#i’ve played some worlds and rise before but i’m locked into this one especially with having lots of friends and the bf to play with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rowdydevs · 25 days ago

Note

can we see hockey rafe get jealous when pop star reader has to do a intimate music video with another male costar?!

Hi bb!!!! Ahhh of course 🤭🩷💕

+18 -> smut | rafe is a hockey player for the LA King’s and his gf (reader) is a popstar 💕🤭

𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝔂!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: ownership, pet names, swearing, heavy praise, possessive rafe, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, rafe talks you through it, overstim., pov shift for the smut, + female oral receiving

*world’s okayest goalie = kelce*

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓿 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

I’ve made a mistake. I should’ve stayed outside. Let someone else deliver this. I never should’ve walked in because—there she is.

My girl. The love of my life. My everything. Looking like that… Fuck me.

She looks like an angel and sin all twisted together, just dancing, loose and casual, like she has no idea she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole fucking life. She hasn’t seen me yet. Which, in the large scheme of things, is probably a good thing because now I’m watchin’ her like I might rip someone’s head off. Especially his.

He’s sittin’ across the set in a chair like he owns it, legs spread and elbows on his knees, pretending to scroll on his phone, but I can see right through it. He’s not texting. He’s watching her, eyes tracking her like he’s trying not to stare but doing a terrible fucking job of it. He bites his cheek and glances around like he’s trying to play it cool.

He’s got that look… the kind reserved for me. For my face. For my eyes when I look at my girl.

I know what she does to people. She walks into a room, and everything shifts. She’s cute, sexy, and sweet, all wrapped in one. I swear she has no idea what she does when she smiles at someone. When she tips her head, her eyes all twinkly. God forbid she laughs… It’ll be game over.

She still hasn’t noticed me, but he has—and he’s not lookin’ away. His smirk? Fuckin’ smug. I could strangle him.

‘Cause that’s not fucking insane. What the fuck am I saying?

I take a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling, the sweat of my palms marrying with the condensation on her drink. I clench my jaw and force myself to breathe.

I’m not insecure. I’m not. I know she loves me, but watching some golden-boy, ex-football-playing Abercrombie reject eye-fuck her on set… Yeah. Yeah, I’m losin’ it. He shifts in his seat, slow and casual, but I swear, if he adjusts his pants one more time while looking at her, I’m—

“Baby!” She bubbles, and before I can even process the whiplash of my dark thoughts and her noticing me, I’ve got an arm around her waist and my mouth on hers. Hard. Not gentle, not slow… just mine.

Her nails scratch into my hair, and her chest presses flush against mine. She melts into it instantly, humming softly into my mouth. She smiles against my lips, making my stomach flutter.

“Hey, baby,” she whispers, breathless and sweet. “I missed you.”

I pull back just enough to look at her, my hands still firm on her waist, and I know I can’t hold her forever, but I’m not letting go ‘til she makes me. “Missed you, too, princess.”

A voice from the front of the set suddenly cuts through the crowd, making that uneasy feeling that was eased by my girl creep back in.

“Alright! Places!”

She rises on her tiptoes, pressing a soft and sweet kiss on my lips, contrasting comedically with the dark feelings churning inside me.

“Is this for me?” She asks, hurried but thankful.

“Hmm? Umm… Yeah, pretty,” I smile as I pass her her drink before pulling her in for one last hug, my eyes locked on his and my lips pressed against her forehead, my hand cupping her ass, squeezing just enough to show him I can.

“Are you going to stay for a while?” She asks, looking up at me hopefully, and although it might very well kill me, I nod.

“Wish me luck?”

“Good luck, baby,” I hum, my eyes on her as she turns. I smack her ass lightly as she bounces off, and she yelps, shooting me a grin over her shoulder like I’m the funniest man alive.

Connor watches the whole thing, rolling his eyes slightly before looking down at his watch, adjusting it, and his sleeves before stepping into the fake elevator.

He stands taller the closer she gets, his broad chest framed perfectly, his dark tie straightened with a flick of his wrist, and he smiles down at her, mumbling something I didn’t catch, which again, is probably for the best.

This is fine.

I’m fine.

Everything’s fine.

They take their places, and the second the track starts to pour through the speakers everything changes. She steps in closer, resting her hand on his chest as she sings along with her track.

I feel it coil in my gut—something cold, sharp, and ugly. The same flash of red that I get during a game that tells me, without hesitation, that if someone gets in my way or takes what’s mine, there’s going to be blood on my hands. But I can’t fucking act on it.

She’s being a professional. I trust her with every single thing I have. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to break something. And I know he knows that.

He’s pushing it… Testing me. Watching me with the corners of his eyes like he wants to see what happens if he stares a little too long. Touches a little too slow.

He backs her up into the elevator wall in choreographed movement as his arm slides around her waist, retracing my tracks like my hands weren’t just there. His hand presses into her, arching her back slightly as she delivers the next line closer than I ever thought another man would get. Close enough to have me gripping the arms of the chair like a lifeline.

She smiles for the camera—sharp and wicked. Fuck, she’s good at this. Too fuckin’ good. His hands are all over her: down her ribs, across her hip, threatening to go lower. My knuckles go white, and my jaw aches.

She stiffens, just barely. Her smile doesn’t reach quite as far as it would if she was with me.

Ding.

The lift comes to a fake halt, and they break away, their eyes on the lot number above the door. A smug smile pulls on his lips as she reaches up, drawing him out of the elevator by his tie. He licks his lips as he looks down at hers in desperation, getting off on their interaction. She might be acting, but he’s not. And I can’t stop watching… This is her job. Her scene. Her art… It’s killing me.

“What do we think? Another take?” the director calls out.

My eyes lower to my hands, loosening on the chair as my heart and mind race.

I know I’m overreacting. I look up, ready to swallow my pride, and as I do, she grabs my shirt, tugging me to my feet, kissing me hard, warm and full of fire. Nothing sweet about it. She kisses me like she’s trying to take something back. Like she wants to erase every second of someone else’s hands on her.

“No, we’re good,” she smiles.

She turns her attention back to me, her beautiful eyes locked on mine.

“Was it that obvious?” I mumble, just for her.

“Painfully.”

I suck my teeth, holding back my smirk. I can tell she’s not mad; she knows me too well. “I was tryin’ to be cool.”

“Mhmm…” She teases as her thumb brushes across my cheek. “Thank you for playin’ nice.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

“You wanna get out of here? Just for a bit? I’ve got a break. We could get some air or something,” she asks, leaning a little closer, her hot skin warming her perfume, making my brain lag.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

I rest my hand on her back and guide her toward the hallway, my grip saying what I can’t say out loud. And right as I feel the calm settle in again, I see him moving toward us, still trying. I don’t say a word, just look back, glaring at him, letting him know he’s done.

“Rafe…” She whispers and giggles. “Stop, baby.”

“Stop what, princess?” I say, all fake innocence, making her laugh a little more.

“Stop what, princess?” She mimics as she rolls her pretty eyes, doing her best impression of me.

She gasps as I scoop her up, taking her into my arms. She throws hers around my neck, wrapping her legs around my waist, snuggling in.

“You’re lucky I didn’t throw you over my shoulder,” I mutter playfully.

She turns into me, letting her cheek brush against mine, making my heart race.

“I love it when you get like this,” she whispers, her mouth grazing my ear, making chills fall down my spine. “Jealous… Possessive—”

“Possessive,” I echo, cutting her off. “Fuck, baby. You haven’t seen possessive yet.”

She grins—that smile I’d kill for.

“How much time do I get with you?”

“Thirty minutes.”

Shit. She gasps yet again—half startled, half turned on—as I turn fast, pulling her into the first room I can see, pressing her back against the door, thumb grazing her jaw, voice low and lazy, already imagining the words playing on my tongue. “You’ve got thirty minutes. I’ll ruin you in ten… and spend the next twenty showin’ you no one else’ll ever fuck you or love you the way I do.”

𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼’𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓿 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

Rafe doesn’t waste a second, sliding the lock into place, making your pulse spike. He peels his shirt off his muscular body. “Off, baby,” he mumbles, tugging on your shirt, working it over your head before you can respond, hungry and desperate to use all the time he has, making quick work of your clothes like he has something to prove, lifting you onto the meeting room table before laying you back.

His lips crash into yours–big hands roaming your body–hot, urgent, and possessive. He reaches between the two of you, popping open the buttons of his jeans as his tongue swirls with yours, making your mind hazy already.

He tugs down your shorts and rips off your panties, dropping to his knees, that warmth of his breath hitting your pussy, making you suck in a breath. “Oh my god, Rafe–” Your words turn into a breathy whine as his mouth finds you, making your head fall back.

Rafe groans into your heat, his skilled tongue working slowly, opening you further when he circles two thick fingers around your drooling hole, pushing them inside.

“Fuck,” you cry as he sucks on your clit; fingers curling inside you, finding that spot that makes your toes curl. Your heart races fast, chest rising and falling quickly as your fingers scratch and twist into his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your greedy pussy against his face.

“Sh-Shit–” You stammer as your climax hits you hard and fast, making your muscles tremble, but he doesn’t stop.

“Already, princess?” He taunts, rubbing his thumb along his plump bottom lip, sucking it clean like his favorite dessert. His voice is warm, his smile smug, his beautiful blue eyes looking down at you as he tilts in, hovering over your lips. “Fuck, baby. That was fast, huh?” He asks as he grabs his cock in his fist, running it through your soaked folds, making your muscles jump. Your eyes double as he pushes into you, filling you completely, groaning against your lips at the feeling.

“You know me so well–” You whisper breathlessly as he strokes into you at the perfect pace.

“Love your body, princess. Every inch of you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair from your face as he thrusts a little deeper. “‘Course I know you well. You’re my favorite thing in the whole fuckin’ world. Love taking care of my girl,” he whispers, kissing your forehead, his gentle love above contrasting his punishing thrusts below, your wet, hot heat squelching with each push of his toned hips. “I want these perfect lips sayin’ my name for the rest of my life–”

Rafe wraps his arms around you, lifting you slightly, changing the angle enough to get you good and loud. His thrusts grow rougher, more focused, the tension from before rolling off him as he watches you get closer and closer to cumming again.

He presses his lips against your ear, a particularly rough thrust leaving you throwing your hand over your mouth to hold back your cries of pleasure, making him smirk.

“Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he warns, the smugness dripping from every syllable.

“—Feels so good,” you pout as your voice breaks, bottom lip trembling from the pleasure alone.

“Is that right?” Rafe murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw. “That’s the point, pretty.”

Rafe grinds his hips into you slow and deep, his cock thick and hot as it stretches you wide. “Shit,” he groans, dropping his forehead to yours, hips slapping against the backs of your thighs. The table creaks beneath you, rocking slightly with the force of his big body fucking into yours.

He snakes a hand between you, pressing his fingers against your clit, ghosting little circles, making you suck your lip between your teeth. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give it to me again,” he coaxes, your body quickly giving way. “That’s it. Just like that,” he praises, watching you unravel underneath him. “I wanna hear it, baby. I want everyone outside that door to know exactly who makes you cum like this.”

“You said be quiet,” you laugh airily, barely holding yourself together as his movements get messy.

“Yeah, well…” He grunts, hips jerking harder. “You makin’ those sounds? Sayin’ my name like that? We both know I’m full of shit–” Your back arches off the table, mouth falling open as he slams into you one last time, your walls fluttering around him as you sob out his name, high and broken.

Rafe pulls himself out, flipping you and bending you over, bracing yourself on trembling arms, legs spread, ass tilted just the way he loves. The cool air rushes over your skin for only a second before he’s behind you again, one hand gripping your waist, the other sliding under your thigh, lifting your leg on the table.

He pushes back into you in one hard stroke, both of you gasping in sync—your fingernails scratching into the wood, his breath catching in his throat as your body squeezes him tight.

“Shittt,” he groans, “I’m so deep. You feel how deep I am?” Your head falls between your shoulders–unable to form a coherent thought as he thrusts into you again and again. You nod feebly, crying out when he slaps your ass.

Every muscle in his body goes rigid as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning low and rough as he leans forward, pulling himself into your neck, spilling inside you, filling you up. His breath is hot and fast against your shoulder, cock throbbing inside you as a low chuckle rumbles in his broad chest.

You rest your cheek on the cool wooden tabletop in exhaustion, looking up at Rafe as he pulls back, looking down at you with a smile. “So fucking pretty like this, baby,” he whispers.

Rafe hisses out a breath as he drags his length out nice and slow. He grabs your hips, turning you around to face him. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

His fingers curl around your hips, lifting you onto the table, sitting you down as his tongue slides against yours. His big hands roam your body, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples with the rough pads of his fingers as you whimper into his mouth.

The tip of his fingers traces the indentation left behind from your tight top. He dips his head down, wrapping his lips around your supple skin, sucking enough to leave a mark behind that you’ll cover back up with lace.

“That’s mine,” he murmurs. “Only I get to see that.”

You do your best to catch your breath as he kisses down your trembling body. Tears of pleasure slide down your cheeks as the warmth of his breath hits your cunt. His finger dips through the slick mess of your shared release, swirling lazily as he watches the pretty changes in your face.

“Don’t think I could love you more,” he mutters, kissing your thigh, then again lower. “All mine.” You answer with a whimper, hips twitching as he slips the mess back inside you again.

“Rafe–” You gasp and moan as he works them into you again, tongue flicking teasingly across your pearl.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you? I’ve still got some time–”

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe smut #my library ᝰ.ᐟ #rafe cameron x reader #hockey!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #hockey!rafe #rafe one shot 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹#rafe one shot #rafe fanfiction #⋆.°🧸๋ྀི࣭⭑ bar down

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miss-tc-nova · 8 months ago

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A Reason - Riku x Reader

It's been a hot minute since I took a swing at fluff, so I have my doubts about the "tooth rotting sweet," but I hope this at least made you smile, anon.

Premise: He's home

Words: 1,723

~~~~~

Soft, flowing song fills the complacent solace. Bringing a warmth that artificial cannot, candlelight dances upon the wooden surface of the coffee table.

An article of clothing lies flat against the floor. Then another. And another. Ah, but this one has a partner. A spread of socks awaits their matches from the laundry basket, shirts and sheets and towels already tended to.

Honestly, it’s well past late for me to be doing chores, but I’ve long since given up on regulating any sort of circadian rhythm. Since I’ve been left on my own, it’s been a couple months and I now find myself at the mercy of my own whims—unable to sync routine to another’s. It’s a bit of a curse, but I suppose nobody can nag me about doing chores at—what is it? Two in the morning? Great. Still, in spite of my disaster of a schedule, I tend to this empty little apartment on my own for a reason. Waiting.

A sharp buzz tears through the quiescence, spurring my body to rise from the floor. The lull resumes its rule as my feet amble towards the laundry room where another load finds its way into the basket.

Just as I return to the previous pile, a rattle shatters the repose permanently. A surge of adrenaline fills my veins as a tingling fear claws up my spine. Hands on the verge of trembling set the basket on the floor, but wide eyes remain locked on the shaking handle of the front door.

It’s way too late for visitors. Thus only the worst of suspicions overwhelm my thoughts as I try desperately to recall the precautions we had planned for intruders. I remember specifically being told to run or hide—there’s no guarantee what kind of person would come knocking on our door with the kind of world he was entangled in. But there’s nowhere to hide in the living room and a mad dash for the back door could easily see me overtaken.

The lock clicks. What precious seconds I had were squandered second-guessing my actions. Running is the only option now.

As flight begins to take over, the door grants entrance to the trespasser.

Then the world stops. My feet take not another step. Fear drains from my system. Even my lungs dare not take another breath. The world stands still in my shock—for maybe I’m mistaken.

But I heard his voice.

A second ticks by—maybe two—before caution guides my gaze back. In the doorway he stands, far worse for wear. Silver hair looks dull and grey from the grime, much of which coats his skin as well. Holes and scuffs mottle the clothes I remember him leaving in. It’s been some time since I’ve seen rings so dark beneath that shade of green, but those are most definitely his eyes.

His name barely makes it past my lips.

“Riku?”

“What are you doing up this late?” Though his words mean to reprimand, that smile demeans the point.

Not that it matters. I resume my flight, only this time, it’s straight into waiting arms. Teeth grit in vain, a sting growing beneath my weary lids. Another part of my resolve begins to break when I feel the weight of his arms slip around me. As though my life depends on this moment being real, I cling so tightly my nails may scar my palms. But I don’t care, especially once I feel the steady beat in his chest.

Sure, the length of his departure plays a hand in my dramatics, but Riku and his friends left for war and I had no choice but to accept the chance that he may never return. So with my soul resigned to somber possibilities, I’ll never be able to describe this reprieve.

I’m not sure how long we stand in front of the open door, but these long months without this feeling compel me to hold fast. If I had it my way, I’d never let go again. Alas, the shiver that ruins the moment convinces Riku to pull back.

“Sorry. I didn’t think you’d be awake.” Managing to keep an arm around me, he reaches back to shut the drafty door. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

No amount of shame can douse this moment. “Laundry.”

His head shakes. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“As long as you’re here, I don’t really care.”

“Hey, now that’s not fair.” Worn, rough hands press softly against my face. “You can’t go saying things like that while I’m scolding you.”

“Then punish me.”

Mock defeat melds into his exhaustion. What gentle caress he used turns into light pinching. “Later. Right now, I just wanna take a bath and go to bed.”

“’Kay.”

While Riku leaves to take his bath, I return to my abandoned heap in the living room. A mediocre distraction it is but I’ve been putting it off for far longer than I should have. Not like I could do much else right now anyway.

A light heart makes the work somewhat lighter, but I certainly did myself no favors in procrastinating the chore this long.

Grabbing another towel, I fold the towel up ready for the cupboard. Reaching for another, the floor suddenly disappears. Well, actually, it’s the other way around, my feet leaving the floor. My stomach jerks with the motion, an embarrassing yelp escaping me.

A deep chuckle sets a fire in my ears.

“You’ve gotten jumpy since I’ve been away.”

Arms constricting attempt to anchor around the young man’s neck. “Back for not even an hour and already picking on me.”

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You didn’t think I was going to bed by myself, did you?”

“But…laundry.”

“No sane person is doing laundry at three in the morning. It’s time for bed.”

“Hey, at no point did I ever claim to be sane. Grab my phone.”

He does as asked. “True. But I’m tired and you’re coming with me.”

“Fine.”

With literally no ground to stand on, I’m hauled off towards the bedroom. At least with hands preoccupied, Riku is helpless against the peppering of kisses I press to his face.

In the bedroom, Riku gives a smirk that causes me pause. I fall, without warning, still clinging to my anchor. Laughter shortly ensues, Riku crawling to hover over me.

Insides writhe at the feel of his mouth against the crook of my neck. Whatever thoughts of resistance I may have had go right out the window and I allow myself to succumb. Snaking their way beneath me, Riku’s arms keep me flush against him. Meanwhile, my own fingers busy themselves in his hair, encouraging each warm, longing kiss against my skin. The inevitable journey brings his lips to mine. It’s like breathing old life back into a shell, reigniting the passion I’d been deprived of these past moons.

There’s always been a cheeky sort of give and take between Riku and I, even when we kissed. Of course we had those moments of sweet softness now and then, but it still had that element of silliness that came out in our relationship. But this is different. This is deep—fathomless adoration crashing down on me relentlessly, seeping into my bones. The purity with which Riku imbues each kiss leaves me in awe, banishing any fragment of thought that would dare consider ruining this moment. I can’t begin to understand what it was that he faced in his absence or what will come of it in the future, but right now, he needs this.

Another kiss breaks soft. Missing the feel of his lips, I let my eyes open. Moonlight sneaking its way through the curtains shows me his face, wrought with contemplation.

My voice barely breaks the silence. “What’s wrong?”

Burrowing into my shoulder, Riku holds his tongue just long enough, as if bracing himself.

“I missed you,” he murmurs.

“I—”

“The only reason I came back was because of you.”

Breath catches in my chest.

“It was tough; there were so many times I thought I wasn’t gonna make it. But you were waiting for me. And I couldn’t bear the thought of making you wait any longer than I had to.” Beneath my back, his fists clench.

“Riku, I—”

“The whole time I couldn’t stop thinking what would happen to you. What would happen if I failed? What would happen if I disappeared? And I hated every minute of it. No matter what, I had to come back.”

�� On trembling arms, the young warrior props himself back up.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do if it was for you. You’re the reason I fought and the reason I survived. I’m still here because of you. Because you’re my light.”

A single drop of warmth drips, trailing my cheek from where it lands.

Realizing his breaking composure, Riku sits back, dragging an arm across his face.

“Ugh, how cheesy do I sound right now?” It’s a flawed attempt at our usual banter, but it’s an attempt nonetheless.

Somewhat reeling from his confession, I, myself, sit up. I’m not sure what to do with this knowledge; I’ve never meant so much that it made a difference before. But it brought him back to me, and maybe that’s all I need to know.

Love—threatening to blur my vision—tugs at my lips instead. Reaching I banish another stray tear.

“Maybe a little. But it’s okay. You get to be a little cheesy when you’ve been gone so long.”

Maybe it’s exhaustion or maybe it’s relief, but the laughter that ensues is soft.

Climbing my way up the bed, I wiggle beneath the blanket. Before bunkering down, I let my arms open wide. My hint is taken and Riku lies down beside me, powerful arms wrapped around my waist. As I draw the blanket over us, my partner nestles his head against my chest, finding peace where he lies.

While it doesn’t take long for me to drift to the realm of dreams, I stay awake just long enough to ensure Riku does first. Another pass of my hand through his hair releases any remnant tension with a sigh. This is where he’s content and where he needs to be.

This is where he’s loved.

My dearly beloved light.

~~~~~

Nova’s Kingdom Hearts Masterlist

#gender neutral reader #kh riku #riku x reader #novas requests

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blouisparadise · 4 years ago

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We frequently get asked what our members favorite fics are, so for today’s rec list, we asked each member of BLP to choose FIVE favorite fics for this list - no repeats allowed. Please keep in mind that this is not a complete list of our favorites - there are so many amazing BL fics out there that we all have a lot more than this! Still, we hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.

Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it. Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.

4) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

5) No Good Unless It’s Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

6) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20593 words

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

7) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

9) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Hold Onto This Heaven (Of Yours) | Explicit | 25213 words

An ode to being too young, too sad, and too in love.

13) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25372 words

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

14) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

15) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

The one where Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

16) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding A/B/O fic.

17) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

18) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

19) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

20) What This World Is About | Explicit | 34472 words

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

21) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

24) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40580 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

25) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

26) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

27) Love’s Truest Language | Explicit | 48195 words

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

28) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

The one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

29) Latibule | Mature | 54322 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

30) Warming Up To You | Explicit | 56227 words

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

31) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

32) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68597 words

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU.

33) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words | Sequel

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

34) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

35) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

36) Where You Lay | Explicit | 86038 words

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles. Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

37) And Down The Long And Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

38) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

39) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

40) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126057 words | Sequel (WIP)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #blp fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry

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ilovebeingaturtle · 2 years ago

Note

I love your fanfic!!! I love how soft and cute the 1897 gang are!!!!!! Aksbaksbakaksmsksksns 🥺💕

What are some plans you have for the fic? Will there be any lgbt or neurodiverse headcanons in the fic?

AWEE YAY THANK YOU!! 💕💕 This means so much I got so happy seeing this notification aaa!! I’m glad you love the 87 boys,,

Also aa thank you for asking! (this. Turned into such a long answer I’m so sorry for rambling AHA)

One big plan I feel comfortable talking about is that I am going to send the remaining 2012 boys to Rise soon! I feel like that’s not too spoilery, both because it’s something that will happen soon and something that was kind of inevitable pfft. I have some cute moments for them to all get to bond, I have a big overarching plot and stakes I want to introduce? But I also really just want to have a ton of fun moments and focus on everyone getting to know each other. I want to try write interactions or dynamics I haven’t seen been done much yet, so hopefully I deliver! (I actually scripted out a 12!Raph and Rise!Leo scene for in future this morning pfft)

Another thing I guess there’s no harm in saying is that I want 87!Shredder and 87!Krang to really play a main part in this! They’re the versions of those characters I find the most fun/easy to write, so at least for the beginning stages they’re going to be focused on antagonistic forces. I just think they’re so goofy I love their dynamic sooooo much, and they fit my writing style perfectly! So expect them in future eheh

That’s not to say Rise and 2012 villains won’t get a centre focus at any point though! Rise has such a fun rogues gallery and with 2012, I really want to play with the domino affect, I mean taking the turtles out of the picture right before so many major things has gotta have some consequences~ (they don’t even know April’s part Krang yet…)

When it comes to LGBT headcanons, I do definitely have some! Technically?? I think I’ve already said that everyone is somewhere on the aroace spectrum (especially the Rise turtles) I also find the idea of 2012!Donnie and 2012!Leo being nonbinary in some form sweet, so I will probably have little moments about that scattered through the fic! (Also I think it would be really funny if 2012 Leo and Dee both went to other universes and then when they finally reunite they’re both not cis anymore. Spider-man pointing meme the dimensional radiation took their fucking gender-) I typically don’t think too much about this kind of thing though, I’m someone who’s LGBT+ that doesn’t bother too much with labels for themself so it’s honestly kind of hard for me to put fictional characters in a box too-but everyone definitely is in someway! That’s the best I can answer that probably

TLDR: They’re all loser teenagers who haven’t realllyyy figured themselves out yet, but they’re all pretty comfortable with whatever their identities might be, so for now they’re just gonna focus on saving the world HA

As for the neurodivergent side of things, again the whole main cast definitely is!! We all knew that though ♥️ AHSAJHA I can find traits from my own diagnosis in basically all of them, so they’re all on the spectrum! Sobs sorry this is another pretty broad answer-so to list someeeee?

I’m definitely writing all four 87 turtles and 2012!April and 2012!Raph with being autistic in mind! 2012!Donnie as well, but also apparently he does canonically has OCD?? I don’t 100% know if that’s canon, but I will be keeping that in mind while writing him as someone who also has it. 2012!Leo I headcanon along those lines too-it-see this is why it’s hard for me to answer none of these kids are neurotypical in my mind-

Sorry these were such non answers AHA, I guess the easiest answer is yes there is? But I’m genuinely happy with them all being up for interpretation! I won’t be enforcing many of my headcanons on the story really, just writing what feels natural, so you guys can interpret them however you want from there! I don’t really want to lock anyone in because I don’t want to stop people from being able to see them in ways that make them happy same as they can for the original shows

#♥️♥️♥️!! thank you for asking!!#gosh I need a tag for this fic don’t I. WHY did I make the title so long #for future reference AU

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butwhatifidothis · 4 years ago

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So if it is MEANT to be a villain route...Why are the villanous actions NEVER ADDRESSED by ANY of the characters outside of "Huh. I wonder if there was a better way to do this."

Why did they have Rhea go insane and torch a city? Why make potray Rhea as a villain when you could potray her as the hero whos genuinely trying to do good? Why have a majority of the characters still be able to be recruited regardless of if it makes sense? Why have the ending narration mostly be possible? WHY have Edelgard succeed and somehow turn her tyranny into a society that "ensures a free and independent society fot all."

If it's REALLY a villain route, why is there not a single character ending mentioning things like rebellions and conflict? Hell, the ending narration shows not a hint of villainy and potrays its ending as heroic.

"Embracing her newfound power, Edelgard could at last set about destroying Fódlan's entrenched system of nobility and rebuild a world free from the tyranny of Crests and status."

Again, if it was TRULY meant to be the villain route, it would have been POTRAYED as such. Instead of a villain route, we got "A route where one of the villains is made the protagonist and her views and villainous actions are never questioned OR addressed and outside of the conquest and starting the war, everyone is mostly happy."

Alright so this is going to seem like a nonserious answer, but I'm 100% serious when posting this image as part of a genuine answer to this question:

On CF, your actions are never addressed because of ignorance. On the surface, your actions seem like they've helped Fodlan, but as soon as the player looks any deeper it starts to become evident that something isn't right.

If Edelgard made a free and independent society for all, why are the people spied on in Hubert's ending with Dorothea? Why are rebellions secretly being put down in his ending with Shamir? That's not free, in a general sense or from specifically tyranny. That's a direct contradiction from two of the characters that can only be played on CF, and this is only found on CF.

Rhea is portrayed as a villain because she is Nabatean, and Edelgard hates Nabateans, and you are playing a route that emphasizes her ideals - which include wiping out all of the inhuman, bestial, vile, cruel Nabateans that have been plaguing humanity’s world. Rhea goes insane on CF because unlike all of the other routes, where the player and the lord never go out of their way to trample and spit on their enemies' trauma, that's what you are doing the entire time you play CF to Rhea - for months once Byleth returns, and that’s being extremely generous and not counting the entire war. You help drive Rhea and the other Nabateans away from their homes when taking over Garreg Mach - like Nemesis did to Rhea after the Red Canyon Massacre! You're helping someone try to kill off the rest of her people - like Nemesis did at Zanado! You're trying to kill Rhea with the Sword of the Creator, her mother's mutilated corpse - like Nemesis did! You're doing so with the descendent of Wilheim - spitting on the legacy of the one human Rhea could trust during the War of Heroes! You're literally recreating the single worst moment of Rhea's life, all so that you can help the one who views her as less than human.

Portraying Rhea as "the hero who's genuinely trying to do good" goes against Edelgard's viewpoint of all Nabateans being evil, and you're never meant to question Edelgard or make her change her beliefs. You as the player are actively discouraged from talking back to Edelgard, as she will noticeably get upset whenever you do - many times you will even lose support points with her, and this is especially bad for specifically Edelgard because you have to get to a certain support level with her to enter her route, with you having less chapters to do so because she won't talk to you until after Byleth achieves the Sword of the Creator in Chapter 4.

Look at how Rhea, Dimitri, and Claude are portrayed on CF. Rhea and Dimitri are demonized, while Claude is given some leeway from Edelgard. Now notice who of the three of them always speak their minds over Edelgard's villainy to her face, and which of the three of them bends to Edelgard's view of them as the bad guy. Dimitri and Rhea never allow themselves to bend to Edelgard - they call her out and call her actions evil. Claude, on the other hand, will remove himself from Fodlan and then afterwards make himself out to be a bad guy whom Edelgard managed to take down. He puffs up her ego, and he gets to live, while the two that don't must die. Edelgard is the one always out for the kill, and only by submitting to her is anyone allowed to live - which, I don’t think needs to be said, isn’t very heroic of her.

I've had my fair share of complaints over the characters that can be recruited over to CF, but even with those complaints... look at how those characters behave on CF. None of them are Felix levels of negative character development, but they all act noticeably worse on CF vs how they are on the other routes. To name some notable examples: Ignatz goes from wanting to paint Garreg Mach as it stood five years before to preserve its beauty to wanting to paint the violent downfall of the Alliance, Lysithea wants to abandon House Ordelia, which is in direct contrast to her core character motivation, Ingrid is willing to throw away her lifelong dream of being a knight of Faerghus, which she herself says is her spitting on her dead betrothed’s dreams, Leonie works with Jeralt’s killers, etc. etc.. And mind, CF is the route that locks out the most units - there's the obvious ones like Dedue and Gilbert who were already route exclusive, but then there's Seteth and Flayn, Catherine, Cyril, and Hilda. CF is the only route to have even non-exclusive units be completely unavailable no matter what.

Edelgard doesn't make a society that is "free," like I said above - having a secret police monitor the people's actions, or is ready to put down anyone who tries to rise up against her, is literally the opposite of free. Edelgard can and will ban plays she doesn't like - not free. Edelgard only allows state-sanctioned religion, if she does allow it - not free.

CF is a route that wants to make the player believe the lie that you're not the villain, because you are playing from the perspective of someone who herself doesn't think she's the villain, but like. Look at what you're doing. You're invading two countries for the express, explicit purpose of taking them over and making them your own. You're working with someone who's been trying to reunite Fodlan back under Adrestia as early as the prologue when she tried to have Dimitri and Claude assassinated. You're helping TWS. Your Imperial presence makes Church people flee - which, given that Edelgard wants Rhea and those involved with the Church dead, I don't blame them. You're working with someone who is starving her people so that she can carry on with her war.

CF lies to the player - Edelgard lies, constantly. She says she's willing to let Rhea live, but literally the scene before she says she seeks to fuckin' Exodia Rhea. She lies about Arianrhod. She lies - or is flat-out wrong, which isn't much better - about the Church hoarding wealth and about the Church splitting up the Empire. She lies about not knowing about TWS pre-ts. She helps spread the lie of Duscur being the ones who killed Lambert. She lied about not knowing where Flayn was when she was kidnapped. She lies to her people by making them believe she’s making the orders during the war, not Byleth. There's a student who doubts all of what Edelgard says right before the timeskip happens and who isn't sure about his decision to stay, and then there’s a man who calls Edelgard “a tricksy one” on the last explore section for lying about attacking the Kingdom capitol. She’s wrong about the history of Nemesis and Seiros, calling Nemesis killing all of Rhea’s family a “simple dispute.” She lies to her people about an entire war against a group who just a little bit ago were her allies. Lies and ignorance are staple points to CF as a route, it’s baked into it, so the idea of the CF going “oh no you totally are the good guys” literally as the city burns down around the players doesn’t come from nowhere.

And like... the ending narration “shows not a hint of villainy?” Um.

Her stepping on the flags of the Alliance and Church? Her recreating a painting of Napoleon - that little known imperialist - down to the hand of justice? Her denouncing gods constantly and then being ushered in by a statue with heavy resemblance to Nike, Goddess of victory? Hubert plotting away from the sight of the rejoicing people? Yeah, there’s a lot of hints to villainy.

Again, CF isn’t “portrayed” as a villain route because it’s you falling for the lies of Edelgard. You have a wool over your eyes. You accept everything Edelgard says as fact, even when she actively contradicts herself - sometimes as radically as in back-to-back scenes. You view yourself as a savior to humanity, even when you plunge it into darkness. You don’t think you’re the villain, so your actions aren’t going to be put in an explicitly villainous light - at least, not by anyone on your side.

This post showcases the difference between non-recruited characters fighting non-CF!Byleth vs CF!Byleth. Characters are mostly saddened by having to fight Byleth in the former, while they are mostly betrayed on CF. Byleth is very clearly seen as being wrong for having sided with Edelgard on CF by the non-recruited characters - Edelgard’s actions may not be directly criticized (save for by Dimitri and a few others), but it makes no sense for these characters to be this shocked and betrayed by Byleth siding with her if her actions were so good. Leonie deadass calls you a traitor to Jeralt, Ingrid says that you are not fit to rule Fodlan specifically for siding with Edelgard and the Empire after all she and they have done, and Dimitri questions you as to why you chose Edelgard and her “savage, bloody path,” just to name a few notable examples. You, as the player, are being criticized for siding with Edelgard. You say that the villainous actions are “NEVER ADDRESSED by ANY of the characters,” but what else are these reactions but characters addressing your villainous actions?

And like... “a route where one of the villains is the protagonist” bro that’s a villain route. Like. I’m not trying to be mean, but I am genuinely confused as to what you were trying to get at here.

Like. In a vacuum? I might can get the idea of CF not being a villain route a little better, were it the only route available (though even that is a very big stretch). But you have three whole other routes where there’s no conquest, there’s no working with TWS, there’s no using Demonic Beasts, there’s no killing/exiling the remaining (immediately known) Nabateans, there’s no continuous and long-standing lies that never get outed, the lords never stay flat out wrong about the events of the game, non-recruited characters aren’t shooting Byleth up the ass with accusations of being a traitorous lemming who’d follow Edelgard off a cliff... and they achieve peace. Those endings, with Dimitri Claude and “Rhea” (SS ain’t really her route even though it should’ve been but ye), lack the following in any of their endings:

Censorship

Spying on the people

Constantly putting down rebels in secret

State-sanctioned religion

(mind, this last one is in direct contradiction to CF’s ending narration that says that Church is destroyed)

None of this happens on AM, VW, and SS. They all have peaceful endings. They all have Fodlan see the light of dawn, and that is never contradicted in their endings. CF is the only route to have all of these things happen in it - I think that’s enough for it to be considered a villain route lol

#ask #anon #anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard discourse #Edelgard critical #just to be safe #Again really hope I don't come across badly and I'm sorry if I do!#like. I do see where you're coming from! A lot of times villain routes acknowledge you to be the big bad meanie bobeenie!#at least more directly than CF does - because CF does! Through the non-recrutied characters and through the subtext!#sure you can miss out on the former if you manage to recruit everyone but the latter is always present!#Fodlan is in a noticeably worse state in CF than on the other routes and you are actively questioned as to why you joined [lord's] side #by some of the characters you CAN'T recruit (Dimitri; Catherine)#which doesn't happen on the other routes - the other character just wish that Byleth chose them or don't want to fight Byleth #plus there's all of the actions you commit/are complicit in on CF vs the other routes #it just isn't flat out in your face with it because like... Edelgard doesn't view herself as the villain. A Byleth who chose to walk with #her doesn't view her as the villain - even while knowing all oft he heinous shit she's been a part of #so if Edelgard doesn't view herself as the villain and this Byleth doesn't view her as the villain and everyone trusts Byleth's word #who on your side is going to call you out?#hope I'm making sense!

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plaidamoosette · 4 years ago

Text

Call Me By My Name

RK900 x Reader

Part I | Part II | Part III

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience and love and care for this series. Life goes on outside of Tumblr, but I love writing and it makes for a nice escape. Especially since others can enjoy it with me. So enjoy this story, more soon!

Summary: You are an ecstatic new detective in the Detroit Police Department. It has been three years since the Android revolution, and now that they are a freed people, they are making decisions for themselves and their careers. One of these Androids is now your partner. The newest RK model, the RK900. He’s cold, distant, calculating... and oddly alluring. And with your first case on the line, you have to learn how to cope with a partner that holds you at arm’s length while fulfilling a desire that has been burning in your belly since you were a child. Revenge.

Word Count: 1,473

__________________________________________

–– November 4, 2041 ––

You keep your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as a chill runs deep through your young body. It’s as if you’re watching a movie, seeing everything play out all over again, although you don’t really have control over your body. You are forced to simply sit back and watch.

All over again, you’re in your childhood home, the wooden steps rough and worn beneath your bare feet as you sneak down into the basement. Your parents are away for the weekend, you recall, some sort of business trip. Your big brother has locked himself in the basement again, and this time, you’re going to find out why.

But a second voice stops you in your tracks, and you hold your breath to catch what they’re talking about.

“You know you’re going to get killed doing this…” a voice whispers. You couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl, just a soft voice. Empty, void. Cold. You shiver again.

“This little side biz is just for us, okay? No need to tell Anthony, okay? Just calm down. If I can work this equation out, I could make us millions!” That was your brother talking. His voice was soft but masculine, much like your father’s. Warm and kind.

“Jazz, mixing human blood and thirium? Seriously? I took you under my wing when you joined us ‘cause I know how Tony can be, but seriously, this is too risky. You’re the smartest Mixer we’ve ever seen, but this is just plain stupid. What are you even wanting to achieve here?” The second voice was rising in panic. You peek between the cracks of the door. It was a woman, much taller than your brother but slender and elegant. Her back was to you, but you could see Jazz’s face.

He reaches forward and grabs onto the woman’s arms, rubbing them up and down like he does with you when you’re upset. Was she crying? Is this his girlfriend?

“Jenna, I’m going to make us rich. Ever since I got in with Cyberlife, I’ve learned so much. This is inevitable. Once they create the perfect android, it’s only a matter of time before they start to merge us with them. First, create the perfect life form. Then, merge the perfect with the imperfect and- boom! You have the biggest industry in the history of the world! All people want is more time. I can give them that!”

“Sorry, Jazz. It’s just too much right now. I truly am sorry. You’re out. You’ve brought too much attention to us,” the woman shakes her head, stepping away from Jazz.

“Jenna?”

Just then, a hand grabs the back of your neck, and with a scream, you jerk awake.

It was a memory you hated to recall, but your sleeping mind seemed set on reliving it, over and over again. That night was the night your brother was murdered. You can’t really remember in full detail what happened. You were only six or seven at the time. And yet, your mother saw it right to blame you.

‘Why did you call the police?’ ‘Why did you let him bleed out in front of you?’ ‘How could you run?’ ‘You’re a terrible sister, you let your brother die, you were supposed to look out for each other.’

You don’t know what was worse, your mothers new hatred of you, or the hundred and hundreds of police interviews, press conferences, and shrink visits that followed the murder. But all that came from it was that Jason “Jazz” (Y/L/N) was found as a criminal drug manufacturer and distributor for the newly spreading narcotic ‘red ice’. His lab was in the basement of your home, which had been his man cave since he’d turned 20-years-old.

But your brother had always been the favorite. He was the first-born, after all. Despite the fact that your parents were both only 18 when they had Jazz, they loved him more than anything. Your mother was told she wouldn’t be able to have another child, which was heart-breaking at first, but then came as a blessing. More time to spend with Jazz and each other, right?

And then you came along. A miracle, the doctors called it. But your mother had only cried that day, Jazz told you. Your mother always had something better to do than watch over you. Work, meetings, yacht club, ladie’s nights. It had pretty much just always been you and Jazz.

After you turned 18 and went off to college, they had cut off all contact. Just a year ago, your father had died of a heart-attack. Your mother told you don’t bother coming home. You had been removed from the will. Allegedly.

But that didn’t matter. You had a purpose, a goal, a mission. The past 18 years had been to accomplish this goal. To find your brother's killer, to take down the Red Ice operations, and clear his name. You couldn’t believe he was just some drug dealer. He was so much more than that, and you were going to prove it.

As you prepare yourself for the morning, you check your phone. Eight missed calls from the same unknown number. Probably someone at the department. You hit the call button and pour yourself a coffee, checking the clock. It read 5:22 A.M.

“(Y/N), finally. I’ve been trying to reach you.” It took a minute to register the smooth voice on the other end of the line.

“Nines,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “You do realize humans need sleep? Especially since this human stayed at the precinct until midnight.”

“I apologize for the disturbance, but I have found some information that I think you’d be interested in. And it has something to do with you.” His tone was even and monotonous, but soothing. It was a nice voice to hear at the ass-crack of dawn.

But even his gentle voice couldn’t help the skip in your heart rate. “What do you mean?”

“Just come to the precinct. I’ll present my file to you then.” And with that, he ends the call. Not one for formalities, you have learned.

__________________________________________

Pulling your coat around yourself tighter, you try to warm yourself with your third coffee for the day, but there’s something that is just nagging at you. A cold sinking feeling in your stomach. Dread? No amount of coffee has been able to relieve it, and it’s got you on edge.

“Good morning Nines,” you grumble as you sink into your adjacent chair. He swivels around in his own, with a pad screen in his hands.

“Greetings, (Y/N). Did you not sleep well?” Maybe you didn’t, because you swear you can see a small crease of worry between his brows, but in an instant, it’s gone.

“Same as usual. What have you got? Did you look into Hanna Tjones’s background?”

“That’s what I’ve found so interesting. There’s virtually nothing on her. She appears to be very good at avoiding identification. The only mention of her name is in a few articles from local investigations.”

“That’s odd,” you mumble to yourself, taking the pad from his hands and flipping through the articles. It seemed like she was a witness to a murder, but wasn’t considered a suspect.

“I saw a connection between the names Nathan Jones and Hanna Tonjes. I believe it’s an anagram,” he leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. A stray hair falls across his forehead, and you want to reach out and tuck it away again. You look back down to the articles.

“I believe they’re anagrams of Nathan Jones. I came up with a list of all the anagrams that come from that name. I found 19 in total, and one of those names was linked to an article. An article that you’re also in.”

A cold sweat breaks out across your spine, and a hot sensation burns in the back of your throat as you look down at the black-and-white photo that was the head image in newspapers for months after that awful night.

You, holding a police officer’s hand, covered in blood as he carefully guides into the back of his car. You were looking over your shoulder, directly into the camera, your eyes wet with tears, the whites of your eyes shining under the flash of the camera.

But that wasn’t what you couldn’t stop staring at. No, your gaze was focused on the unmistakable face of two people. Obviously twins. One, the officer holding your hand, noted as Officer Nathan Jones under the grainy photo. But next to him, in the distance, almost blending into the background, was the distinct face of his twin sister, her feminine physique exactly as you remembered. Tall, slender, and a cold gaze observing the chaos. Her name was marked as Jenna Ashton.

Taglist:

@rawr-dinosaur4 @germansarechill @slytherinspectre

Like, subscribe, and all that Jazz! Part IV soon!

#fanfiction #human x android #reader fanfiction #rk900 x reader #android x reader #android #rk900 android #dbh #detroit become human #rk900

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slytherinwh0re · 4 years ago

Text

Dreams

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warning: SMUT (18+ minors dni) and swearing

Summary: Where Draco has a sex dream about his best friend. (I’m such a sucker for friends to lovers).

Masterlist

A/N: I tried a different writing style so it might be a lil funky, idk, lmk.

(Y/n)’s small hand travelled lower, skimming over the happy trail that leads to his trousers. Her lips brushed his neck making goosebumps rise across his pale skin, every touch from her would send a shock of electricity through his veins. She was an addiction, and Draco had no desire to overcome it.

The sounds she made would play in his head forever, he was sure of it. Their hands were everywhere, needing to touch each other’s skin; their clothes long forgotten on the floor by his bed.

“Ready love?” Draco hovered over her, so close to connecting them in the way he always wanted.

“Wake up dumb ass.” Fucking Theo.

He groaned to himself, embarrassed that he’d had yet another explicit dream about his childhood friend. He wondered what she’d think if she ever found out, in his head every scenario ended in heart break.

***

Draco had successfully avoided her all week, every attempt she’d made to hangout he’d shut her down with some bullshit excuse but he should’ve known (y/n) would do something about it. That’s how the blonde found himself limb locked and being levitated to her dorm. He was pissed but so was she, and fuck did she look sexy.

“Why’re you acting so weird Draco?” She asked after lifting the spell. It’s true, he had been acting strange but how could he not? Every time he looked at his the witch he’d think back to the dreams he’d been having. A hard dick is the last thing he needs right now, especially in a room alone with her.

“I’m not acting weird.” He wasn’t surprised when she rolled her eyes, an unimpressed look on her pretty face.

“Yes you are, and you’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?” He hated himself for turning into such a sappy fucking git over her but that sad pout cuts straight through him. Immediately he’s pulling her into his chest, arms wrapping around her body.

“Of course you didn’t, I’ve just been having these dreams and I don’t know how to feel about them.” He was practically squirming but he knew he had to explain himself to the girl or she’d think it was her fault he was being so odd. Who would’ve thought Draco Malfoy would feel the need to explain himself to anyone, then again (y/n) wasn’t just anyone to him.

“Well why wouldn’t you just say that? I’ve been running around all week trying to hangout with you and you’ve barely spoken two words to me.” He doesn’t answer, instead he gives her an apologetic look that has her eyes rolling yet again. “Go on then, what’re the dreams you’re having about?”

The slytherin can’t look her in the eye, the thought of telling her makes him cringe but maybe talking about it will make them stop. “They’re actually about you.”

“About me? What about me?” She pauses, a shocked look adorning her face, “are they like-” she waved her finger between the both of them, signaling to what she thinks it is and he nods, knowing she’s already understood. “Oh- OH.”

“(Y/n), if this changes everything I completely understand but I need you to know I can’t help it, that’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” The witch was silent, she just stared at him and he was sure he’d lost her forever.

That’s why he was so stunned when she started making her way over to him, not stopping until their bodies were an inch away from each other’s. Her hands went around his neck and started playing with the hair there, Draco leaned into her, deciding that if this is what he could get he’d take it.

“Tell me what I did in your dreams Draco.” He about lost it when (y/n)’s lips brushed across his neck, her nimble finger still tugging at his hair.

“This. You’d do this.” She hummed against his skin, acknowledging that she’d heard him. Her hands moved down his chest and over his stomach until she reached the hem of his shirt. The girl looked up at him, silently telling him to take it off.

Draco immediately yanked it over his head, only to realize in that second she’d taken hers off as well, now her hand was reaching behind her back, undoing her bra. Every inch of her skin that’s revealed to him chipped away at his self control but he wanted to see how far she’d take this.

Her bra fell to the floor, her nipples were peaked and begging to be played with but before he could move, she was pressed against his chest. Skin on skin, and she’s kissing him.

The boy felt as if he were on fire, his hand pressed against her lower back, pushing her further into him, deepening the kiss. They moved in sync, their tongues tangled together and hands touching bare skin.

“Did we do that in your dreams?” She pulled away, her lips a bit swollen.

“Yes.” Her smile was contagious, he was sure she’d stop there and he was more than happy to but (y/n) was never one to do what was expected. Instead, she started unbuttoning his trousers and kissing her way down his chest until she was on her knees in front of him.

He was speechless, the sight of the topless girl on her knees for him was enough for Draco to die happy. She had her eyes fixed on him when she got his pants down, already rubbing him over his briefs. With one last smirk she was pulling them down.

“And this? Did I do this to you?” His dick was already leaking with precum when she wrapped her lips around him.

“Fuck yes.” Her hand moved in rythm with her mouth, flicking her wrist every time. The combination had him throwing his head back but he lowered it quickly, not wanting to miss a second of his dick in her mouth. Draco grabbed her hair, needing something to hold onto, the small moan she let out vibrated through him.

(Y/n) watched him through her eyelashes, the pleasure etched on his face had her rubbing her thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. The girl was usually bold but even this was a little far stretched, even for her. She knew that if she hadn’t taken this opportunity to see where things would lead she’d regret it and damn is she happy she did.

The control she had over him in this moment is empowering, to watch Draco Malfoy fall apart because of her is beyond erotic. She hollowed her cheeks, running her tongue up the base with every bob of her head.

She let him out her mouth with a pop, stood back up, and dropped her skirt and panties.

“Let me show you what I do to you in my dreams (y/n).” Draco’s voice was raspy, the desire he felt for her made his mind cloudy.

“Show me.” That’s all it took for them to find her bed, lips locked, and his fingers sliding in and out of her sopping cunt. Her walls clenched his fingers deliciously, his thumb rubbed at her clit in a way that made her chest arch into him. The blonde brings his fingers to his lips, needing to get a taste. One day he’d devour her but for tonight just a taste would do.

“Ready love?” He lines himself up at her entrance, the anticipation for this moment was well worth the wait. To see his girl naked underneath him is an image that’d be burned into his mind forever.

“I’ve always been ready for this.” She kissed at his neck, pulling away to watch as he sank himself into her. They both let out an airy moan, her hands were back in his hair, and his were roaming every inch of her body.

Draco hitched her legs onto his shoulders, his hips setting a fast pace, her moans filling the room. The witch gripped him like a vice, her nails ran down his chest, leaving scratches that would be left as a reminder of this night for the next few days.

Her tits bounced with every deep thrust, (y/n) could feel herself getting close but she wasn’t quite ready for it to be over. Instead she lowered her legs and flipped them over, the new position had her screaming his name.

“Oh, Draco!” She bounced on him faster, eyes never leaving his fascinated ones. He looked at her as is she was the most beautiful girl in the world and in his eyes she is.

Her body was on fire, every time the pretty girl sank down on his cock she felt herself get closer to the edge. The blonde felt her walls begin to flutter, his hands that were situated on her breasts moved so one was toying with her clit and the other was wrapped around her throat.

The combination of her riding him and his hands on her was too much for (y/n), with his encouragement she found herself clenching around him as they came together. Their names leaving each other’s lips as their hips jerked and their vision went white.

“That was better than any dream.” He told her as they caught their breath.

Tag list: message me to be added/removed

@tonksandherpinkhair @fuckingdraco @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lovecatsnotpeople @ccabian @purpleskymalfoy @tonksandhercombatboots @hellounicorn @whattheactualfuckyeet @perfect-storm95 @prongsandprancer @agirlwithpointlessideas @explxsion @tb-ctn @capkatie @dracoxmgg @sydnee-kom-spacekru @slytherinxraven @emomikewazowski @juliannaamonroe @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @t38h @dracoswhore007 @d-malfoytb @daringvixon @missmercurymoon @weaslcyx @raylovessarcasm @xlilsubbyx @amourtentiaa @sahvlren @beiahadid @royalvolturisblog @im-totally-not-dezi @disartrous @futuremrsfelton20 @dlmmdl @rowanthomasknapp @a-malfoy @drabblingdraco @rennaisancebaby @gwlvr

#I finally finished a wip #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco imagine #draco smut

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asthmark · 5 years ago

Text

❝ 10 things i know about you ❞ l.jn

synopsis → there are ten important things you learn about lee jeno during your time in quarantine.

request → “if you're still accepting requests, can u make a domestic roommate!jeno? 🥺🥺 thank you and have a nice dayyy”

word count → 7.1k (bruhhh)

sharing an apartment with lee jeno isn’t ideal.

it’s not that he’s a lousy roommate or that you disliked him in any way; you just didn’t know him. you had first met through a mutual friend. they knew jeno was looking for someone to split rent with and that you happened to need a place to stay. they promised you he would give you privacy and assured jeno you were excellent roommate material. with that, arrangements were made and soon enough you moved in together. of course, it was a bit awkward at first but you two eventually got used to each other’s presence. although you were never in the same room for too long and oftentimes went days without speaking, you coexisted.

for a long time, you only knew a couple things about your roommate. for example, you were aware of his strong love for cats, especially his pet calico, seol. you also knew he kept the freezer stocked with pizza rolls that he would use as energy when he stayed up all night playing video games.

what you didn’t know, however, was that you would be spending the next couple months locked in your apartment with him. on top of that, you would begin to learn more things about him—his life, his personality, his feelings.

there are ten important things you learn about lee jeno during your time in quarantine.

1. he’s a heavy sleeper.

at 10:28 in the morning you find yourself seated at the dining table in the kitchen, spooning froot loops into your mouth. as you stuff your face, you scroll through your phone for entertainment. you decide to open instagram first but you quickly find that to be a mistake. as soon as you open the app a picture of lucas and who you thought was his ex-girlfriend greets you. if that was bad, the caption hits you like a ton of bricks.

@lucas_xx444: should have never left you

in only five words, lucas has completely erased the months you spent dating. it meant nothing to him. sure, things hadn’t ended things the best way but going right back to his toxic ex and even admitting to missing her—now that was a new low. was this his way of getting back at you? his way of making you hurt just like he had throughout your entire relationship? the thought alone leaves you feeling sick.

you decide you’ve already had enough social media for one morning so you decide to check your messages instead. your friends usually left a couple of them overnight. to your surprise, you find that your main group chat has accumulated 241 messages.

[10:48 am] you: good morning i see u guys have been vry chatty

[10:49 am] yeji: ur finally awake!

[10:50 am] yuna: we thought u died lol

[10:50 am] lia: YUNA

[10:50 am] lia: NO

[10:51 am] ryujin: the timing for that joke could not be worse

[10:52 am] yuna: humor is my coping mechanism leave me alone

[10:52 am] you: ??? what happened

[10:53 am] chaeryeong: we left msgs for a reason dummy read them!!

[10:53 am] you: umm there’s over 200 and im not abouta read all that

[10:54 am] yuna: well then lemme break it down

[10:54 am] yuna: the world is ending :)

[10:55 am] you: welp it was about time

[10:55 am] lia: why r u guys like this

[10:56 am] yeji: there’s been a covid-19 outbreak and it’s spreading like wildfire so the government issued a stay at home order :/

[10:57 am] you: omg WHAT

[10:57 am] ryujin: ikr it’s crazy we literally can’t go anywhere

[10:57 am] chaeryeong: and we can’t get boba today either ;( i was so looking forward to that

[10:58 am] ryujin: let’s pls take a moment of silence for all the current and future boba dates that will have to be cancelled

[10:59 am] yuna: no way am i gonna let some wannabe flu make me go boba-less i’m still going out >:(

[10:59 am] lia: ...ur joking right

[10:59 am] yeji: what color casket do u want yuna?

before the groupchat can distract you any further, you place your phone down on the table. you sit back in your chair and let the newly revealed information sink in.

you were stuck inside.

you sigh before standing to clean your dishes. as you’re scrubbing away at your bowl, you feel something brush against your leg. you smile, not even having to look down to know it was seol. the cat would often wander into your room or sleep next to you when you watched tv on the couch. in fact, you were pretty sure you spent more time with seol than his owner.

you gaze at jeno’s room. as always, the door is shut. you wonder if you should let him know what was happening. you two usually kept your distance but you figured that the circumstance you found yourself in was an exception. you quickly dry your hand and shuffle towards his room.

you knock once, quite softly. you assume he’s asleep so you try again, this time a little harder. still, no avail. the third time you put even more force into it. by this time, seol has found his way beside you and claws at the door.

“jeno?” you knock a fourth time. “jeno! lee jeno!”

after more shouting accompanied by incessant meowing, you hear some muffled movement. moments later the door knob twists open and there stands your roommate with disheveled hair and a robe that had obviously just been thrown on his body. seol has taken the open crack in the door as an invitation inside the bedroom.

jeno blinks a couple times as he watches the feline get himself comfortable on his bed. he turns back to you, looking slightly disoriented. you’re not sure if he’s half asleep or your sudden presence has thrown him for a loop. his voice comes out raspy when he asks, “was he, um, bothering you or something?”

you shake your head, vigorously. “that’s not why i came. it’s just that my friends told me that there’s been some kind of virus outbreak and we’re supposed to stay home. so, i thought i’d let you know.”

his face softens. “oh, cool.” suddenly, the look changes. “not the virus thing! that’s totally not cool. i meant, it’s cool that you let me know and stuff. you just saved me a huge freak out so, uh, thank you.”

you smile and nod. “no problem.”

jeno’s eyes linger as you retreat back into your room down the hall. the sound of his door shutting is heard only once you’re out of his eyesight.

2. he can cook better than you.

most of the time, you would go out to eat dinner with your friends in the evenings or at least stop by a drive thru. obviously, this was no longer possible in the midst of a pandemic. you found that to be incredibly frustrating as you sat on your bed, stomach empty. no matter how badly you wished to fix it, your laziness had gotten the best of you. apart from that, you already knew how unlucky you were when it came to cooking—the memory of burning noodles at lia’s house one night had been permanently seared into your brain.

you almost believe your mind is playing tricks on you when you catch a whiff of pasta in the air. for a moment you think it’s your next door neighbor, taeyong, cooking again. you knew he was quite the chef. but, the smell is getting stronger by the second and you decide it must be in your apartment.

you wander into the kitchen, only to find jeno standing over the stove. he’s stirring red sauce in a pot when he notices you watching him.

“oh, hey,” he greets with a polite wave.

you can only stare at the rest of the kitchen—pots, pans, and ingredients all over the place—in utter awe.

he chuckles, awkwardly. “yeah, sorry about the mess. i’ve been told i’m a decent cook but i can never seem to get the tidiness down.”

“no, it’s not that. this just all seems so... professional.” you sniff the air once more. “smells amazing, too.”

he smiles, sheepishly. “thanks. are you a fan of spaghetti?”

you nod.

“good. i wanted to make something you’d like.”

“you really didn’t have to,” you say, leaning against the fridge. “i mean, i’ve never done anything for you.”

he uncovers a pot to check on the pasta. you watch as hot steam rises out of it. “what about this morning?”

you can’t help but laugh. “that most certainly does not count. you’re making an entire meal. that takes a lot of effort.”

he waves a hand, dismissively. “i used to cook a lot with my old roommate, doyoung. the guy was an asian gordon ramsey, i swear. so, yeah, this is nothing too crazy. and i really do enjoy it.”

“well, i’m still gonna repay you.” you fold your arms.

he looks away from his dish to raise a brow. “is that so?”

you nod in confirmation. “definitely.”

“tell you what, if you wash the mountain of dishes that are gonna be left over, we’ll be even.”

you stare at the sink that’s already overflowing with dirty kitchen tools. that wasn’t even half of it. “uh, sure, sounds good.”

he laughs at hearing the uncertainty in your voice. “that’s the spirit.”

3. he’s allergic to cats.

the familiar sound of soft purring is what pulls you attention away from the movie playing on your laptop. already knowing exactly who it is, you launch yourself off your bed to allow your furry guest inside.

“hey seol. what’ve you been up to?”

the calico meows, almost as if he were responding to your question. you close your door and go back to your original position. you notice seol sitting directly in front of your bed, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“come on up.” you pat your sheets, invitingly.

he obeys and stretches before laying down beside you.

“have you ever watched ‘avengers’?” you ask, eyes going back to the explosive fight scene on the screen.

this time, seol doesn’t even bother humoring you with a meow. he stays silent with his head tucked into his paws.

you scratch his head and his tail wiggles. “i’ve gotta stop asking you questions.”

both you and seol’s heads snap towards the door when you hear a knock.

“come in!” you call out.

jeno swings open the door. his eyes briefly scan the room before landing on the furball on your bed. the unmistakable look of adoration shines in his eyes when he sees how lovingly you caress him.

“seol! what are you doing in here? bothering y/n?” the cat jumps off your bed and towards his owner standing in your doorway. jeno scoops him into his arms and faces you. “i’m so sorry. he saw me running a bath for him and bolted.”

“it’s all good. he’s a great movie buddy. besides, i could always use the company.”

jeno curiously glances at your computer screen. “is that ‘avengers’?”

“yep. i’ve seen it like a dozen times.”

“same here.“ he pauses. “hey, if you ever need a movie buddy—like you know, one that talks—just let me know.”

your face lights up. “i’m gonna hold you to that.”

”i hope so. well, if you’ll excuse me, i’ve gotta give this guy a bath.”

seol yowls as if he understands the meaning behind the words and attempts to escape jeno’s grip.

“here we go again,” he mumbles under his breath.

you snicker at the sight. “looks like you could use some help.”

“oh, no. it’s fine. he can just be a little bratty someti—seol!”

in the blink of an eye, the feline has successfully hopped out of his arms and made a run for it.

jeno gives you an exasperated look before rushing off to catch his runway pet. you find yourself caught up in the excitement so you follow him, the two of you now in pursuit of the calico. you’re sure the image of you both chasing the fluffy animal around the apartment looks like something straight out of a comedy. even you and jeno can’t contain your laughter when he finally catches seol only for him to slip out of his hold a second later. this exact situation repeats itself a couple times before you finally get lucky.

“i got him!” you screech. “jeno! oh my god! what do i do?”

“bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!” he chants in response.

you head in that direction with jeno trailing behind you, ready to catch seol if he somehow manages to get out of your death grip. you bend over the bathtub, slowly lowering the cat into the water. it’s clear he doesn’t have a problem with making a fuss as he wails and flails his limbs around.

after a while, he finally calms down enough that you can lather him in shampoo. jeno insists on scrubbing him, arguing that you had already done way too much. you sit back on your heels, observing the way the seol leans into his delicate touches.

“looks like he likes it now.”

“he likes to make a big deal but he ends up enjoying it every—“ jeno cuts himself off with a sneeze.

“tissue?” you offer.

he shakes his head. “that’s okay, thanks. i’m used to it. i’m just surprised my allergies haven’t acted up ‘til now.”

“allergies?” you echo.

“yeah, i’m allergic to—“ another sneeze. “cats.”

your eyes widen. “really? and you still have seol?”

“i could never get rid of him. he’s too good of a boy. isn’t—“ sneeze. “that right?” he tickles seol under his chin.

“wow. you must really love him.”

“so much.”

“he’s lucky to have you.”

“what about you? you get both of us. doesn’t that make you the luckiest?”

you snort. “i guess it does.”

4. he makes a good shopping buddy.

“i have officially cooked everything we have.”

“i can order some takeout, if you want?”

he juts his lower lip out and gives you puppy eyes. “but i like to cook for you.”

you laugh at his expression. “oh god, you look like that one pouty emoji people use when they try to be cute.”

he sits up. “did it work?”

you nod and pinch his cheek.

he yelps. “ah, stop! you’re acting like my grandma!” he manages to get out of your grasp. he rubs his face, soothing the spots you had squeezed. “seriously, though, we really do need to stock up on food.”

“i’ve already been looking into it.” you show him the screen of your phone. “says here you can still go shopping as long as you wear a mask and try to stay six feet away from other shoppers.”

he cringes. “i don’t know if i like the idea of being so close to so many people.”

“i can go by myself, then,” you suggest with a shrug.

he doesn’t hesitate to deny you. “no way are you going alone.” his possessive tone has you staring at him curiously so he adds, “you know, in case you can’t reach something on the top shelf.”

the teasing comment paired with his innocent smile makes you gasp in disbelief. “lee jeno! that’s low! and to think i almost thought you were worried about me.”

“who said i wasn’t?” he smiles at you again before standing up. “i’m going to find us some masks and then we can head out.”

once you arrive at your local grocery store, you find it to be packed. everyone seems to be in a hurry, grabbing things left and right.

“wow, it’s already gotten crazy,” jeno mumbles, stopping to stare at the flood of people that rush by.

you don’t hesitate to scold him. “well, don’t just stand there! we gotta get our stuff before there’s nothing left!”

without another word you slip into the frenzy of people. jeno struggles to stay behind you. after almost losing sight of you a couple times, he walks a little faster to catch up and places his arm firmly around your waist once he does. you look up at him, your mask covering your slightly agape mouth.

being the gentleman he is, he apologizes. “sorry but i don’t want us to get separated.”

you can only nod and mumble, “good idea.”

jeno pushes the shopping cart with his right hand and holds your figure with his left. once in a while, you’ll break apart from each other to grab an item you need but once it’s in the cart, he’ll make sure you end up in the same position. after an hour or so, you’ve grabbed enough and you decide it’s time to pay.

despite the mask she has on, you can tell the middle-aged woman behind the cash register has a big smile on her face once she catches sight of you and your roommate.

“well, just look at you two.” she sighs. “how cute.”

“oh.” you glance at her then jeno then her again. “oh, no. it’s not like that.”

you attempt to move yourself away from jeno only to find his grip to be so incredibly strong that you almost begin to think he’s trying to hold you in place. once you finally detach yourself from him, you begin loading your groceries onto the counter for the employee to scan. she does so, but not before giving you a displeased look.

“oh really? he holds you like that because you aren’t together?”

jeno assists her in placing the scanned items in bags. “i didn’t want to lose her.”

she pauses scanning a can of tuna to stare him down. “darling, that sounds like a line from a cheesy hallmark rom-com.”

you can’t help but chuckle. “what he means is that there’s a lot of people here and we didn’t want to get separated.”

jeno adds, “desperate times calls for desperate measures.”

the woman adjusts her glasses. “well, you do certainly seem desperate to have her close to you.”

jeno doesn’t say a word as he continues bagging but his smile reaches his eyes.

5. he works out.

why did the pandemic have to hit in the middle of summer?

you often asked yourself this, complaining about how inconvenient it was. especially on the days that made your apartment feel like it was on fire. the days that required a thin tank top and shorts. even then, you found yourself to be drenched in sweat.

you sprawled your arms and legs farther on the sofa, the leather material proving to be very uncomfortable. it was either that or your bed with the warm cotton sheets that stuck to your body. just thinking about it brings you discomfort. the only relief you could think of was a cold shower. you would have already taken one if jeno hadn’t been hogging the one bathroom in the apartment.

“jeno!” you yell.

silence; other than the sound of the water running.

“lee jeno!”

the water stops, temporarily for him to shout back an answer. “what?!”

you wipe at the sweat that has accumulated on the bridge of your nose. “hurry up! i’m melting!”

the water starts back up again and you groan. hoping to distract yourself, you pull out your phone. the group chat with your friends is surprisingly silent so you go to instagram for some entertainment. this time, your ex-boyfriend’s post isn’t the first thing you see. it takes you some scrolling but you do end up seeing another one of his pictures.

it’s simply two intertwined hands with a black and white filter. you identify the one on the left as his and although you aren’t as familiar with the one on the right, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it belongs to. contrary to the last, this photo has no cheesy words for a caption, just a red heart.

but, your stomach doesn’t drop. you don’t feel hurt, either. obviously, you still don’t enjoy seeing him just because of all the awful memories that came with it but other than that, you feel unaffected by the image.

in fact, you feel so confident in yourself that you block him.

you’re surprised you hadn’t done it sooner. you had known you didn’t need him in your life any longer so why keep in contact? you feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders when you press the red button that would keep him and his girlfriend out of your life. you knew with your whole heart that you didn’t need to see either of them.

before, a bit if you had felt the need to keep an eye on him. to see how he was handling the breakup and torture yourself with the fact that he didn’t seem to care. now, you could say you truly didn’t either. you didn’t need him or his stupid pictures. you had other, better things.

your friends.

your cat (yes, you considered seol to be yours).

your roommate.

you had to admit, jeno was the best thing on that list. quarantine had brought you and him significantly closer and you were over the moon about it. he was so wonderful that you kicked yourself for having lived with him for so long without ever really getting to know him. but it was easy to say you two were making up for lost time seeing as you spent every waking moment together. the record long showers jeno took being an exception, of course.

the moment the door to the bathroom opens, you rush into your room and quickly grab an oversized t-shirt and loose pajama pants to change into after your shower. you nearly drop them when you’re met with jeno’s soaking figure in the hallway.

his hair is damp and you can clearly see how long it had become. his skin looks healthy and moisturized, lotion among other skin care products had probably been applied. what really has you in a shock is the fact that the towel barely hangs below his waist. the droplets of water that fall from his hair and down his neck trail down his chest and toned torso towards the only area he has bothered to cover up. his bulky arms are also slightly wet, his veins popping noticeably. he shakes his head in an attempt to rid his hair of any water. then he runs his fingers through it, his muscles flexing ever so slightly as he does so.

“dude!” you exclaim, without a second thought. “you’re ripped!”

he smiles, his round cheeks growing at the unexpected praise. the way he could have such a rugged body but soft-featured face puzzled you to no extent. “thank you. i lift sometimes.”

“sometimes?” you repeat. “don’t be so humble! you’re basically hercules!”

he clicks his tongue. “ah, c’mon. i’m just an athletic person.”

you keep admiring his physique. “clearly.”

“oh god,” he groans, obviously flustered. “you’re looking at me like you’re gonna eat me or something.”

you hold yourself back from making a less than appropriate innuendo. “no comment.”

his eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “quarantine is really making you go crazy.”

you point a finger at him. “you try being stuck inside with your hot roommate!”

“trust me, y/n, i know all about hot roommates.”

you tilt your head, acting purposefully oblivious. “are you talking about doyoung?”

“what? no i—“ he sighs. “you know what, just take your shower.”

6. you can’t say no to him.

jeno ruffles his black locks with his hand and frowns.

you give him a disappointed look. “knock it off, you’re gonna get dandruff in your soup.”

he ignores your comment. “i look like a hobo.”

you pause, spoon halfway to your mouth. “this i know.”

“y/n, this is serious!”

“okay, okay. what’s the issue?”

“i already told you! i’m a bum!”

“you? a bum?” you pause to think about it. “i mean, mentally? maybe. but physically? no.”

“my hair, though. it’s so long.” he grabs a strand of it and pulls it to emphasize his point.

you shrug. “if having lots of hair is the standard for being a bum, i think most of the population is.”

“i want to cut it,” he announces.

“you should,” you say, pointing your spoon at him. “wanna know why? because if you mess up, no one will ever know. other than me, of course. but if you pay me enough i’ll let you forget it.”

he smiles at the joke for a moment before he leans forward and his face goes serious. “will you help me?”

“what? no way. i’ll mess up. and it’s only funny if you do it.”

he pouts. “please?”

you stir your soup around. “just watch some youtube videos. after three, you’re automatically a professional.”

“i want you.”

the statement has your neck snapping up from your bowl to him. the smug grin on his face lets you know that he was well aware of the double meaning behind his words. it was clear he was trying to fluster you enough to get a yes.

“you think you’re flirty enough to straight up brainwash me into doing stuff?”

“well, i wanted to say that to you anyway but... kind of?”

you feel a smile creep onto your lips at hearing the genuine tone in his voice. you down your last few spoonfuls of soup and quickly stand up. jeno looks up at you, eyes hopeful.

“finish your dinner. get the scissors. meet me in the bathroom.”

not even ten minutes later, jeno practically dances into the bathroom, a pair of red craft scissors in his hand. he sits on top of the toilet lid, figuring that’d be the easiest way for you to reach him. you walk in moments later.

“i’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be using these types of scissors for hair,” he mumbles as he hands you the sharp utensil.

you twirl them in your hand. “oh, definitely not. do you want to wait then?”

he shakes his head, his shaggy bangs swaying with the movement.

“alright, let’s get this going then.” you thread your hands through his thick locks to collect some of it in between two of your fingers. you bring the scissors forward and snip the small amount just to test the waters.

you slowly begin to get more comfortable and once you feel like you’re in your element, things begin to speed up. you move and cut faster but with efficiency. you do the spots on the back of his head and work your way forward. when it finally comes time to touch up his bangs, your small bathroom proves to be an inadequate spot to be doing this.

you end up standing balanced inches above jeno’s thighs that he’s pressed together tightly in an attempt to give you more room. you’re constantly readjusting your stance and when he notices, his hands go to your hips. you know he’s just trying to help you stay upright so you do a decent job but you still inhale sharply at the feeling of his hands on you.

not long after, you’re standing next to jeno as he inspects himself in the mirror. his fingers flick his newly shortened bangs around.

“not bad.” he tilts his head in a new angle and nods. “looks super good to me.”

you tuck the scissors into your back pocket with a relieved sigh. “oh thank god. i didn’t want to tell you before we started but i only watched two youtube tutorials on trimming hair.”

he runs a hand through his hair with a chuckle. “now that’s truly worthy of praise. and a tip.”

you raise a brow. “oh yeah? what’s th—“

he cuts you off by pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. he pulls back and drags his thumb over the skin that has come into contact with his lips. “thanks again.” with that, he leaves you standing in the bathroom, eyes wide and face warm.

7. he has six best friends.

“can i borrow your laptop?” asks jeno, from outside your door, nearly breathless.

you look up from your book. “uh yeah, sure.”

he rushes in your room and takes the item off of your dresser. “do you happen to have zoom on it?”

you shake your head and he groans. without another word, he disappears, running off into the living room. you hear his frustrated sighs as the minutes pass and he attempts to download the application. you finally decide to go check it out once it becomes too much to bear.

“it sounds like you’re in pain over here,” you comment.

he runs a hand through his hair. “i’m supposed to meet with my friends through a zoom call but it’s so complicated.”

you put a hand on your hip. “bet you five bucks i’ll be able to get it in five minutes.”

“are you kidding? i might be technologically challenged but i’m not stupid. i know you can do it fast, just help me out already, would you?”

“alright, grandpa.”

you type and click away at the screen, jeno watching you do so, entranced but equally as lost.

“well, i was wrong,” you say after a couple moments, leaning back in your chair.

“you couldn’t get it?” asks jeno, worriedly.

“no, it’s not that.” you click something on the screen and the app opens. “turns out i could do it in three.”

he rolls his eyes and shoos you out of the chair. he sits down and enters the code and password for the zoom meeting. it takes a minute, but he finally connects. you count six other people in the call. they all immediately cheer at seeing jeno and you hear them excitedly exclaim his name.

“hey guys,” he says, a smile already reaching his eyes. “it’s so good to see your faces.”

they all nod to agree. you get a good look at each one of them and realize they’re all boys. your eyes read over each of their display names.

mark me in ur heart

hyuckie~~~

moomin enthusiast

nananananana

chnele

lil huddy

“nice name, jeno,” ‘moomin enthusiast’ guy comments, snickering slightly. “glad to see you finally came to terms with it.”

‘jenojam’, his name reads. the rest of the group laughs, also teasing him about it. you assume it’s some kind of inside joke.

the self proclaimed ‘lil huddy’ furrows his eyebrows. “wait, did you choose that name yourself?”

jeno simply nods in response.

he glares into the camera. “donghyuck, you told me i had to put this as my name or else it wouldn’t let me connect!”

donghyuck—or ‘hyuckie~~~’, you presume—shrugs. “oops. guess i was wrong.”

you laugh at the humorous exchange. it seems like the sound has drawn some attention to you when ‘nananananana’ speaks up, eyes trained on you.

“um jeno? don’t you want to introduce your guest?”

jeno beams, dragging you closer into the frame. “i’m sure you all know about my roommate. say hi, y/n.”

you do so, waving and smiling politely at the group.

“you know, even though we used to always hang at jeno’s, i don’t think we’ve ever actually seen your face,” ‘chnele’ says, tilting his head.

you agree. “me neither. i’ve mostly just heard you guys.”

the ‘mark me in your heart’ boy sheepishly rubs his neck. “sorry. we tend to be a little loud.”

‘chnele’ lets out a high pitched screech of a laugh. “only a little?”

“i recognize that laugh!” you blurt. “i would hear it all the time!”

”that’s our little dolphin,” coos ‘hyuckie~~~’.

“oh god, stop. i hate that stupid nickname.”

“it’s well deserved.”

“i think you should apologize to y/n for being a nightmare to her eardrums.”

“and ours, for that matter.”

“what about all your little freestyles? i’ve had to sit through hundreds of them and i never got an apology!”

“because they’re not bad! could you do any better?”

“you’re a soundcloud rapper, i think anyone could.”

jeno turns to you as the bickering on screen gets louder and louder. “this is gonna be a long call.”

once the group has moved on from roasting the life out of each other, you’re able to engage in some good-natured conversation. jeno teaches you the names and the other basics about the group. some points that stand out about the group is that mark is the oldest, renjun specializes in contemporary dance, jaemin inhales six cups of coffee on the daily, and chenle is insanely rich.

“what about jeno?” you ask them. “anything i should know about him?”

“he’s allergic to cats but the idiot still adopted—“

“she already knows about that, renjun,” jeno chuckles.

“oh. well. that’s pretty much the only interesting thing about him.”

jisung pipes up. “oh wait! he works out religiously too!”

you and jeno share a look. you burst into laughter and he simply glances away, slightly embarrassed. “oh yeah, i know that all too well.”

“and what about the unhealthy cooking obsession?”

you nod at mark’s question. “that too. he cooks dinner almost every night around here.”

renjun purses his lips. “he already cooks for you? wow. he must really like you.”

“you think?” jaemin asks. “didn’t you read any of the messages in the group chat? he’s practically in love with her. his words, not mi—“

“okay! i think it’s time for us to go! bye guys!” jeno doesn’t even give you a chance to say your own goodbye before he’s clicking the ‘end call’ button in the bottom right corner.

you give him a confused look. “what was that all about?”

“they’re crazy.” he laughs. “well, if you need me i’ll be in my room screaming into my pillow for the next couple hours.” he dashes off leaving you standing alone, trying to comprehend what had happened.

8. he‘s a great listener.

jeno has officially replaced seol as your movie buddy, not that you have a problem with it. you thought it was nice to have someone you could actually converse with but of course, you make sure seol still sits in.

“what i’m saying is that iron man just wants to protect his team.”

“well, if they sign the accords, they basically surrender themselves to the government.”

“and?”

“you don’t see a problem with that? see, captain america knows what he’s doing. he’s literally an avenger—“

“so is iron man!”

“let me finish! so, he’s an avenger, right? he has the best judgment because he’s saved the world countless times. he knows how to operate his team and do the right thing.”

“okay but there’s casualties. and that’s what iron man is trying to fix.”

“how do you save the world and not have casualties?”

“you just—“ your phone rings mid argument and you raise your finger towards jeno. “this isn’t over.” you put the phone to your ear, not bothering to check the caller id. “hello?”

“sweetheart?”

you feel a chill go up your spine. was it him? no, it couldn’t be. you had blocked his number shortly after you did so on all your social media.

“baby, don’t be so shy. i know you’re there.”

you can’t hold back. “please don’t call me that.”

he chuckles, breathlessly. “oh, c’mon. you used to love it. you still do.”

“no, i don’t. actually, i don’t want to hear your stupid pet names or stupid voice or see any of your stupid posts. just go bother your girlfriend and leave me alone.”

you notice jeno perk up beside you out of the corner of your eye. he must have been caught off guard by your irritated tone.

as always, lucas is unaffected by you. “i’m being nice and giving you a second chance. i even called you behind soyeon’s back.”

“is that something i’m supposed to reward you for?” you scoff. “congratulations, you’re now awful, toxic, and a cheater.”

he growls. the sound was familiar. in your relationship, if you heard it you knew he was going to snap at you until he had the satisfaction of making you cry. “i know you miss me so don’t say things you’re going to regret later. because even when you’re back in my arms, i won’t let you forget it.”

the thought of being back with him made you feel icky. but the fact that he sincerely thought you would crawl back to him set your entire body on fire. “are you joking? i was always aware of the fact that you treated me like the dirt you walked on but do you seriously think that lowly of me?”

you’re rendered speechless and apparently, so is he because the other line stays silent.

“i wouldn’t go back to you if you were the last person on earth,” you spit. “you treated me horribly, wong yukhei. i won’t ever forget it. move on. i have.”

you glance at jeno, his expression more serious than you’ve ever seen it. his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are trained on your cellphone. the glare he gives the device is so strong you wouldn’t be surprised if even lucas could feel it, wherever he was.

you hang up and block the number, wishing to never talk to him again. you toss your phone onto the sofa with an exasperated sigh. you find jeno’s gaze to still be focused intensely on it.

“if you gave lucas that look, i’m pretty sure he’d cry.”

he breaks his concentration, eyes going to you instead. his entire face softens. “all i’m going to say is he better pray we never cross paths.”

“well, if you happen to, call me up. i wouldn’t mind helping you beat the crap out of him.”

jeno chuckles for a second then lowers his voice to a whisper. “he was really bad to you, huh?”

you nod. “he messed me up. i hate to admit it ‘cause i know i was stupid to stay with him for as long as i did.”

your roommate shakes his head. “don’t say that. it’s not your fault he messed up the best thing that would ever happen to him.”

“i thought i was the problem for so long, jeno. i was so blinded by love. then, i realized there was no way he truly cared for me when he treated me like i had no heart to be broken.”

jeno scoots towards you and rubs soothing circles into your arm. “you have such a big heart. and i can’t tell you how sorry i am that he took advantage of that. i’m sorry that you were stuck with someone so insecure and ignorant. please, don’t think about him anymore.”

you hold in your tears. you refused to cry over someone like lucas. “i know. i try so hard not to.”

jeno holds your head into his chest. his arms are placed securely on your back. “oh, baby.”

when jeno uses this pet name on you, it feels so completely different from lucas. you could tell me meant it. he wasn’t using it to make you stay a little longer, to assure you he loved you. strangely enough, you do not need to be convinced of that. you feel like you have known it for a long time.

9. he likes to be the big spoon.

you’re not sure how he’s done it but you end up falling asleep in jeno’s arms. you assume it had been so long since you had been cradled and rocked so delicately that the foreign yet extremely delightful sensation knocked you right out. even seol is deep in sleep, laying down peacefully at your feet.

you relish in the feeling of jeno pressed right into your back. he fits so perfectly against you that it reminds you of a puzzle piece. to be exact, the moment when you connect the last two pieces and the full picture becomes complete. that was how you felt—complete.

with jeno’s soft breaths tickling the back of your neck and his soft snores filling your ear, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. his arm that is wrapped around you makes sure you can’t escape his embrace. you are positive that even if you had the liberty of doing so, you would stay exactly where you were.

you lean farther back into your pillow, closing your eyes. you let every thought fade away as you try to fall back asleep as soon as possible. you wanted the moment you found yourself in to last as long as possible.

10. he has feelings for you.

jeno mumbles sweet nothings into your ear as he toys with your hair.

it just seemed right to him. like something he was meant to do with you. he had seen these types of things in films and shows before. it was intimate and touching, the scenes were always meant to tug at the audience’s heart strings and show how in love the two characters were. perhaps, even though you lay asleep in his arms, he wants you to finally know.

“honestly, being inside with you all the time is kind of the best. i know the whole virus situation is less than ideal but being able to spend so much time with you... that’s all i could ask for.” he pauses. “isn’t it so crazy how before this we were all weird and awkward around each other? well, i guess we still kind of are. that’s mostly my fault so... sorry. i just don’t know how to act around you sometimes. we’re barely getting close and i’m already this attached to you. as jisung would so kindly say, ‘i’m simping’.” he chuckles to himself. “all jokes aside, i really do like you. ever since you moved in here all cute and nervous, you’ve taken your own little place in my heart, as cheesy as it sounds. and these past few weeks, you just keep on taking up more and more room in there. not that i have a problem with it. i just...” he stops as if he doesn’t know how else to express his feelings. “really, really like you.”

“thanks.”

you feel him jolt then abruptly stop stroking your hair. there’s silence until he asks, “you don’t happen to be a sleep talker, do you?”

you shake your head.

“and did you hear like, a lot of what i said?”

“only the important stuff. like how awkward you are and how much you like me.”

“o-oh.”

“but don’t worry. it’s mutual.”

you feel his relieved breath hit the skin of your neck. “that’s the best thing i’ve heard all day.”

you tilt your head back and stare at him, confused. “what, did you seriously think i wasn’t into you?”

he shrugs. “i was too busy simping, i guess.”

you can’t contain your laughter at the use of the slang. “park jisung would not be proud.”

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p---ink · 4 years ago

Text

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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annihilate-this-week · 2 years ago

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“My friends are girls wrapped in boys.”

I bought Sonic Youth’s Bad Moon Rising on vinyl sometime in the mid 90s — I think in 1994 when I was working on the paint crew for Charlottesville City Schools between semesters. I got really obsessed with it, pretty much fell in love with every song. I wrote a whole piece about it a decade or so ago, which you can read HERE if you’re ok with the fact that it predates my transition and may reflect some poor understandings I had of myself and the world at the time.

Anyway.

One song from Bad Moon Rising that really stuck with me is “Society Is A Hole,” which is either the second or third song on side one depending on whether you really buy that “Intro” should be a separate track from “Brave Men Run” (I am a skeptic on this question). It starts with a tape loop of the locked groove that ends side four of Lou Reed’s experimental noise album Metal Machine Music. The loop runs throughout the song, rising and falling in volume depending on what else is going on. The whole thing has a particularly uncanny ambience that appealed to me. I remember walking down Richmond’s infamous Monument Avenue, decades before they took the statues down, in the middle of the night with “Society Is A Hole” blasting in my headphones, feeling like I was vibrating on its frequency.

Thurston Moore’s enigmatic lyrics might mean a lot of things, and I’m sure any interpretation I could give them would be different from his own. But there were lines in the song that leaped out at me, burned themselves into my brain forever, to the point where now I sort of hear them without really HEARING them, you know?

But so anyway. I’ve been reading Kim Gordon’s memoir, Girl In A Band, lately. It’s really good, and has led me to pull some of my old Sonic Youth records back out (by which I mean “find them on Apple Music and add them to my library,” what did you think I meant?). Since Bad Moon Rising is still my favorite Sonic Youth album ever, it’s gotten several plays this week.

And this morning, listening to it doing dishes, I suddenly heard that bolded line at the top of this post in a whole new way. It’s from “Society Is A Hole,” of course, and I always liked it, but my interpretation of it was vague. I don’t think I could have told you what it MEANT, really. Today, suddenly, it hit me like a thunderclap: this line is about closeted trans girls.

Well, OK, not to Thurston Moore, I’m sure. But I think that’s why it always stuck with me. On some level I identified with being a girl wrapped in boy, as if my birth-assigned gender was some restrictive foil wrapper enclosing me all my life, like one of those pieces of Easter chocolate with a picture of a bunny painted on the outside.

I don’t think I could really see how much this idea related to me, particularly at the time of my life when I first got Bad Moon Rising, until I pulled that wrapper off once and for all. Which is a very difficult thing to do, especially when society has everything invested in keeping you in there. But it is at least a nice thought, to think that on some subconscious level, I saw echoes of the truth of myself in the world long before I’d gotten to a place where I could admit it to myself.

#transgender #trans girl #living inside a trans body #sonic youth #bad moon rising #society is a hole

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meliorist-midoriya · 4 years ago

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chasing the sun

synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au

warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt!

important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

crossposted on Ao3

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden.

He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.

It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.

(Oh, what he would give to join them.)

Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.

He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Good morning—”

He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to.

That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.

A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.

Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.

The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.

“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”

He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward.

A minute passed…

Then another…

Then five…

Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.

(In his world, losing meant death.)

Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.

So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.

“You’re a new face in the palace.”

With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but).

“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”

Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly.

Two could play at this game.

Well, now, this was new.

Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.

“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.

“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”

You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.

“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?

You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.

Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past.

The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.

You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort.

Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life?

Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.

Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.

He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.

“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier.

“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”

Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.

“I’ll live for you, then.”

And with a smile, you fall in love.

(Keigo falls even harder.)

【 ☀︎ 】

He should have known.

“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”

He really should have known.

“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”

Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.

“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”

Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him.

(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)

The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.

How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.

(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)

The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.

“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.”

Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.

“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”

The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.

Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.) only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment.

More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.

I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—

“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”

Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.

“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”

Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.

“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”

The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.

(He was.)

“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”

Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.

“Done saying your prayers?”

Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt.

“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”

Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.

“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”

He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.

“Must you be so dark?”

“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”

The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.

I really… should’ve known…

“Keigo!”

Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.

“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in.

It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once—

No, for eternity.

The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens.

That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.

They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day.

But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.

“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.

“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.

“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”

“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance.

Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.

“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.”

Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.

“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”

“Harsh.”

The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town.

A sleepy, familiar town.

Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give.

They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.

“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.

There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.

“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.”

Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.

“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”

“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”

“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.

“God, her ginger candy was the best.”

“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.

“That was ages ago!”

“And you still react like a little boy!”

Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.

(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)

He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.

“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”

“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”

“Wonderful job of being annoying.”

Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.

“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”

“What?”

“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?”

Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.

“Not so little anymore, Granny.”

“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”

“Granny!”

“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.

“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”

Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.

“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”

The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.

“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”

The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar.

(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)

However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.

“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—”

The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other.

“...Keigo?”

Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”

His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.

“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.

“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”

“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”

“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.”

Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?

“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.

Probably both.

(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)

A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.

“...Did we just get kicked out?”

“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you.

Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.

Talk.

“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do.

Nice going there, Keigo, really.

“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”

You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?

For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.

“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.

“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt.

“What, so, we both had boring lives?”

Far from boring.

“...Yeah, I guess so.”

You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.”

“And how would you do that?”

“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”

“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”

“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, coming.”

Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.

(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)

For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.

He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.

“You still suck!”

“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”

You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape.

This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.

Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.

The joy he now knew was to be found in you.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”

“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”

And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?

“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.

“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.

Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?

“Lead the way, then.”

There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on.

He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—

The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.

“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Like you’d ask me first.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.

Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.

(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)

Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.

“Keigo?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.

“Will you come home?”

Home.

A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.

To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.

To him, “home” meant you.

So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.

“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”

He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer.

Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.

“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”

Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”

Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.

And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.

Dreamed, even.

What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.

He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.

(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)

Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.

One… two… three…

“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”

You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.

“—but don’t.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.

He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.

(Would it ever end?)

How long has it been since the first shot?

(Too long.)

Would he live to see the sunset?

(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)

The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death. What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.

Something like the will to survive.

The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.

Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—

The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building.

Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!

In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city.

Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right.

If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth.

He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.

“Hey, man.”

(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)

Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”

“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?”

“Shut up.”

“You know you don’t want me doing that.”

(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)

Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement.

Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—

“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”

Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.

“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.

“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”

“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”

Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.

“Ah—”

“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.”

Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.

“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”

“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.

“Just a couple more times.”

“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.

“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”

Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.

“I won’t.”

“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”

“...Just do it yourself.”

“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”

His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.

“Kei...go?”

【 ☀︎ 】

Waiting was agony.

You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you.

Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.

All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies.

If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.

Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.

(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)

Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?

Then, they came.

A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.

There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.

How many men did they lose?

(Too many.)

You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.

One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped.

And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.

Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.

It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.

It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.

It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.

Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.

Keigo would never get to go home.

He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms.

(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)

He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.

He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.

A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.

A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.

A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.

The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.

“Everything good with you, Professor?”

“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.”

Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was.

He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better.

He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.

The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.

(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)

All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.

At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.

With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load.

Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all?

No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox.

Hell, he expected them to.

What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?

Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message.

A schoolwide email? Okay, th—

The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.

“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”

“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you.

The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.

A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.

After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.

Will be missed…

Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he?

Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture).

All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.

The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Professor Takami had work to get done.

Keigo could mourn later.

Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind.

As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.

Did you go through this too? When he—

The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.

【 ☀︎ 】

When did I…?

He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise.

I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?

He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around.

“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”

“What…?”

“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”

Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.

“Three.”

Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.

It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.

Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.

He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.

Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.

Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.

His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.

“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”

He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront.

A flower shop, in this secluded side street?

“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.

“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.

Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.

“Uh—”

“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”

Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.

“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”

She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch.

Right on time.

【 ☀︎ 】

A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.

Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.

“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Keigo.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.

“One…”

I want to see you.

“Two…”

I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.

“Three—”

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.

It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.

“Y/N!”

The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.

The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.

He was home.

notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?

#takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha oneshot #hawks x reader angst #mha oneshot #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #reincarnation au #from the typewriter #pocuties #cw death #tw death #cw blood #tw blood #cw war #tw war #if you'd like me to add a warning please let me know!

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

could we see coops first big fight when they’re married? (essentially pure angst)

Yes, we can! Don’t worry, I got your follow-up ask about a happy ending as well--there are no sad endings on this blog, just some bittersweet ones, and this is very soft and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Combined with prompts for...

1. Another of Coops’ serious talks

2. Remus overworking himself to keep up

3. From @colored-rain: Sirius sleeping at Dumo’s for a night

4. Slow dancing in the kitchen

TW for couples fighting, suppression, and marriage issues

“Do you think we got married too fast?” a quiet voice asked in the darkness.

Remus paused for several heartbeats before opening his eyes and turning over; Sirius was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “What?”

“Do you think we got married too fast?” Sirius repeated without looking at him.

“Do you?” Remus countered. Something panicky was starting to buzz in the back of his brain and he tried to keep his breaths steady. Sirius wasn’t breaking up with him. They had only been married for a few months. Things were really, really good—as far as he knew, they were both happier than they had ever been.

Sirius sighed through his nose. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Remus sat up against the headboard, wide awake. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—” Sirius shifted to sit up as well and crossed his legs. “I don’t know! People usually date for a lot longer than a year and a half before getting married, right?”

“We’ve known each other for seven years, Sirius.”

“Yes, and I love you, and you’re wonderful, but everything happened so fast.”

Remus wasn’t sure if his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest or dissolve into a puddle of pain. “Are you—Sirius, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Sirius said immediately. “I just said I love you, what the hell?”

“People can love each other and still break up!”

Sirius grabbed his hands, holding tight even when Remus tried to pull back and let his panic overtake him. Grey eyes locked on his, as solemn as he had ever seen them. “I’m not breaking up with you, Remus.” The clock on the nightstand beeped midnight and Sirius pressed his lips together. “We have early practice.”

“We need to talk.”

“We need to sleep.”

“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow, then.” We need to talk right now, actually.

Sirius squeezed his hands and kissed his cheek. His cheek. “I promise.”

Remus didn’t sleep much that night. His cheek burned with the memory of Sirius’ lips.

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

Their morning routine was stilted and quiet. Practice was awkward, and though neither of them let the previous night’s events influence their performance, he knew the tension was palpable. “Y’all good?” Leo asked under his breath as Remus filled his waterbottle up.

“We’re fine,” he answered, exhausted.

“Loops—”

“Stay in your lane, Knut.” He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth—the kicked-puppy look on Leo’s face was more than enough to make guilt spike up—but he kept on moving down the hall and tried to wash the bitter taste from his mouth.

The ride home was worlds worse than he could have expected. Sirius turned the radio off the moment it started to play and kept his eyes firmly on the windshield the entire time, tapping his thumb against the wheel in the tic that always appeared when he was nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help us fix whatever’s going on.” Remus wasn’t angry, per say, but he was really fucking frustrated with Sirius’ sudden inability to communicate. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Sirius chewed the edge of his lip. “I was just thinking.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. “Wow, thank you for that incredibly helpful information,” Remus said sarcastically when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m not trying to be mean—”

“Well, you kind of were—”

“Then maybe you should talk about your problems for once!” Remus snapped before he could shove it back down. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “If we’re going to work through this, then you have to tell me what the hell happened to make you so worried and upset. Do you regret getting married to me?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. “Thank you, that was what I needed to hear.”

“Do you think we moved too fast?”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I used to. I don’t, anymore. There’s no rulebook for any of this. How long have you been thinking about that?”

Sirius started tapping the wheel again. “A couple weeks.”

He may as well have opened the passenger door and booted Remus from the car. A breath punched out of his lungs. “A couple weeks?” he whispered. The world was spinning, the floor was open, hell itself was coming to swallow him up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured it was normal marriage stuff. That it would pass.”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“And I do?” Remus said incredulously. “News flash: this is the first time I’ve ever been married, too!”

“Please don’t be angry.”

“Being married means you share things, Sirius, not keep them bottled up for two weeks! Especially when they concern the other person!”

Something stormy came over his face. “Oh, really? So when were you planning on talking to me about the fact that you haven’t slept in six days?”

“I literally sleep next to you!”

“You toss and turn all night, and then you get up and run drills for an hour before coming back to bed. Every time I ask how you slept, you lie to my face, Remus. That’s not okay.”

Remus was speechless. He had done everything he could think of to be quiet and careful so Sirius wouldn’t know. “I…”

Sirius glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Be an adult. Be an adult. You’re married. Be an adult. “I’m still worried about catching up to the team.”

“I figured. We’ve talked about this before, Re, it’s not safe for you to do that to yourself—”

“You don’t get it!” Sirius pulled into their driveway and turned the car off. “You have no idea how it feels to constantly be catching up to people! I’m fine, it’s not like I’m doing any damage!”

“I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Remus clenched his teeth and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat before slamming the door. He felt a little guilty—the rising memories of hushed confessions of hours of exercise to his father’s whistle meant Sirius understood better than anyone. Then the front door closed behind them both and the indignance on Sirius’ face sent his temper flaring up again. “You never bother to talk to me about anything that’s going on with you, so why should I even try?”

“What happened to ‘marriage is a partnership’?” Sirius followed him into the kitchen. “Have we moved on to the hypocrite stage yet or are we still clearing the air where nothing ever gets solved?”

Remus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Every time we fight, you start all sarcastic and defensive, and then you get preachy like you’re reading something out of a fucking self-help book!” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Remus, it feels like I’m talking to a therapist instead of my partner!”

“Husband!” The ring on his finger had always been a comfort instead of a lead weight. “You can’t even say it?”

“I don’t regret marrying you!

“Then why are you so upset about us being married young?!”

“Because it’ll fall apart!” Sirius shouted back. “We’re going to be insufferably happy for a while, and then somewhere along the line we’re going to hate each other, and then it’ll be cold looks when we pass and different beds and all our friends will have to pick sides because we can’t stand to be in the same room together!”

“If you’re so sure about that, then why are you trying to fucking hard to keep us together?” Remus’ heart pounded like he’d run a marathon. Hearing his own fears thrown in his face was the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

“Because I love you.” Sirius’ voice broke. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but Remus could see the pain on his face. “I love you, and I don’t want some—some impulsive decision to ruin that forever.”

“I love you, too.” Tears clogged the back of Remus’ throat. So stop pushing me away.

“Then I’ll be at Dumo’s.”

Remus nodded silently as Sirius walked past him toward the stairs; the moment he was out of sight, he headed into the downstairs bathroom and sat down with his back to the closed door, burying his face in his forearms. There was a rustle outside, and the front door closed with a click.

It wasn’t until his face itched with drying tears that he remembered Hattie. Guilt and panic stabbed through him and he scrambled back out, sprinting to her bed and then to the backyard. “Hattie?” he called, frantic with worry. “Hattie, c’mere!”

He closed his eyes and thought back to the events of the day. They had left her in the house for practice, and he vaguely remembered hearing her in the other room while they were fighting, and when Sirius left—

“Oh, you bastard,” he said aloud. The rustling of Sirius grabbing his duffel and whatever else he packed had been accompanied by the pattering of Hattie’s paws. “You took our fucking dog.”

Part of him was grateful that at least somebody had remembered their baby. The other part was absolutely furious. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a few deep breaths as the tone played. “Hello?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Re, are you okay?”

“Not really. Can you pick me up?”

Concern dripped from Lily’s voice. “Where are you?”

“At home.”

“…where’s Sirius?”

“At Dumo’s.”

“I’m on my way.”

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

Harry Potter had been alive for less than two years, and he had been cried on by about half the Lions. Finn had started referring to him as ‘therapy baby’, and Remus was inclined to agree—it was hard to feel anything extreme when he was holding the pudgy little angel to his chest.

“So you fought?” Lily asked gently from the armchair across from him. Remus nodded. The whole story had spilled out in a gross mess of sobbing and baby snuggles until he laid down on his back, holding Harry to his chest as he dozed.

“I feel like an idiot,” he said miserably.

“Don’t.”

“It was awful.”

“I bet.”

Remus sniffled and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Thank you for getting me. I didn’t want to be there alone.”

“I’m glad you called.” She took a sip of tea and gave him a look that he never liked. “Re, can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I was kind of waiting for this to happen.” At his stricken expression, she folded her hands around the sides of her mug. “I don’t think you got married too early, because neither of you do big things like that on impulse and you love each other so much. However, I do think that you have a habit of trying to protect each other from the shit you carry with you. James did the same thing to me, and it sucked.”

“It does suck,” Remus agreed. “I hate the thought that he can’t trust me.”

Lily held her finger up and shook her head. “Nope. It’s not an issue of trust, is it? Why didn’t you tell Sirius that you were having trouble sleeping?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry h—oh.” Harry wiggled around for a moment and Remus adjusted himself so he was leaning on the armrest. “I think I get it now.”

“You guys need to talk about that at some point or it’s going to keep coming up.”

“Is that what you and James did?”

“No, we let it fester for, like, a year and then broke up for two weeks.”

Remus made a sympathetic face. “I forgot about that part. I should call him, huh?”

Lily shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I want to apologize,” he said carefully. The sore spot in his heart and chest still twinged. “But I’m still really upset. And hurt. And a little angry? Mostly worried. There’s so much happening, I just want to hold your baby.”

“Go for it, he’s having a blast. Lover?”

There was a shuffling sound from the other room before James appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Remus snorted. “Simp.”

“Yes, and? What’s up, darling?”

“Can I have some more tea?” She batted her eyelashes at him with a dimpled smile and he sighed, then took her mug with him into the kitchen.

“You only love me for my kettle!” he called over his shoulder with a grin.

“Maybe!”

Remus turned his head to look at Lily while he ran a hand over Harry’s back. “Lils?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I preachy when I’m upset?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Preachy. Like—like I’m reading out of a self-help book.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked to the couch, leaning over the armrest to kiss his forehead. “No, Re, you’re not preachy. You like being right, but you’re not preachy.”

“Sirius thinks we’ll end up like his parents.”

“I’m not surprised about that, either.” She brushed his messy hair off his forehead and braided a small strand along the front, then gave it a little tug. “Guest bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it, okay?”

“That might be a while.”

She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “It won’t.”

“Could be.”

“Remus.”

“Sorry. Sleep well, Lils.” He sat up slightly and covered Harry’s ears. “And you, eavesdropper!”

“Love you!” James laughed from the other room. Lily picked the sleepy baby up and ushered Remus into the guest room with a final ‘goodnight’.

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

“Am I an idiot?” Sirius asked.

The bed creaked as Dumo readjusted his legs. “No, mon fils, you’re not an idiot. You are a young man going through his first marriage spat.”

“I hate it. I hate it. I said horrible things to him.”

“It sounds like you’re both to blame.”

“No, I brought it up first.” Dumo huffed, and he let out a slow exhale into the pillow. “Okay, maybe—maybe we were both in the wrong.”

“Fights are rarely one-sided. You have a visitor.”

Something cold prodded Sirius’ ear and he groaned, then curled on his side to let Hattie onto the covers next to him. “Bonjour, sweet girl. Thank you for the cuddles.”

She licked his nose and he smiled, petting the velvety top of her head. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was thinking about it. Re’s got the house to himself for a bit, then, and he knows I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re taking the time to calm down a bit,” Dumo said as he stood with a final ruffle of Sirius’ hair. “That’s a wise decision. Bonne nuit.”

Sirius mumbled a response and made more room for Hattie, then settled in for a restless night. He never wanted to sleep alone again.

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

By some miracle, practice was more bearable the second day. Remus still ached somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t like he had anything else left to suppress. Seeing Sirius was a relief; it surprised him at first, considering the explosive nature of the previous evening, before sliding into something that soothed him. If he could still find peace in Sirius after all that, they would be okay.

He knocked lightly on the side of Sirius’ stall after he returned from the shower. “Knock, knock. Ca—”

“Who’s there?”

Remus’ heart stuttered as Sirius looked up at him from the bench with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. Something clicked into place. “Can I get a ride?”

“ ‘course you can.” Sirius stood up just as Remus stepped forward, and they met in the middle for a tight hug. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ collarbone and breathed in his shower-fresh smell, as well as the trace of laundry detergent from his shirt.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Let’s go, mon loup.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his hair and they headed out toward the parking lot together; Remus caught Leo’s eye and saw him smile.

“How’s Dumo doing?” Remus asked as they turned out of the parking lot. Start slow, start easy. “Did you drop Hattie off at home before you came to practice?”

“Yeah, I did. He’s good, and Celeste sent me back with some brownies.”

Remus tentatively reached over and rested his hand on the side of Sirius’ thigh—his chest visibly caught before he relaxed into it and reached down to put his own overtop. “Harry’s doing well. Lily says he’s almost started running.”

“Did you go see them?”

“Stayed at their place last night.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It felt weird being there by myself.”

“Re—”

“I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, despite his best efforts to keep it in until they reached home. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, and especially for how I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, too. It should never have gotten to that point.”

“Apology accepted.” Sirius sounded a little choked up. “I don’t think we got married too soon, if that means anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Remus half-laughed as he wiped the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “It means everything.”

“I thought it might be too late.”

“Can you pull over for a second?” Sirius obliged, and as soon as he turned the car off, Remus turned to face him. He linked their hands, making sure Sirius was looking into his eyes. “It is never too late to talk to me, okay? I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it was.”

Sirius unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a brief kiss that sent bubbling warmth throughout Remus’ entire body. “I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. And for keeping everything in, even though we both promised to stop doing that. All that shit I said, it—it wasn’t true, Re, and I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus rested their foreheads together and wound his fingers in the short curls fanning Sirius’ face. “Honey, we’re not your parents.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “I know.”

“So you don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to hate each other out of the blue, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If—” His mouth went a little dry and he faltered. “If you want to take a break, or take things slower, I totally respect—”

“Nope, no, no, no,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for another fervent kiss. “I love you. I’m happy with you. I let my head get away from me, and I’m sorry.”

“All’s forgiven, love.” They sat in silence for a minute longer as Sirius traced his jawline. “Let’s go home.”

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

Sirius woke up in bed alone, which would have scared him if he didn’t know exactly where his husband was. He smiled to himself and got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie off their dresser before heading downstairs.

The kitchen light was on and music played quietly from Remus’ phone over the sound of running water. “You’re up late,” he said casually from the doorway.

Remus almost dropped a pot. “Jesus Christ!”

“Just me.” Sirius wrapped his arms around his waist as he set the pot on the drying rack. “Stressed?”

“A little. I forgot to do these earlier and didn’t want to leave them overnight again.” Sirius hummed his agreement and rocked back and forth, then took Remus’ hand and spun him in a slow circle. “Oh, are we slow dancing to the Billboard Top 100 now?”

“Very romantic, I know,” Sirius laughed.

Remus shook his head with a wide grin as they swayed, much too slow for the actual song but absolutely perfect. He was beautiful in the low light of their kitchen, puffy eyes from and all. “You are ridiculous.”

I’m the luckiest person alive. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sirius leaned down for a series of quick kisses, pulling him in until their chests pressed together. Remus let go of his hand and draped both arms over his shoulders, tangling his hands in his hair. “I know we can’t exactly control it,” Sirius said against his lips. “But let’s never fight like that again.”

“Deal.”

234 notes · View notes

ohmyasmodeus · 5 years ago

Text

𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ❖

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳 ; 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘵

✧ Sure, Lucifer is looking forward to appreciating art and the history behind each piece, but he finds himself much more excited to spend more time alone with you. History can be preserved, but every moment spent with you is simply irreplaceable; he ends up surprisingly spending more time gazing at you than admiring the artwork.

✧ You make him feel young again. In between displays, he sneaks kisses, mischievously pulling you away from the crowds just to hold you in his arms for a stolen moment. Lucifer adores the way you fall into his arms with soft laughter, and it makes him cradle your face between his gloved hands while he whispers about the way everyone looks at you like you’re a work of art.

“But do you?” You ask softly.

“I always do, ______.” Silhouetted by the gallery lights, he pulls you into a tender kiss full of emotion; a moment that no doubt belongs among the displays of beauty and immortality that surround you.

✧ Lucifer is the kind of person to actually read the little plaques beside the pieces that go into detail about the artist and the intentions behind their art. It takes a while for him to take it all in, but you don’t mind— it’s very cute to see him have to bend down and squint to read them.

✧ Your day hardly ends there. Even as he takes you home, he very much enjoys discussing your opinions on the works included in the gallery and the artists behind them. It’s Lucifer’s way of getting closer, trying to decipher how your mind works, how you view art pieces that are open to multiple interpretations. It’s his favourite part. He loves you and your brilliant mind.

♡ 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 ; 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 / 𝘢𝘳𝘵

✧ Your demon is the definition of a kinaesthetic learner. Mammon fits right in with the kids that run around the place, tugging on your hand as he begs you to come play these games with him! He never wants to do anything without you and you end up being basically dragged around the museum. But it’s okay because he’s cute!

✧ While surrounded by so many people, it’s even easier for him to get flustered about affection. His cheeks flush red whenever he thinks too hard about holding your hand, whether it’s to bring you somewhere, or just to hold your hand for the sake of it. The back of his fingers brush against yours, making you smile.

“Hm? What do you want to show me?” you ask as you take his hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

Mammon fidgets with his free hand before shoving it into his jacket pocket, looking away with a brilliant blush. His voice is quiet as he mumbles, “N-nothing, I just… wanted to hold your hand. Or whatever.”

✧ He’s much smarter than people like to give him credit for at times, and surprises you with bits of information he picks up that you couldn’t understand. At the same time, it’s hard to stop him from gushing about how cool it was to see that chunk of sodium explode when dropped in water and how he wants to watch that over and over again.

✧ Mammon runs wild in the gift shop, especially at those little archaeology or mining kits that let you dig through hunks of sand that claim to contain a piece of gold. Of course, there are a million things the both of you want to buy for yourselves, but so little money to do so with. He settles for something small in the end, because he wants to be able to buy something small for his brothers too.

♡ 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 ; 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

✧ From the beginning, Leviathan is absolutely fascinated. The calming atmosphere of the museum and being completely surrounded by his element makes Levi relax, even if he’d normally panic and try to hide from the people that walk along the exhibitions with you. But even then, you make sure to hold his hand just to reassure him a little more.

✧ Just like he rants about pretty much anything he has an interest in, Levi rants about the equipment on display and compares weapons or ships from different eras to each other, as if he’s talking about mere video game stats. It’s actually kind of hot to see him act like the Grand Admiral of hell’s navy is supposed to.

✧ Treat him like a Grand Admiral, actually. His brain totally short circuits when you lean into him and put a hand on his chest and gasp about how knowledgeable and strong he is.

“Oh captain, my captain!” you sing as you pepper his face in kisses, making him squirm in your arms. His face is beet red as he attempts to cover it with his hands.

“People are- they’re going to see us!” Levi whines.

You laugh and kiss him properly, arms wrapped around him tight. “That’s the point, baby! I like it when people know I’m yours.”

✧ He actually gets a little sad when he sees the bones of massive whales or the various preserved remains of sea life on display. They all feel like a part of him. At times, he feels like sea animals understand him much better than people do, and he has to give your hand a squeeze as the two of you through the section. At least he brightens up when you tell him that most of these specimens die a natural death or were cared for during their life.

♡ 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯 ; 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

✧ His choice of museum goes without explanation. Humans are frail creatures that are essentially doomed to make the same mistakes again and again, despite a new era or millennia, but Satan still finds their history remarkable. He’s fascinated with seeing the butterfly effect ripple through time, sparking wars and conflicts. It makes him wonder about the universe’s decisions— especially the ones that brought you to him.

✧ Satan has always been more fond of reading the ancient texts on display or translating archaic inscriptions on bronze age charms, but when he’s with you, he finds himself more drawn to the elegant gowns and elaborately crafted jewellery on display. You always find his emerald eyes lingering on you, imagining what you would look like in something so grand. Your beauty stuns him in every way, especially with the way you smile at him while framed by the display’s lights.

✧ “I thought you wanted to learn,” you mumble with a quiet laugh into the kiss that Satan pulls you into. The two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms in the back of a crowded amphitheatre, making an attempt to watch a historical film.

In the darkness, Satan’s blush goes unseen, but you feel it in the heat of his face as you kiss him back eagerly. “I’ve learned enough about humans, ______. I want to focus on my favourite one now.”

You close your eyes, and so does he. History couldn’t matter less, not when it feels like the two of you are the only beings to exist, the only people that matter.

✧ Despite wanting to learn, Satan finds himself getting dragged into shenanigans with you as you voice historical figures with the goofiest accents and clown around with some of the interactive props. He laughs along and snaps a million pictures of you to keep, and he supposes that humans aren’t the only ones that make recurring mistakes. After all, he lets you loosen him up and lets you force your way into his heart time and time again, but he still can’t force himself to complain about it.

♡ 𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘴 ; 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯

✧ Beauty in its different forms has always mesmerised Asmodeus. Museums have never been his thing, but with a fashion museum, you might just be able to change his mind. He goes between gushing about the textures and layering of different pieces to gushing about you and how amazing you look today!

✧ Asmo is always on top of the latest trends, but there’s something that always brings him back to the ostentatious allure of baroque and rococo dresses. He loves reading about the rise of these styles, but he would rather pull you along into a waltz as the quiet ambient music plays around you, the both of you giggling and referring to each other as ‘lord’ and ‘lady’.

✧ Or ‘your majesty’ and ‘my consort’...

✧ You, as always, expect him to pull you away somewhere quiet to make out and be general public nuisances, but Asmodeus surprises you this time. He’s far too busy taking pictures of you together and of just you alone, his amber gaze so soft as he contemplates your beauty. He ends up leaning in serenely as the two of you find yourselves alone together in a gallery.

“You’re gorgeous,” Asmo mumbles with a smile, delicately tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “There’s just something so magnetic about you, I can’t look away…”

“I don’t have to say it back because you know you’re handsome and your ego is big enough... but there’s nothing that can compare to how lovely your soul is.” You chuckle softly, resting a hand affectionately on the side of his face. Asmo rests his forehead against yours, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck with a delighted giggle, delighted in knowing that you see him beyond his superficialities and flaws.

✧ He buys you a set of jewellery from the gift shop, and not one of the cheap ones either. He splurges on one of the most expensive professionally made vintage sets because he really wants to daydream about you dancing with him in those rococo dresses, the most gorgeous royal couple in the world…

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘣 ; 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘵

✧ Delighted by the more colourful and almost bizarre applications of mixed-media art (think Yayoi Kusama), Beelzebub enjoys contemporary art the most. He’s easily fascinated with the elaborately abstract displays, and quietly wraps his arm around your waist as the two of you gawk at stunning larger-than-life works that probably get him a little hungry.

✧ He’s a respectful visitor and likes to stay silent so he doesn’t disturb the quiet atmosphere for everyone else appreciating the art. It ends up in him having to lean down and murmur softly in your ear when he has something to tell you, his warm arms pulling you into an embrace that you never want to leave.

✧ Workshops! Please bring Beel to the workshops because they’re his favourite part of museums. No matter how hungry he gets while putting in so much effort, he’ll sit still and work hard to make you something you can treasure.

“Do you like it?” he asks with a smile as he presents you with a little figurine version of one of the sculptures featured in the exhibition, hand painted by him. It’s easy to notice how the colours he picked out match your features. “It’s yours.”

“I love it, Beel! Oh, it’s wearing my coat and everything!” you gasp. The elated smile he gives you is absolutely priceless, and you can’t help but tiptoe to kiss him in thanks for his hard work.

Beel lets out a soft laugh and nuzzles his cheek into yours. “I really liked the art, but it felt like something was missing… Maybe the exhibition would’ve been a lot more beautiful if you were an art piece on display too.”

✧ Bringing him to a museum like that just might inspire him to create art by himself. After creating something for you, he feels hooked on it! You find him doodling a lot more on his homework and giving you the most endearing drawings of things you like, or his own hilarious renditions of what Lucifer looks like when he’s about to burst a blood vessel. Beel definitely has a hidden talent for caricatures.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳 ; 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

✧ Humans? Belphegor has had enough of them for a lifetime and can’t be bothered with learning more about them, but natural history is something that captivates him. There’s a kind of innocent wonder in his eye as you lead him around the exhibitions, marvelling at the displayed remains of the massive creatures that came before, wondering how they evolved into the tiny little animals of today. (But it’s probably also morbid curiosity with the way he looks at preserved carcasses and skeletons.)

✧ But you’re an exception to him. He's tired of humans but never of you, even if he jokes about it at times. Even if he knows about most of the things on display, Belphie is still asking you to tell him about them because he just loves hearing your voice. Coupled with the soothing silence of the museum, it almost puts him to sleep.

✧ “Don’t fall asleep! You paid to watch this!” you whisper when Belphie rests his head on your shoulder. You want to pay attention to the dinosaurs beating the shit out of each other in the surprisingly well-rendered 3D documentary, but you can’t help but gaze at your boyfriend instead, and the way he looks in those dumb 3D glasses.

“I won’t,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. “You’re warm.”

“You’re a little leech, you know that?” Despite your snarky tone, you lift up the partition between the theatre’s seats to let Belphie snuggle into you. Just like a leech, he’s immediately all over you with his arms wrapped tight around your waist, chuckling as he buries his face in your neck.

✧ You wouldn’t expect it, but he’s also the kind to go wild in the gift shop, albeit in more subtle ways— like staring really hard at something or carrying something only to put it down for you to get the hint. He ends up getting the both of you a big plushy to cuddle and name on the way home.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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