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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Batting Practice Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: All week long, you and Everett were enjoying some quality time with Bradley. The Tiny Eagles were still undefeated, and you were starting to think about how nice it would be if Bradley moved in with the two of you. But on Sunday, when Danny is supposed to be spending the day with Everett, you get an upsetting call.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst and swearing

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

The further your week progressed, the more loved up you were feeling. After practice on Monday, you watched Bradley carry Ev up to the parking lot on his shoulders while they sang Take Me Out to the Ballgame.

On Tuesday, Bradley came over for dinner. He helped you cook, and then he helped Everett do his homework while you lounged on the couch with a glass of wine.

On Wednesday, you and he had a quickie on the stairs after Everett was in bed. That was something you had never done before, but also something you definitely wanted to do again.

But on Thursday, a rare thunderstorm moved in, and Bob decided to cancel practice. "Want to come over and watch a movie instead?" you asked Bradley when he called.

He scoffed and asked, "Are the Phillies the best team in baseball?"

You laughed as you looked outside at the dark sky and pouring rain. "That's definitely a yes."

"That's a hell yes, Kitten. I'll be there soon."

When he arrived, Everett opened the door for him and said, "We're going to watch Toy Story!"

Bradley tousled Everett's hair and laughed as he removed his wet baseball cap and jacket. "How did you know that's my favorite movie?"

Everett's eyes went wide. "Is it really your favorite?"

"Top ten, easily," Bradley replied, and as he made his way into your living room, he pulled you in for a kiss. His mustache was wet from the rain, and you had to reel in your need for him in front of Everett.

"I'll make popcorn," you whispered, and when you returned with it, they were both already cozy on the couch.

"Ready?" Everett asked as he held up the remote.

"Yep," you replied, eating some popcorn before you passed it to Everett where he was perched between the two of you. And you had to laugh, because apparently Bradley hadn't been lying. He had most of Toy Story memorized, and the two of them kept quoting parts together and laughing.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Bradley asked, tossing some popcorn at you. "This movie came out when I was like eleven. I was obsessed with it."

"You are adorable," you replied, catching some of the popcorn in your mouth when he threw more at you.

He just sat there looking smug for a bit, and then when the part came on that always scared Everett, Bradley let him cuddle up against his side. "It's okay. The ending is happy," Bradley murmured, and you took the empty bowl so he could rub Everett's back.

"I know," he whispered. "But getting to the end is scary."

Bradley met your eyes, and you wanted to say something while Woody was about to get blown up by dynamite. But nothing seemed adequate. Everett was going to be spending the day with Danny on Sunday while you and Molly went wine tasting a few towns away. But you just had a feeling that Everett was going to come home upset or maybe even in tears, and it hurt your heart. But you didn't know what else to do. You just wished Danny cared about Everett even just a fraction of the amount that Bradley obviously did.

"Scary parts over," Bradley whispered, and you realized that Everett had been hiding his eyes. "Almost time for the happy ending."

"That's the best part," Everett said, once again vividly interested in the movie. He sat perched on the edge of the couch with rapt attention.

You swallowed your guilt down and let yourself enjoy the rest of the movie as Bradley's hand found yours along the couch.

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

Bradley carried Everett upstairs by his ankles, letting him dangle in the air while he absolutely screeched with delight. When Bradley set him down on his bed, Everett said, "That was so cool!"

"That was your reward for not getting too scared by the movie. And for helping your mom clean up all the popcorn we threw at her."

Everett laughed more before he stood to go brush his teeth. "Hey, Bradley?"

"Yeah, Kiddo?"

"I like it when you're at our house. Do you have a house?"

Bradley smiled and said, "No. I have an apartment. And it's not as good as your house, because your mom doesn't live there. And you don't live there."

Everett looked at him very seriously before he walked to the bathroom. "We have an extra bedroom. You should move in here. And you could bring the rest of your baseball cards and stuff with you."

Bradley pressed his lips together and tried not to laugh. "Something to consider, I guess."

Once Everett was in bed, Bradley went back downstairs where he had left you relaxing on the couch. "Come here, Coach," you said softly as you lifted up the end of the blanket for him. He slipped underneath it next to you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and straddled his hips. "I was just listening to the storm."

Bradley sighed and ran his hands along your thighs to your butt as you kissed his cheek and let your fingers sink into his hair. "Thanks for inviting me over for the movie."

"Well, Everett insisted. And I had no idea you were such a Toy Story fan," you said with a giggle that made him feel a little weak.

"I used to watch it with my mom all the time. She liked it, too," he whispered as your lips found his neck. "You're a good mom, Kitten." You paused and looked at him, and Bradley was suddenly trying to figure out what he did wrong.

"Everett is spending the day with his dad on Sunday."

Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Danny? He made Everett cry. That's all I can associate with him. The fact that he made Everett cry and he wasn't good to you."

You swallowed hard and hid your face against his shoulder. "Maybe I'm not a good mom. I keep trying to give him a chance, and he just doesn't seem to take it."

"Shhh," Bradley whispered, coaxing you to look at him with his fingers on your chin. "That's just because you care so much. You want Everett to have everything. Even if it's hard for you."

You sniffed and kissed him as you said, "I love you." Then Bradley carried you up to bed after you fell asleep.

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

The weather in San Diego was never bad for long, so Friday evening, you agreed to a date with Bradley. A date for the three of you.

"Somehow I ended up being the one left out here," you complained with a smile as Bradley held your hand and just shook his head at you. He had taken you and Everett to the flea market near the beach to look for baseball cards.

"If you stop whining, I'll buy you a three dollar burger, Kitten."

"Oh!" you said perking up and helping them look through the tables of cards. That damn burger had been delicious when he bought you one last time. "What am I looking for?"

"Phillies players," Bradley and Everett mumbled in unison, and your heart clenched. Then you pulled a card out of one of the boxes and held it up, and Bradley's eyes went wide.

"Don't set that one down," he said, kissing you hard on the lips. "I've been looking for that one."

After he had purchased a few cards, including a novelty Phanatic card for Everett, he took you both for burgers and fries. "It's getting a little late," Bradley said as he checked the time on his phone. "Think we have time for the batting cages?"

Everett gasped so loudly, and the smile on Bradley's face had your heart pounding. "Yeah," you replied. "I think we have time." Because now there was no way you could deny either of them.

Bradley took both of you back to the location of your date. That date that he insisted wasn't your first date but was instead your third date, because he counted the snack bar and park outing as real dates. Then he got you and Everett outfitted in helmets and helped you pick out bats. He took the care and time to teach Everett how everything worked, just like he had done for you.

"Safety first," Bradley said, kneeling in front of Everett. "Keep your helmet on, and don't stand directly in front of the machine. Got it?"

"Got it, Coach!" Everett nearly shouted, practically vibrating with excitement. And then you watched from the corner of the cage with amazement as Bradley started the machine. By the third pitch, Everett was hitting every ball, and some of them looked like they were hit well.

"Yes!" Bradley cheered. "Now move your right foot back a bit. Right there. Watch for the pitch."

He was good. Much better than you had been. And he only needed minimal help from Bradley. You watched your son hit dozens of pitches while you took some photos and videos. And when he turned to look at you while you were recording him, he looked absolutely delighted.

"You're up, Kitten," Bradley said, turning off the machine and reaching for you.

Everett came over and pushed you into place when you protested. "I'm not as good as the two of you!"

"You just have to practice," Bradley murmured, bending to kiss you before he handed you a bat. "Remember how to stand?''

"I think so," you replied, but his hands were already on your hips and waist, gently but firmly getting you into the proper position. He let them linger. You wanted to do this every Friday night. He squeezed you with both of his big hands, and then he turned the machine on.

You managed to hit a few of the pitches while Everett cheered for you. "Mommy! You're good!"

"Thanks, Ev," you said with a laugh. But after a dozen pitches, you said, "Come on, Coach, show us how it's done."

"Yeah! Please, Coach?"

With a soft groan, Bradley took your bat from your hands and kissed your cheek. And when you stood in the corner with Everett, you realized that this was the first time your son ever got to see Bradley batting. And it was just as impressive as the last time you were here. With the speed set to high, Bradley hit every single pitch like a pro. Dozens of pitches flew up into the mesh, but they looked like home runs to you.

You couldn't take your eyes off him, and neither could Everett. He stood in front of you with your hands on his shoulders, completely transfixed. "Wow," Everett muttered.

"He's good," you whispered as Bradley nailed another hard pitch with ease. When he turned the machine off, both of you were still gaping at him. "You better play in that summer league, Bradley."

His smile as he swung the bat over his shoulder made your insides melt.

"You have to!" Everett said, jumping up and down. "And you can pitch and Coach Bob can play in the outfield. And Mommy and I can watch and we can keep your stats if you teach us how."

When Bradley responded to your son by putting his hand gently on Everett's shoulder and guiding him out of the chainlink cage, you were prepared to beg him to play in the summer league. But then he said, "I already sent in my application, Kiddo."

"Why didn't you tell us?" you asked as he held the gate open for you.

"I haven't been selected yet. But I think they'll call me to try out."

"They'll pick you! They have to!" Everett insisted. And you could picture it so clearly: sitting on the bleachers at the Navy ballpark, you and Ev wearing matching Bradshaw shirts with Molly in a Floyd shirt. Instead of feeling embarrassed, you just wanted that more and more.

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

"I think he's asleep," you mumbled against Bradley's lips, grinding down on his thigh on the couch. Bradley had collected you into his lap to talk after Everett was in bed, but he wasn't mad about where you decided to take things instead. "But we should go out to your Bronco just in case."

Without a word, Bradley hauled you to your feet and practically dragged you out to your driveway in the darkness. "You can get a little loud out here, Kitten." He opened the back door and helped you climb in, and you were peeling your shirt off before he even had the door closed behind him. "Up here," he coaxed, rubbing his thigh, and you were on him immediately.

"You should sleep over tonight," you groaned as Bradley tossed your bra across the seat and put his mouth on your tits.

"Mmhmm," he hummed against you. "Just need to leave early before the game to go get my stuff."

"Would be easier if your stuff was here."

He paused, popping your nipple out of his mouth, but you were already so far gone, you were guiding his mouth back into place. He got you completely naked while he stayed mostly clothed, and you rode his dick nice and slow. You put on a real show for him, your hands touching yourself everywhere as your eyes went hazy.

"You're so fucking pretty," he growled when your fingers dug into his hair as you rode out your orgam with your head tipped back. "Jesus, Kitten." He sucked on your tits until your cries quieted, and then he stretched you out on the seat with your back against the soft leather.

You pulled him down for more kisses while he fucked you into the seat. When he came, it was to your voice softly telling him that you loved him. His fingers tangled up in your necklace chain as you pulled his sweaty forehead against your shoulder. "I love you, Bradley."

He kissed your collarbone and let his hand settle against your belly. "I love you. And I love your son." You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tight.

When he finally got you clothed enough for you to walk back inside, Bradley set an early alarm on his phone and then took you up to your bedroom. While you got changed, he checked on Everett, lingering in the doorway while his tiny body rose and fell with each breath. Today was another perfect day.

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

After the game on Saturday, the whole team was buzzing. "One more game to go, and still undefeated!" Everett said as he hugged you afterwards. He and Piper had both scored in the last inning to win the game for the Tiny Eagles, and now you almost lost your voice from cheering.

"Her kid does well, because the coaches give her special treatment," Sandra said. But you just ignored it because not only was Everett a better player than Henry, but you were actually dating Bradley now. You didn't want to start a fuss.

When Bradley and Bob were finished talking to the other team's coaches, they both came over. "I was hoping Mo would be here today," Bob told you, still glancing up at the parking lot.

"Mo?" you asked, gaping at Bob. "That's the cutest thing I have ever heard! I think Mo stayed to work some overtime this morning."

Bob blushed a deep pink while Bradley chased Everett to try to get his clipboard back. They ran around the bleachers laughing while Bob said, "I'm going to ask her to move in with me, even though it's moving really fast. But I think she's going to say no, because of her work hours."

"There's no harm in asking," you replied, making a mental note to tell Molly she better move in with Bob or else.

He looked at the ground. "We haven't really talked about that kind of stuff yet or my deployments. Do you think... If I get deployed for six months, is she going to break up with me?"

You burst out laughing so hard, he looked like he was going to cry. Meanwhile your little sister had asked you the other day if you thought Molly Floyd sounded cute. And when you told her it sounded adorable, she said she really wanted her initials to be MF which made you both giggle.

You managed to reel in your laughter. "No, Bob. I don't think she would break up with you, even if you were gone for a year." You patted his cheek gently, and he finally looked like he believed you.

"You're too fast, Ev," Bradley called, chasing after him and panting. "Shit, I'm actually worn out. That kid is fast as hell."

"He needs to play real ball next year," said Bob as the flushed pink color started to fade from his cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm gonna work with him this summer," replied Bradley nonchalantly as Everett finally ran back over with his clipboard. And the casual way with which Bradley talked about the future made you smile.

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

"I don't want to go!"

Everett was practically in tears the next morning when you packed up some snacks and his ipad in his backpack. And honestly, you were barely holding back your own tears.

"It's just for the day, Ev. And your dad is excited to see you!"

"No, he's not," he whispered, kicking his shoes across the living room and running back upstairs.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the feeling of panic rose inside you. But you were doing the right thing, weren't you? Spending time with his dad should have been beneficial to everyone. You just needed Danny to get used to this or alternately pay child support. And since there was no way he was going to be paying you anything, this would just have to do. He'd come around after a while. Maybe you'd even eventually work up to some sleepovers for Everett.

"Ev, Sweetie, I'll be back around dinner time. I promise," you called. And a second later, his head poked around the wall at the top of the stairs.

"You better," he whispered and stormed down the stairs with a scowl on his face.

When you got him in your car, he was silent for the entire drive across town to Mission Beach and Danny's townhouse. For someone who couldn't pay child support, his neighborhood was a lot nicer than yours. You sighed and looked at Everett in your rearview mirror after you parked, and he was still scowling.

"You can play on your ipad," you reminded him. "And maybe your dad will let you use some of his paints like last time."

"That was months ago," Everett mumbled. "And he got mad when I spilled some on the kitchen counter."

You pressed your lips together and thought about calling your sister to cancel the outing and going back home instead. But then Danny opened his front door and looked at you expectantly.

"Okay, there he is," you said brightly, and when you walked Everett up the sidewalk, you felt a little better.

"Hi," you called out to Danny as he opened the door wider for Everett to slink past him.

"What time will you be back?" he asked, not bothering to greet either one of you.

You just shook your head and swallowed your guilt. "Around five."

He gave you a severely annoyed look and then mumbled goodbye as you called out, "Have fun, Ev!" And then the door was closed and you walked slowly back to your car.

When you picked up Molly, she rambled on about Bob and work, and you were thankful that you didn't have to say much. The wine tasting was a treat from Bob, and since he wasn't a big drinker, he told Molly to take you.

"He's such a sweetheart, Mo," you said with a chuckle.

"He's not always sweet in bed," she replied, looking out her window with a smile.

"Oh my God, Molly," you said, smacking her arm as you headed out of the city and toward the vineyard. "Please don't elaborate. I like being able to look him in the eye."

"All I'm saying is Coach Cute Glasses has got moves. And a bit of a dirty mouth."

"Please stop," you mumbled, seriously ready to blast the radio if she kept going.

"Okay, fine. I'll stop. But just know, he's so much bigger than Casey was."

"Molly!" you screeched as she cackled. When you threatened to leave her on the side of the road, she finally changed the subject to Everett's birthday and the Padres game. And she asked you how things were going with Bradley, and you thought about mentioning the backseat sex as revenge for being told too much about Bob, but you didn't. And then you had reached the vineyard.

After a tour, the two of you tasted every wine that was offered, and then you argued for a long time while you put them in order of favorite to least favorite.

"This red one was disgusting," Molly told you, moving one that you liked to last place. "You have questionable taste."

"No, I don't!" you complained.

"Two words: Danny. Frank." She kept rearranging the wines in her preferred order while you scoffed.

"Thank you for not grouping Bradley with them."

"No. He's alright now," she said, sounding more impressed. "God, he was dumb for a bit there, but he sorted himself out. And it was fun to make him sweat about losing you and Ev."

"Fun?" you asked. "That was not fun."

She shrugged and ordered two sangrias. "It was kind of fun for me," she said apologetically. "Plus it let me know he really cares about you."

"I might ask him to move in with me and Ev soon," you blurted out. And now you were thinking about what Bob told you. And you started rambling about something that happened at work, and you realized you'd already had a lot to drink.

"Let's order food," Molly suggested. And you sat outside in the sun with your sangrias and your lunch and got very tipsy.

Molly took about a million selfies of the two of you, and when you saw one that actually looked cute, you said, "Send me that one. I want to text it to Bradley."

She rolled her eyes. "Who do you think I've been texting them to this whole time?"

"Bob?" you replied as your waiter dropped off more drinks.

"And Bradley," she said with a smirk. You took her phone from her hand and looked at the thread she had with him.

"Oh my goodness," you whispered. She had sent your boyfriend about a dozen photos of you in varying degrees of ridiculousness. "What is wrong with you?"

"Look what he said!" Molly urged, moving her phone closer to your face.

Your sister is gorgeous.

I miss her, do you know what time you're heading back?

Everett looks so much like her, what a lucky kid.

You handed the phone back to her and pretended to melt off of your chair while she laughed. "You're drunk!" she accused.

"Yeah, so what?" you asked as you laughed at her.

"I love it!" she chanted. "You never do this kind of stuff with me!"

You groaned. "Gotta always be alert for Ev," you mumbled, checking the time on your phone. You'd have to wait a bit before you could drive.

"I didn't mean it like that," Molly said. "But if Bradley moves in with you, he'd be around so we could go do fun stuff like this."

"That's true," you told her as you stared up at the passing clouds. Then your phone rang and when you reached for it, your heart sank.

You accepted the facetime call from Everett's ipad. "Ev?"

"Mommy?"

"Yeah! I'm here. Are you having fun?" Molly helped you block the afternoon sun so you could see the screen more clearly. And then you saw his face. "What's wrong?"

He looked to his right and then turned back toward the screen, his sweet little forehead scrunched with worry. "Are you coming to get me soon?"

You could feel the wine coursing through your body, and now you wanted to throw up. "Pretty soon. Is something wrong, Everett?"

"I don't know."

"Where is your dad?" you asked him, scooting to the edge of your seat.

"In his room with Tori."

Your eyes went wide. "Who is Tori?" you asked at the same time as Molly.

Everett kind of shrugged. "She got here a little while ago. She said she was his girlfriend."

"What the fuck?" Molly muttered, reaching for her water glass, and then she immediately started drinking. You were too drunk to drive, and so was she. And you weren't even in the city anyway.

"Are you okay, Ev? Can you sit on the couch and play more games? The charger should be in your backpack if you need it."

But he still looked nervous.

"Just tell me what's wrong," you prompted as your heart pounded.

"Well, it smells weird in here now. It smells gross."

You froze and looked at Molly who looked like she was going to rage. Danny was smoking pot with his presumably barely legal girlfriend while he was supposed to be spending the day with his son. Now you really were going to throw up as you stood and walked out toward the vineyard, afraid you were going to have a panic attack.

"Just sit on the couch, okay? I'll come get you as soon as I can." But that would be hours from now. Your hands started to shake as Molly ran up behind you with two glasses of water.

"I just paid for everything, but we need to sober up," she said.

You took one glass from her and sobbed as you asked for her phone. "Here, talk to Ev, okay?"

She nodded and traded phones with you and started to ask her nephew a series of riddles. When you called Bradley from Molly's phone, he answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Molly. You two having fun?"

"Bradley!"

"Kitten? What's wrong?"

You took a deep breath to keep from crying. "I need your help."

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If Everett cries again, so help me..... Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 20

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depressedhatakekakashi · 5 months ago

Text

A Story Book Scene

Words: 4008

Pairing: Kakagai

Prompt: Rain

A beautiful piece of art drawn by @jventureart to start this fic off. Can you guess what’s going to happen? If you read through the whole thing you’ll also find a second, secret picture at the bottom (that will probably make you laugh your butt iff XD)

“Take the night off. Relax, work on an essay if you really feel the need to do something. Just don’t worry about the shop tonight.”

For the first time in four months, Gai didn’t have to go into work on a Monday night. It was a strange feeling that came with a sudden day off. A mixture of excitement at the prospects of what he could do with this new found time off, and a hint of annoyance.

“You couldn’t save it for one day?” he asked, his eyes focused on the dark sky above as rain drummed against the classroom window. “A storm on a Tuesday is so much better. There’s nothing to miss on a Tuesday.”

Monday, though, was his favorite day to work. Not because of the calming quiet that filled the little bookstore only to be interrupted by a single customer every hour, or because he knew he’d be able to go to the café next door on his way in and pick up a cup of apple cider to keep him war.

It was his favorite day because it was the day he came in.

The one day a week when Gai got to see the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes upon.

“Work on my essay,” a flash of lightning lit up the sky just as he spoke, engulfing the school grounds in light for just a second before disappearing. “How am I supposed to work on my essay when I don’t even get to see him?”

It was a silly concern of course. There were more important questions he should have been asking himself. Like how he was even going to get home in such a terrible storm when it seemed like everything in the village was shutting down.

Yet, he couldn’t help but dwell on it.

Kakashi’s visits to the bookshop every Monday were the highlight of his week. The one thing he looked forward to above all other things in his week. It had even taken the top spot of ‘favorite weekly occurrences’ from his father’s weekly visits to his tiny apartment for dinner.

Losing such an important event in his week was going to make his week even more difficult to trudge through than normal. He’d still do it, of course, but it would take more effort than usual.

“Alright,” dragging his eyes away from the window he closed his notebook and reached down to grab his backpack. “Can’t hang around too long. Ningame’s probably having a terrible time at home having to listen to this storm.”

Shoving all of his things into the backpack, he stood up from his seat and stuck his arms through the straps and waited for the familiar weight to settle against his back before heading for the door. The walk home was only ten minutes, but it was ten minutes in which he would be faced with a complete downpour.

Weather so terrible that it was almost guaranteed to ruin his clothes, his bag, and everything inside of it.

“I’ll just have to carry it in my arms.” a smile tugged at his lips as he thought it over. Anyone who saw him running through the rain with his bag clutched against his chest was sure to laugh at him, but he didn’t care. All of his notes from the last week of classes were in that bag, and his mid term was coming up.

He couldn’t risk losing anything.

Stepping out into the hallway he watched as it lit up with a blinding flash of light, followed closely by the sound of thunder crashing through the air.

“I’ll run,” pushing forward, he headed for the nearest exit he could remember. “A ten minute walk turned into a five minute run. three minutes if I really push myself. It’ll be no time at all before I’m back home with Ningame.”

The house he was renting with Genma and Ebisu was just outside the University grounds, and lucky for Gai all of his classes were in the building closest to the house. He didn’t need to deal with crossing the giant field in the center of the school to get home.

Stopping in front of the door he slipped his backpack off and wrapped his arms around it, holding it tight against his chest. “Ok,” he took a deep breath and braced himself. “It’s just a bit of water, Gai. It can’t hurt you.”

As if challenging his words, the sky lit up with lightning once more. A beautiful display of power that no human could ever hope to take on.

Using his shoulder to push the door open, he stepped outside and was greeted by the torrential downpour of rain that had caused every business in the town to close down for the day. Without hesitation he broke into a run, his back held tightly against his chest and the sound of thunder cracking pushing him to run faster than he had ever run before.

Fumbling with his keys, Gai listened to the rain assaulting the patio roof just above his head. The run home had proved to be more difficult than he’d anticipated, with the wind blowing against him every step of the way and rain soaking into his clothes weighing him down.

Just as he found the key he was looking for the door knob began to turn and the door swung open, revealing Genma standing on the other side in his favorite yellow PJ pants and the shirt Gai had gotten him for his last birthday that said “How do you give a ninja directions? Across the top and “Don’t worry, he’ll find you!” At the bottom with a cartoon ninja in the center.

“You look like you’ve had a good time,” he smirked. “What’s the password?”

“Genma’s a loser?”

“No, that was last weeks password,” he sighed.

Gai frowned. “the password changes on Tuesdays.”

“Usually, yes,” his friend confirmed. “But I got inspiration for a new password today.” Sighing, Gai crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his friend to fill him in. “What, you’re not even going to try?”

“I’m soaked, Genma,” he whined. “I want to change and cuddle up to Ningame and you’re in my way. Tell me the password.”

Rolling his eyes, Genma stepped off to the side and waved to the inside of the house. Not willing to miss his opportunity, Gai bent down to grab his bag and stepped forward into the comfortable warmth of the house. “It’s ‘weirdo in the rain’ by the way.”

Gai was mid step when Genma spoke, and for some reason he stopped. He wasn’t sure why, but he was certain he’d heard something strange in the way Genma had told him this weeks new password. It hadn’t come out in the same joking tone he always had when he informed Gai and Ebisu of the new password, but instead was spoken with what sounded like amusement.

“Weirdo in the rain?” he asked, frowning when Genma nodded his head. “What kind of password is that? Why would you- wait…” Genma’s words repeated in his mind. “You said you got inspiration for this password?”

“I did,” Genma confirmed. “And not just because the last one Ebisu chose was boring.”

“It was not!” Ebisu called out from the kitchen.

“Anyways,” waving Gai in, Genma sighed when he was met with a firm look. “I was on my way home just as the storm was starting up and I saw some weirdo standing in the middle of the field staring up at the sky.”

Stepping out of the kitchen, Ebisu made his way to Genma’s side and elbowed him in the side. “Not just any weirdo,” he insisted. “It was Gai’s weirdo, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know that for sure!” Genma argued, returning Ebisu’s jab with a solid punch to their friends arm.

Glancing between the two, Gai felt the frown on his face deepening. “What do you mean ‘my weirdo’?” he asked.

“You know the one,” Ebisu insisted while he rubbed the area of his arm Genma had assaulted. “That guy you never shut up about. He has silver hair and a scar on his eye.”

“I wasn’t close enough to see a scar,” Genma clarified. “but he did have spiky silver hair and there was a pug sitting on his shoulder, and you said the guy who visits your bookstore always has a pug with him.”

Realizing just who they were talking about, Gai dropped his bag beside the shoe rack, snatched up the dripping wet umbrella that one of his roommates had left propped up against the shoe rack, turned on his heel, and headed right back out the door,

“Hey!” Ebisu called after him. “Gai, where are you going!?”

“To make sure he’s not still standing outside in this weather!” He called back as he headed straight back toward the school.

The umbrella he’d stolen did little to stop the rain from assaulting him. With every step he took, Gai could feel the wet fabric of his clothing rubbing uncomfortably against his skin. Still, he kept walking.

Continued to push forward, ignoring every complaint running through his mind.

When he reached the edge of the large field in the center of the school he peered out through the rain in search of a familiar figure. Only two seconds after beginning his search he spotted it.

A tall figure with a small lump on his left shoulder standing to the left of the field, just a few steps away from the University Library. So close to the warmth of the library, safe from the onslaught of rain. Yet, as Gai watched him he made no movements.

He simply stood there allowing the rain to fall upon him.

“You’ve really done it now, Gai,” he sighed as he began the long walk toward that lone figure. “You had to choose that one, huh? The guy who stands outside in a storm just waiting to get sick? That’s the one you want?”

Yes.

The answer came almost immediately, from somewhere deep inside of his soul. It wasn’t a response crafted by his brain where his options were well thought out and carefully selected. No, it was a desire. An answer that came straight from his heart and overrode any sense of logic.

‘This one’ it reminded him as he came closer to the other man, that spiky silver hair he had admired since the first day they met finally visible in the darkness of the storm. ‘who else would I choose?’

Shaking his head Gai chuckled.

A few months ago he’d dared to ask himself why it was his heart had chosen Kakashi. What it was about the man that he stood out to him above all others, and he had been unable to come up with an answer.

No matter how much he dwelled on it, how much he tried to find an exact reason to his feelings, he’d been unable to.

There was no logic to his feelings, and he couldn’t help but think that it was perfect.

Whatever it was he felt for Kakashi, it couldn’t be argued for or against. It simply was.

Kakashi was the person who had gone and stolen his heart, and not even seeing the man standing outside in the rain had done even the smallest amount of damage to that affection he felt.

“You…” he came to a stop at Kakashi’s side and moved the umbrella so that it was now hovering over his head, doing as much to block out the rain as it had done for Gai on his journey here. “Are ridiculous, you know that?”

Turning his head, Kakashi stared at Gai with dark black eyes, a sparkle of excitement shinning when he saw just who it was now standing at his side. Now that he was closer Gai could see just how much damage the rain had done, and it was a much more beautiful sight than he had prepared himself for. Kakashi’s usual spiky hair was plastered against his forehead, and there was rain soaked into the cloth mask that he always wore. A normal person would worry even more about Kakashi’s health just looking at him.

Gai wasn’t normal, though. He knew he should be concerned with Kakashi’s health, but all he could think about as he stared at the soaking wet man in front of him was just how handsome he was.

How his eyes seemed to light up when lightning came crashing down from the sky, or how calmly he moved as he took a step back so that the umbrella Gai had placed over his head was no longer blocking the rain at all.

“I’ve been told,” he confirmed with a cheerful note in his voice. “Not that you have much right to speak. You’re out here too.”

“I’m out here because someone has to make sure you don’t get sick.” reaching out with his free hand, he watched as Pakkun stretched out and gave his hand a sniff before bumping his head against his palm. To Kakashi’s credit he did see a little rain suit covering Pakkun, though he wasn’t sure how much it was protecting him from the cold.

“You came all the way out here for me?” Kakashi’s eyes sparkled, but this time there was a different expression Gai noticed in them. An expression he’d only seen once before, when Kakashi had insisted that there was no one in the entire town who knew as much about Romance novels as he did.

Arrogance.

An annoying expression to see on anyone else turned into something beautiful when it was Kakashi who was wearing it.

Turning his face away, he muttered out a restrained ‘thank you’ to the storm for providing him with cover so that Kakashi couldn’t see the way his eyes darted around searching for something other than Kakashi to focus on, or how he pulled his lips into a tight, thin line.

“Gai,” Stepping around him, Kakashi closed his eyes in that adorable smile of his. “Did you really come out all this way for me?”

“Yes,” He confirmed, sighing when Kakashi began to laugh. “You’re standing outside in a storm, Kakashi. A storm, might I add, that has caused every single business in town to close down for the night.”

“Ah, is that it?” taking a step back Kakashi tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. “You’re worried about me because of a little rain?”

Watching as the rain splashed against Kakashi’s face, he couldn’t help but laugh a little. The whole situation seemed absurd. Everyone else in the town was either tucked away safely in their homes, or on their way home. They’d found shelter away from the rain as soon as they could.

Everyone except for Kakashi, and now Gai.

“So,” he lowered the umbrella, no longer interested in wasting his energy on trying to keep Kakashi dry when that was clearly the opposite of what he wanted. “You like the rain?”

“Like?” Kakashi lowered his head to stare at him once more. “Gai, I love the rain.”

‘I love the Rain’

A Kaleidoscope of butterflies came bursting to life in Gai’s stomach when he heard that. Fluttering around knocking against every wall so that his stomach felt like it was about to explode with joy.

In all of the time he’d known Kakashi he’d never been blessed with the sound of him saying that he loved anything.

He could gush about every single romance novel he read, of course, and there was no doubt in Gai’s mind that the man respected a lot of people including some of his professors and friends like his friend Tenzo who he dragged to the bookshop at least once a month, claiming that he needed to ‘get out of the greenhouse once in a while’.

But Love was a word that Kakashi used very sparingly.

“Love,” he smiled, swallowing down the response he wanted to give. The one where he told Kakashi how that word so perfectly described his feelings for him. Instead, he pointed at Pakkun. “More than you love him?”

Glancing over at the Pug that was still sitting so patiently on his shoulder, Kakashi reached over, gently lifted him off of his shoulder, and held him out in front of him. “what do you think, Pakkun?” he asked, chuckling when the pug answered him with a bark. “You’re right. There’s very little in this world I love more than you.” With that said he pulled his arms in and hugged Pakkun tight against his chest as another streak of lightning cracked through the sky.

Gai stayed glued in his spot, his smile growing as he watched Kakashi openly hugging his dog and the butterfly’s still crashing around in his stomach.

Earlier, when his boss had given him the day off to avoid the storm he’d felt annoyed. Upset that he wouldn’t be able to see Kakashi on the one day a week he was usually guaranteed to see him. Now, standing in front of Kakashi as the rain soaked through their clothes, he was thankful for his boss’ kindness.

If he hadn’t given him the night off, he may have missed out on the best thing he could have possibly experienced.

“Oh,” Kakashi’s eyes focused on him once more. “but you’re soaked! You’re going to get sick if you stay out here.”

Gai’s eyes widened for a moment, and then the next second he was laughing. A bright, boisterous laugh that seemed to fill the air around them. “you-“ he swung his umbrella up and gently tapped it against the top of Kakashi’s head, earning himself a rather unimpressed glare from the other man. “Have I told you that you’re ridiculous?”

“You said that when you arrived, yes,” reaching up, Kakashi swatted the umbrella away.

“Well, you are,” allowing the umbrella to drop back to his side he turned on his heel and directed himself back toward his house. “Come on, I have hot chocolate at my place. Or, if that’s too sweet for you I’m sure I can steal some of Ebisu’s tea.”

“Tea?” Glancing back at him, Gai watched as he thought the offer over. “A cup of tea would be nice.”

“I might even have a romance book for you to borrow,” he continued. “It’s not the same as the books at the shop, but-“

Before he could finish what he was saying Kakashi showed up at his side and grabbed hold of his hand. “Not that I’ll turn down a book if you’re offering it,” he began, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “But I think even you can agree that this, right here, is a much better romance.”

A streak of lightning lit up the sky at that moment, lighting up Gai’s face just as his eyes went wide with shock. In the span of two seconds everything he knew about the quiet, reserved Kakashi had been thrown right out the window in favour of a brave, upfront romantic.

His eyes darted down to Kakashi’s hand holding onto his. For months he’d wondered what it would feel like to hold Kakashi’s hand in his, and now he had his answer.

It felt warm.

Like he was holding the most precious object in the world.

His fingers curled around Kakashi’s hand as a smile spread across his face. “You really are something,” he chuckled. “Did you learn that one from one of your books?”

“Fireworks in Osaka,” Kakashi confirmed, the name falling from his lips with ease. “When Akiri takes Sakura out for a ramen date it begins to rain and…well,” his eyes flickered up to the sky. “Akiri offers to take her to the bookstore where they can wait out the rainstorm and Sakura can choose a romance book for her collection. Sakura answers that-“

“I think even you can agree that this, right here, is a much better romance,” Gai repeated the words, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering around so much that he was beginning to feel nauseous with love.

“Ya,” Returning his gaze to Gai, Kakashi chuckled. “it’s cute, isn’t it?”

“It is,” tugging on Kakashi’s hand, Gai reached out with his other arm and wrapped it around his back, careful not to hit him with the umbrella that he was still holding. As he did he heard Kakashi gasp as his body collided against his, their faces now so close that their noses were touching. “I can think of something cuter, though.”

“Of course you can,” Kakashi grinned back at him. “Pakkun is adorable after all.”

As lightning crashed through the sky, lightning up the field for one precious moment, Gai was gifted with the most beautiful image. Kakashi’s eyes scrunching closed as he laughed, his soaking wet hair pressed against his forehead with droplets running down from his forehead, over his nose, and down to his chin.

Releasing Kakashi’s hand, he lifted his hand up to that beautiful face and gently cupped his cheek. “He is,” he agreed, watching as those beautiful black eyes opened and focused on him. “But I was talking about you.”

His next movement wasn’t planned. He didn’t really know what he was doing until he was already moving, and by that point he had no intention of stopping.

Kakashi’s mask was soaking went against his lips, but there was a warmth to the kiss that overrode that scratchy feeling of cloth rubbing against his lips. A comfort that came with Kakashi’s hand settling on his back, fingers curling into the wet fabric of his shirt.

Gai had kissed many people in his lifetime, and all of them had been real, proper kisses. No fabric between them blocking him from feeling the softness of their skin.

Yet, none of them compared to this kiss. None of them brought such joy to his heart that he struggled to pull back, even when his lungs burned with a need for air. Not one of those kisses, no matter how wonderful they had been, came close to comparing to this one.

“See?” Kakashi chuckled when they finally pulled away, his eyes still focused on Gai’s face. “Rain really is the most romantic weather.”

“Maybe,” running his thumb along Kakashi’s cheek, he smiled. “I might need another kiss to confirm that, though.” He began to lean down, but before he could touch his lips against Kakashi’s again a finger settled against his lip.

“Perhaps a proper kiss would serve better?” as quickly as the words left his mouth Kakashi had removed the mask that covered the lower half of his face, allowing Gai the rare opportunity to see just what lay under neither.

An opportunity he was certain anyone else would take advantage of, but which he didn’t bother to dwell on. As soon as the mask was off he swooped in to kiss Kakashi once more, this time the warmth of the kiss no longer just a feeling inside of his soul, but an actual sensation against his lips. Kakashi’s lips were warm. His skin was warm, even in the cold of the rain.

The first kiss they had shared had stood above all others, but this one-

There was nothing in the world that could compare with the feelings that ignited inside of Gai’s heart when he kissed Kakashi a second time.

Rain really was the most romantic weather. That was a sentence Gai could now confirm was true without a shadow of a doubt. Sunshine was brilliant, but rain had given him the greatest gift he could have asked for. It had allowed him the opportunity to see Kakashi, the man he’d always known as being reserved and quiet though a bit of an arrogant shit at times, in his true light.

As the romantic dork he always seemed to bury inside of his books.

Rain had provided Kakashi with the perfect opportunity, and for that Gai would happily make it his new favorite weather.

#Kakagai Week 2024 #Kakagaiweek2024 #Kakagai #Bookshop Worker Gai au

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zerokurokawa · 6 months ago

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Hiii can u write literally annnyyything that is fluff with bonten!ran??!!??!!!! Tytyyyyy

Sweet Moments In Time | Bonten!Ran x Reader <3

It was a rainy Tuesday and you woke up unexpectedly to your boyfriend laying next to you. You didn't know why he was still in bed considering he was supposed to attend some meetings today with Mikey and the others, but yet, here he was - with you. You slowly sat up, thinking that maybe his alarm didn't go off and that he was just sleeping in by accident.

"Ran, honey," You slowly shook him awake, "You overslept, you're going to miss the meeting with Mikey and the others!" You tried to keep your voice quiet, but you were worried about his repercussions of missing that meeting. He slowly rolled over, shirtless, exposing his large tattoo. Lilac eyes laid upon yours as he slowly, but sleepily, caressed your face. His husky morning voice rang through your ears as you were still trying to pull him out of bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I stayed in with you today, not going to the meeting." He gave you a warm smile before laying you back down so that he could place his head on your chest.

"I thought today was very important, why did you stay out?" You asked, concerned about his well being and worried that he was sick or something.

"I just wanted to spend the day with you. It's raining and I thought maybe we could binge watch a show or order in some food." He smiled, looking up at you while nuzzling into your neck.

You smiled back at him, thinking about how well he has been attending to your needs here lately. He's been working a lot of late nights, coming home drenched in sweat and blood splatters from "jobs" that Mikey had ordered him to do. He deserved a day off, and sure enough, Mikey granted it to him.

He go up from the warm bed and walked over to the desk in the corner to pull out a take-out menu that you both had kept from your favorite restaurant. He dialed the number on the menu and sure enough, ordered your favorite food. Once you had gotten out of bed, you went up to him and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him from behind.

"I'm so glad you stayed home today, I've missed you so much." You smiled into his back muscles, making him tense up at the sudden sensation of your touch.

"I wanted to treat my lady today, so I am." He turned around to return your hug, propping his chin on the top of your head.

"You're so sweet." Was all you were able to muster out before you heard a knock on the door. You walked away to grab your robe while Ran went to answer the door. Once you had returned, robe on and comfortable as ever, you saw him holding a bouquet of flowers.

"I had ordered these for you yesterday, but they were backed up. I was trying to think ahead in case Mikey didn't let me have the day off." He smiled, handing you the giant vase filled with your favorite flowers.

You nearly teared up at his sweetness, wanting to repay him somehow. Silence filled the air after you thanked him. Both of you were staring out of the window to the city's skyline as fog and rain covered everything. It was peaceful, something that Ran wasn't used to.

Soon enough, the food that he had ordered had arrived and you two sat down on the sofa in the living room, deciding to watch a romantic comedy. You snuggled into him while he held you close. Soon enough, with a full belly, you were falling back to sleep. Ran just held you as you had looked so peaceful and comfortable. He couldn't help but to think to himself how lucky he was to have such an amazing woman by his side, especially in his line of work.

He found himself, staring out the window, once again thinking about peace. His eyes began to feel heavy as he slowly started to drift off to sleep again with you on his mind.

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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

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i’m salivating over my first ever haliween ahhhhhhhggggjtjekwldlcjwkwnf. anyways, i trust you implicitly, so i’m gonna do the random thing:

milky way + princess peach + the craft 👁️👄👁️

(ily 🦐)

❀ Pairing: Witch!Yoongi x witch!f. reader

❀ Summary: When the red string of fate appears around your ankle, you have twelve days to find your fated partner or die. That’s how the spell works - that’s how fate has always run Her business. There is one, very inconvenient witch who keeps getting in your way, though, and you might just kill each other before your mark does.

❀ Word Count: 4,421

❀ Genre: Magical AU, Fate AU, a bit of angst, a bit of crack

❀ Rating: SWF

❀ Warnings: Talk of death!!! Reader thinks that she is going to die this entire fic, so she thinks about dying/makes jokes about dying a lot. At the end of the story, there are moments where she is sad and there are hints of depression because she is dying, but it’s not super intense and heavy. Language, Yoongi, and reader are both very stupid, the communication skills in this friend group are at ZERO.

❀ Published: Tuesday, October 3

❀ A/N: This is my first request filled for Haliween and I am so excited! This was so much fun to write and honestly, I was super inspired by Jade's ability to infuse humor in writing, so this is absolutely an ode to Jade. Inside my Halloween bag for you is… Yoongi, witches, and fate! This actually might be one of my favorite drabbles I’ve written all year if not all the time and I sort of wish this was a full one-shot with angst but I think it works sooo well this way. UNEDITED.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests |

It’s raining the day that the red string of fate scorches your ankle. The pain is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, sending you to your knees as you scream. At first, Jimin thinks you’re dying. He drops his mug of tea, rushing over to you as the porcelain shatters, dropping to the ground to pull you up by the shoulders.

You’re prone for a moment, eyes rolled back, voice straining as your entire body tenses, hellfire licking through you.

Then it’s gone. Like it never happened.

The mark leaves you panting in Jimin’s arms, whimpering lightly as you pull the leg of your jeans up with trembling hands to reveal a singular scarlet circle around your ankle. The mark tingles, leaving behind the memory of sudden pain, now cool to the touch.

“Holy shit,” Jimin whispers, staring at the mark. His eyes are wide when he looks down at you, lips trembling. “Twelve days.”

Twelve days. Twelve entire days to untangle you’re new fate and follow it to the witch meant for you, your other half. Twelve days to find them and meet your magical half. To be whole again.

Because in the world of witches, there are some of you born not complete. Some of you have another soul out there, burning with some of your magic. And when that magic is ready to become one, it tries to kill you.

Twelve days to reunite it.

Or, twelve days until you die.

DAY ONE

The day is a waste. Impeding doom does not inspire confidence in the probability of finding the witch who is supposed to be your other half. Hoseok offers a tarot spread, flipping cards and trying to untangle the path that will lead to your savior.

He frowns as he looks at his deck. The images and text on them are nearly faded entirely, a heirloom of his coven passed down through generations of family members. Hoseok knows them by touch, feel, and energy alone. Could read them in the dark, if he wanted to.

Hoseok glances up where you’re curled on the couch in a blanket, doing little spell work to figure out where your mystery half is. “Perhaps you should have Namjoon read tea leaves instead,” he offers. Hoseok shuffles the deck and puts it back in a wooden box. “The cards want you to figure it out yourself. Tea is less judgmental, perhaps.”

DAY TWO

Tea is not less judgmental. You stamp out of the tea shop, feeling stormy, energy crackling like lightning. Namjoon, unable to help, mentioned that perhaps you should seek help from Jungkook, who often sees the future in his drawings. It’s what led him to Jimin, after all.

Someone crashes into you, knocking you off balance. You yell as you go, too lost in thought to catch yourself with magic before you’re topping into the street and a puddle. Cursing, you look up at the stranger who has knocked you into a dirty hole filled with water.

“Are you serious?” you demand, gesturing to your legs as water seeps in. “Watch where you’re going!”

The man in front of you is covered in coffee. He looks up at you dripping in dark liquid, the front of his white shirt ruined and sticking to his chest. If you weren’t so impossibly angry, you might think he was cute. Long, black hair tucked behind his ears, keen feline eyes, a rosy mouth in a natural pout.

But you don’t think it’s cute. Especially when he says, “Me? You’re on the wrong side of the sidewalk!”

“There are no sides to the sidewalk!”

“Of course there is! If you’re walking north you should walk on the inside of the sidewalk, if you’re walking south, you should walk on the outside!”

“That makes no fucking sense!”

“Says the girl still sitting in a puddle instead of getting up and drying herself off!”

You make an angry sound, shoving yourself up from the puddle, sopping wet. “Have the day you deserve,” you snarl at him.

“Have fun with your wet pants.”

DAY THREE

Day three is spent at the library looking up ways to break the red string of fate around your ankle. There are tombs and tombs of ancient texts on the various iterations of the spell through different cultures and religions, but so far you have nothing to show for it.

Huffing and tossing another useless book onto your useless pile, you walk back to the dark stacks of the magical section of the library reserved for members of the covens in the city. It smells musty and dusty in the back, the air dank with the promise of rot. You make a mental note to tell Jisung at the front to please use an air freshening spell.

As you turn the corner of the shelves, someone makes you pull up short. The man from the day before is in front of you, flipping through a book. You blink in surprise. A witch. It shouldn’t surprise you - most of the townsfolk here are magic in one way or another. But it makes less sense that he was so angry about spilling his coffee when he could just whisk his fingers in the air and put it back in the cup.

You’re angry all over again, balling your fists in the aisle. You have half a mind to flick your fingers and through a book from the shelf at him, but the tome in his hands makes you pause. It’s the book you’re looking for.

The man snaps it shut and tucks it under his arm, continuing to look through the shelves.

“Um, where are you taking that?”

He turns with a soft expression, eyes wide. Then he sees you and immediately scowls, nose scrunching. “Oh. You. If you came here for new pants, the Target is across the street.”

“I’m looking for that book.”

“Well, this book is coming with me.”

“What do you need it for, huh?”

His face is impassive as he blinks twice. “For a bonfire, thank you.”

With that, he spins on his heel and walks down the aisle. You step after him, but he snaps and you feel a sharp tug in your stomach, like a pull in another direction. You blink and suddenly find yourself several aisles over, making you scream in anger.

“Did you just teleport me?!”

DAY FOUR

Spent listening to Hey Jude on repeat. And dumplings. So many dumplings that you may not make it to day twelve.

DAY FIVE

What a good day. You’ve made no progress, but you head home with a smile on your face nonetheless. Even though you will surely expire when the red string of fate eats you from the ankle up in seven days, you have at least one good memory before your untimely demise.

Autumn hangs cooly in the air. Your scarf is wrapped snuggly around your neck as you skip home, fresh on the memory of the Puddle Pusher’s face when you bought the last of the black flame candles at Shadow’s earlier that day.

Give me at least one, he’d said to you. You don’t need five.

Well, what if I mess up? You’d asked.

Then you’re a shitty witch.

Well, that had offended you, so you bought the white flame candles too, just in case. Bags full of candles for your little ritual, you skip home to try another trick in breaking the scarlet mark around your ankle. You’re not hopeful but you are happy to rub the salt in with the Puddle Pusher before your sweet farewell to the world.

Even if he did look very cute today.

DAY SIX

Morale is low. The ritual from the night before utterly failed and set off your sprinkler system in your apartment. As you spend the morning blasting hot gusts of wind from your hands and levitating several items throughout the home to air dry, you wonder what it will be like at the end.

The red string of fate is such a rare thing. When you were little, you may have thought it was romantic. Knowing there was someone out there for you that was your twin flame, your other half. A person connects to you by the cosmic power of the universe. Whose spellwork with your own could make you unstoppable.

Now you think it’s stupid. You don’t need anyone else to make you complete. You’ve learned that over several failed relationships and the lackluster dating life of this town. There’s no reason for you to need to follow this stupid mark to find the one person you can no longer live without.

Love is not worth dying for. If it is even love. You cannot imagine that the magic that flows through the world unseen but felt is so all-seeing and powerful that it knows who you should be with. That it can tell you what to do.

Day six sucks. And you spend it crying. Alone and forgotten, without your other half.

DAY SEVEN

Jungkook sifts through his drawings, chewing his lip. The hum of tattoo guns buzzes like a hive of angry bees behind you. You ignore the awful music blaring through the speakers and the man screaming behind the piercing curtain getting his nipples pierced.

“Don’t you have something for that?” you ask, jerking your thumb at the sniveling. “The man sounds like you’re castrating him.”

“Oh, that? Some people like the pain. However, it is Jin so he is actually hating every second of it.” You make a face but Jungkook doesn’t notice, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, dude. I don’t see or feel anything in any of these recent drawings of mine. I wish I could be of better assistance. There’s this guy who might be able to help, though. Taehyung?”

“Tae-who?”

“Here.” Jungkook scribbles an address in truly illegible handwriting. “Visit him on the full moon in..” He looks at his phone and makes a face with yikes written all over it. “Five days.”

“Jungkook, in five days I will be hours away from-” You make a choking sound and roll your eyes back into your head. When you look back at Jungkook, he’s not amused. “Death. Dead. Está muerto.”

“Yeah, I got that. Not funny.” He shoves the paper in your hand. “Look, he’s a really powerful seer. Just go.”

“Think he can tell me what to wear as I croak?”

Jungkook is still not amused by your jokes. He looks around you as the shop door chimes, lifting a hand. “Hey, Yoongi. Be with you in a second.” He looks back at you. “Have you considered asking around for anyone who has had one show up recently? It might help, you know?”

“No thanks. Don’t need any weirdos trying to get into my skivvies by lying about it. Thanks, though. I’ll look into this.” You lift the paper.

Turning around to leave, you stop dead in your tracks. Yoongi is standing near the front entrance of the door. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a flannel shirt, his hair tucked under a beanie. He looks soft, especially when his attention isn’t on you and glowering.

For a moment, you’re not mad at him and you don’t hate him on principle. You just admire the way his nose is a little bit red from the cold outside, and his general sense of wonder is… innocent. Gentle. Kind.

When he turns to look at you, as though he feels your staring, his face morphs from cherubic to devilish, curling his lip up at you. Your momentary lapse of judgment vanishes. “Here to get a tattoo of Number One Puddle Pusher?”

“I didn’t push you.”

“Who's to say you didn’t? Do you have CCTV evidence?”

Yoongi scoffs. “I should be checking CCTV to see if you’re stalking me.”

“Me? Stalking you? I got here first.”

“Do you have CCTV evidence?” he mocks, making a face.

With a huff, you blow by him, turning to Jungkook who looks between the two of you with wide eyes and a dubious expression. “Make his tattoo ugly.”

DAY EIGHT

Yoongi as it turns out is new in town. Instead of spending day eight doing like Jungkook suggested and putting out an APB on Facebook Marketplaces and Craigs List, you spend it looking up your mysterious mortal enemy only to find that… he’s entirely normal.

Most of the covens in town have a long history of ancestry connected to the town’s creation. Yoongi seems to have no such thing, having only moved there a year ago. You’ve never come across him, though it seems you have plenty of friends in common.

From his social media, you can tell only two things about him: he likes cats and takes the worst dad pictures. By worst, you mean silly little photographs of things you can only see a father taking. Somehow the angle is always just wrong or the captions are so simple that you find yourself smiling.

And then you remember whose photos you’re looking at and you fix your face with a scowl.

Tossing your phone onto the couch, you curse Yoongi. The Puddle Pusher.

DAY NINE

Spent crying.

DAY TEN

Spent crying even harder. And spent looking at Yoongi’s cat on social media, only to accidentally double tap and scream as you unlike the photo, and throw your phone across the apartment in terror.

You cry more after. And add buy a new phone on your to-do list.

DAY ELEVEN

You’re going to die. It’s inevitable. You spend the evening watching the stars with Jimin. You let Jungkook tattoo a smiley face on your foot. You drink lots of hard cider, and you fall asleep in a bed that feels too empty and the knowledge that you’ll no longer have to worry about filling it.

DAY TWELVE

Taehyung lives in the middle of Fuck All Nowhere. While you might not find that exactly on the map, it is only somewhat easy to find his creepy, draconic estate outside of town. Getting out of your car, you look up at the spiring mansion, sure that you’re going to see bats flying out of the top like an episode of Scooby Doo.

Alas, there are no bats there to greet you in your final few hours. "Where are the bats, dude?" you ask, walking up the lawn.

The house is something out of a creepy cartoon. Old, wooden stairs creek under your feet as you climb them. The front porch has a severe lean, making you take a precarious step toward the massive front door.

A knocker in the shape of a snarling gargoyle greets you. Tentatively, you reach your hand toward it. Just before your fingers brush the knocker, the door swings inward, creaking and shuttering as it does. You snatch your hand back and take a step away from it, heart racing.

No one is in the entryway. You stick your head inside, looking at the maximalist disaster that is the interior. There are gauche tapestries all over the walls and exotic, loud wallpaper. Statues, busts, and other carvings cover every surface, and the faint smell of cardamom hangs in the air.

“Hello?” you call. Your voice seems to echo in the house.

You hear footsteps. Your heart rate picks up, hoping to see the infamous Taehyung you’ve come for. Except you don’t, feeling confusion first followed by irritation. Of course Yoongi is standing in this strange home that’s full of popping energy and static.

“What are you doing here?” you demand.

Yoongi frowns. “You’re not Taehyung, right?”

“No! Do I look like him?”

“I don’t know what he looks like.”

“Well. I’m not.”

Both of you have a silent standoff, staring at the other. Yoongi looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair a little greasy. You feel a momentary pang of sympathy for him, feeling the same sort of restlessness and weariness tugging at your edges.

“What are you here for, then?” you ask if only to fill the silence stretching between you. “And why are you inside?”

“It’s cold outside. And the house felt like it wanted me to wait inside.”

“Okay. Well.”

He crosses his arms. “I’m here because I’m… looking for something.”

“Something that requires black flame candles?”

“No.” He looks you up and down. “What are you here for.”

“Trying to break something.”

He hums.

Eventually, you both sit down in the sitting room. Neither of you say anything to the other, sitting in… almost comfortable silence. You sit and stare at the clock on the wall, watching your time slip away.

Your knee starts pouncing. You take out your phone, spamming Jungkook. Trying to get him to call Taehyung, perhaps. He doesn’t answer, your nerves unsettling your stomach. Eating away at you.

An hour slips by. Then another.

Sweat starts to collect on the back of your neck. Each moment the minute hand tick tick ticks, you lose another minute. Another five. Another ten.

You don’t feel sick or deteriorating, but you know that as it reaches ten at night, you only have two hours left. A collection of 120 minutes for the rest of your life. Barely enough to drive back into town and say goodbye to your friends. To anyone who cares.

Overwhelmed with the impending sense of doom, you suddenly stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Inside feels insufferable, so full of tension. You need to breathe, to maybe look at the moon for a little. To… feel the wind for the last moment, now that it’s here.

“Where are you going?”

“Outside. I - um. I don’t think he’s coming and I… want to be outside.”

Yoongi nods. “Mind if I join you?”

The question is gentle. Soft. Like that time you saw him in Jungkook’s shop, face so gentle and kind, round and soft with wonder and something like hope. It urges you to nod, reserved to not spend the next two hours hating this man who has made the last twelve days of your life annoying.

Instead, you’ll spend it with this man who doesn’t know you, but who has colored the pages of your life for the last two weeks.

It’s strange. Before that day outside of Namjoon’s shop, you didn’t know who this person was. Now, you know a little bit. Not a lot, but enough.

There’s a hill behind Taehyung’s house that you walk out to. You both sit on it quietly, looking out at the world. This far out in the country, the stars blanket the sky in a thrilling map of constellations and sparkling lights. It’s beautiful. Nice.

A general melancholy seems to hang around Yoongi. You don’t know what it is he is looking for, but you sort of hope he finds it in the way that you’ve been unable to. If you have to lose tonight, you think that someone ought to win.

“What was your favorite moment of your life?” Yoongi asks out of nowhere. You glance at him to see him staring out at the sky, eyes unseeing. His fingers pull at the grass by his shoe, uprooting them absently. “Or something that you just remember being a really good memory?”

You pull your knees to your chest and set your chin atop them, thinking. You’ve had so much time to think this week about your favorite moments or the best parts of your life before it’s gone, and yet, you hadn’t thought too much about it.

“Maybe…” you grin, eyes unfocusing. “The first time I ever listened to Hey Jude. I had never listened to the Beatles and Jimin had it on vinyl and it was one of the last days of summer when we were younger and he put it on… we danced to it and had the coldest lemonade and those red white and blue popsicles. It was right after a breakup and… it was the first time I felt unfettered, reckless joy.”

You can remember the sweetness of the lemonade, the sticky fingers from the popsicle. The sound of the record, the way it hissed into silence at the end of the track, just the crackling vinyl chasing you out of the end of summer.

Turning to look at Yoongi, you ask, “What about you?”

“The first time I heard a piano. I was on vacation with my parents but I got lost at the hotel and I found this piano in the lobby. This guy was playing it so I just sat down next to him and listened. It was… I wasn’t afraid anymore, and I just waited there until the front desk told my parents they found me.”

You grin, feeling a sweet curl of joy spreading through you. “Do you play now?”

“Mhmm. I wish I had played more in the last few weeks. I was … busy.”

“Hmm. I wish I had done a lot of things recently. Instead, I fixated on something unchangeable.”

Silence falls between you. You check your phone for the time. You realize that there are only fifteen minutes left, your heart clenching painfully. You place the phone face down in the grass, sucking in a deep, shaking breath.

“You should go,” you murmur gently. He looks up at you, brows raised. “I uh - need to do something that I think should be done alone.”

He nods. “Me too.” Gets up slowly, dusting off his pants. Yoongi starts to turn away and hesitates, looking down at you. You look up and think that Yoongi might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Soft face against the cosmos, dark eyes that are swirling and unreadable. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He lifts a shoulder. “For being a surprise in my life, I suppose. A change of pace.”

“You too.”

With a little wave of his hand, Yoongi walks down the hill back toward the house. You watch him go until he vanishes around the front and you are left alone, the sound of the crickets around you.

Turning back to the empty hills, you exhale. In a way, you’re okay. You think that maybe Yoongi is right - he was an unexpected and at times vexing surprise in your life, but it was fun. A least a little.

Gently, you lay back in the grass. You don’t know if it’s going to hurt when you go, but you want to be lying down just in case. Your hands tremble in the grass and you feel your throat constrict with the urge to cry. Not because you’re alone, not because you’re afraid, but because you think maybe… you should have just enjoyed life a little more than trying to defeat it the last two weeks.

A lifetime of forcing things into submission and for once, you couldn’t do it.

The minutes tick by. You try to calm your breathing. There’s no escaping the red string of fate now. Without your other half, you will cease to exist. There is no more road for you.

You think of the sweet taste of lemonade. The chorus of Hey Jude. The breeze coming in through the open door and the scent of the honeysuckle climbing the awning. You smile, feeling a tear slide down your face.

Shutting your eyes, you breathe in deep. You are ready.

DAY THIRTEEN

You frown. You keep breathing. You take in another deep breath, thinking that maybe you just… timed it wrong. Settling in, you keep yourself calm, fingers drumming on the floor. Any second now you’re going to die. The life force will flee your body. You will perish. Ashes and dust and all of that.

It doesn’t come. You crack an eye open, looking at the starry sky. The stars are still hanging and the moon is still shining. Suddenly you wonder if you’ve already died and this is the afterlife. Would you even know if you were dead?

Sitting up, you grab your phone and look at it. If there are phones in the afterlife, yours shows that it’s past midnight.

“Huh?” you whisper, tapping the screen. It looks real. Feels real. “Why am I not dead?”

Footsteps behind you make you look over your shoulder. Yoongi is storming up the hill, a look on his face like wonder and fury or something weirdly in between.

“What were you doing at Namjoon’s shop that day we ran into one another?”

“What?”

“The shop!” he yells, throwing his hands up, panting as he crests the hill. “What were you doing there?”

“Getting… a fortune read. Sort of.”

“And the library?”

“Researching how to break spells.”

“And Jungkook?” Yoongi’s voice trembles. You don’t follow, but you shrug a shoulder. “Same thing as when I went to Namjoon’s. Trying to use the future to help me find something.”

Yoongi crouches down and reaches for your ankle. You pull it back, yelling, “Hey, hands off, weirdo! I’m not into foot stuff!”

He grabs your jeans and pulls the hem up, despite your kicking. When he reveals the red mark around your ankle, he abruptly sits down and stares at you. You yank your foot from his grip, ripping your jeans back down and glaring. “What gives? Yeah, I have a red string of fate, whatever.”

Mutely, Yoongi sticks his foot toward you. He has on dirty Converse with gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, and jeans on. “I’m more of a Hubba Bubba myself,” you note, eyeing his foot. “But thanks?”

“My ankle.”

You sit up straight, heart racing. Yoongi had been going to Namjoon that day. And then at the library. Even visiting Jungkook. And buying items for… breaking a spell at the magic shop. Now, he’s here, for a reason unbeknownst to you.

And you’re not dead.

You’re not dead.

Slowly, you reach over Yoongi’s foot. Your fingers are trembling as you grab the soft material of his jeans, fingers weak. Steeling yourself, you pull gently to reveal Yoongi’s ankle. You expect to see creamy, smooth skin, unmarked and well… ordinary.

Instead, you see a single red ring scarring his skin. A perfect red string of fate marking his skin forever, telling him that he belongs to someone. That someone equally belongs to him. That there is someone out there in the world just as stubborn to accept fate, just as cranky when inconvenienced, and who loves music just as much as you do.

You’re not dead, and Yoongi is looking at you with a smile that holds the world.

You’re not dead, and you share loud, joyful laughter with your red string of fate partner for the first time.

DAY 20

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, leaning back and self-satisfied. “I saw them finding each other at my house so I just left. Let fate do its thing, ya know?”

You roll your eyes. “Your house is fucking creepy but not in a cool way.”

Yoongi laces his fingers with yours. “Yeah man, where are the damn bats?”

#yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi drabble #haliween

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iiseult · 1 year ago

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RED-HANDED: Gyutaro x reader - College!AU (part 1)

CWs -> surprise! It’s pervy!Gyutaro, femdom reader, masturbation, degradation, spit play, public sex, slapping (only once and he likes it), calling Gyu a good boy, he’s pathetic and I love him

Note: Does this count as Kinktober? I really wanted to participate this month but I’m an engineering student in college, so enough said. I’ll make part two likeeeee whenever I feel like it. Pls lmk what u think!!!! <3

word count: 3k

It was Gyutaro’s turn to host the study session. All day he had been running around, cleaning his dorm room to eliminate anything potentially embarrassing. He’d never had a girl over before, let alone a girl like you, and he might have been overthinking it a little. Would you be turned off by the socks his roommate had left lying around? What about the smell? Should he hide the protein powder? He had such a big, fat crush on you, and every time he thought about the two of you spending time alone together, the intrusive thoughts would beat out the rational thoughts. In no time at all, he’d be succumbing to his sexual fantasies, fisting his cock desperately to images of you and trying to rid his mind of them to no avail. How was he going to survive a night of your undivided attention?

Originally, it wasn’t supposed to be a one-on-one thing. Every Tuesday, a different friend from the group hosted a late-night study session at their dorm, and everyone except Gyutaro had already volunteered. He couldn't avoid it any longer; he was doomed. It was supposed to be you, your best friend, his roommate, Gyutaro, and Gyutaro’s roommate, but everyone got frat flu the previous weekend and had to take a rain check. Even Gyutaro’s own roommate couldn’t make it, deciding to go home for the rest of the week and recover. So, everyone had canceled. That is, everyone except you and Gyutaro. He was thinking of just calling the whole thing off after that, secretly relieved to avoid having people over his place for a little longer, but you wouldn’t hear of it. Your midterm was on Thursday, and you couldn’t lose a valuable study session.

It was already 7:50 pm– 10 minutes before you were scheduled to arrive– and he was taking care of some last-minute, anxiety-fueled cleaning. The bed was already made, the garbage had been taken out, all his laundry was clean and neatly folded away, and his desk was set up for a long night of studying. He had even sprayed a few bursts of his roommate’s air freshener, making the whole place stink of “fresh morning dew,” whatever that was. In those last 10 minutes before your arrival, Gyutaro even found himself practicing basic hygiene– something a bit out of the ordinary for him. He brushed his teeth and tongue vigorously until his gums bled, washed his face, applied an extra layer of deodorant, and re-did the bun his hair had been rotting in all day. Now, he was ready.

At precisely 8:01 pm, he heard a knock at the door, and sprang to his feet as if the chair he had been sitting on was on fire. He had been staring off into space and nervously tapping his foot in anticipation, wringing his hands and chewing at his lip and fighting back dirty thoughts about what you might be wearing, and before he knew it, the time had come. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Evening, Gyutaro,” you said, half-smiling and leaning to the left under the weight of the heavy bag that was slung over your shoulder. As usual, you were well-dressed, sporting a white button-down, brown blazer, and a pair of blue jeans that fit you perfectly. He tried not to stare, but the top two buttons of your shirt had come undone, and he couldn’t help but notice how exposed your cleavage was. He gulped. This was going to be a long, long night.

“C-come in, make yourself comfortable. You can sit wherever you want,” he said, grinning nervously, stepping to the side and holding the door open to allow you entry. You nodded and brushed past him, your clothed shoulder grazing him gently. He shivered, hoping you wouldn’t notice. As soon as you entered the room, you made a b-line for Gyutaro’s bed, thrusting your bag onto it and plopping down unceremoniously on your back. You let out a sigh. The day had been stressful, and you wanted so badly to relax and release some tension, but there was work to be done.

After lying down for a few seconds to decompress, you noticed that it was oddly silent and sat up, half expecting Gyutaro to have joined you on the bed by now. But Gyutaro hadn’t moved from the doorway. He was still standing there, slack-jawed and staring. He couldn’t believe a girl was in his bed– you were in his bed– and she was there of her own free will. You had wanted to come, asking him not to cancel, and you had chosen his bed as the place to spend the evening. Not the desk and chair, not the floor, not the couch, but his bed. He gulped. He had imagined this many times before, and seeing you like that caused a specific few images to flash across his mind. His cock twitched. You were staring back at him.

“Gyu? Are you coming?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and readjusting yourself so there was room for him to sit next to you. He quickly shook himself out of his stupor and closed the door, walking awkwardly over to join you, hoping that if he put his hands in the pockets of his shorts you wouldn’t notice the growing bulge underneath them. When he reached the bed, he leaned his hips against the edge of it and crossed his arms, attempting to conceal his embarrassment. If you had noticed, you showed no signs of it, just crossing your legs and getting a little bit more comfortable.

“So, um… What subject did you want to study? Maybe we could work through some textbook problems together, or…” he trailed off, his eyes darting around and landing anywhere but you.

“Sure, sounds good. Hey, it’s hot in here, do you have a fan or something?” you asked, looking around and fanning yourself with your hand. Gyutaro frowned deeply and shook his head, suddenly feeling like a complete failure for not being able to provide you comfort.

“I’m sorry, I don’t. Maybe I could open a window?” he offered, gesturing to the pathetically small window on the other side of the room.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll improvise,” you replied. He was about to ask what you meant, but stopped short when your hands flew to your button-down shirt, undoing two more buttons from the top like it was nothing.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?!” He stuttered, looking away from you and at the wall instead to try and distract his racing thoughts. Even though he tore his gaze away as soon as he realized what you were doing, he still couldn’t help but see the very top rim of your nude-colored bra poking out from your shirt teasingly. Not to mention the swell of your plump breasts. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to calm himself down and stop his now fully erect cock from getting any bigger.

“Gyutaro? What’s wrong, are you okay?” You purred, leaning down so you were face-to-face. He opened his eyes. That was a mistake. From the way you were sitting, he had a perfectly unobstructed view of your cleavage, which was spilling out of your bra and unbuttoned shirt. He guessed that your nipples were just below where the fabric began. His eyes widened, and a jolt of electricity was sent straight to his cock, which was straining desperately against the side of the bed. He let out a tiny, almost inaudible whimper, but due to your proximity, it was not lost on you. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, asking again if everything was ok, but there was a teasing undertone to your voice and a glint in your eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. Were you really…doing this on purpose?

“Uhm, don’t you think you sh-should, you know, b-button your shirt back up a…a little more?” he stammered, face flushed so red that he looked almost feverish. His eyes were still wide, and absolutely glued to your tits, like he was in a trance.

“Why? You don’t think I look pretty like this?” you teased, leaning forward even more and trailing your hand from his bony shoulder down to his bicep, which was, admittedly, larger than you’d anticipated. You wondered if anything else about him was larger than you’d anticipated…

“N-no! I mean, no, it’s not that! You…hah…look…” he rasped, not even able to form a complete sentence. He was no idiot. He knew what you were doing, playing with him like that. He knew you didn’t have any real interest in him, that you just wanted some easy attention from a pathetic virgin who would drool over anything with a cup size. It hurt, knowing that, and he didn’t want it to be that way. But just as much as that was true, he also wanted to know what it would feel like. Would it be as good as he imagined, cupping your heavy tits in his ugly, rough hands and running his thumbs over your sensitive nipples? Would you arch into his touch, begging for more?

Before you could even react, he was out the door, disappearing down the hallway towards the men’s room. You could only guess what he intended to do there. Probably cry, you assumed, having seen the expression on his face before he left. Instead of following him, you decided to give him a minute, hoping he’d come back before too long.

Meanwhile, Gyutaro knew what he had to do. He had to get rid of these feelings, get it out of his system once and for all. Thankfully, the bathroom was deserted and he had the luxury of solitude. He hoped he could get it done quickly before someone interrupted.

Gyutaro locked himself in a stall and pulled his pants down feverishly, finally freeing his throbbing cock and taking it expertly into his big hand. He wasted no time, pumping his fist up and down to the image of your tits in his face, imagining what it would be like to touch them, to take them in his mouth and suck them until they were black and blue. Before long, his head was thrown back and he was letting out soft, desperate pants. In fact, he was so enraptured in his fantasy that he didn’t notice when someone else entered the bathroom.

You had decidedly waited for him long enough, and went to go check to make sure he really was ok, but this was not what you were expecting to find. When you quietly opened the door, you were about to whisper his name when you noticed the wet slapping sound and choked-back moans coming from the first stall. You peered under the door and sure enough, your eyes were met with the sight of Gyutaro’s bottom half, shorts pooled around his ankles and legs shaking. You grinned. This was even better than you had hoped. Did that little trick you pulled really affect him this much?

“Gyuuu~ it’s just me! Open the door,” you said gently, hoping your sweet tone would lull him into a false sense of security. Suddenly, he went silent, freezing with his fist squeezing his cock. Panic seized him, and he was silent for a moment.

“Uh! Uhhh, h-how did you g-get in here?” he choked out, not knowing what else to say.

“Walked. C’mon, open up. Wanna see you,” you replied, now standing directly in front of his stall’s door. He hesitated for a moment, but soon made up his mind; he didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t stand it any longer and he wanted you to use him. He scrambled to quickly pull up his shorts and underwear, not even bothering to retie the drawstring, and opened the door hastily. His face was burning with shame, his eyes downcast, and his hair disheveled. To you, he had never looked more delicious.

“What are you doing?” you asked, taking a step towards him, forcing him to take a step back.

“Using the bathroom…” he lied, stuffing his hands back in his pockets again to try and hide his erection. Unfortunately for him, all it did was draw your attention downwards.

“You don’t have to hide it, Gyu. I already know. Why do you think I came tonight in the first place?” you asked, not even trying to hide the fact that you were eyeing his bulge hungrily.

“But-”

“Now keep going,” you ordered, and Gyutaro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He didn’t move.

“I said,” you began, grabbing his chin between your thumb and index finger, “Keep. Going.”

He whimpered, biting his lip, but obediently dropped his pants and underwear back down to his ankles and released his dick, the tip of which was bright red and slathered with precum. You moved your hand from his chin to his shoulder and pressed down, forcing him to sit back on the toilet. Now, you were standing above him, looking down with a perfect view. You looked at him expectantly, and slowly, he brought a shaking hand down to his shaft, gingerly engulfing it in his hand and giving it a few weak pumps. You shook your head disapprovingly, frowning at him. His eyes widened.

“This won’t do. You need…extra encouragement. Open your mouth,” you instructed.

“Why?” he asked demurely, but did as you asked. You didn’t answer verbally, instead choosing to show him why.

You pressed your thumb past his lips and onto the middle of his tongue, and his reaction was almost immediate. He stuck his tongue out more to accommodate your finger, eyes half-lidded and gazing up at you with…love? Lust? It was impossible to distinguish between the two when it came to him. Without a second thought, he resumed stroking his dick at the same pace as before, his body seemingly acting with a mind of its own. You smiled, pressing down harder on his tongue. His brows furrowed and a string of saliva dripped out of the corner of his mouth, falling past his chin and onto the floor. He let out a pathetic, strangled sort of sound, breathy and high-pitched, and you giggled. He was even better than you had imagined.

“Wowww, what a good boy!” you praised.

“Do you think you can take another one of my fingers?”

“Uh-huh! Eea, I eeea!” he tried to say, coming across as incoherent, but you got the message loud and clear. You smiled down at him lovingly and swapped your thumb for your index and middle fingers, which were obviously longer and grazed the back of his throat. Immediately, he gagged, his eyes involuntarily screwing shut, tears pricking their corners, but you didn’t relent. He would adjust.

“Come on, you can take it,” you crooned, thrusting your digits even further back into his soft, wet throat. He gagged again and bit down, catching your knuckles between his jagged teeth. He hadn’t bitten you very hard, but still, the sting of your skin breaking slightly was enough.

Without warning, you slapped him across the face with the palm of your other hand, making him yelp and accidentally squeeze his cock a little tighter. The sound echoed throughout the bathroom, ringing in the silence. He was shocked, even a little scared, but for some reason, it was affecting him heavily. After hesitating only for a brief second, he started pumping himself desperately, even faster than before, feeling like all the blood in his entire body had rushed to his cock at once the second your palm made contact with his cheek. You grinned. You knew it, you just knew it. You had a feeling he would like that. It was a risky move, but one you were glad you made. He let out another moan, the first real unrestrained one you had heard from him. The vibrations made your fingers tingle.

“Mmm, good boy, you’re being such a good boy for me, Gyu. Bet you’re getting close now, aren’t you?” you asked, removing your fingers from his mouth and allowing him to answer properly.

“Y-yes!” he breathed, “‘m getting so close, ‘m gonna cum soon! Please, c’n I cum?” he begged, tear-filled eyes gazing up at you in absolute desperation. And how could you say no to that?

“In a second. Stick out your tongue.”

He did, closing his eyes, eagerly ready to accept whatever you would give him, but nothing could have prepared him.

You leaned down close and spit in his mouth.

Immediately, he came.

“Ngh- Ahh! Huh- ah- ah- mmh!” he whined, voice breaking as the thick, white liquid shot violently out of his aching dick, covering his hand, your shirt, and part of his own shirt in globs of it. He worked himself through it, a few more spurts bubbling out from his tip and leaking down the shaft. There was so much of it, you knew he was holding it in for so long because of you. His thighs shook from the aftershock, and his chest heaved, he was so fucked out. You wanted so badly to just take off your panties and sink down onto his glistening length, sheathing him inside your already soaking, tight pussy to hear him whine that it was too much, but that would have to wait for another time. Maybe a time when you weren’t in a public restroom.

“Clean yourself up and meet me back in your room. There’s something else I want to try.”

With that, you left him sitting there, cock in hand, covered in his own hot cum and wondering if it had all just been a dream.

(pt. 2)

———-

tag list: @sanemisstalker @vampcubus @flametrashira

ermmmmm idk how tagging ppl works but if I tagged u it’s cause I want u to read this shit but no pressure :-)

#idk what this is #there will be a part two #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kinktober 2023 #dom!reader

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ebongawk · 2 months ago

Note

Hi!! HUGE fan of “even the stars (are taking aim)” here (very patiently waiting for the next chapter to drop😌🙏) and figured I may as well try out this prompt thing:

Eddie and Chrissy having their first Big Damn Kiss in a rainstorm, someplace where no one can see them, maybe after some kind of argument so they’re already passionate. I’d love to see what you create from this decently cliched premise😊✨

omg, thank you so much! 🥹 every star in the sky was updated on Tuesday!! and I'm hoping to be back to a semi-regular update schedule. however:

🌧️🌧️

He shouldn't be pissed.

(He was fucking fuming.)

Because it was August. The absolute tail end of the last summer he would ever spend in Hawkins, Indiana if he had fuck all to say about it. Because this was the absolute last goddamn high school-adjacent party he would ever be posted up at as a dealer, selling the bottom of his stash's barrel and high-tailing it the fuck outta here in four days.

Because he'd spent the last eight months falling into a weird, incredible friendship with Chrissy Cunningham and convincing her she was actually fucking worth something more than her mother let her believe, getting her to break up with her shitty boyfriend and start the process of reclaiming her life, only for her to show up at this stupid party on Jason Carver's arm.

She'd dumped him in March. Before spring break. Yet here she was, tucked under his ugly-ass letterman sleeve as she nursed the same red solo cup the entire night, and it made him want to fucking barf.

Eddie rolled his neck. Tucking another cigarette between his lips as he cranked up the prices of his product out of sheer spite. Taking advantage of the hazy stupor and fading into the background.

Chrissy tried to get his attention. More than once. He just ignored her.

What the fuck else was he supposed to do? Watching her intentionally go back to that asshole wasn't really something he'd even thought was a possibility. So why would he have prepared himself for the blow?

He just didn't think it'd hurt so fucking much.

Finally, after about midnight, he was officially sold out. Out of the game entirely. He snapped his box of tricks closed, protecting the crinkled pack of cigarettes from the summer rainstorm he could see pelting the porch screens. He didn't bother bidding anyone goodnight.

The one person he thought would care was too busy flashing the fakest fucking smile she had in her arsenal at that blond jockstrap.

Whatever. Screw it. Who cared? A year from now, he'd be so far removed from all this bullshit that it wouldn't even cross his mind.

(Even if that thought currently made him want to puke up his guts and choke on them.)

Uncaring of who he hit on his way out, Eddie slipped out the front door after smashing into a few angry shoulders. The shouts of indignation at his back may as well have been whispers for how much of them he heard, bowling his way into the warm rain and rushing toward his van.

He always parked hidden away from these events. Ever since Hopper decided to be happy and move to California with Joyce Byers and company, the P.D. had it especially out for Eddie. Giving Callahan a reason to crash a party would have him on way too many shit-lists to count.

Which was normally fine. Except right now. Soaked through by the rain and barely halfway to his stupid fucking sanctuary.

"Eddie!"

Christ.

Her voice still made him stop in his tracks. Shoulders heaving, spine straightening like someone suddenly jammed a rod down it.

Why did it hurt so much?

Turning, he tried to keep his expression as even as possible as he looked at her. Drenched from the stupid water falling from the stupid sky, her hair was already a mess plastered to her skin as she did her best to protect herself from the onslaught.

Too bad Eddie had already been caught in the metaphorical crossfire.

"What, Cunningham?" he asked, giving her obvious pause as she blinked up at him. He'd never been so harsh with her.

He didn't even know why he was being so harsh with her.

(Yes he did.)

"I-I just..." she started, holding an arm over her eyes so she could look up at him. They were standing in the spotlight of a streetlamp, the only thing illuminated in the entire world, and that anger still oozed from him like a bad infection. Festering too close to the surface to remain covered. Like the rain was washing it out, bringing it forward. "You–– You didn't, um, say hi, and you––"

"Okay?" He shrugged. "So, what, I'm legally required to exchange pleasantries with you every time I see you?"

"No, of course not, just––"

"Honestly, kid, I just wanna go home," he said before she could continue. Backing up a step. "Been nice, y'know, being friendly and all, but––" Coming to an immediate halt when one of her dainty little hands darted out and fisted in the wet fabric of his t-shirt.

"Eddie, you're being mean," she stated, her voice hard. Something she learned from him, he knew. Saying things, pointing out when people were being unfair instead of just writing welcome across her forehead and lying down for someone to be shitty to her. "And I–– I know this is about Jason, okay, but you didn't even let me explain––"

"Explain what, Cunningham?" he nearly shouted. "Because, honestly, I cannot for the life of me figure out why you'd willingly find yourself trapped under the weight of that jerk wad's arm."

"Because I need to be!" Chrissy really did shout, shaking her fist in his shirt for emphasis. The other was fisted against her own abdomen. Letting those mascara streaks fall down her cheeks like tear tracks.

Eddie scoffed. "Oh, you need to be? Excuse me, princess, didn't realize you needed him so much!"

"I don't––"

"Could've fucking fooled me, honestly!"

"I don't need him, Eddie! I just need to play her game for three more days and then––"

But she didn't finish her thought.

Instead, before he could even process what was happening, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and surged up onto her toes, pressing her lips clumsily against his.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie didn't think. Didn't fucking breathe. He just groaned, cupping her jaw in his hands and kissing her like his fucking life depended on it.

She tasted like rainwater and watermelon lipgloss and the fucking sunrise breaking past the clouds, basking him in her light and warming him against the rain. They moved together, a dance of lips and tongue, her little mewl of pleasure rolling down his spine as he greedily drank in every piece of her she was allowing him.

Shit. Shit. This was gonna hurt, wasn't it?

They fell apart, both of them pulling in air like they'd forgotten they had lungs, and Eddie let his forehead drop against hers. Holding her for however long he was allowed, how ever long she gave him.

"I don't need him," she whispered again, her voice near enough that it was like he could finally hear her. "I'm not even with him. It's just... It's just until I get my college fund, and then..."

"Does he know that?" Eddie asked, hating the vehemence in his own tone.

"Yes, Eddie," she assured him. "He's not as bad of a guy as you want to believe, you know." Her hands came up, wrapping around his wrists as she looked up at him. Blinking into the rain, she gave him a real, actual smile. One of those little ones he kinda hoped was reserved just for him. "He knows how I..."

She shook her head, then blew his fucking mind when she pushed up enough to kiss him again.

"I need you," she informed him. And Eddie could see her opening the little doorway into his chest and reaching in to pull his heart out. Though whether she was doing that now or eight fucking months ago was impossible to say. "I want you and I need you."

Oh, he was gonna explode. Poof into a million little bits, covering her in heart-shaped blood and viscera.

"Only if you need me, too, though," she finished when his fucking voice box wouldn't work.

He kissed her again. An emphasis to a point he couldn't verbally make. And she melted against him like it was everything she needed, everything she'd been craving alongside him for the last eight months.

"Christ, sweetness, I think I'm already in love with you," he laughed, the sound wet around the rain still falling around them.

"Oh," she breathed, looking up at him, her eyes so fucking bright in that subtle streetlamp light that he wanted to claw his way out of his own skin and use it as an umbrella for her. "Oh, that's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Because, um, I was hoping you'd have room for two in that van of yours come Wednesday." She grinned. "Should have all my stuff sorted out by then."

Eddie laughed again, bright and loud, letting the rain wash away all that gross upset so he could lift her by the waist and spin her around. She screamed in delight, arms around his shoulders, and he stopped and held her steadily above him so she could bring her lips down to his once more.

"I've got all the room in the fucking world for you, baby."

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #stranger things #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #ebongawk ask #agir1ukn0w #chrissy x eddie #my writing #Tricia writes #trying a new tagging system so I can actually find shit lmao #also sorry this ask took a second I didn't have inspo!

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welldigger62 · 18 days ago

Text

Ugly Tuesday-

Well, this is sunrise and this is all you get today. 😐

Thunderstorms woke me up at about 4:00am but as of now, it stopped raining. I sleep in so long that I missed the local news, so I don’t know if the ugly is going to continue all day or not.

It is supposed to be hurricane windy today, so that will probably strip most of the remaining leaves off the trees. 😕

Hope your Tuesday goes better than Monday 😃

#dark sunrise #sunrise #country #nature #Tuesday #original photographers #original photography

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harrygoeswest · 2 years ago

Text

Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y’makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up.

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober.

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet.

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile.

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure.

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever.

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association.

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I. We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone.

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned.

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.”

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub.

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harryonbroadwayficchallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles angst imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #i forgot how much i fucking hate writing tags on the bottom of posts #this is endless

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saltofmercury · 2 years ago

Text

Horangi

Summary: You meet Horangi

A/N: This was supposed to be in response to that GIF I've been wet over the past weekend but instead I wrote this shit?

"Horangi"

It was such a long week. Never ending emails, traffic, and meetings you had been a part of. Rain had been plummeting down all week. This made you upset. What should’ve been a 15 minute drive became a 30 minute drive to work. The rain caused fear among other drivers. You enjoyed the rain at home, at peace, not gliding in the wetness of outside. Where you could stay dry, and admire how the water fell from the sky.

Your car approached the house at the top of the hill, his driveway collecting water, and excitedly pouring down the curb of the sidewalk. His window to the living room had the curtains pulled back, the candles you had lit this morning still on. Everything else was blurred due to the water.

Setting the car in park, you grabbed the umbrella in your backseat, your work backpack, and began to trudge up the driveway to his house. Cold wind hit, you fumbled with the keys, the water still spraying up above– down towards your umbrella, causing your backpack to slide off your shoulder. You dropped the keys in front of you, where the welcome mat had been thoroughly soaked with water. Fingers squished down on the mat, you shoved up the keys swiftly into the lock, and pushed yourself in.

Small chatter and laughter down the hall was cut short. You stepped in the house, the smell of lavender – your candles– hit you. Hearing his footsteps pick up as you set down the backpack near the door.

“Babe?” The door in the hallway opened, a figure walked, (ran) towards you. Hands smothered your face and brought you close. His body was warm, his fingers soft around your cheeks, as his tongue hungrily opened your mouth.

You moaned a bit into the kiss. It was your favorite welcome home.

“Is it over? The week is finally over?” König mumbled into your mouth in-between kisses. You nodded, eyes closed, you breathed him in, god he was so lucky he stayed home. He was worried after seeing a car accident on Tuesday that you might need to be driven to work, you rejected his offers feeling bad that he could be leaving soon at any moment, allowing him to stay home.

He grabbed at your backpack and hung it up on a rack, followed by your drenched raincoat. You always seemed to make things complicated.

“Why didn’t you just park in the driveway? Or even the garage? I could’ve moved my gym weights..” Looking over at your exhausted face, he felt bad that he could’ve done one thing that just made your day easier.

“It’s okay,” you hated feeling like you were prying yourself into his life or house. It was his house, with some small additions of you scattered everywhere. It was never “our” home, probably because you felt like maybe being attached to someone with a job so insane like his would be hard for you, or maybe because he never really made an attempt to call himself yours.

“So good news,” he began, leading you to the couch. He took over the side he usually lay on, and pulled you on top of him.

“MY fantasy football team is winning!” Peering up at him, you rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Oh are they?”

“Yes, you know, it took forever for Horangi to really grasp football, but my god the man is a genius at picking players.”

You side eye him, still unable to comprehend the whole concept of a fake league. Shit, the whole idea of football was still hard to understand. You tried your hardest to understand it the many MANY times you sat with him on Sunday’s, as he explained it to you, his patience never thinning out over the same questions you asked.

For you, it was much more fun to see him. The way he admired the players walking in, how they ran out onto the field, the passes and plays König called before the refs, or would call and then a ref would call something different.

“OFFSIDES?” he said as he stood up in disbelief. Hands both on his hips, as he trudged up and down the living room. “It’s stupid call schatz, very very stupid.” As his open hand waved in the air.

You climbed up off of him, walking over to the fridge to grab a drink.

“Horangi and you still meeting up tonight?”

“Of course, we have our weekly meeting for Sunday’s game.”

Horangi and König always met up a couple times online to discuss fantasy leagues or to play games. You busied yourself doing laundry, catching up on shows, or being on your phone knowing he was immersed with his long time friend.

There was very little you knew of Horangi. You knew he was on the team with König, they were instant friends like König said. Horangi just had his back. He was a very loyal man to König.

You sometimes saw him online, but never heard his voice. When you brought König a snack or water during his time in his game room, Horangi would mention things to König through the headset that would make him blush, then telling him to shut up. You figured it was about you, so you just waved politely and Horangi would wiggle his eyebrows and twiddle his fingers.

You tried to stop yourself from asking, but it was too late.

“How come, I’ve never met Horangi?”

König, pausing his game on his phone, looked over at you and walked over.

“You’ve met Horangi plenty of times,” he began.

“I’ve only really waved at him König, I don’t think he knows my name.”

“Of course he knows your name, I told him.” He was leaning against the kitchen island, his fingers tracing the edge of it. He looked at you, then confessed, with pink hues on his cheeks –

“I tell him a lot about you actually,”

You chewed on your lip, feeling a little better he brought this up, but you weren't satiated.

“Do you? I do feel that’s different than meeting a person.”

“I guess I didn’t really think about it,” he spoke quietly, a little ashamed and sad that he hadn’t properly introduced you two. The two of you were significant in his life, apart from his family back home. He did wonder why the thought never crossed his mind.

“Okay,” he said again, “Horangi is going on a small vacation next month, however he said he would stop by to see me, you guys can meet then.”

You beamed, “wait really, just like that? I thought I would at least hear his voice on the computer first,”

König rolled his eyes and stood up, “I give you so much, and you want so little schatz,” he smiled, pinching his index and thumb together. “We can start there.”

The month had rolled by, before you knew it, the day had come that Horangi was staying a couple days in the city you guys were in. König suggested having dinner at his house.

You chewed on your thumbnail, standing in front of your side of the closet, unsure of what to wear. God, have you ever been more nervous just to meet a friend?

König had stepped out of the shower, towel draped around his bottom half, as he dried his hair with another.

“You okay?” he said, his skin still pink from the hot shower.

“Yes,” you mumbled, sure that you were going to get distracted if you stared to your right. You had a lot of thoughts bubbling in your head, the less distractions the better.

He came up behind you, he still smelled of sandalwood and vanilla, smiling at you in the mirror.

“Are you… getting nervous?” he grinned so widely. The whites of his teeth showed, one corner of his mouth curved.

“Um, maybe a little,”

“What happened to–’I want to meet your friends’?” He teased you.

He wasn’t one to talk, especially when he smelled like your body wash straight from the shower.

“Well, there used to be one mercenary under this roof, now it's two...” you caught his eyesight in the mirror, he laughed.

“Guess you better watch what you say then?” He smirked, grabbed your chin and tilted your head towards his.

You both finished getting ready, as you went down to check on the dinner you had been preparing.

The doorbell rang, and König went out to grab it. He smiled his way to the door, excitement jumping inside him.

The door opened, and you heard Horangi’s voice. “Shit man, very nice place you got here.” König had reached out towards him, then picked him up. Cracking his back, eliciting a gruff sound from Horangi.

“Fuck! you could’ve warned me you damn gorilla!” He spoke, as König laughed out loud.

“Come in!” He was so happy, his voice had changed a bit.

You were still in the kitchen nervously folding the dish towels when you heard the small exchange from them in the hallway.

“So you’ve got a yeonin huh? That’s what's been keeping you from missions?”

König spoke in German, you were unable to understand what he replied to him. Once they had rounded their way to the kitchen, Horangi had been smiling at the response König gave him.

You made the first move toward them,

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” mentally embarrassed for how your voice raised a little higher.

“Hiya, nice to meet you,” he held his hand out. He was such a gentleman, he was smaller than König, but taller than you. He was dressed in all black, with some light orange tennis shoes. His hair was combed back neatly, and he had his dog tags sparkling around his neck. He instantly gave you the impression of the son of a mobster, the way his face was so serious, but looked so young.

König eyed you looking at Horangi up and down, smiling at how you were taken back on meeting someone from his world. He could see in your eyes how you were filled with questions, your eyes taking in his friend.

“.. schatz?” he said quietly, and Horangi laughed. “What's for dinner?”

Horangi was a drinker, as König had mentioned, but perhaps out of politeness, he strayed back from drinking too much. You on the other hand had already felt tipsy. König watched you as you slowly became intoxicated, liquid courage replacing the nerves you had.

Horangi had been narrating his latest mission, a mission you discovered König did not accept, making it difficult for Horangi to find a partner he trusted.

“Man,” he shook his head, sipping on the red wine you served him an hour ago. “Nobody has my back out there like you do.” He pointed his finger at König. He had told them that Hutch was explaining to them how to enter the house they needed to get into, his new partner for this job, Roz, was making it difficult for them to get into.

“Fuckin Roz,” König exclaimed, “I swear she’s so reckless, blowing shit up then blaming her teammate for the mess…” “You remember the mission in South America?”

‘I might have blown up 3 cars,” they both said at the same time, impersonating her.

Horangi’s eyes had filled with sadness, clearing missing his partner in the field. He looked at you, then that feeling went away. It sort of made him happy König was not out there.

Horangi had always teased König “swear you and I are going to end up together,” when they stayed up until dawn on missions. König would laugh and tell him “who’s the wife –you or me?” Horangi laughed harder saying “it's me, I am the wife, because you’re so crazy out there, and that leaves me nervous.” Both of them laughed at each other.

It was a genuine friendship, they had each other’s backs, and told each other everything.

He would tell Horangi about the bullies at school, then how he enlisted out of fear of being ridiculed like this his entire life, then enjoyed the dirty work of it all, even leaving the military to join KorTac where the dirty work wasn’t looked down upon.

Horangi loved the guy, but he knew there was always some emptiness to König though, like he longed for a partner, but couldn’t put himself out there due to his job, or social anxiety.

He looked at you, how your body positioned itself near König, how your hand rubbed König’s leg, how König snuck glances at you every couple of minutes, or smiled at you when you spoke.

He asked,

“How’d you two meet?” then sipped his wine again.

Your eyes widened, and you blushed, “At the grocery store.”

“Ran into me with your cart…” König corrected you. “I was shopping for produce late at night, remember Horangi, and that night someone hit me with their cart!”

“As if someone could knock you down.” you answered back, clearly never living down how you two first met.

“So this is shopping cart person?” Horangi had said, then his eyes widened at how bad that sounded, quickly explaining himself.

“König uh, told me about someone staring at him in the produce section, is what I meant.”

You quickly changed the subject, avoiding his comment.

“What’s König like? How did you guys meet?”

Horangi raised an eyebrow at you, then looked at König for an OK.

“You ever know about the time we were ambushed? In Russia?” Horangi leaned back into his chair. He begins telling the story, then pausing to look at König,

“This psycho runs out of the god damn building, throws a grenade at the group, while diving to stab one of their people.”

You looked shocked, this was an extent of what you knew König to be inside the four walls of his home.

“One time I tell you, our building we were in had been falling apart, this guy Mr. Jason Bourne, decides to run off and jump onto the other building, holding a shotgun.”

König sheepishly replied “It was faster to capture the enemy this way.”

“And he fuckin’ makes it!” “Of course with my help shootin’ people down.”

You leaned into the table, waiting for more from Horangi.

Horangi, lured you in. “Remember when we got that bastard from the human trafficking ring?”

König’s smile had faded, a bit unsure if you were going to be okay with what followed.

“So this piece of shit guy, we were after for like months. Kept finding his hostages, setting them free, but couldn't find the asshole. König finds the piece of shit hiding in an abandoned barn.”

“He was shaking, I was tired of playing cat and mouse.” König said seriously.

“All I hear in the coms is crying, begging, to please let him go.” “Our orders were to bring in dead or alive.”

Horangi looked at you, your head cocked to the side, inviting him to continue.

“By the time I got there, König had the guys guts spilling out of him.”

You gasped, making eye contact with König. Both of them laughed, maliciously and playfully.

“I’m just fucking with you, we brought the guy in, he’s serving time in hell.”

König looked at Horangi, thankful he had slightly changed the ending, and then at you, unsure if you were ready for the truth

“Let’s head outside. I’m sweating..”

Horangi continued sharing stories of them out of the field, König interjecting a couple times to tell him “that’s not how I remembered it exactly,” then retelling the story exactly how it was.

You weren’t sure if you were surprised by him or scared, König was so different from what you were used to. The Sunday football guy, the man who teased you and embarrassed you in public, or who had whispered his childhood past to you in the late hours of the night. You just couldn’t believe this was him outside of your bubble together.

König excused himself to go to the bathroom. Horangi put out his cigarette and came over to you.

“You.. uh… not bothered by the comment earlier right?”

You blushed, “No not at all, just um, curious as to what he is outside of here.”

Horangi nodded his head, looking like he was going to miss an opportunity, he spoke,

“I’m just glad you make him happy.. I’m glad he found his partner.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt sad. König was your person, and as much as he didn’t say it, the evidence was clear. “I love this guy, and I hope you love him the way I do.”

König came out, seeing how Horangi and your knees touched. He hoped Horangi didn’t try to pull his “tiger moves” on you.

“Come here schatz,” he sat next to you, bringing your couch blanket, “I’ll start a bonfire.”

Horangi looked at you and smiled, his friend was really into you.

“Becareful with this guy… fuckin' pyromanic. Have I told you about how he set a jungle on fire?”

#könig #könig x reader #call of duty #könig x horangi #konig call of duty #konig x reader #könig mw2 #cod horangi #könig x you #cod könig #könig cod

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dominimoonbeam · 5 months ago

Text

The Lonely Hearts Club

This one got away from me, people. I was like "I'm gonna write a rain day coffee shop au oneshot!" I started out with an Asher/Gavin moment and then somehow it leaned into Asher/Gavin/David territory and... my friend... if you could see the ideas rolling around in my brain for this trio...

<3 <3 <3

tags: non-magic au, coffee shop au, break ups, light angst, self doubt, are we flirting yet?

david/gavin/asher aka Davinsher

The Lonely Hearts Club

It started raining just after Asher walked in. That seemed right. It was pouring.

“What can I get you?”

He’d gone to his favorite café but now that he was there, he just felt like leaving. What if Paul showed up? God, that would be so awkward. But what was he supposed to do? Never go anywhere again? Give up his own favorite place?

“Do you need more time?”

God, the last thing he needed was more time. Was there an option to just stop time? Maybe wake up in a world where no one knew him?

A pair of hands clapped in front of his face and Asher jumped, blinking at the big guy behind the counter. He frowned beautifully, one eyebrow arched in a clear “what the fuck?”

Asher laughed apologetically, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry. Long day.”

“It’s noon.”

“Long week?”

“Tuesday.”

Asher huffed another laugh. “Sorry.”

The barista, David if his name tag was true, shrugged his big shoulders. “What do you want?”

“Oh. Um…” The last year of his life back?

The big guy sighed. “Your usual?”

Asher deflated a little. No. This was not an iced blonde caramel macchiato day. “Can I just get a regular coffee?”

He’d thought the barista was permanently frowning—it was part of his charm and one of the reasons this was Asher’s favorite café—but then he really did frown, and it was completely different. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Asher pulled his card out, ready to pay.

David huffed but tapped the register.

After paying, Asher stepped to the side, attention drawn toward the rainwater waterfalling down the big windows again.

“You getting just coffee too?” the barista asked the next person, an edge of sarcasm in his deep voice as he filled the cup for Asher, leaving a third for space for milk.

Asher hadn’t even noticed that someone was behind him in line until then, heat rushing to his face. How long had he made this guy wait? Fuck. He should just go home… only he definitely didn’t want to go back there.

The guy in line barked a laugh and stepped up to the counter. “You wish I’d go easy on you.”

The way he said it, with the sideways pull of his lips into a smirk, made it sound lewd and gave Asher chills. The barista, David, on the other hand didn’t seem to notice or care. He handed Asher his coffee and frowned again—the real frown, before rolling his shoulders and cocking his head back to look at the new customer. His eyebrow lifted. “Well?”

The new guy leaned into the counter, to get closer to him. “Quad shot over light ice, light oat milk, 2 pumps of vanilla, sweet cream cold foam, cinnamon drizzle.”

“Mmhm,” David replied, sounding completely unimpressed and unsurprised and hitting a couple buttons on the register. “Anything else?”

“Your number?”

David huffed and to Asher’s complete shock, smiled. Fuck, he’d never seen that either. It was almost enough to make him forget his whole fucking week.

He poured milk into his coffee and moved along, sitting down in a corner table to kill some time.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, tapping the screen to life and instantly regretting it.

Chrissy had sent him another screengrab of a conversation with Paul. Christian thought he was being helpful… or maybe just alleviating his own guilt by showing Asher all the shit his ex was saying about him? Fuck.

“Hey.”

Asher looked up, surprised to see the guy from the line standing in front of him. He had his drink in his hand, the straw between his lips and his hip cocked to the side. His nails were painted dark green and his knuckles on his right hand were bruised. He sucked at that straw and Asher’s brain went blank for a second. “Hey?” fell out of his mouth by some miracle.

The stranger swallowed, let the straw go, and nudged his chin at the chair opposite Asher at the little table. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Asher blinked and then smiled, shaking his head and gesturing at the chair. “All yours.” It didn’t even occur to him that there were plenty of vacant ones around them to snag. If he wanted this one, he could take it.

The stranger snagged the back of the seat and pulled, only he didn’t take it away. He drew it out and then sat down across from him, their knees bumping under the table.

Asher sat up straighter to pull his knees back, his mind still reeling. The guy wanted to sit with him?

“My name is Gavin.”

“Asher.” He smiled, more than a little relieved not to be sitting alone anymore. Asher wasn’t really great at being alone. He didn’t like it. His thoughts got away from him when he was alone. He took a sip from his mug and winced, having forgotten what he got.

Gavin smiled. It was sly and pretty at the same time. “So… Why are you punishing yourself with that?”

“Hm? What? I’m not.”

Gavin stirred his drink by the straw, one pierced eyebrow lifting as he waited for another answer.

Asher laughed and sagged back in his chair. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

Gavin stopped stirring, eyes widening. “You’re kidding. I just got out of a relationship, like an hour ago!”

Asher leaned forward. “Seriously? Mine was a few days ago but, man, I’m sorry.”

Gavin shook his head. “It was sort of a weekend fling with this couple. I mean, I had hoped it would be an ongoing thing but whatever…”

Asher smiled, glad the guy wasn’t broken-hearted at least.

“So, your breakup,” Gavin said, tonguing his straw back into his mouth.

Asher forced his gaze back up to his new friend’s eyes, rather than watching him suck and swallow.

“Who cheated?”

“What?” Asher jumped, bumping the table and almost spilling his coffee.

Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. So, you did?”

“No! No, no one did.” Asher smiled but it felt strained now. Fuck. He used to be so good at talking to people. He was known for making friends everywhere he went! But that had been before Paul… “We just grew apart.”

“And this guy broke up with you?”

Asher blinked, not sure why Gavin was putting so much emphasis on the ‘you’ in his sentence. He looked down at himself and then shrugged.

Gavin smirked and sat back, drink in hand, eyeing him. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year.”

Gavin pursed his lips. “Did you live together?”

Asher sighed. “Yeah.”

“Who moved out?”

“I did. Why?”

“He dumped you, and you moved out, but this wasn’t like an explosive fight or something?”

Asher laughed. “This isn’t a puzzle. We broke up. The apartment was his, so I’m out.” Out and crashing with a friend until he got a new place.

“Why did you really break up? Do you have a weird addiction? A fetish?” Gavin grinned at that.

Asher laughed harder, for the first time having a conversation about this and not wanting to run away. “No! Nothing weird, no addictions. It just didn’t work.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

Asher felt his face fall blank. “What?”

Gavin nodded, still looking at him. “Your nice, funny, sweet, and gorgeous. Why would someone break up with you?”

Asher smiled and hoped he wasn’t blushing too bad. “Well, why did your couple break up with you?” he countered, sipping his coffee and almost not wincing at it this time.

Gavin shrugged his shoulders. He was wearing a tank top even though it was raining outside. “They’re a couple. They’re in love. They thought they wanted a third but after getting it out of their system, it turns out they just wanted a weekend.”

Asher lost his smile as the man spoke. He said it all like it was boring, but there was hurt there—disappointment. Asher nodded. “I’m sorry that didn’t work out. You seem great.”

“Gorgeous even?” Gavin grinned.

Asher couldn’t help but smile back. “Definitely gorgeous.”

Gavin took another drink of his perfectly executed coffee. This was his favorite café, not just because of location and the cozy dark décor, not even because of the great coffee and food, but because of that beautiful, grumpy barista. David.

He had been casually flirting with David for half a year. He knew David wasn’t taking it seriously and, honestly, that was the only reason it was okay that Gavin kept doing it. He swore, if he ever spotted David outside of his damn job, he would seriously ask him out. But asking someone out at their place of work was too creepy even for Gavin.

And then he’d been completely distracted from the hot barista by the sad guy in line ahead of him.

Gavin was nothing if not impulsive. And talking to Asher, only left him more confused about the situation. What idiot could have dated this guy for a year and let him go? What was wrong with him? He tried to imagine Asher as a jerk or a controlling asshole or maybe even a serial killer, but nothing fit.

Asher took another drink from his coffee and pinched his mouth, putting the barely touched mug back down.

A shadow loomed over them and they both looked up. David rolled his eyes and put an iced blonde caramel macchiato down in front of Asher before taking the regular coffee away with a shake of his head.

“Oh. Um. But I didn’t…” Asher tried.

David drank the coffee Asher had been working on and went back to his post behind the counter.

Gavin grinned. Fascinating! “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him come out from behind there before…”

Asher blushed but watched David too. “Right?”

“Is that your usual?” Gavin asked, pretty sure he knew the answer. Did the hot barista have a crush on this recently dumped sweetheart? Oh, Gavin was feeling his inner cupid coming out to play…

Asher took a sip and sighed, nodding.

“You know, just between us, I come to this café—”

“For the barista?” Asher finished in an awed whisper.

Gavin looked at Asher, nodding.

“Same!” he whisper-yelled, knee bumping Gavin’s under the table and this time staying.

Gavin felt his own pulse jump, surprising him.

“I can hear you idiots,” David grumbled, taking another drink of Asher’s former-coffee.

Asher’s eyes went huge but Gavin twisted to the side to smile back at David. “You could just join us then. It’s not like this place is bustling and with that weather…” He waved at one of the windows, a blur of rain water gushing down it. “We’re making a lonely hearts club. Do you want to join?”

David leaned forward, tattooed elbow on the counter and chin in his palm. He looked just as disinterest as before but asked, “What makes you think I’m lonely?”

Gavin smiled. “I guess, because if I were dating you, I would be here all the time.”

“You are here all the time…” David pointed out.

Gavin’s smile bloomed into a full grin. “Is that your way of asking me out?”

David’s eyes flared just a little, his body tensing when he stood upright again and a hint of a blush spreading on his face. “Drink your damn coffee.” He turned and pretend to clean the espresso machine.

Gavin watched him for another second, his huge shoulders straining the back of that black t-shirt. He picked up his coffee and tongued the straw into his mouth, taking a deep suck.

He was drawn from his thoughts about the barista by the warm feel of attention and cut his eyes to the side to catch Asher watching his mouth. Asher blushed and pushed his gaze down to the table when he realized he’d been caught.

Gavin’s day had started off feeling like it was all going downhill and now he was making two men blush. Yes, this was picking up. “So… What are you into?”

Asher swallowed his sip of coffee and blinked those beautiful eyes at Gavin. “What? Oh, I work at this big distribution center. I basically move shit around and pack orders for other stores.” He smiled. “It’s more fun than it sounds.”

Gavin nodded. “Not what I meant.”

Asher poked his straw at his ice. “Oh. Like after work? Gym, hiking with some friends, I mean, I haven’t gone in a while but I used to and it was a lot of fun…”

Gavin bumped his leg against Asher’s under the table, thrilling again at the way the other guy’s breath caught and his gaze flicked up to his. He had meant to ask what he liked in bed. He was trying to flirt…but there was something interesting about Asher’s answer. “If you liked hiking, why did you stop?” Asher looked surprised. Why? It was the obvious next question, wasn’t it?

“I mean, hiking wasn’t really my thing, I was just tagging along.”

“Did your hiking friend make you feel like you were just tagging along?”

“Hux? No! No, of course not.” He laughed. “God, he’s so nice. I’m actually crashing at his place right now while I…” His smile faded and he sank a little in his seat. “It’s not that we grew apart, or that my friends did anything, I just… sort of stopped showing up for a while?”

Gavin had made a hobby out of studying people, out of understanding people. He set his coffee to the side and leaned forward, forearms on the table between them, and looked right up into Asher’s face. “We’re strangers. If you don’t want to see me again after today you never will.” Asher started to reply, inhaling like the idea hurt, and Gavin smiled and shook his head, continuing before this kind person could assure him he didn’t want that. “Why did you break up? For real. Not the socially correct answer or the one you’re going to tell everyone you know—not the one you and this guy agreed on—not the one he’s saying—just… between you and a stranger, why?”

Asher stared back at him and Gavin could see him deciding how to answer, if he really could, and then what the real answer even was. A grimace rippled across his face, tears misting his eyes. “He broke up with me because… He says I cheated on him. He was always jealous, always paranoid, always accusing me… I tried to—” He cut himself off with a press of lips and a shake of his head. “We broke up because he’s a bad person,” he whispered, words no less strong for their quiet.

Gavin’s heart ached. He nodded and touched Asher’s hand on the table, seeing the relief on the man’s face when he squeezed it. “Good. He sounds like an asshole. You can do better,” Gavin said, keeping his hand and their new nearness. “Can I taste your coffee?”

Asher exhaled a relieved laugh, rubbing away a tear that hadn’t quite fallen and offering his drink. “Of course.”

Gavin took a sip and hummed, nodding in approval.

Asher grinned, looking even lighter and brighter than before.

“Okay, now tell me about the hiking friends.”

#redactedverse #redacted asmr #fanfic #dominimoonbeam #<3 #non-magic au #coffee shop au #DAVINSHER #david/gavin/asher #break up pain #lonely hearts #are we flirting yet?

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