#i felt like this au was the epitome of taking some really cool thing and making it boring and plain but hey! okay! maybe it isnt boring! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wkemeup · 4 years ago

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Sunrise (3)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: none 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky stared down at the fresh coffee stained on the sidewalk; a caramel puddle nestling into the cracks and stretching along the lines until it spilled out into the street. He could smell the bitterness and the sweetness in the cream, the steam of it still warm as it filtered up into the cold, autumn air. He cursed at himself under his breath.

You’d looked so beautiful, even with your eyes wide in shock and lips parted in a gasp as coffee spilled to your shoes. Dressed under an army green overcoat, a sliver of a burnt orange sweater peaked out from underneath. He’d seen that particular shade before, cast over a forest of evergreens and reflecting into the clouds, just above the sun as it set over the tree line.

But he’d made a fool of himself in front of you and he could still feel the burning in his ears. He felt hot under his jacket and he found himself glancing down the street, wondering if he could make a run for it. Only, you were waiting for him inside and Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing you.

Gathering what remained of his courage, Bucky parted the double doors and stepped inside. It took a minute to let his eyes adjust, but when the dim lighting came into view, he noticed you were standing by the entrance waiting for him like you’d known he’d decide to follow. You beamed as he caught sight of you and his stomach twisted straight to knots. You were still clutching the donut box to your chest, almost as if you were afraid he’d knock that out of your hands, too.

“Come on, you can help me set up.” You gestured down the hall to the room he met you in a few days prior. The library with no books on the shelves and cobwebs in the corners. “We’ve got to get you a book before the others show up.”

Bucky nodded, though he didn’t say anything as he followed you. It was pretty quiet without so many people lingering around, but everyone seemed to smile as you approached; perking up from under their clouds and called out your name until you waved back at them. It was like you carried sunshine in your pockets and comfort in your presence, breaking away stormy skies as you passed by.

Before you could reach the library door, Bucky rushed out ahead of you and grabbed a hold of the knob. You paused, eyes catching his for a moment and a pink filtered into his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

“Figured I could do one decent thing today after I ruined your shoes,” he explained, pulling open the door for you.

“You showed up, didn’t you?” you added with a wink. “I count two decent things today, James Barnes.”

He chuckled at that, nodding. “Y-Yeah, okay.”

You set the donuts on the coffee table and began to push the furniture around into a circle. You shouldered most of your weight into the couch to get it to budge and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips just watching you. Concentrated frown on your face, determination in your eyes, staring down the couch as if it were your sworn enemy.

“You need help with that?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the couch that barely moved a few inches while you were out of breath.

You glanced up at him over the spine of the couch, nodding gratefully. “This one always gives me trouble.”

“I’m sure if you waited for the others to show up, they’d help you move these around,” Bucky said as he placed his right hand on the back of the armrest, his knee digging into the center of the back. You stood next to him, hands on the frame to help push despite the fact that Bucky was strong enough, even without his left arm, to move the couch on his own. But he liked the idea of you beside him, so he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” you exhaled as they couch slid perfectly into place within the circle. “They all work so hard though, you know? It’s nice to have them just walk in and sit down for a change. Don’t need them thinking I’m expecting work out of them, too.”

“Ah, so that's why I’m here, then...”

He was surprised by the teasing in his own voice. When was the last time he made a joke? He couldn’t even remember. But you started to smile, that brightness shining right up into your eyes, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d make a thousand jokes if you would keep looking at him like that.

“Careful now,” you warned, a glimmer in your eye. “I might need you to help move this couch every week...”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”

He didn’t know where this was coming from or how it slipped off his tongue so easily, but he liked the way it seemed to catch your off guard. You stilled for a second, a nervous laugh under your breath as you quickly tucked away a few strands of fallen hair. You were flustered. Shit. He was done for.

“Haven't even seen one meeting and you’re offering to move couches for me on a weekly basis? Consider me eternally grateful, James Barnes.” You plopped down on the couch, reaching for the strap of your bag, though it was a few inches out of reach.

Bucky leaned down and picked up the bag, surprised to find it as heavy as it was, and gently set it in your lap. He took a seat on the couch on your left, though he left considerable room between you. You started digging through the bag, pulling out book after book and setting them on the table.

“We’ve got to pick your book of choice,” you explained, smiling at him and clearly eager to see what he would select. “Anything you want. I can get something else from the library for next week if you’re not interested in these. I’ve got some guys reading Harry Potter for the first time. Lang’s on the second Twilight book. Romanoff is halfway through The Odyssey. Barton’s about a few pages to the end of a murder mystery he guessed the plot twist of within the first ten pages, which is just downright infuriating...”

Your nose was all scrunched up and it was the damn near cutest thing Bucky had ever seen. He must have been staring for too long though, because you raised a brow at him.

Bucky cleared this throat, quickly looking away. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck and tried to steer the conversation strictly away from how adorable he found you.

“Isn’t the point of a book club to read the same book?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged, “but not my book club. The whole point is just to help these guys feel comfortable, give them a moment of peace, even if it’s for an hour once a week. Sometimes we’ll sit around the circle and talk about what we’re reading. Lang’s working really hard to sell the Twilight books to the rest of the group despite being about a decade late to the game. Most times though, we just read, listen to some music. It’s quite nice, actually.”

So that was what Sam meant by unconventional.

“I don’t know the last time I read anything,” Bucky admitted slowly. He could barely get himself to concentrate on a single newspaper article these days, let alone an entire book. He often caught himself staring at the TV and realizing an episode later that he didn’t have a clue what had happened.

“A lot of the guys take breaks,” you offered, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the donuts are for. Oh, and the coffee, of course.”

You jumped up, making your way over to the pots sitting on the table lining the wall. The pots were already filled and he wondered who took the time to do that for you before you even arrived. You were so well liked around here, Bucky found himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one who felt like you could tell him to do just about anything and he’d oblige without question.

“You want some?” you asked, holding up an empty cup, but Bucky shook his head. He was already starting to get warm and adding coffee to the mix wouldn’t help things.

You didn’t seem to mind as you shrugged off your jacket and draped it by the door. The orange sweater he’d caught a glimpse of under your jacket turned out to be a cardigan. It flowed long down by your thighs, draped over a simple, white tank top and black jeans. Gold jewelry sat over your collarbone and you had a sudden glow about you, like that hour just before sunset.

Golden hour, he realized. That’s what you reminded him of.

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” you asked, fanning yourself as you set the coffee on the table. “It’s not just me?”

It’s definitely you, Bucky thought. He’d never met anyone who carried such a presence as to melt the icy cold shards planted defensively around his chest. You were the epitome of warmth and kindness and the sweetest damn thing he’d ever seen... but a trail of sweat lined his hairline and he could feel the heat trapped under his jacket.

“Not you,” Bucky confirmed, brushing at his brow. “It’s hot.”

“Here,” you stood up, holding out a hand to him, “I can take your jacket for you.”

Bucky froze, jaw clenched. He became painfully aware of the empty sleeve on his left side. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew you must have noticed by now, but taking the jacket off made it obvious that a piece of him was missing, the stub at his shoulder the only thing left in place of an arm he could still feel most days.

“I’m, uh, I’m okay,” he stuttered out, his eyes falling to the ground, hoping you didn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. He could feel your eyes on him and he was almost certain that if he dared to look up at you, you’d be fixated on his empty sleeve.

Shame started to burn hot in his chest when suddenly he felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck. When he looked in search of you, he found you setting up a fan at the edge of the room, angling it just enough so that it was sure to reach him on every rotation.

He swallowed as he watched you. You didn’t ask questions or push him to take the jacket off despite being clearly too warm to keep it on. Instead, you offered him a short smile as you sat back on the couch beside him, a little closer this time.

“Any better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that's really nice. Thanks.”

You smiled for him and he wondered if he could stay inside that moment forever.

***

Bucky selected The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Gilman from the stack of books on the table. It surprised you as his hand ghosted over the cover before flipping it over in his palm, a curious look on his features. It was one of your favorites, one not many would choose to pick up in fear of the publishing date in the late 1800s, but it was a short story, one he could finish within the span of the meeting today.

As he stared down at the unusual yellow pattern on the cover, a frown pushed at his lips as he started to see the strange images hidden under the surface. You found yourself struggling to tear your gaze away from him. With such a reaction to the cover, you couldn’t wait for the end of the meeting just to hear what he thought of the story.

Soon, the usuals started filtering into the room and you noticed that Bucky had barely said a word as the low hum of small talk and chatter filled the empty space. He kept to himself, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion like he might run at any second as you talked with one of the oldest VA members by the door.

Upon sensing his discomfort, you quickly made your way back to the couch and you were surprised when you felt the cushion dip a little as he leaned in your direction as if he was using you as anchor; something familiar amongst an unknown. You tried to suppress a smile when he looked at you, but you really liked the idea of being something familiar to him.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” you told him quietly, nudging his side playfully with your shoulder. It drew a soft laugh from under his breath and he nodded, gripping tight to the book.

“Yeah, me too.” He sank back into the couch and relaxed the tension in his body.

Six on the dot. You turned to the group.

Tony Stark sat in his usual throne, legs draped over the arm rest, sitting sprawled out over the single chair. Heir to Stark Industries, he’d enlisted himself in rebellion against his own father. He’d ended up in the Air Force for three tours and prided himself on the tattoo on his chest he’d gotten drunkenly off base in his early twenties.

Natasha Romanoff found her place sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning up against the seat of Tony’s chair. She was a sort of a mystery to you, never spoke a word about her position within the military and how long she served, but she was exceptionally perceptive. Part of you wondered if she was some sort of super spy. Despite becoming a close friend, there was still so little you knew about her history. She rested a pillow in her lap.

Then, there was Scott Lang. He’d found himself in some trouble after his discharge, but he was turning his life around. He had a little girl to stick around for and he was trying desperately to find a job. You suspected his fascination with the Twilight books stemmed more from an unbreakable bond with his daughter than anything else. He took his place on the bean bag chair.

Clint Barton sat on the table outside the circle. He was a sharp shooter in his time and found more comfort in the distance. He kept to himself and had an exceptionally entertaining habit of making quick remarks under his breath few were fortunate to hear. You were determined to hand him a book with a plot twist not even he could see coming. You resided to put Defending Jacob by William Landay on hold.

A few others filled out the circle; familiar faces of men and women most would look past on the streets. Dark circles under their eyes, a hardened look about them. Some with tattoos and long beards, other’s draped in leather. Some, you could see the ghost of their former selves in their eyes, but they all seemed to lighten as they sat around the circle.

A moment of peace. It’s all you could offer and they took it gladly.

“Hey everyone. We’ve got a newbie in today.” You gestured to Bucky and he slowly lifted his hand in an awkward wave. “This is Bucky. Bucky, this is the group. Play nice.”

“What’s your rank, soldier?” Tony quipped from his chair; legs kicked out over the side. He never had much of a filter, or a sense of restraint. You shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice, or rather he didn’t care.

“Sergeant,” Bucky clarified, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He said it as though it burned him, like the very act of the title was painful just to speak.

“Where’d you serve?”

“Tony, we’re not grilling the new kid today,” you warned, but Bucky cleared his throat.

“Afghanistan mostly.” He curled his hand into a fist, pinching at the pages of The Yellow Wallpaper in his grip. A hardness had swept over most of his features, almost in a protective layer, and you wanted to whack Tony upside the head for stealing the soft undertones in his expression.

“And the rest?”

Bucky paused, releasing his fist. “Classified.”

Tony pursed his lips, staring Bucky down over the top lens of his thick rimmed glasses. A testament of wills. A challenge. Then, he nodded, satisfied.

“Great,” you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now that Tony here has finished interrogating our newest member, we can get started.”

“Hey, consider it my welcome to the group!” Tony hands thrown defensively in the air. Scott nodded from his couch, remembering his own initiation the day Tony demanded to know the extent of his robbery charges following his discharge.

You shook your head, smiling spreading back to your lips and you were thankful to find that Bucky had sat back into the couch, relaxing as the attention moved back to you.

“I think we’ll just spend today reading,” you said. “I’ll put on the playlist Tony recommended – and don’t worry, I did browse through to make sure he didn’t slip any rock anthems in again. We don’t need to give Dr. Selvig down the hall another heart attack when Back in Black starts blaring directly after Yiruma.”

The room laughed and you were purposeful in glancing over at Bucky to see if a smile caught on his lips. It was small, a little uncomfortable as his eyes flickered around the room at the other group members, but he seemed to soften as he landed on you again. You nodded at him.

“Alright kids, hush up now.” You pressed play and the gentle strokes of a piano began to fill the room. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”

You waited until everyone settled in and opened their books. One of the older gentlemen in the back with a long and burly white beard and a leather vest draped over his shoulders set the open novel on his chest and promptly closed his eyes for his weekly nap. You smiled to yourself as you watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest – the man deserved one decent hour of rest a week, anyway.

By the time you made your way back to the couch, you noticed Bucky had tensed up again. He was staring down at the book, harsh breaths pressing through his nose as he tried to keep the book propped open with on hand, losing his place as he tried to turn the page. His jaw was clenched so tight you wondered if he’d bite it clean off.

He didn’t dare ask for help or so much as look in your direction, but it was a determination you’d come to expect from the people you met in these halls. It didn’t mean you couldn’t offer it anyway.

You quietly opened a drawer at the edge of the room, pushing aside knick knacks and old ketchup packets until you came across a small wooden clip. One of the older members had used it when he was going through extensive PT for his hand and couldn’t pinch his fingers enough to grip the thin slip of the page. You pulled it from the drawer and quickly skirted your way back to the couch beside Bucky.

“Here,” you offered, extending the clip to him as the book fell closed on his lap for the fourth time. He looked up at you, confused. You wondered if he realized how cute he looked when his brows pinched together like that; made him look about ten years younger and wiped the evidence of the war clean off his face.

You smiled at him. “It holds the pages down for you. Look.”

Gently pulling the book from his lip, you opened to the first page and set the clip at the bottom of the binding. When you released it, the pages stayed open, giving him free range of motion to turn the page without losing his place.

He blinked a few times as he stared down at the book. It was clear he’d never considered a tool like this and you wondered how many times he had sat down with the intention of reading only to find he couldn’t even turn past the first page. He might have been able to figure out the skill in it if he’d had the patience, but you imagined his own frustration got in the way of that. He seemed to have little patience for himself, as soldiers returning home often did.

There was a brief moment when the tips of his fingers brushed over yours as you pulled away. His hands were warm, almost feverish in comparison to the chill in your own. A blush warmed his cheeks and his eyes quickly darted down to the pages. Your stomach was in pleasant knots.

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, a soft semblance of a smile rising sweetly at the edges of his lips.

You nodded, settling in on the couch beside him and pulling your own book up into your lap. You listened to the gentle strokes of the piano carrying softly through the room until a page turned on your left and then, you let yourself sink into the bindings of the book perched upon your lap.

***

“So! What did you think?!”

It was the first thing you said as the final group member exited the room. Barely even a footstep out the door and you were already anxiously awaiting his reaction. Bucky was busy pushing the couch back into its original position and he glanced back at you to see you biting nervously on your lip, hands wringing out in front of you. You were swaying onto your tip toes like a kid hyped up on sugar. It was the cutest damn thing he’d ever seen.

“It was... a little creepy at the end?” Bucky chuckled, glancing down at The Yellow Wallpaper as it sat on the coffee table. “The woman went completely mad.”

You nodded vigorously, the smile on your face beaming and he had to watch himself to keep from mirroring your excitement.

"It’s a critique on how women’s mental health was perceived in the nineteenth century!” you explained with that giddy look on your face, reaching down for the book and flipping the pages through your fingers, the soft brush of wrinkled paper touching over each thumbprint. “Women were believed to be weak minded and frail, unable to handle more than two hours of mental stimulation. The woman in the story was prescribed ‘rest’ by her physician to treat her depression, essentially restricting her to little more than staring at the walls.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning dramatically, and drawing a smile to Bucky’s face that ached into his cheeks. “Slowly, it drove her to seek stimulation in impossible places, like the image of a woman she saw in the wallpaper! By the end of the story, that’s who she became. Wild, right?”

You shook your head, seemingly lost in astonishment. There was a slight crinkle in your nose when you smiled that wide, Bucky realized, like even the features on your face couldn’t hope to contain the joy bursting from your smile. Radiated like the fucking sun. Bucky was helpless in his stance, frozen, as he listened to you.

“You know the author once said, ‘it’s not intended to drive people crazy, but to save people from being driven crazy,’” you continued, setting the book down with such a gentle touch, almost as if it were a living, breathing thing. You handled it with such care and Bucky began to wonder if you’d ever touch him like that – if he was worth such tenderness.

The thought startled him and he quickly swallowed it back. Jaw clenched, right hand pressed to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. Stone cold expression. And yet – you were still talking about that book, all starry eyed and adorable, and a smile managed to crack through his lips. It was his new favorite book, he decided. Whatever could make you smile like that was his favorite. He’d sit there and read the fucking phone book if you asked him to.

“She wrote it in retaliation of her own experience of a physician disregarding her depression. It's actually quite remarkable when you think about it. It's one of the earliest American Feminist works of it’s– ” You froze suddenly, hand clamping over your mouth. You winced at him, slowly pealing your palm away. “Oh God, I’m rambling. I tend to get a little excited about these things... You must be so bored right now.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile as it rose in his cheeks. He liked seeing you so flustered, caught up in a passion he so rarely saw these days. He didn’t know the last time he cared about anything as much as you cared for books. He could have easily listened to you talk like that for hours without interruption.

“No, no, not bored at all,” he reassured you and you visibly relaxed, relief sweeping through your shoulders. You started to fold up the chairs when Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back. “I, uh, I did like the story, though. Has a lot of relevance today. I see why you like it.”

If he thought you were going to burst before, he should have waited to see how you were looking at him now. Chewing on the inside of your cheek in hopes of suppressing it, though it clearly did little use. You planted your hands on your hips.

“Watch what you say, Barnes. I’ll talk your ear off.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m already down an arm, what’s an ear, too?”

The second the words left his lips, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head; drenching his clothes, goosebumps on his ice, sinking into his veins and freezing him to stone. He woken up from a pleasant dream by the harsh ringing of an alarm. He'd been pushed off a cliff, stomach churning in the freefall.

You knew. Obviously, you knew.

You weren’t blind and he was certain you could tell there was a startling absence where his left arm should be, even with the poorly camouflaged sleeve hanging off his side. It wasn’t fooling strangers on the street and it certainly didn’t fool you either, even if it gave him an ounce of peace, like maybe he could pretend he was whole again.

But you’d brought him that book clip for a reason.

You knew.

At yet, this was the first time he mentioned it aloud. Actually said the words. Drew attention to the fact that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and now he was waiting for you to flinch, for the familiar shades of pity and embarrassment to cloud over your starry eyes, but he waited and waited and – it never came.

Instead, you started to laugh.

It filled the room and washed away whatever panic was surging inside of him within a matter of seconds. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard and he wished you didn’t shield your hand over your lips in an effort to contain it because – God – he could have spent his whole life sitting in that moment. Tears in your eyes, a smile on your face, looking at him like he was the man he was before the war, like he was something worth looking at.

“You’re funny, James Barnes,” you said after you caught your breath again, a whisper of a laugh still lingering in your voice. You brushed the tears from your eyes.

Bucky’s chest felt instantly lighter. His right hand was swinging down at his side and he brought it up to his hair to brush it from his face.

“I could use a new book for next week,” he started, a little surprised at himself, and judging by the look in your eyes, it surprised you too. But you were smiling at him and it gave him the courage to continue. “Thought maybe you could help me find something?”

“Really?” you asked, practically glowing. “You’ll come back next week?”

He’d do anything if you kept looking at him like that.

“Yeah,” was all he said, but you looked as though he told you he’d just told you he won the lottery. Maybe he had.

“Well then, I’d be happy to! Just, um, hold on a second,” you scrambled around the room, looking for a pen and paper. You clicked a pen a few times before doodling in the corner to get the ink moving. When you were finished, you handed it to him. “These are my hours at the library. Come by anytime, okay? If I’m not up front, ask Mrs. Jefferson to page me. She’ll know who you are.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, staring down at the scribbled numbers. Did you talk about him at work? Butterflies swarmed in his stomach at the thought. He wondered what kinds of things you would say about him.

“Walk me out?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the rack and gesturing to the door. Bucky looked up, not even realizing the room was already set back in its original formation, the empty box of donuts discarded.

He nodded, following you to the door.

“You know, I’m really happy you decided to come today,” you said as you passed into the hallway. Bucky kept an even pace at your side and tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach escape to where you could see.

“Almost didn’t,” he admitted with a tired chuckle.

“Figured by the staring contest you were having with the building before the coffee incident.”

Bucky winced, but you were smiling as he looked over at you and he felt the tension slip from his muscles instantly. “I am sorry about that...”

“Maybe you can just owe me a coffee,” you suggested casually, as if the prospect of spending time together, just the two of you didn’t make the butterflies crawl a little further up into his chest. “A real one. Not the shitty stuff we serve at the VA.”

Bucky swallowed, pushing the creatures back into his stomach. His throat was dry. “I can do that.”

He pictured sitting across from you at a café, watching your hands curl around the outside of a mug, the steam of it brushing on your nose. Glistening in the reflection of the sunlight peaking through the windows, draped in the glow of the sunset. He’d buy you a thousand coffees.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you soon then?”

Bucky looked around and realized suddenly that he was standing outside. The cold breeze had turned into a frigid autumn chill with the sun nearly set behind the skyline. Peaks of orange remained at the horizon, mimicking the colors in your sweater. When he looked down, he could still see the stain of coffee on the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, determined to push past whatever doubt etched into his way. It faded in an instant as he saw your lips curve up high into your cheeks. “I’ll see you soon.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Winnie the Pooh Pajamas (Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)

Summary: You don’t see your body the way Maxwell does: you see it as undesirable, Maxwell sees it as the epitome of attractiveness. After a tough body image day, you ask Maxwell if he thinks you’re sexy. W/C: 4k Warnings: SMUT (18+), language, body dysmorphia, food, mentions of anxiety, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, brief joking mention of a daddy kink, rare soft Maxwell -> sarcastic asshole Maxwell again. reader is afab. A/N: Well! This is inspired by feeling like shit after a long day, and wanting to get some much needed love and attention. Lots of love and thanks to @mandoalorian and @ilikechocolatemilkh for helping me with the ideas (and specifically, shout out to Rach for having Winnie the Pooh pajamas just like I do 🥰) Additionally, it’s only briefly mentioned but this is an AU where Maxwell’s company actually did find oil, and he’s successful and happy. I just think he deserves it.

Today was shit. Plain and simple. It all started when you picked out a shirt that didn’t cut like the normal things you wore to work. It was tight and you felt like it exposed your rolls, and the tight jeans you wore felt painfully confining. The coffee shop you work in was busy, leaving you frantically scrambling around. You were bent over a steaming espresso machine for half of the day, and running drinks around when you had a moment. Rude customers had abounded, enough that you ended up crying in the walk-in fridge for a while, sobbing amongst the rising dough. The coolness had only accentuated the heat of the coffee shop when you returned to the floor to finish your seemingly endless shift. Needless to say, you were hot and tired. When you got home, you immediately changed into a pair of comfortable pajamas and slid into your sheets, enjoying the coolness of the satin your boyfriend had gifted you. Maxwell was a wonderful boyfriend, always showering you with gifts. He even told you that it was unnecessary for you to keep working at the coffee shop, that he’d take care of your bills and do anything you needed. He was the CEO of a newly successful oil company, after all. Money was not an object to him, and he wanted to do anything he could for you. As tempting as it was, you felt like it would be taking advantage. Hell, the two of you haven’t even slept together yet. Plus, something in you was determined not to be a housewife, to break the mold of the 1984 woman. More and more women were going to work, yes, but you were determined to be one of them. Your messy hair is in a ponytail, and you feel bloated and disgusting as you look down at your body. Your pajamas hold nothing in, accentuate nothing, simply loosely sheathe your body. Your breasts feel ridiculously saggy, your stomach feels too thick, and everything else simply feels terrible too. The pajamas, patterned with Winnie the Pooh, make you feel childish and upset. That’s probably why Maxwell hasn’t slept with you yet, you tell yourself. You’re not attractive to him. He’s stringing you along for some emotionally manipulative fun and will probably dump you sooner rather than later. You’re a child to him, being a bit younger. He’s only doing this to be nice, to indulge your childish crush. Normally, you are far from easily distraught. You’re sarcastic and witty, always teasing your millionaire boyfriend. Rare is the moment you feel the man’s power over you, always treating him like an equal, despite his wealth. That’s why he was drawn to you, your sass and spunk and spitfire attitude. You can face anything with a deadpan joke and power through, but the day you’ve had makes everything worse. Your eyes well with tears and you roll on your side, clinging to the sheets like you’re hugging them as you allow yourself to cry it out. A few moments into your little pity-party, you hear something moving in the apartment. The jingle of keys. “Fuck,” you whimper as it hits you. Maxwell had planned on coming over tonight, bringing takeout for the two of you to eat while watching movies. Eating something was the last thing on your mind right now, wanting to stay far away from anything that could make your body feel as miserable as it does.

“Darling,” Maxwell calls as he opens the door to the apartment, his face falling a little as he doesn’t see you in the living room. You remain quiet, suddenly embarrassed by your state, and Maxwell closes the door behind him as he walks in. He spots your keys, knowing you’re home, and walks into the kitchen, not finding you there either. He sets the food on the counter and continues his little search. “Where are you?” He calls out, finally wandering towards your bedroom. “In here,” you say weakly and peek up from your duvet. Your eyes, reddened and damp, meet his and his heart sinks. “Oh, my dear, what is it?” He asks, coming to the side of your bed and sitting next to you on the edge. He pushes the covers back from your head and cups your face gently. You try to speak but your voice chokes on tears, simply crying more and leaning into his hand. He pouts softly and caresses your hair with his other hand. “Talk to me, my love,” he says gently, his heart breaking for you. Biting down on your lip, you swallow hard. “Just… shitty day,” you manage out before another sob comes out of your throat. Maxwell sits fully on your bed and pulls you up to sit next to him. You collapse into his chest, making his polo damp with your tears. He doesn’t seem to mind, just strokes your back and presses a kiss to your head. “Can you tell me about it?” He asks gently, his lips still pressed into your hair, breathing in the scent of your perfume and the espresso of the shop. You shake your head, and he simply nods, holding you close. “Let it out, and I’ll be here to talk when you’re ready,” he murmurs, making his breathing purposely slow in hopes to calm you. After a little bit, your sobbing does slow. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, lifting your head to look at him. You’re a complete mess, and you know it, tears and snot coating your face, but Maxwell simply wipes your cheeks with a tissue and smiles gently at you. “What for?” He asks, tossing the tissue aside and grabbing another, allowing you to blow your nose into it. “You brought food and it was supposed to be a date night and-“ “It still can, my dear,” he chuckles softly, pushing the stray hairs of your ponytail back down against your head. “Let’s get you to the couch and we’ll eat. We don’t even have to talk about whatever it is that’s upsetting you, okay?” He asks kindly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nod and that earns a small smile from him. “Good. You wipe your face down and meet me on the couch. I’ll grab the food,” he tells you and stands from your bed, squeezing your arm before retreating to the kitchen. You look down at yourself and your lip quivers again. These are your favorite cozy pajamas, the furthest thing from sexy. You had been hoping to finally consummate your relationship with Maxwell tonight, and here you are, in your tattered and cozy pajamas. You bite back tears and wipe your face, taking some deep breaths and a sip from the glass of water on your nightstand. You finally pad out to the living room, and Maxwell’s eyes light as he spots you. “There you are. Come here, my darling,” he offers, opening his arms. You gladly slide into them, sitting next to him, and he kisses your head. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. You shake your head. “No. I just want to eat and be with you,” you tell him, making yourself smile. He smiles back and nods, handing you your container of takeout and a fork. Even though it’s your favorite meal, it’s hard to eat tonight. You pick at your food, taking small bites, looking up at him every so often. It’s a comfortable silence for a while, before he interjects. “You’re not eating like normal,” he points out, noticing that your food is hardly touched. “It’s your favorite. What’s really wrong?” He asks, cupping your face and turning it to face his. He sets each of your meals aside on the coffee table, that signature little pout on his lips. “It’s nothing, Maxie, please,” you shake your head, not wanting to meet his eyes. You know yours will start watering again. “It isn’t. I know it’s not, so don’t tell me that. Talk to me,” he pleads, holding your face so that you have no option but to look at him. You swallow hard before nodding. “I just… had a bad day at work,” you shrug and look into his eyes, but you can both tell it’s not true. He raises a brow and you sigh. “Just… tough day in general. I don’t like my body, and my shirt felt disgusting on me, and everything is gross about me and now I’m in front of you in my ugliest pajamas,” you start, face contorting as you hold back tears. His heart is broken, truly. “What are you talking about, dearest?” He asks gently, his fingers toying with a loose strand of your hair. You bite your lip and look down, but he tilts your chin up to face him with one ring-clad finger. “You don’t ever need to doubt how beautiful I find you. You know that,” he tells you softly. He sighs gently. “I have those issues myself. I don’t like the way I look on camera. I highlight my hair so their eyes are drawn to that, and not my stomach. I wear big suits to hide my rolls, to hide my arms. I don’t like them,” he admits, swallowing hard. “But this isn’t about me. You don’t need to worry about how beautiful I find you, ever. I think you’re the most beautiful creature to ever grace the earth.” “Then why haven’t we done anything yet?” You finally blurt. He‘s taken aback. He didn’t expect that to come from you, most certainly not now. “Do you think I’m sexy, Maxwell?” You ask, your self-hatred evident in your eyes. “Because I don’t. I don’t see how any of this can be attractive, and I totally get it if that’s why we haven’t done it yet. Because I’m not anything special, I’m really not, I look like this in front of you, this powerful handsome man, and I’m just-,” you’re cut off by a hitch in your throat, hands covering your face as your rambling comes to a stop. The tears are close to spilling from Maxwell‘s eyes as he calls your name gently, removing your hands from his face. His sadness is clear in those beautiful brown eyes of his. “Of course it isn’t, and of course I do,” he shakes his head, his eyes scanning your body. “You’re probably just saying that because I’m crying in front of you, I put you on the spot with that, and that’s not fair, and I-,” you ramble again, rubbing your eyes and daring to look up at him. Maxwell grips your arms, pulling you close to him. “Listen to me, my dear,” he commands you, still gentle yet demanding. “Do you want me to tell you how sexy I think you are?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s serious now. You simply nod. You could use some reassurance right now, even if you probably aren’t going to believe it. “Then I will. I think about you every night when I lie in bed. I touch myself to the thought of you. Is that enough?” He asks, his voice tinged with lust. It sends a shiver down your spine. “I picture you in those sheets I bought you, spread open for me. Do you touch yourself to me too? I wonder that every single night, those perfect lips against mine in my mind.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your fingers, his lacing between yours. You gulp, but not from holding back tears this time. You nod softly, your eyes looking up at his and seeing how they’re almost hungry. “I don’t care what you’re wearing. I don’t care if you’re wearing pajamas with Winnie the Pooh on them. I think about your body and your body alone. How good you’d feel around me. How perfect those tits would feel to squeeze while I’m eating you out.” The thought of it makes you shudder. You flutter your lashes, his eyes never leaving yours as he tells you everything. “There’s never a moment where the image of you fingering yourself is not in my head. I get hard during business meetings wondering if you’d call me Max, Maxie, or Maxwell in bed. Do you understand now?” He asks, and you nod again. “Do you need me to prove it to you?” He asks in a low voice, leaning in until his lips are just next to your ear. You can’t help yourself: a small whimper slips from your lips. “Please,” you whine to him, removing your hands from his to cling at his shirt desperately. He smiles softly, his chest already heaving as he pulls his head back to look at your stunned face before kissing you deeply, unlike he ever has before. It’s passionate and needy and you can’t get enough of it, pulling yourself closer to him by the polo. “Maxie,” you mumble into his lips, sending a rush of blood directly to his straining cock. “You want me, my love? Because I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmurs for a moment between kisses, then kisses you again. Again and again, the harsh kisses grow even harsher until you’re practically smashing your faces together. He finally breaks away, panting. “Your room, my beautiful girl,” he nods, standing quickly and planting a kiss on your head. You follow quickly, pulling him along to your room, a grin finally on your face. “That’s what I like to see,” he chuckles at your grin, stopping in the doorway to kiss you contently, undoing the buttons to his polo with one hand. Breaking away, you look up again, into his eyes. “You meant everything you said?” You ask, the anxiety still lingering in the back of your mind. Maxwell pouts. “I’d never lie to you, my dear. How could you break my heart by insinuating such a thing?” He asks, hands tracing your waist and sliding under the pajama shirt. “I have never wanted someone more than I want you right now, those pajamas and all,” he tells you, voice deeper, kissing you hungrily. The passion and fervor of his lips are enough to convince you. You moan softly into his lips, the two of you finding your way to the bed. Maxwell pushes you down onto it, making you giggle, and gets on his knees at the foot of the bed. “I am going to make you feel so good that you’re going to forget anything negative you’ve ever felt about yourself,” he promises you, pulling down the elastic-waisted shorts and finding that you’re wearing no panties beneath them. “Power of positive thinking,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee. “Maxie,” you whimper as he spreads your legs, pressing the softest of kisses up the inside of your thigh. Before he reaches the top, he spreads your legs wider and sits back on his heels, simply enjoying the view. “You are magnificent,” he murmurs in a hushed voice before being drawn to your core like a starving man to a feast. He treats you just like that: a feast. Maxwell slowly traces his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan helplessly and let your head fall back into your sheets. You grab at your breasts through the shirt and Maxwell breaks away for a moment. “Take that off and keep playing with them for me,” he chuckles darkly before going back at it, his tongue circling your clit in a deliciously slow motion. You nod and peel off the shirt, tossing it aside. You grab at your breasts, toying with the nipples and sighing at how perfect Maxwell’s mouth feels against you. He slips in two fingers and you groan helplessly, one hand finding its way into his highlighted waves. The other grips your comforter even harder as he curls the fingers inside of you. “Oh fuck, Maxie,” you whimper helplessly, toes curling, one leg resting over his shoulder. He continues his motions, everything slow and dragged out but perfectly teasing. He moans against you and you bite down on your lip to stifle a helplessly loud cry. “Feels so fucking good,” you whine, earning a content hum from the man between your legs. Maxwell sucks on your clit gently, swirling it with his tongue again a moment later. It all feels so good, everything he does. Your eyes slip open in the lust and find his immediately. He looks so fulfilled and happy to be doing this, completely blissed out. “Oh fuck,” you shudder as he winks in time to a particularly hard curl of the fingers, hitting just the spot inside of you. “You cocky- ah,” you whine and your eyes slip shut again. “Gonna cum, baby,” you groan out. Maxwell makes a noise of approval into you and the sensation is just enough to push you over the edge, crying out his name. “Maxie, Max, so good,” you whine, fingers gripping his hair tight. “Ah, oh shit,” you coo, coming down from your high. When you’re finished, Maxwell pulls away with a shit-eating- well, pussy-eating- grin. “How was that?” He asks, pressing a gently kiss to the inside of your thigh. You laugh happily, your head spinning. He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “I could spend hours doing that, darling. You just make me want to destroy you.” The words are enough to immediately arouse you again. “Then come do it, please,” you giggle, looking down at him shyly and wiggling your eyebrows. He laughs and nods, standing. “Wait. Strip for me, give me a little show,” you tell him with a smile. “You told me everything you think about me. It’s my turn.” He almost looks shy, a rare look on the man. “Well, it’s nothing impressive,” he chuckles, looking down at the ground. “I’m sure I’ll love it,” you nod, smiling sweetly at him. “Come on, please, Maxie.” That nickname drives him wild, increases the tenting in his pants. “Well, alright,” he chuckles, shaking his head and pulling his polo over his head. He’s not incredibly well sculpted, but it’s easy to tell he’s strong. He does have a little tummy, but it’s endearing. He pushes down his pants and steps out of them, and you raise an eyebrow at the outline of his hardened cock in his briefs. It’s large, you can clearly see, a little damp spot where his precum has leaked. “You are so fucking hot, Max,” you tell him, adoration in your voice. He smiles softly at that, raising an eyebrow and chuckling. “It’s much appreciated, my dear,” he shakes his head and smiles. You grab a condom from your nightstand and toss it to him. He sheds his boxers and dear Lord, you are going to be destroyed in the morning. He’s slightly above average in length, but he’s thick as can be and you lick your lips in anticipation. He catches a glimpse of your look and smirks a little to himself. He rolls the condom on, tossing the wrapper on his discarded clothes. You scoot back to be slightly propped up against the headboard and Max climbs over you, kissing you slowly and deeply. He’s a wonderful kisser, you’ve known that, but he’s even better when he’s consumed by the lust deep inside of him. Your hands cup his face as you open your mouth, allowing his tongue in. He breaks away with a soft moan as you reach down to slowly stroke him. “My darling, are you ready?” He asks, your faces close together. “So ready,” you nod in agreement, smiling softly. He smiles back at that and lines himself at your entrance, his eyes slipping shut as he pushes into you. His mouth falls slightly open at the feeling, and you moan back at the sensation. “Oh god, you’re so thick,” you moan, picking your head up and kissing along his neck softly. Everything about you is soft, he notices: your skin, your lips, your lush body, your perfect pussy. He groans at the feeling as he slowly bottoms out, and you match his noises and cry out gently. “Please, Maxie,” you moan softly, your lips pressing gentle kisses behind his ear. He nods and pulls out just as slowly, almost all the way before he pushes back in. He isn’t gentle, but he takes his time, moving painfully slowly. “You feel so good, so so good,” you whimper, flicking your tongue across the shell of his ear. Maxwell lets out a genuine moan, his hips speeding up ever so slightly. One of his hands moves to trace circles into your clit with two fingers, in time with the thrusts he pushes into you. It feels perfect, the man’s strength evident in how he thrusts. “I love your body, my dear,” he mumbles as he pushes in and out of you. “You are so beautiful. Not a single flaw on the entire thing. So tight around me, so soft,” he shudders as you unintentionally clench around him. “So tight,” he nearly hisses, his fingers working harder into your clit. “You make me feel so good,” you nod frantically as his head drops to kiss along the curve of your neck. “You’re so strong, so good at this- fuck, so good,” you moan as he hits your g-spot perfectly in time with his fingers. “Ah, right there, hm?” He chuckles breathlessly, thrusting at just the same angle and earning a strangled cry from you. “Right- there-,” he grunts with harder and harder thrusts, pushing harder and harder against that perfect spot. “Maxie, please,” you cry now, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. “I’m gonna- fuck, I want you to come with me. Want you to feel what I feel,” you whine, frantically grabbing at his back. “I’m close too, my love,” he murmurs, thrusting harder. “Come on, cum with me,” he nods. His words are all you need, his tone triggering the release as your walls flutter around him. The sensation causes him to let go too, finally feeling the perfection of his orgasm. He keeps thrusting against the spot he knows makes you weak, shuddering as he feels you gushing around him. Once you’ve both finished, he slows down and sighs, pulling out of you and lying next to you in your bed. He’s flushed and sweating, and he looks absolutely perfect. “Maxie,” you coo, resting your head on his chest and pressing a kiss to his warm skin. “That was… fantastic,” you admit, already missing the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you out. Max smiles, eyes fluttering shut. “You, my dear, felt absolutely amazing,” he chuckles softly, wrapping an arm around you, the other going under his head. He presses a kiss to your hair, smiling softly. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet. I told you I was going to prove to you just how sexy I think you are, and we’re going through with it.” You laugh a little, noticing how tired he already seems. “Okay, old man,” you tease, and he swats your ass lightly. “Watch your words,” he laughs, kneading at the skin he just smacked. “I might have to get mean with you,” he half-teases, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you. “I wouldn’t mind being absolutely destroyed tonight,” you smile innocently, scrunching your nose and bringing your face close to his. “Daddy,” you say flirtatiously, wiggling your eyebrows. Max’s smirk grows even wider. “Oh no, now you’re asking for it,” he chuckles, giving your ass another little slap and smiling at your reaction. “Careful, my dear,” he murmurs before bringing your face to his to kiss him deeply. He’s already deeply aroused again, you can tell from the way he’s kissing you, and you giggle as you break away. “Mm, there’s your usual self,” he says with a grin and rubs your lower back. “I’m glad to see it. I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into you more often,” he winks, laughing at the fake gasp you give. “You asked me if you thought I was sexy, I gave you my answer,” he says defensively, smiling still. “Even in those Winnie the Pooh pajamas, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, darling,” he tells you earnestly before pressing one more kiss to your lips.

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #WW84 #wonder woman 1984 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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baggebythesea · 3 years ago

Text

The lady and her knight

a drabble for the day 4 prompt of Glitra week 2021 - Princess/Knight AU.

@glitra-week-2021

"Glimmer," Angella said. "You are now thirteen years old, and it's time for you to have your own..."

"Pony?" Glimmer asked with eyes full of hope.

Angella sighed.

"No, Glimmer. We have been through that a million times. Horses are dangerous. No, it's time for you to have your own body guard."

"Ugggggh!" Glimmer said. "Moooooom. I don't need a baby-sitter. I can take care of myself."

"A lady's knight is far from a baby-sitter," Angella said, voice a bit sharper. "Your body guard will be someone in your own age. Someone you can bond with, share experiences with. Grow to trust with your life if necessary. It's not uncommon for such bonds to grow in time." She smiled warmly and Juliette, who returned the smile. "Your knight could become a trusted companion, a close confident, a..."

The word 'friend' hung unsaid in the air.

Glimmer gave her mother an uncharacteristically placable look.

"It might not be horrible..." she said slowly. "But who would it even be?"

"Ah, I have actually already asked General Juliette to chose a suitable candidate among the aspiring knights."

"Indeed," Juliette said with smooth voice and opened the door. "Could you join us please, Catra?"

A girl Glimmer's age entered. She was dressed in leather armour and carried a light sword at her side. She stepped up to Glimmer with the bearing of someone who has been told very sternly by her superiors to behave, and the irreverent smirk of someone who knew in her heart that she wouldn't. She sank to one knee and met Glimmer's eyes.

"My lady," she said, and even if the words were proper and the tone of voice were subservient, her eyes danced with obstinate light.

Glimmer gave her a long look.

She held out her hand, a queenly gestured practiced a million times to placate a mother who had told her very sternly to behave, but at the same time smiled a smile of someone who has no intention of doing so.

"My knight," she said with velvet voice.

They looked each other in the eyes.

Oh, you're so going to get it, they communicated - loud and clear with no need for words.

Catra took Glimmer's hand.

Glimmer helped her to her feet.

They both squeezed as hard as they could without breaking eye contact, without their smiles faltering.

"Catra has shown great promises in basic training," Juliette said. "She is an able fighter and a skilled strategist, and it has been suggested that she might benefit from some, ah, variation in scenery."

"Ah," Angella said.

Catra smirked.

"Glimmer might also... benefit from a... new perspective," Angella said.

"Ah," Juliette said.

Glimmer grinned.

They all understood each other, loud and clear.

"Glimmer," Angella said sternly. "I trust you will do your uttermost to treat your new knight with the dignity and respect her station deserves, and most importantly, behave like a lady."

"Of course, mother," Glimmer said, her eyes never leaving Catra's face.

"Catra," Juliette said. "I trust you will do everything in your power to serve and protect princess Glimmer, and most importantly behave like a knight."

"Of course, General," Catra said, her eyes locked on Glimmer's.

Oh yes, they understood each other perfectly.'

"Then I suggest you take your leave and get to know each other," Angella said. She gave Juliette a fond smile. "Me and the general have urgent matters that needs to be discussed."

"Indeed, my Queen," the general answered with warm voice.

And thus, Princess Glimmer and the knight Catra were left to their own devices.

- - -

The first shot was fired in unison. There was no communication, no agreement, but apparently they both felt the importance of both of them taking responsibility for what was to unfold - whatever that might be. The shot itself was trivial, just the two of them trying to squeeze through the doorway together and roughly pushing each other in the side. They traded a few sarcastic, demeaning apologizes, but they both felt this was just warm-up.

They strolled down to the balcony to 'get to know' each other and begin in earnest.

Glimmer took the next swing. Perhaps they felt it suitable for her status. A few lofty remarks, a demand for 'her knight to serve her' (they were drinking tea).

Catra didn't miss a beat and spilled the entire content of the tea can in Glimmer's lap. She looked her in the eyes and 'apologized'. Glimmer wasn't even mad, it was such a flawless execution.

Then Glimmer had Catra find a broom and sweep up the fallen tea tray, servant style. Catra managed to make such a mess of even finding the broom closet that Glimmer had to abandon the attempt and leave it to the servants.

Then Catra, apparently tired of leaving the initiative to Glimmer, started to make a fuss over Glimmer opening doors, walking up stairs, reaching things from the high shelf... all solid taunts targeting a spoiled little brat of a princess, but somewhat loosing in execution since Catra was just as short as Glimmer, and since Glimmer could teleport up the stair, which she smugly did.

Catra narrowed her eyes.

Time to step up her game.

Catra suggested they take a walk, and they just 'happened' to come by the training grounds. Catra suggested she'd take the opportunity to show her new lady what her knew night was capable of. While Glimmer jealously watched, Catra spun and jump and struck and flipped and reduced a poor training dummy to splinters, looking incredibly cool the whole time and not like a stupid pampered princes who's mother wouldn't even let her have a pony.

Then Catra administrated the coup de grâce - as efficient as it was cruel - by saunter up to the staring princess, a bit sweaty but otherwise as cool as anyone Glimmer had ever seen, and casually suggested that now when Glimmer had been so good to indulge her knight's fancy maybe they should do something more suitable for a princess, such as ballroom dancing or - she indulged in a moment of dramatic silence before she looked Glimmer in the eye and continued - embroidery.

Glimmer hated her. She hated her with a passion she never felt before in her admittedly short but still very passionate life. She hated her stupid grin and her strong arms and the way her fangs made her look dangerous and cool and she hated her smug, irreverent way of sauntering and she hated the way she swished her tail when she thought she had done something extra clever and what exactly did Bow think was funny with all this?

"Nothing," Bow promised and hid a smile under his hand.

Catra hated Glimmer. She was such a spoiled brat. She looked like a cupcake and smelled like strawberries and wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty and sparked like the sunset and... what was Adora laughing at?

"Nothing," Adora promised without even trying to hide her smile. Catra snarled and ran out of the soldier's quarter they shared and force the images of Glimmer's warm smile out of her mind.

The next day they escalated.

Glimmer was snooty, Catra was irreverent. Glimmer gave unreasonable commands, Cara obeyed them in as useless a fashion as possible. They traded barbs, as hurtful they could think of. They glared at each other with pure, undiluted hatred.

They both knew this would end in a catastrophe sooner rather than later.

"How do you to get along this far?" Angella asked.

"Just fine, mother," Glimmer has answered.

"Really? No problem getting to know each other."

"Of course not, mother."

"And nothing to remark on Catra's performance of her knightly duties?"

"Absolutely not. She is a credit to her order," Glimmer had answered with calm voice.

"How is the princess?" Juliette had asked. "These royal types can be such a pest sometimes."

"I couldn't say, General," Catra had answered. "The princess is the very epitome of grace and kindness."

"No problem getting along, then?" Juliette asked.

"No problem at all," Catra answered, voice unwavering.

The last thing they wanted was outside intervention.

This was their war.

It was such a tiny thing, really, when they first broke script. Just one barb hitting a bit closer to home than usual, a mask faltering for just a moment, and the other suddenly looking worried, suddenly reaching out a hand, as if for comfort.

The moment was over in the blink of an eye, and they both did their best to act like it hadn't happened.

But they didn't forget.

After that it was all downhill, really.

Or uphill, I suppose, depending on your frame of reference.

It was their barbs being more and more designed to provoke laughter rather than hurt.

It was them more and more often trying to impress rather than put down.

It was Glimmer asking if Catra could perhaps teach her some of the cool moves she did on the training ground.

It was Catra asking if Glimmer could perhaps show her some of the acrobatics she did while teleporting.

It was the two of them, walking hours over the castle ground and talking and laughing.

It was the time they got in their head to climb the old tower. Only a quick teleportation saved their lives.

It was them sneaking down to the cavalry unit and beg Adora to let Glimmer have a go on her horse Horsie.

It was Glimmer asking Bow to teach Catra some archery stunts deemed less than suitable for impressionable young knights by the Bright Moon military leadership.

It was the two of them deciding that knightly duties absolutely involved guarding the princess at night from unspecified but obviously real dangers.

It was the two of them staying up long after midnight in Glimmer's room, laughing and talking and thinking and plotting and eventually falling asleep, snuggled up together.

They become inseparable, much to the Castle staff's chagrin. Where one went, the other was sure to follow, and with both of them in the same place, trouble was not far away.

In hindsight, perhaps it was somewhat of an overreaction, the things Catra did to the knight of the Princess of Salineas after said princess had appeared rude to the Princess of Brightmoon during an official gathering (don't worry, the knight's moustache grew out again).

Definitely an overreaction was what Princess Glimmer did to the diplomatic attaché from Mystacor after said diplomat had made what could be constructed as snide remarks on Catra's behalf.

Luckily, Bow, Catra, Angella, Micah, Juliette, three thirds of the servant stab and half of the available palace guard managed to hold back the furious princess before Light Spinner suffered lasting damage.

Angella and Micah DID manage to coax an apology from Glimmer afterwards, but back in Glimmer's room, Catra and Glimmer laughed about the look on Light Spinner's face.

- - -

"More tea, Juliette?"

"Thank you, Angella, just a drop."

"I trust the scones were to your liking."

"Simply divine, as always, my dear Angella."

They were in the west tower, one of Angella's favourite retreats for tea with her knight. It was airy and light and they could see the court yard down below.

They watched with interest how Catra and Glimmer hid behind a couple of crates, apparently intent on sneaking outside as soon as the guard looked away.

"It seems my daughter is a bad influence on your knight," Angella remarked.

"Please," Juliette laughed. "Catra has been unruly from the very start. She would never fit in the usual command structure. As the personal knight of a member of the royal family on the other hand she can be forgiven for a higher degree of freedom."

"And the lonely, unruly princess just so happens to have found herself a perfect partner in crime," Angella laughed. "Juliette, I owe you thanks. I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

Juliette took Angella's hands. They shared a long, soft look.

"What is a lady's knight for, if not helping her lady facing the challenges life throws her way?"

"What, indeed?" Angella echoed.

They held each other's hand, looking lovingly in each other's eyes as their tea grew cold.

#spop #She-Ra #Glimmer #Catra #Glitra #angella #general juliet #glitra week 2021 #fanfic

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fixxofvixx · 4 years ago

Text

BLOODRIGHT - VAMPIRE JAEHWAN AU - CHAPTER 11

Hello! Believe me, I am just surprised as you are that I have a chapter to update! haha! But inspiration hit and I went with it!

I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Jaehwan kept the horse's pace slow. You were thankful for that since you were able to see the scenery more easily.

"How long have you lived here? Everything just looks so beautiful."

"I inherited this land from my father about 150 years ago. It had gone to weeds and brush mostly. I hired a bunch of people to help me bring it back to what you see now.” Jaehwan’s voice sounded proud.

“My parents always told me that you had killed off all of the people that lived on your land and took it for yourself. They said you killed entire families and just left the bodies. I used to be so terrified of what I would find here.” Your hand tightened on the saddle horn as the horse turned uphill.

“So you asking me how long I’ve lived here was your way of finding out if I killed all those people?” Jaehwan seemed amused but you spun around, eager to quell any suspicions just in case.

“No! I swear it wasn’t! I just wanted to know and then I remembered what my parents told me. I swear!” His face was mere inches from yours but the height difference caused you to look up at him. He chuckled and looked down at you.

“I was only teasing you. I just don’t understand why your parents wanted you to fear me so much.”

“I don’t know. They just always told me that I needed to watch what I say all the time. I’m sorry if they have offended you.”

“I think what I feel for them goes way beyond offense. But there is no need for you to apologize for them. Min has been watching them and they seem to be preparing to move. He saw them selling off some of their things in town. Perhaps they will become a distant memory for you.”

“I would like to think that too but I just don’t believe my mother will give up on the money that easily. She would always send me to different houses to perform different jobs for them. I hated going to the local doctor’s house the most. He was very creepy and talked about inappropriate things but he paid the most money so she sent me there a lot.” An involuntary shudder passed through your body when you thought about going to that house.

“She did...what?” A quiet anger replaced the amusement in his voice from earlier. The atmosphere changed and you could feel Jaehwan’s body tensing up. You looked up at him again and his face was the epitome of fury. Your heart quickened and a cold sweat could be felt on the back of your neck.

“I….um...shall we go back? Maybe we shouldn’t stay out too l-late” You turned to look back the way you had come. Jaehwan put his hand under your chin and brought your face back to his.

“What do you mean by inappropriate? Was is just talk or did he…” It took you a moment to understand what he was asking and you gasped.

“Oh! No, there wasn’t anything like that.” A heavy blush covered your cheeks and he leaned down even farther.

“Tell me the truth, Y/N. You know I can hear your heartbeat.” Jaehwan really didn’t want to hear the answer because he knew how he would react.

“He tried…..” Your voice locked up and tears stung your eyes. You felt so exposed mentally but you knew he wanted an answer. “He said….he said he needed more research...on anatomy. I refused but he came towards me and grabbed my arm. He….He has a table with restraints for mentally ill patients and he was able to put one of them on me but his assistant came in and got me out of it saying there was an emergency patient waiting. I ran home and told my parents but my mother….she just told me I should have agreed and asked for more money.”

You could feel Jaehwan shaking now and you desperately wanted to get off the horse. You knew if you tried, you would most likely break a leg or worse so you were forced to sit there beside a seething Jaewhan. Tears of embarrassment and frustration fell from your eyes.

“Min.”

You wondered for a second why Jaehwan was calling for his head butler but only 2 or 3 seconds later, a rush of wind produced the exact man he’d called for. You knew vampires were fast but how did he hear him so well all the way out here?

“You called, Your Highness?”

“Kill him.”

“As you wish.” Min started to bow but you interrupted.

“No! Please! I don’t--”

“Don’t what? Do you really think I would let him live after what he did? And what if he tries the same thing with another young girl?”

“I know but--!” You grabbed Jaehwan’s shirt and looked up at him, desperate. “Please don’t kill anyone on my account. I’m not worth it and I don’t think I could live with that.”

“You are worth it, Y/N.” Jaehwan’s hand cupped your cheek lightly. He looked at your tear-streaked face and sighed. “Min.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Leave him alive…..destroy his business and find a new doctor for the town.”

“Of course.” Min left just as quickly as he came. You let go of the breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Relief flooded your body as the realization that you wouldn’t be responsible for someone’s death. Punishment however….well, at least he would be alive.

Content and relieved, you slowly wrapped your arms around Jaehwan’s waist and squeezed lightly.

“Thank you.”

“I wanted to kill him.” You didn’t release him but still looked up at him. “But I seem to be powerless when it comes to your demands.”

“I didn’t mean to demand it! I was just…”

“I don’t mind, Y/N. Demand whatever you want. If it is within my power, you will have it.”

“I already have everything I could have ever wanted. More than I deserve.”

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to put you in my dungeon.”

“But you said you didn’t have one!”

“I’ll make one! A very tiny one, just for you. You’ll stay there until you learn that you deserve more than you've been given!" Jaehwan smiled, teasing you again. Your heart felt light again and you couldn't help but smile.

"I think I'm very lucky."

"Lucky?" He asked as he turned the horse off the path and through some trees.

"Yes, lucky to have a very nice owner."

Jaehwan's smile disappeared and it was replaced by a disapproving glare. He stopped Fynnias near a group of tall oak trees and got down. He reached up to help you off the horse. You watched his expression and it didn't change. He didn't look angry but you couldn't place his emotions. The horse walked off a few steps to graze in the field surrounding the few trees. Jaehwan turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

"Y/N, I am not your owner. That’s not what I want to be. I don’t want to own you.”

“But being a donor….”

“Is an inheritance that you didn’t choose but accepted with that big heart you have. That doesn’t mean I own you. You are not my subject, either. You are free. Free to live how you want. If you want to travel, we can do that. If you want to raise horses, grow flowers, or have a hundred puppies running around, we can do that too. All you have to do is ask.”

Jaehwan’s words brought new tears to your eyes. But these tears were because of the joy you felt. Jaehwan reached forward and slid his thumbs over the teardrops falling down your cheeks. You suddenly thought of something that you wanted but didn’t know if he would agree. You looked up at him but hesitated.

“Go on, what do you want? I can tell from your expression that you thought of something.”

“Well….there is something that I’ve never had before and I was wondering if you would agree but you don’t have to because I understand that it is a rather odd request to ask of a member of a royal family. You honestly don’t have to agree……” Jaehwan’s laughter broke through your ramblings and you couldn’t help but smile.

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Be my friend?” You noticed Jaehwan’s eyes widened for a moment and you feared that you had offended him. Surely, no one had ever asked that of a prince. You started to take back your request when Jaehwan smiled.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” Jaehwan’s soft voice made you blush for some reason. “Of course, you’ll be my friend in return? Not just a donor?”

“I would be happy to---oh! Speaking of donor, I marked it on my calendar and saw it this morning. It has been a little over a week, hasn’t it? Do you need to feed? We can go back and--”

“That might be a good idea before all the guests start arriving. I’ll need the strength to deal with them. If you’ll agree, I can do it right now. I’d say it’s rather nice weather for a picnic, don’t you think?” Jaehwan laughed at his own joke and you felt the desire to join in.

“I have no objections, although I might be a little useless on the horse going back. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You won’t be.” Jaehwan stepped closer to you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

Although it was only the second time he had done this, it already felt familiar. You felt no fear or hesitation. You started to move your hair out of the way but he stopped you.

“I’ll do it.” His voice was barely above a whisper but you could hear him easily since he was so close. His fingers lightly brushed your hair away from your neck and held the strands away by threading his fingers through them.

He leaned in closer and you prepared yourself for the short pinprick. He didn’t bite you right away and his breath was cool on your overheated skin.

“What would you like to feel this time?” His breath tickled your ear as he spoke and stopped yourself from giggling.

“I have no idea. You don’t have to use the extra energy like that, it’s not worth--ah!” A short yelp came from your lips when you felt Jaehwan’s teeth on your ear. “Why did you do--”

He didn’t answer but instead sank his teeth into your neck. The burst of pain caused you to gasp but it was short lived. Soon after, a new feeling emerged. The feeling was so unfamiliar that you had no idea what to call it. There was happiness, curiosity, and an odd sense of longing like what you would feel if you were craving something but couldn’t quite get it. It wasn’t a bad feeling but it was foreign to you.

All too soon, your world began to turn hazy. Jaehwan’s arms tightened around you as you lost the strength to stand. His fangs left your body and he closed the wounds quickly with his tongue. He lingered at your neck for a moment before leaning back to look at your tired eyes. He clicked his tongue and Fynnias trotted over to where you both stood. He placed you on the horse and hoisted himself up behind you before you even had time to fall over.

You were tired but had yet to pass out. Instead, all the questions running through your head kept you awake.

“Sleep, Y/N, I won’t let you fall off.” Jaehwan’s voice sounded almost far away but you knew he was right next to you.

“What….was that...feeling?”

“Hmm?”

“What...did you...make me feel?”

“Sleep first, Y/N, I will tell you later.” Jaehwan reached up and leaned your head over to rest on his chest. There was such a great sense of security in his arms and that you couldn’t help but fall asleep.

When Jaehwan heard your breathing even out, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was thankful that you were too tired to question him. He wasn’t even sure why he’d chosen that feeling either but it was the first thing that had come to mind.

Love.

#vampire jaehwan #vixx #jaehwan au #vixx fic #vampire vixx #jaehwan fic

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arysthaeniru · 4 years ago

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...I hear you’re doing drabble giveaways? :) I would love some nishitani/majima!! I saw you wanted to write a nishitani lives au and i hope you end up doing it because I would love to see how you write them ❤️

Aaaahhhh, thank you for this request <3 I hope you enjoy this little snippet, I really like Nishitani’s dynamic with Majima, because it’s so much about temptation and vices and flagrant hedonism that makes Majima value himself more as a person. Nishitani’s whole shtick is about pleasure and when Majima of Yakuza 0 is convinced he doesn’t deserve that, it makes for an excellent dynamic.

Somehow Nishitani has found Club Sunshine. Majima notices him on one of their busiest days, on the tailend of dealing with a problem customer, who'd had issues with the quality of their champagne. He's cloistered himself in one of the back booths, entertained by Saki-chan.

Majima snaps to attention and rushes over to the booth, even though Saki hasn't made the hand signal for help yet. He snaps his fingers, once, twice. "Out." He says, shortly, and feels a slow curl of rage within him as Nishitani just turns to give Majima a once-over, slow and lingering, smirk spreading over his face.

"Majima-kun, I didn't think ya'd turn down a payin’ customer." Nishitani drawls, with a self-satisfied grin.

"Payin’ customer or not, yer trouble. Out." Majima snaps, stiffly.

Saki turns to look at Majima, anxiously, but she doesn't seem especially perturbed by Nishitani's presence. What is it about his charm where somehow, girls who dislike being taken for granted, are magically alright with Nishitani's presence? The girls at the Grand too, had been surprisingly unfazed by Nishitani breaking Majima's 'Look-Don't-Touch' rules. "Majima-san..." she says, in that tone that means she's worried about him.

"Ya all good here?" Majima asks Saki, gently. For all that she's a strong woman who is used to taking care of herself, Majima wants her to know she can rely on him to defuse anything uncomfortable for her.

"Don't be so paranoid, Majima-kun. We're getting along just fine!" Nishitani squeezes Saki's bicep, in an overly-friendly way, and Majima scowls when Saki just giggles, not even vaguely discomfited.

"Not talking ta you, am I? Shaddup."

"I'm fine, Majima-san." Saki says, with a sunny smile.

Majima grimaces to and turns his gaze on Nishitani. It's a busy night. He really can't insist on running Nishitani away, not if he's going to behave himself and get them money. He's got other girls to take care of. "One step outta line, and I call the police, pronto. Ya won't get ta fight me at all." Majima says, firmly, and turns on his heel to walk away, before he can get a response.

Inbetween getting refills for Yuki and towels for Erranda, Majima hears snippets of their conversation all evening.

"I like my lovers strong, intent. Makes everything more fun, ya know?" "Nothin’ draws the eye more than a girl who's confident in herself." "Gotta love somebody who can take care of 'emselves."

The whole time, Saki just laughs, handles herself with her usual graceful aplomb, steers the conversation in pleasant, easy directions, showing off her prowess as the former star of Club Jupiter, perfectly adept at handling rougher types.

Majima seethes, quietly and tries to not watch them, listen to them. But he can't help it. Whenever he has even a momentary breather, his peripheral senses can't help but turn towards Nishitani. He justifies it to himself as keeping an eye out for trouble, but if he's being really honest with himself, that's not the primary reason.

Majima's always been drawn to strength. It's the one thing that has always shaped his path, shaped his destiny. It had been what had drawn to him to Saejima, like a moth to the flame, in the middle of those Tokyo streets as a youth. It had been what convinced Majima to chain himself to Shimano’s yoke, get the man’s motifs and markings all over his back. It had been what made Majima so comfortable in Fei Hu’s shop, and so familiar with Lee’s rough approach. A mixture of sheer adrenaline, blood-thumping through his entire chest, a shot of courage, fury and wild chaos, and desire, slow and cloying, curling up in the pit of his stomach, making him light-headed and short of breath. Majima’s life has been defined and drawn around strength, power, desire, ambition.

And Nishitani’s powerful. He’d felt the surges of his strength, precision and cleverness throughout that short fight through the Grand’s centre-stage. If Majima had slipped even once, if Majima had been anything less than perfect, propelled by the fury of confusion, he would have died to Nishitani’s blade.

That shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is.

Especially not when considering Nishitani’s about twenty years past his prime. He’s from the same generation as Shimano, Sagawa, those old fucks who’ve caged him in, trapped him down. With freckled sun-spots smattered over wrinkling skin, and touches of grey to the roots of his hair, and his scarred, calloused hands, Majima shouldn’t be drawn to him in that way. Old, pervy fucker, he should represent everything Majima hates most about the generation of yakuza above him.

But he can’t help it. Nishitani’s presence is like a livewire, electrifying, dangerous, addictive. And Majima couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

When the evening shift draws to a close, Majima leaves Youda and Yuki to be in charge of wiping down the place and saying goodbye to the last of the customers. He dips out for a smoke instead, to try and gain control of his fraying nerves, to pull himself back into a modicum of calm. He can’t lose himself in this.

He’s not yakuza anymore. Just a man desperately trying to stay alive long enough to let Saejima kill him. And a man trying desperately to preserve any sense of goodness, keep that fragile spark of a girl safe inside that cold warehouse... none of him has room for Nishitani’s advances.

And yet...

“You ever consider lettin’ yer hair free, Majima-kun? Just for a moment?” Nishitani drawls, voice dangerously close to Majima’s. They’re outside the club now, and he’s not a paying customer anymore. That makes this interaction dangerous.

“No.” Majima says, puffing out a cool breeze of smoke straight into Nishitani’s face. The fucker doesn’t even flinch, just grins, that lightly mocking smile.

“Not even once? Shame that. Pretty things like you only gets better when they cut loose a little, live free.” Nishitani says, sauntering around to prop himself up over Majima, trapping him into the wall. It’s at once a threat of aggression, and a threat of something else, something more sensible. His hand comes in close, as if to caress Majima’s hair, but he stops just short of doing it, balances it against the wall instead.

Perhaps he senses Majima’s internal tension, perhaps he knows that Majima will deck him the moment Nishitani lays a hand on him. Or maybe it’s something like respect for Majima’s rules. (Majima dismisses that thought immediately, Nishitani wouldn’t know respect if it came up to him and sucked his dick.)

Despite himself, Majima swallows a little, as he takes another deep inhale of the cigarette. “The fuck do you want? I ain’t tellin’ you where Makoto is.”

Nishitani grins. From up close, Majima can smell the alcohol on his breath, whiskey, cigarettes and something else, a little deeper. It’s not exactly a good smell, but it’s a familiar smell, a comfortable smell. Nishitani is the epitome of the yakuza lifestyle that Majima had grown up desiring.

“Don’t worry, Majima-kun. I ain’t here for that today. Got a little proposition for ya, instead.” he says, licking his lips. Majima can’t look away from his mouth, the slight pinkness of his tongue against his surprisingly dark lips, and so he almost misses Nishitani’s next sentence. “Got a job I need ya ter do for me.”

Majima frowns. “The fuck would I do that for?”

“Issa job only you can do” Nishitani grins, and waggles his eyebrows. “Compensate ya handsomely, of course.”

Majima rolls his eyes, but honestly, for cash-money, he’ll do just about anything for anybody, short of prostitution. Anything to get his debt to Shimano and Sagawa square. “What?” he asks, pretending to be bored, pretending none of this interests him.

“There’s this gambling club I run that’s been real trouble, lately. Won’t listen to a damn word I say, and they seem to be squirreling some cash away, some big winnings they managed to poach from a pack of fools. Can’t have that sort of shit on my turf.” Nishitani says, with a casual ease. “I’d send my boys in, but ya see, someone seems ta have done a number on ‘em, and they look about as threatening as a flock of pigeons, all covered in bandages like they are.”

“You could do it yerself.” Majima says, gaze darting down to Nishitani’s feet. Just over the edge of his socks, Majima can see the bandages, and he’s noticed that Nishitani holds himself with a limp. He’s clearly still injured from their fight, when Majima had shoved his fucking knife right inbetween his tendons.

“I could, but ya see, they know my face. They’d gear up for trouble the moment I stepped within a five-foot vicinity. You on the other hand...” Nishitani leans in, that smug grin only getting bigger.

Majima snorts, before he can stop himself. “Ya say that like everybody in this town doesn’t know my face, too.”

“Lord of the Night.” Nishitani agrees, and his voice hums with approval. “But ya see, yer reputation precedes you. Everybody knows ya don’t start fights, ya end them. So if you started a fight at the gambling parlour, not a damn soul would expect it.” There’s a crazed glint to Nishitani’s eyes, reflecting off the neon signs from the bars around them, and Majima shouldn’t be considering this at all, but he is. The thought of going in and smashing heads of people who actually deserve it always gets Majima’s blood simmering. He can’t help himself. He’s a creature nurtured on a diet of violence, and the Hole has changed him. It shaped him in the image of its own cruelty, and Majima had let its madness into his soul, or he would never have lived to see the sunlight again.

Majima wonders what had made Nishitani this way.

“The fuck would I jeopardize my rep for? For you?” asks Majima, dangerously.

“I’ll owe ya one, just the pleasure of seein’ ya go crazy in there.” Nishitani says, leaning inwards, mouth just centimetres from Majima’s ear. “Whatever ya want, name it.”

Majima’s skin is alit with goosebumps, he feels like a leaf in the breeze, one touch would undo him, undo all of Majima’s tightly laced boundaries, would unravel everything that has kept him safe and alive. If Nishitani pressed even an inch closer, Majima would agree to just about anything he asked. And they both know it, it’s the electric spark between them, Nishitani’s complete understanding of how fragile everything about Majima’s existence is.

But Nishitani doesn’t touch him, just lets his breath caress the inner curve of Majima’s ear and pulls back, eyes glinting with maleficent amusement.

He wants Majima to make the step on his own. He wants Majima to come apart at his own behest. Fucking sadist.

“Well. Let me know. Ya know where ta find me.” Nishitani says, slow and languid. “Be seein’ ya, Majima-kun.”

He saunters away without a care in the world, and Majima lets the cigarette drop from his mouth and presses his back against the wall outside Club Sunshine, desperately trying to quell the fire within him that blazes in indignation at letting Nishitani just walk away from him.

#nishitani homare #majima goro #majima #yakuza #rgg #nishimaji #this was fun to write hehehehe

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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My babysitter’s in love with a vampire

Pairing: Spike x chubby!reader or Dracula x chubby!reader

Request: you are spending the night with dawn and then you see all the likes she has on her facebook pics and you get insecure about your weight and then spike swoops in and saves the day? something like that? or hell instead of spike make it Dracula. im feeling rebelious with my request lmao

Requested by: @lilacprincessofrecovery - sorry about the wait love 💜

Warning: Insecure reader. Weight mention. Low self confidence.

A/N: Right, so, I’ve been enjoying the interactive element I’ve been using (I hope you have too) and this one’s gonna be little different. You can choose Spike or Dracula (the one that appears in Buffy or one of your choosing if the characterisation fits). Kinda modern au I guess (smart phones/facebook/etc). Reader doesn’t get much love online, but there’s no hate more of an absence of like(s).

You were babysitting. Not to say that you and Dawn weren’t friends, she wasn’t even that much younger than you, it’s just her older sister was very protective. You had been in school with Buffy and you understood - It was just the two of them now, so you had offered good rates to Buffy so she could go out and do whatever it was she needed to do all night while you kept Dawn company. You didn’t judge and you didn’t feel the need to demand to know where she went all night – it wasn’t any of your business.

Now, you were aware of the supernatural element in your town. But you didn’t realise that Buffy and Dawn did too. You all skirted around the subject, trying to avoid mentioning it to each other as much as you could.

You had both been watching a movie when she had excused herself to the bathroom. But she had been a really long time so you went to check she wasn’t feeling sick or anything. When you got upstairs, you saw through the ajar door that Dawn was now in her room taking pictures of herself.

Dawn enjoyed taking selfies and posting them online and she sat on the edge of her bed as you walked in as she was constantly refreshing the page as the likes and comments rolled in. Her most recent picture having brought over 100 likes on her picture so far. This made her bounce around with glee, finally getting the attention she had been craving herself. Who knew all she had to do was take a mirror selfie?

She gushed about all of the praise she was getting and excitedly showed you, waiting for you to shower her with more compliments. But you had gone quiet, thinking of your own page. You barely posted and when you did, you would be lucky to get even a quarter of the likes Dawn would get. Dawn was blissfully unaware of your insecurity. She presumed you weren’t bothered about that kind of thing. She thought you were so cool, so hadn’t even considered that you wouldn’t have as many likes on the app or even mind about it.

She had noticed that you were quiet so she had tried to make you take a picture with her to post on your page. So that you could both show the world that you were spending another Saturday in watching the same option of movies. You let her take the pictures, you smiled and tried not to stare too long at your face beside Dawn’s on the pictures she saved and then sent to your phone.

After you opened the message and looked at the pictures again, you knew you wouldn’t be posting them. Dawn was confused and a little hurt when you refused to post the pictures, embarrassed over the number of likes (or lack thereof) you knew you would get.

You went quiet as Dawn kept hounding you to post them, missing that you were growing more and more upset. She just kept pushing the matter, she had never been exactly tactful. But it started to really upset you, to even have to admit the growing insecurity that was under the surface, never quite properly hidden.

Dawn finally noticed that you were not in the same good mood you were in earlier. But it was too late, you had started to feel the prickle behind your eyes. The lump growing in your throat. You got up, rushing for the door as Dawn stood up and watched worriedly.

“I-I just need some air”

“You can’t go out- it’s dark-!” Dawn called, but you shook your head and she say the stake concealed in your pocket. Her eyes widened and she just nodded. You were too upset to acknowledge what had just happened. Instead, you just ran off, leaving the younger girl frowning after you before getting distracted by her phone buzzing rapidly with notifications after her recent post had been found by the masses.

You ran out of the front door, your eyes streaming with tears as you just need to get out of there. As if you could run away from the hopeless feeling of not being good enough.

Dracula:

He had been watching you for a while, he had been interested in you after a single glance several nights ago. He had kept a distance, watching and waiting. He could feel that you were going to be the one. The beauty that your face possessed had enchanted him in a way that he was only used to holding over others. Your frame was larger, but that merely meant that there was more of you for him to be enraptured by. More of you for him to worship should you accept his offer. And he had no doubt that you would accept his offer, his love was yours.

You ran past him, hiding under the large tree that loomed above the Summer’s residence. You sat, curling your plump frame up as small as possible as you wept. His eyes never left you as he glided towards you, as if walking on air. He moved his head, unsure as to who could affect you this much. He wanted to tear them to the ground, make them grovel at your feet.

“Your eyes… they cry with the tears of a thousand waterfalls and yet you do not see your power” He said, his voice strong and commanding of everything in the vicinity. He held his hand out and turned it upwards as if to offer you his hand. As he did, you find yourself rising to your feet, still sniffling slightly.

“Who-who are you?” you stutter. Why would this beautiful man give you the time of day (or, night as the case may be).

“Dracula” He stated with such confidence you would never question it. You were drawn to him instantly. But you had been rendered speechless in his presence, “What is the matter, my love?” The affectionate term, although you had never formally met, felt so right. So soothing and it made your tears slowly dry up and regulate your breathing. You reached for his hand that was still outstretched waiting for your touch. Demanding to feel the warmth of your hand in his. Your hand slipped into his so easily, as if they were made for each other. He leaned in, moving your hand towards his lips. You closed your eyes as his lips contacted your hand.

He straightened up slowly and asked you, without once opening his mouth, for you to explain. To reveal why you were so sad. He wanted to put it right any way that he could. He wanted to show you the vision he saw before him.

“I’m- nobody likes me- not the way they like, well, my friend” You admitted, knowing he wouldn’t know who Dawn was. His eyes bored into yours and you felt completely seen for what felt like the first time in your life. He frowned, not aware of such popularity contests that were now evidently so important to the modern world, “It’s all about how many likes you get. How popular you are… and I’m j-just fat”

He shook his head slightly at this, you were not ‘just’ anything to him. Your form rendered him full of awe. Your plus-sized figure the epitome of beauty to him. He had seen you outside after dark leaving a young gentleman who had not been kind to you after a date. Your features had been upturned and it had taken all of his strength not to turn into his other form and follow you home. Instead, he would take care of the man that had hurt you.

“Your figure fills my vision with the light of the golden sun that I cannot cast my eyes upon… you are radiant beyond compare” He spoke, rather than dwelling on such an insignificant human. He willed you to feel it and you did.

“Look into my eyes and see as I do” He rested his hand against the side of your face, a feather-light touch. His thumb stroked softly along your cheek. His eyes scanning over your face, as if to learn every inch, every quirk of your expression. He wanted to know what every look meant. What every tear told him. You closed your eyes as you allowed yourself to accept his sentiment. Accept that he saw you in this way. There was something deep within that told you he meant every word so intimately.

“Your beauty is beyond this realm, my dear…” He continued, “Please. Join me”

“D-do you really mean it? About someone like me?” You whispered, having to confirm once more.

“Join me, an eternity awaits” He asked, an edge that almost sounded pleading. Although the change in tone would only ever be evident to you. You nodded as he took your hand. You walked away into the night together, knowing there was no thrall. You felt affection. Love.

You wished you could show him even a fraction of the affection and comfort he had laid upon you tonight. As you wished this, he felt it and he knew that time would show him of what he was already sure of.

Spike:

He had been smoking a few streets away, stalking to get to that tree outside of the summer’s residence. He had adopted that place as his own, you were always spending time there and so he had taken to waiting for you – especially if you weren’t staying over than night. He always waited, watching from the shadows. He wanted to make sure that you were safe, that he could be convinced no harm would come to you. He had long since admitted his feelings for you to himself, he was just trying to formulate a way to tell you of this.

You ran past him, in floods of tears. He rounded back on himself, following you straight away flicking his cigarette into the night. His heart crumbling to see you upset in this way. He caught up with your shapely form, a gentle hand on your upper arm that you looked down at through blurry eyes. You turned, facing his caring eyes. this expression you had to tell yourself couldn’t possibly be the love you wished it was. His eyes boring into yours with so much concern it almost made you cry harder.

“S-Spike?” You frowned, unsure if you had just been imagining it. He had been exactly who you would imagine to be there for you and you were amazed to see him there when you turned.

“Love, what is it…?” He asked, his voice almost cracking with emotion, “Is there anything I can do?” he wanted to hurt whoever had hurt you this way. Make them pay in all of the worst ways possible. To drink from their skull. He wanted to put it right any way that he could.

“I’m- nobody likes me- not the way they like Dawn” You sniffed, wiping your eyes again, “It’s all about how many likes you get. How popular you are… and I’m j-just fat” You sighed, gesturing to the app that was still open on your phone. His eyes widened in shock, his jaw tensing. He glared at the phone, mad at it for being the reason for your tears.

How could you ever think that? How could you even talk of yourself that way?

“Don’t be bloody ridiculous!” His voice raising slightly, “You… you really think that makes any difference?” he cocked his head to the side, studying your expression closely. He started to reach his hand, wanting to touch your face, but he swiftly moved his hand and looked away as you looked back to him.

“What?”

“You’re bloody beautiful, y/n. Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you. Been sodding obsessed with you…” he admitted, his words so honest you almost wept further. You just stared, not believing he could feel the same way you did for him. Your silence made him continue, “So what if you don’t get likes on that stupid bloody face-app-thing? All that counts is the people that matter… and, well, I hope I matter to you love. ‘Cause you really do to me” he insisted. His eyes pleading you to listen to his words. Every syllable the most honest he had been since he first met you. He had longed to say these words. Had long, lonely days or little sleep imagining you by his side. In his arms.

“But how could you... about someone like me?” You gestured at yourself and he shook his head with such vigour, as if he could shake these thoughts from your mind in the same way. He clasped his hands around your outstretched wrists. Stopping you from tearing down your beauty with your harsh words. He was shocked you would even question the way he saw you. To him, loving you was as easy as breathing. Hell, easier - he didn’t need to breathe after all.

“You’re the most captivatin’ person I’ve ever laid eyes on… and I’ve seen a lot in my time. Trust me, I love you. Your size. Everything. Just- please- let me show you how much?” Spike said those words as if they were the most important he would ever utter. You had never seen him plead like this before, although you had seen the way he looked at you sometimes. You had thought he was just being kind. But now you knew.

With every soft brush against your skin, you knew. He held his hand out for you and you took it, the crying had subsided at his hand wrapped around yours comfortingly.

You just hoped you could show your love for him in such a meaningful way. you took his hand with such trust, he almost felt it pulsing through his veins as you clasped your hands with his. You walked away together, into the night. Both of you wishing for your moments together to never end.

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annawoodhull · 4 years ago

Text

bring good news of a world so newly born

Requested by: me and my self-indulgent need for Ben and grilled cheese

Word Count: 1616

Prompt: Outlander AU in which Abigail introduces Ben to grilled cheese. That's the fic.

(Song title from '39 by Queen because I'm trash.)

There were a few inconveniences of being a woman from the future who now lived in late 18th century America. No air conditioning, no ibuprofen, but worst of all, no snacks. Late night runs to the convenience store a few blocks from her apartment with friends were the epitome of any college girl’s life, especially during finals time. And now she didn’t even have that!

But there was one thing she refused to give up (besides her bra if she could help it) was her favorite foods. By God, if she could find ways to modify them to make them work with what this time presented to her, she was bound and determined. The first attempt at this would be grilled cheese. If this went well, maybe she could attempt pizza.

Thankfully, she was able to purchase a loaf of bread and cheese from a few merchants in the town, but the butter was more difficult to come by. She had to resort to the old fashioned way, directly from the cow herself. Going through the process of letting the milk rest and then skimming the creak, or whatever the fuck it was called, off the top before she could churn it with a dasher. It was incredibly labor intensive and more work than she had expected, but again, her stubborn Irish ass was going to see this through.

She hadn’t intended to inform Ben of her little project until later on in the week, when they had agreed to meet. Between his battles both on and off the field, a lot of the major’s time was accounted for. She still insisted she would make a good asset to the Culper Ring, but he stubbornly refused to allow it. She suspected she knew the reason, but honestly thought it was ridiculous. You’d think you’d want a spy on your side who already knows how everything will play out.

Anyway, Abigail was sitting on the porch of her small cabin – abandoned by some previous squatter dweller type – and working on churning the butter. Her sleeves were rolled up and beads of perspiration rolled down the sides of her neck, trickling down the front of her bodice. She wrinkled her nose but kept on going. Sheesh, this was labor intensive as fuck. Twenty-first century people really had it made, though there were the Amish to consider.

Too busy plunging the dasher up and down while churning the butter, Abigail was too preoccupied to pay any attention her surroundings. By the time she heard a horse’s snort, she looked up and was pleasantly surprised to see Ben dismounting and leading the beautiful Gaius over towards a paddock to graze.

Then he turned around and took one look at her, a good long look that made Abigail flush from head to toe. She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know she looked like a train wreck, blonde hair all askew, face flushed and damped with sweat. She’d stopped her churning the moment she saw him and nearly forgot all about it when he approached her.

“Never pegged you for the type for churning butter,” Ben observed with a amused grin, “though I’m not surprised you’d be stubborn enough to try.”

She grinned. “There is a reason to my madness, Tallmadge.” She went to wipe her forehead when she remembered she couldn’t let the butter rest. With a tiny grunt, she resumed her work, working the dasher up and down in a gradual rhythm. Hey, she was starting to get the hang of this! “I’m cooking for us tonight and then forgot I couldn’t just buy everything in one place, like I used to.”

“You must be rich, from where you come from,” he commented.

Abigail laughed at that, thinking of all the student loan debt she had accumulated with both her bachelors and graduate degrees. On second thought, maybe it was a good thing she fell through the stones when she did. “Hardly. But it was convenient, so I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”

Ben’s gaze flickered between her face and to her hands, observing as she worked it rather well. Her hands twisting with purposeful intent, with increasing speed. It reminded him of something Caleb had often teased him about, something he hadn’t done in quite some time. And now that he had this visual in front of him…

Abigail glanced up, having no idea where his line of thought had taken him, and found that his face was now just as red as the coat of a British officer. “Are you all right?” she asked, confused and mildly concerned.

Clearing his throat, Ben shifted his position, angling himself so that he was now facing partially away from her. Odd. “Yes, just a bit… flushed from the journey. Could use some water, perhaps.”

Abigail nodded, understanding. “I just made a few bottles from the creek. Help yourself and cool down.”

He thanked her and practically took off like a bat out of hell into the cabin. Abigail continuing churning, increasing the pace. He was an odd duck, that one. A very attractive and delicious looking one but odd nevertheless.

It took quite a while to achieve the finished product, but with Ben’s company, from a suspicious far distance, the time just flew by. She carried her butter inside, grinning in triumph at her accomplishment and held it out proudly for him to inspect. He nodded his approval with no small amount of affection, which made her feel even more accomplished.

“So what are you preparing for us this evening?” he asked, “since you went to all the trouble churning butter.”

“Nothing terribly fancy I’m afraid, at least from my time,” Abigail admitted, “but in my opinion, it’s one of the finest delicacies in the world. A grilled cheese.”

Brows furrowed, Ben titled his head, much like a confused puppy. “A… what?”

“Trust me, you’ll like it,” she promised. She went to work on working the hearth, which Ben had to assist her with at several points. While he helped, she told him all about stoves and the different kinds that ran on gas versus electricity, both of which mystified and fascinated him. The more time she spent in that time and with him specifically, the more comfortable she felt sharing different tidbits of the future. The very knowledge there was a future for the country that he was fighting for was enough to give him hope. The thought of being the source, or at least associated with the source, of his inspiration made her feel things she had no right to be feeling.

Yet, she was completely and hopelessly attracted to the him.

Once everything was settled, she went to work on slicing the bread and cheese, which she set on separate plates. Then she buttered the bread generously on each slice before setting the buttered side down in the skillet, quickly followed by the cheese and the other slice of bread. She brought the skillet over the makeshift grilled and watched with amazement as the fire worked its magic.

It didn’t take too long before she flipped it over. A few minutes of cooking on the other side, she pulled back the skillet carefully and plated his grilled cheese before working on hers. It was a little tricky getting the sandwiches out of the skillet, but she had to admit, they didn’t turn out half bad.

“Do you want yours cut in half or diagonally?” she asked, right after she performed an elegant diagonal slice for hers.

“However you cut yours is fine with me,” he said. He had risen from his seat to poke around her, curious to see her creation and drawn to the wonderful mixture of grilled cheese, butter, and crispy goodness.

When done, she handed him his plate but warned him, “Be careful. It’s hot.” His soft, amused smile at the domestic remark caused her heart to skip a beat.

They sat together at the small wooden table, and after a few minutes, they dug into their meal, though Abigail waited a bit so she could take in his reaction. After his first bite, Ben’s eyes widened before closing with surprised delight. He moaned appreciatively. “Oh, this is very good.”

“Really?” she asked happily.

Nodding eagerly, he took to consuming the slice with an almost single-minded determination. He hesitated on picking up the second slice, perhaps figuring he should make it last. She grinned at his sudden look of sheepishness. “Thank you for sharing this with me. Believe me, after a few months of camp rations, this is just…” he sighed with pleasure.

Abigail grinned. “I’m glad you like it. Grilled cheese can cure anything. It’s the American dream, baby.”

“Is all of your food in the future this good?” Ben asked, enchanted by the mere thought.

“Depends on where you’re looking, but for the most part, yes,” she said. Spotting a bit of crumbs and cheese on the side of his mouth, she smothered a giggle. She touched her own face. “You’ve got a little…”

“Where?” he asked, immediately touching anywhere on his face but the area where she pointed.

Rolling her eyes in feigned exasperation, she leaned over the table and brushed it away herself, her thumb gently pressed against the corner of his mouth. His gaze locked onto hers at the touch, the sudden proximity. He inhaled sharply. Abigail swallowed nervously. The cabin, which was already quite small, felt even smaller, more intimate.

“We should…” he murmured, trailing off.

She blinked slowly. “Finish our dinner?”

After a beat, Ben nodded. “I… yes. Dinner.”

Who knew that all the trouble to make grilled cheese could cause even more trouble?

#benjamin tallmadge #oc: abigail williams #turn amc #turn oc #turn washington's spies #seth numrich #hannah new #wwwy verse #drabbles #allie writes things #turn drabbles #turn oc drabbles #fic: when we were young #fic: turning tables

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shra-vasti · 4 years ago

Text

MAKES ME WONDER [4/40] The Escape

→ Synopsis : Your dream to attend a Seventeen concert was finally coming true but you weren't prepared for the events that were going to follow after Joshua made eye contact with you and chose to make you his partner for the mini game and take you out on a date as a winning prize.

→ Genre : fluff, slice of life

→ Type : Idol x fan au

→ Word count : 1.9k

→ Taglist : @mngyuheart @vannie24 @uglyratlmao @rjsmochii @dwcljh @noniesgirl (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist)

→ Pairing : idol!Joshua x fan!reader

→ Main Seventeen Masterlist

→ Makes Me Wonder Masterlist

You started walking towards where Joshua was standing, his back facing you as the cameraman told you to start. You stopped when you reached a proper distance and politely called him just the way the cameraman explained you to.

He turned around shyly smiling at you as he bowed and you did the same following his lead.

"You look good."

He smiled at you nodding his head unlike earlier when he just showered you with how beautiful you look.

"Thanks, but I can't compare to you, you always look really good with or without makeup."

Joshua wanted to laugh at how the conversation was going, it felt so foreign, he had to bite back his smile to not appear too happy with your company although he was aching to scream just how alive he was feeling in your presence.

"No no, all the carats are really beautiful, I hope you're ready for our date."

"Yes yes please lead the way."

You were a shy person but the cameraman had asked you to be really flustered all the time and behave exaggeratedly everytime he did something and you wondered if they asked every fan to do this since you always see the other carats being so flustered in their presence.

The cameraman had told that you were exceptionally calm about all this date thing and that you had to act flustered around him to which you reluctantly agreed. Maybe it was just you.

Joshua opened the cafe's door for you like the gentlemen he was and you thanked him shyly before going past him to choose a seat.

You chose a seat which was near the door, there weren't many people in the cafe since it was booked prior for the date.

The waiter came asking what you wanted to order and both of you gave him the orders before turning towards each other to talk about things till the time your order came.

"So y/n what's your favorite seventeen song?"

"Ah this one is hard, I love all of the songs but vocal units songs hold a special place in my heart."

He grinned widely at your answer, feeling a sense of pride that he was a part of the vocal unit and somehow finding relief in the fact that you indirectly hold a special place for him in your heart.

He mentally cringed at his own thoughts.

"Is that so? Who's your favorite member then?"

He didn't know why he was feeling so edgy about your answer, he could see your ears getting red as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"I really adore BooSeokSoon."

You look up to see his face being an epitome of disappointment as he looked sharply at you before laughing at you. He wanted to keep being bitter about your favorite member being on the gag trio but he remembered that he was being filmed so he couldn't be as free with you.

"Which is your favorite unit?"

"Hiphop unit of course, they are so cool and they always have some of the most inspiring and savage lyrics to jam on."

He narrowed his eyes at you again not feeling happy with your answer and you just laughed.

"I see you're a fan of the Hip hop unit, what about your favorite song to dance to since you're so good at dancing? Is it rocket?"

"No it's swimming fool, the song gives me a different sort of adrenaline rush and I can't do anything but feel happy when it's on."

"Yah, you say you adore the vocal unit but your favorite members are Seokmin, Soonyoung and Seungkwan but then you say your favorite unit is hip hop but your go to song is swimming fool which is of the performance unit."

You just laughed at him, pausing for a second since your drinks were being served.

"Shall I tell you a secret?"

You whispered him but loud enough so it would get caught in the mic attached on your shirt.

"What is it?"

"You can't choose a bias in Seventeen, it's either take all or none, seriously, I want to give standing ovations to each of the carats who only have one bias in Seventeen."

The laugh which escaped his lips after that was like music to your ears and you couldn't help but be proud of yourself for being the reason behind it, you actually wanted to make him laugh more.

"I feel bad for the carats then but happy at the same time."

You just smiled at him finishing up your drink when the cameraman informed you two have a 10 minutes break before continuing the filming again.

"I'm so proud of you, you are doing great."

"Is that so? I'm really nervous though, I'm glad that I don't have to be surrounded by the cameras all day, I feel bad for you guys sometimes."

Joshua smiled at you but it didn't reach his eyes like it did, it was almost as if he was agreeing with you that it was indeed hard to be surrounded by cameras all the time.

"Sometimes I feel jealous of others who live their life the way they want but I kind of signed myself up for this so I can't complain plus I love being with the boys and I love that we can be the inspiration for so many carats out there."

He wasn't sure why he was telling all of these things to you, he needed to be happy in front of his fans all the time but he didn't feel obligated to do so in your presence which eased him up and at the same time burdened him too.

You were just a fan, this date was all a setup, nothing was real and he wouldn't see you ever after this or spend time with you the same but he still felt as if he wasn't doing anything wrong talking about his tension with you.

You reached your hand to pat his which was on the table and give it a little squeeze, smiling a little at him.

"It's hard and I'm so proud that you have come this far and not given up."

"I'm happy that I didn't give up too, otherwise how would I have met you?"

You felt blush rise up on your cheeks again at his remark and he couldn't help but feel his heart doing weird things looking at you.

He leaned back on his chair, looking at the ceiling before looking back at you.

"I do wish I could have just one day where I could live life as freely as possible, it's just an impossible dream but I want to if I could."

You weren't sure if you would sound creepy or crazy but you couldn't help yourself and playfully suggested the first thought that came into your mind after hearing his wish.

"Why don't we do that then? Let's escape."

He looked at you, eyebrows creased without saying anything, he looked like he was contemplating.

"Let's do it."

You straightened your back as soon as those three words left his mouth. Was he serious about it? You suggested it to him in a playful manner.

"What if you get punishment for it later? The last thing I want is for you to go through any rough time because of this."

You looked in the direction of the cameraman and his assistants who were busy going through the clip which both of you had filmed earlier.

"Well it would be adventurous and I don't mind getting a handful of scolding in return of my wish, I would be smiling from ears to ears even if I'll get the scolding."

The excited look which he wore on his face was enough for you to oblige to this mundane idea, you wanted to see him happy and if you had to help him for that, you didn't mind getting into trouble, at least you would be happy to make his wish come true.

"Okay, if that's what you want, let's do it."

He smiled widely before getting in the stance of running before you stopped him.

"On the count of three and we will make a run towards the left side of this cafe since I know some small streets which will lead us to a different part of this city and others won't be able to track us down for a while."

He nodded his head at you already feeling the adrenaline running in his veins way too exciting.

"One, two, three, run."

He took one look at the busy cameraman and his assistant before holding your hand and making a run outside of the cafe and into his one day freedom.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

"What do you mean by he ran away from the filming set with his fan?"

Seungkwan heard his manager yell behind the door as he motioned the rest of the members to come towards him and listen to the conversation going on behind the door.

"So you want to say he was talking with that fan and you were busy monitoring the clip and then when you went to explain to them about the further scene they disappeared and you tried looking for them but no one could find him or the fan?"

The members looked at each other, their eyes widened unable to believe what they heard was true.

"What am I going to tell PDnim? Of course I'm not going to tell him about this, he will cut my head off this isn't funny, he doesn't even has his phone with him, I know he'll be back all we can do is just wait, but I swear will give him an earful when he returns, I didn't expect this from him."

There was a long pause as the members exchanged looks with each other worriedly, what was going inside Joshua's mind to run away like that? Didn't he care about his image? Sometimes they couldn't understand their own member's antics.

"I won't let this matter go up to PDnim, let's just tell him that we only shoot a short clip for the documentary because we were going to show a very little part of the date so it wasn't necessary for them to have a long date."

The door opened as all of the members stumbled inside the room and onto each other.

"Yah Boo Seungkwan get off me!"

"Sorry Jeonghan Hyung but Jun Hyung is on top of me I can't."

"Lee Seokmin stop kicking my face!"

"I'm sorry I'm just trying to get up."

The manager just sighed before helping the members up, giving them a tired look as they waited for him to say anything.

"Joshua ran away from the cafe he was supposed to have a date with the fan but both of them ran away and now everything is just a mess, he doesn't have his phone with him so we can't contact him, I know he'll come back soon but I'm going to scold him, he's one of the eldest he should be responsible and Seungcheol I want you to talk with him about this too."

"What goes inside his mind?" Seungcheol mumbled massaging his head, all of this information already giving him a headache.

"If I was in his place I would have run away with her too, she's beautiful."

Everyone just glared at Seokmin who suddenly found a newfound interest in his shoes.

"Let's just ask him about his adventure when he comes back, we all know he may have taken the chance to ease up his mind a bit, Joshua is responsible so he wouldn't do anything to ruin the group's image, let's go and relax,we don't get such free time frequently."

Everyone nodded their head at Jeonghan's word, retreating back to their respective rooms.

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sweetsubharry · 4 years ago

Note

hiiii, do u have any fic recommendation for highschool aus?

Hiya! 💕 yes I do! It’s one of my favourite classic aus :) Just as a warning! There’s 36 fics under the read more tag so it’s a longer style post! I hope you like these! and just in case no one reads it at the end I’ll say it up here too! Make sure you read the tags and stay safe!

I was also unsure if any set in hogwarts counted? or any with a/b/o elements so I left them out but if anyone wants those too just send in an ask :)

You Can be My Cliche by DreamWeaver14

Basically Lou and Hazza are best friends and Louis is jealous and overly protective... But it all works out in the end once Lou and Harry have movie night. SMUT

Free with You Tonight by sunniskies

Harry's 16 and sophomore, Louis is a senior and his best friend, but somehow Harry's not sure that's enough anymore.

Essentially, high school au fluff involving first kisses and Niall mixing bad drinks.

A Real Work of Art by lululawrence

“I don’t understand,” Liam said for probably the fiftieth time in ten minutes. “You have to explain again how this is a bad thing.”

“Leeeeyummm,” Harry whined into the phone as he leaned his head onto his desk. “I felt like this year was my year for getting his attention, you know? That senior year I would finally get Logan Thompson to realize I exist! But he’s in almost every single one of my classes, Li. How am I supposed to survive that?”

“Easily,” Liam answered, with the same matter of fact tone his voice always took when Harry was in one of his fits. “He doesn’t know you exist, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Right?”

Or the one where Harry calls on an old friend, the super popular Louis Tomlinson, to help him change his look to capture the heart of Logan. Things only mostly go as planned.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

My love, he makes me feel like nobody else, nobody else by SilverShadow1

Harry was invited to a high school end-of-term party where he's ready to let loose, get drunk and perhaps regret his choices, or not.

The one where Harry screams, 'Daddy!' at a party and what follows is the best night of his life.

Kiss me by carebearlarrie

Where Harry does a TikTok challenge and kisses his crush (Louis) ft. sweater paw Harry.

Because We Can by KrisStylinson

Harry's the bizzare new kid who likes flowers too much, Louis' the epitome of punk who's not as smooth as he seems. Those two things shouldn't mix as beautifully as they do.

A nice, long journey through Harry and Louis' intersecting lives, starting with the day they meet in high school—including meddling friends, a Styles-Tomlinson family Christmas, a first time, and a couple's holiday in Paris.

You're Still The One I Run To. by brooklynbis

Harry's favourite weather by a mile was snow. There was something about the cold flakes of snow that was just so peaceful. The few times he had experienced snow, everything just stopped for a few days.

There was one thing Harry hated about the snow, however. Having to try and get home in it.

________________________

AKA it snows and Harry and Louis get stranded at college. Fluff and lots of cuddling ensues.

Way to Your Heart by fallenflowercrowns

High school AU, where Louis is in a band and Harry likes to come to the rehearshals for no particular reason. Punk Louis with a lot of tattoos and everything. Shy Harry with an angel face and not many friends. Strangers to lovers. Quick sex in the rehearshals' room (just handjob or blowjob) Happy end.

Harry pines but is oblivious, Louis is a punk with a big heart, Ziam shag behind everyone's backs and Nick is actually not in love with Harry.

All I want for christmas is you by Tita

The one where Louis is a pining punk, Harry is the school’s sweetheart, and a miss sent text at a Christmas party turns out to be the best possible present.

Can I Walk Your Cute Face To Class by orphan_account

It's Harry's first day of High School and he's nervous. He meets Louis.

They meet and they have lunch together but they don't actually eat anything. (and it's not because I forgot that's what people generally do during lunch.. not at all)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

All I Need is Oxygen (and You) by lululawrence

There are only two ways to navigate Bloomfield High School: become popular or make yourself invisible.

With the help of his best mate Niall, Harry’s introduction to high school hadn’t been half bad. Despite being a “bandie” – the lowest of the low in the ancient hierarchy of high school –Harry had somehow managed to survive freshman year relatively unscathed. So naturally, Harry would have been perfectly happy to resume his position of invisible trombone player number four for the remainder of high school. But one day something drastic happened, something that would change the course of Harry’s entire existence (probably).

It was the last football game of his freshman year, and the band was back in the stands after performing a rousing rendition of Bloomfield’s alma mater during half time. Harry was gracelessly wiping the slobber from the mouthpiece of his trombone when he saw him.

Louis Tomlinson.

Or...a High School AU where Harry is a bandie and Louis is the epitome of cool, so naturally, Harry must find a way to get his attention and win his affections.

I don't care where we go, just keep me close by Eversincefiveboys

Louis has to go on summer camp and he absolutely doesn't want to because he is 16 and too old for this. Then he meets the boy with the curls and the dimples and suddenly he doesn't want this camp to be over

Maybe it's All Part of a Plan by promisingstyles

Christmas High School AU. Harry is sick, Louis talks way too much and much too fast. They meet in the toilets.

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

All Part of the Plan by alwaysinmyheartlarry

Harry Styles is a member of the marching band who has an insane crush on Louis Tomlinson--the amazing senior who plays on the varsity football team at school.

We’re on Fire Now (And I Could Burn in it All Day) by orphan_account

“Thanks, Harry.” His voice is as soft as silk when he replies and Harry is so tempted to kiss him there and then, but would feel too much like he is taking advantage of Louis’ vulnerability in that moment. “Now let’s bake some fucking cookies.” He removes his hand and Louis lets go of his wrist, laughing. “Hearing you swear is so wrong. It’s like an angel punching someone in the face. It just doesn’t fit.” Harry gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I swear all the time. I’m a right rebel.” Louis laughs again, bright and beautiful, and Harry smiles down at him.

A shameless high school AU where Louis is a footballer, Harry is a photographer, Liam is blissfully unaware and Niall is his usual self.

first position, the mood is set by hiswittlehands

Louis bites down on his lip. "You...god, they look so good on you. Shows off your arse and your...your thighs, Haz." He runs his hand along the skin there then, relishing how soft and pliant it is even with all the muscle. "They shouldn't have even let you play. Should, should have sent you straight home for...fuck, indecency or breaking the dress code or summat."

Or, I literally have no idea what the fuck I just wrote but it involves dodgeball, short shorts, and thigh fucking.

(i didn't mean to) fall in love tonight by zouisclimax

Harry texts him back a thumbs up emoji before leaning forward and throwing up again. He groans, but stands after he’s done, wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and flushing the toilet.

He washes his mouth out as best as he can before steeling himself and heading back to class, trying his best not to cry. He tells himself that there is no point in worrying when he doesn’t even know if there is anything to worry about yet.

He still feels sick.

[or, the American boarding school AU where Harry's infatuated with Louis and one night flips his whole world upside-down]

falling for you, i can't keep away by hegotthedagger

Harry wants Louis really bad and Louis might want him just as much.

I see the love light in your eyes by larrycaring

For as long as Harry can remember, Louis has always been his best friend.

There are a few constant things in Harry’s life: his family, this town he’s grown up in, and Louis.

He had his other friends, of course, but Louis had always been and still was the person that Harry was closest to. Maybe it was due to the fact that they live next to each other, and that, since the first night they’d talked, when he and Louis shared a conversation on their conjoining roofs, they instantly hit off, and a friendship developed. Or maybe it was that Louis was always so cheeky, almost the opposite of Harry, but it complimented Harry’s slow and thoughtful way of life perfectly. Either way, it just kind of happened.

or an AU where Louis and Harry are very much in love. Featuring football & late night rendezvous.

Translation of the fic in spanish by @lachrimose_: click here (wattpad) In russian by Hewassixteen: click here (ficbook)

You Have Bewitched Me, Body and Soul, and I Love, I Love, I Love You by Storyofmythigh

Harry is quiet. Louis isn’t.

Louis hates reading. Harry loves words.

They find a way.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Kiss me (this feels like falling in love) by Ambros

- Five times Louis wanted to kiss Harry (and one time he did).

In This Light by kiwikero

Harry gets a position on the school yearbook staff, which is fine until he falls in love with Louis Tomlinson through the lens of his camera.

❤ For Effort by FallingLikeThis

When Harry Styles lets his team down during gym class, resulting everyone having to run laps, he expects the worst. But the backlash never comes.

Harry's crush, Louis Tomlinson, may or may not have something to do with that.

Last First Kiss by Kikacat

High School AU in which Harry is outed and can't work out why no one seems to care, whilst also dealing with his crush. Super supportive family and friends. Trigger warning for some of the social media comments Harry receives. If I've missed any tags, let me know

let me get your heart racing by orphan_account

Even asleep, Harry finds himself so hooked to this boy. It’s crazy. Months ago, Louis wouldn’t have noticed him. He’s just an ordinary guy, so that’s no surprise. And Louis... Louis is everything.

Harry leaves immediately.

or a highschool au where Harry's sure that Louis will never fall for him, and where he's also wrong.

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode

Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

put your head on my shoulder by wayfared

Niall gives Harry until the end of marching season to either a) make a move on Louis Tomlinson or b) get the fuck over him. Either is easier said than done. Basically, your High School AU with a drum beat.

My Only Sunshine by DontLetHimGo

Harry and Louis have known each other since the start of everything.

When Harry is only a few weeks old, and Louis is two, the older boy is immediately intrigued by the little person in the carry cot. Jay knows that it will be difficult to keep her son away from her best friend's little boy.

Completely unaware (you make me smile) by deblond

Five times everyone thinks that Harry and Louis are dating (and the one time they are).

it's kinda hot in here by ballsdeepinjesus

“Is that a moth on your stomach?”

or nerdy harry is hiding some stuff under his dorky clothes and louis fucks him in a locker room

we should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team by ellisaco

Harry's not very good at football, but he's aces at cheering Louis on.

Youth Meant to Be Beautiful by Turtles

Highschool AU, Louis is the footy captain and Harry is a cheerleader. Cliche ahoy!

every december (your star lights the sky) by larrystomlinsons

Louis needs a date for the Christmas dance and Harry is the wingman that has feelings for him.

The Birds Still Sing by orphan_account

The thing is, Louis thinks he already knows Harry's secret. He just doesn't know how to tell him he knows.

every december (your star lights the sky) by larrystomlinsons

Louis needs a date for the Christmas dance and Harry is the wingman that has feelings for him.

Stay safe and read the tags guys!! ❤

#larry stylinson #larry #larry fanfic rec #larry fic #larry fic rec #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry stylinson fic rec #fanfiction #bottom harry #top louis #Lottie fic rec #ask lots

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epic-potato-crisp · 4 years ago

Text

Caramel Syrup

Note: Dear @gingerrhd, I was your secret santa this year! You mentioned KouKei, autumn, sarcasm, and the worst coffee date ever in the prompts, so I decided to go with a coffeshop! AU for the story. I hope you enjoy! ^-^

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The bell jingled over his head as Kei pried open the heavy door of “Fantôme.” There weren’t many customers around, which is what he had been going for for when he decided to pick a small, secluded coffeeshop to study in favor of the larger franchise store down the road. It had been his go-to-place, before Kei discovered just how many students from his High School spend their free hours and afternoons there.

No thank you. Kei could do without the obligatory socialization every time he tried to get ahead in his homework. Also, their management had changed and for some absurd reason he had a strange feeling about the new shift manager behind the counter, an old man approaching pension age who graced him with a downright unsettling smile every time they met. So Fantôme it was. As it turned out, not only was the store empty, and offered “Free Wifi” if one were to believe the obnoxious signs plastered throughout, it also held a large amount of seating opportunities. That was welcome news to Kei, who despised encountering his classmates almost as the lack of free tables. “Welcome!” The red-haired boy behind the counter shouted as soon as he spotted him, bowing promptly. Kei grimaced at the ear-splitting volume. “A gingerbread latte please.” he ordered, after a customary glance at the menu. “That will be 600 yen.” Kei nodded, and handed over the required amount. “Alright. Please take a seat. Coming right up!!” the barista responded, flashing him an irritatingly cheerful smile. Kei rolled his eyes and went to find a table.

“Here you go, sorry for the delay.” A good ten minutes later, a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of him. Kei had already spread himself out over the desk, his laptop turned on and class notes on his side. “Thanks.” Kei graced the barista-server-whatever he was with a court nod, before turning back to his screen. “Oh, what are you doing there?”

Someone save him.

“Homework.” “Oh, cool, for what subject?” The redhead didn’t seem the slightest bit deterred by the venomous look Kei shot him, sliding into the empty next to him. On the contrary. “History.” “Oh man, I hate that subject. But you know what I hate even more?” Kei did not remember asking, but the barista generously provided him with an update anyway. “Biology. Seriously man, I didn’t know there were so many complicating things to know about plans. Don’t you just water them?” He gestured wildly as he spoke. “Oh, and don’t get me started on Japanese Literature-“ “Don’t you have work to do?” Kei cut across him. “Nah, actually, my shift break just started. Lucky, eh?” the barista grinned.

Oh God, he should have gone to his old place. Not even his classmates talked this much.

“I’m Nakano Kou, by the way! Nice to meet you!” He held out his hand. Kei grimaced, but forced himself into the polite response and shook it briefly. “Likewise.” He replied monotonously. Nakano tilted his head, his bushy eyebrows travelling skywards. So much for privacy. “I’m Nagai Kei.” Kei grumbled, “And I have work to do, so if you excuse me-“

It was at that moment a tall man with glasses and silver hair appeared behind the counter. “Nakano!” he barked, as soon as he spotted the pair of them, “If you have time to harass the customers, you might as well get to work! The tables won’t clear themselves.” Nakano winced, caught and got to his feet with a sigh. “Sorry, my shift manager is no fun. I’ll see you around, yeah?” Kei didn’t dignify that with a response. He got to work.

“Welcome! Oh, Nagai, it’s great to see you back!” “Likewise.” Kei ground out between clenched teeth, cursing his luck. The shop was fuller this time, the tables being occupied by elderly people enjoying their afternoon treat and college students typing away at laptops alike. Did the Fantôme not employ anyone else? Either Nakano was the epitome of obliviousness, or he purposefully ignored Kei’s hostile tone. He took his order- Kei went with his regular, with an extra helping of caramel syrup- chatting away merrily as he did. “Honestly, I’m really glad you chose our store. You know, the bigger franchise one down the road?” “Hard to miss.” Kei deadpanned. “Yeah, that one! So, they drive away most of our customers. But Hirasawa-san- that’s my boss, you know- he says not to worry. That the Phantom has its own unique charm, ya know?” The coffee machine beeped shrilly. “Oh, whoops, gotta refill the water tank. Just a second!” “It’s Fantôme.” Kei couldn’t help himself. “What?” Nakano appeared genuinely confused, as he filled a large container under the sink. “The shop. It’s pronounced Fantôme.” Correcting other people’s pronounciation had always been one of Kei’s biggest pet peeves. It hadn’t exactly helped him in making friends at school. “Sure, if you say so! French confuses the heck out of me.” Kei was about to spitefully remark what doesn’t, but held his tongue.

Nakano, who had meanwhile successfully managed to get the machine working again, turned his back on the cup filling with coffee and grabbed a chocolate pastry from showcase, placed it on a tiny plate and handed it to Kei.” “Voila!” “I didn’t order that.” Kei said. “Yeah, I know. Consider it on the house.” Kou winked and rang him up.

Kei managed about an hour of successfully typing away at his essay before a certain redheaded menace decided to join him again at the table.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind!” He declared energetically, before taking a seat next to Kei, armed with a piece of cake and sparkling glass of soda. Kei did mind, but apparently that was obsolete.

“So what are you doing today?” “History again. Citing my sources.” “Ugh, that sounds boring.” Nakano said emphatically. “Tell me about it.” “So you’re going to Kaisei?” Nakano said, with a nod to his blazer. “I guess.” “Isn’t that crazy hard to get into?” Kei shrugs. “Maybe. I didn’t think the entrance exam was that difficult.” “Woah!” If Kou’s eyes widened any further, they would have popped out of their sockets. “You’re really fucking smart, aren’t you?” Kei, much to his disagreement, felt his cheeks warm at the unexpected praise. “So, you’re in High School too? What year?” Kei asked, in an attempt to redirect the conversation towards Nakano himself. “Year 2.” “Same as me.” Nakano groaned pitifully. “End of term exams are going to kill me once I start studying for them.” Kei stopped his typing. “What do you mean once you start studying for them? They’re in February.” “Yeah, so? “It’s December.” Kei knew it wasn’t his place to advise the other boy on study methods, but he was adept at spotting a train wreck in the making. Or perhaps, that was just his OCD talking. “When were you going to start?” “End of January?” Nakano responded. It sounded like a question.

Oh dear God.

“Anyway.” Nakano said, misinterpreting his stunned silence for agreement, “You know how I said that the larger store drives our customers away? Know why that is?” His eyes sparkled excitedly. Kei glanced at the counter, hoping the coffee machine would decide to act up again and save him from the rest of this conversation. “Other than that they’re an internationally renowned franchise with stores all over the world? No. Couldn’t possibly imagine.” Kei replied sarcastically, which went right over Nakano’s head. “Nah, that’s not it.” Nakano said, dismissing Kei’s perfectly logical statement with a wave of his hand. He grinned conspiratorially. “Listen to this. There are rumors that their new manager is cahoots with the yakuza. The Yakuza! Crazy, right?” “Wow.” Kei said, not knowing what else to respond to this. Indeed, the grandpa behind the counter did look like he could murder his him in his sleep and get away with it. It would probably a merciful death by comparison, he thought, side-eyeing Nakano, who rambled on as though there was no tomorrow. A few minutes later, he was saved by the same sour-faced shift manager that had come to his aid the other day. “Stop trash-talking the competition, Nakano! Table 3 wants to order!” “Ah, yessir!” Nakano yelled, making Kei wince. He jumped up and gave a wave. “Laters!” Kei pinched his forehead, and returned to his sources.

For someone who had vowed to never return here, Kei thought glumly to himself, as he walked into the Fantôme a week later on a rainy Thursday afternoon, he was really bad at keeping promises. Even to himself. The lady behind the counter was tiny. “Good afternoon.” She greeted him monotonously, staring at him with dark, soulful eyes that looked like they’d seen enough. “What would you like?” Kei thought decisively that he didn’t miss the exciting chatter that had accompanied his earlier orders, and got out his wallet.

“Oh, hey! Nagai! Izumi-san, I’m taking this one.” Kei didn’t know what exactly possessed him to return the very next day, but there was work he had to yet finish, and the atmosphere of the coffeeshop had provided to aid his levels of productivity. Well, for the most part. “Alright.” The petite woman from yesterday replied, eyes even more weary than the day before, and moved on to the next customer. Fridays were busy, even at the Fantôme. “Gingerbread latte?” Nakano asked, as soon as Nagai reached the counter. Nagai nodded. “And, one of these pastries, please.” he said. “Coming right up! And, sorry, but I guess I’ll have to charge you for the pastry this time. Tosaki-san- that’s my shift manager said I’m not allowed to give out freebies.” He shrugged. “That’s fine.” Kei said. “But I’m starting to convince him of the fact that you’re a regular, so that might change!” Nakano winked. “Don’t count on it.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say.” Nakano said teasingly, and rang him up.

Kei was impressed to learn that even a rush on a Friday afternoon was not enough to deter Nakano from bothering him at his table. Strangely enough, he found himself not really minding the company. Even if it did keep him from his statistics homework. “Fun fact.” Nakano said, “You know that this store was originally gonna be called IBM? But you know, that’s trademarked, so Hirasawa-san didn’t go ahead with it.” “What the hell would IBM even stand for?” Kei shut his laptop screen, deciding that perhaps a small break would not completely ruin his progress. He took a bite out of his pastry, which tasted more delicious than it had any business being. “I don’t know, man. International Brewery Masters?” “You literally have one store.” “Point taken.” Nakano grinned.

Kei rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at the register?” “My coworker’s handling it.” Nakano said, making large puppy eyes at him, “I have a double shift on Saturday, give me a break.” “Your coworker?” “Well, yeah, Izumi-san. You’ve met her, right?” Nakano’s voice picked up, excitedly. “She’s really hot, isn’t she?” “What exactly is hot, Nakano-kun?” a quiet voice asked behind him asked. Nakano choked on his soda. The woman in question had approached with the stealth of a panther. She narrowed her eyes at the younger employee. “I-Izumi-san!” Nakano responded, flustered, “I, uh, I meant the coffee! Right, Kei? It’s really nice and hot, isn’t it?” “It’s very good, indeed.” Kei responded, after a delighting moment of watching Nakano struggle in embarrassment. Izumi left, but not without shooting last glare in Nakano’s direction. “I feel like she doesn’t like me.” Nakano whined, as soon as she was out of earshot. “How on earth did you reach that conclusion?” Kei asked, raising an eyebrow. He glanced at his watch. It was already close to 6 pm. “I’m sorry, but I’m leaving in a bit.” Eriko was home from the hospital for the weekend. And as strained as their relationship might be, Kei did feel guilty for not spending as much time with his little sister as he probably should have. “Oh, that’s perfect!” Nakano replied, “I’ll get off in half an hour. Want to walk to the station together?” Oh well. He needed to catch his train either way. “Sure.”

Nakano, predictably, talked the entire way to the station. Which suited Kei well this time, as it saved him from having to make awkward small talk. He learned that Nakano had been working at the Fantôme for a year already. He was one of two High Schoolers the shop’s owner, Hirsawa-san had employed. Most other employees were college students. There was Tosaki, who was studying for his masters at Keio University, and Izumi, an undergrad student at Sophia. He also learned that Nakano lived on his own, and had barely scraped by his first year in High School. When asked about his parents, he shrugged. “They didn’t pay the rent, and got us kicked out of our place. My uncle’s helping me pay for a room, but I’m pretty much on my own with all other expenses. Sucks, but that’s the way it is.” “I’m sorry.” Kei answered, not knowing what else to say. “Don’t be.” Nakano gave him a smile that seemed genuine, “I do like my job. Even though Tosaki-san can be a pain at times.” An awkward silence fell between them. “Want to exchange LINE ID’s?” Nakano asked, just before they reached the station. “Sure, whatever.” “You can call me Kou, by the way. Nakano’s so freaking formal. And can I call you Kei, too?” “Whatever.” Kei repeated, ignoring the pleased feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realized Nakano had bothered to remember his first name.

Ten minutes later, on a crowded train heading back home, Kei muted his phone notifications when Kou wouldn’t stop spamming their chat with rilakumma emojis.

Despite his better judgement, Kei started showing up at the Fantôme once a week. His visits fell mostly on Mondays, which was coincidentally also the day that Kou was on his regular shift. Kei blamed it on the workload the school assigned with the beginning of every week.

He had slowly developed a craving for the Fantôme’s coffee specials, and the place did offer a rather peaceful study atmosphere, if he left aside Kou’s chattering during his impromptu visits at Kei’s table.

But even those, he secretly grew to like. Not that he would ever admit to it.

“Welcome! Your order?” The barista at the counter was not Kou. A shadow fell over Kei as the man towered above him at what was easily two meters of height. The Fantome’s signature apron barely reached his midriff. The accompanying cream-coloured frills provided a striking contrast to his perpetual scowl. Tanaka, the name tag read. “I, um-“ “Oh, hello Kei.” Izumi greeted him, emerging from the kitchen with a rare smile. He did know when exactly she had learned his name, but somewhere between his first and his fifteenth visit, he had apparently made an impression. It was what came with being a “regular” , he supposed, which wasn’t nearly as beneficial as Kou made it out to be. Even though he enjoyed the occasional complimentary pastry. Where was he, anyway? It was a Monday like any other. “Nakano’s not working today.” she said, apparently having read his thoughts, “He’s at home studying. His exams are coming up soon.” “Oh, I see.” Kei said, “Then, well…” he glanced at the mountain of a barista that looked like he could take him out in one ill-timed blow, “I just wanted to get drinks for takeaway. One gingerbread latte, please.” he said. “600 yen.” “Actually, can you make that two?” Tanaka grunted, which Kei understood as a confirmation. “Visiting a friend?” Izumi-san asked, a knowing look in her eyes. “Just for my sister.” Kei responded. His heart was racing, which was a little odd, he thought. He was yet to consume any amount of caffeine. “I see.”

This was most likely a bad idea, Kei thought. In between spamming him with memes, links to prank compilations on youtube and various emojis, Kou had also written his address.

“What would I need that for? ”Kei had texted back. “In case you ever wanna hang out!” Kei had left him on read.

Now, standing in front of his door, he considered turning around. But he had already come all this way, to a ward on the suburbs of Tokyo. Also, the coffee was getting cold. He sighed, and pressed the doorbell. “Kei!!” Nakano’s surprised expression gave way to a joyful one when he noticed his unexpected visitor. “Come in, please!” He beckoned him inside eagerly. “Please excuse the intrusion.” Kei mumbled, taking off his shoes and stepping into Nakano’s apartment. It was tiny. There was bed and a dresser, a floor table and seating pillows. A fridge, and a single stove with a microwave took up one corner of the room. Kei spotted a door in the another one, probably leading to a bathroom. Also, it looked like a bomb had exploded in here. “Please have a seat. Sorry, it’s not very tidy.” Nakano said, That put it lightly, Kei thought, stepping over books, socks and empty bottles. Nakano brought him a glass of water, and they sat down at the table. “I heard you were studying for exams.” “Yeah, I have some tests coming up.” Kou sighed, “Tosaki-san told me to take the week off and study. When I came into work this afternoon, he yelled at me, so… I guess I’m here.” He laughed embarrassedly. “When are your exams?” Kei asked, with an impending feeling of doom, taking a sip of his water. “Thursday. Friday.” Nakano said. “This week?” “Yep.” He should have just gone home. “Do you have trouble with any of the material?” Nakano flashed him a saccharine smile. “Perhaps you could tutor me?” Kei could feel a headache coming on. “Depends on the subjects.” “Math, I can mostly do, but I am struggling with biology.” Nakano said, giving him the largest puppy eyes Kei had ever witnessed. “Alright, fine. Let’s do this.” Kei agreed with a sigh, opening a textbook. How hard could that possibly be? He aced biology every time. Surely tutoring someone else was not that vastly different.

One hour later, their styrofoam cups were empty and Kei was about to lose his sanity. “What exactly are you not getting about the polymerase chain reaction?” He snapped, twisting a pen in his hand, ink smudging all over his fingers, “It’s not that hard!”

“Yes, it is.” Nakano yelled, desperation clawing its way into his voice. “Well, what part?” “Everything.” Nakano moaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh man, I’m sorry. Nagai. I’m a lost cause. You should just go home.” Kei felt very tempted to do just that, but he took a way at Kou’s room and the tense way he hunched his shoulders and the staple of bills on the corner of the desk, and felt like an asshole for even considering it. But wait. He still had an ace up his sleeve. He stepped out onto the balcony, and made a call.

“I came as fast as I could.” Kaito leaned against the doorframe, motorcycle helmet underneath his arm, “Lucky I live nearby.” “Thank you. I owe you one.” Kei said. Kaito waved him off. “No, believe me, you’ll call in that favor once you see what I mean.” Kei said dryly. Kaito laughed at his pained expression. “It’ll be fine.” “Kei, are you leaving?” Nakano called, emerging from the bathroom. He paused in his tracks once he saw Kaito. “Oh, hi, you are-“ “Your new biology teacher.” Kei said coldly. Kou tilted his head in confusion. “A friend of mine. Who’s good at biology. He agreed to teach you. That’s all.” Kei grumbled. Immediately, Kou’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hey! Wow, thanks for doing this! I’m really an idiot, so sorry in advance for taking up your time. I’m Nakano, by the way. Come in!” “Kaito. Pleasure.” the blond replied, giving him a warm smile. “I’m gonna go and get some food from the conbini down the road.” Kei responded, “Have fun.” “Get me some tuna onigiri, yeah?” Kou called after him. “In your dreams.” Kaito laughed.

Three hours later, they sat at Kou’s table together, feasting on rice balls, soba noodles and lemon tea. “Kaito, you’re seriously the best.” Kou said, mid-chew. Kei turned his face away in disgust. “I feel like I really understood the stuff for the first-time!” “You’re welcome.” Kaito replied, “And by the way, Kou, don’t be so hard on yourself. You do understand more than you think. I think you just have trouble remembering the detail, but that’s okay. It’s what you study for, after all.” “You’re so nice, Kaito.” Kou fawned, “You’re much nicer than Kei.” “Hey. Remember who got him here in the first place?” Kei snapped, irritated. “I know, sorry. That was pretty great of you.” Kou said apologetically, grinning at him cheekily. Pretty great of you. Kei felt his cheeks heating up. “Bathroom.” he said, leaving as quickly as he could, and ignoring the smile on Kaito’s face.

“So, what’s the result?” Kou’s shift manager had apparently been waiting for them already when they walked into the store on Monday. “Hello, Tosaki-san, nice to see you too.” Kou said, rolling his eyes. Tosaki glared at him. “Okay, okay, fine!” Kou held up his hands in defeat. “I passed. Both exams. B in maths, C in biology.” “Just a C, after all the tutoring that Kaito gave you.” Kei comments acidly, “Were you even trying?” “Hey, I passed, okay? Wasn’t that the goal?” Kou pouted at him. Kei sighed, wishing that his puppy eyes didn’t have that much of an effect on him.

“I guess you did. Well done.”

Kou smiled at him. Kei felt his heart flutter, and looked away. “Well done, Nakano-kun.” Izumi said, who’d apparently overheard a part of their conversation, “Nagai’s drink is on me.” “Thanks.” Kei said. “Well then, get to work.” Tosaki adjusted his glasses. “Seriously, that’s all? Don’t I get a reward or something?” “Your reward is the tables you’ll be clearing.” Tosaki says haughtily, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “You’re late, so get moving.” “Yes, boss.” Kou sighs. “…Well done.” Kou turned in his tracks. “What was that?” “Move it!”

“Your regular?” Izumi asked, just as Nakano trudged off to get changed, “It’s on me.” “Is the gingerbread latte even a seasonal item anymore?” Kei said, seriously. “We make exceptions for our frequent customers.” Izumi responds, lowering her voice secretively. “Well, then I won’t say no.”

Izumi hummed and got to work preparing his drink. “Oh, in case you were worried. Nakano-kun still has all his vacation days. I guess that’s a type of reward, isn’t it?” “Hadn’t crossed my mind to be worried at all.” Kei answered, too quickly for it to be true. “I see.” Izumi said, with this knowing smile Kei hoped he interpreted too much into. “Here you go.” “Thank you.”

Kou came out from the staff room at this very second, wearing his work-shirt and apron. “Grab a seat, yeah?” he told Kei, “I’ll be with you as soon as I get a free minute.” “You don’t have to-“ His voice cut off, his brain short-circuiting in shock once he realized that Kou had kissed his cheek. “I-“ “That’s your reward.” Kou said, smiling at him, gentle and invigorating like summer rain, and for the first time in months, Kei was speechless.

#koukei #nagai kei #nakano kou #ajin #ajinss20 #ajin demi human #ajin secret santa #gingerrhd #fanfic

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starlightinhumanform · 5 years ago

Text

Strong As The Sun

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Analogicality

Summary: It’s Roman’s last summer before going off to college; he should be spending it hanging out at the beach and having fun. Instead, he is wasting his time away beneath the eye of his cruel manager and behind the counter of the local fair’s Help Center. His day gets a little more interesting when Virgil Sanders collapses into his arms.

Warnings (in order of strength): Moderate language throughout, Description of physical illness throughout, Not panic but Virgil does get pretty upset a couple times. Please tell me if anything needs to be added. Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Human AU

A/N: -The Dragon Witch is Ms. Drakon -Because of his anxiety, Virgil clings to ‘comfort items’ (in this case, his hoodie) And lastly: I am not a medical professional!! This is all based on my own experiences with heat exhaustion and may not be entirely accurate. If you are ever in a situation like this, don’t be like Roman! Get some help! Hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Roman couldn’t put his finger on the reason he loved his job so much. Maybe it was the suffocating heat that made him sweat so much his hair was consistently ruined by the end of every shift. Or maybe it was the entitled older folks who would yell at him for doing what his manager told him to do. It could have been the way his manager yelled at him for... doing exactly what she had told him to do. The best part was definitely the smell- a magical combination of cheap grease, sunscreen, animal waste, and a good amount of human waste.

Yeah, ok, his job sucked. Standing at the help desk of a local fair for 12 hours everyday was not exactly Roman’s ideal summer plan. It was his last summer before college; he should be getting toned from surfing at the beach all day where he would inevitably find his dream man and they would live happily ever after.

“Roman?! Did you hear a word I just said?”

Roman jerked his head up from where it had been resting in his hand (the perfect position for daydreaming himself away from this hell) and tried to look alert, “Yeah, sure! Of course!”

His manager scowled at him from across the counter. She looked like what would have happened if Snow White had made some sort of pact with the evil witch- sickly pale skin, blood red lips, and smooth black hair that never had a strand out of place. She tapped her nails against the desk and raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow, “Well, in that case, could you repeat it to me?”

“No, Ms. Drakon,” Roman hung his head, hoping his pathetic act would earn him some crumb of pity.

His manager just rolled her eyes, turning around and glaring at him over her shoulder, “I was saying you need to do a better job of looking enthusiastic- more ready to help. If you don’t, well just remember: there are plenty of other desperate teenagers who will easily take your place.”

The witch stalked away, stopping occasionally to bare her teeth at patrons in substitute of an actual smile. Roman barely resisted the urge to flip her off but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. He was positive at this point that she had eyes in the back of her head.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and standing up straighter in an attempt to look more “enthusiastic”- or at least awake. Drakon might have been the epitome of evil, but she was right. It would be as easy as snapping her fingers to have Roman fired and replaced. And that was not something he could afford- literally.

Roman shoved the thoughts aside as a family walked up. He saw so many of the same groups over and over again that they all started to blend together. This one was no different- a loud, angry straight couple surrounded by a horde of unruly children.

The man slammed his fist down on the counter as he approached and Roman plastered on a smile, “Hi sir! How can I help you?”

Yep. Today was going to be fun. It was only noon and he had already a) gotten puked on by a little kid, b) had nearly been fired, and now c) yelled at because apparently the carnival games were arranged incorrectly and it was somehow his fault.

Roman spent the next two hours trying not to space out but it was so hard when he wanted to be anywhere else. He decided he was never going to a fair ever again. Ever. Unless it was with a boyfriend. Who he would win a bunch of prizes for. And take selfies with while they ate matching cotton candy. And they would ride the Ferris wheel together and kiss at the top. Hmmmm, so maybe he would never go to a fair ever again unless certain requirements were met.

If only his Prince Charming could come along now, jump over the desk partition, reach for Roman’s hand, and whisk him away to some place that had air conditioning. He would be tall, muscular, with a strong jawline, and-

“Excuse me?”

Roman glanced down, trying to find the kid who was trying to get his attention.

“Up here?”

He moved his gaze upwards to find a guy about his age wearing a dark hoodie with his hands shoved in his pockets. Not surprisingly, he looked like he was dying from the heat.

“Oh sorry. I thought you were,” Roman waved his hand at his knee, “small.”

The stranger grimaced, “Gonna try not to be insulted by that.”

“Anyways... how can I help you?” Even though the statement was built into Roman’s subconscious script, he really did mean it. The boy kept swaying and Roman wasn’t sure if it was some kind of nervous fidget or because he was actually about to pass out.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry. I’m just kinda- my head-“ He ran his hands through his hair, “Basically I lost my group and my phone is dead and I have no idea where they are and-“

He tried to take a step forward but stumbled, gripping the desk for support. Roman’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He swung open the little shack’s gate and began leading the boy back to the shade of the awning, one arm swung around his chest to support him.

“I’m fine, really,” He tried to protest but used Roman as crutch as if this was A Christmas Carole and he was Tiny Tim.

Roman snorted as he latched the gate shut behind them, “You’re not ‘fine’- you can barely walk.”

Roman set the boy down on the rough floors, concerned by how hard he was breathing. He grabbed a water bottle from beneath the counter and offered it as he squatted down. This close, Roman was able to get a better evaluation his guest.

The good news: the heavy darkness beneath his eyes was eyeshadow- not some sort of bruise or dark circles that were so bad they could be seen from three feet away. The bad news: basically everything else. His breathing was labored. His face was deathly pale- nearly gray- and beaded with sweat. His black skinny jeans, heavy boots, and oversized purple hoodie were ideal for perhaps a light rain in mid October; at a fair during the sadistic month of July, the outfit looked nearly deadly.

Roman chewed the bottom of his lip. He really wasn’t trained for this sort of thing. His job was to look cute at the entrance and tell people where they could find the petting zoo. But he couldn’t just turn this guy away, “Look, you can stay here as long as you need but if my boss sees you, I’m dead so just try to stay low or something.”

The boy had been gulping down the water bottle but froze suddenly. His eyes widened and he started scrambling to get up. His feet scrabbled beneath him like a puppy who wasn’t used to their legs yet.

“Hey, hey, stop!” Roman hissed under his breath, trying to avoid making a scene, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble. It’s better if I just go,” The boy stopped struggling and stared at Roman with eyes the size of a small planet. They were blue, so deep and dark they almost looked purple. Beneath them, the messy eyeshadow was smudged by what Roman realized were tear streaks.

“Shut up, Emo. I’m not going to let you leave until I know it’s safe,” Roman reached out, brushing his thumb across the boy’s cheekbones to wipe away the dark trails the makeup had made.

The boy looked confused but didn’t try to duck away from Roman’s touch, “What are you doing?”

Roman drew his hand back and stared down at it. He felt just as confused as the boy looked. What was he doing? He huffed out a laugh, “I- I’m not sure. I don’t think either of us are thinking very clearly right now.”

Across from him, the boy bowed his head down so Roman couldn’t see his face and started drinking from the bottle again- less desperately this time. Roman got the feeling the conversation was over.

He stood up and shifted so he was more centered at the desk, “I have to look like I’m actually doing my job, but tell me if you need anything. Try to, uh, cool off or something. I’ve got plenty of water bottles over here.”

“Virgil.”

“I’m sorry?” Roman turned to face the shadow of a human in the corner of his shack. The boy was trying to take up less space, but his lanky legs made it hard to curl up.

“My name is Virgil.”

Roman smiled, “Nice to meet you, Virgil. I’m Roman.”

Virgil nodded as if Roman had given the correct answer and was allowed to go back to his job.

The next hour passed sluggishly. Roman told six separate women asked where the bathrooms were but he could swear they were all the exact same person. He saw the girl who ran the lemonade stand spit into a drink at least twice. At some point, Virgil fell asleep, the back of his head pressed against the gate and his neck bent at an angle that would probably hurt when he woke up. His breathing was still a worrying rasp and Roman couldn’t help but glance over towards Virgil’s corner whenever he got the chance.

Three o’clock rolled in like it didn’t want to come. Roman slammed down his sign that read “I’m On Break Right Now!! I’ll Be Back In A Few Minutes :)” and dared the Karen who was marching toward his stand to take another step forward.

When he was sure the coast was clear, he ducked onto the floor and grabbed another water bottle as he scooted next to Virgil. This close, Roman could feel tremors that were running through Virgil’s body.

“Hey buddy, wake up,” Roman shook Virgil’s shoulders gently, wincing at the heat that radiated through the thick sweatshirt.

Virgil’s eyes blinked open slowly, glassy and unfocused. He searched around the small space before his gaze settled on Roman, “Where am- oh that’s right. I’m still here?”

Roman couldn’t explain it but something about the venomous disappointment in Virgil’s voice hit him in the chest. He shook the feeling away quickly when he remembered what was going on, “You’re burning up. I want you to drink some more water. And I think you’re going to need to take off that sweatshirt.”

Virgil collapsed in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest and pressing himself against the side of the shack, “I don’t want to take it off.”

Roman could feel his eyebrows scrunching together by their own accord, “Why not?”

Virgil just shrugged and looked away which perfectly conveyed the message of I know exactly why and I’m not going to tell you.

“Ok, ok, whatever. It’s not like that stupid hoodie is seriously damaging your health or anything.”

Virgil flopped his head to the side to glare with two ice-cold flames. Roman got the feeling that if Virgil had more strength, he would’ve gotten slapped.

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for options. It’s not like he could force Virgil to take the sweatshirt off- that would be weird for anyone. Besides, he still hardly knew this kid. Maybe he refused to take the hoodie off because he had some giant tattoo from a gang. Did gangs get tattoos? Like the dark mark from Harry Potter? Roman was getting sidetracked and Virgil looked like the type of person who rarely left his house. Ok so definitely not the type to join a gang.

But the fact that they hardly knew each other still stood. If he pushed it too far, he would be crossing about twenty boundaries. On the other hand, Virgil was looking worse and worse by the second. In the space of a few blinks, his expression had faded from a glare to half-lidded stupor.

Roman grimaced as he pressed the back of his hand against Virgil’s forehead. His bangs were damp and his skin felt like a hot pan just off the stove. Roman brushed his hand upwards, combing his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

Virgil’s gaze flicked over to meet Roman’s eyes, unfocused and filmy. But within those eyes, swimming in the purple beneath, Roman could see so much emotion, it almost hurt to look at. Those eyes pleaded with him, so full of fear.

Roman sighed. He simply couldn’t say no that stare, “Yeah ok. You can keep the damn thing on. But we need to figure out a way to get your fever down.”

Virgil slumped sideways into Roman, pressing into him instead of the wall. The chills running through his body were so strong that Roman almost wondered if they were contagious somehow. He snuggled further against Roman, his head pressing into Roman’s shoulder.

Roman didn’t know what to do. What he wanted to do was wrap his arms around this strange little shadow and never let go. In reality, though, even this much contact was probably worsening Virgil’s temperature.

“Hey,” Roman shook Virgil’s far shoulder slightly to get his attention, “I had an idea. Would you be ok with just unzipping your hoodie? You wouldn’t have to take it off!”

Virgil responded by wrapping himself around Roman’s arm like some baby marsupial, “Too tired. Just wanna sleep.”

Roman could hardly hear Virgil’s muttering through the material of his own shirt. He sighed, “Yeah. Well too bad. Will you please just keep yourself from dying?”

“Ti-r-ed,” Virgil drew out the vowels like a whiny little kid.

“What- do you want me to do it?” Roman huffed out an exasperated laugh.

Against him, he felt Virgil shrug, “Sure.”

“Oh,” Roman hadn’t been expecting that answer. He had asked as a joke after all. Virgil had made such a big deal about keeping the sweatshirt on that Roman felt that he was crossing a line by even touching it.

Roman untangled Virgil’s arms for his and propped him against the wall. The boy moved as if he were a rag doll in Roman’s hands and it was nearly enough make Roman queasy. He scooted over so he was facing Virgil.

He watched him with those big eyes. Big, soft eyes. They carried so much uncertainty, always tracking Roman’s movement without ever shifting their gaze. But they held the weight of trust as well- feeling safe despite not knowing what Roman was going to do. Roman glowed under the trust, feeling like he had been awarded a treasure few could even find. At the same time, he was positive he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know if he was doing the right things. How could Virgil seem so certain that Roman would help him if even Roman didn’t know that?

Roman reached forward, hands freezing as they hovered over the zipper that hung just below the dip of Virgil’s collarbone. This was weird. He knew these were “special circumstances” but still... it was weird. Roman cleared his throat, “Uh, sorry, this is just kind of awkward.”

Virgil mustered another glare, less deadly this time but still managing to clearly convey the message of Stop being such a useless gay.

Roman cleared his throat again. He probably sounded like he was developing a case of pneumonia, “Right. Sorry.”

Said useless gay took a deep breath and pulled the zipper down. Underneath, Virgil was wearing a plain black muscle tank to match the rest of his dark outfit. Roman had to give him credit for committing so strongly to the aesthetic. A part of him was still surprised that Virgil’s hoodie wasn’t hiding some kind of green alien body.

“Surprised I’m not some kind of green alien?”

Roman realized he had been staring and immediately tried to find something else to look at. His brain apparently decided that the best solution was to reread the safety rules posted on the back wall. He could feel a blush rising to his face and he was pretty sure it had something to do with the way the tank top dipped lowly across Virgil’s chest and hung across his delicate collarbones.

Roman nearly started laughing at himself out loud. He sounded like a repressed Victorian maiden. What he going to do next? Maybe he would stomp his feet and start chanting Show me your ankle! Show me your ankle!

“Hey, help me with this?” Virgil’s strained voice brought Roman’s attention swinging back to the real world. He was trying to shrug the sweatshirt off his shoulders while still trying to move as little as possible.

Roman reached out again, probably too quickly. He was acting so strange. He wished his hands would stop shaking so much.

“Oh, Roman?” A sugar-sweet, poisoned voice floated into the shack just as Roman managed to get the last sleeve past Virgil’s elbow.

“Shit,” Roman hissed under his breath, “That’s my manager.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide but Roman didn’t have the time to reassure him. He threw the nearest thing over Virgil which happened to be a beach towel from the lost and found. It probably wouldn’t help his temperature at all, but at least Ms. Drakon wouldn’t see him.

Roman pulled out his winning grin as he stood up, “Why, hello, Ms. Drakon!”

She responded with an equally bright mouthful, but Roman wouldn’t dare to call it a smile, “Roman, it seems you have quite a crowd beginning to build up!”

He glanced over and suppressed a groan as he saw the trail of unhappy looking people that glared at him from an ever-growing line. He turned his attention back to Drakon, pointing down to the sign propped on the counter, “Yes, ma’am, I see that. I will make sure that they are all satisfied as soon as my break is over.”

Her eyes wrinkled as her mouth widened, but there was nothing friendly about them, “I think you’ve been on break long enough.”

“Yes, of course!” In Roman’s head, a large anvil had just landed on Drakon’s head.

Drakon disappeared into the crowd and Roman turned to the daunting line in front of him. The snake was headed by a group of 12 year old girls. They were easiest type to deal with. Bless their boyband obsessed hearts- they were probably the only reason the counter hadn’t been broken down by a mob of angry middle aged women with expired passes. He gave them a wink, “I’ll be with you ladies in a minute.”

Judging by the giggles that erupted as he sank down behind the counter, he had bought himself a minute or two.

“Hey there,” Roman was trying to be quiet but he was surprised at how soft his voice came out.

He pulled the towel away to find Virgil fast asleep. His breath was definitely starting to even out. The stupid hoodie pooled around him, still attached at the wrists. A tiny hint of a smile tugged at one side of his lips.

Roman ruffled his hands through Virgil’s hair, “Hang in there, buddy.”

He twirled around as he stood up, adding a little more dramatic flair than needed. He flicked the sign down with one finger. The smile he beamed at the crowd was genuine; this time he had something to smile about- even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Another hour passed by with all of the ease of a root canal. A person told him they wanted a discount because their child had found a dead rat in a trash can. Roman tried to explain that it was a good thing it was in a trash can instead of anywhere else. The lemonade girl flipped someone off. She was Roman’s hero.

Virgil only began stirring by the end of it, blinking his eyes open like a owl in daylight. He looked around the shack like he was seeing it for the first time. His eyes were sharper than Roman had seen them before, glittering like obsidian now that they could focus.

Roman tried his best to concentrate on the customer in front of him, but he kept glancing back and grinning at Virgil. It was nice to see him looking more like a human and less like a very unhealthy zombie.

For what seemed like an eternity and a half, the customer refused to leave. Finally Roman made an under-the-table deal consisting of extra arcade tickets and a free voucher for lemonade just to get rid of them. He hoped the lemonade got spat in.

“Coast clear?” Virgil’s small voice came from what Roman had officially began calling Virgil’s Corner. He sounded different- probably because he wasn’t fighting for his life. His voice was still low, but the gravel in his tone sounded far more intentional and less like Holy shit I can’t breathe.

Roman turned around and leaned against the counter, “Ah! Sleeping Beauty awakes! How are you feeling?”

“Would I sound ungrateful if I said I feel like shit?”

Roman made an exaggerated act of thinking about it, “Just a little bit. But also honest.”

Virgil nodded and then looked down at the ground, letting a beat of silence fall between them. Roman got the feeling that Virgil had something to say, but they both had to wait for it to arrive.

Virgil began pulling the hoodie back up around his hunched shoulders, eyes still burning holes through the floor of the stall.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Roman sunk down to the floor, “Don’t put that thing back on. I just got you breathing right again- don’t make us start over from square one.”

He placed his hand against Virgil’s forehead again, “You still feel kinda overheated to me so-“

Roman stopped speaking as Virgil flinched away from the touch. His eyes darted around as if they couldn’t find a single safe place to land. He pulled his arms and legs in, tense and ready to- to do what, though? He looked like he wanted to hide, and run, and fight all at the same time. Virgil had quickly transformed into a cornered wild animal.

“Virgil, what’s wrong?” Roman spoke as softly and slowly as he could but tension was mounting within him as well. Had he done something wrong? Was Virgil hurt?

“They didn’t ask about me, did they?” Virgil spoke as if he didn’t want is voice to be heard.

“I’m sorry, who didn’t ask about you?”

“My group. The ones I came with. They both wear glasses and have brown hair and one’s shorter than the other and the taller one has freckles and was wearing a black button down and the other was wearing a blue shirt and- and,” Virgil’s voice broke and Roman’s heart along with it, “-and they’re my best friends.”

Suddenly Roman remembered the reason Virgil had shown up at his desk in the first place. It wasn’t the heat exhaustion- he had gotten lost.

Virgil succeeded in wrapped himself up in his sweatshirt. He curled into a tight ball, knees pulled against his chest and eyes just barely peeking above top of them.

“Hey, well, they’re probably looking around the fair for you. A lot of people don’t even know about my dumb little shack here! They’ll turn up eventually.”

Virgil shook his head, “They wouldn’t even look for me. They’ve probably left by now.”

“I really don’t think-“

Roman was cut off by Virgil launching himself onto him, wrapping his arms like a vice around Roman’s chest and digging his face into Roman’s shoulder. Shuddering sobs wracked Virgil’s body, all the panic and pain of today running onto Roman’s shoulder and staining his shirt with dark eyeshadow.

But Roman wasn’t thinking about that. He was hardly thinking at all. Roman was angry. Maybe angrier than he had ever been at that Drakon bitch or any of the customers that screamed at him or the kids who threw things at him or the teenagers who would snicker just loud enough so that he could hear them. That was trivial.

He was so mad. Mad at the pigs who stranded Virgil on his own, who apparently didn’t give a shit about his wellbeing, who made him feel so worthless that his immediate assumption was that they had left him behind.

Roman hoped they showed up. He would rip them to pieces.

He wrapped one arm around Virgil as tightly as he could and cradled the back of his head with his other hand. He didn’t want to let go; he wouldn’t let go. Roman could feel Virgil’s nails digging into his back as he gripped Roman’s shirt in fists.

Roman began rocking gently back and forth, moving his fingers through Virgil’s hair and letting his nails scratch softly against his scalp. Soon, Virgil’s sobs subsided into smaller hiccups. Roman could still feel hot tears soaking through his shirt.

They stayed huddled on the floor for a good minute before Virgil slowly raised his head, “I’m sorry, sometimes I get-“

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” Roman ran his thumb across Virgil’s cheek, brushing away the tears that ran down it. Like this, Virgil’s eyes looked ethereal, two pools of pure enchantment. Roman was sure he could spend the rest of his life memorizing the way the sunlight play against them.

“Excuse me?”

“Shit, shit, shit, damn it,” Roman knew he should have put his do not disturb sign up.

Virgil jerked his head up, “Patton?!”

Roman looked up to see another teenager about his age leaning over the counter. He was wearing glasses and a blue T-shirt with the Humane Society logo.

His face melted into a relieved smile as Virgil stood up, “Thank goodness we found you- we’ve been looking everywhere.”

He wrapped Virgil in a hug as yet another teenager appeared. He was taller, with eyes nearly as dark as Virgil’s, and he looked like he might sit down and begin discussing taxes with you at any moment.

This one nodded, “I created a systematic search pattern to use. Unfortunately, we were not even made aware of this place until a rather rude young lady at the lemonade stand directed us over here.”

The one called Patton let go of Virgil just long enough for the other to give him a quick hug before grabbing him into another embrace, “Oh we were so worried.”

Roman felt a pang in his chest. This was good, right? Virgil was safe now. And obviously his friends weren’t the monsters Roman had assumed them to be. So it was all good. Yep. Definitely. Totally. Then why did he feel so damn sad?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok,” Roman looked up to see Virgil wiping off his face as the other two fussed over him, “I wouldn’t be though if it weren’t for Roman.”

The more serious one raised an eyebrow, “Who?”

Roman rose up from the ground, feeling sheepish for a reason he couldn’t explain, “Uh, that would be me.”

“Logan, Patton, this is Roman,” Virgil glanced over and gave him a warm smile, “He helped me out in more ways than one.”

Patton pulled Roman into a squeeze, wrapping his arms around his neck in a way that made Roman bend down, “Thank you so, so much.”

Logan took a moment from talking to Virgil in a tone to stare at Roman, “You got him to take off his hoodie?”

Roman escaped from Patton’s reach, “Uh, well, I think he kind of had heat exhaustion-“

Logan turned his attention back to Virgil, “But you don’t take that thing off unless you’re very comfortable with someone or-“

“Or really like them. Yeah, I know,” Virgil stared at the floor, a bright red rising to his face.

“Oh,” Roman wasn’t sure what else to say. He could feel a blush as deep as Virgil’s tinting his complexion.

Logan looked down at a watch wrapped around his wrist, “Thank you for helping our friend, but we really must be going now.”

“Right. Yes. Of course,” Roman nodded, trying to clear his head. The implications of what Logan had said were quickly replaced by gloom.

Roman hoped the sadness sitting in he’s chest like a lead weight didn’t carry into his voice. He swung open the gate and tried for a smile as Virgil stepped past him.

Roman watched as Virgil stepped down into the dirt, probably the last time he was ever going to see him. Roman almost let him get away. Almost.

“Hey, wait!” Roman leaned out and grabbed Virgil’s hand. He reached for his pocket and waved his phone, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil’s jaw dropped, “You had a phone this entire time?!”

Roman blinked dumbly at Virgil as realization hit him, “Oh my god, I did.”

Virgil looked off into the distance as if he couldn’t process Roman’s lack of brain cells. At long last he began laughing. It started off as a snicker, developing into a full on cackle and finally dissolving into a wheeze. It was one of the ugliest laughs Roman had ever heard and some of the sweetest music he’d ever listened to. Virgil straightened up from where he had collapsed with his hands on his knees, “Oh my god; you’re so stupid.”

Roman felt his heart drop, “So that’s a no?”

“I didn’t say that either,” Virgil took a step forward and snatched the phone from Roman’s still out-stretched hand.

He gave it back after a few seconds of quick typing and seemed to be about to walk away, but froze, staring intensely at something on Roman’s shirt.

“What is it?” Roman craned his neck to find what Virgil was looking at.

“Well you’ve got something,” Virgil leaned forward, poking his hand against Roman’s chest for a moment before brushing it upwards and flicking Roman in the nose, “Right there.”

Before Roman hand a chance to react, Virgil had turned on his heel and was jogging to catch up with his two companions who were chatting at the gate. He watched as the group headed away, focusing on the purple hoodie in the middle until they turned a corner and Roman couldn’t stare anymore.

Heat still beat down from the summer sky, but Roman was sure that the warmth radiating from his chest could rival any sun.

If you want to join my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :p

~ @phan-fander ~

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blankblankityblank · 4 years ago

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Just, don’t wake up

Hi everyone! This is my fic for the @starkerkink exchange, dedicated to @vaguekiwi! I really hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

High school AU, with superpowers.

Tony’s home life has never been amazing, but one night, it’s just too much for him. He flies blindly to the first destination he can think of in his battered suit, holding his breath when he realises exactly who’s house he’s flown to. He doubts this evening will be normal, especially when he realises there’s only one bed.

Warnings: Masturbation, Flogging, Name-calling, Restraints, slightly dub-con, both 17. Check ao3 for further warnings!

Read on ao3!

Tony arrived late to class, as usual. Peter sighed, the usual thought flitting through his head: How does he always manage to arrive late, even with a full body suit that flies?

The teacher for their class, AP Bio, glanced at Tony unimpressed but unsurprised-this was a regular occurrence, and it showed.

Tony waltzed to his seat with the usual I-really-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, plonking down and prompt executing a yawn. Peter rolled his eyes; did he always have that look on his hot face? How did he even get into AP Bio when he didn’t even pay attention? Oh yeah, that’s right-Howard Stark’s son, prodigy at 4, bla bla bla. Peter needed a break from the constant ‘Tony Stark made his own suit’ fawning that half the girls, and guys, constantly exhibited. Like yeah, big deal-was anyone gonna talk about Peter’s amazing skills to do with web fluid? Or crafting his own suits, which, well, didn’t always go particularly well?

“And today, we will be taking a bit of an off-topic turn into some neurobiology! Chemicals and hormones produced by the brain!” The teacher sang, trying to mask her own boredom with the unresponsive class, “who can tell me what the four main hormones to do with happiness contain?”

Peter shot his hand up, excited that he for once knew the answer to the question before smart-ass Tony.

“The four main chemicals are endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, often abbreviated as D.O.S.E,” Peter stated. Tony slowly turned around in his chair, and glared at him. Peter just smirked. ‘One day,’ he mouthed at the growingly frustrated classmate.

“Very good! Can someone tell me what each of these hormones’ functions are?” Their teacher again asked. Peter’s hand shot up for the second time, his mouth forming a smirk in sync.

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

“Well well well, if it isn’t smart-ass Parker in a sticky situation?” Tony purred, his smooth voice richoeing off of the poorly-designed science lab. Peter sighed, closing his eyes in preparation before facing the problem.

“Does it look like I don’t know what I’m doing? Wouldn’t wanna steal your thunder now, would I?” He snarked back, trying to stir his web fluid in peace. The teacher had allowed his class 15 minutes of time to work on their various powers, any tweaks or fixes being attended to. Tony had apparently finished oiling up his suit, but Peter had no such privilege.

Tony flicked the back of Peter’s head as he strutted away, going over to talk to Steve and Bucky. Goddamned overpowered mutants. Ok, so maybe Peter was a tiny bit jealous of their friendship, but that was his business.

He dispensed the web fluid with a sigh, getting ready to pack up and head back to his apartment, and hopefully blow off some steam with a Star Wars movie night. He smiled softly to himself; maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all. He could chill with may, have some hot chocolate, quote every line of Empire Strikes Back because he totally doesn’t know it word for word.

The bell rang, immediately followed by a cacophony of bags zipping, several whirring sounds as various students fired up their ride home. Peter ducked his head down, knowing his power wasn’t as rich or powerful as his classmates’ privileged ones. And they didn’t even know it, how lucky they were. They’d never know what it’s like to be born with stickiness and a general strength upgrade. No super-advanced knowledge of tech, engineering, how to fly, being able to fly...everything that separated him from the rest of his peers.

Peter swung his backpack over his shoulder, cursing as his AP Bio textbook dropped onto the ground, setting off a too-loud thump on the concrete floor. A few heads swivelled in his direction, and Peter flushed as he hurriedly picked the offending book up, and returned it to its rightful place. Face still hot, he all but rushed out of the classroom, eager to change into his suit and get this day over with.

“Hey! Parker! Wait up, for fuck’s sake. You dropped two books, not one, you blind-ass bat,” Tony hollered, his feet slapping against the linoleum. Peter grabbed the exercise book from Tony’s offering hand, not dignifying the teen with a response. Ok, so maybe it was a bit harsh. But he had to stay ice-cold around Tony; if it got out Parker had a crush, it would not go down well. At. All.

“You’re not even gonna say thanks?” Tony spluttered in disbelief, hand still outstretched.

“Nope,” Peter replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Pretty sure I deserve some recognition, I could have just left that book on the floor for some other snotty-nosed kid to find,” Tony said indignantly, hand returned to his side.

“Well then don’t do it next time. I don’t give a shit, Stark,” Peter fired back, attempting to quell his progressingly noticeable butterflies.

Tony opened his mouth in a retort, but instead opted for an eye roll and spun on his heel. Probably to get back to his fancy 5 star penthouse, Peter thought bitterly. He headed to the bathrooms, diligently fighting his instinct to catch a glance of that ass. God, he was so, so gone.

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

Peter entered his apartment silently, not wanting to disturb May. He kicked off his shoes, deflating his suit and carrying the rest of his belongings to his room. Or, his cave, as May liked to call it. The 16 year old dungeon was another favourite of hers.

“May? ‘M home..” He trailed off when the bright Post-it note caught his eye. He frowned, peeling it off the bench and reading the bubbly handwriting. ‘Picked up an extra shift, be home tomorrow at 7! Sorry I couldn’t make it tonight kiddo xx’ Well. He could kiss his plans of venting to may goodbye, it seemed. Hot chocolate and a movie night still lifted his hopes, albeit less enthusiastic with no one to share it with now. The teen hummed the Star Wars theme song as he boiled the water and got his hot chocolate ready. He finished his task from earlier, dumping his stuff in an impossibly messy room that cleaning seemed impossible. There were things he didn’t want to uncover by doing so.

The TV flickered to life, selecting the chosen movie as directed by Peter. He sipped on his hot chocolate, swearing softly when the liquid burnt his tongue. It’d probably need to cool, considering the loss of feeling in his taste buds. The TV screen suddenly paused the movie, indicating the buffering icon as the infuriatingly slow loading bar popped up.

“For fucks’ sake…” Peter muttered, deciding to take a quick shower to pass the time. He didn’t bother getting clothes, seeing as he was the only one home. He padded to the bathroom, turning the shower on and watching as the water slowly began to produce steam. He then stripped, chucking his clothes into the overflowing hamper and stepping into the soothing water. He let it wash over him, adjusting himself to the temperature as he scrubbed himself with vanilla soap, the day’s events flicking hazily through his mind.

The teen looked down, noticing his growing hard-on. Maybe his thoughts about Tony had taken a...darker turn. He palmed himself half-heartedly, almost jolting when the spark of arousal ran through his body. He groaned softly to himself, putting more energy into pumping his hard on. His precum provided lubricant, his hand going up and down faster and faster until he was right on the edge and it felt so good, and-

Peter pulled his hand off, letting his erect cock bob helplessly in the air. He was breathing hard, not having reached his orgasm. It just...it didn’t feel right. He rubbed soap on his body again, his dick slowly returning to it’s normal size.

The shower came to a close after 15 minutes of staring at the wall, he may or may not have been thinking about a certain black head of hair, brown eyes flecked with gold, the body of a Greek god...maybe he lost track of time, but it was time well spent in Peter’s opinion. He towelled himself off with less energy, suddenly losing the motivation to actually dry himself off-probably because all his brain power was used trying to figure out a certain someone’s personality.

He plopped onto his nest of blankets and pillows, smiling when he saw the movie was ready to watch again. He hit play, content with the world at last.

That is, until some fucking idiot banged, not knocked, banged, on Peter’s door. He resolutely ignored it, turning the volume of the TV to max. Until, the banging didn’t stop. It just kept going. And going. And going-

“This better be a real good fucking reason,” Peter snarled, pausing his movie with more force than he probably needed to, and he stomped to the door.

The assault on the door didn’t stop, even when Peter yelled ‘Coming!’ to try and ease the banging. It did not succeed. He swung open the door, fuming, the epitome of annoyance as expressed on his face. He was ready to give this newcomer a piece of his mind, what, interrupting his fucking movie night, the audacity-

The words died in his throat as he looked up to launch a deadly glare, only to be met with chocolate brown eyes, flecked with gold, a soft pink cupid’s bow, the presence of stubble beginning to form a goatee, and oh wait, he’s seen this before, wait a minute-

“Tony?” He spluttered, taking a step back as he took in the scene before him. Tony, in a banged up suit he probably used as his transportation, his hand poised to bang at the door again. Tony’s expression mirrored Peter’s, a mixture of shock and confusion. Unlike Peter’s, Tony’s cleared quickly, and formed a new expression-one of almost desperation.

“Look, Parker, I’m sorry alright? I just...I need somewhere to stay tonight,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “forget it. I knew it was stupid to come, sorry for wasting your time I guess,” he muttered, already pivoting on his heel. Without his conscious consent, Peter grabbed Tony’s arm as he turned away. They both froze, neither knowing what Peter did.

“Wait, I...you can stay, Tony. You can come in, I just was watching Empire Strikes Back,” Peter ranted, gently tugging Tony inside. The latter seemed to be in a state of shock, obviously not expecting the positive response.

“Empire Strikes Back? You would be watching that, of all movies,” Tony snarked, recovering quickly from his bout of shock.

“You’re the guest, at least try to be nice,” Peter countered, blushing at the tips of his ears from embarrassment. He huffed, flopping onto his comfortable collection of pillows. He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Tony, who looked a little out of place with his scratched suit. Peter was curious, but didn’t pry-there was obviously something that caused Tony to come in so suddenly.

“Being nice? To Parker? Talk to me when you have an achievable goal,” Tony grumbled, walking around to tour Peter’s apartment. Peter hoped it would be up to his standards. Wait, no he didn’t, Tony’s standards didn’t matter to him. At all.

Peter resumed his movie, soon becoming engrossed in the iconic plotline that he’d seen hundreds of times before, yet it never failed to make him excited. Tony watched his classmate from the shadows, the smile on Peter’s face contagious. His auburn curls, sharp jawline...Picture perfect Tony mused, as the lights from the movie danced across Peter’s angelic features. Tony shook his head, afraid of getting caught in the act-someone that beautiful would never return his feelings.

The depressing thought prompted Tony to emerge from the shadows, gliding over to where Peter was laying down and slumped nearby, resigning himself to the fact he’d have to watch this nerd movie. His suit whirred in the corner, fixing its own malfunctions as Tony had programmed it to.

“I don’t even know what the fuck is going on, Parker,” Tony muttered, the movie’s plot confusing him due to the lack of knowledge in previous films.

Peter just smiled, deciding it would take too long to explain the plot. Tony saw this, and a small smile spread across his face, too. It was nice to have a friend that just accepted you into their home, even if you had no explanation. Well, he couldn’t really tell the boy his explanation. Home was...a bit hard to go to at the moment, not that he’d ever tell Parker. He glanced at the serene expression on Peter’s face again, taking in the pure joy as he watched his seemingly favourite movie. Yeah, he was not gonna spoil that expression. Not ever.

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

The movie’s credits rolled, signifying the end of the movie night. Tony softly blew out through his nose, wondering if it would be overstepping to stay the night. Before he could dig a hole of despair within himself, Peter noticed his obvious inner battle. Deciding to put the rivalry behind him for now, he reached out to Tony, gently touching his arm and effectively grabbing his attention.

“We should head to bed...if you’re ok with that,” Peter murmured, gently tugging Tony’s arm as he stood up.

Tony sucked in a breath at sparks of pleasure that rippled through him as Peter’s hand lingered. He got to his feet, following Peter through the apartment, taking in the few decorations and pictures. He paused at an old picture of an obviously much younger picture of Peter, sitting on a man’s shoulders. He looked so...well, happy. Tony frowned; what had happened? Not wanting to intrude, he tucked the question away for later, and hurried to catch up with Peter.

“So, this is it. The humble abode, I guess,” Peter chuckled nervously, giving a dramatic wave with his hands. Tony looked around, taking in the worn twin bed, well-read books mounted on shelves that looked as if they could fall at any minute, the stained dresser, obviously the victim of many late-night hot chocolate spills. Tony could feel a slight smile tugging at his lips-this felt like Peter.

“Humble, huh. Didn’t know you were a Potter fan,” Tony smirked, gesturing at the aforementioned books. A red blush tinted the teen’s cheeks as he rushed to defend himself.

“I’ll have you know Harry Potter is a very famous series, thank you very much,” he huffed, crossing his arms. The following silence was comfortable, Peter rifling through his dresser as he looked for his pyjamas. He succeeded, muttering a soft ‘aha’ at the victory, and turned to head to the bathroom.

“Get yourself comfy, you can sleep wherever, couch or bed,” Peter stated, trying not to blush for a third time in an hour. He made quick work of changing, exiting the bathroom once he was satisfied with his appearance. A new toothbrush smacked Tony in the back of the head, credits of Peter.

“The fuck, Parker? Why couldn’t you just ask me to turn around,” Tony muttered, grabbing the toothbrush and making his way to the meager bathroom. He cleaned his teeth, checked his face for any signs of, well, outstanding blemishes, and once satisfied, returned to the bedroom. Peter was already in the bed, having turned off the lights and receiving a wave of sleepiness that he couldn’t refuse.

Tony hesitated before quietly sliding in beside Peter, careful not to touch him in hopes of keeping him comfortable. After all, this was Peter’s bed. He shifted, finding the proximity a little too...exciting.

Peter stirred, muttering something incomprohensive that sounded suspiciously like ‘Stop fucking moving,’ which Tony grudgingly obeyed. He found himself drifting sooner than he usually did; maybe it was the company that finally got his eyes to close, who knows. It just felt good to be cared about.

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

“Fuck, harder Tony,” Peter cried out, relishing the feeling of the flogger on his burnt ass, “please. Please Tony, ah!”

Tony whipped mercilessly, painting the teen’s ass and lower back a pretty scarlet colour. He knew Peter loved it, despite the whimpers of pain as he relentlessly assaulted his body, again and again.

“Little slut, begging for me to stop like a good little bitch. Ask me nicely, I might consider,” Tony snarled, drinking in the moans that came tumbling out of Peter’s mouth at the sentence.

“P-please, I promise I’ll be your good little cockslut, please just let me go,” Peter repeated, rolling his eyes back from pleasure. His cock twitched at the constant stimulation, begging for touch, but Peter couldn’t move, the restraints preventing him from relief.

Tony growled, pausing the flogging at 15 hits. “You better live up to that, whore,” he snarled, taking in the sight before him. Peter, bound to the bed face-down, bent over the back, ass on display. His petite frame quivered in anticipation, preparing for more of the flogging.

“Yes, Tony, I promise I’ll be good, no more,” Peter begged, too aroused to care how desperate he might sound. He jerked his hips forward, trying and failing miserably to acquire friction for his painfully hard dick.

Tony untied the restraints slowly, careful not to hurt his lover any more, now that the scene was over. Peter sobbed, reaching down almost immediately to try and relieve his aching cock. Tony slapped Peter’s hand away, taking the matters into his own hands.

“Such a naughty boy, trying to touch yourself without permission. What do we say?” Tony crooned, teasing Peter’s tip. The latter cried out, grinding against Tony’s hand in hopes of release.

“‘M sorry, so sorry, please, please let me-ah!” Peter abruptly cut off his rambling as Tony took him in hand, stroking along his length tantalisingly. Peter sobbed, crying out as the feeling grew. He centered in on the sensation Tony was giving him, pumping his dick with such earnest it was almost too much, the heat building in his lower abdomen, ready to burst-

Peter woke up with a start, acutely aware of his burning arousal. Oh. Oh shit. He just had one of those dreams...about Tony. Who was right next to him. Peter sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. He calculated his options, quickly realising he couldn’t move without waking him up.

He cursed the lack of space in the bed, horror taking over as his arousal became too prominent to ignore. He whined softly into his pillow, at loss with how to deal with the predicament. How did things go so badly wrong so soon?

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Tony elicited a groan in the silence of the room and shifted to that his hip was pressed against Peter’s...problem. He unconsciously bucked into the stimulation, immediately regretting the action as Tony groaned again and moved, if possible, closer to his dick. Well, wasn’t this just amazing.

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

Tony awoke from his sweet abyss of darkness, groaning in annoyance. What had woken him up? He thought he’d heard a whimper, but that couldn’t be right. He shuffled closer to his warm pillow, which promptly moved back against him. Tony froze; pillows weren’t supposed to move. Pillows...also didn’t have a bulge. He recovered quickly, a smirk slowly growing when he realised what had happened here. Parker was hard. So, so hard.

Tony groaned again, this time intentionally shifting against Peter’s bulge to try and gauge how exactly this was going to play out. He was met almost immediately with a response as Peter grinded against him. Tony stifled a moan; it was insanely hot, how responsive Peter was. He was obviously trying to hold back, covering his mouth as he desperately sought relief against Tony. The latter helpfully shifted again, receiving a small squeak in response. Peter’s hand snaked down to his cock, unable to hold back anymore. Tony closed his eyes, savouring this moment-possibly the only time he’d get to be this intimate with his crush, even if he was ‘asleep’.

Peter palmed against his sweats, the pleasure making his breathing uneven as he neared his climax. He felt so bad for doing this with Tony in the same bed, but he was past the point of being able to control his movements. The pressure built up inside him like a spring coiled at it’s base, as he desperately rutted against his hand, when it all became too much-and Peter went rigid. The white-hot pleasure consumed his body, racking through him in wave after wave as he tried to silently ride out his orgasm. The spurts of come soaked his boxers, but Peter was too out of his mind to care as the high slowly came down. His breathing was hard and his sweats were cold and sticky, but the aftershocks of the orgasm jerked his softening cock.

The world slowly came back to him as Peter blinked a couple times, trying to orient himself. The first thing he thought was oh shit, now I’ll have to lie in this mess until Tony wakes up.

That is, until he realised a tiny detail. Tony’s back and hip was completely covered. In. Peter’s. Cum.

Peter looked up slowly, the horror beginning to consume him. His entire body froze when Tony looked right back at him.

#starkerkink2020 #tony stark x peter parker #highschool AU with powers #vaguekiwi #promptexchange #starkerkinkchallenge #my work

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

Text

Breathe: Hope In Isolation | PJM

For the @bangtanscenery - April Showers Bring May Flowers Project in celebration of the Spring Season!

Plot: For as long as Jimin can remember, the house is all he’s ever known. His only companion, a calico cat. Neither of them age as the house pulls them through time and space. He can neither interact with people nor stray far from the house. He is cursed to watch the world pass by every year and never be a part of it. But one day, someone not only is able to see the house, but they can finally see him as well.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: time-slip!au | modern fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama

Pairing: Park Jimin x Female OC (Brianna Larkins)

Warnings: Strong language, extreme angst, anxiety, implication of curses/magic

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 11.4K

AN: This idea came from a mash-up song of Billie Eilish and BTS. Specifically the song "Serendipity". I have been told that this story is the epitome of what Serendipity stands for and to me, that is the greatest compliment I could ever hope to receive. In a time of isolation, like what we are experiencing now, it's always important to remember the things that matter the most to us. Which are often the things we take for granted. So for those of you who are feeling lonely, sad, or even a little anxious, this is for you. Remember that you are loved.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Jimin’s grip tightened around the handle of the water pitcher as the house began to shake violently. The water sloshed from the pitcher, spilling onto the floor around his feet. The little calico cat that kept him company hopped onto the couch and curled itself into a ball of fluff. The few dishes he had trembled on top of the coffee table, all but threatening to fall to the floor. Craning his neck, he peeked out of the small kitchen window and sighed as the universe swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors and stars. The sheer curtains in the house fluttered with the speed of how fast everything was moving, causing his own blonde hair to fly back off his forehead.

Closing his eyes, Jimin held his breath and waited for the tremors to cease. He could never stare at the seemingly endless galaxies for too long. It always made him feel a little nauseous, even after all these years.

When the shaking finally ceased, he released the breath he held and opened his eyes when aggravated meows of protest reached his ears. Sighing, he turned to see the cat was now moving around on the couch in circles, kneading the cushions in determination before plopping its rump back down. The calico flicked its tail back and forth, patiently waiting for Jimin to open the window to let it roam about.

He poured the water into a glass, setting the pitcher down on the counter, and made his way over to the cat. Jimin stroked its head lovingly before leaning across the couch to unlatch the locks and pushed the window open. The cat wasted no time hopping outside to begin exploring. Shielding his eyes with his forearm, Jimin peered out to see where he’d landed this time.

When he’d landed this time.

The cat rolled happily in the bed of flowers, chasing after a butterfly. Wherever Jimin was, it was quiet and seemingly barren for as far as the eye could see. There were forests to one side and a rolling set of hills on the other. In the very center, separating both landmarks, was a wide open field of countless flowers in varying colors and breeds. A breeze pushed against his face and he smiled, savoring the smell and taste of the ocean winds. He was by the sea.

The weather was nice and calm. He wouldn’t need to dress warm, but he stripped out of his white t-shirt and slid on a long-sleeved one instead; also white. He kept his white linen trousers on and didn’t bother with shoes. It would be nice to feel the grass between his toes. His last location was a desert and sand got old very quickly, as did the heat. He rarely went outside during that year.

As his feet touched the grass, he was immediately filled with the fragrant smell of the flowers. He made sure not to inhale too much, or the aroma would overwhelm him. His little feline companion was long gone - seemingly off to explore and hunt whatever she wanted. Jimin didn’t mind. His friend always came back.

He walked around the entire radius of the house to get a good idea of his surroundings and tried to figure out the layout. Whatever time he was in, he couldn’t quite determine it. Not without notable landmarks and people to gauge their clothing or the latest technology of that era. Once he saw anything remotely familiar, he would figure out the rest.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d moved through time and space like this.

Spinning on his heels, he spread his arms out and flopped into the bed of flowers. Petals fluttered in the air around him, some falling into his hair and on his face. He smiled widely and even laughed. How he’d missed the clean air and the feel of cool grass on his skin. Jimin made a note to savor every moment he had in this time before he was forced to leave it again.

The sun felt warm on his face, lulling him into a serene state until he felt his lids growing heavy. He would have drifted off to sleep had it not been for his furry companion feeling the need to hop onto his stomach at that moment. The cat purred as he laughed and stroked the cat’s back.

“Did you find anything interesting?” he asked. The cat meowed in response, but not really giving him an answer. Jimin smiled, petting its head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Sitting up, he gathered the cat into his arms and stood up from the ground. “Let’s do a bit more exploring, hm?”

The two of them wandered around where they could. An invisible wall prevented Jimin from going further than two hundred meters in any direction. As he pressed his hand against the barrier, he gave a dejected sigh before returning back to the house. On the outside, it looked like a Tudor cottage with natural brick and molding. Everything else was white or a soft yellow color for the trimming, the roof tiles a rich cobalt blue. It was the strangest house he’d ever seen and it was probably the reason he was drawn to it in the first place.

Truth be told, Jimin couldn’t recall how long he’d been in that house. He didn’t even remember how old he was supposed to be or what time period he hailed from originally. All the clothing, food, and other necessities were replenished on their own. If the climate he was transported to was cold, all of his clothing was suited for the temperature drop. If it was hot, humid or dry, his clothes changed to match it as well. The house provided it all. He stopped questioning how and why a long long time ago.

Everything he owned was white, save for the bedding, which was just a simple yellow blanket. The couch was slate in color. There were a few plants in the house but they were all green and simple to take care of. Namely the cactus that sat on his coffee table.

He set the cat down and opened the door, waiting for the calico to prance inside. The house had enough natural light streaming from outside that the lack of actual lighting fixtures made little difference to Jimin. If he needed a light source, he would always light a candle or burn some oil in the lantern.

It would be just another year for Jimin. One year of many.

After he finished showering, he changed into some fresh garments and began scrounging up something together for a modest meal. The scent of flowers overwhelmed him to the point where he needed to come inside and lay down for a few hours. After smelling the acrid air of the desert, it was a stark contrast but one that he knew wouldn’t take long for him to acclimate.

For the first time in a while, he was actually excited to discover more of his new environment.

The first few weeks were uneventful. They always were.

Once he was used to the floral aroma that wafted in through his windows, he made it a point to gather up fresh flowers and placed them throughout the house. The interior in its entirety was white, so the bursts of color that the flowers provided were a welcome change. Jimin could hardly remember a time where he was able to be surrounded by nature in its colorful bountifulness.

He’d been from place to place and from one time to the next. He jumped from the past where architecture was still done by hand to the future where machines did most of the heavy labor. Some skies were clear and blue, others were dark and overcast. Rain, sleet, snow, high winds and desert storms. Jimin was able to experience them all thanks to the power of the house that moved him in and out of existence through an ethereal portal he couldn’t begin to hope to understand.

Strangely enough, he didn’t age. He assumed it was from the power of the house. There was no other explanation. He stopped questioning it years ago because he forgot the reason he was in the house in the first place, or how he’d gotten there.

Certain things were made clear from his travels through time, however, and it made coping with his isolation a little bit difficult. The invisible barrier was one. His inability to grow old was another. He couldn’t destroy the house either. He tried many years ago in a fit of anger and didn’t leave a scratch on the surface. He couldn’t even burn it down. He tried that too.

Jimin only stayed in one place and time for a year. Then the house would jump through time. The house would never leave without him, because the house and he were connected. Even if Jimin was outside after the year was over, he would get pulled back inside for the journey.

The one that struck him the hardest, however, was the fact that no one could see him or the house. This made interacting with people impossible.

No matter how much he screamed, no one could hear him. No matter how hard he tried to touch someone, they could not feel him. His hand would pass straight through their bodies, as though he were little more than a ghost to them. But he wasn’t dead, of that he was most certain.

He couldn’t recall, exactly, how far back it was he’d learned these things, but they were lessons that stuck with him for a very long time. Since then, he simply flitted in and out of existence, watching the world and the people in it pass him by. So far, the only being he could actually interact with was the calico cat that lived in the house with him and as far as Jimin could tell, the cat was always by his side.

The months rolled on in an even keel and there was still no sign of a single person in sight. The weather was getting warmer, breaching into summer. From what Jimin could gather, he arrived at the onset of spring. It wouldn’t be long before autumn was upon him and he would no longer be able to relish in the lovely landscape as things began to die. The thought of it caused a pained expression to form on his face. He didn’t like to witness things wilting before his eyes, but what choice did he have?

It rained for a few days straight, cooling the air and giving it a refresher of sorts. The rain always made Jimin sleepy and he often napped for hours at a time before getting up to feed himself, shower, and then return to bed. The cat enjoyed rainy days because it gave her an excuse to cuddle with Jimin as he spent the days lazily lying in bed.

The sound of laughter pulled Jimin from deep sleep, causing him to rouse from bed. Bleary eyed and a little groggy, he shuffled around from his room and out to the kitchen. The laughter was louder now and it was more than one set of tones from what he could gather. Pouring himself a glass of water, he drained it in a few gulps and then splashed some water on his face to fully rid himself of the sleepy haze still settled on the backs of his eyelids.

Pulling back the sheer curtains, he peeked out of the kitchen window and blinked rapidly. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but he knew he wasn’t dreaming. There in the fields of flowers were several people; young men and women. They were sprawled out on a blanket, laughing and talking as a small radio sat at their side. Jazz peeled from the speakers and he could tell from the model that it was a mid to late 80s radio. There was a large picnic basket between them and one girl with red hair began pulling out things from inside of it. Two of the three boys scrambled off the blanket and started tossing a baseball between each other, the sound of the ball hitting the leather gloves like whip cracks to Jimin’s ears.

The boy who remained was sitting with the two girls who were chatting it up while putting things on paper plates. Confident they couldn’t see him, Jimin poured himself another glass of water and stepped outside so he could hear them better. They were just within the two hundred meter barrier, but just barely.

“When’s Brianna comin’?” asked the boy with dirty blonde hair as bit into a sandwich.

The red-haired girl shrugged as she poured some orange juice into a cup and handed it to the blonde-haired girl beside her. “I dunno. She said she’d be here soon.”

The blonde scoffed as she leaned back on one hand. “She’s always late to these things. We only have a month and a half of summer vacation left before the new school year starts.”

The two boys tossing the ball back and forth looked at them. One of them had jet black hair that fell around his ears and the other was mousy and in a bowl cut. “Then we’ll officially be college students.”

The red-haired girl groaned, falling onto her side. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m dreading it already.”

The boy on the blanket chuckled. “Yeah right, Miss ‘I’m moving to New York to be a famous fashion designer’ Maxine.”

Maxine pouted, shifting to lay on her stomach. “Shut-up, Eddie. You all know how hard I worked to get that scholarship.”

“Aw, come on, Max,” teased the blonde, “you know he’s only teasing. Eddie’s just sad to see you leave our little circle of friendship.”

Eddie puffed out one of his cheeks and bit into the sandwich in annoyance. “Psh, whatever. No one asked you, Stephanie .”

The blonde, Stephanie, glared at him. “It’s Stevie. Call me Stephanie again and I’ll knock your fuckin’ block off.”

“Language, Stevie,” called the boy with black hair as he flashed her a grin.

“Oh, fuck you, James.” Stevie flipped her middle finger at him, which only caused him to dissolve into a small fit of laughter.

The mousy-haired boy laughed as he tossed the ball to James. “You two should just get married already.”

James missed the ball, balking at his friend. “You’re out of your fuckin’ gourd, Marcus.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and motioned for James to toss the ball back to him. When he did, instead of it falling into his glove like it had been, it was caught in a bare hand. Jimin looked up to see a young girl with light brown skin and dark brown curls holding the ball. Dressed in a pair of distressed denim overall shorts, she wore a hunter green t-shirt underneath; a black and white flannel shirt tied around her waist. On her feet, instead of sandals, were a pair of combat boots.

This ensemble had Jimin canting his head slightly. It wasn’t exactly a summer-type outfit, but what did he know about fashion? Everything he owned was white.

“Well look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” called Max as she sat up on her elbows, “we were beginning to think you were gonna be a no-show.”

“Yeah, Bree,” said Stevie, “where’ve you been?”

“Got held up at work,” Bree said as she tossed the ball back to James. She took a few steps and paused, her eyes meeting Jimin’s. The action was so sudden that he nearly dropped the glass of water he was holding. She pointed a finger at him. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Huh?” Eddie looked in the direction she was pointing, blinked as Jimin looked back at him, then faced Bree again. “Who’re you talkin’ about?”

This time she extended her arm, still pointing at Jimin. He took a step back, unsure of what to make of this new development. He could feel the heat rising up his neck and creeping over his face.

“Him. Who is he?” Bree looked at the others as she placed a hand on her hip. “And did you guys actually ask him if we could hang out in the front yard of his house?”

Stevie’s brows furrowed as she stood up from the blanket. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, girl?” She turned her head in either direction. “What house? What guy?”

Bree rolled her eyes. “I swear to God, if you guys are tryin’ to play some game with me, I’m going to make your lives hell for the next hour.” She looked back at Jimin and his lips parted in both surprise and fear. “Hey you! Are you in on this too?”

“Bree, have you been smokin’ again?” Marcus teased as he gently pushed her back. “Told you about tokin’ it up so much during vacay.”

For a moment, all she did was look at Jimin; seemingly boring holes through his own sockets. He licked his lips, contemplating on responding, but was soon pulled from his shock after James moved to pick Bree up and spun her around as he hefted her stomach-first onto his shoulder. She kicked and smacked his back, turning her away from Jimin so that she could no longer catch him in her line of sight.

But that didn’t keep her from shouting.

“Yo! I’m talkin’ to you! Hey!”

Jimin didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer. Someone was actually looking at him and speaking to him. This was the first time it’d happened in all the years he’d moved in and out of time. As much as he wanted to respond to her, he knew that she would only look like a raving lunatic if he tried to speak or interact with her in any way. So Jimin did the only thing he could at that moment.

He ran back into the house, slamming the door closed behind him.

Hours passed and the people still remained. Even as the sun was setting, they showed no signs of vacating the premises. They’d spent so much time out there that James managed to change the batteries on the portable radio in the midst of all their fun and games. Jimin was both confused and entranced. He longed to sit beside them as they turned on their flashlights and shared stories about their school year.

The one called “Bree” kept Jimin from even entertaining the idea of getting closer.

After the initial chaos from her outburst died down, he secretly hoped that she would merely view both the house and him as mere figments of her imagination. Clearly she was the more rebellious one of the group, partaking in recreational drugs as well as managing a part-time job. But that also made her a bit skeptical, at least from Jimin’s perspective. For a while, he believed she’d forgotten about him, as well as the house. But every so often, when he would peek out the window to be part of their little world, she would cast her umber hues in his direction, forcing Jimin to retreat back into the safety of his home.

Why was he so afraid? Wasn’t this what he’d always wanted? What he’d yearned for?

Hiding like this seemed silly and pointless.

When will I be able to speak to someone again?

The thought weighed on his heart like a heavy anvil, threatening to sink all the way down to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t remember how many years he traveled through the universe. But he could remember the loneliness he felt during that time. What was it like to have a normal conversation with someone? To be able to laugh and share memories together, no matter how exciting or dull they might have been? To cherish the small moments like the people were outside?

When would another opportunity like this come again for Jimin?

He knew this to be true. There was no sense in denying it or even ignoring it. There was no other truth. But it couldn’t shake the fear that lurked in the darkest recesses of his own heart.

He feared rejection. He was afraid of being turned away from anyone who could see him. So detached and far from the realm of normal, Jimin knew that anyone would find his circumstances both unreasonable and unbelievable.

Being invisible was better than being ignored.

“So, we callin’ it a night or what?” It was Marcus.

The sound of a yawn being stifled was heard. “Yeah, I think so.” Now it was Stevie.

There was a distinct rustling noise of things being gathered. Jimin, while locked away in the house, hadn’t strayed too far from the window. He made sure to keep himself hidden in case Bree had any urges to look in his direction. But in those hours, he’d grown accustomed to whose voice belonged to which person and enjoyed being able to get to know them despite the lack of interaction. It made him sad to know that they would be leaving; even more so that he didn’t know when they would be back. If they would be back.

He took a chance to peek out the window and saw the group rolling up their things. They all laughed, chatted more, and promised to get together again later in the week when they were all free. Something about hitting the mall or maybe going to watch a movie. Jimin pressed his back to the wall as the sounds of their footsteps faded off in the distance.

A movie. Jimin tried hard to think back on when he last saw a movie. His earliest memory was so fuzzy and he couldn’t be sure if it was accurate.

The calico cat meowed as she rubbed her body in between each of his legs, bringing him out of his thoughts. Crouching down, he began to stroke the cat’s spine and tail before rubbing her head lovingly. She purred happily to the attention and he smiled. “You wanted to play with them too, huh? I’m sorry, but it was too risky to let you out.” The cat meowed again, as if understanding his words, and he gathered her up into his arms. “Maybe I’ll read a book tonight…”

Jimin managed to take a few steps into the main living area when the sound of the door knocking caused him to drop his friend. The cat landed softly on her paws and scampered away to the couch, leaving him seemingly frozen in time. He couldn’t ignore the cold sweat dripping from his neck or the heavy ache in his chest from how hard his heart was thudding against it.

Craning his neck, he peered at the door.

Again, three knocks hit from the other side.

“Hello?”

It had to be her. It couldn’t have been anyone else. But clearly she’d left with the others. What reason would she have to turn back?

“Hey, I know you’re in there.” In most cases, that phrase would have been threatening. But her voice belied something else. “Look, I just wanna talk, okay?”

This was it. This was the moment Jimin wanted. He wanted it more than anything he’d ever wanted in his entire life.

Yet all he could do was stare at the door. His body refused to move. He wanted to, but his feet were rooted in place. There was a lump forming in his throat and he wasn’t sure if he could swallow it down enough to speak. To tell this person to go away, even though he secretly yearned for them to stay.

“J-Just a minute,” came his weak response.

He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him, but he took a moment to gather his courage before forcing himself to cross the short distance to the front door. It wasn’t locked. She could have just waltzed in if she pleased. Jimin was thankful she hadn’t, though. He wasn’t sure how he would have responded if she’d barged in unannounced.

When he opened the door, Jimin felt his heart skip a beat as he looked at Bree. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t like this was the first time she was seeing him. But this time they were less than three feet from each other. She stood with her hands folded across her chest, giving him the once over with a glance. Jimin flushed, averting his gaze for half a second before moving back to her.

She’s pretty, he thought suddenly, causing another rush of heat to stain his cheeks. It was unexpected but was also still his own opinion.

“Good evening.”

It was the only thing Jimin could come up with that didn’t sound stupid.

“You too,” she said almost dismissively. It wasn’t offensive, but it was clear that Bree had her own priorities. “So what’s your deal?”

He nervously placed a hand on the back of his neck. “What do you mean?”

“You. This house.” Bree looked to her left, right, then back to him. “How come no one else can see it but I can?”

Biting his lower lip, he felt his brows knit in worry. He couldn’t very well lie to her. So he chose to tell her the truth. “I honestly don’t know.”

A single brow lifted on Bree’s face. “You don’t know or you won’t tell me?”

Jimin shook his head. “I really don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

He winced slightly. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

Sighing, she brushed a hand through her dark curls. “Okay, well what do you know?”

“That you’re the first person who’s been able to see me and this house.” The cat meowed, moving between Jimin’s feet to rub her body against Bree’s leg. She looked down and blinked at the feline, then looked back at Jimin. “And the cat.”

The calico continued to weave in and out from between Bree’s legs until she finally relented, leaning down to pick up the cat. His companion seemed to appreciate being able to interact with someone other than him and he felt a little offended. Bree petted the cat for a moment, then held her hand out toward him. For a while, all he did was stare at her hand.

“I’m Brianna Larkins. Friends call me Bree.”

Slowly, he reached for her hand. But just as he was about to touch her, he hesitated. Part of him still couldn’t believe this was happening. Jimin was afraid that his hand would pass straight through hers like he were a mere apparition.

Bree took the initiative, grabbing his hand with her own. It caused him to jump slightly, the sensation of touching another person a seemingly foreign concept to him. He’d well and truly forgotten what it was like to feel the skin of another human being. All he could do was watch, dumbfounded, as she shook their hands up and down.

“I’m Jimin.”

She canted her head slightly. “No last name?”

“I can’t remember it.”

She didn’t bother hiding her scoff as she let his hand go. Already he was mourning the absence of her touch. “Figures.” Bree lifted herself onto the balls of her feet to peek inside the house just over his shoulder. “So, can I come in or what?”

Again, another question he didn’t know the answer to. Surely if she could see both the house and him, as well as touch him, then she should have been able to cross the threshold into the house. But that was just a theory. One he’d never had the pleasure of putting into practice.

“S-Sure,” Jimin managed to stammer out as he stood to the side, giving her room to step through the entrance.

And just like that, she stepped past the door frame and into his main living area like it was the most natural thing on earth. Jimin stood speechless while still holding the door open. Bree pulled off her combat boots, the calico still held delicately in her arms as she moved in and out of the space he alone occupied for so long. Well, him and his little furry friend. It was too strange and his mind was having a difficult time processing everything that was happening.

If he could describe the sensation accurately, Jimin felt like he was walking through water that was a mile deep and he was on the verge of drowning.

“Little lacking in the interior decorating department, don’t you think?” she asked while slowly turning as she walked.

Jimin rubbed at the back of his head. “That’s not something I can really control, unfortunately.”

And it was true. Even if he could paint the walls, they would just turn white again after a matter of minutes.

Bree shrugged as she turned to face him. “Better than some awful wallpaper or something.”

“Yeah,” was all he could say.

Why was talking to another person so hard? It shouldn’t have been this difficult, should it?

He watched her head to the sitting area where only his gray sofa was, along with the coffee table. She flopped down on the cushions, the cat wriggling out of her arms to crawl onto the windowsill. Bree looked at Jimin expectantly and for a moment, he didn’t understand what was supposed to happen next. She suddenly patted the empty seat next to her.

“Well?”

“Uh, right…” Jimin took a step, then stopped himself. “Oh, I didn’t even offer you anything to drink.” He turned to head back to the kitchen.

“It’s fine, seriously, dude.” When he looked back at Bree, he saw her smiling, clearly amused with his flustered behavior. “I said I wanted to talk and I meant it. So c’mere.”

Deciding to just go along with whatever was happening, Jimin crossed the short space and slowly sank onto the couch beside her. His heartbeat thundered like war drums in his ear and he started closing and opening his hands by his knees. This was unreal and he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do next.

“So,” she said while clapping her hands together, “let’s try to figure some shit out.”

He whipped his head to look at her, half his vision obscured by his blonde fringe. “H-Huh?”

Bree shrugged while raising her brows. “I mean, don’t you think it’s a little weird that I can see you and the house and no one else can?”

“Well, yeah…” Though Jimin wouldn’t have necessarily called it weird as he would uncircumstantial.

“There’s got to be some kinda puzzle behind this.” He watched her bite into her lower lip as her brows furrowed in thought this time. Bree gave a low hum, as if she were trying to piece something together in her head. “You’re obviously not a ghost.” She reached out and poked his cheek for good measure, causing Jimin to lean back a bit as his eyes widened in shock. Again, sensations he wasn’t used to feeling. “You look human, but that doesn’t mean you’re not an alien.”

He pouted. “I’m not an alien.”

Bree blinked at him, then laughed at his reaction. “Okay, fine. You’re not an alien then.” She gave her head a slight tilt while placing a hand on her chin. “Are you some kind of angel?”

Jimin relaxed a little. Her teasing nature eased some of the tension that was weighing on his shoulders. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, as stupid as this might sound, it’s because you’re wearing all white.” She gestured to the rest of the house. “The entire house is white.”

“Not all of it.”

“No, you’re right.” Bree leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. “But I can’t think of anything else.”

He sighed a little. Jimin couldn’t help himself, but it happened anyway. “Why can’t I just be human?”

For a while, a small stretch of silence managed to lurk between them. Suddenly, Bree sat up straight and punched her fist into her hand. It startled Jimin, causing him to lean back slightly. Her eyes were shining brightly, like she’d just had an idea.

“That’s it!”

Bree jumped from the couch and Jimin felt himself standing on impulse. He watched her scrambling to put on her shoes and as he was about to call out to her, she turned to face him. Whatever popped into her head suddenly, she was hellbent on leaving to figure it out.

“Where are you going?”

Jimin hadn’t meant to ask. It just slipped out. Part of him worried that if she left, he’d never see her again. This was his one opportunity to be able to actually interact with another person and he didn’t want it taken away from him. The moment felt far too short.

“I need to get home.” She held up a finger, still smiling. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

And before he could ask her what she meant, the girl turned and ran out the door. There was a heaviness that sank over him as the latch clicked. While he didn’t doubt her words, Jimin couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense of loneliness clinging to him in her absence.

In just a few short minutes, his house felt emptier.

Bree returned the next day.

And the day after that.

Until Summer slowly came to an end, yielding into Fall.

Every day that she left and returned, Jimin was both sad and elated. He understood the meaning behind the phrase “welcome back”, even though he never said it out loud. The power of “goodbye” was heavier than he could even begin to fathom. He knew the steps that it took to truly get to know someone, because knowing a person meant cherishing every single feeling and interaction that came with it.

Bree brought over tons of books. Some were reference texts and others were compilations of fairy tales. He didn’t understand the latter until she explained it. And what she managed to divulge actually made a lot of sense.

“See here,” she said, pointing to a paragraph in the tale of Beauty and the Beast, “the Beast wasn’t allowed to leave the castle. There was a spell cast on him, a curse, and the only way the curse would be broken is if a person could see past the beast on the outside and into the heart of the man on the inside.”

Jimin furrowed his brows. “But it says that he was cursed because of his arrogance.” He met Bree’s gaze. “He turned the old woman away who wanted shelter from the storm and that’s why she cursed him.”

“So?”

“So you think I’m cursed?”

Bree sat up straight. “Don’t you?”

He frowned. “What makes you think I’m cursed?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe because no one can see this house or you, but you can see everyone else? Or maybe because you’ve been in isolation so long that that you lost your memories? Or maybe because you can’t go more than two hundred meters in any given direction?” Defiantly, she folded her arms across her chest. “Or maybe because you can’t age and your house is a literal fucking time machine that moves you back and forth from the past, to the present, to the future? Or MAYBE--”

Jimin held his hands up in defeat, not even realizing that he was smiling. “Okay, okay! I get it. Enough already.” He let his hands settle back into his lap. “Okay. Maybe you’re right.”

“Jesus, I wish you would listen to me,” she muttered while brushing her thick curls off her shoulders. Her attention returned to the book and she leaned forward, resting her elbows onto her knees as she scanned the pages again. Jimin came to learn of her sarcastic nature and was often on the receiving end of her tongue lashes. “All of it points to you being cursed, but it doesn’t help that you can’t even remember why you’re here or where you originally came from.” Chin still propped in her hands, she craned her neck to look up at him. “You sure you don’t remember anything?”

A pained expression formed and before he could hide it, Bree was already sitting up again. He could see the apologetic look on her face, and he felt guilty instantly. He hadn’t meant to be so expressive, but the more he interacted with her, the more free he was with his emotions.

“I’m sorry, Jimin. I didn’t mean it that way--”

“I know,” he said softly, “it’s okay.”

She threaded her fingers through her hair, groaning in aggravation. “God, this is so frustrating!” Again, her attention returned to the book. “What are we missing?”

“A miracle,” Jimin said flatly, to which Bree cuffed him on the shoulder. He laughed from surprise more than actual pain.

“I’m serious.” She pouted. “There’s gotta be something we’re not paying attention to.”

Jimin couldn’t figure out what the missing piece to the puzzle was. Part of him honestly didn’t care. He was enjoying the time he got to spend with Bree and there was no guarantee that he would be able to return to his original time. It was all just theories and hypothetical possibilities at this point. If it was one thing he learned during all of his travel through various eras in history, it was to value the present. The past and the future were inconsequential.

“Does it really matter?”

He didn’t miss the look on Bree’s face at his question. But he wondered if it did, in fact, matter? He’d been living his life this way for so long. Interacting with Bree was a variable he hadn’t accounted for. He just wanted to focus on the here and now.

She sat up a little straighter, then sighed. “Aren’t you tired of living like this?”

Yes, I’m tired of it.

But he knew the truth. She knew it too. When his year was up, Jimin was going to have to leave this place. He would leave it behind just like he did all the others; with no hope of ever returning. Regardless of what he may have wanted, the end result would always be the same.

A lump formed in his throat, making it impossible to respond. He parted his lips to speak, but then gave up. Averting his gaze, he stared at the open book on the table. His vision blurred momentarily as he fought back oncoming tears. A sad smile formed on his lips.

“...does it really matter?”

Jimin saw Bree less and less as the Fall season hit full force. School was back in session and she worked part-time. But she made a point to always come by on her off days or when she finished up with her classes. He was able to glean that she must have lived nearby. Was the area he was in a rural township of sorts? He thought about asking her to bring a magazine or newspaper the next time she decided to pay him a visit, but they were usually caught up with various other conversations and he only remembered long after she was gone.

Her absences weighed heavily on Jimin. They’d been so engrossed in fairy tales and folklore that he often compared himself to Rapunzel, trapped in isolation and waiting for his one true destined one to save him from his prison. It was safe, comfortable, and he wasn’t in chains, but it was a prison just the same.

The leaves changed color and fell from the branches. Vibrant greens transformed into browns and beige. The flowers were long dead. Jimin could tell from the area that he was in that it would snow and while it was something he was looking forward to, he wondered if it would be safe for Bree to trek around the mountainous area in the dead of night. It wasn’t like he could walk her home like he wanted to.

He was stuck.

The front door opened, pulling Jimin from his thoughts. He was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with a book in his lap. The cat, now named Juno thanks to Bree, looked up from her perch on the armrest. Bree stopped knocking on the door months back and there was never a need to lock it. Jimin remembered winning an argument they had about his safety with keeping the door unlocked. There was really no point. No one else could see the house to break in and it wasn’t like he had a key he could give her.

Bree quickly unraveled the scarf from around her neck. She was carrying something in her arms and it smelled sweet. Untangling himself from the blanket, he made his way into the kitchen as Bree busied herself with the dishes. Peering out the window, he saw how dark it was and frowned.

“It’s late.”

She pulled out some chocolate chip cookies from the bag and plated them. “Yeah, I know. I got held up at work again.”

“It’s not safe for you to be wandering around up here by yourself so late at night.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You could have just come first thing in the morning.”

Jimin was reprimanding her, but it’d been several days since their last meeting. Secretly, he was happy she was there.

“Can’t. I have class in the morning.” She handed the plate to him.

The worry lines on his brow deepened. “Then you definitely shouldn’t have come out here.”

Bree rolled her eyes. It was only then that he noticed her bookbag. “Psh, you’d go stir crazy if I didn’t show up today. Besides, I brought cookies as a bribe.”

He’d hardly call that a bribe, but he was happy for the present.

She poured them both a glass of milk each. He carried the plate to the living room and they both flopped on the couch at the same time. Bree skillfully didn’t spill a single drop of milk before setting the glasses on the table.

“Don’t you have homework?” Jimin nibbled on a cookie as he cast a sideways glance at her.

Rifling through her book bag, she dropped a few notebooks and pencils on top. “I finished it during break at work.”

He raised his brows as she pulled out extra clothes and set them on the floor by the couch. “Uh, what are you--”

“I’m sleeping over,” she interjected, reaching down to pick up Juno and cuddle her into her lap.

For a while, Jimin said nothing. All he did was stare as she pulled her thick curls back into a low ponytail.

Finally, it registered.

“W-What?” He turned to fully face her. “You’re staying here?!”

She cut her gaze at him. “Did I stutter?” He was about to ask why, but instead a cookie was pushed into his open mouth. “Besides, I had an idea I wanted to run by you and it couldn’t wait another day.”

Attempting to swallow the cookie, he grabbed the glass of milk and washed most of it down. The awkwardness of her staying over was overshadowed by his curiosity. “What idea?”

Biting into a cookie, she quickly opened one of her notebooks up and showed it to him. “The conditions.” She pointed to a series of bullet markings. “All the folk legends and fairy tales state that certain conditions have to be met in order to break the curse.”

“Okay,” he said while nodding, “but those conditions all stem from knowing what the curse entails, doesn’t it?” Jimin sighed. “So we’re still back at square one.”

Bree set the notebook down suddenly, leaned into his space and soon her face was inches from his own. Blinking rapidly, his heart suddenly thundered heavily against his chest. Jimin’s eyes momentarily crossed when he felt the velvet texture of Bree’s lips brushing against his own. The contact was swift enough that he couldn’t savor it, but long enough for him to get a taste of her cherry lip balm.

When she finally pulled back, Jimin just stared open-mouthed at Bree. He almost missed the rose tint on her cheeks. Her dark skin tone made it a little bit more difficult to notice it, but the moonlight outside seemed to illuminate her face radiantly.

Reality sank down on Jimin’s chest as he remembered to breathe. “W-W-Wh-What was that for?!”

“Do you feel any different?” Bree leaned back a little more. “Did it work?”

The absurdity of the question helped Jimin to collect himself. “Does it look like I’m back in my own time?”

“Who says this time isn’t your time?” she countered.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure it would be obvious if it actually worked.” Jimin pointed to a line in her notes. “Something phenomenal always happens soon after a curse is broken. That’s how you know.”

Bree snapped her fingers with a scoff. “Damn!”

Jimin couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “Next you’re gonna tell me to go slay some dragon.”

“If there was a dragon around, you bet your ass I would.” Jimin was thankful she turned away from him so he could focus on steadying his racing heartbeat. She bit her thumb in thought. “A kiss is usually a surefire way to break a curse. Since I’m the first person who’s seen the house and you, I figured that was the answer.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he reached for another cookie. “There are probably more conditions that go along with that.”

Bree tilted her head slightly as she looked back at him. “So you think that I’m a variable in all of this?”

“It wouldn’t make sense for you not to be.” He furrowed his brows and looked back at her notes. “Everything points to you being a part of it. We just have to figure out how.”

Groaning, she flung herself against the couch and began kicking the heels of her feet on the floor in frustration. “This is annoying!” She covered her eyes with her forearm. “I don’t know how people in research and development go through all this trial and error nonsense.”

He flashed her a reassuring smile. “It’s kinda their job, Bree.”

He watched her slip her arm off her face and flop down beside while she stared up at the ceiling. “Conditions need to be met…”

Jimin lightly poked her forehead to get her attention. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much. I’m just thankful for all the help and effort you’ve been putting in on my account.”

She gently moved his hand out the way before sitting up again. “I was so sure we were getting close.”

“We probably are. We just don’t know.” But that also brought up another curious thought. “Why are you so adamant about helping me anyway?”

“Huh?” Her expression clearly stated that she didn’t understand why Jimin would even ask such an obvious question. “I mean, don’t you want to go back to where your friends and family are? They’re probably freakin’ worried out of their heads, y’know?”

He smirked. “I doubt it.”

There was no cynicism in his tone. Jimin believed that everything happened for a reason.

He met Bree’s gaze and was surprised to see a tiny flicker of sadness in her umber hues. “I just want to get you home. That’s all.”

Kindness to a complete stranger. It was something archaic to Jimin because he wasn’t able to interact with people for quite some time. He knew that the people he cared about more than likely moved on with their lives after his disappearance. But Jimin also knew that if he miraculously wound up getting back to his original timeline, then it would settle all the other paradoxes surrounding his involvement. Things would go back to normal, in theory. Whoever placed this curse on him must have realized this, hence why he was unable to interact with people until now.

Leaning forward, he reached out to Bree and pulled her into his arms. He heard her gasp softly, his motions completely unexpected even to him. But he couldn’t think of any other way to express his gratitude. In the months he’d gotten to know her, he knew that Bree was rough around the edge but was genuinely a good person. Her determination to get him home, to the place where he belonged, more than evident in her actions. They weren’t just empty words.

Jimin could perceive that now after having been denied human interaction for many years.

“Thank you…”

When he pulled back, their noses were just barely touching. Then he leaned in to press his lips against hers. He tasted the sweetness of the cookies and her cherry lip balm all over again. Jimin slowly urged her lips apart with his tongue, silently asking for entrance. When she complied, he slid his tongue across her teeth and over her own pink muscle.

The sigh mingled with the moan Bree managed to push out from her chest and he pulled her even closer so he would be able to hear her heartbeat. Bree’s hands slowly slid up his torso, resting her palms on his chest. Jimin took his time pulling and nipping at her full lips, enjoying the sweet taste of her mouth. Part of it was the cookie. Part of it was her lip balm. The rest was just simply how she tasted naturally.

As their lips parted, he smiled and bumped his forehead against her own. Even though his shadow covered half of her face, he could feel the warmth simmering along the surface of her skin. Jimin closed her notebook with one hand, still smiling as he stared into her face.

“I know as the host, I should be nice and offer you my bed while I take the couch. But would you be against us both using the bed?”

Bree blinked a few times, then flashed a devious grin. “I wouldn’t be against it, no.”

Jimin immediately scooped Bree into his arms, carrying her like a new bride. There wouldn’t be any mischief. At least, that wouldn’t be the plan. All he wanted was to savor this moment, the sound of Bree’s laughter as he carted her off to the bedroom, Juno hot on their heels.

The house didn’t feel so big anymore and the joy Jimin felt was indescribable.

Fall was fleeting and Winter swept in faster than Jimin could have anticipated. The house was warm as per the conditions it needed for him to remain comfortable. His clothes changed to suit the shift in temperature. He had to be thankful for all that the house was able to provide for him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle actually having to do everything on his own outside of the normal things.

As much as he fussed at Bree for wanting to continue to trek up the mountain to see him, Jimin relished in the closeness that blossomed even further between them.

True to his word, they didn’t actually do anything that night. He had a sense of morals and a conscience, not wanting to seem like he was trying to take advantage of Bree’s kindness and affection toward him. Outside of kissing, they just cuddled and slept in the bed. He wouldn’t go further than that and Bree seemed to pick up on his need to not press things too far.

Jimin was just glad that Bree took everything surrounding his circumstances in stride. She was understanding, open-minded, and willing to help. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like between them if she’d been a full-blown skeptic.

They never put a label on what they were to each other. He didn’t know about her, but Jimin felt there wasn’t a need. In six months’ time, he would disappear from her life like a passing dream. Maybe she would come to forget him. She would move on as if nothing changed and continue to strive towards her own aspirations. Jimin would remain in his proverbial prison, clinging to the memories that he’d made with her; hoping to seek solace on the more lonely nights when he knew he would inevitably miss her.

It was getting even colder out. He didn’t want Juno going out and getting frostbite in the snow that was slowly starting to pile up outside. The cat made a fuss about it initially, but after walking around just by the window, she understood that her little paws weren’t going to like being wet and cold.

Despite the biting chill of the air, Jimin admired how picturesque everything looked. The floral landscape was completely covered in a blanket of fresh powder. Even if he hadn’t met Bree, he was still lucky to be able to enjoy scenery like this. Traveling through time helped him to appreciate all forms of nature, but he couldn’t get enough of these images.

He had a pot of coffee brewing and the aroma filtered throughout the house. He wasn’t big on coffee. Not usually. Jimin slept when he felt like it and was awake when he wanted to be. Having coffee seemed almost a little pointless. But ever since he met Bree, he’d indulged here and there. It was more for her sake than his own since it was apparent that she didn’t get much sleep. Even less since having met him.

His brows furrowed slightly, shaking off the guilt that tried to sit on the forefront of his mind. Jimin knew it was her own choice that kept her coming back. No one else’s. She would have smacked him for trying to shoulder the responsibility all on his own and it wasn’t fair for him to take it.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he noticed the small clock on the counter. It was a present from Bree. There was nothing fancy about it. Just a simple clock that only needed batteries changed out every so often. She left said batteries in a drawer. Jimin scoffed about not needing to know the time, his predicament making it obvious as to why.

“Just because you never know where you wind up doesn’t mean you should ignore what time it is while you’re there.”

Jimin’s lips pulled into a small smile. She was right. This, and many things, were the small lessons that he was beginning to finally learn. As if it was Bree’s purpose to teach them to him.

It would make leaving her that much harder.

He entered the living room after checking the time, his free hand reaching out to unlatch the window. Despite the cold, Jimin still wanted to get a bit of fresh air circulating inside of the house. The sun had long since set and Bree would be battling through the cold to see him. He saw a few flurries starting to float from the sky, his brows furrowing at the thought of the snow falling heavier and further impeding Bree’s trek up the mountain.

I hope she takes it slow…

The worry didn’t start setting in until several hours passed by. Initially, he simply shrugged it off as nothing. It wasn’t unheard of for Bree to be late. She could’ve easily gotten caught up with her job or even hanging out with her friends from school. The group she came up there with seemed close.

But as the night pushed onward with no sign of Bree in sight, Jimin began to get a little concerned.

Unlatching the window, he pushed it open and a rush of cold air whipped across his body. The chill shot down his spine, causing his skin to pepper out in goosebumps. The muscles in his shoulder grew taut as he fought back the urge to shiver. Juno meowed in protest to the cold, hopping down onto the couch to curl herself against one of the throw pillows. The full moon hung like a pearl in the sky, illuminating the world around him.

In the distance, he heard several howls. Their cries filled the night air, indicating that they were gathering together. Possibly for a hunt. The prospect of food in the area seemed a little slim, but Jimin didn’t think it was impossible. Especially if they were making rounds in preparation to stalk their prey.

Fear suddenly gripped at Jimin’s chest. Juno’s mewling snapped him out of his trance and he hopped out of the window. The cold nipped at his feet, but he didn’t care. He could barely feel it. The snow crunched under his feet as the wind continued to push around him, the flurries falling heavier than they had a few hours earlier.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “BREE!” His voice echoed over the wide expanse of the landscape. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

There was nothing. Nothing save for the sound of his voice bouncing back at him.

And then he heard a scream.

Jimin trounced forward, wading through several feet of snow. Desperation pushed him forward, forcing him to start running. He pumped his legs into the ground as hard as he could until he slammed into the invisible wall. The force of impact knocked him back-first into the snow and the cold clung to every inch of his skin. Not wasting a single second, he scrambled back onto his feet and began kicking and punching the wall, clawing at the barrier with his bare hands. At some point he started to scream, but he couldn’t remember when. The burning sensation rippling down his throat kept him alert until something snapped inside of him.

The sound of glass shattering echoed in his head. It was loud, like an explosion. Before he’d realized what’d happened, he was taking off at a dead run toward the cluster of trees near the base of the mountain. The world was a blur around him as he sped off toward his destination, following the howls of the wolves as his need to find Bree overshadowed all other rational thoughts that made vain attempts to come to the surface.

Pain registered in the back of his mind as he ran. The dying branches from trees and bushes seemed to reach out in their need to snatch him in the darkness. Jimin used the moonlight to guide him as twigs snapped against his body and dying leaves crunched under his bare feet.

Predatory snarls loomed around him, spurning him forward. Bree’s scream tore through the night, signaling where her location was. Slipping on wet grass, he crashed to his knees and rolled through the snow. The momentum helped him to get back up, making a quick right through the forest as the barks of wolves became louder.

Bursting through a thicket of trees, he entered a clearing and saw half a dozen wolves in a semicircle advancing toward their prey. They turned in sync with one another in his direction as they bared their fangs at him. Bree was on the ground and holding her ankle while trying to shuffle back as much as she could. Jimin’s eyes met hers for a split second and he saw her face was red, splotchy, and slick with tears.

“J-Jimin!”

Rage flared across Jimin’s chest as he picked up a broken tree branch. One of the wolves launched forward, his jet claws and pearl fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Jimin roared and swung with all the strength he could muster, the branch striking true as he slammed into the side of the wolf’s head. A sharp cry of pain came from the wild animal as it fell into the snow. The other wolves raised their hackles and moved toward him, snarling heavily as the clouds from their breath puffed in front of their snouts.

Jimin took a second to glance at the branch in his hands and quickly assessed that he would be able to get one or two more hits in before it completely snapped. Splinters were lodged into his palms, stinging along his skin. He pushed the pain back as far as he could manage, taking a step forward as his grip tightened around the branch.

“Bree, are you alright?” he asked. He sighed quickly at her nod. When he saw her about to stand, Jimin held his hand out to her. “Stay there!”

The wolves took this as their opportunity to attack and two of them leaped at Jimin. He swung out and hit one of their forelegs, causing the animal to hop back on three legs as it whined. The other wolf went for Jimin’s calf, forcing him to lift his leg up and out of the snow. The injured wolf launched himself from the snow and snapped his jaws. Jimin barely had time to react, using the branch as a shield and watching with horror as it snapped between the wolf’s teeth.

A sharp pain registered on Jimin’s shoulder and he fell forward as another wolf’s weight smacked into his back. Claws dug into his skin beneath his sweater and the white fabric instantly stained crimson as the wolf bit mercilessly down into the meat of his shoulder. Crying out, he struggled to move out of the way as more of the wolves advanced on him.

Bree’s scream brought him out back from nearly drowning in his agony and he looked up in time to see her throwing rocks at the wolves. One of them hit the wolf that was biting him, forcing him to release his grip. They snarled, making their way toward her. Jimin pushed himself up and ran at the wolf closest to her, kicking up a spray of white powder in its face. Without wasting another second, he snatched Bree’s wrist in his bleeding hand and pulled her onto her feet.

They ran like their lives depended on it.

The wolves kicked up snow as they gave chase, barking and snapping their jaws menacingly. Jimin’s vision blurred every so often, but the ensuing stumble quickly brought him back into focus. He tried to maintain his speed while also being conscientious of Bree as he pulled her along. Jimin could just barely hear their heavy breathing over the pounding of his heart.

Jimin believed it was instinct that led him back to the house. Or was it the house itself pulling him by an invisible string? He didn’t question his surroundings and continued to run, his only concern for Bree’s safety. He was ready to force her to leave him behind if necessary.

Bursting through the treeline, they continued to run from their pursuers. The wolves gave chase only so far, however, and stopped completely as they rushed in through the front door. Jimin crashed onto the floor and Bree hurriedly slammed it shut. His breathing was labored as he lay there, his vision coming in and out of focus as he tried to stabilize his racing heartbeat.

“Jimin!”

He could only just barely hear Bree’s voice. It felt so far away. Why did it feel so far away from him?

Something warm touched his back and he instantly took comfort in it. And then his body began to turn over. The sounds of wolf howls echoed through the night, announcing their retreat. They would not indulge in a meal tonight, forced to make due with empty stomachs.

“Are you crazy?!” Bree’s hand swept over his brow, brushing his bangs off his forehead. He couldn’t tell what her expression was, only that it was a mixture of fear and anger. “What were you thinking?!”

Her voice cracked a few times. Jimin could tell she was fighting back against something. But what, he couldn’t be sure. She cupped his cheek with her palm, sending more warm sensations across his entire body.

A hand’s warmth.

It was something that people so often took for granted.

Reaching up, he grasped at Bree’s wrist. “I’m so glad…”

Her face came into focus and he could see the tears sliding down her cheeks. She blinked down at him in confusion. “W-What?”

Jimin smiled. “I’m so glad...I was able to keep your hands...from getting cold.”

Bree sobbed, pulling him closer to her chest while burying her face into the juncture of his neck. “No! Please stop talking! Just...please stop…”

Letting her hand go, he started to pet her wild, curly hair. Bree gasped, pulling back a measure so she could look at him. He was happy she did so. Now he could see her beautiful face.

A strange sensation tingled over his skin, all the way down to the tips of his toes. He shouldn’t have been able to feel anything near his feet. They were more than likely frostbitten by now. But he wiggled them just to be sure, and the tingling feeling continued to increase.

His body started to feel light, the sensation moving around in his stomach, through his lungs, and swirled around the center of his chest. Blinking, he shifted his gaze toward the window and felt his lips part slowly as he watched an aurora paint itself over the darkness.

What? Jimin thought, confusion settling over his heart, What is happening?

The aurora transformed into a pink and purple nebula, the stars swirling from the center until they fanned out in strange, ethereal tendrils. Jimin tried to sit up, but felt he had no control over his body. Only that it was getting lighter and lighter for some reason.

Was the house preparing to jump again? But it was too soon! He still had several more months before it was time.

“What’s going on?” Bree asked, and he looked down to see what she was talking about. Gasping, he could only stare in shock as her body was now visible through his own. “What’s happening?!”

“I...I don’t know.”

Lifting his hands up to his face, he saw the tingling sensation now manifested into tiny glowing particles along his skin. With each passing second, his body grew lighter and more transparent, until he started to float off the ground. Bree tried to grab for him, but to her horror and his own, her hands passed right through him. Jimin moved to touch her, and while he could feel her body, the physical sensation was absent.

Was the curse finally broken?

“No!” he yelled suddenly. The distance between them started to increase and they both attempted to reach for the other in vain, their hands dissolving into one another. “Not yet!”

Jimin’s body lifted higher off the ground and the glowing particles brightened. Bree quickly stood on her feet and he saw Juno appear in between her ankles. The cat meowed in protest as they seemed to get further and further away from him.

“Don’t go!” shouted Bree as she tried to jump and reach for him, but he was too far away.

Was this really the end?

“I love you!” Jimin yelled suddenly, causing Bree to stop her attempts to pull him back.

She blinked up at him. “J-Jimin…”

A sad smile formed on his lips. This was inevitable. There was nothing they could do to stop this. He was going back to his own time now; to his own world.

“I love you so much…”

Bree gasped, covering her mouth. But when it seemed he would pass through the ceiling, she lowered her hands and flashed the same sad smile back up to him.

“...I love you too.”

And as though those were the magic words, everything quickly disappeared around him. The house, Bree, the cat. Everything was replaced with a swirling galaxy of stars and a colorful galaxy. A harsh wind pushed through his body, pulsing over the plane of his skin, and he felt his tears spilling from his eyes. Time slowed and sped up simultaneously and he curled himself into a ball, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed.

Jimin should have been elated. He was going back to his time. Things were going to finally fit themselves into the right place. All the pieces of the puzzle were found.

But at that moment, Jimin felt more alone than he had in all the years he’d spent in that house.

Because he’d loved and lost in what felt like a single snapshot of time.

His curse was lifted, but he felt emptier than he’d ever been.

To Jimin, his true curse was only just beginning.

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

Text

Airplane Mode | Track 04: 2!3! | jhs

Summary: Inspired by Love at First Touch by bagelswrites.

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death.

So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?

And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character

Word Count: 4.1k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: Angst.

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The sun was just beginning to warm the sky, orange and yellow rays peeking out through the clouds. It was still cold and the winter chill seeped through protective layers to freeze skin. The city had long since awoken and the streets were filled with life as people began their day.

It was quiet however, as Eunjae softly closed the door of her grandmother's apartment behind her. Warm air melted the cold from her skin as she stepped into the living room and she figured that her grandmother must have blasted the heat all night. She’d barely even stepped inside and already she was beginning to sweat. Why her grandmother liked to keep the apartment at an even 80 degrees was beyond her.

Eunjae shouldn't have been surprised when the voice of her grandmother greeted her as she toed off her shoes. She was always an early riser, something that Eunjae always secretly envied her for. The only reason that she was even awake and comprehending the world around her at such an early hour was because Miles had kicked her out of his apartment that morning. Literally.

After the overwhelming events of the morning previous, Eunjae had stumbled out of the hotel with her thoughts barely entact. Everything that had been mercilessly piled on top of her had been in constant war with each other. She’d been at a loss for what to do and the only thing that kept her grounded was her best friend as she stumbled into his apartment. Miles had taken one look at her and snapped his mouth closed around the questions that had been about to spew from his mouth like a fountain.

He’d just silently grabbed her shoulders and forced her back out through the door. They’d spent the entire rest of the day window shopping in the high end stores of the Upper East Side. Neither of them had bought anything, just using the time to decompress. Eunjae was borderline flat-out broke anyway.

Miles was the one with the money. He worked part time at a hair salon near his apartment and spent the other half of his time posting beauty videos to YouTube. Most of his income came from his 3.7 million subscribers, which Eunjae relentlessly teased him for. (“My best friend is a celebrity. Don’t forget me when you get in good with Beyonce. That woman could step on me and I’d thank her.") She never said it out loud, never had to, but she would always be his biggest supporter.

The two of them had wrapped up the day by wandering through Central Park, warm coffees burning through their gloves. Whenever one of them were feeling down, somehow they’d always end up there. Miles just liked to people watch, pointing out people whose hair he’d love to give a makeover to. And Eunjae would sometimes bring her sketchbook, pencil skimming across the pages whenever she got inspired for a new design. She’d been studying fashion design at NYU (how she even got in, she still didn’t know) for the past two years, and her mind was always racing with a new draft for her portfolio.

Eunjae had been doing just that, stretched out on a bench with her back pressed to the handrail and her feet propped in Miles’ lap. She’d looked up from the blank page of her sketchbook and stared at the sharp profile of her best friend. He’d always been all jawline and high cheekbones and pouty lips.

The white lid of his steaming coffee was pressed to his mouth as he stared out at the people passing by. Eunjae had felt it then. A pressing feeling in her chest like she was losing time, like the moments like these that they shared were limited. She hadn’t even made a decision on what she was going to do about Hoseok, and already she felt like time was running out.

So she’d closed her eyes tightly and tried to commit the moment to memory. Tried to hold on to what felt like the beginning of an end.

“Eunjae, is that you?”

The call of her grandmother’s accented voice snapped Eunjae out of her thoughts. With slowly warming fingers unbuttoning her coat, she shuffled in through the entryway of the apartment. The living room to the right of the small hallway was dark, the outline of the couches just barely visible with the light streaming in through the curtained windows.

“Yeah, it's me.” Eunjae’s socked feet padded softly on the wooden floors as she made her way to the dining room at the end of the hall. The lights were on and the figure of her grandmother greeted her when she stepped through the threshold. “I’m home.”

Eunjae’s grandmother, a short Colombian woman, sat at the small dining room table. A porcelain cup of what smelled like green tea was clutched in between her wrinkled hands. Her short dark hair was streaked with strands of gray and the frame of her striped brown glasses were perched atop her head. Dressed in a comfy pink nightgown and matching slippers, she looked the epitome of a kind, warm hearted grandmother. But old age or not, she was still a Latina woman and wouldn’t hesitate to throw down with anyone that crossed her. Eunjae had been living with her ever since her parents died when she was twelve.

Her grandmother, on her mother’s side, had been the only person available and willing to take her in. Eunjae’s family on her father’s side had disowned him long before she was even born. She never got the full story as to why. All she knew was that it had something to do with her father forfeiting his inheritance of some major Korean tech company to marry her mother. The rest of her mother’s family lived somewhere out in Colombia and had been unable to be reached before her grandmother took her in with open arms.

“What are you doing awake so early, hm?” Her grandmother asked in amusement, taking a sip of her tea. “I normally have to bribe you out of bed with coffee to get you up before nightfall.”

“I-��

“And what the hell happened to your face? Don’t tell me you got into another fight.”

WIth a playful roll of her eyes, Eunjae pulled out a chair and plopped down. The bruises on both her hands and face had somewhat faded from the time she’d spent with Hoseok. They weren’t completely gone though, seeing as how the meeting had been rushed to hell and back.

“My first and only fight was way back in the ninth grade. And that was only because those assholes were beating on Miles because of his sexuality. So don’t worry, I haven’t been getting into trouble.”

“Uh huh.” Her grandmother eyed her over her teacup. “I believe you.”

“Not with that sarcastic tone, you don’t.” Eunjae snorted and leaned back into her chair. Fingers tapping on the table, she sobered. “I met my soulmate, ‘lita.”

Her grandmother raised an eyebrow in surprise and her brown eyes stared at the bruises on Eunjae’s face intently. “Then why do you look like someone just ran over your foot with their bike?”

“That was a very specific analogy.” Eunjae’s lips twitched in amusement. “Has that happened to you before?”

“You’re deflecting. Try again.”

Letting out a sigh, Eunjae hesitantly chewed on her bottom lip. “Well, he’s a celebrity for one thing.”

“That sounds horrible.” And people wondered where Eunjae got her sarcasm from.

“That’s not the part that’s bothering me.” She admitted, pulling down the sleeves of her white shirt until they covered her hands. “He lives in South Korea.”

The clock hanging above the cabinet of useless china tick-ticked into the heated air.

Eunjae paused and rubbed at the clean table with her sweater paws before continuing, “He and his band are going on tour soon. Like a world tour. And I can’t...if I stay here it’ll be hard. It’s a 14 hour flight one way just to get to South Korea. The two of us would barely even get a day in between flying to make sure neither of us starves to death. The easy solution would be for me to move there, I know. But I don’t...I don’t want to leave, ‘lita.”

Biting back tears, Eunjae took a deep, shaking breath. Her voice came out in a quiet whisper. “Everything I have is here.”

The teacup was set down on the table as her grandmother sat up a little straighter in her chair. Her hands folded themselves on the table and she pursed her full lips in thought as they sat in silence for a moment. “I never wanted to move to America. Did you know that?”

Eunjae shook her head. Her grandmother wasn’t originally from America, she’d lived in Colombia just like the rest of her mother’s side of the family before she was born.

“I wanted to stay in Colombia where I knew everyone. Where everything was familiar. I never even had thoughts of moving to America until I met your grandfather.”

Her grandmother paused to take a sip of her rapidly cooling tea. “We met when I was only seventeen and we fell in love shortly after. He was always an adventurous man, my Emiliano. Never liked to stay in one place for too long. He’d dreamed of moving to America long before we met and long after.

“We were together for three years when he told me that he wanted to leave Colombia and asked me to go with him. I didn’t know what to do for the longest time. He was the love of my life, but the love I had for where I came from competed with that.”

Fingers twisting the wedding band she still wore on her finger, Eunjae’s grandmother continued. “It took him almost a year to convince me, that man was so stubborn. But in the end I chose him over what was familiar. So, we sold what we could for money and packed up what was left over. I’d said goodbye to my friends and my family and the places that held all of my memories up until that point. We ended up settling down here in the city and we got married and had your mother. And do you know what I regret the most? What I still regret to this day, even long after your grandfather has passed?”

Eunjae shook her head slowly, enraptured with her grandmother’s story. She’d been told things about her grandfather before, though she’d never met him. This story however, was new to her. The older woman reached out a hand to cup Eunjae’s chin, fingers gently brushing against her faded bruises.

“That I didn’t leave sooner. That I wasted all of that time holding on to what I knew because I was too afraid to let go of what was familiar.”

The woman released Eunjae’s chin with a small, wistful smile. “Live your life without regrets. If you spend too much time looking back, you’ll never experience the life waiting right in front of you.”

Her words washed over Eunjae and she closed her eyes against the silent answer to her questions lingering in the air. “So you think I should—”

“Go. Yes.” Her grandmother patted her hand twice before sitting back with a huff. “Go and see what’s out there. Live your life. I may not have had a soulmate in the literal sense, but I knew your grandfather was mine from the moment we met eyes. Now you have yours. Whether you fall in love as friends, or as something deeper, know that you won’t have to experience it alone.”

“Okay...okay.” Eunjae’s head nodded before she realized it. Her grandmother was right and she knew it. Eyes opening with newly renewed vigor, she met the answer lingering in the air straight on. “I’ll go. No regrets.”

“Good.” The woman sniffed before leaning across the table once more to grab Eunjae’s bruised hands. “Now show me a picture of him. Does he look anything like Brad Pitt?”

Two hours later, Eunjae found herself sitting on the bed in her room. She didn’t spend a whole lot of time there; she practically lived at Miles’ apartment to be closer to school. The walls, painted a light, sky blue, were littered with old pictures and ripped off covers of style magazines. Sometime over the course of her life, she’d painted the walls with puffy white clouds. Lines from where Miles had scribbled sketches in chalk filled the empty spaces in between. ("You’re not touching my room with paint. You can’t even draw stick people. Here, use chalk instead, that way I can at least erase it when it turns out ugly.")

Eunjae hadn’t erased them though. The giant “M” shapes were still scattered across the walls in a multicolor rainbow of incoherent lines. It brought a smile to her face and she slid out her phone to take a picture to remember it. Her fingers paused, however, when she noticed that she missed a text from Hoseok almost an hour ago.

Unlocking her phone, she pulled up the short text conversation. She’d responded to the one text he sent her right before leaving her alone in that small, stuffy meeting room the day previous. The fact that he was just now responding must have meant that he’d been too busy to message her back after landing in Chicago yesterday.

Eunjae had gone on a whim when she’d responded earlier by using just emoji’s. She hadn’t been sure if he’d understand what she was trying to say, but figured that it would be easier than trying to decipher her words in English. A laugh slipped from her lips at his response. Apparently he’d understood and was playing along. Her fingers slid across the screen as she searched deep in the emoji section for a response.

A squeak left her lips in surprise when the speech bubble signifying that he was typing popped up. She hadn’t expected to get a response so quickly. The swoosh of an incoming text alerted her to a new message. Not like she wasn’t already staring at the screen in anticipation. The thought of texting Jung Hoseok, her soulmate, sent excitement through her veins. Even though they barely knew each other, she held out hope that they could at least become good friends.

Eunjae fell back into her bed, silver hair splayed out in an undignified mess. If they couldn’t communicate like normal human beings, at least they could talk to each other in the universal language of emojis. The thought made Eunjae snort into her pillow in amusement.

“Wow it’s so empty in here. I don’t think I’ve ever fully seen your floor before.”

Twisting from her spot standing in the middle of her empty bedroom, Eunjae glared at the blond man leaning against the door frame. His green eyes were taking in the space almost wistfully. He’d been doing a good job lately at trying to hide his emotions, but Eunjae could see straight through him. She let him be though, not wanting to traverse the minefield just yet.

“Like fifty percent of the shit in my room was yours, so you can’t even talk.” She turned back and eyed the boxes stacked against the foot of her bed with her hands on her hips.

It’d been about three weeks since that talk with her grandmother on that one chilly, winter morning. While the weather stayed the same, many things in Eunjae’s life did not. She’d called up Sejin later that day to tell him her decision. The man had sighed into the phone like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders and thanked her for making the choice to move to Seoul.

They’d switched to FaceTime less than halfway through the lengthy phone call so that they could discuss all the details of her upcoming move. Sejin explained to her that it would be best to try and get the ball rolling as soon as possible. Big Hit would move forward with renting the available apartment in Bangtan’s building. He informed her that it would be easier if she started to ship her belongings once the lease was signed so that she could be as comfortable as possible when she arrived.

Most of her things were already there except for the few boxes still left in her room. Eunjae hadn’t been planning on leaving so soon, but plans had been changed quickly when the bagel she bit into one morning left the taste of garbage in its wake. She’d read up on the first signs of First Touch, and unfortunately the only way to know when your body was beginning to reject food was by taste.

Eunjae could still stomach food--throwing up being the next warning sign--but it tasted horrendous. It wouldn’t be long now until her body rejected food all together and she needed Hoseok’s touch to survive. Which was why her moving date had been pushed up. There was no being able to predict when it would begin, so it was best for her to leave now before she ended up starving to death. Which, in turn, would cause Hoseok to suffer the same fate.

He’d been starting to experience the same things apparently. At least that was what she was able to decipher through the game of pictogram they played through text. When he’d been informed that she was coming earlier than anticipated, the man had sent her a long string of confetti and sun emojis. What that was supposed to mean, she didn’t know. But Eunjae could garner a guess.

The two of them didn’t talk a whole lot. With his busy schedule and the time difference between them, they were only able to send off a few texts every few days. They still didn’t know very much about each other, but that was a given since they couldn’t even converse with actual words. Eunjae had brushed up on a few Korean phrases when she had the time between trying to sponge up as much information from her classes as she could. She ultimately had to drop out of NYU, but they’d been extremely understanding of the reason. Not that she’d told them who her soulmate was, of course. She didn’t want to die at the hands of ARMY, thank you very much.

“You promise to ship this off as soon as possible?” Eunjae spun back around to purse her lips at her best friend. “This is all of my wardrobe for summer and fall, so if you forget, I’ll fly back and murder you. I can’t be walking around Seoul in last season’s clothes.”

Snorting, Miles rolled his eyes. “You know, for a broke bitch you’re really high maintenance.”

Eunjae let out a noise of annoyance and punched him in the shoulder hard enough for him to let out a yelp. Turning her nose up at him, she quipped, “it would be a shame to fashion designers everywhere to wear outdated clothes. Besides, you know this broke bitch makes her own stuff. And if you want me to continue to make some for you, you’ll do what’s best for you and hush.”

Miles snorted and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Relax shorty, you know I’ll ship it off. Can’t have you hanging around beautiful Bangtan with an ‘outdated wardrobe.’”

“Whatever.” Eunjae jabbed a finger into his ribs. With a glance down at the time on her phone, she sighed. “We gotta get going. I have a flight to catch and all that jazz. And you and I both know that the lines for bag check at JFK are going to be longer than my life expectancy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t have you throwing down with some innocent old lady for holding up the bag check line.”

“For the last time, Miles.” Eunjae ducked out from under his arm to grab the straps of her small, red backpack. “I did not throw down with an old lady . All I did was politely tell her that it was her turn.”

Miles shooed her hand away when she grabbed for the handle of her rolling suitcase. “Tell that to her. Pretty sure she almost had a heart attack.”

“I literally cannot stand you.”

“Better sit down then.”

The ride to the airport was too short. Eunjae had spent the time pressed up against Miles’ side in the too expensive cab that he insisted he splurge on. She’d already said goodbye to her grandmother who’d ushered her out the door with a hug and a promise that she could fend for herself.

Like predicted, the line for bag check in JFK had been ridiculously long. Big Hit had set her up with a flight in the morning so that she would arrive in Seoul by nightfall. Sejin had explained to her that it would be easier to be discreet at night, since it would be way less likely for a fan to spot him picking her up from the airport.

Silence pressed down on both Eunjae and Miles as they stood in line. He had tried to lighten the mood during the ride over, but started to flag halfway there before falling into silence all together once they arrived. Eunjae had been doing her best to repress the thoughts racing through her mind a mile a minute, instead trying to focus on what was going on around her.

It wasn’t until they reached the point of no return that Eunjae turned to her best friend, passport and ticket in hand. Standing off to the side by security, she took a deep breath Eunjae wasn’t much of a crier. The events of the past few weeks was the most tears she shed in a long time.

“Whelp,” she began, trying to bite down on her quivering bottom lip. “This is me.”

“This is you.” Miles’ voice came out just as quiet as hers. Like Eunjae, he preferred to wear his smiles like a mask. “You better call me when you land. I don’t care what time it is.”

“I will.” Eunjae promised through the tears welling in her eyes. Her soft voice broke and she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes to stop the salty water from spilling over. “I promise.”

“Don’t.” He looked up, staring hard at the light above their heads. His mask was starting to crack. People passed them by, rolling suitcases as they traveled to their own destinations. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” And she was. Not just for the tears, and he understood.

“Don’t apologize either.” Miles finally looked down at her, his green eyes glistening. He let go of the suitcase by their feet and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. Eunjae clung to him, fingers clutching at his thick coat like a lifeline. He rested his chin on top of her head as he murmured, “go have fun and don’t be sad. You’re moving to a new country, your soulmate is an international superstar, and you’re going to get to go on tour. What’s there to be sad about?”

His words contrasted greatly with the tears rolling down his cheeks. Eunjae could feel them dampening her hair, but she couldn’t move away. Not yet.

“Go get that J-dick.”

A loud, shaky laugh left her lips at his statement and she finally pulled away to wipe at the tears she refused to acknowledge. Eunjae slapped his arm lightly with a sniff. “You’re a menace to society.”

“But you love me anyway.” He shrugged, using the sleeves of his bulky coat to wipe his face.

“I do.” She gave him a watery smile, dark eyes staring up at him earnestly.

“I love you too, shorty.” Miles hooked an arm around her neck to squeeze her to his chest one last time. “Have a safe flight. And say hello to those adonises for me.”

“‘No goodbyes,’” Eunjae pulled away, holding out a pinky as she quoted the small, fresh tattoo that pulled at the skin of her ribs. Huffing out a watery laugh, Miles hooked his larger pinky around hers and quoted the words from his matching one.

“‘Only seeya later.’”

Eunjae grabbed the handle of her small carryon suitcase and backed away slowly, not yet moving her eyes from his. Her hand lifted in a sad wave that he returned and, with one last parting, wavering smile, she turned around.

No regrets. The words matched the cadence of her fading footsteps.

#bts #bts soulmate au #bts fanfic #hoseok #hoseok fanfic

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missbugaboo · 5 years ago

Text

Marimag Mayhem (1)

As a fourth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Marinette was sure that life could no longer surprise her. And yet, even she could hardly believe her eyes when she first laid them on the blond boy she met, in the Requirement Room that she had not expected to find. The boy with cat eyes. The boy with cat ears. Chat Noir.

Marichat May, Hogwarts AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

@marichatmay

Day 1: A Witch

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was hiding.

Again.

Not like it was anything new or surprising to her, nor would have it been for any of her friends. This game of hide and seek had become a daily occurrence by now, a most unwelcome and yet most necessary habit, what with the vendetta Lila and Chloe had against her these days. She couldn't even tell what it was she had done that had enraged them so much, except maybe the fact that she was a Gryffindor student and they were not.

Those darn Slytherins, always focusing on people's backgrounds instead of their deeds.

Marinette shook her head firmly as she realised how cliché, how cut-and-dry her own opinion was. She was not going down that road, lumping people together simply because they'd happened to end up in the same House. It drove her insane; she could not repeat that hideous behaviour herself.

Even if most of the Slytherin students she knew really were spoilt, chauvinistic brats.

Her thoughts turned back to the two particular girls that had made it so difficult for her as of late. She'd had a long history with Chloe, of course—the two had never really got along, but it didn’t usually go any further than an occasional jab here and there, which wasn’t much more than she'd done to any other student. And even if she had bullied Marinette a little more than the rest, it seemed like the only reason for it was that Marinette was also the one person who bothered to react.

Ignoring her had soon turned out to be the best way to make the Bourgeois girl lose her drive significantly.

With Lila, however... It was different.

Chloe was an open book, and not only to those who cared to learn its contents. She was mean and she showed it; she felt superior to those around her and never missed the chance to remind them of it.

Lila, on the other hand, never stopped pretending. She was nice, she was sweet, she was the most considerate person in the whole world—or at least, that's what she wanted you to believe. And what was worse, she usually succeeded.

Four years they'd been in this school together and Marinette still appeared to be the only one who'd managed to see through the fabric of her lies.

Which was exactly why Lila hated her so much.

She sighed wearily, leaning against the cold stone wall behind her back, and raised her hand to rub her face. She was so tired of avoiding them, tired of having to constantly look behind her back to ensure that they weren't following her in order to prank her again. She didn't even know when the two had teamed up—for most of their time together at Hogwarts, the girls seemed to have been hostile towards one another at least; as hostile as Lila allowed herself to appear, anyway. Chloe had just been her usual self.

It had all changed around Christmas, however. As per usual, Marinette had gone home, ready to enjoy her time with her only half-magical family as well as spend some with Alya's very non-magical one. It'd been as much fun as always, walking around Paris with those dearest to her, remembering that there still was a world where witches and wizards were nothing but an old wives' tale. She'd been more than glad, with her energy recharged and her faith in others restored...

...until she had returned to school after New Year and found that in her absence, Lila Rossi and Chloe Bourgeois had become allies.

"Why did Chloe even stay at Hogwarts back then?" Marinette muttered under her breath. "She'd never stayed before, always bragging about how very much awaited she was or how the travelling fees were nothing to her, especially when there were people like Nathaniel or Mireille around. So why not this year as well?"

Her question lingered in the air, with no one but herself to answer it. And yet, silence wasn't the only thing she heard.

She pricked her ears and paled instantly, realising that the not so distant noises she'd detected were none other than the voices of the two tormentors she'd been thinking about. They were calling her name, and she could hear them better and better each time, which could only mean that they were approaching her, and quick.

And...

...were the voices coming from two directions now?

Gosh, she really didn't want to encounter them again, and certainly not when there was no one else to witness such a meeting.

"Think, Marinette, think," she urged herself, simultaneously trying not to think about how much her hands were trembling. "There must be a way out of here. But there isn't! Alright, so maybe if I play it cool and pretend that I'm not actually afraid as hell, they will let me get away with it this time. Just-"

She was cut off but a noise of a cracking stone and a quake of the wall behind her. Before she knew it, she was falling down, as if the steady, sturdy thing she'd been leaning on had suddenly ceased to exist, vanishing into thin air.

Taken aback, she closed her eyes reflexively, before she hit the ground with a thud, shrieking in surprise like the clumsy idiot that she was.

There was no way her oppressors hadn't heard that; she was done for.

Except when Marinette finally opened her eyes, it turned out that neither Lila nor Chloe were anywhere to be seen.

There was no one.

And the place was different, too.

Where on earth am I? she wondered, astonished, as she picked herself up hesitantly. It's not like there was a door behind me, and that wall was also a very real one until about ten seconds ago. So how did I...

She trailed off, her attention caught by the sight of narrow wooden doors in front of her, so exactly where she had been just a few moments earlier.

So there was a door there after all.

"Guess I'm even less observant than I thought I was," she commented wryly. "Well, that wouldn't be the first time. But still... What is this place?"

She looked around curiously, eager to solve this new riddle life had so unexpectedly thrown at her. With her fears put aside for now, she had nothing else to do; after all, she had enough reason in herself not to leave her safe haven so soon, when those she was hoping to avoid were bound to stay nearby.

She needed to wait it out. She might as well do some sightseeing while she was at it.

It didn't take her long to realise that the chamber she was in was not a particularly spacious one, though at the same time, it could hardly have been called small, either; and it certainly wasn't cramped. In fact, it looked very similar to the Gryffindor Common Room she knew so well herself... if only it hadn't been so terribly cold and bare.

It looked as if someone had taken their Common Room, reduced the size of it by half and then took away all the silly, unnecessary trinkets that were what made said chamber so cosy to begin with.

And yet, it was obvious that whoever had decorated this room had intended to make it as comfy as possible.

Only they clearly had failed.

"They really don't get the Gryffindor aesthetics, do they," she mused with a soft smile, sliding her hand against the back of one of the armchairs. "You could change the colour and fabrics and it would be a Slytherin room in a flash. But if so... Why is it trying to mimic ours? Why is it golden and red and not silver and green?"

"Maybe they simply like the colour scheme more," someone answered her. "Who can tell?"

The shriek Marinette had let out before was nothing compared to the one she produced now. She turned away abruptly, reaching for her wand and pointing it at her mysterious companion in defense.

If it wasn’t for his incredible reflexes, she would have taken his eye out without a single spell to support her.

"Woah, woah, easy there!" She heard him cry out but she couldn't help but think that there was as much amusement as there was astonishment ringing in his voice. "I'm not going to harm you, so put that thing down, will you?"

"You scared me!" Marinette screamed back, her eyes closing once more, even though her wand remained pointed at him. "I'm not to blame for my reactions!"

"You are the one who barged into my Requirement Room, and yet you don't see me pricking your face with a stick, are you? Really, you could have crippled me for life with that swing. How do you cast spells with movements like these?"

"How I cast spells is no business of yours," she parried. "And what do you mean by a Requirement Room? And your Requirement Room at that?"

The mystery boy in front of her sighed.

"I'll answer all of your questions and more, but only after you've lowered that weapon of yours," he said evenly. "Also, please open your eyes. I'm not a basilisk, one look at me won't kill you."

Marinette did as she was told, though hesitantly. She didn't know this boy; the way he spoke to her wasn't familiar, and she prided herself in knowing most of the fourth years, and more than a few other students as well. She should have been able to recognise his voice or guess to whom it belonged... and yet, just this once, she had no idea who it was that was speaking to her.

Was he a fourth year like her, but secretive enough to have successfully evaded her attention so far? Was he older than her?

Was he younger?

"Come on, you're dragging it too long. I told you I wouldn't bite."

She finally looked up at him and found out that she was in for yet another surprise.

Because the boy in front of her didn't seem like a regular boy at all.

He wasn't a regular student, either. Unlike her, he wore no uniform (therefore making it impossible for her to determine what House he might possibly be from), dressed up in black from head to toe instead. Black shirt, black tie, black suit and shoes. An epitome of elegance and grace, with just a hint of darkness hovering around him.

That's what Professor Malfoy must have looked like twenty-five years ago.

No, she added in her thoughts after a moment, as her eyes stopped at the boy's head. No way Malfoy would have let his hair fall into such disarray. Such a mess.

And yet, as disconcerting as seeing her own professor with a hairstyle like this, it seemed more than suitable for the boy before her.

Somehow, she thought that he couldn't have looked well in anything else.

"Like what you're seeing?" he asked her straightforwardly and winked, his own lips curving up in a lopsided smile. "That's good. Perhaps -"

"That's not it!" She cut him off and dropped her gaze, abashed, her fingers tightening around the wand in her hands. "You just... You're not wearing a uniform, and it is a normal school day. So I was surprised, that's all."

"I don't think my hair has anything to do with a uniform, though."

She chanced a glance at him and saw that his smirk grew even more bemused. He was taunting her, no doubt about that... However, the look she saw in his eyes suggested that the little jabs were nothing but an innocent, friendly game.

His eyes.

There was something about them, something she couldn't quite point out at first. It wasn't only that they were so incredibly, intensely green or even that they seemed too big to be real. It wasn't even his gaze, curious but longing, playful but earnest, as if he'd known her for years (which was pretty confusing on its own, for she sure as Azkaban didn't know him) and yet still wanted to get to know her even more.

He was...

...lonely.

And still, that wasn't what had been throwing her off. She focused her own gaze, boring her eyes into his, despite the growing embarrassment she felt at the very thought of what she was doing, and gasped when she finally realised what it was she was looking at.

"Cat eyes," she whispered foolishly. "You have cat eyes. Wait—why do you have cat eyes?!"

"Ten points for Gryffindor, ladies and gentlemen!" her companion called out with mock admiration, stepping back and gesturing at her with his arm. "A wonderful deduction, my friend. It only took you... Well, a little longer than it should have."

"Oh, shut up," Marinette retorted without thinking, her cheeks flushing even further. "I was surprised, okay? By being thrown here, by finding you. Who are you, even?"

He opened his mouth to answer her but before he could, she added, "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm just a dumb Gryffindor, so I obviously wouldn't understand anyway. Guess I'll go and check if Lila and Chloe are still camping on the other side of the door and if not, I'll be on my merry way. Hopefully I won't come across any more jokers like you. I'm sorry to have intruded your sanctuary. It wasn't done purposely."

She turned around and set off towards the door that—fortunately—was still firmly in place. She missed the change on her new acquaintance's face, the smile that disappeared as soon as he realised what she was about to do. She walked on, one step after another, annoyed; she reached out her hand and put it on the heavy brazen knob.

And then...

"Wait!" She heard him call and looked back, instinctively. "I didn't mean to make fun of you, I swear I didn't. I'm just... Not that good with people. Haven't had much practice as of late, if you know what I mean... But I'll be more than happy to work on it, if only you agree to help. Just... Please don't go yet."

The pleading look he was giving her was more than Marinette could expect and quite frankly, more than she was able to take, as well. She remained frozen for a while, eyeing him carefully, trying to determine whether he really meant the things he'd said or if it was just another joke at her expense.

He seemed sincere enough, alright; but better than anyone else, Marinette knew how misleading appearances might be.

Then again, everyone deserves a chance.

"You did make fun of me, though," she replied reservedly. "And you obviously enjoyed it. Don't tell me that you didn't, I know what I saw. And I hate liars, if that's of any meaning to you."

"Of course it is. But I'm not lying. I... I didn't mean any harm. I'm sorry if I did any."

Marinette rolled her eyes; that guy really looked like a lost puppy, cat eyes or not.

"It's no big deal, but I recommend you don't repeat that. It's how you talk to close friends, not to people you see for the first time. Also, like I said: you did enjoy that."

"Well, if I told you I simply enjoyed having someone to talk to, would you believe me?"

There it was, that look of sadness and heartache, of pining for a contact in any amount or form. He wasn't trying to trick her, or humiliate her like some people had.

He was asking for such a small thing, too—who was she to deny him that?

"Fine," she said at last. "I won't go immediately. I still don't have much time though, my next class starts in less than an hour now. And I still haven't had my lunch, mind you."

"Wish I could help with that," he replied readily. "I'm afraid that a place to sit is all that I can offer for now."

"A seat will do, as long as you let me out reasonably early for me to still grab something afterwards."

She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned mischievously. "You're not planning to keep me locked up here, are you?"

"No! No. Of course not. I wouldn't dare," he stammered in response and this time, Marinette couldn't help but giggle. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one getting flustered easily. Meanwhile, he continued, "And I'm sorry if it seemed like it before. I mean... I don't want to be pushy. If you want to go now, I won't stop you."

"And where's the fun in that?"

Their gazes met again; this time, it was Marinette's turn to wink at him, and she even went as far as to pat his blond head playfully. Her eyes widened when she realised that the fair locks were not the only thing that adorned it... and she needed all of her strength to stop herself from screaming for the third time in the short while since they'd met.

"Something wrong?" he asked, visibly confounded.

"No, just-" she stuttered, shifting her eyes from his face to the top of his head and back. "You have cat ears, too?"

She half expected to receive another witty comment on how unobservant she was, however, her words only seemed to agitate him more, if his hand rubbing the nape of his neck was any indication. Once again, she stepped back, this time intent on having a good look at all of him, and maybe even looking for...

"A tail, too?!"

Just who was this guy?

"What happened to you?" she asked, her tone showing more than a little concern. "Were you messing with the Polyjuice Potion? Or was it someone else who brought this on you? I swear, if this was another prank those good-for-nothing fools-"

"It's none of those things," he hastened to reassure her then. "No one poisoned me, or pranked me, or cursed me... Or whatever it is you might have thought of. It's something... Something I brought on myself, but it wasn't polyjuice that'd caused it. Just... Just a little spell that has gone wrong, that's all."

"That's all?" Marinette asked, her eyes wider still. "But it's a huge thing! You should at least go to the infirmary or contact a teacher. It's not something that will just go away on its own."

"Actually, it is," he contradicted her again. "Really, I've done this before. An hour or two is all it takes for the spell to stop working... And it's already been about forty minutes since I cast it."

"Did it work last time?"

"N-no. It didn't. It actually was way worse than it is now. But hey, that only means that I'm improving, right?"

Now Marinette could do nothing but facepalm.

"It means you lack common sense," she said. "You know, at first I was sure you were a Slytherin, with all that high and mighty attitude and the 'ten points for Gryffindor' jokes. Now... I'm starting to think that you may be a Gryffindor after all. That would certainly explain the decorations here."

"Because I'm brave?"

"Because you're a moron."

He said nothing to that, too busy gaping at her after her sudden retort. Marinette saw his reaction but said nothing, either, even though her behaviour was in fact much more calculating than his was. So she shrugged and set off towards the armchair, sinking down against the soft cushions as soon as she'd reached it.

Well, she mused, Guess that's one way to spend your lunch break.

Little did she know that it was only the beginning of it.

#marichat #marichat may 2020 #day 1: witch au #hogwarts au #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #no kwamis

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