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dm-clockwork-dragon · 2 years ago

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Another Unpopular Opinion

I was asked to delete my earlier reblog by the OP, so they didn’t get sucked into discourse, so I’m reposing this as it’s own thing Well, here I go publicly stating another opinion that will probably get me cancelled. To be entirely fair, I’m sort of beyond caring at this point?

I think people need to calm their fucking tits - homegrown, surgical, or happily removed - over not just this game, but about HP stuff in general.

I’m a recently hatched egg, but I’ve considered myself non-binary for almost 15 years, and been an ally for as long as I knew what an ally was. I also have no particular love for the franchise, despite enjoying it a lot when I was a kid. That’s not virtue signally, or an attempt to defend my position - just letting you all know a little context, and that I do actually have a horse in this race.

I get it, I really do. JK is a fucking terrible person, and should burn in a thousand multicolored hells for the bullshit she spews and the hate she engenders in others. On top of that, she’s a shitty writer, to the point where she accidentally created an entire wizarding world where the difference between the good guys and the bad guys is just what flavor of Nazi you want to choose. But there’s a couple reasons I think that people really need to try and separate her from the franchise that she started.

1. Death of the Author.

This is the one that everyone else gives. It’s possible to enjoy, appreciate, or interpret a creative work in absence of it’s author or their intent. We do it with music, we do it with painting. and Like OP here points out: if we were to burn every book written by a problematic author, we would leave glaring wholes not just in our understanding of our own history and society, but in our understanding of how to avoid the same injustices and suffering caused by those authors. Dead or alive, the author’s right and control over who others interpret their work the moment they share it with the outside world.

2. You guys don’t know how JK makes money, do you?

I see all kinds of arguments out there about how engaging with, or - dare I even mention - paying for HP content is somehow a crime against transfolk because it directly supports a raging TERF and her platform. It doesn’t. Aside from the argument that JK makes all her money through investments and stock market trades - just like any rich person - She also DOESN’T OWN THE FRANCHISE. She retains intellectual property rights: AKA, she can write new books or shit if she likes (we have seen how that goes for her), and she is still treated as the primary source, but the IP and all production rights are owned by Warner Bros. JK doesn’t make a dime off of game, movies, or anything else that WB license or produce based on THEIR franchise. She already made her money by selling the franchise to them years ago. Honestly, she probably got the raw end of the deal at this point. At most, she might get some meager royalties that are eaten up entirely by the cost of paying someone to process them. That’s how publishing contracts and movie deals work - they are a fucking racket. 3. HP isn’t just something some people can throw away.

Like I said above, I sorta grew out of my HP phase, long before any of the issue of JK being a TERF ever came up. And I know that a lot of people who considered themselves fans have also willingly distanced themselves from the franchise in light of her shitty views and actions. But not everyone has that ability. To give you a different example: I grew up reading the Dune books. I finished the core series for the first time when I was 8, and have re-read the entire extended series more than a dozen times since then. It’s more than just my favorite book series, it’s a formative part of who I am as a person. So much of my beliefs and identity as a person have been informed or inspired by those books that I would argue it is impossible to truly understand myself without them. Hell - I’d argue the entire reason I started explore my gender and sexuality in the first place is because of the emphasis those books placed on the “Quisach Haderach” as the perfect fusion of male and female. Even if I were to verbally disavow the series for some reason, those books still define who I am today, and It would be physically impossible for me to separate myself from them Harry Potter is the same way for a lot of people. I think some of us loose sight of just how meaningful those books are to a generation. Not all of us - even within that generation - had the same connection, but for a lot of people who grew up reading them from the time they could turn a page, those books are just as formative and intrinsic to who they are as Dune is to me. they couldn’t separate themselves, even if they wanted to. And pissing all over someone for something they can’t change about themselves is exactly the sort of thing we are supposed to be fighting against! Same can be said of the bible, the Torah, the Quran or any other work that was meaningful and formative to a persons cultural upbringing. Even within the trans community, there are countless Christians, Jews, and Islamic followers. They make the faith their own, because it is an intrinsic and immutable part of who they are. If you are going to condemn Trans or Allies who can’t separate themselves form HP, then you are also condemning any Ally or Transperson who still practices or believes in some form of the religion the grew up with. 4. If we can reclaim slurs, we can reclaim this! I see so many of the same people who rail against HP, also writing or relogging posts about how important it is to reclaim slurs and other labels that have been historically used against us, and I agree. But that shit goes a lot further than just the names we have been called. Reclaiming something from those who would hurt you with it is like picking up the rock that was thrown at you, and saying “neat, this is mine now, you cant have it back”, as opposed to just kicking it back to the abuser so they can hurl it at you again. JK is a terrible person. which is all the more reason that we have a responsibility to take this beloved franchise away from her. She doesn’t deserve it, and as long as it remains in her power, she can continue to use it as a platform to hurt people. And this isn’t without precedent: Look at Butch Hartman, or Joss Wheaton, or Notch, or Gary Gygax. We have a history and a present filled with examples of taking beloved content away from shitty people a deciding “this is ours now, you can’t have it back.” We take those things that were or are important to us, and reframe them, re-write them, or reimagine them into something positive and supportive. As an author myself, I know quite well how painful it can be to see your work taken away from you, and transformed by people who don’t share your vision. So lets hurt JK where it counts! Not in the wallet, not by railing against her on social media, but by taking away the one meaningful thing she has ever created in her miserable life. Because she doesn’t fucking deserve it.

#HP #harry potter #not dnd #jk rowling #unpopular opinion

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queenshelby · 4 years ago

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Just Friends - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 5034

Foreword:

I have never written anything for an actual person. For my own comfort, I will not be referring to Cillian’s actual family and, instead, I have created two small biographies for the Reader and Cillian.

Biography:

The Reader:

The Reader is 24 years old and recently moved to Dublin with her 5 year old son, Max in order to take up a fantastic job offer.

Max’s father isn’t interested in a relationship with his son and separated from the Reader pretty much as soon as she found out that she was pregnant.

The Reader is a novelist and editor for the Irish Times.

The Reader’s interests include books, listening to records, theatre and attending live music gigs.

The Reader has a close relationship with her grandmother who is 65 years old and a writer herself. She also lives in Dublin with her second husband, who is originally from Galway.

Cillian:

Cillian is 42 years old in this story. He is divorced from his wife Siobhan and has two kids, Charlie (6) and Hendricks (8).

He lives in a town house in Dublin and shares custody.

In this story, he finished filming Season 4 of Peaky Blinders about three months ago, which is when the Reader first met him.

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

JUST FRIENDS

Three and a half months ago you moved to Dublin to take a position as editor at the Irish Times. Initially, the move was daunting to you as you were a single mother and moving your son to a different preschool concerned you.

Fortunately, your grandmother was living in Dublin as well and offered to help you with looking after your son, Max. She was a retired novelist herself and you always had a close relationship with her. Having her around was a blessing.

Over the years, you also met some Irish writers and established good relationships with them. Therefore, finding friends in Dublin was not an issue.

One of your best friends was a play writer from London and was working in Ireland at the time, promoting her theatre play called ‘Blessings’. She introduced you to a bunch of people, most of which were working in the entertainment industry in some way or another.

Whilst all of your new found friends were a fair bit older than you, you related to them. You had interests in common and most of them had children, just like you. They understood that sometimes plans had to be cancelled and flexibility was limited. Having children is a commitment which many of your younger friends didn’t understand. You weren’t interested in late nights because a young child meant early mornings. For this reason, you would much rather attend a dinner and board game night as a opposed to a night club.

And this is how you met a very interesting man named Cillian. Three months ago, your friend Orla invited you to a board game night with a couple of her friends. Cillian was pretty much the only other single person in attendance and, since this was a board game that had to be played in teams of two, you and Cillian were paired up with him.

He was funny and smart and very attractive. You had a good time that night and even won the game with your combined knowledge of random trivial facts.

He was a fun person to be around and you had several common interests.

Over the next few months, you spent a fair bit of time together, mostly with other friends but sometimes alone when your friends were doing things as couples with their partners.

Just recently, you went record shopping together and the weekend before last you and another friend of yours would take all of your kids to Dublin Zoo for the day. Your son Max developed a great friendship with Cillian’s youngest son Charlie. Playdates were a common occurrence.

While both of you separately explored the dating world, you really enjoyed Cillian’s company as a friend and he enjoyed yours and you would often chat about the mishaps you encountered and laugh about them. Dates gone wrong was one of your favourite topics.

The last relationship Cillian had was with a co-worker, which was far from ideal. They’ve met on set of one of his movies about a year after he divorced from his wife, but things didn’t go as planned and the relationship didn’t last. It ended about four months ago, being just one month before you met.

The last relationship you had was over a year ago and it also didn’t last as your boyfriend couldn’t deal with the fact that you were a single mum and that your son always came first.

For Valentines Day this year, your friends set up dates for each of you. It was disastrous. Neither of you were interested in committing at this point and you both were rather flustered about your friends’ efforts after you both had told them not to bother.

You were happy singles.

Theatre Night

As happy singles, you decided to go and see your friend’s new play ‘Blessings’ with some of your other friends on the night you all managed to be child free for once. It took a while to organise but was worth the effort.

‘Hi Max, how was preschool?’ Cillian asked as he opened the door to your townhouse for Cillian while you were in the bathroom, putting up your hair.

Max met Cillian numerous times and got along with him very well. After all, Cillian had a son the same age as Max.

‘Good. Do you want me to show you what I made?’ Max asked while you waived at Cillian from the bathroom.

‘Absolutely, show me’ Cillian said with a smile as he followed Max into the living room.

‘Look’ Max said as he held up two paintings.

‘Wow, is that a T-Rex?’ Cillian asked, causing Max to nod with excitement.

‘That’s very cool…he looks super scary’ Cillian added just as there was another knock on the door.

It was your grandmother who was here to pick up Max for his sleepover at her house.

You opened the door and asked Max to get his bag from the living room which you had packed for him earlier.

‘Nan, this is my friend Cillian’ you said as you introduced Cillian to your grandmother.

‘Hello Cillian, I am Margot. I loved Grief is a Thing with Feathers. It was such an intense play’ she said, knowing right away who he was despite the fact that you had never mentioned him to her before.

‘Thank you Margot and I loved By The Sea, it was a fantastic book’ Cillian responded. He read the book after you told him about your grandmother. Your writing style was very similar to hers and he always loved a good book.

‘Oh thank you very much. Now Max, are you ready?’ your grandmother asked.

Max was ready and you said goodbye, giving him a big hug and thanking your grandmother for looking after him for the night.

While Cillian waited in the living room, you finished your make up and slipped on your shoes.

‘Thank you for picking me up. I really have no idea where this place is’ you said as you grabbed your bag and the two of you were heading out of the door.

‘Any time Y/N, it isn’t far from here actually’ Cillian said.

As you were walking to the Arthouse Theatre you talked about all sorts of things, music, childcare and books.

It was a cold night in Dublin and you were probably underdressed for the occasion.

At the Arthouse Theatre you met up with another two friends of yours. They were both married, to each other, and shared three children. Luckily for them, they had a baby sitter that night.

The play was amazing and you all enjoyed it with a few glasses of wine which were served at the theatre. Cillian had good taste when it came to wine and you usually sought his guidance on what to order.

After you left the theatre, you felt awfully hungry. You hadn’t eaten dinner that night.

‘I am starving, is anyone else up for Pizza?’ you asked your three friends, including Cillian

‘We would love to, but only have a baby sitter until 9pm, sorry’ Amanda said, explaining that she and her husband had to head home fairly soon.

‘What about you Cilly?’ you asked.

‘I would love some Pizza, let’s go to Pizzinis’ he said.

Both you and Cillian said goodbye to your friends and made your way to Pizzinis.

As usual, it was packed and there were no table available.

‘Wanna grab them take away and go back to my place? I’ve got wine and you can show me this new album you were talking about earlier’ you said.

‘Sounds good, let’s do that’ Cillian said before ordering two pizzas.

More than Friends

You arrived at your apartment about 30 minutes later and Cillian put on some music. He found this new Irish band he liked and you were really keen to hear them.

‘Hmm Indie…I like it’ you said as he connected his i-phone to your speakers.

‘Wine?’ you asked as you grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf.

‘Yes please and thanks’ Cillian said as he put the pizzas on the table.

‘I was meant to ask you, how was your Valentine’s date?’ Cillian asked before taking the first bite of the pizza.

‘Oh god, don’t remind me on it please’ you said with a laugh.

‘That good ey? What happened?’ Cillian laughed.

‘He was weird. He basically left after I told him about Max’ you responded.

‘I think that sometimes guys your age might be a bit freaked out by the fact that you have child. I can’t say that I blame them. I couldn’t imagine myself becoming a step father when I was in my 20s’ Cillian said.

‘He was 32’ you responded.

‘Well maybe he was just weird and you are just unlucky when it comes to dating’ Cillian laughed.

‘Yeah, maybe…I am just over dating’ you said…’What about your date?’ you asked.

‘Pretty average. I mean she was nice but had no sense of humour’ Cillian said.

‘Oh what, wait…she didn’t laugh at your Irish jokes?’ you laughed.

‘Outrageous I know. I mean how could she not?’ Cillian joked.

‘Here is to failed dates’ you said as you held up your wine glass for a toast.

‘To failed dates’ Cillian responded with smile.

Over the next hour or so, Cillian and you finished both pizzas and talked about books, including the book you were currently writing, music and embarrassing things your kids had done.

Quite music was playing in the background by then while you talked and laughed together until Cillian brought up a specific book he had read recently, written by a writer named J A Hanson, which he said reminded him on you in a way.

‘I have read all of her books and I really wish I could write romance as well as her’ you said.

‘Her books aren’t exactly romantic’ Cillian responded.

‘Her storylines aren’t romantic, but the character she uses in all of her books involves herself romantically with several other characters throughout the series. The way she writes makes you relate to the character even in these intimate moments’ you explained.

‘She is 60 and probably speaking from experience. I have read in a paper a few months back that she had quite an interesting and adventurous youth in the 70s and 80s’ Cillian said.

‘Free Love…Yeah, I have read this too’ you laughed. ‘Perhaps I just need some inspiration to get over my block, otherwise I will never finish this damn novel’ you said as you poured yourself some more wine.

‘You don’t have to answer this, but when was the last time that…?’ Cillian asked and, before he could finish his question, you interrupted him.

‘That I had sex? Gosh…well over a year ago’ you responded, causing Cillian’s chin to drop.

‘Over a year? Seriously? I mean, surely, a woman like you would get plenty of offers…’ Cillian said, not knowing what else to tell you.

‘A woman like me? What do you mean by that Cilly?’ you asked with a slight giggle.

‘Well, you are attractive, smart and funny. You would get a fair bit of interest’ Cillian responded.

‘So, you think I am attractive?’ you asked with a smirk, causing Cillian to choke slightly on his wine. He regretted what he had said almost instantly, causing awkwardness between you.

‘Well yeah, I think you are an attractive woman’ Cillian said quietly. ‘In a totally objective way of course’ he added, while, just in this moment, you observed his facial expressions.

You observed him drop his eyes to your lips as he said it, and then lower to the place where your shirt opens at the collar, the buttons undone to below your collarbone.

He pressed his lips together. ‘I think I should probably get go…’ he said, and, before he could finish his sentence, you leaned in and kissed him suddenly, like the peck you give a boy you like on the school bus the second before you jump up and get off – a brief bravery without a plan.

He was caught by surprise.

‘Y/N’ he said and, before he could say something else, you apologised to him for what just happened.

‘I am sorry Cilly, I don’t know what just came over me’ you said.

‘It’s alright, I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was inappropriate’ Cillian said.

But, with Cillian’s response, you couldn’t leave it alone and asked ‘So, you don’t think that I am attractive?’ you asked, giggling slightly with some embarrassment.

‘Any man who thinks that you aren’t attractive is clearly blind. But, with that being said, it doesn’t matter what I think, you are 18 years younger than me and it would be wrong for us to take this further. Despite, I don’t want to fuck up our friendship’ Cillian said calmly.

You didn’t know what to say to his comment and, instead of using any words, you ran your hand gently over the side of his perfect face while biting your lip.

‘Just one kiss between friends then, we can blame the red wine after’ you whispered as a comfortable hot feeling washed over you. You felt some sort of attraction towards Cillian since the moment you met him, but didn’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to him.

‘I don’t know Y/N’ Cillian said as you leaned closer towards him and pressed your lips onto his. You knew he was reluctant but he didn’t push you away.

To the contrary, as you kissed him, his hand came up in a rush to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. Within seconds, his tongue slipped between your lips, whispering over your teeth and began dancing with your tongue.

You noticed the brush of his stubble on your cheek, the press of his lips on yours and the way his mouth tasted, a mix of minty gum and red wine.

It shouldn’t have been so hot, but it was. The taste of him, the smell and flavour, and it made you whimper in your throat. You knew this was one off and you didn’t want this moment to end.

‘Are you ok?’ he asked after he pulled back a little and paused. He was scanning your eyes and there was a cautious considering from his side. You could tell that he was surprised about what had just happened.

‘Yeah, you?’ you said as you couldn’t help yourself but stare into his baby blue eyes.

‘Yes’ he said as he cleared his throat slightly.

There was an awkward silence in the room and you couldn’t stand it.

You build up all of your courage again and leaned over him, pressing your lips onto his once more.

Cillian didn’t hesitate then.

His tongue slipped right back into the same spot than before, before his lips then moved over your face and down to your neck, leaving gentle bites and kisses.

Cillian’s hands were busy touching you at the same time his lips were trailing over your neck.

One of his hands was in your hair at the back of your head while his other hand was moving down to press the small of your back so that your body was pulled forward into his.

As you were exchanging passionate kisses, you could feel the shape of him, the firmness of his body against yours, your legs pressing into his and his chest pressing into your breasts. You could also feel his erection through his jeans, hard as anything, rigid and warm against your tummy.

By this time, you wanted more than just kisses.

‘Sleep with me, just that once’ you whispered.

‘I can’t Y/N, you are 24, it is not right’ Cillian said pulling away from you.

‘It’s just sex Cilly, I am old enough for that’ you laughed.

‘Yes, but I don’t want this to ruin our friendship’ Cillian said.

‘It won’t. There are no strings attached, it’s just sex. Unless you don’t want me’ you responded. ‘Although I think you do’ you giggled as you ran your hand over his pants, feeling his erection.

Your comment made Cillian chuckle.

‘This is a one off, alright?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod.

‘One off…and it stays our little secret’ you said before smashing your lips back onto his for another minute or two.

After you exchanged more passionate kisses you stood up.

‘Common, I show you my bedroom’ you said cheekily, taking his hand and guiding him towards the bed.

‘Can you help me with this please’ you asked, turning around to face the bed. Your back was now facing Cillian and you pulled your hair aside so that he can open the zipper of your dress.

Cillian unzipped your dress carefully, exposing your black lace underwear.

As you pushed your dress down onto the floor, Cillian began kissing your back and neck, while running his hands over your breasts and stomach, all the way down in between your legs.

You let out a brief moan before turning around to face him and help him pull his t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly shaped biceps.

Looking into his eyes, your hand glided gracefully, for once, past Cillian’s belt buckle and into the holy crevice of his Calvin Klein briefs. His cock was hard and ready.

You moved it between my your slowly, relishing his obvious eagerness.

You used the other hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, shortly after which he pushed them down to the floor while your other hand never left his warm and hard cock.

After the jeans came off, Cillian pressed his lips back onto yours while using his skilled hands to unclip the back of your bra. The bra also landed on the floor within seconds.

‘Lie down’ he whispered into your ear. You obliged and crawled onto the bed, facing him.

He loomed over you, climbing on to the bed as you scooted backwards further so that he could straddle your hips while you pushed up against him, wanting the rub and friction against you.

Cillian kissed you passionately as one of his hands moved in between your legs.

He could feel your body tensing up as he ran his fingers over the top of your panties

After all, he knew that it had been a while since you’ve been with anyone. He knew to take it slow and give you some reassurance.

‘Just relax’ he whispered into your ear with his thick Irish accent as he edged his fingers over the lace of your panties, his hand leisurely rubbing up and down the length of your squirming crotch, until he pulled your underwear aside and slipped two fingers inside of you.

You could feel your mouth widen and a loud moan escaped you as he teased the full mound of your clit. The stroke of his thumb was purposeful and steady on your firm, dripping pulse while his fingers plunged in and out of you, sinking further and further.

You held onto him tightly as the slipperiness he found made it easy for him to penetrate you with his fingers. You were so wet.

You shuddered at the pattern, shocked to find it could still stun you, unlocking newfound levels of moisture and desire, even when you began to meet the repetition of his thrusts. You naturally tilted and buckled beneath him.

As he was pushing his fingers in and out of you, he trailed kisses down your neck while your hands clutched at his shoulders, scratched down his back, held him tighter to you as I screamed into his skin.

Cillian’s breath grew more desperate and rugged.

‘It seems like we should take these off’ he said, causing you to nod with anticipation.

‘Don’t move’ Cillian ordered as he lowered himself on the bed while removing your lace undies.

Within seconds, Cillian’s lips were an inch away from your crotch, where he painted your inner thigh with tiny and soft kisses.

Cillian pushed your legs apart gently and you knew what would be next. You have read about this many times but this was the first time any man had gone down on you before and you were nervously biting your lip.

You tried hard to relax as Cillian’s lips finally reached your entrance, tasting the evidence of how much you wanted him.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as his head dove between your legs. His tongue prodded you softly, short licks against your clit.

Instantly, all restraint and reservations you had vanished. You were relaxed completely as his tongue danced and writhed inside of you.

With each skillful stroke, your thighs clenched. But you still needed more and he read you just right; he didn’t stop as you pushed yourself up the bed. Instead, he held you steady, causing you to look down at him and watching his eyes widen as they met yours, reacting to the rush of your wetness.

‘Cillian, oh god…you need to stop, I am so close’ you moaned, not wanting it to be over. You never came more than once so you wanted to feel him inside of you first.

‘That’s good, just let go’ Cillian said quietly with a grin before he continued and slid two fingers back inside of you while whirling his tongue over your clit.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, no matter how hard you tried. Your exhales began to emerge as deepening sighs and you leaned my head back and lived out the fantasy that had flashed through your mind all along.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned as your back arched and a rush of ecstasy flew through your body. You grabbed onto Cillian’s hair as he sucked every drip from you as your orgasm flooded your body.

As you came down from your orgasm, Cillian shuffled himself back up the bed, kissing you passionately.

You could taste yourself on his lips and you were ready for more.

‘I want to feel you’ you whispered after your lips drifted apart and while reaching for Cillian’s hard cock.

‘Do you have a condom?’ he asked, causing you to nod. You had purchased some before your Valentine’s Date, just in case you needed them.

You reached for the bedside table and opened the pack of condoms, handing one to Cillian.

Cillian was quick to get rid of his briefs and put on the condom, before positioning himself on top of you, in between your legs.

He shuddered a great rushing gasp of breath as he entered you. He couldn’t believe how good you felt, so tight.

You felt him push into you then, slowly and carefully, filling you completely.

‘Cillian’ you moaned as you held onto him tightly as he slowly began to move.

With every thrust, you gasped, whimpered, soft mewling noises, begging for more.

You felt him all the way to your belly button and screamed out with pleasure, your hands taking the heat as he thrusted fast and deep.

As he picked up his pace, you got louder, groans becoming moans becoming shouts, and the bed frame thumped against the wall, louder and faster and louder and faster.

‘Oh god, don’t stop’ you moaned, his skin slapping against yours.

‘You are so beautiful’ Cillian said in between his moans before pulling out of you slowly and lifting up your legs above his shoulders.

He knew exactly that, this way, he would be reaching your g-spot while he was fucking you.

You were slightly surprised by this position but were flexible enough to run with it.

As he entered you again slowly, you let out a loud moan.

‘Fuck’ you moaned in between the high-pitched noises that escaped you.

‘Does this feel alright?’ Cillian asked, wanting to ensure that you are comfortable.

You nodded eagerly and whimpered a shaky ‘yes’ as he continued to thrust into you. He was right at your g-spot and you could barely control yourself.

He slowly picked up the speed and you could feel another orgasm coming on as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g-spot over and over again.

‘Cillian, oh my god, don’t stop…’ you moaned as you held onto his arms tightly.

You began to shake heavily as your orgasm washed over you and tears of joy escaped your eyes.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian groaned loudly as he felt your walls tightening around him. The sensation coupled with the sounds you were making sent him over the edge and he almost came in sync with you.

As soon as he came, you released your legs from his shoulders and he collapsed on top of you, kissing you passionately.

You could still feel Cillian pulsing inside you when the sudden oddness of what you had done washed over you.

‘Are we ok?’ Cillian asked as he slowly pulled out of you and removed the condom, disposing of it discreetly.

‘I think so’ you said shyly.

‘Good…because I really enjoyed this’ Cillian said as he ran one of his hands over your cheek gently.

‘Me too…plus, I’ve got some inspiration for my book now’ you said cheekily.

‘I am glad to having been of assistance. Make sure you credit me in the end notes’ Cillian said jokingly.

‘Hmm, if I did, it may become a best seller…Sex Scene Inspired by Cillian Murphy’ you said with laughter, causing Cillian to laugh also.

‘I should better get home’ Cillian said as he was playing with your hair. He really didn’t want to leave, but he felt as though it was inappropriate for him to stay the night.

‘You can stay here if you like…’ you offered, but Cillian declined.

After all, this was supposed to be a one off. You are nothing more than friends, or are you?

You accepted Cillian’s decision to leave and weren’t upset by it. You enjoyed your time with Cillian and slept well that night, snugging up in the doona which smelled like his aftershave.

Finishing the Book

The next morning, you got up early to begin writing the intimate chapter of your book. This was the chapter you had struggled with for a while and you finally felt comfortable writing it. If readers would know that, in this particular scene of your book, you were basically reliving your night with your friend, Cillian Murphy, that would be scandalous.

So, you decided to make sure that no one would ever find out about your little adventure.

Unfortunately for you, your grandma seemed to have a good sense of what was going on.

She was on time as usual and dropped Max back at your house at 10am.

‘Had a good night my dear? I can see you are working on your book.’ She said.

‘Yes nan, the play last night was lovely. It has given me some inspiration’ you said.

‘The play has given you some inspiration to write about orgasms?’ your grandmother asked with laughter as she read the screen on your lap top.

‘Nan! Oh my god, don’t read what I am writing’ you said with embarrassment.

‘Oh dear, it’s alright. Believe it or not, I used to write novels myself with a little hint of filth now and then. But, somehow, I don’t think that it was the play that gave you the inspiration to write this little naughty chapter. By looking at the bruises on your neck, perhaps it was your friend Mr Murphy who gave you this inspiration?’ your grandmother said with sarcasm.

‘Nan, no Jesus, please’ you said as your face became flushed.

‘Don’t be embarrassed dear’ your grandmother said. ‘It is good for you. I mean, he is handsome and I saw the way you looked at him yesterday evening…and the way he looked at you’ your grandmother continued.

‘There is nothing between us nan, we are just friends’ you explained with total embarrassment.

‘Alright dear, whatever you say’ your grandmother said, not believing a single word that came out of your mouth.

‘I better go, I have lunch with Alma later… I love you my dear’ your grandmother said before heading out of the door.

‘Love you too nan’ you said.

WHO WANTS A SECOND PART OF THIS?

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy imagine #smut #fanfic

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trouble-off-grid · 3 years ago

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Little Fish

Here it is, this is my piece for the mcyt g/t enchange, and my person was @lorie-the-little-ghost! I’ve never written Karlnap before so I was supper excited to see this prompt and I hope you enjoy! Living with Sapnap felt just as natural as swimming, of course, there were the occasional rough parts, but the reward was worth more to Karl than any risks that came with sharing a house with a human. When Sapnap first suggested they were to get a house together, Karl all but glowed at the idea. He loved Sapnap and couldn’t wait to spend even more time together with his boyfriend, there was only a slight problem with this. The house they moved into was right on the seaside and while the view was truly gorgeous, Karl couldn’t help the way his body froze anytime Sapnap mentioned going down to the actual beach.

The idea of Sapnap seeing what Karl actually was terrified him, he truly loved Sapnap and as much as he hated keeping such a main part of him a secret from him he couldn’t help but be more scared of losing his love. So he agreed to move there and just promised himself that he would avoid all water while around Sapnap. Even if it hurt him every time he declined going down to the beach with some flimsy excuse. After all, the man was relentless with his efforts, and seeing his face fall every time was not something Karl wished for.

It was this current thought process that brought Karl back to the conversation he was having with his boyfriend, “Come on babe I promise it’ll be so much fun, I even packed us lunch!” Sapnap pleaded, staring at him with his best puppy dog eyes. Karl almost broke then and there, maybe if he went and just stuck strictly to the sand everything would be okay. But the little voice in his head couldn’t stop whispering about all the what-if scenarios. Ignoring how his heart yearned to be able to swim with Sapnap while in his true form.

He looked away from Sapnap, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes at his answer, “I’m sorry Sap but I’ve just got a really bad cramp right now” The excuse sounded weak even to Karl, and as soon as he mumbled out his answer he was standing from his chair and making his way down to their bedroom. He immediately flopped down onto the bed and groaned loudly into his pillow. Getting all his frustrations out he grabbed it with both hands and curled himself around it, trying to swallow down the guilt he felt at lying to Sapnap.

Meanwhile, Sapnap just stared as his boyfriend all but ran out of the room from him. Sighing he sat down the bag with their lunches in it on the counter and slumped into the seat Karl was previously sitting in. He couldn’t help but feel that Karl was hiding something from him. He seemed so excited to move in together yet there were times when it felt like Karl would just completely pull away from him. Thinking over all the odd encounters he’s had with Karl recently made him notice how these moments aligned with anytime Sapnap mentioned going to the beach.

Raking through his brain for possible solutions he tried to think of why Karl would avoid the beach like the plague. It’s not as if he avoided water either, as the man still took showers like a normal person. So if Karl wasn’t scared of water then why wouldn’t he want to swim? As if his muddled thoughts cleared suddenly, he was left with an answer that made so much sense he was shocked he hadn’t figured it out earlier.

Karl can’t swim.

It made perfect sense! He must have just been too embarrassed to say anything so instead, he just avoided his problem. Well, how could Sapnap claim himself as the best boyfriend if he continued to let Karl suffer alone in his embarrassment? Sapnap was determined to teach Karl to swim now, he smirked as he thought about his adorable boyfriend clinging to him as they waded in the ocean together. Taking their food out of the bag and putting it in the fridge Sapnap left the kitchen and made his way to their office where he began his research on how to teach someone to swim.

Deciding to stop wallowing in his own self-pity Karl peeked out of the bedroom trying to gauge where Sapnap was in the house. Karl was already hiding a big part of himself, the last thing he wanted to do was completely hide away from Sapnap. Walking through the hallway he saw the lights were on in the office, he gently knocked on the door before pushing it fully open and entering.

At the sound of Karl coming in Sapnap swiftly closed the tab he was on and spun his chair around to face Karl. They made eye contact and Karl gave a little apologetic smile at Sapnap, normally the younger would feel disheartened after his boyfriend declined his offer once again but knowing the truth now he smiled fully back at him.

When Karl walked into the office he was a little suspicious of how quickly Sapnap closed whatever screen he was on but with how big of a secret Karl was keeping from him he figured it was only fair Sapnap got to have his own. So instead of questioning the weird behavior he just moved on getting ready to apologize to Sapnap only to be surprised when Sapnap genuinely smiled at him, “I just wanted to apologize again for not being able to go to the beach with you but uh, I think I might’ve just eaten something bad.”

Standing from his chair Sapnap made his way over to Karl grabbing both his hands in his own and rubbing a circle gently on his boyfriends’ skin, “Hey, no worries baby, I understand and besides there’s always next time,” He let a smirk grow on his face and wiggled his eyebrows at Karl, delighted in the way he broke into giggles at his antics.

Karl seemed to stare longingly into Sapnaps eyes as he replied, “Yeah, next time.”

Next time seemed to come sooner than Karl was prepared for as normally Sapnap waited a couple of days to ask him the dreaded question again but it seemed his boyfriend had other plans for today.

Sapnap had left the house extra early that morning just to go shopping for the items needed for his swimming lessons with Karl. He couldn’t wait to show Karl the kickboard and fun assortment of floaties he had bought.

He was practically vibrating with excitement as he unlocked the front door shopping bags in hand. He couldn’t help but smile in glee when he saw Karl started as he burst in through the door and saw Karl startle.

Their current positions felt like Deja vu as Sapnap prepared to ask Karl the same question he asked yesterday. But this time would be different as now Sapnap knew why Karl was declining all his offers.

“Karl my love! We are going to the beach today!” Paying attention he noticed how Karl winced once he realized what was said, only reaffirming Sapnaps suspicion.

Biting his lip in contemplation he tried to find the words to say, “Sap I would love to, but, I just ate and I really shouldn’t go swimming right after eating.” Normally this would be the moment when Sapnap tried and failed to not act sad over Karl declining and then he would eventually give up asking until another today. Today however Sapnap seemed to only grin wider after hearing Karls response.

“See I knew you’d say that, every time I’ve asked you to come down to the beach with me you’ve always declined,” Karl wasn’t sure he liked the way Sapnap was walking towards him as he spoke, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you would say no.” At this point Sapnap was practically standing over Karl making the taller have to look up at him as he was sitting down, “And I finally know the truth.”

Karl felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest with how fast it was beating. How could Sapnap know? He had been so careful not to slip up and expose himself yet somehow his boyfriend had still found out. “Go on, say it then.” He closed his eyes in preparation, not being able to look at Sapnap when he said it.

“You can’t swim!” Those three words had Karl startled out of his thoughts.

“I, uh what?”

“Yeah babe, I know you’ve been too embarrassed to say anything to me but I figured it out yesterday and I’ve decided I’m gonna teach you to swim.” Sapnap sounded so sure that Karl found it hard to even respond to him.

“That’s not- I know how to swim Sapnap” He weakly argued.

“You don’t have to lie anymore, plenty of people can’t swim Karl, you don’t have to be embarrassed around me,” and before Karl could even respond Sapnap was emptying the grocery bags to show his earlier purchases.

“Look! I even got stuff so that It would be easier for me to teach you!”

Karl could feel as his eyes start to swell with tears, he was so lucky to have such a caring boyfriend, if only he knew the truth. Standing up so he was now right next to Sapnap, staring down at him. “Sapnap, this was all very sweet of you but I can’t go to the beach with you.”

He could see confusion paint Sapnaps’ face as he spoke, “I don’t understand, why are you avoiding this?”

“I just can’t okay?” He turned to leave the room, desperate to escape this conversation but found his wrist caught in Sapnaps hand before he could.

“If you can swim then why are you avoiding me on this? Did I do something?”

“No, I just can’t talk about it,” He tried to pull his wrist free but found Sapnap still holding on.

“Why can’t you tell me?” Sapnap pleaded.

“I just cant!” Karl tried pulling his wrist out again at the same time Sapnap let go. Not expecting the sudden momentum Karl stumbled backward flailing his arms to try and catch his balance. As he did so he knocked a glass of water straight off the counter and onto himself.

It was as if time froze before multiple things happened all at once. Both men turned to a state of panic, Sapnap worried the glass hurt Karl while Karl was panicking over what he knew was about to happen. He could see Sapnaps lips moving, trying to ask if he were okay but his ears were filled with a ringing sensation. Karl could only pray that this time he got water on himself would be a fluke, maybe nothing bad would happen.

As if thinking about it made it true he immediately felt himself go from towering over Sapnap to now having to stare up at him from the floor in just a quick flash. He had never seen Sapnap from this angle and he could only imagine the short jokes Sapnap would make if he saw him now. That is if he was able to ignore the fishtail now attached to his body and only focused on his new height.

Meanwhile, Sapnap stared in disbelief as one second his boyfriend was in front of him and the next he wasn’t. Looking around the now empty room and not seeing Karl he started to panic and call out, “Karl?! Baby, where’d you go?!”

While Karl was trying to figure out a plan to get away without being seen he couldn’t help but hear how desperate Sapnap sounded. He kept glancing from his tail, up to his boyfriend, and then again. If not for the way Sapnap was still calling out in a panic he might not have worked up the courage to gain his attention. Drawing all his nerves Karl sat, petting his tail for comfort, he had to remind himself that this was Sapnap, his loving boyfriend, who would never hurt him.

“Sapnap!” Watching as the aforementioned male looked around in confusion he continued, “Look down!”

Sapnap hearing Karl’s voice looked down to see his boyfriend, not only tiny but sprouting a rainbow fishtail. Crouching down to get a closer look at him he saw that sure enough, his boyfriend was now a tiny merman,” So I take it this means you do know how to swim?” He joked.

Flustered, Karl covered his face with his hands, “That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?!” God Karl couldn’t believe how much of a nimrod his boyfriend was.

“Just trying to lighten the mood” He chuckled. It still felt like his eyes were deceiving him and he started to reach out to Karl only to pause right before actually touching him when he saw Karl flinch away from him. “I would never hurt you, Karl,” he whispered, keeping his hand right in front of Karl.

Slowly reaching out he put his hand on Sapnaps finger marveling at the size difference, “It’s not you I’m scared of, it’s just your height”

Sapnap felt his breath hitch at the feeling of Karls little hand on him, looking closely he could even see little webbing between his fingers, “What, jealous that I’m taller?”

“Oh shut up nimrod!” Karl lightly smacked Sapnaps finger and gasped in surprise when he nudged him back in retaliation.

“So, a fish huh, don’t you like need water or something?” His eyes squinted in concern as he stared at Karl as if he was about to drop dead.

“To stay in this form I need to remain wet, otherwise I’ll transform back, my scales will probably dry out soon enough”

“Do you want to? Stay in that uh form I mean, If you want, I can run a bath for you?”

“Yeah actually, that would be really nice.”

Surprised that Karl agreed Sapnap perked up cupping his hands around Karl but not touching him just yet, “Is it okay if I carry you?”

Karl had never been held by a human before but if he was going to do this he was glad it was someone he trusted as much as Sapnap, “Yeah.”

Constantly looking at Karls’ face to see if there was any discomfort he slowly began to close his hands underneath the little fish. Until Karl was fully cupped safely in his hands, where he brought him against his chest for extra support, “I’m gonna stand now, okay?” He watched as Karl clung onto his thumb for support and nodded his head in confirmation.

With that Sapnap slowly stood up, thankful that he was still wearing shoes as he made his way around the broken glass on the floor, making a reminder to clean that up later. Careful not to jostle his little passenger he slowly made his way to the bathroom. Once inside he gently moved Karl to one hand, using his other to get the bath set up.

He absentmindedly started to stroke Karl’s tail while waiting for the bath to fill, awed by how much trust Karl put into him. Karl may not have got a choice in Sapnap finding out his secret, but Sapnap was determined to do anything to show his boyfriend that he could be trusted with this.

Eventually, the tub was filled and Sapnap gently slid Karl into the water, “Into the tub for you.” As soon as he said that he felt water hit his face and looked to see Karl giggling before swimming under the water.

Sapnap couldn’t help but watch in amazement as Karl expertly glided through the water, truly able to see for the first time just how pretty his tail was as it seemed to sparkle underwater. It also looked like Karl just enjoyed swimming and it made Sapnap ponder when the last time he got to transform was.

He waited until Karl popped his head above water to praise him, “You’re really fast underwater.” The blush that coated Karls tiny face was just an added bonus as he complimented his boyfriend.

“I’ve never really gotten to test out how fast I can go”

“Well let’s see then,” that was all the heads up Karl got before his boyfriend’s hand approached the water ready to chase him down.

Karl squealed before diving back under the water, and the chase was on. It was a little difficult for Karl to avoid capture while stuck in a smaller area but he was able to hold his own very well and the few times Sapnap almost got him he was able to slip out of his grasp and keep the chase going.

It wasn’t until Sapnap used both hands to fully cup around Karl and scoop him out of the water completely did he admit defeat,” Sapnap,” Karl whined, “that’s cheating,” he pouted.

“Maybe this will make up for it,” He brought Karl up to his face and began to pepper kisses all over his body, delighting in Karl’s laughter and little squeals. He finally backed off, leaving Karl to catch his breath in his hands, minuscule chest breathing heavily as he did.

“Fish or not, I love you, Karl,” Karl didn’t think his face could get any redder at this point and he used his hands to cover his face before gesturing for Sap to come closer.

At his request, Sapnap leaned in closer, going cross-eyed as he watched Karl press a kiss to the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Sapnap.”

#mcyt g/t exchange #mcyt gt exchange #gt mcyt #g/t mcyt #tiny!karl #merman!karl #human!sapnap #trouble-off-grid #trouble writes #first time posting a fic on this account #how yall feel?#should I post more of my writings?#I've got a good amount written but my anxiety just keeps me from posting #hope yall enjoyed this at least #I'm sorry it took so long to post #college is kicking my ASS

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arewecoolio · 4 years ago

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A/N: Hear me out the plot of Dark Shadows, but with a more interesting back story. Reader basically replaces Barnabas. Also not a fully fledged fic, just a lil snippet to get me back into the groove of writing things. Enjoy!

“A deal.” You said flatly, watched as Angelique pushed the check towards you with more money than you had seen in centuries. It felt weighted with all the wrong things, with everything since the night she had killed you. “For what?”

“The Collins Cannery.” She said smugly. “It’s a generous offer.”

“Aren’t they always.” You said quietly, leaned back in the chair and stared at Angelique. She watched you equally as intense, “What is it you want Angelique?”

“You.” She replied easily, her expression didn’t waver. “I had hoped you would understand that, but I suppose enough time in the ground rots anyone’s brain.” Her mouth quirked upwards.

Despite yourself, despite everything, your mouth curled upwards, “It’s the price of immortality I suppose, appearances that last centuries, but our intelligence lacks after a certain time.”

Angelique took the bait as easily as you knew she would, “My intelligence certainly doesn’t, yours however that remains to be seen.”

You scrutinized her with a look, smiled finally. “Yes, I suppose you do look a bit older.”

She glared at you, “I am not old.” She huffed, barely suppressed the urge to cross her arms, though you knew she stopped just short of it. “I’m only a few years older than when you last saw me.”

“When I last saw you it was centuries ago,” you said calmly, looked at her again, searching for fangs or a complexion that would give it away. But she looked just as she had centuries ago. “I don’t suppose you cursed yourself to the same fate?”

Her expression flickered over something painful, and you knew the answer was no. You rose from your chair, “Well this conversation has been enlightening.”

“You haven’t answered my business proposal.” She said in place of asking you to stay, you pulled your coat on. Her chin was tilted up defiantly, eyes boring into you in a way that no one dared except Angelique.

“Because it isn’t a business proposal,” you answered back just as easily, “if it was it would be tied up with a contract, with board members and far too many factors even for you to simply pass me a check.”

She bit down a smile, though you caught it. “Then what is it, if not a business proposal?”

You glanced down at the check, at the implications that had been brewing since arriving, and you weren’t sure if even Angelique knew what this was. “A dowry.” You said quietly, glanced up at her to see her expression stripped bare and vulnerable for one glorious moment before it was hidden behind a smug smirk. Said the next part knowing it’d wipe the smirk away, “I’ve been offered them enough to last several lifetimes.”

“And you’ve accepted more than your fair share.” Her voice cutting, you glanced up at her confused.

“I’ve only ever accepted one.”

It had been a foolish night, somewhere in the early hours of the morning. Hiding in a room hidden behind a painting, with Angelique holding you after there had been another order from your parents to court a man of high standing. She had murmured it, and while most things had fallen wayside in your memory, you could recall that sentence with painstaking detail. Your only offer of marriage that you had accepted.

She clenched her jaw, “No.” She bit out, stood finally, “Don’t pretend as if I was your only choice.”

You weren’t sure what lies she had told herself over the years, but it had never been a secret that your parents had accepted for you, it had never been a secret that you hated your public engagement. “You were the only one who had ever given me a choice.”

It was approaching morning, you were starting to become exhausted and reminded that you hadn’t eaten in days. Though you were loathe to think about a food source, and how you would go about that. “Goodnight, Angelique.”

#angelique bouchard x reader #my writing

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

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Bomb (of the Bath Variety)

Pairing: Ezra/Reader

Word Count: 2,184

Warnings: None!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Someone please introduce this man to the concept of a spa day. He just needs to relax in a tub with Epsom salts for the muscle pain and a bath bomb because they smell nice. He needs someone else to wash his hair for once because god knows he can’t do it. He needs to be introduced to moisturizers and other skin care products. He also needs (wants) funky colored nails.

“Jesus Ezra!” You shouted, seeing him shuffle into the pod, covered in grime. “What did you do all day?”

“Uh,” Ezra hesitated, biting down on his glove and pulling it off. “Cee pushed me into a dirt hole.”

Cee nodded. “Can confirm,” she said with a grin. “I’m headed next door so I can bathe.”

You waved to her, watching the hatch shut once more. “And you,” you said to Ezra as he tried to sneak past you. “Get in the bathroom.”

Ezra pouted, but listened. He didn’t hate bathing, but he wasn’t super keen on it either. It was a hard task when you only had one hand, but today would be different. If you’d set it up right, today would be pure bliss for Ezra.

Starting with you turning the shower off.

“Moonlight?” He turned when you cut the water, clearly confused. “I thought I had to bathe.”

“You do,” you agreed, kneeling beside the bathtub and turning it on. “Ez, you’re taking a spa day.”

“A what now?”

You stood, slowly working a still confused but now considerably more relaxed Ezra out of his work suit, pushing the leather harness off his shoulders. “A spa day, Ezra. Where you take a day to just relax. Get all clean and done up with nice products.”

Ezra shrugged, looking into the bathtub that was steadily filling with water. “That’s gotta be some fancy tradition from your planet, because I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You were a state ward!” You pointed out, bending to grab a cardboard box of various spa day supplies you’d been saving for an occasion such as this. “You’d also never held a real book or eaten a full meal until you started prospecting.”

“Fair,” Ezra hummed. He wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially his days as a state ward. But you’d caught glimpses of the life he’d led prior to becoming a prospector. Cold bunks crammed into a room full of underage orphaned boys, all shivering. No one had a family name, and it was rare any one of them was happy, or really even survived to make it out. Apparently, at the state house Ezra had been raised at, the suicide rate was almost 40%.

But that was the past, and this was the present. You opened the box and pulled out a bath bomb, reading the label and setting it on the counter. “You like mint, right?”

“Of course,” Ezra said. “Reminds me of you.”

You smiled, turning to kiss Ezra. “Get in the tub Ez.”

Ezra, with that beautiful crooked grin on his face, removed the last of his clothes and stepped into the tub. “You know, this tub has room for two.”

“Shame I won’t be getting in,” you said. “I already bathed.”

Ezra pouted. “Moonlight, you wound me.”

“My sun, this is about you, not me.” You handed him the bath bomb. “Go ahead and put that in the water. I have some epsom salts in here, I know it.”

As you knelt down to find the pesky bag of salts, Ezra put the bath bomb in the water, gasping as it began to fizz. “Moonlight! It’s dissolving!”

“It’s supposed to,” you said, standing with the bag of salts. Ezra poked the bath bomb with a happy grin, his finger going green from the fizz. “It’s called a bath bomb for a reason. Scoot.”

As Ezra moved reluctantly from the bath bomb, you measured out two cups of epsom salts and poured them into the bath as well. Ezra was clearly disappointed when they didn’t fizz like the last thing you’d put in the water, but the slight rosy smell was enough to make up for it. “What is that for?”

“Epsom salts help with muscle pain,” you said, putting the bag down and dragging a stool over so you could sit at Ezra’s height. “I use them sometimes after we do really bad prospecting trips. Hopefully, they’ll help with your arm.”

Ezra’s face darkened, the delicate subject of his right arm, or lack thereof, causing the mood to sour. You sensed the change in the air and immediately brightened your tone. “But, that’s not all we’re here for,” you said. “Depending on how far you’re willing to let me go, we could be here for hours. I bet Cee would join us for face masks,” you added as an afterthought.

“Face what now?”

“Masks.” You held up one of the tubs of clay masks you had. “They help with your skin.”

Ezra grinned. “I shall partake in this face mask ritual on one condition.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at your poet of a boyfriend, you crossed your legs. “And what would that condition be, my sun?”

“Paint my nails?”

It was an odd request, but one you weren’t about to turn down. “Okay. Consider it done.”

You let Ezra soak for a while, sitting beside him on the stool and reading. It was a book aimed mostly at teenagers, but Ezra had said something about it being Cee’s favorite and now you were determined to read it. So far, it was pretty good.

Eventually, you put the book down and convinced Ezra to dunk his head under the water. When he came up, water running in thin streams down his skin and hair plastered to his head, you laughed and picked up a bottle of rose water shampoo.

“Lean back,” you instructed softly, laying a towel across your lap so Ezra wouldn’t soak your pants. He rested his neck on the edge of the tub, head falling back into your hands. “Comfy?”

“Could be worse,” Ezra decided. You leaned down to kiss his damp forehead, making a face when the soapy tang of the bath bomb and epsom salt water rolled over your tongue.

Sitting back up and popping open the shampoo bottle, you squeezed an appropriate amount into your hand and began to massage it into Ezra’s scalp.

The effect was immediate. He groaned, entire body relaxing as your deft fingers worked away the dirt and buildup from his hair. Ezra bathed every few days, just like everyone else, but with his once dominant hand gone, his job washing himself was lackluster at best. For him, you properly washing through his hair must’ve felt like pure heaven.

You scratched through his hair for longer than was probably necessary, keeping him in that blissed out state. When you finally lifted a plastic cup with water to his head and began to rinse the suds away, he keened softly, vocalizing his dislike of your lack of touch. You apologized, taking your non-dominant hand and sliding it up his forehead, settling it just before Ezra’s hairline to shield his eyes from the soapy water trickling down his face.

Tugging on the blond streak in Ezra’s hair, you discretely ran your fingers through it, slowly spiking it up into a mohawk.

“My moonlight, what are you doing?”

“Shit.” You didn’t stop in your actions, only finished what you were doing despite being caught. “Take a look.” You held a hand mirror out, giving Ezra a view of his new hairdo.

“Moonlight,” he said, turning to face you. It was too much. You broke down into laughter, doubled over and Ezra smiled and ducked his head beneath the water to return his hair to its plastered look.

Once your laughing fit had come to an end, you straightened and began to massage a small dollop of conditioner into Ezra’s hair. Restraining yourself from giving him yet another mohawk, you scratched your fingers over Ezra’s scalp for almost five minutes. He relaxed yet again against the porcelain rim of the tub, breathing evening out as he practically fell asleep beneath your hands.

You were slow going in your rinsing out of Ezra’s hair, trying not to wake him from his impromptu nap. He hummed, and when you put the cup down and seemed his hair free of conditioner, he reached up and cupped your neck. Pulling you close, he kissed you, lips molding perfectly despite being upside down. “I love you, moonlight.”

Smiling and pressing an upside down kiss to Ezra’s forehead, you softly murmured into his skin. “I love you too, my sun.”

Ezra got out of the tub some time later, once you’d helped him scrub dirt out of every crevasse of his body. The water was more brown than green at that point, but Ezra was clean. You held his hand as he stepped out of the tub and watched as he dried himself off, insistent that he could do it by himself.

As he dressed himself in soft sleep clothes, you called Cee in. She was eager to partake in your spa day, also dressed in her pyjamas. She had a few bandages spanning her skin, small ones indicative of minor scrapes. You counted three, one on her right wrist, one further up her right forearm, and one on her left foot. How she’d scratched herself through the boots and suit she wore on her jobs, you had no idea.

“I didn’t even know you had clay masks!” Cee said happily, opening the jar and taking a wooden popsicle stick to start applying it to her face.

“I made it myself,” you said, grabbing a second jar to start plastering the grey/brown paste to Ezra’s face. “It’s one of the only things I can make myself.”

Once all three of you had been properly covered in the clay, you began to slowly diffuse Ezra’s wet hair. Cee sat by, reading the book you’d been reading earlier. Nearly twenty minutes later, Ezra’s hair was dry and shockingly curly and the three clay masks were hardened.

“Thanks for sharing,” Cee said as you handed her a damp washcloth. “I don’t remember the last time I had a spa day.”

“We’ll have to do them more often then,” you decided firmly, passing Ezra the other washcloth. “My sun, do you still want me to do your nails?”

Ezra nodded. “Yes please.”

“Should I do yours too?” You turned to Cee, who shook her head.

“I don’t paint my nails,” she said softly. “Plus, I am exhausted. That prospect was hard as hell. Gonna go nap as soon as I’m clay free.”

True to her word, once Cee’s face was clean, she bid you both good night before leaving to go take a nap.

You took her washcloth, but Ezra stopped you before you could lift it to your face. “My moonlight, can I clean your face? Please? After all you’ve done for me, I want to make it even.”

You smiled, letting Ezra take the washcloth. “You don’t need to worry about making it even, my sun. I’m doing this because I love you.”

Despite your reassurance, Ezra gently began to rub the washcloth across your face in small circles, clearing away the clay as he worked. His hand was warm and soft, and you carefully put your forearms on his shoulders to keep yourself still.

When Ezra was done, he kissed every inch of your face he could while you writhed with laughter underneath him. “Ezra!” You shouted happily, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Ezra, my sun! I yield!”

Ezra pulled back, lips quirked in a smile. “I’m sorry my moonlight, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You hopped off the countertop you’d been sitting on and grabbed your small box of nail polishes. “Give me your hand,” you said, getting back on the counter and pulling out a small nail file. Ezra put his hand in your lap and sat on the stool you’d been using.

It was a gentle, silent process. You filed Ezra’s nails down, wincing at the bitten away stubs you were trying to fix. “Ez, it’s a miracle you don’t have an infection,” you said softly, finishing on his little finger. “This is bad.”

Ezra looked at his knees, shrugging halfheartedly. “I know.”

You kissed each of his fingertips, pressing one final kiss into his palm. “I love you anyway.”

That brightened Ezra’s downcast face. “I know.”

You found a beautiful mustard yellow nail polish and a glittery gold polish, slowly painting each of Ezra’s fingernails with expert precision. He was still, watching you work with a look of wonder on his face. “You’re amazing.”

Putting the finishing touch on Ezra’s thumb, you put the cap back on the gold bottle and smiled. “Thank you, my sun.”

Ezra waited a few minutes for the polish to dry before looking at it properly. The yellow color was muted, but still a nice rich shade. What really made it pop was the gold accents, reflecting the shitty bathroom lights and drawing attention.

“I like it,” Ezra decided firmly, curling his fingers and watching the gold dance.

“I’m glad,” you said, sliding off the counter. “Wanna make dinner?”

Ezra nodded, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a firm hug. “We’re doing spa days more often,” he said into your shoulder. “Please?”

Hugging Ezra, you nodded, relishing in the mint and rose water smell. “Absolutely, my sun. Absolutely.”

#prospect (film)#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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babieateez · 4 years ago

Text

i’ve written and rewritten this about six times, so i really hope it’s enjoyable to read!

even before you were sorted into the house you now reside in at hogwarts, you had been inseparable from yeosang

since you were so nervous on the train ride for your first time ever, and you ended up in the same compartment and he feels bad that you’re so nervous about the upcoming night while he knows exactly what’s gonna happen for him and where he’s gonna end up-

of course he would though, he’s come from a long line of slytherins and it would just be nonsensical of him to be sorted into any other house

so he takes pity on your clearly terrified form and starts a small conversation to keep your mind off the upcoming events, talking about anything that comes to either of your minds

soon you find yourselves laughing loudly, all apprehension gone and now you just feel like you have a friend you’re happy to be around

even as the group of first years gets herded to the great hall, you find yourself sticking to yeosang, and he makes sure that you’re not going to get swallowed by the crowd of first years that engulf the halls

at one point you both realize that there’s a growing gap between the two of you, and you’re forcefully being separated by the masses of excited students

and in desperation you reach out and grab onto yeosang’s hand like a lifeline, pulling you back to his side while still having his fingers interlocked with yours without even realizing

that’s how your story with kang yeosang began

throughout your first year, you and yeosang grew closer and closer, likely aided by the fact that you shared most of your classes

and had more than your fair share of trips to the infirmary together

when you began second year, it’s almost like you were having even more fun spending time with your best friend, and every year was the same after that

until sixth year when you came back from the summer holiday to search for yeosang on the train in the same compartment you manage to snag every year

when you arrive and look inside, you have to do a double take because holy shit-

that can’t be the yeosang you’ve known for six years!!

maybe someone had put some sort of charm on him that caused his stature to have filled out and his hair to no longer just be a mop on the top of his head

and maybe someone else had transfigured his previously rather skinny arms to have some form of muscle hugging them, looking rather attractive

the way his robes fit him this year really was something else and-

he clears his throat with amusement clear on his suddenly unbearably handsome face and you can’t help but blush and look away sharply while getting yourself situated in the compartment

he definitely notices but decides to spare you the teasing in favor of asking how the trip to the train station was

instead of responding to the question, you blab out your own question, asking him what the hell happened to him over the summer??

he laughs now at your clearly flustered reaction to his new look and tells you that he was exercising a lot during the holiday and had been taking care of his appearance more than usual because, as he says

how else is he supposed to find a significant other before graduating any other way?

it’s a valid point, your brain tells you- after all, you had done something similar just the year prior, but at least you didn’t leave yeosang in the dark about it for the whole summer!!

but your stomach isn’t quite sure it agrees with your brain, for it starts churning with some sort of foreign emotion

you dismiss it as the lurching start of the train as you embark on the long journey to the castle and you don’t think about that weird feeling again

until about a week into the term, when one of your classmates approaches you after you’re dismissed

although you’ve never met her before, you still greet her with a friendly voice and ask what’s up and when you hear what she asks you

your smile freezes on your face and you can’t pinpoint why but when she asks you since you’re such good friends with yeosang, if you could put in a good word about her

since she thinks he’s so hot now and she keeps blathering on about how everyone in her year is trying to get a date with him to hogsmeade

you stop listening somewhere around that point to mumble out a “yeah, i’ll talk to him for you” and she smiles even wider at you and claps her hands together while shooting you a “thank you!!” as she leaves the classroom

but once you’re alone (minus the professor still standing in the classroom) you feel that weird feeling in the pit of your stomach again, the same feeling you had on the train and you just pass off the feeling as being hungry, since you hadn’t eaten yet

so you finish packing up your items and meander to the great hall for dinner where your dormmates try to pull you into their conversation about whatever the new gossip in the house was

but you can’t focus on their words, instead choosing to nibble on the corner of the sandwich you had grabbed from one of the platters on the table

when suddenly you hear a voice calling your name, breaking you out of your spaced out state

you look up from your food to spot yeosang sitting right beside you with a look of concern painting his features and you brush off his questions of “are you alright?” and “you look upset, is there anything wrong?” with a shake of your head

and finally, after what seems like half an hour of questioning he decides to drop the subject, instead telling you about how his classes that day were, and asking you about yours once he finished giving you a synopsis of his day

you’re reminded once more about your classmate asking you for that favor- but that is was yeosang wanted after all, it would be a bad move to not try to help out your friend like that

so you plaster the most convincing smile you can on your face while you tell him about the ravenclaw girl who was probably in fifth year asking about going to hogsmeade with him

he cuts you off before you can try to recall her name with a laugh saying that he’s not really interested in her, since he already has someone who’s caught his eye

and this time the feeling you get in your stomach is increased tenfold, and you feel like someone has knocked the wind out of you, or just sent a stupify hurling towards you and it’s crazy how you can almost feel the blood drain out of your face

but once more you tell yourself that you’re excited to see who he has a crush on

so you put on a mischievous smile and nudge him in the side asking him who the lucky person is and you keep ignoring the feeling of bile in your throat rising when you see a delicate blush appear on his cheeks as he refuses to answer you

even though you don’t particularly care to hear his answer, you keep pestering him, even after you both depart from the great hall and go to your common rooms and as you finally say goodnight to him, you let him know that whoever it is he has his eyes on, you hope they make him happy

and without missing a beat, he replies “they do”

you can’t sleep at all that night with your thoughts floating around in your brain, persistently bothering you with “what-ifs” you’d rather ignore

but as you toss and turn in the four-poster bed, one thought sticks with you perhaps a bit too much, asking you if you have a crush on kang yeosang, your best friend of six years

and as much as every rational bone in your body tries to deny it, you can’t dismiss the feeling of your heartbeat speeding up every time you see him and the gross feeling you get when he mentions liking other people, or when other people mention liking him

and oh god the puzzle pieces are coming together and it’s like every fiber of your being is screaming “how did it take you THIS LONG to finally notice that you’re head over heels for yeosang????”

after this thought you only have one more, telling you that you have to get over him, no matter what

it’s a stupid, impulsive, irrational thought but you only want the best for him and if he’s happy, then you’re happy

so you set yourself to making a plan consisting of finding someone else to fill the yeosang-shaped space in your heart

after about three weeks, that “someone else” comes in the form of park seonghwa, one of the seventh year slytherin boys whose sly looks and sexy smirks entice you just enough to find yourself frequenting empty classrooms after curfew with him

with your body pressed against his and his hands on your waist and your lips against each other’s and you try to convince yourself that you could fall in love with him

but you both know that these are mindless sessions of teenage lust and nothing more than self indulgence but you still can’t help but fall into the trap of seonghwa’s pretty words falling from his pretty lips

and the way his eyes linger on your form slightly longer than normal in the hallways or during classes

they almost convince you that you’re over yeosang- that is, until yeosang opens up the doors to the abandoned classroom where you and seonghwa are making out past curfew

you catch the gleam of the prefect badge on yeosang’s robes as you and seonghwa jump apart from each other, and yeosang’s eye immediately go to yours, the shock evident on his face as he addresses the two of you

telling you that you’re not allowed out after curfew, and he’ll need to take house points away if it happens again to which seonghwa nods, but you just move your gaze to the floor

too ashamed to keep looking at yeosang until he grabs you by the arm, and you look up to notice that seonghwa has left, presumably after yeosang told him to

and he begins leading you back to your dorm and the first few minutes progress in silence but after a bit, yeosang slows to a stop, asking you what was going on between you and seonghwa

you can’t just tell him that you’re so in love with your best friend that you’re doing everything in your power to forget about it

so you shrug, saying it’s nothing but yeosang doesn’t buy it- he knows the look on your face means you’re lying so you tell him about as much of the truth as you can muster without crying

telling him that the guy you’re basically in love with is interested in someone else and since you wish them happiness, you’re doing your best to move on

he feels the raw emotion in your voice and he knows how you feel, he knows because he just walked in on the person he fancies making out with another man so he just lets it go for the rest of the night

until the first hogsmeade trip of the year comes up and you’re complaining vaguely about not having a date

one of your dormmates points out that she’s seen the looks seonghwa had been giving you until she suddenly shuts her mouth while looking over your shoulder

you turn and see yeosang standing behind you and he grabs you by the arm and you hardly have time to notice how disheveled his hair is and how his button up isn't quite tucked as neatly as usual into his pants and how there seem to be bags under his eyes but you do catch it, and just attribute it to him being tired from his prefect rounds the night before

but when he pulls you to a corner of the courtyard where you’re waiting for the carriages and his voice is husky when he admits quietly to you that he was hoping that you’d be his date to hogsmeade

but if you wanted to go to hogsmeade with seonghwa instead, he would understand

your heart starts racing because yeosang is admitting that he wants to go on a date with you to hogsmeade???????

it almost seems unreal and you have to gape at him until you remember how to speak, at which point you manage to get out the question of “what about the person you like?”

his face gets more red than you’ve ever seen it, and if salazar slytherin were able to see yeosang right now, he’d sneer at the sheer amount of emotion on the boy’s face

and yeosang is now the one gaping at you before he remembers he can speak

this time he’s the one to splutter out “i mean, i was kind of talking about you”

you’re not even able to process exactly what’s going on except for how your face feels like it’s burst out into flames and your tongue feels like it’s three times heavier than it should be

but when yeosang tells you once more that he was talking about you and he’s totally infatuated with you, it feels like every positive emotion ever felt has flooded into your system

so powerful that without even thinking, you launch yourself at yeosang and into his arms and you’ve both hugged before but now you feel even more at home than usual-

it feels like a warm blanket of happiness is draped on top of you, protecting you from the falling snow and the cold settling in your bones is blasted away with the amount of affection you feel for yeosang

there are so many thoughts going through your head about him that you can hardly feel how his arms have wrapped tightly around you and are gently swaying you from side to side and you feel his warm breath against your ear as he whispers gently into your ear “so does this mean you want to go with me to hogsmeade?”

you can hear the smirk in his voice, one of the most annoyingly endearing things about the sly slytherin so you glare up at him with an expression of fake exasperation and roll your eyes

responding by telling him that you were gonna say yes, but if he keeps being a pain, you might consider going with seonghwa instead

and he knows you’re teasing but he can’t help but feel a tug in his chest telling him to not let you even look at anyone else the way you look at him

so he pulls you closer against his chest and grumbles that he’d hex seonghwa if you went to hogsmeade with him and the protectiveness in his voice makes you smile

but eventually you have to pull away from him and he sighs at the lack of contact but you’re quick to entwine your fingers with him and pull him to the carriages so you don’t miss the opportunity to go to the beautiful village with yeosang

you find the carriage with your friends in it who think nothing of the way you’re holding yeosang’s hand but do think something of the way you’re leaning extra into his side and the quick kiss he plants on your temple

so they giggle and ask if you two lovebirds finally got together and it’s obvious by the way your faces start burning

because you thought your touches were slick but nobody’s missing it when you finally arrive at hogsmeade, you break away from your friends to enjoy your time with your date

(mostly consisting of finding empty alleyways to shyly hold each other)

and you can say with certainty that no date you’ve ever gone on has felt as right as that one did and yeosang feels the same way

his chest filled with nervous butterflies every time you snuggle your face into the crook of his neck or his hair or every time he feels your fingers curl around his or every time you pout at him and your lips look so enticing but he’s a gentleman (and also maybe a little shy about kissing you)

but at the end of the day, you’re both tuckered out from the day’s activities and you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way back to the castle

he’s so endeared by the way your mouth hangs open slightly and how your fingers are still grasping onto his and after what feels like not enough time, you’re back at the castle

he gently shakes you awake and you whine about being so sleepy and he brushes any stray hairs that may fallen in your face out of the way and tells you that he could leave you to sleep all night in the carriage

but you protest with sleep still in your voice and who is he to leave you alone so he gently helps you out of the carriage and walks you to the dungeons where the slytherin dorms are

and tells you that you can sleep in his bed tonight, which you’ve both done before, but only when you were best friends and this is new territory

before you can think about it too much, yeosang’s soft voice interrupts your train of thought, asking you sweetly if you’d like to be his, and he could be yours and without a second of hesitation, you’re nodding your head, saying yes, of course and leaning into him once more for a hug

he pulls back after a few seconds and asks you one more thing-

if you would be okay with him kissing you now and who are you to tell him no when you’ve been enticed by his lips every waking second of the day

once more you nod your head with hearts in your eyes and it feels like the yeosang shaped hole in your heart has finally been entirely filled, feeling the way his lips are against yours and you swear you can feel your heart beating out of your chest because this is nothing like other kisses you’ve had

it’s one of pure adoration and affection and love and you think you’d like to live the rest of your life kissing yeosang

until you hear a voice in the hallway saying “i can’t believe they’re finally together” and you all but leap away from yeosang in surprise to see two of his dormmates, mingi and san, standing right outside of the common room

as they laugh at your reactions, they turn to walk away and you swear you hear mingi saying to san “you owe me ten galleons” and san cussing at the boy but still begrudgingly handing over the money

that’s when yeosang decides to whisk you away to his dorm, his weary body feeling heavier and heavier with every step he takes to his bed, and you both curl up on the four-poster

but this time, yeosang holds you as close to his body as you can get, flicking the curtains around the bed closed as he presses what feels like ten million kisses gently into your skin

with each one getting softer and softer until he’s drifted off to sleep and everything feels so right, everything feels like it was never supposed to be otherwise

you both almost convince yourselves that it was just a really elaborate dream until you wake up to the gentle shuffling of yeosang’s dormmates waking up

and the warm chest you feel pressed against your back reminds you that it wasn’t a dream, it’s real and it will stay real and

so you turn in yeosang’s hold and gently pepper kisses across his face like freckles and when he finally wakes you can see the look of recognition in his eyes

but you don’t stop littering his face with kisses, basking in the feeling of loving and being loved until it seems that yeosang has had enough and captures your lips against his in a sleepy kiss that tells you “good morning” and “i love you” and “i’m so glad you’re mine”

and you hope that he’s able to feel the same thing from you which he totally does and he thinks he’s addicted to the feeling of you being in his arms and his lips being against your skin and the hushed words of affection you were sharing with him

he decides that he’s just addicted to you, the one person who will always make him weak at the knees with the slightest smile and you’re both basking in the feeling of each other

until the curtains are ripped open by san, that asshole, laughing heartily at finding you and yeosang being so affectionate so early in the morning

so you make the executive decision that day that unless the dorm is empty, you won’t be kissing yeosang in there anymore

but with the sly boy being as deviously smart as he is, he uses his prefect privileges to go out after curfew and find an abandoned classroom to kiss you in without getting into trouble

you can’t even say you’re surprised that he thought of that (after all, he’s found his fair share of students during his rounds, you included, doing the same thing)

however you are shocked at how bold he is with his touches and kisses in public, making sure others know you’re his, but you’re pretty sure everyone knows from the cold glares he sends towards anyone approaching you

and from the way that you’ll sometimes have a hickey peeking out from the collar of your shirt that you forgot to conceal

but from the way your friends mimic some of the sickly sweet words you and yeosang have been caught sharing, you’re not sure anyone is convinced that yeosang is actually a mean, bad slytherin

you’re definitely never going to think he is, in fact you firmly believe that he’s the softest man ever, sometimes waking up next to you in the middle of the night just to whisper into your temple that he loves you so much that sometimes he feels like his heart is going to burst

even after the summer holiday begins and you won’t be able to see your boyfriend every day, he uses the floo network to travel to your house regularly

and go on sweet dates with you and sometimes he’ll stay the night (much to the displeasure of your father, who insists that your boyfriend should absolutely not be staying the night in your room)

when you arrive back at hogwarts with yeosang as head boy, you think your father would have a heart attack since you sleep in the head boy’s single room almost every night but he doesn’t have to know-

after all, the only things you’d be able to inform him about are the whispered words of love and enchantment between the two of you during the nights and the way that you wake up wrapped in each other

you swear that yeosang is the best blanket and pillow ever and with the way he wakes you up with kisses and sweet nothings murmured into your ears and love in your heart, you’d also have to say that he’s the best alarm clock and the best boyfriend anyone could ever have

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #yeosang scenarios #yeosang imagines #yeosang au #sfw #yeosang #kang yeosang #k.yeosang #bee writes

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trashmouthnerd · 5 years ago

Text

Just dudes being dudes...

Fandom: Avatar, Zuko x Sokka

Summary: Inspired completely by @firebendcr “Zukka are the gay friends who constantly flirt “as a joke” but would say yes in a heartbeat if the other asked them out” Yes so he is the absolute genius that came up with this. Follow him please :)

A large, drawn out sigh escaped the not so new but still incredibly inexperienced fire lord. He ruled over the entire fire nation with confidence and grace but evidently could not face a social event with even a fraction of the same attitude.

"Relax would ya? The whole gang is going to be back together for the first time in a year. You should be excited" A familiar teasing came from Zuko's bed. Sokka had let himself in earlier this evening, already dressed in his best attire, and dropped theatrically on Zuko's freshly made bed.

"How can I relax? This outfit looks ridiculous Sokka, and what if they don't like me anymore? Spirits this is dreadful, maybe I can call it off-" Zuko rambled, hands patting down the red fabric frantically.

"Alright seriously, chill. They love you and you know it so shut up, and hey that outfit is barley different from your usual"

"It's tighter" Zuko complains. Sokka groans, pulling himself off the bed reluctantly to stand behind Zuko - who was glaring into the mirror as though he were waiting to grow a second head.

"Just shows of your rocking bod more" Sokka winks, slapping Zuko's ass playfully before turning his friend around and flattening the collar properly.

"Shut up, like you know what looking stupid feels like. You look ridiculously hot in anything it isn't fair" Zuko pouts, his head falling in defeat to rest on Sokka’s shoulder.

"Hey, that's just my natural charm, can't blame me for that" Sokka grins, it only widening as his remark earns a groan from Zuko.

"Seriously though, you look great alright? Now stop being such a baby" Sokka said, rolling his eyes when a glare was sent his way. Zuko made his way to the mirror once again, prepared to compulsively check over his appearance when a rather loud knock sounded at his door.

"What is it?" He called, making his way over to the doors, barley keeping himself from tripping over his robes when an excitable Sokka shoved ahead of him.

"Oh ambassador Sokka, please could you inform Fire Lord Zuko that the guests are arriving now" A soft voice came from the doorway and Sokka nodded his head triumphantly.

"You hear that Jerk-lord, party's starting" Sokka winked, grabbing Zuko's hand and dragging him out of the comfort and isolation of his room.

"Fantastic.." He muttered as he allowed himself to be pulled around corners and through hallways.

They reached the main hall moments later and were utterly flabbergasted at the outcome of the last few days. Rows of brightly lit lanterns were hanging from the ceiling, tables of the finest food lined the back walls. It was completely decorated with Fire Nation scrolls and paintings in any areas that might have looked uninviting had they not been there.

It all looked so official Zuko had to take a deep breath.

He never would've hosted a party if Sokka hadn't been so spirit damned adamant about it. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all...

Sokka smiled, nudging his friend before taking it all in himself. Crowds of people who were well aquatinted with each other were beginning to form in small circles. All sorts of people, there were friends from past adventures, officials of every kingdom and special guests Zuko had invited from the fire nation villages he'd visited.

"Will uncle be coming?" Zuko turned, his eyes trying to submerge the hope until he received an answer. Sokka smiled sympathetically.

"Not tonight, but in his letter to me he said.. never mind" Sokka stopped, his eyes widening as though he'd said something he wasn't supposed to.

"He said what, Sokka?" Zuko glared, staring ferociously to encourage an answer.

"Oh alright.. he's planning on surprising you this week but I wasn't supposed to say anything.." Sokka frowned, knowing he'd missed the chance to see the light in Zuko's eyes upon Iroh's sudden arrival.

Zuko smiled anyway, thankful he'd see his uncle again soon.

"Oh.. Well good, it's about time the old man visited"

"Sokka! Zuko!" A familiar voice called from the crowd. The pair turned to see three smiling faces running towards them at full speed. Aang got there first, nearly sweeping the two off their feet as he jumped into a sudden hug. Katara following soon after, engulfing them further into the warmth of their friends.

"Guess I'll join in on the sappy reunion too" Toph smirked, her arms wrapping around the group as her cheeks squished against Katara’s back.

"I missed you so much, even if you are a pain" Katara smiled to her brother warmly as Aang told Zuko a long winded tale of his adventures on the way to the fire nation.

"Ha ha, you too sis. Keeping this one in check isn't an easy job" Sokka sighed, punching Zuko in the arm playfully.

"Speaking of which, spirits look at you Zuko..." Katara started, looking him up and down.

"Yeah, tell me about it.. You look so.." Aang trailed off.

"Handsome? Hot? Flaming Hot?" Sokka rambled, doing his duty of helping his friend in finishing his sentence.

"I was going to say fancy" Aang laughed.

"You look the same to me" Toph shrugged. Sokka laughed, touching her arm gently. It felt nice, right, being all together again.

Hours passed and the party was still going strong. Sokka had eaten most of the buffet but everything else had gone according to plan. Zuko had met with a few officials to greet them, doing his absolute best to win them over.

Other than a few short conversations Zuko had spent the entire night in a spare room with his friends, sending Momo every now and then to retrieve some snacks - which never worked in their favour.

"So come on then Zuko, spill the beans" Toph teased but Zuko only raised a brow.

"Oh come on, you're telling me you're the Fire Lord and you haven't gotten any" She went on, her own brows furrowing together in disbelief.

"Huh? Oh no, I guess I haven't" He shrugged, it's not as though he'd really thought about. Yeah there's a few cute boys but he's busy enough ruling the fire nation and rebuilding what Ozai broke to think about dating.

And by a few cute boys he means that one cook that works mornings, the guy he met down the market place once, and his painfully perfect best friend.

"Lame" She finished, stretching her feet out onto the table.

"Why do I need a relationship when I've got hot stuff here to help with me everything anyway" Zuko smirked, eyeing the boy beside him mischievously.

"It's an honour, Fire-Jerk" Sokka smiled, biting his bottom lip suggestively while maintaining eye contact. The two were so absorbed in their teasing they failed to see the confused glances their friends were sharing.

"Get a room!" Katara said, turning her nose up in fake disgust.

"We have one" Sokka winked, Zuko seemed to have found this amusing as he nudged his shoulder against his friend’s, scoffing slightly.

"So have you two been like this since we left or...?" Aang asked, sitting forward as he snatched a carrot from the bowl in front of him. Tilting his head as he awaited the highly anticipated answer.

"What do you mean 'like this'?" Zuko asked, turning to Sokka for some sort of assistance.

"Acting like you're married" Katara provided to the dumbfounded idiots sitting directly ahead of her.

"Dunno what you're talking about sis, this is completely normal bro behaviour" Sokka shrugged, his hand resting on Zuko's thigh. Katara looked at said hand suspiciously and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah.. sure.. friends always flirt with each other non stop" She said sarcastically, eyeing her brother knowingly.

"Flirting? We are not flirting!" Zuko frowned, shoving the hand off of his thigh.

"Yeah! We always act like this!" Sokka added. Raising his hands to drive home his confusion.

"That's completely normal.. just guys being guys.. nothing romantic about it" Aang smiled, looking towards Katara in knowing agreement.

"Exactly!" Zuko shouted. Arms crossing over his chest in realising that touching Sokka right now was off the table, he didn't want his friends to be suspicious about nothing after all.

"So you're saying neither of you would go there with each other?" Toph smirked, knowing her question would give her plenty entertainment.

"Well-" They both said in unison. Sokka's eyes wide and Zuko's cheeks tinted red.

"You go first"

"No you”

"Fine. Well I'm a good friend you know, if my buddy here wanted to do something then who am I to decline the Fire Lord?" Sokka explained, shrugging as though he weren't declaring the tension between them was existent after all.

Zuko's eyes widened at his best friends confession. If he'd known that were the case then for what dumb reason weren't they doing that already?

"Yeah and I mean, have you seen those eyes? I'm not saying no to them" Zuko stated, grabbing Sokka’s chin, tilting it up with his finger as he smirked.

“You wanna go out with me? I wouldn’t mind giving you the pleasure of having such an incredibly good looking boyfriend” Sokka smiled, his eyes glinting as Zuko tilted his chin just a little further to kiss him with a warm smile.

"Idiots, the both of you" Katara shook her head, smiling as she watched Sokka throwing his arms around his totally platonic best friend, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

#follow op rn #oh and u can follow me too i guess #i wrote this in half an hour and havent slept in a day #so?? i hope its alright #zukka #zuko x sokka #sokka #also i can relate to Sokkas dumbass bi energy too much help #avatar #avatar the last airbender #fire lord zuko #send me zukka prompts #zukka fanfic #my writing #fanfiction

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hournites · 4 years ago

Text

Say that we’ll stay with each other

An aged-up Jealous!Rick hournite fic for @samarasketch

~.~

They grab coffee at the diner to catch up every week. It’s not the only time they see each other, but missions require zero personal life talk for safety, as learned very quickly into their JSA run, and their texts just aren’t sufficient enough for the way they miss each other’s company.

Beth rearranges the cutlery, waiting for Rick as he picks out two desserts from beneath the glass window by the cash. It’s late and quiet, Rick had to work overtime to finish a deadline, so she took a nap at her office until he swung by with his car to pick her up.

The steaming coffee is in front of her, untouched. It’s been a long day and she’s second guessing whether or not caffeine is actually such a good idea after all.

“Wow,” Rick greets her, sliding into the booth across from her. He’s no longer slicking his hair back with gel and the small change makes a massive difference in how he looks. His hair is thick, falling over the front of his face, long enough to frame his eyes. Those eyes are lit up now, bright hazel. They sweep over her, taking everything in like he needs the moment to process.

The silent gesture pushes Beth to look down at herself, wondering if she spilled something or was showcasing a wardrobe malfunction of some kind.

“You look amazing. I noticed before but your jacket was on.”

Beth relaxes, settling against the leather backing of her seat. He grins at her, which she returns easily. Rick is her best friend—has been for a very long time. Her lips curve around the rim of her ceramic mug. “Oh, thank you! I was on my date earlier over lunch. I didn’t want to show up in my lab coat.”

“Right,” he replies. “Dr. Leho, was it?” ” Rick twirls his fork into the perfectly cut marble cake slice on the pretty small plate. “How’d that go?”

Beth suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. “Dr. Leon.”

“Oh, was that it?” As if he hadn’t deliberately botched the name of her date in the first place. Rick has met Denny before. Beth’s mom had invited him to her surprise birthday dinner that she organized with Courtney a few weeks ago. He was nice, bought her a book of easy recipes that he swore got him well fed through night shifts that he thought she’d enjoy. The gesture was thoughtful and was what made her agree to giving him her number. Rick was there for it all, one eyebrow arched high in what she was able to tell was silent judgement as he kept sharing a look with Yolanda.

“—And it went fine.”

He raises that brow again now. “Just fine?”

Beth shrugs. She already knows how Rick feels about why she’s giving him a chance. He’s not exactly her first choice when it comes to dating—Rather, he wasn’t much of a choice at all, pestered into giving the youngest single doctor working at her mom’s floor the time of day.

Her parents are getting concerned she’s throwing herself too deep into work without any support. It’s not precisely fair—Juggling a new position at Central City emergency with spontaneous secret crime-fighting against metahuman villainous egomaniacs does not give a woman much time to find someone new to love. Long shifts end in face-planting into bed until the next one and there’s nothing more she’d rather do than shove off her work shoes to do that. Only a handful of people have enough grip on Beth’s heart for her to sacrifice her evenings—Courtney and her family, Yolanda, Jade, Wally, her parents. And while she enjoys the pretty dress and matching pair of high heels for dinner, her energy to sustain a relationship would require an extension of self that she’s not sure she has to offer.

She’s tried to explain this, cutting out the important JSA parts, which she self-admits would strengthen her argument.

“It was a nice lunch.” She’s already preferring dessert with Rick, though.

“Tell me about it.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“What, he was that boring?”

Beth sighs. She finds herself describing her entire lunch break, from waiting for Denny to scrub his hands from surgical fluids to grabbing her hand to chatter about his day without a moment of pause for her to get something into the conversation until their food had arrived. It’s because he was excited to be on the date with her. Beth’s mom was talking her up to him, no doubt, clearly that was the case by any indication of how her mother kept talking about Denny to her over the phone too. So Denny was likely nervous, he kept letting out a barking type laugh after something he thought Beth should find funny. Beth couldn’t exactly be annoyed for his rambling to no end, she was the queen of that when she was younger. Her mom probably thought it was nice they had that in common. Except, it’s not. Beth’s excited verbal amusement park went away with age. Beth learned to keep her mouth shut when she needed to, she’s hoarded too many secrets.

“There’s one thing though that bothered me a bit,” she admits finally, tapping her cut nails against the table. “He asked me what...pleased me... the most.”

Rick frowns at her. “Huh?”

She flushes, eyes flitting away as she mumbles, “In bed. What I find pleasurable in bed.”

Rick bristles, his mouth dropping open. “Did you tell him?”

“After what he told me first? I kind of had to. There was a family sitting within earshot of us, it was barely noon so I sort of said something vague, I don’t exactly remember, I think my brain is trying to block it out. It was embarrassing.”

“God, that’s tacky.”

She knew Rick would say that. “I think he was trying to assess our compatibility?”

“You make him sound like some socially inept robot.”

Beth lowers her mug, biting her tongue on calling herself a socially inept robot. She reaches over the table for the pot the waitress left for them after Rick’s second refill, instead. He lifts it for her when notices, pouring her a fresh cup and slides over the basket of sugar packets and creamers.

“Thanks,” she says, then returns to their conversation. “I think he was trying to be suave.”

“You hate that word! You’ve said so yourself!”

Had she? Beth wrinkles her nose. It’s crazy how much of their lives they’ve shared together. “In high school, maybe.”

“I vividly remember you telling me that talking about sexual preferences with acquaintances freaks you out.” That’s true. Whenever a horror story kinky sex accident patient shows up in Beth’s emergency room describing their incident in full detail, it takes all of her professionalism not to drop her clipboard and run out from second hand embarrassment.

She shifts in her seat and explains, “He was my date, Rick.”

“So that’s what, half an hour of getting to know him? You’d think someone that went to med school would have the patience to keep it in their pants.”

“Rick!” She gapes at his bluntness because he’s just flinging it out there, dragging Dr. Leon’s entire personality with barely any effort at all, what’s worse is that he’s being unintentionally funny and now she’s trying not to laugh.

“What? This man is clearly not for you. He’s not your type.”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Then what is?”

Rick looks down at his plate, quieting. He hasn’t really eaten yet, just danced his fork all over that cake. She’s half tempted to ask him for it if Rick’s not hungry. She finished her lemon square in four bites.

“Well...”

“Well?”

"Well... He’s not my type... for you. He’s not good enough for you. He sounds like a secret sleaze."

Beth stops trying to defend Denny after Rick says that. She’s not sure if he’s so adamant because he can tell the way she’s not really interested in him, but feels the need to make her mom happy and is trying to give her an out, or if he honestly thinks Denny is not a good person. She’s been a superhero for ten years now, Beth is pretty sure how to gauge a person’s character. There’s nothing wrong with Denny Leon the way Rick is painting him. It’s hard because she knows there’s no real spark, but she’s willing to try. Chemistry doesn’t develop like that over one day.

Beth thinks about her mom again. She just wants Beth to have a fulfilling life. And she had found Beth’s father while also steadily making a career as a respected research clinician. What’s Beth’s excuse then, to say finding someone isn’t possible?

“I don’t have a type, I’ve barely dated at all. The man I’ve spent most of my time with is you.”

Rick takes a while to respond, but his eyes are on hers like he’s waiting for an afterthought to accompany her last sentence. It’s sincere and gentle, and for the second time since they’ve met here today, she finds her heartbeat picking up because of the way she’s being seen.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just—“

“What?”

He takes another moment before answering. “Why are you forcing something with someone you have no desire to connect to? Are you not...Happy?”

His question takes her by surprise. She stammers, feeling more heat rise to her face. “Why are you asking me this?”

Rick drags a hand over his face and leaves it there for a moment, like he’s just trying to breathe. Eventually, he sweeps his hair back up over his head, and he strikes a nostalgic resemblance to the angry boy Beth latched onto in tenth grade whose soul she watched soften over years of time. Her heart pangs at the memory of the way things were. When they spent all week side by side, and didn’t have to schedule coffee dates that inch towards midnight around saving each other in costumes with relics because of their hectic lives.

“I care about you,” he finally says. “I just don’t want to see you exhaust yourself over someone that’s not worth your time. You should be with someone who makes you feel how I feel whenever I’m with you.”

She smiles at that. “I love you too, Rick.”

His own smile falters, something dims in his expression, she’d almost call it wistful, but that’s not exactly a feeling Rick has in his emotional repertoire. He lowers his gaze to his plate again.

“Hey.” Beth places her hand over his. “Are you okay?”

In high school, Rick was on track to becoming a mechanic like Pat until the man turned him around by the shoulders and walked him through scholarship applications for college. To the surprise of practically everyone in Blue Valley except his inner circle of friends, he graduated with honours in both chemistry and physics, and is now an independent research scientist for a big pharma company. He says he likes his lab, but the regulations of being under a company contract means there’s only so much experimentation he can get by with on his own. Beth has been encouraging his recent talks of starting up his own research lab for JSA, but he seems stressed thinking of taking that beyond the realms of idealism.

His hand freezes beneath her palm. He glances up at her again without words, like he’s struggling with what to say. The creases between Beth’s brows deepen further with concern. “Rick?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. The smile is so fake it hurts that he thinks she could be fooled by it.

“Come on, it’s just us. Something’s bothering you. Is it work? Did your uncle contact you for money again?”

“No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Rick—“

“You don’t have a type. You just have a person. I know that because you’ve been my person since I was seventeen. You don’t need your mother’s fancy surgeon prodigy to sweep you off your feet, Beth. You have me.”

“I—”

Her pulse rushes in her ears. She’s honestly speechless. Beth just sits there. Rick searches her face for some type of recognition she can’t give back because she’s just confused. She’s blinking back unexpected tears, the hand she has over his shaking, because there has to be something more to this, the gravity behind everything, but her mind keeps hitting against a blank wall. She understands what Rick is saying but not what he means.

He sees her distress and slips out of his booth, sliding into her side. “Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her as she presses her wet face into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay.”

Her stomach drops at the horrible way his voice sounds scratchy, thick with regret. That’s when it clicks, and the tears fall for real.

Rick is in love with her.

She’s not crying because she’s upset. Blindly, she reaches up for his face to see him, those fond hazel eyes blinking back. They used to be so hardened and guarded, but it’s just openness now, with her. It’s late, the diner is almost empty, nothing but dim lights and the only waitress busy cleaning up behind the counter. It’s just them, in their special spot. And it’s just them, their solid partnership, that Beth needs in her life to carve out time and effort and feelings for. He’s been trying to articulate this over and over since the evening began. Hugging her tightly, lets out a long breath. The solace he finds in her, alone. The relief and love. How she feels it in equal measures, how it’s always been there.

“I didn’t know.”

“I never really told you.”

But he has, really. He’s shown her since they were kids.

She touches his face, guiding him down so he could kiss her the way she suddenly desperately wants.

He does, kissing Beth deeply until her head goes dizzy and the light feeling is not something she ever wants to let go of. There is no extension of self when Beth is with Rick. No room to make. He already is in her future, can have all of her time.

#stargirl #hournite #rick tyler #beth chapel #fluff #jealous!rick #hournites fic #dctv

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litwitlady · 4 years ago

Text

Never Have I Ever (5/?)

Read the Board Game Verse on AO3.

The next Friday night Michael shows up early and with a list of demands. ‘Put on some warm clothes and grab a couple of blankets you don’t mind getting dirty. We’re taking this show on the road.’ He heads into Alex’s kitchen to pilfer the fridge, and Alex doesn’t bother asking questions, he just does as told.

Outside at Michael’s truck, they toss the blankets and whatever Michael took from his kitchen into the bed. ‘Your firepit? Where are we going?’

‘The desert. Our old spot. Hop in.’ A little thrill shivers down Alex’s spine as he climbs into the Chevy. In all their years of each other, spending the night in the desert has only ever ended one way.

Their drive out is twenty minutes of quiet, radio softly playing between them. Michael’s window is down despite the chill, and Alex enjoys the way the wind dances through his hair, making a mess of his curls. Every couple of miles, Michael glances over at him with a promise-painted smile, the same way he used to when they were seventeen.

They turn off the highway, tires kicking up dust clouds behind them. Beyond the mountains the sun is setting, pink and purple and orange flames licking at the first stars daring to blink down at them. The desert around them looks the same as it ever does with pockets of snow still unmelted from the season’s first snowfall. Eventually, two familiar mesquite trees appear and it’s like coming home, both of them breathing a little easier.

Michael puts the truck in park. ‘This place never changes.’ He slides out of the Chevy and before Alex has even set foot on solid ground, he’s managed to float everything out of the bed and onto the desert floor. ‘You want to sit on the ground or would the tailgate be easier?’

He looks nervous and that makes Alex nervous. ‘On the ground, near the fire. Just need a hand getting down there.’ He reaches out to Michael, asking for help but also offering comfort for whatever anxiety is biting at both their heels. Michael helps him onto the blanket and plops down beside him, the fire close enough to keep the encroaching sting of autumn winds at bay.

Scattered around them is an array of food. Everything from paninis oozing melted cheese to a handmade Greek salad from a recipe Michael had found at Isobel’s house while rummaging through her cookbooks. ‘I might have gone a bit overboard, but in my defense, I skipped lunch and was starving.’

Alex is already halfway through one of the paninis, eyes closed in satisfaction. ‘This is delicious.’ Michael makes a mental note to keep the panini maker he’d borrowed from Max. It’s not like Max ever uses it anyway.

Once they’ve eaten their way around the blanket, Michael gets back up and removes a large black case from his truck. ‘There’s a reason I wanted to come out here tonight.’ He winks down at Alex. ‘And no, it’s not the reason you’ve been thinking since I first mentioned the desert.’ Alex looks away quickly, hiding the disappointment that suddenly floods his face.

Michael doesn’t notice, too busy pulling a large telescope from the velvet lining inside the opened case. ‘Mars is brighter than it’s been in years this month. I’ve been itching to get out here and have a look. Isobel gifted me the telescope on our shared birthday in June. I was going to pawn it.’ He shrugs and peeks his eye through the eyepiece, adjusting the fingerscope per the instructions he’s found on his phone.

Alex looks up at the night sky and finds Mars with his naked eye. It is extraordinarily bright, a glowing pink orb rising through the inky black expanse of space. And when Michael finally captures it in the lens of the telescope, he gasps and grabs at Alex’s arm. ‘You can see so much detail. All the pockmarks and craters. And the dust looks almost orange. It’s amazing. Look.’

He drags the telescope closer to Alex so he doesn’t have to move much, checking through the eyepiece one last time to focus directly on the red star. Leaning back on his heels, Michael motions at Alex to take his place and turns his own eyes upward. They are both looking at the same star but he also knows they are seeing something entirely different. He huffs out a sharp laugh which draws Alex’s eye away from the telescope. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing. Just metaphors and nonsense. The ways that perspectives get so warped and are so hard to understand when everyone doesn’t have the same telescope.’ Alex gives him a funny look and Michael laughs outright. ‘I’ve been hanging around Max too much.’

Alex shakes his head gently. ‘No. I think I get what you’re saying. For a long time, we’ve wanted the same thing, but we’ve been coming at it from our own messy angles. I’ve often thought we were similar to the codes I break. We’re on the same page, but written in a language the other needs help translating.’ Michael nods at him, smiling sweet.

They spend an hour searching through the various stars and distant galaxies before a growing ache in Alex’s chest pushes him to ask a question he’s been holding inside since they decided to work on their friendship weeks ago. ‘One day you’ll be able to find your star. The one you’ve been searching for since you crawled from that pod. And you’ll figure out how to finish building your ship.’ He pauses to collect himself, already feeling the emotion in his chest threatening to overwhelm him. ‘One day, you’ll be able to go home.’ His eyes start to burn with unshed tears, but he keeps going, meeting Michael’s gaze with determination and readying the fortress around his heart he was so sure he wouldn’t need anymore. ‘Is that still what you want?’

Michael reaches up and swipes at the first tear that falls from the corner of Alex’s eye. ‘I found my star a long time ago. And I’m not going anywhere without you.’

Alex drops his eyes to his hands. ‘I have no right to ask that of you. I know that. Not after all the leaving I did.’ He tugs nervously at the hem of his shirt, hands starting to shake with the cold. ‘But I’m never going anywhere without you ever again. I promise.’

‘I know.’ Michael grabs an extra blanket and wraps it tight around Alex. ‘So what’s tonight’s game? Didn’t see you toss anything into the bed when we were leaving.’

They both lean back against the Chevy’s tire. Alex stretches the blanket around Michael’s shoulders so that they are sharing more than just the woven wool’s warmth. ‘How about the classic drinking game, Never Have I Ever? Sans alcohol but with a new twist.’ He grins, lips sharpening at the edges and eyes darkening with dare. ‘Instead of taking a drink, you have to kiss the other person.’

Michael snorts. ‘So we’re just soundly saying goodbye to the friends experiment then?’

‘No. Platonic kisses only. No kissing on the mouth and no use of tongue.’ Alex hears the bullshit in his words and knows Michael does too. His nerves return and he begins to second guess himself. ‘Or we can play like normal. There’s still plenty of wine left. Or not at all. I’m happy to just sit here with you too.’

‘That’s okay. I like the new rules. Not much of a wine guy anyway. Who goes first?’

‘Me.’ Alex sits up a little straighter and spends a fair amount of time considering his first move. ‘Never have I ever used my telekinesis to do literally anything.’ He follows the statement with a cheeky grin, clearly quite proud of himself.

‘Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? That’s how we’re going to play?’ Alex tries to suppress the manic giggle that bubbles up in his throat but loses the fight pretty quickly. Michael shakes his head. ‘Have a placement preference?’

‘Nope. I’m looking forward to wherever you choose.’ He blushes and struggles to meet Michael’s eye, muscles tensing in anticipation once he feels Michael shift against him.

A breeze nestles between them, but neither of them notices. The cool air doing absolutely nothing to assuage the heat pulsing between them. Michael presses his lips to Alex’s temple, less a kiss than a remembrance of every kiss that has come before. Alex closes his eyes and lets this new memory burn a spot next to all the others.

It’s strange. Michael has kissed him goodbye dozens of times over the past few weeks. None of them half as affecting as this barely glancing touch.

Abruptly, Michael pulls away. ‘Never have I ever gone to war.’

Alex reopens his eyes at the sound of Michael’s voice. ‘If we keep this up, we’re going to dig ourselves into a hole, Guerin. One we can’t get out of.’ He brings his fingers up to the sleeve of Michael’s shirt. ‘You told me to dress warm when all you’re wearing is this thin t-shirt.’ Michael watches as Alex slowly guides the sleeve up over the top of his arm. Alex bows his head far enough to leave a trail of rough, chapped kisses where the bony end of his collarbone meets his shoulder.

Michael’s breath hitches the instant Alex doesn’t stop with one single kiss. The dry scrape of his lips sending goosebumps down to his toes, his heartbeat a staccato rhythm echoing throughout his entire body. ‘That doesn’t feel at all platonic.’ His voice is low and strained, edged with the desire to flatten Alex hard against the wool blanket beneath them.

Alex smiles and smacks his shoulder with one last loud kiss. ‘I guess that depends on your perspective. Never have I ever stepped foot on another planet.’

‘How about I share a little bit of my perspective with you?’ He scoots impossibly nearer to Alex, hand cupping his cheek and tilting their mouths dangerously closer. Their breaths mingle together although Alex is almost certain he’s not breathing at all anymore. Michael’s lips hover over Alex’s, the anticipation building to a crescendo they’ve both been waiting for since five Friday nights ago at the Wild Pony. And it doesn’t matter how many times they’ve kissed before. Because there’s never, not once been this much hope waiting for them on the other side.

When Michael’s lips finally land on Alex’s skin, they narrowly miss his mouth. Instead they fall at the corner of his lips, a sliver away from touching home. Alex exhales, half-groaning with the comedown. He’d been sure, so sure this was their moment. Swallowing down what he really wants to say, Alex turns to Michael just as he pulls away. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.’

‘I think this was the best idea.’ He tilts his head and smiles at Alex so beyond innocent that Alex yelps when Michael pushes his shoulders roughly onto the blanket and slides effortlessly between Alex’s welcoming thighs. Alex barely has time to take another breath before Michael’s mouth steals it away, sucking at his bottom lip so desperately Alex has to lift his head to chase after Michael’s urgency.

The kiss is needy, both of them grasping at each other like they’re dangling off a cliff holding on with nothing more than their fingertips. Michael’s hands tug at Alex’s hair, jagged, work-worn nails digging into the softness of his scalp without apology. And Alex fills the gaps between Michael’s ribs with his fingers, feeling Michael’s lungs expand with each new, shuddering breath. Eventually twisting Michael’s t-shirt so tight in his fists it rips at the seams.

One kiss becomes two becomes twenty until neither knows whose tongue is whose anymore. Michael’s shirt is long gone and Alex’s pants are shoved halfway down his thighs before either of them has the sense to stop. ‘Your skin is like ice, Alex. It’s too cold out here for this, even with the fire.’ His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving. Leaning back on his knees, he helps Alex back into his jeans, despite his ardent protests that he’s not too cold, and grabs the remaining blanket to wrap around them. Even with two thick, wool blankets, the night air is still harsh enough to make both of them shiver. ‘Maybe we should go back to your place.’

‘No. Please not yet.’ Alex shifts closer to Michael, joining their bodies wherever he can reach. Laying his head on Michael’s chest, he hums in satisfaction at the steady beat of his heart. ‘You’ll keep me warm. Tell me about the stars like you used to.’ Alex points to a random patch of desert sky. ‘Isn’t that Polaris?’

Michael snorts into Alex’s hair. ‘You’ve always been so bad at this. You can’t really see the North Star from here. It’s not bright enough.’ He drags Alex’s still-raised finger to another part of the sky. ‘That’s Gemini. The twins. I’ve always thought of me and Max as Castor and Pollux. But the version where only one of them, Pollux probably, is immortal.’

‘Max is Pollux, I’m guessing?’

Michael nods, chin tapping against the top of his head. ‘Yes.’

The stars glow brighter as Michael spends the next hour recounting so many of their mysteries, fingertips dancing up and down Alex’s arm like he’s tattooing the stories into his skin. Alex pretends like he’s never heard them before when in reality he’s had them all memorized for over a decade. The stars and Michael’s stories are what had kept his first tour overseas from chewing him up and spitting him out.

Tilting his chin, Alex kisses into Michael’s neck, leaving a sloppy trail in his wake as he nibbles up to his ear. ‘Take me home.’

The warmth of Alex’s house beckons as they pile everything back into the truck. With no traffic, they pull into the driveway in record time, not bothering to unpack the Chevy before heading inside and straight to Alex’s bedroom. They collapse onto the bed and undress each other slowly, allowing the furnace’s heat to melt them into nothing but nerve-endings and sensation, their sweat-slick skin sliding smoothly together.

Once they’re sated and sleepy, Michael throws a leg over Alex’s thighs and wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him as close as possible. ‘I guess we’re dating now.’

#malex #malex fic

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jjkpls · 4 years ago

Text

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes.

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile.

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon drabble #namjoon fanfic #my writing

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countessmorgasson · 4 years ago

Text

Hibiscus

Asra x MC! An illness forces Asra to spill his deepest secret.

For those of you who don’t know, Hanahaki disease is a fictional illness where the infected coughs flower petals as a result of unrequited love.

Gender Neutral MC

IMPORTANT: This fic comes with two possible endings!

(Disclaimer: AU, not based on Asra’s route, but still contains story spoilers. Lemon warning depending on your choice.)

TW: Illness, blood, death

“It’s been happening for weeks now. Probably longer, but he’s been so secretive about it. I don’t know what to do.”

You’re nearly collapsed in exhaustion, resting yourself against Julian’s desk hours after your bedtime. Desperation keeps you awake and restless as the doctor rifles through various scrolls and notes in his office.

Asra’s sick.

He’s been sick. For ages, it seems- and it’s not exactly the common cold. If you hadn’t shared a space together he’d probably get away with hiding his condition that much longer, but he’s breaking down, and you’re starting to find the pieces.

It started with hiccups, you remember. Small ones, similar to when he had a drink too many- but with a deadlier rasp to his voice. Those transitioned into something you never wanted to hear; desperate, pained coughing. There were nights where the sound was so unbearable you found yourself away from the shop- after being denied one too many times. He’d never let you take care of him.

And then there were the flower petals. You’ve been finding them in the most peculiar spots; swept under the counters, circling the drains, and even on Asra’s bedding. Pink and white flakes follow your master like moths to a flame, and yet you’ve only now come to connect the dots- when you picked one up to see it streaked with blood.

You’re not sure exactly how long he’s been like this, but it’s gotten bad- and confusing. Something you’ve never seen before, even as a magician’s apprentice.

So here you are, hours behind on your sleep schedule with poor Julian shuffling through a mixed stack of medical and spell books. You try your hardest to keep up, but your mind drifts back to the shop- is Asra sick right now? Is he in pain?

“Describe it again, m/c. Did you say flower petals? What do they look like?”

“They’re usually pink- if I had to guess I’d say they’re petals from some sort of hibiscus- but smaller.”

Pink hibiscus... your favorite flowers.

Julian’s eyes rest on the book cracked open across the desk- on a specific page. The only thing keeping the room lit is a flickering lantern and a candle in the center of the office table, and the darkness obstructs your vision but you just know he’s found something of use. You can see it in the way his face falls.

“Could it be... Hanahaki disease?”

“What is that?”

Julian’s eyes skim the pages with frantic speed- he must not know either. All you can do is force your eyes open while you wait. Absolute torture. You wait, and you wait...

...

“Julian?” You’re bordering on hysteria in your tone- whether it’s because of fear or exhaustion, you don’t know. Why does he have that look on his face?

“Julian! Did you figure it out? What’s wrong?!”

“M/c...”

The book closes with a deafening thud.

“There’s no cure.”

Asra’s up before the sun again. You enter the shop just in time to hear him erupt into another fit of coughs- painful, by the sound of them. It takes all of your willpower not to turn back and wait outside.

You can’t take it anymore. You rush towards the sound and place your hand against Asra’s back, pretending you don’t notice how he hunches over the sink and how much he begins to strain when you get close.

“Relax, Asra,” you soothe. You feel magic underneath your palms as a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain. “Let it out.”

You shut your eyes when the petals fall into the sink, and your eyes burn. There’s silence now, aside from Asra’s heavy breathing. You continue to burn yourself out with magic, convinced that it’s helping him.

“M/c, go. I don’t want you to see this,” is the first thing he says to you.

You’re trying not to take it personally, but you don’t know how. Why can’t he let you help him? It’s the absolute least you can do. You think back to as far as your memory will allow- and he’s been there from the start. He’s fed you, cared for you, taught you everything you know- and yet he won’t let you return the favor?

Maybe it’s the exhaustion playing on your nerves, but now that he’s stopped coughing you find yourself balling your fists and blinking back hot tears.

“Why won’t you let me help?” Your voice is weak, but it paints a red flush across Asra’s cheeks.

“Because you can’t.”

So he knows.

Once again Asra knows something that you don’t, and there’s practically no chance that he’ll share that knowledge with you. That’s how it always is with him, isn’t it?

You can’t come with me, m/c. Not this time. I can’t explain it yet. Not this time. It’s better if you don’t know. Someday, when you’re stronger. Until then...

Words of the past begin to creep into your head, taunting you, twisting your emotions until you’re past exhaustion and completely seething. It isn’t fair.

For a moment, your eyes meet and you see what you think is guilt cross his face. It lasts only a moment, and he stands his ground.

“Don’t overwork yourself- you’re so tired your eyes are bloodshot. Just go to bed. I’ll be fine.”

My eyes aren’t bloodshot. I’ve been crying. You bite your tongue only because you’re moments away from collapsing. You glance back to the sink for traces of blood but you find none. If only you hadn’t been awake all night- surely you’d put up more of a fight. And yet, your exhaustion was more than just physical sleepiness. You still trudge upstairs to your bedroom.

If Asra wasn’t going to let you care for him today, you were going to get at least some sort of comfort. You flop onto your shared bed without so much as removing your shoes, but your eyes catch something that deters you from your sleep.

A single petal on the pillow- torn in two.

Now that you’ve gone upstairs, Asra could pace throughout the shop without interruption- or so he thought.

A harsh knock on the door raises goosebumps. What if you wake up? He can’t avoid you forever- and this illness was clearly taking a toll on you both. He pretended not to notice how you came home clearly in tears. There was soon going to be a day where he wouldn’t be able to bring you peace...

Shaking the morbid thoughts from his head, Asra hurried to open the doors before the visitor could pound against the door again.

“Julian?”

Oh, it only gets worse, doesn’t it? Even doctor Devorak’s got the same glossy look on his eyes. He’s like a single storm cloud against the sunny sky. He pushes past Asra with a dramatic turn of his cape, but when he’s entered the shop he stops the dramatic antics.

“Is it true? You’re suffering from Hanahaki disease?” He demands.

“Hush, Julian. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Asra has to avert his eyes once again.

“I’m a doctor, Asra. I know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s m/c, isn’t it?” His voice dips into a shattered whisper, but Asra can only roll his eyes with another frustrated sigh. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised to see you at the foot of the stairs, having heard it all. With that small fear in the back of his mind, Asra maintains the silence despite the doctor’s pleading eyes.

“You’re... in love with your apprentice?”

“Must you ask?”

Asra never meant to hurt Julian- he had just made too many desperate choices. Even so, those were made years ago, before he had you back. Was Julian holding on to that pain all this time?

The silence answers that question- and neither of the two can look the other in the eyes.

“Well... regardless of how I feel,” Julian finally huffs. “You have to come clean. M/c doesn’t deserve to be left in the dark.”

Ugh! Julian wouldn’t understand. He never understood magic- he didn’t understand sacrifice, and surely he wasn’t going to understand why Asra can’t just tell you. If it were that easy, he would’ve told you everything years ago. There’s a reason you can only remember so far back, and it’s taken so many fights and tears for you to stop questioning it. It was for your safety, for goodness sakes!

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” By now Julian seems to have deflated. Even his hair suddenly seems to have drooped over his eyes. “If you really love m/c... you wouldn’t want them to be alone. But that’s what you’re doing- to both of us. You’re going to let yourself die without a word because you’re afraid of hurting them? How do you think they’ll feel when they have to bury you?”

It’s been a few days since your outburst. It seems like things could be better- you haven’t seen any petals around the shop. Could it be that Julian was wrong? Maybe Asra did know better and figured out how to heal himself.

Sinking back into bed, you kick yourself for getting your hopes up. You know better than to do that. Asra’s probably just gotten better at hiding them again. There was a reason why you’ve only come to notice the sickness now.

You woke up alone today. You and Asra didn’t always share a bed- it was more common the first two years, when he seemed to afraid to let you wander. Part of you starts to yearn for those years, even when it seemed painful just to be alive.

“M/c?”

His voice reaches you before you see him come into the room. You don’t even register the tears in his eyes at first.

You just see blood.

Dripping down his chin in small streaks of red- droplets staining the purple fabric of his favorite tunic. It’s even on his hand. He must have coughed into it.

The world seems to vanish around you. All you see is red.

“M/c, we’ve got to talk.”

...

The blood is cleaned up, but you’re still shaking. Your eyes are fixed on Asra’s lips, just waiting for the disease to manifest itself again. Does he know you’ve barely eaten since that night when you fought? You either sleep too much or not at all- and when you do, all you see are pink petals.

But they don’t come. You stare and stare but he doesn’t cough. He doesn’t bleed. Asra just sits. He cradles his tea with shaky hands and teary eyes.

“I...”

Shaking his head, he gazes into your eyes like it may be the last time.

It may...

No! Don’t let yourself think that. Julian was lying to you. There was a cure out there. If Vesuvia could be completely rid of the Red Plague within days, there was something that could do the same for whatever Asra has. What was it called again, Hanahaki disease? You’re still not sure what it is. Julian shut down the moment he read those words in one of his books. You’re still in the dark, but it doesn’t matter.

“I think it’s time I tell you... everything.” Asra reaches for your hand, but pulls away at the last moment.

Everything? Everything as in all the secrets you’ve been denied over the years? He was going to tell you why he never brought you along on his journeys, why he wouldn’t speak about your family, your missing memories, the painful headaches?

Why do you suddenly feel so sick? There’s got to be a reason why he’s coming clean after being so adamant earlier... and then you remember the blood.

Oh no.

“How do I start...” Asra sighs. “This is harder than I’d ever imagined, m/c.”

“Just say it.”

Eyes still trained on you, Asra lifts the cup of tea to his lips once again and breathes out deeply...

He’s in love with me.

The words ring through your head.

Out of everything you just learned, that struck the hardest. Harder than the realization that you had died. You always knew that- somehow. That wasn’t the shocking factor.

You’re waiting for your heart to catch up- but it never seems to. You’re just staring ahead of you, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s in love with me. We were in love- for years.

“M/c...? M/c! Can you hear me?”

He’s so frantic, it’s contagious. His voice finally pulls you out of your own head.

“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry. I...”

You clutch your teacup, practically waiting for it to shatter in your palm. And then the tears come.

“Asra... are you dying?”

When he’s quiet, the tears come harder. It still feels like there are things he won’t speak up about- things you may never know. It’s not fair! Doesn’t he understand what you’re feeling right now? He brought you back from the dead and you just have to brush over that tidbit because you’re so overwhelmed by the progressing illness- an illness that he clearly knows something about and still won’t tell you.

The guilt on Asra’s face seems to weigh him down. He’s barely looking at you at this point.

“Please... don’t cry.” He whispers.

“Don’t cry?” You exclaim. “How am I supposed to be okay right now?”

Despite your bitter response you bite down on your lip and hastily wipe the tears from your face. Your throat feels so raw, painfully constricting during the silence.

“I can’t lose you, Asra.”

Your eyes meet before you can finish the sentence. There it is again. Those cosmic purple eyes bore into you while you struggle to find the words.

“...Because I love you.”

“...Because you’re my best friend.”

#the arcana #the arcana fic #the arcana asra #asra alnazar #ANGST #ANGSTY #my writing #mine #long fic #hanahaki #hanahaki dise #tw blood #tw angst #tw illness #lemon #julian #asra x mc

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saladejin · 4 years ago

Text

Admire | 04

Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff

Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.

Warnings: Brief mentions of semi-absent parents

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hey there, this is just a short chapter I decided to post as a bridge to the next part of the story-line. Hope you enjoy :)

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»»————- <<prev | next >> ————-««

“I know that you’re living a different life now (Y/n), but you still can’t skip out on the annual summer road trip,” your mother’s voice chided. You held the phone away from your ear slightly to avoid bursting your own eardrums.

“But - am I just meant to go on my own and leave the house? The road trips aren’t exactly meant for…”

You trailed off with a weird strangled noise in your throat, knowing that saying ‘people like him’ would only sound bad. Seokjin looked up at the changing tone of your voice, eyeing you with an intense curiosity. There was no way he didn’t pick up that it was him you were referring to.

You had been sitting together at the dining table, feasting on an old-style Italian pasta dish you’d decided to whip up right before your mother called. It was one of the only times you two had actually eaten together since getting married, as you usually just ordered food whenever you were hungry or ate out somewhere his driver would take you.

You had just been shocked that the stoic man agreed to share what you’d made in the first place.

“He can come along, no worries. I’ve already told the guide that you’d be bringing your husband anyway, since I just assumed he’d go with you,” your mother said in a dismissive tone, seemingly distracted on the other end.

Shit, right. We’re meant to be in love.

“Okay, but it’s going to be pretty different to what we’ve been doing so far.” You sighed, thinking about all the high-class parties you’d attended in the last few months, twirling some pasta around your fork absent-mindedly. Seokjin was going to be way out of his element here.

“Then it’s settled, you leave in a couple of days. Remember the meeting spot?”

“Yes, Mum. Bye then.”

You hung up the phone and sunk back into the chair across from Seokjin, exchanging his look with one fizzling with tension. Not one of you had touched your food since you took the call.

“You going to tell me what that was about?” he hummed after eventually moving to swallow down the last of his meal with a satisfied sigh.

“Yeah, just trying to figure out how to tell you.”

He seemed a tad concerned, but didn’t push any further. You sat and brooded with your thoughts for another minute or so before running your hands slowly through your hair in exasperation. You could almost laugh at how strange this was going to be for him.

“Okay so we do this thing every year, although my parents don’t usually go, where our extended family and friends have a summer road trip out to the countryside and sometimes stop by the beach. It’s kind of like a break from the busy lives they all lead, and it’s … such a big difference from their wealthy lifestyles,” you explained, not catching any change in facial expression from the handsome man across from you.

“So … I used to tag along because like you just heard, my mother nags me to go, and the trips always turned out being not half bad. If anything, I enjoyed getting out and seeing the different ways of life the people there lived. It was a nice change of scenery too.”

You realized you were ranting and cleared your throat, pushing your half empty bowl away from you. Seokjin looked like he was pondering again, but you were already guessing the thought of a road trip probably put him off terribly.

“Look, my mother said you’d come along but no one’s going to force you. It’s just a getaway thing that lasts for a couple of weeks, I wouldn’t be gone for too long. Maybe you could attend a party or ball by yourself for once, it’d make everything much easier for you-”

“I’ll go.”

You blinked at him in shock, but he only gazed back with a spark of interest flashing in his dark eyes. The raw emotion was such a rarity for him that you had to blink again to snap out of the awed emotion that was now warming up your cheeks.

“You will?” you squeaked, hating how high your voice had pitched itself.

“Yeah, I don’t want life to get boring. I’ve never done something like this, so I’ll see how it goes,” he replied simply, a small smile resting on his lips as he took in your expression alighting with appreciation. Was he always this adventurous? Maybe deep down, there were sides to this man you had yet to discover.

“Well, we leave in a couple of days. I can tell the driver the meeting location and everything… uh, are you sure?”

“Yes, (Y/n).”

You got up from your seat and swept up your dishes, feeling an odd excitement flood your whole chest at the prospect of going on a retreat with Seokjin. Getting to spend some time with the man who was slowly but surely warming up to you was such a promising idea. Plus, lately you’d been wanting to get closer to him. Your need for pure company was becoming overwhelming.

You wanted your own husband to be the person you could turn to when you needed attention … but after giving it too much thought, you knew that there was no way he’d care enough to want to put up with that. It was borderline foolish of you.

“So, you didn’t really go on many holidays?” you probed quietly after rinsing the bowls. He’d shifted himself from the table to one of the kitchen stools to watch you work. You felt oddly comfortable under his searching gaze, even if you did look quite average in your tracksuit pants and simple white tee.

“If my father’s business trips count?” Seokjin snorted in dry humour. You could tell he was legitimately curious about the whole road trip thing, which was so baffling to you considering he’d barely tried to ask you about your life at all.

“Well, what did you do on those trips?”

You wiped your dripping hands on a dish cloth and sat across from him, only the sparkling white benchtop separating the two of you. You had been spending a fair amount time in this position during the past week or so, and it filled you with joy having these longer interactions with him whenever it happened.

“My father would take my brothers and I when we were younger to his workplaces. Teaching us his ways and getting us prepared for when we would take on jobs at the firm. My mother did her own thing, but would only talk to us about what we’d done that day. Maybe there was the occasional shopping trip for new clothes, but both parents were busy most of the time,” he said rather sourly.

Seokjin was obviously tired of having to spend so much of his life pleasing his own mother and father. You couldn’t have imagined how repetitive it all must have been, then again you didn’t really know what it was like spending time with your own parents in the first place.

“Can you tell me what you used to do, then?” he asked suddenly. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, because he was asking about you, but then you felt bad for painting him in such a bad light. He wasn’t a terrible person; he just hadn’t engaged this much before. That’s why you were taken so off guard when he looked at you straight in the eyes and asked you the question so calmly.

“Um, yeah of course.” You smiled as the feeling of warmth enveloped your very soul, “So… since I never went on business travels with my parents, the only form of a holiday I ever experienced were these trips. They helped me relax and took my mind away from everything.”

You breathed out deeply at the memory of the countryside breeze, and the feeling of the piping hot beach sand crunching underneath your toes. You could only imagine the feeling of the sun’s rays kissing your skin as Seokjin watched in a mildly fascinated state.

“We’d travel as a large group in separate motorhomes – by the way we’ll most likely get one to ourselves – and stop in many small towns along the way. We’d go on walks and find lovely spots to eat lunch, and we’d visit special lookouts along with other cool cultural sites. The best thing was when you got the day to just venture through the place on your own, doing whatever you wanted and exploring the country.”

You unclasped your hands and let your voice die in your throat, not wanting to subject the man to more of your wistful reminiscing. He was hearing all about memories you held close to your heart, because throughout your school years the travelling was what’d kept your mind relaxed and stress-free.

“Sounds like it’ll be interesting for me. You said we’ll be given a motorhome, so we’re the ones driving?” he questioned quietly, almost as if he didn’t expect you to cut yourself off so soon.

“Yeah, I grew up with that brand of vehicle so I can do most of the driving. I’ve got my license,” you assured, barely stifling a giggle as you recalled memories of learning how to drive a motorhome for the first time.

“We can take turns,” he replied shortly, raising a strong eyebrow at you as if daring you to challenge him. You nodded in a slight daze of shock.

So you can drive too, huh.

You never would have guessed, after knowing that the handsome man had been chauffeured around basically his whole life. What need would he even have for a driver’s license?

“Well, I’m going to bed. I’ll start packing for this trip, just let me know if I need anything else,” Seokjin announced with a grunt as he slid off the chair and made his way around the bench to stand before you. He was dressed pretty casually as well, with a light blue button-up shirt hanging over grey trousers, but he still looked so unfairly tasteful.

“The only thing I’ll really say is just bring casual, but comfortable clothes. Oh, and a hat or cap if you have one,” you said, feeling giddy with anticipation for the holiday already. He nodded to acknowledge the advice, resting his weight onto one foot and pursing his thick lips as he thought about if he did, in fact, own a hat.

“Goodnight then,” you spoke after feeling something strange wash over you. This random urge to show him how elated you truly were. Your steps were bouncy and full of life, similar to the fitful pounding of your heart that felt full to the brim.

You stepped forward and placed your hands upon his crossed arms, then stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his smooth cheek. He didn’t jerk away or tell you off, just stood rigidly still for a few seconds before leaving the room to head to bed. It was only after he was gone that it finally hit you.

No way… did I just do that? Did I actually just freaking do that?

Your face erupted into a fiery crimson blush and you almost slammed your head down into the benchtop below you. All the couple-like actions you both performed at the parties must have made themselves a habit of yours, and since you’d been feeling so happy the desire to kiss him just leapt out.

“Idiot, oh my God,” you whimpered to yourself, busying your hands by cleaning the rest of the kitchen in a hurry. The fact that he hadn’t said a single thing scared you. Did he hate it? Or did he like it, or did he just not care? There was no way of knowing!

You scurried off to your room and heard the door shut behind you a little louder than normal. Your embarrassment was flowing thickly through your veins at this point. You just needed to bury your head under the covers and forget that the whole thing happened.

It wouldn’t take long for him to forget, right?

#seokjin x reader #seokjin scenarios #seokjin smut #seokjin imagines #seokjin series #jin smut #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #arranged marriage au #husband jin #bts jin #bts smut #jin angst #admire #saladejin

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 4 years ago

Text

Aight my dudes here’s chapter four of Oopsie Daisies have fun. Thanks again to @edward-or-ford for editing!

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies Chapter Four: Shadows

You’re all I want and I don’t know why. This new addiction is all I know, and it’s safe to say that I’ve lost control. - 2 in the Chest, 1 in the Head, New Years Day

Mabel knew a great many things. She knew how to fix rips in tights and leggings without making it noticeable (and if it was noticeable, it was fucking fabulous, okay?). She knew how to straighten and re-curl her hair in just the right way. She knew how to contour her makeup to change the way her facial structure appeared, and how to paint a mug while keeping it dishwasher safe.

Mabel was, of course, interested enough in those things to learn about them. What she was not interested in is how things work. It was far more important that they do work rather than how, as far as she was concerned. So whenever her Grunkles, dad, and Dipper got together to watch a marathon of How It’s Made on the Shack’s frankly ancient TV, both Mabel and her mom were bored out of their minds.

She was forced to learn plenty in school, thank you very much. It was winter break. She didn’t wanna learn on winter break. Gross. That’s the exact opposite of what winter break is for, and Mabel was of the opinion that doing otherwise is positively blasphemous, but under the careful tutelage of her mother, she’d long since stopped trying to understand the males of the species. Or rather, the males of her family specifically (she’d managed to obtain a vague grasp on the male minds outside of her family, or at least some of them, she thought. Perhaps the boys at her school were just easy to read, or maybe it was teenage boys in general. Not that they were strictly logical in her mind, of course; she just understood how their brains worked to some degree).

And so, an hour after they return to the Shack from the hike, Mabel found herself standing at the kitchen counter, carefully stacking the fifty-seventh (she hadn’t counted, of course, but it was indeed the fifty-seventh) mini marshmallow on top of its companions in her mug of hot chocolate while the beginnings of their silly show blared in the background.

She was humming an old BABBA song as she plucked another marshmallow from the bag, swaying her hips back and forth to the beat in her mind. She stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps, looking over her shoulder to see Dipper shuffling into the room on socked feet.

He was looking everywhere but her. Mabel found this unusual, but what was infinitely more odd was the way he walked over to her quietly, dropped a folded piece of paper at her feet, and then promptly moved to open the fridge as if nothing at all had occurred.

Dropping the marshmallow into her mug, she reached down to retrieve the paper.

“Uh… Dip, you dro-“

“What do you think I should have to drink?” Dipper cut in quickly, the words sloppy and thrown together without proper enunciation.

Mabel blinked. He didn’t want her to ask about it, that much was evident. A note for her, then, perhaps? A secret note?

“Well… I’m having hot chocolate, myself,” she suggested.

“With an obscene number of marshmallows, I see.”

Mabel gasped and put a hand to her chest. “Me? My dear brother, I am positively offended that you would even suggest such a thing!”

He grinned. “Maybe I’ll have some more cider.” He poured himself a glass and left the room before Mabel could think to ask about the paper again.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was coming, she turned back towards her mug, just so, if needed, she could shove the paper into her sweater pocket unnoticed and pretend she was still preparing her hot chocolate. She unfolded it carefully. Dipper didn’t write her handwritten notes. She was a bit excited (more than a bit, but she would never admit to such a thing). Sue her. His handwriting was messy, and she had some minor difficulties reading it, but she did manage to decipher it after a brief moment of staring at the page.

I need to talk to you in private. Once everyone’s gone to bed here, I’ll pick you up from Candy’s. I’ll text you if anything goes wrong.

In private? Mabel’s heart might very well have stopped. She’d never been alone with Dipper. This afternoon had been the closest she’d ever come to it. Even then, though, they hadn’t been actually, truly, genuinely, legitimately alone. Their parents had been right there. And then they’d been interrupted. Their parents were always there.

She was so nervous, so focused on the way her heart was pounding in her ears, that she completely forgot to put the marshmallows away.

—————

If Mabel could see how nervous Dipper was as he pulled on his jeans and shoes, she wouldn’t have believed it was in any way related to her. If it was somehow proven to her that it was related to her, however, she would have been thrilled beyond all measure.

But Mabel couldn’t see Dipper, as he was on the other end of a text message that read leaving now, and so she remained wholly unaware of the absolute terror he wasn’t bothering to keep from his facial expression, as there was none of the usual audience present.

With no one around to request an explanation, Dipper felt no need to keep his anxiety in check as he placed his shaking foot on the last stair of the Shack.

He was about to walk over to the coat rack by the front door when-

“Dipper,” rang out his father’s voice, the low tone sounding like a roar in the quiet of the house.

Dipper whirled around to face his dad, who was seated in an armchair hidden in the shadows of the living room. It was no wonder Dipper hadn’t noticed him before he spoke; he could’ve been a shadow himself.

Dipper was relieved it was too dark for Mr. Pines to see his expression clearly, the man’s face obscured by darkness. He instead concerned himself with his body language and voice. He hunched himself over as if he were barely awake and faked a yawn.

“Dad, you scared me.”

“What are you doing up this late?” Mr. Pines asked.

“Getting a glass of water. Woke up thirsty,” Dipper explained, careful to keep his voice tired-sounding.

“Mmm,” Mr. Pines nodded. “Kitchen’s that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction Dipper had been walking in, as if Dipper didn’t live there and was not fully aware of the Shack’s layout (note: Dipper was indeed fully aware of the Shack’s layout and could certainly navigate it half asleep).

“Huh?” Dipper said with false bleariness. “Oh, right.”

Shuffling into the kitchen, Dipper poured himself a glass of water and moved sluggishly back to the living room with it in hand.

“Goodnight, son.”

“Night, dad,” Dipper mumbled with more fake sleepiness.

If Mabel had seen it, she wouldn’t know what to feel. But she hadn’t seen it, because Dipper was on the other end of a dad’s awake, we’ll have to tomorrow text.

She also couldn’t see the expression he made when she replied, asking why he couldn’t just text it to her, and not to keep her in suspense, nor could Dipper see her inflamed face (and neck and ears, if we’re honest, but don’t share such observances with Mabel) or the way she was biting her lip nervously, perhaps he might not have been as nervous. Perhaps he might have even been hopeful.

But alas, neither twin had the other in their sight, and were therefore doomed to be eaten alive by their anxiety and respective insecurities.

If one knows anything about teenage girls (and perhaps even a fair percentage of women as well), one is fully cognizant of the rather unfortunate tendency many of them have to analyze, reanalyze, and overanalyze each individual word, action, and tone of voice that emerges from the object of their affection.

In Mabel’s case, she was seated on the cold tiles of Candy’s bathroom, back leaning against the locked door. It was late enough that Grenda and Candy were asleep, thankfully. Recently, Mabel had been taking forever to fall asleep. Which was strange, because she had never had any issues that could be anywhere near insomnia before. Thus, everyone else fell asleep before she did.

It wasn’t her fault. Honestly, it wasn’t! It was just that Dipper was so damn attractive and sweet and funny, and how could she sleep when she could only fight her thoughts of him while conscious? He plagued her dreams, so she couldn’t even escape him in sleep the way she used to be able to do. He had invaded her every thought, every moment, every breath. He was in her bloodstream. In her veins. She could not escape her yearning for him.

And so, as she sat on the bathroom floor staring at her phone, at Dipper’s last text of I need to tell you in person, she typed out a slow, resigned okay and leaned her head back against the door.

What was going on with him? He’d told her so many things over text before and it had never been an issue. Why was this different? Maybe he was only insisting on telling her in person because they were so close distance-wise, which wasn’t a regular occurance, of course, but maybe he’d have been perfectly fine with telling her whatever it was over text if she hadn’t been visiting Gravity Falls? Or maybe he’d want to FaceTime or Skype instead? Or maybe it was so very important he tell her in person that he’d actually been waiting since the last time they had seen each other?

But what could be so important? How was it so important he needed to tell her in person? Was it truly so different than every other thing he’d ever told her? Countless stories and anecdotes and complaints and late-night phone calls and existential discussions; how was this different?

No matter how much she thought and analyzed it (which, rest assured, was a great deal indeed), she kept coming back to one thing, one unthinkable, horrifying, terrifying, heart-wrenching, devastating scenario:

What if he’d found his soulmate?

What else would have been so important, made it so essential he told her in person? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Dipper had never mentioned how he felt about the prospect of having a soulmate. He knew how she felt about hers, and having a soulmark, but he’d never shared his own feelings with her in return.

Which was fair, honestly, because soulmates and soulmarks were intensely personal things. She might as well have asked him to strip down and do some nude modeling for her (which, side note, that sounded positively heavenly. She never drew him or painted him where anybody could see; only in the secret sketchbook she kept in a locked drawer in her bedroom, and those drawings were primarily focused on his jawline and facial structure, although she had drawn his butt on more than a few occasions. And his arms. And his torso. What could she say? She looked at him a lot, studied the way he moved, and he inspired her to create. In any case, she’d absolutely love to see him naked, obviously, because who wouldn’t, but to draw him… get it together Mabel, you’re getting all worked up!), which… was not going to happen, tragically.

He’d never shared anything regarding his soulmate with her. That meant, of course, that he hadn’t found his yet, nor was he in the unusual soulmarked-but-not-knowing-with-whom situation that Mabel herself was in. As indicated by his insistence on telling her in person (which he had, of course, never insisted upon before, or even expressed a passing desire to tell her something in person rather than digitally), whatever it was must have been more important than anything he’d ever told her.

What was more important than him finding his soulmate? She couldn’t think of another possibility. Couldn’t even fathom it, no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately, she couldn’t really fathom the possibility that he might’ve found his soulmate, either, but that was primarily because she didn’t want to.

What would that be like, to watch him with his soulmate? Knowing Mabel’s luck, she’d never find out who hers was (she’d clearly been around him her whole life and had yet to find him, so what were the odds she’d figure it out later? Once she left school, she’d probably start experiencing withdrawal symptoms, which would be horrible, but she had long since accepted the likelihood of that), and since she saw Dipper regularly and talked to him all the time, it wasn’t likely she’d get over him.

Family gatherings could be a real bitch.

Which meant, of course, that Mabel was doomed to suffer withdrawal symptoms for the rest of her life while watching the man she loved, who just so happened to be her twin brother, find his soulmate, fall in love, get married, and have children. It was when she considered things like that that the idea of regularly consuming Smile Dip sounded fan-freaking-tastic. At least then she’d be too out of it to suffer.

Mabel wasn’t one for wallowing in self-pity and misery. She was a fairly positive person. Whenever she found herself moping or depressed, she could usually pull herself out of it. In that respect, she was tremendously lucky, as not everyone was capable of that.

But with this, loving Dipper (or rather, being in love with Dipper, which she very much was)... there was this sadness deep inside of her that she just couldn’t seem to shake. She could tuck it away in the back of her mind, pretend it wasn’t there. At least for awhile, anyway. But it never left. Not really. It was always there, in the box she’d locked it away in. Sometimes, though, the box broke open, and it would consume her, like shadows consuming light.

When she thought of Dipper with his soulmate, smiling at a nameless, faceless stranger, beaming at his wedding (knowing Dipper, he’d insist she be a bridesmaid. What agony that would be), holding a child that wasn’t Mabel’s, could never, ever be Mabel’s (Mabel would probably be the godmother, too), the shadows never failed to consume her.

She pulled her legs to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees, and let the tears fall.

#gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #Pinecest #Mabel pines #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #looks like someone picked a whole bushel of oopsie daisies #my writing

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scullysexual · 4 years ago

Text

That Jewel oneshot I was talking about weeks ago. I’ve finally started on it (I believe this is part 1 of 2 parts) I will write more in this universe when the ideas come to me. You can read the original fic here: A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @suitablyaggrieved

- - -

Rustling wakes him up.

But he’s tired, desperately wanting to go back to sleep so he ignores it, as best he can, and rolls over intending to snuggles into the solid, warm body that’s beside him but instead what awaits him is the cold and empty sheets.

His eyes snap open.

In the darkness, Mulder can just make out the outline of a figure. Around the figure’s feet are various bags and trunks. The figure dances around them, kneeling on the floor to open one of the trunks and rummage through it.

Mulder smiles, blinking a few times to wake himself up, and shakes his head.

“What are you doing?”

Scully startles.

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness now and he can see her properly. Hair, haphazardly tied away from her face, pieces escaping from the band and falling in the way. She parts the curls like a curtain, allowing her to see him without hair blocking her view.

“Just making sure we have everything,” she tells him before continuing with her task.

“We have everything,” Mulder answers. He knows they have everything but she’s already looked through the lullage about ten times now.

“We’re up early,” she says in protest. “I dinna wanna have to scurrying around for forgotten things.”

Mulder rolls onto his back and sighs. “Exactly, we’re up early,” he pats the empty space beside him- her empty space. “Come back to bed.”

She stops her rummaging to eye the bed with sleepy want so he pats it some more knowing the bed is what she really wants.

And it works. Scully sighs and starts buckling up the trunks again. She heaves herself off the floor and climbs back into her space. As soon as she’s comfortable, Mulder’s arms wrap around her, pulling her into his chest.

“You’re cold,” he says, encasing her hands in his in an attempt to arm them up.

She isn’t really cold. They both know what real cold is and they have yet to come across anything in the last twenty years that compares to that.

“I’m worried we’ve left something behind,” Scully says.

“We haven’t,” Mulder says, kissing the back of her neck.

“I swear to god if Molly tries to bring half her wardrobe again like the last time.”

“I think she’s learnt her lesson.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:

The car hits every pothole it can find. Twice now Mulder’s knocked his funny-bone off the door, hit his head on the roof three times. The cab driver does nothing to avoid them.

Charlie stares grumpily at the floor, wedged in the middle seat between his mother and sister, still looking as green as when they were on the ship. When this trip was announced he hadn’t been happy about it. New York was his home, if they wanted to go on vacation why not just go to Coney Island?

“Because your grandmother doesn’t live in Coney Island,” Scully had told him at dinner.

Charlie had only hmpted at that.

In an attempt to ease the tension Mulder had said, “It’s a chance to learn about your family history.”

But still Charlie hadn’t been convinced.

Molly, on the other hand, had been excited about the whole thing.

“Are there really fairies in Ireland?”

Mulder would say yes but he’s already been told off for egging on Molly’s fantasies.

“Not exactly,” Scully had answered, ever ingrained in the real world. “But ye might find some areas dedicated to them.”

Molly had smiled at that. “I want to see them,” she told them.

“We will,” said Mulder, nodding. “We’ll see everything.” He ignores Scully’s weary look.

“When can we see the fairies?” Molly’s question chimes through bringing Mulder back to the present and the bumpy road. He finds his daughter’s question aimed towards the window, the screen down and her hand out of the window.

“Margaret, get your hand back in,” he hears Scully say, the words spoken with a sharpness. Molly does as she’s told almost immediately, giving Scully a sad, guilty look in the process.

“Fairies aren’t real, stupid,” says Charlie.

“They are in Ireland, Buttmunch!” argues Molly, her attention turned to her brother now.

Mulder immediately turns to the window to hide the smile he can’t stop from forming across his face.

“Molly!” Scully’s stern voice rings through again.

“He started it!”

Mulder finds himself unable to stop smiling, something about Charlie and Molly’s scrabbles have always reminded him of his and his sister’s and instead of bringing the sadness he was once so worried about it instead it just warms him.

“Will both of ye stop yer bleeding arguing before I launch you both out of the car?” Both children grow quiet then with just a small mutter of You’re the stupid one from Molly.

He’s still smiling when he feels a kick against his shin. The grin drops as he looks towards the source of his pain.

“And you can quit your laughing too, Fox Mulder.”

The car is silent for the rest of the trip. Before it ends, however, he’s hit his head for the fifth time.

They stop in the middle of the road, the driver cutting the engine and climbing out of the car without a word. The family follow in pursuit, the children climbing out first with Mulder helping Scully out.

The driver hands them their bags.

“That’ll be 62 pence.”

Mulder hands him the money and the driver looks at it with disgust. Mulder glances towards Scully who looks away with an uncomfortable look written across her face.

“I dinnae want your pity money,” says the driver, handing the money back. Mulder takes it and hands the man the correct amount. The driver takes it, no more words are exchanged, and he leaves.

“I was just helping him out,” Mulder declares.

“These people don’t want your help, Mulder,” says Scully. “If you’re to stay here, ye need to learn that.”

“Is that it?” Charlie cuts through. He’s looking out down the hill at a small farmhouse that sits alone in the vast field.

Thankful for the distraction, Mulder pats his son on the shoulder. “A lot different to a city, eh?” He’s smiling as he looks over to Scully but when he notices the sadness she doesn’t try to hide that smile fades.

Wanting to speak to her without little ears around he gently pulls Molly towards him.

“Why don’t you two have a race down the hill, yeah?” he suggests. “See who can get there first.”

Thankfully, the children perk up at that idea.

“I’m gonna win!” shouts Charlie as he immediately starts bolting down the hill.

“That’s not fair!” cries Molly but she’s running almost at the same time her brother did.

With the children away, Mulder takes Scully’s hand tugging on it to make her look at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“It’s getting smaller,” she answers and Mulder looks back at the farmland. He’s not entirely sure which part of it belongs to her family and which doesn’t but he has an insettling feeling in his stomach.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on her hand again. “Charlie and Molly will be waiting.”

As they approach nearer to the gate, various animal noises make their way to their ears.

“You have animals?” Molly asks, complete awe across her face.

“You can see them later,” says Scully.

The front door opens just as the gate does. Mrs Scully exits and when she sees the four of them, a giant smile plasters itself across her face.

“Hello,” she greets them.

Scully makes her way over to her mother and the two women embrace tightly while Mulder hangs back with the other two near the gate.

He’s met Mrs Scully only once, just after the war and before Charlie was born. They visited, bringing news of her son’s passing, Scully not feeling it was appropriate to send as a letter. It hadn’t been a good few days.

Now he hoped they were here on happier times, to allow Mrs Scully a chance to meet her grandchildren, get to know them before they were too old and disinterested to visit nothing but greenery anymore.

“And you two must be Charlie and Molly,” the older woman says to the respective children as she continues smiling at them.

“Do you really have animals?” Molly asks. First fairies, now animals…

Mrs Scully chuckles. “Aye, we do,” she answers the child. “You can see them later but I’m pretty sure you’re going to be hungry after your trip.”

At that, Mulder’s stomach grumbles. He’d not eaten anything since breakfast hours ago and he’d only puked that overboard along with his son. Food sounded great.

Molly nods, running inside with Charlie and Scully following her. Mulder walks up towards the door, knowing he should greet Mrs Scully but feeling an unexplainable awkwardness preventing him from doing so. Mrs Scully had been nothing but nice and generous to him on his first visit, they had left on good terms. There was no reason he should be feeling this much apprehension towards her.

“How are you, Fox?”

She’s smiling at him, as she has been doing since she first laid eyes on him and it eases the uneasiness he feels in his stomach.

“I’m good, Mrs Scully. Thank you.”

“Maggie, Fox,” the woman says.

Mulder nods, he’ll still continue to call her Mrs Scully regardless.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“We’re a bit tight on bedrooms, I’m afraid,” Mrs Scully says. They sit in the living room, food having been consumed. Charlie reads a book while Molly paints. For the first time they’re quiet and not arguing with each other.

“Dana and Melissa shared, Bill and Charlie shared. Perhaps you and Molly could share,” she says, looking towards Scully. “And Fox and Charlie in the other room?”

There’s a small surge of disappointment at the thought of being unable to sleep next to Scully. When he glances at Scully, he sees the same expression reflected in her face.

“The bairns are still at an age were they can share,-“

“I’m not sharing with him,” Molly instantly exclaims. “He smells!”

So much for quietness.

“And you’re just a baby who cries in the night,” Charlie retorts.

“I am not!”

“Are, too!”

“Not!”

“Are!”

“Not!”

Mulder looks apologetically towards Mrs Scully but the older woman is just smiling slightly, a wistful look on her face.

“Will you two shut up?” Scully asks, that stern voice coming back into play. “You’re sharing, end of.”

“I could sleep on the couch,” Mulder suggests. “Molly could share with Dana.”

Mrs Scully is already shaking her head at the notion.

“Charlie does not need his own room,” says Scully.

“Yes, I do.”

“For the week, you can share.”

“I really don’t mind, Mrs Scully,” he tells her. “Charlie’s twelve. He should have his own space.” He directs that at Scully.

“Bill and Charlie shared until Charlie was-“

She doesn’t finish her sentence, she has no need too. Bill and Charlie shared until Charlie was fifteen. Fifteen is also when his life ended.

A melancholy passes through the air. He can feel it, the women can feel it, no doubt the children can feel it as their chatter stops. They linger in silence for a time.

“If the couch is where you would like to sleep, Fox,” Mrs Scully finally speaks, breaking the silence. “Then you may.”

“Thank you, Mrs Scully.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He finds himself unable to sleep.

The couch is small but he’s slept on smaller. He puts it down to the absence of Scully that’s preventing him from sleep.

The farmhouse creeks, he noticed that the last time he was here. Even when there’s nobody walking around it continues to do so.

Maybe it’s the ghosts of this house, he thinks. Charlie, Scully’s father, all the other generations of Scullys this house has seen. How many have sat in these very rooms, walked up and down the stairs, laughed and cried around the kitchen table. He wonders how much smaller the land has gotten with each generation.

A small light appears on the wall, flickering, a shadow of a woman following after. There’s no electric in the farmhouse, everything is ran on gas and when gas isn’t available, candles rid the darkness.

He watches the figure walk down the stairs before they disappear only to appear seconds later in the doorway.

What was he saying about ghosts again?

“You can’t sleep either?” Mulder asks Scully. She stands in the doorway, wrapped in a robe, holding a candle before her.

“No,” she answers placing the candle on the tables in front of the couches. As she moves to sit, Mulder squishes over becoming flush with the back of the couch, allowing as much space to Scully as he possibly can.

“Molly snores,” she says and at that Mulder laughs. “Loudly.”

His fingers play with the stash on her robe. “She does,” he agrees. “I hear her sometimes.”

Scully smiles, slouching forward to rest her elbows on her thighs and hug her arms.

“Though you can’t hear her down here.”

She looks at him, frowning. “Are you suggesting I lay on the sofa with you?”

“You’re skinny enough, you can fit,” he sees her eye the space sceptically. “Just,” he adds.

He gets a hard punch in his bicep for that but he only chuckles, its contagion making Scully smile.

She looks away at something on the ceiling.

“I spoke to my mother today,” she informs him. “About…things.”

“What kind of things?”

“About Ireland things. About how she was, if she was coping on her own.”

He knows where this is going.

“Did you ask her about the farm?”

“They cut more land off her,” Scully says, she fidgets with her fingers, her freshly trimmed nails picking at the skin around her fingernails. “Sold it to somebody else. At this rate she’s gonna have nothing left.”

“I’m sorry.”

Scully smiles sadly at his apology. “She thinks the animals will go next. She doesn’t have the people to tend to them anymore.”

Mulder thinks about Mrs Scully up here on her own, tending to every animal on the farm, every crop, trying to keep them all healthy and alive. He imagines she finds a way to manage even if it’s just barely.

“There’s another thing she told me,” Scully says, pulling Mulder away from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“My brother Bill is on his way back. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

With the way she’s looking at him something tells Mulder that that isn’t a good thing.

“Okay…?”

“He’s not a particular fan of the English.”

Right. His accent.

Mulder nods, understanding. “So what do you want me to do?” he asks.

“I want you to do nothing,” Scully tells him. She grabs his hand, interlocking their fingers. “You’re part of my family now, Mulder,” she says looking him in the eyes. “I’m not ashamed of that.”

He gives her hand a squeeze, sharing her sentiments to the end but he doubts this brother of hers will share the same thoughts.

#the x files fic #titanic au #jewel one shot #i write

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