that has him holding his breath, but she manages to rebalance herself and continues down the next flight on her way to the kitchen without losing any momentum. not the way I felt all the times i've tripped on the stairs reading this 😭

He dips his head in understanding, shooting her a smirk that hopefully says ‘I’ll be here’ and not ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you’. pfft he's so in love

He’s about to close it but hesitates for a moment before reaching in to grab a second. If his tea had gone cold, hers had as well. omgggggg

She walks back into the kitchen in a fresh pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t- shirt that looks strangely familiar OMGGGGGGG

taking a sip and letting out a sinful sound of enjoyment that almost makes him choke, effectively distracting him from inspecting the shirt. He barely manages to pass it off as a poorly timed inhale, but she’s considerate enough to accept it with minimal teasing. i- 🤭

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink as she gapes at him. He beams at her, finally feeling as though he has the upper hand. She pushes herself away from the table, standing up abruptly and padding out of the room as he leans back in his chair victoriously. he's so funny

His mouth goes dry. Okay. He hadn’t seen that coming. too busy being in love

Lockwood considered himself a charming man. He prided himself on being capable of sweeping a woman off her feet with a few carefully placed words or gentle touches. There were very few people on this planet that made him feel like an absolute simpleton, but unfortunately, she was one of them. Just once, he’d like to be able to maintain his composure around her and not make a fool of himself the second she looked in his direction SCREAMING for some reason I kept thinking of "barbie has a great day everyday, but ken only has a great day when barbie looks at him"

He passes her at the top of the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom for her and giving a teasing little bow. chivalry isn't dead then I guess (I love it)

She saunters into his room, giving the space a curious scan and he realizes it’s the first time she’s actually been in here. first time in his room and it's to share his bed??? excuse me while I scream into my pillow

When she’s satisfied with her search, she shoots him a look before sighing dramatically, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint onto his bed. ohhh so this is what it's like to be made for each other him with his lil bow and now this? omg I love it

He follows her lead to climb under the covers, though he’s sure he’s not nearly as graceful or cute as she had been. I imagine he looked a lot more like a bear laden with a lot of food just plodding around (idk why that specific comparison came into my head I won't lie)

I can't pick one bit to talk about now mostly because I was screaming for the next however many paragraphs

just screaming

nothing else

the whole morning scene has me screaming

kicking my feet

Lockwood is an idiot but my word-

Oh. He was going to have to remember that for later. PLEASE DO

Not that it would be a problem, that noise was going to play a part in all of his fantasies for the foreseeable future. OH?

ok so from here ^^^ onwards I just spent saying 'oh' in various ways (OH WAIT I JUST REALISED HOW THAT SOUNDS- I mean it's still relevant but)

“Sorry, wait, hold on… rewind for a second. Did you just skip straight to asking me to move in with you instead of actually verbally admitting that you want to date me?” She gawks at him incredulously. “I believe I did, actually, yes. Thoughts?” “I’m bad with heights and it is freezing up there in the winter.” She replies without a second’s hesitation. had to add this in because this is so him

aaaand I'm back to saying oh again

He blinks, takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and stands there staring at them for a long moment in only boxers and an oversized shirt. trousers are for wimps 💪

“Hey, I almost forgot to ask. Is that my shirt?” of course it is the role of girlfriend is one that must be prepped for

SCREAMING AT THE ENDING

this is a true depiction of me:

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Lucy's having her first serious fight with her girlfriend and needs her old room back for the night; leaving the current occupant of the space with no place to sleep.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Light sexual content, strong language, no use of Y/N.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Happy (still technically) early Valentine's Day to the little gremlins in my phone <3 This was supposed to be a nice short oneshot to help me overcome some writers block around my main series, but, uh... once again, it got out of hand. Special thanks to @websterss and @why-what-no for helping me figure out how to approach the attic scene, which ended up being the catalyst of this veering so far out of control 😂 Hope you guys enjoy! (Oh god I completely forgot to mention, the title is from I Love You So by The Walters)

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 5.3k

It was a quiet night at 35 Portland Row, the team having a rare evening off between jobs that seemed to double by the day. Gaining fame and notoriety had been Lockwood’s goal since the day he and George had officially formed Lockwood & Co. several years previously, and to say they’d been successful would be an understatement.

There had been a call for him to increase his numbers and branch out as a better manned agency many times, but to do so would mean giving up certain freedoms he wasn’t willing to relinquish. Including the house he and his agents had come to call home. Hiring extra hands would require extra accommodations and though that would come with its own set of bonuses, there was something to be said about the consistency and approachability of a single door at street level on a seemingly unassuming family home.

At least, that’s what he tried to remind himself as he was startled from a rare peaceful sleep by the sound of a closed fist pounding insistently on his front door.

For a solitary moment, he considers ignoring it.

“ANTHONY! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! GET YOUR ARSE UP AND OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.” A familiar voice hollers from the front porch.

He’s out of bed before his sleep-addled brain can register the movement, turning on the lamp on his side table and grabbing a grey sweatshirt off the chair at his desk, pulling it over his head as he descends the stairs at a breakneck pace.

The several locks on their front door had never really seemed like overkill before, but they’d never stood between him and a friend in obvious distress before either. He fumbles the last of the bolts and pulls the door open to find Lucy Carlyle looking disheveled, eyes rimmed red and lip trembling, the picture of misery. Wordlessly, he opens his arms and she crumbles into them without hesitation, burying her face in his shoulder.

They stay like that for a while, until his toes remind him that he’s still barefoot and London nights are cold this time of year. He pulls away enough to usher her inside, closing the door behind them and locking it tight for the night once more. She sniffles, allowing herself to be led into the kitchen and sat in her old chair as he goes through the motions of filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil for tea.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to interrogate her. If and when she’s ready to talk about it, she’ll tell him.

“I need my old room for the night.” She mumbles eventually, using a finger to trace the outline of one of the many unflattering doodles of Lockwood on the thinking cloth. “Norrie and I got into it tonight, she says she needs some space.”

He remains silent as he pours water into their mugs, trying to puzzle his way through how to make that happen. She knew that room was occupied now, and he knew she wouldn’t ask if she wasn’t in desperate need of the comfort of her old home.

Nodding decisively, he walks back to the cupboard and pulls out another cup.

“I’ll go wake her up and get the bedding changed over. Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head vehemently at the question, choosing instead to drop her head onto the table with a loud thud. He has to smother a laugh at that. Despite understanding the serious nature of the situation, he’s acutely aware that this is their first major fight in three years. Chances are they’ll be back to their obnoxiously happy ways within the week, but if he doesn’t treat this as seriously as Lucy is clearly feeling it is then he might as well turn in his best friend title on the spot.

He places her tea on the table beside her head and his own across from her, patting her shoulder reassuringly as he withdraws his hand. Doubling back to the counter, he picks up the third cup and takes it with him out of the kitchen and up the stairs, closing the door to his room as he passes it on his way to the top of the house.

Standing on the landing outside her door he falters, almost losing his nerve. Then he reminds himself this is for Lucy.

Rolling his shoulders back and straightening his posture, he raises his free hand and raps his knuckles against the wood.

Silence.

Brow furrowing, he knocks again.

Still nothing.

Raising his eyes to the ceiling he silently curses heavy sleepers, under no illusions that most of his resentment is’t based in envy.

Weighing his options for a moment, he grimaces. Go tell his woe-filled best friend he’s too much of a coward to wake their coworker himself, or risk having whatever items have accumulated on her bedside table thrown at him when he enters her room.

Unfortunately, it’s a no brainer.

He places his hand on the handle, foolishly hoping it would be locked.

It’s not.

Muttering curses under his breath, he pushes the door open and ascends the last flight of stairs into her room.

He finds himself frozen in place on the last step, entranced by how serene the scene before him appears.

She’d fallen asleep with the lamp beside her bed still on. It casts a soft golden glow across her face, and for a moment she takes his breath away.

He could feel a soft smile making itself at home on his face, an affectionate exasperation at her dedication to the written word settling comfortably in his chest.

If he hadn’t already, this would have been the moment he fell in love.

Wrestling himself from his thoughts and trying to shape his face into something at least slightly less lovesick, he thaws his feet and makes his way over to the bed.

“It’s time to wake up, beautiful.” He says, the last part slipping out unbidden.

She doesn’t react, so he closes her book and moves it to her side table to make room for himself to sit on the mattress beside her. The bed settling under his weight makes her stir, rolling onto her back and mumbling something incoherent.

When she makes no move to wake any further, he reaches across to squeeze her shoulder gently. She whines, scrunching up her face in indignance and opening bleary eyes to blink slowly at the disturbance. Her eyes come to focus on him and the tension drains from her face, a sleepy smile taking its place as she hums and rests her eyes shut again.

He smiles right back at her, letting his hand run down her arm. His intention is to pull away, but apparently she has other plans. She reaches after him, catching his hand with her own and pulling back towards her. His heart leaps into his throat and he can actively feel the blood rushing to his face as her body curls in his direction.

“Come back to bed…” She mumbles, voice still laced with exhaustion, resting her forehead against the back of his hand and sighing contentedly at the contact. He’s completely forgotten how to function, torn between blindly following her wishes and remembering why he’s in her room this late to begin with.

He’s saved from having to decide anything by her eyes suddenly flying open, face transforming from sleepy bliss to sheer mortification in the blink of an eye.

He peeks over the side of the bed to find her laying on her back with her hands over her beet red face. She parts her fingers, staring miserably at him from between them.

His lips are pressed together tightly with the effort maintaining his composure.

She cracks first, a giggle slipping past her hands.

Within seconds they’re both in stitches, almost crying with laughter. By the time they manage to compose themselves, several minutes must have passed.

He stands and walks around the bed to offer her a hand. She wipes the tears from her eyes, heaving for breath as she reaches up to accept his help and is pulled to her feet.

“Now that that’s out of the way, what the hell are you doing in my room at this time of night?” She gasps, bracing her palms on her thighs as she struggles to make her lungs understand she’s not suffocating.

Lockwood’s eyes go wide with horror.

“I’m an awful friend.” He rushes out, covering his mouth. She does a double take in response, looking like she’s about to get whiplash from the sudden shift in topic and energy.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Luce is downstairs in the kitchen right now. I guess she and Norrie had a lover's quarrel? She needs her room back for the night.”

He cringes as she gapes at him.

Thankfully, instead of scolding him she bolts into action. The bed is stripped bare before he can even process the speed with which she’s moving and suddenly she’s shoving his arms full with fabric.

“Laundry room! Now!” She snaps, already across the room rifling through her wardrobe for fresh bedding.

He’s on the second step by the time she calls him back to ask what Lucy was wearing when she showed up on their doorstep.

“Jeans and a jumper.” He calls over his shoulder as he descends the steps two at a time.

The laundry room is close to George’s room, so he decides to err on the side of caution and leave the items in the washing machine and makes a mental note to start it in the morning. By the time he finishes separating everything and has it all organized, he can hear footfalls approaching rapidly from overhead. There’s a stutter in her step and a brief scrambling noise that has him holding his breath, but she manages to rebalance herself and continues down the next flight on her way to the kitchen without losing any momentum.

His shoulders slump in relief and all at once the late hour catches up with him.

Or does it officially qualify as early now?

He’s still pondering that when he almost slips on a small puddle of liquid at the top of the stairs. The adrenaline wakes him up a bit but now he has another, if slightly more pressing, question.

What the hell is on the floor?

And then it clicks.

The tea.

She must have grabbed it off her bedside table on her way downstairs and spilled it when she almost took a tumble of her own.

He chuckles and shakes his head, almost uncomfortably aware of how smitten he is with the small tornado occupying the attic room as he turns back to grab a towel from the room he’d just left.

By the time he makes his way into the kitchen, she’s helping Lucy out of her chair and herding the girl upstairs.

He raises his eyebrow at her in a silent question, but she shoots him a look that says ‘stay here, I’ve got this’ and an almost shy smile that promises she’ll be back soon. He dips his head in understanding, shooting her a smirk that hopefully says ‘I’ll be here’ and not ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you’.

After the girls exit the room, his eye is drawn to his now lukewarm tea on the table. He sighs, reaching across the table to grab his cup.

He stares at the liquid for a while, already hearing one of George’s endless rants about wasting tea bags rattling through his head. Even when he’s asleep, Karim manages to torment him.

Shrugging, he dumps the cup out into the sink and busies himself making another to pass the time.

The kettle is starting to whistle on the stove as he opens the cupboard to grab himself a tea bag. He’s about to close it but hesitates for a moment before reaching in to grab a second. If his tea had gone cold, hers had as well.

Sure enough, her cup sat abandoned beside the sink, only down the small amount that had spilled on the staircase.

She walks back into the kitchen in a fresh pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t- shirt that looks strangely familiar just as he sets their mugs on the table, shooting him a grateful smile as she collapses into her chair.

She clasps the tea in both hands like a treasure, taking a sip and letting out a sinful sound of enjoyment that almost makes him choke, effectively distracting him from inspecting the shirt. He barely manages to pass it off as a poorly timed inhale, but she’s considerate enough to accept it with minimal teasing.

They’re both half finished before either dares to address the elephant in the room.

“So…” She starts, giving him a rueful smile.

“I’ll take the loveseat in the sitting room, you can sleep in my bed.” He states matter-of-factly, intending to leave no room for argument.

Her cocked eyebrow tells him very quickly his intention failed.

“No, I really don’t think so. I can sleep on the loveseat, your neck will be kinked for days if you do that again.” Her eyes are filled with a warning he readily ignores.

“I couldn’t very well call myself a gentleman if I let you do that, and you know it.”

“Anthony-“

“I’m not arguing this with you.”

“Fine then, we can share the bed.” She retorts, a prideful twinkle in her eye as she stares a challenge at him.

“Seems like a valid compromise.” He surprises them both with his answer, the words hanging in the air. For a moment he wishes he could unsay them, but then her face shifts.

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink as she gapes at him. He beams at her, finally feeling as though he has the upper hand.

She pushes herself away from the table, standing up abruptly and padding out of the room as he leans back in his chair victoriously.

But instead of rushing to hide away in his bedroom as he expects, she catches him off guard by stopping with her hand resting on the doorframe and glancing back over her shoulder.

“Well… are you coming?”

His mouth goes dry. Okay. He hadn’t seen that coming.

Disarmed and feeling like a floundering imbecile, he sits there in silence for a second, begging his brain to come up with some kind of charismatic reply to help him save face.

An unrecognizable emotion flashes across her face and she drops her eyes, leaving him even more confused than before.

And then his mind catches up.

Vulnerability. Uncertainty. Insecurity.

Concern.

He’s on his feet before he can overthink it, gesturing for her to lead the way. Her relief is raw, undisguisable. He passes her at the top of the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom for her and giving a teasing little bow. She laughs and rolls her eyes at his theatrics, but he can tell she appreciates the effort to set her at ease. She saunters into his room, giving the space a curious scan and he realizes it’s the first time she’s actually been in here.

He leans against the door frame, watching her approach his bookshelf and run her fingers along the spines, searching for any titles she might find familiar. A tender smile finds its way to his face once more, and this time he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it.

When she’s satisfied with her search, she shoots him a look before sighing dramatically, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint onto his bed. He laughs, shaking his head as he crosses the threshold.

He considers the door for a moment, trying to decide if he should leave it open or close it.

His eyes wander across the hall to George’s door, and he closes his own with sudden and complete confidence in his decision.

A giggle from his bed tells him she’d watched his thought process play out and agreed with his choice. He turns to make a clever remark, but the words die on his tongue as soon as he lays eyes on her.

She’s laying on her side across his pillows, propped up on her elbow with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, watching him through her lashes with… another unfamiliar emotion flickering behind her eyes.

Before he can dwell on it too much, an idea occurs to him. He crosses the room swiftly with a mischievous grin, jumping and twisting his body at the last minute to land on the mattress sideways. She shrieks as she’s bounced at least a few inches into the air, cackling as the momentum from the landing rolls her closer to him. Their shoulders rub together as they laugh, laying on their back and staring up at the ceiling before falling into a comfortable silence. She lifts herself up onto her elbows, looking down at him.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely exhausted. Do you know what time it is?” She queries, tilting her head in curiosity. He lifts himself up enough he can see the clock on his bedside table, hissing a breath between his teeth at the glowing numbers taunting him.

“You don't want to know.” He groans, dropping back to the bed. She pokes at his side with her elbow until he looks up at her, gesturing towards the pillows with her head. A sly smile breaks out on her face and her eyes twinkle at him.

“‘Come back to bed.’” She echoes her own words from earlier back at him playfully, poking fun at herself as she rolls onto her side and crawls up his bed. He laughs freely as he watches her, something he’s grown quite used to doing around her over the past few years. She lifts the covers, diving beneath them and wiggling around until she finds a comfortable spot laying on her side close to the wall.

Trying not to overthink himself into a tizzy, rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, grunting with the effort. He follows her lead to climb under the covers, though he’s sure he’s not nearly as graceful or cute as she had been.

Once he’s settled comfortably beside her, he finds himself feeling oddly out of place. He’d never been so aware of where his hands were while laying in bed before, but now he has no idea what to do with them. He settles for resting them awkwardly on his chest.

He can feel her staring at him.

He keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling.

She sighs in exasperation, the bed dipping under her weight as she shifts to lean over him and turn off the lamp on his side table, somehow oblivious to him forgetting how to breathe as he becomes hyper aware of every place her body is touching his own. She retracts her reach, but doesn’t move all the way back to her spot, leaving him completely blind and incredibly confused by her continued proximity.

Her hand touches his forearm, fingers dancing across his skin until she reaches his wrist, grabbing it and gently pulling until he lifts the arm closest to her into the air.

There’s shuffling noises and movement beside him, leaving him even more perplexed, until she’s resting her head on his shoulder and he declares himself officially braindead. She scoots closer, tucking her body into his side and resting her open palm on his chest.

“Goodnight, Lockwood. Sweet dreams.” She whispers in a calm voice that would have had him completely fooled if he couldn’t feel her heart pounding against his ribs. Her words restart his brain, allowing him to drop his arm around her, his hand automatically coming to rest on her hip.

“Goodnight, darling, you too.” He whispers back, and though it’s too dark for him to see her face, he can still feel the heat radiating through his shirt.

He’s honestly thankful for how tired he is, otherwise he’d never be able to fall asleep with the adrenaline coursing through his veins alongside his blood.

His fingers trace absentminded swirls on her hip as his eyes begin to droop, sleep overtaking him before his conscious mind can register it happening.

For once, his dreams are actually sweet.

When he’s finally dragged unwillingly back to consciousness, the perpetrator is sunlight streaming in through his window and directly into his eyes.

He tries to lift his right arm to block it out, but there’s an unexpected weight holding it in place.

The events of the night before rush back to him, and suddenly the blinding sun isn’t anywhere near the top of his priority list. He lets his head roll towards her just to find her already awake and looking at him.

Her hair is a mess, and he can’t help but laugh as he reaches across his body to brush it away from her face, though he’s sure he looks much the same.

His fingers linger on her cheek of their own accord.

That look in her eye from last night is back, and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear her gaze flickers to his lips for a split second.

And then, with the kind of clarity only morning light can bring, it hits him.

A bonafide lightbulb moment.

He really is a bloody simpleton.

Truly, he could be an absolute moron sometimes, and he swore to himself in that moment the next time someone told him so he’d willingly agree with them.

Acting without thinking had gone surprisingly well for him in the past twenty-four hours, so what’s one more gamble, in the grand scheme of things?

His hand slides down from her cheek, his fingers lightly caressing the back of her neck as he guides her face towards him. Her eyes flutter closed and he swears his heart is about to break free from his chest.

His lips ghost over hers, giving her plenty of room to pull away if she’s in any way uncomfortable.

As always, she surprises him, rolling her body towards him and gripping the front of his sweatshirt with both hands, using it to pull him closer to her.

There’s a need poured into the next kiss, a desperation and hunger born of pining they’d both been so certain was one sided.

He meets her intensity with his own, slipping an arm underneath her waist and placing a hand on her back to pull her tightly against him.

She lets a muffled moan slip, and a thrill runs up his spine at the thought of spending as much time as he wants learning each and every noise of pleasure she’s capable of making, and how to coax them out of her like music.

Her hands release his shirt, roaming over every inch of his body they can touch instead.

Her exploration must have caused his shirt to start to bunch around his waist because as the hand on the nape of her neck finds its way into her hair, one of her roaming hands grazes a sliver of bare skin on his hip and he gasps, automatically tightening his grip and giving her hair a gentle tug in the process. She whimpers against his lips, breaking the kiss as her head falls back in an instinctive response.

Oh. He was going to have to remember that for later.

Not that it would be a problem, that noise was going to play a part in all of his fantasies for the foreseeable future.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, he takes advantage of the opening to pull her closer and kiss her neck.

His name falls from her lips like a prayer and as he grins in delight his teeth graze her skin.

She moans in earnest at that, back arching involuntarily as she presses her body against his so close he can feel her heart beating through their clothes.

Keen to test a theory, he presses kisses up her throat until he’s high enough to catch her earlobe, letting it slide lightly between his teeth.

“Fuck.” She hisses, digging her nails into his hip. He can’t stop the growl that rumbles from his chest at that, and she hooks a leg over him in reply.

He feels like he’s drowning in her, everything in him is screaming to surrender and worship her like the goddess she is but he knows it would be too much too fast for both of them.

So, exhibiting strength he didn’t know he had, he pulls back. Gulping oxygen like he’s been holding his breath for hours and sliding his hand back down to her neck before pulling her in close enough to press a firm and reassuring kiss to her forehead until he can compose himself enough to swear he isn’t in any way rejecting her.

Somehow, as always, she understands exactly what he’s doing and balls her fists in his shirt, taking stabilizing breaths of her own.

Once he’s confident they’re both back in full control, he slides his fingers under her chin, lifting her face and pressing his lips to hers in a leisurely and indulgent kiss that promises it won’t be the last.

She hums contentedly when he pulls away again, chasing after him to give him a gentle peck.

“I really am a dunce, aren’t I?” He asks when he’s regained his composure, replaying so many events from the last several years over in his mind in a whole new light.

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Always.”

“Yeah, you’re right thick sometimes.”

“I really am, because now that I’m thinking about it, you are terrible at hiding how you feel.” He grins as she smacks his arm, tossing her head back and laughing.

“Like you’re one to talk! Anthony Lockwood, you are an open book and I’ve been a fool not to notice it before.” She teases, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together. He shrugs, planting a peck on her nose before dragging himself reluctantly out from under the covers.

“Up you get, if we stay in bed too much longer they’re going to start asking questions.” He offers her his hand as he whispers the last part conspiratorially.

She rolls her eyes at him but takes the offered appendage anyway, letting him pull her to her feet before trudging across his room to the door. She places her palm on the handle, but hesitates before turning it.

Seeming to steel herself for something, she turns instead to face him.

“And if they do? Y’know, ask questions?” There’s a crease between her brows that speaks of concern and it makes his heart ache, something in him begging to reach out and smooth it away.

“I suppose that depends. How attached are you to the attic?” He deadpans.

“What?” She’s taken aback, confusion painted across every feature.

“I mean, personally, I’m rather fond of this room. I did move out of the attic because I felt I’d outgrown it, but I am willing to compromise.” He smirks, waiting for her to catch on. “I’m far more fond of sharing a bed with you.” He adds quietly when she continues to stare at him in bewilderment.

Her eyes go wide when she pieces it all together.

“I believe I did, actually, yes. Thoughts?”

“I’m bad with heights and it is freezing up there in the winter.” She replies without a second’s hesitation. Soothing the twinge of protective guilt at the thought of her shivering alone in the cold with the knowledge he wouldn’t let it happen again, he grins and crosses the room to pull her into a passionate kiss.

He almost loses himself to the softness of her lips and the feeling of her body pinned between him and the door, but he manages to hold himself at least partially to the task at hand.

“Just to be perfectly transparent,” He manages to add between kisses, “I would very much like to date you.” She lifts her arms and lets them drape around his neck, pulling him close for one last kiss before separating.

“Good, because I would ‘very much’ like to date you too.” She laughs, giving him a playful shove back to make enough room to open the door to the hallway.

They exit his room holding hands and bumping shoulders as they venture towards the stairs.

George’s door flies open and they freeze, both looking at him like deer caught in headlights.

He blinks, takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and stands there staring at them for a long moment in only boxers and an oversized shirt.

“Fucking FINALLY.” He hollers with the intensity of a man infuriated by years of their unending mutual idiocy, storming off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

They slowly turn to look at each other, breaking out in laughter for what must be the hundredth time in the past two days.

Before they resume their journey downstairs though, George’s oversized shirt had reminded Lockwood of something.

“Hey, I almost forgot to ask. Is that my shirt?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her. The colour spreads from her neck to her face almost instantaneously as she begrudgingly nods, looking pointedly at the ground. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, his signature smile plastered on his face.

“Good. I like it.” He confesses, squeezing her arm reassuringly. She leans into him, wrapping her arm around his waist as they descend the stairs and head for the kitchen.

What they find upon entering the room is wildly unexpected.

Lucy and Norrie are sitting side by side with their arms crossed, both wearing the same smug smirk, five mugs of steaming hot tea placed around the table in front of them.

The girl tucked into his side gasps, connecting the dots rapidly and letting loose a quiet shriek of betrayal and indignation.

“You sneaky bitches!” There’s awe in her voice when she finally speaks, though she’s clearly not certain if she should be grateful or angry at the manipulation.

Even though he should probably be upset, feeling the warmth of her body against his and already making plans to move her belongings into his - their room, he just can’t bring himself to be anything other than thankful for their intervention.

Looking at the calendar on the wall, the final piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

Sneaky bitches indeed, he finds himself thinking as the women in question pick up their teacups to cheers each other.

Reaching down to press a kiss to the top of her head, he leans in close enough to whisper;

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

#lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #reader insert #fic rec #lockwood x reader #lucy x norrie #lockwood & co #norrie white

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

Note

Do you wanna just like, infodump headcanons on your favorite Assassin's Creed games? I've never played or watched the gameplay, but it makes me happy to see you ramble about it~

More Assassin's Creed Thoughts

[Warnings: Like, none??]

[AN: I tend to hyperfixate on AC 4 because that's the first console game and AC title I'd ever played and I AM LOYAL to Edward. That's my dad, boogie woogie woogie. But I moved by protagonists in chronological order. There is no format here I just go off on paragraph long tangents with general thoughts.]

Altair Ibn-La'Ahad

I didn't actually play this one so it's the most hazy in my memory but Altair, from what I can remember, is a silent and egotistical prick sometimes. He obviously levels out, but this man embodies "enemies to lovers" trope. He's a good man, and his sense of humor often doesn't land with many people! It's dry, sarcastic, and sometimes quite dark. His friendship with Malik was never really quite the same after the incident. They have a deep respect for each other after a while but like, come on. I don't know if Altair ever thought about having a wife for love until Maria came in and turned his world upside down. She settled into his head like a virus, took hold until he couldn't deny her any longer. He'd never love anyone as much as he loved her. If he dated anyone after, let's pretend for a moment Reader comes in, that love would always fall just short. She left a really, really dark and big shadow. You won't outgrow it.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

His love for Cristina was puppy love. I feel like if they did actually end up together, they'd end up parting on amicable terms. However, because he lost her so tragically and suddenly, constantly yearning without actually growing together, she became the one that got away. A part of him has never healed from that. In that same breath, he's never loved anyone as deeply as he loves Sofia. The capacity to love is something Ezio excels at, and his capacity for others varies. Never worse, or lighter, just different. I also believe he regrets his time as an Assassin in some capacity as well. When he met up with Shao, or rather when Shao found him, he came to a grounding that what he'd done his entire life was for the good. Ezio is a very contemplative, deep man. Seeing his life progress as much as it did over the games - that was something genuinely special. I also think he likes doodling in free time.

Haytham and Connor Keyway

I don't know how I feel about Haytham. He's a charming man, but the whole Templar switch when his father was that guy... I don't know. I do think it's important that we see other viewpoints, and in a way, I wish we spent more time with Haytham, having a first game dedicated to him and the second following him to America etc. I think, if he was able, he would've been a relatively good father to Connor. He harbors respect for his son, and his son's mother clearly - it was from that residual love for Ziio that he wouldn't let Connor get executed. Him spending time with his son made him... almost bitter that he didn't prioritize him earlier. He would have been a good father if everyone played their cards differently. I'd actually say his strength is his prose. Man has skills in speech. If he was a teacher, he'd be AP English.

Connor is soft spoken, contemplative and gentle beyond belief. He's a whole "gentle giant". However, that doesn't mean he's against reprimanding people and putting them in their place. I once saw a post, a long time ago, that said Connor became a bear of a man because he wasn't strong enough to save his mother. He can't let anyone else down like that ever again, and won't. He still has nightmares about losing her, and strong pyrophobia. He misses Achilles more than you could ever know. A proper father figure wrapped up in slight sass. If only Connor could know how much love Achilles had, and carries on for him. Oh also, I think he loves dogs!! Probably has a few later in life once he's settled down and had children. Everyone comes to him for advice because he's weirdly good at giving it.

Aveline de Grandpre

She's an incredible assassin why did we forget she's here?? Existing?? She's a bit of a troublemaker and known to light up the room with her sense of humor. I'd say she's one of the friendliest assassins to get along with due to how magnetic she is. She's got a bit of an identity crisis going on though?? Neither community she was born from would accept her and despite her relatively privileged upbringing, she felt a little lost growing up. In the brotherhood, things really changed. There were moments she doubted herself and her choices as shown by the game and her time with Connor, but, she chose best. As she grew older, rising in the ranks as a formidable assassin, she looked back on her early years and knew she'd done well. I also think she's the only female assassin we've seen thus far that actually enjoys wearing dresses as Evie and Elise (a Templar lmfao) both show extreme aversion to the fashion choices.

Edward Kenway and Adewale

Everything Edward has ever done has been for Caroline when he knew it was just her. It's heartbreaking to see that it took years on the sea, losing everyone and everything to realize that the people he should live for... They've all gone. Jenny became his only link to life outside of clearing up the Woodes Rodgers mess. I think he made it a habit to gift her with flowers, twice a week, in different colors. And the man never lost his sense of showmanship. He just,,,, changed how he was going to do it. Telling stories to his children was crucial because Jenny and Haytham became his true loves in life. Nothing could ever stop the love of a genuine father. After he'd spent so many years hurting people, being selfish, losing everyone who stood at his side, he would not risk his relationship with these two. So, imagine his surprise when Haytham becomes a Templar grandmaster-. Also, i don't think he could ever shake his love of the sea and spent lots of time at the docks telling sailor stories to Jenny because she was just as fascinated as he was.

Adewale isn't talked about enough and I don't like it. Funny enough, I don't know if Ade and Edward were entirely friends?? They weren't really lifelong friends, that's the vibe I get. You know BoJack and Todd?? That's the kind of energy I get from the two of these guys. Ade and Edward often had deep respect for each other but Edward's brashness pushed Ade away. When they did become friends again, Edward joining the assassins, they tended to hold each other at an arm's length. Respect and friendship often coexist but are not the same thing. It wouldn't be until years later that the two could really call each other solid friends - I suppose they always were?? But never THAT close. Ade is still disappointed in Haytham, and the grief and disappointment he conveyed to him in that moment was enough to stand in for Edward as well.

I Don't Talk About Shay

Arno Dorian

After losing Elise, he was just,,, never the same? Like, yeah okay fine, he becomes a master assassin and does things for the good but like, he's sad and tragic. Has a kid eventually with a woman but he's kinda similar to Altair in the sense he'd never love anyone as much as he'd love her. Which is weird, considering I don't think Elise ever truly loved him, at least, not in the way that he deserved. After losing her father. Elise had closed off who she was in order to avenge him, and she had no room for anyone else to enter her heart. Perhaps if she and Arno were goatherds somewhere far away, it could work out but it always felt doomed to be tragic. Arno likes to journey around Paris at night, not only helping people, but feeling like a ghost, just observing. He knows the work will never stop, so to walk around and observe for the sake of observing is peaceful. He's helpful where he can be with just a slight amount of biting cynicism. But, everyone loves him regardless.

Evie and Jacob Frye

Evie and the Queen parted on weird ways because Evie was able to call her out on imperialism. However, the cake was still left for Evie. That offer never went away. I think Henry and Evie are in every definition, soulmates. Evie has such a deep love and appreciation for India, the culture, the languages spoken, all because of her husband. Interestingly enough, I don't think she's actually that strict with her children?? She doesn't force them to be assassins in the way her father did because Jacob practically BEGGED her to not repeat their father's mistakes on his nieces and nephew. Evie and Henry speak in flowers and nothing else.

I don't know about you guys but I don't think Jacob actually has any children later on in life (other than uh, Jack the Lad). He's fine where he's at, marries, but all his time and energy goes into being the fun uncle for his nieces and nephew whenever he sees them. He's also a bit sad over "losing" his sister when she moves to India. Mostly because well, he's never really been without her. I think Jacob has separation anxiety. He cares deeply about Clara and ends up kinda fostering her? He's like her older brother and the most important girl in his life outside of his sister.

Shao Jun

Shao deserved so much more attention. In fact, the entirety of AC Chronicles deserved better. I think that like, all three of those deserve open world titles. Shao has a bit of a temper and usually goes by her way or the highway. Honestly, she's a lot more like Ezio than she realizes and Ezio knew that from their brief time together. I think, if she and Ezio spent more time together, they would have grown to be quite personal like a father and his kid that can't and won't sit down.

Bayek and Aya

I'm going to be focusing on the two of them as a unit. Aya and Bayek clearly still love each other. That much is undeniable. After losing Khemu, it was just... It was too fresh and painful. However, after years of working as the parents of the Hidden Ones, they were reunited in old age, able to spend the rest of the twilight years together. It was solemn, in some places emotionally breaking, but they were able to come back together and be stronger than ever before. I don't know if their puppy love from when they were teens ever died down, especially after hearing Bayek's letter to Amunet in AC Valhalla. He's always loved her, and she him, but the pain, and the bigger picture they'd been painted in stole every sense of normalcy for them. I think, if they were reincarnated, they wouldn't have to deal with the pain all over again. They'd have good lives, with healthy, well brought up children, and live out in modernity what they couldn't in history.

Kassandra and Deimos/Alexios

Kassandra is gay and I'm not accepting any other answer right now. Her having a child with Natakas was purely to continue her bloodline and nothing else. I would say they're entirely platonic. That's it. But that doesn't deny the fact that Kassandra misses Elpidios like crazy. ALSO, because Kassandra was like running around for all of these years, she absolutely came into direct contact with literally everyone on this list at least once. Being near immortal has made her a little jaded but she's still the same misthios we've loved since we first met her.

I'm not entirely sure if Deimos,,,, is deserving of a section? I have thoughts about Odyssey and like none of them are positive except for Kassandra. Like, I guess he goes back to his family?? Fades into obscurity??? His sister tries her hardest to bring him back to a normal, good life and he fades into the night.

F!Evior Varinsdottir

She has such a soft spot for birds, but especially Synin. She's often heard baby talking her bird, petting her sweetly, feeding her, it's really cute. Oh, Evior has a natural knack with animals and children alike! When she visits like, Lunden, or Glowercestercire (that's my favorite place in map and story arc!), she's always running around and playing with them. She teaches them about Synin, some Norse traditions, etc. I also think Eivor has a knack for art. She gives new designs to Tove. It's quite sweet and Tove always admonishes Evior for not looking more deeply into art. Eivor sometimes misses Norway, but England has its perks too. Nothing makes her feel more at peace than Vinland though.

#assassins creed headcanons #assassin's creed #altair ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #haytham kenway #connor kenway #aveline de grandpre #edward kenway #adewale #arno dorian #evie frye #jacob frye #bayek of siwa #aya of alexandria #kassandra #alexios #kassandra of sparta #eivor varinsdóttir #shao jun

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loneworldgazer · 4 years ago

Text

Reader Who Likes Giving Gifts

reno x gen!reader and rude x gen!reader

a/n: these are the only two that i'll start with since i could kinda grasp at their personalities!!

also this is where reader gives acts of services to them

(love reno with his friend pitbull😔🤟)

Reno

a man who clearly is a big baby, acts tough but is a huge child that wouldn't pay attention if you asked him to sit down

he teases you for how clingy and affectionate you are but you keep him grounded cause you know he wanted more

please compliment this man nonchalantly and innocently! eventhough he knows you're putting on an act and clearly knows what you're doing, why did it suddenly get so hot for him and why is his heart racing?

he cursed you out everytime you do that and tbh don't care about it, stick your tongue out at him and doubt he won't chase you around

you're always buying little trinkets and things for him and he fully appreaciates it, i hc him to be a biggest simp with the most cliche act of acting unbothered and makes fun of you for it

but make sure to make fun of him when he starts going on his little rants in the shower about how cute you are and don't wet the towel when you throw it at him when he forgets to bring it in the bathroom and when you're shocking him

going home to reno just kicking back and relaxing with the tv on and the fan on blast when his shirt crumples on the floor.

because of summer, he's just fanning his shirtless self and questions how you can go out with energy to buy your stuff.

"i'm home!" you greeted where he greeted you back and you breathed in when the summer heat sinks in and you rushed in the kitchen for drinks, yelling from the kitchen if he wanted soda pop or coke.

you crawled onto his lap and place the freezing can on his cheek and he hisses at the cold sting and he does it back to you with your can and you played around a bit with the drinks.

after fighting with him a bit, you shift in his lap constantly made him groan cause he wanted to watch tv but your head was in the way so you flopped over and placed your head on his chest. he tries to ask what you've been up to and you told him that you bought him something.

"lemme guess,, flowers?" the quirk of his eyebrow didn't match his confused expression afterwards when you said yes and carefully pulled out a bunch of different flowers from your bag and walked over to him.

you told him the flowers reminded you of how pretty he was, second due to you being the first (imagine with sparkles around you when you place your hand under your chin) but he stilled, his eyes closing slightly to your compliment which he obviously turned pink to

"geez how cheesy can you get?" he huffed and you pinched his cheek and kissed his face all over and countinued on with your speech an explained how every flower matched his description, which how hot summer was for the both of you, the cheese defitenely was melting as reno pestered in every pause of breath from on how predictable you were.

this was a battle of trying to compliment him and him shutting it down by making fun of you, if he didn't enjoy your comments then why was he turning more pinker with every sentence you threw at him? defitenely not the summer heat.

Rude

when he starts noticing all the little notes you leave, he would cover half of his face to hide his blush

you would sneak in notes whenever you go by his office at lunch and slip them on his table when he's busy talking to you while filling out papers with his head down

you thought he wouldn't notice with how much they're piling up, well you did it on purpose since he didn't bring up about your notes

(poor him, he appreciates it but he's just too shy to admit how your flowery language about loving him was a little too suggestive!)

you would so hide it in sneaky places but he hasn't said anything after you have left two so you 'hid' it in hideous and obvious places

just like any normal day, it's time for you to place more sticky notes and maybe a small lunchbox for him to enjoy

he excused himself in the middle of your small talk with him because he had to go somewhere

you quickly left the lunchbox and notes on his table when the doors swung shut, directly on his papers cause you were done with the ignorance. feeling giddy about the whole thing, you skipped on out of the office.

a firm thumb on your forehead shocked you out of your state and you tried to yell at the person but a familiar sticky note was falling off your forehead as the poor excuse of the glue quickly exposed rude who was tapping the floor with his foot.

you opened your mouth, also shocked at the audacity that this man have for even wanting an explanation but he shuts you down with a finger to your lips and you tilted your head in confusion.

"a-ah um." he was flustered! you almost screamed at how adorable he looked right now, you picked up the note that you wrote and it was doodles of you and him and a lot of 'i love yous' and you cooed at his bright face.

"cmonn rude! you couldn't possibly be that sheepish to all my messages!" you held his face and his tough facade was falling apart and if he actually broke out of it, he would litterally shake with how you close the distance between him and you rubbed his face with your thumbs while staring at his tender eyes trying to look elsewhere to not break.

"beat it lovebirds, not infront of the office" reno karate chopped both your heads lightly and slipped a hand through the space of you and rude to push you two apart to walk into the office to do his bussiness and boy, were you two embarassed.

rude excused himself with a dry cough right after he gives a peck on your lips and you rocked yourself back and forth because his reaction was one to remember and you skipped on out there to.

"sooo what happened back there?" rude did not respond but he broke down, rubbing his face, you'll forever be the death of him, right next to reno (maybe)

bonus

you slide into the elevator right after rufus and tseng entered and hummed quietly to yourself, settling in the comfortable silence.

rufus whistled out of nowhere to get your attention (as well as tseng) and you swiftly turned your head back to him to pop a question to him but he commented before you could.

"tone down the displays of affections, your man is having trouble in the office because of you" damn did that made you sputter.

#ff7r #ff7 x reader #ff7 fluff #ff7 fanfic #ff7 headcanons #reno x reader #ff7 reno #reno of the turks #rude x reader #ff7 turks #rude ff7 #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy fluff

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hyuckssunchip · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s The Deal

Pairings: Mark x Reader, ft. 00′ line (Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin)

Words: 5.9K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), slight smut, angst

Summary:

Y/N gets caught in a tight situation as she discovers that her relationship was a lie. Mark knows just how much she really means to him, but how can he prove it after what he’s done? How much was real?

“Hi Y/N!”

“Oh hey Mark,” you say as you slide into your seat and rest your forehead on your desk. You let out a deep sigh.

“What’s up?” He asked laying his own head down to face yours.

You let out another exaggerated sigh, “Nothing. I just didn’t get much sleep last night. I was up all night working on my writing assignment for philosophy.”

“Oh… Well maybe you and I can go to that one cafe to get coffee together. Maybe lunch?” Mark offered quietly.

“Huh?”

“You know, after class so you can wake up.” He said, quieter and less sure of himself.

“Oh… Well, I actually don’t like coffee. But thanks for the offer anyways.” You said, lifting your head up slightly, just enough to give him a weak smile.

Mark looked at you, furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lip. He gives you a slight nod before leaning back in his chair. He then turned his head to the right shaking his head at his friends that sat adjacent to him.

THE NEXT DAY

“Just ask her!”

“Shhh! Don’t talk so loud!”

“Grow some balls man!”

“Guys can you just shut up?! This is not helping. Telling me to man up is not going to get her to say yes.”

“Well maybe, stop beating around the bush and straight up ask her!”

“Would you two shut up? You are not the one who has to---”

“Oh hey guys. What are you still doing here? Class ended like half an hour ago?” You say, accidentally interrupting their conversation.

“Uh.. We’re uh… just discussing our project for uh… drama? Yeah. Drama.” Mark’s friend Jaemin answered.

“Drama? Why the hell would we be in drama?” Renjun hissed at Jaemin. After a couple seconds of painful silence Jeno nudged Mark forward.

“Uhh.. yeah. What are you doing here?” He asked stumbling towards you a bit.

“Oh… I just left my notebook here.” You said pointing towards the blue spiral notebook on one of the desks. “I’ll just grab it real quick and let you guys get back to your… discussing.” You said, giggling a little at the thought of them doing drama.

“Mark! Do it now!” Haechan whispered to Mark pushing him into you. As you struggled to keep your balance from the new weight of Mark, he wrapped his arms around yours to stabilize the both of you.

“Oh, sorry.” he said, quickly shoving himself away from you as if you burned him.

“Actually we’re done discussing our project, right Jaemin?” Jeno said, looking sharply at his younger friend, who nodding vigorously at you. Before you knew it they were gone and you were left alone with Mark.

“Hey, maybe… do you want to… watch that new movie that came out? Crazy Rich Asians?” Mark suddenly asked out of the blue.

“Oh! Yeah I heard that was going to be really good. I’d love to go! My roommate really wants to see that, I’ll ask when she’s free.” You reply excitedly.

Mark let out a sigh of exasperation before grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to face him. “Are you totally oblivious or just trying to let me down easy?” He asked staring into your eyes. For some odd reason you couldn’t seem to look away and suddenly your heart skipped a beat.

TWO WEEKS LATER

You and Mark had been dating for a month, ever since he confronted you and made you realize your feelings for him.

For the short amount of time that the two of you had actually been dating, you two were really close. You had gotten physical pretty quickly, although you didn’t mind it too much. Mark was something else, he made you feel things you had never felt before and it had become almost addicting.

However, despite this the two of you haven’t slept together yet, after all it was only a few weeks of dating, way too soon for you. On multiple occasions you had gotten close but were interrupted, you were secretly thankful that the two of you couldn’t go further.

Your relationship wasn’t about the physical, Mark made you happier than you thought was possible. His constant laughing and goofy smile always had you thankful to have him around. He really did brighten your day.

Mark was sweet and thoughtful, always coming up with spontaneous dates for the two of you and kind gestures that made your heart skip.

You’ve never been in love before, but maybe, just maybe you were on the right track this time.

It was Saturday, and for once you had panned a surprise for your boyfriend. A picnic date. You climbed the few flights of stairs that led to his dorm, which he shared with Haechan and Renjun, two of his friends that you were acquainted with. Nothing more than a couple of interactions, but you’ve never run into them at their dorm, save for the time they caught you and Mark in a compromising position.

Just as you were about to knock on his door, you heard voices behind the door. You knew that you shouldn’t eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help but lean in.

With your ear pressed against the door, you could clearly distinct between each of their voices.

“I don’t know. I’m so close it's just frustrating!” Clearly Mark.

“Why don't you just go for it? Why are you dancing around?” Jeno?

“I don't want to make her do anything that she doesn't want to. Especially if she’s not ready.” Your heart swelled at Mark’s response.

“What do you mean? Why do you care?” You frowned at Haechan’s response, why wouldn’t he care?

“Ha! Don't tell me you’re actually starting to like her?” You froze.

Her? Is there someone else? Is he talking about me?

There was a pregnant pause.

“Dude?!”

“... guys… stop.”

“She’s a fucking bet! Just finish it quickly, you’re so close. If you don’t we’re all fucked! You know that!” You felt like throwing up. A bet?

“Mark! Tae Oh will kill us if you don’t finish this! Please!” Finish this? Am I a game?

“I know! You don’t think I know that?! You think I want this?!”

With your ear still pressed firmly against the door, you let out a muffled cry.

“Fuck!”

As he yelled, you flinched and backed yourself away from the door.

You let out a silent sob and rushed back to your dorm room, leaving spilled contents of your picnic along the way. As you pushed your way into your dorm, thankful that both of your roommates happened to be gone, you threw yourself on your bed.

Your emotions were all over the place, you were sobbing, upset that you weren’t enough for him, upset that you were a bet, upset that he had made a fool of you. But like a flip of the switch you became pissed. He played with you, with your feelings as if you were nothing. Nothing he said or did was real, your whole relationship was a lie.

You wiped your eyes dry and wrung your hands, pausing when you felt the promise ring Mark had given you just recently for your one month anniversary. More angry than you had ever been you ripped your ring off your finger and chucked it across the room hitting the door. It bounced off and landed under your desk, but you didn’t care enough to pay attention.

Just as you were cooling off you got a goodnight text from Mark. On any other day you would be swooning at the cute text, but today you were not having it. You ignored his texts and ended up falling asleep before your roommates ever made it back.

The next morning you woke up to your alarm blaring, looking at the clock you realized you hit snooze one too many times and rushed to the door. You made to class with little time to spare and even before the professor made it. You scanned the room for a seat, and found a few. There was one next to Mark, saved for you as usual but you stopped yourself, opting to sit next to Jisung. You smiled awkwardly at him as you sunk into the seat. You felt your phone buzz again and ignored the text as soon as you saw Mark’s name on your screen. You sigh and ignore the text, pulling out your notebook and start doodling.

Mark frowned to himself a couple of rows behind you. He couldn’t focus the entire class and couldn’t help but stare at you confused. Before he knew it the class was over and you were rushing past him, not even sparing a glance. Before he could gather his things you were gone.

To be honest, it was a lot of work avoiding Mark. It’s like he had it on his agenda to track you, normally you would absolutely love it, but as of right now that was the last thing you wanted.

At some point you were out of energy and could no longer continue the chase.

“Can we talk?” Mark asked, nervously wringing his hands together.

You sighed, thinking that there wasn’t really much else you could do. Stopping in your tracks you plopped down on the empty bench you were close to passing. You tried to hold back a scoff, sure that he was worried about losing his bet. It took everything in you not to throw that in his face and stalk off.

You heard Mark let out a relieved sigh, collapsing into the spot next to you, but consciously leaving a respectable gap between the two of you.

For a moment the two of you sat in silence, neither wanted to get to the discussion at hand.

“What happened?” There was a quiver in his voice and you cursed your heart for wavering at the sound. No matter how upset you were, you still liked him and could’t help but feel guilty at suddenly ghosting the desperate boy.

You glanced at his side profile and admired him. He was leaning over his knees, staring intensely at his shoes.

For the first time since you overheard his conversation you thought about his position.

Why did he even do the bet in the first place? Mark was a nice guy, at least that’s what you had always thought. And why was Tae Oh threatening them?

You recalled what you had heard. Jeno had said that Tae Oh would kill them if Mark couldn’t finish the bet. Did that mean he was in trouble?

With one last glance at the forlorn boy next to you, you had decided. It was a stupid idea, and it would only hurt you, but for some reason you couldn’t stand the thought of Mark suffering. To the point where you would put him before you.

“Nothing happened.” You mumbled out, your internal conflict starting to give you a headache.

His eyes searched for yours, “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” You gulped, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I swear you just ran the other direction, and it took me so long to get you to talk to me. If I did something wrong we can talk about it, otherwise we can’t fix it.” He pulled your hand into his hesitantly, rubbing softly over the skin, sending warmth through your body. You didn’t miss the frown on his face when he noticed your ring wasn’t on the usual finger.

You pulled your hand out of his, wiping your palms on your jeans and fumbling with your fingers.

“I promise you nothing is wrong, I’m just stressed about school. You know cause finals are coming up.” You hoped he would fall for it, after all he knew how you were during testing periods.

“Right.” His eyes shook, “How about we have a small date night, that’ll make you feel better, right?”

You nodded at nothing in particular, eyes now trained on the bird that was digging for dinner in front of you.

“I’ll pick you up at seven then? We can get take out a watch a movie.” He asked, nodding to himself.

“Uh, I’ll just go to your dorm, I have stuff to do anyways, it’s on the way.” You rejected his offer, not thinking you would be able to pretend for a whole car ride.

“Right.”

You stood up abruptly, not able to take the tension any longer. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

Then as fast as you could you escaped.

You had spent the last few hours thinking about what the bet could possibly be. Tae Oh was one of Mark’s seniors, you often saw them in the same group, but he was notorious for be an ass. There was nothing more to say about that. Tae Oh was an ass and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he was capable of making Mark’s life hell.

Groaning, you ran your hands over your face. Why did you have to care?

You racked your brain for any clues. The other day you had heard Mark saying that he didn’t want to push you. Push you into what?

Tae Oh would’ve only had two things in mind when making the bet, break your heart or sleep with you. You frowned, Tae Oh didn’t know you that well, why would he want to break your heart, and as a horny college student it made more sense for him to want Mark to sleep with you.

Your eyes widened in realization. That’s why they said he was so close. Mark and you had gotten intimate, but never actually did anything. He must have told them that and that’s what they meant by getting close.

You chewed on your bottom lip. Could you do that for him? Honestly, before this whole situation you would’ve been more than willing to sleep with him on your own accord, god knows you were close. But you were starting to feel uncomfortable with the thought after knowing his intentions.

“Y/N?” You jolted up straight, “What are you doing? How long have you been there?”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head in confusion.

“Oh, not long, I was just about to knock.” Your face heated up in embarrassment.

“Oh hey Y/N.” You made eye contact with Renjun who was sitting on the couch with a book, feet in the position of kicking a very focused Haechan.

“Stop it. You’re going to make me die.” Haechan retaliated with a quick shove, “Hey Y/N.”

Though he didn’t look at you, you still smiled at the interaction.

“Let me kick them out, I told them you’d be over around seven.” He laughed quietly at the scene.

“Renjun, you asshole! I died!” The bright flash on the TV screen was proof and Haechan didn’t look like he was going to let it go.

“Guys! Y/N’s here, I told you she was coming.” The other two froze, staring at Mark like they were having a silent conversation before Renjun slammed his book shut.

“Right. Haechan, there’s that new place down the street that has great tacos, let’s go.” He nudged the pouting counterpart aggressively.

“But my game-”

“Haechan.” Renjun raised his eye brows while staring down Haechan, no doubt a sign that it was a chance for Mark to complete the bet.

“Oh. Yeah... I like tacos.” He stood up giving you a short salute. “Bye Y/N.”

He couldn’t help but send a wink in your direction, making you wince in reminder of your situation.

Before you knew it, it was once again just you and Mark.

“So I already ordered, do you want to choose a movie?” Mark made his way to the now unoccupied couch.

“Sure.” You shuffled behind him, mind not really thinking about the movie.

As you fell into the cushion of the couch, Mark slid close to you, eliminating any space that might’ve been between you two.

He pulled you into his arms, gripping you tightly as if he was worried that you would slip away.

“Let’s just stay here for a moment, we can choose a movie when the food gets here.” He mumbled into your neck, eliciting an automatic sigh in response.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose right?” You tensed at his confession, obviously referring to the bet.

“Hmmm.” There was nothing that you could do but hum in response.

Mark began to pepper soft kisses along your neck, leaving a little trail of love bites. You unconsciously opened your neck, giving him more access.

His kisses got deeper, leaving what you know would be dark spots, proof of possession. Soon he reached your mouth, pulling you in. He nipped at your bottom lip, asking for access, to which you gave him without hesitation.

Your hands moved to tangle in his hair, gripping softly and tugging him closer. He groaned into your mouth in response, and you could feel the tips of his mouth curve into a smile.

His hands which were once rubbing your waist, gripped you tightly, pulling you onto his lap where you were forced to straddle him.

For just a moment he was forced to pull away, looking up at you with smiling eyes, searching for the same in your own.

You couldn’t do anything but crash against his lips, leaning your body into his. There was nothing but the thin layers of your shirts, the rapid beating of his heart easily felt, and you knew that he could feel yours as well.

One hand reached up for your neck, a way for him to lock your head in place, digging deeper. The other hand meandered its way to your thigh, massaging your inner thigh, causing you to grind yourself on his lap, getting growl from him underneath you.

You felt a change in him, his grip became more needy, you were sure there would be marks in the morning.

You pulled back for air, startled at the sound of someone at the door.

“Delivery!” Mark sighed, shaking his head for you to ignore it, as he leaned back in to resume.

“Mark, the food’s here.” You mumbled, keeping the distance between you.

“Forget the food, we’ll just order again.” You kept a hand on his chest, preventing him from starting again.

“Mark.”

“Ugh, fine.” You wiggled off his lap and collapsed in the seat you were originally in. Your eyes followed his back as he opened the door, paying for the food and holding the bag in his tight grip. He was especially tart with the man, in an obvious hurry.

Once the door was shut again he slid the food on the coffee table, and crawled on the couch towards you, having every intention of picking up where you left off.

“Mark, the food’s going to get cold.” You giggled at the sounds he made in protest.

He leaned against the back of the couch, throwing his head back in frustration.

“Fine, we’ll eat first.” He cocked his head at you slightly, choosing to ignore the feeling arising in the pit of his stomach.

You stuck your fork in the first container, popping it into your mouth before chewing thoughtfully.

“Mark...” you sighed, “I actually have something to talk to you about.”

You felt the knot in your stomach dissipate, knowing that confronting him would ease your mind. The plan of going through with it tonight didn’t sit right with you, and you knew it would bother you if you didn’t say something.

“Shoot.” He nodded, chowing down himself.

You let out a deep sigh, instantly catching his attention, and put down your fork.

His brows furrowed as he too set his down, a feeling that things were about to become serious.

“I uh...” you cleared your throat. “I actually know about the bet.”

He clearly stiffened and eyes widened at your admission.

“I can explain!” He rushed out, interrupting you in hopes of stopping whatever you were planning on saying.

“Okay.” You said, shocking him with how calm you were.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead, explain it to me.” Although you knew the gist of what was going on, you were actually curious to know how he got roped into something like this.

“Uh... how much do you know?” He cut himself off. “Actually I’ll just tell you everything.”

He reached for the cup of water in front of him, quickly downing it in hopes of drowning his nerves as well.

“Do you know who Tae Oh is? I swear it wasn’t a bet between my friends, they would never do that.” He gulped, watching your blank expression. “I think you’ve met him before, he’s not a great guy.”

There was an obvious shudder from him. “About a month ago he made a bet that I couldn’t get with a girl, and I honestly didn’t care what he thought. But... he has some stuff over Jeno’s head, and he promised that if I succeeded he would let it go.”

You pursed your lips at the mention of Jeno.

“I... I know I told you I’d tell you everything, but I’m not sure it’s right to tell you about Jeno. I can ask him to talk to you, but I can’t tell you.” He bit his lip anxiously, praying that you would understand.

You nodded, admiring his loyalty, despite his current situation. You gestured for him to continue.

“It’s not like I chose you, I would never purposely hurt you or do that to you. I... I honestly liked you a lot before he even suggested the bet.” He gave you a bashful look, a sudden switch from his nerve wracking expression.

“Tae Oh chose you, I think he did it because he knew that I liked you. I mean back then I wasn’t exactly subtle about it.” A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “I totally understand if you absolutely hate me now, I mean I would too.”

You looked at his dejected form, “I don’t hate you. If I did I would’ve broke up with you the moment that I found out.”

He looked at you with a confused expression, “Why didn’t you break up with me?” There was a hint of hope in his voice. He wondered if it was possible for you still to like him after what he had done, or was supposed to do.

It would’ve hurt your pride to admit you still liked him despite his actions, so you chose to go with the pity card. “I overheard you talking in your dorm, and someone mentioned that Tae Oh would kill you if you couldn’t finish. I know Tae Oh could really make your life miserable, and I didn’t want to be responsible for that.”

Mark visibly saddened at the idea that you didn’t like him, that you didn’t want to feel guilty about the aftermath.

“Here’s the deal,” you let out, finally coming to a conclusion, “I can’t sleep with you. I don’t feel comfortable with that anymore.”

Mark winced, feeling a tight lump grow in his throat at the thought of you not able to stand him, and the thought that he makes you uncomfortable.

“I don’t want Tae Oh to win though, for both your sake and Jeno’s.” He made eye contact, clear that he was shocked.

“I don’t know what the rules are, or what proof you have to have, but I’ll help you with that. But that’s all I can do.”

Mark didn’t look thrilled at the idea, if anything he looked dejected. However grateful he was that you were willing to do this to help him, he couldn’t help but wish you didn’t pity him. If it weren’t for Jeno he would’ve rather taken punishment from Tae Oh, after all that’s what he deserved.

“Mark, you have no idea what this means to me. Thank you so much.” Jeno grinned at him, wrapping him in a suffocating hug, making Mark feel worse.

“Right, it’s not like I couldn’t do it for you.” It was monotone, he was unable to show his real feelings about the situation.

“So how’s Y/N?” Jaemin asked, watching the interaction.

“What do you mean?” Mark furrowed his brows and directed his attention at the other boy.

“Well, you guys can still date, she doesn’t have to know it was a bet.” He shrugged as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Oh how badly Mark wanted that statement to be true.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean?” It was Jaemin’s turn to be confused.

“We broke up.” Mark avoided eye contact with anyone else, staring up at the sky and squinting in the bright light.

“Why? Did you tell her?” Haechan asked, “I didn’t think you had it in you to do that right after the bet was over.” He frowned to himself. “Don’t you think that was too harsh?”

Renjun elbowed Haechan in the side, shutting him up. As one of the more attentive of the group, he could see the way that Mark was acting in response.

“What could I do?” Mark shrugged, trying so hard not to let his voice crack and play it off like he didn’t care. If only they knew that it was the other way around. But he took Haechan’s blows, after all he deserved it, he was the cause of it anyways.

“Y/N! Hey!” You heard Jeno’s footsteps sidle up beside you, the faint breathing evidence that he had jogged to you.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly embarrassed to thank you.

“Um, thanks. I just want to let you know that it wasn’t like it seemed, Mark was just trying to help me. He’s not a bad guy, I know he probably seemed harsh, but he really didn’t want to do it.”

He gulped, and peered over at your face, more than shocked at the fact that it was expressionless. Too similar to the one they had gotten used to seeing on Mark.

“I know.” You hiked your bag up higher on you bag, gripping tightly on the straps for support.

“Mark really likes you. For real. He’s been really upset, beating himself up for it you know. He won’t admit to it, but we all can see it.”

You squinted your eyes closed, trying to ignore the underlying meaning of Jeno’s words.

“He wouldn’t ever just use you like that. You know him.”

You had enough.

“Do I? Because this was a far cry from the Mark that I knew, or at least I thought I knew.” You sent one last look before escaping out the doorway, leaving Jeno behind with a hurt look.

Jeno never wanted to hurt either of you, but it was a consequence of his stupid decisions. And now other people had to pay for his mistakes.

“Y/N.” You stopped in your tracks, it seemed that no matter where you went you couldn’t get away from them.

“Renjun.” You replied curtly, having nothing else to say to him. Beside him was the familiar pair of shoes, one’s you would always recognize.

Mark shyly lifted his hand to greet you, but dropped it as if he realized that he no longer had the right to.

Renjun, ever the observer watched the interaction, taking in the tense air between the two of you.

“Guys I’m telling you something’s not right. I know it was stupid, but Mark is really suffering.” Renjun spilled to the rest of the boys, “We ran into Y/N and he looked so depressed. It was really bad.”

“Well, of course it’s gonna be bad, Mark basically used her.” Haechan let out, never thinking about his words.

“Haechan!”

“What am I wrong?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“You don’t have to say it like that.” Jaemin scolded, glancing at Jeno who seemed more stoney than usual.

“He’s right though.” Jeno let out. “It’s my fault, I never should’ve let Mark do it.”

“Jeno, you didn’t know what Tae Oh was going to do.” Jaemin comforted him, to which he was met with empty eyes.

“I ran into Y/N, but she wasn’t having it. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive him.” Jeno dropped his head in his hands.

There was a silence as none of the boys knew how to comfort him.

“What’s going on?” Mark stood in the doorway, watching the scene before him unfold.

“Nothing.” Renjun quickly covered up.

“Jeno? What’s going on?” Mark ignored Renjun’s excuse and focused on the downtrodden boy.

“I’m sorry.” Jeno’s voice sounded broken, leaving Mark on edge.

“Why?”

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have let you do it. I swear I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I tried to explain everything to Y/N, I’ll try again, I promise.” He pleaded with Mark, hoping that he would forgive him.

“Oh.” Mark stepped back from Jeno, the emotionless tone coming through again.

“Please, I promise I’ll try to fix things.”

“Don’t, it’s fine. There’s nothing to fix anymore.” Jeno hated the look Mark had on his face. “Don’t bother explaining, she already knows everything.”

“What?” Renjun butted in, unable to hold his curiosity.

“She overheard everything. We didn’t actually sleep together, she just let me pretend so we would win the bet.” Mark picked up his bag that he had dropped on the floor earlier.

“But-”

“Jeno, it’s fine. Explaining won’t change anything. There’s nothing you can do to change it. Don’t stress yourself out, or blame yourself. I’m just as much at fault, I chose to do it.”

With that Mark, left the same way he came in, no longer feeling like he could stand to be under the scrutiny of the other boys.

“Wait, she knew? And she faked the whole thing for him?” Haechan scratched his head, still processing the bomb Mark dropped on them. “But doesn’t that mean that she still cares about him? Why would she do that for him?”

“Haechan for once you didn’t say something stupid. I agree. I think we should talk to Y/N, chances are if she did that for him, she still cares about him.” Renjun nodded enthusiastically, eager to fix the situation.

“I’ll do it.” Jeno said, gritting his teeth.

“Jeno.”

“No, I fucked everything up, I need to fix it.” He turned to Jaemin, placing a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him.

“I know what you did.” Jeno blurted out, startling you.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you and Mark didn’t actually sleep together.” The look on his face slightly scared you, and you weren’t sure whether him knowing was a good thing or not.

“Did he tell you that?” You cocked your head to the side, trying to feel out the situation.

“Yeah, and I know why you did it too.” Jeno leaned down, getting eye level with you. “You still like him don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I did it cause I felt bad. I didn’t want to feel like it was my fault you guys would suffer.” You looked away from him, watching the stream of students exit the library. “And no, how could I like him after that? He used me.”

“You know exactly why though, if you’re going to hate anyone, hate me.” His words more aggressive, a tactic he was using to redirect your anger.

“I don’t hate him,” you mumbled out, “and I don’t hate you.”

“See, you did that because you still care about him.” He prodded, “If you didn’t you would’ve never let him pretend to go through with it.”

He paused letting that sink in, “For what it’s worth, he still cares very much about you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so depressed.”

You sighed, “I don’t want him to be depressed.”

“Then you should talk to him. I know you guys still have feelings for each other, and honestly it’s hurting you guys more to ignore it.” He raised his eyebrows earnestly, giving you a tempting offer.

“I know for a fact that if you were willing to take him back, he would beg for forgiveness. Mark loves you Y/N.” The last bit came out soft, but it had the biggest impact.

Your heart ached, yearning for him despite the situation.

“Just talk to him. I know I don’t deserve to ask that of you, but I’m begging you, for Mark’s sake.” You had never seen Jeno this distraught before.

All you could do is nod.

“Y/N?” Mark froze at the sight of you standing on the other side of the door.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, com- come on in.” He stuttered, embarrassed at how nervous he was. “Do you want something to drink... or?”

“No, I’m fine.” You mumbled, staring at your sleeves. “I just wanted to talk about, you know.”

“Right.”

The two of you took the chance to settle into the familiar couch, memories of your relationship coming back to you.

“I don-”

“I know-”

You blushed at the awkward atmosphere.

“You first.” Mark let you continue.

You cleared your throat. “I talked to Jeno.”

He nodded silently, “I told him to stop bothering you, I’ll talk to him again.”

“No, there’s no need.” You let out, “We talked about some things, more specifically things between us.”

Mark gulped, unable to see where you were going with this.

“I’m probably really stupid for doing this, but I’m obviously attracted to stupid.” You tried to joke, referencing Mark. No matter how much you tried to relieve the tension, it still hovered over you like a think cloud.

He let out a nervous laugh, dying out to let you continue.

“You have no how much I wanted to hate you when I found out. And you have no idea how much I hated myself for not hating you.”

Mark sat up at the insinuation that you didn’t hate him.

“Mark, I still like you a lot. There’s a part of me that hates myself for liking you even after everything, but there’s a larger part of me that tells me that this is more important.” You took a deep breath, struggling to finish your thought.

“I love you.”

You choked back your breath in shock, you weren’t expecting him to confess so bluntly.

“I was stupid and I hate that I did that to you, but I want you do know that I don’t regret helping Jeno, I just should’ve gone about it a different way, one that wouldn’t have any casualties. I would’ve begged on my knees if I had to, but I didn’t feel like I had the right to. Honestly, I figured I would be doing you a favor by leaving you alone.” His nervous tick of picking at his nails made it clear that he was just as nervous as you were.

“I don’t want to praise you for doing something like this, because it was stupid and hurtful, but I’m glad you were able to help Jeno.” You smiled at him, “He’s really thankful, you have know idea how many times he let me know that. He also kept me updated on you, and that definitely didn’t help my feelings go away.”

Mark felt a surge of happiness rise in him, the realization that you still like him, the hope that this wasn’t the end of your relationship, and the gratitude that his prayers were answered.

“Mark, I love you too.”

322 notes · View notes

tenspontaneite · 4 years ago

Text

Pigment

Callum discovers the wonders of elven pigments.

(The first of two pieces written for @falling-for-you-a-rayllum-zine, which is now having leftover sales!) ('Future' chapter; takes place post-s3, naturally not canon to TTM. Oneshot. 4k. Ao3 link)

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The first time Callum was introduced to the concept of elvish pigment was, ostensibly, by Rayla’s skin. He’d noted the marks under her eyes in the same hurried, panicked glance that picked out the horns, the ears, the alarming points of the weapons in her hands…

He wondered about them, of course, but in the first frantic two weeks of their acquaintance, there really wasn’t a lot of time to ask about it. Not until the Storm Spire, when he sat mulling over the flight-runes on Ibis’ wings, and how they might have come to be there.

“…So, I’ve been wondering,” he said to Rayla, apropos of nothing, while she was tending to her equipment. She looked up as he began to speak, the armour momentarily forgotten. “Those…markings you have, the ones on your face—and the ones a lot of other elves seem to have—what are they?”

She blinked, and for a moment, her fingers rose to her face, as though only just remembering the marks were there. “They’re pigment?” She offered, squinting at him a little. “…Is that a trick question, or…?”

“No, really, I have no idea what they are.” He assured her. “I was never sure if they were tattoos, or…weird elf birthmarks, or something. But—pigment? Does that mean it’s like…ink? How do you get them on?” Tattoos, as he understood them, involved needles. He hoped elven pigment didn’t involve needles.

For a moment, Rayla stared at him, looking decidedly nonplussed. “You…paint them on?” She offered, still thrown. “With a brush? And then they stay there for a while. Half a year, maybe. Depends on how good your pigment is.”

“Huh.” Callum mused. For a moment, he was tempted to press further, to ask about the intricacies of various pigments and the application thereof…but he’d been asking for a reason, after all, and his attention remained there.

If they were painted on...then that boded well. That meant that it was something that he could do, if only for the presence of the pigment and a brush.

It wasn’t much later that, after a guilty rummage through Ibis’ things, Callum stood at the pinnacle of the Storm Spire and painted flight-runes onto his skin. That was his first true introduction to the pigments of elves. As an artist, he couldn’t help but marvel at it. The pigment was white, yet it entirely obscured the darker colour of his skin with only a single, easy stroke. Only one layer, and it was solidly opaque. It glowed a little—then settled utterly dry, clean, and steadfast upon his arms.

For a moment, he spared a thought to wish that his paints could be like that. He’d dabbled in every form of art medium he could get his hands on over the years, and he’d never worked with any pigment like this one. It would be gorgeous to paint with.

But then he was too distracted trying to fly to think about art any longer, and that was the last mind he paid to pigment for a while.

After the battle of the Storm Spire, he prevailed upon the use of a finer, neater brush, and filled in the edges of his flight-runes until the shape of each was perfect and immaculate. Ibis watched him with a critical eye, and nodded.

“The spell will come easier if the runes are tidy.” He said, approvingly. “You’ll need to re-apply the pigment every three months. Any longer than that and it will begin to fade—which isn’t so great an issue when the marks are merely aesthetic, but with runes…”

“I can see how you wouldn’t want these fading, no.” Callum said ruefully, and accepted the little bottle of white pigment with a murmur of gratitude. He tucked it into his things for the next time he and Rayla went travelling, and she smiled at him.

“Packing your pigment for the journey, Callum?” She remarked, a little teasing. “Think we’ll be gone that long, do you?”

He laughed, and shrugged, glancing down at one of his arms. “I guess it’s just in case, really. I shouldn’t need to touch them up again for months, but…you never know. Wouldn’t want to end up flightless for some reason.”

“I suppose you are a tad obsessed with flying, now.” She agreed, as if she wasn’t always finding excuses for him to sweep her up into the sky for another flight. She reached out, absentminded, and trailed a fingertip around the curve of one rune with the trace of a smile on her lips. “Still, if it came down to it, you could always borrow mine.”

He glanced up at her, startled. “Your pigment?” He checked, eyes settling on the marks beneath her eyes. “I didn’t know you had any with you.”

“I don’t. Need to pick some up from Ethari, when we visit.” She said, succinctly, and he supposed that was another reason for their stopping at Silvergrove on the way to Katolis. How long had it been, since she last refreshed her pigment? Did she need to do it again soon, or was she just planning for the future?

He stared at her for a moment, contemplating her, feeling his heart flutter with a familiar warmth. If her markings had faded at all since he met her, it wasn’t immediately obvious to him. They looked as clear and lovely as ever; a natural part of her face. It was strange to think of what she might look like without them.

Rayla eyed him, when he’d stared a little too long and smiled a little too softly, and huffed at him. Her cheeks pinked a little, the colour darkening her markings. “What are you looking at?” She muttered to him, a touch self-conscious. Rather than look away, he smiled at her all the wider, and captured the hand she had on his arm to plant a kiss on its fingers.

“You.” He said, very contentedly, and watched with pleasure as her face coloured and her fingers twitched beneath his touch.

“Dumb prince.” She sighed, a smile spreading unbidden and affectionate across her lips. It was beautiful, so of course he kissed that too. He felt the widening of that smile against his mouth, and lingered there for as long as she’d let him before she prodded him away to finish packing.

She gave his arms a strange look, though, when he next bared them. Appraising, almost, with a narrow-eyed sort of consideration. “…What?” He asked, when she’d been staring long enough to warrant the question.

“Your runes are…neat.” She said, tone as considering as her eyes. “Tidy.” She shook her head then. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, with all the art you do. Of course you’d be good at painting skin-pigment.” He eyed her, because there was clearly more to this observation than just surprise that he’d managed some tidy brushwork, but all she said when he asked was “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t believe her, obviously. Not with the way she kept shooting half-considering looks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. But he didn’t press her, and she didn’t mention whatever was on her mind. In time, he forgot about it.

Until they were back in the Silvergrove.

Rayla asked Ethari, and within the minute he was pressing a small dark bottle and a fine brush into her hands. “I did wonder if you needed any.” He said, as she turned the glass over and the indigo liquid swirled around within. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She agreed, pocketing the vial and the brush both. “It’ll start fading soon. So…thanks.”

He nodded at her, all warmth and familial affection. “Not a problem. Did you want me to help with that while you’re here?”

She hesitated, then, and for a moment…for a moment, her eyes slid to Callum, who’d been watching them idly over the top of his sketchbook. “…I’m good.” She settled on, eventually, and if there was anything particularly knowing about Ethari’s smile then, Callum didn’t notice it.

He kept drawing, content in that she was content, and happy to be in her home under happier circumstances than the first.

But then, later: “I wanted to ask you something.” Rayla said, abruptly, when it was just the two of them in what was ostensibly her childhood room. It had been adapted over the years for a growing teenager, but still maintained hints of the past lingering within its walls. He spotted a child’s doodle of a shadowpaw etched into the grain of the dresser, and suppressed a smile.

He turned to her, eyes crinkling a little at the thought of a tiny rambunctious Rayla who scrawled over the walls and furniture. “Yeah?” He responded, a little distracted, as he wondered if there were perhaps any baby or childhood portraits in residence somewhere. He should ask Ethari. If there were any to be found, surely he’d know.

That distraction fled the instant she spoke. “Will you paint my pigment for me?” She asked, directly, and his eyes shot to her at once. At his expression, she added, “You don’t have to. But it needs doing soon, or it’ll start fading faster.” She paused, looking a little more tentative as she said, “If you don’t want to, Ethari can—”

“No,” he blurted, clumsy, then scrambled to say “I mean, yes, I mean—I mean I’d like that. To help. To, er. Paint your pigment on.” He felt his face heat, in part from how he’d stumbled over the words, and in part because…well. He might not know a lot about elven pigment and elven markings, but he was fairly sure that they were…personal. That painting someone’s markings for them was personal.

His reply settled her, and she huffed, lips twitching with familiar fondness. “…Good.” She said, in the end, and surprised him by leaving the room without further word. He blinked after her, uncertain whether he was supposed to follow, but then she returned a bare few moments later with a towel and a wet cloth that she was already wiping her face with.

“Er,” he offered, perplexed, as she dried her face off and set the towel and cloth both down. He didn’t understand until she plucked the bottle of pigment from her dresser and pressed it into his fingers. “Now?” His voice was something of a squeak, and she rolled her eyes.

“When else?” She asked, procuring a brush and giving him that too. “We’re setting off tomorrow. Now’s best.” She paused. “…That okay?”

Her voice had gone tentative again, and his chin jerked up, fingers tightening around brush and bottle as if worried she’d take them away. “No, yeah, it’s okay,” he assured her, and then laughed, a little nervously. “I just…wasn’t expecting it.” He cleared his throat, and took a closer look at the brush. It was like the one he’d filled his own runes in with, fine and delicate and short enough that it didn’t seem liable to flick off in weird directions. “…So I just…paint this onto your face?” He asked, after a moment, feeling his cheeks heat for reasons he couldn’t quite put to words. It felt special, in a way that was hard to describe.

“That is how it works.” Rayla answered, dryly, and then tugged him by the rune-adorned arm until they were both sitting on the floor, towel and cloth at close remove. He supposed those were there in case of spillages, though considering how quickly elvish pigment took hold, he wasn’t sure how much good a towel would do. He wondered if there was some sort of solvent, magical or otherwise, that was up to the task of dissolving pigment like this.

“What happens if I make a mistake when I’m putting your pigment on?” He wondered aloud, only half directing it at her. “Do you just have to walk around with it on your face for months?”

She snorted, and shook her head. “Nah. There’s pigment-remover for that.”

A little tension eased from his shoulders. “Oh, good,” he sighed, relieved. “That’s much less pressure, then.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Just paint my face, Callum.”

He chuckled at her, a little nervously, and uncapped the bottle. The liquid inside was so much darker than the pigment he used, and bizarrely true in its colour. Usually, inks tended to look much darker than their actual colour when they were in the bottle. It was only when you painted them onto a page that you could see how light and bright they were. This, though…it was just solid, liquid indigo, as if someone had distilled the concept of the colour of Rayla’s markings and spilled it into a bottle. “This would be amazing to paint with.” He murmured, somewhat distractedly, watching the pigment shimmer in the low light.

Rayla didn’t answer that, which was unusual enough that his eyes darted to hers, and found her looking strangely thoughtful. She shook her head, though, as if to dispel some thought, and started giving the pigment bottle and the brush some very meaningful looks. He laughed, softly, and obeyed the unspoken command; he dipped the brush in, drained off the excess, and then lifted it. It was dyed the same solid, true indigo—a colour that he was about to put onto her skin.

It hit him then, or at least started to; he looked between the brush and her face and felt his breath catch at—at something. It felt a little like panic, a little like wonder, a little like the breathless infatuation she always managed to inspire in him. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it, and just…stared at her, heart beating wildly at—at the trust, and the honour, that he couldn’t help but feel she’d given him.

She was looking impatient by the time he finally moved, and likely would have spoken if not for how he shuffled closer, until their knees were touching. Her mouth closed, watching him, eyes settling on his own as he reached towards her. His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, feather-light, as tentative as he always was when he remembered that someone as amazing as her had deigned to be with someone like him. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his hand, thumb tracing tenderly along a cheek that warmed beneath his touch.

He cupped her face in his hand, then, unable to resist the impulse, and she leaned into it without even thinking. Her eyes fell half-lidded for a moment, the smallest smile twitching at the edges of her lips, and he wanted to kiss her. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing, but—but he wanted to, and she was smiling at him, and her eyes were soft and warm in the quiet and low light of the room—

So, he kissed her, and she huffed an amused breath against his lips, lifting a hand to trail affectionate fingers along the side of his neck. “This doesn’t feel like face-painting to me.” She murmured to him, fond and teasing at once, and he wouldn’t have been surprised for a moment if his heart stopped beating for the strength of how much he loved her. “Weren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

He laughed, a little breathless, and the warmth of it spilled between them. “Yeah.” He agreed, helplessly, drawing back with her fingers still warm on his neck and his hand still cupped to her cheek, and paused for a moment to treasure the sight of her looking at him like that. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that she loved him. He didn’t think he’d ever believe it. “I’ll just…get on that.”

She withdrew her hand, and watched him. Waiting.

His fingers shifted on Rayla’s face, moving to press his thumb gently to the side of the marking under her left eye. Pulling at the skin, ever-so-slightly, to allow for painting it more evenly. Another urge struck him, but this time he suppressed it. He could kiss her cheek-markings later. For now, he was supposed to be painting them. And so…

With an almost reverent care, he lifted the tip of the brush to her face, hovering just above her skin with a heady mixture of breathless wonder and breathless trepidation. He exhaled, softly, and felt her eyes upon him. Watching, warm and fond and expectant.

Finally, with the utmost care, he touched the brush to her skin.

She flinched a little at the touch so close beneath her eye, but he’d expected that. He held the brush steady and traced a slow, perfect line down her cheek, along the edge of the extant marking, like a dark border to the fading colour. And it was fading; he could see that now. It wasn’t noticeable on its own, but with the contrast of the fresh pigment beside it, it was fully obvious that the old colour had begun waning.

With the brush to her skin, Callum’s hushed awe fell in step with the breadth of his skill and practice. He’d never put brush to someone else’s skin before, but that did nothing to diminish his skill. He knew brushwork, and he knew the delicacy needed for fine detail, and…and, in the end, this was easy. Just tracing around an existing marking, and filling it in. There could be nothing easier.

He drew the pigment across her skin in smooth, effortless lines. He traced the borders of her marking and then filled it in, up until when the brush began to run empty, and he had to go for the bottle again. The colour settled fast, immediate, and perfect upon her face, with that gorgeous fidelity he’d never seen in any other pigment or paint or ink in all his life. It was a pleasure to use it, and all the more that he was using it for this.

Callum fell half into an artist’s trance for the remaining minutes it took to finish. He filled the left marking in, stark and perfect, then shifted his fingers tenderly to her other cheek, and repeated the process. When he was done, there was nothing but perfect lines and perfect colour upon a face that he loved.

He smiled, small and satisfied, and set the brush aside. “Done.” He murmured, and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers, cradling her face in both hands. It felt strange, to risk touching her skin when he’d only just painted it. But that was the wonder of elvish pigment; it dried the moment it was applied, and permitted no possibility of smearing whatsoever. He stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes and felt more happy, more tender, more loving than he’d ever known. “Perfect.” He murmured, reverential, the words meant for more than the pigment.

Her eyes blinked across from his own, and he loved them. Loved her. She brought her arms up and drew him closer, one hand splayed on the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll have you do me some new markings, someday.” She murmured to him, in the end, a small and secret smile at the edges of her lips. He stared at her, spellbound, for the three beats of his heart that lingered between her smile and her movement. She leaned in and closed the meagre distance between them, the kiss soft and sweet and all the more perfect for how dearly he adored her.

He imagined, for a second, drawing that ink-brush again along her skin. Imagined it between her fingers, along her arms, casting indigo whorls about her shoulders. He thought of new pigment, new markings, and the sheer delight of being the one who got to put them there. His heart fluttered. “I’d like that.” He said, against her lips, and she kissed him again.

“Good.” When she drew back, the markings were still stark and beautiful beneath her eyes, where he’d painted them. The sight of them left him a little breathless, even now, unable to shake the sense that he’d been afforded an enormous privilege, a gift of worth beyond measure.

Someday, he hoped, she’d afford him that gift again.

Callum saw the fruits of Rayla’s thoughtful consideration and furtive glances a while later, when July came around and he was startled from thinking about her birthday by the arrival of his own. She cornered him with palpable satisfaction, and gave him a parcel that she very clearly expected him to be delighted with.

She wasn’t wrong.

He unveiled an array of small bottles; thirty-six hues of true and perfect elvish pigment, distilled for the purpose of painting. He beheld them all with a nearly breathless joy, finding the little parcel of pigment-brushes, the bottle of solvent, the masking-fluid….

“You like it?” Rayla asked, with a broad and decidedly smug smile on her face. She clearly already knew the answer.

“I love it.” He pronounced, and set at once to trying them out.

The very first thing he painted was her. She watched him, and huffed as she saw the familiar lines of her own face taking form on the page, pleased and exasperated all at once. She never did seem to understand why he drew her so often, but that was okay. And, with these pigments…

The colours were spectacular, brighter and more intensely pigmented than anything he’d ever seen. He found himself utterly swept away in the delight of using them, and hours later, emerged from his artist’s trance to the completed work: Rayla in the early evening of the Silvergrove, her hair and eyes gleaming softly with the gentle illumination of the lights and moon-moths around her. It was one of the finest works he’d ever produced, and at the sight of it, he concluded the process of falling helplessly in love with Elvish pigment.

Rayla, for all her embarrassment at being painted, seemed to approve of it too. “You picked that up quickly.” She noted, handling the edges of the thick paper with the delicate care it deserved.

“These pigments are my new favourite thing.” He declared, arranging the bottles a little more tidily beside him. His eyes rested, a little consideringly, over another wide sheet of paper. He stared at it for a long while, growing quiet and solemn, and eventually reached out to take it.

He had his birthday traditions to observe, after all.

The second thing he painted with the elven pigments was his family portrait, atrophied and truncated by tragedy. There was no Sarai there, and hadn’t been for years. No Harrow, and that was a new pain. He felt the ghosts of their absence in the lines he didn’t draw, in the colours that never fell upon the page, in the voids of grief that they left in his life.

But there were new faces now, too.

With quiet, exquisite care, he drew himself. He drew Ezran, older now, wearing a mantle that had come for him too soon. He drew Bait in his brother’s arms. He drew Aunt Amaya. And, tenderly: he drew Azymondias and Rayla. The outlines took form, and as the hours passed, elvish pigment filled them in.

In the end, he had his family portrait again. Changed, and echoing with its empty spaces, but…

Quiet, from her place beside him, Rayla slipped her hand into his own.

“Come on,” She said, with the small but tender smile that he loved. “Zym has a present for you too. He’ll be disappointed if he can’t give it to you today.”

Callum exhaled, and let her fingers tighten around his, pulling him up to his feet beside her. His own smile slipped onto his lips. “Then we’d better go find him.” He said, casting a last glance at the portrait on the table. He didn’t resist it when she tugged on his fingers, pulling him away.

With a strange, quiet serenity, he followed her out into the light.

---

end.

This is word-for-word what was published in the Rayllum zine 'Falling For You'; I have made no changes. It’s the shorter and less impressive of my two pieces, but I hope you liked it anyway.

I’ll potentially be making some minor edits to the second piece before posting, given I intend to continue it - in fact, I’ve already got like three extra chapters of it written, though small ones. I’m considerably more excited about that one, so stay tuned!

#rayllum #rayllumzine #tdp fic #tdp callum #tdp rayla #seriously though the soulmate au piece is good times #looking forward to everyone being able to read it #had to do word count negotiations to get a piece that long into the zine lol #the mods kindly granted me a couple extra ks #and then I decided to reduce my word limit for this first piece by 1k so I could shift that to the more exciting piece too #it deserved every word I could give it #this one is nice don't get me wrong #i'm just not made for short decisive pieces #and the soulmate AU's ending is VERY MUCH open-ended #and inviting follow-up #which I then wrote and shared with my closest cohorts #awaiting the day it could be published #looking forward to seeing the comments on my baby

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years ago

Text

Dance With Me Under the Stars

@yeah-im-a-fae-deal-with-it, I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun making it and I hope I did the wishes justice. Happy Holidays!! (Much of the imagery was based on the song Volcano by The Vamps.)

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

Word Count: 3993

It was mid semester and Virgil had arrived late to class for the first time in his three years of college. He hurried in quietly, taking his usual seat and pulling his books out. Almost shamefully, he grabbed his homework and walked between the desks to put it on the teacher’s.

He must have had the worst luck in the world as, just then, she turned around. “Ah, Mr. Storm. I was wondering when you’d show up.” Her tone was kind, no note of malice anywhere.

Virgil nodded. “I forgot to set my alarm.” His voice was quiet, barely reaching past the professor.

She nodded with a smile that seemed genuine. “Go back to your seat, please. Just as discussed yesterday, you’ll be debating Mr. Croft in a few minutes.”

Virgil trudged back to his seat, slipping past the others to sit in his usual corner. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to find Logan Croft, a double major in zoology and astronomy who was taking this class for fun, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Virgil ignored him, turning back to his notebook and doodling in the margins as he waited for the professor to finish taking attendance.

He got through half the page before he was being called up to debate, as per usual. He and Croft were only put against each other as examples or if the lecture finished early. This was mainly due to them both being stubborn in their ways and being able to debate things for hours. Thus, they were both called into her office the day before to confirm the topic and style of the debate.

There they stood, on opposite sides of the same plain. It was a familiar position for the pair during their debates. While many would have seen a peaceful place within that plain, maybe even a spot to build something, the two students only saw a battlefield with the fight yet to be fought, yet to be won. Their words danced across the plain, leaving wounds that didn’t mean a thing outside of that moment. A struggle for dominance raged before, as it always did, they came to be equals that saw eye to eye.

Their debate lasted for the first half of class before they came to some sort of agreement on their topic and sat down to listen to the teacher give a lecture on what just happened. After class, Croft caught up with Virgil on his way out. “That was a good debate today, Storm.” He said. The battlefield was back to a plain, nothing special about it.

Virgil looked at him briefly before just shrugging and walking up the stairs. He didn’t bother to look back or wonder why the student who usually avoided him unless it was during these debates was talking to him. He just knew he needed to get to class.

A day later, he was running to dance class and missed a step. Crashing down the stairs, he landed at the bottom in a haze of pain. He tried to move but found that his vision was blurry and his ankle was broken. Someone nearby gave a shout and he heard footsteps on the stairs. A hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, coming face to face with the person who lived across the hall from him.

“Virgil, what happened?” Emile said, eyes looking concerned.

The dancer didn’t even lie to the psychology major he knew only in passing. “I fell.” He shook his head, trying to get his vision to focus on something, anything. “My ankle hurts.”

Emile nodded and moved to look at it. Gently pressing, he inspected the joint. Virgil hissed when he pressed on it and Emile sat back. “Yep, that’s broken.” Sighing, he moved to help Virgil to his feet, throwing the dancer’s arm over his shoulders. “I’ve got time before my next class so I’ll take you to the nurse before I go tell you’re dance teacher you won’t be able to make it today.”

Virgil shook his head, hobbling along beside him. “No, I’ll tell her later.”

Emile frowned. “You know Professor Kim is not going to be happy about this development. She was counting on you being there through the whole semester.”

Virgil just laughed, shaking his head. “Since when do you talk with her?”

“Since I came to drop off your lunch that day and she was the only one there. We struck up a conversation about you.”

Virgil nodded. “Fair.”

Emile pushed the door open and sat Virgil in the nurse's office before leaving with a wave, tossing an, “I’ll be back in a bit,” over his shoulder. Virgil waited for the nurse to come and diagnose him, soon being rolled out on a gurney on his way to the hospital to get a cast on his broken ankle. He’d also been told that he had a concussion but that wasn’t the main concern.

A few days later, debate class was back in session and Virgil was there in a cast, crutches by his side. Croft came in and eyed the crutches before setting his bag by his usual chair. He didn’t sit down as Virgil thought he would, rather coming over to stand by Virgil’s seat. He nodded his chin at the cast. “What happened there?”

Virgil was taken aback by the care in his voice, a voice that had previously remained so neutral while talking to him that it was borderline monotone. He shrugged as he continued to grab his books out of his bag. “I fell.”

Croft raised his eyebrows, looking about as convinced as he would if Virgil had just told him the sky was magenta. “You fell? Why don’t I buy that, Storm?”

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe the truth, Croft.”

He huffed, his eyes melting into the concern that was evident in his voice. Opening his mouth, he seemed to be about to say something but thought better of it, going to sit down instead just as the professor walked in. She paused by his desk. “Professor Kim told me about the ankle. You don’t have to debate for the rest of the semester if you don’t feel up to it.”

Virgil shook his head. “Standing won’t be a problem as long as I have the crutches.”

She nodded. “Still, I’d like to let you rest for a bit.”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m fully capable of standing and debating but I’ll follow your lead on this.” She gave a final nod and moved to stand at the front of the room to begin class.

Thus, six weeks went by. Virgil did essays on dance and movement instead of performing the dances. Professor Kim insisted on recording the lessons so he’l still be able to do them when he’s recovered, which he was immensely grateful for. Debate class went similarly in that he wasn’t called up as often to debate Croft anymore. Instead, he wrote most of his debates as argumentive papers.

That summer, Virgil stayed on campus. He wasn’t taking a summer course, he was simply trying to follow the videos Professor Kim left for him. He lived nearby anyways so it made sense to keep using the studio on campus. That’s how he ended up running into Croft again on the stairs.

“Oh,” the other student said, bag in hand as he was clearly trying to put his books back in it, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Virgil smiled, holding up the gym bag that had replaced his book bag. “The studio is allowing me to catch up on my dance lessons over the summer.” He paused. He and Croft had never been too cordial with each other, merely remaining civil. However, toward the end of the semester they'd come to some sort of academic truce. Now, they were just normal strangers, just two students. So, Virgil took a chance. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Croft finally shoved the last book into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m having to retake a class due to low grades.” He shook his head. “I just can’t grasp the subject.”

“What is it?”

Croft sighed. “Psychology.”

Virgil nodded and, on a whim, gave an offer. “I passed Psych with flying colors if you want me to tutor you?”

That plain, that had once been a battlefield before lying dormant, became a meadow in that one moment. No longer a place for duels or violence, but peace and healing. Their once shaky truce seemed to settle, becoming something more permanent, as Croft smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked side by side as they discussed times and tactics for studying. They concluded that their only overlapping free time was directly after Virgil was finished with dance practice as that was when Croft got out of his classes and clubs but before Virgil had to go to Professor Kim’s office for office hours.

So, the very next day saw Virgil walking out of the shower room, towel he’d been drying his hair with still in hand, to see Croft leaning against the wall in the hall. “I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes or so.” Virgil said as he approached.

Croft looked up from the book in his hand. He briefly glanced at the page number before snapping it shut and picking up his bag. “Apologies, I like to be early.”

Virgil just waved his hand as they fell in step beside each other. “It’s fine. Next time, you don’t have to wait in the hall if I’m not in the shower, you can just sit in the room. As long as you’re quiet, you’ll be fine.”

Croft nodded. “Noted, thank you.”

They made it to the library and sat down, both pulling out books. When Croft gave Virgil a puzzled look, he laughed a bit. “I’ve brought my notes and blank copies of homework to use as practice problems. First, I want to gauge just how bad off you are.” he set down the cumulative final review. “Fill this out to the best of your ability.” Croft set to work, a serious expression on his face. Virgil didn’t want to twiddle his thumbs while waiting so he pulled out his phone and opened it to a new note, beginning to plan out his evening.

Once that was done, he looked up to see Croft with his tongue sticking out slightly, hair in his eyes, and eyes focused on the page. Strangely, there was something beautiful about the concentrated look on his face. Maybe it was the way the sunlight dramatized it and cast his eyes into shadows, making Virgil want to stare until he could see where the iris ended and the pupil began; maybe it was the way his hair framed his face in a way that made Virgil want to pull out a sketchbook.

Feeling self conscious at that thought, he looked back down at his phone and ignored the other student until he heard a pencil connect with the table. “Alright, Storm, I’m done.”

Virgil nodded and slid the page over to himself, quickly checking it against the answer sheet he’d made up. He gave Croft a grade, circled it, and slid it back. A sharp intake of breath came back as Virgil pulled a clean piece of paper closer to himself and began to write down what needed to be worked on.

“Is it really that bad?” Croft’s voice came from Virgil’s side.

He paused in his writing to look up at his former academic rival. He shrugged. “It could be worse. You don’t seem to be too bad off right now and we’re gonna try to get you to where you need to be as soon as possible.”

Croft nodded and away they went. The next few weeks were spent in a new routine. Croft would wait in the hall if Virgil was in the shower but most times Virgil had lost track of time and gone over, resulting in Croft sitting in the corner reviewing definitions. A few times, one of his clubs wouldn’t meet and he’d get out earlier than normal. Those were the times that Croft would sit in and make sure Virgil wasn’t putting too much strain on his ankle and was properly hydrating. Those were the times they’d strike up a bit of witty banter that reminded them of their debates but on a personal level that the debate class was lacking.

One step at a time, they came closer on that meadow until they were standing side by side, leaning on the other. As they grew closer, the meadow rose as if two tectonic plates were pushing it toward the sky. Over the course of that one season, the meadow had become a mountain of a friendship. Their banter began to spread outside of just those rare moments, becoming a constant part of their meetings, tutor sessions, and walks.

It wasn’t long before the summer semester ended and they had a few weeks of vacation before the next semester. As the days shortened and the leaves turned colors, Virgil almost expected Croft to go on his way. After all, the agreement was done. Virgil had finished learning all the moves he’d needed and Croft had passed his classes with the usual flying colors.

Still, tutor sessions turned into chats over coffee, dancing changed to walks in the park, but their late night talks on the way back to their apartment building stayed the same. Virgil enjoyed that constant, knowing that no matter what else happened that day, he could walk back to the apartment building with Croft. It was one such walk that it struck him. In all their time together, he’d gotten closer to Croft and no longer saw him as the academic rival they’d been at the start of the year. Instead, he saw him as a friend, or even more than that.

Just when Virgil was satisfied and comfortable with the balance they’d created together, fate tossed a spark gently onto the mountain. In that instance, the mountain turned into a volcano. In that one instant of time, Virgil had fallen for Logan Croft and he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had no idea how he’d tell him, or even if he would tell him. After all, volcanoes can stay dormant for years before going extinct or erupting. Virgil could just wait and hope it was the former or deal with the latter.

The next few weeks were much the same as that with the exception that Virgil was noticing every little thing that Logan did. He noticed the way he leaned toward Virgil as they talked, the way his focus was entirely on the dancer during conversations. Logan was always walking on Virgil’s left side, the ankle he’d broken mid spring semester that acted up occasionally but especially on stairs. He noticed Logan holding doors for him or smiling at him for no particular reason.

All of this gave Virgil a spark of hope in his chest that had him wondering if Logan liked him back. That spark was almost crushed one afternoon. They had just gotten their coffee and started their usual round about the park when Logan spoke. “I might not be able to do the full rotation today, Storm. I’ve got a date with Roman later.”

Virgil felt like his chest had just been stomped on. “. . . A date?” He didn’t know how he kept his voice steady when his heart was breaking, getting closer and closer to shattering the more he thought about those two words.

Logan tilted his head to the sides. “Maybe ‘date’ is the wrong word for it. It’s more like a meet-up.”

Virgil nodded, pretending he hadn’t been holding his breath through that whole exchange. “Okay, when do you have to leave?”

“About half an hour.” He turned and smiled. “Plenty of time.”

Virgil smiled and walked ahead, turning to face Logan as he walked backwards. Logan shook his head. “That’s not the safest way to travel, you know.”

Virgil just shrugged. “There’s worse ways to travel.” He also got to see the rare grin that spread across the zoology major’s face, not that he would tell said student that.

Their walk in the park ended with them standing at the entrance. “I’ll see you later, Storm.” Logan said by way of parting.

“Wait! Later as in tomorrow or later as in-”

He laughed, something that was even more rare than his grin but something Virgil longed to hear more often. “Later today.” Virgil nodded, walking back to his apartment alone.

On a whim, he grabbed his gym bag, stuffing his dance shoes in it, and went to the studio. He scrolled through his playlist as he entered before just hitting shuffle and letting the music play as he got ready. He waited for the next song and took a second to identify it before throwing his hoodie off and moving to the center of the room.

He went with the music, letting his body flow in whatever way it wanted. Incorporating all the moves he’d learned over the past few months into a cohesive whole that was both as graceful as saplings in the wind but as sharp as the flapping of cloth. He danced to forget his troubles and anxieties, letting them bleed into the movements. A faster song came on and he changed his movements to match, becoming sharper as he let himself get lost in the music, lost to the beat of his feet against the floor, the feeling of the air on his sweat, the feeling of dancing and being free and feeling on top of the world.

When the playlist ended and his muscles were screaming for him to rest, he collapsed onto the floor, panting for breath. When he felt like he could stand, he moved to check his phone clock and found that he’d spent the whole afternoon dancing. Quickly, he showered and made his way back to his apartment. He was still overheated after dancing for a few hours straight so he just had his hoodie slung over his arm, his gym bag over his other shoulder.

He got back to his apartment to see Logan with a fist raised to knock. Smiling, he moved around him and unlocked it. “Come on in.” He dropped his keys in the little bowl on the entrance way table. “I’ve just gotta put this stuff away but it won’t be long.”

Logan smiled, standing comfortably in the entryway. “Take your time, Storm, I’m not going anywhere.”

For a brief moment, Virgil wondered what his first name would sound like in Logan’s voice. He didn’t dwell on it, instead he nodded, ducking into his bedroom to store his bag where it belonged. Taking a second to put on some extra deodorant and move his hair around so it looked semi-styled instead of the mess it was before, he took a deep breath. The scare of losing him that afternoon had made Virgil realize that he needed to act fast before he lost Logan for real.

So, he kept the hoodie across his arm as he went back out and picked up the keys again. “Ready to go?”

Logan nodded. “Quite.”

Virgil held the door open for him, locking it on his way out. They started down the path in relative silence, the only noise being the crunching of gravel beneath their feet and the sounds of life coming from nearby buildings. Virgil was hesitant to break the silence despite the feelings and words bubbling below his surface. Logan also seemed comfortable in the lack of conversation. They made it to a bench that was out of the way and sat on it to stargaze for a bit.

Virgil tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the bench. His eyes scanned the sky, resting on different stars and connecting them into constellations. After another while of silence, Logan shivered beside Virgil and the dancer turned his head, looking at the astronomy major. “Are you cold?” His voice broke the silence like a sheet of ice falling from a slope.

Logan shrugged. “A bit. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Virgil hummed and threw his hoodie over the other. “No use in you getting cold when this is right here.”

Logan didn’t react beyond tilting his head down just the slightest bit. He hummed, taking a breath before speaking. “Apologies again for having to end our afternoon walk early.”

Virgil waved his hand. “It’s fine. In fact, it actually gave me time to think.”

Logan looked over at him, eyes inquisitive behind his square black frames. “What about?”

Virgil took a deep steadying breath of the night air before he turned to face Logan just a bit more on the bench. “About you, actually. I realized something when you said you had a date with Roman.”

Logan nodded, his gaze sharpening as his attention seemed to hone in on Virgil. “Okay.”

Virgil fiddled with the rips in his jeans, suddenly anxious. “I realized that if I didn’t act now, someone else might be walking by your side in the park, laughing with a coffee in hand. Someone else might have the door you knock on late at night when you can’t sleep, be the person you debate with over the phone into the early hours of the morning.” He took another deep breath, not looking up at the wonderful human sitting in front of him, the one who deserved the world. “I realized that I love you and can’t stand the thought of another person getting to hold your hand and kiss you goodnight.” He turned his head so he was staring out into the night rather than at Logan. “There, I said it. I love you. I love you so much my chest aches.”

Logan hummed in a way that Virgil couldn’t interpret before there was the rustling of fabric and Logan was kneeling before Virgil, one hand hovering near the dancer’s cheek. “I’m glad you told me as it makes what I’m going to say much easier.” Virgil’s eyes widened slightly, fearing the next thing to come past Logan's lips.

“I love you too. Honestly, I think I’ve loved you since the start of the fall semester. The way you helped me study, putting things into ways I can understand and bending over backwards to do so. The care you take with everything you do, the grace in your every move, the fire and passion you put into your dancing, I love all of you.”

Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing but his nerves settled when Logan’s soft expression didn't change, didn’t turn to a sneer, he didn’t laugh or mock Virgil. Elated, he leaned forward but paused before he could connect their lips. Logan smiled at the quiet ask for consent and leaned in with him, closing the distance and bringing him into a kiss. His hovering hand settled on Virgil’s cheek as Virgil’s hand came up to cradle the back of Logan’s neck, neither wanting to let go.

When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. Logan pulled the hoodie tighter around his shoulders before standing, offering a hand to Virgil to stand as well. An idea came to him and Virgil put his hand in his pocket, pulling his phone out to play a few ballads. “Dance with me under the stars?”

Logan grinned, sliding his hands to be around Virgil’s neck. “I’d love nothing more.”

So, the two did just that, dancing the hour away under the midnight stars. In the arms of the one they loved, the same person who had been their greatest enemy at the start of the year, neither could ask for a better way to spend their time.

#college au #virgil sanders #logan sanders #analogical #roman sanders #ct emile #emile picani #angst with a happy ending #light angst #broken ankle #ace writes #I've had this ready to go for two months now and couldn't wait to post it

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Could you please do #2 from your prompt list with Javi or Frankie? Thank u!🤍

#2 - Kiss

I had to go with Javier 💕🥰

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Can you stare more quietly?" you looked up from your paperwork finding, just as you knew you would, Javier's dark eyes watching you intently. You'd felt him watching you for some time, silent, but his silence often spoke volumes. He cleared his throat before looking away and reaching for his cigarettes. He groaned lightly when he realized he'd gone through another pack; his chain smoking was particularly strong when he had something on his mind. Clearly there was a lot going on under that dark mop of hair, "Javi?"

"Nada," he said gruffly with a shrug of his shoulders, leaning back in his chair as he looking at the dirty old ceiling. You knew that look all too well. This time it was your turn to stare, and you tossed your pen onto your desk, and walked over to him motioning for him to get up, “what are you doing, dulzura?”

“Let’s go,” you quirked your head towards the door. It was late, and most of the office was dark, leaving only you and Javier there with a few other stragglers. He leaned forward and gave you a curious look but you could see a smile tugging on his features, “come on, Javier. Let’s get out of here. Want to go for a drink?”

“You read my mind,” he said gruffly as he stood up and grabbed his jacket, following close behind you, out of the dingy, dirty office and into the cool of the fresh air of the evening.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s on your mind?” you asked as you nudged the neck of your bottle against his. He’d been quiet, more so than normal, and it was startling. This wasn’t your normal Javi, this was a different Javi... and you were worried. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but nothing came out, “Javier?”

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he downed the remainder of the foamy yellow liquid before setting the bottle roughly onto the dirty bar table. He drummed his fingers for a moment before giving you a searing gaze, “I like you, Dulzura. You know that.”

“Javier,” your heart stopped for a moment as you listened to his words. You wished you could just easily accept his words and let them wash over you in peace. But you couldn’t...not with Javi. Not with his reputation and his tendencies...you know it wasn’t anything...but still. You never judged him or cared about it. Javi was Javi....your friend and partner. But you wanted to guard your own heart, “stop please. You don’t have to do this...we don’t need to.”

“What if I want to,” he insisted softly as you looked away and shook your head. How desperately you wanted to slide into his side of the booth, wrap your arms around him and kiss him. “we’ve been skirting around the issue for weeks now and I think we need to address it.”

“What’s there to address?” you asked innocently although you did know that it really should be discussed at some point...but you wished it could be at a point in the future...a far. far point in the future.

“Really?” he scoffed slightly as he reached into the jacket pocket and fished out his newly acquired pack of cigarettes. He made quick work of sticking it in his mouth and lighting it up, blowing out long, billowing puffs of smoke, “come on, we’re both adults.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, thickly swallowing the lump in your throat. Gods you wished he would just drop the subject, but that was definitely not one of his traits, “look, Javier, let’s just call it what it is. It wasn’t a good day and we were both tired, and hurting - vulnerable - and we took comfort in each other. One thing led to another and we have sex, it doesn’t need to be more or less than that.”

“That’s a lie,” he took the cigarette out of his mouth and tapped it off in the ancient ashtray, “don’t fucking deny it. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“Javier,” you looked away, taking a swig from your own bottle as you avoided his gaze, “we’re friends - partners. I don’t want...I don’t want to ruin what we have. Why?”

“Because we can be more than that...so much more,” he insisted, his low dropping low as he silently willed you to look at him, “I have liked you for so long, I know my feelings aren’t...fake.”

“I’m not exactly your type, am I?” your small laugh was bitter; dry. You realized it had cut a little more than you had intended. You hadn’t meant to go for a low blow, but you did want to remind him that he had a reputation for a reason. Judging by how he froze and the almost hurt expression on his face, you knew your words had their intended affect, “look, Javi, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t...I didn’t mean it.”

“Then what did you mean?” his voice steeled as he watched you intently, his gaze trained on you, all consuming and disconcerting. You shrugged as you played with your hands in your lap, knowing that this was a dangerous and thin line you were treading, “come on Dulzura, I’ve never known you to be so quiet.”

“I’m scared, Javier,” you finally admitted after a few moments, as you stared at the table, “I’m scared to let you in and let down my guard. I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart. A-and I don’t deserve that...I don’t deserve to deal with a broken heart and I don’t want to ruin you. In my eyes or anything else.”

“You’re so sure that I would break your heart?” it was a small laugh, a bitter thing, that made your stomach drop as soon as the sound met your ears, “you don’t know me well at all then, baby.”

“Javier...” you leaned in closer to him and dropped your voice, “I don’t...I love you, Javier. But I don’t....this can’t happen.”

“What did you say?” he asked before you could ramble on and get too lost in your train of thought. You hadn’t even realized those three little words that slipped out of your mouth. But as he stared back at you, those brown eyes soft as ever as he searched your own, you realized what had happened, “what. Did. You. Say?”

You wanted to deny it, pretend it had never happened and take back your words, but you couldn’t. Not when it was the truth, not when they were already out in the open, not when they were true.

“I...umm,” your face instantly warmed up as you turned away, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole, “don’t make say it again. Please.”

“Say it again and I’ll never ask you to repeat it,” his face was almost lit up with joy as he realized he had you right where he wanted you. You groaned as you finished your beer, unable to contain your own laugh as you quickly flipped him off.

“You realize that your statement itself is a fallacy,” you teased as he sat back in the booth and shrugged, bringing a hand to his mouth as he brushed his fingers over his mustache. You sighed heavily, letting go of all the worries and nerves that were racking your body, “fuck...Javi...”

“I love you,” he blurted out before you could say anything else. Your mouth dropped and formed a small o as you realized what he had said. At first you wondered if it was some sort of colossal joke or he was just pulling your leg to try and get you to repeat those damned words. But when he remained silent, waiting for some sort of reaction and didn’t make some sort of start remark, you realized he wasn’t joking.

“I...huh?” your brow furrowed as he laughed lightly giving you an expectant look, “Javi?”

“I’ll say it again if you will.”

“I love you?” you asked as you looked at him with wide eyes. His grin spread across his features, brilliantly highlighting his dimple, “is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Only if you mean it,” he cocked an eyebrow before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and stubbing it out in the ashtray, “do you?”

“You’re an asshole Javier,” you insisted as he noncommittally nodded, “but yeah. I, umm...I do. I have for a long time.”

“Well that settles that then,” he stated simply, a satisfied little look on his face as you just sat there in confusion.

“Settles what?”

“I love you,” he said as you didn’t bother to hide the little smile on your face, “and you love me. Maybe that’s all we need. Maybe that’s all that matters.”

“Javier...”

“Do you ever think that we think too much?”

“I would argue that as DEA Agents its our job...”

“Maybe we’ve gotten too lost in that,” he stated simply, “maybe we need to think less and just...be.”

“Sage words coming from you, Javier Peña.”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” he smirked as you dramatically rolled your eyes, “but I’m being honest with you. Maybe we shouldn’t think too much about any of this...and just see where things go.”

“I’m scared...”

“I am too,” he admitted, almost laughing, “I haven’t felt this way about...anyone before and its...scary. God, I’m grown man and here I feel like a fuckin’ kid.”

“Javi?”

“Dulzura?”

“Will you...will you kiss me?” your cheeks felt like they were on fire as your question hung in the air for just a moment. There was a wicked little glint in his eye as he nodded with a light, nervous huff of air, “but not here.”

“Oh? Oh.”

“If we’re going to do this, I want to do this properly,” he insisted softly, “and I’m not kissing you in this dirty, run down bar. I want to do this properly. Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay now that I can get behind.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggest softly, earning a smile from you, “ice cream sound good?”

“Yeah, Javi,” you agreed as you gently took his outstretched hand, “that sounds good.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos @rogerfxckingtaylor @queenbbarnes @persephonesnebula @spacedustmazzello @queenlover05 @ah-callie @blushingwueen @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander @rosetophighlander @rae-gar-targaryen @hiscyarika @readsalot73 @huliabitch @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd @beepbeepsephy @gooddaykate @scarlettwitcher @nerdyknightwritersblog @choicesarcade @arrowswithwifi @everythingaboutnothingstuff @24kgoldentip @suckerfor-fanfics @bestintheparsec @pedrosdoll @winters-buck @javihoney @aeryntheofficial @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial @asgardianvamp21 @keithseabrook27 @karmezii @dearspacepirates @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou @shameless-pope @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #one word drabbles #is this slightly ooc javi?#idc but i love him!!

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bangingoutthetunes · 4 years ago

Text

Snowfall.

A drabble in which you walk home with your boyfriend in the snow and get to cuddle + braid his hair.

Word count: 2.3k

tags: hair braiding, fluff, bokuto is a human puppy

“Come on, (name)-kun! It’s literally so cold out here I might die!” Kotarou pulled your hand forward and you almost tripped at the sudden jerk. He looked back over his shoulder, puppy-dog eyes wide and shining. A cheerful grin had found itself onto its face at your smile.

“It’s not like I want to be out here in the cold, Kou! I just need to catch my breath, we’ve been running for the past ten minutes and although you’re wearing pants, I’m wearing a skirt and tights. Gimme a break!” If just for a moment, you felt burningly jealous of the pants the Fukurodani’s boys uniform required; they would’ve definitely kept you warm. Panting from the exhaustion, you trembled in his grip a little bit. He walked over to you and pulled you into his chest, chin resting on your hair and arms wrapped around your waist. He smelled like soap and vanilla and like the best parts of cold December afternoons.

Peering to the left of his arm, you took in the scenery around you; snowflakes had begun to blanket rooftops and adorn the naked trees, minivans would drive by full with mothers and their children’s friends, bike riders would exhale dragon puffs of condensation, and some other classmates were huddling at a corner shop to pick up some hot chocolate and coffee to continue on their way.

Having moved from the Miyagi prefecture in early March of this year, you hadn’t gotten to experience snow in a small town on the outskirts of Tokyo. This was of the first times you got to enjoy the gentle fall of friendly snow without having to worry about negative repercussions, and in this moment you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else than Bokuto Koutaoru, the six foot puppy that wanted to take you to his house through the long route so you could catch sight of all the wonderful sights his town had to offer. It was bitter cold outside, but the warmth inside of your chest, slowly spreading to your limbs, was enough to keep you running.

“Are you ready to keep going, princess?” he mumbled into your forehead, absentmindedly doodling on your back with his mitten-covered fingertips.

“Yeah, I’m all warmed up now!” You smiled into his chest, burying your nose into his vest and planting a kiss there as a silent thank you.

“Great, because tag,” he booped you on the forehead with his index finger and stepped back,” you’re it! Last one home owes a cherry soda!” He laughed, brilliant like the sun stretching its fingers through the clouds. The corners of his eyes crinkle and he wrinkled his nose, clearly pleased with himself.

“Oh, it’s on!” You chased after him, having committed the route to memory from walks home so many times before. You ran at a quick pace, but your legs were so much shorter and his training was so much more intense that you could barely stay at fifteen feet behind him. Damn him and his stupid volleyball captain gig!

He slowed down, if just for a moment, to let you catch up to him. He stretched his hand out to you, beckoning for you to hold it. “Come on, let’s get there quicker!” Once you laced your fingers into his own, he yanked you forwards. In no time, you made it to his doorstep. He fished for his keys in his coat pocket and unlocked the door with his left hand, tugging you into the warmth as soon as the door flew open. A gust of hot air flew out of the house, peppering your face in kisses and very welcomed heat. Kotarou stepped inside, and you followed suit behind him, the two of you placing your bookbags on the floor. You began to kick your uniform shoes off when he sneaked up behind you, wrapped his hands together at your belly and pulled you up into the air. “H-hey!” He laughed at your surprise and pulled your back into his chest, waddling with you towards his room.

“Give me a sec, I’ve just gotta get the door-” he placed you down on the flooring while he fiddled with the handle and the door slid open at the kick of his foot. He ushered you inside. “Come, sit on the bed! Get comfortable and change out of the uniform, you’re probably freezing right?” Concern laced his voice as he walked over to where you sat and he cocked his head to the side. “I think I’ll get into something more comfortable, thank you baby!” You reached over to grab his hand and gave it a kiss behind his knuckles, and you could swear you saw him shiver from the ghosting of your lips.

“You’re welcome! I’ll be back in a bit, I’m just gonna get some clothes from the dryer and bring us some snacks. I went out with ‘Kaashi the other day and we picked out some things for you!” Before he walked out of his room, he turned back to wink and blow you a kiss. You giggled at him. God, you’d be damned if he wasn’t the cutest thing to walk this earth. Stretching your arms above your head and wiggling out of the cold, you looked around his room to try and figure out where exactly he had his pajamas. You took a shot at his dresser, and it took a bit of digging but you found the perfect outfit: an oversized grey shirt with old sweatpants would do just fine to warm you up. You slipped out of your blazer and wiggled the skirt off while admiring the decorations in his room; he had some volleyball posters, some framed pictures of him with his sisters, and atop his dresser you saw some papers that made your heart flutter; he had your first movie ticket, Weathering With You, framed and the post-its you’d slipped into his locker decorating the outside of the frame. To the left, he also had a printed out picture he took of the two of you on his phone while you shared a chocolate ice cream cone (with extra sprinkles, of course).

You’d been to Koutarou’s house before, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to walk around his room; since his parents were out working, you’d come after school (on the rare days he didn’t have practice) and cook with him. One of your favorite memories of trying to cook with him was when you tried teaching him how to finely dice scallions; the poor boy couldn’t cut thinly if his life depended on it, and whenever he saw the knife get close to his thumb he would flinch.

You wiggled into his shirt and plopped onto his bed. He had a plush vabo-chan and a horned owl plushie resting in between his pillows. You kicked his throw blanket up so it could cover your legs and shut your eyes for a bit, nothing on your mind except for your angel’s smile and his kisses peppering your forehead. You could feel yourself slipping into a comfortable vibe and it was so nice to be able to rest your body after running in the snow for such a long while. At a knock on the wall, your eyes fluttered open and your gaze traced your boyfriend’s form, hair damp (but drying) against his forehead, long-sleeve shirt tight against his chest, eyes blown wide and smiling, and packs of sour gummies and dark chocolate in his hands. He bumped his body against the light switch to turn the lights in the room off, allowing only the soft glow reflected from white snow to enter from his window.

He ran over to the bed and threw the candies at its foot as he wrapped you in a bear hug. “You look wonderful in my clothes, baby!” He chirped, voice dripping with adoration, as he admired you in his clothes. He was so warm and soft against you, and you wrapped your hands together at the base of his neck and pecked his lips. They tasted like hot chocolate and chapstick and felt surprisingly soft for the cold weather. Even if his lips were chapped, you still wouldn’t have wanted to kiss anyone else’s. You pulled away from the kiss to gaze into his eyes, color reminiscent of sunflowers and sunshine, and your heart fluttered in your chest as his gaze lidded and his eyes smiled.

“What do you want to watch, princess? After all, movie night was your idea!”

You thought for a second, “Hmm, I saw that there was a cool documentary on netflix about international chefs! We could learn a thing or two from it so we can cook the best meal ever, right?”

He threw his head back in laughter and scooched closer to you on the bed, wiggling his feet beneath the blanket and pulling it up so it could cover the two of you. He turned the TV on, remote in hand, and clicked through the buttons until he saw the Netflix app. Flicking over to the Documentaries, he paused when he saw some about food. “Is it the Street Food one?”

“Yeah, baby. We can watch a couple of episodes, the order doesn’t really matter anyways.”

“Cool! I want to watch the one about Argentina! I’ve heard they have amazing steak down there.” For some reason, you hadn’t expected his favorite food to be steak and instead for it to be something more like pure sugar. It had nothing to do with his energy level…

In spite of the absolute fact that he was always riled up and lively, in this moment with his head rested on your right shoulder, he looked at peace. His eyes were glued to the screen (or so you thought, because his gaze was really fixed on your arm as he tried to count all of the freckles there), his breathing was even, slow, and his fingers were gently grazing against the side of your left arm. He really did look like an angel, a piece of expired heaven that fell into your lap and promised to be forever yours. You smiled down at him in a lazy fashion and bent your neck to give him a kiss on his scalp. It smelled crisp and clean, and your belly fluttered when he looked up at you from quirked eyebrows. His hair looked amazing when it was down and, if anything, you almost preferred it to the spiky owl look.

He shifted his weight so he could instead lay his head on your lap. You laced your fingers into his two-toned hair and lightly scratched his tresses. He had been gifted with many things, and among them was a thick head of hair; his locks were silky and plentiful; every meander of your fingers led to more strands resting between them. He seemed to lean into your touch and sighed contentedly when you scratched at a spot at his head that was left of center. He really seemed to like when you would twirl his locks on your fingers, and it made you wonder…

“Kou?”

“Hmm?”

“Could I braid your hair?”

He let out a hearty laugh and turned his head to look up at you. “I’d love nothing more, (name)-kun. Go ahead.”

You sighed, running both hands through his scalp and feeling the silk slide in between your knuckles was so unexpected but so so welcome. He leaned into the touch and tilted his head forward to let you play with more of his hair.

“(name)-kun, it tickles!” He laughed at the foreign sensation and his eyes crinkled shut. He was the sun.

Scratching his head with your fingerpads, you ran the fingers of your right hand up his arm to let him know that he was safe and that the new sensation was just that, something he should begin to get used to. He leaned into your touch, trusting, peaceful, calm. You separated three locks in between your knuckles and began to twist the center and right pieces together. Then, you twisted the right and left ones together, then the left and center. It was difficult because of his shaggy layered haircut, but you could tell from his staggered breathing and the nuzzling of his nose into your thighs that he was absolutely loving this. The first braid looked so pretty because of the contrast between his black roots and silvery locks, and you took a scrunchie from your wrist to tie it in place. Granted, it took five twists and the braid looked SUPER clunky, but you felt like that gave it so much charm. You tugged on the hair behind his right ear and began to weave it together like Arachne weaving her master tapestries, and braid begot yet another until the right side of his head was all tied up in a knot that you would (hopefully) be able to detangle. Hair tucked behind his ear, you noticed that he had a dusting of freckles on the pinna that trailed down to the nape of his neck. The black dusting of freckles against pale skin looked like stardust. He was beautiful.

His breathing steadied, and it seemed like he had fallen asleep at the behest of your touch. A smile was painted onto his face, his nostrils flared and his lips half-parted as if he were having a pleasant dream. This was too much, it was too cute. You shifted around for your phone and took a picture of him in your lap, face glowing from the chatter and brightness of an argentine street restaurant. He looked perfect. You sent his phone the picture and saw it buzz on the bed, screen illuminated with a picture of him giving you a kiss on the forehead. You began to smile, and a look out the window proved that the snowfall had gotten heavier. Your own exhaustion from the day began to settle in and take you prisoner. In between the soft whirr of the heating, Kotarou’s steady breathing, the soft background noise of steak sizzling and Spanish chatter, and the delicate dance of the snowflakes outside, you began to slip into a peaceful slumber. This would be the first of many naps with Bokuto to come.

#haikyuu!!#bokuto koutaro #fukurodani #bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader fluff #fluff #haikyuu! fluff #my writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #bokuto koutaru x reader #katherinewritessometimes

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fracktastic · 3 years ago

Text

33 - mais en français

The rewatch continues.

General dub thoughts:

- Laura’s voice still irks me. It’s not a bad voice, it just doesn’t feel like it matches the character. The cadence and delievery are great, but the pitch isn’t. I’m not ragging on the voiceover artist, just the casting choice. Billy’s voice is a little too hard-edged, too. Starbuck’s voice is starting to bug me, but Lee’s is perfect.

- I understand shortening the subtitles to fit everything on screen if the character is saying a lot, but what about when they’re saying something short? (”Fermez-la” vs. “Tais-toi”). Why not just match the script in those cases? They clearly didn’t have language learners in mind... Also caught at least one meaningful discrepancy between the subs and the dub - ”Dernier comptage de survivantes” vs “Nouveau bilan des victimes” - sure, the end result is the same, but the tone changes. It’s extra frustrating because depending on the phrasing used, I have to bounce back and forth between reading the subtitles and listening to the audio to understand it.

- I feel like a lot of diacritics are missing from the subtitles, but my spelling is terrible, so what do I know?

- This is actually a really interesting way to watch the show - it forces me to pay a lot more attention than I would otherwise, and I definitely feel like I’m catching little details I missed previously. No multitasking, no knitting/embroidery/phone/sewing/sketching/etc. Episode thoughts:

- Love the detail of the photograph in the pilots’ ready room.

- Forgot the bit about problems with Colonial One’s FTL drive; the decision *not* to go to Galactica does a great job of reenforcing the boundaries between the government and military, and also reinforces that while Adama and Roslin are agreeing to work together, there’s significant mistrust.

- Dee seeing the memorial hall for the first time gave me chills.

- Ominous looming shot of the Olympic Carrier behind Colonial One before it’s actually introduced. I’m sure it was a question of maximising bang-for-buck where VFX were concerned, but it reads well on a rewatch.

- Not sure if it’s intentional, but Col. Tight does seem to be handling the sleep deprivation better than most... Also, a recent post I saw about female characters not eating in Marvel movies must have struck a chord, because I notice Saul going to town on noodles, but I can only recall 1 time we see a female character really chow down on BSG (and then it’s Kara in a very specific context...). I will have to keep an eye out...

- Deperessing introduction of the whiteboard is depressing.

- Speaking of VFX, some of the centurions on Caprica are a little rough...

- Ever want to reach out at a character and shake them? Yes, Baltar is “un peu bizzar” and you should get rid of the frackweasel! I used to think Laura had worse instincts for people than she realized, but now I’m wondering if she *does* have good instincts, but talks herself out of following those instincts.

- Apparently, Galactica’s crew are getting depressed instead of exhausted, but the solution is still stims?

- I’m continuing to find Saul more compelling and sympathetic on this watchthrough than ever before. I think the voice actor is actually helping in this case? Is that taboo to say?

- Just noticed Kara’s thumb ring. Was she wearing it in the mini? Did she wear it the rest of the series? How am I just noticing it now?

- Chief’s face watching Lee and Kara is just perfect.

- Helo’s looking worse for wear, but what really concerns me is how is that Six’s hair dry as she’s standing in pouring rain?

- Love what they did with the CIC lighting when the Olympic Carrier came back. Such a dramatic change from the mood of a moment earlier when Tigh and Adama were chatting.

Update: Now with bonus doodles. Not striving for profound realism here, just general impressions. Almost added Billy; still might... Facial hair is hard to draw, and so are the faces men make while shaving.

#bsg en francais #bsg rewatch #battlestar galactica #language learning #doodles

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

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Out Tonight (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

Summary: The morning after your drunken karaoke hookup with Rafael Barba

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warnings: Mature content (no smut), very dubious consent due to alcohol, SVU-typical topics discussed

1,850 words

The light was what woke him up. Even behind his eyelids, the light was a gnawing pain that irritated him out of what had been an extremely heavy sleep. When he at last gave in to the inevitability of consciousness and opened his sluggish lids, the light seared into his retinas and stabbed him like a dagger through the optic nerve, making him hiss and pull the covers over his head.

In short, Rafael Barba awoke with a splitting hangover.

Groaning and shielding his eyes from the blaze with a palm cupped to his forehead, he peeked out of the covers and swiveled his head around. He was lying in a bed that was not his bed, in a room that was not his room. Based on the narrow size of it, the big screen TV at the center, and generic art on the walls, it was clearly a hotel room. The sun shone angrily in through the window, reflecting harshly off the windows of adjacent skyscrapers.

Something heavy and warm moved in the bed next to him, and made a low noise. At that moment, he realized there was an arm draped around his waist. His head throbbed painfully as his heart sped up.

You opened your eyes with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head, then propped yourself up on your elbow with a drowsy smile. “Morning, Rafael.”

He blinked at you, eyes wide and unbelievably pale green in the daylight, with his pupils contracted to dots. “Hello,” he greeted with bewilderment and impending panic that he haphazardly stuffed down inside a well-trained disguise of professional courtesy, though several of its seams were ripping already, only two syllables in.

“Last night was… something,” you murmured, eyes squinted into narrow slits. You were calm and pleasant, but there was a trace of hesitation in your voice, like you were nervous, or hiding something. It was enough to arouse his suspicions. You knew what was happening. You knew his name and weren’t surprised to find him in your bed, or yourself in this room.

“Where am I?” he said sternly, words short and clipped. “Who the hell are you?”

Your eyes opened wide at that, then scrunched closed again with a pained grunt that brought your hand to your face. You opened them again slowly, gradually adjusting to the light, and squinting at him in confusion you rasped, “What?!”

He was convinced of it now. He’d seen enough cases like this, taken enough witness testimony, to understand exactly what had happened to him. “You drugged me,” he growled. “You think you can get away with drugging an A.D.A.? Was this for some kind of… of blackmail?”

“Drugged you? What the fuck?” Your eyes filled up with confusion, hurt, and fear. You scrambled away toward the headboard, wincing. “Are you saying you don’t remember anything? No,” you shook your head, laughing nervously, “This… this is one of those weird pickup artist games so you don’t have to call me, right?” But there was no recognition in his eyes, only a cold, impersonal glare. Your hands flew to your mouth.

His resolution that you were some sort of predator faltered as he watched you panic, and you seemed so small and frail, and scared. It made no sense that he would wake up with no memory of last night, though. Rafael Barba was always in complete control of himself. He did not drink to excess—he rarely even got drunk—and he would never have gone home with a stranger.

As he collected the fragments of his thoughts, however, he began to shape a different story. The splitting headache and fuzziness in his mind was familiar—he recognized it from sophomore year at Harvard, and a party with the legacies who shared last names with wings of the library where he had been peer-pressured into drinking so much he blacked out. He ended up being blamed for the whole thing, while his wealthy “friends” didn’t get so much as a stern lecture. That day, he learned a valuable lesson about never letting his guard down. But a dim memory came back from the night before—he remembered being devastated by the result of a trial. He remembered nothing had been going right. And he remembered drinking.

If he was that drunk… if he couldn’t remember what he did…

He was stuck to the inside of his pants with dry semen. You had pulled away so that you were no longer under the blankets, and his chest constricted when he saw your shirt and bra torn open, and angry bruises and bite marks covering your neck all the way down to your breasts. Your face was drained of color, and you stared at him with terror when you spotted the direction of his gaze, swiftly closing your blouse. “Oh god,” he croaked. He had seen images just like this hundreds of time, submitted into evidence. He had heard this story a hundred times, too: a normally harmless man gets drunk and assaults someone, then later feigns innocence because he couldn’t remember the crime. Barba had put away men like that, with never an ounce of pity for their excuses. It wasn’t you. He felt nauseous. Blood pounded in his ears.

“What did I do?” His throat was so dry. He swallowed hard, and swallowed again, but the horrible dryness remained. “Oh god, what did I… Did I do anything inappropriate? Are you hurt? Oh god.” He blinked, glancing around the room to anchor himself to his surroundings. Big hotel flat-screen. Bathroom door. Tiny office desk with his Brioni suit jacket folded over it sloppily. He didn’t remember taking it off. “OK,” he breathed. “I need to establish a timeline. We need to determine if any… if any crimes were… Oh god.” He scrubbed his face with his palm and left his hand clamped over his mouth. He sexually assaulted someone and his life was over. He was one of the monsters he put away.

“What the fuck is happening?” you half-whispered, the corners of your lips pulling taut into a grimace as your hungover mind spun to catch up with the emotional whiplash of the last sixty seconds.

His eyes were glassy with unspilled tears, but he tried to smile comfortingly, like he might to a hesitant witness in a trial. “Look, I’m a lawyer. I… I know the detectives in the Special Victims Unit,” he said. You shot back a skeptical glance, and he realized that probably sounded like a veiled threat. “I can give you Sargent Benson’s number. They won’t go easy on me if you press charges, trust me. I’m sure some of them would be happy to handcuff me for how difficult I make their lives. Obviously, I’ll plead guilty to any charges, but first we need to convince the grand jury to indict...”

Your face had worked through several stages of confusion, cringing, and brow-raising, and finally your brow pinched together and your grimace broke into the dark, guilty grin of someone laughing at something that was probably too serious to laugh at.

“Rafael, you really...” you covered your eyes and shook your head, “You are really obsessed with proving you’re a rapist; I think your job is doing something to your brain. Maybe you need a vacation.”

His mind had been working a mile a minute to uncover the crime that would explain the mystery of his distressing circumstances, first accusing you, and then himself of being the perpetrator. But, he had been told more than once that he could be high-strung at times. Maybe there was no crime, legally speaking. At least, he was relieved he hadn’t done something awful. It was still unclear who you were, and why you felt comfortable taking advantage of someone who was severely impaired by alcohol. There was something else… something just out of reach in the smoky nebula of his memory.

“What do you know about my job?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“You told me about it last night!” You sighed heavily, and scooted closer to him. “Tranquilo, Rafael. Cálmate.” You gently pressed his shoulders as you searched his eyes. He flinched away from your touch, and you frowned. “You really don’t remember me? Jesus, you were drunker than I thought. It’s a good thing we didn’t fuck.”

“We didn’t?”

“No. You wanted to, but I told you you were too drunk!” You poked his chest in a playful I-told-you-so way, but when he returned only a strained glare, your hand dropped sheepishly to your side.

He was puzzled and disturbed. Most strangers mistook him for a gringuito, but you just told him to calm down in Spanish. You had obviously spoken at length. But he couldn’t remember. And there was something about you he couldn’t put his finger on, something that felt important. It probably wasn’t. Whenever he forgot something he meant to say, it grated at his brain for the longest time, and when he finally remembered, it was always something like, “I prefer Cheez Doodles over Cheetos.”

There was something in the way you were looking at him, almost mournfully that stirred up a lost feeling. He wondered what he had said to you last night—what kind of reckless flirt drunk-Barba had been to leave you so heartbroken this morning. He would have felt guiltier, but his head was being squeezed in a lead vice, and he was in no mood to tolerate fools. Maybe you hadn’t intended it, but you had taken advantage of a moment of weakness, and he was done with the whole sordid incident.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that…” He winced as he stood up from the bed, his underwear yanking on the pubic hair glued to it with dried cum.

“Please, stay and use the shower,” you offered, but it was more like a plea.

“Well, I certainly can’t go out like this,” he snipped. His shirt was wrinkled, and his slacks ruined, with the embarrassing pièce de résistance of the crispy, stiff area at his crotch which could not escape anyone’s notice. He could only imagine what his hair was doing.

Your eyes followed him as he bustled around the small room wearing a sour expression, checking the closet for, and gratefully finding, an ironing board. They kept following him until he closed the bathroom door behind him, and he was left alone with your helpless eyes still hanging in front of him in his imagination, and the strange way they made him feel. He had a million questions for you, but he was certain he did not want the answers.

It’s not as if this story could have had a happy ending, anyway. He was an A.D.A. with a career in the public eye, and this was already bordering on a scandal. Drunken hookups with party girls at bars never ended well. It was better to just forget.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @dianilaws @permanentlydizzy @eclecticreader2020

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #Raúl Esparza #law and order svu #Barba x female reader #my writing #I am very certain the last 2 tags did not work...#they're accounts that only ever like posts & don't have any reblogs so I wonder if tumblr like... disapproves??

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kayparker20 · 4 years ago

Text

Inner Turmoil - Chapter 6

I'm so sorry about the wait this time around guys. I threw myself for a loop with this plot and I've been struggling a lot to figure out what I want to happen next. I decided to focus on a minor issue while I brainstorm what happens next. It's a bit feelsy but it's not super dramatic. Also kind of realized it was almost too long so the next chapter will have a spicy start before the real plot happens.

Hope you enjoy this somewhat filler chapter!

Chapter 6 - Village Gossip

FFN | AO3

Ino sat at the front counter of her family flower shop, impatiently waiting for the jonin ninja in her store to get a move on. They would always come in, pretend to look around while gossiping, and never buy one thing. She hasn’t liked them since she heard them being hateful towards Kurenai-sensei, probably out of jealousy.

“Can you believe, of all the beautiful shinobi, he dates his former student?” The woman scoffed and brushed her fingertips over the petals of lilies in a bouquet. “I think I would have rather heard he was gay, before that.” Her long, charcoal hair was curled and flowing down her back in waves.

Another rolled her eyes. “Yeah, gay for Might Guy, even.” Fiery redhead, model body. “Of course, Hatake was too perfect to have no flaws, I just didn’t think it would be something so repulsive like fucking children.”

“Do you think she fucked her way into jonin level?” The darker haired woman speculated. She turned around and looked at some roses that had been to her left.

Ino had been idly doodling flowers on a piece of blank receipt paper before hearing the topic they had been discussing. Her hand stopped mid-petal at the last comment before she narrowed her eyes at the piece of paper.

“I mean, maybe. Must have been easy to become jonin when you’re the Hokage’s apprentice, and being taught by a legend.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. I hear she’s quite the bitch at the hospital.”

She felt her mother’s eyes on her as she squeezed the pen, staring daggers meant for the women at the counter. She took a deep breath, reminding herself she needed to stay cordial and polite because they were customers, despite how abrasive and tactless they were.

She flipped her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder before addressing the women with a sarcastic smile. “Excuse me, ladies, is there anything I can help you find?” Her tone dripped with deviance through her smile. Her whole body felt tense with her anger as she forced herself to appear relaxed and helpful.

Two can play this catty game.

The women turned in her direction, both sporting smirks on their expressions. They both stared at her as if she were boring before cocking their hips to the side and giving fake smiles in her direction.

“We’re just admiring, but thank you.” The redhead shot back in a clipped tone.

“Are you sure? I think a bouquet of yellow hyacinths, lavender, and iris would go nicely with your hair.” Ino offered slyly.

She stole a glance at her mother, expecting to see an expression of disapproval, and was surprised to see the faintest smile spreading across her lips.

The darker haired woman narrowed her eyes, clearly catching the message. “You have something to say, girl?”

Ino kept her demeanor as she shook her head. “Oh no, I was just offering. Purple and yellow complement well, you know?”

Before either woman could snapback, the elder brunette cut in politely. “Ladies, it’s time for our lunch, and we must close for the next hour, so please take your pick. We can check you out for your purchase. We’re glad to give you your flowers before we find our meal for the workday.”

Ino’s mother sounded elegant and was the epitome of professionalism as she gave a gratuitous grin towards the women.

Both women huffed in defeat.

“No, miss, thank you for your time.” The darker haired woman gave a strained smile before she walked out, the redhead following.

As soon as the door shut, Ino let out an annoyed sigh. “Thanks…” She huffed before crossing her arms across her chest.

Her mother just shook her head softly. “Your cleverness and restraint amaze me sometimes. It was rather amusing.”

“It’s exhausting, not amusing. I much would have preferred to hit them. That was far from tasteful gossip.” Ino scowled. “How could they accuse Sakura of using sex to get rank! As if she isn’t a jonin level medic! Or uh, I don’t know, the medical director of our hospital! The disrespect!”

Her mother sighed. “People are going to talk, and you have to admit it’s at least a little scandalous. Those women are just jealous, and will say anything to make themselves feel better.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Ino argued.

Sakura walked in then, smiling. “What doesn’t make something right?” She inquired curiously. “What gossip did you dig up now, Pig?”

Ino turned, her eyes wide to see Sakura. “Oh, uh, nothing!” She chuckled nervously. “Ready for lunch?”

Sakura looked at her surreptitiously. Clearly, something was up. “Spill it. Now.”

Ino crossed her arms, before giving her a defiant look. “And if I don’t?”

“Are you going to make me beat it out of you? Was it about me?” Sakura deadpanned. “You never refuse to tell me gossip unless it’s about me and it's negative.”

Ino hated how well she and Sakura knew each other in moments like this. They couldn’t hide anything from each other. She sighed before uncrossing her arms. “It doesn’t matter, I handled it anyway.” She said matter of factly.

Sakura stared at her friend before shrugging. “You’re telling me at lunch, come on. Off to get our dango and tea. Director or not, I still run on a schedule. And I got behind after being gone a couple of days.”

Ino lips spread into a teasing grin. “Behind because you were off saving my ass or behind because qualities like procrastination and tardiness are rubbing off on you?”

Sakura gave her an unimpressed look. “I was late one time. Definitely behind from saving your ass from our deranged classmate.”

They started walking towards their favorite cafe. It was nice outside even if it was a little cooler. Leaves lay around the ground, dry and crinkling under their footsteps. She could only wonder what Ino was all in a tiff about today, being as she saw the very same women she knew to leave the shop with all too knowing smirks. She was also slightly discomforted by them because when they saw her, their expressions suddenly turned downright venomous.

It wasn’t too uncommon for her to get those as the news of her and Kakashi spread, once rumors became truths. It made her wonder about Anko’s offhanded ‘sex god’ comment. Maybe they were a couple of those one-night stands? She frowned at the thought, not thinking Kakashi would have entertained such rude women.

“Aren’t those the women that you got upset at for talking at Kurenai some time ago?” She wondered to her friend aloud.

“Oh, yes.” She snapped back. “They’re worse than me for spreading everyone’s business and their bullshit two cents about it.”

Sakura couldn’t remember the last time she heard Ino sound unenthused about new gossip. Usually, it meant it was about someone she cared about, and that it thoroughly pissed her off. Even more so unusually, she would normally be more than ready to rant her pretty reddened lips off about said women being conceited and judgemental and downright horrible.

Yet today, her blonde friend was being clipped and avoiding discussing the topic. She decided to test it out again. “So what treachery were they discussing today?”

Ino hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Sakura the things people were saying about her and Kakashi. Her friend had been so happy. She seemed to glow this past month since she had started dating him. She didn’t need to be troubled by people thinking the exact opposite of a situation.

She smiled at her friend. “Oh, not much. I just hate how they loiter in the shop and force me to deal with their presence, yet never buy anything.”

Sakura just gave her friend a bored look and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“That’s her. Can you believe such a young girl is with a man like him?”

Sakura instantly frowned, refusing to look in the direction of the people they just passed. She tried to remind herself what people said didn’t matter.

“I don’t think I want Mika to have a male sensei. Do they all prey on their students?”

Her expression turned into a downright glare. How dare someone to accuse him of such horrible things? Why did they blame him? Why was it so hard to just believe they loved each other? Hearing the things people said on the street made her miss the way their friends easily accepted them.

“Must be easy to make jounin when you’re the Hokage’s bitch, and fucking one of the commanders.”

Ino watched as all the same bullshit those women had said in her little shop floated around them. Maybe she wasn’t really able to protect Sakura after all, but she’d be damned if she was the one who brought that sort of mood on.

“Don’t listen to it. They're wrong.” Ino said sternly, flinging hard glares directly at anyone who dared say something within their earshot.

“It was me those women were gossiping about in your shop today, wasn’t it?”

Ino snorted. “I told them rather professionally exactly how I felt about their false ass opinions.”

Sakura sighed. “I think the ones I hate the most are him being a pedophile, or me using him to get rank.” Her face contorted into anger. “I’ve been a jounin since before I even realized I loved him, for fuck sake!” Sakura growled out.

“Does she pine after her whole team? First the traitor, now the sensei. Jinchuriki and socially inept next? Maybe she just whores around for them all.”

Now that one was just funny. She laughed as she and Ino entered their shop. “Alright, as if! Did you hear that one?”

Ino raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Sai knows how to fake an orgasm like he does a smile? That’d be rather disconcerting. Being cute only gets you so far.”

They sat down at their table and ordered their tea and dango. The homey atmosphere of this place always put Sakura at ease. The place had always been so down to earth, and the staff here were so nice and she had known most of them for at least quite some time now.

She remembers coming to this little cafe for the time with her team as a genin before Sasuke left. He claimed it was a treat for doing so well on a mission, before disappearing when it came time for the bill to be paid. She remembered feeling so angry back then, how dare their sensei pull some sheisty trick like that! But now it was just funny, thinking about times when their lives hadn’t changed so drastically.

“Watch out, Team Seven’s Mistress, coming through.”

Sakura wrinkled her nose. “Okay, now that sounds like a scandal for sure. I could never even dream of taking Naruto from Hinata, let alone sleeping with him. And don’t get me started on Sai.”

“Shouldn’t she be here soon?” Ino inquired.

As if on queue, the bell rang as another customer entered, and it was their black haired Hyuga friend.

“Hina, over here!” Sakura called.

Hinata meandered over their table and sat next to Sakura. “Hi, guys!” She spoke softly, happy to see her friends.

“Tell Sakura here to ignore these stupid rumors jealous nimrods keep spreading,” Ino said blandly. “Well, at least the boring ones.”

Hinata raised an eyebrow. “There are ones that aren’t boring?”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Apparently there’s one that I’m fucking my entire team.”

“Oh, now that’s just dirty! Who would do such a thing?”

“Which thing, fuck the whole team, or fuck Naruto?” Ino said in a teasing voice.

Their friend turned beet red. “I-I don’t either Sakura or myself would uh… Have relations with an entire team.”

Sakura slumped in her seat. “You’re right, but people think my sensei is a pedophile. Which hurts because he would never have thought of me, or any of young girls, in such a way.”

Ino and Hinata watched as Sakura looked so hurt. How do you tell your friend to ignore things she hears whispered as soon as she comes into a room, or simply a vicinity. No one had to deal with something like that. Then again, neither of them were dating men much older than them, or ones who had been their teacher. But why does that matter when they’re adults now? Sakura had been a jonin for two years now after she and Shikamaru had gotten promoted when the fourth war ended.

“They are just jealous that a younger, prettier, and more talented kunoichi took their eye-candy off the market.” Ino insisted. “Easier to keep their ego intact if they blame him for being gross, or you for using him.”

“I guess…” She sighed. “Look at me, worried about stupid gossip when my old teammate is hellbent on making me join him…” Sakura shivered at the thought. “Even now, there are three ANBU following me at all times.”

“Wait, even at Kakashi’s…?”

Sakura nodded.

“I bet they watch…” Ino smirked deviously.

“Ino!” Hinata squeaked.

Sakura just shook her head, more than used to Ino’s antics. She knew it would take her ‘innocent’ friend some time to get used to Ino’s crudeness, but she felt better being around both her close friends.

“Do you think people truly think that low of Kakashi? People think he would groom one of his students?” Sakura asked seriously.

Hinata shrugged. “You can’t expect people to necessarily think super well of someone who openly reads porn in public.”

“Hey, Icha-Icha is a wonderful series.” Ino piped in. “Even Sakura agrees with that.”

Sakura laughed at the comment. “It’s true, but I guess you have a point. No one sees that unless they’ve dared to read the beloved Ero-Sannin’s work. Lady Tsunade swears to burn every copy of those books, but she secretly has her first edition collection, signed by Jiraiya himself.”

“I guess society might accuse us of being molesters next, huh, Pig?”

Sakura frowned. “I sure hope not, considering I’m certain being a molester consists of much more than enjoying romance novels that might be slightly too pornographic at some points along with the good plot.”

Hinata giggled lightly. “I think anyone who had ever actually paid attention to you and Kakashi-sensei interacting would have realized you were the one going after him.” She smiled softly.

Sakura thought about that. She knew she never made intentional moves on Kakashi, but apparently everyone close to them knew they loved each other, or that there was at least something going on. She couldn’t help but feel touched at how accepting his friends were, even if Anko and Genma teased her relentlessly. Or made threesome jokes, which Kakashi bluntly shut down quickly. However, a large majority of people were the stark opposite.

She should have known that Ino’s ideals about them being shinobi bending morals a bit was closer to romanticism than what society thought in reality. She felt like she was just as much an adult as Kakashi and the rest, even in her 20s. She’s gone on deadly missions just like Kakashi, let alone with Kakashi. She’d been through a war. She’s damn near died, multiple times, and she had saved people’s lives and held the ones she couldn’t save.

Yet people dared to treat the situation like Kakashi was dating a child, instead of an equal? So what if he had trained her, it’s not like he ever made a move on her?

Hinata was right, she made the move on him.

“I knew what I wanted, even if I only got the courage to express it with a little encouragement from sake. At first.” Sakura crossed her arms. “But why do we have to justify our damn happiness?”

The waitress walked up to get Hinata’s order after that. “What can I get for you today, miss?”

“I’ll have green tea and a rice ball, please,” Hinata spoke softly with a pleasant smile.

“Sure thing!” She flashed a smile at them before striding away to take care of the order.

Ino sipped her drink before shrugging in response to the question. “I thought you already know people talk about anything we do, no matter what. Especially when they’re jealous, and you have plenty of things to envy.”

Sakura huffed before. “Yeah well, I didn’t get them without effort, and that especially includes Kakashi.”

The girls fell silent. Hinata and Ino could only say so much in attempts to make Sakura feel better. It’s not like you could ignore an issue when everywhere you went you were hearing whispers or receiving horrible glares sent in your direction.

The waitress brought Hinata’s order about and paused a moment. She looked like she wanted to say something, but seemed a bit nervous. She chewed her lip subtlety before looking at Sakura.

“Miss?”

Sakura raised her eyes to make eye contact with her and gave a polite smile. “Yes?”

“Is it true that you’re dating Kakashi now?

Sakura nodded, her smile fading slightly in fear of some directly aimed judgment. She came here often with Kakashi, he used to bring the whole team here.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m very happy for you guys. I’ve seen you guys together often, and sometimes I wondered if you were the one he bought the lattes for every so often. He’s come here for a long time, but he always seemed so…” She searched for the word for a moment. “Aloof. Always polite, but kept to himself.”

Sakura nodded softly. “He’s uh… He’s been through a lot, even more so than the average ninja.”

The girl gave a sad smile. “So I’ve heard. When he started bringing you and those boys here, he seemed to change. Like a spark in him ignited. Is it true that the blonde was his mentor’s son?”

Sakura’s smile turned a little less stiff as she nodded again. “The Fourth Hokage, yes.”

Hinata and Ino listened with small smiles, glad to see their friend getting some positivity towards her relationship from someone other than friends. Hinata’s face flushed slightly at the mention of Naruto as she thought of him distantly.

“I’m sorry about the things I’ve heard people say. Anyone who truly has been around you can see the chemistry you have, sometimes I wondered if you were secretly together. I have never seen him so relaxed around anyone besides you.” She smiled brightly. “He had friends of course, like those dashing men, Asuma and Genma. Or the….very lively Gai.”

Ino wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I’d consider Asuma-sensei dashing.” She muttered softly under her breath.

Sakura's eyes widened softly. “Thank you… It’s nice to hear someone say something nice about it.”

“Sakura, it’s almost the end of your lunch break isn’t it?” Hinata wondered aloud, catching the time on the clock. She gave a soft smile before

“Oh, look at that, it’s the rank climbing whore with her flower bitch of a friend.”

I guess that’s one way you could refer to Sakura and Ino, at least within the last month. She couldn’t imagine how upset Ino would be if she would only ever be remembered as her ‘flower bitch of a friend’. She would probably be remembered as Ino-Pig, and she hates that nickname.

She could attest to the fact that she hated being referred to as a ‘rank climbing whore”. Didn’t have to sleep with multiple men or do something dirty like have an afraid to fall under the description of whore? She had only just lost her virginity to Kakashi a month ago…

She sighed and reminded herself that these women wouldn’t care to hear technicalities and that it would probably only antagonize them to carry on with more horrible accusations and scornful comments.

The waitress instantly frowned at the woman. “I can ask them to-”

Sakura shook her head. “It’s whatever, don’t scare off your business. Thank you for your kindness.”

Ino instantly slid her gaze towards the nasty tone, sending daggers. “Are you even acutely aware that Sakura was made a jounin almost three years ago?” She spat. “Pretty sure she only got with Kakashi roughly a month ago, now carry on with your trivial lives.”

Sakura sighed and rolled her eyes, hoping the sting that suddenly arrived would go away with them. “Right, I need to go back to work. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” She stood from the table and turned for the door.

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Are you gonna go run and tell mommy Hokage?”

Sakura’s eyes twitched as she started gathering chakra into her fists, ready to shut them up herself. How much disrespect could someone dare to have? Was this really out of pure jealousy?

She kept telling herself none of this was worth getting this upset over. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to cry from the humiliation or punch them through the wall of the restaurant. She had never felt so ridiculed before, and it was infuriating.

“I’ll bet my old student would be an easy target to get some action from when I was bored. Especially from emotional types like yourself. Just a few sweet words and you probably melted for him.” The other woman cackled.

Sakura bit her cheek before she left briskly, ignoring the shrieking she heard from Ino, or how Hinata tried to run after her. She felt stupid for letting those women get under her skin, but she couldn’t help it.

This is what people were saying? What else was there? Did she seem that naive, that her sensei could take advantage of her? She knew there would be talking about this, but she never expected those sorts of accusations. She expected disapproval and even some daunting glares.

She went straight for her office and buried herself in the paperwork she had to catch up. It was a decent distraction. Verifying shinobi physicals, signing them with her approval. Later they would need to be given to Tsunade. She signed paperwork regarding the children’s clinic she was opening with Ino, mainly financial documents for the grants involved in the program. More paperwork was needed to be signed for hospital grants for unfortunate patients.

Kakashi was walking to the cenotaph, feigning ignorance to all the looks she was currently receiving from the majority of the people he passed. Many whispers went about. Mostly about wretched of a man he was, accusations of pedophilia and grooming. Some against Sakura for whoring herself into rank, which didn’t make even a lick of sense if you asked him, considering she was made jounin after the fourth great war.

He sighed softly. There were much bigger issues now that these people couldn’t even begin to think about. If he ever thought that beginning a relationship with Sakura would have put her in danger, he wouldn’t have indulged in the idea no matter what, if it had meant she would have been safe.

Granted, it was starting to be believed by Tsunade that Sasuke was coming for her either way because he did Orochimaru’s bidding. And healing arms isn’t related to Sakura’s love life. Sasuke was bothered by the fact that Sakura was with somebody else, but was it that she moved on, or that she was with Kakashi in general? That was the question that was begging to be answered in his mind at the moment. No matter what, she would be safe. She might not have any special jutsu, but she had quite the punch with her chakra latent strength, so even in the event he wasn’t there, she believed in her to protect herself. Not to mention the three ANBU guarding her at all times, and he knew one of them was Genma, though she didn’t.

His mind wandered a bit as he walked from the cenotaph to training ground three, the same one he always used with his beloved team. His thoughts were everywhere, mainly on just how happy he had felt.

Nothing felt more right than when he laid in bed at night with Sakura in his arms. Her hair splayed about the pillow, her face buried against his bare chest. Her skin felt so soft against his, even with the few scars she held in comparison to his body. Listening to her breathe lulled him to sleep every time she spent the night at his home. She was so warm and inviting, and she always clung to him.

She still had nightmares. Sometimes she just trembled in her sleep, others he woke up to her sobbing into his shoulders or screaming his name with so much agony in her voice it ripped his heart out. He couldn’t imagine what she was seeing, he didn’t like to think of the ways Sasuke may have conjured up to murder him. He always held her close and tried to comfort her, but this had never been his strong suit. He stroked her hair and told her how much he loved her. It seemed to work well enough most nights, and he was glad because he didn’t know what else to do and it made him worry.

The copy ninja expected to find the training ground empty, but what he found was craters and cracks all over the landscape, along with uprooted trees. Usually, this is what you found when Sakura was training.

Or when she was coping with emotional stress which she has plenty of at the moment.

Was it Sasuke, or has the ridicule finally reached her? His clenched as he thought of everything he has heard whispered the past few days or the actual direct comments. Mostly from jealous women, some from other jounin who didn’t know a lick about them.

He meandered along, following the scent trail of jasmine perfume, as well as listening for either the next impact or the sound of her voice. He followed it well into the woods of the grounds. It seemed the damage done lessened the further he went, which concerned him. It felt like the anger was fading and turning into something more morose. He moved faster through the forest, catching a glimpse of a porcelain mask he recognized.

What he found was far from angry, at least now. She was kneeling on her knees, still in her hospital uniform. She was covered in dirt and green stains from nature she decided to take her stress out on. Her hands covered her face, covered in blood, dirt, and scrapes; the telltale sign she had been too far in her emotions to protect herself or even think about putting her gloves on. Her shoulders shook and as a choked sob escaped her throat, his heart just couldn’t take it anymore.

This wasn’t the first time he found her like this, and it wrenched him every time. But it was different this time because it felt like it was his fault to some degree. He never wanted to be part of something that could hurt her so deeply.

He approached her slowly, giving her all the time to notice his presence. When he came up to her, he crouched down and ran his fingers through her messy hair, letting the pads of his fingers drag against her scalp. She shuddered softly but didn’t say anything. He slowly sat down behind her and slinked his arms around her waist to pull her back snug against his chest.

She tried to force herself to calm down in Kakashi’s presence, but it only seemed to worsen. She reminded herself he wouldn’t judge her, that he’s never judged her. Wasn’t that one of the things she loved most about him? She still felt so stupid for getting this upset over some stupid bigoted opinions, from people who didn’t know a damn thing about her and Kakashi.

Then again, was that the only thing that hurt so much right now? It’s not like Sasuke hadn’t just kidnapped her best friend or threatened her team leader, that she just started dating. That Sasuke hadn’t shown her just how he might wish to make good on his threat to kill her lover.

The feeling of his fingers running through her hair made a shiver run through her and she let out a shaky breath. She felt him sit behind her and the safeness of his arms pull her close. Her chest hurt and swallowed another sob, still feeling this dumb need to act strong in front of him. If he had found her here, clearly he saw the damage she had dealt to the poor training ground before her anger morphed into pain. She turned her body into him and rested the side of her face against his chest. The silent tears soaked into his shirt but she couldn’t stop them.

“Sakura…”

She wiped her eyes hastily before the sob she’d been holding back ripped through her. The sound of his voice undid it and she was clinging to him desperately.

“I’m here for you,” He placed a chaste peck on her forehead before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got you, Sakura. I always have, you know that.”

He held her tightly before beginning to stroke her hair. “I know there’s so much going on right now. This stuff with Sasuke, and the talk around the village. Your nightmares. It can’t be easy, on top of continuing to work full time.”

The sound of his voice was a thread she clung to. Hearing the rumble in his chest when he talked, alongside his heartbeat gave her something to focus on that wasn’t Sasuke, or horrible gossip, or Kakashi being killed in some way or another. She took a long, deep breath. Everything felt so heavy.

She had just wanted to be with the man she loved, and she finally got that. Why did all this other stuff have to happen? Right as things started to get better, a wrench had to come in it. She knew that she still was with Kakashi, and she had high doubts he was going to leave, but she just wanted to enjoy it.

“Sakura, it’s going to be okay…”

He took her face into his hands and guided her to make eye contact with him. Her aqua hues were shining with tears that were still flowing down her cheeks. He wiped them gently and smiled softly at her.

She huffed and slid her fingers into his mask, dragging it off his face. “Better.” She muttered under her breath.

Kakashi chuckled softly before pecking her lips with his now bare ones. “Oh, I’m sure you think so. Just think, you’re the only one who gets to see me like this.” He held her tighter. “Who gets to have me like this, all to yourself.” He pecked her cheek.

“I know…” A small smile spread across her lips. “Ino keeps saying to ignore it, that they’re just jealous.”

“Hm, she may be on to something. I’m quite the looker.”

She rolled her eyes before sniffing once more. “Oh yeah, if only they knew what was under the mask.” She huffed. “Maybe some of them do…” She grumbled.

He shook his head, chuckling at the clear jealousy coming off of her. “Oh no. Not a single one night stand had ever seen my face. They would try, no doubt.” He pinched her ass playfully. “Only medics, who usually were too busy looking at the life-threatening issue on my body, and close friends have seen my face.” He smirked as he whispered in her ear. “Some medics are much cuter than others, and I might have let them drag my mask down and kiss me when I was drunk.”

She raised an eyebrow at him before a smile broke out across her lips and she giggled. “Better only be one of those.”

He nodded sincerely before pecking her lips. “Now, you’re smiling again and able to talk. What lead you to wreak havoc on this sentimental training ground of ours, and then break down?”

She averted her eyes instantly, not willing to fully pull her face out of his hands when they were so warm against her tear-soaked skin. Great, now she’s going to look ridiculous.

“Do think they’re right? That I used you to climb rank?” She mumbled.

He frowned. “I think that no more correct than me being a pedophile, considering the last time I check you were twenty. People twist things as they want to make reality appeal to them.”

“Ino said something similar. A bunch of women took offense that you found someone prettier, younger, and more talented. If they blame us, then their ego is still intact…” She almost laughed as she remembered another one. “Did you hear the one that I’m fucking my whole team?”

Of course, she found the humor in that one. “Whoever started that rumor must be oblivious because you’ve chased Sai and Naruto through the village with your chakra fists of wrath.” He laughed before pressing his nose against hers.

“Now, what is actually bothering you? Because I know that you don’t truly care about anyone thinks unless it our friends or Tsunade, who have all expressed happiness for us, with threats to my life if I hurt you here and there…”

He was meant with silence.

He sighed. “I’m the one who taught you to look underneath the underneath, and I especially know you’re bothered by way more than some gossip we knew would come.”

Sakura sighed and hugged him tightly. “I can’t stand this. I’m being guarded like a dog, all because Sasuke suddenly decides I matter because his snakey sensei put it in his head he needs me. I think I liked it better before when he was cold towards us.”

He ran a hand through her hair. “I know. But it’s best to keep you safe, and are you going to complain that you have to sleep with me at my house.”

She blushed lightly. “I gave no complaint about that part. More about this part.” She gestured her hands before pointing.

“One.” In a tree a few yards back.

“Two.” Leaning against a tree in the opposite direction.

“Three.” Right above her in a tree. “Which I believe I learned is Genma, because awhile a senbon just fell in front of me before a curse was muttered by that one.”

Kakashi looked up, noting she was right, that one was Genma. Shame on him for losing his anonymity so easily, but it wasn’t like Sakura hadn’t known who most of the ANBU were from treating them anyway. It’s a given he was the only one brave enough to be that close to his fiery little pinkette when she was at such an emotional high. He never knew when to leave anyone alone. He was one of the only people other than Sakura that insisted on ‘being there for him’ when he was having bad days.

“I also hate that I used to feel safe at home, and now I’m paranoid. All the time. He made it into the village without anyone knowing, all the way into my office! And he got out with Ino the same way!” She looked at Kakashi with an annoyed look.

“That bastard could be watching me right now, and I’d have not a single fucking clue!”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He felt all the same, except he was the one who had figured out he was in the village, and he hated the lack of action he had taken then. He should have done something right then and there. But he gave his former student too much credit.

And that’s how he feels like this is all his fault. But saying that wouldn’t help her. There wasn’t much he could do to change what was done, but he’d be damned if something happened again.

“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up, okay? I bought you some books while you were at work before I came here.”

She smiled softly. He always tried, no matter how hard he felt like comforting was. Whether he knew it or not, he always made her feel better. As he stood up and put his hand out for her to grab, she grasped it tightly as he pulled her up. She inched up on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss before his hands gripped her hips and held her there to kiss her back.

“Thank you, Kakashi.” She smiled softly before pecking his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably tear up all the training grounds, not just ours.”

She giggled softly. “Probably, but you didn’t have to say it.”

He let go of her, just to grab her hand and start walking towards the end of the woods in the training ground. “Come on. Asuma and Kurenai said something going on a double date, and I think you might want to look a little less haggard for that.” He smiled.

She glared at him. “Haggard? That’s a bit extreme!”

He chuckled as he dodged the fist he knew was becoming before he sensed it. “I love you, too.” He gave an eye crease as he pulled his mask back over the majority of his face.

“Hinata?” Naruto called out softly from his couch as he heard his door open.

“It’s me, Naruto!” She called back cheerily.

“How was lunch with Sakura? Is she… Doing okay?” He asked timidly.

Hinata sighed. “She’s… doing alright. The gossip around the village bothers her but I don’t think that’s really it.”

Naruto thought for a moment before sighing. “I don’t understand why he would do this. I thought his main goal in life was to gain power and kill Itachi, so what does Sakura have to do with that?” He grumbled. “She was so happy before all this. I just want to see her like that again.”

“Me, too,” Hinata said before sitting on the couch. “Ino said he acted possessive and jealous over the fact that she was with Kakashi. Do you think he’s always felt some way about her? Like maybe he’d come back for her once he killed his brother?”

Naruto frowned. “I think that’s what Sakura used to hope for, honestly. That he just had to do this one thing, and then he’d be able to come home. To love her, to be a family with our team. It’s what we all hoped for… in a sense. I think Kakashi was able to accept it sooner than we ever could that Sasuke was probably… never coming back.”

Hinata nodded, reaching over to grab his hand. “I know this is hard for both of you…”

He just nodded as he continued to frown at the floor. “Whatever hopes those were, they were ruined. I’ll never believe he loved Sakura if he was willing to cause her so much pain, whether it was over jealousy or whatever.”

“You should go train with your team some. It always helps me when I’m being bothered by something going on in life. I think it would be healthy for all of you.”

“You’re assuming that Sakura hasn’t gone and destroyed our favorite grounds yet.” A smile slowly spread across his lips. “Kakashi is the only one willing to go anywhere near her whenever she’s that upset. Sai and I prefer to stay far away from her chakra enhanced attacks.”

He thought for a while on that. It had always been that way. She and Kakashi were always there for the other. Just like most people left Kakashi alone when he was at the memorial, they left Sakura alone when she was destressing in training ground three. Yet, they both never left each other alone. He thought about how that’s what love is, what Sakura should get to experience. Not the way she felt for Sasuke, just this endless devotion with nothing in return.

She deserved the way Hinata always made him feel, and hopefully how he wanted to make her feel in return. A relationship with trust, admiration, sincereness, and respect was what anyone deserved. He wanted that for Sakura, and he still believed that Kakashi was where she got that from. He had never seen anyone look so happy as they did when they finally got together.

It was so hard not to preach at anyone that said so many ill things about his two teammates within his earshot. It angered him to see their happiness brought down the way people were judging them. Granny Tsunade already warned him it would do no good, but he knew if someone dared say something bad about Sakura close to her, a chakra infused from the Hokage herself was coming their way. So why couldn’t they get mouth load from him? Seemed unfair if you asked him, but he wasn’t in the mood to anger her with arguing.

“Kurenai-sensei and Asuma-sensei were planning a double date with them. I think they are trying to make Sakura feel better about the...dissent around the village.”

“Maybe that’ll be good for her. I don’t understand what the deal is anyway, I mean so what, he was our teacher? We’ve been in equal rank with him for almost three years now. And I couldn’t give a damn about some age difference when she could die tomorrow at 20 years old. Any of us could, right? We’re adults. It’s not like we’re kids anymore.” He huffed in annoyance.

Hinata sighed softly. “Just because we see it that way, doesn’t mean other people do. However, I’ve noticed most of the people spreading the rumors are women that wanted Kakashi themself. Ino said they’ll blame them to keep their ego intact.”

Naruto raised his eyebrows. “So basically a bunch of women Kakashi’s age is mad because he hardly gave them anything past a one-night stand. And that’s they were one of the lucky ones in the last decade, and now he’s with Sakura, who is youngers, prettier, and probably ten times the kunoichi they ever would have been…?”

Hinata giggled softly. “Yes, pretty much Ino’s exact words. Like typical, they’re putting down our friends to make themselves feel better.”

“Leaf shinobi are supposed to be better than that.” He grumbled before getting up from the couch.

“Not everyone has the same ideals as you, Naruto. But your ideals are one of the things I love about you, that so many people love about you, and why you’ve inspired many others. It’s one of the reasons why one day you will make a great Hokage.”

He smiled. “You believe in me, don’t you?”

“I always believed in you, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” She smiled tentatively.

He pulled her up by the grip he still held on her hand before kissing her softly, winding his arms around her hips. “I love you, Hinata,” He mumbled against her lips, pulling her against him.

She smiled before pulling away. “I love you, too.”

“Maybe we should plan a double date with them. That’d be awesome, wouldn’t it?” He grinned at her before pressing his forehead against hers.

“I think it's a good idea, and I’m sure they would enjoy it too.”

Kakashi brought Sakura a cup of tea and sat down next to her, handing her the hot drink of peppermint. She took it from him, instantly taking a sip from the cup.

He watched her closely. She was curled against the arm of his couch with her knees against her chest. Her pink strands just barely fell around her shoulders, perfectly framing her face. Her face was still stained with tears, but she had changed into one of his shirts and a pair of her shorts she had brought here. She seemed a little more relaxed, not so overwhelmed by the anger and pain. He could still sense how uneasy she felt, and he just wanted to make her day better. He hoped the dinner with Kurenai and Asuma would help lift her spirits some, a positive in all the negatives.

He loved her so much, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He’d heard everything the village had to say, some of the things he had once thought about himself. That he had been disgusting. He hated himself for it.

But now, he couldn’t think of life without her. Without being able to hold her at night, or to kiss her. Without being able to see the way she smiled whenever he told her he loved her. The warmth she held for him in her beautiful green eyes whenever she looked at him. He didn’t want to think of a day when his bed no longer had the faint smell of her jasmine perfume.

“Kakashi…?” Her voice sounded soft and hesitant.

It pulled him from his thoughts instantly. “What is it?” He asked softly, looking up to meet her eyes.

“You’ve got that distant look you get when you’re thinking about something sad…” She set her tea down on the coffee table.

He tried to smile lightly to shake off her concern. “I’m okay, it’s nothing.”

She rolled her eyes before shifting over to his side of the couch. “Okay, sure. I’ll pretend to believe that. Now lay down...”

He shifted so that he was laying on his back, and watched her curiously as she crawled over his body. She laid between his legs, resting her cheek against his chest. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable before wrapping an arm around her back. She let out a contented sigh before closing her eyes.

He ran his free hand through her hair gently as a smile spread across his lips. He kissed the top of her head. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just said so.” He spoke softly, a little surprised she had demanded affection.

He thought she might get distant from him, too bothered by some of the things people dared to say, maybe even think they were true. He should have known she wouldn’t believe them for a second, but it didn’t stop him from preparing for the worst. He played with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands loosely around his fingertips. Her body felt warm against his, and it was a comfort he never realized he needed until the first time he held her so intimately.

“Does any of this gossip bother you at all?” She wondered aloud.

Her voice sounded so small to him. It was rare she sounded so unsure. She was usually so confident these days. He wasn’t surprised to see that it bothered her, even if she felt it was stupid. He knew what was going to happen when everyone found out, but it didn’t mean he liked it or that it didn’t bother him. He used to listen to all the things that were said about his father, so the village dissent wasn’t new to him. Minato had urged to learn to ignore it long ago, but it did seem more difficult to ignore these, at least the parts where he was accused of some things he couldn’t even dream of.

“Some of it does…” He sighed. “I can’t act like people just assuming I’ve always had a thing for you doesn’t upset me. I also fear that you might feel they’re right, and it’s not true.” He tightened his arm that had been around her.

He tried to figure out what to say that didn’t seem accusatory, but also still be honest with her about his concerns.“I don’t care what they think, but I worry about how what people say will affect you, and your view of me…”

He watched her closely as she lifted her head to look at him. “I love you, and nothing anyone says will make me think any different of you. I just hate… It angers me that they just instantly assume you’re this gross creep when it was ME who initiated this relationship.”

She huffed before resting her chin against his chest. “If anyone should have ever felt harassed, it was you… But no, they just automatically assume you’re just this lecherous man that groomed me from the time I was twelve.”

“Well, I do read porn in public, so people have the right to believe I’m lecherous…” He smirked. “Not everyone knows it had some real plot to it, or care to know.” He brought a hand to her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “Just like they won’t care to know the real story behind us…”

She was looking into his eyes, at his face, before she bit her lip. “So, you don’t think I just used you and clung around you to climb the ranks as some of the women are saying?”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me some jealous sluts are making you doubt your real abilities as a kunoichi? How would you have ever charmed me into giving you jonin rank? I was tough on you guys, not to mention I’m not the one to credit for your abilities.” He kissed her nose and then her Byakugou seal. “Tsunade is to credit for all your skills, not me. I’m not even the one who gave you the recommendation. I wasn’t allowed to be a proctor for your exam either, because you were my student and it leads to bias- negative or positive.”

He pushed some of her hair out of her eyes again before smiling at her. “You earned jonin, and I’m damned proud of you for it. The other jonin kunoichis are just pissed because you’re better than them and they know it.”

“Mmmm, and maybe because I have Konoha’s number one bachelor all to myself?” She grinned, blushing softly at his words.

“Well, of course. Thank gosh, because the ‘hot-ake’ pickup lines at bars were becoming rather boring. And now, when a girl doesn’t know how to take a hint, I can just ask her if she likes chakra punches for a drink?”

Sakura burst into laughter, burying her face into his chest. “Oh, yeah, that’ll make a great reputation for us to have.”

He sat up, taking her into his arms. “Team Seven already has quite the rep, I doubt that’ll change. Now, go shower for that dinner with Asuma and Kurenai. It’s my job to make us late, not yours, remember?” He carried his slender pinkette into the bathroom and set her on the edge of the sink.

She was beaming at him as she placed her hands on each side of his face. “I love you so, so much, Kakashi.”

He gazed into her eyes, thankful for the happy glow returning to them. “I love you, too, Sakura. I always will…” He gave her lips a quick peck.

As he stepped back, she slid off the bathroom sink counter until her feet were on the floor. She began to strip before her eyes widened with sudden realization. “What the hell am I supposed to wear to this dinner on such short notice?”

“Oh, I got that covered. Dress in the bedroom. I hope you like it…” He gave a sheepish smile before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He chuckled at the tinge of pink that spread across her cheeks. He wasn’t sure how that was worth blushing over, considering all the other things they’d done lately. He picked up her teacup from earlier and walked into the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink for later. When the shower turned on, he moved onto the bedroom, gathering up things he had grabbed from her house while she was at work.

He’d seen her go out in various settings enough in the past few years to know that his favorite person took care to do her hair and makeup. He had grabbed her makeup box, along with both her straightener and curler. He almost forgot the hair dryer at her house but had turned around at the door to get it. He wasn’t exactly sure what shoes she would want to wear. Looking back on past conversations he had overheard, this was supposedly a difficult task, according to Ino. He just grabbed the black, ankle high boots that had a buckle(which he realized was just for looks), and a small heel. Surely, those went with anything, right? Hopefully.

He grabbed a few more things before taking them back to the bathroom. He hung the dress up on the towel rack, as well as some underclothing he bought for his own eyes later. He looked around the bathroom. Never once had it ever felt small to him, but now he was wondering where the hell he was going to put three new additions. Did women need both a straightener and a curler?

“I think I’ll need to invest in shelves if you’re gonna be here forever.” He said in mock annoyance.

“I’m using your razor, just in case your mind, but it’s too late if you do…” Sakura said languidly, clearly paying more attention to her legs at the moment. “And what are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” He smiled before pulling the shower curtain aside. “Your lotion is on the sink when you’re done. If you need my help, I’ll gladly lather your legs with it for you.” He gave a wink before leaving again.

“Oh god, we’d never make it dinner if I let you do that.” She mumbled affectionately as she finished the last stroke up her leg.

He stared blankly at the curtain once it was closed, wondering just how the hell Kakashi knew what lotion she even used. She shrugged it off, not putting it past him to look rather odd sniffing random lotions in the store until he found a scent he recognized. The thought made her heave with laughter as she rinsed the excess shaving cream off her legs.

She stepped out of the shower, and her mouth fell open in her surprise. She quickly realized what he meant by needing to get shelves, as there was nowhere to put all her hair tools besides the straightener on the sink, hair dryer on the back of the toilet, and the curler on top of his medicine cabinet. Her lotion, which was the same bottle from her house, was sitting next to the cup that held his toothbrush.

She grabbed the towel on the hanger, to see the dress hanging there, and her heart was full.

It was a dark emerald green a-line dress. It had a sheer lace overlay that had floral patterns stitched into it. The lace continued over the chest into long sleeves, completely see through around her shoulders and arms, the solid colors would frame her chest. It was so dressy but simple all at once. Pretty but not too much, it was perfect.

And then there was the navy blue lingerie set next to it that just made her turn rosy-colored all over again as she started to dry herself off even quicker.

“Kakashi, you bought lingerie?!” She screeched in embarrassment.

He laughed, having finally heard the response he had expected. “Sakura, I buy porn in public, I don’t think buying lingerie for you is that shocking.” He came into the bathroom. “I also noticed you were severely lacking any.”

She huffed and pouted in his direction. “Oh yes, because I had so much reason to wear it.”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction in surprise. “You don’t need a ‘reason’ to wear hot things.” He stepped behind her and reached for the garments.

He held them to her form as he spoke against her ear. “This navy will look stunning against your smooth and light toned skin. It’s strapless, so it won’t show through the sheerness of your dress. The woman said this lace is comfortable. And I honestly just wanted to see your ass in thongs. I am a pervert afterall.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’ll hook the clips for you if you’d like.

Sakura stared down at the blue fabric. She’d seen plenty of Ino’s lingerie, having been made to help her blonde rival choose which to wear on particular occasions. She had never felt the need to buy any. Ino seemed to only wear it on dates, and she never even bothered with those. Not to mention, it’s not like she even had all that much to show off. She bit the inside of her cheek before turning to face Kakashi. “Uh… Sure.”

He frowned. “Is something wrong? You don’t have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“N-No! It’s not that. I love them, I just… don’t have the body for it.”

Kakashi looked at her dumbly for a moment before turning her body to face him. “Sakura, I promise you, you do. If you didn’t have the body for it, they wouldn’t make your size, which I had to ask Ino for before you ask.”

“Oh, god! I’ll never hear the end of how romantic or hot or whatever it is that you bought me underwear that...might feel slightly more appealing than cotton.”

“Much more appealing than cotton.” He corrected her with a smirk before tilting her chin up and kissing her.

She returned the kiss before pulling back. “Okay, fine. Much more appealing. Now, get out so I can get ready. Your lips are way too enticing.”

“My kisses or the fact you can see them in general now, hm?” He teased.

Damn him.

“Both, now go before we’re late! You have to get ready too, don’t you?” She playfully pushed him towards the door.

“I won’t take anywhere near as long as you.” He shot back as she effectively pushed him from the bathroom.

When he heard the hair dryer turn on, he looked at the time and realized maybe he should start getting ready. He lazily walked back to his room. He pushed through the hangers that had old, worn out ANBU uniforms hung on them. He wondered if they would ever be used again. He found the smoky gray long sleeve button shirt he had been looking for. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even worn this shirt. He vaguely wondered if it had been the funeral service for Jiraiya.

He stripped down to his boxers before grabbing the black slacks on the hanger behind the shirt and slipping them over his form. He grabbed the shirt and the tie, laying them over the bed. He pulled a white t-shirt from the drawer and pulled it over his lithe form. He grabbed the button up and slid his arms through the sleeves. He buttoned it up to the top, leaving it open. He glanced at the tie, debating if it was necessary to wear. He tucked his shirt and buttoned the pants. He adjusted everything until it felt comfortable and wasn’t pulling one way or another. He grabbed the dress shoes from the floor of his closet, and her boots before walking back to the living room.

She came out of the bathroom to see Kakashi folding up the sleeves on his shirt, which was a much hotter sight than she thought it could have been. She smiled lightly before sitting down next to him.

“Thank you for the clothes… And bringing all that from home.” She spoke softly.

He nodded as he looked over, finding her as beautiful as always. The dress had gone to the middle of her thighs. He could see the difference in her wearing the bra instead of wrappings in her chest which was an appreciative sight he hoped for. She had put on some shimmery gold shadow and smooth liner along her lashes that ended with a small wing. Her lips were tinted pink and shined with gloss.

She looked gorgeous.

“Nobody would ever think you were kunoichi if they didn’t know the only pink haired person in Konoha was none other than my lovely Sakura Haruno.” He smiled before kissing her cheek. “That dress looks way better actually on you than it ever did on a hanger.”

She smiled before leaning against him. “I like it. I’m kind of excited to go on a double date with them. It’ll be fun, right?”

He cracked a half smile. “I’m sure you’ll make it fun.”

She smiled before slipping the shoes and standing up. “Well, let’s go!”

She was brimming with excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she had even worn makeup, let alone fully dressed up. She grabbed Kakashi’s hand as soon as they got outside of the apartment complex, and had not let go of it since. The subtle click of her heels as she glided through the streets to the park they were supposed to meet their friends at was enough to draw everyone’s attention to them.

He followed her idly, almost being dragged as she insisted on walking so much faster than he ever did. The way her eyes shined with happiness, and the way the light from the streetlamps caught the glitter in her shadow, was mesmerizing to Kakashi. She didn’t look like that for anyone, but she had done all that for him. He never thought she needed makeup, but the gold went well with her eye color.

She didn’t seem to notice anyone looking at them as they walked together. When she looked back at him, all he saw was pure love and joy, and it made his heart clench. That’s all he ever wanted to give her, no matter what.

“You look beautiful, Sakura…” He gave an eye crease and squeezed her hand lightly.

A light blush dusted her cheeks before she looked away and walked to the gate of the park. Asuma and Kurenai were already there.

“Hey, guys!” She grinned.

“What do you know, Kakashi did wear something other than the jounin uniform.” Asuma said in a defeated tone. “I guess I owe Genma twenty bucks now.”

“I told you.” Kurenai said as she rolled her eyes.

“I still can’t believe he’s with her, of all women.”

Another woman sighed in annoyance. “Clearly, you don’t know what life is like as a ninja. Sakura is one of the most caring people in the village, and that vet was her sensei but only for a short time, she was mainly trained by Lady Tsunade.”

“She’s a child!”

Sakura turned her head towards the conversing women, surprised to see someone she didn’t know defending them. Curiosity shone in her eyes, and she felt Kakashi pull her towards him, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry about any of that tonight.” He murmured into her ear. “I’m not having some random opinionated people ruin your excitement.”

She turned to him and smiled. “You’re right, I guess.”

“Kurenai said the women are being more brutal about this than they were when we started dating.” Asuma chuckled.

Kakashi scoffed. “Oh, trust me. I’ve heard enough for a lifetime, and it’s not even the only scorn I’ve dealt with, however, it’s for sure the worst.”

Sakura leaned up and kissed his mask cheek, leaving a slightly sparkled spot on the fabric. “Blame Naruto for convincing us to confess.” She giggled.

He looked down at her before sliding his hand down to rest on her hip. “Sure, why not. But I don’t regret it either way.”

They walked alongside their friends into one of the fancier restaurants and sat down in a booth. They chatted idly for a while about anything and everything. Kakashi mostly watched Sakura, just happy to see her smiling nonstop. Happy to think it was things he did that made her smile and feel so happy.

He watched her lips as she talked, starting to understand a little bit why she wore the lipstick in the first place. She always had pinker lips, but the red made them more prominent and seemed to demand his attention. He moved his hand to rest on her thigh, a bit surprised by how warm her skin was.

“Wait for a second, you don’t even know who the ANBU that are assigned to guard you are? I mean I know anonymity is their thing, but usually, in guarding situations, at least the person being guarded knows?” Kurenai shook her head in disbelief.

Sakura shrugged. “I wasn’t told. It must not be that dire to hide who they are, because I doubt Genma would be careless enough to accidentally drop a senbon in front of my face.”

“The other two don’t know you outside of being Tsunade’s apprentice, my former student, and now my lover who is being threatened by a missing nin who was formerly your teammate.” Kakashi said lazily as he blinked a few times to focus back on the conversation.

“In other words, they probably don’t see a reason to reveal who they are if they don’t already know you.” Asuma affirmed.

“I picked who was watching you. I would have preferred Tenzou and Genma, but he’s still on our team and not with ANBU anymore. So just Genma will do, but I trained the others myself. They also think I’m a pervert.” He gave an eye crease.

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Overprotective? I’m pretty sure Shishou would have chosen decent candidates. I’m almost her daughter, according to Shizune. And that’s because everyone knows you are one.”

“Nope. She asked me to choose.”

“Ino keeps insisting the ANBU watch you guys fuck, and I insisted that there’s still privacy in guarding, especially when the last person she is getting guarded against is Kakashi, contrary to some of the villager beliefs here.” He added with a chuckle. “However, now that you mention Genma is there, I have some serious doubts.”

Sakura’s complexion instantly heated up into a cherry shade. “You don’t actually think-”

“Shizune threatened before I did, apparently.” Kakashi said with a chuckle.

Sakura stirred her miso soup a little more before taking another bite. “I sure hope it worked.” She mumbled.

She thought loosely about this moment, just out on a date with their friends. She had always wanted something like this. Just comfortable and genuine, just love. His hand on her thigh was surprising at first, but comforting. She didn’t miss the gazes that were pointed toward their table, or how people whispered, but she forced herself to focus on the date.

Which wasn’t that hard as she kept stealing glances at Kakashi dressed more casually. She definitely could get used to him wearing clothes that fit his form a little snug compared to the standard jounin garb. She enjoyed the way the fabric moved over his well-toned figure but was still loose enough to only just barely give an outline of the muscles that flex under it.

She felt Kakashi’s hand slowly moving across his thigh, and she dared to glance at his face, which looked perfectly normal, and nothing like he was stroking her skin under the table. She gulped as she crossed her legs over his hand in an attempt to hide it from others. His fingers felt cool against her heated skin, and she was trying to fight off the building arousal. He only squeezed her thigh in response which led to her stifling what would have been a small moan.

It was awfully hard to focus on anything people could have been whispering about them when she was trying to keep control of her pleasure, and she wondered if that was his goal. Or if he was just being the pervert he was and enjoying toying with her, having known how sensitive she is to even only his touch. Judging by the imprint of a smirk under his mask she could see if she squinted, it was probably both.

“I don’t think even Genma is stupid enough to test Kakashi on that matter.” Kurenai flashed a comforting grin. “So, how did you two finally figure out you both loved each other?”

Sakura smiled in return. “Well, drunk us shared a kiss, but he got all “this isn’t right” and I told Hinata about it a couple of days later.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Naruto came to my apartment ready to beat the breaks off of me because she didn’t just tell Hinata, she sobbed to her about it.” He corrected her as he removed his hand from her thigh, letting his fingers slowly slide off her skin.

She shivered slightly before huffing with a pout. “I’m sensitive.”

“Oh, I know.” He gave her an eye crease. “I tell Naruto I love her and some other sappy shit, and he tries to convince me to tell her but I won’t. And he ended up convincing her to tell me.” He pulled her against his side and brushed his lips against her temple. “And now here we are.”

“Is this part where you skip me finding you two together?” Asuma asked with a knowing grin.

“I had suspected you had some type of feelings for her before the bar. I knew she did because she never smiled as much as she did around you. After the way you threatened the guy at the bar, I was for sure about you.”

“Now just what made me so obvious?” Kakashi furrowed his eyebrows.

“You, well you with three careens of sake in his system, acted more like a jealous boyfriend as opposed to a protective team leader. Right down to openly wrapping your arm around her waist and stroking her hip.” Asuma deadpanned as if that was a stupid question.

Sakura’s cheeks dusted pink once again. “Ah, so that part didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else like I thought it had…” Her voice was quiet and timid as she felt Kakashi rubbing her hip through the fabric of the dress in the same manner as the night before.

Kurenai laughed softly. “Kakashi hardly ever got involved with women, so when he does we pay close attention. Anko was the first to point out that he was way more touchy with you than any other one before.”

“Wait, really?” Sakura asked as her curiosity became peaked before amusement shone in her eyes. “Well, no wonder why every freaking woman in the town hates my existence right. now.”

Kurenai and Asuma both laughed at her amusement at that new fact. Their plates were about finished and it was seeming to be the end of the night out. They all said their goodbyes before heading back home for the night.

The whole walk home, she couldn’t help but wonder how Kakashi was rumored to be phenomenal in bed. Well for her it was far from a rumor now. But how did he have that when he didn’t want to be touchy with the women? He would touch and stroke and kiss every inch of her body whenever they made love, and she couldn’t picture him being any other way. It seemed like it was half the fun for her. Then again, she’d never had sex before Kakashi, let alone casual sex. Maybe that was the difference?

#kayparkerwrites #kakasaku fanfiction #kakasaku #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno #kakashi x sakura #inner turmoil #fanfiction #naruto #naruto fanfiction #ino yamanaka

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gisachi · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do number 30?

Thank you for patiently waiting! Before I start, I need to mention that this is a completely self indulgent drabble, heavily inspired by one of @detectivegeekshin‘s ShinRan doodles. This one. Damn I really really loved it, literally how can a doodle make my heart thump so fast!! So I hope you don’t mind me making a fic out of it!🥴❤️ And for Anon, forgive me if this kinda feels all over the place because halfway through I kinda did some paragraph vomit and derailed...lmao but I hope this still suits your taste, somehow! 😉

30. Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot. (1,726 words)

Shinichi and Ran have a super secret routine after class.

After Shinichi’s return for good, everyone could’ve correctly guessed that the two would be back to being inseparable like bread and butter, so wherever Ran goes, Shinichi goes, except in the bathroom or in club activities.

No one ever questions this, understanding how much time they need together now that they’re making up for what they lost, not to mention how all their classmates find these two incredibly adorable together that they will deliberately go out their way just to see them both being happy spending time in each other’s company.

Which pretty much makes everything nice and convenient for them and their secret routine.

Because no one - absolutely no one - must know about it.

It all started three weeks ago when Shinichi accompanied her to the filthy storage room to return some cleaning equipment after her Tuesday cleaning duty. Idly, he dusted the back of her uniform just below her nape, noticing unnecessary cobwebs that might have clung to the fabric when she moved some big boxes away.

Nothing harmless about doing that, given that the public is a witness of how comfortable they are being innocently touchy with each other. But both realized touches like that translated differently when it’s just the two of them alone. As normal as how he intended it to be, somehow at that moment the sensation of his deft hands grazing her warm back made their breath hitch, throat dry, chest tighten with an overwhelming emotion they couldn’t quite silence at will.

Like any other curious teenage couple, there’s something about being physically close to each other that compels them to just...be closer, as if the knowledge that they’re already in each other’s personal space isn’t enough. Yes, there’s nothing implicative of her boyfriend stroking her back to clean some dirt away. But his hand rested there longer than it should have, and she heard his slow, steady breathing—or hers, she wasn’t so sure—amidst the thick silence of the dim room, nothing but the passage of light from the half-opened door as source of illumination. Instinctively, she turned around and it hit her that they were sharing the same space, same air, same look…

There was barely light but she clearly saw the dangerous glint in his dark irises, longing getting the best of him. He didn’t say anything, but his message came through loud and clear.

All she knew afterwards was the mention of her name escaping his and her hand pulling his tie and his hand on her waist and mouth over her lips and—

Thus the birth of their super secret routine. Just like that.

Ran is no stranger to stories like this. She’s already in high school, and she knows things like this happen to couples their age. As a matter of fact, she does hear stories from Sonoko about sneaky couples going for it on campus and finishing undetected. But never did she expect that they will be one of the guilty ones. She’s always trusted their self-control, believing they’re mature enough to at least keep their hands to themselves until they’re in the privacy of his own house (not in her house where holding hands isn’t even an option, unless they want to give her father a heart attack). But voila, all that is gone, simply because there’s something thrilling about stealing kisses in public that makes her not want to stop.

“Hide your lips, Ran. They’re swollen,” Shinichi warned and teased the first time after they emerged from the storage room, acting all calm and collected as if he wasn’t on high adrenaline tasting her mouth minutes ago.

“Mou, Shinichi! Don’t come with me anymore!” Ran replied, face turning red immediately after recounting how shameless they’d been in there.

But Shinichi would still come, and Ran would let him, and then they’d do it again—

—And still do it, three weeks later.

In terms of intensity, she doesn’t consider them on any high scale; what they do is a lot more innocent compared to what she imagines other more daring couples do. That’s how she knows that they still have their self-control in check. Nothing but kisses, lots of them. No hands under clothes. She isn’t ready for the next step yet and Shinichi knows it from the fact that getting her face to tone down the red takes even longer than the deed itself. Likewise for Shinichi, but months of practice allow him to perfect his poker face that could rival some magician thief the moment they step out the storage room.

Today though, Ran feels a little braver. While she’s pinned between him and a dusty cabinet, she forcibly yanks his tie so it gets a little looser, almost dangling from his neck. That’s the first time she hears him gasp audibly; before, it’s just her. She feels proud of what she’s done, and returns her lips to his.

But then they hear faint footsteps approaching and Ran instantly regrets why, of all days, she has to do the yanking that day where it’ll make it harder for him to hide any evidence of impropriety.

“Caught you!” a shrill voice exclaims, booming in the room like a megaphone.

Sonoko.

Of course, it has to be Sonoko.

The only one who’s brave enough to get in the way of their alone time, just so she can tease them about it later.

Ran should’ve known.

Fortunately, Shinichi has known.

Otherwise, Ran won’t have found herself getting dragged by him inside that old cramped cabinet she was leaning onto seconds ago.

It takes a while before she fully grasps the situation they’re currently in.

Sonoko’s in the storage room, her expectant voice telling enough to let them know that she knows they are in there, while she and Shinichi hide from her in some very narrow cabinet, with little to no air circulating and with space so tight even liquid water cannot seep in.

They wait impatiently for Sonoko to leave. She must leave now, or else Ran’s going to lose her mind over how incredibly intimate and embarrassing their position right now is. Her body literally squeezes his, her hands blocking her chest, while his right hand, for lack of a better space to place it on, grips her waist.

She isn’t sure if it’s her whole body shaking or just her rapid heartbeat vibrating at an outrageous rate that can shatter glass. It’s really warm yet she feels cold sweat dripping down her neck and temple, and Shinichi must be feeling the same too because she hears him curse under his breath, his palm on her waist rubbing it over the fabric of her uniform as if wiping it off of sweat. She sees nothing in the dark despite her eyes wide open, but she can sense his head facing the side, probably due to the cramped space, and she’s close to his ear so she whispers as quietly as she can, “How did she know we’re in here?”

“Beats me. But I figure this is bound to happen,” he shrugs inwardly.

The more they wait, the more the air expands. They hear shuffling sounds outside indicating that their friend hasn’t left yet. As if the heat and tension aren’t enough to kill them, he attempts to start a conversation.

“Seriously, yanking my tie?” He mutters, more air than voice.

“W-Well if I had known I shouldn’t have d-done that!”

“Shh.”

His grip on her waist tightens as the shuffling sound gets closer to them. She doesn’t know how much air she’s holding until she senses his head slowly, soundlessly turning to her. In that instant, every fine hair on her neck tingles to his breathing, and she’s sure he’s wearing a smirk as reckless words roll out from him,

“Wanna be daring?”

His left hand springs out from where it rests behind her, successful in finding her lips in the dark, tracing before parting them slightly, and before Ran can even tell what’s going on, she feels something warm and moist press against them. Weak, tentative, cautious at first. Firm, thorough, unrelenting the second.

Only then does she realize he is kissing her, right then and there.

All while their friend is literally inches away, looking for them.

Oh, her nerves.

Oh, the thrill.

She crumples his uniform under her sweaty hands and hums, his mouth absorbing her nervous plea. Her world zeroes in on his lips kissing her, and everything around her spins and spins like she’s spiraling into some black hole, dragging Shinichi along whom she feels smiling through his goddamn arrogant mouth. What if Sonoko suddenly opens the cabinet and catches them red-handed? Does he have an excuse? Will she think of an excuse? Can they think of an excuse?

They can’t. They’re much too busy indulging themselves.

Perhaps too busy that they fail to notice the shuffling noise disappear little by little. Only when Ran claws on his shirt to ask to breathe for air do they realize that the sound is completely gone and Sonoko has already left.

“Shinichi! What was that for!” Ran half shouts, breathless as they push themselves out the cabinet, her joints and muscles aching all over.

“You didn’t like it?” Shinichi chuckles, mischief in his tone brutally evident, and Ran turns vermillion red.

“Sh-shut up!“

“I’m saying you did tug my tie so hard,” he fixes his tie while Ran hurriedly flattens her hair into something presentable, “and if Sonoko sees us like this she definitely won’t shut up about it.”

She agrees. She doesn’t even want to think about Sonoko’s incessant teasing once she finds out she and Shinichi have this kind of arrangement after class.

“You did something daring today so might as well be daring too.”

With one final touch, Shinichi swipes his lower lip with his thumb, eyeing her playfully while he smirks in satisfaction, before walking to the door. “Let’s go, before she gets even more suspicious.”

Damn. She’s doomed. He knows she’s going to want more of those next time. Every session just keeps getting dangerously better and better.

As they exited the storage room, the only thing in Ran’s mind is how much she cannot wait for the day of Shinichi’s cleaning duty. This guy better prepare himself for her payback.

#shinran #fanfic #kiss prompts #this self indulgent fic went longer than expected #no regrets tho hehe #hope you like it Anon!

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

Text

Embers - Male dragon shifter x reader, Chapter Five! (sfw)

So... this was supposed to go up on Friday but no one reminded me and I’m clearly not able to set a weekly reminder like an actual adult.

Hope you’re still enjoying this weekly series... Don’t forget to show me it some love if you are.

And I seem to have thrown my 'short chapters/800 words only' thing out of the window. This one is the longest so far, at 2455 words long. *rolls eyes at self*.

One, Two, Three, Four

An entire week passed without word from Mikaeïl. You had almost given up on the whole commission for this departmental murder mystery dinner, when one lunchtime your phone buzzed and you answered with barely a glance away from what you were doing. With a searingly important deadline looming for work, your stress levels were possibly at their highest since university finals, and you had been staring at the computer screen for what felt like days without a break.

“Yeah?” you barked, still tweaking the design while holding the phone with your other hand.

“It’s Mikaeïl,” came a surprisingly shy, male voice at the other end. “Is now a bad time?”

Your heart skipped a beat or two and you grinned despite the lingering frustration that the design wasn’t looking anywhere near ‘there’ yet. “No, not at all,” you smiled, “I’m at work, but I’d much rather talk to you.”

That seemed to fluster him a little, but he cleared his throat and said, “Well… I spoke with the department and showed them your preliminary design. They loved it and are very happy to commission you to do the posters for the event.”

“Fantastic!” you grinned, genuinely thrilled to have a more exiting project to work on than this steaming pile of minotaur shit currently sitting on your computer.

“I thought we might discuss it in more detail when you bring Celia over on Friday...” he said, his softly-articulated words doing odd things to your insides and heartbeat. You could imagine him standing amongst his hoard of plants, one arm folded protectively across his slim chest as he stood, ramrod straight, surveying the gardens beyond.

A second after that image had flashed through your mind, you realised that it wasn’t your turn to being Celia to her flute lesson that week. When you said as much, he sighed and said, “Never mind.”

“I mean... Celia doesn’t have to be my only reason to come over and see you, does she?” you asked playfully, doodling with the stylus on a new layer of the design. As you listened to him speak, his eyes began to stare out at you from the screen as you drew them, all distant and guarded, but glittering and somehow soft all the same.

“No,” he said slowly, the slight smile audible in his rich voice. “No, of course not. I’m rather busy with work this week, and I’m presenting a paper at a conference on Thursday, but if you’re alright to meet up in town instead during the week we could do that?”

“Stickybeaks?” you suggested, thinking of the cafe where you’d first met him.

He clearly along the same lines because he gave that sonorous chuckle that made your stomach churn pleasurably. “Perfect. What day suits you? I’m free most days after five, except this Thursday.”

“Friday?” you suggested. “I think Stickybeaks stays open til seven. We could have an early supper? That way you can tell me all about the conference too, if you like.”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you,” he said reflexively.

“Oh, I think you’d have to work quite hard to bore me. I’m really quite a curious person...”

There was something melancholic about the tone of his clipped response. “If you say so,” was all he said. “Well, Friday works well for me. Shall I meet you there at half past five? That will give me enough time to walk over from the department.”

“Perfect. Looking forward to it.”

A beat too late, he said with a slight crack in his voice, “So am I.”

You rushed out of work that Friday and ended up getting to the cafe way too early, so you got out your A3 sketch pad and started to draw a number of variations on the same theme that you’d doodled back at Mikaeïl’s house. When he stepped through the doorway at precisely 5.29pm, Mikaeïl glanced around, the lenses of his round glasses glinting in the low light, and when he saw you, the hard line of his tense shoulders eased just a little.

Mikaeïl nodded politely at Lidaë, who was fluttering around behind the counter as usual despite the fact that there weren’t all that many customers in at that time, and then he strode over to your place in the back corner. The pathway through the sleek, modern tables gave you the opportunity to admire the slender form of his body and the effortless grace with which he moved, almost like a dancer. Today he wore a butterscotch coloured trench coat, belted tightly at his slim waist over black skinny jeans, and his autumn-red hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail again, with the shorter sections at the front falling down to mask the full intensity of his bright golden eyes.

“Hey,” you said, half standing.

“I hope you haven’t been here long,” he said by way of a greeting and staring at your drawings again with that odd expression again.

“No, not really,” you said, awkwardly sitting back down again. “I finished work a bit earlier than usual and came straight here. I roughed out a few more designs for the poster anyway.”

“You’ve been here long enough to have finished your drink,” he said pointedly. “Can I get you another?”

You eyed your empty cup and then glanced at your watch. “I just turned in a major project that’s been bugging me for weeks,” you grinned. “I think I earned a grown up drink…”

He cocked his head slightly and the corner of his pretty mouth twitched ever so slightly to show his amusement. “Congratulations. And I think I might join you in that.”

By the time he returned, you’d shunted the sketch book to one side and once he’d set your drink down, he took his coat off to hang it on the back of his chair. It was a real effort not to stare at the beauty of his figure. Perhaps it was the artist in you, but you really noticed the strong, straight lines of his waist and thighs, his body clearly tightly corded with extremely lean muscle, and the elegant movements of his fingers as he worked the buttons of his coat.

When he was finished, he sat and shyly drew his ponytail over one shoulder, twisting the end of it between his fingertips and blinked softly at you. “What?” he asked in a breathy murmur.

“I… Uh…” you blushed, and settled on a bashful, “Nothing. Have you come straight from teaching?”

He nodded.

“Oh boy,” you laughed. “Your students must love you.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” he said bluntly.

“I wasn’t,” you said, feeling a heat creeping up your neck. Did he seriously not have any idea how attractive he was? “Don’t take this the wrong way then,” you said, sipping your drink and letting the warmth of the alcohol ignite a little courage in you, “But if you were my professor, I’m not sure I’d get much learning done…”

“Then I’d be failing in my duties as a teacher…”

Damn but he was hard work.

“Never mind,” you said. “How did the conference go?”

“Very well, to my surprise,” he said, holding the stem of his wine glass as if it were a rare specimen rose. He inhaled the scent of the wine before drinking, and closed his eyes briefly as he savoured it. His throat worked and you watched his sharp Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and that newly-kindled heat in your cheeks flared a little hotter while blood rushed south away from your brain to somewhere a little less articulate.

“What was your paper on?” you managed to rasp.

He cleared his throat and swirled his wine absentmindedly around his glass. “It’s… hardly a dinner time conversation,” he said.

“What, because you study bodies and death?”

His golden gaze flicked up to meet yours. “Most people find it repulsive.”

“You’re searching for answers,” you said. “I’m sure you’re respectful about the way you treat the remains. What’s repulsive about that?”

Mikaeïl blinked, and then his hard, wary expression flickered to something a little gentler, bordering on relief. “Well, alright. I was presenting my preliminary findings on the use of MRI and CT scans to determine the presence of necromantic activity in long-dead remains…”

“That stuff shows up? Even centuries later?” you asked, instantly intrigued.

He made a side to side shake of his head. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. X-ray has been used in the past, but because any damage caused post-mortem usually presents exactly the same whether the person in question was truly alive or undead, it’s not always particularly accurate… I want to explore the use of other technology to explore the effects that necromantic magic in particular has on the body after the heart has ceased beating.”

“That’s awesome,” you breathed, and he smiled again. “Was it well received?” you asked tentatively.

“Yes, for the most part. Non-invasive examination is always preferable, so there was a deal of interest from others in the field. I even had a lich in the audience who was willing to undergo some testing, which was encouraging.”

“Did you study medicine at the university here?” you asked, and he nodded.

“Quite some while ago though,” he said. “I worked as a medical examiner for a long time.”

You frowned, and he read your next question in your eyes.

“I’m not as youthful as I look,” he said. “My kind is long lived. And before you ask, I’m just over two hundred and sixty.”

“Whoa…” Honestly, it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise, given how… ‘remote’ he seemed at times. A moment later you added with a wry smile, “You must have enjoyed watching the leaps and bounds that science has made then in the last hundred or so years! I’d love to witness something like that…”

“That’s…” he faltered into silence.

“What?”

Mikaeïl steepled his long, fingers and rested his lips against his index and middle fingertips, elbows resting on the table. “That’s… honestly not a reaction I’ve had before.”

“I don’t understand?”

With a dry chuckle, he said, “Most people - though the number is admittedly few - discover I’m old enough to be their ancestor, and they start to act strangely. Friendships have been hard to initiate, and even tougher to maintain, though I’m sure that’s partly due to my own…” he swallowed, apparently unsure of the word before settling on, “‘Quirks’.”

You shrugged. “It sucks, I’m sure, but anyone who doesn’t at least try to understand or get to know you is missing out, and probably isn’t worth the effort anyway, at least in my limited experience. Can I ask you another question though?”

As his lips hitched up on one side, he nodded. “Of course.” And with that, he seemed to relax a little more in your presence.

“Is it super rude of me to ask what you are? I had thought you were at least part tiefling, but that was literally just from the horns and the eyes.”

“A common misconception,” he said over the rim of his wineglass before he took another sip. “And one I usually let slide. But no, I am not any part tiefling. I am… my family is… that is to say…” He set his wine down, took off his glasses, and cleaned them with a little cloth that he drew from his top pocket while he said quietly, “We are dragon shifters. Wyvern, technically.”

You blinked in silence for a stunned moment. Dragon shifters were exceptionally rare these days, having been hunted ruthlessly for sport, mostly by orcs but also by humans, about five hundred years ago. They’d been massacred in droves almost to the point of extinction. “No way,” you finally breathed.

He acknowledged the truth with a brief pursing of his lips, and returned his glasses to his face. Tersely, he added, “Please don’t ask me to prove it here. I won’t fit into this corner of the cafe, and besides, shifting is a huge inconvenience to say the very least.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said hastily. “I’m just… amazed? Surprised? Honoured?”

Mikaeïl deftly and promptly steered the conversation onto your drawings and drafts after that, and you allowed him to slide the limelight onto you. Clearly an intensely private individual, Mikaeïl had just honoured you with the truth about himself, and, curious as you were about what he might look like in his wyvern form, you respected his gift by focusing on the real reason you were there. This was not a date after all, no matter how much you wished it were.

Despite that fact, however, it was five minutes before closing time when Lidaë flitted over to you, her iridescent hummingbird’s plumage shimmering, and politely asked if you’d mind wrapping up so she could close up her cafe.

Mikaeïl startled from your conversation as if he’d suffered an electric shock. “I’m so sorry, Lidaë,” he said, standing abruptly and pushing his chair back with a decidedly ungraceful scrape on the wooden floorboards. “I had no idea it was so late.”

She patted his arm fondly and shook her head. “Never you mind, my lovely. I’m glad to see you having such a good evening.”

For the first time since you’d met him, his pale cheeks flushed and he glanced briefly at you before fumbling to pick up his coat. Once he’d slid it on, he fished out his wallet and insisted that he pay for everything.

Outside, with your bag packed and a design finalised, you looked up at him and he turned his deep, golden eyes on you. In the light from the street lamps overhead, his yellow eyes reflected the soft glow in a decidedly inhuman way, and you felt something stirring inside you again.

Feeling perhaps a little uncharacteristically bold, you reached for his shoulders, took them gently in your hands, and leaned in to kiss his smooth, cool cheek. As you withdrew, you saw that he’d gone rigid, his eyes wide with surprise. Allowing yourself a small giggle at his expense, you grinned at him.

“I’ll bring the finished design with me when I bring Celia over next Friday, if that’s ok.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed softly.

“Looking forward to it,” you said. “And thank you again for supper.”

“My pleasure,” he croaked, bowing his head. “Sincerely.”

Tossing a final grin and a wave his way, you walked off down the street, leaving him standing there, and when you glanced back, you saw that he was walking away in the opposite direction, his fingertips just brushing his cheek where your lips had kissed his skin.

To be continued next Friday! (don’t let me forget!)

—

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