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dreamcatcherrs · 4 years ago

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august - ranboo x reader

+ disclaimer! I don't know if ranboo actually has a cat :)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ranboo x f!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ranboo can’t help but to blush every time you look at him, not realising that he was falling even harder for you than he realised.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.478

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :)

song recommendation: august - taylor swift

the first time he’d spotted you was in science class, near the end of the school year. that one time you looked up and smiled at him because of something stupid he’d said to his friend, that you for some reason found funny - he couldn’t stop thinking of that smile for the rest of the day. the image of you stuck in his head.

the next time he saw you was in p.e. you were wearing those pretty red sports shorts that you always wore, but he for some reason had never noticed until now. and whenever you’d walk or run past him, the smell of vanilla would follow behind you, filling his nostrils with the scent, and it felt heavenly. from that day on, he decided that he really liked the smell of vanilla.

weeks went by before you first talked to him. you were sat behind him and had poked his shoulder to ask him if he had a spare pencil for you to borrow. he breathed in, eyes wide from surprise. were you talking to him? it was only when you tilted your head to the side with a playful smile on your face that he realised he’d been zoned out, completely forgetting that he had to respond.

“uh- yeah, sure.” he’d fumbled with his backpack, trying to fish out his pencil case only to remember… he didn't have one. he moved his hands back again, looking back up at you as you leaned over the table with a patient smile on your face. “uhm… actually, I don't have one either.”

that made you laugh, and he was just confused, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “well, I guess I can't really complain about that,” you giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m y/n, by the way. we have science together, I just don't think we ever got the chance to talk.” he grabbed the hand you’d put out to shake, staring into your bright eyes as you shook his hand. were there stars in your eyes? it looked like there was a whole other universe in there.

“I guess not-”

“hey, you two. eyes up here.” mr. jefferson, you douche-

“sorry mr. jefferson!” you apologised, before turning to send him a playful smile. as if you two had a secret that no one else knew about. he wondered if that smile was always able to get you out of trouble. he thought about it for a while as mr. jefferson explained the different historic sculptures, and then came to the conclusion, that no one could be mad at a person with such a smile for very long.

“aww, you never told me you had a kitty!”

he threw his backpack onto the arm chair in his living room, letting out an exasperated sigh as you followed behind him, or rather, followed his cat behind him. he turned around to see you crouched down beside his cat, softly petting it with the cutest smile on your face.

“yeah. pretty cute, right?” he joined you by petting the purring creature, heart bubbling with how cute the sight in front of him was. he wasn't just talking about the cat.

“well, should we get started?” you asked, shrugging your own backpack off and getting out a small notebook. he’d noticed you wrote in it a couple of times during the class before.

you’d both been assigned for a science project together - what a coincidence. he wasn't complaining though - not at all. you’d had fun times together in class since, now being sat beside each other. you’d gone to his place to put in some extra work ethic. “you’re lucky I actually like science! then we’ll get some work done.”

you plopped down on his couch, taking in the comfiness for a moment, before fishing out your computer. “are you implying something?” you giggled at his question, lifting a finger at him.

“that I do all of the work in science class while you sit and stare at me? yes.”

a wave of heat flooded over him, cheeks and ears turning red and his palms sweating up. was it that obvious?

you patted the spot on the couch beside you for him to sit down, a small smile etched onto your face. he did so, finding a comfortable way to sit in before looking over at your computer screen. you turned you head to him, scooting closer when you noticed he could barely see your screen. as if that would help his sweaty armpits and rosy cheeks…

“okay, do you remember our lesson about polar and non-polar electronegativity?” his face was blank. the words were foreign to him. was that the day you wore that pink lipstick? or did he just think that because he thought it looked so good on you?

you rolled your eyes playfully at his lack of response, proceeding to point at the screen and explain to him what it means. he listened to start off with, but then soon realised that his thoughts had drifted off to another place, eyes gazing over to look at you instead of the screen. and instead of listening, he started thinking about the way your lips moved - how cute and perfect they were. and how much he wanted to kiss them.

he lost his train of thought when you turned your head to him again, a frown on your face when noticing how lost in thought he was, clearly not paying attention, yet your look of disbelief quickly turned into a surprised expression. was he looking at you?

“you’re not listening.”

he looked bewildered for a moment, but quickly managed to clear his throat awkwardly, eyes turning to the screen again. “sorry.”

you began to explain again, and this time he only glanced over at you once when... was that blush on your cheeks?

the first time he kissed you was one month later, summer break. you were at the local park, basking in the rays of sun as the summer was soon to end. the smell of freshly mowed grass was all that filled your nostrils, and the fresh breeze every now and then was enough to keep you from melting under the heat of the sun.

you were sat at a nice waterfall, your backs turned towards it as you ate the sandwiches you had just bought. the sound of water trickling out of the different places on the statue was pleasant for your ears, peaceful really.

he’d gone to push his longer hair out of his face, and then rest his hand beside him, in the middle of the two of you. but instead of meeting a cold surface, his hand met your soft one, that was already resting right where he was about to put his hand.

he heard you gasp softly, head turning to look down at your hands. he looked back at you with wide eyes, which you quickly returned when realizing what had happened, a rosy colour spreading over your cheeks. and right then, he couldn’t help himself. he knew you hadn’t known each other for that long, but he knew you. and he for sure knew that he liked you.

as your eyes stared into his, head slightly leaning in, he kissed you. soft and sweet and short, and when he pulled back again, your eyes were closed and you didn’t look displeased at all. and that’s when he knew, you liked him, too.

“ranboo, I swear, if you rest your arm on my head one more time!”

he laughed at your small threat, removing his arm from its comfortable place on the top of your head. he ruffled your hair, just to annoy you, with a playful smirk on his face. you pouted at him, fixing your hair again and softly shoving at his chest.

“fine~ I’ll stop. you’re just so short, it’s hard not to,” he giggled, patting the top of your head lightly as he smiled down at you brightly.

“maybe you should just be shorter. then I won't have to get on my toes all the time to kiss you.” you crossed your arms, staring up at him with a smirk on your face.

he shrugged. “nah. I kinda like seeing you struggle with that.”

you rolled your eyes and let out a low grumble, acting like a kid who was just told they weren't allowed any candy. before you knew it, a dandelion was pushed back into your hair, followed suit by a quick peck on your cheek. your lips parted in surprise, eyes staring up at him again, before reaching your hand up to gently touch the flower, a small smile spreading across your face.

“now,” he started, leaning down to intertwine his fingers with yours. “shall we go out to enjoy the last day of august?”

_____________________________________

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

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prompt 1 with older brothers best friends!harry 👀

1. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

8. “I said stop staring at me.”

23. “I have a name and it’s not sweetheart.”

Third wheeling could never be fun. Not when you’re basically not even a wheel but an invisible person on a vacation watching couples kiss and yada yada.

“For fuck's sake.” Y/N grumbles changing a side snatching the blanket that got stuck under her and sandwiches her face into a pillow when she hears the steel roof atop her creak furiously accompanied by high pitched obnoxious moans.

Y/N's brother brought her along to their Italy trip, his wife’s bestfriend and his own bestfriend tagged along too leaving only Y/N to grump about their wild sex rendezvous.

She’s sleepless, homesick and probably about to get a stomach bug for living in yacht for four days atleast!

What’s so fun about jiggling in your sleep? None perhaps and the waves crashing at night that threatens you to swallow you down to the pit of ocean --- my pal, nothing is entertaining about it. Atleast for Y/N. She’s more of a hill station going person with her pup Frankenstein that oogles out from his small globe like window, comfy in his lil bag that Y/N moves around on her shoulders everywhere.

When the fracas of whatever’s taking place up doesn’t comes to halt, Y/N had enough, she isn’t very versed in coping with such situations since her dorm-mate is very nice.

So, she’s throwing the lid away to pop her head through the square like space and spreads her elbows up the roof, “Aish.” She immediately covers her eyes upon the sight of his brother and his wife doing it.

Their expressions comically panicked as they embarrassingly scrambles to clutch the flimsy sheets over them.

“Who does it all naked under an open sky?” She squeaks out, feeling her pulse tick and she peeks out towards the darkness from the slight gap of her fingers which are barely helping her avoid the scene that’d haunt her for life.

“Them bunnies and monkeys, ‘n many of our kind, Sweetheart.” She rolls her eyes at the familiarity of deep slow rumble that’s a bit slurred, probably from the Tequila they took with them. The voice never fails to froth bubbles in Y/N's tummy and it always involuntarily makes her nails dig into her palms.

Harry and Tina’s bestfriend went out to roam around Italy, or they told so and Albeit Y/N very well knows their intentions were more to exploring the city she didn’t butt in.

“I’ve a name and it’s not, Sweetheart.” She dismisses him with a grumble and his smirk shines through the shadow aggravating Y/N to an extreme she slips down shutting the door (like lid) at the them.

Harry Styles. Y/N's brother’s bestfriend. He’s everything Y/N loathes about. Bright green eyes, silken features and that dopey pearlish smile that makes everyone fall in love with him in nano-seconds.

To Y/N. He is an incubus. A witch that allures people without even knowing.

He’s a narcissistic asshole and Y/N's bad boy dream, unfortunately.

She hates herself for having a puppy crush on him for years now.

That friggin, Asshole.

He’s with everyone but her. It seems as if he’s getting stung by bees upon the mere closeness between them. A lamb ready to bite her down his stomach if she steps a foot near him.

At the moment when she’s sitting with her knees pressed to her chest, swollen eyes and puffy lips from not getting sleep last night.

She’s really hating that Harry looks so hot from the swim he just took as he dries himself sitting opposite to her. The droplets twinkling on his tanned thick body, his trunks wrinkled and bunched up into his thighs baring the tiger tattoo on front, his hair wet and oh so fucking tug-able – Y/N feels like Rachel from friends thinking all of that.

“Stop staring,” She mutters out loud when he wouldn’t stop licking the saltiness from his pink bottom lip keeping his intense gaze on her.

“What did y'say?” He pretends that we too engulfed in something else.

“I said stop staring at me.” Y/N grits. It’s annoying because it’s making her belly feel funny and loopy.

“The hills behind y'are just s'admirable.” He elevates his shoulders a bit panicked from inside and Y/N forced herself to not to twitch her eye when his chest muscles flexes due to his action.

Bamboozled she takes a glance from her shoulder to where he diverted his sight once she caught him. Her nose scrunched up and chin butted in disgust at the scenery, “That’s literally a heap of dead fishes!”

“Better than starin’ into a dead soul.” His lips down turned into a careless grimace and Y/N gasps out loud pushing the strands of her hair sticking to all of her face because of the breeze gush, “Why would you say that!?”

“’Cos you’re so mauve, that’s why?” He just wants to take a piss out of her. Nobody’s around and he’s finally getting time to talk to her even if it just to sit cross legged on her nerves and sip tea.

He’s actually lying. He thinks she’s more than mauve. She’s all those colours that usually macarons have, all those hues that butterflies wings have and all those tinctures that one find in gems then keep them safe.

She’s the colour he misses in his life.

“And you’re so fucking blue!” She grumbles and that slithered a deep wicked smile on Harry’s lips, “Like this deep ocean yer afraid of?” Her eyes widens at that and she almost lunges on her knees.

How did he know? Ofcourse, he'd. He’s everywhere. In every damn picture of wherever they went for recreation.

“I’m not.” She scoffs, her tone inconvenient and hazy as she shrinks into herself.

“Then take a dip,” She wishes that she could wipe that beautiful stupid smirk off his gorgeous stupidly lame face.

“Kiss my ass.” She spat out throwing a cushion towards him that lands on his lap, “I’d love to.” He barks out a laugh that rings through the waves.

“You’re such a stinky asshole.” She hits him with another that dumps against his chest, “Ow!” He feigns hurt with ridiculous comical expressions and throws the cushion back towards her which she successfully dodges, but, it falls behind her into the water.

“Shit.” She complains ducking around the edge of the yacht and stretches her arm to the plausible extent to grab the floating cushion.

Though when the tips of her toes leaves the seat she was on and she’s bending too much for her own sake Harry’s standing upright, “Hey stop —-" But. It’s too late as with a high pitched squeaky shriek Y/N's rolling first and falling into the water leaving Harry frozen for a second.

Panic chokes her throat and she moves her limbs around everywhere splashing water vigorously. Mouth gasping for oxygen but all that comes is salty water filling her mouth and lungs too, maybe as she sinks deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, Y/N!!” He shouts out jumping to save her immediately knowing she doesn’t know how to swim and he’s wrapping his palm around her neck and pulling her from her waist to himself under the water as she watches him with frightened fading eyes.

He comes back to surface quickly and presses her to his chest. She too clings to him for dear life feeling herself drift into a state of unconsciousness and hard to breath while he grabs the deck and lifts her with himself to it.

He doesn’t risk a chance and lays her limp body down and clasps his hands together pushing them against where her heat beats feebly, winces when she spurts out water painfully.

“Baby...fuck.” He pats her soaked pale cheek anxiously when she still remains unresponsive to him, breathing wearily so he does what has to be done.

He grabbed her chin, squished her cheeks making her lips pucker out and wrapped his mouth around hers sucking the water out and spat it out once his mouth was full.

His eyes slip shuts and he slumps with relief when Y/N coughs out loudly into his chest and he brings her into him murmuring assurance into her wet hair.

“You’re okay darling,” His whisper wavers from the trembling of his lips and his fingers divots into her softest of skin when he hugs her tightly, “’M sorry ‘s me fault, Sweets.” He rubs the bridge of his nose to take the sniff of her scent to calm him down and she shakes her head unable to talk, hands bunched up against his tummy.

“You should rest, yeah?” His gaze soft with care and it’s baffling for Y/N that he ever had this side too. Before, she could be on her feet he slipped his strong arms under her and hoists her up and into him without any trouble.

If Y/N wouldn’t be feeling very droopy and breathless she sure would have fought with him, maybe blushed and hid her face into his neck but she’s already knocking out in his arms from the stingy feeling in her eyes that made her super duper sleepy.

Clouds. Y/N's merged into them and they cover every inch of Y/N, wait where am I? She feels real nice comforted around with such warm bedding and she sure knows it’s not hers. The blurry sight infront of her is enough to aware her and a perfectly calloused hand comes rubbing her shoulder when she tries to sit up.

“Not heaven, o'summat.” He chuckles airily. His smile small and a tad awkward, he’s changed into another pair of trunks that are yellow and his upper half now sadly is covered from a blue tee.

“How you feelin'?” Y/N let his question fly over her head and stutters out loudly, “Why you being s'nice to me now?” It etches a frown on his face but soon it vanishes into an expression that Y/N couldn’t pick point.

“You’ve always been such a meanie...” She murmurs glumly. White sheets tangling around her torso as she moves infront of him – their knees touching.

“I umm –-...like you, I guess?” He has never been this nervous and jumblish with words.

“You guess?” She asks and scared that he missed up he rushes out to hold her and to make her believe that his feelings are true.

“No, no! I’m sure. I like you very much.” That puts Y/N into silence where she stares the gleaming jewels onto his fingers and ponders over what he said.

Harry Styles. Her first kiss. Her very first candy love crush and her dream of bad boy actually likes her back.

She tries to ignore the party poppers going inside her body and the drums of happiness rolling around her heart.

“But ... Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” She doesn’t meet his eyes smoothing out the crinkles of sheets and her palm halts immediately when Harry hooks his thumb under her chin and raises it gaze lovingly into her eyes with sincerity, “Just ‘cos I stole yer first kiss?”

He laughs out sweetly when she bobs her head vigorously, “C’mon we were just sixteen! I’d have made sure to tell y'to keep it safe fo’ your precious person if I knew back then.” His pupils gleaming with hope and a tinge of eagerness.

The next thing she said with a slight bubbly pout caught Harry off-guard and in awe that how to process what she said with so much liability and vulnerability.

“But you’re my precious person!!”

“Yeah, baby?” He grins with a dimple tutting in and grabs her small cold hands to pull her closer to him.

The sweet name shies Y/N away and Harry thinks she couldn’t be more endearing as he takes her soft looking puffy face in the warm embrace of his hands and bops their noses together.

“Then g’na make sure ‘m your last.” He murmurs feathering his lips to the corner of her mouth that flutters her eyelids like butterflies and she pants out for more with a sweet whine, “Shit. You’re still very candy like since I last kissed ye'.” He giggles stroking his thumb up her cheek and takes a lick of her jutted bottom lip.

“Harry....” She complains tugging his weary shirt, “Yes me baby?” He quips out with those fake surprised eyes he makes with raised brows and puppy gaze.

“Kiss me alre –—,” He's swallowing her words down with the tender smush of his lips against hers in a kiss that’s slow and comforting at first, hearing onto the noises that she creates from tasting him and it deepens into something ardent and red when Harry pulls her over his thighs and guides her arms around his neck.

Their foreheads comes touching. Their hearts in sync and beside eachother. Their tongues loving on eachother.

“Dunno if I could ever stop.” He whispers breaking the knot of spit that connects their mouths with the stroke of his thumb against her shinning lip and pecks that spot twice.

“Then don’t.” Y/N looses her brain cells and only butterflies to whoosh into her skull as she grabs his jaw never letting him go and kisses him harder and rougher this time.

She’s gonna be in oh so much love with this bad boy that’s such a softie for her and she knows that there’s no going back.

#IMMMMMM BACKKKK FINALLYYY #PLEASEEEEE FORGIVE ME MY READ MORE THINGY IS NOT WORKING #BAD BOIII HARRYYYY #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles prompts #cute harry #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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gingersnaaps · 4 years ago

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at your window

hanahaki: the fictional disease where a person, afflicted by unrequited love, grows flowers in their lungs and stomach. unless the love is reciprocated, the disease will grow fatal. there's one workaround, though - one that issei matsukawa is very interested in: the plant can be physically removed.

wc: ~3.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE PLEASE READ): n*fw, masturbation only(no sex), stalking, snuff, gore, blood, yandere!matsukawa, sorta necro(attraction but not sex), noncon filming, fem!reader but no mention of genitals

a/n: for @suedebunn's april showers collab // this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written and i spent way too long on it. it's supposed to lean towards horror?

i don't want minors interacting with my content

March 8th, 2013

[12:47 am]

The longer Issei sits outside your window, the harder it becomes to stop himself.

His face is pressed up against the dusty glass pane, peering inside at the outline of your sleeping body, and he finds that he can’t help but fixate on it. You look so peaceful, so tranquil, completely at rest as your mind flits between the shadowy realms that dreams inhabit.

He wonders what kind of wonderland you’re in right now - if it’s cotton-candy pink and delightful, just like you, or dark and hazy and spun with danger.

You’d look beautiful in any setting, he thinks, and finds his hand inadvertently drifting downwards.

His gaze rakes over the rise and fall of your chest, taking in the flashes of bare skin where your sheer nightgown rides up, his breath catching as his palm glides over his clothed cock. The friction feels so good - there’s no question that he wants this, needs this - and he wastes no time unzipping his pants and reaching in to free his dick. He doesn’t need to fantasize much, not when you’re mere feet away, instead making sure he sears every detail of your sleeping form into his mind: your fluttering eyelashes, your shallow breaths, the soft glow of your skin in the moonlight.

Issei quickens his pace, stroking up and down the shaft of his cock with purpose, thumb flicking over the slit. His breath huffs against the glass, clouding the surface until it’s dripping with condensation, but he still sees you as clear as day in his mind even as the real image of you blurs. You’re blissed out and relaxed, shoulders free of tension, your lips curving slightly into a smile.

He closes his eyes, rolling his head back as he works his cock, every single brush of his fingers leaving him twitching with sensitivity. You look like an angel, picture-perfect and frozen in time and consciousness, as if you were a framed picture or a museum exhibit preserved just for Issei to admire. Just for Issei. He lets out a quiet groan at the thought as he cums, his hips stuttering and cock jerking up.

You turn over fitfully in your sleep.

Looking down at the cum dripping off his fingers, he wants nothing more than to crawl in through your window and wipe it on your face. It’s an unmistakable mark of ownership, a sign that you belong to him alone, but he hesitates. He’s a bit of a shy guy, you see.

He can wait.

March 14th, 2013

[10:01 pm]

He has to conceal himself a bit better tonight than he would on his normal visits. This time, he’s a bit early, and you’re still awake.

His back is up against the siding of your house, right beside your window, but he can still see you in the periphery of his vision. You’re sitting at your desk, bathed in the warm light of your desk lamp, hunched over some math worksheet and scribbling furiously with the pencil in your hand.

Forget the moon; you glow even prettier as the world around you fades to dark.

Just like every other night, he takes in every detail meticulously. Your hair is messier than it was the previous day - maybe you hadn’t washed it in a while? He doesn’t mind, because it’s endearing when you’re messy and imperfect, barefaced in your pajamas, a little rough around the edges.

He thinks it’s similar to the way you’d look after being fucked stupid, if he closed his eyes and tried to picture you being ruined.

Issei tries very hard to ignore the way his cock strains in his pants at the thought.

March 23, 2013

[11:30 pm]

The mild spring breeze carries the sweet scent of fresh blossoms and green grass, leaving behind the wintry chill that he had to shiver through each night to be at your side - well, as close by your side as he could get.

These little visits have become a part of his life now, as ingrained as waking up in the morning or eating three times a day. It’s comforting for him to watch you from his spot outside your window each night, admiring you as you go about your nighttime routine, puttering from your desk to your bathroom to your bedroom.

He’s started to take some pictures, maybe even a shaky, pixelated video or two, just to tide him over when he’s alone by himself. They’re no replacement for the real thing, obviously, but it’s enough for him to be able to carry around a reminder of the way you look and sound all the time, even if it’s just a shadow of what you’re like in person. He’ll scroll through his camera roll, fingers trembling with excitement, hissing as he brings his hand down to stroke at his cock.

It’s always better in person, though. He sees you more clearly, hears the sound of your voice muffled through the walls, and most of all, he’s closer to you.

Issei likes to make it last, likes to prolong the pleasure as much as possible, so he always starts off with slow, gentle, pumps, gliding up and down his cock with his index finger and thumb curled into a circle. It’s honestly a miracle how you haven’t noticed yet, because he always tends to lose himself after he starts.

Face pressed close against the window in order to get the best view possible, his warm huffs of breath cloud up the cold glass as he strokes himself faster. His eyes rolling back into his head, his two digits of measured stimulation give way quickly to full, hard, pumps of his cock until soft moans start to spill from his mouth.

It’s hard to resist when you’re right there.

Tonight, you’re sprawled out on your bed, phone held above your face as you chat with your friend on video call. You’re shaking with laughter at some silly joke your friend’s telling, head thrown back and chin tilted upwards, face shining with joy, and he suddenly feels a warm, warm feeling of arousal course through him.

Seeing you happy turns him on, makes his cock so hard even though he just came minutes prior.

The sound of your voice carries through the walls, carefree and bright, chattering on and on about some assignment - or maybe it’s a complaint about the teacher, he’s not too sure - and he smiles contentedly at your silly little worries. Too cute, really.

You suddenly cough.

It’s an ugly sound, dry and strangled, and he cringes at the way your body tenses up and shakes. The coughing fit feels far longer than it actually is; every second of your hacking and wheezing is compounded by the panic gripping him. He watches, helpless, as your face turns ashen and grey, his heart seizing with dread and pounding in his chest.

It’s over as quickly as it begins.

You smile weakly, brushing it off as you apologize to your friend, but he can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles at the pit of his stomach. He tugs up his pants, bare thighs and dick feeling awfully exposed in the night wind, and scurries back home. Maybe another night, then.

April 1st, 2013

[12:09 am]

You’re not in your room today.

Issei leans his head against the cold glass of your windowpane, hands shoved into his jacket, his mind clouding at the edges and overrun with possibilities. He doesn’t recall seeing you making plans with friends the previous night, and there’s not much you could be really doing right now - you have no boyfriend, no plans that he knows of, no real reason to just be gone.

He’s always thought of himself as a calm person. He doesn’t fall victim to temporary urges and flights of emotion the same way that Oikawa or Iwaizumi might, doesn’t do anything reckless on whims he knows will disappear just hours later.

But there’s just something about you that always makes him lose himself, isn’t there?

The window is fogged up with condensation, obscuring his view inside your room. He reaches out the sleeve of his jacket, wiping away the dew clinging to the surface, and squints as he tries to make out the scene in the dim lighting.

On the floor, awash in a pool of moonlight, lies a yellow flower petal spattered with blood.

April 4th, 2013

[4:46 am]

Issei’s not stupid.

He knows what the flower petal means, knows what your sickness means. He’s read about it in books, heard the tales from his parents friends, the whispered legends and hushed myths that make one thing clear:

You belong to someone else.

It’s a thought that fills him with revulsion. You already have Issei; is he not enough for you? Are you such a whore that his devotion falls short of what you’re so clearly greedy for?

He’s stopped restricting himself to just his nightly visits. They’re not enough, not when he can’t seem to go five minutes without his thoughts inevitably drifting to you - you in your fluttery, sheer nightgown, lying in your bed, your frame growing sicker and frailer as the blood drains from your cheeks and your coughing fits grow more frequent.

You can hide it from the prying eyes of your friends at school, from your teachers, even from your parents(as long as you make sure to roll your eyes a few times and lean into that murky, illusory persona of teenage angst), but here in your bedroom, your sanctuary, all your vulnerabilities crawl out and bubble to the surface, bared to your four off-white walls and his eyes only.

You can’t hide this from Issei; not the symptoms, and certainly not the disease.

He sets his alarm every day early enough to hear the nighttime croaking of frogs, the shrill, insistent chirping of cicadas, hours before the sky bleeds daylight, making his way over to your house. He stands outside, silent, his fingers pressed up against the window.

He doesn’t know why he goes anymore. You look ugly when you’re sick. Your healthy complexion has given way to grey, and his dick goes limp every time he tries to jerk himself off. It’s a reminder of the fact that he can’t ever have you the way he used to dream about: lively, healthy, and wholly devoted to him and him alone.

At this point, the pictures and videos of you are the only thing he has left, a pitiful reminder of everything you used to be. He has no use for those other girls from porn sites online, or even the scantily clad social media posts of his classmates. Issei only wants you, but you aren’t quite who you used to be, and every time he trudges home after staring through that stupid window, there’s always a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that makes his blood curdle.

It’s not that he’s jealous, exactly. He doesn’t really give a fuck who you’re pining after, because it’s you he cares about. He wants to own you, to possess your body, mind, and soul, wants you to end up at his side one day, acknowledging him with tears brimming in your lovely eyes, voice raw and hoarse as you chant thank you Issei, thank you, thank you for watching over me, Issei, i’m yours, Issei, i love you, Issei

Maybe it’s no wonder he can’t stop thinking about you.

April 19th, 2013

[11:52 pm]

He finds you passed out on the floor, surrounded by crumpled piles of faded carnation petals. They’re a sickly yellow, browning at the edges, tinged with blood and vomit and spit. It’s a scene straight out of a movie, illuminated by the waning moon, the cold, pale, uneven light casting shadows that dance across your body.

April 24th, 2013

[2:03 am]

Issei is nothing if not a practical man. If there’s a problem, he’s going to fix it.

He’s had enough of waiting, anyway.

April 25th, 2013

[12:00 am]

He’s never actually been inside your room before. It’s eerily quiet, save for your shallow, rapid breaths, all outside noises absorbed by the walls and curtains. It almost feels like he’s dreaming as he makes his way over to your bedside, his shadow stretching and bending in the distorted light like those funhouse mirror reflections.

Your lips are parted slightly, mouth agape as if in waiting, and he can’t help but run a finger along your cracked, ashen lips.

Issei shivers.

He’s never been quite so close to you before. It’s almost anticlimactic, the way he ends up at your side. He won’t lie; he had been hoping for a different ending, one with more sunshine and roses, one where you’d be smiling happily by his side as he tenderly holds your hand.

But he can’t change the way things are, and he’s more than willing to make the best of what he’s got.

He doesn’t have any surgical tools that might’ve been more fitting, but he supposes a kitchen knife - one he’d sharpened just yesterday - should work well enough. He runs a finger along the back of the gleaming metal, admiring the way it glints, brilliant and blinding, even in the midst of the dim room.

The old, worn, bed creaks beneath him as he climbs carefully on top of you, straddling your torso, taking care not to place too much pressure on your body. He reaches out to caress your face, brushing a loose strand of hair aside as he appraises you. In sickness, you were nowhere near as beautiful as you were before, but your proximity almost makes up for it; Issei can feel your heart thrumming beneath your skin, can feel the huff of your breath on his hand as your chest rises and falls.

He almost regrets having to do this.

Bringing the blade up to your chest, he begins to cut through your paper-thin nightgown. As the fabric rips, it falls to either side to reveal your chest, and his breath catches. The soft curve of your tits are stained with red, little green buds of growth peeking out from your chest and between your ribs. Blood blooms across your skin, thorns and stems pricking out from the smooth surface of your skin, standing out in stark relief as the sick, twisted, unnatural growth threatens to burst out of your body.

He flutters his fingers along your delicate skin, trailing gentle touches down your stomach, completely absorbed in the way you look and feel.

So absorbed, in fact, that he almost doesn’t notice the way you tense, eyes blinking awake, as pain lances through your body.

Issei’s quick, though - far quicker than you, at least, and by the time you open your mouth to scream, fear catching in your throat, he shoves a large hand over your mouth to muffle any of the unpleasant noises that threaten to spill out.

“Shh,” he whispers, voice hoarse and foreign in his own chest. He’s not used to speaking to you. “If you don’t hold still, it’s going to hurt even more.”

You freeze in terror at the implications of his words, eyes catching on the blade pointed at your chest. There’s a sudden urge to lash out, to fight back - but it quickly passes. You’re not stupid.

You know that he’s far stronger than you, far faster, and as his calm, remorseless gaze latches onto your body, you realize very quickly that any resistance would be futile.

He begins his work as soon as he feels you go limp beneath him. You’re still trembling slightly, shivering from both the fear and the cold, completely exposed, completely at his mercy. You’re still not sure who he is; maybe you’ve caught a glimpse or two of him in your classes in the past, but for the most part, he’s still a complete stranger.

Issei, on the other hand, knows you very well.

As the knife slips beneath your soft flesh, your bed quickly turns into a sea of scarlet, of vermilion and ruby, of wine-red blood that grows from a trickle to a stream to a rushing, spurting mess that stains your sheets and spills onto the floor. He can feel the spatters of your blood on his face, his clothes, can see the periphery of his vision growing red as the blank, white walls turn crimson.

He finds it’s a bit difficult to hold himself back.

Cutting you up feels like catharsis to him. He’s never seen you quite like this before, but he thinks this version of you looks very pretty, your eyes rolling back into your head, your chest shaking uncontrollably as he rips his knife through your flesh over and over again. A small, barely audible whimper slips from your lips, and he feels a shuddering mix of pleasure and revulsion wash over him.

The stark white of your bone peeks through the ripped, bloody mess. Perhaps he’s finally gone far enough.

There’s no slit or hole for him to find - he wasn’t quite so careful - but he reaches a hand in to dig around at what used to be your stomach, and begins to pull out the flowers from the roots. They’ve spread to your lungs, climbed almost all the way up your throat, the green stems and yellow flowers twisting and threading between your organs and ribs. He removes them one by one, meticulous and careful, tossing them aside as he searches and prods and kills every last trace of your disease.

The lungs are by far the hardest for him, the branches of tissue packed densely with blood vessels and capillaries, and he has to pry the clusters apart to remove the growth that’s embedded itself within the organ.

If you think about it, he’s really doing you a favor.

A wave of relief courses through him when he’s finally finished. It’s unfortunate that it had to end this way, with your face screwed permanently into that pained, tortured expression, but it’s nothing he can’t fix - he brings a bloody finger up and adjusts your features until they resemble something slightly more pleasant.

There’s no heartbeat anymore, he realizes, no rhythm thrumming and pulsing beneath your skin.

He climbs off of you awkwardly, swinging his legs back over the bed. The quilt, pooled around your ankles, is still remarkably clean considering what the rest of the room had been through, and he pulls the soft, white cover over your mangled body until it comes up to your chin.

If he moves backwards a little and squints, it’s almost like you’re still asleep.

And if he tries really hard, uses his imagination to fill in the gaps and blot out the unnecessary bits, the blood smeared on your cheeks and lips almost seems like makeup, covering up that ugly, ashen complexion from your sickness, like a rosy imitation of what he used to find so beautiful.

Maybe it’s all in his mind, but he thinks you really do look better dead than sick.

He knows it’s not right.

He knows he shouldn’t.

He also can’t quite bring himself to care.

Cursing softly under his breath, he hand wanders until it finds the growing outline of the bulge in his pants. It feels so good to do it right in front of you, especially when you look better than he’d seen you in weeks(as long as he sort of squints), and he shudders with pleasure as he palms his cock slowly.

He usually likes to hold back a little, but there’s really no point this time - it’s the last time he’ll ever be this close to you, so he might as well make the best of it, right?

His cock is rock hard and dripping with precum by now, straining with arousal against the pressure of his fist, gliding and stroking along his curved, thick length until he begins to feel that warm heat coiling in his stomach. He kind of wishes that you were still alive to see him jerking off to your perfect face, pumping his cock desperately as he fixates on the fake blush of your skin. It’s almost exactly how you look before you fell sick - minus the gore splattered on your sheets, of course - as long as he pretends that you’re still breathing, that your pulse is still thrumming steadily beneath those soft, white quilts.

He fists his cock a bit faster, rhythm increasing as he feels his balls growing heavier, his dick flushed and desperate for release. Although he’s sad that you’d never be able to fully participate, he supposes it’s for the best.

Better dead than hung up on someone else, right?

As he turns his gaze back onto the flowers he’d ripped out from your chest cavity, he feels a perverse burst of pleasure coursing through him. He can’t help but feel proud of the way he’s made everything right, how he’d gotten rid of that annoying little crush you’d been harboring for weeks. If he closes his eyes, he can almost see the way you’re thanking him from the afterlife, tears of gratitude and joy in your eyes at the freedom he’s finally given you.

Issei finishes with a low, pleasured, groan, his cum spilling into his waiting hand as he strokes himself through his orgasm. It’s one of the strongest orgasms he’s had in quite some time, and he can’t help but think it’s the commemoration you deserve.

As the blood rushing in his eardrums slows, the hazy, uncertain world around him seems to stop spinning, and he feels himself being pulled back down from his high. If he strains his senses, he can hear the nighttime din through your walls, quiet and ever-present. He looks outside, the streetlamps flickering dimly, staring off into the inky stillness of the star-lit night.

Funny that he’s finally on the other side of your window.

Maybe he should leave you one last present.

April 26th, 2013

[9:00 am]

When they find you in your bed the next morning, your mother screams and your father cries.

They never saw it coming, did they? You were a good girl, someone who always did what they were supposed to do, said what others told them to say, acted exactly how they expected you to. Never got yourself into the slightest hint of trouble.

It’s a horrific scene: their precious daughter, limbs mangled and organs torn up, stomach and chest cut wide open as if straight from a horror movie. The room seems to swirl with hostility, and the four walls, once your sanctuary, had turned into an image of brutal, bloody, violence - with your body as the centerpiece.

It’s not until they step closer that they realize the dried, white, glaze on your face is cum.

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years ago

Text

so i'll try to talk refined // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: this is so self indulgent holy fuck

WARNINGS: implied sexual content, drunken flirting, one night stands

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a one night stand. One night, one too many drinks, one stupid decision that wouldn't have an actual effect on anything David cared about, aside from giving him a much needed night off.

But, when his one night stand turns out to be a new every day part of his life for the foreseeable future, David has... some choices to make.

For starters: choose to ignore his obvious attraction to the muralist working in his library, or choose to face the challenge head on.

If only he knew how to navigate this plot twist.

Tag List: @tarantulas4davey @oof-musicals @panicky-pancakes (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

Read On AO3!

David has never seen someone as gorgeous as the man sitting across from him at the bar.

Maybe that’s a somewhat straightforward statement. David has seen a lot of gorgeous people- he grew up in New York City, for crying out loud; he falls in love with someone new on the sidewalk every day, it seems. There’s just… something about this guy, though, that David is more than a little attracted to.

It’s probably his hair. David has always been a sucker for curls, and this guy’s hair is so curly on the ends- but he has a middle part, and his bangs-but-not-really-bangs are more wavy than curly, and it’s swooped back like some popular guy from the 90’s, or, like... Zayn Malik circa late 2014. Either way, David is loving it.

But that isn’t the only aspect of this guy that he’s loving.

For one, his eyes are the most striking golden brown that David has ever seen, and his tan skin is shining beautifully underneath the gaudy, in-your-face lights in the bar. If David stares hard enough, he can make out freckles dotting the expanse of his face, spread across a sharp jawline and even sharper cheekbones.

Needless to say, David is in love. Not literally, of course- David and ‘love’ don’t really mix well- but he’s never not going to be thinking about Random Guy in the Bar, so it’s kind of the same thing, right?

David almost considers going over to talk to him, but he falters. This is a... regular bar, probably, not one of the many gay bars David frequents, and he’s probably a straight guy with a low tolerance for getting hit on by dudes but, also, it’s 2021, and David is a little tipsy, so what’s really the harm in going over to talk to Random Guy? He might get punched, yeah, but David has taken worse. Much worse. There was that time in high school, when he kissed his boyfriend in the hall and was--

No, no, now is time to think happy thoughts, Tipsy David reminds himself.

Tipsy David is a lot braver than Sober David, and as he stands from his barstool and makes his way over to Random Guy, Tipsy David hopes that Sober David won’t have a black eye in the morning.

He takes in a deep breath as he approaches, but puts on a brave face as he comes up next to the guy. “Excuse me,” He starts, and pauses as the man whips around, eyes widening just slightly, and, oh, God, he’s even hotter up close. “I know this is a shot in the dark, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how attractive you are,” David says, as nonchalantly as he’s able to, while he leans against the bar counter.

The man stays silent for a few moments, and David can practically see the gears turning in his mind- before he’s flashing a megawatt smile at David and saying, “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

Oh, sweet Jesus, that accent is thick. It’s classic New York- like, classic classic. Old New York classic. Just this side of a stereotype, but oh so genuine, and David is living for it. His voice is really nice, too; not very deep, but gravelly and kind of rough and hoarse and oh, why was this guy blessed with perpetual perfect morning-voice? He sounds like he just woke up and rolled out of bed, so rough and gorgeous.

But that’s beside the point, because this guy is clearly not picking up what David is putting down. That’s alright. Maybe a bit disappointing, but it’s not like David had any high hopes anyway.

David gives a nod and a smirk, standing up straight. “Just telling the truth,” he replies easily, then slaps his hand gently on the bar. “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” The guy says, staring up at David. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but instead he just offers a smile and a nod.

David nods back, turning to walk away, feeling pretty good about the interaction. He wasn’t punched, and wasn’t rejected, and--

“Hey, wait,” The man’s voice stops him in his tracks. David turns with a raised brow, taking in the man’s appearance once more- hair, eyes, freckles, skin, jeans and a plain henley with the sleeves rolled to his forearms- and, finally, the guy speaks again. “You… You ain’t too bad yourself, y’know.”

David blinks, confused, until he takes a slow step forward. “That so?” He asks with a hint of a grin.

The guy nods, then crosses his arms. “‘Course. I ain’t the only pretty boy here.”

“Ooh, pretty boy. That’s a new one,” David smirks, then leans against the bar. “So, pretty boy, answer me this. What would you say if I asked to sit with you?”

“Well, I’d probably ask what you’re drinkin’,” The man responds, then gestures for David to sit on the bar stool next to him. “What would your answer be, hypothetically?”

David’s smile widens, and he makes a show of thinking for a moment before speaking. “Well, if a hot guy asked me what I was drinking, I’d probably say a Manhattan with bourbon,” He teases, taking his seat. “And what would pretty boy be drinking, hm?”

“Pretty boy has a name,” He counters with a playful smirk, “and pretty boy is on his second margarita.”

Before David can respond, the man raises a hand and turns to the bartender. “‘Ey, Racer, c’mere,” he calls out, and soon, the bright-eyed blond is walking over, leaning over the bar. “Bring me two tequila shots, and a Manhattan. Bourbon.”

“On it, Cowboy,” The bartender- Antonio, or so it says on his nametag- responds with a wink.

“Cowboy,” David repeats as Antonio leaves, turning his attention to the man beside him. “Pretty boy, cowboy… You have some interesting nicknames.”

“Technically, ‘pretty boy’ ain’t a nickname. You’re the only one who calls me that, sweetheart,” The man smirks, resting his elbow against the bar.

“What else can I call you, then?” David asks, raising a brow as he leans in a bit closer- far enough away to not be in the guy’s personal space, but close enough to still hear him clearly over the booming party playlist blaring in the background.

The guy shrugs, grinning easily, then winks as he looks back at David. “You could start with ‘Jack’,” He replies.

Jack.

Such a generic name, but somehow, it’s just become the most attractive name in the history of ever.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jack,” David says with a wide grin, holding out a hand. “The name’s David.”

Jack reaches out to take David’s hand and give it a shake, and, fuck, David swears he feels sparks. He doesn’t really have time to think about it, though, considering that Antonio is back with their drinks, and Jack is smiling at David like he’s the only thing that matters.

***

An hour passes, and David finds himself particularly buzzed after a few more drinks- courtesy of Jack, who has not once left his side. They’re both just this side of tipsy, both happy and bubbly underneath the flashing lights of the bar, and are already on their cooldown; nursing cold waters and a shared appetizer to come back to at least semi-sober before they have to part ways.

Maybe part ways.

Truth be told, David would follow Jack back to his apartment in a heartbeat if Jack asked him to.

Because, well, Jack is seriously attractive. Muscles for days, a laugh that’s to die for, and there’s an underlying softness to him; he’s an artist. An actual artist. He’s a freelancer; he has a dual degree in graphic design and studio art, so he paints and makes logos and designs business cards and does murals all over the city and, wow, David falls more and more in love every second. Jack even mentioned he was going to be doing some mural at one of the libraries in the city, which made David’s heart skip a beat. A literary themed mural, done by a hot guy… David might just have to leave his own little library and venture across the city to find it.

As the clock on the wall draws ever closer to 11 p.m., David bites his lip. He glances over at Jack, who is already looking at him, and when he sees the hungry look in Jack’s eyes, he smirks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘Cause you’re hot,” Jack says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, “and I’m wonderin’ what it’d take to leave here with ya.”

David takes in a shuddering breath, licking his lips. “All you need to do is answer a question.”

“Oh?” Jack asks, placing a hand on David’s thigh. “And what would that question be?”

David looks him dead in the eyes. They’re both silent, energy sparking and crackling between each other; Jack’s eyes are dark, dark, dark, and David has to actively resist the urge to give in and kiss him right there against the counter. Slowly, David leans in close, lips barely brushing against Jack’s ear as he asks, “Your place or mine?”

Somehow, between one moment and the next, Jack is dragging David up the three steps into his townhouse, and as soon as the door is shut and locked with a distinct click, Jack has David pushed against the wall.

Distantly, David remembers leaving the bar- one owned by Jack’s friends, presumably, considering the fact that Antonio the Bartender and Mr. Redhead Bouncer Man both whistled when Jack escorted David out by the hand. He remembers walking down the block and turning left, and remembers the weight of Jack’s palm against his own; oddly intimate for the acts they’re about to commit, but welcome nonetheless.

But David doesn’t have time to think about that. Not as he places both hands on Jack’s cheeks and kisses him with all the passion he possesses.

Kissing Jack is exactly what David thought it would be: hot, hungry, competitive, fierce. Jack is strong, but within a few seconds, David has Jack backed against the front door, boxing the smaller man in with his arms.

“Oh, fuck,” Jack gasps as David kisses his neck, gently working the skin with just the barest bite of teeth.

David pulls back, glancing down into Jack’s dark eyes. “That’s the plan,” He says with a smirk, before diving back in to kiss Jack. It’s filthy, it’s fucking amazing, and Jack’s hands are in his hair and on his stomach and reaching around to grope his ass, pulling David ever closer.

“We need to- Bed,” Jack rasps out, but makes no move to leave the position; especially not when he leans up and begins his attack on the column of Davey’s throat. Thank God Sarah has extra makeup at David’s apartment; he’ll need it for work. Hannah might fire him on the spot if he walks into the library looking like a 'harlot'.

David taps Jack’s hip, and Jack seems to get the memo. Without breaking contact with David’s skin, Jack jumps and wraps his legs securely around David’s hips; David moans with the contact, bracing Jack with his hands as he blindly carries the man through the apartment. Had it been any other situation, David would have stopped to look around; he’s always been a sucker for interior design, and Jack has good taste.

But now, David only has one idea in mind.

Jack pulls away and gestures to a dark door, and as David opens it, he’s met with Jack’s bedroom, complete with red LED lights around the perimeter of the ceiling. How fitting, he thinks as he walks forward and all but throws Jack onto the bed. David kneels between Jack’s legs and undoes Jack’s belt with a skillful hand- he’s not at all new at this, he knows what he’s doing- and within seconds, David has Jack’s stupid, threadbare henley up and over his head, tossed precariously to a random corner of the bedroom.

Two things happen at once.

First, Jack sits up, looking more vulnerable than he’s looked during the entire night, and second, David notices the two faded surgical scars on either side of his chest, right beneath his pecs.

For a moment, everything is silent as David’s gaze flicks back to Jack’s face. He looks him again, scans his chest, and his toned stomach, and his hip bones that are jutting out under the waistband of his jeans. He's caught in his own head, stricken by how fucking hot Jack is shirtless, and he must be stuck for a few too many seconds, because--

Jack clears his throat, an awkward little sound, but one that catches David’s attention nonetheless. David looks back down and makes eye contact with Jack, who takes in a deep breath and asks, “This… Is this still alright?”

David raises a brow, and breathes, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Before Jack can respond, David pulls off his own shirt and tosses it to the side, then leans back down and kisses Jack. His hands fine Jack’s hips and he gives a harsh squeeze, which makes Jack gasp and hurry to undo the button and zipper of David’s jeans.

David doesn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, he pushes Jack down into the mattress, kissing his neck, then moving to his chest, his abs, trailing lower and lower with every movement, until Jack is panting, whining, begging, until Jack is raising his hips, until Jack is pushing his jeans down.

Until Jack is gasping for breath, thighs bracketing David’s head, moaning a mantra of, “God, yes, David, please, more, more, oh, fuck.”

***

“David! Nice to see ya, hun. Did you enjoy your weekend off?”

David looks over his shoulder as he shuts the front door. His boss, Hannah, is waving him up to the front; he walks to the counter and nods, smiling as he runs a hand through his hair. “I really needed it, yeah. Thank you, Han.”

“Sweetheart, if you ever need a break, you just let me know, okay?” She shoots him a pointed look, and smiles gently. “Go clock in, hun. We got a shipment in the back that needs to be sorted and shelved.”

“Yes, ma’am,” David responds with a grin. He drops off his leather messenger bag behind the front desk, then types his number into the keypad to clock in and log into his account. Once he’s done, David walks to the storage room in the back and stares at the piles of books in front of him.

With a smile, he grabs the first stack. Hannah called him a ‘strange boy’ once, for the very same reason. Apparently, her old employees here at Duane Street Library in downtown all hated sorting day with a passion, but David finds it relaxing. It puts him in a good mood.

Not that he needs this to be in a good mood after Friday night.

David’s hands flex around the spine of a book at the thought. God, he needs to get that out of his head. It’s been, what, two days since then, but he’s still thinking about... Jack. He needs to let go; it’s not like he’s ever going to see the guy again, right? David has no plans to go back to that bar; it was nice, but he only went because there was an event he wasn’t really interested in at the bar he usually goes to- a gay bar, with frequent drag shows and performers who know David by name. A bar that has Britney and Gaga blaring at all times, not one with classic rock.

But, well, that bar seemed like the perfect place for Jack No-Last-Name, and Jack No-Last-Name seemed to frequent it, so it’s highly unlikely that David is ever going to run into Jack No-Last-Name again. It’s a big city, and he’s just a guy from a one night stand that David desperately needed in order to give himself a release.

Figuratively and literally, he thinks.

Eugh. Gross.

Pushing Jack out of his mind, David starts stacking the books onto the rolling cart they keep in the corner. He tries to at least keep them organized- first by genre, then alphabetical- and once he has about forty books on the cart, he pulls it out into the main part of the building. He starts shelving the mystery section first; it’s closest to the storage room, and it’s fairly easy to figure everything out. This mystery section is fun; all of the book spines are hidden, as the books are shelved backwards, and the only tell is the initial of the author's name laminated on the shelves.

There is a sign next to the shelf that says, of course, if you’re looking for a specific book and don’t want to search, come find an employee, blah, blah, but for the most part their guests like this little fun thing they do. It is the mystery section, after all; it’s why they hide the titles, it’s why there’s a basket of books wrapped at the end, it’s why the wrapped books only have the author’s initials and a small, vague summary written on the back.

All very Pinterest-y ideas, but fun nonetheless.

Once all of those books are meticulously shelved, David moves onto nonfiction, and then fiction, and by the time he’s finished with A through G, he’s due for another trip back into storage. H through L follows, then M through Q, then R through Z. When he’s done with the actual alphabetized sections, he gets to start on the fun little pop-up sections throughout the library.

BookTok section; the books that TikTok has been raving about, as an effort to foster more online engagement.

Read with Pride; pride month section. Books about being queer, books about queer experiences, books with queer characters- the works.

Black Authors, Black Voices; a section that has been on display for a while, since the head of the Black Lives Matter movement, about anti-racism and being a better ally to marginalized communities.

There are a few more sections like this that he does; editing them, switching out new books in place of books that have lost traction, creating little fliers and informational cards for the tables… It’s all very nice, very niche, and very much David’s little ‘baby’- his special project. It’s why Hannah hired him; beforehand, she had been trying her hardest to modernize this little library, but she hadn’t been able to hit the nail on the head. In comes David Jacobs, a 24 year old college graduate/grad student with social media management experience and generalized knowledge of what ‘the youths’ are liking, needing a job to help pay his way through grad school…

Needless to say, Hannah basically lets David roam free and do what he needs to do. Of course, she checks off on everything he does, but the new layout and new areas and new ideas are all him.

And it’s working.

The activities that he’s coming up with are getting a lot of participation. Since coming in last year, David has been able to boost community engagement- which, in turn, boosted their annual funding, and they’ve been investing that money into upgrades. Better computers for the Media Center, better toys and activities and little knickknacks for the 'Kid’s Korner' section, better decor to make the library look more lively.

Hannah even mentioned bringing someone in to paint the kid’s section, and maybe even do a nice, Instagram-worthy mural in the Media Center, and--

“Oh, wonderful, you’re here early!”

At the sound of Hannah’s voice up front, David raises a brow. He’s near the back of the library now, and only has about ten more books to shelve, so he doesn’t bother going up to the front. He has a job to do anyway, so it’ll be fine. Distantly, though, he hears Hannah and someone laughing together, which makes David grin; Hannah is always laughing, either with someone or at someone. She’s sassy and snarky and kind of a bitch, but God, does David love her. He couldn’t imagine a better boss.

He focuses on the task at hand, deciding to take his time with it, just to let Hannah talk to whoever it is she’s talking to. Eventually, though, David pushes the cart back to the storage room and makes his way up to the front.

David rounds the corner with a smile and some pep in his step, though he stops in his tracks when he sees--

“David, this fine young man is gonna be painting our mural in the kids section!” Hannah says with a wide grin, and turns away from him. “This is David; he runs our Community Outreach programs and social media accounts, plus helps me with, y’know, sorting through the books,” Hannah explains.

She then turns to David, gesturing to the man next to her. “David, meet Jack Kelly. He’ll be in and out for the next few weeks.”

David and Jack finally make eye contact, and David sees the wide-eyed realization on Jack’s face.

“Hi,” David breathes, his hands clenching at his side.

Jack blinks. Hesitates, then raises his hand to wave. “...Hey.”

Hannah grins, and giggles between them as her hands clasp in front of her chest. “Oh, isn’t this just going to be great?”

That’s one way to put it, David thinks to himself, and by the flushed look on Jack’s face, he’s probably thinking the same damn thing.

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #javid #javey #jack newsies #davey newsies #newsies musical #newsies live #livesies #newsies 1992 #92sies #ralbert #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #trans jack kelly #jac writes

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uwuwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Momo, Mina, Jirou and Uraraka with a soft, affectionate girlfriend

So there wasn’t only one request for my girls here, there were like five so imma just improvise with the summary here, Basically how the girls would be like with an affectionate and cute/soft girlfriend. Ya know my bi ass has had a crush on Mina since day 1 and Momo can like step on me. I haven’t written anything for our girl squad like ever and that should be a crime. Love ya. 💖💖💖

rules

masterlist

warnings: fluff

Momo Yaoyorozu

-Soft girl herself.

-Although she is a straight up dom, her soft girly and flustered side comes out while you two spend time together.

-She loves your clothes, will literally have a stroke if she sees you in a soft baby pink outfits.

-You look extra cute and soft and fluffy and oh so kissable.

-Your bubbly personality scares her insecurities away.

-Like if she starts doubting herself while you’re around you mind go into killer mode and roundhouse her ass for talking bad about herself.

-She is really impressed by your emotional switch.

-I mean she physically sees you being all lovey dovey with her and your friends, the sweetest brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced this earth and the moment Mineta opens his mouth to say some shit your aura changes.

-You can almost see the darkness that surrounds you while the grape talks.

-A savage.

-Although you are a really feminine individual no one should dare underestimate you.

-She becomes an extra proud girlfriend when she sees you kick some Bakugou ass because he called you a girly extra.

-Low key scared of your berserk mode but she loves you.

-Soft dates.

-She knows you love colorful flowers and you are generally really closely connected with nature so dates to the park or to the cherry blossoms during spring are necessary.

-Her family loves you.

-They welcomed you with open arms the very first time you stepped in their home as Momo’s friend.

-Her mom could see how much her daughter liked you and she shipped it.

-Her and Mina are your number 1 stans.

-Expect to be spoiled to death.

-You glance at a dress while you two are out on a date?

-Its in your closet the very next day.

-You bake for her and she falls even deeper in love with you.

-She’s weak for your cakes and more often than not she will sneak some into her room.

-Your cuddling powers are out of this world.

-She will come to your dorm after a long day and just lose herself in your embrace.

-She only sleeps in your room if you ask her to stay the night.

-Despite how tired she may be she will pick herself up and drag her feet to her room.

-All in all a wholesome relationship.

-Soft babiesss

Mina Ashido

-Ah yes my wife.

-I’m a freaking simp for her.

-Crack heads.

-Periodt.

-She loves your soft girly aesthetic and even tries to copy your style so you could be matching girlfriends.

-The pink becomes too much though so she settles for different colors.

-You propose white and pale green.

-She takes your advice and goes out the very same day for shopping.

-Dragging you, Jirou, Sero and Denki along.

-Your friend group is fed up with how clingy she could be.

-Like legit she will hang from your arm constantly and will whine if you have to leave her behind because reasons.

-Bakugou is this close ( -><-) to blasting her into the next dimension.

-She is a scaredy cat and jumps at the smallest sound.

-You take that in your advantage and take up the rule as the knight in shining armor.

-Movie nights are usually horror nights for the two of you and you always puff up your chest in an attempt to appear tough.

-The pink accessories kinda ruin it though.

-She finds it funny how you talk about beating someone’s ass while you are wearing a unicorn onesie.

-She has a matching one though so sh isn’t one to talk.

-Just like Momo she is scarred of your berserk mode.

-Not scarred for her life but for the rest of the class.

-And god forbid Mineta says something about her.

-She can see the raging flames growing around you as he continues to go on about how hot it must be to be sandwiched between you two.

-She has to hold you back from bashing his face in.

-Although if he pushes it too much she lets you go and mayhem ensues.

-She really enjoys your cooking.

-Always present when you are baking for two reasons.

- A) to eat some of the batter because its delicious.

- B) to tease you and make a mess.

-She tried cooking along side you once but it was a disaster.

-Her excuse was that you were too pretty so you distracted her.

-She used salt instead of sugar.

-��“They’re both white baby!!”

- “So is cocaine you dummy.”

- “We have cocaine?”

-Face palm.

-She won’t leave your room if you begin to cuddle.

-Begin is a strong word considering she won’t allow you to let her go.

-So continue suits this situation more.

-She doesn’t care how you two cuddle as long as she has you in her arms or vice versa.

-Wrapping her arms around your waist while you study, placing you in her lap while she games with Sero, laying you on top of her so you can fall asleep after a long day or simply holding your hand.

-She just wants to feel close to you.

-The closer the better.

-Says I love you at least three times a day.

-I want my Mina!!!!

Jirou Kyouka

-Music girlfriends.

-She has a whole song dedicated to you.

-She even sang it during the UA festival.

-You are really into lofi music and really soft, fluffy songs so she makes you a playlist with her favorite lofi songs.

-She loves when you hum along with her.

-She knows you have a good voice but since you don’t feel comfortable singing she doesn’t push it.

-Stands there and sways along with the rhythm.

-Swears that when you do sing you become an angel on earth.

-Blinding brightness.

-Finds it funny how your aesthetics collide.

-There you are the softy pink fairy full of flowers and sunshine.

-And next to you stands Jirou, her dark clothes making a big contrast to your baby pink skirt.

-You adore the difference and make it your mission to dress as brightly as possible making the difference stand out even more.

-You make her bentos like daily.

-Really appreciates it.

-She doesn’t have to wait for lunch.

-Plus your cooking is wow.

-She doesn’t really like shopping but will come with you if you want her to.

-Any time spent with you is enough for her.

-She spends most of her time at the guitar store lol.

-You bought her a new guitar for her birthday and you made her cry.

-It had her initials on it too.

-You walk to class together every morning and go back to the dorms holding hands.

-Says a sweet little I love you when you part ways for your training.

-Scared for her life when you get mad.

-That sinister smile that spreads across your face when you hear Mineta say something about her boobs is the scariest sight in the whole world.

-Screw Shigaraki.

-You can be the new master of evil with that smile.

-You are not violent though so she doesn’t have to hold you back... physically.

-Your words can be true venom.

-She has to clam you down before you make Mineta cry.

-Could kill for your cuddles.

-Doesn’t like to admit it but she really loves being the little spoon and would just nudge you without speaking.

-You of course get the message and hug your girl.

-She is surprised by how strong you are.

-You can lift her while she clinges to your front or back like she weighs nothing.

-Walks around with Jirou wrapped around your torso like a koala.

-She loves it, you love it everyone else finds it kinda weird when they spot you but who cares?

-Spends the night in your dorm regularly.

-She doesn’t even ask she just falls asleep in your bed, taking all the space and making you squeeze between the wall and her.

-Lovely little sweethearts.

Uraraka Ochako

-Um you are being soft together.

-Soft girlfriends™.

-You share clothes all the time since your aesthetics kinda match.

-You two can be demons if provoked.

-A third party has to intervene if someone insults you and you go into protective mode.

-You both get that dark look in your eyes as you stare down at Mineta.

-Really she’ll just through him up into the sky and you’ll use your quirk to send him to America.

-Deku and Iida protect the class from you.

-In general though, when you aren’t being feral beasts sworn to protect the innocent, you are two little angels.

-Your soft aesthetic completes her perfectly and your caring nature goes hand in hand with her mom-friend tendencies.

-Caring girlfriends.

-You babysit Deku together and take care of him when he starts breaking...everything.

-She really likes training with you.

-She finds it fun and oh so attractive when you are coming at her.

-May have a small kink right there.

-Power play maybe......

-Cooking.Dates!!!!!

-She likes to cook so when she found out that you are amazing in the kitchen she was hooked.

-You might spend hours and hours just baking sweets and then passing them around the dorms.

-Like Momo she only stays the night if you ask her or mention having a sleepover.

-Otherwise she will gather her stuff and go back to her room.

-Cuddles cuddles cuddles.

-You are obsessed.

-She is so soft to the touch and you fall asleep instantly.

-She loves it when you fall asleep on her.

-You’re like her wittle baby.

-Holding hands is a must wherever you are.

-Walking to class? linked pinkies.

-Out on a date? Intertwined fingers.

-Hanging out in the common room watching a movie with the rest of the class? Linked elbows.

-Chilling in your dorm? An arm around her shoulder.

-Really touchy in general.

-Not too touchy though because she respects the others around you.

-Plus you are friends with Iida.

-He will push you apart if he sees you remotely kissing her cheek.

-Class 1-A’s favorite couple.

-So freaking cute omggggg.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez

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op-peccatori · 5 years ago

Text

Selenophile (M) | IkeVamp Comte

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain/Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+/NSFW

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You’re just a girl who fell in love with the moon, and got lucky enough to have him love you back.

a/n: Always thought Leonardo would be my first, and then Faa happened (~˘▾˘)~ All those Daddy Comte conversations sent a hoe tumbling into love. Also told myself this was going to be short and sweet, and in doing so, played myself. Sorry about that.

Also, for Thirst Purposes, we’re going to believe that Comte can bite her without turning her.

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, vaginal and oral sex, mentions of blood due to vampire bite, this is my love letter to Daddy Comte, pretend im v romantic, also another episode where I had fun with online translators French speakers please don’t kill me

Selenophile (n.) a person who loves the moon.

“Here’s the next stack, and please, try to finish them before dinner?”

Collecting the last of the stray envelopes on the desk, you jog them and place the stack in one corner. Narrowed, aurum eyes watch you over the top of a letter. “These aren’t quite as urgent, so you can have a look at them later.”

“Mm,” the Count sighs into his cup for the fifth time, no doubt waiting for you to turn around to see what’s got him so down. Your eyes drift to the ostentatious bouquet of roses in the corner of the room, a soft, blush pink this time, before you squint at the seal on the last envelope. Placing it on top of the pile in front of him, you smile down at his pursed lips and pleading eyes.

You know the gentlemanly persona is just one of the many facets of the Count’s personality, and it seems to be the one he chooses to adopt when amongst company. Your relationship thus far has been nothing short of an adventure, complete with adversaries and sacrifices, and a man that can take your breath away with just one little smile.

He loves, and lives to spoil you. He delights in drawing you into his arms and kissing you as he stealthily clasps delicate necklaces around your neck and slips bracelets set with sparkling gems onto your wrists. It still makes you uncomfortable at times, but the way his eyes shine when he admires the way they rest against your skin, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of his lips–it kills any real motivation to protest.

And when he undresses you, with a soft-spoken request to keep the jewellery on, you’re hard-pressed to find any real reason to object. It’s all part of his favourite evening game; with you completely bare, wearing just the priceless trinkets he’s picked out for you. His seat of preference is the armchair he pulls up to the front of the bed, from where he calls out his requests for you. You can say no, you’re expected to tell him if anything makes you uncomfortable, but when he tells you to spread your legs a little more, to finger yourself a skosh slower, nearly panting as the smell of your arousal–all you feel is hot, dizzying lust.

To see the wild lust lurking beneath that noble veneer, to open your eyes, trembling through the aftershocks of an orgasm, and see the sheer hunger in his face as he strokes his cock. The way his fangs sink into you speaks of rapidly fraying control, sending agonizing ecstasy pumping through you as he makes you come again.

You enjoy teasing him. It’s a dangerous game to play in front of the ever-observant residents, especially a certain author who would love nothing more than to see you seduce their sire. You had nearly gotten caught just once, when he had had enough of your games.

A brush of your fingers, over his shoulder. A stroke of your thumb over his knuckles, and if you were feeling bold, weaving your fingers through his hair. A lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth and feel the air between you grow heavy. Just a quick pet at the nape of his neck and pulling away before he could lean into your touch.

He always catches on almost right away, and gives you serene smile in response, a gentle warning. Only once had his patience spun out of his control and he pinned you to a bookshelf in the library, slipping a hand under your dress as he crushed his mouth to yours, hissing when he discovered the lack of a barrier between your legs.

You were sure he would have taken you right there if not for the sudden, loud whistling of a jaunty tune–a hint that you weren’t alone in the library. Still, he had considered it for a moment. You could tell by the look on his face–all he had to do was make sure you stayed quiet.

But then Leonardo started singing, completely off-key and almost insistently, as if warning him off. It was the confused whispers from Isaac, no doubt wondering if Leonardo had lost his mind, that finally had your beau stepping away.

Even now, as you pour him his afternoon tea, you can feel his eyes doing a full sweep of your figure, longing and wondering. He’d been away on business for the past two weeks and you’ve missed him terribly. He had only gotten back yesterday, and you’ve somehow had your hands full with errands and tasks for the residents and no time to spend in his arms.

Although, if you must be perfectly honest, you have had a little fun leaving him with affectionate kisses and tender whispers before you rush off to attend to the next task.

“How is your day going, ma chérie?” he asks, accepting the cup with a soft smile.

“Well enough, I’d say. Sebas is going to teach me how to make coq au vin, so please look forward to that!” you inform him, stars in your eyes. You pretend not to notice the way his smile grows just a tad strained, no doubt at the realization that you’ll have your plate full today as well.

“I can’t wait to try it.” His sincerity is genuine, though, and you have to restrain yourself from climbing into his lap, striding over to the door instead. “Darling?”

You turn back to see him hesitating, searching your face for something before sinking back into his armchair.

“Have a wonderful day.”

There’s hunger in his eyes and your heart pounds within its cage.

“You too. I love you,” you add, unable to help it, and you’re glad you did because of the tiny smile curling along his mouth as he echoes the words back at you.

This waiting game can’t go on much longer. He hasn’t lost his composure the way you had secretly hoped to see, but it seems that his patience is running out.

You rarely find chances to spend together during the day, and today is no different. Dinner takes up much of your time, and after you find yourself swept up in conversation with Napoleon and Isaac, cleaning up takes more time than you had hoped.

As Sebastian shares what he had discovered about Napoleon’s sparring preferences, while you dissolve into helpless giggles at his enthusiastic reenactment as you scrub the dishes, the Count stops by for more tea.

“Ah, still here? It’s quite late, you must be tired.” He watches over the rim of his teacup as you study at a plate, before wiping at a barely-visible smudge.

“We’re nearly done, Sir. Not to worry though, it’s always fun when we work together,” your companion assures him, and you shoot him a quick grin.

“That’s right. And we do make a great time, don’t we?” You raise your hand, and with a half-hearted roll of his eyes, Sebastian smacks his palm against yours.

“I suppose we do.”

You turn to Comte just in time to catch his small smile, and your own fades slightly as he turns to leave with a low, murmured goodnight.

Even as you hurry through your bath, rushing to your room to change and don a thin robe, the hint of melancholy in his smile stays with you and apprehension courses through your veins.

It wasn’t quite jealousy. It’s tempting to play that game, but usually, you avoiding it. He’s a gentle, benevolent man, but the Count does not wear jealousy well. Thankfully, the only resident you run into on your way to his room is Vincent, who asks no questions, only wishing you a pleasant night with a knowing smile.

His chambers are empty and you find him standing in the balcony instead, the summer evening pleasant and soothing on your skin as you step out. His head is tilted back, and you realize he seems to be studying the night sky. With the soft, shimmering moonlight eager to paint him in its subtle tones, there’s an ethereal glow beneath his skin.

He shines brighter in the sunlight, but in this moment he truly looks like one untouched by the grasping hands of death in any of its forms, blessed by Selene herself or perhaps, she chose another form, one that is surely far more beautiful than any other. You wonder if that makes you Endymion, the spellbound mortal to his smitten immortal, desperate to do whatever it takes so you never leave his side, destined to be together forever–but only in your dreams.

“Come join me, ma chérie.” He sounds almost distracted, and curiosity bubbles up as you step up next to him.

He’s more underdressed than you’ve ever seen him outside his room; clad only in his white shirt and slim pants. He always appears to be svelte, but with the soft fabric stretching taut over his shoulders, clinging to his narrow waist, you can only try to keep your eyes off his backside. An unbuttoned collar reveals a slender neck, his tie hanging loosely over his chest, his sleeves rolled up to his toned forearms, a glass of half-finished blanc in one hand.

He doesn’t look away from the sky, staring at the stars as if they hold the answer to all his questions. You choose to look at the moon while it observes the stars, studying him quietly, wanting to get closer before thinking better of it and coming to a halt, waiting for him to gather his thoughts.

Always out of reach, but always returning to you.

Or perhaps you’re the moonflower instead. Yearning for the light, for it to find you. With its quiet, yet all-consuming love; too bright for you at times, but even if you close your eyes you know its there, its soft light embracing you, giving itself over to you and sinking into your bones, its love unchanging. You thrive in his arms, blooming to life at his touch, the marks left on your skin always fading but you’re content to keep the one left on your heart, a quiet claiming.

He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, caramel bangs falling haphazardly over his forehead, before turning to you with a rueful smile that breaks you out of your musing. He finishes his drink with one last sip and sets the glass down to the side, on top of the balustrade.

“Forgive me, darling. I’m feeling a little out of sorts tonight.”

The muted atmosphere falls away as he turns his back on the sky to look at you, and you wonder if the stars think him foolish for it.

“Anything I can help with?” You take his hand in yours, clasping it between your palms and watch as a hint of mischief upturns his lips. And you realize it doesn’t matter if all the planets in the sky call you fools, as long as he never stops smiling at you.

“Perhaps. All day, I feel as if my most precious, mon trésor, has been a tad elusive.” He reaches out to tuck an errant lock of your ear behind your ear, his finger trailing down the length of your jaw as you tilt your head, adopting a thoughtful look.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Not at all,” he agrees, assuming a downcast expression, although his eyes still glint with purpose. “Every time I reach for her, she slips right through my fingers, leaving with me nothing but the memory of her warmth.”

“Oh, but that’s dreadful,” you gasp, holding his hand up to your chest. “What fool would try to elude you?”

He smiles a little, leaning in conspiratorially, his mouth ghosting the shell of your ear. You can barely keep from smiling as your stomach clenches in your anticipation.

“One who takes joy in teasing her poor, desperate lover,” he breathes, winding an arm around your waist as you try to slip away, your palms braced against his firm chest. “All day, she smiles at me, and with every smile I’m left wanting nothing more than to kneel before her and take everything she chooses to give me.”

His next breath leaves him on a shudder as you turn your head, your lips skimming the length of his jaw.

“With a man like you, is there really ever a choice? You make a woman want to give you everything she has.”

His smile is truer as he kisses the tip of your nose, while the hand on your hip inches lower. His eyes are bright, almost glowing and you’re struck mute as you watch his long lashes flutter. “As I should. After all, when a woman holds the power to take her lovesick fool apart with a smile, the fool can only try to aim for the same.”

“If this fool tries anymore, there won’t be anything left to take.”

“And, perhaps, then I’ll stop fearing her distance.” His lips trace the length of your neck, his nose pressing to your skin as he inhales deeply. “And the fear of her being ripped from my arms will fade.”

You press your lips to his temples, love and sadness tight leashes around your heart. “Then I suppose I’ll keep giving you everything I have.”

His palm slides further down to cup the swell of your rear. “Your love?”

You kiss his cheek. “You have it.”

His licks at the pulse point on your neck, and you tremble in his grasp. “Your body?”

“Yours.” A gasp leaves you when he sucks at the skin harshly, satisfied at the mark blooming to life. There’s a scrape of something sharp against soft flesh, and your knees grow weaker when you realize it’s the sharp-edged tip of a fang.

“Your happiness?” He tugs at the sash holding your robe together, loosening it to reveal your underthings. Brimming with his desire, his eyes are molten gold as they bore into yours.

“With you.” He kisses you, gentle and deep. Your hands meet at the nape of his neck, tugging him down so you can slip your tongue into his mouth. A low noise of protest escapes you as he pulls away to kiss his way up to your ear.

“And yet, you’ve been denying us both the pleasure of each other’s company.” He nips at the lobe of your ear, squeezing your ass gently, his tone dipping into something sly as he continues. “Then I see you laughing without a care with Sebastian. I...I cannot help but wonder if I’ve robbed you of the happiness you deserve.”

You can’t help the quick roll of your eyes. “Any happiness I deserve is the kind I want.” Your fist the hair at the back of his head, tugging it back to look him in the eyes. They waver in the face of your fierce affection, his lips parted as you tug harder, but you don’t back down. “And I want you.”

He sighs, but his chest quivers beneath your touch.

“Such ferocity. And no power in the world could make me give that up.” He isn’t teasing anymore, but he slips a thigh between your legs, using his grip on your ass to pull you forward. Your fingers dig into his shirt as you try not to gasp. “Ah, I’m afraid you are stuck with me.”

You run a hand through his hair as he ducks his head to pepper kisses all over your neck, and down to your collarbone.

His tongue draws slow, maddening circles over your skin. “So earlier in the kitchen...that wasn’t an attempt to drive me to jealousy?”

“I barely have to attempt, but no, it wasn’t.” You hide a sly smile in his hair. “Why, were you actually jealous?”

“I’ll admit I do find myself rather put out when I can’t have you all to myself. And knowing how deeply you’re coveted…” He pauses. “So you were playing games.” He lifts a breast from the soft fabric of your bustier, tucking the cloth underneath as he squeezes it gently. Even as your body begins to throb under his ministrations, you throw a nervous look over his shoulder to ensure nobody’s in the gardens. “And the roses you received in my absence?”

You roll your eyes, half-hearted this time, even as your heart attempts to inch its way to your throat. “A gift for you, no doubt, from your oldest friend.”

He chuckles, soft and dark, and it goes straight to your pussy “A gift for me they were not. Perhaps an attempt to entice my lady love while I was away?”

“A failed one, then. My heart is perfectly content where it is,” you retort, a pleased smile breaking across his expression before he clears his throat and looks at you seriously.

“Even so. The very thought of somebody else’s hands on you–a touch uninvited by us, that is–I will not stand for it.”

“What do you suggest we do, then?” A soft palm slips down his abdomen, and he smirks down at you.

“I have a few suggestions. Each more depraved than the previous, and none you will approve of.”

His mouth closes over a nipple, sucking harshly, and this time you do moan.

“So-somebody might hear us!” Even so, you push his thigh back to push your hips into his, your lips parting at the press of his clothed arousal between your legs.

“Good. I feel that they can all do with a reminder of who you chose. Including me.” He bites down and you’re helpless to your combined lust in the way you grind against his erection. “This should be a fact they can never forget.“

In a quick movement, he’s shifted your positions, leaving you half-sitting on the balustrade. And then he’s sinking down to his knees, urgently planting hot kisses on the inside of your thighs as he spreads them. You can’t tear your eyes away from the entrance to the balcony, afraid that someone will walk in.

A soft click catches your attention and, incredulous, you look down to see him looking all too pleased with himself, holding your foot up to admire a delicate anklet studded with–

“Those better not be real,” you warn, and he simply smiles at you, pressing his lips to your ankle as his other hand slides up your leg. His tongue traces the skin surrounding the jewelled band, and all the fight leaves you, not that there was much of it in the first place.

He looks happy, after all.

He pets your clothed sex, moving on too smoothly for your liking. “Sometimes, I wonder. What would they think, if they smell you on my breath?”

He pulls the barrier of your panties aside; you can barely suck in a breath before you feel his tongue, hot and deliberate as it sweeps along your glistening slit.

“My, my. You’re nearly drenched. Does making me suffer bring you this much pleasure?” he teases, smiling up at you before closing his lips around your swelling clit. Your teeth sink into your lip as you hold your voice back, but he presses his teeth to the flesh, almost biting lightly and a loud cry forces its way out. Your hands are wrapped around the surface of the railing, knuckles white with strain, and with each second he spends sucking at your bundle of nerves your moans get frustratingly louder. “Good girl, let me hear you.”

You freeze when voices from the garden reach your straining ears. His tongue pushes past your entrance.

He won’t stop.

You can feel it building in you, the slow, familiar sweep of pleasure ready to greet you, and you know you don’t really want the others to hear you scream as you come. Your thoughts begin to cloud over, and you have to act.

“Please?” you whimper, threading your fingers through his hair. He freezes in place. “Not here.”

He peeks up at you, groaning when he catches sight of your face, lower lip jutting out and eyes pleading with him. “Princess, how am I supposed to punish you when you make that face?”

“I’m sorry,” you say as sincerely as possible, your smile clear in your voice.

“I shouldn’t be lenient,” he mutters, kissing the skin where your thigh meets your hip. “And it’s so lovely out here.”

You reach down to cup his cheek, unwavering in the face of his pouting. It’s the Van Gogh brothers down in the gardens, and you’re sure one of them will end you if you subject his brother to the sight of the Count taking you in the balcony. “Do you really want someone to see us?”

He hums, kissing your palm. “Maybe.”

You fight to keep the grin off your face as you school your face into something thoughtful and shy. “I could...I could show you how I’ve been touching myself while you’ve been away. I’ve missed you so much, I...did it almost every day.”

He stares at you.

“You, mon coeur, are bad, bad woman.” Desire flashes, burning bright, in his eyes. “Fine, if that’s what you wish.”

You can only laugh as, before you can feign innocence, he sweeps you into his arms, tugging your robe closed as he practically sprints through the doors. His growls at the way you lick down his neck are warnings, the flash of his fangs at you arousing you more than you would have once thought possible.

“I couldn’t sleep last night, wondering if I should just give in and sneak into your room. Wake you up with a sweet kiss or with your cock in my mouth,” you whisper in his ear, sucking at his earlobe. “You always like that.”

“___,” he warns, even as his grip tightens. “I’m not joking, my love. Say another word and you’ll live to regret it.”

You nod solemnly. He looks satisfied as you grow closer to his chambers. Just as the doors are in sight, you catch his attention with a quick oh!

“I used the hairbrush you gave me once. Just a little bit–”

He kicks the doors open and tosses you on the bed, striding back to slam them shut. There’s that dark, unforgiving sort of lust in his eyes and it’s exactly what you’ve been craving. You slip your robe off your shoulders as his thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, leaning over you to get them off as you pull the bustier over your head.

“On your back. Spread your legs, you know what to do. I want you ready for me.” He brushes your hair away from your forehead. “And darling–you will not come.”

Your fingers pause in their light stroking.

“Comte?”

“I know you heard me. Your first for the night will be with me. Allow me this, please.” He runs a warm palm up the length of your leg, and to your slight surprise, he takes a seat next to you instead. “Go on, show me.”

You’re inexplicably nervous at first, with him looming over you, but with the way his hands glide over every inch of your skin, tender yet possessive, and his mouth sampling wherever it pleases–it doesn’t take long before your hips are jerking up into your hand. His fingers caress your soft breasts, tugging at the pebbled peaks, sucking until they appear nearly swollen.

You peek up at him, catching the slight bob of his throat as he looks at the fingers sinking into your heat. You don’t think twice before slipping them out and holding them up to his mouth, and he takes them into his mouth with a soft groan and you take this wonderful opportunity to peek at the tent at the front of his pants.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he says, but doesn’t stop licking until your skin is free of your slick.

“You just looked so hungry, I couldn’t help it.” He doesn’t argue and doesn’t fight you when you pull him down next to you. He just watches you, fervent and patient, breath growing heavier as you unbutton his shirt before shifting your attention to his pants, tugging them down his toned thighs, smiling at the wet spot in his silk underpants before you help him pull them off.

His hips jerk up when your tongue circles his nipples, his hands digging into the sheets as you lick a warm path across his collarbone, a choked groan leaving him when your hand sneaks past his neglected cock to cup his balls. But as you’d suspected, his patience is nowhere to be found tonight as he groans and yanks you up into a torrid kiss.

“I thought you were going to punish me,” you manage to ask in between his heated kisses, hot jolts of arousal sparking through you at his weak moans as you stroke his cock, spreading his slick along the length.

“Later,” he mumbles, dragging his tongue along your jaw, his abdomen taut as he twists under your touch. “Later. I need you.”

He sits up, his tongue still licking into your mouth, and his hands are everywhere. On the nape of your neck, down your spine, digging into your waist, squeezing your ass. Urgent, needy sounds escape his mouth and send your blood pumping through you.

It’s one of those nights.

You hold him close, even as he moans at the slow rut of your hips against his, your dripping entrance sliding over his length and back, and his fingers dig into your skin as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, lips never too far from yours.

There are times when he loves a slow, unhurried seduction, to woo you and take his time pampering you. And there are times when he all he needs is to lose himself in your heat, needs you to peel back his carefully crafted layers and dig into the man underneath, to pull him out and hold him to your chest. This man who loses his composure, who throws his head back on a near-silent moan as you sink onto his length, who clings to you as you begin a quick, harsh tempo.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice breaking, spine arching when he slips in deeper. “I’ve got you.”

He holds on to your hips when you falter, stopping you from rising up and keeping his cock deep in you. “Ma moité. If I could, I would stay here forever. I would keep you in my bed, bury myself in you and never move again.”

“Fu-,” you gasp as he grinds deeper, as if trying to gain access to your very soul, to get his hands on what makes you you and hoard it for himself. He thrusts up, his grip on your hips helping you move against him, forcing you harder onto his cock.

“Mm. Je t'aime et je t'aimerai pour toujours.” You shudder as his honeyed tone roughens into a rumble. He kisses you, hard and fast, and your mind can’t muster up a coherent thought as he bounces you in his lap.

Comte stops to rise to his knees and press you into the bed, hooking your legs around his waist. He continues to push deeper, with his cock and his body, until your legs are bent, thighs nearly touching your sides.

“Hold on tight, darling.”

You’re going to need tomorrow off, you realize in a distant part of your mind as he rears back to slam his hips into yours. Your head crashes back into the plush mattress, muscles straining as you try to meet his thrusts. The refined persona sheds completely and his fangs slip out, and your breath catches in your throat, your cunt clenching tight in the face of the other side of him. His hair is in complete disarray, falling wildly around him, his eyes are all greed and lust, but his hands are gentle as they slip into yours and pin them above your head.

“You’re so beautiful. So bright,” he murmurs, pressing rough kisses over your breasts, groaning at the taste of your skin. And you can only laugh, at this moon turned man kissing his devotion onto your skin when you’re burning inside out with desire and elation, when you’ve managed to draw the moon down into your arms and hold him in your arms.

“I love you,” you sob, trembling with the force of his thrusts and the ardour in his gaze. The anklet jiggles where it hangs over your ankle. You drop your head back, baring your throat to him and you can feel him struggle with his overwhelming need as he whines low in his throat and leans in.

“And I love you.”

His fangs graze your skin ever so lightly even as he pounds into you, and with one last thought of how there probably hadn’t been any point in retreating to the bedroom, you scream as his fangs break through the barrier of your skin. One of his hands slips between your legs, pressing insistently.

“My name, ma chérie. Say my name.”

It leaves you on a broken moan as you come hard around him, your walls squeezing him frantically, and his hips stutter as he continues to suck greedily, his sinful moans muffled by your skin. You can’t stop trembling as he pumps himself into you, mind-numbing pleasure stealing your mind away. His mouth leaves your skin just as he loses control, a warmth filling your trembling sex as you watch him swallow dazedly.

His pupils are blown almost completely wide as his licks around the edges of his lips, hips slowing to a stop as you both look at each other, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat. His blinks rapidly at the taste of your blood, looking half-intoxicated, eyes raking over your flushed skin and wild hair.

“...are you alright?” he asks gently, and you can’t quite speak just yet, nodding mutely in response. He licks the puncture wound clean, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up, shuffling around the bed until he relaxes back into the pillows with you clinging to him, his softening length still buried in you. “Could we stay like this for a while?”

“Mm. Yes, please,” you finally mumble, and he holds you tighter, smoothing his hand up and down your back. “Feels nice.”

He laughs softly, and you muster up all your strength to shift up and kiss him straight on the mouth, the taste of copper strong on your tongue. You brush past it insistently, tangling your tongue with his as you swallow his soft noises. He keeps you there, breath mingling, smiling fondly as you fight to keep your eyes open, your skin pleasantly warm against his.

His skin is bright with the afterglow, every line of his face relaxed, and you marvel at how unguarded he looks right now. Even now, moonlight falls in through the windows, trying to reach him, but he’s content to kiss the tip of your nose with a soft mwah, repeating it despite your complaints about sweat. You return it, stretching up to reach his nose, and it turns into a swift exchange of kisses until you’re both smiling like complete fools.

“...Did you really use the hairbrush?” He sighs softly, tucking your head under his chin. “I would love to see that, but I can always get you better toys.”

Your responding snort is more amused than disgruntled. “Would that include ones I can use on you?”

He’s quiet for a moment, before pressing his slow smile into your hair, the rise and fall of his chest steady under your cheek.

“Mm. Anything you want.”

Translations:

ma chérie: my darling

mon trésor: my treasure

Mon moité: my (other/better) half

Je t'aime et je t'aimerai pour toujours: I love you and I will always love you/I will love you forever

ending note bc I can’t shut up: the moon was so gorgeous last night, I actually stepped out to get a better look. It seemed to have an almost golden tint to it, which made me think ‘Ah, yes. Comte.’ And then I rushed back in. Yes I’m that b*tch. Romance, baby. its 6 am i havent slept

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire comte #le comte de saint germain #ikevam comte #will i ever stop rambling nervously in my posts #a question for the universe #ok i've agonized long enough #im posting and going to bed #IM DONE #any editing will have to wait till i wake up #if i f*cked up somewhere...pm me plz #ikevamp #ikevam

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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The heart which is love

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Reader, Sigurd/Margrethe

Summary: One of the endings for The Holly and the Ivy, it makes no sense on its own, so I suggest you read that first ;)

Word Count: 700

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, passing mentions of abusive relationships (not involving any of the relationsips in the tag btw), angst, my poor attempt at holiday fics or holiday spirit.

A/N:Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this piece, and that you like this ending! Love you! <3

Title is from Ada V. Hendricks’ works, that you can find here

Your hands are moving excitedly as you tell Helga some story, your eyes bright and voice adorably animated.

But Ivar’s eyes stay on your hands. Your left hand, specifically.

Your hand adorned with a ring, his ring.

You’d argue, and for once he’d agree, that in the year or so you’ve been able to be openly together Ivar has developed an obsession with your hands. He is always either holding yours, playing with your fingers, pressing light kisses over the back of it. Even when you can exist in the bubble that is just the two of you, he still looks for your hand in the morning or dead of night; he still makes sure he feels the cold touch of your ring on his skin when he’s making love to you, or, his own personal favorite, intertwines your fingers with his own so he can feel the promise you made to him on his hand, and your eyes, always so soft and loving and perfect, on his own.

There’s something about seeing his ring on your finger, especially after so long having to see someone else’s, that gets to him, even after almost a year. It is a reassurance that he didn’t make this up on his head, it is a promise that you’ll spend the rest of your lives together, it is the reminder of what, up until then, was the happiest night of his life.

Ever since, disgustingly corny as it sounds, Ivar finds you make him the happiest he has been every day. He hopes he does the same for you, and you never fail to reassure him that he does.

So, because he wants to and, more importantly, because he can, he reaches out and grabs your hand with his own.

You offer a sweet smile his way, and continue your conversation with Helga, leaving him to look down at your dainty hand holding onto his, and absently twirl your engagement ring.

Ivar has never been as terrified as he was the night he asked you to marry him, to choose him. He chose the ring -the ring you now wear proudly on your hand, he reminds himself- long before he asked you. Planned for months on how to make it work without hurting your reputation, negotiated with his father and went to his mother for help, for counsel.

And when he had to look you in the eye and ask you to choose him, ask you to take a chance on him, on the two of you; he realized with dawning fear what he was asking out of you. A sane woman, or, according to your own words when he tells you this very thing, a woman not so in love with him; would have said no.

It was a gamble, he knows it, but thanks to the Gods, maybe, or the fact that for two people so opposite you complement each other so well; it resulted in his favor.

Jumping into a marriage -although it still remains just an engagement- with someone you’ve never been with outside of the shadows of a forbidden relationship is something that Ivar is frankly surprised worked out as well as he did.

Even now, even when he has you in his arms and has your love and your smiles and your touch and your kiss, Ivar still feels that irrational fear that he will see in your eyes the same resentment, the same disdain, he sees in his parents’ eyes when they look at each other.

Helga stands up from her place by the hearth, leaving you two alone with the promise she will find Floki and return.

Your free hand traces softly over Ivar’s cheek, bringing his attention to you with soft touches. His eyes focus on you, and on your smile, and on the love that shines in your eyes; and he finds himself smiling back.

Leaning down to capture your mouth on his, he squeezes your hand in his, and hopes that in two days, on Christmas day, you can say yes once again when he proposes.

Because he will, giving you both the memory of a proposal that is not tainted with fear and desperation. A thin ring to accompany the one you already wear, and the promise that marrying you is his choice, just like he wishes to know it is still yours.

____

Thank you for reading!! What do you think? Are you happy with the ending? Would love to hear from you!

In case you wanted to know what lies on the road not taken...

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

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obae-me · 4 years ago

Text

Beneath Still Waters- CH 1

Miracle Meeting

Word count: 3600

Summary: It’s the first of many strange meetings you’ve yet to come across. As you feel you’ve hit rock bottom, someone comes along to give you an opportunity. Feeling like you have no other choice, you pack a bag and head to a town known as Old Midev, the place where your adventures will soon begin.

Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader, I do not endorse always following the advice of a stranger, but for trope purposes, it’s fun.

They say that despite the appearance of calm surfaces, you should always be aware of the danger of currents churning just beneath them. There’s a point people warn you about, for once you drift too far from shore, there’s a good chance you’ll never be able to come back, even for all your fights and struggles. The best thing for you to do at that point is move with the flow, all the better to keep your head above water. Is that what your life had come to at this point? Had you been swept along by unseen forces, working to barely keep afloat?

A little raindrop made its way down the glass pane, weaving and shifting past other stagnant dots of moisture. The trail it left formed small beads before it drifted down too far, disappearing from view. The locomotive ticked and churned along its path, unaffected by the storm outside. You sighed, changing your posture after having sat in your current one too long. Everything in your body was stiff, your muscles were sore, but most of all you were undeniably nervous. Was this a mistake? You wondered. Had it been too good to be true? But at this point...was there a better alternative? In all honesty, your life was at a low point. A very low point. Due to circumstances beyond your control, you’d lost your job, been told you had to find a new place to live by the next month, and finding any sort of stability financially, mentally, or otherwise seemed nigh on impossible.

That was, till about two days ago. Trying to scrounge up any semblance of peace, you’d taken a trip to a local park. Disheveled, heartbroken, you sat on a bench, pondering if soon you’d have to sleep on this very seat in the near future. At that point, it seemed like a very real possibility. Little kids threw balls at each other and screamed in joy, the birds around you sang without a care. Everyone else looked happy. Everyone else didn’t seem to struggle as you did. And while it seemed silly, you couldn’t help but seem envious of everything. Envious of the adults who seemed to have everything together. Envious of the free birds. Even envious of the little flowers planted in their permanent little pots.

“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts, some worry racing through your mind, wondering if the stranger had noticed how bitterly you watched the passersby. The man was a kind looking soul; bright blue eyes, dark-toned skin, well-kept clothes, a shining smile on his attractive features. A soft breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled his ivory jacket closer around him, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, the ends of the fabric billowing behind his shoulders. Something about him struck you as otherworldly, but you couldn’t place it.

Aware of the way you looked compared to him, you scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench, straightening your own clothes in an attempt to make your hoodie and sweatpants a bit more presentable. “Uh...sure…”

As he sat down, he thanked you only to apologize right after. “I’m sorry, I just had a feeling...maybe you could use some company.” Had you really looked that pathetic? Like a wounded animal left on the side of the road and calling out for help? You refrained from making a comment, hunching your shoulders instead. The stranger tilted his head at you, then lifted his chin to observe the puffy clouds drift up above your heads. “A beautiful day,” he expressed. “Don’t you think?” Really? Out of everything that could’ve possibly happened today, a charming yet odd stranger basically asked how you thought the weather was? Was it a good day? Was today, a day you’d been handed two rejected applications, a day you’d been hunting for anyone to take you in, a day you felt as if nothing could get worse, a good day? “It doesn’t have to be a good day,” he started, speaking as if he’d directly read your thoughts, “For it to be a beautiful one.” The breath in your lungs stopped for a moment as you observed him with semi-wide eyes. How did he…? The man simply shot you a sympathetic grin. “Ah, sorry for the assumptions. It’s just, in my line of work, you tend to see a lot of people sport the same expression. I couldn’t help but notice it on you when I passed by.”

Some heat poured into your cheeks. So you had been that easy to read. A small family walked by in front of you, one of the younger children running too far ahead. Their guardians hurriedly reminded them not to go too far. Once they passed, you straightened your slouched posture, taking a deep breath. “In your line of work?”

“I’m a doctor,” he explained.

“Ah…” How much despair had he seen, how many grief-stricken people had left such an impression on him that he could simply tell how someone was feeling just by their face? Was he an empath or just observant? It doesn’t have to be a good day for it to be a beautiful one, he’d said. The leaves off the trees shone different shades of green, some shifting to warm hues in preparation for the approaching autumn, rustling under the beams of sun branching out from behind the clouds that rolled past the grey-blue sky. The air was crisp enough for jackets, but not yet cold enough for coats. You could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, the air carrying the scent from the bakery just across the street. It was...rather stunning. “I’m going to be homeless.” The truth slipped out of you before you could process even moving your lips. With it, your emotions followed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been working towards has failed. My efforts amount--they amount to nothing! I don’t even know where to go or-or what to do anymore.” A choked back sob made your voice waver. “I’m sorry...I don’t even know you, I--I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just shared all that with a stranger.” The tears slowly began to dry as you brushed them away with the back of your hand.

“Dr. Matthews,” he stated. “But you can call me Simeon.”

You blinked, sniffling a little as you glanced quizzically at him. “Huh?”

He rummaged for a few things in the confines of his pockets. With an outstretched hand, he offered you two things. One, a tissue, something you accepted with more than a little sheepishness as you dabbed the end of your nose with it. The second was a business card. It was a white and rather professional looking little paper with gold lettering. The name and title ‘Dr. Simeon Matthews’ was printed on the front, along with his email, business phone number, and website address. “Now I’m not a total stranger.” He smiled earnestly, and something about the idea of a doctor easily convinced that simply sharing a name would immediately make you acquaintances let a bubble of amusement float to the top of your mind.

“Simeon?” You repeated, and he nodded to confirm you’d gotten it right. The vowels slid past your lips. “It’s a nice name.”

He beamed at the compliment. “Thank you.” His long legs shifted and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled with an internal thought. “Tell me...have you heard of Old Midev?” You hadn’t. In fact, you couldn’t even tell what he was referring to by name alone. A book? A show? An illness? “It’s a little old town quite a ways from here, but it’s where I grew up. It’s so small most maps don’t even bother displaying it,” he chuckled. Homesickness stood out behind his eyes, his smile a lonely one. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been home...Do you like house-sitting?” His question left you stunned, and a pit formed in your stomach. You could connect the dots. Was he inferring what you thought he was?

“Simeon!” A high voice turned both your heads. A child about the age of ten or twelve was awkwardly running towards the bench with a little plastic container in his hands. Golden hair bobbed across his forehead as he stood before the man and presented the container; a little cupcake with pink frosting and pearl-like sprinkles dwelled inside. From under the kid’s blue jacket sleeves, you spotted bandages as well as a medical bracelet covering his wrists. “I managed to get one! They let me watch them make it fresh! Doesn’t it look delicious?”

“It looks amazing, Luke!” Simeon addressed the pale child. “But remember what I told you about running?”

Luke huffed and raised his nose. “I’m old enough to buy this by myself! I can handle running a little.”

“I just want to be cautious is all,” Simeon assured him. The doctor used a hand to gesture towards the kid. “This is Luke, he’s a patient of mine.” Your heart quickly sank. It explained the bracelet, why Luke looked too pale, why his bright tufts seemed so thin. Simeon noticed your face quickly drain, and he playfully ruffled Luke’s hair. “He’s been a fighter, but it’ll end up being moot if you waste all your energy running around like a rabid chihuahua!”

Luke, affronted, swatted Simeon’s hand away and fixed the stray strands. “I’m not a chihuahua!” There was fire in him yet. He pulled the cupcake box closer to his chest like he had to protect it. His sweet innocence and their wholesome dynamic let a smile curl across your face, something that hadn’t happened to you for a while. “Who’s your friend, Simeon?”

The man hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain that you two had literally just met, and your name had yet to be announced. He’d probably refrained from asking in the event it would make you uncomfortable. You drifted your sight between the two of them, the sense of unease devoid from your intuition. Usually you could trust your gut on sketchy strangers. The two of them felt warm, safe, strangely familiar, like you’d been fated to cross paths. Some faith in your humanity was restored, and as you looked at Luke, you remembered that other people were suffering too. If he could, you too could fight a little longer. With a little sigh, you let some of the heavy weight of hopelessness slide off your shoulders, and you shared your name.

And that was simply the beginning of your journey. A meeting of miracles.

Simeon had asked you again how you felt about house-sitting, and before he took off with Luke, he encouraged you to give the number on his card a call once you’d thought it over. Now here you were, on a train to this town of his, doing something potentially reckless. Old Midev...small alright. After you’d double checked Simeon’s doctorate claims, you’d searched this town. It did exist, but it took you a while to find it. For the longest time, the only result that would show up were some crackhead conspiracy posts on a mystic sea creature written by someone calling themselves The Sorcerer. There was only a lake in that town, nothing really seaworthy about it. Nothing really note-worthy about it, in fact. From the overhead map view, you could see a school, a library, a park, a gym, a grocery store, a few other scattered businesses--basically the bare minimum--and that was it. There were only about 800 people, and even that was slowly declining as residents moved away. But in that town held the potential of some support, a shelter, some hope, at least until you could get back on your own two feet.

The train buckled a bit, the speed starting to decline. You picked your head up, eyes heavy as you’d almost begun to nod off. Only now did your heart begin to pound. New people. A new environment. Would you be able to tell people you were basically someone’s charity case? That you were going to be squatting in someone’s empty home till you could sort yourself out? Groaning, you tapped your feet against the floor to get your nerves out. It took about another ten minutes before the train came to a complete stop. The luggage you’d brought with you resided in a single large suitcase in the proper compartment. Everything else you owned you had boxed up and placed in a storage unit in your old city.

If the station you stepped out onto was a testament to what the town was like, you could see that it truly lived up to the name Old Midev. The train had pulled next to the only station in town. It almost seemed as if the station itself was built before the rails, and they conveniently converted it into a station as an afterthought. It looked more like a barn than anything. A little red wooden building with rusty red walls and white trim that had begun to chip and grey with time. The platform was decorated with log benches, carved animal statues, and barrels that had been cut in half to serve as flower planters. There was a nice little overhead to keep people--and you--from standing out in open weather. Even though it was still raining, it had lessened to a light sprinkle. As you tried to move, your luggage quickly got snagged on a nail sticking out from the creaking floorboards underneath you. With a tug, you got it free. The pistons to the train hissed as they prepared to shut the doors behind you. It’s your last chance to turn around. It’ll be hard to get out of this if you stay, you told yourself. And yet you stood your ground, watching the train start to chug away.

Simeon had given you some insight into a few things before he’d so graciously purchased your ticket for you. One, he told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed. Yes, this town housed his home, and yet his work had him traveling constantly, so there was no one there to look after it. Two, his extra set of keys was in a compartment behind a wall plaque with a proverb on it. And three, a friend of his would be waiting at the station when you arrived to help take you to the house you’d be staying at. Only...you were seemingly the only living soul around. Swiveling your head to observe the area around you, you only further confirmed this. There was no one else here. No one was sitting down, no one was inside the building when you peeked in the windows. Being alone in...such an unfamiliar place...out in the middle of nowhere. Your blood started to run cold. Should you have done more background checks on Simeon? Yes, there was a website and a secretary and Luke and everything...but maybe it had all been staged! Was it all fake? Did you make a mistake? What were you even doing hopping on a train to come all the way out here?! Sure you had joked about dropping your entire life to move to a desolate place and change the way you lived, but you never thought it would be this frightening in the moment!

“Hey.” The monotone voice of someone behind you made you shout. You quickly turned, placing your suitcase in front of you in the event you needed to use it as a shield. You’d brought a self defense keychain with you and hidden it in your sleeve. Up until now, you hadn’t had to use it yet...but you would if you were desperate. There before you, occupying the space you could’ve sworn was empty, was a man; ripped jeans, dark circles under his eyes about as dark as the large sweatshirt he was wearing. Floppy purple hair with frosted ends hovered in front of his vision. He had a chain around his neck, a dirty look across his face, and a strange intense stance. You were dead. You knew it. Somehow you’d been fooled into coming here, and now you were about to be killed. “Are you the person Simeon sent?”

Oh...was this the friend Simeon had talked about? Your nerves were still on edge, but you found it a little easier to breathe. “Y-yes...are you…”

“Yeah. He sent me here to pick you up. I’m kinda late, I-” He was interrupted by his own large yawn. “I overslept. But it’s whatever.” Wasn’t it already dipping into the late afternoon? There was still some trepidation inside you, and he must’ve finally noticed your defensive stance. “Oh. Simeon told me to say ‘seraph’...I think it was the word.” Seraph had been Simeon’s little safety measure to try and ease your anxiety and to prove who to trust. It was such a random little word, you’d doubted anyone could come up with it without being told by Simeon first. Your shoulders loosened a bit. Although, still...not to stereotype...but you found it interesting that a character like Simeon would be friends with someone like...this person before you. He appeared as if he’d torn up his entire wardrobe with a set of knives and yet looked entirely comfortable about it. Like...soft-emo-core. And yet their clashing attire wasn’t what bothered you...it was Simeon’s angelic nature vs...this person’s apathetic attitude. Well, who were you to judge? Simeon just always threw more surprises at you.

“Yeah. That was the word.” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I wouldn’t know left from right here.”

His blank face managed a little laugh. “Most people don’t. Anyway, come on, my brother has the car running.” He already started walking off, not even bothered to check to make sure you were following. You muttered some curses in your head before dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, trying not to trip on the uneven platform.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, I don’t like driving,” he replied, kicking a few stray rocks as he hopped off the platform and onto an unpaved road. A large four-door red pickup truck was idling a few feet ahead. Through the darkened window, you could see another man--the brother, you pieced together--eating behind the wheel. You grimaced. Getting inside a vehicle with two people you didn’t know was exactly the sort of thing you’d been told not to ever do. The one time your escort actually looked back was the time you’d hesitated. “What,” he smirked. “You think we’re going to murder you or something?”

You stopped in your tracks. “Maybe! I don’t know you!” Your accusatory tone came out of nowhere. “You still...Simeon told me the name of the person coming to get me. You haven’t told me your name.”

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Even if he’d told you, you weren’t sure you'd fully believe him. The main factor that contributed to some trust was all thanks to the person who rolled down the window of the truck, swallowing another handful of fries. “Belphie! Why didn’t you help them with their suitcase?” The name was right. Simeon had told you the person coming to get you would’ve been called Belphie. Strange name. Much like the password, you doubted anyone would’ve just made up a name like that on the spot.

“Eh. I didn’t feel like it. It looks heavy,” Belphie admitted. You almost glared at him. What is with this guy?

The other man opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was wearing a tracksuit. Red jacket and matching crimson pants, both of which had black stripes running vertically up the sides. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, a little bright stain of some sort smudged on his chest, probably some condiment from what he’d been eating. Unlike his brother, he had bright red hair and an expressive face, although his voice shared the same consistent and unwavering deep tone like his sibling. He stepped towards you, almost giving you a heart attack when you realized just how tall and muscular he was. God help any creature that dared to upset him. When he moved his arm in your direction, you felt faint, but then he simply grasped your luggage with one hand and plucked it up from the ground, settling it gently in the bed of the truck.

He turned on his feet towards you, Belphie slinking away to get into the passenger seat of the car without even offering to help. “You’re MC, right? Simeon told us some about you.” The doctor hadn’t known you for very long, so the ‘some’ must’ve been the whole...rock bottom explanation. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “That’s my twin, Belphie.” Twins? They didn’t exactly strike you as such just on an observational standpoint, but it’s not as if twins were always identical. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

“It’s okay…” You mustered up a polite grin.

“You can call me Beel.” Beel opened one of the backdoors to the car, quickly clearing the backseat by shoving old takeout bags into one slightly bigger bag before settling it on one spot on the floor, looking a bit proud of his swift cleaning job. “Hop in, MC. Let’s bring you to Old Midev.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #human au #mostly #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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queenofwerewolves · 4 years ago

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Future Hope

chapter one - Where it all began.

We all thought the new decade would be a new fresh start, a new beginning for humanity, we were all so excited for the the arrival of 2020... and it's unknown horrors that we awaited along with it.

it started with just jokes and memes, the virus wasnt affecting us, it didnt seem like a big deal. Then it reached Italy, then the United States. In a span of three months, the entire world changed and was affected by COVID-19. Then it happened.. the attack and sudden uprising of those who had privilege, but didnt know of it's power..

it started with the Black Lives Matter Protests, but it got worst, so unhumaningly worse. People around the country and the world tried to help and stop this evil, but it wasnt enough to stop them. The White Suprimacy.

Death, despair, anguish, loss for hope... What has the world come to?

Even after two years of the incident, in the year of 2022, the same horrors from before was still going on. No one could stop them, those who tried were imprisioned or now buried six feet under, people gave up, they lost hope... Until a new reason for that hope arrived.

It started as a friendship group. Eight people of different kinds, intetrests and hobbies brought together by a common interest, which soon grew into an unbreakable bond, sharing pictures or tagging one another with a funny meme attached to it, simple acts but filled with love.. Until this group almost lost a member.

A fight was happening while she was visiting a store, it was between a simple teen wearing a pride shirt and a middle aged man, bickering and arguing issued, but no one expected the man to pull out a gun and attempt to shoot the kid... Only to miss, and shoot the beloved group friend...

She was texting her friends while it happened, only for them to not hear anything for weeks... But she finally replied, after weeks in the hospital, recovering from the shot. One of the members couldnt have it anymore, and kindly asked for everyone to create a Discord account so they could all see how their wounded friend was doing. Everyone agreed, and surprised her with a call.

Maria was her name, and she couldnt be more delighted about the surprise..

"Yo! Yooo Bitch can you see us?!" Shouted one friend from their call

"For fuck's sake Spike the woman was shot and you have to call her a bitch?!" Rudely replied another friend, who's background was dark and gloomy and had far too many halloween decorations.

Maria laughed softly. "It's OK Spooks.. Wow.. I cant believe Im seeing you all.. Just wished it wasnt at the hospital through a videochat..." She said with a soft smile.

"It is truly a concerning situation we've been dragged into.. but it brings me joy to see you alive and well Maria" Said another friend, looking a little too-well dressed in the call

"Im guessing Griff begged you all to make a Discord huh..?" Maria said, looking at the video box of young man with a concerned yet and embarrassed look.

"Queen... We were so worried..." He answered, slightly choked up. "We thought you were a goner.. When you finally texted back I..I just had to see you..!"

Queen. A nickname she never thought someone would ever call her, hell it was a title that she didnt even deserve. Until she met Griff, which started to call her that, and her other friends jumped along, she always loved that nickname.. Made her feel special...

"Seeing you all together... All for me... It makes me want to cry.. But we dont have time for me getting emocional" Maria answered, suddenly stern

"Why is that Queen? Something going on?" Answered another friend, who was sucking on a lollipop during the call, such the sweet tooth she is.

Maria smiled. "No Muffin.. I simply have a proposal for you all.. And I hope you all are in with me...Because Im getting pretty sick of the way things are in this shit world.."

And so was born a new hope, a group of fighters that are indignified about the way things are, and how they almost took their friend away.

After healing completly at the hospital, they all met in person for the first time. Maria told them that they way they are now wont be enough to make a change to the world, but she knew how to fix that. After a small walk through the woods in the park, they came through a gated area, which Maria crawled under a broken spot of the gate and the others followed, doing the same.

"Long ago" Maria started speaking. "After I moved here, I decided to explore around this park for fun. That's when I found this abandoned gate and went through the same broken piece of wall of the gate we all came through, I believe that's here can help us become better then we already are."

Spike, chewing a piece of gum sneered at her comment. "Oh sure, what is it? A wishing well?"

"Well..." She answered as they came to a stop.

In front of them was a perfectly clean, almost sparkling fountain with clean crystal water still working and flowing out of an angel's vase. The fountain was too bright and shiny, it sure as hell didnt match the rest of the area's gloomy and dark visuals..

"It's a wishing fountain!" Maria spouted out, smiling wide. But the rest werent as.. cheery as she was.

"A fucking... wishing fountain?" Spike answered. "You expect me to believe that's a real wishing fountain? If that's true then why dont you wish for this shit world to become better?"

"I tried!" Maria answered "Apperently it doesnt make big wishes like that, it only makes wishes about yourself or something very small. Like wishing your room to be clean kind of small"

"I mean.. It kinda has that magic aesthetic, I mean, that thing is impeccably clean while the rest is covered in dirt?" Kip answered, glancing at the fountain.

"I know it sounds silly but it really works, I actually did my wish already!" Maria said smiling wide

"Bullshit" Spike answered "You aint a fucking Werewolf, what makes you think we believe you actually wished to be one?"

".. Cause I didnt wished to be a Werewolf..?" Maria answered, dumbfounded. "I always said that I LIKE Werewolves, but I never wanted to be one. I wished to be good at using a scythe and knife throwing, like exceptionally good ya know?" She said excitedly. "And before you answer, YES I do have a scythe, I bought one. Dont ask where."

"So... who goes first?" The smollest of the group, Rook, asked.

"I'll go" Said Griff, pulling out a coin before Maria stopped in this tracks. "This.. Doesnt accept coins" Maria said, seeming a bit worried.

"Then what?" Griff answered back, only to shocked when Maria answered "Blood".

Before Spike could throw a fit, Maria cut him. "Just a drop! Literally! I got a needle here with me, all you gotta do is prick your hand and let the drip fall after you make a wish."

"Let's just get on with it before Spike goes crazy again" Said Blink, the tallest of the group and the one to deal with Spike's bullcrap

Griff took Maria's needle and stood in front of the fountain...And said outloud his wish..

At first he whispered his wish, as if he didnt want anyone to hear it.

"Uh.. It has to be out loud or it wont work Griff." Maria said.

"I-I said.. I wish to be a strong, masculine and really beefy Wererabbit that's really manly and buffed up!!" he shouted with a tone of embarrassment in his voice.

"A Werebunny.. Griffy?" Said Maria in disbelief. "What?! It's co- ow!!" Without looking, he pricked his hand with the needle, and let the drop of blood fall into the fountain's water, mixing along with it. The fountain suddenly shined so brightly that everyone had to cover their eyes for a brief moment before it died out.

Then.. Silence.

"... So.. Now wh-AHCK!!!" Shouted Griff, hit with a sudden shot of pain throughout his body, which made him fall on his knees as everyone backed away from him. They watched in horror as not only he grew almost three times his size, but he got much fuzzier, his ears stretched into rabbit ears, his muscles swelled and bubbled as they grew bigger, his body shifted painfully into a hybrid between man and rabbit. When he finally finished, he just collapsed on the floor, panting exaustedly.

His friends were inicially shocked, until Maria snapped out of it and rushed to his side, placing a hand on his head. "Griffy? You OK..?"

He answered, in a much gruffer, deeper voice.. "Yeah.. Yeah Im good.."

"Jesus.. It worked.. Can you stand?" She asked. Griff nodded as he slowly got up and almost knocked his head on a tree branch from how tall he was now. Everyone was looking up at him, jaws dropped in shock and awe, until..

"HOLY SHIT YOU'RE NAKED!!!" Rook shouted as she covered her eyes, running in place "MY EYES!! THEY BURN!!!"

"We.. better finish these wishes quick and get you some pants." Maria added, Griff simply nodded as he covered himself embarrassed.

One by one they did their wishes. Becoming who they wanted to be to fufill their purpose with Maria.

Spike wished for strong arm strenght, fast stamina and an aluminum bat that never breaks, and can destroy almost anything. Blink asked for a sword, the ability to parkour and jump from building to building like some kind of vigilante. Kip asked to be part cat for the heck of it and that whatever she draws will become a reality. Muffin asked to be a fairy, to bring joy because she isnt a fighter. Togekiss asked for high I.Q, the ability to see simulations of possibilities in the future and telekenisis and teleportation. Spooks asked to be like an Underworld Goddess, with the power to summon shadows and have the darkness on her command, and finally, Rook asked to be part bird and a wizard with elemental nature, and musical spells,to honour her beloved Lammy, she also wished to have a split personality to be like her favorite character, ENA.

And so the team was ready, and soon they would make a change to the world, the revolution has begun, it was time to shine..

For a Future Hope.

#Queen's Story #IT'S HERE #FINALLYYYYY #I HOPE YA'LL LIKE IT

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theskyeandsea · 5 years ago

Text

Just Medicine || Erin & Skylar

Location: Nic & Skylar’s Home

Timing: June 14th

Tagging: @corpse--diem & @theskyeandsea

Description: Concerned by their troubling conversation online, Erin comes to check in on Skylar and the answers she finds are only more alarming.

Warnings: Addiction TW

If there was one person in town Erin never thought she had to worry about, it was the very one she found herself using the speed limit as a suggestion to get to right now. God damn it, Skylar. Sweet, innocent Skylar. The same young woman who taught ASL, who helped throw a gator-theme birthday bash. The woman was a seal, for Christ’s sake. It was an unfair pedestal to put her on, Erin knew that, and felt guilty when her frustrations drew those quick-fire judgments. People slipped up, lost their footing while trying to balance their worlds on their shoulders. Seal or not, Skylar was as susceptible as anyone. She didn’t know how to help, or if she could, but she’d be there even for a night to maybe help her keep her footing. Judging by the way she spoke earlier, that was very possibly a literal predicament. And with Nic fucking off into the woods, her own worry needed an outlet. And Skylar needed someone. “Skylar!” Erin hollered, nice and loud as she banged in the door. Jabbed the doorbell a few times for good measure. “Don’t even think about ignoring me, kid! I know where you hide your spare key!”

For the past twenty four hours, Skylar had felt as though she was on cloud nine. Untouchable, nothing could stop her, nothing could hold her down. There was no pain, there wasn’t anything other than the euphoria that came with feeling completely, entirely good. The world was wonderful and bright and the sun was shining, eyeball free. Between that and her random spurts of energy that had driven her to run around in the backyard until she was dizzy, Skylar was feeling great. She’d never felt this way before. Never, ever, ever. Right now, she was lying in the middle of the living room, watching the fan whirl overhead, her eyes tracking one of the blades. Around and around and around and around and-- Skylar sat upright when she heard a loud pounding at the door. Glancing at her phone, she tilted her head. Erin? Listening closer, she nodded. Erin. Walking to the door, Skylar opened it, a dazed grin still on her face. “Hey, Erin!”

The longer Erin stood there waiting, the higher her blood pressure climbed. Tried not to think hard about why it was taking her so long to get to the damn door but it was hard when those enthusiastic, muddled messages kept replaying in her head. Then finally, footsteps. Skylar greeted her with a smile that wasn’t quite right, dark circles underlining nearly nonexistent pupils. “Skylar—“ she started but that concern returned, sharper than before as it trickled down her throat like barbed wire. Did she even remember Erin was coming over? It seemed like Skylar’s initial resistance to her company had disappeared like the rest of her good sense. “Hi,” she finally breathed out. “Can I come in?” It was framed as a question but Erin was already crossing the threshold to let herself in. There was no way she was leaving now.

Erin was standing right in front of her and then she wasn’t, she was already inside. Skylar nodded all the same, happy to let the woman inside. “Nic’s not here right now, but,” She frowned, trying to piece together things. Time was strange. It felt both incredibly fast and slow at the same time-- like every moment went for infinity, but every hour felt like a second. Which didn’t make sense, even to her. “I think I already told you that.” Shutting the door behind her, Skylar wandered back over to the couch, where Dundee was still curled up. What she really wanted to do was lie on the floor like she had been doing before, the feeling of the wood cool compared to the rug. But, instead, she sat on the couch next to Dundee, staring at the dog as it wagged its tail once at her before going back to sleep. Running her hands against the material of the couch, Skylar tilted her head at Erin. “Why are you here again? Not that I’m not happy that you’re here, it’s always nice when you are! Nic smiles a lot when you say you’re coming by. But he’s not here right now.”

All Erin could do was follow silently, observing Skylar’s sporadic train of thought—when she wasn’t veering off course or colliding with other thoughts, anyway. It was all still jumbled and worrisome, even if she was being as sweet as she always was. “Yeah, I know he’s not,” she nodded. Her eyes flickered around the large room anyway, like he’d changed his mind and come home. Part of her was hoping that he had, that she’d answer the door and see him standing there. But the moment she saw Skylar’s state, it was likely for the best. One mess at a time. Couldn’t help smiling, even briefly, at her words, dropping her gaze to stare at the floor. “I didn’t come to see him,” Erin said, take great care to speak softly as she joined her on the couch. “I came to see you.” She bit her lip, Skylar’s bloodshot eyes more vibrant ever in the better lighting. “You said you were feeling better and I just—“ she paused, shrugging. “I was hoping you could help me with something?”

As Erin continued to speak, Skylar blinked-- it was harder for her to hear, harder for her to pick up the words that she was saying. And, as she tried to focus on the woman’s lips in an attempt to lip read, she was only able to pick up bits and pieces. Not much, just little hints here and there that managed to make it through the wonderfully light feeling that had encompassed her. It felt like there were bubbles in her, like she was floating up and up and up and there was nothing that could bring her down. “Mhm! I’m better!” She said with a vigorous nod as she pieced together the last of the woman’s words. “Help you? What do you need?” She asked, wanting to do whatever she could to help Erin. She liked Erin, even if she had initially been a little creeped out to find out that she worked with dead people all the time.

Erin wasn’t entirely convinced Skylar was following what she was saying, her eyes roaming like they were a little lost when she spoke. Right. Slow it down. Ugh, this was painful. “I’m really happy that you’re so happy. Honestly, I am,” she nodded, taking her time, giving her a warmer smile. “But I gotta say, I’m not having the greatest day myself, you know? Like it’s been a really, really rough one.” Her brows narrowed in her direction, hoping Skylar was still out of it enough to roll with her impromptu plan. That part at least wasn’t a blatant lie? “I was hoping you could... show me what you did. To make yourself feel better.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “We’re friends, right? You’d help me out with something like that? Oh—just between us, too, of course,” she added, running her fingers along her lips like a zipper.

The slower Erin spoke, the harder it was for Skylar to track what she was saying. The lip movements didn’t make as much sense, the pauses made it harder for her to latch onto what was being said. But, she did her best to parse through the words. Not… greatest… rough. “Oh, no! I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, that’s awful.” She said, her head lolling back against the soft cushion of the couch as she stared up at Erin. She didn’t want Erin to have a bad day and she wanted to help! She really, really did. But, a look of confusion spread across her face at her words. “Are you hurt?” She asked, confused. Because the stuff making her feel better, it was only if she was hurting. Looking at Erin, she tilted her head. “Did someone hurt you?”

This was going to be difficult no matter which way she spliced it, huh? Erin willed her patience to persevere and worked her jaw, then nodded. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she assured her, pausing briefly as she tried to navigate a believable lie. “Yep,” she answered when it felt like she was taking too long. “I, uh—got into an argument the other day with a real jerk. You don’t know him, and I took care of it so don’t worry about that either, but he gave me a heck of a shiner.” She pointed to the very faint purpled and yellowed bruise that still lingered near her eye and down her cheek. Cringed first show, then pointed to the back of her head. “Hit my head too, been killing me ever since. So if you’ve got anything to help—I’d really appreciate it.”

As Erin showed her the marks on the side of her head, Skylar’s eyes widened in shock. “And he hit you? Does Nic know?” She asked, a thin trickle of concern managing to seep through the buoyant lightness that kept her spirits aloft, that kept her from feeling the pain that she normally would. At the other woman’s words, Skylar bit the inside of her cheek, though the gesture lacked the normal dull pressure that it usually did. The stuff Felix gave to her, it was strong. Really, really strong. How else could it have worked on her? It would probably be super bad for Erin. So she wasn’t going to show her the bliss. Nope, that would probably knock her out really bad. But, she still had a pill or two left from when she’d gotten shot by the river. “I’ve got something that could help!” She said, standing up on slightly unsteady feet before walking to her room.

Erin shook her head softly, waving off Skylar’s concern. “Nic knows. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but—I hit him back,” she assured her, the sound of the metal baseball back smacking against skull thundering in her mind. “Got him sent to a place where he can’t hurt anyone again.” She shifted slightly. Was this actually working? Hopefully she wouldn’t remember why Erin needed whatever it was that had gotten Skylar so completely fucked up in the first place. Erin was on her feet, following behind her—partially to make sure she made it to her room in one piece. But she hung back by the doorway, crossing her arms as she watched her. As glad as she was that this was actually about to work, her insides twisted at the reality here. Skylar wasn’t fucking okay. “And this helped?” She asked, peering into her room

“Oh, okay.” Skylar nodded, her concerns disappearing with the wave of Erin’s hand. If she said it was fine, if she said that the guy who hurt her was gone, then there wasn’t anything for her to worry about. As she entered her room, she made her way to her desk, opening the drawer and rummaging around among the papers, pens, and the random odds and ends that rolled around inside. Her fingers brushed against the small box Felix had sent her, that she’d taped to the underside of the desk to hide it from anyone who might try and find it. Instead of taking the box, her fingers curled around the pill bottle he’d sent her over a month ago. A few loose pills rattled around and she showed it to Erin. “I don’t know if it would be safe for you, though. It’s very, very strong. Medicine doesn’t work on me very well, so I need a lot of it.” She said, holding out the bottle.

Erin bit the inside of her lip as she eyed the pill bottle, torn between being infuriated and heartbroken right now. “I’m not taking these,” she answered honestly, grabbing the bottle. So this was it, huh? There only a few left, which made sense considering Skylar’s current state. Erin held it up before giving it a little shake at her, then met her bloodshot eyes. “And neither are you,” she added, the softness in her tone slipping, giving way to a mix of concern and disappointment. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this shit isn’t the answer. I know you feel good now but it’s temporary.” Skylar was a grown ass woman and Erin knew she wasn’t saying anything every after school special had to offer, but she had to try right? She handed the bottle back to her “I want you to toss those. Right now.”

Blinking in confusion, Skylar was too out of it to react quickly enough to stop Erin from pulling the pill bottle from her hand. Before she could wrap her head around what was going on, the bottle was back in her hand and she was staring at Erin with a confused expression on her face. “I... Why? I’ve never felt good, in my entire life. Never, ever.” She shook her head vigorously. Even if these weren’t the right pills, what she was saying about the medicine… “It’s medicine. It’s helping me. It’s helping me not feel bad and not be stuck,” Skylar pointed at her bed, “Stuck in bed all day because, because everything is too much.” And she didn’t need to change. And that was the most important thing.

Erin felt another crack in her chest give way while Skylar spoke. “Skylar…” she shook her head. “It’s not. I swear to you that it’s not. What you’re feeling, right now? It’s not real. There are other ways—better ways—to cope. I promise. I’m not just staying that either. I understand… that,” she said, gesturing to the bed now too. That heavy exhaustion that could trap a person down like a leaded blanket was a battle she knew all too well. It was hell. Turning to this was tempting on so many levels that she couldn’t blame Skylar at all for wanting that escape. But God did this ever feel a minefield. “Way better than you’d think, okay? And we can talk about all of that, as little or as much as you want.” Her eyes dropped to the bottle with the pills again. “After you flush those.”

Skylar did her best to muddle through Erin’s words. Not real? No, this was the only thing that felt real and right and good. Shaking her head, she looked at Erin, her blue eyes earnest, “I don’t think you do, though. No one really does. I hate what I am. It’s hurt me. It hurt my family, the people I care about. It still hurts me. And I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I just want,” She let out a puff of air, blowing loose strands of hair from her face, “to be normal. And this is normal!” Skylar gestured to herself. “I feel good! I love how I am! I’m happy and better like this.” She nodded with renewed vigor.

Of all the nonsense Skylar had been blabbering on about, this threw Erin for a loop. It wasn’t nonsense at all, of course, if you focused on the direction this skewed train headed toward. It was very real. And very concerning. “Because you’re a selkie?” She asked, if only just to clarify. “What’s wrong with that?” Erin had her secrets, no question, but this specifically wasn’t an area she could dole out sage advice. And unless selkies were also some sort of man eating version of a seal she wasn’t aware of, she genuinely didn’t understand. She shook her head slowly. “Skylar—there is no normal. It doesn’t exist. And if there ever was one, it’s not you doped up on painkillers. It’s temporary because it’s not you. You will crash, and you will feel even more like shit than you did before.”

“Everything’s wrong with me.” Skylar said, her voice still even and upbeat as she spoke. She’d lost everything by being what she was. Her family had cut her out of their lives entirely. She’d tried and failed to gain control over this side of her, tried to figure out how to love what she was. She’d lost Ricky, lost the one person who had reassured her that he would be there to help her figure out what it meant to be a selkie. She’d only ever failed and lost and been hurt by what she was. So, what was wrong with this? What was wrong with feeling good? Even if it was only for now… maybe she could keep it going. If she just took a little more, took a little bit to make sure that she was good, that she was okay, maybe then she’d never need to turn. Maybe she could be human. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.” She said with a blissful smile.

Skylar was convinced this was the better way and Erin was realizing nothing she said was going to penetrate the iron-clad armor of serotonin that kept her grinning like an idiot. What little energy she had was depleting fast and what Erin could do right now was make sure she didn’t do anything stupid in this state. “It’ll be okay,” she echoed with a long sigh. Everything would be okay. It had to. Nic would come home and they’d work this all out. Squids and seal self-loathing be damned. She’d accept nothing less. “Come here,” she stepped forward, a temporary defeat in her voice as she wrapped her arms around the young woman. “I happen to think you’re pretty awesome just the way you are, you know. So I’m gonna stay here tonight and hang out. That alright with you?”

When Erin reached out and pulled her into a tight hug, Skylar wasn’t sure how to react. Hadn’t she been mad at her? But now she was hugging her. Whatever confusion she had was pushed out of her mind as she leaned into the embrace, burrowing her head into the woman’s shoulders. Skylar hugged Erin back, though her limbs felt limp and rubbery as she did so. “Okay. That sounds good to me.” She said, her voice muffled. This was good. Everything was right and good. Even if the house was empty, even if Nic was nowhere to be found, even if Shiloh hadn’t messaged her in days, even if Remmy had been torn into pieces before her eyes, even if Morgan was still trying to figure out her new life as a zombie, even if Deirdre had murdered people, even if White Crest was awful and cruel and terrible… Right now, things were good. And that’s what mattered.

#p: jm #p: erin nichols #addiction tw #wickedswriting

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froggybaek · 6 years ago

Text

box - part 1 [stray kids]

♛➩ this is a reader-decision au, meaning the decisions of the majority of the readers will decide how the story flows - from beginning to end, every single decision made by you all will count. it is heavily inspired by the promised neverland.

♛➩ genre: horror, thriller, mystery

♛➩ pairing: ???

♛➩ warnings: death, gore, violence

♛➩ summary: everyone came to the orphanage at a young age. most everyone was taken into a foster home by the age of seventeen, though there was the occasional straggler who didn’t get the chance to find a family; by their eighteenth birthday, they would be sent away. no one knew what happened to them, or the children who got adopted, as neither party would write back home to the only family they ever had. everything begins to unravel, leaving those in the orphanage wondering one thing - were they ever safe?

♛➩ word count: 2.9k { will get longer, this is simply the first, most basic introduction post }

“What is this?”

“It’s the gate that connects us to the outside world, according to-”

“Didn’t he say it wasn’t safe? Are we being... protected, from something?”

“I dunno, I think he’s just making sure that we don’t try to leave before we get adopted.”

“That’s obviously not the case, you buffoon.”

Felix puffed out his freckled, melanin cheeks, vehemently turning on his heels to face the brunette with the quirked eyebrow, his skinny fingers gripping onto the spine of a leather, worn-down book. “Hey, Eric could be right, you know! Just because you aren’t sure doesn’t mean we’re wrong.”

“I’m more than aware of the faint possibility that I’m wrong - but by reasoning, I can also be correct, as I usually am.” His deadbeat comrade murmured in response, pushing himself off the trunk of the spruce tree, subsequently adding an extra inch to his otherwise shorter height. “I am the smartest one here, after all-”

“Actually, Seungmin, Jisung is the smartest of us all... somehow.” Eric reminded him quickly, the redhead wagging a finger to argue his point. Felix nodded hastily, taking a step away from the otherwise forbidden gate to throw an arm around the shoulders of his best friend.

Sure, the other kids were definitely the closest thing to family that Felix would ever get in the orphanage, but Eric and Seungmin were his two closest friends. The youngest of the trio matched his own bright, bubbly personality almost too perfectly, especially since the younger of them was incredibly outgoing and always had something to say. He wasn’t as academically bright compared to the easygoing Felix or the studious Seungmin, but there was an air of comfort and home that surrounded him. Perhaps that was why Felix felt so at ease with Eric.

A soft sigh bubbled past Seungmin’s lips. “I will never understand how Jisung can ace those exams without even batting an eyelid. No matter what I do, he’s always at the top - leaving me with second place.” He continued, though there wasn’t a single hint of bitterness in his tone, the boy pushing the bridge of his glasses farther up his nose as he spoke.

To call Seungmin dedicated was one thing, but to ever see him as anything akin to a selfish boy who only worried most about his studies? No one at the orphanage could think so lowly of the boy, who many considered their most reliable brother. To be frank, he was the one who supported everyone else’s achievements more often than anyone else, besides the professor.

“In any case, you two and Jeongin are always at the top when it comes to grades,” Felix sympathized with the grumpy brunette, reaching an arm over to playfully ruffle his normally messy hair. The freckled boy glanced over at the looming gate once more, wistfully wondering just what could be lurking on the other side. With a quick shake of his head, though, his pink lips curled into a bright smile. “Come on, the professor will be wondering where we’ve wandered off to.”

And with that, the trio turned their backs to the only possible point of contact to the outside world - not that they wanted or needed to go. They were perfectly happy at the orphanage, just as they always had been.

————————————————————————

“Just where have you three hooligans been? Dinner started ten minutes ago.” The professor questioned the three boys sternly, though his voice was hardly as gruff as it was warm and caring.

Eric spoke up first, as he always did. “Sorry, prof - we got caught up on the walk back. Minnie thought he lost his book and we had to look for it in all the bushes and grass.” The simple, harmless lie slipped past his lips like smooth honey. He had a knack for such meaningless lies, using them to get himself, as well as Felix and Seungmin, out of quite a few sticky situations where they could get in a world of trouble.

Hard brown eyes narrowed into a suspicious stare, their elder guardian parted his lips in preparation to call out Eric for his lie; he was the only one who could ever spot such a false set of words so easily. None of their other guardians compared to the professor’s sharp intuition. “Eric, you kn-”

“Guys, you’re back - oh, sorry, professor!” Lua breathed out in a rush as she poked her head around the corner of the dining hall, sending the trio of boys a slight wave. “Dinner will start to get cold soon, you three need to come and eat it soon, oh, and Somi is about to pounce on your plate, Seungmin. You got the extra slice of cake tonight, but she says if you don’t claim it in the next minute she’s gonna eat it.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen behind the glass of his spectacles in disbelief and horror. Not even bothering to say goodbye to the professor, he makes a mad dash for the dining hall, book tucked under his arm while he goes to save his food. Both Eric and Felix made eye contact with their less than amused elder, hurriedly bowing out of respect before they mimicked Seungmin’s actions and their feet began to pound against the wood floor.

Just as they make the sharp turn to enter the bustling dining hall, Felix slows down behind his eager friend. A wave of respect floods his senses as his eyes drift over the shining, polished silver plaque hanging by the entryway.

Kim Woojin - Professor of Ethics, Honorary Guardian to Mercy Garden’s Orphanage.

Professor Woojin wasn’t all that much older than Felix and the older boys who had yet to turn eighteen, truthfully. He was far younger than their previous guardian, Minseok, who ended up retiring early for whatever reason. Lua and Sunwoo had some sort of conspiracy going on in those rather... interesting minds of theirs, something about how they believed Professor Woojin was taking a youth supplement and he happened to get the job since he had a natural parental instinct.

… Felix honestly wasn’t too sure if he could ever believe that theory. He, like a majority of the sane children in the orphanage, simply assumed that the older man was just that good when it came to taking care of everyone, which - he was. Whenever the younger kids, such as Zen or Sunhee, got scrapes on their knees from a serious game of tag, the brunette haired man would kindly scoop them up in his burly arms and hum a fine tune under his breath before he cleaned the wound and bandaged them up, usually offering them a cookie afterwards.

Truth be told, Felix looked up to Professor Woojin. He would help him study for their exams, encouraging the ginger with bursts of kind words and sweet treats. Mind you Felix wasn’t one of the top three in the orphanage, but he wasn’t below average - in fact, due to the professor’s assistance, he was slowly but surely climbing the ladder to getting almost perfect scores on the exams.

“Lix, come on! I’ll eat all your food if you don’t hurry up and get in here!”

Nodding to himself, the boy shifted his admiring gaze away from the plaque and towards the dining all, quickly sauntering inside with a loud exclamation of, “Eric, don’t you dare!”

————————————————————————

“Fuck, I totally flunked that exam.” Eric groaned aloud, much to the displeasure of Seungmin, who promptly flicked an eraser at the younger’s head. With a hiss, Eric rubbed the now minuscule red spot on his cheek, sending the boy with glasses a tentative glare of annoyance and mock offense. “What? I have every right to be pissed - what if... what if my new family sees this bad grade and all the other ones... what if they think I’m too stupid to adopt?”

Everyone exchanged looks of pity over Eric’s fears, knowing very well that he usually refused to expose his own worries. If he ever actually spoke of something that happened to bother him, that meant it was serious.

“They won’t think like that, Eric,” Jeongin assured the older, flushed boy with a genuine smile, his braces sending a flash of light over the shadow on the wall of the makeshift classroom, “Professor Woojin made sure that they know literally everything about you; from your loud personality to your... lackluster grades.”

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better, Innie.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes in amusement, knowing that Eric didn’t mean his harsh, mildly patronizing words. “What I mean to say is that the family who filed to adopt you want you to be one of them because you’re you and no one else. I’m willing to bet that they’re an outgoing, adventurous kind of family with a couple of children who deserve to have a sweet big brother like yourself.” His hair bounced as he enunciated each and every word to make Eric feel better, the tiny apple-bob on the top of his black hair only helping his cause.

Felix, of course, agreed with what Jeongin had said, though he didn’t elaborate on them much past that. Just the night before, in the boys’ bedroom, he’d practically preached to his best friend, no, his other half about how much he cherished him and how much he would adore his new family. Was he sad that the person he considered his brother was leaving without him? Well... who wouldn’t be.

But Felix didn’t have the heart to express his internal grief, knowing too well that the adopted boy wouldn’t hesitate to cancel the damn adoption process himself just so he could stay by his side until they both finally turned eighteen. No, he couldn’t allow Eric to throw away such a fantastic opportunity - besides, they had promised each other in the dead of night that they would find each other one day. When Felix finally grew of age to leave the orphanage, if he wasn’t fostered or adopted by then, anyway, he would scour the ends of the earth to find Eric again.

Nothing could separate them: not a foster home, an adoption, not even death itself. They were family, and family always stuck together.

“Everyone, say goodbye to Eric!” Professor Woojin hummed to the crowd of thirty-eight kids, both young and old alike, one of his giant hands resting gently on a flushed Eric’s shoulder. The personal grief in his own eyes was evident enough to those who met his sad yet proud gaze - Eric was the sixth child to find a home outside of Mercy Garden’s Orphanage under his supervision, so technically it was another good point for him under the eyes of his elders. But... Eric was family, and everyone was upset to see him go.

“Hey, don’t be a jerk and forget to write to us!” Lua whined, breaking the choking silence with a hint of a voice crack.

“Come back and visit us on Halloween - it’s tradition that we egg the office!” Felix followed her lead, offering his best friend the happiest of smiles he could possibly muster in the moment.

“Hold on, Felix - you do what to my office now-?”

“Don’t forget us! We’re family after all!” A handful of the younger kids sniffled and cried out, having to be held back by the older residents as they desperately tried to reach out and latch onto a sniffling Eric’s legs.

Crouching down low to the ground, Eric set aside his bag and opened his arms wide, embracing the tiny pack of crying children when they finally broke free and ran towards him. Tears streamed down his own red cheeks, showcasing how he truly felt in a rare display of anything other than joy or happiness.

“How could I ever forget about you guys? Y-you’re my real family, all of you.”

————————————————————————

About fifteen minutes had passed since the professor and Eric had left for the gate at the edge of the forest, where the former would be picked up and taken away from the orphanage - to his new home, with a real family. Felix knew he had no right to feel so goddamn bitter about the entire situation, and he tried to calm himself down by sweeping downstairs in a futile attempt to further distract himself, but the deadly tight grip on the wooden broomstick showed just how upset he was.

Across the room, Jisung was dusting the shelves of a stray bookcase, sniffing and sneezing every couple of seconds due to the dust that fell from the top shelf and blew past his sensitive nose. “F-Felix - achoo! Shit, I thi-think that, oh god another one, achoo! I think Eric left h-his bag here.” The blonde called over to the other boy in the room, wiping his nose with one of his sleeves.

Looking over with furrowed eyebrows, Felix’s eyes immediately landed on the pastel pink bag Eric had packed the day beforehand. A wave of concern washed over his body as he wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and walked over to a sneezing Jisung, bending down to pick up the bag. “Fuck, Eric needs this bag, Ji,” he murmured with a sigh, glancing over to the other boy, “what do we do? I mean, we could wait for Professor Woojin to come back, but Eric will be gone by then...” He trailed off.

“It usually takes the prof at least two hours to get home after he takes someone to the gate. We could probably catch them before Eric heads off,” Jisung said thoughtfully, acting as if it had already been decided what course of action they would take, his fingers tossing the duster aside while he straightened his back to look down at Felix. “Think about it, Lix - if we wait for the prof to get back, he’ll just have to use up his own free time to walk all the way out to the gate again tomorrow so someone can take the bag to Eric.”

With a deep, resonating sigh, Felix nodded in agreement and slung the pink bag over his shoulders, adjusting the straps to fit him better. Taking his silent nod as a sign of agreement, Jisung smirked and began to make way to the front door with his freckled comrade trailing behind him.

Just as they were about to open the door, another voice quietly rang throughout the otherwise silent house. “Woo - Professor Woojin doesn’t like it when any of us go outside so late at night. You should just wait for him to come back.”

Both boys turned on the heels of their feet, surprised to find a stoic Seungmin staring at them from the top of the staircase. His striped pajamas nearly blended in with the cream colored walls, the only hint of light hitting his frowning face coming from a candle he’d placed on a small disc.

“He’ll appreciate us doing this one small favor for him, Minnie,” Jisung insisted, “don’t worry too much. If anything, we can at least hide or something if you really think he’ll be mad at us. Just... leave the bag there, no one will know who out of all of us went out to deliver it.”

His words seemed to just barely win Seungmin over, the younger of the trio not uttering another word before he went back upstairs, the light of his candle growing smaller and smaller. Feeling smug with himself, Jisung let out a proud noise and opened the front door, leading Felix outside with him.

Together, the pair silently wandered through the forest, following the rocky path that led to the gate. Neither of them were scared, so to speak, but the two of them seemed to have a lot on their minds. Jisung’s eyes kept snapped around the lurking shadows, as if he was looking for something - or someone. Meanwhile, Felix was pondering if he could at least say something else to Eric if he hadn’t left already. But, what would he say that he already hadn’t?

Once they finally reached the lone gate at the edge of the dark forest, they met each other’s gazes before nodding, decisively sliding the ancient steel bars open and closing them behind their figures. They continued, a bit more slowly now, to creep closer and closer to what appeared to be a garage of sorts. A cement wall broke off to let the strange building stand, with either side letting the wall continue its barrier for miles, likely around the private property of the orphanage.

“C’mon, I see some light coming out of that door.” Jisung muttered quietly under his breath, gesturing for Felix to follow his lead. The older of the two crept towards the doorway, which had been left cracked. Slowly, the blonde pushed it open far enough for them to enter the building.

There was a single red truck parked inside, the engine dead. The pair exchanged a hopeful look, hoping that Eric hadn’t left yet and this was his ticket off of the property. Grasping onto the bag with a faint smile, Felix wandered over to the truck, tilting his head in confusion when he saw that the bed of the vehicle was draped with a thin, gray blanket. Just as his fingertips brushed against the rough material, ready to pull it up enough so he could take an invasive peek inside the bed of the truck, Jisung stopped him.

“Woah... Lix, what the fuck is in this tube?”

————————————————————————

Where does Felix look first?

A: the bed of the truck

B: the tube that Jisung wanted him to see

————————————————————————

- voting ends on Valentine’s day

#stray kids #box #stray kids au #skz au #stray kids horror #skz horror #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids drabble #skz imagine #skz scenario #skz drabble #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids smut #skz smut #not really I just don't want this to flop lmao sorry

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lemonsandstrawberries · 6 years ago

Text

The Pitted Olive, part 6

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Draq Queen!AU (Tony Stark as a drag queen)

summary: Steve takes Tony for his guys day out and he isn't really surprised with Tony's attitude. Until...

length: 4 639 words

disclaimer: this fic is written strictly for entertainment. I am not a specialist on drag and my whole knowledge comes from mainstream media. if there is something you will find incorrect or offensive in any way, there is always an option to contact me and politely voice your thoughts instead of flaming. thanks!

a/n: I am writing next chapters and heads up - the story is taking an unexpected kinda dramatic turn I didn't plan D: still thinking if I want to go that route though but decided to post this chapter without further delay and waiting for myself to make a decision. for now, enjoy the happy moments and new familiar faces appearing :D!

——————–

The Pitted Olive, part 6

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

"I can't… Gah… I can't anymore..."

"See, this happens when you smoke. Your lung capacity shrinks and this why you are already out of breath."

"Oh, shuuut up…"

Tony was sweating and so tired, and not in a good way. Steve was just snickering at him, which made him even more irritated. A stupid idea with a stupid guys day out. For starters, Steve had taken Tony out to a paintball park. So far, Tony was running where Steve pointed him to, walking on some hills and rolling in mud, in scorching sun while dressed in unflattering moro suit, all while carrying a paintball gun with himself. He wasn't having the best time.

"OW!" Tony yelled when a paintball pellet hit him between shoulder blades. That would leave a bruise.

There was some triumphant laughter, and Steve tried to locate the source, holding his gun high and ready.

"That's for using up my mascara!"

"I see them!" Steve called, firing back in the direction from where the attack came. He saw Bucky's mud splashed face, ducking behind some trees, Sam following, a grin shining on mud covered face. Paintball war was one of Steve and Sam's favorite past times, so it seemed a good idea to invite their friends over for a match.

"It is over, Steve," Tony panted out, rolling on his back and lying flat on the cool ground. "They got me. I am dead. You can go on without me."

"You are not dead! Stop dramatizing!" Steve scoffed, looking at his boyfriend, and wiping some sweat covered strands out of his forehead. He looked just as bad as Tony did, but somehow it was a much more flattering look on him. Rugged and soldier-like.

"Just leave me to die here."

"I AM NOT LEAVING MY BEST GIRL BEHIND!" Steve hollered and yanked Tony up, holding his hand and running to a safe place. Tony cursed loudly, not having a different option than to follow. He hated being a guy guy.

***

"That was fun, right?"

"Groossss," Tony complained, scrubbing off layers of mud off his skin in the bathroom. "How many bruises I have?" he asked, turning his back to Steve.

"Uhm," Steve cocked his head to the side, temporarily distracted by Tony's gently narrowed waist and bubble butt. He really didn't need much padding with such curves. "A bit?" he answered, smiling sheepishly, seeing at least five blooming purple marks on brunet's back.

"Great," Tony scoffed, taking a towel to wipe himself dry. "No backless dresses for a while."

"If you would run faster, you would be a harder target."

"I am not a runner, Steve!"

"Okay, stop yelling at me," Steve asked, standing behind his naked boyfriend and pulling him closer to himself. He pressed a kiss to the damp hair and Tony huffed, partially cheered up. When Steve moved his hands down Tony's torso and rubbed him just in the right places, Tony shivered, definitely more cheered up.

"Okay, stop, stop," Tony giggled, batting on Steve's hands when the touch turned more ticklish than soothing. He turned around and wrapped hands around his boyfriend's neck, standing on his toes and smiling.

Steve smiled back and pecked his boyfriend's lips briefly. "You know that this is not all that I planned for us, right?"

And like that, the smile was gone, replaced by a terrified grimace.

"Are Bucky and Sam tagging along with us?"

"No, they are not!" Sam called, his voice perfectly hearable from the changing room.

"We have our own plans! And the walls are pretty thin, so keep the gross stuff to the minimum!" Bucky added.

Steve pecked Tony's lips once more and moved away, slightly opening the door leading to the changing room and peaking his head in. "Hey, so -"

There was a loud, almost female sounding shriek.

"I AM CHANGING IN HERE!"

Tony doubled with laughter, when Steve closed the door, a wet towel slapped across his face. Judging by the laughter coming from the other side, it had to be Bucky who had shrieked, while Sam's was howling.

"I am glad they are not coming with us," Steve said in a grim voice, taking the towel off and twisting it.

Tony trotted to the door with an excited smile, and opened it, looking into the changing room. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the club. I have an evening show."

"I am gonna sit and drink."

"How come you can look but I can't?" Steve asked in a faked hurt voice and Tony laughed, closing the door.

"Once you teach a man how to tuck, the whole shame is gone," he turned to Steve with a bright smile. Steve still didn't look placated, and Tony came closer to wrap hands around his neck in a tender gesture. "What is the next torture in your guys day out?"

Steve smiled crookedly, putting his hands on other man's hips and pushing him closer. Holding Tony in his arms did get some of the sting out from the previous offense. "You will like it. We will eat something now."

That sounded more like something Tony would enjoy. He nodded his head to the plan.

"Get dressed."

"Ow," Tony hissed with a wide smile when Steve smacked his bottom for encouragement. "Kinky," he purred out, reaching for his clothes. Maybe Steve's day won't be so bad after all.

***

"I thought we were going to eat."

And the whining was back on. Steve honestly expected that.

"We are. Thanks!" he smiled at the hot dog vendor taking a paper plate with four hot dogs on a big soda to share. He handed the hotdogs to Tony and took his hand, guiding him to their seats.

"You expect me to get full on hotdogs?" Tony asked, eyeing the food with a grimace. "You don't even know what they are made from!"

"Um, pork?" Steve laughed, finding their seats and sitting down, Tony following.

"If you are lucky," Tony sighed, yet, he still took a hot dog, because he was hungry after all that running. Steve was undeterred. He looked forward to watching the game and managed to get some really good seats. The tribunes were filling up with people and the basketball game was about to start, just when Tony was finishing the first hot dog.

"Who should I cheer for?" Tony asked, raising his voice to make it through the applauding crowd when two teams entered the field.

"Green and red shirts!" Steve answered, screaming with everyone else.

Tony was never a fan of any kind of organized sports. He preferred individual work over teamwork and it showed in every aspect of his life. And watching sports was boring. So, so boring.

Watching Steve was a different story.

"What are ya doin?! My grandma moves faster than ya!"

The Steve Tony knew so far, was always calm and rational, sometimes even acting bashful in a sweet, innocent way. This Steve… This Steve was wild and swearing and angry, his voice getting a deeper note during yelling when his Brooklyn accent was showing up.

"To miss such a shot!" Steve growled as the crowd let a disappointed whine. Steve heavily sat on his seat, looking angered.

Tony considered that secret part of his boyfriend very, very hot.

"You know, baby, I didn't know there was so much heat hidden in you," Tony purred, moving closer to the blond, and putting his lips to the other's ear. Maybe they could find some private corner and -

"THE HELL ARE YA DOIN'?!" Steve suddenly sprung up, waving his arms wildly and Tony had to duck to avoid a hit. Okay, maybe it wasn't the right time. Steve clearly was deep in the game mode, and no matter how hard Tony tried, he couldn't reach half of the level of enthusiasm Steve was showing. He decided to occupy himself in a different way and scanned the crowd. He didn't have to look far, as the person on his left attracted his attention. It was a girl, looking as bored as Tony felt, sitting next to a guy around her age with silver hair (kids those days) and a dark goatee, who just like Steve was yelling at the poor players. But what really attracted Tony attention was the red blush on girl's cheek. It was matt finish, with some reddish brown tint to it. It would look perfect on him. The girl noticed him staring and turned in his direction, smiling insecurely.

"Um, hi?" she said, not understanding the intense look.

"Hi!" Tony replied cheerfully, trying to be hearable among the crowd. "Sorry I was staring! I really like your blush!"

"Ah, thanks," the girl smiled, turning more into his direction and leaving the boy she came with unattended. "It is from the new collection from Madam Viper-"

"They released a new collection?!" Tony asked, widening his eyes in surprise. He usually was more up to date with the cosmetic market. Just like that, he found himself a new conversationalist for the game.

Just as he and the girl were discussing the eye makeup collection, there was a honk, indicating that the first half of the match ended. Steve sat down heavily in his seat.

"How's the score?"

"We are losing," Steve replied in a grunt. He turned to Tony and saw two people looking at him.

"Steve, this is Wanda," Tony introduced, smiling at his boyfriend, "Wanda, Steve."

"Hi," the girl raised her hand, smiling shyly.

"Hi! Nice to meet you," he said politely, trying to mask his confusion. When Tony managed to make a friend?

"Wanda is here with her twin brother, Pietro," Tony continued, pointing to the currently empty seat.

"Yeah, he went to the bathroom and to get us some snacks. This is basically the only reason I come here, to get nachos," she said with a disarming smile.

"Nachos do sound better than hot dogs," Tony said, narrowing his eyes at Steve, and Steve mirrored the look in reprimand. Nachos were no food for a basketball game.

"Sorry, coming through! Ooops, watch out with that soda!"

"Ow, Pietro!" Wanda hissed, when her brother tumbled down on the seat next to her, holding a tray with nachos on and some licorice. "How did you get here so fast? Weren't there any lines?"

"Oh, they were. You just need to know how to navigate through the crowd," Pietro said, red licorice already hanging off the corner of his mouth. No one even noticed when he reached for it. "Hi!" Pietro grinned, noticing both men looking at him. "I am Pietro. Wanda's older brother."

"By twelve minutes. He loves pointing that out," Wanda hissed and Tony laughed.

"I am Tony and that is Steve," he said, motioning to his boyfriend, and Steve nodded, brightening when he saw Pietro's shirt with a green and red printing on.

"Fan of the Black Panthers?"

"Only the best team this side of the globe!"

"But you know, that Wakanda is on the other side of the globe?" Wanda taunted, but she was ignored and had to squeeze closer to Tony, when Pietro and Steve stood up, high fiving each other, forming some sort of magical bond over sports.

"I think we should switch," Tony laughed, having Wanda's face smushed against his face. He would happily discuss the remaining of the game with Wanda, and let Steve have his guy time with Pietro. And boy, Steve had a lot of points to discuss about the game, considering how heated the discussion above his head was.

"Love Shack, baby, Love Shack, baby!"

There was an excited whooping from the crowd and Tony looked at the screen with the score, seeing a heart in the frame, scanning the crowd for couples.

"Hey, Steve! Look!" he called, raising his hand up and tugging at Steve's sleeve. "Kiss cam!" he said, watching with a smile all the couples exchanging heated kisses.

"In a sec, Tony!"

"But-"

And then it happened. The camera zoomed on them, showing Tony and Wanda in a pink pastel screen, little red hearts floating around them. Wanda laughed shyly, and Tony froze, his hand still on Steve's sleeve. There was a cheer, urging Tony and Wanda to kiss, and, after getting a confirming nod from Wanda, Tony did the friendly thing and kissed her puffed out cheek delicately. It wasn't what was expected from them, and the camera didn't leave them, urging to a proper kiss.

"Bang bang bang on the door baby! Knock a little louder, sugar!"

It was when Steve finally looked. It was like in slow motion for him. He saw Tony on the screen, his Tony, becoming a little red under the collar in the pressure and seeming overwhelmed, and a blushing Wanda. Not thinking much, and being carried solely on the moment, Steve took Tony's wrist and pulled him up to a standing position, pinning his lips against Tony's in a long kiss, not wasting any second.

The crowd cheered, the loudest being Wanda and Pietro, but maybe because they were the closest. Steve could feel how tense Tony became, but he didn't move away, allowing Steve to take the lead. When the kiss ended, Tony stayed close to the other man, putting his heated face in the crook of Steve's neck, needing a minute for his racing mind to calm down. They had kissed in public. Again. It was some big steps for him.

Steve just kept Tony in his arms, grinning triumphantly, as the camera moved away from them to force more couples to show some affection to each other.

No matter if the Panthers would win the game or not, he was going home with the grand prize anyway.

"Love Shack, baby, Love Shack, baby!"

***

"Bye! Hope to see you soon!" Tony waved at Wanda and Pietro walking away. The game had ended and Tony and Steve said goodbye to the siblings, not before Tony invited them over to the Olive for his nearest show. Wanda seemed more interested than Pietro, especially eager to hear all about makeup tricks Tony knew and Tony already promised her an exclusive backstage tour to which she reacted very enthusiastically. Maybe going out for the game wasn't so bad after all.

"That was interesting," Tony smiled, hooking his arms with Steve as they started to walk their way.

"It sure was," Steve agreed. The day was eventful, but he had a feeling that they found some good companions in the twins.

"So…" Tony started, sounding somehow timid. Steve looked at him because Tony rarely was timid. "You like doing that a lot, huh?"

Steve creased his eyebrows in thought before his forehead smoothened again. "You mean paintball? It is fun if you have the right people around-"

"Not that."

"Then what? Watching basketball?"

"Nooo…"

"Tony, what is it?" Steve asked, sounding a little impatient.

"Kissing," Tony finally choked out, his face becoming pinkish. "Kissing in public."

"Oh," Steve replied, staring owlishly at the other man. Was it about the kiss cam? "I am sorry, um, did - did it bother you?"

Tony shrugged, focusing a lot on his shoes. "I… I think not. I am just not used to this."

"Do you want me to tone it down?"

"No," Tony replied after a while, getting even closer, so close, that Steve moved his hand to put on Tony's hip instead, drawing him into himself. "Just maybe not in front of the whole basketball team," Tony added, sounding timid again.

Ah, so it was about the kiss cam.

"Well, I didn't want someone else to swoop in and take you away from me," Steve teased, brushing his cheek over the top of Tony's head. He smelled like the soap used in the paintball place bathroom, which was a rather neutral smell, but there was some very Tony scent lingering. "People should know that such a pretty thing like you is taken."

"I am not sure how I feel about objectifying me, but I will take it as a compliment."

"Then how about I call you my lady?"

"Better."

Steve stopped. Still holding Tony, he reached down for brunet's hand and put it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Chaste and sweet. "Milady."

Tony groaned, looking away, some blush spreading over his cheeks. "You are doing it again," he tried to complain, but there was some weak note in his voice, something that told Steve that he didn't completely mind what was happening. And Tony blushing during sunset was a very pretty sight.

"I guess you were right, I like doing that," Steve replied sounding proud, resuming walking and leaving Tony alone. For now.

"Now I keep wondering if you would barge on the stage and kiss me during mid-show."

"Sure I would," Steve confirmed with a smile. He had such visions many times, long before he and Tony started dating.

"Then what is stopping you?" Tony asked in a whisper.

What was stopping him? This time the feeling of moist, red lips against his was replaced with cold, pale hands with long fingers, and the imaginary pain of snapping his arm in two.

Steve shuddered. "Loki," he confessed, hearing Tony's pearly laughter in return.

"Oh, come on," Tony kept laughing and even if it was at his expanse, Steve was happy. It was a good sound to hear. "Loki wouldn't hurt you."

"I am not sure of it," Steve grumbled, remembering the way the bodyguard had eyed him during his first visit backstage and continued to look at him every time he showed up. "I think he might have a thing for you, you know."

"What?" Tony continued laughing, somehow oblivious to his own attractiveness. "Nah. He is just doing his job."

"Sure, he is," Steve agreed, just for the sake of agreeing. He would have a close eye on Loki too. Just in case. Yet, if it would ever get to a confrontation, he would prefer to face Thor, the bodyguard who usually stood in the front of the Olive. Loki seemed like a type that carried a hidden blade in his pocket and wouldn't hesitate to use it. At least, he could dodge and block punches, knifes not so much. "Do you want to get a drink? I think Bucky's show is about to start," Steve asked. He had no more plans for today, and ending the day at the club seemed fitting.

Tony scrunched his nose. "Not that I am not in the mood to get drunk and listen to grunge music, but I was hoping we can go home. I need a proper bath, I feel like I still have some mud in my ass crack."

"I am willing to help you check," Steve offered magnanimously, trying to sound nonchalant.

Tony grinned, leaning his head over Steve's shoulder. "My knight in shining armor."

Maybe the day wasn't what Tony wanted, but at least in the evening, he was getting his way.

***

'Hey, babe! I am ending my shift, wanna grab some lunch?'

'Sure. I am at work now. Pick me up?'

Steve paused, looking at the text message. From what he knew, Tony didn't have a show tonight.

'You are at the club?'

'No, my day work. Come to -'

Steve read the address, putting on his helmet and starting the bike, making it roar beautifully. Fortunately, it wasn't that far and in all their dating time, he never properly asked what was Tony's day job. It was another step in their relationship and Steve felt privileged to take it, learning a bit more about his boyfriend.

After riding a few blocks, Steve parked his bike at the appointed spot. He leaned his head to the side, looking at the building in front of him. It was an auto repair shop, one belonging to the T&R franchise, located all over the country. That was Tony's day job? He couldn't imagine Tony working in a place like this. Maybe Tony was an accountant of some sort. Some office job. That sounded more like the Tony he knew, who didn't like to get dirty and went for manicures on regular basis.

Steve stepped into the spacious workshop. Before he noticed any people, he saw the cars first and whistled quietly. Those were some expensive brands. No surprise here, as those workshops were considered one of the best.

"Hello. Can I help you?" a guy with a friendly smile approached Steve. He was dark skinned and medium built, in orange coverall. He was wiping his hands with some cloth, leaving car grease stains on the material.

"Um, hi," Steve smiled back, turning to the guy. "I am actually looking for Tony."

And just like that, the smile and a friendly stance were gone and the man visibly tensed up. "For Tony?" he asked, his voice sounding lower and more rumbly.

"Yeah, he told me to come here and-"

"HEY, TONES!" the man called into the workshop. "Some guy is asking for you!"

"Is he tall, handsome and dreamy?!"

Steve heard Tony's voice, sounding a bit echoey, and looked around, not spotting his boyfriend anywhere. Only workers and the cars.

The guy eyed Steve critically. "He is tall!" he called back and Steve didn't even have time to feel offended when Tony's laughter rung in the workshop and his boyfriend emerged from underneath one of the vehicles.

"I will take a look at him," Tony said, sliding out on the rolling platform and sitting up.

And wow.

Steve was completely speechless. This wasn't like any version of Tony he knew. Red Velvet was poised, with perfect posture and perfect makeup. His Tony was always in ironed out clothes, with socks matching his shoes and the newest model of sunglasses on the top of perfectly stylized hair. This Tony… He wore a typical blue mechanic coverall, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There were some smudges of car grease on his hands and face. He seemed heated up, and there was some sweat on his forehead, strands of curly hair falling on his nape and forehead, the coverall hugging his body-

"Close your mouth," the guy advised, and Steve clinked his teeth together.

"Hey, what do you know, he is also handsome and dreamy," Tony walked over, grinning adorably and swaying his hips. "Hi, baby," he greeted Steve, standing on his tiptoes and kissing him for hello. He smelled like grease and heated metal and sweat and Steve already felt dizzy.

"Ekhem," the guy coughed, pointing Tony's attention to himself.

"Oh, right. Steve, this is my partner, Rhodey," Tony introduced and Steve's mouth dropped open again.

"Tony," the guy, Rhodey, scolded his friend, in a lot softer voice than he used to talk to Steve earlier.

"My business partner," Tony corrected himself, emphasizing the second word, "I always forget to add that part."

Tony and Rhodey kept talking about something, but Steve pretty much muted the whole conversation out. It felt like he walked into an entirely different world.

"Hey, Harley!" Tony suddenly bellowed, and the loud noise made Steve's shoulders jump.

"Yeah?!"

Steve saw a teenager, popping his head from above a motorbike he was working on. Just like that, Steve bugged his eyes out. It was a prime condition Harley Davidson Panhead Chopper. A model from the 60s. It was an old-school type of bike and Steve never saw a one up close.

"Leave the bike, and get under the car! The engine needs some more tweaks!"

"But," the teenager hesitated, looking from the chopper to the blue Mazda RX-8, "I have to finish here first!"

"Oh yeah, Logan will come soon to get his bike, right?"

"Yeah. I think that there is like thirty minutes left before he shows up," Rhodey answered Tony with a mischievous grin as both men enjoyed the growing panic in the teenager.

"Aw, don't be afraid of Logan, kid!" Tony called, as Harley started to fumble, and the tools kept slipping out of his hands. "He is not that bad! He is like those… those… what do you call those animals that resemble small bears with long, sharp claws?"

"Wolverines, Tony."

"Yeah, that!" Tony snapped his fingers, and Harley groaned, well knowing what his bosses were doing, but still falling for it. And it still brought so much joy for Tony and Rhodey. "Okay, I still need someone to work on Scott's car… RIRI! Mazda is yours!"

"Whaaat?!" a young girl with a head full of black curls showed up, holding a notepad and looking irritated. "You told me to do a stocktaking! Do you know how many types of tires we have here?!"

"I actually do know that," Tony raised his eyebrows. "Scott and Logan are coming together to get their machines, and you know how those two get competitive over the smallest things, I don't want to trigger that in my workshop! Get to work, kids!" he ordered, and Riri rolled her eyes, but obediently took Tony's place underneath the car, while Harley kept working on the bike, focusing hard judging on the expression.

"Why do I even bother with having interns?!" Tony complained loudly, just for the sake of complaining. "Watch them for me, okay?" he said quietly to Rhodey, using a softer voice. Rhodey nodded, walking for starters to Harley, who seemed to be getting overwhelmed.

"Sorry for the delay. Let's go to my office," Tony turned to Steve, taking his hand and guiding him away. Steve looked over his shoulder, taking a last glance at Rhodey, who kept explaining something to Harley in a patient voice, slowly making the nervousness go away. Seemed that Rhodey was only harsh to him for some reason.

The office turned out to be a room full of stacks of papers and crumpled notes piling on a sturdy wooden desk and, to Steve's surprise, a calendar with photos of cats. Huh.

"Steve? Are you ok?"

After the question, Steve looked at his boyfriend. At his unruly hair and dirty face and did Tony always had such muscled forearms and overall had a very nicely muscled body?

"You're filthy," Steve stated, meaning the dirt from working underneath the car.

Tony laughed. "Yeah, sorry. I will get cleaned right away, there actually is a bathroom with a shower behind my office, so-"

Before Tony could make a move, Steve took his wrist, stopping him. He eyed Tony up and down, despite the growing confusion of the other man. Was this the same Tony who days ago had complained about being covered in mud?

"You're filthy," Steve repeated again. "And you reek."

Tony just blinked, not understanding.

Something new awakened in Steve. That was yet another face of Tony, one Steve didn't have an occasion to see.

"I think," Steve started in a heavy voice, feeling his throat becoming dry, "I think I like you this way," he twirled a wet strand of brown hair between his fingers, before tugging it behind Tony's ear.

"Oh, really?" Tony grinned, all teeth and sass, pressing their chests together.

"Really," Steve nodded, feeling Tony's heat and getting weak in the knees. It was unfair how gorgeous Tony could look in any circumstances. He leaned down to a kiss and-

"TONY! Logan came earlier!"

"Son of-" Tony cursed, drawing away suddenly. "Sorry, Steve, I have to handle this!" he said, nearly running out of the office. "LOGAN! How is it going, my friend?"

Steve took a deep breath and plopped down on the swivel chair, making it squeak. His heart was beating rapidly and he could still feel Tony's body pressed into his and the overwhelming heat lingering on his clothes and tingling his skin.

He looked at the closed door, trying to remember where Tony had said the shower was because he could use a one. A very, very cold one.

————-

<– previous part ….. next part —>

————-

tag list

(if you want to be tagged for updates in this series, send me an ask and I will add your username below)

@destiel-is-classic, @prithvik , @azurixx , @mangakats, @mystey-writes,@w1nters-stark, gloriousmarvellokiturtle, @the-pop-culture-geek

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feng-xins · 6 years ago

Text

A Life So Wondrous

Pairing : Fujibayashi Genya/MC

Genre : Gen

A/N : Requested by anon! Hope you enjoy <3 Genya is such a dreamboat but he’s a dreamboat with feeeelings, yknow?

_________

At six years old, Genya's path ahead is straight and true.

Train. Fight. Win.

Follow orders. Complete the mission. Report back.

Get stronger. Get better. Head the Fujibayashi Village in his father's place

"That sounds boring," she wrinkles her nose when he tells her as much, and Saku frowns at her from his perch on a tree branch, kicking his legs out so they dangle beneath him.

"It's better than grinding those stinky herbs all day like you do," Saku sticks out his tongue at her, and Tobimaru shrieks in what almost sounds like agreement.

She flushes, the clovers in her hands crushed as she curls her fingers into tight, angry fists. "You're stinky. You and your ugly cat,"

Sakuya's whole frame tightens, his cheeks slashes an angry, bright red "Tobimaru is a -,"

"Oi," Genya interjects, before this dissolves into either tears or fists. They stare at each other a moment longer, then deflate almost simultaneously. Honestly, sometimes he's not sure which two out of the three of them are siblings.

"When I'm clan head," he says, just because he can "I'll make you two get married,"

The ensuing chaos is enough to drain the air of any residue tension, and in the breaths between bouts of laughter Genya thinks that maybe being clan head wouldn't be so bad, if he could spend all of his days just like this one

.........

At twelve, Genya's path brings him to the looming gates of Iga Village. It's their first mission outside of Iga territory, both his and Saku's. He supposed this day would come sooner or later, but now that its here -

He casts a glance out at the forest beyond the gates, feels something he cant quite name tingle up his spine and settle in his chest, like a first breath above water.

"You know your mission," his father tells the two of them sternly, and Genya drags his gaze away from beyond the gates "Your mission leader's orders are absolute. I will have no complaints about disobedience, or incompetence,"

"Yes, Father," he and Saku echo. His father looks them up and down one last time, and if Genya were slightly more naive he would almost, almost bring himself to believe Father was going to tell his sons to stay safe, to come back to the village alive.

"Do not fail me,"

Almost

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

At fourteen, Genya's path is hard-packed and well trodden. This is the shinobi way. This is what he was meant to do. This is why he was born.

Isn't it?

He gets up. Trains. Fights. Wins.

Why isn't that enough? When did it stop being enough?

Mission briefings fade into white noise. Why do they still have briefings, anyway? Everyone knows the rules - don't get attached, don't get comfortable, don't get caught. Why not just send them on their way and be done with it?

He used to eye his father's seat with stars in his eyes. Now -

Does he even know what the stars look like outside of the village?

Why does that bother him? Who cares about the damn stars?

.......

At seventeen, Genya's path opens up before him, so wide and open and inviting and possible that it nearly scares him.

He graduates top of his class, and almost wishes he hadn't if only because it meant Sakuya came in second. He listens to his brother beat himself up about being two points behind for all of ten minutes before the elation breaks through and he claps Sakuya on the back, grinning so widely he feels the sweet ache in his cheeks.

"Gen?," Saku tilts his head, quizzical.

"Forget the scores, Saku. Just- just forget about it for a second okay? Just - ," a laugh bubbles out of him then, freedom and elation spilling out into a joyful whoop that catches on the wind " We're free. Free, Saku!. We can go anywhere we want. Take our own missions, do whatever we like. Come on, lets do it. You and me, lets go to - I don't know -Ueda. Kai! Let's take a mission together. Somewhere far away, where the village won't bother to check up on us. We could do it, me and -,"

"Gen, what are you talking about?,"

There is ice in Sakuya's eyes, cold frosting over sapphire so fast and hard that Genya feels suddenly like he's looking into the eyes of a stranger.

"Our place is here. We graduated to serve the village. We did all of it, everything, to serve the village," pain flashes across Sakuya's face, the same way it did the morning Genya found him outside the gates of Iga at dawn, blood speckling his clothes and dirt beneath his fingernails. "It can't be for nothing now. All of that - it had to be for the village,"

"Right," A completed mission at the expense of broken wings. That was the trade their father had made, sending Sakuya for that first mission "Of course. Sorry. I just - sorry,"

"Your place is here. With father, and me, and the village,"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Saku,"

He takes the first mission that will get him out of the village, a three week long stint protecting some little lordling travelling to Ueda. Sakuya doesn't answer any of his letters, returning them all through Tobimaru with the seal still intact. He's just in the middle of writing another one when he hears the soft clack of geta-sandalled feet behind him, turning slightly to find the young lord he's guarding eyeing him quizzically.

"Who are you?,"

"Me?," he gives a half-hearted salute, not even bothering with pleasantries. Lordling or not, they're probably the same age, and Genya couldn't be assed to bow and scrape for some puffed-up daimyo's son "I'm your ninja,"

The boy frowns slightly, eyebrows knitting "No you're not. I've never seen you before now,"

"If you could see me, why would I be your ninja?,"

The boy contemplates this for a minute, then nods, once "My name is Masamune,”

"Hey there, Masamune," Genya drawls "You ever play hanafuda before?,"

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

At twenty-one, Genya's path is blocked by a ghost from a past he left behind a long, long time ago.

"It's you," he blurts out, then immediately kicks himself when two heads turn to look right at him.

She hasn't changed a bit, same short cropped hair, same steely expression, except this time there is no warm recognition behind those brown eyes. His own eyes trail to the person at her side, and his heart jumps into his throat at the sight of Hattori Hanzo.

He doesn't like the look of this situation. Not that he cares one way or another what she does with her life, but Hanzo's smile is entirely too suspiciously angelic. That he does care about, especially if the recent rumours about the Mitsuba village turn out to be true.

He manages to wrangle Hanzo into leaving her alone, hangs back just long enough to whisper -

"If you run into problems, come to Oshu,"

He doesn't know whether to be relieved or exasperared that she actually took him up on the offer, all the trouble that she is.

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

At twenty-two, she thinks there is something about Genya that shines, something glinting and stubborn and willfully, willfully bright beneath the layers of shadows that he cloaks himself with.

"Stay," he says, arms winding lazily around her torso and pulling her back flush against him. She doesn't understand how he does it - her breath is still ragged from the kind of sounds he managed to coax out of her just minutes before, but Genya is already toeing the line between sleep and wakefulness, chest rising and falling in a steady, even rhythm "Just until dawn,"

"Thats what you say every night, and then we wake up at noon and miss breakfast - " she squirms in protest, or pretends to at least. It wouldn't do for his ego to get any larger. "- then you say we'll sleep until lunch but we oversleep, and then you say dinner and -"

"You're tired," Genya points out, his nose nudging right below her ear "I'm tired,"

"You're always tired,"

"Stay," he asks again, the request laid bare between them. Sometimes her heart jumps at the word, at how easy it falls from his lips. For how long? she wants to ask. How long do we get to pretend? She wonders if he knows the answer, if he would tell her, if she would want to hear it.

Stay she does.

______

tagging : @pseudofaux @rubyleeray @nightingaledarling @fooljshgirl @heavenzfiend @yukimura-suggests

do let me know if you want on or off the tag list, or if I’ve forgotten to tag you in anything ^^

#listen i love the fujibayashi siblings a lot okay #like a lot a lot #if the cut doesn't work i'm sorry im a baboon playing with tiny buttons on the keyboard #also in case anyone didnt know #i moved urls from @kawa-akarin to @shigehzane #putting it in there just in case!!#i dont want to miss out on even one piece of amazing work from this fandom #also im a slow reader but genya's route is so good so far i love it #also #if you're interested #the mission that genya is referencing in the after graduation scene is in sakuya's part of this series #'a world so bright'#i mean its also in game canon that sakuya had to kill someone for a mission so reading this with that in mind should be a-ok too

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agoddamnsupernova · 7 years ago

Link

I meant to post this yesterday but didn’t have the time. The newest chapter is up and you better have tissues!

Freckle Beca

Emily had been happily texting with Beca as often as possible in the last few weeks, which would turn out to be more difficult soon. Beca was due to be tested to go back into the field soon, and while Emily was happy Beca would be back doing what she loves, she just wishes she could keep her safe.

Emily shakes her head, pulling her phone out to check the time, finding a notification from the woman who had been occupying her thoughts constantly. Hey, I have a favor to ask.

Emily’s brow furrows as she stops mid step to reply. Yeah, what is it? Is everything okay?

She watches the chat bubble pop up with those three annoying dots. Fuck apple for adding an anxiety trigger into their texting system. She’s about to start typing again when Beca’s reply shows up.

Everything is fine here, promise. This is more of a personal matter. The typing bubble shows again and Emily has to restrain herself until Beca hits send. Today is my mom’s birthday and I was wondering if I could wire you some cash to take some flowers to her grave...

Emily bites her lip, her thumbs shaking a bit as she tries to figure out how to respond without sounding like a jackass. Before she can, Beca sends another reply. You can absolutely say no, I just can’t ask my dad and I don’t know who else to ask.

Em smiles ever so slightly as she starts typing finally. I can do that, Beca. My first instinct is to start apologizing because I know today must be hard for you, but I also know you hate when I say sorry too much. You don’t have to send me any money, I’ll gladly buy your mom flowers, Bec.

Before Emily realizes it, she’s started walking again, but away from her building and instead toward the bus stop down the way. It wouldn’t kill her to miss Professor Mitchell’s class and really she hated looking at him knowing what she knew.

Oh, Em, you don’t have to do that, I really don’t mind paypaling you some money... Beca had replied before she decided to call.

Emily answers without a thought, a slight smile on her lips despite the situation. “Hey,” she says softly, glancing up at the bus schedule before plopping onto the bench. “I’ve got about twenty minutes before the next bus shows up.”

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in a lecture right now?” Beca asks and Emily can hear footsteps echoing in the background.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting before your testing this week?” She counters, leaning back on the bench, watching the clouds.

“Touche, cutie,” Beca chuckles and the footsteps stop. “I’m taking Lincoln for a walk, I can’t be inside anymore, it’s fucking killing me.”

Emily smiles softly, shaking her head at Beca’s casual cursing. “Give him my love,” she hums, tracing a rabbit shaped cloud hanging close to the sun. “Also, there’s no way you’ll be convincing me to hand over my paypal info, you’re just gonna have to deal with me buying flowers for you.”

Beca is quiet for a moment and Emily can hear the familiar jingling of Lincoln’s tags. Petting Lincoln was Beca’s tell that she was anxious. “I just feel bad asking you to do this, you didn’t even know her.”

“Perhaps not, but I know you and I know the stories you tell about her and I know how much she loved you and how much you loved her,” Emily starts, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “You can always ask me for help, Bec.”

Beca’s breath hitches slightly and it makes Emily’s heart throb. “I just miss her so much, Em,” Beca says softly and Emily can hear the tears in her voice.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Emily murmurs, holding the phone a little tighter. “It’s okay to miss her and it’s okay to feel this way. You’re not alone, no matter what you may think. You’ve got Aubrey and Lincoln and all of your friends there.”

“And you,” Beca whispers, the sound making Emily’s heart squeeze painfully. If she wasn’t a goner for this girl already, she certainly was now.

“And me,” Emily echoes in her softest voice and when Beca sniffles she can’t help but start singing a song that always calmed her down. “Get on your knees and I thought you can leave it all in your mind, all in your mind. Crawl in the backseat, old friend it is really all in your mind, all in your mind.”

Beca takes a slow breath before she’s singing along too, making Emily smile softly. “So tired of living like a kite, kite, kite, kite...”

Emily jumps when the bus pulls up, her heart stuttering into her throat. “Shit, I’m sorry the bus is here, I’ll text you the whole way to the market though,” she says softly, readjusting her bag as she stands up.

“Okay, Em, be safe,” Beca says equally as soft and it makes Emily melt all over again.

“Says the soldier in a war zone,” Emily chuckles as she steps onto the bus. “Bye, Bec.”

Emily spends the bus ride sending Beca cute gifs and smiling when Beca seems awkward about some of them. She’s sure Beca is hurting far more than she lets on and she really just wants to make sure the soldier is okay.

When her stop comes up, she thanks the driver on the way out, clicking the call button as soon as her feet hit the cement. “Rode the bus and didn’t die, as promised.”

“You’re such a smart ass,” Beca snorts and it makes Emily grin. “But I like it, so what does that say about me?”

“That you have good taste,” Em giggles as she walks through the open market. She knows there’s a nice flower shop around somewhere.

“Can’t deny that,” The soldier replies and Emily can hear her shaking her head. “I mean, you’re sweet and kind and like...super hot.”

Emily can feel her cheeks warm at the words, but does her best to keep her voice even. “I could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, but then you would be lying,” Beca chuckles softly. There’s a sharp bang in the background and then Beca is cussing up a storm. “Damn it, Lincoln, why are you like this?”

“What did he do?” Emily ask, a smile on her lips. “Is he loving you too much again?”

“Yeah, he knocked a book off my table trying to climb into bed with me,” Beca huffs and Emily can hear Lincoln’s tail thumping. “You big asshole.”

“Aw, don’t be mean to my furry lug,” Emily says between giggles, pausing at a small vendor with their jewelry laid out on a nice rug. She brushes her fingers across some silver pieces, her eyes settling on a bracelet with sapphires inlaid around the band.

“He can take it!” Beca defends and Emily can hear the distinct sound of Beca ruffling Lincoln’s fur. “Huh, buddy? You can take, mama’s sass, can’t you?”

Emily is giggling again by the time Beca is finished with her cooing and it gets Beca to laugh along with her. “You’re a big dork, you know that?”

“I am indeed, now you know where Lincoln gets it,” Beca says between chortles.

Emily grins, handing over the money for the bracelet without a second thought, those stones reminding her of Beca’s eyes. “You’re cute,” she hums, slipping the band onto her wrist. She can almost picture the way Beca’s eyes light up when she smiles when she sees the sapphires shining in the sun.

“Excuse me, cute is your area of expertise,” The older girl says, Lincoln grumbling in the background. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s time for dinner. I gotta go feed this mutt, I’ll text you in a bit.”

“Okay, cutie,” Emily chuckles, hanging up the phone when she hears Lincoln knock something else over.

Em tucks her phone away as she walks down the strip, finally finding the flower shop toward the end of the block. “Over the Rainbow,” she hums out the name on the sign and smiles as she walks in.

What’s your mom’s favorite flower? She types out, hitting send as she walks through the displays of fresh and cut flowers.

She’s got her nose buried in a rose when Beca replies Anything yellow, she liked to have bright colors around her. Used to say “even when the sun is low, these will always bring the light in” kind of inspiring, yeah?

Emily smiles softly finding herself touched by the woman’s wise words. It is indeed, I’ll see what I can find.

She ends up going a little overboard, getting a bouquet with pretty much every yellow flower they had in stock and then adds a miniature yellow rose bush onto the tab too. The clerk manning the register just gives her this look and it makes her blush despite herself.

She almost says something, but doesn’t, instead taking her purchases out the door with a polite smile. She’s about halfway up the block before her phone starts vibrating. “Fuck,” she murmurs, tucking the pot under her arm so she can grab it out of her pocket. “Hello.”

“Hiya, hot stuff,” Beca hums through the line, making Emily’s cheeks burn. “Did you manage to find something good?”

Emily chuckles at that, adjusting the flowers as she walks. “I did, though I feel like I might have gone overboard.”

“What’s that even mean?” Beca asks, though Emily is sure she’s afraid to hear the answer. “Wait, how much did you spend?”

The younger girl lets out an awkward chuckle, shrugging to herself. “I got a big bouquet but I also got a live plant, I’m not telling you the total though.”

“You’re a butt,” Beca huffs and the sound makes Emily grin. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but this is important,” Emily replies softly, settling down on the bus bench, glad to put things down for a moment. “However, I need to know where I’m going.”

“Shit, yeah,” The soldier chuckles and then there’s the faint sound of Beca’s fingers tapping against the screen followed by Emily’s phone buzzing loudly against her ear. "There, I sent you the address and stuff.”

“Thank you muchly,” Em hums, pulling her phone away to glance at the message. “I think there’s a bus station a few blocks from there, I can probably be there in like an hour or so.”

“There’s no rush,” Beca states, her tone gentle. “I really don’t know how to thank you for doing this.”

"I do believe knee pads were promised at one point, we could just extend that,” Emily giggles, her heart clenching when Beca laughs. She could listen to that sound for hours.

“Deal,”

Emily feels a little odd standing in the quiet cemetery at eleven in the morning. She had stopped and grabbed some snacks at the corner store down the way, packing them in her back easily. She wanted to stay as long as possible. For Beca.

It takes her some time to find the headstone tucked away under a large oak tree. She stands in front of the smooth black granite, biting her lip. Melinda Pilgrim. Loving mother and friend. April 27, 1975 - August 16, 2013.

She settles down in front of it, setting the cut flowers down on top of the stone before she’s making a spot for the small rose bush. Once everything looks nice and she’s semi-comfortable, she plugs her phone into her external battery and calls Beca, holding the camera away so her face is in frame.

“Hey,” Beca smiles, leaning against the raised head of her bed. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she’s got dark circles under them. It makes Emily’s chest hurt to see how much the soldier is hurting.

“Hey,” Em hums, offering her own smile. “Are you ready?” She asks softly, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“As I’ll ever be,” Beca replies and Emily can hear the slight tremble in her voice. Emily nods and flips the camera, her heart clenching at the face Beca makes. “Hey, mama,” she breathes out and Emily wishes she could hold her hand.

“This is Emily, she’s taken really good care of me the last few weeks,” Beca says, choking on her words a bit. “She even got these flower for you, how nice is that? She’s so sweet.”

Emily blushes slightly and Beca glances up, making it seem like she's looking at Emily. She’s not but it still makes Emily’s heart stutter a bit. There’s just something about those eyes and those fucking freckles that sent the younger girl into a gay spiral.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit you yet, but I’ve got a lot of leave saved up and I’m finally cashing in. I’m going to be home for a month and I’ll be sure to come and see you.” Beca’s smiling sadly, her lip between her teeth.

They’re quiet for a moment, Emily’s eyes glue to Beca’s face. Her features keep changing, her brows furrow, her lips purse and then finally tears start to slip down her cheeks and Emily wishes she could reach through the screen and wipe them away. “I miss you...”

She’s not really sure what possesses her to do it, but she scoots forward until she can press her hand to the word mother and words just start coming out. “Melinda, I know I didn’t get the chance to know you, but I have to thank you. Thank you for bringing this wonderful woman into the world so that we could meet.”

“She says I’ve been taking her for the last few weeks, but I think she’s been taking care of me. I can’t really remember a time I was this happy to talk to someone. She’s really brought a new kind of light into my life.” Emily says, her voice trembling as her own tears slide down her face.

“You raised a great kid and a fierce soldier and I promise that I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe,” Em swallow hard, biting her lip. “I really think you’d be proud of the person she is.”

“Em...” Beca murmurs, sniffling softly. “You’re such a cheeseball.”

“Shush, I’m just honest,” Emily half chuckles, wiping her cheeks. “I just felt like I had to say something.”

“Can you turn the camera back again?” Beca asks and Emily takes a moment to try and wipe away any eyeliner that may have smeared before she turned the camera back to her, offering a watery smile. “How are you so beautiful? Like you’ve been crying and you’re still gorgeous.”

Emily shakes her head a bit, rolling her eyes. “You’re the beautiful one. I mean, look at those eyes and those freckles...have I ever told you that I’m a sucker for freckles?”

“You have not, but that’s good to hear,” Beca chuckles softly, her fingers coming up to brush along her cheekbones. “I never had them as a kid, but then one summer they just kind of showed up and I’ve been stuck with them since.”

“I’m grateful for that summer then,” Emily smiles, sniffing softly. “Cause like, listen, they’re great.”

“Shush,” Beca huffs, but she’s grinning and it makes Emily happy to see light back in those eyes. “They’re just freckles.”

“Nah man, they’re your freckles,” Emily grins, leaning back against the tree. “But anyway, how are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Better than I thought I would,” Beca sighs softly, running a hand through her hair. “I just wish I could have saved her, you know?”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking,” Emily hums, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “You don’t have to tell me though.”

Beca takes a slow breath, fiddling with her dog tags. “She had a lot of trouble with her ptsd and depression and since I was overseas, I couldn’t do much but make sure she was going to the doctors.”

“I’m not actually sure what happened, Sheila just said that a neighbor found her. I got emergency leave to deal with lawyers but my father didn’t even have the decency to tell me before the funeral.” Beca chuckles darkly, her her lips curling into a grimace. “I’m pretty sure the reason he doesn’t talk to me now is because my mom left me everything, even her house.”

“Wow, I’m so sorry,” Emily frowns, shaking her head a bit. “That’s so fucked up.”

“Holy shit, did you just curse?” Beca snorts, the sound seeming to snap her out of the spiral of thoughts she had been going down. “It’s like hearing a toddler cuss.”

"Shut the fuck up!” Emily whines, slapping her hand against her thigh. “I curse all the time!”

“Sure, kid.”

Emily’s been sitting under the tree for hours, enjoying Beca’s company when she realizes her external battery is dead and her phone is at thirty percent. “Shit, my phone is gonna die,” she huffs, shaking her head a bit.

“Hang up so you can have your phone on the way home,” Beca replies, frowning a bit. Her fingers are carding through Lincoln’s fur, who had wedged his way into frame an hour before.

Emily opens her mouth to agree when she realizes the sun in setting and she just smiles. “Hang on, we should watch the sunset,” she hums, switching to the back camera so Beca can see the bleeding sky.

“I forgot what Georgia sunsets looked like,” Beca breathes out, her eyes wide. “They’re like watching a red marker bleed through paper.”

Emily smiles softly, she knows she should be watching the sky but she can’t keep her eyes off of Beca. The way those eyes light up watching the colors makes Emily’s heart stutter and for a moment she wonders if she’ll ever stop being amazed by this woman.

“Beautiful,” Beca breathes out and Emily just nods along, a smile on her lips.

“You really are.”

#nova writes #this is very gay #and very angsty #and just #yes #ugh #apparently people have cried #that makes me happy #lmfao #I'm a bitch #have fuuuuuuun #beca mitchell #emily junk #bemily #letters across the sea brought you to me

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