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pontevoix · 8 months ago

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he enlisted for four years. & some of it was hell. some of it was being young in hell. some of it was growing & sharing youth with people that he felt as though he had known forever — -

he got lucky with nile. or else he got grossly unlucky. nile had known him once as a child. before the worst had happened & he instigated bits & pieces of his family's ruin. but they went to school together & nile named him insufferable & they had been insufferable in the way that children stuck together ( by parental necessity ) are always insufferable & then

that had ended. erwin moved because his father’s contract relocated him every few years, & there was no goodbye. there was nothing heartfelt. there was no need for any of that.

mostly, there were just insignificant things – forgotten until ten years later ( more or less. mostly less. ) when erwin had moved back into the area, when he fell into service, when he thought that nile looked more familiar than he should, when he recognized nile's name & realized belatedly that

even as a child, nile had spoken about enlisting. erwin supposes he shouldn’t have been surprised — except he doesn’t believe in coincidences, & the timing just was too . . . awkward.

it had been awkward knowing nile again. it’s difficult for erwin to be in a place where anyone remembers him differently than who he is presently. it’s difficult for erwin not to overthink in stupid ways sometimes & rethink them again. he doesn’t hesitate to make decisions ( there isn’t the time ) but he always thinks in three hundred - sixty ways until he feels prepared, until he has his points stuck in cement.

it’s another way of seeking control. making control through preparations. equipping himself to make decisions faster.

he enlisted for four years. & some of it was hell. some of it was being young in hell. some of it was growing & sharing youth with people that he felt as though he had known forever — -

so he had known nile forever. sort of. but it felt like forever when they went to the bar popular with the kids in service. then they knocked beers & zacharias made himself a staple in erwin’s life & for a second, it had been easy to imagine that life exists in the moment. that people laugh in the moment & drink in the moment & that there is no greater meaning than pressing shoulders at a bar booth with new types of family —

it had been shared gossiped moments about hey ? you saw her wink at me ? the bartender ? that wasn’t for you. idiot. that was for the whole table. no ! that was for me. i swear. let him be hopeful. he’s never going to get anywhere, so he might as well be hopeful. you’re such a fucking asshole -

raucous laughter. but then shared cigarettes outside the bar with the bartender. & a friendship made between the regulars. & then coincidental meetings no longer coincidental outside of the bar, outside of work hours.

there had been a few parties. a few smiles close enough during a dance that they felt like kisses.

for a second, it had been easy to imagine that loving would be that easy. that he could live that kind of love.

then, of course, he felt a stronger draw to information divulged at work. he felt hungry at the prospect of an accomplishment he hadn’t yet managed, & it had been so easy to cast aside a maybe-love that he realized he was worse than he had thought.

he helped nile write love letters.

then six months later he was smoking cigarettes in bed with bryn’s mother. their feet tangled beneath the sheets, & they confessed to the ceiling with deprecating laughter that they were both much too cruel for this, but at least the sex was good, that there were things that they wanted to accomplish before their time was up. there were things that needed to happen in the next few years. there were things that they would not tell each other — & then they delighted in the knowledge that they kept secrets, that they built their sardonic little thing with each another around a grey area of honesty that

casual domesticities of tangled feet & shared cigarettes & arguments over the bathroom would never be their priority. they have morbid curiosity, & it’s a contagion on their souls.

they never ventured to live together. they had never been like that. they always knew that they would learn to hate each other or grow indifferent if they did live together —

they never ventured to live together, but they still managed to argue in the kitchen. they ventured into shared breakfasts — erwin rinsing berries while she fried eggs, & they argued about work, about snoring, about things that didn't matter.

she’s a friend. mostly.

she’s like him. mostly.

she was pregnant, & she found out late — & then it’s a mess of not having known, how could she not know & erwin hadn’t been at his best. she had been terrified & angry. she had been caught between self-blame & blaming erwin. when she poured her coffee & a cup for erwin, her hand shook so badly that she dropped the pot. then there was hot coffee at her feet, in her slippers. there were shards of glass on the floor, & it had petrified him.

since then & since bryn’s birth, they spent a lot of time in kitchens. the intimacy & laughs died fast because they started pointing out lists of love & obligations as though they were bullet shot — fast & mess & steel & determined.

since bryn’s birth, they had something that they could lose. it terrified them both.

& it’s not that she hadn’t wanted bryn. erwin has watched the mother love her child defiantly, heartily, with surprise. he has watched her defiant in the fact that she had wanted bryn, that she had wanted her career too.

it was not bryn & the mother that were incompatible. it was erwin & the mother who couldn’t twist their lives priorities to fit their a third variable.

one day, erwin supposes that bryn’s mother will return to country. that a matter of custody will open again. at that time, he will have to be open to conversation.

but it is what it is.

bryn had been born. only then did erwin & the mother try to live together. briefly. to split schedules & feeding schedules & time off.

that had been the last time he sat in someone else’s kitchen — kicking his feet out to stretch them a little more & ignoring that the furniture is uncomfortable. he kicks his legs out, presses his feet to the wall, & stretches just enough that he can pretend his joints don’t ache — that something sore doesn’t start to radiate to his shoulder when he sits too long in an uncomfortable position.

to be fair, the stool on which erwin sits probably is set for a person much shorter than him.

erwin finds that he quite likes the height.

so he savors a mesh of flavor on his tongue — melted cheese & butter & warmth & pastry. it stands out more than the catering to the afterschool event with grapes & crackers. children are picky eaters. erwin knows this. he knows this. simple usually fits better, so he imagines that it would be more . . . bizarre if the catering to a children’s event were particularly complex.

but here he sits, feeling juvenile as he kicks out his legs & savoring something home-cooked, feeling catered to.

he watches levi agree, talk about the marketing, the competitors.

it makes him close his eyes for a minute. he steps into another version of himself momentarily so that he might offer something more productive —

‘ you don’t need a different flavor profile. you need an environment. you need product that feels warm to your customers, & this fits well. it's good. ‘

see, he says. he can talk business too. he can talk politics & marketing & he has a twisted need sometimes to emphasize that he can talk in whatever language he needs.

except he speaks too soon. he speaks before he can watch defenses hackle & raise at levi’s shoulders — before he can watch the way that levi conjures a defensive dagger at his tongue to keep erwin at a distance.

erwin watches levi tick hurts & insecurities off his fingers. he files it away for his keeping, for future consideration. he tsks his tongue regardless, & he admits a little too loosely —

‘ i was asking after your intentions in inviting me here. your intention was a little forward, so i hoped to be forward in turn. i appreciate the invitation. ‘

the words sound stilted on his tongue, & he almost laughs at himself. it’s been a while since he has sat in another person’s kitchen.

he finds levi’s bitterness charming.

‘ whoever told you that you’re a lowly tea boy has incredibly dated language. you’ll have to find some cleverer critics, levi. if you’d like me to be honest about your business venture, i think you’ll have to be pointed with marketing to your customers. i think you’ve made me two delicious pastries, that you’ve got a promising location, & you’ve got as good a chance as anyone. it’s your first business, yes ? ‘

he’s good with lies. he’s good with honesty offered like little lectures, like impersonal things.

erwin settles forwards to prop his elbow on the table, to drop his chin into his hand.

‘ most successful business owners won’t hesitate to tell you how they worked from nothing, failed a few times, & learned from it. i think you’ve got as good a chance as anyone. ‘

he finds levi’s bitterness charming. he finds the awkwardness charming.

it puts him a little more at ease. reminds him that the stakes are not yet high.

the perishables have been stowed away in the refrigerator back home, & erwin watches a pretty man fumble for words.

‘ i drink tea, ‘ he confirms & soothes. he does a poor job of disguising the note of amusement that tips his voice into something warm. ‘ not to your standards, i’m sure. you can choose for me. i’m sure i will like it. ‘

& despite all of this — he can’t help but press his finger against a bruise. to point out the things that make him curious.

‘ you don’t do this often. ‘

it's strange to have someone else in his kitchen that isn't farlan or isabel or even eren when he begs levi to let him pick up a shift, that he needs something more, that he wants to make his own money. apparently sometimes daddy can't buy it all, & he admires the kid for that. admires that he gives a shit beyond everything else & wants to make his own way. it gives him more appreciation for him than he has for his brother, even though they had dated. he knows too well what comes with that asshole & all his fake promises –– he makes a good politician. he has a horrible poker face but is great at lying. it's one of his more frustrating attributes that brought the relationship to a spiraling halt before it could fully blossom into anything promising. farlan hadn't been devastated –– isabel had offered to throw eggs at his house & tell the world that he was sleeping with her & that she was pregnant with his child.

the last time someone else had been in his kitchen had been zeke, though. it had been a rainy day & the cafe was still in its little insurgency of being made. he had been testing out recipes in the back, mumbling to himself about the things he would need, how many would look like a good menu –– truthfully, he would've been fine with just selling tea, but he had business advice & tea wasn't going to cut it. so he had branched into a few recipes that he had perfected over the years of boredom & being on his own at home, food network droning on in the background to fill the house with something other than silence.

zeke had been there, tapping his fingers against the large metal table that was used for mixing ingredients, rolling it out, etc. boredom was written across his face with every single huff of his breath & every push of his glasses up his nose. his eyes had glanced around, foot tapping impatiently; they'd been there for two hours & they had done nothing but sit around. when levi had finally presented him with something from the oven, one of the rare recipes he had gotten from his mother ( a chocolate chip recipe that involved a good handful of sea salt on the top to off set the flavor ), zeke had taken a quick bite, frowned, & told him acutely that it was awful. that he needed something better than a simple cookie that would make him stick out among the other hipster venues around the area. that he would sink in an area full of absolute sharks because his cookie hadn't been good enough.

he had proceeded to go on & tell him that he should take cooking classes at the local academy, apply for some sort of funding, & that he could actually make something of himself. levi had stared at him for a solid two minutes, silent, before he had promptly grabbed his coat, told him to get the fuck out, & stormed off to his own car. zeke had trailed after him like a lost puppy. levi hadn't felt bad when he splashed water from a puddle on him on the way out.

it occurs to him now how strange & personal it is to have erwin in his kitchen. he hadn't thought it over in the grocery store line; he had been driven on impulse, that need to push himself forward & do something spontaneous for a change. when he had extended the offer, he hadn't actually thought he would accept, either. the truth of the matter is, is that no matter how handsome that erwin may look, he has a child. a child that will dictate his entire life, including who he dates, who he fancies, whatever entails. & he doesn't blame him for that –– it makes him a good father.

but it settles into his stomach & chest that he has done something foolish. even the snide remark about groceries being put away back at his home –– he had a chance to have an out, & yet erwin had driven here. he had happily entered & now is balancing on the stool that levi knows is uncomfortable. he hasn't complained once. he has sat to himself & observed around him, but has never once launched into a giant rant about how long things were taking or how horrendous the building looked, or how he expected something different. something more.

it makes him feel off kilter in a way that he isn't sure he's felt before. it makes him feel itchy, makes his stomach twist up in knots, makes his chest feel uncomfortably tight. erwin is an intrusion in his space, but he doesn't feel like one. he feels like he belongs in that stool –– & that scares levi more than anything else.

there's a certain line that he had promised himself that he wouldn't cross. he had promised farlan he wouldn't cross it, either: dating one of the parents of the kids that he watches is off limits. levi had full on laughed when farlan had stated it the one day –– like levi would ever be interested in anyone who had a kid, let alone anyone in general. most of the kids had a full set of parents, anyway –– not that he has anything against single parents, as his mother had been one. he would just much rather not be the homewrecker.

he hadn't even been looking, truthfully. he had begun hanging out there while the store was remodeled & it came a month or so after his break up with zeke –– it was a good distraction. you can't exactly focus on your ex when a child is running at you with sticky hands & melted gummy bears & you're climbing up in your chair to avoid being touched by them.

erwin is good looking, he's not going to turn around & lie about that. somehow, him having a child hasn't put levi off like he thought it would. but there's also that biting whisper in the back of his head telling him not to get involved. that this isn't a good thing that's meant to last. that erwin has a child & levi shouldn't get involved in this –– what does levi know about raising a child? he has a single mother who still breaks down crying when she drinks too much & cups his cheeks & apologizes to him for the things that she's done. he has a father who isn't in his life, who he doubts that his mother even knows. that is energy you just don't bring around a child, no matter what family circumstance erwin has going for them.

but as he teeters onto his heels & back to his toes, he realizes that he's holding his breath. that he's actually wanting erwin's opinion on something –– normally he doesn't care. he'll put out what he likes & let the food sales speak for themselves. that's how he adjusts the menu normally. but he finds that he's actually scared to hear that erwin doesn't like it. that he has failed in something so simple as getting his attention with a fucking pastry.

levi doesn't know when this has become his life. he doesn't know when he started caring what someone thought just because they were taller than normal & blonde with eyes that are far too bright & too dark to really be comfortable with.

but then erwin's eyes open & levi feels his throat close with just how into it he looks. he feels a flush go across his cheeks at the confirmation –– that he has picked well when it comes to a meshing of flavors. he has done well with the ingredients that he has picked out –– all the while erwin had followed him & they had noncommittal small talk; something else levi hates with a passion. he hates that he feels flushed with the simple praise of it.

farlan had told him that zeke did a number on him but he hadn't believed him until now.

he clears his throat a little awkwardly, shifting on his feet before he nods & breaks off a piece of his own to taste. it melts on his tongue –– the cheese is the perfect offset with the soft spice that coats it afterward. not too hot, but just a kick that is melting into more flavors. it makes his own mouth water & he lets out a little noise of appreciation as he swallows.

〝 for sure on the menu. i think it'll be a different flavor profile than what the others around here have. 〞 not that that totally matters; he almost flinches when he says it, sounds too close to zeke to feel comfortable with it. so he busies himself with leaning over the table & scribbling in the margins of his notes that look like an absolute disaster.

eyes flick up at erwin's question, slowly narrowing a bit. he looks far too entertained & smug in that stool of his. it makes him want to kick it out from underneath him just to prove a point, just to prove that he can.

〝 why, are you aiming to tell me that this joint is a total crap shoot & will never make any money? because i've heard that one before. 〞 he ticks it off on his fingers, holding them up one by one. 〝 or maybe that my flavors are too ambitious. that i'm trying to act like a five star chef when i'm just a lowly tea boy. or maybe, just maybe, that i could do better than something so frivolous with my time. 〞

an eyebrow raises in erwin's direction, settles the ball in his court. he knows he has no reason to bristle like he's doing –– there's the ghost of that asshole in this room & it's oppressing him. he lets out a slow breath, eyes averting.

〝 sorry, force of habit. 〞 he awkwardly clears his throat & turns to the stove, pouring out water over sieves of tea leaves, letting them steep without ever tainting the liquid underneath. it's a trick his mother had taught him. her hourglass settles above the stove top, on a metal shelf so that it reminds him of her, reminds him of home.

tongue presses against the side of his cheek for a moment as he crosses his arms against his chest. 〝 do you want sugar or lemon or anything? do you even drink tea? 〞 things that he should've considered –– things that he should've thought through. that red starts to tinge his cheeks again & he averts his gaze as he lets out a breath through his nose.

he's not good at this. he's horrendous.

#100. c. smith #chaoslulled #sdfuhgsdf there we have it omg #something sweet #a lil disorganzied but omg

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litcrazh · 2 years ago

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if mlb was a more… mature show and realistic AND THE CHARACTERS WERE OF AGE! it would be sooo much better

like here are some headcannons

ladynoir??? hooked up 100%

marichat??? SNEAKY LINK!!

ladrien… don’t get me started. HOOKED UP

adrienette but u alr know they go ham imagine new york scenes and they like sneak into each other rooms and stuff but i’m not talking about the devils tango!! no no no!

and like more realistic parts

like fucking gaberial being a little less controlling, marinette ACTUSLLY being able to speak to adrien without dying, THE FRIEND GROUP and high school parties bc adrien and nino are 100% a dynamic duo that drinks so much that alya and marinette think they are going to have to get there stomach pumped but then they are back at it again next friday

also there group dynamic?????? immaculate

nino and marinette have been friends since diapers so they have a platonic- sibling like relationship i’m just going to pretend that nino tried to go on a date to make alya and adrien jealous

alya is a sworn #adrienagrestehater but ofc they are best friends, so much so thst in interviews adrien will praise alya for her work ethic and in the same breath say how he hates her more than hawkmoth. adrien just loves how alya is so real with him bc he’s so used to being worshiped.

alya and nino are obviously “so grossly in love i want to jump off a cliff” - marinette and adrien at some point- while adrien and mari and low key FWB

adrien specifically is low key a douche, playboy chat noiry but in the best way possible. like he flirts RELENTLESSLY with marinette after they become close, but MARINETTE FLIRTS BACK LIKE THE LEGEND SHE IS. she finds out what makes him blush and become bashful and stuff and goes OFF. they both are complétive so sometimes you would just walk into this type of conversation.

“- i thought you said you wouldn’t fall in love mari, but this blush of yours is telling me different,”

“maybe i’m just thinking of last night, hot stuff”

“what did you do? dream about us?”

“wouldn’t you like to know,”

“cmon baby, you know curiosity killed the cat. i know that i was dreaming about us,”

“who did i do, sunny. asking the wrong questions, but don’t worry! a blond head of hair was always in my mind”

“blond hair? what hot guys have hot hair?? oh? didn’t know you had a thing for chat noir,”

“you have said on national television how much you like ladybug, but ive always had a thing for lea-“

“guys we aRE RIGHT HERE”

also, the FRIEND GROUP all hate LIELA. like guys… CMON. alya is a investigation journalist and nino is the bestest friend like ever. but no one, and i mean NO ONE hates lila as much as adrien, especially if she fucks with mari.

*before class, adrian and mari and joking about something sitting rather close!! and lila walks in, seeing this, and wants to ruin it”

“wow marinette! i’m suprised adrien would be so close to you after last night”

adrien and marinette look at each other in confusion, and adrien tries (and fails) he best not to laugh at her

“what happ- PSHH- what happened- mari i rea- what happened last night lila,”

(marichat was in full effect last night)

“i saw marinette with chat noir last night on her balcony, doing less than appropriate things on the balcony”

at this point both of there cheeks burst red- because oh shit she’s not lying, well some parts at least- and people are gathering around, and some are believing her, meanwhile our two superheroes are trying to figure out if it was ACC true

adrien in his head, no doubt: did i kiss her last night? we watched that american movie and i kissed her forehead, but not mari also in her head- I WISH HE DID GIRL.

but some people in the class are dumb so they are like

“wow mari that’s low”

“didn’t know you were such a player”

“like she could pull him, ridiculous, utterly ridiculous”

mari starts to get a little stressed, her breathing picks up and adrien being adrien notices and causally slings his arm around her, a smug smile on his face

“trust me” he whispers in her ear.

“not possible”

“and how would you know?” lila has no longer trying to woo adrien, because tbh he’s so loyal it was too hard

“because i was with mari last night”

“well- well uh i was really late at night, like 2 am,”

“no no no lila, all night”

she scoffs

“and what were you doing last night,?”

“what do you think two tennagers who are very attractive and hot would be doing at 2 in the morning lila”

and that shuts everyone up real fast, and no one dares question it because his smug face with mari hiding in his chest beat red tell the whole story

“way to really tone down the situation,”

“my specialty darling,”

sarcastically she adds “nice ‘hot’ addition, btw”

he just laughs

imagine ms bustiers suprised walking into that class a minute later

also, tik tok love THE GROUP and lb and cn themselves. i imagine adrien having 10.2 mil on insta, alya 2.4 but the ladyblog 8 mil (she LOVED THAT SHE HAS MORE THEN ADRIEN combined “pucker up and kiss my ass buttercup”) nino’s producer acc has like 15 mil bc he collars with top artists like kanye, frank ocean, tyler and kendrick lamar and mari having 6.8 mil.

everyone thinks mari and adrien are ducking and post edits/ proof videos as to why.

adrien does in fact post thirst traps

mari had them all saved and downloaded.

adrien has some of maris too

they all have secret accounts where they post the funniest shit ever and comment on tiktok’s about them like “adrien i didn’t know you and mari have a child???? why didn’t you tell me!!”

don’t get me started on lb and cn on tik tok

*edit of chat being hot*

@ chatnoirfanpage : omg wow he’s so hot @ ladybugoffical you should definitely see this and marry him and have his kids

— @ ladybugoffical : omg chat get off your phone your late for patrol

#mlb #miraculous ladybug #mlb headcanon #chat noir #ladybug and chat noir #tales of ladybug and cat noir #marinette dupen chang

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this-is-my-procrastination · 4 years ago

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hi honey! (●’◡’●)ﾉ could i request a oneshot with Dazai, and reader is just always sleepy? like if she sits still for longer than thirty minutes, she’ll be passed out? thank you!

pairing: dazai osamu x sleepy!reader

synopsis: sleepy y/n has trouble staying awake

request: hi honey! (●’◡’●)ﾉ could i request a oneshot with Dazai, and reader is just always sleepy? like if she sits still for longer than thirty minutes, she’ll be passed out? thank you!

a/n: omg im so sorry this literally took me 10 million years to finish!! i think i’ve rewritten this like more than four times at this point lmao but hopefully it turned out ok and you like it! as always, thank you so much for requesting ily <33

A pair of lips delicately brush your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, groggily blinking the sleep from your eyes as you slowly register the owner of the offending lips. To no one’s surprise, it’s Dazai’s smug face that beams back at you, grin softening as he teases, “Look who fell asleep again~ If you weren’t so cute, I might be offended y’know?” His playful pout causes you to giggle, your boyfriend already helping to make waking up so much less vexing than usual.

Retaliating to his teasing remarks, you attempt to ruffle his messy tuft of black hair but find that his head is sadly more than an arm’s length away, much to your dismay. Looking back down at your disheveled bedhead fondly, Dazai pulls you into his arms as you release a few indignant retorts. The movie you two were watching had been in its closing scenes, but when he looked towards you to ask your thoughts (and ask why you’d been so quiet after literally the first thirty minutes), he was met with your very cute, very endearing, very much asleep expression, eyes shut and mouth slightly ajar. Your head was adorably leaned against the crook of his neck, and he would prefer not to admit it, but he had spent more time than he realized just admiring your dozing features silently, appreciating and marveling at this human who made him feel so loved. Past Dazai would have scoffed at a serious romantic relationship that didn’t end in double suicide, but right now, the thought of not being able to spend peaceful moments like this with you was the most excruciating punishment he could possibly imagine. How could he imagine someone else when even just your sleeping face was so incredibly adorable to him?

Your freshly-awake ramblings brought him back to the present. Dazai lets his fingers drift and find its place loosely running down a stray strand of your hair, twirling it cheerfully as he listens to you continuing on.

You suddenly stop your rant, staring at him with an amused expression on your face before you gently prod his side, “What’re you so deep in thought about?” You pondered the possibilities, “Could you be thinking about what to eat? I’m pretty hungry too after that nice nap!”

“No, no,” Dazai dramatically denies your question, waving his hand dismissively, “Well - I’ll never say no to a snack, but I was actually mesmerized! You just look so cute when you’re sleepy~”

You playfully roll your eyes, nudging him with a teasing “uh-huh.”

“Is that why I can get away with falling asleep around you?” your smile is warm as you meet his eyes, and Dazai’s heart quickens just slightly, “I told you that you can wake me up since I sometimes fall asleep before I realize. I appreciate you always taking care of me though, Dazai. You’re a very good boyfriend for that~”

Your praise is music to Dazai’s ears as his lips quirk into a smirk, “Oh-ho, am I finally getting the appreciation I’ve been deserving? I’m glad you finally noticed!” Your boyfriend’s hand pats your head affectionately, and you laugh aloud as he plasters a quick sloppy kiss to your forehead.

You’re about to playfully call him out for his touchiness but your boyfriend’s chest immediately puffs out theatrically, “But don’t you worry! I’m self-sworn to protect my sleeping beauty for as long as I live - actually, even from the grave!”

Dazai’s sudden knightly attitude cracks you up as you swiftly duck out from under his hand. You grin widely at his antics before matching his energy with a statement fitting for a true princess: “oh, ya - uh! ok thanks buddy! so then, Sir Dazai, lead the way to the kitchen and let’s make a mid-movie - oh, never mind the movie’s over - a post-movie snack!”

Dazai’s cheers ring through your apartment as he eagerly yet still surprisingly delicately, always being careful to keep you unscathed and present by his side, grabs your hand and escorts you into the kitchen.

The plan was to make brownies. So, why is Dazai furiously beating a bowl of grainy “whipped cream” that he’d made using a combo of water and specifically granulated, not confectionary, sugar? Why is more brownie batter on cabinet doors than in the baking pan? Why is the salt tipped onto its side, spilling its entire contents into some kind of abstract shape on the countertop?

One reason: food fight. Maybe your abundant sleeping habits had finally caught up to you, but you had never felt as invigorated and actively mischievous as you had when you’d swiped some brownie batter onto your boyfriend’s face. It was worth it! You think. You thought. Dazai’s brown hues absolutely shined with mirth at your pathetic attempt of provoking him. You were prepared for him to laugh it off and call you adorable, maybe naive for playing with fire, but ultimately he would chuckle and move on. Except, that did not happen. Instead, he had immediately retaliated with an even bigger glop thrown into your hair, partly accidentally and partly to be a li’l gremlin, and oh boy, it just escalated from there.

The whipped cream Dazai had whipped up for “quick ammunition” was quickly used up - Dazai scooped it, and the heap had seemed to grow impossibly bigger with every additional spoonful. Currently, his smile was widening and creepily stretching ear-to-ear as his starry eyes zeroed in on your vulnerable form.

The ruthless battle continued for a while, but after finally agreeing to a truce, you both couldn’t help but stare at the resulting mess with equally blank stares.

“Mm... okgoodnightbabe! I’ll see you in the morning!” You almost trip over yourself as you flee, throwing a cursory glance at your incredulous boyfriend before giggling and rushing to close the bedroom door before he can follow. Dazai’s whining carries through the solid wood, but you playfully call back, “I’ll give you anything you want - just pleasee do the cleaning! And if it’s too much, come to bed and we can deal with it in the morning together, ok?”

You could clearly picture Dazai’s pout in your mind as the sound of his footsteps fades towards the kitchen. Smiling fondly, you quickly change into your pajamas and hop into your shared bed to wait for his return. However, listening to the distant clanging of bowls and whooshing of the tap water proved to be an effective lullaby, and you couldn’t help it as your eyes began to flutter and eventually stay closed.

By the time Dazai finishes cleaning, the dark night sky was starting to brighten and mix with the warm oranges and reds of sunrise. He quietly opens your bedroom door and is met, not really to his surprise, by your sleeping lump of a body. Dazai’s brows furrow slightly, but he quickly notices the open book laying by your form and realizes that you had been up waiting for him. He could also tell you by the blankets messily strewn around you - usually you preferred having them wrapped around you like a tight burrito.

At that, Dazai lightly chuckles, his heart warming at the thought. He takes his time putting on a fresh set of clothes and rolls his eyes as he ever-so-gently tucks the blankets over you. The bed shifts as he climbs in carefully, but Dazai quickly freezes as you start to mumble quietly. Your words are inaudible, even as Dazai strains his ears to hear any (possible) secrets that you could be spouting. Shifting restlessly, you roll around and suddenly shoot out your arm, making an interesting grabby motion. Dazai almost lets out a laugh as he wonders what in the world you could be looking for, but his eyes widen when you make contact with your boyfriend and immediately calm down, hand gripping his shirt loosely.

As your body relaxes, Dazai feels a wide smile creep up his face, adoring and almost grossly soft. And he lets it. He just can’t help himself - he leans in and places an affectionate kiss on your forehead, lingering there before pulling back and squeezing next to you under the covers. He shifts your arm into a more comfortable position, and as you unconsciously flip to face him, Dazai’s eyes soften into a sweet but intensely warm chocolate brown. If you had been awake to open your eyes, you would have witnessed a rare but genuine sight: your boyfriend’s peaceful expression illuminated by the quiet sunlight of dawn, his eyes deeply staring into yours with endless messages of comforting assurance and happiness, and his lips subtly quirking into a tenderly loving smile shared only for the two of you.

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai osamu x you #dazai x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #reader insert #dazai oneshot

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mostly-mundane-atla · 4 years ago

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@gayfertilitygoddess i've thought about it pretty extensively. Before I got popular-ish for being a real life eskimo in the fandom, i made a passing coment about the headcanon and it was my most requested topic until people started asking more cultural questions (names and language-related questions seem to be more popular now).

Funnily enough, and I do try to keep this blog otherwise drama free, this was springboarding off of discussions about headcanons with Jin in sex work, which got an absolute brat calling me a "pathetic, sexist loser" in a reblog of the post. I kept it off the main tag and tagged it "sex work mention" (as I do with all of these posts) so I have no idea how she found it to make gross accusations at me. I reblogged to say that her insisting that objective discussions of sex work were inherently slut-shaming was really hurtful as someone who had to consider it from a young age (home isn't always safe and favors/cash are useful at -30°F, we'll just leave it at that). She sent me asks to say that she "didn't mean to be hurtful" but also wouldn't apologize for what she said. She didn't have a damn thing to say about headcanon'ing Jet resorting to sex work, despite it having much more to do with his personality and the way he presents himself than with Jin, where it was entirely about her circumstances as someone in the poor side of a big city. She's since been blocked.

But yeah, Jet's most marketable asset to civilians who just want to escape violence is his charisma. His own comments and Smellerbee's suggest he promised that he'd stop fighting and stealing for the time being. He tells Zuko-as-Lee that "We [outcasts] have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will." Zuko had his uncle to be his rock and managed to rely on the kindness of strangers when he went on his own. Jet had two friends whom he felt responsible for as their leader. We don't even get canon confirmation that he's fully literate. All of these things combined make finding any kind of employment very difficult, and that doesn't even take into consideration that he can't set down roots. He's trying to get to safety. He can't be obligated to stay in any one place that isn't his destination. There aren't a lot of options.

I feel like this would add to him needing to get out of territory that could be occupied by thee Fire Nation, given the comics explained that Firelord Sozin was a homophobe and worked that into the law. "You know what they've done to boys like me this past century," Jet would probably say. "And those were the ones on their own side." I can't imagine it wouldn't add to the amatanormative mess I write between him and Smellerbee. He shouldn't have to do this at all let alone by himself, and she tries to offer to help, to pitch in, but he scolds her for it so harshly that she cries. He apologizes later and and tells her she needs to just let him worry about it. Girls are supposed to like it when boys are fiercely protective and self-sacrificing, right?

Another thing about this headcanon is sex workers do and historically have done a lot more than most people tend to think. It's one of the reasons phrases like "selling their body" are grossly inaccurate. There is a lot of emotional labor involved. Some people who hire sex workers do so mostly for the company. Not in an "ahem [*eyebrow wiggle*] company, if you catch my meaning [*wink*]" way, like just actually having another human being in the room. Talking, smiling, laughing at their jokes. People get lonely, so it's only natural to pay someone for intimacy. Sometimes, more often than you might assume, they end up using that time more for emotional intimacy than physical intimacy. Sometimes that's the intention.

I wrote a scene with a situation like that. Jet is hired by an old widow because she claims he looks just like her husband did when they were that young. She holds his hand and kisses his cheek, laughing about how that was the farthest the old man had let her get before they were married, and asks him to help her make dinner. She sings and talks about how they used to walk by the river and how handsome he was, how very shy. At some point she stops saying "he" and starts saying "you," addressing Jet as if he was the man she married all those years ago.

"Am I still pretty?" she asks absentmindedly. "Am I as pretty as you'd say I'd be with lines on my face, a hunched back, and hair like clouds?"

"Of course," Jet says. "You're beautiful."

And she looks at him, but that seems to shatter the illusion. She mentions something about making too much food. That she hadn't had to cook that much since.... Silence. The sad kind that seems to suggest another tragedy. She tells him he should take some for his friends and thanks him for all he's done.

(There was also an OC concept I had who was a gay sex worker sharing his home with queer artist friends at the tail end of Firelord Sozin's reign, but this post is already long enough)

#sex work mention #keeping this off the main tag so i don't corrupt anyone #congrats on unlocking my oldest special interest #i could talk about this for hours #and will given half the chance

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fanfictionfansmiction · 4 years ago

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Waiting For You

This is a long one you guys! A Fred Weasley Reader Insert I hope you enjoy. As I’ve started writing I’m beginning to see a lot of them follow the same patterns so please do send in requests so I can write something a bit different :) If you want a part two I would be more than happy to oblige

Word Count: 3597

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I sat down at my desk once more. Clearing away the papers and notes the never-ending week had collected. The small lamp cast a heavenly glow scattered through the leaves of my plants. Quietly I opened my draw pulling out my notebook filled with letters I would never send. Turning to the next empty page I intended to spill every last moment into. The movement of the pen ales the headache growing deep in my mind and I lose myself entirely in the act of it. Not particularly caring for the words I write. Just knowing that all day I waited keeping them safe for this moment finally letting them free. Outside of my bedroom I hear him move, speaking to someone I assume to be George or one of his other siblings. Animated and joyous. The thought brings a smile to my lips. They laugh together over something small I imagine.

Finally finished with my letter I close the notebook placing it back in its spot. I settle myself turning off the light as I go to join my friends. George opens his arms wide offering me a hug which Angelina joins in. They tell us of their most recent trip and of how warm Greece was this time of year.

“And we have a little surprise.” George says wiggling his eyebrows gleefully. Angelina breaks into a dazzling smile showing me and Fred her left hand where a sweet diamond ring sits on her finger. Now I envelope the two of them into a hug which Fred joins us. Squeezing all of us together.

“Knew you could do it mate.” Fred says clapping his brother on the back giving George a proud look.

“Let me see the ring Ang.” I say holding my hand to her which she eagerly abides placing her hand dramatically into mine. I see the love in her face when she gazes at George as I look at the ring.

“Yes, Angelina we must see the ring!” Fred adds in a comical tone standing next to me taking in the engagement ring.

“It’s beautiful, you did well George.”

“Did you ever doubt me?” He adds planting a kiss on Angelina’s cheek.

“Never.” She responds.

Me and Fred send each other a look which says god this is grossly adorable. Angelina and George are in their own little bubble just staring at each other.

“I think this calls for champagne don’t you Fred.” I say.

“Absolutely couldn’t think of a more appropriate occasion! We’ll just pop to the Muggle shop and get some.” Fred adds grabbing my hand and my bag as we make a swift exit out of the front door. The cold night doesn’t mask the strange look taking over Fred's face. I’m not sure why but he looks sad.

“Did you know he was going to propose?” I ask him.

For a moment he doesn’t respond but he does look down at me leaving a pregnant pause between the two of us.

“I didn’t know he when he was going to do it but I had an idea it would be soon. I actually helped him pick out the ring a few months ago.” he looks away, “I can see that look on your face don’t worry I am happy for them. It’s just strange. It’s very grown up of him.” he looks back at me and continues without any probing, “It’s stupid but me and George always moved at the same pace. I feel like I’m falling behind a little. Do you ever feel like maybe there’s something wrong with us?” he asks.

“Because we aren’t engaged?”

“Well more because we’re single, you know Ron and Hermione have moved in together. Harry and Ginny are only not engaged because they want to wait but they’re practically married. They’re all younger than us. It’s like everyone we know has found someone they want to be with. But here we are buying celebratory champagne for a happy couple.” He says turning the corner to walk down the next street.

“I don’t think that’s wrong of us Fred. If you worried about not being lovable.” I look up at him, “Then you don’t need to worry, I haven’t met someone who didn’t love you.” I’m thankful for the dark as I feel a blush grow on my cheeks.

“Are you keeping count.” He laughs leaving another pause before continuing, “You don’t have anything to worry about it either. You are extremely lovable.”

Even though it’s cold out tonight I begin to sweat under my jumper. Thankfully we approach the shop so the conversation of love disperses into the wind.

“Now how happy would you say we are for the happy couple, £7.50 happy or £20 happy?” I ask holding up the two bottles. Fred pretends to read the labels before choosing the cheaper bottle.

“I love them both but I don’t love them enough to spend £20 on sparkling wine. Did you want some snacks while we’re here?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’ll just grab some stuff on the way to the till.”

With an armful of appropriate snacks and drinks we wander back to the house. Opening up the bag of cheese puffs to eat on the walk.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Fred asks out of nowhere.

“Oh, uh it was a month ago with that muggle who worked as a chef.”

“You went on a few dates with him didn’t you. He was alright. Why didn’t it go any further?” He asks tentatively.

“Well, he just didn’t feel right. He was constantly talking about himself and just didn’t do it for me sexually to be honest.” I say popping a cheese puff into my mouth. This causes Fred to laugh so loud I’m worried we’re disturbing people who live in the houses we pass.

“Poor guy, since we’re being honest, I did hate that twat.” This time I laugh and whack his chest. “What he was always judging me and he laughed when he saw me making breakfast! Also, the way he looked at you made my skin crawl.” He adds.

“How did he look at me?” I shriek with laughter.

“Like he was always thinking about sex. By the sounds of it he was always thinking about having bad sex with you. And that moustache only made it worse.”

“What about you how long has it been for you?” I ask.

“What since I had bad sex or had a date?” he responds with a laugh, “It’s been a long time, I just haven’t found anyone I’m interested in spending time with.”

“You don’t have to tell me about the sex the ladies you bring home aren’t quiet.” I add.

“You little perv.” Fred laughs.

When we get back into the house, we hear music playing from the living room where George and Angelina are dancing together. Holding each other close with content smiles playing on their lips mouthing the words to an old muggle song that plays on our record player. For a moment me and Fred just stand there watching them. I can’t tell you what he’s thinking but I know what’s running through my mind. The longing to be held in such a loving way. To have someone look at you like that and to look at someone like that. Looking up at Fred I see that he is now looking at me. Something tugs inside my chest. He places a hand on the small of my back and for just a second I think he’s going to ask me to dance with him, the image of that intimacy brings a blush to my face. Instead, he guides me into the kitchen where we drop the snacks on the counter. While I source our second-hand champagne flutes, last used on the opening of the joke shop, Fred pops the sparkling wine. We pour out four glasses in silence.

George and Angelina walk into the kitchen taking a glass each. George lifts his glass toward us and we do the same, then he tips it toward Angelina who intertwines her arm with his.

“To love.” George says.

“To love.” Angelina mirrors.

Fred and I look to each other, with a cheeky grin on his face he links his arm with mine. With his skin touching mine a strange feeling once again tugs inside me as we drink.

We finish off the two bottles of sparkling wine, with the aid of the bubbles and the alcohol I do end up dancing with Fred. He takes my hand and rests another on the small of my back which still burning from the last time his hand rested there. I was so close I could smell his apple shampoo and his aftershave. Sometime late in the night George and Angelina went back to their home but me and Fred kept dancing. My head leant against his chest with just his cotton t shirt keeping me from his skin but I still could hear his heart thud. His hands made their way up the back of my shirt so he explored my bare skin. Drawing his fingers to follow my spine. I didn’t stop him. When I looked up at him, he was once again looking at me. In a way I’d never seen him look before. My hands slid up to secure themselves around his neck and his still danced under my shirt.

We stopped dancing. Minutes passed and we just stood there. Hearts racing and bodies pressed together. Slightly breathless and definitely reddening. The last song on the record played out so we no longer had music it was just the two of us holding each other with the song of our hearts beating. Fred slowly brought his face down to mine so our noses brushed against each other. My eyes fluttered closed. Just as we were about to kiss the home phone rang. My eyes opened and the spell had broken. With the shrill ring of the phone dragging us out of the moment Fred and I looked at each other again. Not with the yearning that there was before but with confusion. I was the first to step away making it to the phone just before it rang out.

It was someone Fred had given his number to on a night out. I passed the phone to him walking back to my room like dog with its tail between his legs. When I close the door, I press my forehead against it panting. I can hear him talk on the phone for a few minutes when he hangs up, I assume he’ll go to bed but what I didn’t expect was for him to walk up to my door and to just stand there. His shadow dancing with mine. Once again, I hear him breathing. I feel his name at the tip of my tongue and I almost let myself say it.

Instead, he says mine.

In a breath I open my door. He is waiting for me with lips parted. I’m unsure of what he’s going to do and I think he is too. Like something completely out of his control brought him to my door.

“How was she?” I ask.

But he doesn’t answer. He steps toward me closing the space between us again. His hands find their way to my face and he leaves them there. Searching my face for an answer to a question he has yet to ask. But I feel it. Deep inside me I hear the question and I know the answer. I place my hand on his cheek too his face hot. This time I bring my face up to his letting our noses brush together for a moment. This is all it takes for him to kiss me. Fiery with the taste of champagne still on his lips. His hands explore me in the way they had only began to do a moment ago. Mine begin to do the same to him. My hands running up his shirt to feel his chest and his heart beating beneath it. Before I know what happening we’re both shirtless and I’m perched on my dresser while he kisses every inch of bare skin.

We both lose any control we had earlier in the night after we’ve made our way to the bed still panting and touching one another. I learn why the ladies he brings home always make so much noise and I’m so thankful I didn’t keep dating the muggle.

After we just lay there in bed staring up at the ceiling. I turn my head to look at Fred who once more is still looking at me. As ridiculous as it sounds considering what we’ve just done I feel very aware that I’m naked next to Fred. A shyness takes over me and I have to resist sitting up and getting under the covers. Fred sensing my mood change leans over his side of the bed picking up his t-shirt that lay on the floor and gives it to me to wear. After I’ve put it on, he suggests we get under the duvet considering how cold it gets at night in this house. I don’t ask him if he wants to go back to his bed and he doesn’t offer. I lay my head on his bare chest and his hand draws circles along my back once more.

I fall into sleep easily next to Fred who’s steady breathing I eventually match.

The morning sun lights up my room and I lie in Fred’s arms recounting the night before. Already panicked about how to talk to him now. This wasn’t some guy I was dating and I wasn’t some girl he brought back from a club. We live together.

He shifts stretching and yawning opening his eyes. He smiles in a way that makes me want to not worry about what’ll happen because of last night. He tugs me closer into his chest and plants a kiss onto the top of my head. I melt into his touch and sigh contently.

“So that was...” I trail off already annoyed that I started the conversation.

“Really good.” He answers.

“Yes, I have to agree with you there.”

We just lay there together for a while both now aware of the closeness and the familiarity of it all. I don’t prompt him for more conversation about what had happened last night out of fear that he’ll dismiss it as a onetime thing. Well aware that the feeling tugging inside my chest wasn’t anything new. Knowing that a few steps away from me in my desk are letters all addressed to Fred telling all him all the things I couldn’t say. If this didn’t even mean anything to him how could I live in this house with him without breaking my heart every time I see him or think about him.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?” He asks me.

I turn my head to look up at him from his chest and he looks nervous. Biting his lip and playing with his hair with his free hand.

“Yes. Absolutely let's do that.” I answer.

Then my alarm goes off signalling I have work in an hour and a half. I sigh and peel myself away from Fred with frustrated look.

“I have to get ready.”

“I knew it was coming don’t worry, I have some shop manager stuff to do today anyway so it’s for the best. I mean I never thought I’d be able to leave you naked in bed.” He jokes.

“You’ve thought about me naked.” I blush as I stand up from the bed wrapping myself in a dressing gown.

“Well, we’ve known each other a long time and you are the most beautiful girl I’ve met so yes. And if I hadn’t, I probably would’ve just gone to sleep last night instead of just waiting for you to open the door. And to be honest -“ He gets cut off by the house phone ringing. He groans pulling on his boxers and plodding out of the room over to the house phone.

I follow him out in need of a cup of coffee. I mime to him to ask he wants one which he does so I go into the kitchen to boil the kettle.

“Oh Hayley, I didn’t expect you to call again.” I hear him say until the kettle drowns it out.

After the coffee is made Fred makes his way into the kitchen with a guilty look on his face. He kisses me thanking me for the drink insisting that he’ll make breakfast while I shower and get dressed for work. After I’m dressed, I make my way to the kitchen, where Fred looks proudly at the plate, he’s dished up with a glass of orange juice and a rose from the neighbour's garden complementing the chocolate sauce smiley face he’s drawn over my pancake.

“Why that muggle ever laughed at your culinary skills I’ll never know.” I joke sliding into my seat next to Fred.

“About other people...” he starts, “So Hayley the girl from last night phoned again and she asked me if...”

“If?”

“If I wanted to go on a date with her.”

“And do you?”

Fred shakes his head, “No I don’t which I did tell her but it brings me to something I did want to talk to you about.”

“What’s that?” I ask taking a bite of my pancakes.

“I know last night, before we,” he gestures between the two of us, “which by the way was incredible, we talked about the both of us being single and I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I didn’t sleep with you because I’m scared about being alone. I did it because it felt right. Whatever this is between us it feels right to me.”

“It feels right to me too.” I add holding his hand in mine.

“Great, so how do you feel about a date tonight?”

“Tonight, works perfectly for me.” I say smiling at him but my second alarm goes off to let me know I have to leave for work so I kiss Fred before I go.

The work days go quickly which I’m thankful for. On the entire walk back to the house I’m smiling like a love sick teenager. When I arrive home, Fred hasn’t yet made it back from work so I draw myself a bath to relax. While I’m relaxing in the lavender scented bath, I hear Fred call to let me know he’s home. I unlock the bathroom door and shout back to him. He opens the door peaking his head in like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to look.

“How was work?” I ask him.

“Agonising.” he answers in a strained tone.

“Why?” I laugh.

“Well, I spent all day thinking about you obviously.” he walks into the bathroom leaning down to kiss me.

“So, what’s the plan for our date tonight?” I ask.

“That’s a surprise.” He says kissing me again.

After I’ve finished getting ready, I find myself standing outside Fred’s door feeling once again overcome with shyness. I’d spent the entire day not thinking about what it all meant between me and Fred, I was focused on how it felt last being with him and letting every desire I have for him take over. It was all instinct and I’m not particularly good on acting on it. What if he doesn’t like the dress I’m wearing. Or what if we start dating and it all ends terribly leaving me without all my friends. Or what if-

“See it’s very unnerving standing outside someone’s door isn’t it.” I hear Fred say from inside his room.

“How does it feel for you being on the other side of it?” I respond.

“Still pretty nerve wracking.” He laughs still not opening the door.

“Fred.” I say and he says my name back to me. “We aren’t making a mistake, are we?” I ask.

“Mistake?” he says swinging open the door with fear taking over his eyes, “Why would we be making a mistake.” He asks looking down at me.

“Well, if we start dating it's not the same as starting out with someone from the first date. I know you better than I know anyone. I mean we live together Fred. Where are we starting from? What are we to each other?”

He takes my hand and leads me further into his room so there’s not much space between us, “We are two people who have always cared for each other. You are one of my dearest friends and I think that’s what dating is right? That’s why I never make it onto a date because why would I when I have someone like you, someone I trust with everything. Every time I’d bring a girl home and it got to the talking, I wasn’t interested in it because I would always keep thinking of you. About something that would make you laugh. So, it may make it all a bit more complicated because I think about you all the time as it is but I want to do this. I can’t tell you where we’re starting because I don’t know where we stand but I’m willing to figure it out if you are.”

“Okay Freddie. We can figure it out together.”

He breathes a sigh of relief pulling me in for a hug, squeezing me tight.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred x y/n #fred x you #fred reader insert #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley reader insert #harry potter imagine #harry potter reader insert #reader insert

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 4 years ago

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Drink - Ben Wheeler

Pairing: Ben Wheeler x Reader

Characters: Ben Wheeler, Riley Perrin

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon: “Ello can you do a Ben Wheeler imagine where he gets jealous”

Word Count: 797

Author: Hannah

Usually you would’ve thought that after being in a relationship for a year or so the instinctive jealousy in general would kind of go away – it would diminish over time but with Ben it hadn’t.

By no means had it gotten worse, you definitely would not have put up with it if it had gotten worse, but Ben still had a penchant for getting jealous and not exactly handling it very well.

It didn’t exactly help that he had the bar where you worked whilst he ran it and let’s just say when customers got a little too forward, they weren’t welcome for much longer.

A part of you kind of loved the fact that Ben got jealous. In some ways it made you feel wanted, it reassured you weirdly that you were the one he had his eye on.

But him getting jealous whilst you were working wasn’t exactly helpful.

That evening you weren’t working but Ben was, so you and Riley had decided to go down to Bar on B for the night to spend some time together but also to irritate Ben for the fun of it.

As the two of you walked in you spotted Ben busy behind the bar but Riley nudged you when she saw the look on your face.

“What?” you questioned even though you knew what she was smirking at you for.

She raised an eyebrow and linked her arm through yours. “The way you look at him should definitely be sickening.”

You laughed but blushed ever so slightly. “He’s hot!” you exclaimed as a defence. “Plus, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t appreciate the gorgeous looks of my boyfriend.”

Riley rolled her eyes at you, but you could tell she was joking. “We get it, you two have been together for ages and you’re just grossly in love.”

You laughed again but you couldn’t quite deny her statement.

The two of you reached the bar and eventually found some stools to sit down at but it just so happened that you ended up next to a group of guys that had decided to go out drinking too.

Ben had yet to realise that you and Riley were sat there and when Riley ended up going to the bathroom you were left feeling a tiny bit awkward.

“Have I seen you here before?” a voice came from behind you and you found the urge to roll your eyes as you turned around.

You gave the guy who had spoken to you a smile. “I’m guessing I’m the first girl you’ve used that on?”

He looked surprised but quickly recovered. “Tonight maybe.”

Laughing, you looked out of the corner of your eye to see if Ben was free yet…he wasn’t.

“But genuinely, have I seen you here before?”

You shrugged in response. “That depends on if you’ve been here before.”

The guy nodded seeming pleased that you’d actually kept a conversation. “My mate loves it here and always wants us to come.”

“Well I’m usually the other side of the bar so you might have seen me before,” you gave the bluntest response you could.

Unbeknownst to you Ben was finally free from serving people and had finally spotted you sat a couple feet away from him.

Initially he noticed how stunning you looked and that you were wearing his favourite dress on you but then his eyes were drawn to the guy that was clearly trying to chat you up.

Sometimes he took it as a compliment that other guys realised how breath-taking you were. The majority of the time though he liked to show that you were taken because he was just so proud to have you in his life.

He walked over to where you were sat and cleared his throat.

“How can I help?” he directed his question to the guy that was talking to you.

The guy looked confused and somewhat irritated that his conversation had been interrupted.

“We’re alright mate, thanks though,” the guy quickly tried to dismiss Ben and then turned back to you.

He tried to continue talking to you but soon realised that Ben hadn’t moved so you decided to put the poor dude out of his misery.

You reached out to Ben and he took your hand, bringing up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Thought I’d come and visit you,” you told him, and his smile lit up.

The guy next to you quickly caught on and without saying anything turned right back around to his friends.

“Now that that’s dealt with and your little green friend can go away,” you joked, and Ben chuckled before he leant across the bar to kiss you. “How abouts a drink?”

#Hannah #Ben Wheeler #Ben Wheeler One Shot #Ben Wheeler Imagine #Baby Daddy #Baby Daddy One Shot #Baby Daddy Imagine #Anon Request #Riley Perrin #Drink

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amyscascadingtabs · 4 years ago

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expecto patronum

Post-The Fugitive. Jake and Amy talk Harry Potter, patronuses, and love.

✨read on ao3 ✨

“Hey, babe, I’m home!”

The door makes a distinctive clicking noise behind Jake as he locks it. It’s only one of the many sounds he’s getting used to; his new home is full of them, and they’ve become much more noticeable now that he’s here every day. He’s known his way around this apartment for a long time, but living there, permanently, is different. It’s a good kind of different, though.

“In here!” Amy shouts from her – from their – bedroom, and Jake hurries to hang up his jacket and bag before going to greet his girlfriend.

He’s coming home late tonight. A questioning at work dragged over after a surprise confession, and as exciting as those are, Jake’s bitter over missing dinner and Property Brothers with Amy. He half hadn't expected her to be awake still, but once he was finally free to text her that he was on his way home, she replied straight away to tell him she'd be waiting. Rosa had teased him about how wide he’d been smiling, but Jake hadn’t found it in him to care.

Amy’s laying on her stomach in bed with a thick book leaned against the pillow, resting her chin against one hand as she reads and holding up the cover with her other. Jake recognizes the book; it’s Prisoner of Azkaban, the third book in the Harry Potter series. He was reading it himself a few weeks ago.

“Ah, Harry Potter. Good choice.”

Amy closes the book against her index finger and looks up at him. “Yeah, you inspired me. How was work?”

“We got a confession,” he grins. “It was dope. Guy just started rambling, pretty much told us his whole life story for some reason, and now we have him. I even got to call the victim’s mom, tell her the news.”

“Sounds like a good day, then.”

“Yeah. Missed seeing you, though.”

“You see me all the time, babe. We live and work together.”

“I know, so it makes me feel even weirder when I don't!”

Amy laughs, letting out that adorable chortling sound he only ever hears when they're alone. Then she looks back to her book, scooching closer to her preferred side of the bed, and Jake takes that as an instruction to change into pajamas so he can join her.

Any regular night, he would probably have taken time to shower and brush his teeth first, but it's been a long day. He simply undresses instead, smirking as he notices Amy’s subtle side glance when he takes off his shirt. This, these small moments of appreciation between them, is yet another one of the parts he loves most about sharing a life with her – it’s nearly midnight, he’s exhausted and he remembers Amy mentioning starting her period, so sex is almost guaranteed to be off the table – but she still makes him feel attractive, makes him feel confident and wanted. He never realized how much that being an equal exchange meant to him before their relationship.

“So,” he asks her, “where are you up to in the book, then?”

“Almost finished the whole thing,” she says, looking very proud of herself. “I’m at the time-turner chapter. Harry thinks he saw his dad cast a patronus from the other side of the lake, but then he realizes just saw himself.”

“Man, that part was so sad.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah!” Jake huffs, crawling underneath the covers. “I just… felt for him, you know? He wishes he could meet his parents, just once, even if he knows it's impossible. He wants this family he never had.”

“It makes you realize how in the end, he's just a kid. A brave kid, but a kid.”

“A kid in desperate need of therapy.”

“Amen,” says Amy, flipping a page. “Hogwarts mental health services do seem to be severely lacking. Did you know the dementors were inspired by the author’s own experiences with depression, by the way?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Dark creatures with the power to bring out all the worst memories in your head, making you feel like you’ll never be happy again. Like you can’t even remember what it’s like. And the only way to defeat them is to hold onto the very happiest moments of your life and create a shield out of them.”

“Kind of deep for a kid's book,” Jake reflects, and Amy nods.

“Maybe. But it's not pushed on them, either. It's a way for them to understand, without knowing that they're understanding. I always loved that about the Harry Potter books,” she says, a sudden dreamy look in her eyes. “They're just… intelligent.”

Jake means to agree with her, but then his body remembers he's been at work for the entire day, and out comes an embarrassingly big yawn that makes Amy laugh.

“Long day? I can read to you if you want.”

“Dreamgirl,” he mumbles. Amy rolls her eyes, but then she reaches out to pull him closer, her left hand running through his hair as she holds the book with her right, and he can see her smiling.

Jake's not sure how long she's reading for. He loses track of time, but frankly, he doesn’t mind. Amy's reading voice is low, peaceful enough to relax him but varied enough to entice him at the same time. Her fingers keep brushing through his curls as she reads, tracing soft circles on his scalp. He listens to her read the part where Harry and Hermione fly on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius, and it doesn't matter that he read the book himself just a few weeks ago, because he could listen to her voice forever.

He gets to do that now, he realizes, because they live together now. It may only have been a week, and not completely without its challenges, but it already feels like one of the best decisions of his life. Even though they were spending almost every night together before as well, there’s something special about coming home and Amy already being there. Not because they’ve made specific plans for her to be, but because that’s the norm, because home is the same place for the two of them now. There’s something intimate about getting to share a routine with her, working out a system for who gets the bathroom when in the morning, adding stuff onto the same grocery list. Even seeing his t-shirts next to hers in the dresser puts a smile on his face in the morning. It feels grown-up, and it feels stable, and it feels right.

He wonders sometimes if he could have imagined this the night she knocked on his door to tell him screw light and breezy. Honestly, he probably could have, even if he was too proud to admit it to himself in the beginning. But after a year and a half of dating, of which six excruciating months were spent apart (and hopefully no more will ever be, he thinks), Jake couldn’t care less about pride. He loves Amy Santiago, and he wants to spend all the time he can with her, give her everything and share his life with her for as long as she’ll let him. That, if anything, makes him proud. In any case, it’s like he said that first night undercover as Johnny and Dora – there’s really no one else’s opinion he cares about more than hers.

Amy finishes the chapter, reaching for a bookmark before putting the book on her nightstand.

“There,” she laughs. “That’s your goodnight story.”

“Mm, one more chapter.”

“Mm, no. It’s late, babe.”

“I have a question,” he says then, knowing it’ll garner her attention and give him some more treasured quality time before they really have to go to sleep. Amy raises an eyebrow and shakes her head lovingly at him, but then she nods. “Harry’s patronus is a stag, right? Like his dad’s animagus form. And in the fifth book, Hermione has an otter, and Ron some kind of dog.”

“A Jack Russell terrier. Yeah, why?”

“How is your patronus determined? Like… how does it know?”

“It’s supposed to reflect your innermost personality,” she answers, not missing a beat. “It represents something about you that makes you who you are. Something that gives you strength, I would say. So for Harry, that would be the thought of his parents fighting for him.”

“I like that,” Jake says. “A lot of things in that universe are just grossly poetic though, aren't they?”

This makes Amy chuckle. “Very true.”

“What do you think yours would be?”

“Oh. Hmm.” She presses her lips together. “I don't know. What do you think?”

“We could find out,” He grins, reaching for his phone. “I’m sure there's a BuzzFeed quiz.”

He's right – and although Amy rolls her eyes at him at first, they end up having a laugh at the quiz, picking the options they think best suit the other one and shrugging when the results suggest Amy’s would be a horse, and Jake’s a stag.

“The descriptions are pretty accurate, though,” Amy says, reading from Jake’s phone. “Brave and fearless, and your greatest asset is your ability to love. Sometimes you get a bit hot-headed and impatient –” Jake fake-gasps. “– but your friends are your source of peace, getting you through the good and bad.”

“I still think it should be a ninja turtle,” he mutters. “But yours is true, too. Loyal, smart, underrated badass.”

“It just gave us the same patronuses as Harry and Ginny.” Amy smiles. “They do get together later, so I guess that works.”

“Spoilers! I haven’t gotten to that part yet!”

“Oh, come on, it’s really obvious.” She kisses the pouting grimace off of his face. “Different question. What memory would you use to cast your patronus?”

“I have thought about that,” he confesses, blushing. “It’s a three-way tie. The first time you told me you loved me. That evening when you stood outside my door and told me you wanted to be with me, for reals. Maybe even our first date, after the bet. All of those, together… I think they’d make a damn good patronus.”

“Wow.” Amy almost looks taken aback, like she wasn’t expecting that moment of sincerity. “I’m surprised you didn’t just say the first time we had sex or something.”

“Would you have wanted me to say that? Wait, is that yours? Santiago –”

“Oh my god, obviously not –”

“Obviously? Wow, hurtful, much –”

“Just let me finish!”

“Title of –”

“Stop!” Amy’s shaking with laughter, holding her hand on top of his mouth just for a second. “Stop, stop. What I meant to say was that it’s the same for me. That’s what I’d think of, too.”

“Even the bet? Even though you lost?”

“Yes, babe. Even though I lost.”

“So it wouldn’t be the first time we had sex, then.”

She smirks. “We’ve had better since.”

Then she leans over him, and her lips are on his, insistent but soft at once. His heartbeat’s speeding by the time she pulls away, and it satisfies him to see that her face is a little flushed, too.

“For the record,” Jake mumbles as she rests her head on his chest after, “this, right here – would also work for a damn good patronus.”

“Oh, yeah. No dementor would stand a chance.”

“Mm. You’re a nerd, but I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the feeling that’s started growing in him recently.

Forever, this could be forever.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fanfiction #this is so self-indulgent wow #harry potter

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supernatural---imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Never Have I Ever (Sam Imagine)

Can’t find the request anymore.. but basically you and Sam get drunk and he confesses his feelings!

It was a boring Monday night for you and the Winchesters. Not much was happening out in the world of monsters, which meant a rare stress-free night. You were sat around drinking beer talking non-sense to each other trying to pass the time. After a few laughs and stories from everyone, the beers were out and the tequila was in.

“Drinking game anyone?” Dean said while returning to the room with three shot glasses. Sam begrudgingly agreed, you laughed at the younger Winchester rolling his eyes while snatching his shot glass, and happily took yours from Dean. You all set them on the table in front of you and Dean filled them.

“Never have I ever?” You asked the boys. This was your favourite game to play with them as they always ended up letting out some embarrassing secret that you could poke fun at the next day. The groaned in unison but agreed nonetheless.

“Never have I ever...slept with someone I shouldn’t have” You skipped the easing in and went straight for the sexual ones, they were always the most entertaining.

Sam and Dean both drank.

“Some waitress in Ohio.. man when I woke up next to her, I swore off jager for the rest of my life.” Dean confessed. Following some laughs you and Dean both looked at Sam for his story.

“I mean, a few, but the one the comes to mind is Ruby” He confessed shyly while pouring himself another shot. That one was a sensitive subject, he must already have been pretty tipsy to be willing to talk about her.

Hearing Sam talk about sex made you uneasy, the thought of him with another woman always got to you due to your pathetic school girl crush you had been harbouring for years. You managed to repress it most of the time but when alcohol was involved either the feelings grew stronger, or it became harder to hide. Maybe both.

“Never have I ever had sex in the Impala” Sam had his turn. You all drank.

“What the hell?!?” Dean shouted. You and Sam burst into fits of laughter at Dean’s reaction.

“Y/n, seriously? Disgusting” Dean scolded. You shrugged your shoulders and laughed some more while pushing your shot glass towards Sam to fill it up.

“Ok, my go. Never have I ever wanted to sleep with another hunter?” Dean asked the group.

You laughed before taking your shot without hesitation whilst looking at Sam, which Dean happened to notice and chuckled to himself. He always had his suspicions about your crush on his brother, but you never totally confessed anything. Did he just ask this question to get you to confess as payback for having sex in the impala?

Sam took his shot too and then returned his gaze to the ground not eager to share a story. Dean drank his shot as well.

“When I was about 15 and Dad took me on a hunt up in Canada, there was this gorgeous 20 year old hunter. Stunning. Thought she was the love of my life.” Dean reminisced .

“What happened?” You asked.

“Nothing. she was 20 and I was 15, and she had a boyfriend. I had hairy palms that trip, I’ll tell you that.” He laughed. You and Sam both gagged.

“Who is yours?” Dean asked. You quickly looked up at Sam but when you realised he was looking back at you, you looked away and he did the same.

“I’m not saying..”

“Come on!” Dean pushed. You started to get a bit annoyed. Although this game was your idea, this question was a bit too close to home and you were feeling frustrated and embarrassed with Dean’s persistence in trying to get you to confess. You told him once more you’re not saying who.

“Just spit it out!” He exclaimed.

“NO” You stormed off away from the situation, down the halls to your bedroom. You knew you were overreacting but the thought of telling Sam the truth made you feel anxious and sick. You had convinced yourself he wouldn’t ever feel the same so what was the point in confessing and making your relationship with the Winchesters so awkward?

You lay down on your bed cringing from the whole situation. Around 30 minutes had passed when you had a knock on the door.

“It’s Sam” he announced. You stood up and dragged yourself over to the door, trying to think of some sort of excuse of why you acted the way you did over a game as silly as never have I ever. You opened the door and saw the drunken hunter stood in your doorway nursing a beer.

“Hey!” Sam said excitedly, his face lighting up when he seen you. You widened the door to let him in and he stumbled his way to the bed, giggling when he landed. He patted the space beside him to invite you to sit and you obeyed, with a smile on your face laughing at how drunk he had got in such a short space of time.

“So who do you want to sleep with? Is it my brother? Is that why you reacted that way?” Sam questioned you, while taking a swig of his beer.

“No it is most definitely not your brother. But I think he knows who it is and he was just trying to embarrass me.”

“What a jerk.” Sam scoffed, but even in his drunken state he respectfully dropped the topic and sat in silence for a moment nursing his beer.

“Wanna know who mine was?” He asked. You certainly did not. Hearing about what hunter Sam wanted to hook up with was something you were not interested in listening to, especially when it’s most likely so obtainable to him because every female hunter in the country has a crush on him.

“Sure” You braced your self for the reply, ready to feel the ache in your gut while he fantasised about another woman. He leaned in slightly to you and raised his index finger.

“You” He whispered while booping your nose, then relaxed back again as if it were nothing. Your jaw dropped, he was into you?

“Me? I had no idea..” You whispered in shock.

“Well its pretty obvious Y/n!” He yelled playfully. You looked at him to explain further.

“Um I always make sure to stitch you when you’re hurt and care for you, I watch your crappy TV shows, I spend sooo much time with you, I am almost always looking at you, you’re so pretty..” He started to rhyme off all these reasons to you and as you watched him list them in his sing-song tone whilst swinging his beer there was only one thing you wanted to do.

“I let you ride shotgun sometimes even though Dean hates it because you’re bad at directions and my legs get squashed in the ba-” You stopped him by planting your lips on his, repressing the smile that was threatening to come out from hearing the last comment from him. He reciprocated the kiss instantly.

His drunken sloppy kisses that tasted like beer weren’t exactly how you imagined your first kiss, but the passion and fire that you felt in your stomach and your heart was undeniable. He pulled back from you for a second and set his bottle down, he looked into your eyes with a huge smile and you pounced on him, both of you laughing as he fell backwards on to the bed with you tumbling down on top.

The next morning you woke up with a shirtless Sam laid next to you. You admired his perfectly sculpted body, decorated with scars and his anti-possession tattoo. You were still in shock of how you managed to be so lucky to wake up to this sight which you had been fantasising about for years. But you had to snap yourself out of the daze and go apologise to the one person who made this all happen.

“Dean?” You called through the bunker halls.

You found him in the kitchen stuffing bacon into himself. When he saw you he grinned grossly with the meat between his teeth.

“Hey you seen Sammy? He wandered off drunk after a lot more shots last night and he’s not in his room.”

“Yeah that’s what I came to talk about.” You leaned against the door frame whilst wrapping Sam’s shirt across your body and folding your arms.

“Is that my brother’s shirt?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Yeah.. So Sam spent the night in my room last night.” You confessed shyly.

“Hah! Y/n you dog.” Dean laughed.

“Alright calm down. I just wanted to apologise for reacting so bad when you brought up the ‘hunter you wanna fuck’ thing.. obviously it was a sensitive subject to me and hit too close to home”

“Hey don’t worry I knew what I was doing” Dean winked.

You smiled and shook your head at Dean and left the room, headed back to your bed room. Sam was awake and sitting up slightly in the bed.

“Hey” you whispered, crawling back in beside him and cuddling up close.

“Can you remember last night?” You asked, he was pretty drunk after all.

“Bits and pieces.”

“Here let me remind you” you spoke while throwing the covers off Sam and kissing his toned body all the way down to his boxers.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester one shot #supernatural one shot

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georgemackayhey · 5 years ago

Text

Like Real People Do

“Hii can you do an imagine, "Your first time with George" maybe as an insecure/uneasy reader"

"Can you pleeaaassse write more nsfw stuff? More Than A Night Out gave me my rights"

Alright yall, heed the 18+ warning!

Seriously, I really don't want to block anyone (I love yall!) On that note... I wouldn't say this theme is my strong suit, nor have I been in a good headspace, but boy did I try my best ♡

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You didn't date.

You called off meeting up with strangers in bars and listening to them tell half-assed life stories, embellishing in hopes they'd get to have their way with you in the same evening.

You were happy to mingle among friends on weekends and at parties, but going home alone felt safe. Keeping to yourself was the best bet, having learned your lesson by now. You recalled more unpleasant domestic experiences than ones that left you daydreaming of more. So you simply stayed single.

Some of your friends didn't regard your limits, tricking you into double dates and the like. Other friends understood but still gushed over their brothers and cousins in hopes you'd be intrigued by their qualities and demand to be introduced with wedding rings on standby.

And then there were the friends who never asked or bothered you about it at all. George was one of those friends.

He was your ride to your friend groups monthly movie theater meet up's. And he always let you take home his leftovers after dinners he wasted chatting with your mutual friends about books and culture.

In turn, you let George borrow your favorite albums. And you'd always saved him a seat in the back of bars you had to show up to for friend's birthday parties, while they threw themselves between strangers on the dance floor. Times like then were when you got to know George best.

And during the last month of summer, George invited everyone to take over a beach house big enough for your ever-expanding group and more. Apparently some of his distant family owned the property but were hardly ever in the area to enjoy it. So they gave George a spare key, and insisted he treated the place like his own.

And thankfully, then, between your friends racing to the shore in the witching hour, and when everyone split up into pairs for the evening, George kept you company. You made a habit of joining each other on the rickety front porch, sharing a drink, and usually sitting in silence.

But there were nights you talked about the constellations you could see above the roaring ocean. And where you'd like to live if you had an unlimited budget. Where you'd come from and what you wanted, and didn't.

You went home to the most dreary September of all time. You used to adore the solitude of your dull apartment. But you missed waking up to your friend's laughter, having someone, if not many more, to enjoy market runs and mealtimes with. You had never felt more lonely. And you couldn't stop thinking of George.

When he came round to give you a lift to the movie theater, your usual ride together was quiet. The silence between you was heavy- you wondered if he noticed. You sat together in a boring film. Or maybe it was the best of all time. You could only focus on how close George was to you, how you'd recognized the feeling of his company. You wondered how to ask him to come around more often, without sounding pathetically desperate.

Luckily birthday parties and Halloween bashes kept coming. And you kept finding quiet places to listen to George tell his stories. And he would always share his drink, and ask about your family, and how you were doing.

One night when he invited everyone around to his flat and only a couple of your friends managed to show up, they headed out soon after dinner. You were left alone in George's kitchen to help clean up and wonder what to do with the rest of the early blue evening.

And even though your heart beat in your throat, and everything you thought to say sounded stupid in your head, you determined it was time.

During a much too easy card game at Georges table, when a conversation about some of the horrifically silly things George had witnessed you manage in the past; you decided to stop testing the waters, and address them.

"I can't believe you put up with me." You grinned, peering past your hand of playing cards to the guy sat beside you.

"I just like you," George answered simply, his ocean eye flickering up to meet yours for a beat.

"Really?" You asked, pushing for him to say more, hoping he got the hint.

"I really do." George grinned shyly, turning his attention back to his hand of playing cards he kept accidentally giving you glimpses of. You watched George bite his lip and fiddle with the cards as if he were arranging them just so.

"What if... I like you too?" It wasn't just his tousled yellow hair, or the way his smile was warmer than a ray of sun. It was his lame jokes. His soft answers. Him.

"You don't date." George rose a brow, keeping his eyes turned away. He wasn't bittered or mocking. He was accepting. George laid down his cards, to a game you weren't focused on at all anymore.

"I like you, George." You admit in a hush. His stunning eyes met yours. He seemed to consider your words, and much more. He started to speak a couple of times as he searched your features.

"So maybe... we can start slow..." You offered. You had never planned on opening up to anyone. But George had stuck around. He was always there when you needed him even when you hadn't known what you needed. He didn't make fun of your unreasonable anxieties and he always laughed at your jokes. Even the ones you knew weren't funny. You hadn't expected to ever let anyone close enough, you hadn't trusted anyone could feel like home. But before you could even decide, it was as if your heart grew a mind of its own and lept right out of your chest into George's orbit. So since he already seemed to have you, it seemed like common courtesy to at least let the guy know.

With a shy smile, George bore his brilliant blue eyes into yours, searching them for assurance. As you looked to each other you felt his knuckles brush yours, the back of his hand nervously creeping closer. George took one of his fingers and looped it around one of yours while he agreed that it would be silly for two people who felt the same way about each other to do nothing about it. So you did.

George started coming around when there wasn't any reason to, sometimes bringing take away, or asking you on walks around the park. Sometimes you'd sit in silence next to your favorite old tree and enjoy that last purple swirls in the dusk sky. And sometimes you'd watch films, one after another, pausing only to argue over the ending or make silly predictions. And times like then, you curled into George's side like a sleepy cat. He'd carded his warm hand through your hair as you drifted off, content.

You got snowed into his flat when you showed up a few hours before the first-holiday party of the season; to help bake treats for everyone. As ice froze everyone's doors shut, the party was swiftly canceled but your plans for the evening weren't ruined at all.

George set up his den with extra blankets, finding the holiday channel on the telly, standing to refill your cup of tea during commercials so you didn't have to move. He kissed you that night, soft and kind, and slow. You both fell asleep on the floor among the mess of all the blankets he owned, while snow piled up and over the window sills.

You spent New Year's Eve much like the past couple before, watching your wild group of pals take shots and dance to bad music. George listened to you talk as you waited for the new year to set in, and he kept one of his fingers looped around yours almost all night long.

When the snow started to melt and your group of friends started squeezing into their cut off jeans from the year before, George invited everyone back to the beach house. He set a date and sent out invitations in the mail like it was the damn 1800's. Most every rsvp got sent back with the box labeled "going "grossly marked up.

George offered to give you a lift there, a day early so he could stock up on emergency snacks and soaps and even more DVDs in case the rains came and ruined your fun on the shore. You agreed happily and walked through the isles of a department store together, picking out essentials based on how well you knew your group of friends who might need them.

And while you laughed and helped and listened, you grew increasingly more fucking terrified. Because you'd never spent so long enjoying one person's company. You were enamored with George yes, but what's more, was- you trusted him. You never thought it was possible. But you really did. And the thing that you were most scared of, was having to accept the possibility that he didn't feel the same way.

Things like this had gone wrong before. Granted, things had never gone remotely close to this right before, either. But you still prepared yourself to hurt. It was always a possibility you were too afraid of risking. But George was different. You somehow knew even if he hurt you, it would be the loveliest heartbreak you'd ever feel.

You got to the beach house, completely abandoned since the last time you left it. You found your someone's favorite lost t-shirt in one of the bathrooms, and a lot of dust on the shelves. After clearing away some of the cobwebs and unloading all your groceries to their respective places, night began to fall.

The sky was still blue enough to admire the roaring ocean from the front porch. George brought out a couple of drinks, and you sat there together like you had the summer before. Only now, it was a little too chilly. So you said goodnight to the scenery, making a note of spending extra time to soak up its beauty the next morning.

And on your way inside you joked about how someone was bound to forget to pack something they needed, or bring one of the things George asked them to. You were wrapped up in laughter as you turned out the lights and drifted to settle in.

When you headed to the bedroom where all your bags had been discarded, you scurried off to the ensuite shower. This was the room George stayed in last year, a space you'd never stepped foot near until tonight.

And when you stepped back out into the bedroom, you realized you didn't want to leave.

George was busy turning down his bed covers to the dim night light in a far off corner. A dark shine beamed in from the moon in the window next to the quilted bed, and George never looked more beautiful- perfectly tousled hair. Kind, sleepy eyes. Yeah, you'd let him break your heart.

"What?" He laughed in a warm low rumble, catching you staring. You bit back a chuckle and crossed the room to meet him.

"I just love you. That's all." You informed, circling one of your fingers around his, gazing up to the guy.

You'd said so in passing, during game nights he helped you win and in the middle of lunches he'd managed to talk you into ordering. But nothing prompted you now, and the statement held an all-new kind of weight.

"I love you, too," George whispered in turn, raising his other hand to your cheek.

"Can I stay in here? With you?" You asked, keeping your gaze set and your voice low even though no one else was around to hear.

"I'd like that." George assured with a tiny grin.

You clamored into the big bed, pointing out the window to the moon over the ocean. George eased in behind you, gazing all the same. You tangled your hands together staring out the window for a while, giggling over nothing every now and again. He was so impossibly close, so warm next to you.

"George." You turned your head slowly, catching his attention. He looked at you, silently wondering what you wanted. But somehow you didn't need to say.

Somehow he knew to lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet. When he pulled away, you could tell he didn't want to. When George looked at you, you could tell he longed for more, but still kept his distance, kept your meek nature in mind. He was too kind, too considerate. There weren't words to convey how you felt. You knew what came next. You wanted George.

You reached for his hand, and brought it to rest in the dip of your waist. He kept his eyes steady on yours while his thumb brushed over the skin exposed where your shirt had ridden up.

"Kiss me again?" You asked, barely a whisper. George leaned in, almost before you could finish asking, to press his mouth against yours. You grabbed a fist full of his shirt to pull him closer while George let his hand travel to the small of your back, holding you perfectly against him. He kissed you slow and deep like he was trying to put you in a trance.

Whether he meant to or not, you wondered if it worked, as you melted into the mattress all while lazily pulling him almost all the way on top of you. This was as far as you'd ever taken things with George, yanking at each other's clothes while you kissed until you couldn't breathe.

So when you gently pushed George away, he started to retract back to his side of the bed without putting up a fight. But you sat up too. And George watched on in wonder when you sheepishly slid into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Without a word you pulled George's shirt up, silently suggesting he take it all the way off.

When he did, you didn't relish the sight long before you dove in for another kiss. His skin was burning, and you could feel his heart hammer when your hand traveled across his chest. You moved your kisses to his neck, reveling in the feeling of being so close. George kept one arm gently wrapped around you as your teeth grazed a spot under his ear that made his breath catch in his throat.

"Y/n. Are you- Do you..." George began, keeping his hold around you all the same. You pulled away, gazing to George through your lashes while your heart teetered on the edge.

"Do you not want to?" You worried. You were so finally sure. But George might not have been. So you prepared to be let down gently, knowing George would at least be kind enough to break your fall.

"Yes." George let out a breathy laugh, reaching to hold your head in both of his hands. "Of course I want to do this. But I know how you feel and if you don't-"

"I trust you, George." You nodded, searching his eyes while a smile bloomed across your face. You'd been so nervous for a moment like this to come true. But everything was different with George. He made you laugh when you never expected to, he made you think about things in ways you'd never even considered. He was so the one for you.

You wrapped your fingers around George's wrist, bringing his plus to your lips. You watched George's eyes flutter as you planted a small kiss there, before moving his hand to your hip.

"Just go slow." You nodded, watching George's eyes open to meet yours. You leaned your forehead against his while he nodded, making you laugh.

He decorated your cheeks with gentle pecks and moved his hands under the hem of your shirt as you leaned in to capture his lips with yours again. And because you spent a while that way, you weren't nervous to act upon taking things even further.

Kisses turned seering as George wrangled your shirt off. His lips traveled down your throat as you settled deeper into his lap, shocked by how easy this was. Your kisses grew longer and sloppier while your layers started to collect on the floor.

You impressed yourself by how effortlessly you reach to pull away George's trousers. He managed to kick them aside while you kept your lips on his, laughing between breaks for air.

But when he pulled you back into his lap, when his fingers danced around your waistband, you were suddenly swept up in the realization that this was happening. Like, really happening.

"Uh, wait a second." You halted in a shaky breath. You didn't want to stop, not completely. You just needed to assess things for a moment, to catch up with this new reality in which this wasn't upsetting or dull or any of the things being with anyone else ever was.

George stalled in an instant, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Do you want to stop?" He asked gently, hands firmly pressed against your back, eyes glowing right into yours.

"No way." You breathed with a grin. You knew it would be better than before, with George. Probably the best. It already was, you realized with a smile, encouraging George one more time. Your hips rolled against his, causing his heavenly sigh in your ear.

He wriggled you out of the last of your clothes and made you feel like a wonder of the world, tracing the shapes you were made up of with his pretty fingers. By the time you were laid against the pillows admiring the halo of light ringing around George's waves of hair, he asked again if you were sure about this.

"So long as you are." You swallowed.

"Of course I'm sure. God, I'm so sure." George pressed a kiss to your face between sentences, making you giggle and swoon all at once. "I've never been so sure of anyone but you. I'd like to keep it that way." George rambled, peppering a few more loving, gentle kisses to your cheek. "But if you want to stop for any reason, we'll stop. Just say so."

"Thank you, George." You grinned after a beat, knowing he really meant it. Recognizing how deeply he really cared for you, watching him search your face for validation. Watching George watch you, contentedly, like he had dozens of times before now. He gave you a slowly sleepy blink, ocean blue eyes shining brighter when they opened again.

George leaned closer, hovering over you with his eyes locked on yours. He molded a kiss to your lips before anything. Then to your cheek. Then his eyes fluttered to meet yours once more.

"Slow." You rose a brow, whispering a reminder, but it was really more of a green light for him to finally take the next step.

George repeated you, in a barely audible hush, soaking up the look in your eye. A lithe grin painted his lips while you held your breath. You accounted for the feeling of his fingers loosely tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing across your temple every now and again. You'd nearly forgotten everything else while swimming in those warm icy eyes of his. He didn't break you from your reverie when he gave a small nod. The gesture only settled you further, as you responded by lacing your fingers around the back of his neck.

George kept his hand nearly cradling your head as he pushed closer. His thumb brushing across the pulse of your temple was keeping you grounded while your heart threatened to soar into the clouds. While your breathing grew deeper, while he moved as close as he could until he couldn't anymore.

"You okay?" George asked, his voice beautifully strained.

"Uh-huh." You gazed at him through hooded eyes as you adjusted everything, including the realization that this was happening. He wasn't even moving yet. And he waited until you had to ask him to, with his head buried in your neck. After a couple of breaths, you looked to George, giving him a nod. He pressed his forehead against yours and moved his hips.

A tame, steady pace set in as you stopped George from asking if you were alright, again, assuring him you were really, very good. Your raspy encouragement must have given George the sound authority to go about awing you further.

He kept one hand against your temple while his other trailed down your side, fingers deliberately pressed into your skin as he brought your leg around his hip. George's strong-arm hooked under your back to keep you secured against him. He picked up the pace as your hands tangled in his hair, around his shoulder, holding on to the moment. To George.

You wondered why you waited so long to feel this damned good, while George spoke low in your ear. He listed off all the things he liked best about you, and why. He planted clumsy kisses to your lips. He made you see stars brighter than all the far off constellations you were used to pointing out from the shoreline. You seemed to float among them, above everything. Time slowed down while your heart sped up, somehow, and while everything around you faded into an impossibly dull background, you still had George.

His weight was warm and secure. His breath was hot on your neck. His voice was saccharine in your ear. When he eventually eased next to your side in a heap, the cool of the night was still shielded by him.

You snuggled to his chest, like an old sleepy cat while he kept repeating how he loved you. You said so too, as many times as you could manage before drifting to sleep all tangled together.

The next morning came slow. You made coffee and watched the sunrise above the waves from the porch. When your friends started showing up in pairs and trios and more, they all seemed sort of relieved to find you and George attached at the hip. They greeted you as if you'd always been a packaged deal, and they didn't bat an eye when you stuck together to roam the vast empty beach. There was no fighting over choosing partners when someone broke out a new board game that night. When your friends were all gathered around the dinner table, and all the extra snacks and gifts and surprises for the summer were stored away, you still had George.

Maybe things wouldn't always be so easy. There would likely be fights and upsets and questions that didn't always have answers. But George was worth it. You had him now, you loved him and he couldn't stop reminding how dearly he loved you. Nothing had ever hurt so good before. You decided to keep it that way.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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satinechristian · 5 years ago

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can i go where you go?

dimya + post canon + being grossly in love

Anya loved being in love. With her memories mostly restored, though some more muted than others- like a hazy dream you could only kind of remember after you woke up but something about it still made you feel it vividly. But glancing over at Dmitry with his handsome face and soft hair, it very much melded together her two beings of Anya and Anastasia, and she could remember being young and thinking herself in love with all sorts of boys. Soldiers, diplomats, brothers of friends. It wasn’t exactly the same, and she could recognize her younger self hadn’t been in love with anything, but she did feel the same gush of giddiness spread through her chest that she felt when she looked over at him as she did as a child, more in love with love than with anyone.

Dmitry was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over a book, one of his bare feet tapping against the wood of the floor as he read. That’s how she knew he was reading in French. Frustrated Dmitry was always married with fidgety Dmitry. She crawled up behind him, looping one arm around his shoulder and the other around his waist, and then pressing her face against the fabric of his tank top.

“Can I help you?” He asked, softly, and she closed her eyes against the sound of hearing Russian again. During daytime hours they tried to speak only French, a way to help Dmitry master the language, and her to practice her skills that hadn’t been sharpened during the years of her amnesia and imprisonment. But in the morning and at night, they were tired and went back to their own language.

“No,” she said, her voice muffled by shirt and muscle.

She could feel the smirk and the rolling of his eyes, despite the physical impossibility of her being able to know either.

“You’re very annoying,” he said, just like she had always dreamed of a boy would when she was a little girl.

Anya smiled, and then lifted herself up enough to press a kiss against his jaw. “You’re very annoying, too. Ignoring me for that book.”

Dmitry let out a chuckle, and she released him as he leaned forward to place the book on the nightstand. “You’re very demanding of my time and attention.”

She smoothed out the skirt of her nightgown, and kept her back straight. “You knew what you were getting into with a Grand Duchess.”

He crawled onto the bed, his face close to hers, “I don’t think anyone could anticipate you, Your Highness.”

Anya laughed and brought her lips forward to meet his. So much of their life felt like play acting. Play the Princess Anastasia, play the orphan girl with no past, play the Dowager Empresses' granddaughter. Everything was so different than how it had been when she had grown up, and so different than those ten years she spent traveling the length of Russia.

She fell back on the bed, relaxing. Here, though, she was young and in love with her handsome husband and nothing had ever felt more real. Anya reached up and pressed her palm against his cheek.

“Come down here with me,” she pouted, applying light pressure against his cheek. “I spend all day looking up at you and it’s going to ruin my neck.”

Dmitry let out an exasperated sigh, playing his part. He settled next to her on the bed, laying on his side and resting his hand against her stomach. “Any other demands tonight?”

Anya reached down, interlocking their fingers. She turned her head to look at him from underneath her eyelashes. “Not right now, but it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”

He absently rubbed her thumb against her hand where they were joined, “I think you owe me a foot massage.”

“How so?”

“From the abuse they get from you always keeping me on my toes,” he teased and she wrinkled her nose like she hated it.

She wanted to spend forever in this bed without a country, speaking her native tongue with the man she loved.

Instead, she stuck her tongue out at him in response.

“Anyok,” he said, releasing her hand to bring his up to playing with the curls of her hair.

“Dima,” she returned, playfully.

Instead of responding, he merely closed his eyes. His stupid long lashes against his face.

“You can’t sleep,” she poked at his shoulder, though that may have hurt her more than him. “You have to entertain me.”

“And how does my love wish to be entertained?” He did not open as he asked.

“Tell me a story,” Anya told him.

“You know all my stories,” he responded but he did open his eyes to look at her.

“Already?”

“It was a very long journey to France,” Dmitry reminded her. “And you asked many questions.”

She had been nervous. The Bolsheviks had sent people- or at least a person- to murder her, and she wasn’t certain who she was still, and she was about to meet her possible grandmother. Asking questions of Dmitry and Vlad had been a good use of time.

“I don’t know all your stories,” she insisted, with a sniff. “Tell me of all the girls you’ve seduced.”

He wouldn’t and he never had.

“Ah, but there’s only one girl I’ve ever seduced,” he said, leaning over and kissing her. He attempted for her lips but she turned her head and be caught her on the corner of her mouth instead. “And you know that story well.”

“I am not your first girl,” she said. Though, she was certainly his last.

And if that had been a seduction, then it certainly had been a mutual one.

“No,” he agreed and her face pinched slightly though she already had known. “But all the other girls had seduced me.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, and rolled over onto her side to face him. “It must be so difficult to be as young and beautiful as you.”

“It truly weighs on my soul” he responded, dryly. “Tell me of all the boys you fell in love with before you knew me.”

“They were boys,” Anya said, remembering men in fancy clothes and tutors and sailors. “I think I fell for every single one I met. I’m much more discerning now.”

“How many boys are you in love with now?”

She pretended to think about it, “Just you, I suppose. How many girls try to seduce you?”

“Legions,” he said, and she let out an offended gasp. “But only you have been successful these days.”

“Maybe I’ll no longer attempt to seduce you,” but her fingers already missed the feel of his skin beneath hers.

How ridiculous to think for that brief moment in Paris they would ever live without each other.

“Are you asking to be seduced?”

“And ruin your ego by making you humble yourself to do so?” Anya teased, “I could never.”

“So what was your request?”

“A story.”

“Have you heard the Story of the Duck With Golden Eggs?”

“Not for many years,” she said. It seemed silly of all the things she remembered and could not remember that fairy tales would have stuck around. “You’d tell me a fairy tale?”

“My father told me many fairy tales,” Dmitry responded. “He was quite the dreamer.”

So was his son. She wished she had met his parents so she could see the blueprint of his soul. “I think I am a fairy tale.”

This time she allowed him to kiss her on the lips. And went back for more when he pulled away.

“No one could have the imagination to make you up,” he told her. And from him, it was a compliment.

She sat up in bed, turning around so when she laid back down she could rest her face against the pillow. She felt the familiar dips and shifts in the bed as Dmitry made his way to tuck himself behind her. She leaned into him as his arm wrapped around her.

Anya let herself relax against the familiar in and out of his breathing behind her. “You never let me hold you in sleep.”

“You kick out,” he pressed a kiss against her neck, “I stay awake all night as your tiny feet become steel against my legs.”

She frowned, though she didn’t mean it. “Tonight I will dream of kicking in.”

She could feel Dmitry’s laughter against her. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”

Anya should pull the sheet over them but it was warm in Dmitry’s embrace and she was loathed to move from it.

“You know what you do in your sleep?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“You lock me in your arm and I can’t move,” she said. However, she held it in place when he went to move it. “I’ll perish if there’s ever a fire and you don’t wake up.”

“I’ll wake up if there’s a fire,” he promised. “Are you afraid to sleep?”

The nightmares came so infrequently now, but she always felt the anxiety before she went to bed that they might be there lurking somewhere.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, and turned so she was facing him. Or rather, tipped her chin up so she was facing him. “Kiss me for awhile?”

Dmitry answered with an obliging kiss. It was so very nice to be in love, indeed.

#dimya #anastasia broadway #my fic #myfic #anya x dmitry #i only title things in taylor swift lyrics now #but applicable #but honestly grossly in love #and im sorry and im not

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hashire · 5 years ago

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"in the closet" for Rivamika if you're feeling it :)

I felt it. :)

“Seven minutes in heaven!” Sasha yells in her face, the scent of beer invading her nose. Mikasa thinks she must have spit on her face as well, but the thought doesn’t get far: the closet door slams just inches from her nose. She recoils. Before she can even form another thought, there’s a click. She grabs the doorknob and tries to turn it to no avail.

As she bangs on the door with a closed fist, she cries, “What kind of psycho puts a lock on the outside of a closet door?!” There’s laughter on the other side: Connie and Sasha, drunk off their asses, obvious in their enjoyment of this cruel prank. She slams her forehead to the wood, still tugging at the doorknob.

“Someone you’ve decided to be friends with,” comes a deep voice behind her. Mikasa jerks away from the door - heart thudding in her throat, half-convinced that she’s about to be stabbed - when she realizes what Sasha said: a game that requires two players. She turns, but her eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark. There’s a thin stream of light coming from under the door, barely illuminating the space.

She does recognize the voice after taking a breath: Levi Ackerman, star athlete, top of their class, and thorn in her side. To be honest, they rarely interact, but there’s just something about him that made her skin prickle. She has the same feeling now, especially when she turns and finds him leaning against the wall but a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest, shoulders tense: his entire being radiating the irritation she too felt.

There are many questions she could ask in this moment. She decides on - and snaps -, “What are you doing here?” Her eyes adjust to the low light; she sees the scowl marring his attractive (damn it) face, a piece of hair hanging just between his eyes. He reaches up to rake a hand through his hair, pulling it back in place.

“I decided I needed a break and thought this closet would be a nice place to do it.” For a moment, she believes him: he isn’t the social type, and her question was meant to also apply to the fact that he was at a party at Sasha’s, of all places. Sure, it was a good location (out in the country, away from neighbors who would call the cops on them), but not a place where she’d expect to see him. Of course, it only takes another moment to realize he’s being sarcastic. She mirrors his scowl. He huffs and continues, “Isabel dragged me here. Told me I needed to stop jerking off alone in my room on Friday nights.“

As soon as the words leave his lips, his face shifts. She can tell he didn’t mean to say that second part. Mikasa snorts and claps a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. She then lowers it enough to ask, "Does that mean you sometimes jerk off with someone else? Your friend Farlan, maybe? Or -”

“She has a shitty sense of humor,” Levi snaps. His arms tighten across his chest and his jaw clenches. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more before closing it again. He turns his head, and she allows herself to appreciate the line of his profile.

“Then what do you do?” She leans against the door, arms at her side, fingertips brushing against the grain of the wood.

“We’re stuck in here for another five minutes,” he says. Mikasa blinks, confused. She realizes that he’s trying to change the subject. Why, she has no idea. No point in pressing him about his Friday nights.

“Probably more. Sasha and Connie will probably forget that they forced us in here.” Levi huffs out a sigh in response, raking a hand through his hair again. He says nothing and crosses his arms again. She finds herself mirroring his posture, slouching and sliding down the door a bit. Silence falls between them. Someone shrieks when walking past the door.

She realizes that, without meaning to, the slump moved her just close enough to barely brush her tights-clad need to nudge against his jeans….and thigh. The pants are fitted, so she can feel the heat of him through the material. If he notices - he has to have noticed - he doesn’t make a move. She decides, then, to keep it there. Maybe slide down the door more to press it more firmly. She’s just cold: that’s all it is. He doesn’t react. She knows he feels it, but he doesn’t do or say anything.

It happens then: the prickling underneath her skin, starting from the top of her head and shimmying through her limbs, lighting up her fingertips and curling her toes. It’s more intense than it’s ever been. She shivers from the feelings skittering along her spine. Her fingers clench into fists, and she wants to leave, to run away, to get out of the suddenly stifling space, because it frightens her: the reason why she never gets close to him.

There is a very long moment where neither of them move, one where she scarcely takes a breath. Then, it happens: the brush of something against her bare forearm. She tenses before realizing what it is, and then it’s gone. An instant of the simple touch of fingertips, warm yet enough to feel like it left a brand on her arm. She breaks out in goosebumps and draws in a gasp that she hopes is soft enough to go unnoticed (while hoping at the same time that it didn’t).

“You’re always so tense around me,” he says in a low voice. “Why is that?”

She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. She tries to wet her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. “I’m not,” she whispers, as though they aren’t alone and someone could hear them over the noise of the party. The words came out before she could think of a better response. She cringes at how terrible of a response it is.

“So you’re always like this,” he says, the words sounding louder this time. Not because he’s raised his voice, Mikasa realizes, but because he’s closer. She takes in another breath through her nose and pushes it out with great effort. If she held it in, she would likely never let it out: not here, at least. Even so, exhaling does not lessen the tension imbuing her body.

The words hang between them after that, the air starting to crackle as well. ‘I’m not,’ she wants to repeat, but the words would be even less convincing than before.

His touch returns to her arm, heightening her senses so suddenly that she feels dizzy. When Levi says, “Sasha had some interesting things to share in her grossly drunken state -” she can’t bear to hear the rest. She cuts him off: not with a hand to his mouth or words of denial, but with her own lips.

It isn’t soft like she might have imagined - oh, fuck it, had imagined - late at night when she was alone (along with many other actions that would stem from a simple kiss): it’s a clash that he welcomes, meeting her with the intensity she gives and he accepts. His hand wraps around her arm instead of a simple touch, the feeling hotter than before against her skin.

But it’s all shorter than she anticipated, shorter than the scenes created in her mind, because the door behind her is ripped open with a loud laugh. They tumble out together, falling back into Sasha, who is too uncoordinated to even think of catching them.

So they fall, him landing on her, in front of all the people there. Someone cheers - Isabel, probably, she thinks - though the room doesn’t go completely silent like she expects. Then again, the roaring in her ears and the beat of her heart in her throat would drown out everything if she let it: silence or otherwise.

And…that’s it. He gets off her, brushes himself off, and walks away. She wants to get up and hit him for doing all of that but has no chance to as Sasha helps her up. The smell of beer on her breath invades Mikasa’s senses again, her loud voice distracting, and she doesn’t catch the brief look he gives her over his shoulder.

#rivamika #levimika #my writing #maybe i'll continue...?#:)#aboutmikasa

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void-selfships-archive · 4 years ago

Text

PART TWO LETS GO GAMERS

[note: I realized this one's a little longer than I thought it'd be! hence the separate post.]

7. Accidental + Dirk!

I hope y'all don't mind, but I think it's a given that I tell this mini story instead.

Imagine a grossly sunny day on our own little Earth C. An absolutely bitchin' afternoon in the Consort Kingdom, if you wanted specifics. My roomate is out of the house and i'm what you might call, plotting- just without the negative connotation.

You see, it just so happens that today marks the 1-year anniversary of Ash unknowlingly moving into my house. That's right, it's been an entire year since they came over one day and then never left- not that I'm mad about it- and while they might be completely unaware of the fact that not only is today the day he officially moved in, but it's ALSO the day he introduced me to that abomination that happens to be the Bee Movie.

Despite him not remembering- I do, and I've taken it upon myself to not only get some of Crocker's famous baked goods but ALSO set up my living room for Shitty Movie Watching™. Naturally, Ashton was confused, of course he'd be, considering he came home to a cake on the table and me with the Bee Movie set up on the TV.

We stare at eachother for much longer than a hot minute, I wait until they finish processing what the fuck is goin' on.

ASH: ...Dirk...

DIRK: Ashton.

ASH: What...what are you doing.

DIRK: Celebrating the one-year anniversary of you moving into my house.

And then he sat there, staring at the TV screen with a look of complete and utter confusion...ah, give it a few seconds-

ASH: OH WAIT SERIOUSLY???

There it is. What followed was a whole afternoon of berating not only the Bee Movie, but Shark Tales too. Super eventful.

Currently, we're both sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the take-out I ordered to come to the house and- oh I can smell the cliche from here. The doorbell rings- I go to answer it. I'm fully aware that Ash is following me, I am actually hyperaware of the fact that he's right behind me. That cliche can be avoided because of this, we don't bump into eachother when I turn around, nothing happens. It's a safe trip from the door and back to the couch once we grab the food.

It's the couch that's the issue. See, with us being close friends, Ash has a habit of being affectionate. Plationically, of course, but when he does things like pulling me down to sit on the couch, it instead ends up being more of a plop on the couch- or a fall onto afformentioned couch.

Lips connect, both parties staring into eachothers eyes, both sporting the same, wide eyed look of complete and utter shock. I pulled back first, pushing myself up so I was just hovering over him. It's hard to tell sometimes, when he's blushing, but it seemed a lot more prominent up close. We kept staring, neither of us really wanted to break contact.

ASH: Sorry I didn't- Sorry!

He starts laughing. I don't respond- I can't.

ASH: God I didn't realize I was being thrown into some shitty hallmark movie! It's not even christmas- y'know it's so weird that those tend to be during the holidays? They always-

I lean down and kiss him again- not to shut him up, but because it felt nice. He tensed up, but I feel arms wrap around my neck and he's kissing me back and- That might be enough from me.

#can barely think with all this romance happening smh #OH BOY I had fun with this OVER 2000 words bullshit #I love typing for him sobs #♡♡: we're just dorks in affections #♤storytime♤

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zutaras-where-its-at · 6 years ago

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21: “He’s a bad kisser”

I’ve been busy the last week with moving to a new place and trying to get everything set up, so I apologize for the lateness of these requests, but don’t worry, I’m still attempting to get through as many as possible!

Every prompt is ending up longer and longer than I had originally intended, but I’m not mad about it lol. This one is definitely my cheesy shipper heart talking, so it’s mostly fluff and dialogue, and wholly indulging my shameless wishful thinking.

[Set during “The Ember Island Players.” The conversation we all wish had happened.]

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He doesn’t really know why he edged Aang out to sit next to her. He doesn’t really wanna think about it. Call him a coward, but the realization waiting for him at the end of that particular rabbit trail isn’t one he’s necessarily prepared to confront.

What he does know, however, is that he possesses incredible hearing, even with his scorched ear. And when the two actors on stage portraying Jet and Katara begin to incessantly flirt with one another, Zuko almost chokes on his spit when he hears Katara mutter under her breath beside him.

“He’s a bad kisser.”

Zuko shoots her a bewildered look and hisses, “What?”

She startles, apparently not realizing she had spoken aloud. “I—uh, what?”

Zuko whips his head back to stare at the actors, who are now grossly entwined with one another, and he can’t unsee the image of the real Jet and Katara locked in an embrace.

“You and—“

“Shut up!” She cuts him off with a harsh whisper, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Her eyes flick to the others behind them, but they’re too busy watching the entrance of their own characters. “Just shut up.”

“But he was insane!”

She blinks, then leans closer, dark brows scrunching together. “Wait. How do you know Jet?”

Before he can answer, Toph punches Katara in the shoulder and tells them to quit gossiping.

Zuko crosses his arms and tries not to glare through the rest of the play. His foul mood only worsens as the night wears on. Intermission comes and goes. The cringeworthy moment between his actor and Katara’s passes with discomfort from both parties and light teasing from the others. The traumatic end goes up in literal flames, and finally, they’re free to leave.

The night air is cool and dry against his skin, and Zuko takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the convulsing fire within him. Sokka and Toph attempt to cheer up the group, and even succeed in bringing out a few laughs from the others, but the mood refuses to shift beyond that.

The moment they step foot in the beach house, everyone disperses to their respective rooms. No one seems up to any games or conversation anymore.

Zuko lays in bed, eyes staring blankly at the wood panels above him. His mind is still racing and his head feels like it might explode, so once the noise of people moving around in the house finally dies down, he throws on a shirt and makes his way to the kitchen. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to scrounge up some of his family’s old alcohol in one of the cupboards.

Zuko is in the midst of cursing at all the empty bottles of wine and whiskey he finds in the pantry when she walks in.

“What are you doing?”

He jerks up on reflex, smacking his head against the shelf he’s leaning over and curses again. Apparently, his incredible hearing only picks up on disturbing and uncomfortable information from his enemy-turned-friend, but is useless when that aforementioned friend actually sneaks up on him.

Zuko throws a look over his shoulder to see Katara standing in the doorway looking mildly amused.

“I’m trying to get drunk, but it looks like I’m shit out of luck.”

She snorts and walks to the wicker basket sitting on the counter. Her nimble fingers glide over the assortment of fruit before she picks up a ripe looking mango. Her other hand grabs the small knife beside the basket before she’s walking out the way she came.

“Well, I’m going to get some fresh air. Have fun.”

He stares after her for a moment, rubbing at the bump that’s beginning to form on the back of his head. Making up his mind, he finally ditches the disappointing liquor cabinet, grabs an ash banana, and follows her to the porch.

She’s already slicing the mango into halves when he joins her. She doesn’t look up when he sits down next to her, but she does tip her head up in acknowledgment.

He watches her shave off a piece of the mango and stick it in her mouth, watches the pale juice slip down her fingers and over her wrist. He blinks hard and focuses on peeling his banana. They eat their fruit like that, just sitting on the front steps in a mutually maintained silence.

Zuko would even go so far as to call it peaceful. That is, until she takes it upon herself to violate the quiet mood.

“Did you really dump Mai in a letter?”

It’s so far from what he expected her to say that a sharp laugh manages to escape him. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t exactly trying to dump her, but she took it that way anyways.”

“What were you trying to do?”

Zuko sighs and throws his banana peel into the shadowed bushes at the bottom of the steps with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t know. I—I guess I just didn’t want to drag her into my mess. Things were already complicated between us, even after I returned to the Fire Nation. In a way, I thought I was doing her a favor by leaving without saying goodbye. She doesn’t deserve to suffer from my choices.”

“Well, it sounds like she’s suffering anyways.”

He bristles at that, voice growing cold. “Don’t act like you know her or our relationship. Everything I did was—“

“Zuko, relax.” Her eyes are wide, caught off guard by his biting tone. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything. I just...I can imagine how she feels—knowing that you’re doing what you think is best, but she can’t help you. That’s probably a tough spot to be in.”

Slowly, Zuko let’s the tension seep out from his shoulders, resuming his previously relaxed state. “Yeah.”

An apologetic smile tilts her lips. “In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best time to sympathize with her side. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and fiddles with the hem of his tunic. “You’re right though. Even when I try to do the right thing, I end up hurting someone.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her shift a little, her body turning just the slightest bit more towards him.

“Look, Zuko. If the right thing was always the easiest thing to do, then nobody would struggle to make the right choices.” She hesitates for just a second before continuing. “Do you regret leaving her and coming to join us?”

He feels his heart beating slow and steady against his rib cage, and before he can really process the question, his answer is slipping out with a confidence he hadn’t realized he possessed. “No, I don’t. If I had stayed, a part of me would have hated myself for ignoring my destiny, and I know that I eventually would have hated her for it too.”

She reaches over and briefly squeezes his arm before letting go again. The skin there tingles in the seconds after her hand withdraws. “Then you’re okay. You can’t control anyone else’s feelings, only your own. Mai is strong. She’ll be alright.”

Uncle would love you, Zuko thinks.

He doesn’t realize he’s said this out loud until she laughs and shakes her head.

Suddenly, he remembers a part of the play that had him puzzled.

“Were you really the Painted Lady?”

Her laughter abruptly cuts off and she sheepishly tugs on a lock of hair. “Only for a little bit. The part about healing the people and cleaning the river is true, but the playwright added about twelve more explosions than there actually were. Plus, I had Aang, Sokka, and Toph to help me out.”

“But did you actually destroy a Fire Nation factory?”

A defensive look shutters her face, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, but the factory was polluting their water! And the soldiers from the factory were—“

“Do you wanna be my partner sometime?”

“—taking all the medicine from—what?”

He tries valiantly not to laugh at her incredulous stare.

“Do you want to be my partner sometime?” He leans back on his hands, legs straightening out in front of him. “The playwright got a lot of things wrong. That time Aang got captured—Zhao was the one who caught him. I was the Blue Spirit that broke him out.”

She gapes at him, lips struggling to form words.

He grins. “I just think that the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady might make a good team.”

Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before she lets out a soft “huh” and squints her eyes at him.

“So...Between chasing after us and commanding a squad of soldiers, you somehow found the time to be a street vigilante?”

“Between running away from me and helping the Avatar save the world, you somehow found the time to make out with a teenage terrorist?”

It slips out before he can stop it, and a pang of guilt sweeps through him. He winces, afraid that he’s just ruined a perfectly civil conversation because of his irrational jealousy curiosity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I wasn’t—“

His rambling cuts off when she starts to laugh. It’s a little brittle and a lot loud, but it’s laughter all the same.

She stops, smiling ruefully up at the night sky. “Yeah, I guess it does sound pretty stupid when you put it that way.”

“It’s not stupid.”

She lets out a long sigh and flops onto her back, arms splayed haphazardly above her head. “No, it is. I mean, in my defense, he was one of the first boys my age that I’d pretty much ever met, and he did happen to be extremely charming. That was also back when life didn’t feel like it was always on the cusp of the end of the world. But all of that...I mean, the kissing and stuff...it’s all just a waste of time right now.”

Zuko doesn’t quite know what to say to that, an odd mix of sympathy and disappointment swirling his stomach.

“Surprisingly, he kisses better than Jet. But only by a little.”

“Who?”

“Aang.”

Zuko’s eyes almost bug out of their sockets for what feels like the millionth time tonight. He scrambles to twist around and look at her. “You’ve kissed Aang?”

She hardly moves, eyes trained on the stars stretching above them. “Well, he kissed me. Twice, actually.”

There’s a beat, and then Zuko is bending over his knees with his head in his hands, half-groaning, half-chuckling.

“Of course he did.”

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“No, no! I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

She covers her face with her hands and Zuko leans back on one elbow, stifling his chuckles.

“I’m not laughing at you. I just find the situation kind of ironic.”

One droll eye peeks out at him from between her fingers. “Ironic how?”

He blanches, realizing too late that this conversation has taken a rapid turn for a topic that he has shoved (guiltily, shamefully) deep into the recesses of his mind. Stuttering, Zuko gestures emptily with one hand.

“I just meant—well it’s—,” a half-grunt, half-squeak escapes his throat and Zuko would very much like to die right about now, “I’m just saying that—“

She isn’t covering her face anymore, so he can see the delicate lift of her left eyebrow in all its judgmental glory. He looks away.

“I just think your taste in men is interesting.”

He continues to avoid her eyes, but he can still feel her searching gaze on the side of his face.

“That’s not what you were going to say.”

“What? Yes it was.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Zuko, you’re a terrible liar. What were you really going to say? Why do you think it’s so ironic that Aang and I have kissed?”

The logical part of his brain warns him that telling her the truth would be a very large mistake, strictly cautions him that it would only complicate their hard-earned friendship. But the other part of his brain—the part that fully soaks in her un-ruffled, overly-composed appearance and longs to just smudge it with a streak of his own insecurity and embarrassment—that part quickly bashes the logical part in the face with a tsungi horn and leaves it to bleed out in a ditch.

“I find it so ironic, Katara, because a genocidal homeless kid and a twelve year old monk have managed to accomplish what I’ve been wanting to do for ages now.”

She blinks, and Zuko feels the sharp sting of a blush crawling up his neck, but the damage is already done and he refuses to be the first to look away.

A string of emotions shifts like shadows over her face—confusion surprise embarrassment. Realization.

Her lashes flutter, her lips part, and her eyelids lower to half-mast. Zuko has to clench his teeth to hold back a groan.

“You,” her breath skates across his face (when did they get so close?), “want to kiss me?”

He doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, giving her a jerky nod instead and then immediately wanting to sink into the floor.

But she hardly seems to notice his jittery body language. Rather, a slow grin curls at her mouth, and a cheeky glint makes her eyes sparkle up at him in a way that warns of danger. He doesn’t know why, but it turns him on a little.

“Well, clearly, you have quite the challenge waiting for you in the kissing department. How do I know you won’t be just as terrible of a kisser as Jet and Aang? Really, I don’t know if this is worth the risk for me.”

His nervousness begins to fade with her teasing, and he lets out a huff of laughter before doing what he does best. He rises to her bait.

“I might just be the best goddamn kisser in the whole Fire Nation, and you would never have the privilege of experiencing that unless you kiss me.”

Katara guffaws and levels him with an appraising look, her face tilting just the slightest bit up.

“Oh, so now it’s me who’s kissing you?”

He gives her a sage look, hair falling across his brow and tangling with his dark lashes. “That’s right. You better seize this rare opportunity before it slips right through your fingers. I have plenty of other suitors waiting for me, you know.”

Her snort nearly pulls a chuckle out of him, but he manages to maintain some semblance of a straight face.

“Plenty of other suitors, huh?”

“Plenty. Appa is the next on my list.”

One of his long fingers lightly coils around one of her dark, thin ones. With their faces mere inches apart, Zuko can see the mirth bubbling in the blue of her eyes mixing with something even brighter, something he can’t put into words but he can feel in his bones.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be shown up by Appa, now would I?”

When she finally presses her lips to his, Zuko swears that a Katara-shaped hole has just been carved into the puzzle that is his fate.

#im not totally sold on the ending but eh it’s fine #a lil out of character but you know what i want to see my bbys be playful and cute and fun #so what the hell #zutara #katara #zuko #the ember island players #my zutara stuff #fic #thecarminewanker

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flyingkiki · 5 years ago

Text

Curiosity 5/?

Here’s a post-smutgiving present for all of you.

~~~

Raven was dangerous. Tim decided with finality. And he wasn’t talking about her ability of wiping out an entire dimension with the flick of her wrist.

No.

He was talking a whole new level of dangerous that seemed to have slowly presented itself in front of him. He shouldn’t even dip his fingers into the dangers, because he was the smart and rational Robin. However, his entire Ivy League education seemed to be thrown out of the window. He feared he might be slowly threading in dangerous waters after all.

“Are you okay?”

Raven’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he briefly cast his eyes her way. She eyed him curiously, brows creased, as she pulled herself away from staring out of his car’s window and turned fully to him. “You’re thinking very loudly again.”

Tim felt his cheeks warm, embarrassed to have been caught. Of course she could hear him. She was an empath. Tim cleared his throat and continued driving. “Just thinking if tonight’s a good idea.”

Raven watched him thoughtfully. Tim was sure she could see right into his core. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her tilt her head a bit and a small knowing smile formed on her lips. “Nervous?”

Tim tapped the steering wheel mindlessly with his fingers. He made a dismissive sound at the back of his throat. They turned into a parking space that was located a couple of blocks away from the warehouse. Parking their nondescript black Toyota, Tim killed the engine. He felt his nerves run a mile a minute as he thought over everything, tonight’s undercover plans included. “Wouldn’t necessarily call it nervous. Probably just had too much coffee.” He finally replied.

Raven raised a delicate eyebrow. “You always have too much coffee.”

Tim laughed, the mood in the car lightened. He leaned back in his seat and fiddled with the zipper of his leather jacket absently. “Hey, don’t judge.”

Raven rolled her eyes and removed her seatbelt. “Ready?”

“As I ever will be,” Tim offered a lopsided smile. He tried to open car door, but Raven’s hand on his forearm stopped him. Turning back to her, he looked at her questioningly. “Huh?”

“We can’t have Tim Drake walk into the club.” Raven eyed him. “Even if clubs like these are pretty discreet and like to keep secrets, people may still talk. And there are a few humans in there.”

Raven paused and watched him eye her curiously. She stared at his well-defined face and the corners of her lips raised. Tim’s eyes were a different shade of blue from Richard’s. She silently thought she liked this shade better. Her right hand glowed softly with her dark magic and she raised her hand towards his face.

Tim’s eyes widened slightly, alarmed at the close contact and her glowing hand. Instinctively his right hand quickly grabbed her hand’s forearm, stopping her from coming closer. “You’re not going to punch me right?”

Raven laughed. Tim taught it was a beautiful sound.

“No,” she shook her head and gently pulled her arm out of his hand. “Even if it is tempting sometimes.” She teased and Tim chuckled. “I’m just going to cloak your face, so people will not recognize you. It’s a simple spell. You’ll still look the same to me, but to others you’ll just be some random handsome stranger,”

Tim smiled, eyebrow raised. “Handsome?”

Raven blushed and felt her insides tingle. “Careful,” she whispered. “Don’t get cocky.”

“You think I’m handsome?” he teased and watched a soft blush spread across her cheeks. He allowed her glowing hand to touch his check and he felt a soft warmth momentarily spread across his face. Her hand was soft, Tim noted. He tried not to lean into her touch.

“Don’t be full of yourself,” Raven rolled her eyes, and pulled her hand away quickly as soon as the spell was done. “It doesn’t look good on you,”

“So you think I look good?”

Raven huffed and dropped her hands into her lap. “You’re spending way too much time with Jason.” She turned to open her door and stepped out of the car without much of another word.

Tim scrambled out of the car, following her out into the cool evening. The parking lot was mostly empty and he locked the doors behind them. Stuffing his hands into his leather jacket, he stepped around the car and stood next to her.

Silence fell on them as they looked around the parking lot. His eyes landed on her as she shifted in her spot next to him, Tim watched Raven momentarily. Her purple eyes scanning their surroundings, on high alert, but at the same time she looked relaxed. There was an energy around her he could not entirely place – it was as if she was ready to spring into action and more. He faintly wondered if she regularly went to clubs like these. It would be a good addition to his notes.

Raven was dressed in a black sheer top with a black bra top that left little to the imagination. She wore a leather skirt and black boots. Silver and black bracelets adorned her wrists and her signature rings were on her fingers. She looked captivating. Tim tried really hard not to stare. He felt his throat dry and he swallowed mechanically.

“Ready?”

Tim was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard her voice. Her purple eyes were bright in the glow from the lampposts, and Tim thought she looked beautiful.

Raven watched Tim, feeling the soft wave of his emotions. She felt her stomach flutter at the familiar push of attraction and interest from him. Where all the other Robins where a wild mix of emotions, Raven had quickly learned that Tim’s emotions were more gentle and warm, though persistent.

They walked out of the parking lot and headed towards the warehouse. The streets were mostly empty, except for a few people passing them along the street. The area was a warehouse district, so it was largely a given that only a few people would be around. They walked in companionable silence, keeping an eye on their surroundings and sticking close to each other. Raven was a little wary of her surroundings, this being her first time in the area.

“Did Constantine give any new updates?” Tim asked as they rounded a block. His eyes shifted to the right, briefly looking into a dark alley as a cat ran past their feet.

“No. Details are pretty much the same. His contact will just approach us,” Raven murmured. She pointed towards the corner up ahead. “We take a turn there.”

Tim nodded. He looked down at her out of the corner of his eyes. “And we’re sure we can trust Constantine’s friend?”

Raven made a wry smile. “I’m sure that the contact is not his friend. But yes, we can trust the contract to a certain degree,”

Tim huffed and stuffed his hands into his jeans. “That’s reassuring.”

Raven took his elbow and pulled him into the small alley they just walked by. A rat scampered past their legs and Raven made a face. “Here.”

Tim frowned. They alley, for the lack of better words, was ugly. The brick walls on either side of them were wet from the rain earlier in the evening and a couple of trashcans were upturned at the end of the alley. Up ahead, they could see a dim light over a raised cemented doorstep.

The entrance to the club was a nondescript steel door. The alley looked dangerous and Tim could smell piss coming from somewhere down the alley. He eyed their surroundings warily, senses alert just in case someone decided to jump them. He turned to Raven, and watched her shoulders tense. She shot him a quick glance before moving closer to him.

“Remember, play along.” She whispered to him before leaning forward and knocking loudly at the rusty door.

A small hatch in the door opened and large green eyes stared back at them. Tim swore that they glowed and he felt the atmosphere around them shift as the eyes stared back at them. He felt Raven tense next to him and her body shifted closer to his, elbows brushing up against each other.

“Here for some fun,” Raven announced, she bounced lightly on her heels.

The green eyes narrowed and shifted between them. After a few moments, they blinked. “Humans not allowed.” The voice sounded scratchy and muffled behind the door.

Tim wanted to argue but before he could, Raven shifted next to him and her left arm snaked around his hips. She pushed herself flush against him and he acted immediately, both relishing the contact and reminding himself to act natural by wrapping his right arm around her shoulders. He pulled Raven closer to him and Raven hummed softly, her hand resting dangerously low on his stomach. She looked at the calculating eyes over her shoulder and she gave an sultry grin. “But I want to show him a good time.” She practically purred, and pushed herself closer to Tim.

Green eyes narrowed. “Fuck your human somewhere else. Not here,”

Tim’s eye’s widened a fraction of an inch. Fuck? What kind of club was this?!

The hatch was about to close when Raven reached out with her free hand and with glowing fingers stopped the hatch from closing completely. “Wait, wait.” Raven called.

The green eyes narrowed again and stared at them expectantly.

Tim was grossly unprepared what happened next. He watched transfixed as a sultry expression crossed Raven’s face. He felt her press herself up against him again, her left hand curl into his plain white t-shirt under his leather jacket and the fingers of her other hand drop into one of the front pockets of his jeans, pulling his hips towards her. Breathe, Tim. His fingers on her shoulder tightened.

“I can share him,” Raven purred.

She leaned up, body pressing up against his, and she kissed the underside of his chin.

Holy fuck. Tim swallowed involuntarily.

Raven seemed not to show any signs that she minded at how Tim’s fingers dug into her shoulder. He felt her cools skin underneath her mesh top. She smiled alluringly up at him, purple eyes shining in the dim light, before titled her head and sent the green eyes a sexy smile over her shoulder.

There was a moment of silence as the green eyes stared at them. “Fine,” the voice finally said and the hatch slammed shut.

The rusty door swung open suddenly and Tim heard Raven sigh softly against him. The door revealed a dark hallway with soft ambient music coming from the depths of the warehouse. Raven pulled herself away from Tim and her left hand slipped into his hand. Their fingers intertwined and Tim involuntarily squeezed her hand. Raven looked up and offered a small smile.

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

They stepped through the threshold and the rusty door behind them slammed shut.

“Demon,” called the familiar scratchy voice from behind them.

Raven tensed and they both turned around and stared at the Goblin standing on a wooden crate. Eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched them. “Make sure you keep your human on a short leash. You don’t want to lose him here,”

A playful smile spread on Raven’s lips and she tugged Tim closer to her. “Don’t worry, we like short leashes.”

Ignoring the innuendo and the images that immediately sprang to mind, Tim grinned and gave the annoyed Goblin a smug two-finger salute. He allowed Raven to pull him down the sparsely decorated hallway, dim light illuminating their features. He cast a brief glance at Raven, taking in the confidently alluring sway in her movements, and Tim had a feeling he was way over his head now.

At the end of the hallway was an old wooden door with chipped red paint. Tim could see scratch marks on the door, and he silently wondered why there were scratch marks (though he also didn’t want to find out too). Raven pushed open the door and they stepped into a dimly lit club. Ambient techno music filled the air immediately and the strong musky air of sweat and people packed in a cramped space assaulted their senses.

Tim blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to the dark light. Raven seemed to have no problems with the lighting, her purple eyes bright as they quickly scanned the room on high alert. Her hand tightened in his own and he quickly looked down at her.

The club looked more like an burlesque club with dark corners that held sultry secrets. The club had high ceilings, with hidden second and third levels that looked over the main dance floor and tables. There was a small stage on one side of the room with spotlights on a couple of sultry dancers with a few sets of extra orange eyes. There were arches and old beams that went around the club, and red and black tassels and curtains hung from the ceilings and arches, hiding from the prying eyes movements in the shadows. The air in the club was warm and there was a sweet, alluring scent that came with the musky air of people and sweat. Tim swallowed as he watched silhouettes move in the dim light. Mostly looked human, with curves of women dressed in typical club clothes and broad shouldered men in ordinary wear. There were a few metas and other beings with extra limbs and horns that moved through the club. Tim stared as a woman with horns and orange skin walked past them dressed in incredibly tiny leather shorts.

“It’s impolite to stare,” he heard Raven murmur into his ear. Tim was sure his mind was at least a tiny bit foggy because he hadn’t felt Raven lean up into his ear. He tried to blink some clarity back into his system.

Raven offered him a sly smile, and she titled her head, watching him for a moment. “Let’s go to the bar,” she announced and pulled him with her towards the long, dark bar. They took a spot at one end of the bar that was empty and gave them a good view of their surroundings. Tim watched Raven lean on the bar with practiced ease and she flagged down the bartender.

“Hey,” Aside from the extra sent of arms, nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the bartender. He grinned at Raven and dropped all four hands on the bar in front of him. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the house special and he’ll get a scotch and a bottle of water,” Raven said.

The bartender looked at Tim briefly, chuckled, and nodded. “Sure thing.” He turned away to prepare the drinks.

Tim raised an eyebrow and waited for Raven to explain. She shrugged and simply shuffled into his space, standing right next to him as his right side leaned against the bar. Her left hand rested on his forearm on the bar while she absently surveyed their surroundings. While Tim knew that he should be actively looking around and remain on high alert, he was silently enjoying seeing this side of Raven.

Three hands appeared in the space between their bodies and Tim watched as the bartender set their drinks down in front of them. Raven’s was a dark silvery substance in a martini glass. “Here you go,”

“Thanks,” Tim said, taking his scotch glass and taking a small sip.

The bartender lingered behind them and watched as Raven took a sip from her silver drink. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” stated the bartender with a tone that obviously meant something else.

Raven turned fully to the bar, her shoulder pressing into Tim’s chest. She smiled coyly at the bartender. “It’s our first time in Gotham,” she announced over the ambient music. “Just taking him here for some fun,”

“Ah, human,”

Tim smiled slightly, thinking it was the right thing to do. With his other hand, he wrapped his fingers around Raven’s forearm on the bar. “Yeah,”

The bartender grinned and tilted his head in Tim’s direction. Blonde hair fell into his grey eyes and he eyed them both appreciatively. Tim didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to linger on Raven’s chest. “If you two need an extra set of hands, you know where to find me.” And with that, he winked and disappeared down to the end of the bar.

“Ugh,” Raven breathed, turning back around to face the entire club next to Tim. She sagged a little against him, as Tim’s free hand came around her back and rested against the bar.

“What kind of club is this, Rachel?” asked Tim, using her alias. He leaned down towards her and his brows furrowed.

Raven looked around cautiously before replying. “It’s a club for metas,” she tilted her head thoughtfully and met Tim’s probing look. She shifted guiltily, feeling like she was at the verge of spilling a dirty little secret. “Fine. Some of these places have the reputation where you can let out some pent up energy in a place where you don’t have to worry about humans walking in on you, hearing you, and, I don’t know, getting hit by some energy ball when someone,” Raven pauses, “orgasms.”

Tim’s hand behind Raven’s back involuntarily balled into a tight fist and he felt warmth spread through his body. He leaned down, eyes wide and slightly alarmed. “You took me to a sex club!?”

“What, no!” Raven pulled away slightly. “Look, there’s a reason why not a lot of humans are allowed in here. There are just some beings who have to store a lot of energy within them while they are outside. When they’re in places like these, they can be whoever they want. Release doesn’t always mean sex. Whatever you’re seeing is because of some of the pheromones in the air which help people to, err, relax.”

Tim blinked, felt his cheeks warm just a bit. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see a group of patrons just talk. Raven looked at him a little amused. “Some of us just do come to places like these just to hangout and talk, you know.” She poked him in the chest, playfully. “Get your mind out of the gutter,”

Tim chuckled and made a grab for her hand. “Sorry, sorry.”

Raven watched as Tim held her hand and they both paused with the teasing. Her purple eyes shone bright in the dim lights. “Although, some beings do bring their human partners here for some sort release and play. Sex and BDSM with supernatural beings and demons. Apparently, some humans take a lot of pleasure knowing that their dirtiest kinky monster dreams are real.” Raven gave him a smirk and interlaced their fingers again playfully, she was teasing him again. “That’s why most people here think that I brought you here so you can live out your dirty little fantasies with a demon and others,”

“Rachel!”

Raven took a sip from her drink and sent him a shrug. “I told you guys this was a meta-only club.”

Tim downed the rest of his scotch in one go, wincing at how it burned. He hoped it would work at distracting him from the teasing, flirty Raven next to him and the internal battle of emotions he was feeling – and undoubtedly Raven was feeling from him too. He needed to calm down. This was getting very dangerous.

“Hi,” a presence made itself known next to them. A woman in black jeans, white crop top, and blonde wavy hair stood in front of them. She looked normal enough – but then again, Tim wasn’t all too sure. He watched her more closely and as the light hit her skin, it turned a deep shade of blue.

“I never seen you two before,” the woman said, grinning at either of them. She turned to Raven, a sly smile spreading on her lips. “You brought your human.”

Raven frowned. “I don’t share,”

A wicked smile played on the woman’s lips and she swiftly stepped into Raven’s space, hand sliding over her hip. Tim’s eye’s widened at the intimate action and he felt Raven’s fingers curl tightly into his hand. “Who says I want to share your human?” The woman pressed herself up against Raven, having caught her off guard.

“I don’t share,” Tim announced and with strength that surprised the woman, he slipped has arm around Raven’s small waist and easily pulled her towards his chest fully. He nudged the woman (being?) away with his elbow and possessively held Raven close to him. He noted how easily Raven fit into his embrace – something that was definitely worth noting and remembering.

Proving their point, Raven sent the annoyed woman a sly smirk over her shoulder, and very fluidly pushed herself up against Tim’s firm chest and kissed him. Raven hummed and her right hand curled around Tim’s neck, leaning in more.

Tim blinked once and tried not to look shocked when Raven all but crowded his space. When soft lips touched his own and he felt a soft hum from her, he was lucky he still had half a brain to make everything look natural. His arm tightened around her waist and his other hand curled around her bicep and pulled her closer.

Tim felt his entire body react and come to live as Raven hummed again and he felt her fingers toy with his hair. The delicious press of her curves against him took all the self-control he possessed to not push her up against the bar behind them and kiss her senseless. But they were on a mission, out to find demons, and ready to –

Her fingers curled into his long hair, she tugged softly, and when she opened her lips against his own, Tim finally knew he was long gone. He saw stars.

Fuck the mission.

Tim groaned against her lips and his arm tightened around her waist, he pushed himself against her and his other hand pressed firmly against her upper back. Her tongue swiped against his own and she titled her head just enough to give each other better access. He felt fingers tangle into his hair and tugged again, making him see lights against his eyelids. He bit into her lower lip and he felt her soft moan rumble low her chest.

It felt like his body was on fire where Raven’s other hand traveled. She sighed against his lips and fingers danced over his bicep and sides. Groaning and feeling a slow pooling desire to touch her more, Tim’s own hand slid low and rested on the curve of her ass. His hands tightened around her and his tongue took another possessive swipe against her own.

She smelled like lavender and vanilla. And Tim inhaled her familiar scent deeply and felt his mind fog with desire. Wanting more, he threw caution into the wind and pushed her against the bar behind them. Her hips met his in a delicious press of bodies and he heard her moan softly against him. He pressed himself against her more when she pulled her lips away from his and proceeded to kiss his neck. Tim’s hand curled tightly around her bicep again and he was sure there’d be a bruise. He felt sharp teeth brush against his pulse point and his eyes fluttered. Cold fingers barely slipped underneath the hem of his shirt, teasing the heated flesh underneath. Growling low in his chest, Tim pushed Raven away from him slightly and moved to try to pick her up to sit her on the bar. He kissed her soundly once more, tongue demanding and needy. And just as he was about to hoist her up, he elbowed his scotch glass off the bar.

The sound of glass shattering over ambient club music broke the spell.

Holy fuck.

Purple eyes flew open and Tim breathed heavily as he pressed his forehead against hers. Her hot breath fanned over his face and he swore this was the fastest his heart beat – ever. Her eyes were hooded and clouded in a dark purple hue that was so attractive he had to stop himself from leaning in again.

“Hi,” he finally whispered, still breathless. A crooked smile slowly pulling along his lips.

Purple eyes blinked slowly. The corner of her lips lifted as her cheeks remained flushed. “Hi.”

Tim’s mind was still foggy and it took some time before he slowly peeled himself away from Raven. He held her elbow to steady her and he watched her carefully. Neither made the move to move further away.

Raven cleared her throat and she briefly looked away from Tim’s stormy eyes. Tim’s emotions were warm and intense, she felt them possessively wrap around her and push into her. Her own emotions were roaring alive with Lust practically purring in content. She involuntarily leaned closer to Tim, still seeking his warm emotions. She looked up at him, her insides warming at the sight of his tousled hair. “That…sorry – Probably the pheromones in the air,” she whispered softly.

Tim swallowed and his fingers dug into her elbow. He leaned down slightly and stared at her flushed face. “No,” he said and watched as purple eyes widened.

He fixed his gaze at her. “Definitely not the pheromones,”

They stared at each other again, the air definitely shifting between them. Raven’s eyes shifted briefly back to Tim’s lips before looking into his eyes. Her purple eyes were bright again and a slow, small smile formed on her lips.

“Okay.” She whispered and her hand rested on his forearm.

Tim inhaled slowly. And as he watched Raven with her small smile and the memories of her lips against his own hot on his mind, he was reminded just how dangerous this has all become.

And he liked it.

#timrae #timrae fanfiction #Tim Drake #raven #Curiosity TimRae #Should these bb birds smush soon?#Gaaaah. Hot and confused tim is the best tim

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