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coredetenebris · 2 months

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Okey- so I was on a plane yesterday and got this random idea of wizards having to use a plane after ep 17 to run away from Gardenia since they didn’t have magic. And since the flight was boring I decided to write this down, so here we go.

Ogron vs Planes

Ogron was sweating, it wasn’t easy to stress him out in any situation, but he was not used to this. They were currently waiting for Duman who activated the metal detector for the fifth time.

„You were supposed to take out your piercing before we walk through this” Anagan whined looking at the time.

„Upssssss~” Duman smiled, but finally the security let them go, checking their documents one more time. Ogron felt his stomach turn at this, Anagan’s fake documents he always pulls up for them were never detected but if they were… in the past they could teleport, now on the other hand….. Ogron cursed the Winx.

„Earth to Ogron” Duman poked his arm.

„Huh?”

„We’re good, we can go now” ‚Great, just great’ Ogron thought. He has never been on a plane, he never had to, he could just teleport. Before the flight Duman hastily explained him everything (god knows why he ever used planes) but it was not enough.

He hurried after the rest trying to listen to their conversation instead of his thoughts.

„-because it’s expensive and you want me to pay” Gantlos exclaimed with annoyance.

„But Gantlooooos I will fall asleep, buy me coffee or buy me a pillow” Anagan said looking at the cafe display.

„You really think a latte will keep you from falling asleep?”

„Who said I want latte?-”

„Guys, we have fifteen minutes so decide quickly” Duman said looking at one of the screens with (for Ogron) unreadable sets of numbers and letters.

„Pleaseeeeeee Gantlos” Anagan started giving Gantlos puppy dog eyes.

„…..”

Ogron watched Gantlos ordering Anagan’s coffee still trying to calm his nerves before getting on a 250-ton pile of metal that will throws him 12000 meters in the air without his magic.

„You good?” Anagan’s voice summoned Ogron to reality.

„I’m fine” He snapped looking out of the window at a few planes standing innocently on their parking places.

„….Okey” Anagan didn’t seem convinced but he forgot about it once Gantlos give him his coffee. They all wondered around for some time until Duman said it’s time for boarding.

Ogron sighed trying to act casual around mortals. He somehow managed to use a qr-code to unlock an automatic door, show his ID card and ticket, run after Duman to the taxi bus, get into the plane and finally…he needed to find his seat.

„23B….What does that supposed to mean?”

„Just follow me, I’m 23A” Said Duman with a mischievous smile. Ogron sighed internally. ,Maybe being killed by Morgana isn’t such a bad idea after all’

He followed Duman to their seat, Ogron was in the middle with Duman on his right, Anagan on his left and Gantlos in front of them. Duman looked out the window with excitement.

„We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones” Said a voice through the speaker.

„If you won’t do this you will fly away when the plane lifts-off-”

„Duman stop stressing him out” Said Anagan seeing that Ogron was clinging to his armrests.

„I’m not stressed out” Ogron snapped again, his grip tightening when he felt the plane drove up to the runway. The engine roared starting acceleration for lift-off. In a few seconds the plane lifted and started climbing. Ogron felt a wave of nausea washing over him, his ears popping.

„Hey- it’s okay” Anagan said gently, only then Ogron noticed he held his arm in a death grip. He flushed.

„Of course it is” He said quickly letting go of Anagan.

„Ogron look! It’s our warehouse” Duman said glued to his window. ‚This is going to be a long flight..’

But for the next half an hour Duman was calm except for a few ‚ohh and ahh” as he watched the world beneath them. Ogron managed to calm down a little. He occupied himself with watching some couple drama a few seats in front of him.

„Gantlos! Gantlos, Snack cart!”

„No”

„But Gantlos-„

„We just eat one hour ago and food here is expensive” Gantlos said firmly. Anagan sunk into his seat with disappointment. For a few minutes they sat in silence. The soap opera that Ogron was watching seemed to reconcile. He started to look for some new form of entertainment until-

„Ogron!” Duman exclaimed in a theatric whisper „I think- I think something is sitting on the wing”

„WHA-„

„Duman stop it!” Anagan hissed sending Duman into a laughing fit.

„This is not funny-” Ogron blushes again.

„You should’ve seen your face-”

„Shut it! All of you” said Gantlos.

„How much longer?” Ogron asked, just wanting this to be over. At this moment the voice from the speakers spoke.

„We are approaching landing in about 15 minutes”

Ogron sighed with relief, but then-

„Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts, possible turbulences ahead”

‚The universe hates me- doesn’t it?’ Ogron thought fastening his seatbelts and gripping his armrests again.

When the turbulence began, Ogron decided (was forced to) let go of his pride as he clung to Anagan breathing wildly. Anagan hugged him trying to calm him down at the same time giving Duman a ‚Don’t you even dare speak’ glare.

Fortunately, even Duman seemed to be uncomfortable during the turbulences so he kept quiet.

After what seemed to be forever, the turbulences stopped and they started to descend slowly. but Ogron stayed glued to Anagan till they hit the ground and stopped.

As they finally stood on the ground again Ogron hissed „We shall never speak of this again, we will go back via train or we won’t come back at all, understood?!”

The rest nodded in unison.

#winx #winx club #winx wizards of the black circle #wizards of the black circle #winx duman #winx ogron #winx anagan #winx gantlos

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mimisempai · 11 months

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You're the only one I see

Summary

Aziraphale, waiting for Crowley at the end of his session at the planetarium, is surprised by the demon's coldness when they reunite.

But he'll have to wait until they reach the bookshop to get to the bottom of the story.

Notes

Three days without writing anything about them and I'm already in withdrawal...

On Ao3

Rating G - 870 words

Aziraphale was waiting for Crowley to come out of his session in the planetarium.

Suddenly, the door opened and people began to exit the room.

The angel couldn't help but smile as he moved against the flow of the crowd, overhearing the comments about the session, proud to hear his demon being praised. He positioned himself inside the door and leaned against the wall, waiting for Crowley to join him.

Some of the regulars who liked the planetarium recognized him and smiled or greeted him, to which Aziraphale always responded graciously with a smile and a few kind words.

His smile widened as he saw the demon climb the stairs in the middle of the stands to join him.

Aziraphale was surprised to see that Crowley looked rather cold as he greeted him in a dull voice. The angel frowned, but let it pass, thinking that perhaps the session had been painful and that Crowley would tell him all about it when it was just the two of them.

Side by side, they left the planetarium and headed home.

The ride was surprisingly quiet, and Aziraphale couldn't help but look at Crowley with a puzzled expression. Usually the demon was quite talkative and animated when telling Aziraphale about his day or half day at the planetarium, chatting about the audience or the subject, but here he said nothing, not a word.

The angel asked quietly, "Are you all right, my dear?"

Crowley, his eyes on the road, replied without looking at him, "Yes, why?"

Aziraphale, slightly annoyed by the demon's terseness, replied a bit curtly, "Well, you haven't said a word and we're almost there."

Crowley shook his head, "Not now."

So there was definitely something.

Aziraphale waited patiently for them to arrive at the bookshop, and once inside, he sat down on the sofa from where he watched Crowley.

Under normal circumstances, he would have received at least a kiss on the forehead or cheek by now, and they would probably be holding hands or cuddling over a cup of tea, but here it was as if the demon was putting distance between them, standing in the middle of the bookshop with the same scowl on his face.

Aziraphale couldn't help but ask him again: "Crowley, what's wrong? Why are you making that face?"

The demon replied in a voice that did not hide his annoyance this time, "What, do you miss your court of admirers already?"

Aziraphale replied in a confused tone, having absolutely no idea what the demon was talking about, "What do you mean?"

Crowley positioned himself in front of Aziraphale, hands on hips, and began to speak in a false voice.

"Ah, Mr. Crowley's boyfriend is so handsome."

"Wow, he's so cute, I want to pinch his cheeks."

"Oh, me, it's not his cheeks I want to pinch."

"Too bad that guy's already taken, otherwise I would have given it a shot."

Crowley had just recited all these phrases in an exaggerated imitation of the people who had spoken the words, and now, in a normal voice, he continued, "I was glad to have finished my session to finally be able to see you. And not only do I hear people raving about you, I see you smiling and charming them."

He dropped onto the sofa next to Aziraphale and crossed his arms with a scowl, looking ahead.

Aziraphale, realizing what this was all about, couldn't help but chuckle and replied, "My God, you're jealous!"

Crowley grumbled, "Who's jealous?"

The angel shook his head and said fondly, "My handsome idiot, I hadn't even noticed it. It's been a long time, a very long time indeed, if not since forever, that you've been the only one who has my undivided attention."

Aziraphale grabbed the demon's wrist and pulled him toward him with such force that he had no choice but to fall against him, and Crowley blushed slightly as Aziraphale pressed his head against his chest.

Running his fingers through Crowley's hair, the angel repeated softly, "I only see you. So stop making that face and smile at me."

Crowley grumbled, sighed against Aziraphale's chest, and finally lifted his head to smile at him. The smile was still a little forced, but it was enough for the angel.

Aziraphale grabbed gently his chin and, after kissing the smile on Crowley's lips, continued, "You realize I'm the one who should be jealous. Because I hear a lot when people come out of your sessions, and while most are compliments on your skill and knowledge in studying the stars, some don't just talk about the stars."

Crowley finally laughed and shook his head before replying, "They can always dream, for I too see only you, Angel, so all they have left is their fantasies."

Aziraphale replied in a falsely threatening tone, "As long as that's all they have left."

Crowley chuckled softly before resting his head on the angel's chest, and they both continued to embrace each other like this, enjoying the sweetness of the moment and Crowley finally telling of his session with the animation.

After all, other people could dream, Aziraphale saw only Crowley and Crowley saw only Aziraphale and no fantasy could break that reality.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers

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aramblingjay · 4 months

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When the bones are good (Chapter 1) Clegan, hurt/comfort, post-war (3K)

The thing is, Gale is safe. He knows it. But the only thing that has ever made him feel unequivocally safe is Bucky. And god, how he just wants to collapse into those familiar arms. - Or: After the war, Gale gets on a bus to Wisconsin.

ao3

The thing is, Bucky is safety.

Gale wakes up with a scream lodged in the base of his throat, the kind of scream that would’ve woken the neighbors if he wasn’t well-trained by now to endure even the harshest of horrors in absolute silence. His first thought, just as it is every night he wakes like this, is that they’re being roused for inspection at the stalag.

He’s already out of bed, eyes wandering frantically to take in his surroundings, before his mind catches up with his body.

There are no curtains on his window anymore, and enough moonlight shines through to illuminate a map of constellations hanging on the wall directly in his eyeline, placed there specifically for this purpose. Every window in the stalag was boarded up to keep out as much of the cold as a few slats of decaying wood could, and there was certainly no wall decor.

Gale sits on the edge of the bed and releases a long breath. He’s home. In Casper, Wyoming, under friendly skies on friendly soil, not a threat within miles except for the four-legged kind in the woods at the edge of the property.

He’s safe. He’s safe.

But it doesn’t feel that way. His heart still races in his chest, the sputtering engine of a fort needing to be feathered, and there’s a pit in his stomach as solid as any ball-bearing that refuses to budge.

A scuffling sound in the corner—he springs off the bed and whips around, eyes wide, half convinced a kraut is about to knock him to his knees for being up past curfew until he sees the sheaf of paper rustling on the floor. Probably fluttered off his bedside table during the night.

The thing is, he’s safe. He knows it.

But the only person, the only thing, that has ever made him feel unequivocally safe is Bucky.

He’s safe, but Bucky is safety.

And god—how he just wants to collapse into those familiar arms, curled between broad shoulders that could carry the weight of the world and have certainly carried him all the way around it. He wants and wants, just like he’s wanted every single night for the last three months, but today—

Today, Gale pulls on his boots, stuffs enough money for a bus ticket in the pocket of the first jacket he finds, and starts walking.

It takes three days.

Gale doesn’t sleep for a single second of the journey, when before the war he would likely have seized the chance for uninterrupted shuteye before the bus even started moving. Now, after, the hum of the engine is nothing like the roar of a fort—he remembers proudly writing home to Marge once, young and naïve and drunk off the thrill of flying, that there was no sound in the world better than the roar of a fort in the sky—but it’s just close enough to the low groan of enemy fighters thousands of feet overhead to keep his eyes wide open.

There’s not much to see along the way, just miles and miles and miles of fields that all blur together over the days. It’s not until he sees the Welcome to Wisconsin signboard through the window that he starts to pay closer attention to each stop they pass, waiting for the one he needs. It would be just like him, really, to make it all the way here and miss Manitowoc by one town, like flying a plane with barely a working engine all the way to Africa and missing the runway by three feet.

God, how he misses Bucky ribbing him.

Bucky sent him a postcard, their first week back stateside. It had a picture of the Eiffel Towel on the front—where Bucky found that in the middle of Wisconsin he has no idea, but Bucky’s always been the most resourceful person he knows. The card was short and simple—Buck, I’m back home safe. Come visit anytime—but Gale has traced over the scrawled letters every morning since it arrived on his front doorstep, like touching the words would feel almost as good as touching the hand that wrote them. It was the closest he knew he would get, certainly. Until now.

It’s raining when he gets off the bus, but he’s marched in worse conditions than a light daytime drizzle. The return address on Bucky’s postcard—which he knows was the real gift—is about a half day’s walk from the main city, not that he spent the better part of an afternoon in the Casper library weeks ago working that out or anything. He’s determined to make it there before nightfall.

A couple of people give him odd looks as he passes through the busy parts of town. Whether that’s because the stalag still lingers on his face in hollow eyes and sunken cheeks, as clear as if former POW was tattooed on his forehead, or because he really does look like this Buck from Manitowoc that’s supposedly his namesake, he ignores them all. There’s only one face he wants to see, and he’d bet all his money Bucky avoids town now just as stubbornly as he used to frequent it.

No other reason for him to pick a place on the very outskirts of the city, several miles from his family.

Twilight approaches. The rain worsens, falling in heavy sheets. He’s wearing a light leather jacket with no hood and is soaked to the absolute bone, but the steady left-right-left-right rhythm of his feet never wavers. He’s marched through Germany in the bitter winter, half-starved and crawling with fleas, waded through snow with threadbare shoes expecting nothing but a cold grave at the end of it all. This, good boots on his feet and the promise of seeing Bucky on the other side, this is easy.

What’s new is that now, there’s an ache in his right knee with every step. Another souvenir of the war. The doc asked him, when he got back to Thorpe Abbotts, if he knew what caused the initial injury. No idea doc, he remembers saying. Take your pick, I guess. Between bailing out, landing hard, interrogation, and the stalag, the opportunities were endless. The truth is that he doesn’t know, not because he can’t remember but because it wasn’t any single blow, just the relentless grind of one thing after another pushing his body to the limit until something finally broke.

His knee. And maybe, he thinks some days, his mind.

In any case, it means he can’t move quite as fast as he used to. By the time the moon is up in the sky, surrounded by constellations he once knew how to name, he’s not nearly as far as he hoped to be.

He briefly considers stopping for the night when he comes across an empty bench by the side of the road. It’s kind of place he’s spent the night more than once, but he’s no longer just the kid who learned to sleep rough anywhere he could get horizontal for a few hours. An uneasy fear crawls down his spine at the thought of lying in the open like that, vulnerable on all sides. There are no krauts this side of the Atlantic, but he dismisses the bench all the same and keeps walking.

Almost there.

He thinks of Bucky’s wide smile, the curl of the cowlick on the back of his head, the feel of his hand cupping Gale’s cheek in that bar a lifetime ago, and keeps walking. Almost there, almost there. God, he wants.

He’s just starting to think maybe he needs Crosby here to give him a more accurate bearing when a house comes into view. There’s a little porch light on, and Gale would cry if he could at the indication that someone is home. Bucky, hopefully.

He’s long past keeping up appearances, several states away from home with nothing but the clothes on his back, and runs up the dirt path to the house, bad knee be damned. Only when he’s already cleared the stairs, each one groaning under his weight like the wood has seen better days, does he consider that Bucky is most likely asleep.

Gale comes to a standstill in front of the door, suddenly nauseous, the decisions of the last several days catching up to him in a rush.

Shame rises like acid in his throat, hot and scalding.

He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be here, at Bucky’s doorstep in the middle of the night, disturbing him without so much as a warning. He should’ve written ahead, asked permission—he should’ve responded to Bucky’s postcard at least, something, instead of turning up unannounced like this, a bad smell that lingers, the stone in a shoe he used to accuse Bucky of being without ever really meaning it.

Goddammit, what was he thinking?

He shouldn’t be here, not like this.

There’s a raw, scratchy pressure behind his eyelids that he doesn’t think about, and his feet feel like lead blocks as he turns away, but he turns away nonetheless. If Bucky’s found some kind of peace here, he deserves to keep it.

“Buck?”

He stops. Flinches despite himself, despite it being the most beautiful sound he’s heard in three months, Buck in that familiar voice. Turns, carefully, like it might all be a dream.

And it’s not, it’s not, it’s not, because Bucky is right there in front of his eyes, alive and solid and so very real.

“John,” he whispers, like a prayer, and then the world slides away.

He comes to, if it can be called that when he hasn’t really passed out, on his knees on Bucky’s porch, warm hands pressed against his shoulders.

Bucky’s hands. He’d recognize them anywhere.

“Hey, c’mon. Scared me half to death storming up the stairs like that in the middle of the night. What’re you even doing out here in—jesus, you’re drenched. Get inside, c’mon.”

The words wash over him like a salve, the familiar drawl, the timbre, the cadence. He rises to his feet, helped in no small part by Bucky’s steadying hands gripping his arms, and staggers into the house. It’s not quite the entrance he was planning to make, even before he realized coming here was probably a monumentally selfish idea.

Too late, he wonders if maybe Bucky’s settled here with a nice Wisconsin woman, and he’s gone and interrupted that as well.

But there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. Just Bucky, who deposits him on the couch of what looks like a living room, flicks on a lamp, and hands him a glass of cold water. Their fingers touch, briefly, as he takes the glass, and Gale doesn’t think about that.

He takes a sip, then another, only realizing after he’s drained every last drop how parched he was.

“You look like shit,” Bucky opens with, standing and leaning back against something he can’t make out in the half-dark.

Bucky’s eyes are roaming over his body in a precise, methodical scan—checking for injuries and signs of illness. Gale has no room to complain, because he’s doing the same back. Like they’re both still in the stalag, aware the other would sooner gnaw off their arm than admit something was wrong, but even more aware that the smallest thing could tip the scales of survival.

All in all, Bucky looks alright. He’s clearly been eating his portions, filling out his sleep shorts better than he would have when Gale last saw him. He’s freshly shaved, his clothes clean, his hands steady enough by his side that he can’t have touched a bottle in at least a day or two.

There are also bags under his eyes dark enough to be shiners, and his hair is long and messy and clearly a month or two out from having seen a barber, but Gale would be more worried if Bucky looked perfect, ready to stroll onto the front pages of a G.I. Joe magazine like he wasn’t on death’s door not four months ago.

“What’s the matter, huh? You’re worryin’ me here.”

Only then does he realize he hasn’t said a word since they came inside. It’s hard to find any, confronted with the enormity of Bucky in front of him. This is what he travelled three days and four states for, but now that he’s here, all the words shrivel up and die on the tip of his tongue.

I’ve been falling apart without you there to hold me together, he thinks, but couldn’t say all that even if he could shape the sounds.

“Fallin’ apart,” is what comes out of his mouth instead, raspy from having said nothing to anyone after ticket to Wisconsin ma’am several days ago.

Bucky’s face, illuminated in beautiful planes by the lamplight—not that there’s any kind of light that doesn’t love Bucky—softens into something so raw and fond that Gale has to look away.

There’s that pressure behind his eyelids again, every time he blinks, but he hasn’t been able to cry in years. This won’t be the moment that changes.

“Buck—”

“No one’s called me that in—” Well, three months and six days, give or take, except he knows exactly how many days and hours and minutes and fucking seconds it’s been since Bucky’s see you on the other side, Buck back in England, before they crossed the Atlantic in different planes and came home to different states and the only thing he had of Bucky was a few words on a knockoff Paris postcard. Knows exactly how long it’s been since he felt like Buck, or like a person at all, because he has no idea who Gale is and doesn’t really want to find out, but he’s always been good at being the Buck to John’s Bucky.

He’s had three days to plan what he was going to do after landing on Bucky’s doorstep, and spent every minute of it thinking instead about Bucky’s hair and his shoulders and his smile and his voice and the feeling of safety he’s been missing for so long. Still, that’s no excuse for what falls out of his mouth next.

“Feels safe.”

Maybe the excuse is that he hasn’t eaten or slept in days, probably weeks if he’s being entirely honest. He’s soaked to the bone and his knee hurts something fierce and the soles of his feet aren’t as accustomed to this after three months of sedentary life as they once were and there’s a great big fog in his head that’s making any kind of thinking quite difficult.

Or maybe the excuse is just that Bucky’s always been his weakness.

“Christ, Buck. Alright, c’mon, let me get you some dry clothes. C’mon. I’ve got a guest room, you can crash there. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

He stands and doesn’t think too hard about the fact that Bucky’s using his gentlest talking new recruits down from the ledge after their first mission voice on him, too busy drowning in the safety and comfort of it instead. “In the morning,” he repeats, and doesn’t even realize it’s a hidden question until Bucky answers.

“It’s my house, you numpty, of course I’ll still be here in the morning. Up you go, c’mon.”

Bucky shepherds him up a narrow staircase, a hand ghosting over his back but not quite touching. Gale briefly contemplates tipping backwards just to feel those hands catch him, but they’re at the top before he can decide—he thinks about before, when it was easier to count the days Bucky didn’t touch him than the ones he did, and wonders how it’s come to this.

Then again, Bucky hasn’t asked any questions and is offering him a place to sleep after letting him in during the middle of the night. Maybe what they are to each other now doesn’t look like shoulder pats and thigh grabs and a hand on his cheek anymore, but this. Maybe this can be enough.

He falls asleep in Bucky’s clothes, dwarfed by slightly-too-long pants and a slightly-too-broad crewneck that smells just like the man, and has never felt more at home in anything he’s worn.

Gale wakes up to a scream. It takes him a distressingly long time to realize it’s not coming from him.

After that realization, however, he’s out of bed and padding across the narrow hallway toward Bucky’s door before he’s really even conscious of having made the choice to do so, breath a harsh pant in the silence. He imagines he was probably reliving some vivid horrors of his own before Bucky’s scream broke him out of them—only difference is, whenever Gale wakes up he can’t find it in himself to make a single sound.

Bucky’s door is slightly ajar, but not enough to see inside without giving himself away. Would Bucky want him to come in? Would he, if the roles were reversed?

In the stalag every man had his own demons to fight in the night, whether the echo of flak or ghosts from the past or simply the winter chill. Men sniffling into their pillows in the small hours of morning or taking themselves into hand for a different kind of relief was all met with the same detached, resigned, whatever he needs to see him through. No one looked twice at the sight of two soldiers bunking together or otherwise finding comfort in whatever way they could, not in a place like that.

This is Bucky’s house, not the stalag, but most nights Gale wakes up and can’t immediately tell the difference. Perhaps, in some ways, it isn’t so different at all.

There’s only one decision to make in the end.

“Bucky?” He pushes open the door and walks toward the shape in the bed, taking care to announce himself well before he’s within arm’s reach. There’s a faint thought in the back of his head that a man shouldn’t enter another man’s bedroom for the first time without express permission, but he pushes it away. “You alright?”

“Was starting to wonder if you were gonna haver outside my door all night,” Bucky says, neither soft nor scornful, just a statement. But he shifts his pillow just a fraction, a clear invitation.

Gale shuffles over and maneuvers himself into the narrow space on the bed, hesitating only for a moment before pressing his knees to the back of Bucky’s thighs and throwing an arm around Bucky’s waist. They’re well-practiced at the art of fitting two bodies into a bed barely large enough for one, and though the Wisconsin summer is too warm for this kind of tangling of limbs, that’s a price Gale is willing to pay to have Bucky this close.

It’s been a long time since he’s been held. It’s been equally as long since he’s held someone—since he’s held Bucky, the only person who has ever offered their back to him in this way, not as a reproach but with an offer to guard it.

He shifts on his pillow to find a more comfortable position and resolutely does not think about why there was already a second pillow ready on the bed.

Minutes pass, long and short in the surreal darkness. He keeps time only by the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s chest beside him and lets the fragile peace of the moment stretch on. Sleep is a long way away, but that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing pressed up like this against Bucky’s warmth.

Bucky breaks the silence first, because he’s always been the braver of them both. Willing to tread paths anew, where all Gale has ever wanted to do is close his eyes and follow Bucky’s lead. “What’re you doing here, Buck?”

He knows how the question is meant, but that’s not something he can answer. His mind is clearer than it was just a few hours ago, could probably produce something better than feels safe, even though that’s still the truest thing he’s said in weeks, but he merely replies, “Heard you scream. I wanted to—” There are a million things he could add but Bucky knows all of them, doesn’t need to hear check if you were okay or be sure the krauts hadn’t come back or maybe even hold you in my arms. He falls silent.

Bucky, because he’s a kinder man than Gale deserves, interrupts before he has to decide which of those to say. “Sorry I woke you.”

It’s not really an apology, or at least not for that. If anything, it feels like a tacit acknowledgment of their situation—Gale is at Bucky’s house in the middle of the night, Bucky has nightmares that make him scream, these circumstances have led to them spooning in Bucky’s bed.

In some ways, this is everything he wanted in coming here. In other ways, the distance between them feels larger than ever, this close to Bucky but separated by all the things they aren’t talking about.

“Usually I’m the one screaming at night,” Gale offers, because Bucky might be the only person left in the world to whom he can say something more than stiff pleasantries.

“Is that why you’re here, then?”

Coming from anyone else, the question would be unfathomable. But Bucky’s allowed, has always been allowed, to peek into the parts of him that are fortressed off to the rest of the world—maybe, deep down, part of the reason he came here was specifically to be poked at in just this way.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he says honestly. “Just—couldn’t be there anymore.” Whether there is Casper or the stalag he visits every night in his dreams, he doesn’t know himself. Couldn’t be alone anymore lingers in the air, unsaid but likely heard all the same.

“I’m glad you’re here, Buck.” Quiet and sincere, like a confession.

“Mm.”

Gale closes his eyes, and doesn’t dream.

#masters of the air #mota #clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #*writing

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anguishedlurker · 5 months

Text

A Twisted Situation

Phic Phight for @bellsandmischief / bellsandmischeif on ao3! Prompt "Board game night! The crazier the combination of characters, the better!"

I physically need you all to know that this just sort of happened in about two and a half hours. I didn't write, I was fucking posessed at 3.4k words. Here it is in Ao3 glory

Sam was gong to kill someone, actually.

Star’s lips peeled back in something that couldn’t be called a smile as she waited for Sam to make the first move, waving the hat menacingly.

“I will start a fight you can’t end. Don’t.”

Star’s eyes narrowed before sense washed over her expression, shaking rage off with a short jerk of the head, proper fake smile bouncing straight into place.

Dammit, Sam needed the excuse to leave. Even if it was in cuffs.

“Nothing?”

“Buy your school charity game night pass or leave. You’re gonna build a line, and I don’t care what your issue is, even if it’s really obvious.”

Sam was probably going to kill Tucker worse than she was going to kill Danny, this time.

Danny was… Danny. If box ghost showed up, then getting ditched wasn’t about her.

But Tucker?

“Not that you asked, but apparently the losers forgot to do their homework and now need to do it last minute.”

Sam was going to kill Tucker for not having a better excuse to ditch.

“They do homework?” Star asked, chipper as she watched carefully.

Case in point….

“That’s what I said.” Sam sighed, finally moving to pull out her wallet.

Stupid damn ghosts wrecking the stupid damn scoreboard and pieces of the football field, making Ishiyama panic to get a budget for fixing it now and not next year.

Begging on her knees to Vlad or Sam’s parents was not ideal, and Sam had to admit that this was a better option.

“You donating extra to add to the community ticket pool?” Star asked, leaning back in the shit chair in disinterest, shaking the hat in a taunt.

“Considering I only have a hundred on me, yes.”

Star’s eyebrows raised at that, but she ultimately didn’t remark on it as she put the hat down to unlock the register and shove the hundred in.

It was definitely a first class problem, but one of these days Sam was going to end up tearing out hair over trying to explain that hundred dollar bills are not appropriate amounts of cash to take to so much as an average middle class outing, let alone a charity event in the school gym.

It didn’t have to be her hair either. Violence on her mother sounded nice far too often.

Star absently tossed down four poker chips right behind a sign reading ‘DONATED EXTRA TICKETS’, and picked the hat back up. The crinkle of the numbered paper bits were a guise for the gods laughing at her, Sam was sure.

“Your move, Sam.”

And yeah, it sure was her move.

Group four. Japanese number of death, not that it mattered.

Group four, over on the left side of the gym. Wes and Ishiyama eyed her as she approached.

Nobody spoke as she held her paper piece for viewing.

“You know what, I think dad was right. This isn’t worth it.” Wes informed gravely, moving to stand.

“Sit. It’ll be fine, and you got half in advance.” Ishiyama informed, twice as grave.

“The hell does half in advance mean?” Sam accused, already looking to leave again.

Bite her, this was gonna go badly and she needed out.

“Wes has been hired to take some photo’s to help with paper coverage.” Ishiyama stated mildly, her expression warning that if Sam was anyone else the verbal abuse would be much more severe already.

“Okay. Can I ask why Stevie and-” Sam started, motioning to Wes as she spoke even as she made eye contact with Ishiyama.

“You know the butcher place?” Wes asked, cutting off her solicitation of a scathing remark. Ishiyama’s smile tightened, because Stevie and Logan probably were the original plan. Yet, she remained silent.

Dammit. Just this once, provoke her. Give her the excuse.

Bu yeah, fine. Sure. Whatever.

“The one down on-”

She could play ball. She could totally ace the polite conversation contest she and Wes were definitely having.

“They weren’t inside, technically, but like… it’ll be another week.”

Sam cringed in understanding. Lunch Lady and Skulker had both done their number on the joint.

“Well, everyone knows I don’t miss the place, but… Anyone made a card yet?”

They were an alarmingly destructive pair, and debris is rather dangerous to the average person.

“It’ll probably be the homeroom activity on Monday. Now smile, Manson.” Wes sighed, holding up the camera.

Sam immediately made the ugliest grimace she could, even as Wes scowled at her.

“Don’t give me that. I’m with Ishiyama for tonight, and Ishiyama is is in charge of group four. And like, I want to play! Part of my thing was free admission to play. What’s the point of a fight?”

“It just means I go down with you, idiot. And if I go down, I’d do it swinging anyways.”

“Take a seat and wait for the rest of the group.” Ishiyama finally growled, pointedly not looking at either of them.

“Ishiyama. I am begging you with no shame; You know, already, how this won’t work!”

Ishiyama was just as transfixed as Sam was on Paulina’s approach, Wes too distracted with taking photos to know the danger everyone was now in.

Ishiyama finally broke the trance to give Sam the most miserable look she could, right as Paulina looked up or long enough to see who she was heading for.

Wes continued to very narrowly evade losing the social politics required to keep from being punched by Dash over in group six, oblivious.

Paulina carefully looked at Sam, glancing at Ishiyama.

Paulina carefully looked at Ishiyama, glancing at Sam.

Sam grimaced and pointed at Wes, who was rapidly realizing that Dash might actually hit him this time.

Paulina immediately fixated on Wes, wide-eyed.

Wes, making his exit, turned to find out that paulina was staring at him, and Sam had swapped to pointing at Paulina.

Wes was now staring at Sam, and also pointing at Paulina.

Sam very slowly nodded.

Wes turned to Ishiyama, who was refusing to look anyone in the eye.

Paulina turned to look at the gym doors, clearly mentally calculating the danger and not coming to any favorable conclusions.

Before she could simply turn around and walk out however, Jack Fenton came bellowing in.

“Hey-o kiddo! You in group four too?” He asked, not waiting to loop an arm around Paulina and start dragging.

Wes looked like he was dreaming of the nearest breakable window, but there was money on the line. He began the miserable shuffle towards his doom..

Sam moved to stand, stopped by Ishiyama.

“God help us both child, if this has to be my night then it’s going to be yours too.” Ishiyama demanded, breathing just a little too hard.

“You and what blackmail?” Sam challenged.

“The glitter and glue spray bomb on the cheer team a month ago, straight to your parents.” Ishiyama hissed, just low enough Paulina wouldn’t catch it in her rapid forced approach.

Sam contemplated, and sat back down.

If she got Sam that meant she go Danny, and Danny was on some very thin tightropes right now. Tightropes apparently held by her parents monetary support, because even if Sam got punished they’d pull their next donation for being bothered with such lowly activities.

This was fine. This was going to be so fine. Why wouldn’t it be so fine?

“The first game, at least before we are free to chose…” Ishiyama started, taking a shuddering breath.

“Is however far we get in monopoly.”

There were multiple monopoly sets donated for this event, and no time limit on playing.

The limiting factor being potential assault charges was not mentioned as Wes clicked his tongue and Ishiyama and Paulina both plastered on smiles for the camera.

Sam was going to hate that tongue click by the end of the night.

“I love monopoly!” Jack sounded off, missing the sheer rage of the other four people tapped here with him.

“I…”

The silence of the third doubles in a row was deafening.

“I sit my little piece in the jail, and leave to go take a photo of group two in twister. Yell at me when someone rolls me out.” Wes huffed, borderline slamming the flatscreen TV token onto the board.

It was the second turn.

Ishiyama had made them take the Electronic Banking monopoly set, to hopefully discourage cheating as she now held the little device that could read their fake little cards. Ishiyama herself gave a faintly wistful look as Wes stomped off, likely dreaming of doing the same.

“Six, not a double.” Sam sighed, hauling her little coin case to the Mall Of America. Obviously she bought it.

Paulina glared at her, the purse token sitting innocently on the Saint Louis Arch. Her master plan of getting all of those spots was ruined, truly.

Might even have to buy it from Sam.

“Alright! My Turn! Two, woohoo baby! The airports are like train stations in this one, right? I’m taking it!” Jack hollered, deafening. Paulina cringed as she reassessed her plans yet again, watching Jack take his second roll straight into Sam’s MOA. Small blessings.

“So, Jack. What brings you, but not your wife.” Ishiyama asked mildly after fiddling with the stupid little device to transfer everyone’s money, picking up the dice and rolling.

She got herself another ten, and was sent straight to the parking lot. Where there was no pot to take.

“Oh, Mads is out chasing that box spook and the town menace!”

“Alone?” Paulina asked flatly, picking up the dice. Nine. Straight into a treasure chest, which she seemed pleased by.

She seemed modestly displeased by the card she pulled, but ultimately didn’t do anything as Ishiyama verified if she was supposed to do anything based on it. Clearly not.

“Mads is smart! And we promised we’d do something to help get the school in order, so I’m here!”

Ah, yes. Because they’re about ninety five percent of the reason the turf was ruined.

“Right then.” Ishiyama soothed, giving Paulina a flat look.

Paulina seemed unbothered at least. Ishiyama tossed the dice for Wes and came up with no doubles.

“Utilities are always good.” Jack hummed, getting his cards in order.

“What about your son?” Ishiyama asked, passive as ever.

“Hmmm…. Dunno. I don’t think this is his kinda thing, though.”

Sam was suddenly glad Wes wasn’t here, the doubles ever elusive.

By the way Paulina carefully eyed his position at team two, she was in agreement. Just because she thought he was nuts didn’t mean she was unaware the moment his little “theory” breached containment to Danny’s parents was the same moment secen kinds of hell broke loose.

“I see.” Ishiyama offered flatly, taking her question mark card.

“There’s no way none of you have rolled me doubles yet.”

“Tell you what, Wes… do you want us to just do a gentlemans agreement that you can come back in? I’m sure our lovely team here wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I… wouldn’t want to impose. And those photos-”

“No, truly. Sam? Jack? Paulie?”

“Really, no trouble at all Wes. It’d be mean to leave you there.”

“Whatever.”

“Oh, sure thing kids! Come on, all in honor of having fun!”

“I… thank. You. Your generosity towards rule breaking is truly touching.”

“No problem.” Ishiyama hummed, faintly pleased with herself about dragging everyone down with her.

Jack Fenton was the luckiest man this side of Amity.

Sure, Sam had gotten both green spaces already, but this was…

“That’s the last airport, right?”

“I think we’re done.” Ishiyama decided. Wes didn’t take his face out of his hands, his TV token sitting in jail again.

Jacks face fell.

“Yeahhhh, it’s not fun when one person dominates. I know it’s like, luck, but we’ve also got other games to do.” Paulina absently remarked, examining her nails.

“It’s like you’ve forgotten you hate us. Where’s your fast exit?” Sam taunted.

“Samantha.”

“Haven’t. You’re just more invested than I am. And my brother drove me because my engine blew, so I’m stuck anyways because I’m not taking a ride from any of you.”

Jack seemed to contemplate before making his statement.

“I guess that’s fair. But do you two not really…”

“Worlds most open secret my man, not unlike-”

“Wes. I cannot stress enough that I will simply take the murder charge. Ishiyama is not capable of pulling me off in time.” Sam threatened.

“Principal, are you going to take that!?”

“Yes. Of all the people to antagonize, not him!”

“What?” Jack asked, befuddled.

“Not a problem. Cluedo, anyone? It’s open, now.” Paulina offered, the picture of innocence.

Jack really was the saving grace to the whole situation, honestly. Insane luck aside, nobody wanted to pull any social triggers with him around.

Sam because she really didn’t need Danny’s parents to hate her, Ishiyama because Jack was the frontline of a contactable defense in emergencies, Paulina had just mentally checked out, and Wes didn’t want to die by Sam’s hand and Ishiyama’s approval.

“I know I asked about Daniel earlier, but did Jasmine not want to come? Rope, Green, Spa.” Ishiyama prattled off.

Paulina was elbowed not so subtly as the player to the left, pretty much her whole pad at Ishiyama so she didn’t have to ask her to speak again.

“Oh, Jazzy’s out tutoring!”

What? Sam tended to have a pretty good idea of where Jazz was at, given she was backup, and… well...

“I didn’t know Spike was on the tutor list.” Sam prodded.

“Manson, who?” Wes asked, glaring.

“Uhhh. I think it’s Edward? Edward… something. I don’t know what his last name is, actually.”

“Edmund Cox. His parents are like, freaks about Narnia.” Paulina offered, realigning with reality as Ishiyama blatantly cheated off Paulinas notepad in the background.

Nobody said anything for a half beat.

“Why do you know that?” Wes finally bit out.

“Money hides in odd places, and I know many with money.” Paulia said, almost totally tranquil as she gave Sam the stink eye.

She could keep at it, nobody would ever believe her that Sam was rich.

“I dunno that Jazzy tutors any Edmunds… You sure she knows an Edmund?”

Ishiyama cleared her throat, and Wes tossed the dice down to move a few more spaces.

A grand total of two.

“Okay, well, I’m sure Jasmine is helping your son. You know, with his homework.” Wes hissed, trying to kill Sam with his eyes.

“Hell if I know, I’m stuck here with you all.”

Wes deflated as Jack finally made it to the kitchen.

“Green, knife, kitchen!” Jack cheered, pointing at Wes to fork over information.

Sam was starting to get the picture of the murder, but something was wrong.

Very wrong.

“You. Scarlett, living room, bat!”

“Nothing! You! Loser! Stop trying to catch me lying!” Paulina screamed, barely restraining herself from throwing the entire notepad at Sam’s skull.

“If he doesn’t have it, and you don’t have it, and SHE doesn’t have it, then who has the god damn-!”

“Peace, children.” Ishiyama warned, clearly not believing that peace would be achieved.

“I just find it all odd.” Ishiyama hummed, pressing Jack for answers about Danny.

“Yeah, well… It’s not like he really opens up to us anymore. Me and Mads chalk it up to teenager stuff, but…”

Wes wasn’t even focused on chewing mental glass over the secrets he wasn’t allowed to spill, that’s how fucked up this game of Clue was.

“So we’re just ignoring that nobody can narrow it down to one murderer?” He hissed, inching closer to Ishiyama. “We’re just having a super casual little conversation about the idiots school life?”

Ishiyama finally connected that she was only skating by a shitfit from her captive audience because everyone was in an old western style stalemate, and turned to the board again.

“It is very strange….”

“I give. I fucking give. I give up and I’m looking in the fucking packet and I’m taking the loss.” Paulina ranted, snatching up the little yellow envelope before Ishiyama could protest.

Everyone pretended they weren’t super pissed about it when four cards fell out instead of three.

“We have two murders. Green and Scarlett in the kitchen, with the bat.”

Nobody spoke.

“Well… what’s our next game, then?” Ishiyama asked, slightly strained. Even Jack looked mad at this twist.

“Left hand blue.” Wes called, exactly as miserable as the rest of them.

Why twister? Who decided that letting Jack Fenton pick was a good idea?

Sam crab shuffled between the apropiate colors for limbs so that her head was closer to Ishiyama’s. Wes gave her an unpleasant look for technically cheating, but remained silent. Taking limb detangling off the option list was lethal.

“Call it.”

“UGH! Right foot green.” Paulina wailed, twisting even worse to make it work.

“You know I can’t. I don’t want to plead with Vlad, and this already isn’t enough. Everyone needs to walk away with perfect opinions so they come to the next one, and how can they do that if the organizer won’t play?”

“What about Vladdie!?” Jack called, getting dangerously close to having to stick his head under Ishiyama’s ass.

“Bullshit.” Sam barked, calling bluff. “Not a damn person would seriously rail at you about it.”

“Yes. They would.”

“Left hand blue.” Paulina called miserably. Jack went stock still as he now had very critical choice about where his center of balance, and thusly his head, was going to start drastically leaning to.

“Move, loser!”

“I physically cannot! Get your ass off my back first!”

“Get your thigh off my fucking-”

Jack, having detangled from Ishiyama a bit ago, muttered something about him and his bad decisions.

“Right foot yellow.” Wes informed innocently from the safety of the losers seats, watching as Sam and Paulina tried to break each others spines without falling over.

They had a crowd for this lunacy. Wes, so safe and cozy from the chair, was busy imortalizing the event with pictures. Even Ishiyama was openly unamused about her humiliation, trapped under Jack’s massive rear, desperately trying not to get squished by his leg curing back underneath..

Sam didn’t have very appropriate thoughts about the way Paulina was twisted around her, and she really wasn’t trying to be crass about it but god if she could do this in twister then professional level gymnast routines would be a joke for her.

“I think you should like, get tested for joint issues. Before you maybe fuck them up permanently.”

“Suck it, Manson!”

Dash gave an extremely pleased look as the spinner stopped spinning, having taken the damn thing from Wes.

… No.

“Left”

No.

“Hand”

No!!!

“Blue.”

Wes coughed from laughter as all four of them started screaming.

First Ishiyama fell. There was nothing near her that didn’t tangle her worse in Jack’s leg than she already was.

But then Jack, who had to contort into the bridge position just to make it to a blue circle, got a short stocky principal to the leg.

The carnage was immense. You couldn’t see Ishiyama’s head underneath Jack’s ass.

But then, Sam.

Second place wasn’t too bad, she decided as her wrist gave. It just couldn’t do it anymore.

And Paulina, tangled around Sam like she was, came down with her.

Yeowch…

The whole gym cheered, reveling in the chaos.

Paulina stared at the ceiling from beside Sam, expression unintelligable.

“I’m done.” Was all she said, unmoving.

Which, fucking same.

Wes laughed even harder, taking photos of Jack rolling off Ishiyama.

“You can’t stop us from leaving, anymore, Ishiyama. This was it. Nothing can keep me here anymore.” Sam declared, doing her best to detangle from Paulina’s limbs.

“I, too, yield. It was fun while it lasted.” Ishiyama wheezed.

“No. It wasn’t.”

“I think I should go check on Mads and the kids.” Jack decided, not moving from his side despite the declaration.

Wes was still too buy laughing as Sam did a four legged crawl off the twister board.

“You need a ride, kiddo?” Jack offered, still unmoving.

“Absolutely not.”

“I do.” Paulina decided.

But Sam was already heading for the door, trying to erase the whole night from her memories.

Tucker would never let this die once the news broke. Which meant she’d have to kill him even harder than before.

Still, that was a job for tomorrow. Right now? She sword to herself the entire school would burn before she could be coaxed into another charity game night.

#sam manson #wes weston #principal ishiyama #paulina sanchez #jack fenton #board games #prompt fill #phic phight #phic phight 2024 #my writing #funny

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thespineoftherighteous · 2 years

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foxes as kids I've seen on my university campus, pt 2, spring semester. (part 1)

Kevin: kid who walked into class looking so done and the professor was like "you good?" and she went "it's been a long day." it was an 11 AM class

Andrew: this kid who got honked at (out of what I'm assuming was concern?) for quickly ducking under the train barriers as they were lowering to cross the tracks before the train passed by (this kid was actually me)

Nicky: some kid in the parking lot whose hotspot name was 'SWEET A$$'

Allison: (this was on the outskirts of campus and I don't think she was a student but) fucking queen who was in like five inch heels strutting across the crosswalk like it was a damn runway while talking to someone on speaker phone. and the light turned green when she was walking so i had to wait but i did not care because i was enthralled. also there was this like massive monster truck that also had to wait for her and that just really pulled the whole image together

Neil: this shuttle bus driver (the school hires student drivers?) who must have been one of the only kids who applied because my god. two minutes into the drive and i had made peace with never making it off that bus. after like ten minutes everyone else got off and it was just him and i and that's when he must've decided both our lives were disposable because he really threw caution to the mfing wind. every time he pulled a risky move or we went skidding or anything he'd glance at me in the review mirror and I'd just be like :) and he'd squint his eyes nervously. i don't even think Neil is that bad a driver but the energy was pure josten chaos

also Neil: this kid who was trying to get into her locked car using an assortment of writing utensils (I'm just now realizing i don't actually know that it was her car. could've been anyone's. all the more Josten) and looking very much like it wasn't her first time attempting to break into a vehicle

Matt: this dude wearing a shirt with a blown up, low quality picture of some guy who i am pretty sure was the buddy he was walking to class with (the buddy on the shirt is Kevin)

Renee: this kid who, when walking on the sidewalk next to the main road, got spooked by an eery ass looking dog whose face was pressed against the window of a waiting car, instinctively jumped into half a fighting stance, and then collected himself and nodded wassup at the dog

Dan: this dude who, when i was in the middle of the parking lot contemplating whether itd be worth it to try to fit in the one open space that was more than half taken up by a snow mound, looked at me, looked at the spot, looked back at me, and shook his head to tell me "don't try it"

Aaron: this kid who was just sat in a parking spot with his music blasting from his car (i could hear it perfectly from five cars down) slumped over the steering wheel looking wretched. he eventually turned his car off, got out, straightened himself up and started towards the school as if he hadn't just musically subjected half the student body to his existential crisis (also big Declan Lynch vibes if you play that game)

also. Kevin and Neil as this couple whose conversation i caught a glimpse of:

"i could die. what if i die?"

*pause* "would it be worth it at all?"

*pause* "maybe yeah actually"

#O KAY gang i had my last class today;;now i just have three papers and a couple quizzes #then the semester is over #gotta write my ass off now #whew #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #neil josten #aaron minyard #matt boyd #kevin day #dan wilds #allison reynolds #andrew minyard #renee walker #nicky hemmick #mine aftg

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 3 years

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What You're Looking For (myg)

Summary: Yoongi's definitely falling in love with you, but he's hesitant to tell you because as an idol, he can't give you what you're looking for.

Warnings: public sex, some possessive behavior, vaginal fingering, little bit of degradation

Word Count: 3633

A/n: A Yoongi commission, hope you enjoy!

Being an idol isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, the money is nice, he doesn’t have to worry about bus fare or how he’s going to eat each week. He can write songs anytime he wants to, has use of all this impressive equipment that his pre-debut self would have lost his mind over. The fame, on the other hand, is something that Yoongi struggles with.

He can’t exactly leave his apartment and go to the store for ramen and beer anymore. He can’t exactly walk to the bus station and go down to the park, feed the birds like he used to. He also can’t take anyone out on a date, which pre-debut Yoongi would have never dreamed of doing, anyway.

But now he’s on the wrong side of his 20’s and actually dating is something he wants to do and can’t, not just because of his fame but also because of contracts. It isn’t as if their manager had sat them down and said absolutely no dating, but it’s certainly implied. Their schedules are tight enough that there’s only a few hours of free time per week, and that’s not on accident, Yoongi knows.

Pre-debut Yoongi had been so focused on music, so focused on making it that now, once he’s made it, he longs for something more simple. Writing lyrics on bar napkins while chatting up a girl, for one. Taking someone out on a dinner date to that diner he likes by his apartment. He imagines that he might take her hand while they walk there, swing it back and forth, make her smile.

He does, in fact, meet you while he’s scribbling song lyrics on a bar napkin, but instead of taking you out on a date, he has to sneak you back to his apartment in a black car, pulling his cap over his face. You know who he is, he knows that much by the blush on your cheeks, but you keep insisting you don’t know much about kpop and he believes you.

Yoongi blames the soju for how he kisses you in the elevator, aggressively, backing you up against the door, but you lean into him, make this little sound into his mouth and the next thing he knows he’s waking up with your bare arm across his waist and he’s panicking because he’s got practice in less than an hour.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he extricates himself, because you look so pretty and peaceful and he’s got to wake you up and usher you out like some kind of dirty little secret and it makes his heart clench in his chest.

He calls your name, softly, and when you stretch he can see that tattoo on your stomach, the one he'd traced with his fingers last night, and then his tongue.

Yoongi knows he's blushing, can feel the heat in his face, so he turns his face away.

"Um," he starts, and then he hears the sheets shuffle.

"Oh! Sorry, I should go." Your voice sounds husky from sleep and Yoongi almost reaches out to grab your wrist as you pick up your dress from the floor.

He doesn't, and you go with an awkward peck on his cheekbone that he swears he can feel on his skin for days.

Things go on like that, for the weeks he's on break and after, through texts and Facetime calls, for months. It's always rushed and sexy and he always has to go before he wants to, and he hates it.

He finds that the girl he'd thought about taking on dates and holding hands with seems to now have your face, after a while. All his fantasies, sexual and otherwise, start to involve your smile.

Pre-debut Yoongi only fantasized about music, about standing on a stage belting out his truths, cutting pieces of himself to bleed onto paper so that someone would see him, finally, so that someone would know him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have scoffed at him for wanting only one person to know him, one person to see him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have called him an idiot, for falling in love.

You never imagined yourself in a situationship with an internationally famous rapper, despite the fact that you weren't overly familiar with his work when you'd met.

You certainly can't call it dating, since it culminates in having a few drinks and hooking up at his apartment or, during one particularly hazy night, in the backseat of a hired Escalade.

He's often out of the country, and on occasion he'll call you in the middle of the day, which is the middle of the night for him, ask you how you are, and eventually, what you're wearing.

You're trying not to look too far into it, not read into how soft his voice sounds when you Facetime and he tells you how beautiful you look, not think there might be something more in the way he wraps you in his arms after sex, plants soft kisses on the back of your neck.

It's fun, it's casual, and there's no reason to need more.

There are other guys that you've had similar situations with, and this is no different.

Maybe it's Yoongi's face that floats in front of your eyes when you're just about to fall asleep, but he doesn't have to know that.

You find yourself stopping yourself from texting him first, and you tell yourself it’s because he’s so busy but you know it’s because you feel too much.

You know his schedule, he emails it to you once a month, and while that seems like a good sign it isn’t as if after months of hooking up, you’ve ever had a conversation about where your relationship stands.

So, one Friday night, you know he’s in town and you know he’s free and when he doesn’t text or call, it feels like bees are buzzing under your skin.

Instead of staring at your phone in an effort to will it to ring, you call a friend and plan a girl’s night out. That’s what you need, anyway, a night where you can drink with your friends and flirt with men you’ll never see again.

You don’t need Yoongi’s low mumble in your ear, making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.

Yoongi tells himself he doesn’t spend every moment of his free time with you, but he definitely does spend the majority of it at least thinking about you. The way your skin feels under his hands, the slow tilt of your crooked smile. The way sometimes you snort when you laugh too hard and you’re not even ashamed about it.

He babbles all of this out to Jimin and the younger just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hyung, you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi feels his face flushing. “N-no. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Hm. Okay, hyung.” Jimin says dryly, and Yoongi shoves him playfully with the heel of his hand.

“You going out tonight?” Yoongi asks, suddenly, and immediately regrets it when Jimin’s eyes light up.

“Are you gonna come with me this time?” Jimin bounces on the couch excitedly and Yoongi groans.

So that’s how, between the need to stop sitting at home and daydreaming about you and Yoongi’s inability to say no to Park Jimin’s pout, Yoongi ends up at a club.

A loud club. A crowded club.

He orders a whiskey at the bar, people shouldering up against him to order as well and God why did he do this, anyway?

Jimin disappears somewhere within half an hour and he’s stuck looking around the bar for him awkwardly.

Yoongi recognizes you by the line of your jaw, and it’s a rush, the pleasure that shoots through him, the butterflies in his stomach, better than the glass of whiskey he’s been sipping.

You don’t see him, and he wonders if he should go up behind you, plant a kiss on your shoulder, but in the end he doesn’t wade through the sea of people, just watches you sway to the beat, talking and laughing with your friends. It’s interesting, seeing you out and about like this, somewhere he doesn’t have to hide you, and longing spears through him because as much as he hates clubs, he’d like to take you to one, see the way your body moves to the music, how your eyes light up when you laugh.

As he’s watching, entranced, a man puts his hand on your hip, stands from the bar, and Yoongi’s hands grasp the bar hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He’d never considered himself a jealous person, had never been so in past relationships, but there’s this little ball of something vile in his stomach and it isn’t just the whiskey.

He knocks the rest of his drink back, orders another, tries to focus on the bartender but he can see you in his peripheral vision and when you move he turns his head to follow you as the man leads you out onto the dance floor.

It occurs to him that he’d never had a conversation with you about exclusivity. He hasn’t seen anyone else since he’d met you, but he’d been gone more than he’d been with you and maybe you were seeing someone else. Maybe it was this guy, with his hand on your hip so familiar.

Yoongi doesn’t feel angry, exactly, but there’s a rock in his gut and his throat seems to have closed to a pinhole when he takes a gulp of his new drink, watching you dance.

You sway your hips slow, as if moving to a beat in your head instead of the music, and Yoongi would smile if he felt physically able to do so, watching the man behind you with both hands on your hips now, fingers splayed out.

Yoongi has this awful image, wonders if you’d let him put his hands on your hips like that somewhere more private, and he finishes his second drink too quickly, slams it down on the bar. The bartender blinks at him and Yoongi mutters out an apology, orders another.

Three drinks were his usual limit in crowded places like this, throughout the night, and now that he’s downed them within a couple of hours, things are a bit fuzzy around the edges. He tells himself he should stay seated, wait for the alcohol to hit his system, but he’s up and walking toward you on the dance floor before he can talk himself into staying on the bar stool. He’s only unsteady for a moment, a lifetime of enjoying alcohol has given him a good tolerance that he’s grateful for tonight.

Your eyes widen when you see him, a ghost of a smile playing along your lips.

“Can I cut in?” Yoongi asks, and it seems like a stupid, formal thing to say at a club that was blasting hip hop, but it makes you smile wider.

Yoongi doesn’t even look at the man, doesn’t hear his mumbled response, just replaces his hands on your hip with his own.

“That your boyfriend?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child but you laugh and it lessens the tightness in his throat.

“Mm, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You answer, coyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

“That so?” Yoongi leans down, presses his mouth to your collarbone. He wants to suck a mark there but he resists. “Do you want one?” He mumbles it against your skin and you make a sound in the back of your throat.

He can’t hear your response, can’t touch you like he wants so he takes your hand and you follow him without a word.

When he pushes the door to the men’s room you tug on his arm, though.

He looks back at you and you scrunch your nose and pull him into the women's bathroom instead.

"There's an etiquette to hooking up at a club, Yoongi."

He laughs and finally that knot in his stomach loosens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. The women's room is cleaner."

You beckon him into a stall, locking the door before backing him against it, kissing him hard, nipping at his bottom lip.

He moans into your mouth, it's been weeks since he'd been able to kiss you, touch you, and he's enjoying it until a flash of memory of that other guy's hands on your hips, fingers splayed, pops into his mind.

He calls your name, softly, and you pull away to look at him, this little pout on your mouth that he has to resist kissing.

"Are you seeing anyone else?"

You'd been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt but you freeze at his question.

"Not really," you reply, and the air feels thin suddenly and Yoongi trails the fingers of his right hand along your spine.

“That’s not really an answer,” Yoongi retorts, and his ears feel hot.

You only smirk, unbutton part of his shirt so that you can slide your hand inside to feel his skin.

“You jealous, Yoongi?”

He scoffs, and then his breath hitches when you place your palm on his bare chest. He pulls you closer by your waist and you lean into him.

“You’re jealous,” you say confidently, moving your hands to unbutton his slacks, and Yoongi’s mouth goes dry.

“I am,” he admits, feeling flushed all over.

“Why’s that? Territorial?”

Yoongi thinks it’s unfair of you to be asking things like this when he’s tipsy and horny, half hard from your kisses and your hands on his skin, but he puffs out his cheeks and lets out a breath through his nostrils and answers anyway.

“No,” he manages, it’s a croak because you’ve slipped your hand into his slacks and underwear, pressing your palm against his cock.

“Hmm. Well in that case, I got asked out tonight, think I should give him a call?”

“No,” he says again, empathically, taking your wrists and moving his body to pin you against the side of the stall instead of allowing you to pin him.

Your breath catches, your eyes dark with lust when you look at him.

“Why not?”

You want him to say it, Yoongi knows you well enough for that, has spent months learning all about who you are, he knows that much, but it’s hard to spit it out, especially like this, in a club bathroom stall with music booming overhead, muffled slightly by the bathroom walls.

Instead, he kisses you, hard, moves his hips against yours, shows you how hard you’ve made him and you whine into his mouth, clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Want you,” he murmurs, and it isn’t an answer but it’s closer than silence and it’s as close as he can get right now.

“I know you want me,” you breathe, something exasperated in your tone.

Yoongi doesn’t have a condom, had no plans on coming out to meet anyone, and bemoans as much to you.

When you rummage around in your purse and pull one out, smirking, then he is mad, even though he’s not sure he has any right to be upset.

“So you came out to get laid tonight?” His voice is calmer than he’d expected with how his heart is pounding.

You shrug. “So what if I did?”

“You’re lucky I was here,” Yoongi says darkly, and your smirk only widens.

You don’t move a muscle, just tilt your chin up at him. “Why is that?”

Yoongi bunches your dress around your hips, roughly pushes your thong aside so that he can cup your pussy. He slides two fingers inside when you spread your thighs, moaning loudly.

He doesn’t respond to your question, kissing along the side of your throat and nipping at your earlobe instead.

“You’re lucky,” he murmurs, “because no one can fuck you like I do.”

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin, and he kisses your throat again, sucking and biting there to make a mark. You’re loud, rocking your hips against his hand.

“I bet everyone can hear you moaning like a whore for me,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yoongi,” you rasp, trembling.

“Hmm?”

He can’t deny it’s a rush, the way you’re shaking, desperate for him, all but begging him to fuck you. He always feels so out of control with you, the way you make him feel, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the way he’d follow you to hell if you’d asked him. He knows how easily you could break him, and he’s afraid of it but he keeps chasing you anyway. It’s nice to see that he can have some manner of control over you, too.

“Please,” you plead, and he pulls away from your throat, wonders about the logistics of fucking in a bathroom stall. It certainly wasn’t his normal scene, but he figures it out, wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your ass to press you against the wall. Applying the condom is the awkward part but you’re panting, clutching at his shirt, kissing along his neck and he manages.

Your hands move between you, guiding his cock into you and he groans so low in his throat that it almost hurts.

“Always so wet for me,” he says into your ear, and you buck your hips, almost unseating yourself until he rights you with his hands on your hips.

“Fuck,” you curse almost mournfully and he can’t help but chuckle as he starts to roll his hips up into you, the angle making him spear into you deeper than he ever had before. All of your hookups had been quick but none against the wall. Yoongi thinks he likes it, loves the way you look with your dress bunched up, your tits heaving against his chest, makeup sweating off.

“Look at you,” he groans. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agree in a short breath. “Yes, yes, please make me come, Yoongi.”

Your dirty talk makes his balls draw up and he thinks it might be over before you do but that’s okay, he’s good with his hands and his fingers.

Then you tug on his hair, your teeth gritted. “Harder,” you demand, and Yoongi’s eyes widen.

It’s quick after that, he’s fucking you hard and fast against the door, your ass sliding up and down with a squeaking sound.

He’s close and he lets his mouth run away with him, your cunt clenching around him.

“I want you to be mine,” he gasps. “Not just your body.”

“Yoongi, I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop,” you whine, and he isn’t sure you’re listening. Part of him hopes you aren’t, because if you don’t feel the same way he doesn’t want to know, at least not yet.

And then, just as he spills inside you, it comes bursting out of him like a dam has crumbled.

“Y/n, I’m falling in love with you.”

You kiss him, then, taking his face in your hands, your tongue sliding against his and he keeps rolling his hips into yours as you pulse around him.

It’s thirty seconds before he starts to come down, and a full minute before the horror of what he’s said starts to descend upon him.

Lowering you to the ground is more awkward than it should be since he has to pull out of you first, but you giggle when he puts you down on the floor, stumbling a little on shaky legs.

After you each adjust your clothes, you open your mouth to speak. “Yoongi-”

“Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t say anything.”

You frown, little wrinkles appearing between your eyes. He wants to kiss them.

“But-”

“Jagiya, please,” he all but begs, and he’s never called you a pet name but it slips out and he wants to disappear through the floor.

“Yoongi.” You say, fiercely. “Stop it.”

Yoongi groans, covering his face with his hands.

“I want to be yours, too.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers, his face flushed.

“You do?”

“I do.” You’re smiling, widely, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that. It makes his heart soar.

“What about that guy?” He knows he’s pouting so he doesn’t fully uncover his face.

You laugh. “What guy? He just asked me to dance.”

Yoongi drops his hands from his face. “You...you made me think…”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted from me. I had no idea you had feelings for me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Yoongi says incredulously. “I’m crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you forever.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” You insist.

Yoongi laughs, loud and open, his heart feeling lighter, but it’s a short reprieve. His face falls.

“I’m just...I’m gone so often. I can’t give you what you want, what you’re looking for-”

You silence him by kissing him, just a peck on the lips. “Yoongi, you’re what I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

That rush is back, the fluttering in his chest and his stomach that he’s come to associate with you.

“Yeah?” It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think of to say, looking down into your eyes and he’s sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face.

But you grin back and it makes him feel better.

“Yeah.”

He still doesn’t get as much time with you as he likes and sometimes he still worries that you might meet someone else while he’s away, but you call him every night that you can, facetime him, and he keeps the butterflies, keeps the rush that reminds him of you, even when he’s busy making music or onstage.

You're always happy to reassure him that you've found what you're looking for, and you don't need anything more.

#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi imagine #bts imagine #noonasinnetwork #btswritersclub #btscreatorscorner

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writingabouteverything · 3 years

Text

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:))

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever.

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex?

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish.

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that.

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again.

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle.

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar.

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird.

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.”

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.”

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health.

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.”

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have.

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.”

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh.

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.”

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.”

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.”

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible.

I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?”

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach.

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.”

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.”

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.”

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected.

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!”

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go.

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.”

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.”

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?”

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.”

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black.

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between.

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.”

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.”

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.”

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.”

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.”

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.”

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.”

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--”

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse.

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.”

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.”

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.”

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #jane the virgin #jane the virgin AU #lot #hslot st louis

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stanknotstark · 3 years

Text

Truth Serum

Hello everyone! My name is Amber and I’m not new to writing however I am new to actually posting my writing but recently I really got back into Loki with all the trailers dropping and stuff and I’ve had so many ideas crossing my mind so I figured I’d write some of my ideas out and post them here! Honestly this is my first time writing for Loki so he might be a bit OOC until I really get him under my buckle! This piece doesn’t have a lot of Loki in it because I’m also testing out writing with more than two people getting focus so I apologize in advance but I’ll probably write the 2nd piece tomorrow where Loki confronts ‘you’. Enjoy! Gif not mine!

You had just finished sweeping and mopping in Tony’s lab because there was glass on the ground. The only abnormal thing was that there was opalescent liquid in-between all the broken glass, your guess was that it must have been in some vial for safe keeping meaning you should have been careful.

Should. Key word right there.

Realizing you had gotten some of the mystical liquid on yourself you quickly finished up cleaning then found Tony who was visiting with Steve in the living room.

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” You incessantly said in a sing song voice as you approached, “Heya, Stevo.”

“Look there was a broken vial in your lab and you know I was down there for my blueprints and while cleaning said broken glass the liquid might have touched my skin....”

Tony frowned and Steve’s eyes widened and looked at Tony.

“Listen just tell me if I’m dying or not?”

Tony stood there staring at your face for another few seconds before you literally saw the realization hit him like a bus. Tony smiled.

“You know I’ve always had this question in the back of my brain since you said your blueprints were apparently....’Only meant for clearance level 10s’ I think I remember you saying...”

You frowned at Tony and shrugged, “I mean...no one is level 10 so don’t be offended...What does that have to do with this?”

“What exactly are those precious blueprints?”

You were going to give a witty remark but suddenly it was like word vomit and you couldn’t stop the next words from flowing out of your mouth, “They’re a new helmet I’m making for Loki that include audio, kinda like headphones, so he can listen to his favorite Mid-guardian books while on missions with us.”

Tony smirked which then turned into a full on smile before letting out a laugh. Steve looked at you with a confused puppy look on his face. You, unfortunately, realized what that liquid was.

“Tony I swear to God if that liquid I touched was a truth serum I’m literally going to castrate you!”

Tony, still laughing, put his hands up in a surrendering way and shook his head.

“I’m not the one that decided to clean up a mysterious liquid in my lab, of all places, without proper cleaning gear!”

At this point everyone in the room was looking at you three. Natasha and Clint were on one couch in the living room, Loki sat with his legs criss cross, back to the window overlooking NYC, and Wanda and Vision sat on the opposite couch from Natasha and Clint. The only two missing were Thor and Bruce. Much to your luck as you looked around at everyone, you realized they all overheard Tony because they all had mischievous smirks crossing their faces.

“STOP! I’ll answer questions BUT nothing too personal please...” You said putting on your best puppy eyes and giving an exasperated sigh. Surprisingly enough you looked at your crush, Loki, and saw he was the only one without a mischievous smirk, for once. He did however put down the book he had been reading and instead had a focused look on his face as he played with the green magic floating between his hands. No one else paid him any mind though.

“Who’s your favorite Avenger?” Natasha shot out leaning back into the couch with a smirk.

“Tony.”

“YES!” Tony shouted pumping a fist into the air.

“Why?” Natasha asked.

“Because he’s like a dad to me, not to mention he makes us really cool gear meaning I don’t have to slave away in the lab by myself anymore.” You rolled your eyes as you finished the sentence. Tony beside you pulled you into a gut crushing hug and said, “Awe, FRIDAY can you put up adoption papers on my computer in the lab and set a reminder to fill them out later today?”

“Tony, stop, God, you’re embarrassing.” You pushed from his hug, blushing.

“For some reason I’m not really surprised.” Nat said shrugging.

You giggled and made your way to the middle of the room, taking a seat in an available love seat, Tony and Steve coming to stand behind it.

Next Wanda sat up with an excited look on her face and asked, “Who do you think is the strongest Avenger?”

Thor walked in and gave a hearty chuckle, “Me, of course!”

“No, actually, I think it’s a tie between you, Wanda, and Loki.”

“What, no no, surely you’re mistaken, dear?” Thor said now chuckling nervously.

Steve smiled over to him and shrugged, “No, Thor, she accidentally touched a truth serum, this is as honest as she’ll ever be buddy.”

“Why am I one of the strongest Avengers?” Loki asked, his hands still playing with the magic but his complete attention on you.

“Your magic may not be on Wanda’s par, at least what I know about it, but you’ve endured quite the amount of emotion grief and came out on top so I guess I see you as the strongest, emotionally...” You finished with a wince since it kind of aired out Loki’s dirty laundry and was a bit mushy if you were being honest. Loki hummed but went back to focusing on his magic.

Thor frowned then a happy look over took his face, “Are you in love with anyone in the room?”

“Whoa!”

“Thor!”

“Wait, Thor!”

You laughed out loud and let the answer go freely, unconsciously glancing back to Loki who wasn’t looking at you but had a raised brow and seemed to only be half focusing on the green magic cloud in his hands, “Yes.”

“Thor buddy that’s a bit personal.” Tony said, an eyebrow raised in a disappointed dad sort of way.

“My apologies!” Thor said making his way to the kitchen, “I hear a Poptart calling my name, perhaps a smores today.”

“Is it fair to say we may ask questions about this love interest considering it’s one of us?” Vision asked with a vexed look on his face.

Loki cleared his throat and everyone gave him attention, “Perhaps we should keep that as a restricted topic considering she did say nothing too personal?”

You weighed the pros and cons in your head, while you were nervous for Loki to find out it was him maybe this was the way to get it out in the open. Lord knows you would take advantage of it considering every time you spoke with Loki nowadays you turned into a blabbering mess and tended to leave every conversation read in the cheeks from fluster and embarrassment.

“I don’t mind you asking questions but don’t out right ask me his name.” You said deciding to get this over with.

“Well we can cut out Natasha and Wanda then.” Tony said catching onto you saying him. “Reindeer games what on Earth are you doing anyways?”

Loki glanced at Tony and smirked, “Nervous?”

Tony frowned and backed up a bit, “You know, I wasn’t but I am now...”

Loki chuckled and went back to focusing on his magic flowing freely between his fingers and pulsing between his hands now, “Nothing that will harm anyone, Stark, don’t get your britches in a bunch.”

You smiled at Loki then looked around at everyone, “Ok, hit me!”

“I know you said don’t ask a name but you did just say Tony was a father figure I was hoping you didn’t...” Clint started and ended softly with fear in his eyes.

Seeing as it wasn’t a full question you didn’t feel word vomit coming up but decided to play around with Clint since he never ceased to prank you all the time.

“I might have a daddy kink...” You said looking up at Tony, trying your best to give him a lustful look but couldn’t hold in your laughter when Clint started gagging, “No, Clint, it’s not Tony.”

You laughed a bit when you heard Tony let out a heavy sigh of relief. You then brought a hand up and covered your giggle when Clint said a tiny, “Oh thank god.”

“I swear, it better not be Vision, he’s mine!” Wanda said suddenly with wide eyes.

“Not vision.” You responded.

You could feel Tony’s fingers behind you rhythmically tapping on the leather love seat, showing his growing impatience.

“It’s not Steve, Tony.” You said trying to placate the man since he had told you in confidence that he was trying to find a good way to ask the man out.

“You realize that only leaves Clint...and me, right?” Loki said with an unsure smirk. You gave the man a smile and stood up. Loki had finally finished playing with his magic, halfway through you realized what he had been doing seeing as you felt the truth serum slowly letting up in you. He had finally worked out the chemicals from your system and you were back to normal.

“Unfortunately I’m not outright telling you all who it is, if you haven’t been paying attention to me recently that’s on you.” You said before heading towards the kitchen, Loki still smirking as he watched you walk away.

“I feel a smores Poptart calling my name too.”

After you had disappeared Clint cleared his throat and looked at Loki, “It’s totally me, sorry i mean have you seen these guns, Loki? You have nothing on me.”

Loki chuckled and picked his book back up, “I think I have more to offer than you think Clint, but keep telling yourself it’s you if it helps that mortal brain of yours sleep at night.”

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #reader insert #truth serum pt. 1 #my writing

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Remember Us - 10

Hi all,

are you all ready for the finale of Remember Us?

It’s fluffy and our two lovebirds have the HEA they deserve.

Writing this fic has been painful but i have grown really attached to it and after ALB and Island Dreams is my favourite story.

Thanks every one who had followed this. We did it. We survived the angst.

------

Two months later.

Aelin was at home, camped in bed. Yrene had placed her on bed rest and both Rowan and her mother had been pretty strict. She hadn’t been feeling at her best and Yrene had told her that what she was experiencing were signs of early labour but it was not time yet to go to the hospital.

Evalin had gone out with the kids and Rowan was out grocery shopping. She got off the bed and went to the bathroom and decided to draw a bath. She filled the tub with water, salts and created a lot of bubbles, then she added some classical music in the background and added some candles as a final touch. Once done she shed her clothes and climbed in the tub and lay down, relaxing her muscles and her back.

Rowan came back an hour later with groceries. The bus had skipped a course and he was fuming. He still hadn’t found the courage to go back driving and Aelin explained that after the accident it was very likely his subconscious preventing him to do so. He did not complain. He was happy taking public transport when it showed up. He would have taken the subway but the nearest stop was a bit away and with bags it was too much of a pain, so he used the bus that stopped just near their house.

“Aelin, I am home.” He called, once back in the house. No answer.

“Aelin?” When he still not had an answer he panicked, what if something happened to her? Rowan dumped the bags in the kitchen and started looking in every room for his wife until he reached their bathroom and laughed at the scene. She was in the bathtub, eyes closed and a peaceful expression. Silently, he moved behind her and then his hands shifted from her shoulder down to her breasts and Aelin moaned “oh yes…”

Her eyes finally opened and lifted her face for a kiss that he did not deny her.

“Get rid of those clothes and join me. Mum will be out for a while.”

He kissed her head “let me put away the frozen stuff.”

He came back five minutes later, shed his clothes and Aelin moved forward and Rowan climbed in behind her, letting Aelin lie down against his chest.

“I thought you were offering your very pregnant wife a sexy massage.”

“We shouldn’t.”

Aelin huffed “Ro, I am just asking for a massage not for you to fuck me in the bathtub.”

He chuckled. On some occasions Aelin had been the one begging for sex but he had always stopped her with the excuse that he was being considerate of her health. When Yrene told them that sex was off the table for health reason Rowan had almost preened at the victory.

He squeezed some oils on his hands and started massaging Aelin, starting from her neck, kneading the sore spots, then her shoulders and slowly lingered on her breasts listening to her satisfied sounds.

His hand the moved down to her bump caressing the expanse of her extended stomach and chuckling at every kick from Maya “she seems to like it.”

“Just like her mum.”

A couple of days later they had taken the kids to the science museum. Aelin was tired of being stuck at home so she had convinced Rowan to take her and the kids out.

They were watching Thomas have fun in the space section while Freyja played with some space toys when Aelin felt wet trickle down her legs.

Shit.

“Ro?”

“Hm?” He said while watching the kids.

“My water just broke.”

His head whipped to her, panic clear on his face “what do you mean?”

“I mean that my effing waters just broke and that our daughter has chosen a very inconvenient moment to come to the world.”

“Fuck.” Said Rowan, forgetting that they were surrounded by kids. He took out the phone and called for an ambulance. Aelin tried to minimise that they could easily reach the hospital by bus but Rowan ignored her.

He quickly grabbed the kids, told a museum attendant about the puddle in the space section and then walked out with the three of them waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

By the time they got to the hospital the contractions had becomes closer and much longer and the paramedic told her that she was progressing pretty quickly. In the ambulance Thomas had been worried about his mum screaming and Rowan had tried to tell him that their sister was coming. Freyja had wanted to snuggle to her mum but in the ambulance it hadn’t been possible so she had started crying.

Evalin met them half an hour later at the hospital and she had taken charge of their distressed kids and tried to explain that their mum was okay.

Maya arrived two hours later, Aelin’s labour had been quick but no less painful. She was now sleeping in her bed while he had their newborn daughter in his arms and was pacing the room singing a tune to her.

In that moment Evalin took the kids to the room “Someone is here to meet their sister.”

Rowan kneeled so that they could see her. Maya had a thin layer of hair that was light and could have been a mix of silver and blonde, and her eyes had been Aelin’s. Blue with a ring of gold.

“Tom, Freyja, say hi to your sister Maya.”

“She is tiny.” Said Thomas touching her hand.

“You both were this small once.”

Freyja grabbed her pacifier from her mouth and gave it to her sister. Evalin laughed and took it back “no darling, it’s too big for her.” Freyja looked at her grandma and placed the pacifier back in her mouth “Ma’” she added pointing at the baby.

“Yes, she is Maya and she is your sister.” Rowan smiled as his daughter walked to him and with her short arms tried to hug them both “Ma’” she said again.

Thomas eventually moved to hug both of his sisters and Aelin woke up in that instant. She watched the scene in silence afraid she would ruin the magical moment.

She looked at Rowan surrounded by his children and almost burst into tears. They had almost lost all of that. That moment would become her most precious memory. She should have taken a photo, but no image or words would ever fully capture the emotions seeing her family happy, celebrating the new life they had brought into the world. They had literally gone to hell and back and their union survived nonetheless. He had slowly made his way back into her life with the same level of love he had done it the first time. He was her soulmate.

As if he heard her thought, Rowan turned his head, his green eyes on her and the most stunning smile on his lips.

She let the sobs come and Rowan stood, always with Maya in his arms “are you okay?”

Aelin nodded and cleared her tears “I am so happy… and so, so tired.”

Rowan sat at her side, Thomas climbed on the bed and Evalin helped Freyja. Both kids snuggled against their mother and Rowan leaned closer too.

Evalin slowly left them and closed the door, allowing the family to have a moment alone.

“She looks so tiny in your arms.”

“She is perfect.”

Aelin scoffed “she is our daughter, of course she is perfect.”

The sound of Rowan laughter was music to her ears. After months of pain this was all she needed. Her family.

***

Three months later.

“She is just adorable. Your three kids are going to break so many hearts when they grow up.” The comment came from Lysandra who was sitting on the bed. It was her wedding day and both Elide and Lysandra were going to help her.

But right when she had been about to wear her dress Maya had woken up screaming bloody murder and Aelin was now sitting on the rocking chair Rowan had bought and was nursing her daughter.

“I do not miss my boobs being mistreated like that.” Said Lysandra.

Elide at her side sighed “me neither but I guess I can’t avoid it.”

A moment later both Aelin and Lysandra were screaming “Elide Lochan, are you pregnant again?”

The woman nodded “yeah. Allison is one and Lorcan and I don’t want to have too much age gap between kids. I am eight weeks along.”

Aelin grinned “now we need to convince Lys to go for the third one.”

“Eventually. Ae is in the middle of changing job so right now might be a problem but we will.”

Evalin joined them a moment later and when she saw that Maya had finished eating she had offered to burp her granddaughter and let Aelin get dressed.

Her dress was midnight blue and long. Lysandra had done her hair adorned with flowers and tied in a gorgeous style that lifted over her head. Elide had put a very gentle layer of makeup and Aelin was now staring at her image in the mirror. She still carried a bit of pregnancy weight and had almost regretted the choice of dress but Lys had told her that Rowan was very likely to still find her hot.

Aelin scoffed, although not once while in bed he had ever commented at the marks left by their first two kids. He had always worshipped her body like he used to when she was younger and fitter.

“Come on… let’s not keep him waiting too long.”

The wedding was going to happen in the back garden of their house. The ceremony was going to be private as only a handful of people had been invited. On top of Lys with Aedion and the kids and Elide and Lorcan, they had invited Chaol and Yrene and their two kids and then Dorian and a heavily pregnant Manon and of course Evalin. Neither of them wanted to make a big fuss of the event. This was their moment, only to be shared with those who really mattered. Aedion met Aelin at the top of the stairs and was ready to walk her to the altar where Dorian was ready to marry her and Rowan once more.

“You are stunning. That husband of yours is going to have a heart attack.”

“Wait till you see Lys.”

Slowly they started walking and they reached the garden and Aedion gave her a coat. The night before had snowed and the place was a winter wonderland. She looked ahead and saw Rowan. He was wearing a black suit with a tie as green as his eyes. Gods he was stunning. She spotted her friend sitting down and Evalin holding Freyja in her arms, Maya in her pram, while Thomas sat diligently on his chair. They had imparted him with the need to stay sit and quiet until the wedding was over.

She looked at Rowan once more and did not miss the light in his eyes.

Rowan stared at Aelin walking towards him at Aedion’s arm. She took his breath away. It did not matter that she complained that she was not anymore the young sexy woman he met at uni. She still had the power to make his knees go jelly and leave him breathless. She was the most stunning woman he had ever met and felt like the luckiest man alive for the privilege of calling her his wife.

She stopped in front of him and Aedion kissed her cheek then moved away to join Lysandra.

Dorian moved at their side ready to officiate the wedding.

“Friends, family, little people,” all the kids giggled at the comment “thank you for joining us on this happy day to bear witness to Aelin and Rowan renew the wedding vows they exchanged many years ago.” He began “I saw these two fight, slowly fall in love and become the cheesy couple we all know.” More laughter from their friends “they have been through a lot but they also were probably the only couple who could have faced the challenges fate threw at them and come out of it more in love than ever. It makes me happy to be here today to forge their union once again and showing us that through love, all is possible.”

Rowan and Aelin stared in each other’s eyes and he gently took her hand feeling her shaking a bit in trepidation.

Aelin nodded to him as if to tell him that he could go first with his vows.

Rowan cleared his voice “Fireheart, if after the accident, someone had told me that a few month later I would be standing in front of you to renew our wedding vows I would have told them they were insane. But you believed in me, in our bond.” He paused “you never gave up on us. With time we found our way back, we found each other again and day by day I fell in love with my wife once again.” He heard some people sniff in the background “I love you. I love our family and I wish for the chance to grow old with you. You are my everything.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

Aelin smiled wickedly “Rowan, my buzzard I think by now we have a fair idea on how life can be unpredictable and cruel, but we fought through every challenge. The promises I made you at our first wedding are still true. You are my rock and as long as you are at my side I am not afraid. I love you, more than anything, more than life itself. To whatever end.”

“To whatever end.” He said back to her and she crashed against his chest and Rowan held her tight “I love you.” He told her again.

“I believe you have new rings to exchange.” Dorian interrupted that tearful moment and both pulled apart for the last part of the ceremony.

“I hope you ladies are wearing waterproof mascara because those were tearful vows. I almost teared up as well.”

Aelin had asked Dorian because even at their first wedding he had been fun had had given a nice twist to the ceremony. He had been delighted when they asked him once more.

He looked at Manon who was now sobbing no doubt because of the hormones.

“Look at Manon you both. You broke my usually unflappable wife with your cheesy love confessions.”

“Do you realise it’s just the hormones? She hasn’t become a softie all of a sudden?” Aelin whispered to Dorian and the man grinned back.

“And now the rings.” Aedion passed a ring each and they got ready.

“I, Rowan, take thee Fireheart once more to be my lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse and promise to love you until death do us part.” His hand gently slid the ring next to her engagement one.

“I, Aelin take thee Rowan as my lawfully wedded buzzard once again. Through sickness, through health. Through bad times and happier ones. This is my promise to you, until death do us part.” She smiled at him and placed the ring on his finger once again.

“Well, my job here is done. Now parents, please cover your kid’s eyes as I expect some ritual smooching.” The guests burst out laughing.

Rowan grabbed Aelin at the waist and pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. When they broke apart, his forehead touched hers.

“I love you, buzzard.”

He stared in her blue eyes.

“I love you, fireheart.”

To whatever end.

#rowaelin #rowaelinkids #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #evalin galathynius #dorian havilliard #aedion x lysandra #elide x lorcan #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 17: Blackout

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no, you made things complicated. Lol. I'm having more fun writing Kung Lao than should be allowed. Hopefully you guys enjoy! And yes, I know this is tropey but I also don't care LOL, it's a fun trope.

Part 16 Part 18 Chapter Index

The hotel was surprisingly crowded. You weren’t sure what you’d expected but you hadn’t expected it to be bustling with tourists. There was a festival happening, you should have expected this. A bit outdated, the hotel was still clean and inviting. A welcome reprieve from the stone walls of Raiden’s Temple. You’d arrived early and still had to wait in line. Raiden had ‘transported’ you there which had been a wild experience in and of itself. You’d walked into a bolt of lightning and had come out in a quiet alley unseen.

It had been so long since you’d walked amongst the average civilian that it felt straight up bizarre to be walking along the streets of the modest city, especially in your hanfu. It was all you’d had, after all. No one looked at you twice other than to greet you politely. Most of the other folks staying at the hotel for the festival were couples on a romantic getaway which had made it instantly weird to be waiting in line with Kung Lao to check into your respective rooms.

Thankfully, the line moved quickly and once you’d checked in, you dropped off the few belongings you’d brought with you. The room was tiny with a single bed, a desk taking up nearly the rest of the room. Atop the desk was a television and beneath that was an old, ancient mini fridge. It would do well enough. This was the most technology you’d seen in weeks. Afterwards, you’d found Kung Lao and told him that you would meet him in an hour. You’d made note of a clothing store down the road and wanted to see if there was anything worth buying.

He, of course, decided to join you. No one trusted you alone anymore. He didn’t say it like that, but you knew that Raiden had told both him and Liu to keep an eye on you. You felt like a ticking time bomb.

Once at the shop you were disappointed to find that it sold mostly yukatas and kimonos. You supposed it was better than the flowy hanfu. At least you could pick out something that would be your own rather than something that had been handed to you.

Boy, you missed the internet.

You picked out a few pieces that you could work with a bit easier. Most of the hanfu were dresses or long flowy robes. Here you’d been able to find a few women’s kimonos that had hakama pants as an option. You had never been so excited to see pants in your life. You didn’t need the whole kimono, just the pants. Some constricted around the ankles while others were left open. You grabbed both and were extremely pleased.

“Sometimes, you’re a very simple woman.” Kung Lao had patted you on the back when you’d showed him the pants in excitement. You had to agree. In that moment you were very simple. Pants had brought you joy. You’d wandered away from him after that to find a few tops, belts, and jackets. Thankfully, you’d had your wallet on you when this had all begun so you had some money on you. In Raiden’s Temple, money hadn’t been necessary, so you were happy to spend it on the few things you did need.

They weren’t jeans and a t-shirt or even cute dresses, but it felt like a step in the right direction toward feeling like yourself again. You hadn’t realized how much it had bothered you until then.

Kung Lao had purchased just enough for the day in flattering red and black. That seemed to be his aesthetic though you could picture him in blues too for some reason. Then you made your way back to the hotel and to your rooms on the top floor. You had gotten rooms next to each other. You went to get changed and were happy with what you saw even in the half mirror on the desk. You stood on the bed to get a better look. Black hakama pants and a grayish-lavender and black top with a white sash tied around your middle. You then pulled your hair back in a ponytail and admired yourself in the mirror. Even though your hair was a mess you looked much more like yourself.

Your white roots had grown out a couple of inches now. It didn’t look bad, but it definitely didn’t look like it was on purpose either.

Oh well! You jumped off the bed and then left the room to find Kung Lao waiting for you, leaned against the wall next to your door. He had one foot propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, hat obscuring his face as it often did. The clothing he’d bought wasn’t too terribly different from what he usually wore with the notable exception that he had sleeves which was truly a shame. He tilted his head up just enough to greet you before stepping away from the wall. You hadn’t left him waiting that long and yet he acted as though he’d been there for ages.

You noticed the jade ring from his usual outfit was woven into his outfit with the sash around his waist laced through it. It was kind of sweet that he always seemed to have it on him.

“Is that significant in some way? Special?” You asked, gesturing to the ring. He looked down at the ring in surprise and then nodded down the hall. You walked slowly through the hotel toward the stairwell.

“It’s a relic from my ancestor, the Great Kung Lao.”

“Oh, wow. About that, though… I’ve heard people mention him, but I had never heard the name before you. I know that he’s of some importance which has made you important…”

“I am incredibly important, thank you.”

“Yes, very. Keep talking.”

“He was the first champion of Mortal Kombat who had come from the Shaolin Order of Light. He defeated Shang Tsung and won the tournament.” Kung Lao seemed as though he had told this story a hundred times but was still proud to tell it. It was oddly sweet. “He was champion of Earthrealm for fifty years before the tournament was corrupted and he was killed. Even so, he is held in great reverence. He was a remarkable warrior.”

“Is that why you have a dragon mark?”

“Yes, that is why I have the mark. It’s also why I was sent away so young. I’d already been training long before I’d met you. When I left it was because it was time for me to go live at the temple.”

You stopped walking before the stairs and he stopped just in front of you and turned to face you. “Then why were you so bad when we would pretend to fight?”

“I held back. I wanted you to have fun too. Besides, it felt nice to be normal back then.” He laughed and you caught up to him and started down the stairs. “I was thinking that we should come up with a story as to why we’re here.”

“Should we?”

“Obviously. We need a reason to be here.”

“Other than the reason we actually have?”

“And when a bunch of strangers ask you why we’re here, are you going to tell them the real reason we’re here?”

“Point taken.”

“We need a cover.”

“Do we really though? I don’t remember ever having to justify my actions that intensely to strangers before. We can just be visiting.” You jumped down the last two stairs to the landing between flights. Pants felt great. Kung Lao seemed to either be overthinking your trip or grasping at straws to get to some end point. Or he was going to cause trouble. You would never forget the look that both Raiden and Liu had given him on their way out.

“I’ve been asked three times what brings me to Mount Osore during the festival. I came up with a lie on the spot but I’m no terribly proud of it or anything.”

“And what is this lie you came up with?”

“I said I was here on a date. Everyone else seems to be here on a date, so it was the first thing that jumped to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed in surprise, waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You caught up to him. “Really, Kung Lao?”

“What? It’s the first thing I could think of! The people asking me were on a date and so I stuttered that I was too.”

“Kung Lao, no.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Can’t we just say we’re visiting and that it’s no one’s business?” You walked into the lobby and he hurried in front of you and took your hands, clasping them between his. You sighed. “Would you…” The lobby was very crowded.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Would you,” he continued, talking over you, “do me the honor of going on a cute little pretend date with me so that we can sneak into an ancient Buddhist Temple built within the caldera of a volcano so that we can uncover an ancient and possibly cursed artifact together?” You stared at him in disbelief, but it was taking every ounce of your energy not to burst into laughter. He was such a dork. “I will get down on my knees and ask you again if you don’t answer me.” He got down on his knees and you broke. Laughing, you pulled your hands free, grabbed his arms and tugged.

“Oh my god, get up, Kung Lao.”

“It’s a great cover, Y/N.”

“It is an exactly okay cover. But fine. I haven’t done something terribly embarrassing in a while, so I guess I’m overdue for this.” You agreed at least. He was right. It was a good cover considering this whole place was filled with couples. Besides, if it got Kung Lao to drop the subject then you would be happy to agree. The whole display had made your cheeks burn.

“Embarrassing, huh? Come on, Y/N. It’s not such a bad thing, is it? Could be worse looking guys to end up with, right?” He walked at your side again, making a teasing kissy face and leaning close to you. You leaned away with an awkward and nervous laugh.

“If you keep doing things like that then you are going to get smacked.”

“Worth it.” He held the door open for you and together you left the hotel. Outside a bus waited to take tourists to the shrine for the festival. People were already loading onto it. Kung Lao offered you his hand and you looked to him skeptically. He grabbed your hand anyway and then you walked onto the bus. “You’re going to have to get better at pretending.” You found seats near the back of the bus and even as you sat, he didn’t let go of your hand. You felt incredibly silly. Yet, it also made your heart flutter. As much as you had given him a hard time, you also happened to think it was an incredibly sweet and kind of wholesome idea.

Funny enough, you had thought of this moment before but in a much different context. Maybe in a life where your childhood together hadn’t ended so traumatically. Where you’d stayed close friends and he’d have asked you out when you were old enough. In a way, you felt like a silly schoolgirl, something you hadn’t felt in years.

If he hadn’t died then this was exactly where you would have wound up. Somehow that made you feel much less silly and you finally relaxed. Kung Lao pointed out several interesting things on the side of the road through the window and you listened to him chatter on until the bus was pulling up to the shrine. You waited for the others to get off the bus and then you walked ahead of Kung Lao and stepped off it.

The shrine was huge and it took your breath away.

So much so that it made you dizzy.

A river flowed before you then beneath a red bridge. To the left of the bridge there was a white beach lining the bluest and most artificial-looking water that you had ever seen in your life. Rocks were piled alongside the shore in strange formations. Beyond the bridge there was a stone path that led to the shrine in the distance, and it was lined with old lanterns. You walked to the edge of the stone path where the bus had dropped you off to try and get a better look at the water.

That was a teal color you had never seen before in nature. In your mind’s eye, you recalled your vision and it made your stomach drop. You took a step further and were suddenly grasped around the waist and pulled away from the edge of the stone. Then Kung Lao looped his arm in yours. “You looking to take a dip?”

You hadn’t realized that you had almost walked right into the river. You hadn’t been thinking. The water had bewitched you, it seemed. You needed to get a closer look at it but now that you’d been turned away from it, the feeling had gone. From there you could smell the acidity in the humid air. That was likely why it was so blue. “Pay more attention, okay?”

You weren’t sure what to say to him. It was surreal being there. This place was exactly the same as it had been in your vision but also years, possibly centuries had passed since then. The shrine buildings themselves were much larger than they had been then. They were even a different color. Your head was spinning as you tried to take in everything at once. It was an overload. You grabbed Kung Lao’s arm to try and ground yourself. You felt as though you were floating and the wind would take you away.

Kung Lao led you onto the bridge and at its apex you sat and watched the water trickle beneath it. He helped you lean your elbows against the railing and then placed a supportive hand on your back.

“It’s okay. Take a second.” He seemed to realize that you were having a difficult time. How could you explain that you were struggling to wrap your mind around being in a place where you’d had such a vivid and violent vision? You were grateful for him. Your heart was racing and you watched the water flowing beneath the bridge, over the rocks. Your stomach had dropped. It felt as though you were intimately familiar with this place, as though you had spent years there, but you had never once seen it before. At the same time, everything felt completely new. Your brain was waging war with itself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, this is just… surreal.” You were finally able to collect your thoughts enough to talk.

“You went a bit gray. Figured you needed a minute.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So, where do we go?”

“There’s a well inside one of those buildings.” You nodded to your right where the shrine was at the end of the stone path.

“Vague, but okay.” He peered to the right and then pointed. “It’s off limits.” From there you could see a series of ropes that blocked off the building from visitors. “Great.”

“It’s crowded enough here. I’m sure we can sneak in just fine.”

“Of course.” He leaned next to you on his forearms, hands clasped together. “This place is a little spooky.”

“It is. I read a brochure from the hotel lobby. The monks here believe that it’s the gateway to hell. The river beneath us is supposed to represent the Sanzu.” You pointed below you. It was a little spooky, you supposed, but it was also incredibly beautiful.

“I read about that. I also read that there are holy water bathhouses and volcanic cauldrons with crazy colored water.”

“Yeah, and a lake of blood.”

“I hate that, Y/N.” He stuck his tongue out at the idea. You laughed. He was too funny. He had this way of making you feel at least even about the big and often uncomfortable things sometimes. Other times he drove your anxiety through the roof. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those moments. “What do you say that we get to sneaking in and find this thing so that we can have a bit of fun for the rest of the day, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

He took your hand once again and you walked over the bridge and along the stone path. The lanterns were decorated for the festival along with the rest of the shrine. Monks walked about, greeting visitors and answering questions while explaining various attractions. Most visitors, and there were many, were straying from the temple in favor of the white sands or the volcanic cauldrons. You and Kung Lao walked until you reached the ropes before the shrine. You stood there for a time in the shade, waiting for your moment to sneak in unseen.

“Coast is clear,” you whispered and turned to keep watch while Kung Lao snuck into the shrine. Once inside, you waited for your opportunity and followed him. Inside, the building was ancient but to you it seemed oddly brand new. It wasn’t the same shrine that you remembered from your vision. Much had changed since that wicked man had been there.

No one was waiting for you inside the small entryway or in the room beyond. That seemed like the central room, with space for prayer and a dip in the center for dining. The floor was lined with tatami mats and the ceiling was high, windows on the second floor spattering sunlight throughout the room. Halls branched off in each direction and you suddenly felt overwhelmed with choice. It had seemed so much simpler in your vision.

“Lead the way but be cautious. We’re not alone.” Kung Lao spoke in a hushed tone, staying close to you but alert.

“Yeah.” You started through the room and down the closest hallway, checking to see if it was empty first. Kung Lao took your hand and you urged him along with you. Your stomach was in knots and his hand there continued to keep you grounded. Several times you encountered monks going about their business and you had to duck into other rooms or sneak back around corners. You somehow managed to remain unseen, having to huddle together in strange spaces and hide in enclosed areas. It would have been fun had it not been so damn frustrating.

None of it made sense! As you turned down another hall, you sighed in frustration. You’d wound up there twice already. Your gut kept sending you there and back to the central room but there was no indication that it was the same place that the vision had taken place in. Kung Lao suddenly pulled you back into the side room and held you against the wall near the door. There were footsteps in the hall, and you held your breath until they had passed. You made to go back into the hall, but Kung Lao pinned you in place.

“You’re leading us in circles.”

“I know. It’s hard to explain. It’s like someone’s moving everything around while we’re walking. It doesn’t make any sense. I think I’m going one way and then we’re back to where we started.” It was making you sick to your stomach, as a matter of fact.

“You can do this. Just focus.”

“Kung Lao, you have no idea what’s going on in my head right now. I am focusing.”

“You’re right I don’t. So, tell me.”

“I’m not sure that I have the words to explain that the room we’re looking for should be right around the corner but then it isn’t.” It really was disorienting to expect to be in one place and end up in another. “It shouldn’t have been this far back but also this place is ten times bigger than it had been in my vision.”

“I need you to try still.”

You were mixed up. It was like someone was moving rooms in your head and before you knew it, you had once again led him back into the central room which made both you and Kung Lao groan in annoyance.

“Oh good. We’re back. I was worried.”

“It should be right here, but everything looks so different!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not okay, Kung Lao. It should be right here. I wish I could just show you.” The frustration was radiating off you, you were sure. “I can’t-”

“Is someone there?” A voice from somewhere down the hall called and footsteps approached from a distance.

“Fu…” Kung Lao whispered and then grabbed you and searched for somewhere to hide. The closest hall was too far. You were caught. “Don’t panic.” He urged you to the wall with surprising care and you made a sound of surprise. What did he mean don’t panic? You were instantly panicking. Don’t panic? What was wrong with him? He leaned against you and tilted your chin up and his head toward you like he was going to kiss you, obscuring you both with his hat. “Act natural, Y/N.” His lips brushed against your cheek, just next to your lips. “I swear, you’re terrible at this.” You were stiff as a board, so he had every right to scold you, but also he was pretending to kiss you so what the hell were you supposed to do with that? What was natural in this case?

You gave him a swift but soft punch in the gut and he laughed against your cheek in return. That made you feel a bit better. He lifted his head just enough and you peered toward the door nearby, waiting for the monk that would inevitably kick you out. You could have had time to hide at this rate. Kung Lao’s lips were pressed against your cheek and they were soft even if it was just in a mock kiss close enough to your lips to look like you were sneaking a private moment.

You peered around the corner, thinking maybe you were in the clear. Kung Lao did the same and when you turned back to tell him that maybe the monk had decided to turn away, you found him extremely close to you. Intimately so. His dark eyes were serious and that always scared you for whatever reason. He tilted your chin toward him and all other thoughts slipped out of your brain.

What were you doing there? Where were you anyway? And why? Did it matter?

Not right now it didn’t.

His hand was on your chin, thumb brushing just below your lip, urging your lips to part just enough. You dared not breathe to break the tension of the moment. The sneaking and searching were gone completely from your thoughts. All that was left was the boy that you’d so admired in your youth grown into a handsome man with his hand against the wall at your side, the other inextricably lost below your lower lip.

His eyes were searching you, but you dared not look back into them for fear of what you might find, for fear of what it might reveal to you. His breath warmed your lips before they were on yours, parting them like a blossom in a soft and singular tender movement. A far superior kiss than the one he’d pretended to give you for the sake of saving your skin.

His lips were sweet. Not like sugar or candy, but sweet like the lingering taste of honey at the bottom of a cup of tea. It was a feeling of sweetness rather than a flavor. The moment was still and soft, his lips treasuring yours as though they were something sacred and special. They pulled back just enough from yours that you could feel your lips resisting to part as if they had minds of their own. His eyes were searching you still for answers and in wonder, but you didn’t dare meet them. Yet, you could feel his gaze and beneath your fingertips, that had betrayed you and now rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating almost as hard as yours.

His breath graced your lips again, but you dared not breathe. You wanted to say something, even just a whisper of his name, but no words would come and you sat there, lips parted in waiting, avoiding his eyes, hand clutching the cloth at his chest, unsure of where you even were or why. This was Kung Lao.

Your Kung Lao.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as they were on yours again, but the softness was gone, though there was something about them that was still sweet even so. The force of his kiss pressed you against the wall, leaving you no escape- not that you wanted to escape. This was a moment that the ten-year-old inside your head had both longed for and not understood. You would have been a fool not to return his kiss, to taste and experience his lips the way that he was with yours and so you did. You kissed him and it was like a storm inside you beyond your control, building with electricity with every moment that passed.

There was a tender moment of acceptance where it felt as though time stood still. The soft moment faded quickly to frenzied desperation. There was no space left between you. Kung Lao was pressed against you, body warm and strong, hat nearly pushed back off of his head as he favored kisses over his possessions. Your hands moved up his chest, to the sides of his neck, fingertips then tangling in the short, messy tendrils of his hair at the base of his hairline. Your heart was doing flips, brain completely turned off to anything that had happened before this, even if somewhere in the distant reaches of your mind you could hear your instincts telling you that you had to stop. Whatever muting effect had been triggered in your brain had seemed to impact Kung Lao as well.

In one swift motion, fluid and strong, his hands were at your thighs and he had lifted you and pressed you against the wall, urging your legs to wrap around him. Your arms slipped naturally around his shoulders, pulling him closer between hot and increasingly sloppy kisses.

“Excuse me?”

Ah, yes. The monk. That was right.

You stopped kissing him.

Kung Lao’s lips finally pulled from yours and you could feel that your own were left slightly swollen from the desperation and passion of those precious few moments. When had you gotten so tangled up in each other? His chest was rising and falling against yours quickly and even though he’d pulled back his lips lingered close to yours as if to consider defying the monk further.

“My apologies.” The monk sounded embarrassed and bowed multiple times. “This area is closed to the public for the festival.”

You finally managed to regain your thoughts and untangled yourself from Kung Lao. You placed your feet on the ground and cleared your throat though your face was likely as red as his robes. He released you from his grip though he made no effort to step away. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and forced your brain to work.

“Is it?” You sounded surprised and were grateful that you had. You hadn’t expected to be a very good actor after all that, but you had been surprised to be interrupted and also confused as to where your mind had gone. It was more feigning innocence than lying. The monk nodded and looked as though he sincerely felt bad for interrupting you. “I’m sorry. We had no idea.”

“It’s no worries. I will happily escort you back to the festivities. Follow me.”

“Sorry about that.” Kung Lao, who you had never seen at a loss for words, seemed to finally regain himself. Just like that, he was back to the goof he’d been when you’d first arrived. “We were just sneaking off to have a private moment. Didn’t realize it was off limits.”

“It happens all the time. You’d be surprised.” The monk led you back through the central room and into the entryway. You elbowed Kung Lao as you followed the monk and he laughed beneath his breath. Once outside the monk bowed to you and then left you alone. You leaned your head back and stared into the sunny blue sky with a sigh. You needed a new plan. That one had gone off the rails in a way you hadn’t expected.

#kung lao #mk kung lao #kung lao x reader #liu kang x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #kiss #romance #fluff #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #kung lao x you #kung lao/reader #kung lao/you #max huang #ludi lin #angst

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layniapetrovnaaa · 4 years

Text

“No boys”

Request: @soytrash

Hey beautiful 🤍 how about a cute little moment between reader and Logan with Laura regarding a crush 🥺And Logan is just overprotective, but prior to Laura coming home from school and talking about a crush, Logan is trying to get some from reader 🥵 please and thank you hun let me know if that’s okay or not 🥰 (maybe with the baby from your family series too) sorry if it’s too much I love your writing 🥺🤍

Warnings: Smut, swearing (if you squint).

A/n: Do you guys picture yourself when reading fanfiction? Cause I do and don’t haha. Typically when I read/write for Logan I picture myself as Scarlett Johansson in Match Point and The Island lol. I’d love to hear about you guys, so just let me know!

Reader is written as under 30 y/o, if you are older, just change the number :)

I hope this is good enough (I’m not really that confident in this one). Let me know if you have any constructive criticism.

[The Howlett Family series]

It was a particularly warm day in the Canadian Rockies, warm enough to open a few windows and have the cozy log house smelling of the fresh outdoor air. the window above the sink that you were currently standing at let a breeze into the house that tickled you just enough to have your body bear a small chill.

As you rinsed one of the bowls you had used this morning to prepare breakfast, your hips swayed side to side in a fluid manor that matched the rhythm of the song that lightly boomed out of the speaker which sat by the fruit bowl on the counter. The reason behind the low volume was that Logan was currently trying to put your youngest daughter down for her daily afternoon nap. If the wails and grumbling coming from the baby monitor was any indication, it wasn't going very well.

You dried off your hands and picked up the monitor, holding down on the button that allowed your voice to come through on the other end.

“You need some help?”

“We’re fine. I just cant find her goddamn pacifier.”

“Did you check on the shelf by her changing table?” you spoke again.

Suddenly the crying stops and you smile knowing he found it.

He lets out a quiet “Thanks.”

You set the monitor back down and go back the the half a dozen dishes left in the sink.

“Kid’s quite the screamer hm?” you announce as Logan walks out from the hallway a few minutes later.

“Yeah she is, I think she got it from her mother.” he jokes walking around the island to be closer to you.

You let out a breathy gasp like-laugh.

“Oh really?” you say in an exaggerated tone, humor still consuming it.

“Mhm, and speaking of screaming...” he places his hands on your waist and squeezes a bit.

“We can’t baby, Laura's gunna be home in like ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is enough time. I can’t help it, you just look so sexy--”

Before he can finish you interrupt.

“Logan, you know damn well ten minutes isn't enough time.”

“I just need something [Y/N].” he says as his hands find your breasts and you let out a small moan, abandoning the dish towel and griping the counter.

He kisses your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh, which brings forth light breathy moans from your mouth.

You turn your head to kiss him and you can feel yourself throb a bit when your lips meet. his hands dip into your top and pull your breast out of their confines, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

He continues to grope and kiss you as his dominant hand makes its way into your pants.

You moan loudly into his mouth as the pad of his middle finger circles your clit a few times.

His lips separate from yours so he can speak.

“Hmm, You like that?” he says in his breathy and gruff voice.

You can’t seem to make out any words, so instead you offer an almost whiny sounding “Mhm.” as his fingers inch lower.

You gasp, throwing your head back onto his shoulder, your right hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, as his middle and ring fingers enter your tight lubricated hole.His fingers curling in the classic “come hither” position, making you squeeze around his digits.

Even after all of the time you had spent with Logan, your body still didn't know how to handle the pleasure, that being evident in the way that your back arched and you sporadically bucked your hips back into his crotch with every jolt of pleasure that you felt.

Your moans were absolutely erotic as he seemed to push further into you, finding that spot that did in fact make you scream.

And the explicit squelching noises were making you even more desperate as he fucks you with his fingers.

As you let out another slew of loud moans, you feel his hand come up to cover your mouth.

“As much as I love hearing those pretty noises you make, baby, you gotta be quiet.”

Your eyes rolled back and fluttered shut at his his words and the vibrations from your moans bouncing against his cupped hand.

His thumb starts to circle your clit in the same rhythm that his fingers were moving in.

God, you were so done for.

He releases his hand from over your mouth before he asks:

“You gunna cum?”

“Mhmm” you let out in high pitched whine.

“Ouh! Don’t stop.” you pleaded as that marvelous feeling started to take over.

“That’s right baby, jus like that.” he speaks, egging you on until your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasmic euphoria taking over.

Eventually your body comes back down to earth.

“Look at that, you got three minutes to spare.” he coos in a triumphant tone.

Your breath is heavy and you whimper slightly when he pulls his fingers out of you.

You glance over to the built in clock in the stove before readjusting yourself and catching your breath.

Turning around, you plant your hands on the space where his shoulders and neck connect, and kiss him. Your tongues danced together sensually until you pulled away.

“I wish I could return the favor...” you hum and he kisses you again.

“You will later.” he says as the screeching of the school bus tires alerts you of Laura’s homecoming.

You look up at him and bite your lip, giving him a sensual smile as you nod.

You separate from him as you hear the front door open, going over to greet Laura.

“Hey honey, how was school?”

You could hear Logan in the kitchen, chuckling at your total change in demeanor.

You turn slightly to roll your eyes at him, but the small amused smirk on your face gives you away.

You turn back to your daughter as she answers you while getting her homework and lunchbox out of her backpack.

“It was alright. We got to watch a movie in my english class, so that was nice.”

You follow her to the kitchen where she sits at one of the bar stools at the dark wood island, slapping her purple folder and pencil onto the table.

You noticed something off with the young mutant, like she wasn’t telling you something.

When she looked up to see you and Logan analyzing her, she knew she would have to put on a better performance if she wanted to keep her secret. Fortunately for you, she wasn’t feeling up for a challenge today. And it’s not that she wanted to hide what her friends had told her was called a “crush”, but she knew how her parents would probably react.

“Laura, is there something you need to tell us?” Logan spoke.

“Sweetheart, you know you can tell us anything, right?” you squeeze her shoulder in a loving manor.

She nods, taking in a breath before turning to you and muttering: No puedes decírselo a papá... (You can’t tell daddy...)

Hearing this concerned you. Laura and Logan had a pretty open relationship, despite their constant bickering.

Your eyes quickly flick over to Logan, who was watching you and Laura, his arms crossed while he leans against the kitchen counter.

“Que es Laura?”

Logan was accustom to yours and Laura’s more private conversations you had in spanish. He wasn't really a fan, only because when they would occur, he felt left out. But, he figured this must be important and waited patiently before asking you what she had just said about him.

“Hay un chico en mi clase que está enamorado de mí.” (There is this boy in my class who is in love with me). Her voice is quiet, but her tone sounds exasperated.

Logan's brows furrowed when he heard “un chico”. He didn't know much spanish, but he did know that un chico meant a boy, and he did not like the sound of that.

You snort, your hand quickly flying up to cover your mouth before you speak.

“Aww Laura!”

A shy grin spreads across her face.

“What did she say?” Logan speaks up

You bite your lip, trying to hold in your small bit of laughter. You look over at Laura and can tell that, although she is nervous for what her fathers reaction may be, it would be best to tell him about her dilemma.

“Laura has a not so secret admirer.”

“He wrote me a note.” she says, grabbing a crinkled white paper from her pocket.

You could tell by her humorous tone that she found the situation comical, and didn't seem to reciprocate the feelings.

Logan on the other hand had immediately gone into full protective father mode, snatching the note from her hand, and reading over it to make sure nothing obscene had been written/drawn on it.

After he is finished looking at it he crumples it up and puts it in the garbage.

“No boys until you are 30.”

“Logan don’t be ridiculous.” you say, walking over to fish the note out of the can.

“I am not being ridiculous.” he scoffs, incredulously.

“In fact, I think I’m being a bit lenient. 30 years old is a perfectly reasonable age to start being romantic with someone.” he says, and now it was your turn to scoff as you hand the paper to Laura.

She makes a disgusted face and holds the very corner with her pointer finger and thumb. You couldn't tell if it was because it had been in the trash, or because of it’s contents.

You turn back to face Logan and cross your arms.

“You do realize that we’ve had a baby together and I’m not yet 30, right?”

He retracts slightly, and grumbles:

“That’s different.”

“Uh-huh” you reply sarcastically.

“The feelings are not mutual by the way.” Laura finally speaks up. Deciding to clear the air before an argument started brewing.

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“That’s my girl.” Logan says, and you chuckle.

“That conversation is not finished by the way.” you say while you walk over to the pantry to get Laura a snack, Logan grimaces, thinking of the conversation that would come later.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you and Mama end up together?”

“Uhh, well...” he starts, glancing up at you, not sure if it was the right time to share.

Yours and Logan’s story was a bit controversial. The reason being that you were only 19 when you first “got together”, and Logan was your ex-teacher. And it wasn't exactly the most orthodox either. Instead of the typical flowers and a dinner date, it was more like neither of you could sleep one night, and one thing led to another, which led to you waking up in his arms in the morning. You had always had romantic feelings towards The Wolverine. Though they were never truly discussed, you both knew they were there, and you knew they were unbreakable. So, after that night, you two became exclusive.

“We met at Charles’ school, you know that.” you speak, setting the packet of crackers in front of the pre-teen, and walking over to grab an apple to cut up for her.

Laura sighs, knowing that she probably wouldn't get the answer she was looking for if you weren't willing to share it.

She rips open the wrapper, glaring at Logan when he steals a cracker from her.

“Well, how did you know you had a crush on each other?”

You chuckle lightly as the knife cuts into the ripe and scarlet colored fruit.

“We didn’t exactly have a crush on each other, Laura.” Logan starts, but a dry cough finishes the sentence.

You look up at him, asking if he was alright with your eyes.

He gives you a blunt nod as he lets out a deep breath.

You notice your daughters furrowed brow as she munches on the biscuit, and elaborate on Logan’s previous statement.

“Your father and I’s relationship is a bit complicated and unconventional, Laura. What he was saying was that we have and had a connection on a level so much more than a crush.”

She nods and pops another cracker in her mouth.

“But,” the crisp sound of the apple interrupts you slightly.

“usually when you have a crush on someone, you get the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever you see or think about that person. You smile when they smile, and laugh when they laugh. You want to be around them all the time, and you try to get their attention. You sometimes get nervous, and jealous of others that are close to them.”

You place the apple slices on a plate and slide it over to her, cleaning up the slight mess you had made and you glance over at her.

Laura sat starring at the plate as she thought of all of her symptoms you had just listed.

“Why were you asking?” Logan asks, his voice stern and suspicious.

She looks up, once again nervous.

You smile, getting an inkling as to where this is going.

“Well, there’s this-”

“No Laura. No boys, remember?” Logan interrupts, his custodial protectiveness resurfacing.

“It’s not a boy.” she mutters.

Logan blinks a few times, looking over to your grinning face.

“It’s a girl?” he asks, making sure that he wasn’t getting mixed up at all.

Laura looks up from the oxidizing apples a second time and nods.

“Well,” he leans back in his seat, breathing out.

“Tell me ‘bout her.”

She grins and you smile back, lovingly.

And then she doesn’t stop talking about the girl with the dark umber skin and curly caramel highlights until you have to remind her to eat her apple slices.

#old man logan #wolverine #old man logan imagine #old man logan x reader #old man logan imagines #logan howlett #old man logan smut #Smut #laura howlett #laura kinney #logan 2017 #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #wolverine imagine #wolverine imagines #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader

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restlessfandoming · 4 years

Text

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 11) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10]

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link] // [Main AO3]

my brain is struggling to produce serotonin :)

* * *

the president and the troublemaker (part 11)

Lumine felt like a mountain had been lifted off her shoulders the second she saw the large charter buses pull up to the school. The class trip to Liyue was moments from starting.

Amber let out a huge yawn next to her. “Finally, the hard part is over,” she said. “Time to relax.”

Noelle handed each of the girls a paper coffee cup. “I hear Liyue is a beautiful city.”

Lumine took a grateful sip of her drink, the early morning air crisp in her senses. It was tranquil: the low purr of the vehicles with the muted murmur of the students loading into the buses was almost pleasant enough to put her back to sleep.

It had been a stressful (sleepless) few nights leading up to today. Lumine was thankful the bus ride was long enough for her to catch up on some much needed rest.

“LuLu~!”

Lumine started to turn around. “Hello, Venti—”

Immediately, the bard hugged her with a giggle. “So, where are we sitting?”

She peeled him off with a raised brow. “You can sit anywhere you want. I’ve got to sit near the front.”

A cheeky grin. “Then I shall sit at the front as well!” He pulled his ukulele out. “Let’s write a song together!”

Lumine found herself smiling at Venti. His cheerful disposition definitely put her more at ease, his joy contagious. “Okay, sure,” she agreed.

“Will Aether be joining us?” Venti asked.

Lumine shook her head. “All the council members have their own bus to help supervise. He’s with Mr. Zhongli.” She pointed at a few buses over, where Aether waved back at them.

Venti had gone home with her one day, playing catch up with both her and her brother. Initially, Lumine had been very wary of Venti. But as they recalled old memories together late into the night, she warmed up to him, now remembering their long forgotten bond (though she was still getting used to his...clinginess. And of course the fact he kept reiterating how much he loved her.).

He reminded her of happier times, times when the stress of the world hadn’t been placed on her just yet, and all they had to worry about was what game to play next.

“LuLu, come on!” Venti said, pulling her onto the bus. He started settling into the seat next to Lumine as the rest of the bus filled up. Lumine settled her belongings as well, in addition to checking off her list of students on the bus, ensuring no student was left behind.

Just as her finger traced over Childe’s name, there was a loud commotion coming up the stairs.

“Let go of me, please!” Bennett’s voice. “What did I do wrong?”

Childe sauntered onto the bus, hand gripping Bennett’s collar and dragging the poor council reporter down the aisle.

Lumine immediately stepped into the aisle, face furrowed. “What the hell are you doing, Childe?” She pried Childe’s hands off Bennett.

“Making friends,” the tall ginger replied.

Bennett stopped rubbing at his neck, and looked up at Childe, eyes glistening. “Wait, really?”

“Bennett, go back to your bus,” Lumine ordered. After her reporter dashed off the bus, she turned back to Childe, waiting for an answer.

He shrugged. “I told you, I was making friends.” A tilt of the head, eyes flickering to Venti. “Too long of a bus ride to spend alone.”

Lumine glared at him. “Just go find a seat, Childe. You’re one of the last students to arrive.”

Childe’s eyes lingered on her for a second, before turning around, and making his way to the back of the bus. Lumine only sat back down when she saw him disappear into the seats. She let out a loud sigh.

“Wow,” Venti said. “He certainly keeps your hands full.”

Lumine gave a strained laugh. “You don’t know the half of it.” She closed her eyes, leaning into her chair and relaxing—

BAM!

Shouts erupted from the back of the bus.

The muscles in Lumine’s jaw clenched as she slowly opened her eyes and stood up, attention zeroing in on noise. And just as she thought, Childe stood in the aisle, his hands balled into fists, towering over a student on the ground. When he noticed her looking, he smiled.

Marching to the back, she ignored Childe as she helped the student on the ground, blood seeping through his fingers as he cradled his nose, groaning in pain.

“Oh my!” a different student exclaimed behind her. Lumine recognized her as Barbara, leader of the music club and occasional volunteer at the nurse’s office. Thank god.

“Can you help take care of him?” Lumine asked quickly.

Barbara nodded, gently helping Lumine carry the student to a nearby seat.

Lumine turned and glared at Childe. “Making friends again?”

He shrugged, still smiling, and wiped the blood off his knuckles.

Lumine groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Just...You’re going to sit at the front. With me. So I can make sure you don’t cause anymore trouble.” She shuffled to the front of the bus, Childe in tow behind her.

“So, what was going on…,” Venti started, sentence trailing off as his gaze landed on Childe. A twitch of a smile. “Aha, him again?”

“Yes,” Lumine said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Venti; we’ll have to sit together on the way back or something. I’ve got to keep an eye on him.”

Her friend gave a small smile, a nod of understanding, before scooting out of the seat. As his arm brushed past Childe’s, he stopped and looked at the tall troublemaker, opening his mouth to say something, then closed it.

“See you later, LuLu,” Venti ended up saying, a sadden edge to his voice. He made his way to the back where Childe’s original seat was. Part of Lumine panged at seeing her friend upset.

“Well, LuLu?” Childe said, already sitting near the window, legs crossed, head resting on his hands. “Are you going to sit down?”

“So sorry I’m late, dearies!” their faculty chaperone, Lisa—the school’s librarian—said as she walked onto the bus. She smiled at Lumine. “Ah, President Lumine! I trust you’ve accounted for all the students on our bus?”

“Yes, Ms. Lisa,” Lumine responded. “We’re good to go whenever.”

Lisa nodded, leaning over to tell the bus driver, then plopping herself in the very first row, a few rows ahead of Lumine’s seat. The front of the bus was nearly vacant, with only Lumine, Childe, and Lisa sitting there; the rest of the students congregated towards the middle and back.

The doors to the bus hissed closed, and Lumine finally sat down, facing forward, head turned very obviously away from Childe.

“Aw, are you mad at me, LuLu?” Childe asked.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, but Venti can?”

“Why did you hit that student?” Lumine crossed her arms as the bus jolted forward. “You were doing good for so long.”

“So you only like me when I behave?”

“You are acting up way more than usual today. Is someone a little cranky?” Lumine mocked.

“You look like the cranky one,” Childe said, swiping at the bags under her eyes.

Lumine pushed his hand away. “I told you. It’s been a busy, stressful time for the council.”

“Well the trip is finally happening, so you can relax now,” he said. “Take a nap, we’ve got a long drive ahead, don’t we?”

Lumine slammed her eyes shut and turned her head away from Childe. “Yes, I was hoping for a quiet, pleasant bus ride to catch up on sleep, then someone decided to start a fight.”

“Had to, Pres. Couldn’t let the new kid sit next to you.” Then, his hand was on the side of her head, and he pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. “Sleep,” he whispered. “I promise I won’t cause any more trouble, okay?”

“What’s wrong with Venti?” Lumine said, heat creeping from Childe’s shoulder to her temple. She didn’t move, however, her body feeling heavier with exhaustion—and Childe made an alright pillow.

Childe gently smoothed out her hair from where his hand still resided. “He loves you.”

“So do you,” Lumine grumbled, eyes fluttering closed. So tired...

“And that’s the problem, now isn’t it?” Childe muttered. “That makes him my rival.”

“Don’t be stupid.” “Oh? And whose shoulder would you be sleeping on if I hadn’t gotten in trouble?”

So he’s...jealous? Lumine started to sit up. “You punched that kid just so you could sit next to me?”

Childe pulled her back. “You should sleep before you get sick. Remember how we first met?”

Lumine hummed out a response, eyelids feeling heavier than ever, adjusting her head on Childe’s shoulder without even thinking about it.

As the sounds of the bus started to drown out of Lumine’s hearing, she felt Childe rest his head atop hers, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. His hand on her head thumbed circles in her hair, while he took his other hand and slipped his fingers through hers. It was a comforting, warm, caring touch—safe.

And she fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Lumine groggily opened her eyes, moving to stretch her sore muscles. She tried stretching her arms upwards, but realized her fingers were still intertwined with Childe’s. She glanced over at him.

He was asleep, head leaning against the window. It felt odd to see him like this—so still and quiet. His face was slightly furrowed, as if he was dreaming about something mildly unpleasant.

His body did look quite uncomfortable, sleeping upright like that, and Lumine felt the cricks in her neck and back from sleeping similarly. It’s probably worse since he’s taller...

Lumine let out a huff of embarrassment as she moved his head to rest on her lap. He immediately adjusted a bit, then visibly relaxed.

Lumine couldn’t help but smile a bit, at him looking so...vulnerable. Usually he was so puffed up with his strength and ego; it was cute to see him sound asleep.

Her hand moved to soothe out his hair. It was much softer than she had expected, like a cat or fox’s fur, and she found herself running her hand through his hair repeatedly. Each time, his face seemingly relaxed.

It’s nice. This is...nice.

The moment didn’t last too long, the bus halting to a stop shortly after. Glancing out the window, Lumine saw they had pulled into a city on the outskirts of Liyue for their lunch stop.

As she heard the students on the bus starting to gather their things, moving to exit the bus, a small panic formed in Lumine’s gut. She still had Childe in her lap.

She quickly lifted his head up, pushing him off of her, perhaps a little too forcefully. His limp body smacked against the window with a THUNK!

Childe jolted awake as Lumine clasped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. He squinted at her through bleary eyes while rubbing at the side of his head.

“Did you just hit me?” he asked, confused.

“No. Yes. Sorry, it was an accident,” she answered, still trying to hold back her laughter.

He blinked at her, then reached over, pinching the sides of her face and pulled at her cheeks. “Is this you wanting to start a fight?” He laughed. “I’d be happy to oblige; we never did finish our fight at the beach, did we?”

“I’d win for sure,” Lumine managed to get out as she tried prying his hands from her cheeks.

Suddenly, a ukulele descended into her view. She looked up and saw Venti standing behind her, in the aisle, holding the ukulele between her and Childe.

“LuLu, is this guy giving you trouble?” Venti asked, a fake smile plastered on his face. “I’d be happy to bash a few strings over his head if you want.”

Childe let go of Lumine’s face, an equally fake smile spreading on his lips. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Okay!” Lumine interjected, standing up abruptly, and joining Venti in the aisle. “Let’s go eat.”

“Okay!” Venti echoed, the hostility disappearing from his voice. He took hold of Lumine’s hand, and pulled her towards the exit. “C’mon, LuLu; we’re the last ones off the bus!”

Before they moved too far, however, Childe clamped a hand down on Lumine’s shoulder, halting them in place.

“Now, now, Pres—don’t forget your responsibilities,” Childe said, his faux smile still in place. “You’ve got to keep an eye on me, remember? Otherwise, who knows what trouble I’ll stir up?”

Ah, shit. Lumine bit the side of her cheek, thinking of another innocent student’s bloody nose. “He’s right, Venti,” she said. “I’ve got to keep an eye on him for now.”

“Oh,” Venti uttered. His face stilled.

There it is again, that expression…, Lumine thought. What was it? Sadness? Yearning?

Lumine lightly squeezed his hand. “Venti—?”

“Well, the more the merrier, right?” he suddenly exclaimed, his usual, bright demeanor returning.

And just like when they were younger, Lumine felt the need to look after him. Something was bothering him, and she wanted to patch him up—patch him up like the countless skinned knees she treated for him in their childhood. He was always so optimistic, and it was painful to see him otherwise.

“Yeah,” Lumine agreed softly. “Why don’t you pick where we eat, Venti?”

The bard nodded, and started pulling her along again, this time his grip tighter than before. As they walked forward, Lumine felt Childe’s hand on her shoulder slip off, and she glanced back at him.

He was still following her and Venti, though much further behind now, his hands in his pockets, his eyes cast out the windows.

She remembered, he was jealous of Venti, though she still didn’t completely understand why. Venti was an old friend, and Childe was...entirely in his own category.

And yet, somehow, stepping towards one of them left the other in pain.

What am I going to do?

* * *

The city was bustling with life as students roamed around looking for different restaurants to eat at. They had a few hours break for lunch, and the students were free to walk around after eating until it was time to resume the journey to Liyue Harbor.

Lumine had texted Aether asking where he was, and he (with the rest of the student council) were already eating elsewhere. So, Venti dragged Lumine and Childe far away until they found a small restaurant near an arcade. “So we can have some fun together after eating, LuLu!” he told her.

Currently, the three of them sat at a circular table, the waitress setting down their food before them—an almond tofu for Venti, Jueyun chili chicken for Childe, and jade parcels for Lumine.

“My first time trying Liyue cuisine…,” Venti said, taking in a breath of his food’s aroma. “Smells delicious!”

The sugary sweet scent of his almond tofu wafted towards Lumine, and she smiled. “Even now, you still have a sweet tooth,” she noted.

Venti returned her smile. “Well, of course! Remember that grape juice you always made for me and Aether? Oh, and those apples your mom used to cut up for us! The ones that looked like little bunnies?” he reminisced as he started to eat his tofu.

Lumine snorted slightly, biting in her jade parcels as well. “I don’t know how we never got sick of that horrid grape juice. It was basically just sugar water.”

“You made it—so of course we had to drink it. It was special,” he replied. “Oh, I remember how cute you were, so diligent and hardworking as a kid. You’ve gotten even more cute over the years~!”

Lumine’s cheeks warmed. “You’re still the same as ever, blowing off classes whenever you feel like it, just to go off and write songs. I remember when—”

Childe’s foot tapped hers.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he said, his blue eyes gazing directly into Lumine’s. “Don’t mind me.”

Huh?

She could only hold his gaze for a brief second, before she averted it, finding it too intense. She chose to look down at his food instead—his completely untouched food.

“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked. Was he on a diet for training?

The corner of his lips twitched, and he mustered a smile. “It seems like chopsticks are harder to use than anticipated.”

…

“Pffft—” Lumine couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

“Haha, yes, very funny,” Childe said, his voice bordering on sheepishness. “You seem to have no trouble with it.”

“No trouble at all,” she said, finger wiping at the corners of her eyes. “Look.”

She scooted closer to him, showing him how she held her chopsticks in her hand. He mimicked her as best he could, but the positioning of his fingers was still a bit off.

“Here,” Lumine said, setting her own utensils down. She reached over, her hand over Childe’s, moving his fingers to the correct positioning. “Try to pick up some food.”

She saw his eyes narrow on a piece of chicken, hand steadily moving towards it like a target, concentration straining his face. She almost burst out laughing again. He’s so serious about it…

He slowly picked up the chicken, hovering it in mid-air, face relaxing in triumph. “Look, Lumi, I got it!”

She raised her eyebrows, a slight smile on her face. “Wow, yeah you—”

“Hey.”

The two of them stopped and looked at Venti. His eyes were focused on Childe, his cheerfulness nowhere to be found.

“Do you like Lumine?” he asked Childe.

Oh no. Lumine opened her mouth, ready to switch to another subject. But then—

“Yes,” Childe answered, his smile gone as well. He set down his chopsticks. “What are you going to do about it?”

Lumine froze, her jaw still open. Disbelief. Disbelief was the only thing running through her mind as she watched Childe and Venti before her, speechless.

A sharp laugh. “Well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a good old-fashioned love triangle,” Venti said. “You should know I fought really hard to get back here, to Lumine.”

“And you should know I never lose,” Childe retorted.

Venti grinned. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Lumine slammed her hand on the table, hand gripping her chopsticks furiously. “How about we all just be quiet and eat?” Were these two idiots starting to fight over her?

Anger bubbled in her gut, at Childe for revealing more of their secret. She was also angry at Venti for provoking Childe even further. Not to mention the two seemed to ignore her completely as they quipped at each other.

It was also two people she cared about, now at ends with each other. There is no way this is going to end well...

Childe and Venti sent each other a final glare before returning to their lunch, the rest of the time in silence. As soon as everyone was finished and paid for, Lumine left.

“Let’s get back to the bus,” she said, not wanting Venti and Childe around each other any longer.

“Wait!” Venti grabbed her hand, pointing down the road. “We still have an hour; let’s go to that arcade! Please?”

Lumine looked at her phone. What Venti said was true, and what were they going to do on the bus for an hour?

“Fine,” she conceded with a sigh.

“Does Childe have to come too?” Venti asked, eyeing the tall ginger as he walked beside them.

“Yes, I do,” Childe answered loudly. “I’m under Lumine’s watch, remember?”

“Is he really?” Venti asked.

“Yes,” Lumine said. “If I don’t keep an eye on him, he’ll throw hands with the first person he sees.”

“Hmph. Sounds like an untrained dog if you ask me.”

Childe scoffed. “You’re the one who’s like an incessant yapping chihuahua.”

Venti blew a raspberry at him as they entered the building. A headache was mounting in Lumine’s head.

Upon entering, they were instructed to leave their belongings in a locker. After doing so, they entered the arcade where bright neon machines flashed and the electronic noises of games chimed.

Venti gasped, and started running ahead, forcing Lumine and Childe to follow close behind. He led them to the back, where there was a small archery range set up.

“LuLu! I actually learned archery while I was away in the countryside,” Venti said excitedly. “Let me show you my amazing skills!”

“Why don’t we make it a little competition?” Childe said, already stepping up to one of the bows, picking it up and turning it over in his hands.

Venti tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. “Okay,” he agreed, stepping up as well. He was deep in thought as he picked up the other bow.

Then, Venti smiled, a true Cheshire grin. “The winner gets to go on a date with Lumine.”

…

Wait.

WHAT?!

* * *

[part 12]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

154 notes · View notes

bunnyywritings · 4 years

Note

hello! this is kinda nsfw but can u write a scenario for tsukishima, akaashi, bokuto and ushijima with their fem s/o and they are doing it and they broke the bed 😬

[a/n: I love this request so much! I’m starting to get a bit more confident with my smut writing so it’s no problem☺️ thank you for the request my lovely anon, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´- ps. I uhh kinda got a bit too into it with ushijima’s...hehe oops]

Doing the dirty and accidentally breaking the bed w/ a fem!s/o [nsfw]

Tsukishima Kei

♤ he’d be such a little shit about it

♤ he’s been really busy with practice and studying for upcoming finals so he didn’t really have much time for you

♤ so when you sent him that picture of you, half naked in bed, while he was studying...well all patience GONE

♤ “oh hey, you got a text.” He looked up as Kuroo held out the phone to him, confused to see that there was a picture with what you sent

♤ his eyes widened but he tried to act like everything was normal, gritting his teeth as he read your message

♤ ‘I miss you :( ‘ it was simple but paired with that picture...it really riled him up

♤ he figured that Kuroo hadn’t saw anything because he wasn’t making any snide comments

♤ he waited a good 5ish minutes before yawning and pretending to be exhausted

♤ “I’m gonna go, I think I’ve reached my end. See you guys later.” He lazily waved, packing up his stuff and leaving the library

♤ “Ooh hoo hoo~ (Y/n)’s gonna get dicked down tonight!” He laughed his god awful hyena laugh while explaining to Bokuto and Akaashi what he saw

♤ “Kuroo-san, it looks like you’ve also got a text?”

♤ “...eh?”

♤ needless to say, you and Kenma were in the same boat tonight...but anyways

♤ back to kei and (y/n)

♤ “I can’t believe- ah that you’d send something like that...you knew who I was with. You wanted them to see, didn’t you?” He growled in your ear

♤ you were on your hands and knees as he roughly pounded into you from behind

♤ “No! I-“ you choked out a moan when a particularly harsh snap of his hips jolted you forward.

♤ “I didn’t want them to see...ah fuck! K-kei please.” You whimpered as you felt your core tighten, you were almost at your end

♤ “Hmm...too bad I don’t believe you.” He gripped your hips in a bruising hold and continued his rough movements

♤ his name fell from your lips like a mantra

♤ your arms were tired from holding you up so you opted for laying against the pillows

♤ “I should punish you for what you did and not let you cum? Or maybe I should edge you until your sobbing for me. I bet you’d like that since you’re such a needy little slut for me.” He chuckled darkly.

♤ “yes! I-I’d love it kei! P-please I-“ the loud slap and stinging sensation from your backside cut you off. “I’m s-such a needy s-slut for y-you!”

♤ the way your broken moans desperately left your lips made him smirk

♤ of course that was until...

♤ * ᶜᴿᴬᶜᴷ *

♤ you thought you were hearing things but when your bed started to sway a bit more than usual, you realized what had happened

♤ “K-kei! Kei wait-“ you were cut off by your own moan, the pleasure was too intense to focus on the current problem. “T-the bed-“

♤ he heard it too but he pretended not to

♤ the fact that he caused something like that went straight to his ego

♤ it wasn’t until you were both done showering that you figured it out

♤ “hey uhh did your bed always kinda...dip in the middle?” He tried to feign innocence

♤ the both of you were stood beside the bed

♤ the frame had obviously been cracked since it did, in fact, have a weird dip in the middle

♤ “No...it never did.” You sighed, resting your head against his shoulder

♤ “Oh...whoops.” He’d shrug, “I guess I’m just that good.”

♤ you looked up and saw the look in his eyes

♤ cue to you smacking him upside the head

♤ “you knew, didn’t you?!”

♤ “what?! Pfft no, of course not.”

Akaashi Keiji

❀ i can’t really think of a situation where he would be going THAT hard

❀ but he had been away for a training camp for about a week and a half

❀ he hadn’t realized that he had a missed call from you until he back on the team bus when he saw that he had a voicemail message from you

❀ plugging in his earphones was definitely a smart idea

❀ he was able to keep a neutral expression as he listened, though the slight blush on his cheeks might have been a giveaway had anyone been paying attention

❀ “I know you come back today but- ah~” your whine went straight to his cock

❀ “I just couldn’t wait a-any longer.”

❀ he could hear the wetness of your arousal

❀ the image of you splayed out on your bed, propped up against your pillows

❀ thighs spread lewdly as you played with yourself

❀ “ah fuck, I missed you so much baby...”

❀ that was all he could take as he paused the message and turned off his phone, shrugging off his jacket and casually folding it in his lap to hide the raging hard on that was tenting his sweats

❀ by the time he got to your place, he used the spare key you had given him and he quietly made his way inside

❀ peeking through the crack of your door, his mouth watered at the sight of you touching yourself

❀ he so badly wanted a taste

❀ he made you come twice while going down on you, making sure to clean you up with his tongue each time

❀ you watched in anticipation as he stroked himself a few times before teasing your entrance

❀ “Please Keiji...I want you so bad~”

❀ that was really all it took for him to bottom out on the first stroke

❀ he choked out a moan when he felt how tight you were, his fist was nowhere compared to the real thing

❀ this time around he had no chill as he pulled out, all the way to the tip before mercilessly slamming back in

❀ he had set a quick pace, folding your legs against your chest to get a better angle

❀ he always enjoyed watching how he disappeared within you

❀ he reached down and ran his thumb over your swollen clit, the action making you clench around him

❀ “no, please it-ah it’s too sensitive. Keiji-“ he had started to play with your little bundle of nerves even more

❀ “geez (y/n) it feels even tighter...ah fuck!”

❀ it felt like you were sucking him in with each thrust

❀ “I don’t think I-I’m gonna last much longer.” He groaned

❀ both of you had come at the some time

❀ he continued his thrusts to help your ride out the high

❀ you squeaked when a rough thrust met your hips, eyes widening at the loud crack and the shift of the bed frame that followed

❀ “d-did I just-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence

❀ he was so flustered once the realization finally set in

❀ “I’m so sorry love. I guess I got too carried away.”

❀ he had leaned forward and buried his face in your neck

❀ you were still on a high and he was being too cute to be mad

❀ you’d just yell at him tomorrow

Bokuto Kōtarō

☆ you knew what you were doing

☆ you had gone out to get coffe with him and Akaashi but you had been shamelessly flirting with the pretty setter

☆ he knew that it was just you playing around but he couldn’t help but feel jealous

☆ usually he’d just go all depresso mode until you switched your attention to him but not this time

☆ and that’s what you wanted, just for him to be all cute and pout for some attention

☆ boy did you miscalculate

☆ he was glaring at both you and Akaashi while he waited in line

☆ his friend was making you giggle and smile

☆ all things that he, your boyfriend, should be doing...not Akaashi

☆ once the order was in, he went to sit down besides you

☆ a blush started to creep up your cheeks when you felt his hand grip your thigh

☆ you glanced at Bokuto but he had no telling expression on his face as he listened to Akaashi who was, thankfully, sitting across from the both of you

☆ once the order was called, he volunteered to get the drinks

☆ leaving you with a mad Bokuto

☆ “are you enjoying your little date with Akaashi? Hmm?” He leaned in, whispering into your ear. “should I leave the two of you alone?”

☆ from afar, the both of you seemed like a normal, lovey doves couple. Whispering sweet nothings to each other

☆ you gulped nervously

☆ “answer me.” He dug his nails into the soft skin of your thigh, it wasn’t painful but it did leave a pleasurable ache that ran up to your core

☆ “n-no, I uh- I was just-“

☆ “just what? Trying to make me jealous? Maybe you want me to bend you over the table and fuck you right here in the middle of the coffee shop. Fuck you so good in front of all these people so they know who you belong to.”

☆ the mere suggestion made your cheeks burn a bright read, your arousal much more presant

☆ he chuckled as he watched you clench your thighs together

☆ once he saw that Akaashi was coming back, he pulled away from your ear and sat back up, hand still gripping your thigh

☆ “oh? (Y/n) are you okay? You seem a bit flushed?

☆ “oh w-well I um-“

☆ “she was saying how she doesn’t feel very well. We might have to cut this short so I can take her home.”

☆ “hmm that would be a good idea.” Akaashi nodded thoughtfully, “you should get to bed and rest.”

☆ oh you were gonna be in bed all right, you were gone be in bed for about a week

☆ cause if you think you’re gonna be able to walk...well think again

☆ “Do you think Akaashi could fuck you like this?” He grunted, he had a hand buried in your hair and tugging so your back was arched

☆ “n-no, no one could e-ever make me feel as g-good as you Ko!”

☆ neither of you heard this one

☆ your senses completely overwhelmed by each other

☆ his last thrust had knocked the headboard against the wall, both of you had felt the jolt as the bed dipped

☆ “would you look at that?! I fucked you so good I broke the bed!” He cackled

☆ you didn’t have the energy to scold him so you just shrugged it off and figured you’d deal with it later

daddy Ushijima Wakatoshi

♡ daddy toshi is aware of his own strength so he always held back from going too hard with you

♡ that was until ya’ll tried something new

♡ he was a little apprehensive about it at first since he was a little confused on how that would work

♡ good thing he’s a quick learner

♡ “a-ah Toshi...you feel so good~” You were currently riding his glorious thighs (i wish ╥﹏╥)

♡ he said nothing as he flexed his muscles, the new sensation making your own thighs quiver

♡ you were holding onto his shoulders for dear life as he had your hips firmly in his grip, rocking back and forth

♡ I feel like he has somewhat of a praise kink cause of how he grew up so...the fact that you’re getting pleasure from something that he worked his beautiful ass off for is turning him on more than he thought

♡ just hearing you whimper out his name and seeing you basically fall apart because of his thighs like damn

♡ you’re in for a real treat

♡ I think this would definitely make him blush so he leaned forward and started to trail soft kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking to leave little hickies everywhere

♡ one hand running up your side to cup your breast, making sure to run his thumb over the hardened bud

♡ when he could feel you start to come undone, he’d flex his thigh once more and lift his leg up just a bit so it was more angled

♡ he held you close as you came down from such an intense climax, breathlessly you placed random kisses on the crook of his jaw

♡ ”t-thank you baby, that was amazing”

♡ you were caught a bit off guard when a quiet chuckle left his lips

♡ you thought you guys were done???

♡ lol nope

♡ he scooped you up as he got up from the bed and tossed you onto it, there was a small creak since he had done it a bit more forcefully than usual but neither of you were paying attention

♡ your mouth watered as you watched him undress, the urge to run your tongue over those magnificent abs was too strong

♡ he could see you bite your lip as he pulled down his shorts and underwear, the way your eyes were locked in on the way the tip of his length bumped into his lower abdomen

♡ “lay down.” He calmly instructed, you were a bit confused but did it anyway

♡ you thought you were just gonna give him that super suction gawk gawk 3000

♡ you didn’t expect to be three orgasms in and still have him ram into you to give you a fourth

♡ there were tears streaming down your blushed cheeks at the complete overstimulation you were receiving

♡ it was too much but you didn’t want it to stop

♡ he gripped your leg and hooked it over his shoulder, your mouth opened in a silent scream

♡ “how does that feel, love?” His voice was thick with lust, he loved the expression on your face

♡ it was down right sinful and it was definitely way better than any of the ahego manga that Tendo had shown him

♡ “So g-good Toshi! S-so fucking good~! I want- ah!”

♡ “tell me what you want princess, come on. Use your words.” He groaned, he was also close. He had been holding back but it was proving quite difficult, especially when...

♡ “I-I ah fuck, I want you t-to cum ins-inside me Toshi! Please, I need it-“

♡ congratulations, breeding kink unlocked

♡ this made him snap

♡ just the thought of releasing his seed inside of you made him completely lose it

♡ “You’re so sexy baby, I-“ His moans increased as he slammed into you. “I’m gonna cum...shit.”

♡ one particularly harsh thrust and he bottomed out, painting your insides with his release

♡ neither of you seemed to notice the break

♡ he stayed inside of you just for a bit before completely pulling out and laying besides you

♡ the noise the bed frame made as he dropped besides you made you very suspicious

♡ “Toshi...”

♡ “yes my love?”

♡ “I think we broke the bed...”

♡ “Oh.”

♡ thus lead to the both of you going to the furniture store to buy a new one and lead to the embarrassment you felt when Wakatoshi told the salesperson the two of you broke the bed while having sex when they had asked for the reason why the two of you were buying

ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ {open} : @ohbois-biggay-bnha

#haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu headcanons #anon #anon request #anon ask

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bloodpenned · 3 years

Note

plz plz plz can you write m!whitney skullfucking pc

wordcount: 2.5k (can’t believe this is the first time i write an actual fic on here.) cw: noncon, detailed ero guro / gore porn, eye trauma, drugging, knives, vomit mention, needle mention, degradation, victim blaming.

or: whitney fucks your eye socket and prepares you for the act. don’t read this to upset or trigger yourself, please.

Since all of your holes have been used by others, Whitney makes one for himself.

“Look at you- You can barely keep your fucking head up, slut.”

The voice drifts to you from far away, a figure leaning over the ice you’re trapped under. Where am I?, you ask, but all your vocal cords produce is a gurgle. Your limbs are made of cement and frozen in place. Letting yourself be dragged back into the depths of unconsciousness is much easier than staying afloat. Through trembling eyelids, you barely make out the shape of the person in front of you. Their legs, to be precise. Pain shoots through your scalp and you jolt, finally present enough for the ties around your wrists and ankles to register in your mind, the cold wall you’re leaning against. That it’s Whitney, because who fucking else would it be, yanking you up by your hair. Your tongue still refuses to move.

“Follow.” His voice feigns disinterest. Yet he keeps shuffling, leaning his weight more on one leg, then the other again. He holds his hand in front of your face, moving it from side to side. Your head is so fuzzy you see no reason to disobey. By the time you’ve caught up with him to the right, he’s already back the other way. Your eyelids droop. He laughs. “God, you’re out of it. Poor you, did I gave you a little too much? You can’t say I’ve ever underestimated you.”

As soon as his grip loosens, your head drops and black dots litter your vision. Drool spills from your mouth. Something bad is about to happen, there’s no other explanation for this. His hands will end up all over your body again. But there’s no chatter of his friends, no flashes of cameras, so different from the usual that you don’t know what to expect. The world fades out, before flickering back in the middle of a sentence.

“...pay me back. Got that? Good.” The hand is back in your hair, keeping you steady. He’s digging around in his pocket. “If you weren’t such a whore, I wouldn’t have to do this. Did you think I wouldn’t see those pictures? Wouldn’t know when my slut’s gagging around someone else? I promised I would beat some sense into you if you didn’t listen, so here we are.”

Whitney’s found what he had been looking for. There’s something in his hand, moving toward your face too quickly to make out. Everything’s so blurry that even while squinting, you can’t immediately tell what it is. You nearly go crosseyed trying to figure it out. A handle clenched in his fist, gray, reflecting surface, ending in a sharp point-

A knife.

“You’re a fucking cumbrain already, but I’ll give you one too.”

You watch the situation unfold from the back of your skull. This is happening to someone else, anyone except you. It’s a movie, and a bad one at that. You can’t pinch your arm to wake yourself up. Whitney had hurt you before, sure, with his bare hands. Never like this. He’s always made fun of Kylar for having to resort to knives, why would he use one now? Is it just a threat? It has to be. Then again, you’re so disoriented you don’t stand a sliver of a chance against him. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, so loud it makes your head throb. The furthest your abilities go is to shake your head and force a whimper from your throat, rubbing your wrists raw on the zip tie. Whitney presses cold steel against your cheek. You try to spit at him, but you can’t put any force behind it. It dribbles down your chin in a slow stream.

Whitney barks out a laugh. “What the fuck are you, a dog?” The knife digs into your skin, a gentle push away from slicing you open. “Don’t get to get too excited yet, we haven’t even started, slut.” He slides the blade up to your bottom eyelid, leaving a shallow cut. (Your brain is fuzzy. Your cheeks are warm, burning- Are you blushing? Is the wetness rolling down your face a tear?) Your fingers twitch, your teeth grind together, every muscle pulled tight like a bowstring.

His breathing is laboured, eyes boring into yours, expression blank for a mere moment. Whitney, as you know him from school, is all but empty. He’s of scoffing and snarling, of laughter and grins- This is nothing you recognize. Your gut twists. Every instinct in your body is screeching at the top of its lungs for you to run. At the same time, another part tells you to stay as still as possible, as if you will simply fade out of existence if you don’t move. (But it’s okay, because none of this is real, and you’re at the orphanage in bed curled up under the covers, and you’ll wake up late and rush to get your uniform to not miss the bus and you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine-) Whitney’s tongue darts out to trace his upper lip, his fingers turning white around the handle.

The next, there is a blow of air against your eye before pure, indescribable agony accompanied by a wet squelch. You’re dying, you’re dying, you’re dying, it’s over- Half of your face has been blown off, your brain is exposed for all to see and poke and prod, your lungs collapse with every breath, your throat spasms around vomit. What’s left of your right side of vision is a red and black pulsating blur. The screams, the sole outburst you’re capable of, are mere groans in the back of your throat. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land. Blood, sweat, tears, pus, slime- You wouldn’t know. Something oozes down your face, thick mucus, making a mess on your lap. You’re warm, you’re cold, sweat thick underneath your clothes. Everything is wet. Everything is hot.

A hand is on your head, stroking. The sensation dissapears into and becomes one with the pain, the thing that melts everything else away. “There you go, you’re being so good! But I’m not done yet.” He speaks to you in the tone reserved purely for dogs. From the corner of your good eye, you can see him reaching his fist back and pounds it against the handle, your entire world dissolving into nothing as it hits.

When you wake up, you do so to a palpitating heart that’s skipping beats left and right, to a convulsing body, to spit frothing at your mouth and a needle in your leg. The gag in your mouth rubs against your tongue and tastes of sweat. Whitney has discorded the knife, left it at your feet. Your eyeball looks like scrambled egg white on one end, a sloppy mess, and you gag. At one point or another, you will have to come to term with the fact that you’re never going to see from it again.

“Can’t have you leaving before the party’s started.” Your head whips around, the sensation of something sloshing inside your eye socket immediately making you regret it. Wind blows straight into the wound and causes you to ear up. He’s on your right. Somewhere. What you assume to be the syringe falls to the ground with a clatter. There’s no way he isn’t standing there, in the void he created, on purpose. You would’ve preferred to be really fucking dead right now. Let him rape your corpse, at least you wouldn’t have to be there to notice it. Whatever he injected you with, it’s all so much sharper now. The lights are brighter, every little step he takes ringing in your ears, your right eye (or the slurry that’s left of it) aflame. You rock back and forth to shuffle further away from him, but you’re already backed against a wall and the movement makes the blood in your skull slosh alongside it.

“Gotta check if you’re wet enough for me. Thank me later, slut.” Whitney pulls on your eyelashes, the tip of his finger teasing the hole. Once in a while, it dips into the wound, your nerves tingling in anticipation at the near touch. Breath hitching every time, your brain can’t comprehend what’s exactly happening to you. Your heart pounds in your ears, your limbs keep twitching against your will. Now that you can, you want to struggle, but you’re so scared of that pain, terrified that he could choose to take the other one as well.

All you want is for this to be over. You just want to be home. As flawed of a home it is, it’s still the one place you can think to return to. (Robin will be there, waiting for you. They always have. Could you still keep up with them during games, now that you’re like this? Bailey’s presence, suffocating as it is, at least keeps you safe from intruders. How pissed off are they going to be, now that you're a damaged ware?)

“Can’t you sit still for one fucking second? You wanna know what it feels like when I slip so badly?” Your head jerks to the side against your will, foot hitting his ankle. “I guess you do, huh? But, fuck- You keep writhing around, maybe I should give the needy whore what they want. You’re soaked, that’s for sure.”

Whitney pulls away, his fingers coated a pale red. Using your hair as a rag, he smears the fluids in it, tugging on it once for good measure. He takes a step back, descends back outside your field of vision. There’s the rustling of fabric, unbuckling of a belt, a zipper being undone. You begin to plead through your gag, repeating muffled, incomprehensible words, because please, anything but this, not right now, not ever, hasn’t he done enough, isn’t he satisfied, he’s already ruined you enough, please, just please-

“It’s cute you think you have a choice.”

There’d been a nagging suspicion in the back of your head that it would come down to this. Every meeting with Whitney would end up leading down the same path, but this time... You choke on your breaths, chest heaving with sobs. With every shock of your shoulders, more heat leaks out of your eyes, your entire face turning into one throbbing mess. You squeeze your eyes shut. (There’s no way you can move the right eyelid, the knife has torn straight through it. All it is now is limp meat, hanging on by a thread.) His dick presses against your cheek. Fucking hell, why does he have to be so big too? There’s ringing in your ears as he leaves a trail of precum, mingling with the mess already there. His scent overpowered by the metallic smell of blood. Why can’t you just pass out again? But you’re still twitching, thoughts racing faster than you can keep track of.

“You’ve been asking for this, don’t try to deny it. I’m not stupid. Well, you’ve got my attention now. You better be grateful.” He misses the first time, the head of his dick rubbing against your eyebrow. Whitney curses underneath his breath. Trembling fingers tug your eyelids as far apart as possible and you hate it, you hate this so fucking much, you want someone to come by here to save you, you want to sink through the floor, you want to die.

He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, and hits his mark. You’re not sure how much he crammed inside your skull, but all of it was too much, too cruel. The screaming is clear through your bounds, raking your throat raw. Whichever way you move, his cock stays lodged in between the bone. The muscles snap and tear, the bones crack, the flesh, like the tight fit that it is, clings around his dick, and he groans as he pushes himself further inside. An impossible amount of more fat and mucus and slime comes free, clogging your nose. The back of your head slams against the wall with every movement, but it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t compare.

There’s nothing else. There can be nothing else. Your mind is full and empty at the same time. He’s all you can think about, he’s fucking the memory of him into your brain, leaving his permanent mark. Is this what he wanted? You’re being dissected, pulled apart, the creases of your brain violated. He’s saying things, (tight, mess, slut, enjoying, loud.), but he’s pulling out and the scrape of the warm flesh makes the scenery blur. Your throat feels like it was pulled across sandpaper.

The pressure dissipates and you cry in pure relief. But, a moment later, he’s back in and down a slightly different path at a slightly different angle and there’s more snapping, more gushes of fluid. The only thing that will ever fit there again will be him. The perfect little cocksleeve. He’s pushing up against something and you don’t know what, but every time he twitches and brushes against it, your entire vision blacks out. Where the pain reached a crescendo before, it’s turned around to be almost numbing now. Are your nerves torn up? Are you dying?

“Open your mouth. Wait, fuck-” He’s breathless, stuttering over his words. His dick twitches and scrapes against bone. Trembling fingers remove the gag from your mouth. If this were literally any other situation, you might have been almost proud to have turned him into such a wreck. “Stick your tongue out and it’ll be over. Done.”

You latch onto those words like a lifeline. No matter how it ends, you just want it to be over. Without much more than a second of delay you do as he asks, your good eye rolling up to try and look at him. Considering how full your head is, you hardly notice the strings of cum being added to the pool, until some of it leaks through your nose and onto your tongue. He puts one hand on your head, shaking it until more follows. (Though his cum isn’t the only thing there.)

Strings of blood and slime stick to his dick like drool as he pulls out. You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this fucking town, and you hate every piece of shit in it. Your brain is a cacophony of screaming, of visions of growing fangs and claws and tearing him to shreds, of burning this whole town down. All you do is stare up without really looking, eyes glazed over. You’re tired, so unbelievably tired. All you want to do is rest, even if it’s while bleeding out in some shitty alleyway. His voice drifts to you from far away, smile clear in his tone.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

An eye for an eye has never sounded so appealing before.

#degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #i knoooow he wouldnt do this but whatever i like writing it and also i can do whatever i want #it was just a top tier request i cant help myself #seriously dont read to freak yourself out !#k.gore #k.degradation #k.drugs #k.knife

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 3 years

Text

For tonight's @sicktember fic, we get to see Ned Leeds taking center stage and, Man, I love it. I think this is my favorite one in the series! I hope you guys have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Ned Leeds: Jack of All Trades - happyaspie

No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated G || Word Count 3016 || Ned Leeds, Tony Stark, Peter Parker

Summary: Tony is sick, Pepper’s out of town and Peter has been left in charge. But when a half-man half-monster looking guy starts attacking the city Peter does the only rational thing he can think to do. He calls in the reserves, and asks Ned to take care of Tony while he ducks out to save the day.

Or:

Ned’s responsibilities as Spider-man’s ‘guy-in-the-chair’ continue to evolve.

Sicktember Prompts:

-Unlikely Caregiver -Bed Rest -Medicine/injection

[Excerpt Under the Cut]

Peter stood in the middle of his bedroom within the Stark’s penthouse anxiously tapping his foot as he waited with anticipation for Ned to answer his phone. He’d already been sent to voicemail once and wasn’t exactly sure how he would proceed if he couldn’t get a hold of his friend. He was just about to give up, hang up, and dial all over again when the two lines finally connected “Ned! Oh, thank God you answered,” he nearly shouted in a perfect combination of relief and undeniable stress. “I need your help.”

“With Spider-man stuff?” Ned eagerly replied.“Is this about the crazy monster-looking dude that’s downtown tearing stuff up?”

“Sort of,” Peter mumbled, turning towards the news report that had interrupted his afternoon sit-com binge. He was practically itching to get into the Spider-suit but before he could, he needed to make sure he had a few other obligations covered and that’s where Ned came in. “I, uh, I need you to come to the tower. Like, as soon as possible,” he said, going from jiggling his leg to rapidly pacing up and down the wall.

“If I hack the stoplights, I can take the bus and be there in twenty minutes!” Ned promised and Peter let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Awesome,” he tightly replied, adding a quick, “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” before hanging up.

“So, he has to take both of his medications at four, and you need to make sure he eats with them. He’s going to tell you that he doesn’t need to but he definitely does and if he has a temper tantrum over the soup that Pepper got him then there’s stuff for tuna fish sandwiches in the pantry. But if all else fails there are fruit bars in the freezer,” Peter hurriedly explained while throwing the Spider-suit on with equal haste. “Oh and he’s supposed to be on bed rest, so don’t let him leave the penthouse for any reason, no matter what he says, and do not, under any circumstances, let him turn on the news.”

Ned nodded nervously as he looked around the penthouse with wide-eyed wonder. “Peter, does Mr. Stark know I’m here?” he asked when he didn’t see the man anywhere in sight.

“He’s asleep,” Peter replied.

“Should we maybe wake him up and tell him?” Ned dubiously inquired.

“Definitely not,” Peter returned, holding his hands out and waving them defensively back and forth. He could understand Ned’s hesitancy, but he’d already thought this through and there was no way he was going to wake Tony up for anything. It would be a bad idea. On so many levels. “One, because if he’s asleep he’s not whining. And two, if we wake him up he’s going to insist on getting involved despite the fact that he has literal pneumonia. Which is also why we’re not letting him near the news. If he asks where I went, tell him that Aunt May called and needed me to run an errand for her or something.”

“What kind of errand?” Ned asked with a tilt of his head.

Peter blew out a breath and tossed a frustrated hand up in the air. “Does it matter? Just make something up,” he strained, forcing himself to smile when his friend looked as though he were about to ask more questions that he didn’t feel like he had time to answer. “Besides, I should be back in a couple of hours- and come on man, I thought you were my guy in the chair?”

Nothing was said for a couple of seconds while Ned’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You want me to babysit Tony Stark for you while you use your spider powers to fight some dude that looks like he’s, at least, half gorilla and swing around on webs that you invented during science class,” Ned said, sounding less concerned and more impressed the longer he spoke. “That’s what you're asking me to do?”

“Maybe don’t call it babysitting to his face,” Peter replied, with a vague nod of his head and a so-so gesture of his hand. Because, in reality, that did pretty much sum up his request. “But, yeah. That just about covers it.”

With a shake of his head, Ned held out a fist in anticipation. “Dude. What is your life?”

“It’s crazy, man,” Peter returned with a smile, going through the familiar handshake with ease and then pulling his mask down over his face. “I need to go. See you soon. Make sure he behaves until I get back or Pepper will murder us when she gets back from her conference!” he called over his shoulder as he climbed out his bedroom window.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

#sicktember2021 #happyaspie writing #ned leeds #tony stark #peter parker #sick tony stark #unlikely caregiver #sickfic #ned leeds can do it all #including babysitting billionaire superheros #he's cool like that #tw illness #iron man #spider-man #irondad and spiderson

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