#doesn’t even have to be a fic you read honestly i’m considering dropping on random fics and telling the author I love their descriptions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

2K notes · View notes

parkersroses · 3 years

Text

lovin’ on you. | harry styles.

summary: Harry loves loving on you and wants to take you on a date.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

warnings: none, just a ball of fluff about boyfriend!harry <3

a/n: (disclaimer: gif belongs to @queenbeestuffs) hellooo! hope y’all like this fic about boyfriend!harry. i just wanted to write about harry taking you on a date. hope y’all like it! if you do, pls reblog and comment to let me know what you like about it! donate to my kofi if you’d like to support me more! all the love!

You have decided that you love mornings now, probably because Harry is generally a morning person. So perhaps, that rubbed off on you.

You enjoy hearing the sounds of birds chirping and seeing how the sun shines through your curtains. Even if it was raining, you would enjoy the cold air and listening to the rain drops on the window. Mornings are somewhat more relaxing when there’s nothing to do. No work calls from the studio or the office, no distractions, just the sweet silence in your four walls enjoying comfort you get in your bed next to him.

The weekend mornings are particularly what you look forward to every week. You don’t have to wake up super early to get things done around the house. You don’t have any work to be done considering you managed to finish it all beforehand and Harry always makes sure he doesn’t need to go to the studio on the weekends because he wants to spend as much time with you in your home. Besides, being at home with you doesn’t really stop his flow of inspiration for songs. In fact, he tells you he may just be able to write a lot of love songs inspired by you. When he told you this, you swear you might cry at how romantic and loving he is.

When you wake up, your eyes still feel heavy after sleeping past your usual bedtime. Your vision is a bit blurry but you could still see the sun rays just merely peeping through your curtains. Tiredly, you grab your phone from the bedside table, wincing as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the screen. 7:02 AM, the screen reads. You sigh as you turn your phone, setting it down before slowly turning your body towards the handsome man sleeping next to you.

Despite your eyes feeling heavy and begging for you to go back to sleep, you take your time to admire Harry who is practically wheezing as he sleeps. Your eyes roam around his face from the little moles on his face to the way his cheek is squished onto the pillow to how pink and luscious his lips look. It still amazes you how young people may look when they sleep because honestly, Harry doesn’t look a day over 23 or 24. Then again, he’s a very healthy person so generally manages to look just as youthful as he was before.

You smile at the sight of him as you plant the tiniest kiss on the tip of his nose, hoping it won’t wake him up. You bury your face under the crook of his neck, making yourself comfortable before feeling yourself falling asleep again. You’re sure to wake up again within a few minutes so you just enjoy the sleep you get while you can.

After what seemingly felt like hours but is only just a few minutes later, you feel yourself awake again. This time, the sun rays are much brighter now as it brightens up the room. It doesn’t seem like you or Harry moved around from your positions at all.

A sudden ringing suddenly feels the room, making you jump at the sound. You realise that familiar tone is Harry’s alarm, always the early riser he is. You groan in your place as you attempt to shake him awake so he could turn it off. You simply just cannot have any loud noise disrupt your serene and relaxing morning.

“Bubs, wake up,” you tell him, shaking his shoulder gently. You hear him groan in his sleep as he attempts to bury his face further into his pillow. “Wha’?” You hear his muffled voice against the pillow. His eyes are still closed and you can tell he isn’t fully awake to realise his stupid alarm that he set for a weekend morning has been ringing. “Bubs, your alarm’s ringing. Turn it off,” you groan as you pull the blankets higher up your body.

He sighs before turning his body to reach for his phone on his bedside table, blindly having his hand search around with his eyes closed. You hear the combination of the alarm ringing (as it seemingly just gets louder every second) and his hand patting around the table. For a minute, you hear a thud on the carpet beneath your bed and Harry cursing under his breath before feeling his body pulling away completely from yours. You do not question it as you attempt to get some comfort in your bed, eyes closed like you’re ready to fall asleep again. Finally, your ears are blessed as the ringing alarm stops.

Harry being the clumsy, sleepy man he is accidentally knocked his phone off his table which would explain why he was muttering swear words under his breath so early. After switching off the alarm and setting the phone back, he pulls up the blankets on his body again to get some warmth as he cuddles in your side, you doing the same as you feel him close to you again. Your legs are tangled together underneath the blankets and his arm makes its way to wrap around you to pull you closer to him until there seems to be no space left between them.

You hum a little as you feel Harry planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “G’morning, darlin’,” he mumbles out in his deep raspy morning voice. It never fails to send shivers up your spine. “Mornin’, H,” you sigh as you bury your nose in his neck. You feel him stroking your hair gently, careful not to get it all tangled up, as he hums a random tune. You lift your head and look at him with heavy, sleepy eyes. His eyes were already open, albeit still having sleep in them. He is looking at you with the same loving eyes he gives you every day.

“Hi,” you mumble out as you rub your eyes, giving him a tired smile. “Hi, baby,” he says back, kissing your head again. You look up at him, pouting your lips slightly at him. “Kissy?” you ask him, making him chuckle at your request. Though, he is not going to deny a request to kiss you.

He presses his lips against yours and you hum in delight at the feeling of his soft lips. You whine at him as he breaks away from the kiss and he smiles at you cheekily. “Anotha’ one, lovie?” He asks as your noses brush against each other. “Mhmm,” you hum as you pout your lips at him again. Harry smiles again as he kisses you again gently, savouring the taste of your lips. He feels your lips move against his, giggling when he chases your lips as you pull away. He swears your laughter is one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

You stare at the beautiful man in front of you, sighing in bliss in the early morning. “M’tired,” you mumble out as you close your eyes and bury your face in your pillow. You hear Harry chuckle above you. “Yeah, me too,” he sighs as he adjusts himself on the bed.

“You have any studio things to do today?” You ask curiously. While you hope that he would be free the whole weekend so you could spend some time together, you know that there’ll be times where he would have to rush to the studio for a bit to settle some things that seem to arise last minute before the weekend.

He sighs and nods his head at your question. “Yeah. Just some last minute things. Shouldn’t take too long I hope. Sorry, lovie,” he says as he caresses your head. You frown a bit at this but do not whine. You turn your head to kiss his palm. “S’alright,” you say as you take his hand in yours and play with his fingers. Harry frowns at you, he knows how much you want him all to yourself on the days he shouldn’t really be working, he’d rather sleep in with you too than go to work on the weekend.

He adjusts himself so he leans his head on his hand, his elbow holding him up. “Hey, think I have an idea,” he starts. You cock an eyebrow up as he says this. “Oh?” You ask, curious as to what he’s planning as he simply just smiles at you.

“So, I’ll go to the studio, try to finish up as soon as possible. And then, around noon, I’ll be all yours,” he says this as he boops your nose, making you scrunch your face. “and we could meet up somewhere for lunch,” he suggests. He sees how your eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Like a date?” You ask sheepishly.

Harry simply grins at you as he nods. “Exactly like a date. I’m taking my love out for a date,” he confirms, sounding proud as he announces this. You blush at this. You always appreciate the small things Harry does for you, whether it’d be buying you flowers and taking you out to get food, or even just watching movies at home while putting on face masks to pamper yourself. And you absolutely love him for it.

“Okay,” you agree. “Yeah?” He smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, happiness radiating on your face. “Yeah, okay! I’ll go on a date with you,” you tease him. “Yessss!” He says blissfully as he lies back down on his back, acting as if this is the first time he’s asked you out. You giggle at his reaction, leaning over to kiss him, in which he reciprocates quickly. He moans into the kiss as it gets more passionate. You pull away and gaze down on him, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

You get yourself off the bed and Harry whines at this, attempting to pull you down to him. “Noooo,” he whines as he cuddles on your side. You laugh at his childish behaviour. “C’mon, bubs. Have to make you breakfast,” you say as you pull yourself away from him. He sighs dramatically as he lets go of you and gets up from the bed. “We’re going on a date, bubs,” you exclaim excitedly as you hug by his side.

He grins at this and he plants small kisses on your head as you both exit your bedroom. “Yes, we are, darlin’,” he says lovingly, giving you a few gentle bum pats. Though, you never minded them.

❊

A few hours go by and noon is approaching soon. Harry left shortly after breakfast, got dressed up in his best dressed pants and a casual T-shirt tucked in. He looked really good as he always does and you found it hard to let him go after kissing all over his face. Before he left, he was debating whether or not to take the car with him. Though, you settled for meeting him at the restaurant you both love later and insisted on calling an Uber then.

You rummage through your shared closet, trying to find a cute dress to wear for your date. You feel like a teenager again after your crush just asked you out.

It’s amazing how despite being with Harry for so long, he still makes you feel that way, loved and adored. People would say that there’s no need to dress up on romantic dates despite having been together for years. But Harry never believed that. To him, there’s no expiry date on showing your loved one how much they meant to you and Harry always took any opportunity he can get to shower you with love and bring out some romance into your relationship. Even if it’s just the little things like painting each other’s nails and making home cooked dinner.

You opt to wear a pretty white dress that goes down to your knees with blue flowers printed all over. You also decided to wear your makeup and hair more natural today, you didn’t feel like going all out for that. You knew Harry would think you’re beautiful nonetheless whether you wear your makeup light or heavy. Finally, you topped off your outfit with some sandals. Personally, you love your outfit, giving you summery vibes for the season.

While waiting for your ride, Harry texts you.

Lovieeee. I’m done with everything here. Off to the restaurant soon. Can’t wait to see you, beautiful. x

You smile at his message and quickly type in your response, just in time as the Uber arrives. You quickly check to see if your things are in your bag before heading out, locking the door behind you.

Hii handsome. My ride’s here. Can’t wait to see you too. <3

When you arrived at the restaurant, Harry still hadn't arrived, though you assumed that he probably got into some slight traffic on the way. So you ask the waitress for some water while waiting for him. As you wait, you can only hope that the paparazzi doesn’t disturb your date today.

A few minutes passed, you keep looking out of the window near your table to see if your boyfriend is coming in. As if on cue, the familiar curly-headed man struts in through the door, with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Red roses to be exact. You feel your heart melting inside as you look at him greeting the waiters and waitresses as he makes his way to you, his smile so bright to it could light up the whole room.

“Hello, my love,” he greets you, leaning down to give you a few kisses. He then hands you the bouquet in which you accept happily. “Flowers for my lovie,” he says smiling. You beam at him as you inhale the scent of roses in. “Thank you, H,” you tell him, seemingly blushing at his romantic gesture.

The waitress that was with you comes by again with menus, smiling at the both of you after seeing the flowers and the affectionate kisses being exchanged. You both decide on what you want to eat and thank the waitress as you give back the menus.

You turn to face Harry again, resting your face on your hands as you stare at him lovingly. Harry copies your actions, making you both giggle. “Hi,” he beams at you. “Hi,” you say back to him. “Is this why you were late? Buying flowers?” You ask, gesturing at the bouquet on the table. He shrugs at you like it’s no big deal. “Of course. You deserve some flowers. Plus, it’ll look great on our dining table,” he tells you as he sips on his water. You only beam at him as you reach over to hold his hand, in which he gladly lets you.

He’s always been such a huge romantic.

“How’s the music stuff coming along?” You inquire as you take a sip of your water. “It’s great! Just had some stuff to discuss and confirm earlier, about what songs are good and all that,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal.

You playfully roll your eyes at him and he chuckles at this. “Well, knowing you’re writing those songs, I’m sure all the songs are great,” you tell him and you mean it. It’s no doubt that Harry is a master at writing songs. He writes them like he’s telling a story, with subtle details and specificity, with meaning and juxtaposition. You absolutely adore his songs and you always make sure to praise him for it.

He blushes at your compliment. “Thank you, darlin’. What about you? Did ya do anything before you left home?” You begin to tell him what you did at home while he was gone. Albeit it isn’t that interesting as his job, it’s nice that he insists on knowing what you’ve been up to around the house, whether it’d be reading a book or finding a momento while cleaning.

“Think I need to stop by the book store sometime soon. M’running out of books to read,” you pout as you think about the books you’ve been rereading over again. Your food soon arrives, the smell making your mouths water. Harry grabs your hand from across the table and brings it up to his face, kissing your knuckles.

You blush at this. It seems that Harry is feeling extra affectionate with you today, though you’re not complaining. “Eat up, lovie,” He smiles at you as he picks up his cutlery.

As time went by, you and Harry discussed random things as you eat. From grocery shopping to studio work, from his offers for acting to work projects in your office. Eventually, after your food is finished, you both order some drinks and a slice of chocolate cake as dessert.

You could tell that people are probably staring at the two of you as you share your cake and exchange loving affection. Most probably they are looking to make sure that, yes, it is indeed Harry Styles in the same restaurant as them. You’re sure there will be pictures surfacing the internet and articles written about the two of you somehow. Usually, you would blush at their stares, but to be honest, you don’t really care at the moment. All you can think of is Harry, just Harry, sitting in front of you giving all his attention on your date.

“So, I was thinking,” he begins as he sets his spoon down. “Oh no,” you joke as you take the last bite of the cake.

Harry laughs at you, taking your hand in his again. “Shhhh, let me speak, darlin’,” he hushes and you giggle at him. “So, we can go to the bookstore. Get you some books for your shelf. And then, maybe we could buy some stuff and have a bubble bath this evening,” he suggests. You beam at his suggestion and the thought of spending the evening with him in a relaxing bath sounds heavenly to you.

“You seem to have a lot of ideas for today, H,” you tease him. Although, you love how he’s always coming up with random yet domestic ideas to spend time with you. “What can I say, my love? I’m a romantic,” he smirks at you as he plays with your fingers.

You giggle, shaking your head at him. “Well, I love it,” you agree with his suggestion. Harry just smiles at you and kisses your knuckles again. “Well, I love you,” he says, and if it was not possible for your heart to grow ten times bigger before, it’s definitely possible now.

Right after lunch (with Harry being super generous to leave the waitress a huge tip), you both walk hand in hand to a nearby bookstore. The warm sunshine is shining bright above you, you are lucky to have brought your sunglasses with. Not to mention, you admit that Harry looks heavenly under the sun, which casted a little halo over his head. Harry playfully bumps into as he blushes when you say this. It’s funny how he’s still the shy man that was nervous to ask you out even though he’s an incredibly talented artist.

You both separate into different aisles once you enter the store. You notice how a few fans recognize Harry and shyly go up to him to ask for a picture, which makes you smile. You skim through the books on the shelf, humming along to the tune of Young Hearts that’s playing throughout the store. Harry turns to another aisle, seeing you reading the summary of a book in your hands, your head bopping to the music that was playing. He smiles at the sight, always loving to admire you in whatever things you do. If the fans didn’t see how smitten he is for you, they’re sure to know now.

Harry sneaks up slowly behind you, catching you off guard as he wraps his arms around you. You turn your head to kiss his cheek, he smiles with his eyes closed, loving the feeling of your lips on him. He hums with you the tune of music, gently swaying your bodies together. His head is out on your shoulder as he gently kisses your neck, making you giggle at the ticklish feeling.

He pulls away, still citing the lyrics as he tries to spin you in your place. You laugh at this as you do so. Muttering out lyrics as you both move and dance in between the shelves, laughter emitting from the both of you as people stare, probably thinking of how adorable or crazy you are.

It’s a nice feeling, to feel so in love with the person you’re with. And you adore that about your relationship with Harry.

❊

“D’you need more bubbles, darlin’?” Harry asks from the bathroom. You are busy taking off your clothes and makeup when he asks you this. Walking in your bathroom in just your underwear, you smile as you see Harry stirs around the water in the tub, making sure it’s just the right temperature. Little candles that you bought are lit up on the side of the tub. “Think we have enough bubbles, H,” you chuckle as he tries to add some more to the tub.

After the bookstore where you might’ve received some glares from dancing around, you both drove to an outlet to buy some bathroom items. You try not to go overboard with what you bought, though you think Harry didn’t mind putting in some scented candles, soap and bath bombs in your cart. You stared at him like he was insane, but he defends himself and assures you it’s no problem because “my lovie only deserves the best bubble bath”.

Harry stands upright from the tub and looks at you. His green hypnotising eyes admiring your nearly naked figure, which makes you blush. “What?” You ask shyly. He only smiles at you as he wraps an arm around your figure. “Nothing. Just thinkin’ of how I’m dating a goddess,” he smirks at you and you scoff as you poke his side, causing him to laugh. “Always the charmer, huh?”

Harry just shrugs at this before giving your bum some gentle pats, him squeezing it slightly not going unnoticed to you. “In ya go, lovie,” he gestures to get in the tub as he leaves the room for a bit.

You carefully sit down in the tub, surrounded by bubbles and the sweet scent filling in your nostrils. You play around with the water before a very naked Harry arrives back, which makes your face heat up a bit, even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen. You smile at him as you scoot over so he could sit behind you.

“Did you enjoy today?” He asks, gently rubbing your back. You instantly feel relaxed as you feel his hands on you. “I did. I loved today,” you sigh, leaning back onto his chest as you feel his arms wrap around your abdomen.

“Yeah?” He murmurs as he plants multiple kisses on your shoulder up to your head. “Mhmm,” You hum in reply, closing your eyes as you feel tension in your muscles escape in the calm serene bath you’re in. It is a comfortable silence between you, the only thing you could hear is the sound of yours and Harry’s breath and occasionally the water rippling as you made any movement.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, lovie. We still haven’t had dinner,” he chuckles as he sees your eyes closed, looking so calm and relaxed. “M’not. Just resting my eyes,” you murmur, though you don’t want to admit that you’re slowly getting sleepy. “What’re we having for dinner?” You ask as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Mmm, maybe we’ll just order pizza. That sound good?” he suggests. You hum in agreement, sighing as you feel his hand caressing your head.

You look up to him and Harry looks down at you after feeling your head move from his shoulder. “Hey,” you smile at him. He smiles back, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hi, my love,” He says back. You beam at him as you run your fingers through his hair, him sighing blissfully at the feeling.

“Thank you for today,” you say. You kiss his lips, letting out a small moan as he kisses you back. “I love you,” you say lovingly to him. “I love you too, darlin’,” he replies as he looks at you a certain way. Like you’ve just hung all the stars in the sky. With so much awe and love for you.

He kisses you again before his lips move all over your face, making you giggle. Moving around, the water splashes out from the tub as you both laugh in joy, soaking in the love you have for each other.

Today was definitely a good day. A day you hope would continue forever with Harry.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #parkersroses writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot

512 notes · View notes

ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: a short update resolving where we left off last week, to be soon followed by another gwynriel bonus scene. after that i am never going off the tracks of my fic outline ever again.

***

Nesta is going to commit murder. She really is.

Gwyn is the first to hop out of bed, rapidly tugging her T-shirt down to cover her bare girl parts. “I can explain—” she starts.

“You.” Nesta points at Azriel, who’s still sitting shirtless and confused. “You. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Be more specific.” Azriel slides off the bed and picks up a pair of panties from the ground, trying to hand them to Gwyn. Gwyn smacks his hand away, but the sight enrages Nesta all the same.

She nods to herself, her thoughts whirling. “Actually, I’m really glad you’re here,” she says. “I was considering sparing you, but now my mind is made up.” She rushes at Azriel without warning.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Gwyn jumps in front of a wide-eyed Azriel, arms outstretched to fend Nesta off.

Nesta reaches past Gwyn’s shoulder and jumps, trying to grab Azriel, hit him, anything. “My sister and my best friend?” she seethes, batting at him. “My sister and my best friend?”

“The hell are you going on about?” Azriel snaps over Gwyn’s head.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Nesta succeeds in pushing Gwyn out of her way, and comes up chest to chest with Azriel, all fiery glares. “You think you can get away with whatever you want because you’re the cool uncaring one, and you probably can, but not with me. We’re the same person, jackass.”

Before Azriel can respond, slim arms grab Nesta around the waist and start dragging her backwards into the hallway. Gwyn lets go of Nesta and slams the door shut after them, leaving Azriel inside the room alone.

“This is way too much for me to be doing without underwear!” Gwyn yells at her. “Will you please explain yourself?”

“What do I have to explain? He should be explaining himself!” Nesta flings her arm toward the bedroom. It’s not like Azriel is any random hookup of Elain’s. He’s also Nesta’s friend, and Nesta expected better from him.

Gwyn drops her head and rubs her freckled temples in exhaustion. “It’s not like I wasn’t there, too. Are you even going to ask why we were together? Do you have any questions at all, or are you just going to break into my home and assume he took advantage of me?”

Nesta shuts her mouth. She didn’t ask any questions, did she? She hasn’t even considered Gwyn’s part in this.

She clears her throat, her voice strained from shouting. “I thought you were at work.”

“Clearly I’m not.” Gwyn crosses her arms, then immediately drops them to readjust her short T-shirt.

Nesta bites. “Why? How? Since when did you guys even talk to each other?” Even after catching Azriel flirting on their ski trip, Nesta couldn’t have predicted that he and Gwyn would end up here. It’s far too much of a leap.

“It’s really not what you think it is.” Gwyn twists a piece of ruddy hair between her fingers. “He’s just… helping me get back into the dating pool. We made an agreement, and he’s doing me a huge favor.”

Nesta’s jaw drops. “By eating you out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes meet hers. “I can’t ever have a chance with Max if I freak out when he eventually tries to take my clothes off. Especially when I want him to take my clothes off. So I decided after the ski lodge that I needed to get comfortable with sex again, and I… recruited Az to help.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Nesta is left with more questions than before. “So,” she holds up a hand, “the thought of doing it with Azriel doesn’t scare you? Not even a little?”

Gwyn scoffs. “If I didn’t know him from elementary school, then it probably would. Unfortunately, I’ve firsthand seen the guy shove crayons up his nose.” She casts a glance toward the bedroom door and lowers her voice. “And I honestly don’t have any proof that he doesn’t still do it.”

That’s—unfortunately understandable. It also explains why Azriel has been comfortable with Gwyn from the start, though Nesta doesn’t know why Gwyn didn’t tell anyone about their shared history.

“Look, Nesta, I know he’s your roommate,” Gwyn continues, “but I think you overreacted a little back there.”

Right. Does Gwyn even know about Azriel and Elain? “It wasn’t because of you,” Nesta tries to explain. “It was because—”

Before she can finish, the door clicks open and Azriel comes out, thankfully clothed in his shirt and gym shorts. He slides his hands into his pockets and says, “I’m joining before any more unflattering things can be said about me.”

Nesta’s lip curls into a sneer at the sight of him. “I wouldn’t let you run away from me anyway.” She crosses her arms and faces him down. “You agreed to teach Gwyn how to get comfortable with sex?”

The hallway is crammed now with Azriel’s height taking up most of the space, but he doesn’t seem to care as he leans against the wall and answers, “Hell yeah.”

Nesta is more than suspicious and untrusting right now, but she pauses to wonder: does Azriel know why Gwyn has such trouble with intimacy in the first place?

It’s none of her business, she decides. Except now she’s even more wary. “What do you get out of this little deal, huh? Or do you just volunteer to have sex with my friends out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m getting guitar lessons out of it,” he says without hesitating. “But it’s also the goodness of my heart.” He smirks.

Gwyn throws a surprised look in his direction. Nesta is more than ready to smack the smirk off his face with her bare hand, but she settles for her words instead. “What would Elain say if she knew, Azriel?”

Azriel’s face goes cold. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“I wish she didn’t,” Nesta says. “Explain why I have to comfort her when she wonders why you abandoned her without even a text message while you get to play around with my friends without a care in the world?”

Azriel might as well be made of stone. “You talked to her?”

“You’re a coward,” she hisses. “Do what you want, but know that you’re a coward until you explain yourself to her.” Nesta lets out a ragged breath and drags her stare to Gwyn.

Gwyn shakes her head quickly and raises her hands in defense. “I’m just trying to get laid. Don’t bring me into this.”

Nesta pats her arm. “Of course not, babe.” The last thing she wants is Gwyn involved with either of her sisters—which is why it would be preferable if Gwyn avoided Azriel altogether.

Gwyn lets out a big “Phew,” and cuts an unreadable look toward Azriel. He avoids her gaze.

“Let me get you a drink,” Gwyn says quickly to Nesta, starting to steer her toward the kitchen. Nesta shakes her off and steps away. “It’s okay; I’ll leave now. Also, I can see your—” She waves at Gwyn’s lower half.

Gwyn chuckles awkwardly and tugs her shirt back down, her cheeks flaring red. “I’ll go get your sweater.” She rushes back inside her room, leaving Nesta and Azriel alone in the hall.

Azriel says nothing, but Nesta stares him down until Gwyn returns wearing a pair of shorts and carrying Nesta’s sweater. “Here, I already washed it for you.”

Nesta breaks her gaze with Azriel to take her sweater. “Sorry for breaking into your room,” she tells Gwyn. “I didn’t mean to ruin your…” She nearly gags trying to finish her sentence, so she doesn’t bother. Instead, she turns back to Azriel. “I’m excited to see how those guitar lessons pay off. You’ll give us all a performance when this is over, hm?”

He doesn’t bother responding, and Nesta takes her leave.

***

“I still can’t believe him,” Nesta is grumbling while she and Cassian get ready for bed. “How long is he going to stay in the reading nook like that? I can’t get to my books and he knows it.”

“He’s punishing himself since you won’t,” Cassian says as he towels off his damp hair. Water droplets speckle his bare chest. “He won’t go back to his room as long as he feels guilty about Elain.”

Once Nesta decided that getting vengeance for Elain’s broken heart would do more harm to the cabin ecosystem than good, she chose to contain her anger at Azriel by pretending that he simply didn’t exist. As for Azriel… Azriel has been sleeping on the loveseat in the upstairs reading nook for the past five days. The two of them haven’t spoken since Nesta caught him in Gwyn’s bedroom.

Cassian himself has many thoughts about the choices Azriel has been making lately, and a part of him knows it would be easier for everybody if he just forced Az’s sorry ass back to Velaris. But Nesta is involved in this, too, and she has yet to give the order to kick Azriel out. Rather, she seems content to either ignore him or to burn judgmental stares into him.

Out of love for Azriel, Cassian can’t help but be relieved.

Nesta scoffs in response to Cassian, slathering lotion onto her legs. “Bullshit. He’s punishing me by taking away my reading nook, the bastard.” Done with her legs, she searches around the bed for her glasses, squinting because she can’t see a thing.

Withholding his amusement, Cassian goes over to her and plucks her glasses from the top of her head, sliding them onto her face. She blinks and gives a rare smile up at him when she realizes she can see again, then soon frowns as she casts her gaze about the room. “Where’s my book? Did I leave it at home again?”

Cassian knows Nesta calls the apartment home out of old habit, but it still makes jealousy sting in his chest. “I’ll get you another one,” he offers. “What do you want?”

She gives him the title for something that has to do with erotic Vikings that he immediately recognizes. It’s on the top shelf in the reading nook. He promises to return with the book.

The rest of the cabin is dark by now, but Az is still wide awake and staring up at the wooden beams that criss-cross the ceiling when Cassian sneaks into the nook. Moonlight coming in through the glass door leading to the balcony illuminates both of them.

Cassian doesn’t know whether to feel exhausted or irritated, so he passes by his brother without a word to look for the book.

He already confronted Azriel earlier about what the hell was wrong with him, and got nothing out of the man. Not even an apology. At which point Cassian wanted to beat some sense into him the way they used to during their school days, but restrained himself through some godly miracle.

He’s trying—really trying—not to shove his nose into Azriel’s decisions like that. If he does, he’ll end up being just as bad as Rhys.

Finding the worn paperback boasting a shirtless Nordic god on the cover, Cassian turns to leave.

“You know Nesta can get her books herself, right?” Az’s voice sounds velvety in the darkness.

Cassian bristles. “Don’t start.”

“You mad at me too?”

Yes, Cassian is mad. Mad that he seems to be the only brother with a working brain anymore. “When do you plan on getting your shit together?” he says.

“How?” Az replies. “By apologizing to Elain or by leaving Nesta’s friend alone?”

Cassian still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Gwyn who used to shy away from talking to him ran straight into Azriel’s arms for sex advice. On one hand, good for her. On the other, Cassian wishes she had less messy taste. “Both,” he grits, getting frustrated.

Az shrugs, still staring up at the ceiling. “I’m keeping my promise to Gwyn. No matter what.” He sounds nonchalant, but Cassian knows he’s serious.

His grip on the paperback tightens, because that’s still not a real answer to his question. “I warned you when you moved in that you were walking a thin line, Az. I’ve been nice for the past week, but at some point you’re gonna have to tell me why I shouldn’t kick you out right now and save myself and Nesta the headache.”

Azriel finally meets Cassian’s eyes, and his gaze is unreadable. “Do it, if that’s what you want. I don’t care.”

Cassian’s face darkens with rage. “Just watch me, then.” He leaves before he can throw the book at Azriel’s head.

Back at their bedroom, Nesta takes one look at him and asks, “What happened?”

He tosses the book onto the bed and doesn’t come any closer. “I told Azriel I’d kick him out.”

Her brow furrows in concern. “Will you go through with it?”

No. And Az knows it too, the asshole.

Cassian takes in a shallow breath. “I just want to be a good brother.” It’s why he can’t stop giving Az chances, even when it inconveniences the woman he loves. “I want to be a good brother, a good partner, a good friend. I want to be all those things at once.”

Nesta’s lip quirks up. “You’re definitely better at all that than I am.” She rests her chin on one bent knee and frowns. “What else do you want to be?”

“That’s it.” His shoulders slump. “Nothing else.”

Nesta gives an amused huff. “All those things are for other people, though. Forget me and Azriel; what do you want to be for yourself, Cassian?”

What do you want? Cassian remembers her asking him a long time ago.

That… he doesn’t have an answer for. He rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground. “I dunno,” he says, trying to sound flippant.

Looking up with a smile, he goes over to Nesta’s side of the bed and crouches at her side. “Who has time to think about all of that, anyway? I’m already happy doing exactly what I do.”

Still frowning, Nesta shifts on the bed so she can better face Cassian on the ground. “Do you really not know?” she says quietly.

Letting his smile drop, Cassian presses his lips into a wavery line.

She takes his face in her cold, thin hands, and he lowers his head onto her lap. A pounding has started up behind his eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” she says when he doesn’t speak. Her hand travels to the spot between his shoulder blades, and she pats his back in consolation. “You’ll find out. I’ll still be here when you do.”

He doesn’t lift his head, because if he does he might cry, so she keeps patting his back for a long while.

***

The next night Cassian finds himself in the kitchen, as he often does lately. The gnocchi for dinner is missing something, but he can’t tell what it is.

Swiping some pomodoro sauce from his wooden spoon with a finger, he goes over to the kitchen island and holds it out to Nesta. She licks it off his finger and says, “More cream,” before going back to her rant. “But really, does Eris want me to hurt him? Because if he keeps acting like this I’m going to physically hurt him.”

“You should do it if it makes you happy, babe,” Cassian says absentmindedly, more focused on checking the potatoes au gratin in the oven than on their conversation.

Two heavy, heart-attack worthy potato dishes on the same night, all because Nesta was in the mood for it. It sickens Cassian to think of the unhealthiness of it all, but these days it’s like he can’t stop himself from making food. It doesn’t matter whether the meal is fatty or not, as long as it tastes good enough for date nights.

By the time dinner is served and Cassian is settled in next to Nesta at the island, the topic of conversation has moved far away from Eris and law school.

“I used to be a fitness freak,” Cassian says mournfully as Nesta piles more and more cheese-covered potatoes onto his plate.

“Your abs look the same as the day I met you. You’ll be fine.”

Cassian didn’t even think about his abs. He presses a hand to his torso in worry. How long until those are gone, too?

“Eat.” Nesta shoves a fork into his hand and starts to dig into her own plate.

Cassian takes it reluctantly. “You know, this is bad for you too.” He realizes suddenly, “Have I been poisoning your health this whole time?” That’s even worse than the thought of losing his abs.

Nesta’s fork stops halfway to her mouth. The look on her face is disgusted enough to curdle milk, as if Cassian might change his mind and try to take her dinner away. She visibly swallows her feelings back and scoots closer to Cassian, spearing some of his gnocchi on her fork.

“Come on, we’ll clog our arteries together.” She pats his back the way she always does. “We’re here for a delicious time, not a long time.”

Cassian can hardly say no when he’s getting food shoved into his mouth without warning.

But despite his defeat with dinner, he’s joined by a sleepy and irritable Nesta the next morning in the home gym. She refuses to speak a word to him at such an early hour, but her compromise is loud and clear when she begins stretching and warming up. She’ll be here while he figures out whatever it is he wants to be for himself.

***

a/n: what do y’all think. is cassian overreacting, is nesta overstepping, or are they right and azriel is a menace who needs to be stopped (asking bc sometimes i cant tell when my mcs are being annoying)

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

188 notes · View notes

pufflocks · 3 years

Note

Hello again Zen! First I just wanna say that you don’t need to apologize about what happened to the other fic. If you ever feel like you wanna reattempt it, just tell me and I’ll send it again. This request is also smut like the last one and I hope that’s ok!

So Bakugou, known by the public as the pro hero Dynamight, has been having it tough at work the past 2 weeks. He knew that technically it was partly his fault. You see, Bakugou is in a secret relationship with one of Japan’s most mischievous villains. Y/n L/n. (Male Reader) Y/n was in reality not necessarily a villain. He was seen as one, but he had never actually killed anybody. He was more the type to steal, start some fights/trouble and occasionally blow up some place. He was more mischievous than evil. Though Bakugou knew that Y/n wasn’t as bad as everyone thought, and he knew that Y/n did love him. He just had a bit of history.. With that being said: Bakugou had been having it rough lately because his secret boyfriend had been at it like crazy. He also knew that Y/n was intentionally making things difficult for him. So when he was on his patrol and got an emergency signal about trouble just a few blocks away, boy was he ready to hunt Y/n down! Once he saw him he immediately chased him into an alleyway. Y/n had escaped and ran into an abandoned apartment. He thought he was safe. But when he turned around, he wasn’t so lucky. Shit.. Bakugou was ready to completely ravage and take out all of his frustrations on Y/n, as he had him trapped with nowhere to run.

This one could be considered Revenge/Angry S*x. It’s not non-con since Y/n clearly knew what he was in for, and Bakugou wouldn’t do anything incase Y/n seriously stopped him. The request was kinda long, sorry about that lol. If you don’t feel like writing it then it’s fine, and if you’d like to switch some things up then feel free to do so! Also, don’t feel rushed and take your time. Have a nice day/night! :>

Summary: I'm not a dark blogger, but this req is honestly too amazing. I will change some things as to not make it exactly dark though— And thank you for being patient with me and the recent incident. 💛

Warnings: NFSW • proof read • Aged up • mild angst{?}

Cast: Villian!M!Reader x Pro hero!Bakugou

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Y/N L/N. A name that was a hassle to spit out. Your name was spoke like a horrid sickness spreading west to east. All you were was some mildly lowlife starting cat fights on the streets of Japan. It usually happens at night, and that's also when you strike 24 hour open corner stores. Quite fun to be honest. Your skill being up to par of a spy since your original outing clothing you were seen with was mostly black. Your hair was dyed a certain way after a long past incident though, kinda making you stick out overall you camflouged into the night.

Your pro hero, hot headed, stress filled, boyfriend however, was gold spoon in it's prime. A pro hero who was rich with fame. Oh god he had it all in your eyes. You sometimes cried with tears of joyfulness just at the mere slick thought you were dating him. Not no female who just as good looking, like Creati. No, none of that. It's not like he would change that spite his efforts of frustration with your recent activities these part two years.

The streets are terrific to you for these two years though. Everything is nearly breakable and easily fixed with community money. You would think it was community money atleast. All is good since you made sure to leave your mark with explosives.

Hence your love and passion for your lover, you would smuggle cheap fireworks and set them off at random areas of the late hours. The most recent one being pulled off near a school and and anyone could imagine how the headlines went. The news was erratic with wow and terror of where the explosion even came from, who set it off. Little did they obviously not know —

It was pro hero, Katsuki Bakugous boyfriend.

On to other things. Bakugou was in a meeting. Apparently he was being caught up with some warning of a manic villain roaming the streets and city alone.

"So what ?" The room was silent as all eyes transferred front to the back where he sat. Eye bags slightly visible of how stressed he really was after the news confirmed he was.

A co-worker of his, Kirishima raised his hand in apparent anxiousness. "Um", he coughed into his fist before speaking again. "Well, Bakubro he has been going at it for nearly 2 years. No one even know what he looks like, hell man." Starting to get his voice back he finally said, "We probably don't even know if he is a he !" The rooms tension was held up to a few more minutes before Bakugou just got up and walked out.

Another co-worker of his, Mina sparked up and said, "Where are you going !" Her words fell on deaf ears as he was already gone.

Heavy weighted footsteps of his boots were heard along the agency's hallways as people made sure to step out of his way. Grabbing his stuff most important for his next move being his car keys. His brain hurt of how fucking frustrating it is to be held back from work because of his delinquent boyfriend wants to treat the world as a damn playground. He couldn't take it! The stress and anxiety he kept for 2 years was just high enough for him to fuck one out. And he might just.

Just because those assholes didn't know where to find you, doesn't mean he can't. You were always close to a rundown apartment in an alleyway doctoring up a new firework of your own or anything remotely for distruction.

And there you were. In a damn corner completely unaware of the 6 foot presence behind you. Horny and exhausted was a nasty mix for anyone and Bakugou is a worse case as he grabbed you by your arm turning you around.

Alert entered your mind as you nearly, by a measly hair burnt him with a match you had. Why was here was all you could ask yourself, feeling his dramatic hot pants near your neck.

"Why-" No time for speaking when he was highly eager to ravage your ass. You knew how he was from time time since you've met him and because of this you have gotten the worst and the best of him. Sex and life alone was hot and dangerous between the both of you.

His lips marked yours up with a grunt of his own making it seem as if he was feasting on your chapped ones. The dryness making it sting sweetly only adding to the arousal you now felt for yourself. Kissing him. Him not taking his time as he will easily swallow his food without chewing.

"I'm fucking pissed." He snapped. This version of him was the only version you couldn't take. No type of convincing could make an outsider believe your actions to one another was not non consensual. His slightly bigger form compared to your own was trifling as it was pressed up to your chest.

After minutes of searching eachothers mouths with fever and rush he finally stripped himself from his pants. You caught a rare glimpse of how hard he really was. Now this was irritating you at this point. You were no sore loser, but if someone ever took something from you like candy it would easily be endgame.

"Stop fucking pouting. I just got out of a meeting early", he adjusted his position a bit. "To fuck your meddling ass." He closed the space between you two as his cologne and natural scenticked your senses. A shiver went down your spine like a fresh cold drop of sweat as you backed away into the corner. He followed that and smirked. You couldn't be serious.

"Turn around. I wanna see it." He huffed, impatiently. You obviously did what you were told. No time in making him even more pissed. He admired your obedience when it came to your relationship. Only if you could follow that up in turning yourself in. Sadly you were too prideful, probably why you both have an odd ball bond with eachother.

Like lightning your pants were down just like his as he slapped your ass with a strikingly heavy hand. Watching your arse slightly move was guilty enjoyment of his own.

"Ah !" You covered your mouth quickly in fear of his scolding. Number 1 rule of him when frustrated was that on all accounts. Don't. Fucking. Make. A. Peep. That reminder did not fail to make you turn back with pleading eyes with him looking back at you with pliant disbelief.

"Yer' really trying to fuckin' test me, yeah ?" He asked. Not loud how he usually is, but a lower octave with a nonchalant expression. He was tired. Tired of your prideful denial of going to jail. Tired of these late damn meetings at the agency. Tired of his parents calling him because he was doing this to himself. He was fucking exhausted of it all. His top tier was you especially.

☆

That's completely fine though. He can sex all of this out on his handsome villain boyfriend.

Y/N fucking L/N.

I hope this is fine, again I'm not a dark blog so if I wrote this along with the req it would get a bit dark. { I love dark blogs so it would be a whole series 💀. }

#mha bakugou #bakugou x male reader #x male reader #bnha x male reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #male reader smut #bakugou smut #villain reader #male reader #bottom male reader

402 notes · View notes

featherfur · 3 years

Text

I’m going to try and make sense with this so bear with me: I think a lot of untapped angst potential in fic is the reality of Jiang Cheng being the older one now and visibly more mature because Wei Wuxian died at 20? 19? And he wasn’t exactly maturing in the ghost realm during that considering he doesn’t remember it. Now he’s definitely matured via trauma but that’s not the same thing. And now they’re 16x on the wrong wave length.

Under the read more because uh, I go into detail

Now put Jiang Cheng in the same room as Wei Wuxian and they’re both 12, atleast in the beginning. But Jiang Cheng had his previously homicidal insane brother show up right next to his nephew after insulting his mom (who’s death he inadvertently led too) so JC (for me atleast) can be forgiven a bit for not being happy and wanting to kick his ass and thinking he may still be insane because an Okay Wei Wuxian Would Not Insult Shijie or His Nephew. Especially since JC not only didn’t tell the entire world that his brother was back, left him with Jin Ling, only yelled at him a bit and scared him via dog and— (I’m going to shut up here because that isn’t my point but man I could go on). JC had a lot of issues and he yells at Wei Wuxian to the point one wants to offer him a cough drop.

But post Temple JC? Who watched him walk away sadly and knows that Wei Wuxian is no longer unstable and thinks he doesn’t want to be his brother anymore? That’s so much wonderful angst because that means Wei Wuxian will not be greeted by Jiang Cheng his Shidi anymore.

He will be met with Sect Leader Jiang who clawed his way up from nothing but a baby in his right, a stack of spreadsheets on his left and the most feral disciples around that he has to protect. This Sect Leader who doesn’t have time to go around hunting Wei Wuxian down to harass him. Sect Leader Jiang who barely even greets Wei Wuxian when he visits because he has shit to do. He has audits and taxes and those damn merchants are complaining, he has to up the wages of the seamstresses that make the robes of his sect with so many protection talismans and find a way to convince Sect Leader Ouyang to stop fine-ing the caravans that deliver the goods. He has to organize the celebrations and make sure everyone’s safe during flooding season. That’s not even counting how he has to train and monitor his disciples and night hunts and the political hellscape!

But Wei Wuxian!! He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know everything that Jiang Cheng has been taking care of or that he’s just seriously that busy. He thinks he’s being ignored and pushed away and mocked when Jiang Cheng walks by with a quick “Master Wei” and runs off! Because how could Jiang Cheng treat him like that when Wei Wuxian is clearly trying to reconnect. Every offer of night hunting his declined unless it was planned then already and when they do get together Jiang Cheng ignores him! Why is Wei Wuxian even trying!? What’s the point of Jiang Cheng can’t stand him but why can’t he stop trying either??

Meanwhile during those hunts Jiang Cheng is trying to keep an eye on his brother, his twelve disciples, Jin Ling and his entourage, Wei Wuxian’s Lan ducklings, that random Ouyang kid who apparently imprinted on Jin Ling, figure out what they’re hunting, mentally running the math for the cost of the inns for all of them, going through each of the attending Jiang disciples’ personal likes and deciding on whether to buy their favorite snacks or something else as a ‘thank you for not dying’ as has become accidental custom, trying to figure out if it’s weird to get Jin Ling and his friends something nice (CLEARLY he has to get the Ouyang kid something, he apparently has no other friends considering how often he’s just hanging around Lotus pier whenever Jin Ling swings by), and trying to think of he has any other disciples night hunting within a 50 mile radius he should fly out to check on before he sleeps!

Clearly Wei Wuxian just doesn’t care about the Jiang sect and wants to just be annoying but Jiang Cheng is busy! Cant he see that Jiang Cheng is only available on Mondays and Tuesdays during the odd months and Wednesday through Saturday on the even? It’s very clear when Jiang Cheng has time! Why can’t his brother just respect that not everyone has the free time to do whatever the hell they want? Is he flaunting it?!? How dare he!

It’s a giant mess and it only gets worse because Jiang Cheng is diplomatic, he knows how to bow his head when he’s overpowered (though he rarely is nowadays) or when the outcome isn’t worth it. So he doesn’t want to start a fight with Lan Wangji and from there the entire Lan Sect! He’s been holding his tongue for years he can keep doing it, especially if his brother’s happiness is on the line. He can ignore Lan Wangji being rude, he can ignore the dark looks, hell if he thinks Wei Wuxian’s position is threatened at the LAN’s he’ll even play real fucking nice so that Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen won’t do anything to his brother. He did it for Yanli he’ll do it now. (Also added bonus of now Sizhui has started to warm up to him and so he has to be extra polite so his new nephew doesn’t hate him and his free nephew [Jingyi] doesn’t light a building on fire in revenge for someone looking at Hanguang-Jun wrong). He might have snapped at Hanguang-Jun when shit was going down but now Lan Xichen is in seclusion and Jiang Cheng can’t piss odd Lan Wangji no matter how much he wants to chuck a beehive at his head

But Wei Wuxian doesn’t it take it that way! He just sees his brother suddenly calling him Master Wei and won’t interact with him during meetings or before or after and he’s acting so cold towards Lan Zhan! He’s staring right through his brother in law and keeps acting like he doesn’t exist and the only time in the last month Jiang Cheng sought him out was!! To ask!! If he!! COULD HIRE WEI WUXIAN?!? NOT EVEN TO SAY HI OR CHECK ON HIM OR FINALLY ANSWER HIS LETTERS BUT TO ASK HIM TO CREATE TALISMANS FOR THEIR CLOTHES! (Of course he said yes though because hey money and it’s actually fun chatting with the seamstresses) but that’s all his shidi cares about?? What Wei Wuxian can do for him? He doesn’t care about Wei Wuxian at all! Why does Jiang Cheng keep hating him, he thought they were atleast neutral but he keeps going further and further away!!! Wei Wuxian is hurting and his little brother wants nothing to do with him!

Neither of them are IN the wrong but they’re both wrong.

It takes until someone, probably Lan Xichen or Nie Huiasang, points out that “Wei Wuxian… He’s not your shidi anymore, he’s your Sect Leader well a Sect Leader… he’s a Sect Leader to one of the biggest Sects, he’s busy it’s tax season. I wouldn’t want to interact with anyone either.”

Meanwhile Jin Ling or a random slightly more insane then the rest Jiang disciple interrupts Jiang Cheng’s lunch to go “Okay you’re making this worse on literally everyone, Wei Wuxian is clearly trying to make this work why are you being mean? He’s trying!” (Or much more polite for the disciple)

They have to meet up and actually talk things through and honestly *that* only works because Lan Xichen grabs them both by their metaphorical ears and sits them down because “I would like my brother in law, both of them, to stop crying to me because they can’t talk. So now we’re going to learn to communicate and if either of you makes this weird I WILL just start fluting my way out of it and you’ll feel bad.” (Actually he just sits them down together while and he and Jiang Cheng have to go over payments for the next batch of trades and Wei Wuxian passes out on Jiang Cheng halfway through and when he wakes up he swears to never bother him on a work day because that was the worst moment of his life and they end up repairing enough to start the trek to being brothers again

#jiang cheng #the untamed #wei Wuxian #Jiang sect #fic material #MDZS

92 notes · View notes

hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

hello i adore your fics <33 could you write something during the war where newt & hermann sleep/cuddle in each other's beds whenever they're stressed (but are still incredibly repressed)? no pressure obv!!

SURE THING!! getting back in the prompt game!!! been working on longer fics and some regular work this summer so sorry ive been spotty with writing 👀 I'm aiming to get through a bunch of these at 1k words each

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

Newt isn't necessarily expecting the knock on his door a little bit past midnight, but he can't really say it surprises him. Hermann was more on edge today than usual, getting pissed at Newt for stupid little things (like finishing off the coffee creamer that Hermann doesn’t even like in the lab fridge, or humming along a little too loudly to his iPod), discreetly taking ibuprofen for what Newt knew was a bad headache, swearing under his breath and erasing his entire chalkboard every time he made the tiniest calculation error. It’s the culmination, Newt knows, of a majorly stressful week—another kaiju attack, multiple mandatory Shatterdome personnel meetings about the kaiju attach, reports on the kaiju attack and the mandatory meeting due, Hermann hoarding the weight of where the deployed jaeger failed and pushing himself to fix it all, immediately. Newt’s not sure he saw Hermann have a full meal (ie, something more substantial than black tea and a cigarette) once all throughout all of it. He’s not sure he saw Hermann sleep somewhere other than his desk either, or even change his clothes.

So, no, Newt isn’t expecting it, because expecting it means it’s something they do (which they one hundred percent don’t), but he showers early that night, and he changes into a big t-shirt along with his boxers instead of just the latter, and he makes sure his spare pillow is fluffed and placed delicately on his bed. Just in case. And all of it in time for the timid knocking at 12:13 am.

Knocking which isn’t even finished before Newt swings open his door. “Hey, dude,” he says, leaning casually against his doorframe.

Hermann stands in front of him in pajamas, his pillow tucked under his right arm, his toothbrush clenched tight in his left fist. His pajamas are old and clearly well-loved: blue plaid, hanging slightly off his frame, missing the third button from the top. He hasn’t worn this pair over to Newt’s bunk yet. Newt recognizes his thick wool socks, though. He teases Hermann for wearing socks to bed every single time. (Not that Newt is keeping track of what Hermann wears on the super and totally random times he comes over.) “Good evening, Newton,” Hermann says with a terse, polite nod, like they just bumped into each other on the street, or it’s pure coincidence that Newt happened to be behind this very door that he decided to knock on. He peers around Newt into his bunk. “Oh, have you tidied up?”

“I picked my dirty laundry up,” Newt says, by which he means he dumped it all onto his desk chair to deal with later.

“It’s a sight better than it usually is,” Hermann says. "I can actually see your floor."

He clears his throat.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he continues. “I know it’s rather late.”

“Nah, not at all, I’m always up now," Newt says. It's kind of a lie. He's asleep by now on normal nights (barring when he really needs to pull an all-nighter in the lab), but he kind of had an inkling he'd need to stay up an extra hour or so. It's weird how well he knows Hermann sometimes.

"I was taking a walk and thought I might stop by," Hermann says.

Hermann’s eyes drift over Newt’s shoulder, over to Newt’s bed. Newt made sure that his sheets were fresh, too, and he's stripped his bedspread back enough for them to peek out invitingly. Newt’s become shockingly more hygienic since this became a whole totally not-thing. Hermann shifts his weight a little more heavily to his cane. “Very good,” he says. “Er. Well. Considering we’re both awake, I wonder if I might come in to—talk. Or some such thing. I’m having…difficulty sleeping.” He clears his throat again. “Insomnia.”

Newt feigns surprise. “Oh, man, really? Of course, totally come in!” He opens his door wider. “My electric kettle is already boiling if you want tea or something. I mean—I turned it on so I could have tea, but there’s enough water for two people. I wanted a lot of tea,” he adds.

(Newt bought the kettle for Hermann after he almost had an aneurysm when Newt tried to heat up water in the microwave for him.)

“Tea would be nice,” Hermann says.

While Hermann shows himself in, Newt steps over to his bookcase and begins rifling through his tea collection for some of the herbal decaffeinated stuff he keeps on hand for the completely random occasions Hermann drops in. Honestly, though, all of Newt’s tea collection is also kind of for Hermann. Newt is generally more of a coffee sort of guy (barring boba tea, which rocks), so his tea collection kind of just sits there gathering dust when Hermann’s not there. He quickly fixes a cup of herbal tea in Hermann’s favorite of Newt’s mugs (a sturdy old MIT mug, big enough to fit two regular cups) and turns to find that Hermann has already made himself at home in Newt’s bed. “Thank you very much,” Hermann says.

Hermann is taking up the right side of the bed, his own pillow and Newt’s spare propped up beneath him, his cane propped against the wall. It’s the side he always takes. Newt has started thinking of it as Hermann’s side, actually, and has stopped bothering to return items that Hermann routinely leaves on the bedside table because of it—his spare glasses cleaning cloth, a half-finished book he’ll let Newt read along with him over his shoulder, a notepad he’ll sometimes scribble random equations down in. Newt’s own stuff (a lamp, his alarm clock, his glasses) looks barren without Hermann’s at this point. Newt’s kind of afraid to decide what that means.

He hits the light and slips into the left side of the bed. He tries very hard not to look at Hermann's delicately crossed ankles, because it's cute and it makes him feel disgustingly warm and affectionate inside, which is totally not how he should be thinking about his fussy lab partner. “Did you want to talk about anything?” he says.

“Mm,” Hermann says. His arms are crossed across his chest, too, very prim-and-proper. “Not particularly. It’s been a miserable week, is all.”

He drinks his fill of the tea, then sets both his mug and his glasses onto Newt’s side table. Newt doesn’t have to be asked to pull back the bedcovers for him or to gently drape them over Hermann when Hermann makes himself sufficiently comfortable on the mattress. He especially doesn't have to be asked to wind his arm around Hermann’s side, nudge his knee between Hermann's legs to prop up his left, and draw him snug up against his chest. Hermann showered, too—he smells like the same PPDC-standard soap Newt uses, and his short hair is still damp and tickles Newt’s nose. Immediately Hermann sags against him, like all the tension is leaving his body. Newt feels him sigh softly. A moment later, Hermann squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Newt,” he says. It's so quiet Newt thinks he imagined it for a second.

“Sure,” Newt says.

Maybe they’ll talk about it eventually—Newt knows they probably won’t—but the truth is that Newt never sleeps as well as he does with Hermann in his bed, too.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

87 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 4 years

Note

I've been following your blog for a while now and I love your writing and your meta! I was wondering, do you consider Levi and Hanji's relationship to be romantic in canon? Do you consider it canon that Levi had romantic feelings for Erwin?

Thank you for the ask anon, also, thank you for ruffling my feathers a bit too :D. I’m glad you like my writings and meta and I hope that my works continue to bring you joy.

The types of questions you asked up there could only lead to the types of answers that can spark ship wars. I mean the dialogue in 136 and the change in kanji for chapter 132 hinting their own ships canon were enough to have Eruri and Levihan shippers bashing each other on twitter tbh.

Personally, I see the romantic potential for both Levihan and Eruri in the show. That’s why I found myself reading a good number of Levihan and Eruri fics. (But lots more Levihan if it isn’t obvious from AO3 bookmarks and my tumblr title). I mean lots more romantic potential than let’s say.... ereri

Do you consider it canon that Levi had romantic feelings for Erwin?

I’ll answer this one first. No. I don’t think Levi had romantic feelings for Erwin anywhere on the show. Was there potential for something to bloom? Possibly, that’s why I still read eruri fanfiction. I like exploring the possibility if Erwin wasn’t a little too obsessed with his dream, maybe their relationship could have turned out differently.

In canon, by the time they introduced Erwin, Erwin had already forsaken all romance and I think whatever feelings Erwin had towards romance rubbed off on Levi and their relationship ended up being more professional than anything. Due to Erwin’s one track mind and the position he had taken upon himself. any romantic possibilities between them in canon was just harder to make happen.

Levi though still had strong feelings towards Erwin. It’s undeniable. Erwin had given Levi purpose to live and direction on where to go next, what to do next so that’s why regardless of whether canon had made it possible or not, this relationship is still very interesting to explore.

Erwin was more professional and cold than Levi imo and honestly, despite the cold demeanor of his best friend Erwin, Levi was an incredible softie at heart and we’ve seen that side of him multiple times, when he gave Petra’s badge to that one soldier, when he stared at that one mother and child when they were on the wall ready to leave to retake Shiganshina.

We all know Levi begrudgingly wanted that soft side of him indulged and between Erwin and Hange the one more likely to indulge that softie side of Levi was Hange.

Which brings me to the next question.

Do you consider Levi and Hanji's relationship to be romantic in canon?

I wouldn’t be obsessively writing Levihan fics if I didn’t see it as romantic in canon. But at the same time, I don’t believe Hange and Levi have been in a relationship since Season 1. My headcanon here is Hange and Levi built that relationship over time and this relationship just rapidly progressed after season 3

It’s incredibly subtle which is one of the reasons people like to pretend it doesn’t exist. Probably because they’re trying to promote another ship or they don’t wanna see romance in AOT

But I don’t think a relationship developing subtly is at all a sign that it can be more platonic than anything else.

In fact, most healthy relationships and most relationships from a bystanders point of view, develop subtly. Like we were the bystanders in many other developing relationships in real life, I think we, the audience of AOT, were also bystanders watching the subtle development of Hange and Levi’s relationship.

Let’s think about how we’ve watched relationships develop in real life.

If we’re not invested, they happen incredibly subtly. These people are just constantly together, then eventually we realize we can’t invite the other without the other, then we realize we can barely get them alone, then we realize the person changed and eventually they drop this bomb saying “by the way, I’m dating this person now.”

This pattern happens way too many damn times among my friends though and people I just randomly watch everyday that it just became so expected for it to develop into romance so eventually, when I’ve seen the formula play through, I tend to lean on the side of ‘yeah, they’re probably togteher or getting there.’

Yeah, I get it, there’s a danger in assuming that people are together. I’ve seen enough romantic relationships develop though to realize that leaning on the side of ‘romantic’ given specific signs is usually the correct assumption. In fact, I have earned a good amount of money irl winning bets with my friends that two people are actually together but are hiding a relationship (or possibly are in denial).

What are some of these signs?

The way they treat this one person is so glaringly different from how they treat other people

Through the years, I have lost a lot of my best friends to their boyfriends/girlfriends and as the youngest child, I have watched all seven of my siblings get into a relationship and believe me, a lot of them have a certain line they would draw on what they are willing to do for their close friend or sibling and what they are willing to do for a lover.

I have seen people in love so willingly have their hand crushed while the person they love has their fingers set back. “Hold my hand as hard as you need to.” I’ve seen my friends take a detour 1 hour away from the destination just to pick up the person they love. And here’s the thing, they wouldn’t have done it for anyone else usually, they would have only done that thing for that one person.

Yes, okay doormats exist. But even people with doormat syndrome, the threshold of what someone is willing to do for a close friend and for a person they love still differ regardless. In a life or death situation, I think both Levi and Hange would have fought to conserve lives but if we consider small things, like routines, groceries, small favors, I feel like Levi has an incredibly low threshold of what he’d be willing to do for a random person. But Levi still carried her groceries for her so he could meet her with Moblit in the smartpass. Levi still picked her up and waited for her in Season 2 when she was researching the rock. And for Hange, chapter 115 is all the hint you need. I honestly don’t know if Hange would have gone through those lengths for anyone else but selfishly abandoning commander duties for one guy? She practically said screw you to everyone else.

The way they talk to each other is different.

This is something I notice in real life too. Most people won’t notice when they themselves do it but it’s incredibly obvious for listeners if the listeners look out for it. The tones of people’s voices change when they’re talking to someone they love. For a lot of people, sometimes their voices get a little high pitched. For others, sometimes their voices get a little softer. Just watch when you’re talking to a friend and suddenly their SO calls. (It might not apply to everyone but I find this incredibly common.) Not just tones, speech patterns change or tendencies too. In front of that one person, sometimes people are a little more selfish. Like maybe, they don’t usually say what they want to eat but when the one person asks, they would answer because suddenly they know what they want.

With Hange and Levi we have the ‘let’s live together’ and the ‘dedicate your heart’ respectively.

These are two expressions/phrases they would have not used with anyone else. There was probably more in canon, but these are just the most glaringly obvious ones with two pivotal scenes that blatantly show that Hange and Levi do have signs of the above.

Hange and Levi who are generally very selfless all business people, are suddenly only selfish with the person they love. Hange with “let’s live together?” An injured Levi deciding to rest and sleep despite the fact that they were in a war because Hange was nearby to take care of him?

Those two were suddenly selfish when they were alone with one another?

They are constantly together.

Okay, irl, you can see this when you have all your friends ride in a car together and somehow, it’s always them taking those two seats next to each other. They leave the classroom together. They leave every single dam room together. And it could be subtle or not but they always wait for one another. Yet if one person is not there, they’re the type to just go ahead and leave without giving the room behind them a second look. When someone wants to buy something, the other always has an excuse to come. And oh my god, when you call your friend in the middle of the night to hang, that person is always in their dam house or in their dam room, no breaks.

And Hange and Levi have their equivalent of this.

Levi literally picked Hange from her lab in Season 2 while she was injured and he had no need to.

I think I have made a post where Levi and Hange are shown constantly together but lemme make some points. Even early in canon, why were Hange and Levi introduced riding next to each other, they’re not even in the same squad. Why were they riding out the gate together? Shouldn’t Levi have been with his squad and shouldn’t Hange have been with her squad?

Yeah sure, maybe they just decided to ride together. But why were they next to each other in the Ilse’s notebook too when they went out the gate? And even when they were going to take back Wall Maria, Levi and Hange were next to each other in the lift, they were back to back on Wall Maria.

Like the only expedition where they weren’t riding together was when Levi had to protect Eren yo.

“They’re both leaders of course they were together” Mind you, Levi’s position in the military is a special one. He’s the captain of a special operations squad and not at all a squad leader so he shouldn’t be riding next to Hange if it were by “leaders” and in the retake Wall Maria, if they were divided by “leaders” why didn’t Hange take the lift with the other squad leaders? Why wasn’t she back to back with the other squad leaders on top of Wall Maria?

Why did she pick to hang out with Special Ops squad Captain Levi of all people, in every. Single. Damn. expedition. Scene.

And don’t even get me started on post Season 3 man. They’ve been inseparable since Erwin died.

They literally come in a set.

And you kinda realized your friends are in love when you wanna invite one of them out and you realized you kinda have to invite their special little friend by default.

And Hange and Levi are just like that too,

Hange and Levi have always come in a set. In fan art, in those advertisements, Hange and Levi are always next to each other. In those fan audiobooks, smart passes, there are always Levihan crumbs. Attack on Titan Chuugakkou was literally a testament to the canonicity of Levihan since in that show, they didn’t even hide anything, Levi and Hange were always next to each other. (I think Hange actually ended up living with him towards the end?) Post Season 3, I don’t even think there were many seasons where Levi and Hange were apart and when they were apart it was more of for duty than anything else.

Hange was always with him when she could, despite her duty as commander. Given their circumstances, they wouldn’t even be together a lot if they didn’t make the effort too.

Especially towards the end, 126 - 132, the few times Hange did leave Levi behind were for commander duties but Hange never left Levi for the lulz. And also, in 132, Levi was magically able to walk when Hange finally left him behind, and Levi could barely walk in 132, yet he still pushed himself to stand up, walk toward her and attempt to stop her.

In fact, Hange’s first scenes were next to Levi and Hange’s last scenes were also next to Levi “See you later Hange.”

And I think the huge efforts they put to being together despite their circumstances says a lot already. Hange and Levi’s treatment of each other and their being together constantly in general is a huge testament to the canonicity of their romance.

Sure, there were no ‘I love yous’. But really, before our irl friends who were in love actually came out to us, maybe months or even years after we’ve watched them be joined at the hip, were there really ‘I love you’s between them or did we all just place bets on it because they were just being too glaringly obvious about it in how they treated each other?

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #meta

202 notes · View notes

jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 4 years

Text

It Was You (Part Two)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

Read Part One Here!

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3284

Series Warnings: angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

Jensen returned home right around 3:30 and went to his place to grab the beer he’d promised Y/n before heading to her apartment, his mind still reeling from the conversation he’d had with Stacy.

Letting himself in, as he always did, Jensen called as soon as he stepped into the entryway, “Sweetheart? It’s me.”

When he entered, he found you lying on the couch with your arm covering your eyes, and soft sniffles were coming from your direction. You were huddled in a mess of blankets and tissues littered the floor surrounding you.

Jensen quickly set the beer on the counter and hurried to you, kneeling on the rug in front of your sofa and reaching towards you. “Hey… Y/n, what’s wrong?”

Pulling your arm away from your face, he was met with puffy, red eyes. You’d been crying.

“Oh, nothing.” You sniffed, wiping your eyes. “I just got dumped, is all.”

You quickly sat up as Jensen climbed onto your couch and pulled you into his arms. Honestly, it wasn’t that you were broken hearted in any way. Sure, Stephen had been nice and sweet, and you were sad to lose him in a way, but the tears were more for your own sorrow of no longer being with someone, which seemed to be more often than not lately.

“I just don’t understand. What is it about me that I can’t just be with someone?” You cried.

Jensen simply swayed you back and forth as you curled into his chest and crawled into his lap. After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes once again as he said, “You know, any guy would have to be crazy for letting you go.”

It was another little jab to the heart, but he wouldn’t know why. You straightened up and took a deep breath. Your head was beginning to hurt from crying, and at this point you needed that beer he brought over. Running your hands through your hair, as you sat on the edge of the couch, Jensen seemed to read your mind as he quickly got up and returned with an opened beer for you.

“Thanks, Jay.” You said, taking a long drink.

He bent down and kissed your head before retreating to your kitchen. Peering over the island, you saw him taking down pots and pans and grabbing ingredients out of your fridge.

“What are you doing?” you called, standing and bringing your beer with you, leaning on the counter and watching him move from one end to the other as he emptied the contents of his arms onto the countertop.

“Well, it may not be your mom’s recipe, but I’m going to make you some chili. I know you were probably really looking forward to it, and I’m not gonna’ to let you go hungry.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can still cook.” You objected, even though the thought was exhausting in itself.

Jensen turned to you and began to chop an onion after setting the pot on the stove, “Nope. You sit your cute butt right there and watch me work.” He replied with a wink.

Smiling, you sat at your kitchen island and tried to avoid being a back-seat chef and allowed him to take the reins. He was a great cook, so you didn’t mind letting him do so. It wasn’t long before he had you laughing and clutching your sides. Between the way he was dancing around the kitchen and cursing when he made a mess, your mind had been cleared and you were in a much better mood. The situation with Stephen sucked, sure, but it wasn’t the worst breakup you’d endured. You’d find the one, eventually.

Jensen made the cornbread and put it in the oven while the chili simmered and came to sit on the stool next to you, bumping your shoulder with his and swiping your beer to finish it.

Clearing his throat, he dared to ask, “So, do you want to talk about it?”

You grabbed the bottle back from him, if only to hold and begin peeling the label, needing to fidget with something in your hands, “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s not like I’m super upset about it. Honestly, you were right. Stephen wasn’t the most exciting person, and I don’t think we really meshed well. He was sweet and everything, but I knew it wasn’t going to work out. It’s more of the fact that I was dumped, again. If you’re not in love, it’s easy to get over. Your hearts not broken.”

“I know, sweetheart. Trust me.” Jensen said with a small sigh.

“Have you ever been heartbroken, Jay?” you asked in a whisper.

“You remember when Allie dumped me the summer before senior year?” he laughed. “You never left my side. That was more of a high school type heartbreak though. I don’t know if that was real, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. Really. I’m sad about Stephen, but not in a heartbreak type of way.”

“What about you?” Jensen asked.

“Hmm?”

“Have you, uh… have you ever had your heart broken?”

You stiffened in his hold and took a deep breath, “Once.”

“Really?” he probed. “Who was it? Was it Tyler?”

You snorted, “Tyler was in tenth grade, dude.”

“I know, but still. I’ll kick his ass. Or whoever it was.”

A nervous bubble caught in your throat. He didn’t know, and he shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“Well, again. They’re an idiot, whoever they are. Besides, you’ll always have me.”

You gave him a small smile, hoping to hide the pain that the memories brought with them.

Jensen draped his arm across your shoulders, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder as you shook off the emotions from so long ago.

You continued, “He, um… he asked me about you, right before we had lunch. I don’t think he liked how close we are.”

Jensen pulled back a bit, an unreadable expression on his face, but you were quick to grab his hand and tug him back towards you, lacing your fingers with his, “but, I don’t care. I don’t want to be with anyone who can’t respect this friendship. We’ve been through everything together.”

With that, he smiled and squeezed your hand, bending his elbow so that you were almost in a headlock and he could plant his lips to your forehead. He lingered for a moment as you both sat, tangled in each other’s arms. He released your hand and ran his soothingly along your side before getting up to stir the chili.

It was true. You didn’t care who came along, Jensen would always be your best friend.

The two of you ate seated on your oversized sofa and watched Elf, a favorite of yours and Jensen’s, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Jensen was right – it wasn’t your mom’s chili, but it was damn good. Grabbing the last spoonful, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped as it landed on your tongue. Jensen’s eyes snapped to you, the sound making something within him stir.

Dropping the spoon in your bowl, you set it on the coffee table and leaned back, satisfied.

“That was amazing, dude. Remind me to tell you to cook more often.”

He laughed, grabbing your bowl and his and setting to work at the sink to load the dishwasher. You got up to help, but he snapped his fingers, making you sit back down with a grin.

“So, how was your meeting with Stacy today?”

He wiped his hands on the dish towel that hung on his shoulder after cutting of the sink, “Oh, uh…” he paused, looking down and busying himself with starting the dishwasher. “She brought me a script. It’s a different character, to say the least. A single dad who meets a small-town woman when he moves to a new place with his kids.”

“That’s interesting. What’d you think of it?”

“She’s going to send in my stuff, and we’ll see how that goes. I wouldn’t mind getting it… could be pretty cool.” He shrugged casually, but something in his expression told you he really wanted it. “It’s a really competitive part, though. A lot of interest, so she wants me to keep up my image.”

He returned to join you on the couch with a fresh beer, casually draping his legs across your lap as you asked, “What does that mean? You’ve got a good image. You’re not scandalous or anything.”

“Yeah, but I’m a ‘bachelor’.” He replied, using air quotes to indicate that Stacy used that term specifically. “She thinks I’d have a better shot at the part if I were in a relationship or something. Even threw around the idea of just finding someone to help me out for a bit so I could look like a committed man.” He huffed out a laugh at the ridiculous request.

You’d heard of some of the lengths agents would go through, but you could never imagine being asked to do something like that, even from your own. “You mean, like… a fake girlfriend?”

Leaning his back against the armrest, he stretched out as you scooted closer, with his knees coming to rest over your thighs and his legs extended as you both got comfortable. “Apparently, but I told her it was a bad idea. I wouldn’t feel right finding some random girl and selling a rouse.”

You nodded, your hands casually laying over his strong thighs, “That doesn’t sound like you, so yeah… I get how that could be hard.”

He sighed heavily before sipping his beer once more. Gruffly, he seemingly put the issue to bed for the time being, “Yeah, well you know how it is. If I get it, cool. If not, oh well. I’ll just keep up my appearances. Besides, I get to go to work with you every day now. Wouldn’t want to change that, right?” he nudged you with his foot, grinning at you.

Jensen had encouraged you to apply for a position on the show in season two and you were lucky enough to be considered. He’d been so excited that he’d flown you up from your shared hometown. Prior to that, you hadn’t seen him much since he moved to L.A. shortly after you’d both turned 18. The haunting memory of him driving away crept up as you studied his face, looking very much like the boy you’d always known but also the man he’d grown into. It’s in the past, you thought to yourself as you quelled the small amount of lingering feelings of that day.

You simply smiled back, finding yourself a bit lost in thought.

“Hey.” Jensen said, grabbing your attention. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“About the Stephen thing?”

You realized in that moment that you hadn’t thought about Stephen since Jensen started cooking dinner. He’d done a great job of distracting you, but you also didn’t want him to know what you were thinking about. “Actually, no. I think you helped out a bit with that.”

A proud expression donned his features as he puffed his chest, obviously pleased that he completed his mission successfully. You chatted a bit more until you grabbed your tablet to do a bit of shopping and you both fell into a comfortable silence. You turned away to hide the item that you’d added to your cart, seeing as it was a little something extra for him. Pleased with the items you’d found for your family back home, and that they’d get to you before your flight in a few weeks, you placed your tablet on the coffee table before snuggling into Jensen’s side, who was enthralled with the animated Rudolph film playing on your TV. He was always a sucker for Christmas movies, though he might not confess that to anyone but you.

The stress of the day began to wear on you, and you soon found yourself drifting off. Between your comfy pajamas and Jensen’s heartbeat in your ear, you fell into a peaceful sleep.

You awoke the next morning to the sunrise shining faintly through the curtains adorning your living room windows, confused to find yourself in the room. With a sleepy mind, you slowly shifted as you began to stretch your limbs but froze slightly when you met resistance. Eyes widening, still heavy with sleep, you came to find yourself snuggled against Jensen’s chest with the blanket from the back of your couch draped over you both. Your back was towards the cushions as you lay on your side, tucked beneath his shoulder and curled into his body with legs tangled beneath you. He was on his back, his one arm securely wrapped around your shoulders and the other resting on his midsection and your forearm that was enclosed around his trim waist. As gently as you could, afraid he might wake, you tilted your head to gaze at his sleeping form. His face was peaceful as he slept, his mouth slightly open and his chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm.

Content to savor the moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling of being in his arms and nestled a bit further into the blankets, finding the chill of the morning slightly eased from his body heat.

You awoke again a bit later, when the sun had settled high in the sky, roused by something feathering across your cheek.

Jensen’s velvety voice jogged your sleepy mind, “Y/n? You awake?”

His thumb was slowly caressing across the apples of your cheekbones, the touch sending a shockwave through every inch of your body and straight to your chest. When you opened your eyes, he was peering down at you still in his arms with so much emotion behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. He smiled warmly, his dimples, freckles, and crinkles all present in the light. He was looking at you with such adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Came his usual greeting, but you couldn’t help but shiver at the gruffness and tone, stealing a glance at his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

Tearing your eyes from his face, you stretched slightly, “I did. Very well, actually. You’re a nice pillow.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your head, “Yeah, I guess I am. I was gonna move you to bed, but I didn’t want to wake you. And I’ll say, I was quite comfy myself.”

Jensen ran his hands up and down your side and back, almost as if it was second nature to do so, before he moved to sit up. You did so first, giving him the space to swing his legs over the edge of the couch and set to work at the coffee maker. Taking a moment to head to the bathroom and brush your teeth, you smiled finding him with your mug already at the windowsill.

“Thank you.” You said, picking it up and taking a seat across from him.

“Thank you for the sleepover.” He grinned, toasting towards you with his own cup.

After a few moments of chit chat about how happy you both were that the snow had lasted, you made you both breakfast and ate together at your kitchen island.

“So, what are you going to do about Stacy’s idea? Have you given it any more thought?” you asked around a mouthful of bacon.

“Actually, um… yeah. I have.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that it sounded like he was considering her proposition of getting a girlfriend to help his image, but urged him continue none-the-less, “Oh, yeah?”

“I was—I was actually thinking about it this morning. What if—and you can totally say no—but what if you were my pretend girlfriend?” he proposed, looking toward you nervously.

Nearly choking on your breakfast, sure you’d heard him incorrectly, you stared at him in surprise, “Are you serious, Jay?”

“Well, it was just a thought, you know. The fans think I’m with you, anyway, considering they know how close we are and have always been. You’re all over my social media already and I get a ton of comments about you all the time. It would be a cute story, but I totally understand if that’s pushing things too far.”

Still in shock, you hardly registered the sip of coffee you’d taken before putting your mug back on the counter. Your arms and legs felt like Jell-O as he looked at you expectantly.

“Are you sure I’m the type of girl Stacy had in mind? I mean, you’re you ya know. I’m hardly a celebrity or anything and I don’t have a ton of clout. What would the story be?”

He perked up a bit, seemingly please that you were asking more questions. Maybe that meant you were considering it. “It might be good to play the childhood sweetheart angle, but this would only ever happen if you were 100% okay with it. I’d never do anything that would make you uncomfortable in any way. Then, maybe after a few months, we decide to just stay friends. We wouldn’t even need to necessarily announce it to the world or anything but getting people to talk wouldn’t hurt and we just wouldn’t correct the rumors.” He looked into your eyes and took your hand in his, “Y/n, I swear… if it’s too much you can call me crazy and it’ll be no hard feelings whatsoever. No job or role would ever be enough that I’d jeopardize anything with you. It was really just an idea that I had, and it can be shot back out into the abyss and we can forget it ever came up.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, considering his proposition. It wouldn’t be so hard to fake it for a bit, would it? It’s not like much would change. You were already always together, and yeah, people had been speculating about the two of you for years, especially when you started working on set. “What about our families, Jay? What would we tell them?”

He considered your point for a moment. Both sets of parents had been friends for more than thirty years and would no doubt be aware of the rumors once they started, but again that wasn’t anything new. They’d been answering the same questions about you as a pair since you were kids. “We can tell them we’re together, or not. It would be whatever you choose, but we can always keep things vague for a while. We can even chat with Stacy together and see what would be needed, but it’s all totally up to you.”

Running it through your mind in that moment, it didn’t seem much different than what you and Jensen already were – best friends that everyone, everyone speculated about. Giving Jensen the opportunity to appear he had settled down wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?

With a hint of a smile, you nodded, “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” he said, an obvious shock written across his face.

“Yeah… I mean it’s like you said. Not much would be different anyways, right? We can meet with Stacy, for sure, but it’s alright with me.”

He pulled you in for a tight hug, “You’re seriously the best, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m going to treat you like the queen you are for as long as this goes on. You’re gonna get spoiled.”

“Well, then…” you teased, patting his back as he kept you in his arms, “At least I’m getting something out of the deal.”

“Oh, trust me, Y/n. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.”

Suddenly, you thought maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, given the way your blood began to rush as he shot you a wink.

To be continued...

................................................................................................................................

Tags below (if your tag is strikethrough, it wouldn’t let me use it):

It was you

@440mxs-wife @cookiechipdough @transparentparadiseglitterzombie @urmbecky

Forevers:

@acortez82 @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @atc74 @berrygutz @blackcherrywhiskey @busybee612 @caitsymichelle13 @daydreamingintheimpalareturns @deansbabymomma @deansenwackles @deanssweetheart23 @deanwinchesterswitch @empyreanwritings @geeksareunique @gh0stgurl @heyitscam99 @hhiggs @huntersbunker @jackburtonsays @janicho88 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @jfrank1048 @jotink78 @maddiepants @mogaruke @mrswhozeewhatsis @nerdstackular @nerdysandwichqueen @okay-okay18 @our-jensen-ackles-love @prompt-and-circumstances @samsgirl93 @sandlee44 @sister-winchesters99 @snffbeebee @spnbaby-67 @supernatural3002 @titty-teetee @topthis808 @tardis-is-mine @tranquility-or-chaos @weepingwillowphoenix @winchester-writes @wwaywardwinchester @xtina2191

Jensen Only

@mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

193 notes · View notes

craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

Text

Distanced, part 2

Summary: How are these useless students coping with life?

Note: This is a group chat fic, my first one so this might not be that good! Also this contains swearing. Eventual intrulogical.

Part 1 here!

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 13:02

Hello, sorry to interrupt, but I just want to ask where you gathering your sources? Are there any particular databases you’re using? Thank you.

Remus Prince: I’m just going through the read list.

The reading list? But that only has one text that could be anything remotely useful for this topic!

Remus Prince: ye but it’s a starting point

Remus Prince: like u can read it and then read whatever it references.

Are we allowed to do that?

Remus Prince: wha

Remus Prince: DUH!

Surely that must count as plagiarism or something of the sort. You can’t use someone else’s sources.

Remus Prince: u sound so stupid

Remus Prince: u’ll read the book it references and form ur own interpretation.

Remus Prince: u’ll get different quotes

Remus Prince: u’ll be using it for a different argument

Remus Prince: why would u not be allowed to read texts!

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:13

Okay I emailed Dr Smith and he said it was fine. Thank you for the advice.

Remus Prince: OMG

Remus Prince: You actually told the teacher on me!

The teacher agreed with you? You’re not in trouble.

Remus Prince: THAT WAS MY SECRET!

Remus Prince: now the teachers actually think I’m capable

If it makes you feel better, I did not mention your name.

Remus Prince: you really had to double check?

Maybe I was being a little paranoid but I don’t think you understand the crisis I’m currently having. I typically spend hours running around the library and searching random titles to figure out suitable texts. When all this time I could have just been using the references! I am beyond furious and relieved at this new technique to research.

Remus Prince: ah of course

Remus Prince: you totally came across that way in the 2 messages you sent

My world view has been fractured, I think that justifies not texting much.

Remus Prince: why did you apologise

Excuse me?

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: now who sucks at reading!

Remus Prince: You said sorry in the first message.

I wasn’t sure if you were in a lecture or class. It’s polite.

Remus Prince: nah

Remus Prince: I’d answer even if I was.

That is not nearly as comforting as you are intending. How far along are you in your research?

Remus Prince: honestly?

Remus Prince: I’ve read five pages in on a book on the reading list.

Remus Prince: I’ve done like nothing.

That’s indeed some amount of research. Again, as long as you are done by the 15th then whatever it takes.

Remus Prince: See you said no judgement but I picked up a lot of judgement

We have already agreed your reading comprehension is not the best.

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: so what are u up to?

Actually working on the research project.

Remus Prince: im bored

Remus Prince: I’ve been sitting waiting for my washing machine for like 9 hours

Remus Prince: maybe later I will do work

I sincerely doubt it has been nine hours. How come you’re washing your clothes at such an awkward time?

Remus Prince: Awkward?

I can’t think of many students who would wash their clothes in the middle of the week day with classes.

Remus Prince: every1 washes their stuff on the weekend

Remus Prince: plus everyone knows the weekend is for doing nothing. Might as well get all my jobs done now.

You really plan to do nothing during the weekend?

Remus Prince: hells ye

Remus Prince: maybe, at most, I’ll send Dee to campus coffee

As long as you’re done by the 2nd. Though I really should congratulate you on your superior taste to coffee shops.

Remus Prince: ?

If universal opinion existed, then Campus Coffee being the best coffee shop would be considered one. For whatever ridiculous reason, both Patton and Roman don’t really like it.

Remus Prince: really

Remus Prince: I thought I saw Ro go in.

Roman occasionally practises lines with his other theatre colleagues and that is always where they meet up. But he never buys a drink as he is apparently a literal man child and cannot cope with a drink that isn’t just chocolate and milk.

Remus Prince: RIGHT??????

Remus Prince: my roomie V likes to pretend he takes coffee but he can only drink hot choc.

Remus Prince: He doesn’t deserve coffee anyway

Exactly! Have you talked to Remy there?

Remus Prince: YE

Remus Prince: He practically forced me to be his friend with how incredible he makes coffee

Remus Prince: He’ll even add energy drink to mine!

Okay maybe that is a little strange. But I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. He finally convinced me to leave my usual order of a white coffee and I have not regretted it.

He doesn’t actually add energy drink to your coffee right?

Remus Prince: ye he does but don’t worry he bullies me for it

Remus Prince: The entire time I sit and drink it he’ll be holding up his phone with 911 dialed.

That seems fair.

Remus Prince: without being so incredibly forward

Remus Prince: do you want me to grab you a coffee now

What do you mean?

Remus Prince: Well im bored

Remus Prince: and it’s your fault for talking coffee

Remus Prince: now I really want coffee

Remus Prince: I’m now heading that direction.

I’m sorry but I cannot meet up right now. I’m doing work and then I want to be prompt coming home to help my roommate.

Remus Prince: fair thought id offer

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:20

If you’re still willing, I am sitting in the library and I would truly appreciate it if you could drop off the coffee.

I can pay.

Obviously this is up to you.

Remus Prince: soz was walking

Remus Prince: ye I can do that

Sorry for not being able to sit around, but I do appreciate this.

Remus Prince: ur fine

Remus Prince: what u want

Firstly, it is “you’re”. Secondly, without sounding like a cliche film character, just say my name. Remy makes an effort to give me a slightly different order every day to “widen my tastes”.

Remus Prince: wow

Wow?

Remus Prince: For the very epitome of the nerd stereotype, did you really hit me with that “just say my name and they’ll know” trope?

Please, I can be cool.

Remus Prince: Are you begging?

Remus Prince: Also

Remus Prince: what do you look like again?

I’m sorry?

Remus Prince: reading comprehension! Fairly simple question.

I am wearing a black polo shirt with a blue tie. Caucasian with shaved hair. 5′10.

Remus Prince: how efficient.

May I ask why?

Remus?

Remus Prince: Soz I just got our orders.

Remus Prince: I’m really bad at faces.

You could have simply asked where I would be. I’m on the second floor, computer room 209. There’s a few others here but I’ll wave once you walk in.

Remus Prince: okay maybe that would’ve made more sense

Remus Prince: shutup.

I know I have stated this before, but we have indeed talked before. You will recognise me.

Remus Prince: listen I’m not fucking around.

Remus Prince: I am genuinely shit at faces

Remus Prince: it was one question prick

I apologise. I didn’t realise.

Remus Prince: Hey I’m here, now heading up.

MESSAGES: To Padre!!

Friday, 16:00

Greetings wonderful Pat! Did you perhaps end up baking today like you said you would?

Padre!!: Heya Ro! Yeah, we made cupcakes! We didn’t fancy making icing but we did have choc chips!

AW YEAH! Just wanted to check so I know whether to buy cake. Anything I need to pick up while I’m here?

Padre!!: All good here.

Padre!!: Logan saw Remus today.

hE DID????????

Padre!!: Yeah, he brought him coffee. Some special coffee, not his white coffee.

ASJKDGA

(also how on this great big boundiful earth do you know his usual coffee order?)

Padre!!: Because that’s what family does!

Why would he bring him coffee?

Padre!!: I have no idea. Logan didn’t really talk about it.

He didn’t talk about it?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

Padre!!: I don’t know what to tell you. He got all quiet. He makes it sound like they don’t even like each other but he still brought him a coffee.

EWEWEW

YOU DON’T THINK HE’S TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE

Padre!!: I don’t know. It sounds like it but Logan said they had a bit of a tiff in the texts.

... a tiff?

Padre!!: Like a small argument.

No I knew what it means, I meant it in a “omg you’re so adorable for describing a disagreement as a tiff”.

Padre!!: I want to joke around Ro but I am a little worried about him. He acted fine after the coffee and he said they didn’t talk. It just seems like such a weird thing to do! I’m worried Remus would try and pull something. This sounds exactly like how all those stories you tell begins.

Lo’s not an idiot.

He’s a nerd.

There’s no way he would fall into his trap. He’d let us know if something wasn’t right.

Padre!!: Good point.

I’ll be home in like 5 mins. I’ll run.

Padre!!: You don’t have to Ro.

Padre!!: I’m just overreacting.

Padre!!: Ro?

Padre!!: You better make sure you’re still looking both ways even when running!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #fanfic #My writing #roman sanders #patton sanders

25 notes · View notes

lunar-writings-love · 4 years

Text

College!AU - Hongjoong (ateez)

ahaha so i’m baaaack ;; super sorry for all the inactivity babes life has been weighing down on all of us i’m sure and i needed some time! This is the next installment of the college!au ateez series, and although i had planned to have hongjoong last, y’all requested him so much i wrote him next and changed the order around!

Author’s note: Bullet fic,

Warnings: like a drop of angst if u squint ?? the word sh!t appears one time i think

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

Hongjoong:

he’s so cute i’m Sad

ok so Joongie is just so loved, so treasured by everyone ,, every time he enters into a room everyone just 🥺

he’ll walk into a room looking all sleepy in overalls or something and literally everyone’s parental instincts awaken from the depths of college emotional indifference and suddenly ,,

there’s world peace it’s a sight to see

so, our Hongjoongie is actually a double major!!

he’s a world lit major, and he’s minoring in gender studies so his emphasis is on analyzing feminist texts

more often than not, the best way to find hongjoong is to just go to the library on the south side of campus at odd hours at night and you’ll usually find him buried underneath a pile of books ;; (and more often than not he’ll also be sleeping because baby can’t stay awake to save his life ://)

But he really does love his major ,, and If u let him , he’ll rave hours and hours about literature; analyzing them through historical context, societal reflection, the role of women, writing style.....

....he just loves what he does and it makes everyone around him love him for it too!!

He always has extensive talks with Yeosang (an english major who took a lot of lit classes with hongjoong hint go read the yeosang!au) on american 19th century feminist writings

they started their own book club and it’s literally just them two, no other members allowed, and all they do is eat finger sandwiches and shit on misogynistic men we sTAN

HoWEVer, although hongjoong’s work in literature is impressive and respected, he’s probably better known for his second major:

music composition!

music is the love of his life ,,, no buts there’s nothing he’ll love more than his art (except maybe you aha ha ha ;)

and people knew him around campus becaaaauseeeeee ,,,,, he would usually ,,, dj at frat parties...

it wasn’t something he particularly liked, but hey money is money.

in all seriousness though, when hongjoong wasn’t reading or writing papers, he was glued to his mac producing tracks and writing lyrics

the only thing was ,,, he didn’t actually sing any of what he wrote

he never thought his own voice suited his songs, and would much rather sit on the sidelines moving along the creative direction

and although the boys usually are the ones to sing his demos,, joongie always felt like something was still ,,, missing

this is where u come in wink wonk

you’re just a lowly econ major who surprisingly !! doesn’t !! want !! to start your own fortune 500 company :DD !! wow so rare :)

anYWaYS,, you’re just doing it cuz your parents pressured you into pursuing a career with stable job opportunities and you’re kinda good at math and graphs soooo

....why not

but to be honest, you always felt trapped

you were never able to stop that feeling of impending doom when you’d open your macro-econ textbooks ,,,

or how your heart hurt when you think about the fact that your life is headed straight to an incredibly mundane future :

a desk job, an overpriced apartment that barely has enough room for you, living in constant air pollution from the city’s high carbon emissions, never finding true love, dying alone with 50 cats, taxes...you get the drift

you usually pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, negativity isn’t productive and right now you had a world economics midterm to study for

but..

not that you’d ever admit it, your true passion had always been music

you weren’t the best composer, you knew just enough piano to get you but; but you had a set of PIPES dAmN

your friends could usually find you at the dorm’s music rooms ,, and whenever you felt stress or needed to unwind, you’d usually head over to those rooms

now ,,, these rooms are soundproof // but the trick is you actually have to close the door cuz if u don’t......

everyone can hear you

and by everyone I mean the entire floor

you were doing your usual thing at the music room one night when one of your friends came in to let you know everyone would be heading over to dinner soon,, u promised only one more song before meeting them upstairs on your dorm floor

hoWEVeR, U DIDN’T REALIZE THAT WHEN YOUR FRIEND WALKED AWAY THEY LEFT THE DOOR OPEN

and soo ,, when u started singing again //// everyone heard

and by everyone i mean ???!?

hongjoong :))

and it was love at first sight ,,, or rather

,, love at first listen??

he won’t ponder over the semantics, all Hongjoong knew was that he had been looking for a voice like yours and needed you on his tracks

this man barged into the room and begged you to lend your voice for his songs

...on his knees :00

you were in shock like what were you supposed to do?

this random man stormed in and got on his knees ,,

what was next ??

marriage ????

u didn’t really say anything for a while just kinda looked him in his eyes

but then your uwu instincts kicked in--u don’t know what it is about this dude but u just wanna like give him candy or something

and so you hesitantly asked for his name

and that’s when hongjoong realized he was an IDIOT

because not only was your voice heavenly, but of course you were cute too and he just presented himself like a complete and utter maniac and He Didn’T eVEN bOTHER To TelL You hIS NAme!

he wanted the ground to swallow him up but alas

he got off his knees and shyly stuck out his hand and told you his name

you looked at him once again ,, and surprisingly

you took his hand with a small smile on your face

you ended up totally forgetting about dinner with your friends at the dining hall

because hongjoong sat beside you on the piano bench and showed you his songs and lyrics, and you....fell in love <3

you’d never connected with anyone on this type of emotional level before and it was almost sort of overwhelming

it also kinda gave you hope too ,, because here was Hongjoong ,, someone who managed to get the best of both worlds : a music and a lit degree

and you thought that maybe ,, you could do something with music too

you guys exchanged numbers and scheduled to meet at the university’s recording studio that weekend

Hongjoong composed a track and you added your own lyrics with his help--after two weeks of mixing, mastering, producing, and recording ,,, you guys officially released a single!!

you really weren’t expecting it, but hongjoong was a bit of a social butterfly and so the song became a hit on campus

people were uploading it to their social media, sharing it with friends, playing it while they worked out, it was kinda ridiculous to you

the student paper even wrote an article about it (and later you found out that the journalist was one of hongjoong’s friend’s girlfriend ,, (hint go read the yunho!au)

And when the song reached 10,000 streams, that gave you the confidence to do what you had always wanted to do

you called your parents up on a Saturday morning to tell them you were picking up a vocal performance major

you were extremely anxious for this conversation, so Hongjoong decided to stay by your side for moral support

As both of you waited with baited breath for your parents’ response, Hongjoong was also right there just ,, holding your hand so sweetly,, and that was driving YOU INSANE

(because in these past couple of months you had gotten to know Hongjoong you had mostly definitely, absolutely, completely fallen head over heels for him)

after a long moment of silence, your parents agreed

they weren’t too happy about it, but they also weren’t as against it as you thought they’d be--the only condition was that you’d continue with econ and instead double major

it would honestly be hard considering the amount of mandatory classes and performances required of the vocal performance major, but you were too happy to care

after your goodbyes with your parents, you looked over to Hongjoong with the biggest smile on your face

and it just,, absolutely melted his heart

before he could stop himself he just wrapped his arms around you and twirled you around

and then :) he gave you the softest kiss on your cheek

of course, after it dawned on him what he had done, he instantly turned red and started chucking nervously as he stuttered his words

but for you, the newfound confidence and ADRENALINE after your successful phone call with your parents, you grabbed both sides of his face and asked him if you could kiss him

Hongjoong was wide-eyed but LIKE HELL he would pass up this up

so after muttering out a shy yes, y’all kissed awwww :))

and after that, you guys became a couple!

you’d show up to the frat parties he would DJ at and would always dance like an idiot with wooyoung in the corner of the room

and you and hongjoong would always partner up for music composition and performance projects: Hongjoong would write the tracks and you’d sing for them

you guys were honestly such a soft couple

you also picked up the habit of studying sleeping at the library with hongjoong because double majoring was hard and it required a lot of work

and it just, now became a thing for people to always find you along with Hongjoong sleeping under a pile of books

you guys kept on releasing more singles after that, and are currently working on an EP!

and honestly, you were so incredibly happy

you had the most amazing boyfriend, and you were pursuing your passion

and you felt just a little bit better knowing that your future was unclear

you no longer pictured yourself at a desk job, living out an absolutely dreadful life

instead, you finally realized the multitude of opportunities at your disposal

and with Hongjoong by your side, you just knew everything in life would work out in the end!

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

FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

Love you guys! Stay safe and healthy!!

- Luna

80 notes · View notes

hopeassassin · 3 years

Text

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive.

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out! Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there!

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you...

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

#my scribbles #here you have it #a rather complete list of incomplete AoMomo stuff I'd say #Rally's works in the making #tagged as:#AoMomo #because it's all AoMomo #sorry for spamming the main tag with nonsense #Kuroko no Basuke #will I ever finish any and all of these?#here's to hoping!#a little bit insider info from the kitchen #fanfiction #writing

12 notes · View notes

blueprint-han · 4 years

Text

pink cherry blossoms.

pairing: changbin x (gender neutral) reader.

genre: high school au ; fluff.

⇥ warnings: none, changbin is Y/N’s high school pen pal + bf + and she’s a foreign exchange student uwu. 🥰

word count: 1.4 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Seo Changbin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @pinkchcn (requests for this are closed now!)

!!!; bold italics indicate Changbin’s letter.

↯ note: hhhhhh so the story for this comes from when I first read your url, I read it as “pink chicken” siudhyuegfw I’m so sorry if has a deeper meaning I by no means meant to mock it I swear. 😭 Hope you enjoy this blurb tho, this is in no way comparable to your awesome writing you queen but I tried. 😔 Happy reading! <33⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: Okay now that tumblr officially fucked with my self-esteem + the tags I am glad to announce that this is officially the worst fic ever Kai I’m so sorry I made you read this. 😭 I’ll go boo at myself now bye :(( ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Y/N-ah, you got mail.” Your roommate chimed in Japanese, throwing the envelope on top of your sleeping form. You groaned, shuffling under the mess of sheets. It was a Sunday, of all times! What reason did your friend find to wake you up early? You didn’t take the intrusion of sleep well.

“What?” Grubbily, you straightened up from the lower bunk of the bed, rubbing over your eyes as you squinted to look at your friend, who was silently giggling at the way your hair looked like a bird’s nest, all poofed up and sticking out in random places. “You got mail.” She repeated, tucking back her neatly combed hair behind her ear, before plopping a small parcel in front of you. “The letter was attached to this.”

“I know that.” You asked, throwing the blankets over your torso, snuggling into it’s warmth. “What could be so important that you had to wake me up for the mail?’ A soft huff from your lips and you rubbed over your eyes, trying to push away any remnants of sleep. “Couldn’t you have just left it on my table?” Shoving the envelope to the side.

“It’s from your boyfriend~” Your friend in a sing song voice, laughing when you lit up at the little admission. “Have fun reading it! I’m gonna go to the park. You need something?”

“Get me some cherry blossoms.” You stretched your limbs, any last signs of grubbiness gone with the wind. It was officially spring, which meant that the whole city was coated in pink, cherry blossoms of varying shades everywhere, and you loved the scenery they provided — especially from your balcony.

“Are you gonna send them to Changbin?” Your friend asked.

“Oh gosh, are you gonna keep asking me questions or are you gonna go?” Grabbing the pillow behind you, you chucked it at her head, laughing in victory when she was unable to dodge it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your friend rolled her eyes. “See you later.”

Deciding it as a good time to get out of bed, you quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face and tied your hair into a braid before staring at the envelope strewn on the bed. Your two other roommates were both outside already — you could read the letter in peace.

Plopping yourself onto the soft mattress, you covered yourself with the blankets once again before turning the envelope in your hand. Your address was neatly written in his handwriting, followed by three hearts and one winky face. The drawings warmed your heart as you unwrapped the package that came along with it.

It took you a while, but you eventually had the box opened and the tore the envelope, revealing a small piece of paper that had been crookedly folded in half, as though in hurry. Knowing Changbin, you knew better than to just assume that the letter was short, because that man had the tiniest handwriting you’d ever seen — being his pen pal meant you’d have to basically become a human magnifying glass.

Grabbing your reading glasses, you let them hang over your nose as you squinted, trying to read the letter.

Dear Y/N,

Hi^^ hope you’re having a lovely time there, darling~ it’s been going quite okay here. >w< Binnie misses you a lot-

You bit your lip to stifle your laughter. The fact that he’d actually bothered to draw emojis and use aegyo in his letter made you melt in warmth. You sunk back into the plush cushions as you continued reading his letter.

-and I sure hope you’re missing me too okay !! >:( don’t forget about me !! Anyways, it’s starting to get cold over here and mom forces me to pull over that dusty jacket that only makes me sneeze. Honestly I wish you were here, I miss your cuddles :(( But how’s everything going on there? Are you eating properly? Are you getting sufficient sleep? You better or else I’m gonna revoke my cuddles and hugs when you get back here after two months !! Remember to eat, drink water and sleep well okay!! That’s an order!! Or else. >:(

By the time you reached this part of the letter, you were already melting at how adorably concerned he sounded, even through writing. Your giggles were taking no name to stop as you clutched your letter. Feeling the heat creep up to your cheeks as you sighed, in love. You loved how he could make you forget everything around you and drown in everything Seo Changbin, and Seo Changbin only.

Anyways, I sent something for you!! Open the package !! ^^ It reminded me of you so I hope you liked it.

You tilted your head to the side as you flipped the lid of the box open, looking at one of those customizable “summer greetings” card (which was weird, considering that he’d just said it was getting colder)… and, a chicken?

You scowled in confusion as you picked up the plastic object, examining it thoroughly i your hands. It was colored in the usual hues of a normal chicken, but it nonetheless confused you. It reminded you of one of those plastic toys Changbin’s niece owned — in fact, you were almost 85% sure it was his niece’s.

“This reminded him of me? What the hell!” You glanced at the letter with a pout on your face, eyes searching for answers. For some reasons, butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach, producing a jittery sensation. Ignoring that, you continued reading, noticing a portion of the letter remaining.

Okay keukeukeukeu now that you’ve probably opened it you’re most likely confused and mad at me, and to that I say it was a prank :D That was’s Hyunae’s old toys keukeukeukeu hope you got fooled though. >:) Remove the cloth from the box and see what’s underneath now^^ Promise it’s not a chicken keukeukeuekeu >w<

You narrowed your eyes at the piece of paper, and then the box, noticing the cloth that seemed like it covered something underneath. Reaching out for it, you placed the box in your lap before holding your breath, gently taking the fabric out. You couldn’t be blamed for being nervous, okay? You just received a toy chicken as a souvenir from your boyfriend! A chicken, out of all things!

But, however, your suspicions were put to rest when the cloth was lifted. What you saw inside the box, was by far and most easily, one of the most beautiful gifts you’d ever received, and you felt a slight pang in your heart as your jaw dropped in awe.

It was a dark metal hairband, but the thing that was pretty about it was the tiny cherry blossoms that were arranged on top of it — just by looking at it, you could tell Changbin had spent hours making and coloring those clay flowers, let along moulding and placing them so perfectly. Small, shiny pearls placed in the centre of each flower shined in the light, and you internally swooned at hoe pretty it looked. Nothing could compare to anything you’d bought from the store, ever.

So this was his gift, huh?

“Wow,” You mumbled to yourself, gently and carefully sliding the headband onto your hair. It was heavy, but not that heavy and comfortable enough to wear frequently, you continued reading.

Aaaah i really hope you like it !! I spent about three days making this in craft class, and even the teacher said it came out well (also this reminded me of you please don’t be mad keukeukeuekue), I hope you like it darling !! ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ Remember to write back to me okay !! I love you !! take care darling, bye~

With love

your boyfriend Seo Changbin. ♡ ♡

You smiled when the letter ended, almost (almost) tearing up with how touched you were. Changbin had immense craftmanship indeed, but this by far, was one of the most beautiful pieces he’d ever made, let alone gifted to you.

“Wow, that’s pretty! Did Changbin send that?” You snapped up to look at your friend, who gazed at your headband in awe.

“Yeah!” Covering your mouth, you giggled. “Did you bring it?”

“Mhm,” Your friend carefully handed the delicate flower to you, and you quickly rushed to your cupboard, getting the little journal you’d made over the three months you were here. Once you sat back down on the bed after grabbing a pen, you opened the page titled ‘Spring’ and cautiously taped the cherry blossom onto the page, closing the book shit so it could be pressed into paper. After that it was the obvious, you quickly wrote him a note, smiling to yourself as you ran your hand across the flower crown you adorned on your head.

And of course, when Changbin opened the package two days later to receive the moderately fresh, pressed flower along with your stories and your note, a smile pulled at his lips in an instant.

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor at least this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

82 notes · View notes

killingkueen · 4 years

Text

Fic: Nooner

Summary: Belle wants to ask Gold something. It’s very important and can’t wait. Obviously. || A companion to Seeing Red, but you don’t need to have read it.

Rating: E (this is just porn); specifically mutual masturbation and a tiny bit of cum play

AO3 link

Thank you to the spectacular @paradigmparadoxical, who keeps the world turning.

OOO

“—but close enough in shape and color.”

“That’d be great! Honestly, whatever you have to do, you know? Mary would be devastated if nothing was salvageable.”

Belle closed the door behind her, the bell chiming merrily.

“A moment, dearie,” Gold called absently, bent over the display case inspecting whatever David Nolan had brought in. “Most of them aren’t,” Gold continued with David. “But if Mrs. Nolan doesn’t object to a couple glue lines on the ones that aren’t shattered, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s more than we expected, honestly.”

She hovered at the door, wondering if she should come back tomorrow—her lunch break was only so long—and perhaps she would have, if the view were different. Belle liked watching Gold in his element: behind his counter, the sun just missing him as it stretched across the floor of his shop. It left him in shadow, despite the lights overhead. He might not enjoy working with the public, but he was good at it, letting his knowledge and expertise guide him.

Gold wrapped the glass pieces back in the towel that David had brought them in, placing the bundle carefully in the shoebox. “I’ll dig around for the figurines I have,” he said. “They might be too small, but I have a few sources that would likely have more appropriate sizes. If it comes to that, I’ll call you with an estimate.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” Belle could hear the relieved grin in David’s voice as he reached out a hand to shake Gold’s.

Gold’s lips twitched into a polite smile. He let go and turned to greet his new customer, finally spotting her.

“Miss French,” he said, voice deepening. His smile became no less placid, but he looked more present than moments ago, his eyes brightening. “What a surprise.”

“Hey,” Belle sighed, smiling in return. There was no way there was enough time left on her break—even taking the rest of the day off wouldn’t suffice.

David coughed, catching the changed air between them. “Well, now that I got the mobile squared away, I think I’ll be leaving. Thanks again, Gold.”

“You’ll be hearing from me,” he said automatically, eyes glued to Belle. He didn’t turn to watch David leave.

For that matter, Belle wasn’t inclined to do more than offer David a quick smile in goodbye when he passed her. She made quick work of flipping the closed sign and lock, before prancing up to the counter.

“Can you fit me in, Mr. Gold?”

“It’s quite short notice, Miss French. I’m afraid I have to charge a fee.”

“And what would that be?” she asked slowly. She relished the way his eyes trailed down to her lips.

“Nothing too steep, I hope,” he said, leaning forward.

Belle happily met him for a sweet peck. When they parted, she bit her lip. No, there was not enough time in the world with this man.

“Tea, sweetheart?” Gold asked.

“I was thinking lunch? Maybe? Eventually.”

He raised an eyebrow, gaze darting to his locked door.

Belle cleared her throat. “Let’s talk in the back.”

“Talk, hm?” There was the beginning spark of mischief in his eyes as he swept the curtain aside, holding it for her pass by him.

“Yes. Talk.” Belle put on her most stern face. It was hard to keep up when he was smirking like that, when he popped his hip as he stood in the backroom, waiting for her first move.

She cleared her throat. “So,” Belle began. “I want to see your—cock.”

She hoped she wasn’t blushing. It would be really silly if she were blushing, considering all the things they’d already said and done to each other. But Gold murmuring dirty things so sweetly into her ear while he moved in her felt vastly different when she tried to say the same things in the light of his backroom while they were still fully clothed.

Instead of cringing in secondhand embarrassment, Gold’s smirk deepened. “Do you, now?” He hooked his cane on the edge of the worktable and reached for her waist. Belle accepted the kiss, letting it deepen. She sucked his bottom lip until his wandering hands trailed to the zipper on her skirt.

Belle stepped away reluctantly, her hands running down Gold’s arms until she was loosely holding his hands—and it was with a huge amount of self-restraint that she didn’t abandon her plan right there and let him have his nefarious way with her.

“I mean, I want to actually see it.” Belle pushed her bottom lip out in a pout. Gold’s eyes strayed to her mouth longingly.

Gold turned their hands so his thumbs were rubbing circles into her wrists. The gentle movement belied his filthy smirk.

“You’ve seen me plenty,” he said.

“Yes, that’s true.” Belle trailed her eyes downward. “But, see, I had this completely random thought while I was doing something very important at the library,” she started.

“Reading on the job again, Miss French?”

“And,” she said, admitting nothing. “I realized I have never seen a hardening cock.” At least her voice was steady, even if she had to dart her eyes away from his face.

Gold gave her a blank look, his thumbs pausing.

“I’ve seen you hard, but never how you got there,” Belle elaborated.

“Huh.” Gold thought on that as she took a deliberate step back, his hands brushing against hers as they let go. She then took another, until she could lean against his work table.

“If that’s what you want, I suppose I have no reason to say no.” Despite his confusion, he started to work at his belt buckle, so that was something.

“It really is,” Belle said, toes curling as she watched.

He got as far as unzipping his trousers before asking, “Do you mind if I sit for this?”

“Not at all,” she said, but Gold was already limping to the cot. He waved away her help as he settled, slipping off his jacket and placing it carefully on the pillow. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, folding it on the jacket.

Next, he toed off his shoes, then toed them to the side so they wouldn’t get in the way. His fingers fidgeted with the top buttons of his shirt, not sure if that should go, too.

“The point is to be seen, yes?” He glanced at her, still against the table, but couldn’t hold her gaze. It dropped to his feet, and he focused on peeling off his socks instead.

“Do—do you not want to?” She thought they had gotten past his initial shyness; considering how often they’d seen each other naked, she thought this request would be easy.

Gold opened his mouth, but then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. “I guess you could say I’m not a fan of being scrutinized,” he finally admitted.

“I have already seen it,” she reminded him. “And I like how it looks when it’s hard. I only want to see how it gets there.”

“Do you?” Gold asked.

“Yeah,” Belle said. If Belle were to rank the aesthetic appeal of a human body, a penis would rank near bottom—dicks were strange and beyond the obvious use for them Belle never understood their appeal. Not that she saw the point in mentioning that.

She was still honest when she said: “It’s yours, that’s why I like it.”

Gold, thankfully, believed her; he undid the trouser button, and lifted his hips so he could slide them and his briefs down his thighs, letting them pool at his ankles.

He smiled at her, and it was less the filthy smirk of minutes ago than the tender melting of his eyes, a soft tilt at the corner of his lips. A wonder (a privilege, an honor), that such a small assurance from her was enough to get him to look at her like that.

It was really, really hard for Belle not to walk over and straddle him. It would be the work of moments to push her panties aside and sink onto him like a rock at the bottom of an ocean. She just had to remember she wanted to see this through more.

He spread his knees, welcoming her greedy eyes, but the tails of his silk shirt obscured his lap.

“You’re still hiding,” she accused.

He hid his grimace well with a smile that reached his eyes. Before Belle could offer an alternative, his hands were already sliding each button through the eyehole, and then his front was bared to her.

Gold was a slim man by nature, his thin frame hinting at a wiry strength. His skin was smooth and tanned, framed by the shirt he left hanging off his shoulders, open. He was welcome to leave it on; the purple was a good color on him.

Belle was too far away. If she was going to watch the show, she needed a front row seat. Slowly, as if to keep from spooking a wild animal, she crouched to her hands and knees. Crawling was the work of moments in the cramped space of the backroom. She stopped as she reached the cradle of Gold’s knees, her eyes never leaving his cock.

He made a noise in his throat at her approach, and his cock gave an interested twitch, but otherwise stayed very pink and very soft.

Gold blew out a breath of air from his nose. She watched as he ran one hand down his stomach, over his hips, then cupped his sac underneath. Before his other could grab hold of the shaft, Belle stopped him.

“No hands,” she ruled, tapping his knee until he let go of himself. “I can’t see.”

Gold frowned. “How do you think this works?”

“I don’t know. It just happens, right?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” he said, shifting his hips.

A few moments passed.

“Aw, does he not like being put on the spot?”

Gold snorted. “Keep staring like that, it’ll perk up.”

Belle regarded his nethers curiously. “Usually you get hard so quickly. You’re almost always ready to go by the time I get your clothes off. It’s actually quite flattering.”

“Happy to please,” he murmured.

Belle had never been this close to his flaccid member before. It wasn’t exactly shriveled, but it was limp like a deflated balloon, pillowed on his balls, head pointed down. It humored her to see that it fit quite neatly on top of his scrotum, the dick being a little narrower, a little shorter—like nesting dolls.

Her gaze broadened slightly, taking in his spread thighs, the hair he kept trimmed, the V of his hips that stood prominent, despite the rounding belly above. Belle knew exactly how the skin below his belly button tasted, knew how he’d jolt in pleasure if she cupped his sack in her hand or trailed two fingers behind to tease at his perineum.

“He is shy, isn’t he?” she said, her mouth feeling dry. She was getting impatient.

“Stop calling it a ‘he,’” Gold huffed, trying to smother his indulgent smile.

“Maybe I can help?”

“Your, ah, mouth, perhaps?” Gold said promptly, licking his lips. He spread his legs further, an invitation for her to settle between them.

It was a tempting offer. “I would feel it, not see it.”

A fascinating sensation, surely—to put her mouth on his soft cock and feel it harden, lengthening against her tongue. How different would his skin-warm flesh feel before the blood warmed it further? Would the heat of him burn her? And if she palmed his balls, if he thrust his hips, how long until he grew too big to fit completely in her mouth?

Belle leaned forward on her hands, watching him twitch. “Next time, definitely,” she promised.

“Your breasts, then,”

She realized then that she had him at a disadvantage, what with being fully clothed while Gold was very nearly naked. And that sent something through her, didn’t it, a heat that was as familiar as her hands. She was warm before, but now felt a blaze alight under her skin, right in her groin.

They could play with that later. Belle started to undo the buttons on her blouse, pulling at the fabric to release it from the waistband of her skirt. She’d leave it on though, like his was. Her bra was not front latching; she shrugged the straps down her shoulders, then pushed the cups down. She wished, not for the first time, that she was better endowed. Never would her breasts be described as being contained by her bras; they were comfortably blanketed.

From the look of rapture on Gold’s face, he didn’t mind. His hands were squeezing his knees, likely to keep from pulling her closer and ruining her game. His eyes were dark and hungry, focused entirely on her chest.

Belle bit her lip, cupping herself in her hands, pushing the mounds up and then together. At his groan of approval, she flicked her nipples with her thumbs. The welcoming pull that sent through her was almost enough to close her eyes, but she couldn’t forget her purpose.

Her eyes trailed down, back to Gold’s cock. Was it bigger than it was, moments ago? She pinched her nipples, pulling them out, then pushing in, leaning into the movement. The jolt was deeper than her belly; she could feel it right in her cunt. She couldn’t keep her mouth from opening in a silent gasp of pleasure, but her eyes stayed focused on Gold.

And there, finally—he began to swell, his cock growing and lifting off his balls as it filled with his hot blood. Slowly, it came to swing between them, long and hard. If he gave his length a pull or two (with a slight twist at the head that she knew he favored), maybe it would fall back against his belly, sitting as he was.

And wasn’t that an idea.

“Did you know erections produced from oral sex are longer than erections without?” she asked without thinking.

His answering laugh was surprised, short. His eyes, still dark, still heated, melted somewhat into a look of complete adoration.

“If you want it longer, by all means,” he panted.

Belle hummed, eyes scanning up and down his length carefully. The skin was flushed like the sky at sunset; the tip darker than the peach at the base.

“You’re already perfect,” she decided, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to the tip. Her tongue flicked over him, teasing inside his slit.

His hips twitched, and he released a rush of breath at the contact that turned into a moan of disappointment when instead of taking him into her mouth, she leaned back on her heels.

Belle gave him an encouraging smile, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Go on, then.”

He looked at her blankly. “What?”

“I want to watch.”

“Watch what?”

“What do you think?”

She hadn’t had a plan when she first walked into the shop. Nothing concrete beyond asking for what he so delightfully just delivered. But the view was too good to pass up, and ordering him around sent such a delicious thrill down her spine. Belle settled back on her heels, expectant.

Gold’s throat bobbed. His hand loosely gripped his shaft. He took to this request with a surprising but welcomed ardor.

“There’s lotion. In that drawer." He nodded to the cabinet by his chair.

“Unscented?” she teased, slipping off her heels before standing up. She didn’t trust herself to walk in a straight line in this state.

She found the bottle near the front, brandishing it proudly when she turned back to face him. “The question is—” she started.

While she was digging through the drawer, Gold had freed his ankles from his trousers, his shoulders and arms from his shirt. He now sat bare and hard on the cot. Belle froze—couldn’t help but stare.

“Take a picture,” he teased. “It’ll last longer.”

“Maybe I should,” Belle murmured. “Give me something to keep me warm when you leave me cold and alone in my apartment.”

Gold whined. He held his hand out for the lotion, and when Belle gave it to him, he grasped her hand in his, turning it so he could press a hard, needy kiss to the palm of her hand.

“I love your cock,” Belle said, getting comfortable at his feet. “I don’t tell you enough, just how much.”

He whined again, fumbling with the bottle. When he was lubed, he wasted no time wrapping a hand around himself. To Belle’s delight, he started slow, with firm strokes. His other hand cupped his balls, fondling himself as he stared at her with open want.

“It’s so hard and thick. I love how it feels in my hand, how it tastes in my mouth.” The words came much easier than before. Gold leaned forward slightly, desperate to hear them. “And especially my wet, hungry cunt.”

Belle was wiggling her hips before she realized she had started tweaking her nipples again. Fuck, but she wanted him so much. She could feel the moisture that had seeped into the gusset of her panties.

She spread her legs wider, giving herself more purchase to run her hand up and down her thighs and then hike up her skirt. As Gold twisted his hand at his tip, she pushed her panties aside so she could swirl her fingers through her moist curls.

Gold’s grip was firm as his hand gripped his cock and he pumped it a little faster up and down, watching Belle the entire time. “Fuck, Belle,” he moaned when she used two of her fingers to open her cunt lips, showing him how wet he made her.

Smooth and musky, she could smell her scent mixing with his, and she inhaled deeply, wanting more of it.

He squeezed his erection, hand tightened on his balls, and Gold watched, rapt, as Belle slipped a finger inside of herself, where she desperately wanted him; his fingers, his tongue, his hard cock.

He was leaking precum, could see it glistening on his fingers. She pictured him sliding against her labia, how it felt to grind against his shaft. Her thumb pressed gently across her hard clit, finger pinching and twisting her nipple. She watched his hand work himself, matching his pace as she added another finger.

“Belle, love,” he panted in answer, stroking himself harder and faster, listening to her sweet moans as she brought herself closer and closer to orgasm. She knew he was close, could almost see his cum boiling in his sac.

Gold’s eyes stayed trained on her cunt, to the gushy slide of her fingers and fuck, she can practically feel herself dripping on his hardwood floor. She gasped, cunt squelching at the image of making him lick it up.

She made a sound, drawn out and low, as her fingers curled in her just there. She desperately tried to keep her eyes open, to keep watching as Gold fisted his cock, and she nearly succeeded. Wave after wave rushed through her, and she felt electric and loved and beautiful. With a final gasp, she fell forward, catching herself on Gold’s good knee.

His movement had slowed at her orgasm, but picked up with a frenzy when she sucked her fingers into her mouth with a happy hum.

“Belle, please,” he cried, desperate. “Please, fuck.”

“Anything,” she promised, looking up at him with hooded eyes, mouth already watering at the thought of swallowing him down.

“Your chest,” he said. “Please, please, may I?—”

Belle blinked, surprised, but straightened enough so she could settle in front of his frantic hand. His eyes were glued to her tits as she bared herself, making sure her shirt and bra were out of the way.

The first ropey splash at her collar bone made her toes curl, the warmth surprising her more than it should. The second, the third, accompanied by a low groan. Gold squeezed his cock in one hand, cradled his scrotum in the other, making sure every last drop was wrung from him.

Belle felt the cum cool even as it dripped down her chest, but she wasn’t paying much mind to it, not when the lines had disappeared around his mouth, when he was so lovely and content, the sweat making his hair stick to his face.

Their eyes caught, and he smiled. Belle let the laughter burst from her, and she ran her hands up and down the insides of his thighs, kissing his knee.

She was probably hours late to the library. Her clothes were disheveled and if she got cum on her shirt she was going to die of embarrassment, but she didn’t care. She was laughing with the man she loved, who loved her back.

“This is called something,” she said, when her laugh subsided. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, her knees felt a little raw from kneeling unprotected. She felt better than she had all week.

“Ah, a necklace, of some sort.” His hands found hers on his thighs. He laced their fingers together.

“Opal necklace, was it?”

“Pearl, I think,” Gold said. The crow's feet at his eyes crinkled. It suited him, this contentment. The blush of his orgasm was clearing up, his cock drooping down again, yet he kept the rosy glow, the liquid adoration in his eyes.

“That’s right,” she murmured. With her finger, Belle smeared some of the mess across her collar bone, careful to miss her blouse. “You’ve given me a pearl necklace.”

It was getting tacky. It’d dry soon. She wondered what it would feel like to have to peel it off her skin. She had to admit, the image was a lot less fun than how it was put there.

Gold watched her fingers, chest rumbling with a sound that wasn’t quite a growl. “I’ll buy you real pearls. As many as you want.”

He’d look at her the same, she knew; whether she was spread out on a bed wearing nothing but a dozen strings of pearls, or here in the back of his shop with her shirt hastily opened, her skirt hiked up around her hips.

“I’d rather you make me dinner,” Belle decided. She pushed herself up just enough to press a kiss to the side of his mouth.

With an anchoring hand on the back of her neck, he took her hand—the one she’d used to finger herself, the one smeared with his cum—brought it to his lips and sucked them into his mouth.

Belle could only sigh in approval as his tongue licked her clean. When he finished, he placed an open-mouthed kiss below her collarbone, sucking in her skin, their moans mingling as he cleaned her there, too.

Soon her chest was wet and sticky with his saliva and what cum he hadn’t licked up. She was quite pink, too, from his love bites. With a final kiss over her heart, Gold reached over to his suit jacket so he could pull the handkerchief from the front pocket and started in on the mess still on her chest.

“No, you’ll ruin the silk,” Belle protested half-heartedly.

Instead of answering, he flashed her a crooked smile.

“I’m making fish tonight. With broccoli and potatoes. You should come.”

“But it’s your week with Bae.” She hadn’t been serious about dinner, at least not immediately so.

“The lad should get used to you being around, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think he likes me much,” she said, chewing on her lip.

“He doesn’t know you well, is all.” He kissed her temple. “You tend to flitter off every time he shows up. He thinks you’re avoiding him.” Anxiety had creeped into the corner of his eyes, dimming the warmth.

“I’m trying to respect his boundaries,” she said weakly.

She liked Bae; it was hard not to. But she was also keenly aware that Gold was the stable parent, and that the life of a single father and his teenaged son might not always have room for her. But perhaps that was a tad short-sighted. There would never be room for her if she didn’t stick around long enough to get comfortable.

“Come to dinner, Belle.”

She hummed. “What kind of potatoes?”

“Roasted,” he said. He kissed her below her jaw. “With garlic and herbs.”

“And for dessert?” she asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, skin still bared and warm.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something when Bae goes to bed.” He caught her mouth in a kiss, swallowing her laugh as it bubbled from her chest.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #smut

22 notes · View notes

dusk-writes · 4 years

Photo

eyy friends, I just uploaded chapter 6 of my big wolfstar fic just in time for Moony’s bday today– and this chapter just happens to contain a flashback to Remus’s 18th, so I’ve decided to post that section here as well! I hope you enjoy this little scene; I think it works pretty well as a standalone c:

———

On a clear moonless night in March of seventh year, Sirius finds Remus atop the astronomy tower, gazing out over the grounds. There’s a half-spent joint hanging loosely from his fingers, his soft curls and the lines of his scars silvered by the starlight. He looks strangely ageless, like an ancient marble statue, perfection set in stone and made all the more beautiful for all the scars of ages past…

‘Looking for me?’ Sirius asks softly.

Remus twitches, the way he does when he has failed to notice Sirius approaching (not common, considering his acute sense of smell, but in this case the pungent smoke has probably masked Sirius’s scent). He lifts the joint to his chapped lips, and draws in a deep breath, the glow of the smouldering tip reflecting golden in his irises. He holds the breath, then lets the smoke out in a thin jet that is rapidly whisked away to nothing by a chill gust of wind. ‘Yes, I regularly come up here to look for my mates,’ he answers dryly.

Remus takes another pull on his joint, then offers it to Sirius, who accepts it delicately between his fingers. ‘Perhaps I just wanted to have a smoke in peace,’ Remus murmurs, watching with a strange intensity as Sirius places the unlit end between his lips.

‘Mmh, nah… you’d have picked a better place to hide if you didn’t want to be found.’

Silence settles over them, only the soft whistling of the wind over the castle rooftops beneath them. Sirius draws in a deep breath of his own, the musky smell of the weed at odds with the frosty night air. He passes the joint back to Remus, who leans against the parapet, gazing up at the sky. ‘…What about you, then?’

‘Maybe I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.’

Remus hesitates– it’s not yet midnight, a fact which Sirius expects him to point out (thereby forcing Sirius to defend it)– but the comment never comes, and instead Remus just quirks an eyebrow at him with a stilted sort of nonchalance and says, ‘You couldn’t wait until a more reasonable hour?’

‘We’re both awake either way, so why bother?’

Remus shrugs, and looks back out over the grounds, his brows drawn together and his mouth clamped tightly shut, shoulders tense.

‘I made you something,’ Sirius says awkwardly, unsure what’s going on with Remus. 'I know you don’t like expensive things, so I thought…’ Remus emits a strangled choked sound, and Sirius shifts uncomfortably. 'Er, well, it’s nothing much, so…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Remus whispers. 'I just don’t… I’m not really in the mood, I guess.’

Sirius reaches out, half of a mind to take Remus’s hand, but Remus shifts, pulling the hand inwards. Sirius lets his own arm drop, instead turning to lean his shoulder against the parapet. ‘Talk to me, Moons.’

‘Honestly… I’m not sure what there is to celebrate.’ Remus slides down the low wall until he’s sat slouched against it, and Sirius sits next to him, their shoulders bumping together. ‘This is… it’s going to sound bad,’ Remus mumbles, his shoulders hunched.

‘Try me.’

Remus huffs out a breath, but continues. ‘In just a few months, we’ll all leave here, and… you and James, you’ve got so much ahead of you to look forward to, and even Peter has his family’s apothecary business to go into. But for me– coming here, to Hogwarts, it’s the closest I’ll ever have to a normal life. After this is over… I’m just another fucking werewolf.’

‘Bloody hell, Moony,’ he growls; 'you can’t honestly think that we’ll just abandon you as soon as we’ve left school.’

‘Well… no. But there’s a war on, and James has got Lily, and you–’

‘I’m going to stop you right there, Remus,’ he says flatly, and Remus blinks up at him, startled at the lack of nickname. 'I can’t speak for James or Peter, but I didn’t break the fucking law just for a lark– Padfoot is all for you, and always has been, and will be for as long as you want me there. This–’ (he gestures at himself) ‘–is forever, and I really do mean that.’ This time, Sirius doesn’t hesitate to place his hand over Remus’s, twining their fingers together, and in a moment of boldness he finds the strength to say what he’s never dared to before– ‘I swore to myself that you’d never spend another full moon alone, not as long as it’s within my power to help.’

Remus’s eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted. He has scars on his face and a nose that’s too large and crooked for most people to consider properly attractive and his curls are a mess where he’s been pulling on them and he never seems to know what to do with his long lanky limbs… and he is the most gorgeous person Sirius could possibly imagine. Remus Lupin looks at him in utter disbelief, and Sirius only wishes Remus could see himself the way Sirius does: Beautiful, you’re fucking beautiful as the moon itself.

‘…Sirius, I– but what if you find someone? Who you… want to be with, I mean. Not just as a quick hookup, but…’ Remus shakes his head, huffs out a shaky breath that might almost have qualified as a laugh but seems rather closer to a sob. ‘When you find your own Lily Evans– the person you want to spend the rest of your life with– you needn’t hold yourself to that.’

Sod off, Lupin, Sirius wants to scream, it’s you, it’s always been you– but he doesn’t; he bites it back, as it wouldn’t be right to push that sort of thing on Remus. He knows that Remus fancies blokes, but it is quite obvious that Remus does not fancy him (plenty of other people fancy Sirius, but Remus has seen his darkest twisted secrets and someone as good as Remus couldn’t possibly want someone so messed up). No, Sirius cannot risk their friendship on an unwanted and unrequited declaration of love.

‘…Then I suppose they’d just have to get used to you, Loops, because I’m still never going to go back on my word, no matter what sort of twisted hypothetical situation you try to throw at me.’ Sirius takes a deep breath, then levels his gaze at Remus. ‘Unless you can honestly tell me you want me gone– tell me to fuck off and really mean it. But don’t insult me by suggesting that I don’t understand what I’m offering, or whatever the fuck else you seem to think.’

Remus hears the challenge in his voice, the sharp edge to his words, and glances at him guiltily. ‘…Of course not,’ he croaks. ‘I… didn’t mean to suggest that you’d ever… that you’re not…’ He shakes his head. ‘Sorry.’

Sirius feels the flash of anger and frustration melt away into nothing, vanishing as quickly as they’d come. ‘Don’t be,’ he says, leaning into Remus’s side and sliding an arm around his shoulders. ‘Only… you of all people should know that dogs are very loyal creatures. And I really do mean every word of it.’ Sirius rubs his hand in a slow circle over Remus’s back, and leans forward to look him in the eyes. ‘This was my choice, Remus Lupin, and I’ve never once regretted it.’ And I never will.

Remus gazes at him, wide-eyed, the joint between his fingers long since fizzled out.

‘And… look, now it’s past midnight. So, once again, happy birthday you daft tosser.’

Remus can’t help but smile at that. ‘You said you… made me something?’

Sirius smiles, and pulls the box from the pocket of his robe. ‘All by myself,’ he says proudly.

Remus takes the box and opens it, revealing an assortment of chocolates, moulded into various star shapes. ‘Oh! They look wonderful, Sirius– this can’t have been easy.’

‘Well, the outside is just that Honeydukes 70% you like; I only melted it down and reshaped it to make these.’

‘But… there’s a filling?’

‘All different flavours,’ Sirius says with relish, and he grins and shakes his head as Remus lifts the box to his face. 'You won’t be able to smell what’s inside, though– that’s what makes this my Siriusly Special Starlight Surprise box.’

Remus’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘You’re right… that’s impressive.’

‘I wanted to show you without Prongs or Wormy around,’ Sirius admits. 'I didn’t want to risk anyone else stealing one, since they’re all specially made for you.’

‘Oh,’ Remus says again, a little breathlessly, his gaze returning magnetically to the box. His long fingers skim delicately over the edges of the chocolates, before selecting one at random, bringing it to his lips. His tongue flicks out, eyes bright with curiosity when he still can’t detect the mystery flavour. He bites down, and lets out a soft moan. ‘Ohh…’

Sirius watches, practically vibrating with excitement and nerves; his whole body feels warm and tingly, his heart racing and his cheeks flushed, and he bites down on the knuckle of his index finger to stop himself blurting out something foolish, pestering Remus with half a dozen questions all at once (which flavour did he get? is it all right? is making your definitely-platonic best mate custom chocolates for his birthday Too Much? what if Remus reads too much into it and gets uncomfortable sleeping in the same dorm with a bloke who might sometimes think about what it would be like to kiss him, or other things even more unspeakable? or worse, what if Remus does think about those things too but then they try something and Sirius cocks it up? and on and on and on) and Sirius has to stop himself from reaching out and snatching the box back, chucking it off the tower and into the lake far below.

Remus stares at him, with a heated sort of fascination. ‘Did you… really come up with this all on your own? The recipes for the fillings, and whatever you’ve done to suppress the smell, and…’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius says, attempting a casual smile. 'So you like it? What flavour did you get?’

‘Sirius… this is…’ Remus is, for once, at a loss for words, and for the briefest split second Sirius thinks he might just lean in and press their lips together, let Sirius taste its remnants on his own tongue– but then Remus shakes his head, and the moment is lost. ‘It’s fucking fantastic, as you bloody well know; I’ve never had anything else like it. It’s… magical.’

‘Well, yes,’ Sirius deadpans. 'We are wizards, after all.’

Remus rolls his eyes. ‘Oh sod off, you know what I mean. In a metaphorical sense.’

And of course Sirius does know, because he has felt it too. ‘Like stepping into the Great Hall for the first time,’ he supplies, remembering the first time he’d looked up at the lofty ceiling alight with hundreds of floating candles, the stars beyond much brighter than they ever were in London…

‘Exactly.’ Remus smiles, soft and fond. 'And the flavour was a bit spicy; definitely cinnamon, and… something I’ve tasted in the Potters’ cooking.’

Sirius grins. ‘Full marks, Mr Lupin.’

‘And you said they’re all unique?’ Remus’s eyes stray back to the box, which Sirius reaches over to snap closed.

‘Moony, you fiend, they’re meant to be savoured, not gobbled up all at once!’ He clasps his hand solidly over Remus’s, to ensure it can’t get up to any mischief. ‘…And yes, they’re all different, so you have a lot more to look forward to, but only if you take them one at a time.’

‘All right,’ Remus laughs, setting the box carefully aside. ‘How did you do it? Where did you find the time, or…’

‘Trade secret, Moonshine.’ Sirius bumps their shoulders together. 'It’s like what they say about the Muggle Magic– a Magician never reveals his secrets.’ He gives Remus’s fingers a squeeze. 'If you’re that fond of them, though… perhaps they’ll make an encore performance next year.’

Remus relaxes with a sigh, leaning into him. ‘You really mean it, then?’

‘I love running with you on the moons, Remus Moony Lupin. I can’t imagine anything that could ever change that.’ Sirius brushes his thumb over Remus’s bony knuckles, the small scar curving across one of them, down the back of one long finger– Remus has the loveliest hands– and Sirius decides to throw caution to the winds. 'Live with me,’ he blurts out.

‘Erm– sorry?’

‘After graduation,’ Sirius elaborates. 'My Uncle Alphard left me his flat in London– it’s a nice place; I went to see it after I got the letter.’ Sirius shifts so he can look at Remus. 'At first I thought…’ He gives his head a small shake, shrugs off the truth of how much he wants Remus there, the two of them close. 'Well, it’d be big enough for all four of us, yeah? Prongs said he liked the sound of it.’

For a split second, Remus looks oddly crestfallen, but it’s gone so quickly Sirius thinks he must have imagined it. 'I suppose it’ll be a bit soon for him to move in with Lily,’ Remus says.

Sirius snorts, a wry smile twisting his mouth. 'If she’s not grown sick of him by then, you mean. Still dunno what got into her head, asking him out in the first place…’

Remus snickers at that, his breath clouding on the cold night air. 'Thought she’d broken his brain when she did,’ he says, and laughs out loud when Sirius imitates the panicked look that had come over James’s face– like a deer in headlights, they’d ribbed him after the fact. It had been the last week of term before winter hols, and Lily had approached him in the common room and asked him out to a Hogsmeade date (sometime during the break, after the majority of the students had gone home, since they were both staying and it would be nice to have the village to themselves) and James had hardly slept the night before– but of course it had gone perfectly once James got over his anxiety and remembered that he and Lily had been friendly for months by that point, ever since they began working together in their duties as Head Boy and Girl…

Sirius shakes his head, and pulls Remus into a friendly one-armed hug (he is very careful not to exceed the bounds of what would be considered ‘friendly’, careful not to overstep and make Remus uncomfortable). ‘…Anyway, think about it, will you? Alphard’s flat has got more space than I’d ever need for myself, and I’d miss having you lot around… and it’s properly mine so none of us would have to pay any rent, and… we’ll be able to plan the moons, just like we do here. We’ll find someplace we can all run together, and it’ll be bloody brilliant.’

Remus smiles faintly, and hums as he settles back against Sirius’s side– and despite the fact that they’re on top of the astronomy tower past midnight in the chill Scottish spring, Sirius suddenly feels very warm.

‘…So you don’t need to worry about the future, Re,’ he continues, trying to think of anything but the solid warmth of Remus against him, the brush of soft tawny curls against his cheek. 'It’ll be okay.’ He can’t actually promise that, of course– not with the war looming over them, increasingly impossible to ignore– but Sirius is confident that they’ll work something out. If they could design and create the Map with no outside help, and become Animagi at fifteen, they can manage this, too. 'As long as we all stick together, we’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah,’ Remus murmurs. 'I’ll think about it.’ He gives Sirius’s fingers a squeeze. 'Thanks, Pads. For everything.’

Sirius squeezes back, and thinks that nothing he does could ever be enough. He wishes he could give Remus the whole world, every star in the sky.

———

read the rest of chase the stars here!! it’s a (very long) slowburn wolfstar-raising-Harry fic, with plenty more Marauders Era flashbacks like this one as well :D

#wolfstar #marauders era #ff: chase the stars #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #dusk fic #dusk art #fic rec

20 notes · View notes