#i have never uttered that turn of phrase before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month ago

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lotus

a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)

summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration

word count: 4000

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With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.

“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”

Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?

Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”

“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.

Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.

“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”

“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”

“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.”

“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”

Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.

“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”

“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”

“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you.

He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you.

As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed.

A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around.

Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.

“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound.

But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”

Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”

“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”

“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”

“Bad breakup?” he guessed.

“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”

“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”

“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”

Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom.

Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh.

“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained.

“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely.

It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt.

You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way.

Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become.

As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch.

It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch.

You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were.

“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.

“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat.

“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”

And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.

Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”

A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”

Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”

“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”

“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”

“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch.

“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.

“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask.

Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”

“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”

“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered.

“Do you?”

“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him.

“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh.

The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.

“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench.

Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back.

Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”

“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”

“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in.

He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed.

You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust.

When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him.

As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders.

You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck.

Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.

Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment.

You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful.

Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing.

When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.

“Everything okay so far?”

“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own.

His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs.

After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.

Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.

As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips.

Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff.

You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure.

But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.

“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak.

“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you.

“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch.

“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high.

He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance.

“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”

“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at.

“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud.

“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…”

“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”

“I want–, I want–”

“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes.

And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”

But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.

As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp.

Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”

When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole.

It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself.

Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole.

“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom.

“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was.

Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy.

It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore.

That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy.

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel.

Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock.

A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards.

His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass.

Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more.

You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.

“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another.

Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

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hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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moonlightspencie · 9 months ago

Text

darling, i fancy you

Description: James Potter is in his second year of university. He's with his friends, having the time of his life! His only problem... a horrible, evil, beautiful, wonderful girl who doesn't seem to return the feelings he's developing for her. His dramatics and flirtatious antics usually work. He just can't quite figure out how to hook this girl.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: drinking, idiots to lovers, reader is described as american in one line because what is fanfiction if not a bit of self-service on occasion

Word Count: 8.2k

Coming into his second year of university was supposed to be fun. He was no longer jittery or nervous about classes since he’d already been there and done that for a full year. Besides, he was James Potter. Of course he had gotten down the routines like they were nothing to him. It was easy as pie. Now, as he brimming with confidence, he was looking forward to seeing old friends, and meeting new ones. It seemed bright and exciting: and it was, so far!

Until his second day.

James walked into his final Thursday afternoon class and sat in a seat near the front. He might enjoy goofing off here and there, but he’d be damned if he was going to do any less than stellar in his classes. The class filled fairly quickly, seats being taken all around him. He barely noticed when a girl sat in the seat next to him as he pulled out a notebook and a pen. Until he turned with a small smile that melted off his face as quickly as it arrived.

“Great,” he grumbled under his breath.

She looked in the direction of the utterance curiously, blissfully unaware that one of the last few open seats, and the one she just had to choose, was right next to James Potter.

“Perfect,” she muttered bitterly, shaking her head. “I suppose you’re going to try to get me to convince my roommate to fall in love with you again, yeah?”

“Not after last time.”

She scoffed a laugh. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you’re selfish and don’t care about the happiness and general wellbeing of others.”

“Right. As if your happiness should be my number one priority,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

James turned his head to her abruptly, feeling quite put off that she’d say such a thing. Him, insufferable? He thought it might do her some good to do a bit of self reflection, and had told her as much last year. It didn’t do any good, obviously, considering she was still just as irritating as ever.

“She’s dating someone anyway. So you’re out of luck,” she said, seeming quite pleased with herself.

James was annoyed again. “Dating someone? Great. That could’ve been me if you weren’t so horrible, and now I’ve got to wait until they inevitably break up to—”

“She’s dating a girl, so good luck with that plan of yours, Potter.”

James blinked in surprise. He supposed he never exactly saw Lily with a boy before. But… But he liked her so she couldn’t possibly be interested in girls. What a silly notion, he thought.

“You’re sure?”

She stared at him for a moment. “Uh… yeah. Pretty sure.”

James hummed in thought. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know until summer,” she shrugged. “She came out to me shortly before she told me she’d been asked out by her current girlfriend.”

“How odd.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, looking at him with a bewildered expression.

His eyes widened. “No! Not like that. I just… I didn’t realize. I just assumed—”

“Careful how you phrase things, maybe,” she said, looking at him a little suspiciously.

He nodded quickly. “Right.”

He fell silent for a moment. A few blissful seconds that she basked in. Until he opened his mouth again.

“I just…” he said, then sighed. He thought for a couple seconds. “I don’t think I’ve ever not been able to win someone over before. And this seems pretty bleak for me, doesn’t it?”

She snorted a laugh, nodding. “Yeah. More than bleak, I’d say.”

James smiled a little, then internally scolded himself. There was no reason to laugh at a joke a girl like her made. How terrible. He was better than that. He straightened in his seat, determined to ignore her now that he really had no use for her with his precious Lily too far out of reach for even him to pull in, all things considered. He pouted for a bit, feeling terribly sorry for himself as the class started. He took his notes, of course, but not without sighing every five minutes or so.

“Can you cut that out?”

James looked offended again, glancing at the girl.

“Cut what out?” he whispered back.

“The constant sighing. It’s irritating.”

“I’m upset.”

She rolled her eyes, going back to taking notes. He fell silent, but only for a few seconds.

“You try finding out the girl you’re in love with is gay.”

“For me, that would actually work out.”

James rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Get over it,” she said after a beat.

He glared at her, then went back to his notes. Again, really only for a few seconds.

“Wait. Are you gay, too?”

“So what if I am? That’s not really your business, is it?”

“I— Maybe not. But I’m curious,” James said, looking at her.

“Stop talking.”

“I just wanna know.”

“You sound like a child,” she sighed, exasperated. “You’re distracting me.”

James gave her one more sour look before turning back to his notes. He was feeling quite annoyed now. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily ‘his business’ what her sexuality was, but he couldn’t help but be curious. Why was that his fault? He couldn’t quite figure it out. He waited until the class ended this time to turn to her again.

“I don’t mean to intrude—”

“I’m sure you will, though,” she stated.

James sighed. “You’re so difficult. I’m only curious. I don’t mean anything by it.”

She huffed a breath, then looked at him straight on. He raised his brows in question, hoping she might answer if he tried looking innocent enough. She shook her head.

“It’s a bit of a rude question, you know?”

“How?” he asked, feeling a little offended.

“It’s personal.”

“Well I—“ James started to argue, though his voice died. His eye twitched slightly as he thought about it for a few seconds. “Okay. I guess… I guess that makes sense. I just thought it was, like, knowing your hair color or something like that.”

“Personally, it’s something I usually only discuss with my friends. Not with a strange boy who I’ve only spoken to when he decided he liked my roommate.”

“That’s mean.”

“We aren’t friends.”

“It’s still mean,” James said, standing up with his bag.

She did the same.

“It’s honest.”

James pouted a little. “I’m only trying to make conversation.”

She looked at him for a moment, and he looked right back, his hand on the strap of his bag. He quirked a brow when she was silent for a second.

“I’ll see you around,” she said at last, not unkindly, but definitely not in a friendly manner.

Of course, James had to relay this ridiculous interaction to his roommates when he got back to his flat. He sprawled out on the couch, his hand flipping off the side to touch the floor and his cheek pressed against the cushions.

“She’s evil. There’s something in her that isn’t right. I’m sure of it.”

Sirius furrowed his brow. He’d been hearing about James’s plights with this woman since last year. It always seemed that his buttons got pushed so easily by her, and Sirius couldn’t help but wonder how on earth James kept getting himself into these situations

He sighed softly, leaning back into the armchair to the left of James, a hand running through his long, dark hair before settling over his face.

“You’ve been dramatic plenty of times before, Prongs, but this might be a new height you’ve climbed to,” Sirius said, his voice slightly muffled through his hand.

“Mm. Not quite evil to keep that sort of thing to yourself. I don’t run around campus advertising that I’m queer,” Remus added, walking into the living room with a cup of tea.

Remus settled on the ground near Sirius’s chair, leaning his back into the arm of it as he stretched his long legs out. He did plan on doing so on the couch, but it seemed that James had beaten him to it with his dramatics.

“That’s not what I mean,” James groans. “It’s how she acted. I don’t care if she keeps that to herself, but she didn’t have to be so mean to me. It’s like she delights in making me feel stupid.”

Peter laughed from the chair across the way from Sirius’s. “It’s not always hard to do.”

James scowled at the boy, but before he could say something back, Sirius sighed loudly.

“James. Just back off of the girl.”

James turned to Sirius. “What do you mean?”

“If you ignore her, she’ll ignore you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she probably finds you just as irritating as you find her,” Remus says pointedly.

“You guys are supposed to be on my side,” James says.

His friends all exchange a look, then stare back at him.

Sirius leans forward on his chair to come to eye-level with James.

“James. You are like a brother to me. I love you dearly. But leave the poor girl alone before she hits you.”

James buried his face in the couch cushion and groaned loudly in protest. Maybe they were right, but he didn’t have to like it. He knew he was being dramatic and probably a bit annoying, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t met someone who got under his skin so easily in a long time, and he didn’t like it. After a few minutes, he lifted his head, looking at his friends. He didn’t like to upset them, and he was afraid if he kept this up, that he might do just that.

“You guys want to go get dinner on me?” he offered.

They smiled, Sirius in particular shaking his head at his friend in amusement. James felt a little better then as he scrambled off the couch.

James’s first encounter with the girl of his dreams, who he begrudgingly accepted no longer could be, happened a few days later. He walked into a café just off of campus to get a little fuel for his first essay of the semester when he saw a familiar head of red hair. His first instinct, of course, was to rush her with a smile and that classic Potter-charm of his… but then he deflated.

There she was: the wretched girl who had stolen his dear Lily from him. He looked sour for a moment, then sighed, shrugging it off internally. He supposed that he couldn’t really be mad since he wasn’t also a girl, so Lily wouldn’t like him no matter what.

But if he was, he was determined he’d be very upset about the whole ordeal.

He sat down at a table across the small coffee shop, inadvertently staring at Lily and her girlfriend. He had to admit: the girl she was dating was very pretty. And they did seem happy together. But it was still a little bit annoying. He hardly paid attention to someone approaching with his drink until he heard an unfortunately-familiar voice.

“I would tell you that a picture would last longer, but I don’t think I can condone borderline-stalking my roommate,” the girl said, setting his latte down in front of him.

He looked up at her in a bit of surprise. She just seemed to pop up everywhere.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She looked down at her apron, then back at him with a puzzled expression.

“I— I work here?” she stated, shaking her head a bit. “Thought you may have gathered that from me bringing you your drink and wearing an apron.”

He deadpanned, unamused. “I just didn’t expect to see you here is all. It’s like you’re everywhere.”

“It’s been like a week and half and we’ve seen each other twice,” she said, huffing a breath at his dramatics. “Anyway. Is there anything else you need, besides maybe a magazine or a blindfold?”

“Why would I need those?” he asked, immediately annoyed.

She pointedly looked at Lily and her girlfriend, then back at James. He made a face of realization, then chuckled a little despite his better judgment.

“Oh. No. I’ll stop staring, I’m just…”

She paused waiting for him to finish, but it didn’t seem like he was going to. She nodded slowly after a beat.

“Well… it’s been a pleasure as always.”

James nodded, but then he leaned forward to grab her wrist. “Wait.”

She turned around, giving him a look that told him to let go immediately.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, dropping her wrist. “Just wanted to ask if you got that western civilization assignment done for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Tuesday.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah. It’s a Tuesday-Thursday class.”

She paused, looking a little lost. “What?”

“It’s on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. The assignment is supposed to be done for tomorrow’s class.”

“You’re joking.”

James shook his head. “No. Why would I be?”

“Shit,” she sighed heavily, throwing her head back. “How hard is it to do?”

“Not hard, but it took some time.”

She groaned. “God, I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. Just forgetful, obviously,” James laughed.

She did not look amused. “Right. Well… Fuck. Thanks for the heads up, then.”

James looked quite pleased with himself. He actually got a ‘thank you’ out of her. He nodded quickly.

“What would you do without me?” he smirked.

She glanced at him, looking somehow even more unimpressed. James didn’t like that look.

“I’d have missed one class. Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

James watched her walk off, feeling annoyed once again. It’s like she couldn’t help but ruin his mood every time they talked. He sipped his latte, and suddenly felt more irritated: this might have been one of the best latte’s he’d ever had, and she just had to work there. Great.

He kept his eyes on the girl as she walked back behind the counter, getting started on whatever task came next for her. She seemed to be making some kind of drink. He watched her as she flitted around back there easily, taking note of the way she’d occasionally scrunch her nose in a weak attempt to adjust her glasses as her hands were full. He took in every detail of her outfit that he could see from the other side of the counter: a simple black t-shirt and jeans that looked annoyingly good on her. Like it wasn’t enough to be irritating all the time, she had to be pretty, too. How was he supposed to just ignore her completely? He scoffed to himself at Sirius’s stupid advice as he sipped at his drink again.

That same thought snuck into his head as she walked into class the next day, dropping into that same seat right next to him. He took note of her slightly messy hair, and the crewneck sweatshirt that hung on her a little loosely. He looked at her nails as she pulled out her laptop, smiling a little at the baby blue that was painted on them. He liked blue quite a lot. He was in the middle of looking at the minimal makeup on her face, especially the gloss on her lips, when she just had to interrupt him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“None of your business,” he replied quite defensively.

“You’re staring at me. It feels like my business, Potter.”

He rolled his eyes. Why did she always have to be so difficult? It’s like she had fun making him feel like an idiot.

“I wasn’t staring. I was observing.”

She sighed, softly, shaking her head as she went back about her business, logging into her laptop. He tried really hard to remember what Sirius had told him and just ignore her as well as he could, but it wasn’t exactly his fault that she had a photo of herself and some guy on her computer.

“I thought you were gay?” he said curiously.

She turned her head to him slowly, and if he thought she looked at him like he was stupid before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now.

“What?”

“I thought you said you were gay,” he clarified, though it made nothing clearer for her. He pointed at her laptop background, “but, there’s a boy with you on your computer.”

“I never said I was gay. I said it wasn’t your business if I was or not.”

“But you must not be if you have a boyfriend.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “That’s my brother, nosey. And I’m not gay.”

“Thought you said that wasn’t my business?”

“I’m going to slap you.”

“That’s what Sirius said,” James replied, though it was mostly to himself.

She snorted once. “Your friends are telling you you’re gonna get hit by someone?”

“By you,” he corrected.

Now, this piqued her interest. She looked at him curiously.

“Your friends tell you that I am going to slap you? Why?”

“I told them we don’t really get along. Sirius thinks I should just ignore you.”

“You’re doing a shit job of it,” she laughed a little.

He wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t help but smile a bit back at her. She had a nice laugh. He thought to himself that maybe he’d like to hear it more. It would certainly be better than the grating sound of her always being annoyed with him.

“Can’t help it if I’m curious.”

“You can help if you’re peering over my shoulder at my personal laptop.”

“I’d hardly call it peering. Plus you have a large screen, it’s easy to see.”

She cracked another small smile against her better judgment, and decided on ignoring him the rest of the class. It didn’t work. At all.

“So…” James started up when the professor decided on padding the rest of the class time with an ‘opportunity’ to get a headstart on the next assignment. “Did you end up finishing that assignment that was due today.”

“Clearly.”

James furrowed his brow. “Huh? How is that clear?”

“I’m a mess. I look like I just rolled out of bed, because I practically did in order to finish the assignment today before the rest of my classes. I haven’t even been in my apartment since like eight this morning.”

James still looked on in a bit of confusion, glancing over at her again, taking in her appearance. Sure, she wasn’t extremely put together, but she still looked pretty. James, ever the one to speak exactly what’s on his mind, decided on telling her that.

“I think you look really pretty today.”

She swallowed once, looking at him in a moment of mild shock. She usually wasn’t one to clam up around anyone, but she certainly was now, and James took notice.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything…”

“No. No, it isn’t that. I just…” she trailed off, then shook her head. “Nevermind. Just… work on your assignment. It’s what we’re meant to be doing anyways.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” James nodded, feeling a little bad now that he’d apparently made her uncomfortable.

Though, as much as it was a sense of discomfort that she felt at his compliment, there was also much more to it. Not that she would ever tell him that. No, it was much worse than the normal annoyance she felt for the boy when he looked her up and down and gave her that sweet smile. It was terrible and evil and made her face a bit warm. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, his cheek smushed in his hand nearly making her smile being all the more evidence: she was developing a crush on James Potter.

James was in the process of waking up on a cold Saturday morning in early October. Usually he’d be able to pull himself out of bed somewhat easily, only really needing a good shower to get his blood pumping for the day ahead. The ‘process’ part came into play as a rare, true hangover made him feel both dizzy and like a rock stuck in bed.

He wasn’t a stranger to a late night of drinking with his friends, or a party here and there while he was at school. Even in his highschool days, he would sometimes sneak out from under his parents’ watchful eyes with Sirius to go live it up for a night. But it rarely resulted in an actual hangover. Sometimes a headache, occasionally he’d throw up before bed, but this? This was hell on earth. He was convinced. It certainly didn’t help that he hardly remembered past drink number seven the night prior. He decided on not letting the frat boys fill his cup anymore.

After an hour of laying in bed, he finally decided that it might be time to at least try to join the world of the living. He rolled off of his mattress, shuffling into the bathroom to take a cool shower. He effectively did as much, only having to bend over the toilet bowl to empty his stomach twice! He was quite proud of himself for that, considering he felt nauseous the entirety of the shower. He stumbled back into his room, haphazardly drying off his body and hair before slipping into a sweater, jeans, and a warm coat. He slipped on his boots, grabbed his keys, and walked out the front door. He thought that maybe his favorite cafe would have something to lift his spirits and fill his now-empty stomach. He also thought that maybe a certain girl might be working. That would definitely lift his spirits.

He walked into the cafe around 11am, finding it surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon. He had started making a habit of visiting the place probably more often than he needed to. He knew the usual flow at this point.

He frowned when his favorite table was taken, and ended up dropping into a seat near the back by a window after he had ordered. He sat his order number marker on the table, and waited for a familiar face to show. He started to smile when he saw his coffee and a chocolate pastry being set in front of him, but it dropped as he looked up to see a less familiar man. He thanked him anyway, despite the fact that he was quite disappointed. He picked at his pastry, and sipped his drink, letting the carbs and caffeine make him feel a bit like a human being again after such a rough night. He decided to stick around for a while after he finished both, just sitting and thinking. He always liked being alone with his thoughts, but they seemed to flow a little better with the hum of something in the background. A cafe full of people did the trick for the day. After an hour or so of staring out the window, he decided he could use another cup of coffee.

He went to wait to order behind a small line of people, fiddling on his phone until he was finally called up to order next. A smile grew on his face when he saw who was taking orders now.

“Hi!” he said to her cheerily.

“Oh. James. Hi,” she said, a little surprised to see him. “What can I get you?”

“You weren’t here earlier. I got here a little past 11, and some guy brought me my drink.”

“Yeah. I just got in at 12. So… what do you want to drink?”

James ignored her question with another smile. “How long are you working today? Don’t you normally come in earlier?”

“Five hour shift today,” she said with a small sigh. “I just didn’t start early this time.”

“Oh. Well, it’s good you’re here now. I’d have hated to admit that I might have missed you when I saw you in class on Tuesday.”

She fought a smile at that, determined to remain irritated at him.

“Are you going to order? You’re kind of holding up the line.”

“Right!” he exclaimed suddenly, looking up at the menu as if he didn’t get the same thing every time.

“Do you just want your usual?”

James stilled at that. She knew his normal order? He smiled a bit to himself, trying not to seem too delighted at that fact. But he shook his head quickly, even though that’s exactly what he planned on getting.

“What’s your favorite drink?”

“I like the lavender oatmilk latte.”

“Lavender? In coffee?” He made a sour face.

“James,” she said, somewhat shortly as he dawdled.

“I’ll have one of those, then.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. But if it’s gross, I’m blaming you.”

She smirked a little as she shook her head, typing in the order.

“Alright. It’s in,” she said, nodding to the side for him to get out of the way.

“But I didn’t pay.”

“It’s on me,” she replied. But, she continued before he could think it was too sweet, “It’ll get you out of the way faster.”

He nodded, giving her a thanks with a shy smile. He went back to his seat, expecting that same wretched boy to come back out instead of her with his drink. Though it certainly took a long time for him to do so. Just as James was looking over his shoulder to see what was taking so long, he saw that same familiar face coming towards him with a mug of coffee. He smiled up at her as she set down the mug.

“I thought you were on the register.”

“I was.”

“But you just had to come see me, right?”

She scoffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Enough out of you. I came to ask about the test on Tuesday.”

“Oh?” he asked, looking down into the coffee she brought. It didn’t look gross, at the very least, but he still wasn’t sure about lavender in his coffee.

“I can’t find my notes from two weeks ago anywhere. Do you think I could borrow yours by any chance?”

“You want to borrow my notes?”

“You can be an idiot sometimes, but you’re not stupid. Unfortunately, you are actually really smart under that…” she gestures vaguely at him. “You know. Your whole vibe.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, pouting a little.

“It’s a compliment.”

“Still mean. I thought you Americans were supposed to be nice.”

“I think you’re thinking of Canada, but I mean it in a nice way.”

He huffed a small sigh, tilting his head as he looked up at her. She tried not to look at him for too long, sure she’d start grinning for real this time. Why did he have to be so handsome? And so annoying. And ridiculously charming. She merely quirked a brow at his silent tantrum, waiting for him to speak again.

“I guess. You can have my notes, but you have to come get them from me at my apartment.”

“You can’t just email them to me?”

He smiled. “Nope. I take ‘em on paper. You can come get them.”

“It would be easier to take a photo of them.”

“I want my roommates to have to meet the girl who hates me so much anyways. They’ve been dying to properly see you without me having to point you out across campus.”

“You talk about me a lot?” she asks with a little smirk, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Enough,” he smiles at her brightly. “Come on. Just humor me.”

“I don’t have your address,” she argued weakly.

He laughed a bit at that. God, she was adorable when she was being difficult.

“Give me your phone, then.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to put my address in. And my phone number so I don’t always have to try to catch you here or in class when I want to talk to you.”

“Who says I want to talk to you?”

“I think you secretly like me.”

“I think you’re annoying.”

“I think you secretly like me, even though I’m annoying. You’re trying to tell me I’m not a delight to be around?”

She sighed softly, clinging hard onto that small sliver of irritation, even if it didn’t do much good against the boy. She pulled out her phone, unlocking it and handing it over to him. She watched as he typed in all his information, and even took a cheesy little selfie for his contact photo.

“No, no, no…” she said, trying to take her phone back when he started messaging himself.

He put out his arm with a giddy grin, blocking her from getting the phone back as he continued on his path with the other hand.

“How else was I meant to get your number?” he giggled, hitting send and handing the device back to her. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be the only one with the option to contact me. If you were the only one of us who could text, we’d never get the ball rolling on a proper friendship.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be your friend,” she snorted once, pocketing her phone again. “You’re a nuisance.”

“I’ll see you tonight then, right?” He ignored her poor insult. “To get the notes, I mean.”

She fell quiet for a moment before begrudgingly nodding. “Yeah. I’ll see you then. When will you be home?”

“For you? All day.”

She rolled her eyes again, but she couldn’t help but fight a warmth in her cheeks as she turned to get back to work.

As it turned out, much like she was suspecting, letting James put his number in her phone, and consequently exchanging numbers, was a horrific idea. It seemed that every time she went to check her phone, even if it was the middle of the night, he had something to say. Whether it be an actual message or just a strange meme he found online, he was constantly sending her texts. She was convinced he was testing out a kind of exposure therapy. That maybe, in his head, if he kept bugging her all hours of the day she would learn not to act so annoyed by him. To his merit, he was mostly right. But it helped that she was harboring a secret crush on him to begin with.

James, on the other hand, was getting non-stop reprimands from his friends. Every time he pulled his phone out and started typing, they’d groan in annoyance, knowing exactly who he was trying to talk to.

“Mate, you’ve got to lay off the poor girl,” Remus grumbled softly, his head dropping onto the back of the couch when he clocked James texting her in the middle of a movie night with the boys.

“I just thought she might think this movie is good. I’m recommending it,” James shrugged a little, still typing away.

“She probably doesn’t care,” Peter said casually.

“Shut up, Pete,” James huffed, setting his phone down. Though he left it up to make sure he’d see exactly when she texted back. “It’s funny. She likes funny stuff.”

“You’ve got it bad, Prongs,” Sirius shook his head as he came back into the living room from his brief excursion to the bathroom. Remus pulled him right back into his lap as he came out, hugging him tightly.

James looked at them, making a disgusted face and groaning.

“You guys aren’t allowed to talk about me when you’re always clinging onto each other like that.”

“You’re just jealous,” Sirius smirked.

“Maybe I am! I have to watch you two cuddling all the time, all in love. It’s sickening,” James crossed his arms as he looked back at the television. “I shouldn’t have to watch that and hear about how I shouldn’t text a girl I fancy.”

Remus and Sirius shared a look. Remus then set his sights on James with a raised brow.

“So you fancy her now, do you?”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying,” Remus chuckled. “When we started the school year you said she was evil. Now you fancy her.”

“She is evil. She doesn’t like me back,” James sighed dramatically, slumping in his seat. “I don’t get it. Girls loved me in high school. Then all of a sudden we’re at uni, and the first girl I like turns out to be a lesbian and the second one thinks I’m annoying.”

“Poor boy,” Sirius cooed at his dear friend jokingly. “You’ll find one soon. Maybe she just isn’t the one for you.”

“But I want her to be! It isn’t fair. She probably doesn’t like English boys at all. I bet that’s what it is.”

“What?” Remus asked incredulously.

“She’s from the States. I bet she only likes, like… farmers or surfers or something stupid.”

That earned a laugh from his friends, brushing off his dramatics as usual. James merely pouted to himself as he watched the movie until his phone buzzed next to him. He grabbed it like his life depended on it when he saw who the notification was from, smiling like a giddy child as he read the message.

“alright. thanks for the rec, I’ll check it out :)”

He giggled a little to himself. “She sent me a smiley face! You guys think that actually made her smile? I bet it did.”

His friends merely sighed, ignoring him again since he wouldn’t have listened to their response anyways as he typed away.

“Maybe we could watch it together some time! I think my friends would really like you. They didn’t get to know you well enough last time they saw you since it was only a couple of minutes. You should come over!! :)”

He sent the message, but as soon as the excitement calmed down a smidge, he sent another message.

“If you want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you. But I do want to hang out with you. I think you’ll like me if you decided to stop hating me lol”

“Sorry, that sounded weird”

“I just mean that we could be good friends, I think. You’re funny and cool, and I’m also funny and cool. It’s like we’re made for each other haha!”

“I don’t mean it like that. You know what I mean, yeah?”

“Fuck, mate, you writing a novel over there?” Sirius laughed with wide eyes, looking at the phone in James’s hands.

“I keep fucking up and sending weird stuff,” he groaned. “Trying to do damage control.”

“Not much damage control to do when she already talks to you in person,” Sirius retorts with a smirk.

“Shove off, Pads.”

His phone buzzed again.

“right lol. maybe sometime? do you plan on talking through the whole thing though? you tend to be a motormouth, you know lmao”

He let out a breath of relief, smiling to himself again when he saw that he didn’t screw things too badly.

“I’ll be quiet during all the important parts at least. Promise!”

He waited for a moment, staring at the screen as a little text bubble popped up almost immediately.

“maybe then, yeah. i’ll let you know next time i’m getting too happy with my peace and quiet. or the next time lils and her girlfriend are making out in front of me again”

He laughed softly, ignoring the looks he was getting from the others as he texted the girl. They were all in happy relationships, they certainly were not allowed to judge him for being excited to be speaking to somebody cute.

“Might not be much better with Sirius and Remus here, but misery loves company, right?”

“Those are two of my mates you met when you picked up those notes a while back, btw. In case you forgot their names.”

“They’re dating now.”

He waited patiently, not even paying an ounce of attention to the movie still playing. Besides, if he was going to watch it with her again some time soon, who cares if he missed a bit of it?

“good for them, they’re probably super cute together. but yeah, i’ll text you next time then”

James smiled brightly.

“Great!!! I’m looking forward to it! We can order dinner and everything.”

“But not like a date.”

“Unless you wanted it to be lol. Just kidding. We don’t have to do that.”

“But I’ll still buy dinner so you don’t go hungry.”

He waited again as the speech bottle popped up, and frowned a little when it went away. Then, there was a little heart on the first message he sent about ordering in, which, to him, felt like everything.

She was surprised with herself when she was all nerves before going to see James and his friends for that promised movie night. Though, she quickly realized that was incredibly silly.

As she got to know James’s friends, she kind of started understanding why he talked so highly of them. She adored them, and thought it was pretty funny that they always seemed a little bit lovingly exasperated with his antics. She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she’d start feeling about him, or if that bothersome crush would never fade into a casual friendship.

The answer seemed to come after Sirius and Remus ran off together after dinner, and Peter left to go hang out with his girlfriend. She didn't expect to find herself opening up to the Potter boy so easily about her past, nor for him to become so serious and thoughtful when talking about his own.

She really didn’t expect for herself to say yes to hanging out with him again. And again. And again.

It’s like he somehow found his way under her skin. She knew he was capable of such a thing from how he was easily able to bug her from their first meeting. It was exasperation at first sight. But the way he charmed his way into her heart was an entirely new kind of annoying. He was all boyish smiles, silly stories, and dramatism… and it was fucking endearing.

But their tipping point came in March.

Much to her chagrin, they had become close friends. They spent a lot of time together, and not just in the classroom or at work. She’d become friends with his friends, and James had become friends with Lily and Marlene after he finally accepted that Lily really wouldn’t ever like him. Though, realistically, he was pretty much over that the second he realized he had feelings for someone else. That slightly-grumpy, highly caffeinated, lovely, hilarious, complaining, sweet, smart, ridiculously difficult angel of a girl.

The girl that made him embarrass himself in front of a party full of people.

He stood with Peter and his girlfriend at a table, chatting as they started sipping on freshly made drinks. James was, admittedly, probably a few too many in. But he couldn’t always exercise impeccable self-control, he decided. So, he stood there, staring at the girl from across the room as she danced with Lily’s girlfriend Marlene with a smile on his face.

“You look ridiculous staring at her like that, mate,” Peter said to James, nudging him lightly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” James snorted, pulling his eyes away from her to smirk at his friend. “Besides, I can stare at my girl all I want.”

“Only she isn’t your girl, James,” Peter reminded him.

“I’d like her to be,” James sighed dreamily, turning his head to look at her again. But this time, a frown overtook his face.

She was now being tapped on the shoulder by some tall, terribly handsome looking guy. James’s stomach lurched a little at the sight. What did this guy think he was doing?

He looked on for a moment as the two talked, growing more and more frustrated. He knew they weren’t together, but that was still his girl. He knew he had to take immediate action. This couldn’t just slide without consequence. James looked around the room almost frantically, trying to figure it out. How could he get all her attention on him instead of that stupid dude hanging off her shoulder?

Aha!

He pushed his cup into Peter’s hand, ignoring his friend questioning what on earth he was doing. He walked, though it was more of a drunken stumble, to the nearest table, clambering up on top of it. He cleared his throat, looking around as more and more people started looking up at him in confusion. Perfect! An audience.

He called her name over the crowd, looking at her intently until she turned to him with wide eyes, shrugging off the other guy that was still trying to get an arm around her. He smiled brightly, though she looked less than amused, shaking her head a little at him.

“I want everyone in this room, and… and everyone forever, everywhere, to know something. I am so, stupidly, madly…” he stopped as he stumbled a little, his foot slipping off of the table’s edge in front of him. “Shit!”

He crashed to the floor, scraping his hand on something on the table as he tried to stop himself from landing too hard on the ground. He winced, both from the tumble to the ground and the pain in his hand. What the hell was so sharp on that table?

“Ow,” he muttered, not even trying to get up yet, rubbing his head a little as he felt quite dizzy.

“James!”

He squinted up with a small, pained smile as her saccharine voice reached his ears as she came rushing over. He groaned a little when she dropped on her knees in front of him, trying to look at his hand. It was bleeding a little bit.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” she mumbled, but he still noticed the worry in her eyes. It made him feel good.

“I’m drunk.”

“Clearly,” she sighed softly, then stood, reaching for his opposite hand. “Come on. Let’s go get you home.”

“I didn’t finish what I wanted–”

“You need to get to bed. You’re a mess, Jamie.”

He smiled a little more at that little nickname. He loved it when she called him that. He agreed instantly to her at that point. How could he say no?

“Okay. Lead the way, mama.”

“...Don’t call me that.”

“Mm,” he shrugged, letting her help him stand up. He hung off of her, practically using her as a human crutch. “You’re so sweet to me.”

She stayed quiet, trying to bring him out of the room of people either staring or laughing at him. It was a miracle she got him home, but she did after a lengthy battle against the sidewalks and stairs. She sat him on his bed, making him stay put as she went to get disinfectant and a bandage for his hand.

He blinked slowly, looking after her with a dopey smile as she left and returned. She sat in front of him on the bed, taking his hand in hers. He barely whined at all when she cleaned off his hand, muttering something about him being a ‘clumsy, ridiculous cunt’. He thought it was cute how she could take care of him so well while still insulting him for being an absolute idiot. He reasoned that at least he would be her idiot.

“Sorry, love,” he mumbled when she finished up with his hand. “But you’re awfully good at this stuff. Maybe I got hurt on purpose just so you’d take care of me.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said, practically force-feeding him some water.

He swallowed. “No, I didn’t. But I could have. I like it like this.”

“You like having your hand all fucked up, and a room full of people laughing at you?”

“I like you sitting with me like this. Giving me alllll your attention,” he giggled. “Besides, you’re really pretty when you’re concentrating. I don’t mind getting hurt if it means you’ll do that silly little thing where your tongue sticks out a bit when you’re focusing.”

“You need to go to sleep,” she said softly, fighting a smile.

“But I didn’t finish what I was gonna say on the table.”

“Too late.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Too bad.”

He whined. “Please? That douchebag who was all over you is gonna go right back to it if you go back to the party.”

“I’m not going back to the party. And what do you even mean? What guy?”

“The one who was on you when I got up on the table,” he pouted.

She quirked a brow. “I don’t even know that guy.”

“That’s worse! He’s gonna steal you away!” James exclaimed. “That isn’t fair. I had you first.”

She swallowed once, looking at him curiously. “What?”

“I don’t like boys looking at you or… or touching you or talking to you or anything. You were mine first. They need to back off,” he said, getting increasingly irritated. “I don’t care if you think I’m annoying or you don’t like me. Doesn’t mean some other boy gets to just… take you.”

“Slow down,” she said, grabbing his arm. “First of all, I do like you, if not evidenced by us becoming friends the past several months. Second… some dude I don’t even know isn’t gonna come along and ‘take me’. That doesn’t even make sense. Besides…”

“It does make sense! You’re so beautiful, and funny, and caring, and really mean but in a way that is super hot…”

“I don’t want to date some random frat boy, James.”

“But they want to date you!”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“I do! I love you! They shouldn’t get to butter you up and take you away from me, it isn’t fair,” he groaned, tossing himself back onto the pillows.

As a result, he didn’t see her mouth drop open at the accidental confession, nor the way her eyes widened as she looked at him.

“You love me?”

“What?”

“You just said you love me.”

James opens his eyes, though he doesn’t look at her. “...no I didn’t.”

“You’re a shit liar, Jamie. I know what I heard.”

He winced a little. “Well… maybe I do. That’s what I was gonna say on the table, anyway.”

“So you’re brave enough to say it in front of a crowd, but you get scared to admit to it one-on-one?” She snorted a laugh.

“It’s easier to not get rejected right away when we’re around other people. Then at least I could figure out your reaction when you were still far away,” he said meekly, finally looking at her.

“You think I’d reject you?”

“Maybe? You kind of hated me when we first met.”

“And now? Who do I spend every waking moment with, dummy?”

“...me?”

She merely raised her brows, opening her hands in an ‘obviously, dumbass’ kind of gesture. He smiled at her.

“So…?” he asked vaguely.

“So… you love me, huh?”

He merely nodded, looking a little sheepish and still pretty drunk. She was thanking her lucky stars that she was still extremely tipsy as well, or else she probably would’ve passed out from nerves.

“What if I said… like, me too?”

His eyes widened. “You too?”

“Yeah.”

“You love me too? Like, also?”

“Yes, like, also,” she laughed. “I’ve honestly had a crush on you since the second day of classes this year.”

“Really?” He smiled brightly. “Ugh, you’re horrible!”

“What?” she scoffed a laugh.

“You are evil! I’ve been saying it since day one. This whole time I thought I was an idiot for liking you so much, and you had a crush on me?”

“To be fair, I really didn’t want to. You were pretty insufferable,” she chuckled, brushing some of his messy hair out of his face.

“Then what changed for me?”

“Nothing. I just started thinking all of your irritating traits were becoming irritatingly adorable.”

“You think I’m adorable?” He giggled to himself.

“Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

“Don’t call me that. I like it better when you call me Jamie.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Makes me all soft and mushy inside.”

“You’re such a sap,” she sighed softly, leaning down over him to kiss his cheek.

He felt his cheeks heat up quickly at the sweet gesture, and even more when she didn’t pull her face away from his. He looked up at her with a soft smile. How could he not have fallen head over heels?

He leaned up slightly, glancing down at her lips before closing his eyes to let her make the first official move. He hoped she’d make that move. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and sparks all over his body when he felt her lips meet his for the first time. He smiled into the kiss, unable to stop himself from it.

He kissed her back, though it was admittedly sloppy with the both of them still fairly inebriated, James being even more so. But to him at the very least, it was perfect.

Against his preference, she pulled away. He pouted, as he usually did when he didn’t get as much attention from her as he’d like.

“You have to promise me something,” she said quietly.

His ears perked up. “Anything.”

“We won’t become annoying like Lily and Marls or Sirius and Remus.”

He grinned. “Does that mean you want to date me?”

“God, you’re dense,” she muttered against his lips, kissing him again with no intention of ever stopping.

#london boy mention ‼️#james potter #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter au #james potter college au #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #marauders #marauders fluff #marauders fanfiction #marauders au #luna still hates jk #luna’s james fics

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r0-boat · 2 months ago

Text

I had a dream about this so I'm going to write some headcans about it

Reader forgetting all their memories headcannons Whb Kings

Cw: angst, hurt very little comfort,no NSFW but get suggestive because of certain people >.>, Demons trying their best, Don't worry You get some comedic relief!

Intro:

Sometimes the kings forget and are reminded how sensitive and fragile humans really are. Weather be from an angel attack or them rough housing a little too much around you. It is not unusual for you to accidentally be in the crossfire. Or whroughhousing, devils sometimes need to hold back in order to protect you from angels.

However, to these Kings who constantly love to show their power like proud peacocks with grenade launchers, They never knew this day was coming when they would look in horror at your lymph body on the ground, your head spilling blood. They're so glad that Lucifer is on their side.

But something is wrong... Lucifer healed you. But once you woke up you had this horrid and confused look on your face. The way their heart simultaneously stopped when you uttered the phrase "Who are you?"

Satan

Satan is not good with fear, to someone who wears his anger freely on his sleeve he's not good with someone who is very very frightened with his frequent angry outbursts that often turn very violent. He was lucky to have met you in a very specific situation to have you get used to as rage and be friends with him, And perhaps something more.

Poor Satan, his violent outbursts are just scaring you more So he tries so desperately to hide it. His entire body shaking because looking at you just fills in with more rage. He tries to assure you that it's not at you. But from the way he's yelling Your human brain interprets it differently Even when you don't want to.

He tries to show you around Gehenna But it seems like the only thing on your mind is The fact that hell exists and you are there.

He feels so useless watching Sitri calm you down and try to explain who are you and why are you here...Sitri can feel the quickening heartbeat of anxiety from his king and tries to make you see him in a different light. Satan is on the verge of tearing apart a building in rage because it hurts to control something that's essentially 100% a part of who he is when before you accepted him with open arms.

He feels like a monster, a feeling that he has never felt being around you and it hurts. He loves you so much and seeing your eyes filled with fear knowing that he caused it hurts him. Even now he's surprised that you come up to him when he's digging his nails into his pillow drowning in his own thoughts. Despite everything you've seen you still somehow feel and need to be close to him. You tell him that He's going too fast and You want to trust them despite... Everything because what your heart tells you doesn't lie, He just has to take it slow and give you some time.

Mammon

From what Lucifer tells him objects also help to recover one's memory. So that's what he does. Mammon has a storage 'closet' where he has little keepsakes all with stories of what he did with you and what time. His chest swells with pride as you look at his golden palace and hallways. "This isn't the first time you've seen these, master." He says with a smile as you hiss at him not to call you that.

He lets you go through the closet one by one every time you pick up or look at an item he tells a story, whether it's the two of you going out shopping or the time he finished constructing his pool that he let you name. There's something oddly calming about re-remembering his precious memories with you. That's why he has this room because every memory of you with him is precious So precious that he must materialize it and keep it. Because if he has anything to learn from a certain devil friend of his is that memories are far too fickle to not keep in physical form.

Mammon is a demon who always looks toward the future. Even now, when he is sharing with you all these memories and trying to help you regain those memories, back He's already looking toward a future solution, perhaps a photo album. It is an idea that he has not used yet, but maybe he could finally have an excuse to use those expensive cameras he has lying around collecting dust.

When he visits he always brings gifts and they are always gifts from places the two of you have either visited in the past or something that is from your memory. Perhaps chocolates from an extremely expensive chocolate store that he has brought you to.

Or maybe he shall bring you to dinner once again at an expensive restaurant he has taken you before. The Kings criticize that he is just using this as an opportunity to spoil you more than instead of actually helping. As much as he finds that insulting because he cares for you so much so that he gave his whole being and life to you but he can't deny that they're not completely wrong.

Leviathan

Leviathan is not okay.... Especially when the first 5 minute interaction you had with him ever since your memories have been wiped was him shaking you and demanding you to get your memories back all the while insulting you on how weak You are before rushing off back to Hades. So your opinion of him is sour. But his subordinate name Foras tells you that surprisingly your first meeting was far worse than this. Leviathan is under the impression that you forgotten him forever and you could never recover your memories. So it's useless to even try.

As much as you don't want to see him his subordinates urge you with begging and pleading and puppy dog eyes to please see him. You only agreed because of how nice they are. Leviathan has locked himself in his room ever since that little outburst in Paradise Lost. When he hears your hesitant voice he pauses before letting you in.

Instead of insulting you are grabbing you partially instead he walks for it to you and talks softly he sounds... Hurt. "Am I truly that forgettable to you?" You don't know why your heart softens to that perhaps it was the fact that deep inside you did feel something for him or maybe it was how kicked he looks right now, His eyes or red from crying? You smiling hold your hand over your heart and tell him the truth "I do feel a fondness for you."

If Lilith or God leave him a second chance to start your meeting all over again He'd taken it. Levi is a lot softer now for some reason that phrase very hauntingly vague yet reassuring. Maybe it's because you're speaking from the heart maybe it's because the fact that something inside you could never forget him.

He gently takes a hold of your wrists and guides your hands to cup his face or intertwine his fingers with yours as he softly asks if You felt something in your heart? Sadly no matter how much he tries In this softer more vulnerable state I don't think you could ever remember him because of most of your memories are quite negative. Just give him this... Just let him be soft and hold you as he asks how your heart feels when he does these things.

Beelzebub

It is what it is! As he introduces himself as Beelzebub to you. You forgot everything? Bro he forgets everything All the time same! It's hard not to get along with Beelzebub even if you have no memory of him He's very adamant that you know him and the two of you are besties.

He brings you to places that he's already brought you before some places he remembers vaguely others not so much. He does have a better time remembering actions or notable places better than words. So he often repeats himself. He's repeated himself so much to you that even now with your memories fuzzy or forgotten what he says to you feels so familiar. His eyes widen when he hears that under your breath because it means he must be doing something good.

The next time he swings by the castle because Bael Heard about your state and is worried sick. Beel sighs and his smile drops A smile that was performative as he speaks to his best friend from the heart.

"ya know... I'm usually always the forgetful one so I never knew how What it was like to be forgotten..." Bael felt something for his friend as he puts a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't help but rub a little salt in the wound "It hurts doesn't it?" Beel could only nod.

Even though devils can't lie, Beel feels like keeping up a smile with you is lying. But he can't stop doing it because it makes you feel calmer to know that everything is okay. You don't need to know that pain he's going through, of just realizing someone he deeply cared about just forgot everything about him, and not knowing if this was permanent or not.

Lucifer

He fixed you up. physically you were good as new... So why are your memories still broken?? He doesn't understand human psychology. Another reminder that he doesn't know everything. Another reminder that he is in hell for his pride. He can't have another incident like this again because of his incompetence.

He can't help but be happy with how many visitors you get. As much as he doesn't like how much competition he has, he can't help but be fond of how much love you get. Though he does probably have to limit visitors since he's pretty sure causing stress on a human is not good for them mentally.

He's with you 24/7 asking you little questions here and there You trust him the most because... You think he's your doctor? He was the first person you saw when you woke up and he has this aura of professionalism and mystique. It was really hard to grasp around the fact that you were in hell and everything you ever learned in the Bible was correct (somewhat) it's really hard to hate Lucifer as a concept when the man is standing right there next to you reading a book human psychology that looked about 50 years old and sipping tea like an English nobleman from the Victorian era as well as him being your doctor. If he was there to hurt you he would have done so already.

You call him Dr. Morningstar as you point out that that book might be a little too outdated. His eyes waiting for a second when you mention his 'last name' He brings the teacup up to his lips tied his smile as he corrects you to just call him Lucifer. And averts his attention to the fact that how could a book about psychology be so outdated when it's produced to not so long ago.

Turns out that not even humans know about their own psychology it's hard to say pitiful that is knowing that he knows nothing. He asks you if you would like to go to the human world to do some book shopping. You don't know why you nodded your head. As you knew that your family is dead and you have no family. But by the time you were there till the time you left you couldn't help that nagging feeling that you were forgetting somebody, somebody important. Lucifer asked about the sad and conflicted look on your face. You just shake your head and tell him "it's nothing."

Belphegor

Belphegor dreams of the past all the time, they're not pleasant dreams but they're better than nightmares. So he thinks that a good way to recover your memories is to sleep He knows that sleep at least makes you feel good and is good for the mind and the soul.

He is not very cultured on Western media, since he prefers anime and manga but he knows that those guys in the west always hold those... What are they called? *Snaps his fingers twice* before Beleth chimes in with the answer "slumber parties?"it's also a good way to get to know you more.

Even though he is just as worried about you and if you'll ever retain your memories ever again as much as the other kings but it's a waste of energy to worry about it and freak out. He'd rather just still get to know you if you recover your memories or not.

And to be frank if his genius calculation of rolling a bullshit d20 on you sleeping is correct and he probably doesn't even need to do anything except have fun nights binge watching anime or reading manga with you.

Occasionally he's still ask the question here or there. Honestly the one who is most worried is Beleth. He is relaxed but not as lax as his king. Because he knows that His king does care for you because he was there when Belphegor try to fight passing out because he knew if he woke up he wouldn't know if you were alive or dead.

Asmodeus

He washed for this event!🎉 It's because he'd rather have everyone caring for you then sucking his dick. He won't be so merciful next time (half joking)

Oh you It seemed like you forgot your memory? Well he knows a little bit more about human psychology then the doctor in front of him. And he does blatantly incompetently say that humans tend to remember unforgettable and 'traumatic experiences' More vividly then regular memories. Give him one night and you'll remember everything. (Half joking) No one found that funny.

He's so adamant that sex solves this issue!! All the other kings are basically either ignoring him or telling him the idea sucks ass. He does like it how your eyes always gaze over at him in such curiosity. You're so cute!!! With your mind wipe clean You're practically a virgin. With those wide little eyes filled with such life and innocence. Just looking at you makes him hard.

He didn't even try to stifle the laugh and smile on his face as he proudly shows you his proof that you know him with the plethora of pictures of his cock inside you or sleeping, or miscellaneous photos from either his subordinates when they hang out with you or the other kings as well as photos you have sent of yourself, that he saved in a special folder called 'fap material❤️' it's the only folder on his phone and He dodges the question every time you ask him about the folder name.

In the end he has the last laugh. literally he's on the floor wheezing, coughing and laughing. When the Kings found out that the memory start to flood back after you had sex with another devil.

#writing Levi's man... That shit hurted #My bad habit of writing things in the way the character writes is showing lol #belphie doing that thing where people snap their fingers trying to remember something speaks to me #some comedy with this angst #whb angst #whb leviathan #whb asmodeus #whb mammon #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb belphegor #whb lucifer #whb x reader #whb #what in hell is bad #angst #what in “hell” is bad?

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holysmokesblog · 1 month ago

Text

The Gray Reunion

Vi x reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Violence, mentions of illness, blood, slightly spicy kisses ;)

Summary: In the midst of the chaos, you struggle to help the people of the Lanes. The truth behind the disaster sparks a confrontation that will test your bonds

Note:English is not my first language, sorry

In the past few hours, your modest apartment had turned into chaos. At least a dozen people had knocked on your door seeking help, intoxicated by something you hadn’t seen in years.

They could barely fit into the small living room, which also served as your kitchen and bedroom, waiting for you to help them, coughing out toxic fumes. Everyone expected you, just as your father had done in the past, to help or offer a solution, but you were completely lost, fumbling with medical supplies that had been stored away for years.

"The gray," murmured an older woman who was holding her husband as he struggled to breathe.

"That’s impossible," you replied. "We haven’t had problems with that in years, the ventilation system..."

"Then there must be a leak," she interrupted, raising her voice before a violent cough cut her off. You watched as her hand was splattered with blood. She inhaled deeply before continuing, "I’ve been through this before, but we don’t have the years on us anymore. Your father treated it countless times. Doesn’t he have notes somewhere?"

You sighed in defeat. "I’ve lost most of Dad’s things over the years. All I have left is what you see." You placed the stethoscope on a child’s back to listen to his breathing. "There’s nothing I can do. We just have to wait for the lungs to clean themselves... and stay far from the leak."

A collective groan arose from the people packed into your small space. "And how are we supposed to do that? We live there! Where can we go?" Various complaints began to rise.

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. We just have to wait until they repair the leak."

"They’re not going to fix it! It’s those damn enforcers! They’re killing us to get to Jinx!" Another wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

You tried to remain calm. Could that be true? Were the people above really capable of poisoning everyone just to catch Jinx? Those above had taken so much from you already that it seemed entirely plausible. But then an image came to mind—Violet. She was in Piltover now, and she would never let this happen, not to the place that had been her home for so many years and still was yours. Right?

You continued your work, trying to calm the rebellion brewing in your living room, tending to the most severe cases of nosebleeds and eye hemorrhages. But there wasn’t much more you could do. Around three in the morning, the last person finally left.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto your bed, utterly defeated. Chances were, all the patients you’d seen today would return tomorrow with new symptoms. It was impossible to recover from the gray while constantly exposed to it. You knew that if it was a crack, it would take years to fix. And if it was intentional, if they were hunting Jinx... that would also take time. There was no way they’d catch her.

A knock on the door kept you from falling completely asleep. You cursed under your breath—new patients. Your father’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you how he wouldn’t rest until he’d helped the last person who needed him. You repeated the phrase to yourself before getting up to answer the door, only to be met with a great surprise.

Vi stood there, but the most shocking thing was her outfit. She was dressed as a full-fledged officer, an enforcer. You couldn’t suppress a gasp of utter disbelief. You had spent years of your life together; you knew her story as well as your own, and never would you have imagined the possibility of her wearing something like that—not even as a joke.

"I’m truly surprised," you murmured. She scoffed in irritation. You stepped aside to let her in, and she dropped her new, heavy gloves onto your floor. You bit your lip to keep from scolding her.

The past few days had been madness: Vi’s return, the search for Jinx, and your responsibilities trying to honor your father’s legacy had left you with barely a moment to breathe.

"Lots of patients?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Too many," you replied, collapsing onto the bed again. She still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "You can lie down if you want... Unless you’re scared of dirtying that pretty uniform." She let out a short laugh before lying down next to you.

"I’ve barely seen you since you came back... I don’t think I ever got to tell you how happy I am that you’re here... Despite everything."

"Yeah, I suppose the first hug you gave me said it all."

"I mean it, Vi," you said, turning to face her. "Everything got so hard, but now you’re here, and I feel like things will get better."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah, we just have to fix a few things, and everything will improve." She propped herself up to sit beside you. "You look really pretty," she added. "Those dark circles suit you."

You couldn’t help but laugh. For just a moment, all the bad things disappeared. It was just the two of you in your small apartment—no Jinx, no gray, no problems in the Lanes. Just you two. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. She froze for a moment.

"I thought you missed me," she teased.

"I did."

"That’s not a reunion kiss. This is." Without warning, she leaned over and kissed you deeply. You welcomed her eagerly—it was like a breath of fresh air, something rare where you’d grown up. The kisses grew more intense, and your hands wandered over her torso and back. Vi positioned herself on top of you, using her hand for support on your pillow. But she quickly pulled it back.

"What’s this?" she asked.

You looked to the side, confused, and saw a large bloodstain. You hadn’t even noticed it. You sighed. "I’m really sorry." You sat up slightly, but Vi didn’t move off you. You grabbed the pillow and threw it to the other side of the room. "It’s been such a complicated day with the ventilation cracks."

"Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not at my best, either."

"Doesn’t seem like it." You kissed her intensely again, and she adjusted immediately.

"When all this is over, we should go on a real date. Like dinner and all that cheesy stuff."

You laughed against her lips at her failed attempt at romance. "I just hope it’s soon."

"It will be," she declared confidently. "Once they catch Jinx, everything will get better, and life in the Lanes will change—just like Vander always wanted."

Vi’s hands slipped under your shirt as you shared another passionate kiss, but her words lingered in your mind.

"Wait, wait, no," you said, pushing her slightly so she moved off you.

"Oh, do you want to take control, doll?" she teased.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" She looked confused, so you pushed her again to sit beside you. "The gas? Was it you?"

Vi stayed silent, hesitant to answer.

"Is this some kind of joke? You’re poisoning us just to catch your sister?" you shouted, furious.

"Hey, hey, it’s not like that... I mean, yes, but not how you think."

"You bitch," you spat, jumping out of bed. "Do you even understand the damage you’ve caused?"

"Listen to me. We used the gray to clear the streets, to keep people safe," she tried to explain.

"Used? Who’s ‘we’? You and your new enforcer friends? Well, you didn’t protect anyone!" You exploded. "Do you have any idea how many people you hurt? At least fifty came here today!"

"She’s a murderer! She killed half the council, she—"

"She’s not a traitor," you cut her off sharply.

The room fell silent as you watched Vi clench her fists in anger. You’d struck a nerve.

"Did you really do this for her? Or did your new enforcer friend convince you?" you spat, unable to hide your disgust.

"Don’t call her that!" Vi’s hands grabbed the collar of your shirt, pushing you against the wall.

You stayed inches apart for what felt like ten seconds before she let go, though she didn’t step back. Her heavy breathing mixed with yours, and you could smell the perfume from her uniform—a scent impossible to find down here.

"Get out of my house," you whispered.

"You have to understand—"

"Get out!"

Vi sighed loudly, grabbed her heavy gloves from the floor, and walked to the door. You opened it for her, stepping aside. She crossed the threshold without meeting your gaze but stopped in the doorway.

"I hope your new friend is worth it." She didn’t turn around, just kept walking down the dark street, away from your home.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

What had you expected? Nothing had stayed the same over the years.

You locked the door before collapsing into bed. Tomorrow would be another hard day in the Lanes.

#arcane netflix #arcane series #league of legends #league of leguends #vi arcane #arcane lol #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #arcane #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #the grey #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane season two

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solitary-traveler · 9 months ago

Text

Seeking Sweet Serenity

You're tired after a long day and Wanderer is there to help you.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Notes: This is very self indulgent. School sucks ass and I fr need to be comforted by Wanderer.

Art: @yXaBLUGg7Yqtw1y (X)

Warning: None, this is just pure fluff.

Life is shit.

So shit.

Your natural efficiency attracted incompetency, individuals at every turn would raise their voice to seize your attention. Yet every word they spill, every letter that rolls out their tongue, were nothing but vexing phrases.

“Traveler, please help me!”

“Traveler, can you do me a favor?”

You were sick of it.

Your throat releases a sigh from its confines as you shoulder brusquely the wooden door in front of you. A feeling of tranquility often swaddles you upon entering your shared apartment with Wanderer, but right now, the solace you had found was rived from your grasp, leaving you vulnerable to animosity. Your thoughts torment your brain, tears pricking the rim of your eyes. Oh how you’d do anything to stop yourself from feeling this way.

Upon overhearing the door screech, Wanderer glances at the entrance. He caught sight of your silhouette, stumbling on your feet. The corners of his lips shifted upwards, it was amusing how much you were akin to that of a drunk person. He rests his arms around his chest, shoulders slumped against the wall. “Who killed you? You look like a corpse”, he teased.

You didn’t answer, opting to stay quiet. The stillness grew, leaving a lingering sense of unbearable silence hanging in the air.

Wanderer couldn’t help but raise a brow. You were acting most peculiar today. Usually, you would’ve returned his jab, possibly even teasing him back just to watch him squirm and insult you back. Yet you remain rooted in your place, not uttering a single term.

Sensitive to this agonizing dread of not hearing your voice, he decided to approach you. His footsteps were light, his sandals clicking across the floor boards. “You alright?” he asked, looming over you. Despite his imposing figure, he was gentle, almost afraid that he might break you with every word that slips out his mouth. Without warning, your figure clasps its hands around him, leaving the Wanderer stunned. “I’m fine”, was the reply you managed to choke out.

But he knew better. He knew you weren’t fine.

Though how was he supposed to react to this? The Wanderer was never one to deal with emotions. All throughout his life, he channeled all his emotions into a glass bottle before throwing them far away into the depths of his non-existent heart. It wasn’t healthy, he knows that now. It only escalates everything further. He has long abandoned his fervent feelings, and he was just slowly unboxing them again. He doesn’t have any clue as to how one should properly deal with them. But watching you suffer in his arms made him wish he knew. It made him wish he was well versed in the area, that he knew how to help you with your current situation.

With only one card available to play, he decided to gamble his chance. He tried a method that worked for him, a process Nahida does whenever he was emotionally unstable. With a soft sigh, he cards his gloved fingers through your locks. ”You wanna cuddle on the couch… and talk about it?” he asked, a certain softness coating his words. You merely looked up and nodded your head meekly.

Wanderer smiles.

You just want to be comforted.

And he knew that.

He'll make sure you're okay.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fanfic #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #scara x y/n #scaramouche x reader #gender nuetral reader #genshin x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact wanderer #scaramouche fanfic #wanderer fanfic #scara fanfic

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tothosewholisten · 5 months ago

Text

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 08

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

Tw: dead animal and copious amounts of blood

…

“Welcome to The Umbrella Academy, Number Zero.”

“Number Zero, get up.”

“Go to your room Number Zero.”

“Do what you're told, Number Zero.”

“Number Zero! Come here.”

“Stop crying Number Zero.”

“You aren’t a baby Number Zero.”

“No dinner for Number Zero.”

“You're not good enough Number Zero.”

“Stop misbehaving Number Zero.”

Phrases I've heard Reginald say time and time again. I hated that girl Number Zero, whoever she was.

My name is Y/n L/n, and Reginald Hargreeves knew that. But I hated him too because he made me like this. A freak of nature and it was clear he hated me too.

Not once would you ever hear praise and the words ‘Number Zero’ in the same sentence.

So I never understood why he adopted me if he couldn’t stand the sight of me. But deep down I knew why, it was the same reason why he adopted all of us children he needed our powers not us.

He would make me do whatever he wanted without concern or consequence. And nobody would dare tell him no, cause he did the same thing to everyone else around him.

I slept on the cold table for what felt like years, as my mind drifted to days I'd like to forget.

17 YEARS AGO

I stood alone in the middle of an unfamiliar room anxious for what was to come. There was no furniture or even windows except for a small wooden desk, and the only glow in said room came from the desk lamp.

Today was my first day of training, Reginald explained to me. And I was a scared twelve-year-old who’d just arrived at the Academy.

He stood in front of me, stopwatch in his bony hand. But he wasn't the only person in the room. There was another man I did not know, and all I can remember about him was how tall he was.

“Begin.”

My stance was shaky as a withering tree when Reginald uttered those words. I didn't know what to do, I just kept standing there. But the man didn't.

He inched closer and closer so I moved back, extremely terrified when it clicked in my head what the man was about to do.

“Do it.”

The man’s steps wavered, but he followed instructions. He raised the gun in his right hand and he shot me.

The sound of the bullet leaving the gun made the room shake and my screaming body instantly hit the cold wooden floor.

Then I heard the stopwatch start.

The bullet hit me directly in the heart. The man must've been some type of trained killer because of the way he would hit me with great accuracy each time. As expected I was still conscious but too scared to move, so I sat there paralyzed and cried. I cried because It hurt. I cried for my mother. I cried because that was all I could do.

Nobody in the room moved; they were waiting for the thing to happen.

And they didn't have to wait that long. At first, it felt like gears were turning in my head. But from the perspective of Reginald the somewhat dark room was illuminated by the swirls of bright light coming from my chest. Then I could move my feet and fingers and I could blink.

I sat upwards from my uncomfortable position as the bullet that had just been in me popped back out. And the spilled blood surrounding my body reversed back into my chest as well as my old bullet wound was completely healed.

I was as good as new.

“Again.”

“Number Zero, get up.”

Every day felt like a constant battle. I was beaten, mangled and killed every single day in new sick ways that he came up with.

“We have a lot to work on, Number Zero. You have missed years of training already. You cannot play anymore.”

I went to bed everyday yearning for it to be over but I kept coming back each day for more. I learned to fight from getting my ass kicked. He tested my durability and timed me, by telling me to break my bones and rip off body parts, just to see how long it would take for them to heal.

“You need to be better, Number Zero.”

“I'm trying!” I screamed but it fell on deaf ears. I'd never fought anyone before, he expected everything to be engraved in my head by day five. And when it wasn't he started taking things away.

“No dinner for Number Zero.”

I was angry. I threw tantrums, destroyed my room and hurt myself. Which never mattered to him.

“Stop misbehaving Number Zero.”

By thirteen I did what I had to but I tuned the world out. My thought process was whatever happened to me just happens and I'll always be okay.

He turned me into a shell of my past self. Who could kill whoever he needed and get back up whenever pushed down. And I don’t think anybody knew the extent my private lessons were going and I wasn't going to tell them either way.

“Number Zero! Come here.”

It wasn't only myself I had to heal, he tried to have me heal others too.

I'd found myself again in the same room where I was first trained. This time accompanied by a dog, I don’t remember what breed he was but he was cute and fluffy and I wished I could keep him.

The same man from before with the same gun stood against the wall.

“Begin.”

The dog was let off his leash and ran towards me. He licked my face, he wanted to play, he was a nice dog.

My happiness didn't last for long, because the man got off the wall and headed towards us. I hugged the small dog hoping that if I held him hard enough he wouldn't do what he was assigned. But that man always followed instructions.

“Do it.”

The fluffy dog was taken out of my arms. He barked in protest and tried to run back over to me but he never made it. He was shot right in his stomach. I burst into tears, trying to run out of the room.

“Stop crying Number Zero. You aren’t a baby.”

Reginald grabbed me and made me face the dying dog. He threw me towards him yelling a command.

“Do what you're told, Number Zero.”

I tried, I honestly did, but I couldn’t do it. No one told me how he just expected me to know how to heal the dog. I've only healed my mother and I wasn't even sure how I did that.

My hands were covered in the dog's blood as I sobbed. I thought if I just thought about it hard it would happen, and yes my hands did flicker but the dog still laid there dead.

“I can’t,” I whispered

I wanted to save that dog. I looked up at the disappointed Reginald, not knowing what to do.

“You're not good enough Number Zero.”

The dog's life force was officially gone. He was the first thing I let die.

I screamed and kicked trying to get my hands back on the dog but I was dragged out of the room.

“Mission one failed,” Reginald said out loud while writing in his book.

PRESENT DAY

“Miss Y/n, are you listening?” The ape snapped his fingers in front of my dazed face. I was still on the table in the operations room, and judging by Pogo’s restlessness I'd been here for a while.

I gasped while grabbing onto my head, which still felt partially bashed in. “How long have I been here for?” I asked him.

Pogo’s hairy hands went into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a tiny pocket watch. “Well, Master Diego dropped you off here around Nine pm yesterday and now it’s about a quarter till Nine am. Almost Ten hours Miss Y/n.”

“Ten hours and my head hasn’t healed yet?” My clasped hands moved from my head to my hair as I tugged and worried. “What’s going on with me, a—are my powers not working??” I started to hyperventilate. Without these powers, I'm sure that I’ll succumb to my injuries and die.

The ape shook his head. “Your powers are working just fine, don’t worry my dear. I've been here ever since Master Diego found me and told me of the situation. Your head is healing, yes, but very slowly.”

I didn’t want this to be the end, there was still so much I could do, but then again I've never actually put any thought into how it would go.

Being bludgeoned by a man with a kid’s mask on is not how I'm leaving this world.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves just as Vanya taught me a while back. Oh shit. “Where’s Vanya?”

Pogo looks away from me. “After the attack on the academy yesterday, your other siblings minus Master Luther deemed it was too risky for her to stay. Because she cannot protect herself like the rest of you..”

“They kicked her out?” I begrudgingly stood up from my seat. “Why do they always do that? I saved her. It's okay now, and she would’ve never gotten hurt if she wasn't looking for me.”

“Miss Y/n please, I don't advise you to leave you aren’t healed. Please sit back down, you can find her later.” He was right, even just standing up took the wind out of me.

Maybe my age was finally catching up with me and this is how my life will continue. I took a seat back down as I finally registered what I was wearing by looking down, I no longer had my jacket. Just jeans and my black shirt.

“Oh! I think Master Diego hung up your jacket back in your bedroom.” Pogo said, sensing my confusion. “It’s a miracle that thing had no blood on it or tears, I know how much that jacket means to you.”

“That’s very nice of him? I didn't know he had it in him.”

“Of course my dear, everyone worries for you. You always took beating after beating with no repercussions. It always amazed me. That being said, you need to be careful.” He explains.

I scratch at my freezing skin. “What?”

“Because you need to take it easy, yes you are formidable but that doesn’t mean you can go around just injuring yourself.” The monkey's accent enunciated every word.

I laugh. “Reginald used to think so.” Pogo stops mid-thought at the mention of him. He looks at me with sorrow in his big eyes. “Never mind that.” He says boldly.

“You took lots of hits yesterday even before getting your head caved in. Other areas of your body heal faster but the brain is such a febrile thing. You need your brain to be able to connect with your powers, being shot once is one thing. But being hit with such intenseness, you're glad your brain was still able to do it. Other times in the future you won't be as lucky, my girl.”

Thank God I stayed awake. No literally thank God, whatever grass field I woke up in felt like death.

“Stay here for maybe five more hours and it should be healed.”

My tense body shivers as I speak up. “Pogo I can’t wait that long, who knows what I missed I need to get back out there.”

“No, I’m prescribing you to stay here and heal your injury.” The short man said.

“Vanya has been kicked out, people just attacked our house, I haven’t seen Klaus and Five forever and who knows what the idiot patrol is going to do next!” I ramble while on my fingers everything that's been going on recently.

He looks up at my disgruntled figure.

“Pogo, please.”

He sighs. “There is a slight alternative, however, it's never been tested and is probably quite painful.” Pogo turns from me to rummage in a few shelves.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I'm afraid you're not going to be happy when you figure out what it is, Miss Y/n.” He yelled from the other side of the room. “I'm sure I've heard worse, Pogo.”

The man returns with an old wooden box covered in small detailed vines. “Your father was always worried that any moment could be your last. For example, If you were too weak to activate your powers or didn’t on purpose.”

“Once you were around fourteen, he started to work on your blood by gathering samples. He did things to alter the samples to create the perfect healing serum or just a boost for your powers.”

I told Pogo I'd be ready for any news but this had been terrifying. “When did he have time to even do that?”

“All of your checkups here in the operations room.” Pogo tilts his head down. “That’s when he would take samples.”

“That is so fucked.” I yell. “How could I have never suspected something was happening when I would be in here almost every day?”

“None of this is your fault, your father just wanted to make sure you're safe. Even if his measures were a bit forward.”

I shake my head at him. “Pogo, this wasn't out of love at all, don't you realize he only did this because he needed me for his purpose? So that I couldn’t get free of this. He only needed me alive for my powers, not because he cared.”

“I assure you your father meant well, somewhere in his heart. But now is the time to use it to speed up the process of your head healing.” Pogo lifts open the top of the box revealing a velvet inside. And rows and rows of tiny indents in the velvet that held little vials of liquid. This liquid looked exactly like my powers, even though it was made out of my normal-colored blood.

It makes me shudder thinking about what he did to it, and me. But I know I had to get it done if I wanted to get out of here. “Okay, so we just inject it into my arm? And I walk out of here after?”

“Not exactly..” says Pogo. “We don't know what could happen, it’s never been tested on anyone. But my best guess is to inject it right into the injury so it will spread there.”

“You mean you're going to stick a needle into my head?” I look at him in horror.

“Why yes, unless you want to take my instructions to wait here for five hours.”

“Grab the needle.”

After a bunch of hesitance and worrying Pogo had me lay down on the table fully. He walked up to my indented head with the syringe and without warning stuck it in my head. “Pogo!” I cry out.

The ape didn't respond, instead, he put the box back on the shelf where he got it. “How do you feel?” He asked.

At this point I didn't feel anything different from the splitting headache my broken head was giving me. “I feel the same-“

Then it started to hit me. It felt like a mix of adrenaline and crack all at once.

My powers shined around my head, the healing felt like it was moving faster than I could compute it. It made my body feel like it was on fire, and I signaled that to the ape by screaming out in pain. But it didn't last long because like I said, my powers were moving fast. I blinked and my head felt as good as new.

Pogo stared at me in shock at the display he just watched. “It’s a miracle!” He grins. “How did it feel?”

My eyes darted across the room trying to put into words, outside of my head, how the sensation felt.

“Well I wouldn't recommend it, but it got the job done. Hopefully, I never have to take that again. But thank you Pogo” I reply standing up while my wobbly legs try to position themselves correctly.

“I need to do something that's going to contribute. Either find Five or Vanya or talk to everyone else.” I mutter under my breath.

He stuttered wanting to say more and try to convince me any way he could but my path to the door was clear.

“Thanks again, Pogo!” I shouted over my shoulder. I wasn't even sure how the rest of the mansion would look after the attack, I just wished everyone was okay.

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

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sleepingdeath-light · 5 months ago

Text

ranpo edogawa smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; nobody / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; bungo stray dogs

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; ranpo edogawa

outline ; “smut hcs for ranpo”

note ; may be a bit shaky in terms of characterisation as i haven’t written for this character before, may come back and tweak this in the future…

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, dominant-leaning!ranpo, mean dom!ranpo, brat!ranpo, food play, somnophilia, praise kink, edging, overstimulation

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

ranpo is a switch by nature but it’s not often that you’ll get the chance to truly dominate him in the bedroom — of course there are times where he wants nothing more than to sit back and be pampered by his adoring dom/domme after a long day of solving cases that everyone else is too stupid to crack themselves, and there are certainly times where he’ll get all whiny and bratty in an effort to get your attention back on him when he feels like you’re neglecting him, but nine times out of ten when you two are being intimate its the world’s greatest detective that’s holding the reins

a lazy lover by nature, ranpo prefers to have sex with you on top doing most (or even all) of the work — ideally this means you riding him in the ‘cowgirl’ or ‘reverse cowgirl’ position while he gets to sit back and take in the view, but if you ask him nicely enough then he can be convinced to spread his legs and let you fuck him with your strap/cock (just don’t expect him to get any more active now that you’re inside of him, if anything he becomes even more of a pillow prince when you do this)

as a dom he can get rather mean, putting his powers of observation to good use by ensuring you never have a moment’s peace when you’re in his vicinity (unless you use a safe word, of course; he may be cruel, but he’s not a monster!) — this usually translates to him teasing the hell out of you in public in ways that are subtle enough to not tip anyone else off about what he’s really saying and doing, but he also uses his intense familiarity with you and your body to edge and deny you in the bedroom until he gets whatever it is he wants from you

as touched upon earlier, when he’s in a more submissive mood ranpo gets extremely needy and demanding of your attention and affection — and if you happen to be distracted by something (or someone) else and he feels at all neglected by you as a result then he’ll turn into a complete and utter brat who can and will make your life a whole lot more difficult than it needs to be until you either give into his demands (ideal for him) or put him in his place (not ideal but still enjoyable enough for him)

he’s a big fan of food play and often goes out of his way to bring home sweet foods that he knows are completely safe for you both to play with — of course there are the standard items like whipped cream or chocolate sauce, but ranpo is much more adventurous than that and is always eager to branch out and test out which new flavour and texture combinations work best with the taste of your release (frankly this is one of the only times where ranpo will be active and engaged in the bedroom, so enjoy it while it lasts!)

ranpo excels at dirty talk because he’s quick to pick up on what gets you hot and bothered — whether you’re more into degradation or praise or if you prefer him to mix them together, whether you get harder/wetter from his voice when he’s whispering his words against the shell of your ear or when he’s teasing you in his normal speaking voice, what you like him to call you and what tone he should use when he’s saying it, what phrases get the best reactions out of you, and so on… all things that he picks up on pretty much the first time you two sleep together and that he continues to make use of for the rest of your relationship

he loves being woken up by you either fucking yourself on his cock or sucking him off after he’s had a wet dream — nothing beats it in his eyes and he swears waking up like that gives him much more energy to deal with the day ahead of him

he can enjoy giving and receiving mild amounts of pain (e.g. playful spanking, leaving hickeys on each other, and some light hair pulling), but refuses to engage in anything more extreme (such as knife play or breath play) — yes he knows how to participate in those kinks safely, and yes he can understand the appeal of those kinks on paper, but he refuses to engage in anything that runs a risk of causing either of you real harm and that’s one limit of his that will never change

ranpo has a massive praise kink and loves hearing you tell him how good he’s making you feel, how amazing he is, how much you love him, and so on — and if you happen to combine it with some begging for his touch (bonus points if it’s for his frustratingly talented tongue or his cock) then you’re all but guaranteed to have an eventful evening ahead of you

because of his intimate familiarity with your body ranpo is extremely good at both edging and overstimulating you, skills that he takes full advantage of when he’s dominating you — e.g. edging you until you say what he wants you to or until he’s bored of doing so, and then overstimulating you until you’re in tears and either clearly too far gone to continue or lucid enough to call the safe word before you get to that point

his approach to aftercare varies depending on what role he was in and how intense your session together was — e.g. if he was submitting to you then he expects to be pampered and will act rather childish and entitled to the ‘princess treatment’ from you, whereas if he was dominating you he’ll remain lighthearted and teasing while also subtly checking you over for any injuries and just generally making sure you’re okay (he might even share some of his snacks with you if he’s feeling nice enough… might being the key word there)

#sleepingdeath #minors dni #minors will be blocked #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs will be blocked #gender neutral reader #smut #smut hcs #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #ranpo edogawa smut #ranpo smut #ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

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nhlclover · 18 days ago

Text

CHRISTMAS TREE FARM KIRBY DACH

— event masterlist !

pairing: fem!reader x kirby dach

summary: yours and kirby's first christmas in your new house kicks off as you search for the perfect tree

warnings: nothing!

wc: 1.69k

notes: fic number four in my 12 days of xmas event! this is a cute idea in theory but i have heard one too many horror stories about spiders in trees to never get a real tree

Your first Christmas in your shared place with Kirby meant the changing of traditions.

For years, your four-foot-tall synthetic pine tree was the perfect centrepiece for your tiny apartment during the holidays. It fit perfectly in the corner of your living room, decorated in string lights and tiny baubles when the season came around.

But now, everything has changed. Your new home — a proper house, with more rooms and higher ceilings — called for something grander. The diminutive tree, once perfect, suddenly felt out of place in your freshly upgraded surroundings. It was time for a full-sized tree, one that matched the new chapter of your life.

Kirby, however, had other ideas. Firmly attached to childhood memories of fresh pine scent, he insisted on a real tree this year. His excitement was contagious, and soon, the two of you were bundled up and driving an hour outside Montreal to a picturesque Christmas tree farm.

The crisp December air bit at your cheeks as you and Kirby stepped out of the car, boots crunching on a patchwork of frost and dirt. Before you stretched a sea of evergreens - rows upon rows of firs, spruces, and pines, their limbs sagging under a heavy blanket of snow. The air was thick with the smell of pine and earth, mingling with the faint echo of distant voices and the whir of a chainsaw. This was not the bustling lot of pre-cut trees you'd frequented in the past, but a proper Christmas tree farm, sprawling and timeless, as if untouched by the haste of modernity.

Kirby, bundled in a black parka and a knit hat that sat slightly askew, surveyed the scene before him. “Alright,” he murmured, his breath curling in the cold air like smoke. “It’s out there somewhere. The perfect tree.”

You smiled, tucking your gloved hands into your coat pockets for warmth. “Just so long as it doesn’t take all day. My fingers are already frozen.”

Kirby grinned, his eyes alight with boyish enthusiasm. He hoisted the chainsaw out of the back of his car and started toward the nearest row of evergreens. “C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

The two of you meandered into the forest of trees, saw in hand, ready to claim a piece of this natural expanse for your living room. The first tree you approached was stately, its branches dense and green, with a satisfying triangular shape. You turned to Kirby with a hopeful look, but he tilted his head, squinting as if trying to solve a riddle. He circled the tree slowly, running a gloved hand along the needles.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “The back side has a bare patch.”

“It’s going to be against the wall,” you pointed out, already feeling a chill crawl up your legs.

Kirby shook his head, resolute. “We’ll keep looking.”

And so, the journey continued. Tree after tree presented itself as a potential candidate, only to fall short of Kirby’s exacting standards. Too sparse. Too lopsided. Too short. Too tall. The phrase just ‘pick one already’ hovered on the tip of your tongue, biting back the urge to utter it aloud as you trudged through the snow.

“Kirby, my fingers are about to snap off,” you finally said, rubbing your mitten-covered hands together for emphasis. “Can’t we compromise? Like, just a little?”

“We’ve only seen half the lot,” he replied, undeterred. “Trust me, the perfect one is out there.”

You sighed, casting a glance back toward the farm entrance where cheerful families bustled about, loading their chosen trees onto trailers. Kirby’s optimism was beginning to grate against your growing fatigue. You had dressed for the weather, accommodating the recent winter chill that had settled over Quebec, but the cold had seeped past your thermal socks and three layers of clothing.

At last, when you were two seconds away from abandoning your boyfriend in the snow, you found it — a towering Fraser fir, its branches full and evenly spaced, tapering upward in a perfect, natural silhouette. The deep, lustrous green of its needles seemed to absorb the fading light. Kirby circled the tree, his expression shifting from skeptical to satisfied, his gloved fingers brushing the branches as if to confirm its solidity. “This is it,” he declared, a triumphant smile breaking across his face.

You wanted to roll your eyes but instead let out a relieved laugh. “Great. Let’s cut it down before I freeze solid.”

Kirby started up the chainsaw, the sound of the engine roaring to life shattering the tranquil quiet of the farm. Kirby knelt in the snow, the chainsaw grumbling as he carefully angled it toward the base of the tree. The blade bit into the wood with a satisfying growl, and the tree began to teeter.

“Watch out!” Kirby called, grinning ear to ear. The tree groaned softly before yielding with a final crack, the weight of it falling into the bed of snow below.

Within a couple of minutes, workers — bundled in plaid jackets and exuding a practiced efficiency — arrived on a four-wheeler, securing your tree to the attached trailer and saying they’d meet you at the front of the lot.

By the time you and Kirby reached the front of the lot, the fading sunlight had stained the sky a dusky lavender. The towering Fraser fir sat waiting for you, propped majestically against a rustic wooden fence. Beside it, a cheerful teenager with flushed cheeks and a red woolen scarf waved enthusiastically as you approached.

As the tree was whisked away, Kirby dusted the snow off his knees, a victorious gleam in his eyes. “See?” he said, pointing dramatically after the departing four-wheeler. “The perfect tree was worth the search.”

You arched an eyebrow, pulling your scarf up over your nose to shield yourself from the persistent wind. “I think I lost feeling in my feet somewhere around tree number twenty-three. But sure, let's call it worth it.”

Kirby chuckled, brushing a light dusting of snow from your shoulder. “Come on, Scrooge. Let’s get to the front before you turn into a popsicle.”

The two of you began the trek back toward the lot entrance, Kirby glancing at trees as you passed. He nearly stopped by one, a full Balsam fir, but you yanked him away. The snow crunched beneath your boots, muffling your footsteps, and your breath curled in little white clouds between bouts of conversation.

“By the way,” you said, glancing sideways at him, “what’s the plan if this thing doesn’t actually fit in the living room?”

“Oh, it’ll fit,” he replied confidently.

“And if it doesn’t?”

Kirby shot you a playful grin. “Then we’ll just have to expand the living room.”

You laughed, the sound of it rising into the frosty air. “Great, I'll call the contractor. 'Hi, we'd like to add a wing to our house because my boyfriend couldn’t settle for a smaller tree.' That’s totally normal, right?”

He smirked, nudging you with his shoulder. “Admit it. You’re going to love it once it’s all lit up with the smell of fresh pine in the air. It'll make your little plastic tree look like a coat rack.”

You gasped, feigning insult. “That ‘coat rack’ served me loyally for years! It deserved a proper retirement, not slander.”

“Well,” he said, slinging an arm over your shoulders, “let's honor its service by making this Christmas the best one yet.”

The lot entrance came into view, marked by a small cabin strung with twinkling lights and wreaths. Workers were already waiting with your tree, neatly bundled and ready for loading. Kirby picked up the pace, his excitement ramping up again as he took in the scene.

Approaching your car, you surveyed the logistics of attaching the tree to the roof. Kirby grabbed the first end of the rope from a cheerful worker and gave it a determined tug. “Alright, teamwork time.”

“Teamwork?” you echoed skeptically. “You’re the one who chose a tree big enough to double as a communications tower. I think this is a you problem.”

“Correction,” Kirby said, hauling the tree into position with exaggerated effort, “it’s an us problem. Now grab the other side and help me tie this bad boy down.”

Reluctantly, you took your position on the other side of the car. The two of you maneuvered the tree onto the roof with no small amount of effort, grunting and laughing as branches poked and prodded at every exposed surface.

“Stop letting it slide toward me!” you scolded, trying to wrangle the base into position.

“I’m not letting it slide,” Kirby retorted, laughing as he reached over to steady it. “You’re just losing your grip!”

“My grip is fine. Your aim is questionable,” you shot back, attempting to keep your balance as you stood on the edge of the car.

Finally, after several rounds of repositioning, looping rope, and a near-miss with the antenna, the tree was secured. Kirby gave the rope one last triumphant tug and stepped back, hands on his hips as he admired the handiwork. “Perfect,” he declared.

You circled the car, inspecting the knots. “Perfectly ridiculous,” you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Are we sure this thing isn’t going to take flight on the highway?”

“It’s not going anywhere,” Kirby assured you. Then, as if to test his theory, he gave the tree a hearty shake. It barely budged. “See? Solid.”

“Great,” you said, brushing the pine needles off your coat. “Now let’s get home before I get frostbite.”

Kirby held the car door open for you with a mock bow. “Your chariot awaits, oh cold and cranky one.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward. “If this tree doesn’t turn out to be magical, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“Oh, it’s magical, alright,” he said, slipping into the driver’s seat and firing up the engine. “Just wait until you see it all dressed up. It’s going to be the best Christmas ever.”

As the car rumbled to life and pulled onto the snowy road, you stole a glance at the massive tree on the roof. For all the grumbling, the aching fingers, and the biting cold, you had to admit — Kirby might just be right.

#kirby dach #kirby dach imagine #kirby dach x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #montreal canadiens #kd77 #`✦ˑ ✒️ 𓂃⊹ my works #clover's twelve days of christmas!

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mc-lukanette · 1 month ago

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Luka knew that Marinette was Ladybug. Actually, he'd known for a while. What he didn't know was how long Marinette had known that he knew.

She didn't tell him so, but he saw it in how she reacted to him. She didn't feel as much need for excuses, often not saying anything before racing off as soon as there were signs of an akuma. He hadn't particularly done anything to dissuade the idea that he knew either, partly because it was true but also because he wasn't sure what to do with the information himself.

When he was certain she knew was a day on the Liberty where he'd found her idling on her phone. The other girls had headed up onto the deck, but Marinette had remained in the lounge room for whatever reason and he was genuinely curious about it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, stepping up to her and slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Luka!" She giggled innocently. "I didn't know you were here! You weren't playing anything."

"I was meditating," he said, though eyed her body language with suspicion. Her logic for not knowing he was around checked out, but he felt as if she wasn't telling the truth. He only ignored it because he couldn't figure out why she would lie about it.

"Oh. I'm just playing a new game that came out." She raised her phone as close to his face as she could.

He noted the main menu and the characters strewn about, recognizing them instantly as the superheroes that fought against akuma, such as Ladybug and even himself. He tilted his head to look past the phone at her, asking, "What's it about?"

She scooched to the side despite the already available space on the couch, then patted the spot where she'd been sitting. He wasn't a big fan of gaming himself, but he was a big fan of Marinette, so he sat in the spot she'd offered up and listened intently to her talk.

"You pick one character to start," she explained, indicating the various options on-screen, "and then the more levels you play, the more coins you get, and you can use it to buy upgrades or more characters."

"You buy characters?" He blinked.

She laughed, giving him a playful nudge in the arm. "You really don't play games, do you?"

His heart stuttered as she squished herself against him, allowing both of them a decent view of her phone. She tapped at the screen to proceed to the actual game and he tried very hard to focus on that and not the warmth to his side.

"It helps when you get a second character. You can pair them up and go on for longer since it's two instead of just one," she explained as she scrolled through various menus.

Luka also tried to not focus on the phrase 'pair them up,' which wasn't difficult at first, but then he saw the character selection screen and—

"Ladybug and Viperion," he noted.

"Hm~?" She stopped scrolling to point at the two. "Yeah, they're the pair I have."

"Only Ladybug and Viperion." That still wasn't a proper sentence, so he clarified, "You only have Ladybug and Viperion."

"Oh." She uttered it like she hadn't known when she definitely did. "Yeah? You only need two, so why should I waste my coins on anyone else when I could spend it upgrading the pair I have?"

He could think of multiple reasons. He wasn't sure how the game worked, but he imagined that the superheroes still had different powers and there were benefits depending on which two were paired up.

As if reading his mind, Marinette tapped the top edge of her phone to her chin and insisted, "Viperion's underrated. His power's not flashy, but it's really useful and he's perfect for someone like Ladybug."

His cheeks felt warm. What she was saying sounded like a casual observation of efficiency, but her voice was singing a different tune. The playful sparkle in her blue eyes as she peered up at him supported that.

"Really?" he asked quietly.

"Mhm~" She looked down at her phone again, then turned it to him to show the Ladybug and Viperion on the screen. "Their colors are even complementary. Don't they look good together?"

Never mind. His face felt hot. She even wiggled the phone at him, her smile shy but her gaze not leaving his as she waited for an answer.

Was this a punishment of sorts? Was he being tormented for not saying that he knew her identity? Was she really asking him such a thing when she already knew his feelings? Had she planned this, and that's why she was alone?

He opened his mouth, then decided he needed another second to think and cleared his throat instead. "Wouldn't that be up to them?"

It seemed like an obvious answer, but her smile widened further as if he'd passed a test. He didn't think she was actually testing him, but something of his did certainly feel tested: his sanity.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Marinette sighed, pulling away from him to slump against the backrest. Taking one more look at her phone and scrutinizing the image on the screen, she asked, "Do you think Viperion would be patient enough for someone like her?"

Caught off guard, he turned his body to better face her. "What?"

"For Ladybug. She must be busy since she's always dealing with akuma," she pointed out, waving a hand outwards, "so they wouldn't be able to date until she's dealt with Hawk Moth."

For a second, he thought she was continuing to tease him, but then it clicked for him what she was building to. She'd been playful, yet was using the conversation to tell him that they wouldn't be able to date.

Which meant that she reciprocated, something his brain was still scrambling to process, but she also felt like she couldn't act upon it due to Hawk Moth. Talking about Ladybug and Viperion as separate entities had been to keep things safe in case any of the girls returned while serving as a way of mentally distancing herself from it. It was an unpleasant realization to wrestle with against the delight of knowing that she felt the same as he did.

"I'm..." He reached over, slipping his hand over the one holding her phone. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind, no matter how busy she was."

To his confusion, she shook her head almost adamantly. He wondered if perhaps she was going to argue that 'Viperion' wouldn't mean it if he was to say such a thing, but she instead said, "I think Ladybug would want better for him than that; she'd want to be able to put herself into the relationship without Hawk Moth in the way." She stared at their hands on her phone with a soft smile. "Besides, I bet it'd be a motivator."

He leaned closer, noting how her voice had lowered in volume. "How?"

With a sheepish giggle, she replied, "Wouldn't Ladybug want to defeat Hawk Moth that much more if she knew the reward was getting to ask her future boyfriend out?"

His heart pounded, his hand on hers giving off a slight shake. What had started as a bit of joking around had grown into something more heartfelt and serious, with him suddenly wondering if Ladybug could use any of his input on how to best find out Hawk Moth's identity.

Chuckling affectionately yet with just as much longing as her, he promised, "If Ladybug is even half as amazing as he already thinks, Viperion will beat her to it when Hawk Moth's gone."

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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girlfromflor · 8 months ago

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atsumu and his infatuation with stoic!reader - part 1

wc: 1371 | tw: some swear words ig | a/n: i did not proofread this lol, part 2

atsumu was never one to think too hard about other people’s actions. he always thought that when someone said something, they meant it. when they didn’t say anything, well that’s just because there is nothing to be said. he was just as simple, so why worry, right? but that was before he met you.

he still remembers the very first time he saw you come over practice. you seemed so lost, trying to speak to the coach and see if there was any chance you could be part of the club, only to have your voice completely drown in the loud sound of the balls hitting the court’s floor. atsumu was stunned, he had never seen you around and yet it felt like you were known, like that one person he can always count on. you were so gorgeous, your hair matching your pretty face and soft eyes. he almost immediately asked you to marry him. his eyes worked unceasingly to memorize every part of you. how you were a bit shorter than him, how the school uniform wrapped every part of your body oh so nicely, and he wondered how you would look rid of all those layers. so he gathered all his courage and after a deep breath he approached you, “uh, hi. i’m miya atsumu, do you need help?”

you, with your ever so practical and stoic persona, had the immediate reaction to just say no. usually not one to chit chat or kill time doing something so trivial as talking about ordinary and banal things. but as you turned to answer the atsumu guy, you freezed. probably it was the first time you ever stood in a situation like this, but god, he was so absolutely gorgeous to you that your whole demeanor changed. you were a loss of words. flustered with your own traitor thoughts and, as you realized you were taking too much time to answer a simple question, your mind went blank for a minute. “sorry, what…?”

he laughed. and god, what a cute laugh he had. he wondered if you were always this distracted. “do you need help? with whatever it is that you’re doing…” and gave you a smile, trying his hardest to not add a random ‘love’ into the phrase. to his surprise you didn’t smile back, face expressionless as you said, “oh, right. yeah, i think i could use some help. i need to subscribe to some club activities and i thought maybe i could be part of the volleyball team… do you think that can happen?” after having a few seconds to recompose yourself you managed to mutter, thanking whatever wave of luck that allowed you not to stumble over your words.

and after that, atsumu knew he was in for a long journey. being head over heels for someone that he later learned to be a first-year, that he now would most likely see everyday and that – much to his dismay – did not utter a single word towards him, unless absolutely necessary. he did not understand any of it. why he felt so breathless around you and why you seemed so oblivious to his advances. he didn’t know how to deal with all of it, he just wanted to know you completely, to have access to your deepest desires and wills and have you share all parts of you and your life.

but you never really seemed to realize how intensely he cared for you. and nowadays all he can do is to be deeply attentive to everything you do. whenever you say something – or when you don’t, for that matter – he’ll find a way to read your words and actions over and over again. he’s obsessed with it. he can’t imagine why in the world you are so little affected by the things he says and does. how could you not have any sort of reaction when he was around you doing all types of things to get your attention. it wasn’t until a random practice day that he realized just how much you actually noticed him.

he couldn’t help but reminisce that afternoon, it was very meaningful to him. after a few months of coexisting, he managed to remain well behaved with you. only exchanging a few words of politeness whenever you two met. he had just thrown another bad set to one of his teammates, growing frustrated and bothered by the minute. you don’t notice at first what’s wrong. nevertheless, you are the very first to really understand the problem. while all of the boys swim in confusion as to why atsumu seemed so lost in his thoughts during practice, you decide it’s time for him to focus already.

“atsumu,” you call, waiting for him to look at you. he lifts his eyes slowly, so caught up in his frustration to notice the soft glint of affection in yours. “yes…?” he answers at last, still not paying you full attention.

“i know you’re stressed over exams…” and that’s enough to have him looking at you with attentive eyes, wondering how did you know that since you’re not usually aware of those things, always having the best grades of your class. “but it will be okay. you studied harder than ever, if that’s not enough then i don’t know what would be…”

he lets out an amused chuckle, thinking that you’re just trying to be practical and make him not waste a whole practice just because he’s worried. but then it clicks, he never mentioned exams. during the whole time he spent studying, he did not mention it once. he was pressured enough, he didn’t want anyone else to add up to his stress. he questions then, why would you assume that, of all things?

little does he know that you noticed how he was getting a few minutes later than the others at practice, because he was finishing a summary of his exams topics. how he would look at the paper in his pocket from time to time to check if he had gotten the right answers to the questions he was mentally doing over and over. how he stopped staying after hours so he could get home sooner, probably to go over his notes about that one topic he never really manages to understand just right.

so he tilts his head a bit to the side, still looking at you with some amusement in his eyes and says, “is not only that, you know… i have to study so much to get good grades and can’t even set right while doing so, it makes me wonder if i won’t ever be able to do two things at the same time…”

and for that you just giggle. a light, sweet sound that just makes atsumu drown even more in his infatuation for you. you raise your eyebrows, hardly believing these words had really left his mouth. “atsumu…” is soft, trying to not sound aggressive, but all the boys that are paying attention can see that you’re actually dead serious when you say, matter-of-factly, “you’re recognized as the number one high school setter… what are you so concerned about?”

and that just hits him like a fucking punch, because you are not saying it to encourage him nor is it to make him feel better. you stating a fact, he is indeed one of the best players in high school, he should be able to study hard and still play well, it comes naturally to him anyway. his eyes fill up with something you can’t quite point out, his smirk spoke volumes though “well, i guess it just gets hard to remember that sometimes.”

after that short dialogue you two shared, he managed not to miss one move throughout the rest of their practice. his humor well recovered as he wonders just how much you watch him around and that, maybe, you think of him just as much as he thinks of you. but nothing could have prepared him for the next day, when he was changing at the locker room and found a note that said “so you don’t have a hard time remembering it” with a simple black bracelet underneath that had “best setter” engraved on it.

#haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu fic #this is really self indulgent #i am so sorry #atsumu and his infatuation with stoic!reader

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imorynn · 1 month ago

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── ᯓ between fleeting moments and significant interactions ᡣ𐭩

ᯓ pairing: alice wu-gulliver 〆 fem!reader

ᯓ genre : fluff, mentions of alice’s family trauma , emotional struggle and alice discovering her feelings for you, descriptions of internal conflicts, anxieties, self-doubt coming from alice , mild workplace tension

ᯓ word count : 3.7k

ᯓ author’s note : i’m between contemplating if i like the way this turned out and actually loving this very much — i adore alice so much — she deserved the world i freaking swear ohmygosh — those reading this piece and carrying that same strong love for our girl, alice, lol, i hope you enjoy this ! I look forward to writing for different characters within the coven <33

── IF ALICE WU-GULLIVER were to attempt recalling every interaction she had with you — a task she had long since lost track of after the first 25 — the most probable outcome would be likely to find herself flabbergasted. It was as though she'd never truly thought about how often paths crossed with others until you came into the hers. The majority of those encounters had been trivial, almost forgettable, their significance lost in the blur of everyday routine. But some of them, the ones that lingered just under the surface, held a weight she was not entirely ready to acknowledge. Those moments, though seemingly casual, seemed inevitable — after all, you shared the same workspace, the same environment. But even so, there was something more to them, something that stirred her in ways she couldn’t quite put into words. She told herself they were just a product of proximity, of the placement. Yet, deep down, Alice knew — if only subconsciously — that there was more to it. She was not ready to admit it, but she found herself looking forward to those fleeting exchanges, a little too often, and a little too much.

The first, perhaps, was the day when she had, much to her dismay and recommended to, submitted an application for a rather favored clothing store by this generation. That clothing store being none other than Hot Topic.

“You start next week. Mall opens at 10, so get here an hour early, sharp. You greet, and you make sure no one shoplifts. Don’t screw it up, got it? I’m gonna be checking in on ya, but the one who’s gonna be showing you a bit around should be here any minute. Don’t screw that up, either.” were the words the store’s manager ( and security guard who stood mere feet outside the store ) had curtly uttered to her the second the employee’s uniform came into her hold. ‘Don’t screw it up.’ A phrase she collided with too often, if she was sincere. Screwing up came with the misfortune of the curse that had become a part of her. And it seemed that misfortune had been set in motion the second you came entering those open doors, and the words, “Ah, there she is.” came tumbling out of his mouth.

A screw-up (— if not incidental such as pretty much all the ones that came with the consequences of the curse —) had come across her midway through her fast-paced walk — with the slight determination to get to the shop because she indeed needed this shop — before she had officially received her employee shirt. It had been a minor, unintentional act on her part, it being her bumping into you on her way past the escalator. Alice has had her fair share of people not liking her for the simplest of reasons, and she rather not have another person apart from them being a stranger not liking her — just to play it safe. She had inhaled sharply — involuntarily drawing in a fragrance enriched with something floral and sweet clinging to this person’s sweater — wanting to be proper with her apology towards the person her shoulder had just jabbed, and she could not help pausing midway as her head tilted up. That was the first time she had laid eyes on you; your wide eyes were, to put it frankly, very pretty and shockingly bright despite the furrow of your brows, and hair styled in a way that framed your features. She was a bit mesmerized, not sure if it was an under or overstatement, until you cleared your throat, cheek hoisting into what seemed a tiny — distasteful like all the other ones she’d received ?Odd? — smile, about to walk in the other direction. Though, now that she thought more about it, you were most definitely walking towards the similar destination — if only she acknowledged you more than she already had, yet that would have been a tad bit demeaning. So she averted her gaze, muttered a swift “sorry” as she passed, and that was that.

Or so it seemed about 10 minutes ago or so, and then right on came the second interaction.

She inhaled sharply at seeing you. She had recognized the sight instantly regardless of the fact that she had seen your face only for a split second. Warm colored eyes and soft contour of your cheeks glowing slightly beneath the store’s dim radiance as you walk deeper within the store, murmuring a polite greeting before your curious gaze lingered on her, followed by that little smile you had given her earlier. It was then that she had a name to put on you as the manager introduced you to one another, nodding every now and then and letting out a quiet ‘yes’, ‘okay’, and ‘got it’ to whatever he said. And when she departed from the building she was bound to come back to in a few days, she found herself unconsciously gripping the employee shirt in her hands which shook little enough for her to ignore it, and continued with her day. However, she could not avoid the unrelenting memory of you with those eyes and smile, unaware that, before long, the precise thought of you within her mind would become inevitable.

At nine am on a Monday, she arrived, shirt slackly tucked into her cargo trousers, the manager was juggling a handful of boxes, each one marked with the familiar logo of the store, without much more than a glance in her direction, head nodding toward the back, voice barely rising above the sound of cardboard shifting in his arms as he briskly informed her of the employee room in the back and something along the lines of you arriving momentarily. A few minutes later, she walked out of the staff room while inwardly stating she could have very least stayed in bed instead of taking a pointless job until a particularly semi-familiar presence with bright eyes came into view, and she found herself grumbling less about where she was — more so questioning how does a single person come to have eyes like that this early in the morning — as you walked over to her. A warm ‘good morning’ had left your lips, and all she could find herself offering you was a thin-lipped smile and curt nod (you had yet to understand how rare her smiles were, forced or otherwise), and you proceeded to assist and guide her through the workplace. Patience was something you easily possessed as you demonstrated essential tasks such as greeting those who entered, offering assistance if needed, being aware of the store’s layout, and answering questions she may have, which were not many, though you did not seem to mind that she didn’t.

“So,” you had given her a smile, similar to the first two ( or eighth that you've given her the past hour, she could not recall — ) though this one was warmer and lopsided, as you were across from her, both of you standing in front of the store’s window display. “Do you have any questions for me, Alice?”

Her lips subtly pursed at the way you said her name, and once again she found herself freezing except for her blinking. That was the first time she had heard you say it. She stayed quiet for a while, staring at you, at the way your smile became a bit wider until her eyes dragged to the side, clearing her throat with a shake of her head, a quiet “no, thank you,” leaving her.

She heard you hum, your steps slowly and quietly descending backwards. There was a bit of disquietude in her head that perhaps her action may have drawn you away from her, internally cursing at herself, her gaze then fixed on the ground while waiting for you to fully walk away.

“Okay then. I’ll be behind the register, in case you have anything to ask … or if you just want a bit of conversation, you know where to find me.” She looked up at you again, and she was taken aback to see your smile remained, the spark in your eye unwavering. And with a soft “good luck”, you turned and made your way behind the counter.

And so, that was when it all began, the few of many interactions to come. Over time, Alice learned that you were always patient and kind. Two adjectives were an understatement to the entirety of what, and who you were, yet they seem to fit you to perfection. Kind enough you were to always greet her with a warm ‘good morning’ and question ‘How are you?’ when she walked early into the store or you were the one to arrive only a handful of minutes after her. And you did not just do it in the sense of just making formal small talk – you engaged in conversation with her. Whether her response was small, at times remained the same, or she let herself truly speak for a moment, you actually listened, acknowledged her in more than what she believed herself to be, and responded. Kind and patient you were when it seemed her entire world felt like it was against her. Kind you were when something wrong occurred that she believed was her fault, like the other day when she had tackled some rebellious teenager for shoplifting, and the store’s supervisor was about to get onto her case until you jumped into her rescue. You always had something kind to say to and do for her.

Long boring hours of settling near the entrance and faintly greeting those who entered ( which most of the time went unanswered, but what did it matter when you’d glance briefly at her and give her one of those lopsided smiles she grew to like ), you found a way to make it entertaining for her. Interactions were both fleeting and lingering with you, but they were all significant nonetheless — warm, familiar, at ease for the reason that you did not push her into any more than what she gave, and for a moment she did think that would push you away from her, yet it didn’t. You had found a way to make her look forward to the next shift and every single one that came after that.

There were times when, while sitting at the front of the display window bright and early, it felt tedious for the very reason that you had not arrived. It had been ten minutes, and you normally arrived at the very least five minutes after she would. ( and if it was the other way around, she arrived three to four minutes after you ). How did her mind jump from finding itself waiting for you to arrive to wanting to leave the building if you did not? She was not certain, nor did she allow herself to think much more of it than what she already did. Two minutes passed and her dark-polished fingers drummed impatiently against the ‘Queen’ button pinned to the pocket of her joggers ( a pin that you had gifted her with when you briefly learned the band was one she favored. Alice convinced herself it was a simple gesture of friendship. She then learned that apparently, this was the longest form of friendship she had had in a while). Three minutes had her knee bouncing relentlessly, and when it nearly came to four it had her considering the idea of ruining her 3-month streak in keeping this job.

Just as she was about to get up and gather her items, you tumbled into the place, wisps of your hair rebelling against its standard styling, chest heaving, your attire rumbled, your beaming face being met with her hitched-up brow.

“The escalator to go up was broken, so I had to go up the one that goes down …” A soft giggle bubbled up your throat as you stood in front of her, and her heartbeat could not avoid the continuous jitters it created. “Very chaotic experience, you should try it someday, Ally.”

Alice was not accustomed to … whatever this was with you — if there was even anything to label with you besides a decent friendship. Her life had been built on discipline, on maintaining a steady grip over her emotions to keep both herself and those around her safe. The curse she carried and tried to keep away, an inherited darkness bound to her by blood, had obligated her to draw thick boundaries, separating herself from anything or anyone that might break her focus. She believed anything tied to dating, being with someone was a luxury she could not afford— too perilous, too unpredictable. That was before you.

The idea of liking you had lurked within her in quiet, unexpected moments, moments that threw her off balance. It had occurred though in this moment, striking her when you — in a disheveled state with that lively grin of yours ( not to mention, you took habit in calling her Ally, something she never let anyone really call her besides her mother. Yet it didn’t feel so bad when you called her that ) — softly laughed at her expression, truly laughing in a way that illuminated your entire face, the sound vivid with warmth, those vibrant irises piercing right through her defenses when they met her brown ones. She could feel the stir of something unfamiliar, something that frightened her more than any spell or demon she had ever faced. Her pulse quickened, her carefully crafted composure wavering. She found herself wanting to see you smile in that way again, to be the reason for it — and that terrified her.

At first, she resisted the feeling, brushing it off as a fleeting, irrational notion — just another trick of false hope her mind fabricated, she told herself. But now that she looked back at every interaction experienced, she found herself lingering in your presence a moment too long, her eyes randomly but purposefully fixated on you throughout the day. Such as when you worked behind the register when customers were doodling with that black pen you always used, strands of your hair brushing your forehead as you tilted down to focus on the little sketches upon the stacks of sticky notes you kept tucked into the counter’s small storage spaces. ( the times she stood behind the register, which was pretty rare, was when you had gone to help the manager with something and she was entrusted to be back there — she caught clear sight of what you did with those doodles; they practically decorated and brought the dark colors of the shelves to life. she may or may not have tucked one very endearing doodle into her pocket, one she recognized to be the pattern of the jewelry she wore being drawn upon an endearing cartoon character .)

During break times or the time you and she had gone down to the food court, she found herself tracing the gentle lines of your face, the warmth that radiated from your eyes, the politeness in the manner you spoke as you ordered both for you and her, already knowing her preference by heart. And every time, her chest would constrict, a subtle but unmistakable tension rising within her, unsettling in its unfamiliarity. Her stomach would twist, an agitating excitement she could barely recognize, let alone comprehend, creeping into her thoughts. She would force herself to look away, to stifle the sensation as if quelling a spark before it ignited into a flame she feared she would not be able to control. It was both maddening and intoxicating, a quiet chaos beneath her skin that she did not dare admit to herself.

Her reactions continued nearly involuntary. That protective nature she contained honed when around you, almost instinctual. If customer was disrespectful, or if someone tended to cross a boundary, a limit with you, she was there to check on you, to interfere with whatever issue that person was giving you. She would catch herself worrying over small things — if you had eaten enough, if you were conscious to your surroundings when you went to the food court or anywhere that was not near her, if you were sleeping well when she’d catch you dozing off, or when she’d go on break, she’d bring you back a water bottle just to make sure you’re hydrated. She would find reasons to ensure your well-being, offering her assistance in ways that were tenuous but frequent. She grew excessively aware of you, attuned to each movement, every gesture, every change in your tone. The times you would sneak away from the task you were supposed to be doing to sit with her and talk about everything or nothing at all, or when you would stand so close to her to the point where that sweet scent of yours lumbered and your shoulder brushed hers — the pressure increasing just so very slightly, or when your fingers grazed hers — even if the proximity was coincidental, it felt odd. Odd but comforting, and she found herself wanting to live in that feeling just a bit more before she would pull away. Her breath would catch before she forced herself to steady it. She could not remember the last time she had been so rattled, so affected by someone’s presence. And the more she tried to dismiss it, the more inevitable it became.

And then there were interactions that followed with the remnants of quiet weariness and sorrow Alice let herself feel when it came to her life, her mother. She came to reveal only pieces, admissions of herself to you, and of course, you being you, you remembered every bit of it and wove them together. This specific moment was given when it was near closing hour, shops emptying while employees got ready to start heading home, yet while fixing the place up a bit, a recognizable melody Alice wished to forget played filled the atmosphere. You noticed the shift in her demeanor, a partial reason for it, and when she sunk to the floor with her back against the wall, her pounding head clutched between her quivering palms, a silence suddenly replaced the song — your doing.

She still had not lifted her head as one of her hands fell over her knees, yet she felt it. She felt your presence descend beside her, that floral fragrance of yours wavering and blanketing her aching soul. That familiar pressure against her shoulder, and the light curl of your fingers around hers. An ease, a steadiness flowed through the familiarity of this contact, alleviated the silence.

“Rough day, no?” you murmured quietly. There was a hint of gentle mirth woven within your voice, she detected. It was light enough that it did not press though let her know you were there, ready to bring a bit of levity if she it was what she needed from you. It was then a light laugh rose from her, aerated, barely perceptible, but she was certain you heard it.

“Guess you could say that,” She watched as pads of your fingers took action in lightly tapping up against the back of her hand before going down, repeating the action once or a few more times, and it felt as if you had done it countless times before. It came natural when her own fingers unconsciously spread apart, just a bit, as your touch soothed up and slid between them. “it feels just a bit better now, though.” Because of you.

Your thumb then swept over the outer lining of her thumb in a quiet rhythm, allowing her the space to sit with her thoughts, to simply be as she was without needing to mask anything.

Closing hour was near within seconds, and she did not bother looking up at the manager as he threw a questioning look at you both but said nothing of it, simply pointing out for one of you to close up in a few minutes before he left you to sit there in silence . You set her at ease in moments similar to these. Perhaps part of the reason she liked you so much was that you made her feel comfortable with herself, if only momentarily.

“You … you don’t have to stay here with me, y’know. You can go, I’ll be fine.”

You hummed lowly at her words — words she always repeated and knew she didn’t mean for the reason being that she hoped you could stay with her just a moment longer — her skin searing beneath the touch given, whether it was done out of a friendly gesture, of possibly reciprocating what she tried avoiding, it did not matter. “I’m not going anywhere, Alice. We can just stay here until you’re ready to go, okay?”

Her lips parted, gaze focusing on the gentle movement of your hand. Allured with the way your complexion blended with hers beneath the golden glow the store provided. The way that this felt right — when was the last time something felt right in her life? Everything she came in contact with, she believed it all turned to shit. But the more she looked at your joined hands, the more she found herself feeling that maybe she could make an effort in turning it all around. And when she glanced up through her strands of scarlet and black, her vulnerable brown gaze met your intent one, she had her response, finally let herself acknowledge that pestering feeling.

She liked you. It was more than perceptible, of course. Another truth she tried pushing herself to avoid, yet it was one did not want to anymore. Not when this truth brought her contentment as much as it brought fear.

Under the wires of anxiety and the tangles of pessimistic thinking of this, of truly putting the effort in making this part of her life work, there was a piece within her that was positive this would all be okay. That all of this will perhaps work. She trusted you far more than she could ever imagine trusting another person besides herself — hell, not even herself. Not with the concept of the curse crawled within her mind and interfered with her every action.

Yet with every interaction with you — just you alone gave her reason to hope, even if it was false that could waste her energy in hoping for something more with you that may not happen. She wanted to clutch onto that twinge of hope you prospered, of light you carried, of founding motivation for every day you brought into her life.

#𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── 🎐ᝰ.#alice wu gulliver x reader #marvel #marvel studios #agatha all along #alice wu gulliver #Alice Wu-gulliver x reader #Alice Wu-gulliver x fem!reader #Ali ahn #jac schaeffer

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criticallyinneedofadar · 3 months ago

Text

The Valar's Blessing

A/N: So this is like my trial run of..... smut. It's just smut with Elendaddy.

Pairing: Elendil x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. spicey times. MDNI!

Translations

I eleni úva ná nilmë cotyala. Endoren mapuvan antassë, qui meril.- The stars are nothing compared to your brilliance. I would lay the world at your feet if you desired it.

melmelya- my love

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The sound of the sea is ever-present, a soft roar in the distance that mingles with the lively chatter of the guests. Lanterns hang in delicate rows above the city square, their golden light flickering in the evening breeze. The ceremony was more beautiful than you could have ever imagined; Elendil and you, standing together near the sea, exchanging vows in the old way, promising love and support before Varda.

After your promises, witnessed only by Isildur, Eärien and Anárion, a few of your closest friends, and Queen Miriel, you retreated back into the city for your reception. It has turned into quite the affair, surrounded by Elendil’s crew, several Sea Guard officers and their families.

You stand by Queen Míriel, exchanging pleasantries, though your attention drifts. The night is warm, but it’s your husband’s gaze that sets your skin alight. Elendil, resplendent in his Sea Guard uniform, has shed the ceremonial armor he wore during your wedding, now looking like the man you’ve long loved—strong, yet more at ease. His dark blue uniform highlights his ocean blue eyes, the crows feet in the corners making your heart swell to bursting. He has continually caught your gaze throughout the night, stirring the fire low in your body. He winks at you know, smirking at the blush that grows on your face.

He gestures with his head for you to join him at this side. You give a gentle shake of your own in return- nodding at the Queen, with whom you are currently conversing. A gentle roll of his eyes is the only response you get.

“Something amiss, Lady Y/N?” Queen Miriel asks, smirking at you lightly.

Your blush deepens, having been caught red handed, “Nothing at all, my Queen. Perhaps it is the excitement of the day catching up with me.” You bow your head in apologies, smiling at your Queen conspiratorially.

Before you can excuse yourself from the conversation, Elendil is already at your side, his hand slipping possessively around your waist. “Forgive me, my Queen,” he says, voice rich and smooth, “but I must steal my wife for a moment.” Your stomach curls at the phrase. His wife. You could hear him utter those words for the rest of your life and never tire of hearing it.

Míriel’s lips curve in a knowing smile. “Of course, Lord Elendil. Enjoy your evening.”

With a gentle tug, he guides you away from the festivities, the sound of music and laughter fading behind you as the two of you step into the night. He leads you to a secluded corner beyond the grand hall, where the ocean breeze is stronger, the scent of salt and the promise of stars filling the air.

“I could not wait any longer,” Elendil murmurs, his eyes scanning your face, taking you in as though you’re something precious, something eternal. “You’ve never been more beautiful. Like an Elven star come to life.” His voice is low, intimate, as if he’s sharing a secret only the two of you could understand.

Your heart flutters at his words, at the intensity in his eyes. He moves closer, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin. His kiss follows, slow and tender at first, then deepening as he pulls you against him. Every touch ignites a fire within you, his need, his desire, pressing up against your stomach, making you gasp into his kiss.

“Elendil,” you murmur against his lips, trying to catch your breath. “We still have guests...”

“Our guests,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and finally the pulse in your neck. “Are several cups in by this point. They will not notice our absence.”

He kisses you again, more insistent this time, his hands wandering to your waist as he presses you gently against the stone wall behind you. His touch is all-consuming, a mixture of hunger and devotion. Your resolve begins to crumble, your breath hitching as he pulls you closer.

You try to protest, one last time, but the words never make it past your lips as Elendil whispers your name like a prayer, his mouth capturing yours with a passion that sweeps you away entirely.

You relent, sighing into his mouth and curling your hands in his sun-bronzed locks. He chuckles darkly, pressing you harder into the stones behind you. A moan escapes you as his lips travel from your mouth, to your neck, beard scratching against the sensitive skin there.

“Elendil” you whisper, bringing his lips back to yours and kissing him fiercely, thrusting your tongue against his. “Take me home,” you gasp, “Make love to me.”

His eyes darken, a stormy sea trapped within those depths. He says nothing as he grips your hand in his and hurries through the dark streets of Númenor.

—----------------------------------------

The house is quiet as you enter with Elendil. He does not stop to light any of the lanterns, continuing back to his bedroom- your bedroom now. He closes the door softly behind you.

Moonlight streams in through the open window, casting the room in soft blues and whites, illuminating the both of you. Elendil’s eyes seem to glow like a white flame.

He gazes at you tenderly, fire and heat saturating his gaze. “I eleni úva ná nilmë cotyala. Endoren mapuvan antassë, qui meril.”

“I do not need the world at my feet, Elendil. I need only you.” you reply. It takes less than a second for him to pull you into his arms, kissing you soundly and walking you backwards towards the large bed.

He stops at the edge, staring deeply into your eyes as his fingers trace the laces that go down your spine. “May I?” he asks.

“Only if I may in return.” you say, reaching for the belt that holds his holster and sword.

He only smiles and begins to pull at the laces. Your heart races as you undo the belt, letting it gently fall to the floor. Your hands pull his surcoat up, interrupting his progress as you pull it over his head.

Elendil manages to get the last of the laces undone, pulling your overdress down your shoulders and over your hips, dropping it to the floor. This leaves you in only your shift and underthings, Elendil in his dark blue tunic and trousers.

He reaches behind his head, pulling his tunic off and tossing it to the side. Your hands immediately come up to his warm chest, tracing the lines of his pectorals, the strong sturdiness of his torso. He takes a deep breath as your hands descend to the line of his trousers, grazing along the waistband.

His hands grip your face, bringing it to his as he kisses you heatedly. His hands roam over your body, tracing the lines of your silhouette as you arch your back in response. His skin glistens with sweat already and you are not far behind.

Your hands shake slightly with nerves as you reach for the ties at the shoulders of your shift. Gently untying them, you shrug the shift to the floor. Elendil takes a deep breath reaching out with one hand to softly graze the side of your breast, down your waist and around your navel.

Your breath hitches and Elendil’s gaze darts back to yours. “You are my greatest adventure, melmelya.”

He kneels in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as he slides your underthings down your legs. His hands glide up your thighs, stopping at the softness between your legs. You feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, "You are so beautiful."

You feel his strong hand cup your warmth, and a shiver runs down your spine. Elendil pushes you softly to lay on the bed, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. You watch in awe as he moves to join you, resting one elbow beside your head, watching you tenderly.

His calloused fingers move so gently, caressing you, as you gasp and writhe beneath him. Pleasure crests higher as he moves two fingers to enter you. Your right hand jumps up to grip his shoulder, trying to pull him in, as your left hand grips his wrist, urging him to move faster.

Elendil lowers his mouth to your neck, pressing hot kisses, and whispering words of how beautiful you look like this, how free.

The pleasure crests over you in a rolling wave, you gasp out his name and grip his hair, holding him close. When the wave passes, he removes his fingers and kisses you like a man starved, holding your face and plundering your mouth.

He moves to reposition himself between your legs, removing his trousers. Your eyes dart to his manhood, drawing a deep breath at the sight. Elendil runs his hands from your ankles to your knees, touch turning feather light the higher he goes. His fingers trace the sensitive folds of your womanhood once again. You moan softly as he teases you, your hips bucking off the bed in response to the pleasure. He chuckles, the low sound vibrating against your skin.

Holding your chin in his hand and gazing deep in your eyes, he enters you, filling you up completely. Your body arches off the bed, a cry of pure bliss escaping your lips. Elendil groans and buries his face in your neck, breaths sawing out of him. When your legs wrap his hips and squeeze lightly, he slowly begins to move, his rhythm matching the beat of your heart. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you breathless.

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer as he continues to thrust into you. The room is filled with the sound of your moans, echoing off the walls. His hands roam across your body, exploring every inch of your skin.

Pleasure begins to rise in you again, the force stealing your breath at its power. "Elendil," you whisper, your voice hoarse with need. He responds by increasing the pace, his hips slamming against yours in a punishing rhythm.

You cry out, your body shuddering as waves of euphoria wash over you. He follows you over the edge, his own release shaking his body as warmth fills you.

Elendil’s weight rests against you, as you both breathe deeply, basking in the warmth of one another. He raises his head and gives you a soft kiss, first your lips, then your cheeks, then your forehead. You giggle as he continues to praise you with little kisses.

His smile is resplendent as he takes in your face. “My wife.” he murmurs, an adoring look in his eyes.

Your fingers trace up his chest, holding his face in your hands. “My husband.” you say in return, gazing back at him.

He pulls you gently towards the top of the bed, situating you both beneath the light blanket, pulling you into his arms and tracing your skin.

The room is bathed in a soft, white glow from the rising moon, casting gentle shadows over the stone walls. You’re nestled against Elendil’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around you, fingers lazily tracing circles on your back. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing soothes you, and the warmth of his body lulls you into a peaceful calm.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice deep and quiet in the stillness of the night, “I often wonder how I became so lucky.” His hand slides up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. “To have you here with me.”

You smile against his chest, pressing closer to the steady beat of his heart. “I would go so far as to say the Valar have blessed me, Elendil. I never imagined this… us.”

He tilts his head slightly to look down at you, his blue eyes soft, filled with that same quiet wonder you’ve seen in him since the day you became his. “I will wake every day, grateful to have you by my side,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers absently tracing the lines of his collarbone. There’s a peacefulness in the air, a shared understanding that words can’t quite capture.

Elendil shifts slightly beneath you, his hand brushing against your arm. “Shall I draw you a warm bath?” he offers softly, his tone gentle, as though he’d do anything to make you more comfortable.

You shake your head, curling tighter against him, feeling the strength and comfort of his embrace. “No,” you whisper, smiling. “I never want to leave your arms. Not tonight. Not ever.”

He chuckles softly, his chest vibrating against your cheek. “Might be a bit hard to fulfill my duties as Captain, but… I aim to please.” You smile, closing your eyes as the warmth of his body and the steady cadence of his breath soothe you into a blissful haze.

“Your duties as husband require you to stay right here. In this bed.” you sigh. His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer, and you feel his lips brush lightly over your forehead once more.

“Then we’ll stay like this,” he murmurs, his voice a soft promise in the quiet of the room. “For as long as you want.”

The comfort of his words, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, lulls you into a deep, peaceful contentment. You feel his breathing slow, his warmth cocooning you, and before long, the two of you drift into sleep together, perfectly at peace in each other’s arms.

#elendil x you #elendilf #elendil x reader #rings of power s2 #the rings of power #fanfiction #elendil the tall #elendil

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year ago

Text

A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her.

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher.

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would.

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD. With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front.

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning.

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.”

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you.

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.”

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car.

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too.

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty.

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you.

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it.

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you.

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder.

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy.

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon.

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort.

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing.

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun.

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt.

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end.

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan.

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him.

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company.

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours.

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?"

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago.

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones.

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you.

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders.

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?”

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp.

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal.

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you.

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard.

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago.

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand.

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar.

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–"

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again."

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks.

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?"

The lie comes without hesitation.

“No.”

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Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

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