#like nah man. I’ve been to bars I’ve been to drag shows

[lesbiansanemi]

This bitch cannot take a hint oh my FUCKING god how many times do I have to tell her I don’t like going to bars before she stops fucking asking

[sufferu]

So I’ve been working here and there on bits and pieces of a reaction fic of my own, and here’s a bit of a ficlet that kinda shows what I’m going for lol.

Reaction Fic Excerpt: A Stroll Through The Capital

____

“This is it! This is my chance!“

In the present moment, Subaru’s face turned scarlet.

Julius snorted loudly, quickly moving to cover his mouth with his hand as Subaru’s antics quickly escalated onscreen. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I just— forgot about that part of what you are like.”

“Shut up,” Subaru muttered.

Ferris was making no such effort to hide his mad cackling. “I didn’t forget!” he crowed. “Aw, this is gonnya be so much fun. I’m nyever letting nya live ANY of this down—“

“Shut uuup—“

Ferris was having fun teasing him. Many of the more naïve members of the audience were giggling right alongside him — but on the other side of the theater, Wilhelm had a darker look on his face.

Beside him, Rem was sporting a similar expression. “Wilhelm-san, is it?” she said quietly.

“That is correct,” Wilhelm said, not unkindly. “How may this old man be of service?”

“That boy…” she chewed her lip. “He got dragged into an entirely different world,” she clarified. “Without his knowledge and against his will. He was left entirely alone on the streets of a strange city where he did not know the language, with no understanding of the world around him, no means by which to defend or provide for himself, and with nobody willing to help a stranger like him out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“That…is correct.”

Rem didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to: Wilhelm had already come to the same conclusion as her — as had most other individuals throughout the theater, if the looks on all of their faces was any indication. Even Ferris had a subtle air to his movements that hinted at his teasing being more of an attempt at a distraction from that horrifying revelation than a genuine source of amusement — though perhaps it was both.

Emilia was not one of those individuals. Neither were Beatrice or Garfiel, both of whom she was attempting to shush. “It’s reeally not nice to laugh,” she scolded. “Subaru didn’t even want us watching any of this, so be nice. And we promised not to make fun of him for anything embarrassing we see here, remember?”

“Subaru makes it difficult not to laugh, I suppose,” Betty giggled.

“N-Nah,” Garfiel sucked in a breath, his mouth twitching. “Princess’ got a point,” he agreed. “This is already — kinda private. My amazing self wouldn’t want anyone laughing at my memories either, no matter how embarrassing. Captain deserves — at least a little grace —“

Everyone watched as onscreen Subaru was gently shoved away from a demihuman-only bar, somehow tripping over his own two feet and falling over the railing and into the river of the Capital.

Garfiel burst out laughing all over again. This time Emilia gave up on trying to make him stop.

“Is this really how it was supposed to be?” The Subaru onscreen muttered to himself, sitting in an alley, absolutely drenched. “Wasn’t I summoned into a parallel world?!”

Anastasia watched with interest as Subaru rifled through his things, grumbling. “That’s the metia you used to find the White Whale, ain’t it?” she pointed out, eyes flashing greedily. “How did that work if it was from another world? Did ya have a bunch of mabeasts there, too?”

Subaru shifted nervously, embarrassment being taken over by something resembling unease. “N-Not exactly,” he admitted.

“Hmm…” Anastasia watched the caged Subaru for a moment longer before turning back to the screen.

“The truth is,” onscreen Subaru was saying, “I have no idea what to do next, and I still have no idea how or why I was summoned. I don’t remember stepping into a mirror or falling in a pond —“

“Wait, so.” Julius frowned. Oddly enough, he seemed to be relaxing at the sound of this statement. “Is this sort of occurrence normal, then? For castaways from beyond the Great Waterfall.”

“…N-No,” Subaru admitted, his face burning. “I kinda just — i-it was a popular book trope back home, so…” He hunched in further on himself. “I just assumed things were like that?”

“Oh.” Julius looked uncomfortable all over again, perhaps even moreso now than before. “I see.”

“— and if I’m to believe this is the otherworldly summoning format I’m used to, where is the beautiful girl who summoned me?”

Julius choked, hastily coughing into his fist. Everyone else had no such restraint. The room burst into laughter once again.

“I think I knyow what kinds of stories Subaru-kyun likes to read!” Ferris teased.

“Can it!” Subaru retorted, face almost as red as Reinhard’s hair.

“You know,” Julius attempted to soothe, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I do have a number of romance novels in my collection. If you would like to borrow—“

Subaru buried his face in his knees and screamed, the sound muffled.

[hotwings0203]

fighter kirishima who doesn't like it when other people even stare for one second at his partner, so then he just kills anyone who dares to stand less than 2ft from his darling 😌👍

Tw:noncon implication, implied murder

“Why’re you standing so far away babe?”

You’re not, he’s got his arms wrapped around your waist to the point of crushing your hips.

“‘M not, just couldn’t breathe.”

“Oh good, for a moment there I was worried you were looking at that guy again.

That guy referring to the blond haired weirdo who kept laughing and pointing at the losers of the ring like a maniac.

Right, like you were totally head over heels for the one weirdo in the entire basement.

Except your “boyfriend “ maybe. He could definitely take that title.

Well, maybe not weirdo. Maybe Possessive Controling Freak would be a better name for him, instead of Kirishima.

And just to drive the point home, he soothingly rubs his calloused hand up and down your arm while the next match rages on in front of you both.

It’s not soothing, on the contrary it seems like a threat.

He just amps it up from then on any time he feels like your attention is elsewhere or if he feels like other men are looking at you for a second too long.

First it’s taking on arm and tightly squeezing it. Then, he puts one leg of yours over his thigh much to your embarrassment.

Eventually he just picks you up and plops you on his lap. While he thinks he’s keeping other men at bay with this tactic, it’s doing the complete opposite.

Because these testosterone filled savages are quite enjoying the scene with your limbs being toyed with and thrown over a man like the rest of them, your ragdoll-maneuvered body a promise of something they might be able to one day get a taste of.

The entirety of the fight goes by dreadfully slow because all you can focus on is how long Kiri’s hands dip in and out of the crevice of your legs way too casually. His hands settle comfortably under your shirt and across your boobs, which can be seen by literally everyone when they catch a glimpse of an evident hand on your chest.

He prevents you from squirming too much with his limbs tightening around you and disapproving grunts to your discomfort. So you sit there, stewing with rage and humiliation.

Until a distraction appears.

In the midst of the next match brawling in the ring, a smaller fight breaks out amongst the raging spectators.

It only catches both your attention when the yelling starts getting close to your area and men start throwing fists and yelling until their faces tie beet-red.

Kirishima and you both crane your heads around to see the source of the commotion, but you realize quickly that it’s getting way too intense around you, so much so that men begin lifting chairs and falling over themselves in their own battles.

You try to get up but Kiri’s hands are wrapped so tightly around your midriff that you barely manage to dislodge his arm. He’s distracted and looking around curiously at the dangerous setting and you have to frantically tap his arm to indicate it’s time to go.

But he snaps out of it too late, and a body gets punched your way, his large mass descending on your weaker frame.

You shriek and try to lift your hands up to protect yourself, but it doesn’t work. You’re slammed into and knocked clean off Kirishima’s lap onto the floor laced with blood and bits of torn clothes.

There’s a loud ringing in your ears as you blearily get up and take in your surrounds, which seem to love in slow motion around you. You belatedly think that you must’ve hit your head on the concrete floor when you fell.

Your arms ache as you groan and lift yourself up on shaky elbows, the sounds around you swim in and out of your aching head when suddenly an open hand is thrust in front of your face.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry!”

Grimacing, you tilt your head up and see the same man who knocked you down. You’re in no condition to refuse help in such a volatile area however, so you gingerly lift your hand and grasp onto his open palm.

You find yourself being pulled up easily and crushed into the man’s body. It’s hard to push back but when you see how many bloody faces and broken limbs windmill around you decide it’s best to keep close to a safe space.

The man gently starts stepping over writhing bodies and lifting you up under your arms to ensure that you don’t trip and fall again while on your way to a clearer area.

You don’t resist, only looking up at him helplessly like a kitten being dragged by its mom from the scruff. His body is warm and toned, yet plush and comfortable to lean against when you need to. Your cranium still pounds, but your head clears a bit when you look into his surprisingly concerned grey eyes.

“You alright? Hit your head a little hard, huh? My bad.”

He sets you on a perch near the office and looks around, deeming it a less loud and crowded area for your health.

He says nothing, but you don’t sense any malice from him. He doesn’t move either though, he just leans an arm on the extension and puts another hand on his hip, scanning the screaming men and casualties as if he were looking out in a snowy field.

He might be protecting you, or looking for a good place to jump in and start swinging himself, you’re not sure.

But you’re grateful for his helpful presence, nonetheless.

And then suddenly your moment of reprieve is dismantled when you hear him frantically calling your name.

You see his head hair sticking up, spiky as ever while the top of his head bobs left and right, in circles and backwards as he tries finding you.

Your head starts to hurt again.

“Y/N! Where the hell are you?”

Eventually and unfortunately he sees your figure above the fray, and he swears you look like an angel-siting above this rifraff, your body perfectly intact unlike the rest of these thugs, your expression dazed and vulnerable like it did when you were choking on his co-

He sees the man next to you, and his vision shatters like glass when he takes in the proximity of him next to you.

Kirishima sees red.

“Hey, there you are cutie! I got scared I lost you for a sec’ there. Thanks for looking out for her man,” he smiles and shakes his hand with the steel-haired guy, crushing his grip a little too hard to be deemed grateful.

“No problem. The name’s Tetsutetsu. ‘Think I’ve seen you around here, you fight pretty good not gonna lie! When’s it gonna be my turn to match that strength in the rink?” He smiles deviously and knocks shoulders with you in jest.

While you smile uncomfortably and rub your now-bruising shoulder, Kirishima’s eye twitches at the contact and his smile starts straining as well.

But this is too easy to give up.

“Hey, that’s actually a really good idea. Why don’t we have our own little practice match after the shit here clears up?” He nods around to the ongoing pandemonium.

You look at him stricken, unsure of what he’s playing at. You’re not stupid, you can tell by his off body language that he’s not at rest or relaxed at all by this conversation.

The expression he’s making, while it might fool the himbo next to you, is extremely reminiscent of the faces he pulls when he chides gently in your ear to stop moving so fucking far away from him and soothes a hand over your head.

“Sounds good, and don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you.” The other man laughs heartily and kicks away a stray rolling body.

Kirishima merely grins gently. “For your sake, is give it my best.”

*************

He’s strapped you to the bed-check.

You’ve been spanked black and blue-check.

A lecture has been given to your sobbing body-check.

Ointment has been slathered on the bruises-double check.

And he’s out the door at exactly 9pm, jogging his way to the bar and down the steps to the basement as a light warm up. He considers calling an ambulance before-hand, but that would mean he’d give enough mercy to leave Tetsutetsu intact…and alive.

When he bounds down the rickety steps he finds that Tetsu is already there and lightly boxing a body bag that the newbies use for practice.

He has to hold back his snort and paint his usual cheery face on, but something tells him even the dim yellow light in this room would still show the dark emotion swirling in his ruby eyes.

“What’s up bro, you made it?”

“No, I’m still at home.”

Tetsutetsu laughs heartily and doesn’t catch onto the cold bite Kirishima’s words hold.

“You’re funny. ‘Wanna warm up-“

“-Nah, actually, ‘think I’m good. Let’s just get started, I’ve been waiting for this.”

“You got it boss.”

And without further ado they both shrug off their shirts in the hot basement and ready their fists in a protective stance, circling each other.

“Y’know, when I saw you next to my girl I fantasized about caving your face in,” a punch is thrown suddenly and Tetsu is thrown off guard by the surprising agility of the bully opponent and his words.

He practically eats the hit square in the nose, his head snapping back and immediately pouring blood from his nostrils.

He coughs and staggers before realigning himself the opposite end of the fighting circle. “Wha-? Why?” The victim sounds congested from the leaking blood but his focus is only on Kirishima’s change in expression.

“Yeah, and then I saw you knock shoulders with her too…maybe I’ll cut yours off and sell ‘em for a couple hundred, whaddaya think bro?”

This time when Kirishima aims for his face again he’s ready, and he quickly dodges and strikes his face fist out.

But what he doesn’t expect is the redhead to actually catch the fist in his own larger hand and hold it in midair. He also doesn’t react in time to pull his hand out and move back when Kiri’s other fist swings low and punches so hard into his stomach that he falls to the ground, hand still captivated by Kirishima’s.

He’s never seen a man with that kinda of face on while fighting. His eyes are narrowed and dark, his mouth is set in a thin like and his whole body is taut, as if holding back his own strength.

For the first time since he’s ever been in the basement, Tetsutetsu doesn’t to fight anymore.

“Look Kirishima,” he hacks and looks wildly at him. “I don’t know if you’re upset at me for something but you gotta chill out. You can’t catch my hands like that, that’s not how you’re supposed to fight-“

“You still think I give a shit how we’re supposed to fight? No ones gonna care about strategy or sportsmanship when you’re dead, Tetsutetsu.”

His last scream is so loud and so shrill that Kirishima thinks it’s a shame it wasn’t witnessed in a real match by paying spectators.

[milligar]

I have been so rubbish at tumblr lately. Studying and writing my assignment is quickly taking over my life! I’ve tried to check out my feed when I can but I’ve missed tags and stuff so I’m so sorry to those that have tagged me and I’ve not responded!

In the little time I have had I should be working on chapter 8 of Educating Mickey which is about halfway complete but then I got an idea for this little story and well…

Can also be read on Ao3 here

—//—

Clothes maketh the man

It started out small. A new, more expensive hair gel appeared in the bathroom, and a better brand of body spray on his bedside table. Ian didn’t think too much of it at first. They had more money now that business was doing well and who was he to deny Mickey some little pleasures in life.

Then the magazines appeared. Just the odd one here and there. This wasn’t anything brand new, Mickey had always liked a magazine. Ian remembered watching him read through the entire rack when they worked together at the Kash and Grab. But lately there were less guns on the front and more fashionable looking men.

“Oo he’s cute,” Ian said, peeking over Mickey's shoulder as he flicked through his latest magazine on the couch.

“Yea, I think he’s the second hottest redhead I've ever seen,” Mickey replied with a smirk.

“Oh yeah? And who’s the first?” Ian asked, leaning down further and gently pressing his lips to Mickey's soft neck. God, he could kiss that neck forever.

“Ed Sheeran, obviously.” Or not. Ian pulled away and pushed at Mickey's head as his husband giggled.

“You’re an asshole.”.

“Shut up,” Mickey replied, turning and kneeling on the sofa so he was head to chest with Ian. “You know it’s you.” Tattooed hands pulled him down for a soft kiss.

“Who is that anyway?” Ian asked, nodding his head in the direction of the magazine as they pulled apart.

“The model? Hampus Luck. He’s Swedish,” Mickey turned back around and resumed his reading or, more accurately, his staring.

Ian’s jaw dropped, actually surprised that Mickey had known the name of the model, never mind where he was from. With a shrug he carried onto the kitchen to make coffee.

A few days later Ian was waiting in the living room for Mickey to finish getting ready for their date night. He’d been looking forward to this all week and had made reservations at the tapas bar down the block.

“Mickey, hurry the fuck up we’re going to be late!” Ian yelled down the hall.

“Alright, keep your hair on, I’ll just be a minute.” Ian rolled his eyes and continued to pace the living room and repeatedly check his watch.

Almost ten minutes later Mickey sauntered out of the hall, stopping Ian in his tracks. Mickey looked good. Better than good, he looked down right hot. But..

“Have you been stealing shit from the laundry again?” Ian asked, eying the soft leather jacket Mickey was wearing over a striped long sleeved t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled up slightly showing a cloth interior and Mickey’s strong forearms.

“What? No!” Mickey scowled at the accusation. “What the fuck Ian? Not quite the reaction I was going for.”

“I mean you look fucking hot, Mick. You change your hair?” Ian backtracked, dragging his eyes down and up Mickey’s body.

“Nah, just styled it a bit different,” he replied, poking at it a little. Mickey was clearly somewhat self conscious of the new look, not that he needed to be.

“You look amazing.” Ian confirmed this with a heated kiss, slipping his hand up the back of Mickey's neck until�� “ow!”

Mickey was slapping his arm away.

“What the fuck Mickey?”

“Touch the hair and I will punch you,” Mickey said, seriously. “You and your big ass hands.” Ian backed away with his hands up in surrender. Clearly it wasn’t worth his life.

“So where did the jacket come from?” Ian was trying his best to ask casually as he gathered his wallet and keys from the side.

“I bought it.”

“When? Where from?” Ian clicked their front door closed and they made their way through the apartment block.

“Yesterday. When I went out with Tami, Freddie and baby Jaxs. We went to the mall and I saw it.” Mickey opened the door for him and he stepped through into the evening bustle. “Why are you mad I spent the money or something, ‘cause it’s not real leather you know. It wasn’t that expensive.”

“No! No, not at all, just strange you buying clothes, is all,” Ian said, slipping his hand into Mickey’s as they set off down the street. “Usually the only thing you buy, or should I say steal, are shirts to rip the sleeves off. Or Hawaiian shirts, what is that about?”

“I just liked it, it’s not a big deal Ian,” Mickey replied, clearly ignoring the slight on his Hawaiian shirts.

Ian shrugged. Mickey was right, it wasn't really a big deal.

Over the next few months Ian noticed a few other new things. A new pair of boots here. A new pair of jeans there. Slowly but surely Mickey’s wardrobe was changing. His husband was definitely getting better dressed with every new item that appeared. Ian’s current favourites were Mickey’s new black jeans that hugged his butt cheeks like they were long lost lovers. Mickey wore them with his new timberlands, a plain white t-shirt and long, almost knee length jacket.

“You really have acclimatised to the west side haven’t you?” Ian asked, snaking his hands inside the jacket and around Mickey’s middle.

“Fuck off,” Mickey replied half-heartedly, as he pushed his body against Ian’s and reached up for a kiss.

And so it went on, just little changes here and there until one day Ian was digging around in the closet and came across a pile of shopping bags. As he rummaged through the bags of clothes he found they were mainly from high street shops but it looked as if a couple of expensive items were mixed in there too.

“Mickey!?” he yelled across the apartment. “Can you come here for a second?”

Mickey swaggered into the bedroom, his new lounge pants hugging his thighs as he walked.

“What’s up… oh.” he came to a halt when he saw where Ian was standing and the colour drained from his face.

“What the fuck Mickey? Where has all this stuff come from?” Ian was pulling out the bags of clothes and dumping them haphazardly on the bed.

“Hey, be careful with those will ya, Jesus.” Mickey lunged forward and began straightening the bags, neatening up the items inside. “I bought them, okay?” he said, sheepishly.

“All of them? Mickey there must be a couple of hundred dollars worth of stuff here. Not to mention all the new stuff I’ve seen you wearing. What the fucks going on?” Ian stared at him with his hands on his hips. Mickey looked like he was about to close off, Ian knew that face well, he’d seen it a thousand times throughout their relationship.

“I just got carried away. I’ll return them,” Mickey said, turning back to the bags with a dejected look on his face.

“Hey, what’s going on, Mick? All these clothes, all these changes? Don’t get wrong you look fucking amazing, but I’d think you look amazing whatever you wore,” Ian said, sliding his hands onto Mickey’s hips from behind.

“Well it’s not about you, Gallagher,” Mickey spat, but there wasn’t much venom behind it. “I just like them. I didn’t get anything new when I was kid, unless I stole it, and I just wanted to look good in clothes that I chose, not ones that were handed down to me and I had to make do with.”

With his head hanging, Mickey slowly sifted through the bags looking at the items he’d purchased. “I know I got a little carried away recently. I was going to return some of this stuff anyway, I just…” he sighed. “I just want to fucking look good. For me, you know. I couldn’t do that as a kid, I mean, you met my fucking dad.”

Ian pushed on his hips, turning him so they were face to face. The look on Mickey’s face hurt his heart. He remembered that scared boy he’d met all those years ago. He thought he’d never see that boy again but here he was in front of him.

“I get it Mickey, you don’t need to return any of this, just maybe watch what you’re spending in the future. We have more money now but we’re not rich, just not poor.”

Mickey nodded with a smile. “I know,” he said. “If we do have kids though-“ Ian’s heart skipped a beat, Mickey never spoke of kids. “-they ain’t having any hand me downs. Ever. They get their own clothes.”

“Yea, okay,” Ian muttered, not quite sure how the conversation had got here but not wanting to scare Mickey out of it.

“You know why I started cutting the sleeves off of everything?” Mickey asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Because most of my clothes came from Iggy and Colin, fucking big bastards. The arms always hung over my hands and made me so mad. So I started cutting them off and then it kinda just became my style. I kinda liked having a style that was mine ya’know. Not like I could have taken an interest in clothes even if we had money. My dad would have beat me harder. I mean it is kinda gay.”

“Well, you’re kinda gay,” Ian smirked, moving closer to his husband.

“Yea, I am kinda gay,” Mickey replied, smiling as Ian leaned in to kiss him.

“And now you’re a stereotypical well dressed gay,” Ian teased, looking around Mickey at all the bags. “But seriously, no more shopping for a while.”

“Fine,” Mickey replied, going back to the bags to start putting things away. “Does it count if I buy things for you? You know, I’ve seen a few thing that would look-”

“Nope!” Ian started to make a hasty get out of the room. He should have known this was coming next.

“But Ian-“

“Fuck off, Mickey!” Ian left to the sound of his husband chuckling and bags rustling. He liked the new Mickey. Or rather not new, just freer. He just needed to keep him the fuck away from his wardrobe.

[winter-dayz]

We’ll Figure it Out - Part II

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x Reader College AU Genre: Angst; Fluff; Smut Words: 2074 Warnings: sexual content (dom!jinyoung, sub!reader, grinding, marking, panty stealing, female receiving oral, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration); strong language

We’ll Figure it Out Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Taglist: @soobin-chois​

Late summer had rolled into fall and with fall came midterms. With midterms, the semester found itself becoming increasingly busier and neither Y/N nor Jinyoung could quite find time to go out on a “date” again. Or maybe that’s what they told themselves as they respectively didn’t want to get their own hopes up if it was destined to crumble eventually anyway.

When they did manage to see one another, it was in passing on campus or the rare free lunch period that he joined her group of friends. For obvious reasons, he was hesitant to spend time with them. But, each time her and her friends’ paths crossed with his, they were kind and welcoming, inviting him to hang out or come study. More often than not, he politely refused, but a few times he had joined after some slight coercing and catching sight of Y/N’s pout.

Slowly, but surely, her friends became his without him even noticing. The group of four easily turned into five, and he even found himself spending time with their friends whether Y/N was present or not. Eventually, he divulged his career and status, but none of them acted any differently. They weren’t unaware of who he was, seeing as Y/N had spilled the beans pretty quickly to Mina who blabbed to Gray who gushed to Jack, but they still didn’t treat him as anyone other than their friend JP, which he was grateful for.

What he wasn’t grateful for was Jack’s constant picking at his “relationship” with Y/N, as he was doing currently.

“Can you just drop it?” Jinyoung mumbled, glare trained on his midterm study guide.

Jack hummed, tapping his own book repeatedly with a pen, “Nah man. Not until you admit you like her. Or at least that you wanna fuck her.”

Y/N, thankfully, wasn’t present, having left the study group early with Mina for their weekly girls’ date. But, that didn’t stop the heat of embarrassment from creeping up the back of Jinyoung’s neck, worried the wrong person would overhear something.

Jinyoung rolled his neck, hoping his face didn’t bear the same red resemblance as his neck and ears, and turned his glare upwards at the youngest. “She’s a person, show some respect.”

“I’m not being disrespectful!” Jack gawped, “It’s a fair question! Right, Gray?!”

Gray didn’t even glance up from his own study materials, eyes continuing to skim the dauntingly large graduate-level texts, “Leave me out of this. If he doesn’t want to fuck Y/N, that’s his business, not mine.”

“Well, it’s not like I–” Jinyoung stuttered but stopped himself, catching Gray’s small smirk. “Very funny.”

“Personally,” Jack stretched, leaning backwards in his chair, “I think you should go for it. Like I’ve been saying for weeks, she’s into you too. But if you aren’t going to, don’t be mad when someone else does.”

Jinyoung huffed, going back to his own studying before he could linger too much on just how badly those words annoyed him, “Noted.”

~

Post-midterm season meant it was time for Halloween.

Halloween meant that Jack was going to drag all of his friends out for a night of young adult debauchery, no matter how much the others all whined that they were too old.

“At least he conceded on bar-hopping,” Y/N sighed as Mina tied her into her corset. Thankfully, Mina’s husband had taken their kid trick-or-treating, allotting her some needed ‘adult time’ with her friends, and specifically their weekly ‘girl time’ with her best friend.

Mina laughed, “Only because Gray suggested we just join him at the Greek row parties… I honestly can’t decide which one sounds worse.”

“Bar-hopping. Definitely bar-hopping.” Y/N face scrunched as she sucked in sharply while her friend finished tightening it for maximum curvature. “Shitty drinks, people who are too young to flirt with, and terrible music by underpaid DJs? No thanks.”

“Yeah, but going to Greek row parties on Halloween is like begging to get drugged.”

Y/N shrugged, “Gray promised to keep me away from the shitty and underage ones.”

Mina’s eyebrows wiggled as she applied red lipstick to complete her own vampira look, “I thought you didn’t care about hooking up?”

“That was months ago. It’s Halloween, I’m a sexy pirate, and I wanna get fucked… Whether that be by liquor or dick, I’m not picky.”

“I’m sad nothing happened between you and Jinyoung,” Mina pouted as the ladies exited the younger’s apartment.

Y/N shrugged, “He never wanted a relationship to begin with. We’re friends though, and like you guys said, I got back out there and practiced flirting. Tonight is like the exam for that.”

“If you say so…”

Y/N changed the subject once they arrived at Greek row, spotting their group of friends in front of Gray’s fraternity house. He, himself, was dressed in the standard toga as Dionysus—if the chalice and bundle of grapes was anything to go by. Jack, thinking he’d be cheeky and match Y/N, had also dressed as a pirate, specifically one from certain Disney movies that allowed him to carry around a small jug of rum for the evening. Jinyoung, stood with his hands in his pockets, dressed in an all-black suit, sunglasses, earpiece, and face mask.

“Are you a bodyguard?”

He shrugged with a nod. “I’m your protection for the night.”

Y/N smiled, but was cut off as Jack slung a heavy arm around her shoulders. “Sorry mate, Miss L/N has me for the evening, savvy?” She laughed as Jack pulled her in the direction of the party, with exclamations of finding a drink for her in a very awful pirate accent. Meanwhile, Jinyoung trailed behind, frown hidden by his mask, sharp glare hidden by his glasses, and clenched fists hidden by his pockets.

He couldn’t say anything. He was the one who told her that they would just be friends, and they’d been doing well at that so far. But once again, something in him turned sour at the thought of just being friends; something in him boiled at the thought of someone else being more than friends with her. And, no matter what he told himself, that something in himself was not going away, rather it seemed to be growing.

~

A few weekends later, the group of friends, joined by Mina’s husband, found themselves outside of a nightclub, celebrating Mina’s thirtieth birthday.

“Y/N, where’s your plus one?” Mina asks when she sees the younger join them alone.

Y/N’s eyes widened, flitting to Jinyoung who stood off to the side looking anywhere but at her. She huffed. Why was she so worried about someone who didn’t even want her? “Ah, he won’t be joining us. I broke it off.” Y/N shrugged, linking arms with Mina as the bouncer led them to their reserved VIP section.

As they all settled in the booth—Mina and her husband, Jinyoung, Gray, Y/N, and Jack—Gray nudged Y/N’s side, “I didn’t know you were seeing someone?” Unknown to her, he flicked his gaze to Jinyoung, noticing how tense the man had become.

“That’s because I wasn’t really ‘seeing’ him. We met at your Halloween party, and Jack wingmanned me. We were just… fooling around.”

Jinyoung’s glare narrowed on Jack, before staring Y/N down. “You said you didn’t like sleeping with randoms.”

She flinched at his accusatory tone. “He wasn’t a ‘random.’ Jack knew him. He’s a good guy; we had fun. But it wasn’t long-term… Not that it’s any of your business.”

That boiling feeling in the pit of Jinyoung’s stomach was back. It burned with something akin to rage but maybe more vicious, and this time, he let it roll off his tongue. “And Jack is such a good judge of character? He wants to get in your pants as much as the next guy. Probably set you up with his own intentions.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, spitting back with her own venom. “Maybe that’s what I fucking want? Ever thought of that, hm? It feels nice to be fucking wanted.”

Before any more words could be thrown across the table, a waitress interrupted the tension by bringing a tray with shots and flutes of champagne. Y/N downed two shots, nudging Jack to move out of the booth. “Let’s go dance.”

He easily followed, a smug smile firmly in place from the beginning of the argument as he knew that Jinyoung was jealous—even if Jinyoung himself hadn’t figured it out yet. Gray grimaced, gaze flickering between his two younger friends giggling and grinding on the dance floor to the man beside him who was seething. He glanced over to find Mina in a similar, speechless manner. How were they supposed to fix this? Y/N was their friend first, and they both knew she had feelings for JP. Hell, even she knew she had feelings for him. But if Jinyoung wasn’t willing to admit his own feelings, it was hopeless.

Jinyoung remained cold and passive the rest of the evening, sipping on his champagne and chatting with Mina’s husband who wasn’t much of a partier or dancer, while the others drank and danced. Y/N and Jack hadn’t returned to the table, rather sticking to the dancefloor and grabbing their drinks from the bar instead. But, as the night wore on and their energy waned, the pair found themselves finally back at the booth, preparing to close tabs and head out.

Y/N giggled, plopping herself down on Jack’s lap as his arms came around to catch her easily. He nuzzled her ear telling her a simple ‘no more’ when she tried to reach for the last flute of champagne, but his eyes remained on Jinyoung. While she was busy pouting about being cut off, Jack mouthed to the older, ‘I told you so.’

With that being the final straw, Jinyoung huffed and slid out of the booth, storming out of the club to wait for a cab. Y/N’s eyes, glazed with a small amount of tears, trailed after him. She turned around to look at Jack, pouting and confused.

“Is he mad at me?”

“He’s mad at himself… But you should probably go talk to him,” Jack smiled. “You okay to walk there on your own?”

She blinked her eyes a few times, taking a deep breath. “Ye– Yeah… I’m good. Just got a little tipsy and caught up in the partying. Thanks…”

He nodded her off and glanced back at his other friends, who glared disapprovingly. “What?” Jack whined, “You two weren’t helping. I had to take matters into my own hands…”

~

“Go back inside, Y/N.” Jinyoung stated, not even turning to look at her as she leaned against the building next to him.

“No.”

“Fine.”

He was being distant. Cold. He knew that. He knew it was a defense mechanism. But he just couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t sit around watching her being cutesy and cuddling up to another man. He thought it was bad when he watched her flirt and do shots with guys during Halloween. He thought it was worse when he could see her from a distance dancing and grinding on Jack. But he couldn’t stomach to see her up close acting like that with someone who wasn’t him.

“Why are you even out here… You looked pretty cozy with Jack.” He finally spat to break the silence, not quite sure if he liked where his train of thought was taking him.

“Are you jealous, Jinyoung?” He didn’t answer her question or turn to her, just a slight tense of his jaw. But she caught it. Y/N sighed, “Jack was giving me attention. It was nice.”

“I’m sure it was.” He could feel his teeth grinding. Why was the cab taking so damn long?

“It would’ve been better if it had been someone else’s attention though…” She mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. When he made no response or indication to care, Y/N let out a deep sigh. She knew it all along. Even if he did get jealous, he didn’t feel enough for her to do anything about it. She turned to walk away, jolted in her step when a hand grabbed her wrist. He turned her sharply and pushed her back against the wall roughly.

“You want my attention, baby? Have it.”

Without another word, his lips pushed against her own.

[highdramas]

your song, vol. 1 | rockstar!bucky

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆��𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

rockstar!bucky barnes x fem!reader, some slight peter parker x reader in later parts (unrequited)

word count: 2429

warnings: references to sex, language, references to drug and alcohol use in later parts, age gap, slow burn-ish

summary: it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.

it is the summer of 1978, and everyone calls you rhiannon, and it has never occurred to you to mind.

really, it was sort of nice. rhiannon is a daredevil. rhiannon goes on tour with bands. rhiannon inspires songs and reads tarot and knows how to light up a room with a smile. rhiannon gets asked if she’s, like, the rhiannon. the rhiannon who rings like a bell through the night.

you’re not. but you’re not going to tell them that.

and, sure, you know that you’re capable of all of these things-- but it’s different when they’re calling you rhiannon.

it’s different when he is calling you rhiannon.

you’ve become somewhat of a myth in the california rock ‘n roll scene. groupies have flocked to you-- and you have somewhat rejected the term. found it degrading, the way that rock stars and fans spoke about groupies. it had been your personal mission during the summer of 1977 to change the way that men in rock spoke about women.

the summer that you met bucky barnes.

really, it wasn’t bucky that you had set your eyes on initially. initially, you’d shown up with his friend, steve rogers, the drummer. you and your group of band aids (you were still coining the name) had an in backstage and the second you had seen steve, you were a bit smitten. he wasn’t your typical rockstar. there was something kind about him, something genuine. he looked at you less like he wanted to fuck you and more like he wanted to know you.

it wasn’t until later that you met bucky. later, once you set out on tour with them.

when you found out that steve had a girl back home and he was simply being kind to you, it had reminded you of your mission. your mission to show all of these men what exactly women had to contribute to music and its existing scene-- and that it was more than being a side piece. more than being a fun distraction on the road.

that was the moment that you swore you would not fall in love with a rockstar.

the hotel you all had checked into was absolutely lavish. it was extravagant and beautiful, high ceilings and marbled floors and the shiniest doorknobs that you’ve ever seen. it’s 3:30 in the morning and the girls-- america and kate being your favorite of the whole bunch-- are out with the guys at the bar. you’re sure that they’re requesting brooklyn songs-- later on, you’d give bucky shit for suggesting that their band name should just be brooklyn. you give steve even more shit for going along with it.

after the revelation with steve, normally, you’d be in the mood to party. but you feel like shit and you fell asleep wrong on the bus and your neck is killing you. you don’t want to be a vibe killer, so you tell the girls to go on without you and maybe you’ll catch up with them later.

instead, at some point, you pad down to the pool. there is one lone figure sitting by an illuminated neon sign. it’s only when you’re within feet that you realize that it’s bucky.

of all of the members of brooklyn, you’d gotten to know bucky the least in the past week that you’ve been on the road with them. steve, sam, and natasha were all nice-- nicer than nice. steve and sam especially, but you knew why.

natasha is nice-- direct and passionate about what she does. and what she does is sing. you always said that brooklyn would be nothing if it wasn’t for nat’s husky vocals and insane songwriting.

then there’s bucky. the guitarist.

kate has been touring with brooklyn awhile now-- went with them on the europe leg. now she’s with their manager, clint, and she seems to know all the gossip. when you asked what was up with bucky-- why he was so quiet, why he didn’t like to party with the others, kate had given you that thousand watt smile and said-- “alright, don’t tell anyone about this, ‘specially buck, but he’s sober. couple years now, from what i hear. it’s real hard for him, being on the road.”

then, your mouth had made a slight o, you had nodded your head, and kate shone like the light she is before dashing off to find clint.

you’re brought back to that conversation now, seeing him hunched over on a reclining chair. you see that he is hugging his legs, smoking a cigarette. a bottle of root beer sits beside him on the ground.

your feet are working before your brain is, and before you know it, you’re standing before him. if he notices your presence, he doesn’t act like it.

“got one to spare?”

that’s when he finally glances up at you. his face is mostly unreadable-- furrowed brows and a set jaw, long brunette hair that almost brushes his shoulders. he is quite handsome. he’s the kind of man that you think is built for moments like these-- sitting by pools, pink neon radiating off his face. the kind of handsome that is a little bit intimidating. not like steve, who is all softness and warm smiles.

you sink onto the pool chair beside bucky as he nods. he passes you a cigarette and you pop it between your lips. bucky’s zippo seems to come out of nowhere, and you watch as the end begins to burn, and you take your first drag of your first cigarette.

a coughing fit ensues. naturally. you hold it awkwardly between the fingers of your right hand and you cover your mouth with your left, hacking up your lungs. bucky’s brows furrow and it’s then, and only then, when the faintest hint of a smirk drags onto his features. “you alright?” his hand moves to your back and rubs in circles, pats it lightly, until you’re bleary eyed and looking over at him with a loud laugh.

it was natural after that.

where bucky was, it was safe to assume that you weren’t far behind. but it wasn’t like that. if anyone asked who you were with, you wore a proud expression and said with little hesitation, “myself.”

each time, bucky glanced between you and whatever sorry schmuck was in your path, and he shrugged his shoulders. “you heard her.”

things were easy with bucky. you had laid the ground rules that night, on the pool chaise. you had straightened your shoulders and you said, “i made the vow not to fall in love with anyone this summer.”

bucky had raised an eyebrow at you and watched as you took his root beer and took a long pull, his eyes fixating onto yours. “funny, so did i.”

the summer of 1977 was a dream.

but you had to wake up.

when you’re not rhiannon, you’re… you. you’re a student at oxford university on a full ride scholarship, studying political science, eventually law. you want to be the first woman president. you have bigger dreams and aspirations than being a band aid.

but you don’t mind slipping into your dream state between the months of may and september. you don’t mind one bit.

on the last night of tour, in nashville, you and bucky had spent the whole night in his room. you talked and you laughed, you laid together and you talked about school and he talked about recording the next album. you said how you wished you could be there for it, and he said how he’d like to see oxford.

that’s another thing about dreams.

when you’re in them, you can nearly believe that they can exist in the real world. but they can’t.

you and bucky had toed a very thin line for a long time. and you tumbled off of it together that night.

when you said your goodbyes in the airport the next morning, everyone else around as well, it seemed to suck any of the intimacy out of the room. you told him then that you always hated airports-- they reminded you of goodbyes.

bucky had shrugged, and said, “they remind me of hellos.”

you hugged. he kissed the corner of your mouth, the closest thing to an outright public display of affection as you two would get. and you left. you went back to real life.

but now, it is 1978. and it is the summer before your senior year of college, and you are backstage at the bee gees at the forum. and brooklyn is opening.

of course you knew that you would see him. he had written you letters over the course of the past year, like a gentleman. you’d tucked them away in your hat box and wrote back about your studies and your roommates. and at the end of the last letter you sent, you wrote: hope you wrote that song about me. xx

you didn’t tell him you were going on the road this summer. you’d been in touch with kate and met up in beverly hills with her. she told you about how she and clint had moved in together in new york and you sipped coffee and went with her as she shopped at places that were far out of your budget. and then you’d met up with clint and he got you your pass.

and now you’re here, with a packed duffel.

it’s a wonder you haven’t run into him yet. there’s a part of you that hopes he doesn’t know-- that he’s going to come out here and see you and that the air is going to be knocked from him as he takes in the visage of you.

beginning to grow anxious, you throw yourself into a chair backstage in a huff. a boy who must be around your age is sitting on the arm of it, and looks down at you curiously. “you alright?”

“never better,” you say and inspect your nail. “you seen the band?”

“who, bee gees? nah, haven’t had a chance--”

“no. brooklyn.”

“oh.” he goes quiet and nods his head. “i got a chance to talk to ‘em just now. i’m trying to do a piece on them.”

your jaw slacks a bit and you nod your head. “oh.” a journalist. of course he is. “how exciting for you.”

“yeah, it’ll be my first real piece. i’ve written some stuff for my college paper, but nothing like this. i can’t believe i even got in. i met this girl gwen and she found me a pass.”

“gwen’s a real keeper,” you say and you wink. your words are honest. you like gwen. “what’s your name, kid?”

“peter parker.”

you stick your hand out. “nice to meet you, peter parker.”

he shakes it and he raises his eyebrows at you, as if waiting for an introduction on your end. “and you are…” he finally begins.

“that’s rhiannon.”

the voice jars you. you don’t dare look behind you, but you already know who it is. you feel large hands on your shoulders and it takes every ounce of pride and self worth inside of you not to let your body erupt into shivers. “she’s the heart of brooklyn.”

a scoff passes your lips and you tip your head back, and you’re not disappointed by what you see. you never are. “you’re always so dramatic,” you coo. your attention shifts back to peter, but your skin is buzzing where bucky touches you, and you have nearly ten months worth of time to catch up on with him. “it was nice meeting you, peter parker.”

subtlety is not your strong suit, and peter must gather that, because he scrambles to get his things and scurry off. you give a slight wave and make a mental note that you’d like to get to know him if he sticks around. “nice kid,” you say.

“don’t want to talk about him.”

you can’t help yourself now. a giddy squeal bursts from your lips and you turn and you fling yourself at him. you’re all arms and legs flailing, clutching to him, and he holds you just as tight. there’s that sort of husky, low laugh that leaves him, and you remember it from that night that you wanted to impress him by smoking a cigarette. “hey, rhi.”

“hi,” your voice is muffled in his neck. you don’t care who’s watching, you don’t care what they whisper— for the first time, you don’t care if they assume you’re going to go back to bucky’s room and fuck him stupid. you care that he’s here. that’s bigger than your pride.

“didn’t tell me you’d be comin’. had to hear from kate.”

“yeah, well...” you pull back and look up at him, hands resting on his shoulders. his find your hips and pull you in. “i wanted to surprise you. am i a happy surprise?”

bucky is the kind of person who thinks before he speaks, but also, you believe that he thinks before he emotes. there’s a beat before he’s licking his lips, nodding his head. “nah. it’s gonna be such a drag having my girl on the road with me.”

my girl.

you squint at him and push him away right in his chest, and he gapes, rubbing it and feigning hurt. “don’t pull that,” you point at him. “same rules as last summer, alright? we— we went over this.”

exasperated, bucky sighs, head lolling to the side. “yes ma’am.”

ten months ago bucky told you he was in love with you.

ten months ago bucky told you he’d follow you all over the world.

ten months ago you agreed that it was a horrible idea, and that your friendship was too vital, too real, too special to risk messing it up.

ten months later, you’re hoping you won’t regret this decision.

you can see the disappointment in his face. gently, you touch the side of his face and you smile a bit. “in another life.” those were the words you had said to him, all those nights ago.

bucky’s face breaks your heart over and over again. he gives you that gentle but sad look-- the look of a man who has what he wants right within arms reach, but knows that he cannot fully grasp. knows that he cannot fully keep.

“i’ll have you any way you want me,” is all he finally says. “‘s not summer without you.”

you’d made a promise to him that night. you had told him you weren’t going to fall in love with anyone in the summer of 1977.

but it is the summer of 1978. and this is the story of how you fall in love with bucky barnes.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Air

Our first story on Day 1 comes to you by @zurisenchantedquill !

Title: Air Author/Artist: zurimadison Pairing: Romione, side Hinny Prompt: Rock Concert Rating: Teen, borderline Mature? Trigger Warning(s) (if any): bit of snogging :)

Full disclosure, I was inspired by the song "Stay Next to Me" by Quinn XCII and Chelsea Cutler

______

Ron

“You have ten minutes,” Ginny says, smacking her gum as she stares at me. “Harry will be here soon.”

I don’t move from my seat on the couch. “So let me get this straight, not only are you forcing me into going to this concert tonight, but you also invited your boyfriend to my flat?”

“You like Harry.” She checks her phone. “Nine minutes.”

I do like Harry, but I’m not going to admit that to her right now. I try a change of tactics. “I had plans tonight, Gin. You can’t just show up unannounced and expect me to drop everything to go out with you.”

“Laundry is not a plan, Ron,” she says, texting furiously as she plops on the other end of the couch. “Mum says I need to get you out of the house because you’ve been moping since your breakup, and I knew that if I gave you warning, you’d find an excuse to bail.”

I can’t help but wince, reminded of both the recent end to my relationship and the correct assumption that I’m hiding away because of it. “I just need some me-time right now.”

She looks at me, cheek lit by her phone screen, and smirks. “Eight minutes.”

Whoever said Weasleys are pushovers has never met my little sister.

Actually, probably no one has ever said that.

I sigh and stand, making my way to my bedroom to change.

“Comb your hair or something, while you’re at it,” she calls. “You look a mess.”

“Thanks Gin,” I yell back, but then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Sheesh, she wasn’t kidding. 

Seven minutes later, dressed and groomed enough to be presentable, I set off down the road with my sister and her boyfriend. 

“Go on then, who are we seeing tonight?”

“The Black Keys,” Harry answers, grinning. “I’ve been dying to see them for ages.”

I’ve never heard of them before, so I ask, “what kind of music is that? Rock?”

“Technically, more Indie Rock,” Ginny answers, and I can’t stop the small snort that escapes me. She shoots a glare that very clearly warns me not to take the mickey, so I hold my arms up defensively and clear my throat.

“Oh, sounds...erm, fun.” It’s lame, but Harry nods and starts rambling about his favorite songs. For all my trouble, Ginny graces me with an approving quirk of her eyebrow. Thanks Sis. 

The venue is close to my flat, so it isn’t long before we’re through the doors, pushing our way into the crowd. 

It feels like even less time before Ginny is snogging Harry, their bodies swaying in time to the music as her drink slops unnoticed on their shoes. They break apart every now and then to sing a lyric or two, then they’re right back at it.

I try to ignore it as I down my beer, but the venue is so congested that I’m constantly jostled into them. Not that they even seem to notice, mind you, but as much as I don’t care what Ginny does on her own time, it’s another thing entirely to literally have it shoved into my face. 

My bottle is devastatingly empty, so I mutter an excuse and snake away through the crowd, not finding it at all dispersed as I move further from the stage. I spot a bar in the back corner and fight my way over to it, feeling like a hero returning home after battle when I’m able to place my order with the bartender. 

It happens as I’m waiting for my beer. I glance down the length of the bar, more out of idleness than anything else, and I see her. 

She’s got dark curly hair that’s highlighted with honey, a red strapless dress that could bring a man to his knees, and, unless I’m much mistaken, she’s holding a book in one of her hands as she leans across the bar to be heard above the music.

I am struck with the impulse to know the color of her eyes. 

She seems to be alone, and is the only person in the venue actually sitting on a stool. I’m not altogether surprised when, after receiving her drink, she opens her book. She’s so absorbed in her reading that she doesn't notice the people bustling around her. She doesn’t even look up when the bartender hands a drink to someone over her head. 

It takes me two more beers, alone in the corner, watching this woman who has such impressive focus, before I work up my nerve. There’s a small opening in the crowd, so I decide it's now or never and throw myself through it. I slip to her side and deliver the almighty line that I’d been working on for nearly twenty minutes.

“Whatcha reading?”

I honestly expect her to ignore me or maybe genuinely not hear me, but to my surprise, she looks right at me. 

Brown. Her eyes are chestnut brown, with a dark ring around the outside. They appraise me before the corners of her round lips turn upwards almost imperceptibly. “Treasure Island.” She has to shout to be heard above the music.

“No way,” I exclaim, bemused. “That’s one of the few books I’ve actually read! Isn’t it crazy that Ben had the treasure the whole time?”

“He what?” Her eyes go wide as she gazes at me, slack jawed. “Seriously?”

“Wait, you didn’t know?” I ask, clapping a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry, I thought-”

“Just kidding,” she interrupts me, then begins to giggle at what I can only assume is my idiotic expression. “I’ve read this a million times.”

Her laugh is infectious, and I silently swear to make her do as much of it as I can. I lean against my forearm on the bar and turn sideways so I can view her better. Something about the way she’s looking up at me makes me feel brave. “What’s your name?” 

“Hermione.”

“Ron.” I extend my hand. She slips her tiny palm into mine. I shake it, but then I don’t let go. 

A drunk patron knocks into me, pushing me closer to her. I can almost see down her dress, I’m standing so close. “It’s too crowded in here,” she shouts as she glances over her shoulder. “So many random bodies pressed together.”

“We should go somewhere.” I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but I don’t mind it when she rewards me with a tiny smile.

“Where? Outside?”

“I don’t care,” I say. “Your choice. I’ll follow you.”

She surveys me, looking as though she’s deciding. “Aren’t you going to miss the show?” 

“No,” I laugh. “I don’t know this band at all.”

“Me neither,” she admits. She’s nearly knocked off her stool by a surge of the crowd around us, and this seems to seal the deal. “Ok, let’s go.” She stands and winds through the crowd, never releasing my hand. 

_____

Hermione

I lead my tall, red headed stranger to the back patio, feeling instant relief in the cool night air as we step over the threshold. The music is much less loud out here, and it’s not as crowded. I drop his hand as I perch myself on the patio railing, sighing in contentment as my overstimulated senses are satisfied by the calming change in environment.

Ron flags a server for us, so I take the opportunity to examine him while he orders. He’s broad in the shoulders but narrow in the hips, though the shape is flattering in the way his t-shirt pulls across his chest. From underneath the material on his left arm, a full sleeve of tattoos runs enticingly to his wrist, leaving me with a burning desire to see the obscured designs. 

Tattooed and bearded. Just how I like 'em.

The server leaves and he turns his gaze back to me, reminding me of the thing so far that I like the most about him.

His eyes.

They’re almost turquoise-y blue, and seem to ripple like water. That alone would be sexy enough, but there’s something about the way they make me feel. They’re...kind.

He leans his back against the railing where I’m sitting, close enough that my leg is brushing his arm. “So, did you come to this show tonight because you like a little background music while you read?” 

I laugh. “No, my friends dragged me here with them, but I lost track of them pretty much the moment we arrived. Hence, this.” I hold up my book. “What about you? You said you don’t know the band either.”

“Nah,” he agrees. “I was also forced to come out tonight. But, I don’t fancy watching my sister snog her boyfriend all evening so…” He shrugs. His hair moves gently in the night breeze.

“Well look at us,” I say. “A couple of third wheels.”

The server comes back with the drinks: two shots of whiskey and two beers. I thank him as I take mine, and Ron raises his shot glass.

“Left your boyfriend at home, then?” He’s holding the whiskey expectantly, smirking while he waits for my answer.

I roll my eyes. “Very subtle.”

“Oh, you saw what I did there?”

“I did, believe it or not.” I hold my whiskey out as well. “To being single?”

It’s phrased as a question, and there’s a triumphant sparkle in his eye as he clicks his glass against mine. “To being single.”

“Cheers.” We throw back the shot. The alcohol hums just under my skin.

Ron doesn’t return to his previous position, but instead stands in front of me so that his stomach is against my knees. He places his free hand on the outside of my bare thigh, sending tingles down my spine. He meets my eye for a moment, as though asking if I mind, and in response I lean forward and place my free hand on his chest. 

The full, lopsided smile I receive in return is worth it.

“What do you do for a living, Hermione?” His voice is gravelly now.

“I’m in microbiology,” I answer. “I work in a lab.”

“Wow,” he lets out a low whistle. “Smart and beautiful.”

I laugh again. “What about you?”

“I’m a nurse,” he says, puffing out his chest. “I work in the ICU.”

Somehow I understand the kindness in his eyes even more. I’m so distracted by looking into them that I accidentally spill some beer all over my lap. “Oh no, I’m sorry!”

“Watch yourself,” he says, laughing as he grabs a napkin and dabs off my legs. “Why is your drink so full anyway?” 

“Yours is just as full,” I argue, offering my beer as evidence.

He looks between our two glasses and shrugs. “Maybe, but I can drink faster, so it doesn’t count.”

“How do you know that?” I demand, holding the beer up now as a challenge. “Chugging contest?”

His grin is evil and beautiful. “You’re on.”

“Three, two…” We both begin to drink as quickly as we can, though it becomes apparent to me that I’m quite outclassed. His Adam’s apple bobs distractingly and I reach out, tracing my finger down it before I can stop myself.

I freeze, my hand again on his chest, fingers grazing the skin above his neckline. When I meet his eye, he puts his glass on the railing and steps between my legs, wrapping his arms around me to bury his hands in my hair as he pulls me in for a kiss.

The way he feels is so distracting that I drop my own glass, still half full, on the outside of the patio, where it spills in the grass. I’m sure we could get kicked out of the venue for that, but right now I don’t care. I kiss my new friend Ron for all I’m worth. He tastes like whiskey and every flick of his talented tongue ignites tiny fires all over my body. 

We snog for I don’t know how long, until we’re forced to come up for air. He doesn’t step away from me, but keeps his face close to mine as we pant. 

“I can’t waste another second here, can you?” His whisper tickles my cheek.

I run the analysis, weighing my options even as my head spins from the snog. I grip his arms tighter. “We should go somewhere.”

His lopsided smile takes my breath away.

[drabbles-mc]

Whoever Broke Your Heart

Angel Reyes x Reader

Song request from @bishopslosawife: the song is Whoever Broke Your Heart by Murphy Elmore. When I do song fics I tend to just write a story based around the song, I don’t usually include lyrics or anything. Hope that’s okay!

Warnings: language, mentions of past toxic relationships, a good old bar fight, protective Angel comin’ in hot

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: When I listened to the song and the prompt, I definitely pictured Angel a little more than any of the other guys. Love seeing him get a little hot-headed and protective. Hope y’all enjoy!

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @helli4nthus​ @angelreyesgirl​ @starrynite7114​ @queenbeered​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​

You laughed as Angel wrapped his arms around your waist. He was standing behind your bar stool, pressing playful kisses against your neck and cheek. You reached behind you and gently rested your hand on the side of his face, reveling in the feeling of his hands on your hips.

It was one of the rare nights when the two of you went out with your friends. Normally you hung out with him and the guys at the clubhouse, and that was fine, but if you really wanted to go out and dance, you could usually convince Angel to come with you and your little crew. He’d never been good at saying no to you. Plus, you could tell that he liked being around when all of you went out because he kept his eye out for any creeps trying to make moves on any of you. Angel might’ve been your boyfriend, but he’d gone to bat for nearly every one of your friends at one point or another, defending them from belligerent drunks and shitty exes. Sometimes you worried that he’d get tired of it, but he always told you it was nice to feel purposeful, especially when he was one of the only guys in the group.

“I’m gonna step out for a smoke, querida,” he kissed your cheek, “Come with me?”

You nodded, hopping down off the barstool, “Of course.”

You were walking in front of him, giggling to yourself as you felt his hands reach out and slap your ass lightly. You turned around to him quickly, flashing him a smile before slipping out the door of the club. The air felt cold and fresh, and you took a deep breath before leaning back against the side of the building the two of you had just come out of. Angel pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his kutte. You shook your head no when he offered you one, content to just be with him away from the noise for a few minutes before you dove back into it.

Angel was looking at you, a smile plastered on his face as he let out a puff of smoke. You felt your face get hot for a moment, “What?”

“Nothin’. You’re beautiful.”

You smiled, shaking your head with a laugh, “You’re beautiful.”

He rested one hand onto your hip, “Nah, I mean it. I could look at you all day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.”

You felt your heart swell inside your chest as you looked at him. Angel had never hesitated on telling you everything that came to his mind, and it was one of the things that you loved the most about him. He wasn’t afraid to be a little sappy with you and it went a long way after what your past relationships had put your through.

He saw the wheels turning in your mind and smiled, “Wanna bail and go home?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “No, no. I’m good, I promise. I just…it’s nice to hear that stuff sometimes.”

He snubbed his cigarette out on the ground before stepping in closer to you, cupping your face in his hands, “I’ll make sure you hear it every day.”

There was a brief moment when you wanted to tell him that you changed your mind and were totally okay with bailing and going home, but you stopped yourself. You hadn’t gone out with your friends in a while and you didn’t want to bail on them just because you were feeling extra lovey over your boyfriend. The two of you took a couple more minutes to stay outside of the chaos, and finally Angel tugged you along back inside to rejoin everyone.

He didn’t particularly like dancing—he’d told you that on more than one occasion. But he’d let you drag him out onto the dancefloor when you went to the club because he knew how much you enjoyed it. He also knew that whoever you had been with before kept you on an impossibly tight leash and you hadn’t been allowed to do much without your ex looking over your shoulder waiting for you to slip up. You hadn’t mentioned it to him at first, so when you would get upset and defensive over things, he didn’t quite understand it. But one day you broke down, not able to try and push it down anymore. From that point on Angel started going a little extra out of his way to be reassuring, and to let you know that you never had to defend yourself to him. He never wanted you to be nervous to talk to him about anything, but especially not things as simple as wanting to go out with your girlfriends for the night.

He was pressed right up against you, hands on your hips as the two of you danced to the music. Despite the music and the noise, you could still hear him clear as day when he leaned down next to your ear, “I love you.”

You smiled up at him, “I love you too.”

“Would a beautiful woman like you let me buy her a drink?”

You laughed, nodding, “I suppose, since you seem like such a gentleman.”

The two of you made your way back to the bar. You kept your fingers lightly entwined with Angel’s so that you wouldn’t lose him in the busyness of the club.  He managed to find you a free barstool to sit on and you gladly took it, happy to be off your feet for a few minutes.

Angel stepped away to flag down the bartender. You watched him, a smile spreading across your face. You were too busy gazing at him to notice who else had shown up and was now standing in front of you, waiting to gain your attention.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he finally said. Chills shot down your spine and you turned your head. He smiled at you and it almost seemed genuine, “Long time since I’ve seen you. How’ve you been?”

Every fiber of your being was telling you to get the hell out of the club. No good would come of talking to him. Your answer was short, your tone cold, “Fine.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“Someone already is,” you were angry but you still felt a lump forming in the back of your throat. You thought you had outrun these demons.

He cocked one eyebrow, “Really? I doubt that.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You had no idea what exactly it was about him that made him able to make you question everything about yourself, and your life, but you hated it. You hated him. Your mind raced to try and find the right words to say to get yourself out of the situation, to make him go away, but you couldn’t.

Angel reappeared, a beer bottle in one hand and a drink for you in the other. He saw the look on your face and his smile instantly dropped. He looked at the man standing in front of you, knowing that he was the reason for your expression but not quite knowing why.

He set your drink down on the surface of the bar and stood next to you, facing your ex, “Who the fuck are you?”

The man stepped back slightly, taking in the intimidating image that Angel easily put off, “I should be asking you that question.”

Angel scoffed, stepped completely in front of you and blocked you from the sightline of your ex, “I’m her fucking boyfriend.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Figures,” he peered around Angel to look at you, “let go of me and your standards, huh?”

The realization of who he was hit Angel like a freight train. He shoved the man backwards, “Get the fuck away from her.”

He laughed, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Before Angel could do anything too stupid you reached forward and grabbed the beer bottle out of his hands. Starting a brawl was bad enough but the last thing you needed was him cracking someone’s skull with a glass bottle.

It didn’t do enough to defuse the situation. Angel got up in his face, towering over him, “I don’t give a fuck who you think you are. Get out of here now before you regret it.”

“You’re gonna make me regret it, biker boy?” he eyed Angel’s kutte.

Angel was too protective and hot-headed to back down. He shoved the man again, and when he tried to step back to him, Angel caught him on the jaw with a clean right hook. You gasped, although you couldn’t say that the reaction surprised you all the much. Your ex stumbled backwards, hand coming up to nurse his jaw.

Angel was ready to swing again when the bouncer showed up and got in between them. He leaned in close to Angel, “You can’t do this in here. Take this shit outside, Angel. I don’t want to have to kick you out of here.”

Angel nodded, still not taking his eyes off of your ex, “Yea, got it,” he stepped around the bouncer and pushed your ex towards the door, “Let’s fucking go,” he looked back at you, “Stay here, Y/N.”

“Angel, don’t—”

He cut you off, “Stay here.”

You were gnawing at the inside of your lip as you watched the two of them head towards the door of the club. Your ex might’ve been able to intimidate you, but Angel was an entirely different story. You’ve never seen him back down from anything and you had a feeling that he wasn’t going to start tonight.

Angel pushed him out the door of the club onto the sidewalk, “Stay the fuck away from her.”

He chuckled, “What’re you gonna do about it? Send your gang to come and get me?”

“I don’t need anyone else to handle this, believe me,” he grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt, “Don’t even think about looking at her or talking to her ever again.”

“You can’t tell me what to fucking do.”

Angel shook his head slowly. He released the grip on the man’s shirt, and as soon as his hands were free he cocked his arm back and punched him again, slicing the man’s lip open. He dropped to the ground and within seconds Angel was on top of him. Your ex tried to shell up and protect his face, but it didn’t do him much good.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk, instantly running over when you saw what was going on. You grabbed Angel’s shoulders and tried to pull him back, “Angel! Angel, stop!” you pulled back as hard as you could, “He’s not worth it!”

He allowed you to pull him back, leaving your ex in a heap on the sidewalk. You pulled his face so that he was looking at you, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m thinkin’ that that fuckin—” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he shook his head and glared at the man who was slowly rising from the pile Angel had left him in, “He broke your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. He doesn’t get to get away with that.”

You cupped one side of his face in your hand, knowing that all he could think about was all the lasting damage that that man had caused you, all the pain you had to work through to be able to trust someone again. You sighed as you traced your fingers down through his beard, “He’s a piece of shit, for sure, but he’s not worth getting arrested over. Let him go.”

Angel turned back to your ex, who was trying to wipe away the blood trickling out of the cuts on his face, “I don’t ever wanna fuckin’ see you again,” he gave him one last shove, “Get outta my sight.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as your ex stumbled away and Angel walked back over to you. You looked over his face, smiling at the fact that he got out of all of that unscathed.

You sighed, “Feel better?”

“He’s a fuckin’ idiot, Y/N.”

You laughed, “Yea, that’s why I don’t want you going to jail over him. You’re on thin ice as it is, Reyes,” you smiled as you shook your head.

“No, I mean, he’s an idiot for doing what he did to you,” he pulled you closer by the beltloops of your shorts, “I’ll never understand how he didn’t see the amazing woman that’s standing in front of me right now,” he cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

You placed your hands on his, feeling that his knuckles were still damp with blood, “I love you too.”

“It’s never gonna be like that again, you know that, right?” he waited for you to meet his eyes, “I’m never gonna be like that.”

You nodded, “I know.”

He leaned down, kissing you softly on the lips, “Good,” he paused, a smile passing over his lips, “Now do you wanna bail and go home?”

You laughed, “Yea, let’s go. Before you bust up someone else’s face.”

He chuckled as he pulled you against his side, “Yea, yea,” he kissed the top of your head, “I’d do it again, you know.”

You smiled, leaning into him, “Yea, I know.”

[pazumane-archive]

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

*

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii!  I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

*

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

*

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

*

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

*

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

*

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

  What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he?  (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good?  (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?!  〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

*

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

[hazelcephalopod]

The Eye of the World Ch 4-7

Disclaimer: this is my first read thru but I’ve watched the first 4 episodes of the show and been spoiled on some things. So… I’m going to lean into that. Enjoy figuring out what I know and what I think in know and what I don’t. Also s/x I add commentary when I edit.

Spoilers for the first book under the cut.

Immediate impression— Things start to take off. And then there really kick off! It is fantastic.

Ch 4

This guy is in for it

It’s Thom! Oh wow.

Huh. Padan Fain does indeed get around. Guess all the horses are earned

Lol. Egwene always ready to seize an opportunity even if offered by a bastard. Good for her.

And rn yes Thom is being an asshole. I understand why to an extent but like other parts, nah, just unexcused asshole behavior. Maybe there’s a reason for that to, remains to be seen

“… as tall as an Aielman.” -Thom, about and to Rand. Lol.

These kids basically: ‘we, we’ve been, like, really far away. All the way to the edge of the state’ interstate performer at the bar: ‘aww’

Thoms “oh shit” look at Moraine

Nyneave has no chill, and is here to take names

Fuck you Cenn

Yup, no Aes Sedai would come there. You’d know for sure!

That is just extremely sensible and competent. Yes tell the children it’s gonna be ok but we are going to prepare anyway.

Honestly a couple weeks might do Mat some good

Fair

Ah. “Sure these other kids can do that. But nope not my kid. We are going home where its safe now”

Feels like an 80’s teen adventure movie. I like it. Spooky shit happening, kids coming up with plans knowing the adults are going to doubt them.

Good life and politics lesson Tam.

Ok. So like 7 kids elsewhere then. If it had been like 3-4 it could have just been the beginning of an aberrantly large tragedy in in this world

Ch 5

Wait is ‘tabac’ Tobacco? To the glossary! It is!

I don’t think I’ve ever read so much about chopping firewood. And I’m elated

“There was no false Dragon here. No wars or Aes Sedai. No men in black cloaks.” -eotw (Rand), the al’Thor home. Yup, that’s all true.

“Yes everything is fine. What moving furniture? Sword…? uh… everything is fine. Just being prepared.”

Hmmm… what’s that? Plot? Objects of importance? Ancient history?

“You mother didn’t approve, but she was wiser than I.” -Tam, on his secret sword. Interesting. (I told you I’ve been spoiled, and uh… I suspect she also would not have approved of that sword)

I however wholeheartedly approve. Probably for the best he has one

Well you’ll be alive at least

Holy fuck!

Yea. Good thing he had that sword! And locked those doors!

“A scratch” sure it is Tam.

Yea not a scratch. And even if it was apparently that’s enough to give a fever in minutes

BRW The writing of this fight scene is excellent. And the tension of figuring out what to do next even more so

Oh this one is even better. “He did not see how they could ever clean the house well enough for it to be lived in again.” - after Rand kills the Trolloc

Everything is broken. His bow is broken and he never even had it during the entire fight. Everything is destroyed in like five minutes. And the impact of that feels immense

See swords can be good! Well that one at least. Rn. A sharp edge is a sharp edge

Wow! That was really good!

Ch 6

Actually a scratch then

“… the blade it seemed to drag at him like a great weight.” -eotw. (A line I must share)

Also. Just… all the care he’s taking to keep his dad as safe and comfortable as possible while trying to get him to Nynaeve. It important

Ah yes. Can’t forget people need food

This is a great means of exposition dumping imo. Wounded man crying out the tragedies of the past (I later learn it’s more than an exposition dump)

“He did not care anymore why the Trollocs had come. If he never found out why, that would be fine, just as long as it was all ended” -Rand (thoughts). Fair.

Magic tree of the past story?! Yup. The Tree of Life’s child apparently.

Wait… oh shit. Oh shit! Rand finds this out now? Like this? I mean that’s one way to learn it I suppose

Ch 7

Titled: “Out of the Woods” I hope it is not just literally true. Give him a damn break! I suspect my hopes will be dashed

He freaking carried his father back to Emond’s Field in the course of that night! No horse. Just him and maybe a cart for a bit? A wood little person frame to drag.

Yea it’s uh. Not good

Well… bad. Hopes dashed. Not different from the show

Oh no. Do no get into a fight with a Trolloc huh?

She uh… hope you have a secret second Wisdom.

And… they do not.

That family is… ok. It… of course.

An Aes Sedai? Noooo! (It’s kinda a secret second wisdom tho)

Oof. Big oof to all this.

Yup. Still a person.

Everyone just having a bad time though

Well she’s going to try to help!

I can not express how much I’m enjoying this. The weight of everything that has happened is palpable and just really well done overall. Its not overbearing yet doesn’t feel like any punches are being pulled. That’s a difficult balance.

[levi-ish]

Little Talks | 2

Pairing: Bartender!Levi X Reader

Genre: [+18] Slice of life, drama, romance, fluff, smut

A/N: if you find any mistakes, its because most of the times i’m writing i’m wine drunk or high and watching some weird anime.

Warnings: Alcohol, cheating mentions, drugs, cussing

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Masterlist

“Fuck no, I’d rather eat shit and die” you slapped your hand on the counter and Jean let out a high-pitched laugh, bringing up another shot glass and the good tequila they held only for employees, earning a ‘woo’ from you.

“I’m just suggesting” he gave you your own glass and you both downed it at the same time, letting out the weirdest faces from the burning sensation going through your throat. “If he was a good fuck, why not go and have some hate sex?”

“What the fuck, Jean?!” You gave him a frown, pushing the shot glass forward and leaning on top of your arm, looking up to see your bartender getting hammered like you.

You liked those nights when you were one of the last ones remaining in the bar and Jean would drink with you till you both couldn’t remember your own names, and then flirt aimlessly while drinking some shitty margaritas. Sometimes he would let you mix the alcohol, and you would throw ice at each other.

“I’m just saying—” he grabbed the beer bottle beside him and gave it a sip, passing to you next. “—you told me he was an asshole, and hate sex is the best sex. So why not?!”

“He literally cheated on me!” You spat, shoving Jean’s shoulder while gulping down the remaining of the beer. “Fuck, open another one.”

“It’s all going on your tab, Kirstein” said the hoarse voice from the other side of the counter, attracting both of your eyes there.

Levi was cleaning the remaining dishes, drying the glasses as he adjusted his black apron and gave you another one of his expressionless stares. You had noticed he started to linger around since last week when you two shared a drink. He wasn’t that bad, he was actually kinda nice, you had to admit. Even though he had this dark aura, he was good company for your late evenings.

“Yea, yea, Captain Grumpy-Pants” Jean fanned his hand and grabbed another beer from the minifridge, opening it with his teeth.

“Jean!” You drunkenly leaned your upper body on the countertop, cheeks reddening from the newcomer heat you got from the alcohol.

The raven-haired man just rolled his eyes and disappeared into the back, leaving you two alone with your childish giggles and murmurs.

“I swear, the man is like my grandpa” the bartender said, gulping down the beer and passing it to you. “Why he has been taking late night shifts, I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean?” You downed your fair share, coughing a bit from the bitter cold taste.

“He would always leave before 10PM, the latest I’ve seen him around was midnight.” Jean burped and you pushed him jokingly. “I’d say he has a crush on you.”

“W-What?”

You felt your heart thump from the inside of your ears, blushing right away — but you would blame it on the alcohol.

“Nah, just fucking with you. The old man wouldn’t sleep with you, you’re nasty” you shoved him again, harder this time and he let out another laugh. “—besides, he has a stick too far up his own ass to get involved with other people.”

Levi came out from the back, now in his casual clothes, wearing a long-sleeved green shirt and black jeans, his apron folded on his arm as he walked to the counter to put away the now clean glasses. You saw him a few times before coming to work, but it would be just for a split second, so you never noticed how his clothes would hug the well-defined muscles. He didn’t seem like the type to be ripped, so you guessed he did a good job in hiding it.

“Hold up” the other bartender held a hand to his stomach, his eyes widening as his expression changed into a pained one. “Yup. Definitely going to puke.”

He rushed to the back, leaving only you and Levi on the counter. The soft country song played in the old jukebox as you laid on the counter once more, watching the shorter man as his hands worked on the clean glasses. You could see the veins that traced back to his arms as his fingers moved quickly, the image now stuck in your mind as you wondered how those palms would feel against your throat, how warm would his breath feel fanning on your face, how…

“You look like shit” he said, startling you to the point you almost fell off the stool. What the fuck?

“You don’t look so good either” you bit back now frowning at him.

Levi grabbed one of the glasses and filled it with tap water, putting it right in front of you. You stared at him, confused as he just let out a ‘tch’ and grabbed a handkerchief to dry his hands.

“Sober up.” He commanded, his tone now lower, making something stir inside your belly.

“I don’t feel like sobering up” you retorted, grabbing the glass anyways. “The night is young.”

“It’s 4AM” he rose a brow, staring at you once more. “The bar closed two hours ago.”

You rolled your eyes, gulping down to the last drop and laid your head between your crossed arms above the counter. “Jean and I are celebrating.”

“What exactly?”

“Another Friday!” You gave him a sloppy smile and let out a yawn, earning a concerned look.

The creaky door from the back room opened suddenly, and a stumbly Jean came into the bar, grogginess all over his face while Levi crossed his arms over his — dare you say, very muscly — chest.

“Well, that went bad” the taller man burped and leaned onto the counter like you were, letting out a defeated groan as he did.

“You’re such a lightweight” you joked, and the man groaned once more.

“Fuck off. I’ve been through a lot.”

Levi turned around suddenly, another disappointed ‘tch’ coming out of his mouth as he signaled the backdoor.

“C’mon. I’m taking you two home.”

You and Jean exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, leaving the poor man confused but not short of apathy on his face.

“Sorry shorty” Jean stood straight and put a finger under his chin, “you’re not my type.”

At that point, Levi was pretty much done with both of you as you laughed thoroughly. He slapped Jean’s shoulder and grabbed his wrist, walking to the other side of the counter and grabbing yours also and dragging your drunken bodies to the back entrance. You and the blonde boy were giggling under your breath, thinking the older man wouldn’t notice at all, and he just pretended not to, too tired to deal with that shit.

“Are we having a threesome?!” Jean tripped on his feet, following the other man as he coughed a bit. “Threesome! Threesome! Threesome!”

“Hey! I don’t wanna fuck Jean!” You threw him a disgusted gaze as you tried to keep your distance.

“You just wanna fuck shorty. He’s boooring.”

You pushed Jean and laughed as he stumbled again, almost falling this time.

Levi rolled his eyes as he dragged you two out of the bar, turning off the lights and locking the door behind you, now letting go of your wrists. You looked around to find the streets empty and the starry sky above you. Everything was quiet, the way you enjoyed your nights, and only two cars were parked, a black BMW and a white sedan you recognized as Jean’s from the times he took you home when you were too drunk. So the other one must’ve belonged to Levi.

“Yo, Y/N, I think it’s not a threesome anymore” Jean leaned in and tried to whisper, but his voice was high enough for Levi to hear “, I’m pretty sure we are getting kidnapped.”

“Shut up, Jean” you rolled eyes at him as you watched the raven-haired man unlock the car and shoved the other one in.

You were standing on his side when he gave you a slight gaze, signaling the inside of the car as you nodded, putting your hand on the top of the door to steady yourself, but as you put one foot inside, your hand slipped, and you were going for a face-in fall.

It was going to be your most disgraceful moment. You had awful times when you fell while drunk — like that one time when you fell from a bridge, diving into the dirty lake near Mikasa’s house and everyone took pictures, making it the icon of your groupchat for months before changing into a picture of Sasha sleeping while hugging a bag of potatoes — but this time, you were going to fall in front of someone you actually fancied, the first person you showed any kind of interest since the fiasco with your ex. It had been almost two months.

A pair of strong hands held your shoulders as your own grabbed the collar of his shirt for stability, holding onto his chest for dear life. You could feel the warmth of his body against your cold fingertips, now daring to look up to find his eyes staring right into your soul. His mouth was slightly parted, just enough for you to fawn over and have a thousand scenarios going through your mind.

Oh, how you wanted him to just cup your face and close the gap…

Wait, what are you thinking?

A loud snore came from the car, bringing your attention to a sleeping Jean who was splayed all over the backseat, a trail of drool falling off his lips as his feet twitched.

Levi straightened you in place, clearing his throat as he offered you one hand.

“Careful” he whispered as you kept on staring, only to shake your head, dropping out of the state of trance you found yourself in.

You looked down as the man helped you inside, not even daring to meet his gaze after that moment, still feeling your cheeks hotter than your pounding heart. Levi’s hands adjusted the seatbelt around your body, and you tried not to think too much about it as you kept looking forward.

“Don’t throw up” he ordered and you groaned, rolling your eyes as he closed the door.

Watching as the man turned around, you waited until he sat inside and started the car, now feeling dizzier than before to just lean your head on the window, watching as the sky slowly turned into orange, signaling the morning was just around the corner. Suddenly, your lids felt heavier than stone and you started to doze off, the sky now turning black as you closed your eyes. Just for a second.

You weren’t aware, but Levi kept his gaze on you from the corner of his eye, feeling too intrusive to stare any longer, but too weak to look away. To the naked eye, it was impossible to see, but the sides of his lips curled upwards in a small — almost inexistent — smile.

[ladyspaceradio]

Population: Me + You

Summary: The last thing on Ryders mind was having kids. She didn’t even have a significant other, let alone a romantic interest. However when Tann proposes something to help the colonist with repopulation efforts, asking Ryder to be the forerunner of it, she wasn’t sure how to take it. But now she's got a missing Sage, a grumpy baby daddy, a convention that might change everything, oh and she has to figure out how to tell Evfra he's going to be a father!

Warning: NSFW SMUT

AO3 LINK

                                                 Chapter One

“I’m-I’m sorry can you repeat that?” Ryder sat there stunned, eyes unable to focus on the Asari doctor whose name she couldn’t remember. 

Stepping closer, the doctor placed their hand on Ryder's shoulder. “You’re pregnant, congratulations.” 

Ryder’s head tilted to the side, glazed eyes stared at the asari though she wasn’t exactly seeing her. “I’m...what?” She breathed, mind swirling in chaos not really able to grab on coherent thought. “Pregnant.” The asari spoke slower, softer, there was a frown marring her expression. She probably wondered why the human pathfinder wasn’t jumping for joy. 

She’s gotten it wrong. Ryder clings to that thought. Because she couldn’t be pregnant. Not her. Because if she was-

Not possible. 

“That's not possible.” Ryder sinks deeper into the bed, the white paper sheet crinkles under her. She takes note that the asari is young, not even having her matriarch marks yet.

“You would think,” The asari beamed.  “Andromeda is full of surprises. We’re still looking into what exactly dissolved the blockers. Some think it's a bacteria, but I’ve been looking into those vaults. If they can make planets viable, just imagine what else they can make fertile!” Her excitement starts to dwindle as she studies Ryder’s pale face. “Erm, I’ll go get you a cup of water.”

“I can’t be pregnant.” Ryder slid off the table. Her feet feel light, and head lighter. Something turns in her stomach. “It’s not possible.” “Pathfinder,-” “Your tests are wrong.” She waved a hand. “I can’t be….” She shakes her head. The asari studies her. “If you need proof.” She opens the door to the hallway. “Follow me.”

Ryder stands in the mouth of the doorway, swaying. Her stomach twisted into knots. Lexi would probably say she’s in denial, some psychological trauma from her childhood. But then Lexi wouldn’t be lying to her. 

“Come on.” The asari smiles, it seems false, twisted in Ryders opinion. Perhaps this was just another one of Tann’s tricks. He was the reason she was here to begin with. 

He had contacted her, pestered and nagged her into this. Coming into the clinic to remove her blockers, to be a leading light for colonists to follow. 

“They need comfort to know that it's safe.” Tann folded his spindly fingers, a smile stretched across his leathery skin. “It is your job to lead them down the path of the future.”

The future.

Her eyes dropped to the trashcan by the door, she just might vomit into the bag there. 

“Pathfinder?” The asari dipped her head catching Ryders eye.

Lifting her chin she stepped forward into the dim hallways. 

                                     ----3 weeks earlier-----

The humidity on Aya was a hell of a thing. Paradise that came with a price, already she could feel the droplets of water clinging to her skin. It wasn’t that it was hot, but rather misty. Sighing Ryder ran a hand over her deflated curls and eyed the surrounding Angara celebrating with pride. Their joy, while delightful  to watch, gave her a splitting headache and rattled the teeth in her jaw from the burst of concentrated bioelectricity. This was the reason she chose to sit at the bar. 

And because Evfra was currently nursing another cup of Taavum looking spiteful.

“Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?” Ryder leans against the bar, her tall cup of Taavum, a lovely smelling angara beverage, cupped between her hands. She knows how potent this stuff can be and has no desire to get drunk tonight. 

So she tilted her head down, letting the red curls cover her face as she studied the obviously displeased angara general who was hunched over his third glass of Taavum dissuading any of his soldiers from coming up and speaking with him. 

“I am.” Short and concise, but his sour face made him look as if he’d been sucking on lemons and not being adored by his people over what they thought was the last Kett ground base on Voeld being defeated. 

“Truly?” Ryder slides into the seat beside him, giving Roaan a small wave across the bar. “And is that true joy I hear ringing in your voice?” She puts her elbows on the counter, angling her body to look at him.

“It is...” He pauses looking at her, the dark blue of his iris look darker against the contrast of the white rofjinn wrapped and his broad shoulders. A gift from the initiative, one Evfra hadn’t enjoyed considering the small initiative logo stitched into the corner. He was likely to wear it tonight only for political gain, and destroy the offending material later. 

A pity considering how handsome he looked in it. 

“Hard.”

She blinks looking into his eyes and away from his physique. More than once Evfra had been a star player in some fantasies she had brewing in her subconscious. “What is hard?” Her voice is low and husky, she does not think he gets the innuendo.

“To believe this war is almost over.” 

Almost

It’s been three years since she killed the Archon. In that time they’ve worked together to build alliance between their people, cultivate a culture of respect and peace, and fuck the kett up so hard they wouldn’t even think of coming back for fear of getting their asses kicked again. 

“Hard to believe I slept over 600 years just to hear you bellyache about my cooking.” She tossed out, feeling a high as the slow releasing alcohol ran through her veins. 

His face contorted in disgust. “Your food is bland, tasteless, and should have been used against the kett.”

“Hey now! I’ll have you know Prime Rib is a delicacy, you should be thanking me for sharing.” She huffed out a small laugh and nudged his foot beneath the counter. “Your people have a future Evfra, and it’s thanks to you.” 

“Our people Ryder.” Evfra reaches over and touches her bare shoulder. She shivers at the power in the one hand that spans over half her back. “This is all possible because of you.”

She licks her lip, tapping the countertop. “And to think, in the beginning you stole all my credit-I’m kidding wipe that look off your face.” He’s not looking at her but rather something behind her. 

Turning her head she surveyed the crowd of angara when her eyes landed on the odd couple drawing everyone attention.  

Tilting her head to the side she watched Evfra observe the woman, who held the hand of a human male. It wouldn’t be such an odd sight except she was heavily pregnant. It seemed all the angara had taken notice. This was a rare sight considering there were delays on the repopulation efforts. Most to do with the fact that colonists wanted safety and security before starting a new family. Another part that so many families had been ripped apart by the war before. 

The woman stopped and smiled at the man who touched his hand to her expansive stomach. 

Ryder hummed softly and peered at Evfra’s face, noticing his eyes were slitted. He looked ready to shoot something. “Something wrong?” There was a noise of disgust that left his lips as he spoke. “Your people do not recluse during late stages of pregnancy?” He turned looking at Ryder, dragging his gaze down her face then form, settling on her stomach. Something fluttered inside her womb at the gaze. 

Or it was the alcohol. 

“Nah, we’re social butterflies.” She picked up her drink, sipping it, taking any excuse to not look at his face. “Not the same for your people, I’m guessing.” Now that she thinks about it she definitely never saw a pregnant angara. 

At least she didn’t think so. She knew that the angara had pouches, and that pups were small. 

“No.” He snarled, lips peeled back, his scar wrinkling under the expression. He turned back to the bar and downed the cup in front of him. 

She waited to see if he said more he just stared at his hands. Silently brooding. 

“I can’t imagine being cooped up.” Ryder swiveled in her chair grinning at the obviously happy pair making their way through the market. “I’d probably put a knife if anyone tried to cage me.”

Evfra snorted. “Like you did the Primus?” He offered. 

She pursed her lips. “Wish I did more to her.” She muttered, taking a gulp of the drink. It had a heady salty taste that ended in a sweet tang. 

Primus had been a Devil, far worse than the Archon since she had not desire to waste time gawking at the Remnant. She was pure evil, seeping a dark claws into Heleus seeking to erase everything but the Kett. 

In the end it had been her pride that led to her demise. She had wanted to see Ryder die by her own hands, for the ‘glory of the Empire.’ 

But there had been no glory in her death as she choked on her own blood watching Ryder stand over her. 

Taking another gulp of the drink, Abigail shook away the memory. Smacking her lips she looked at Evfra. “You ever just think about how you're getting older?” Eyes crinkle in the corner when his face delved into a sour expression.

“No.” 

“L-I-A-R,” She sang angling her body towards him. “You think about it. I think about, we all think about it. Its like waking up one day going, huh my life's half over and what do I have to show for it? A whole lotta nuthin’” She slapped her palm on the table. “Sure I’m the savior of the galaxy but that jazz is worth what?” “Millions of lives.” Evfra offered, looking almost amused as she swayed in her chair.

“Exactly! And do you know how many of those lives I’ve had in my bed?” She threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over her drink, if Evfra hadn’t grabbed it. “Not a one!” She sinks into the counter, both arms stretched out in front of her.

“Why would you want that many in your bed?” Evfra moves her cup to the other side of the bar. 

“I don’t want a million dicks.” Ryder grumbled, lifting her head to glare at him. “I want one. One glorious dick to be my dick forever.” 

“Perhaps you should speak with your doctor about this obsession-” He grunted and caught Ryders flailing hand as it smacked him in the chest.

She stares at her tiny hand in his massive one. Completely swallowed. She shivers at the heat radiating even through the glove. 

“No one needs a Pathfinder anymore.” She murmurs looking up at him. “And what will I do then?”

They’re both silent for a moment before he sighs. “You find something else to occupy your time. Your nose is large enough to be in everyone's business.” He’d seen how she sought out even the little task to perform. Just the other day she stopped to show a recruit how to take apart a milky way gun. 

“I have a beautiful nose.” She grunted looking at him, said nose wrinkled. Much to Evfra’s annoyance however her eyes began to mist over. “Why can’t anyone recognize that?” Her bottom lip jutted out starting to quiver. 

Evfra cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with this situation. “Your nose is the right fit for your face.” He offered.

“Really?” Ryder squeaked looking up at him. “I thought it was too big.” She touched her face and sagged. 

His hand touched her jaw, turning her to look at him. “You are perfect.”

Three words. Three simple words that came from the most unlikeliest of people. 

Ryder stared at him even after he pulled his hand back and looked away. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable from her silence or her staring. 

“You're handsome.” She blurts as he starts to speak, her declaration silencing him. He turns to look at her, eyes roaming over her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “You are drunk.” He decides with a sigh. “I will call the tempest and have Jaal fetch you.”

“I’m not drunk.” Ryder pushed her thick hair back. “I’m high on liquid courage.” She smiles at him, though she is inclined to think she might be drunk when her mouth continues to spew thoughts from her brain. “I always thought you were handsome. Scar really adds to the good looks.” She nibbles her lips looking at him now, eyes tracing along the scar.

How many times had she fantasized kissing those twin lines that defined his features. Oh how she pictured nibbling them down to his lips that looked so plump that she knew they would cradle her own against them. 

Ryder shuddered leaning forward. He’s studying her expression when she reaches over, laying a hand on his muscular thigh.

“If you weren’t so walled off, Evfra, I’d almost suggest we hook up.” Ryder wiggles her brows.

He lets out a soft snorting chuff, his hand grabs hers and pulls it away before it could wander up to the crux of his thighs. “I think you’ve had enough.” He rasps in a husky tone, one that makes her thighs clench together as heat floods her core. “I will walk you back to your ship.” He slides out of the seat in a smooth motion that makes her head a bit dizzy.

“No thanks,” She jerks her arm out of his grip. “I don’t….I don’t want to go back there.” She curled an arm around her waist. “It’s lonely.”

They had come to Aya for more than this celebration, she’d come to say goodbye to Jaal as he and Avale were uniting their families and starting a life together. Just a few months prior Drack had left as well to be with Kesh and her second clutch of baby Krogan. Peebee had one foot out the door, Ryder could feel everyday she was itching for more than what the Tempest was doing. She knew that their time together wasn’t forever, but watching her family drift apart little by little was harder than she expected. 

Evfra was silent as she slumped down in her seat, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Let me crash at the resistance.” She grumbled.

“That isn’t something I can do.” He took hold of her arm again, and she allowed herself to be tugged out of the chair, though she misjudged the distance from her seat to the ground and landed directly into his chest with a soft  ‘oomf.’

His hand settled on the back of her neck, the other holding her arm ran down to cup her hip. She looked up at him, breath caught in the back of her throat. She was pressed tightly to his chest, breast molding to the hard plains of his, nipples stiffening as she felt a knot of arousal bubbling in her stomach. 

Gasping she watched his nose wiggle, eyes slitting as he bent his head. “You’re…”

She doesn’t think about it, in the future she’ll blame the alcohol running through her system, and the mix of Evfra’s heady scent, but she lunges, cutting off his words, smashing her mouth against his in a teeth clicking kiss that is more pain then pleasure. 

Evfra hisses, hand on her neck tangles with her hair, pulling her head back. Her lip is busted and bleeding, eyes glazed. Ryder sucked in a breath, her last bit of dignity began to shrivel as her hazy mind grasped at the lingering sanity pointing out she just kissed Evfra De Tershaav and likely ruined any type of friendship they have built over the past 4 years. 

“Evfra,” She twisted in his hold, hands pushing on his chest. “I’m-“

Her wobbly tone cut off as he bend his head, brushing his mouth against her nose, down her cheek, and ghosted over her lips. “You are too impatient, Ryder.” His husky tone sent a thrill down her spine that settled in her stomach. 

She tilted her head back trying to catch his mouth. She mewled softly when he pulled away.

“Not here.” He tugged her into his side tucking her against him, chuffing softly.

He doesn’t seem to mind her wandering hands this time. In fact she can hear the faintest sound of a purr thrumming deep in his chest. She almost calls him a pussy she’s willing to stroke when he suddenly tugs her off the main road and presses her up against the wall. 

Massive hands span over her hips as he dips his head towards hers. Letting out a sigh as their lips touch, he takes control keeping her head tilted with a fist in her fiery hair. He laps at the seam of her lips, but doesn’t go deeper despite her wiggling and whimpers of protest. 

“I’m starting to think you enjoy torturing me.” She gasp fingers curling around the straps laying against his chest. Her body’s pressed against his, hips grinding into his front. She makes needy keens in the back of her throat.

“Are you always this impatient Ryder?” He chuckles against her skin, lips igniting a fire beneath them.

“Call me Abigail, Evfra.” She panted against his mouth. She hadn’t the will power to extract herself from those delectable lips. Oh how she pictured kissing him! The reality blew all those lusty fantasies away. She made a wanton noise in the back of her throat as he nibbled her bottom lip. 

“Ahbee-gal” He purrs against her ear. The reverberating sound of his voice sends twings of pleasure down her spine, settling at her contracting core. He inhales deeply, chuckling at her reaction. “I’m going to ravish you.”

“Oh god yes!” She mewls  digging her fingers into his rofjinn, tugging to bring him back to her. 

He laughs, a deep throat thrum that she’s never heard before. If she had been more clear headed and less horny she would try desprately to remember the sound. Though that isn’t what is keeping her focus at the moment while ehr hands trail southward. Not that they get very far when the wall behind her suddenly disappears. 

Letting out a small wail, she nearly tumbles down to her ass if Evfra hadn’t snatched her waist. 

“Rude!” She huffed, craning her neck back to stare at the room behind her. Not that she can see much through the dim interior lighting. What she can see is a spare room filled with only the essentials. 

Of course her mind isn’t on the surrounding area long when a hot mouth presses to her shoulder sucking the the flesh there. 

“Clothing off.” She mewls hands tugging at his shirt trying to magic it off him with each tug. Why did angara clothing have so many buckles! Ryder begins to pout at the sight, muttering dark words about forbidden treasures being locked away. 

Chuffing in amusement he gently extracts her hands. “Let me.” His fingers make dizzly fast work of all the buckles and clasps. 

Hands free she starts work on her own clothing, while following Evfra as he tugs off his Rofjinn. Of course wanting to be naked soon as possible she attempts to take the shirt off without properly unbuttoning it first. 

Ryder stumbled into the bedroom door, her arms caught up in the sleeves as she tried to rip off the blouse she wore. She could hear Evfra huffing at her. Grinning she shimmied out of her shirt and tossed it onto the floor and wiggled a brow at him. 

“I would say your seduction talents needs some work.” He stated dryly folding the rofjinn and setting it aside. 

Licking her bottom lip she greedily drank in the sight of him shirtless, taking in his broad chest to his tampered waist. She especially appreciated the hard muscles that moved beneath his deep blue skin. Letting out a groan she moved toward him, hands out stretched to touch his skin. 

Catching her small hand by the wrist, Evfra let out a soft chuffing sound. “What happed to undressing?” He lifted her wrist and kissed the racing pulse beating beneath the skin. 

“I got caught up wanting to touch this perfection.” She whispered, swallowing back the saliva that built in her mouth. 

“Mmm.” He nips her skin before letting her go. “Are all humans so easily distracted or is it just you?” 

She let out an indignant huff. “Oh no it’s just me when there’s a particularly inviting male….” She steps closer, hands on his stomach stroking up and down grinning as his muscles contracted at the touch. “Needing to be stroked.”

He had scars across his skin, faded blue colors, almost white. She couldn’t resist leaning in and licking the one across his ribs. He let out a shuddering purr and yanked her into his chest. 

“Abigail.” Her name is a deep groan that leaves his mouth. 

And then he was kissing her again. Tongue sliding against her own, tangling together as his palmed her heavy breast. The skin of his palm sends electrical current through her breast, making her nipples stiffen and pleasure rock down to the clenching of her core.

Abigail moans against his mouth, enjoying the feeling of his touch too much to even notice when it became skin to skin contact. Until he breaks their kiss to pull away the tattered remains of her bra off her body. 

“Did you just he-man my bra off?” She spread her fingers against his chest, using his imposing unmoving form to steady herself. She thinks the alcohol has hit her system. She feels all warm and tingling. There’s a heat that starts in her stomach and pulses down. 

“I am unsure of your word,” He presses his mouth to her throat sucking on the skin there. “But yes, I did just rip that flimsy fabric.” He licked at the hollow of her throat, paying special attention to her jumping pulse. “I will buy you another, better, one.” 

“Mmm.” She tilted her head back, fuzzy brain can’t really focus on his words only on the sensation of his mouth making a path up her throat to her jaw, then his breath ghosted against her ear.

“Hold onto me.” He lifted her hands to his shoulders. And before her bogged mind could grasp his order he hefted her up, with one arm, wrapped around her ass. 

Squealing she hooked her thighs around those slim hips, pressing her heated core against his side. Her eyes rolled back at the sensation of his hip brushing against the wet crux between her thighs. 

Silencing her soft mewling noises he dropped her to the bed suddenly making a shriek leave her lips as she bounced against the mattress. Propping herself up on her elbows Abigail huffed at him, glaring up at his smirk. “Evf-”

Suddenly bending he grabbed the legs of her pants and yanked. Dragging them off her hips, along with her underwear. Which was left dangling of her ankle as he tossed her pants aside. They were less than flattering being the initiative issued clothing. A bland cotton cloth that  as Liam described  it, were ‘whitie tighties.’ 

If she had known the night would have gone differently she would have gotten her her red thong-

These thoughts abruptly disintegrated as Evfra lifts her ankle, looping a finger through one of the leg holes and holds the pair of plain undies up.

He drank in her scent with huffing breathes, large hands gripping the thin strip of clothing covering her soaked core. He growled as she let out a soft noise of disapproval. 

With a fangy smirk he lifted the soaked cloth to his nose. “Sweeter than pairpo.” Evfra purred, licking the panties then dropping them to finish ridding himself of his own pants. 

Abigail's eyes were glued to the movements, watching the fabric slide down his hips, lower and lower until Evfra was completely revealed to her. 

Lips parted in surprise, she stared at his cock. It was a darker blue and violet color, speckled with white across the underside of the shaft. He was thick and similar to a human male: if you didn’t count the fluttering ridges, the tapered head and bulbous base. The thing that shocked her and had her inching up the bed was that is was writhing against his stomach as if it had a mind of its own. 

Abigail didn't get to study him much before he grabbed her ankles and pulled her forward to the edge of the bed. 

Kissing each ankle Evfra placed the on his elbow, spreading her wide open for him like a flower blooming in spring. His eyes glued to her flushed skin. Pupils dilated, lips curled upward, he made a low snarling sound. 

Abigail flushed shifted against the bed feeling utterly vulnerable being spread before him like a feast. Which is how he was looking at her. She could even see him drag his tongue across his lower lip. 

“I must look alien to you.” She whispered self-conscious of her nudity. She curled an arm over her breast and sucked on her bottom lip. 

“You are….” He swallowed audibly, drawing his gaze from her pink cunt to her eyes. “Beautiful.” He purred, kneeling between her thighs. “I have never seen anything close to you.” 

“I’ve been curious,” his tone has taken a raspier note. The ‘r’s of his words dragged out in a sound that makes her shiver.  Warm hands drag along her thighs. Her muscles quiver in anticipation as he settled between her parted legs and inhales. 

Mewling she arches into him, head tossing back and forth in frustration. She wants him to touch her-why wasn’t he touching her. 

“Your kinds coupling is violent,” He strokes a hand down her skin. Petting her with the lightest touches on her stomach, hips, arms. But no where she WANTS him to touch. 

There is a tiny thought that wonders at what he’s seen to make such a judgement but it’s swept away in the tidal wave of arousal beneath his gentle touches. 

“Please!” Ryder keens softly her own hands trail up her body cupping the gentle slopes of her breast. 

He watches her but does nothing to end her torment as he speaks with slow decisive touch’s over her skin. “Your softer than any Angara I’ve been with.” As if to emphasize this point he groped the fat of her hips. She sighs as the touch, undulating beneath him. “I will not take you as your people do.” He bends tongue drags across the divot of her hip bone up the planes of her stomach. 

“Don’t care!” She cries out pinching her nipple watching him taste her skin with small licks traveling up her body. Everything throbs at the sight. She can feel herself spasm with need, a yearning to feel him slip between her thighs, to fill her to the edge of pain. To fuck her into this mattress till she can no longer move. 

“Evfra!”

He smirks leaning over her. “Responsive.” He stops her hands gathering both wrist. “Much better then the vids.” He murmurs softly against the swell of her breast. She’s holding her breath, nearly vibrating with wanton need.

A small thought bubbles in the back of her mind, that she’s edging the point of no return. That this was going to be a bad idea that spirals into a pit of despair if she didn’t stop. But that little bubble popped the moment his tongue sweeps out against her pert nipple. 

Crying out she arches into him, hands twist in the hold that has them. “Sensitive.” He growled lapping at the pink nub, circling it with the tip of his blunt tongue. Her toes curl at the feeling, his tongue had a texture to them and seemed to vibrate against the peak of her breast. 

He nibbled down the slope of her puffy breast, switching to lavish the other with attention. 

“I like how soft you are.” He growls squeezing and molding the breast to the palm of his hand. “How incredibly soft.” His mouth seals of the taunt peak, making her arch up into the sucking of his hot mouth.

He’s making a wet slurping sound while he suckles the peak of her nipple. His hand spanning her ribs moves down her side, cupping her rear that is pressed against his clavicle bone, which she’s been rutting unconsciously again.

She let out a moan as his finger slid along her cunt. He let out a rumble, seemingly surprised at how wet she was. Abandoning her breast with gentle kisses he travels down her stomach. Stopping to lavish attention to each of her small scars, freckles, and stretch marks. He grins at her as he nibbles her hip bone.

“Your scent is driving me wild.” He noses her red curls purring when she jerks against his hold. “It always drives me wild.” He lets out huffs parting her lips and stares at the pink clutch dripping with arousal. “I have longed to taste.”

“E-evfra.” Abigail wiggles in his hold, mind hazy with arousal. She mewls, trembling in anticipation. He seems to be taking his time savoring her scent that has her flushing with embarrassment. That doesn’t last long when he opens his mouth and licks along her slit with a decisive stroke. 

She mewls softly, hips jerking against his mouth. His spans a hand against her stomach, keeping her in place while his tongue makes feather soft touches across her cunt. It was light and gentle touches that were driving her wildly mad.

Thighs kept spread with his shoulders, he had full control of her body. She let out a deep cry, body shuddering. “Evfra!” She grabs his sheets jerking up into his mouth, trying to grind into him. 

He lets out a purr, vibrating that tongue against her clit that sends her spiralling down. Eyes rolling back as a slow building orgasm trickles into her system. Every muscle in her body quivers beneath the slow lazy licks of his tongue. Gasping, her knees fall open, hips ground up into his mouth. Rocking in time with his broad strokes. 

“Evfra, Evfra evfra.” She chants feeling the burn of overstimulation but she can’t stop rocking into him, can’t stop the second orgasm building as he audibly gulps at her cream. She lets out a sharp yelp when he presses a thick, blunt, finger into her weeping entrance. 

“Look at how you grasp me.” He purrs. “Greedy.” He sinks his finger deeper into her swollen, pink, clutch. Cooing at the way she grips his digit. Like a hungry mouth suckling him back in. 

Moaning, her head tossed side to side as he filled her up, opening her wide with slick wet noises as he moved his finger inside of her. It had been a long dry season since she last been with a man. At the moment she couldn’t even remember it, only what Evfra was doing to her body as he shifted pulling her hips higher. 

Nibbling her outer lip he thrust his finger deeper, both groaning as he did. “So soft.” He rasped. “How can any male leave this body.” His eyes met hers. “I’m going to make you sing for me.” 

Singing wasn’t what she felt her throat was doing. Opera more like it as she shrieked at the powerful orgasm that made her body arch and clench. She practically bowed off the bed while her vision went dark. All the while she could feel him still working his finger deeper into her cunt while loudly licking up the cum dripping out of her. 

“Stars.” He rasped  looking at her flushed body and shaking limbs. 

Abigail certainly felt like she saw stars as she went limp against the mattress. Her body jerked against him as he withdrew his finger. Drowsiness edged into her consciousness as she stretched languid. 

Of course two orgasms later and Evfra was nowhere near done with her. He chuckled as he kissed up her body, saying hello to the girls before he was fully looming over Ryder. 

“I hope you aren’t about to fall asleep.” He nudged his nose against her chin, urging her thighs to wrap around his waist. 

“Mmm.” Ryder cracked an eye open suddenly far more awake as something rolled against her sensitive lips. Breath hitched when he nudged her entrance with the head of his cock. 

“Oh!” SHe gasped as the odd sensation of being filled by something that wasn’t entirely human. 

Thighs quivering against his hips, she attempted to roll away from the burrowing entity that was Evfra’s cock, only to feel the first set of ridges slip into her and go completely still. She was instantly melting into a puddle of pleasure as they rowed against the walls of her. Especially tickling her g-spot. Making her clench around him with a groan. 

Scar wrinkled he closed his eyes holding her hips, soft a mewling noise left his throat. “Stars.” He looked down at her then, eyes slitted. “The way you grip me…” He rubbed the mark he left on her skin, breathing hard. 

Drool was dribbling out of her mouth while she gazed up at Evfra, hips rolling against the thick cock. Toes curling, heels digging into his back to spur him on. But Evfra seemed determined to drive her mad. He moved in a slow pace, until he was completely sheathed within her warmth. 

“Tight.” He growled against her skin, he was making many marks against her collarbone, sinking his fangs into the yielding skin. Ryders own nails were clawing at his back as she felt the bulbous base popping into her cunt. 

“Evfra!” She cried so sweetly, tears leaking out of her eyes as he began to pull out of her at the same slow pace. He could feel her climax as he pushed in, feeling the way her walls clenched and pulsed, beckoning him to seed her. 

How he thought of her swollen with his child, like the human he saw before. His lips peeled back in the though as he pulled her hips flush against his, sinking into her depths. A hand span up between the valley of her bouncing breast and lay over her vunerable throat. 

She gasped, tilting her head back giving his hand more room as he cupped her throat, thumb stroking over her racing pulse. She murmured how she couldn’t give him another one. But she would-oh she would cum again on his cock, and he would fill her womb with his seed. And once she was limp beneath him he would slide down her body to taste their coupling, coax yet another orgasm from her. 

Maybe then he would let her rest, but he would spend the night between her thighs.

“You’re a treasure.” He bent over her, hips gliding along her thighs, sticking to the steady pace. Those ridges rubbed against her walls. He can feel the tells of his own climax coming as the ridges began to row, seeking to interlock with a female angara’s grooves. They would become thicker as he climaxed, ensure that none of his seed escaped. 

He watched as Abigail’s green eyes widen at the feeling, her wet lips parting with a soft ‘Oh!’ as a shudder rocks her body. She orgam’s against him, he can feel her soak him as a wordless cry escapes her. He growls bending down to capture her lips, sinking deep into her cunt as spurts of his seed coat her womb.

-----Present-----

She chewed on her nail, biting into the skin but not breaking it. 

How did one tell the grumpy resistance leader that his one night stand led to a new life? 

She hadn’t even seen Evfra since then. Much less spoke to him. Her hands threaded together behind her head as she let out a low sigh staring at the screen of the empty email. Twice she started typing, both started with an apology neither made past the second sentence. She wanted to be a coward, send him an email, throw the proverbial ball at him and wait. 

Turning in her chair she pulled out the glossy black and white photo. Though it was hard to discern what exactly the picture was, she could make out the small pea like blobs in the photo as her children. 

Multiple...

She shuddered, a sour taste filled her mouth, her stomach rolled. Taking gulping breathes she warded off the nausea. Apparently the Doctor, Y’lusia, Sara remembered her name after leaving, said she was in 10  weeks along. Funny considering she’d slept with Evfra 3 weeks ago. But Ryder hadn’t said a word, just numbly taken the photo. 

Y’lusia informed her that she would be sending the file over to Lexi, who was her main doctor, but thought it best for her to set up another appointment at the clinic to see a specialist. She wouldn’t be returning to that clinic, Ryder thinks with a bitter expression. 

It was a shame Lexi was attending the Nexus seminars at the moment, and Harry was acting at the Tempest replacement. 

Gave her plenty of time to avoid, ignore, this predicament a little longer.

::Ryder, Director Tann wishes to speak with you.:: SAM popped up at his router, to the left of her elbow. She let out a low noise of discomfort thinking about talking to him.

“Any way I can put him off?” She leaned back into the chair, putting the ultrasound photo into a draw where it was to be forgotten for a time. ::I can tell him you are occupied with personal matters.:: SAM offered. 

“Uuuugh no,” She stood and pulled her hair back into a bun. “It will only make matters worse.” She stood and looked at the Orb. “How do I look?” ::Like Abigail Ryder.::

She snorted softly. “Remind me to have Jaal teach you some sauve lessons SAM.’ She took a few breaths shaking her hands out. “Maybe I should change.” She glanced down at her sweat stained sleepshirt. She hadn’t bothered dressing, as there was no one needing her attention. They’d just gone to Eos, dropping Peebee off. 

It had been a sad, and regretfully sober, party for Ryder. While Peebee bounced around the remaining tempest crew wishing them good tidings, Abigail had been preoccupied with thoughts of what her future was now going to look like. 

Groaning she tugged her shirt off and ambled over to her messy wardrobe. She shifts and sniffs each article till she finds a decent one and tugs it on. It's here she glances at the mirror and frowns as the material stretches thin across her abdomen. A hand settles across the swelling between her hips. 

Letting out a slow sigh she turns away from the mirror quickly and heads to the door. 

She is lucky that she can play it all off on the removal of the blockers for the time being.  

“Ryder,” Tann’s eyes blinked one just slower than the other. Abigail tilted her head to the side, was it old age? Perhaps he was having a silent seizure. She almost wanted to call a doctor just to end this meeting.

“Tann.” She says his name in a slow draw, blinking her eyes one just slower than the other. 

“I see you have gone into the clinic, I will be setting up a meeting for you on Nexus, we’ll get this ball rolling. Addison will be in touch shortly, she’s eager to begin this campaign. The colonist need something to look towards.” His babbling seemed to cause the spiking ache behind her eyes. One that had her stomach turning. “Mmm.” Ryder replied, rubbing her temple. “I’ll be stopping at Aya first.” She had to speak with baby-babies-daddy about something. 

Like the very impeding existence of being a baby daddy.

“That’s perfect! I’ll send the reporters there,” Her stomach drops as she tries to speak but Tann prattles on regardless of her protest.  “Good scenery, the angara are good place to start. Being all about family as they are. It will be a good start, very good Ryder,” She wonders if good was the only vocabulary he knew when he waves his hand in a wide arch.  “I will let Addison know. Tann out.” 

Then he was gone, and she was left there, feeling bamboozled. 

How did my life become this?

She sucked in a sharp breath a gurgle logged in the back of her throat and she stumbled away from the vid coms racing to the crosswalk where she jumped down and shoved Liam out of the way. 

“Hey!” He hollered. “I have to piss.” 

Ryder didn’t answer as she bent over the sink and vomited.

“Never mind.” He backed out of the bathroom and turned away.

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

If you Enjoyed this please leave me a like or comment! 

[misslilli]

Whelp, with yesterday we're back at school. Teaching first grade is hard, man 😂 Thank you guys, again, for going on this adventure with me :)

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 17 - The Mulder Boys's Birthday Bash

[ DS ]

The Saturday of the Mulder Boys’s Birthday Bash, I find myself standing in front of my closet with the girls, frowning at my selection of dresses. “What about this one?” Holly fingers a yellow sundress.

“Nah, it’s pretty but she looks like she’s going to church in that one.” Sarah tugs on a dress with a daisy print on it.

“Are you joking? That one’s even more Virgin Mary than the yellow one!”

Alex reaches into my closet and pulls out a navy two-piece dress I bought on a whim a few years back, but have never worn since then. “How about this one?”

“A, that’s perfect! It’s classy, yet sexy, just what we’re going for!” Sarah shoves me towards my bathroom. “Go try it on, D! And wear those nude heels with it.” I take the dress out of Alex’s arms and the shoes from Sarah and change into the outfit quickly. The straps drape across my arms just below my shoulders and it’s low cut just enough for my comfort. My cross necklace gleams against my skin and I decide to keep it on for tonight. Since it’s a two-piece, there’s just a sliver of skin visible between the top and the skirt, which flares out and swishes around my knees.

Slipping on my heels I step outside and the girls gasp in unison. “Yes, that’s the one! How does it feel D?” Holly pulls me over and I twirl in front of the full-length mirror, smiling as the skirt billows out around my legs.

“It’s beautiful, I love it. Thanks, girls!”

“The Mulder boys won’t know what hit ‘em when you show up wearing that!” Sarah winks at me suggestively and I roll my eyes at her.

“You know exactly that that’s not why I’m wearing it!”

Now it’s Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah sure, just keep telling yourself that…”

“Come on guys, we’re already unfashionably late. I’ll just call us a cab, are you ready?”

I grab a shawl against the cold and my purse before we make our way downstairs to wait for the cab. When we arrive at the house, we can already hear faint party noises from the backyard and my heart’s beating hard against my chest when we walk up the front walkway to ring the doorbell. My gaze wanders around the front of the house, the glass veranda on the right catching my eye. It’s completely different from our beach house, but it’s beautiful all the same.

The door opens to reveal Principal Skinner with a glass of whiskey in his hand and he holds the door open for us. “Hello ladies, come on in! You look extraordinarily beautiful tonight! Follow me, the party’s out back in the yard.”

He leads us through the house and I notice that it’s got polished hardwood floors and is furnished with antiques, giving it a cozy feel. We walk past the glass veranda which houses the dining room on the right and the living room with a massive couch to the left, which opens into the kitchen. The wooden staircase to the first floor is tucked away in the back. Skinner points us to the bathroom as we walk past it before we step outside onto the back porch and my breath catches in my chest.

They really went all out on this party, there’s string lights twinkling all around the hedge and in the trees, catered food and a bar in one corner, round tables in the middle and a massive dancefloor with a DJ in the other corner. Holly whistles through her teeth. “Man, they sure know how to live it up. Why are our parties never this nice? Jesus, I think they invited half the town for this.”

“Well, that’s on me I guess, they don’t know many people around here yet so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to make new acquaintances,” Principal Skinner admits but I’m only half listening because my eyes are too busy scanning the crowd. Sarah nudges my hip and tilts her head over to the bar and I’m embarrassed that she knows exactly who I was looking for. There he is, deep in conversation with Skinner’s wife, laughing at something she said.

He’s wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and a crimson tie and while the sight of him in a plain t-shirt with jeans are enough to make my heart skip a beat, him in that suit is going to give me a heart attack.

“Would you look at that D, you color coordinated, matchsiiiesss.” Holly whispers in my ear and I give her a pointed look.

“Shut up, Holly!” I hiss at her.

Just then, he looks over at us standing on the elevated porch and I can practically feel the slight burn his eyes leave as they travel up and down my body, giving me the once over. I hope he has a defibrillator. He flashes us a smile and raises his hand in a small wave, then continues his conversation with Arlene Skinner.

“Come on, girls, let’s put the presents on the gift table and get something to eat and drink.” ‘Eat, drink and be merry for today you may die.’

At the bar we sidestep the wine for now, since we haven’t eaten yet and I don’t want to embarrass myself by getting tipsy and stumbling over my heels. With my luck, I’ll just faceplant at a certain someone’s feet. ‘Huh, maybe he’ll catch me in those strong arms of his, though, if you’re really lucky…‘

When he spots our little circle, Felix comes over to us wearing a boy version of his dad’s suit, only with short dress pants and sneakers better suited for running around with the other kids. He’s tugging a tall woman along, with wavy brown hair and a kind face that seems somewhat familiar, but I’m not sure where to place her. His face is flushed and he beams at us happily.

“You came!”

“Of course we came, happy birthday Felix!” Sarah raises her glass to him and we all chime in with our Happy birthdays. The woman he came over with also raises her glass and ruffles his hair affectionately.

“This is my teacher Miss Anderson, and Miss Carter and Miss Spencer and Miss Scully,” he introduces us while the woman takes her turn shaking our hands. She regards me curiously and her lips curve into a smile.

“I’m Sam, Fox’s sister and Felix’s favorite aunt!” His sister, that’s why her face seemed so familiar. “So you’re the enigmatic Miss Scully I’ve heard so much about. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She notices the surprised look on my face. “Only good things, I promise. Felix won’t shut up about you when we talk on the phone.” I laugh, mostly because of the exasperated look Felix gives his aunt at revealing his secret.

“Glad to hear it, we’re having a lot of fun with him during recess! Nice to meet you, Sam. I really like your dress, did you get it around here?”

“Thanks, but no, I got it back in LA, I’m only visiting for a couple of days, I just couldn’t miss my two handsome boys’s birthday bash!”

“Handsome, huh? You spoil me sis!” Her brother has snuck up behind her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Hi ladies, thanks for coming, you look very lovely today!” We raise our glasses to him as well, wishing him a happy birthday and my drink spills over a little in my shaky hand. I pray that no one notices.

“Sam I’m so sorry to drag you away, but can you help me out and check if everything’s alright with the caterers?” They excuse themselves and we decide it’s time for us to check out what said caterers have prepared, our stomachs already rumbling. Hopefully, the butterflies in my stomach will make room.

----------

[ Sam ]

After checking with the caterers inside, I return to the party, standing on the back porch to watch everyone have a good time and I’m secretly a little proud of myself. Planning the party from all the way across the country had been stressful to say the least, but it turned out great. My gaze wanders around the tables and it catches on the tiny red-head and her three friends, who seem to be having a great time, laughing and chatting at their table.

I’ve heard many stories from Felix over the last few weeks but what surprised me the most was the way my brother looks at her. When I saw the way his whole face lit up when she walked in, I realized that Felix was not the only one taken with Miss Scully. She’s not his usual type - not that she’s not pretty, she is, very much so - but she’s actually nice. A vast improvement from the piece of work that’s his ex-wife, let me tell you. I wonder if he’s thought about asking her out yet.

----------

[ DS ]

After dinner, we’re treated to another visit from the little Mulder, who’s breathless from the game of tag with his friends. “Hey Felix! Are you having a good time?” He nods enthusiastically, trying hard to catch his breath.

“Yeah, auntie Sam did a really good job! I can’t wait for my cake, she said it’s really huuuge! And the DJ is playing aaaall my favorite songs, too!”

Suddenly shy, he shuffles his feet a bit and then, gathering all his courage, he looks up at me and holds out a tiny hand. “Miss Scully, will you dance with me?”

“Of course, birthday boy, come on.”

----------

[ Sam ]

Once I’m finished making another round of checking that everything’s running smoothly, I spot my brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching the party. Stopping on the last step, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Great party, huh?”

“Yeah, you did a pretty good job sis. And Skinner’s managed to gather up quite a crowd. Almost everyone’s here tonight!”

“You know what I think? You’d be just as happy if it were only you and one other special guest here tonight.” He turns his head a little, frowning.

“What?” I motion my head to the woman who’s currently talking to Felix at her table. “Aah. Is it that obvious?” I snort derisively

“Are you kidding me, bro? I’ve known you all my life, I can see the hearts in your eyes from a mile down the road. Have you asked her out yet?”

“No… I’m so nervous around her I can barely string more than a few coherent words together. She probably thinks I’m a huge idiot. I asked her if she believes in aliens, Sam!” We watch as Felix holds his hand out to her, asking her to dance with him. He’s so cute I can barely stand it.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You should take a page out of your son’s book though, boy’s got game!” My brother laughs as the somewhat mismatched pair sways on the dancefloor.

I release him from my embrace, an idea popping into my head. “You should go and cut in.” Now he fully turns to me and looks at me like I’m crazy.

“What? No…” He’s making his panic face.

“What yes! Carpe diem, right now!” I give him a gentle shove in the direction of the dancefloor. “Go! I’ll handle the music.”

----------

[ DS ]

Of course, I can’t say no to the little charmer and we make our way to the dancefloor and I sway with Felix in time to the music, twirling him around until he giggles.

“You look really handsome tonight, Felix!”

He smiles shyly and narrowly avoids stepping on my shoes. “Thank you! You look really beautiful too.”

“You’re absolutely right, son. Mind if I cut in?” A tingle shoots up my spine at the sound of his voice and Felix nods, stepping back. His dad holds out his hand to me. “A dance for the other birthday boy?”

“Well technically, it’s not your birthday for a few days.” I tease him, but I slip my hand into his and he spins me against him, wrapping his right arm around my waist, clasping my left hand in his tightly. The DJ fades into a new song and I groan inwardly as Sonny and Cher’s “I got you babe!” starts droning from the speakers. We sway for a few beats before he whips me across the dancefloor in a quick waltz. Over his shoulder I can see countless pairs of eyes following us but for once, tonight, I don’t care because all I can feel is the burn of his fingers resting on the sliver of exposed skin of my waist and the tickle of the hair at the back of his neck against my hand. God, this guy can waltz.

On the last few notes, he twirls me out with a grin on his face, tugging on my hand to bring me back in and then he dips me back for the grand finale. Dips me. The move takes me by surprise and I laugh, breathless when he brings me upright again.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to dip your lady in a waltz!” I realize my Freudian slip a fraction of a second too late. ‘Your lady? What the heck, Dana.’

He just shrugs nonchalantly, still grinning. “If I fancy to dip my lady, I will dip my lady! Thank you for this dance, Miss Scully!” He bows his head and I chuckle, curtsying. “The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Mulder!” ‘Who ARE you?’

We step off the dancefloor and I return to our table, sitting down still a little bit out of breath, only to be met with three incredulous stares. ‘Here we go, 3, 2, 1…’

“What was that, D?” Holly.

“Oh my God, the two of you on the dancefloor!” Sarah.

“That was incredible!” Alex.

I shrug, picking up my glass, but I can’t hide the blush on my face and smile around my straw. “Mr. Mulder can waltz.” I’ll never live this down.

Sometime after the birthday cakes came out, Felix appears at my side again and leans against me heavily. I can tell he’s coming down from his sugar-high. “Miss Scully, remember how I told you about the encyclopedia on butterflies?”

“Yeah I do, what about it?”

“Would you like to see it?” He looks up at me hopefully and I agree, glad to get away from the action for a while.

“Okay, come on!” Together we climb the steps to the back porch and he tugs me inside into the living room where we sit down on the couch. I can finally slip off my heels while Felix runs to get the encyclopedia and after returning, places it on my lap curling up into my side. He opens the heavy book and shows me his favorite butterflies, explaining in great detail what’s so special about it.

His voice gets more and more quiet with each new butterfly until he stops talking altogether and looking down I realize that he fell asleep, completely wiped. Coming off my own sugar high, I scoot down lower into the cushions and lean my head back against the back, closing my eyes. Just for a second.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 3, Chp. 9″

"Black Butterfly, sail across the waters Tell your sons and daughters what the struggle brings Black Butterfly, set the skies on fire Rise up even higher So the ageless winds of time can catch your wings"

Deniece Williams – "Black Butterfly"

Disa spotted Pamela in the middle of the floor.

The moment the beat hit her ears, Pamela threw her head back and tossed her ass in a circle letting Disa know it was good to go.

The beginning was always the difficult part of her sets when she was trying to create a montage of feelings through sound. There were peaks and valleys she had to hit in order to hold the audience hostage. She almost lost it halfway through Zana High Life when the host shouted out DJ Geechee Dan standing on the side of the stage. Disa had been trying to find him up in the VIP section and he was right there, less than twenty feet from her watching her cut up a live mix.

It was Erik that saved her from bumbling her set as she focused on him moving instead of Geechie Dan being so near her. He came out of nowhere and she had no idea he could dance so well. The boy showed out and Pamela tried to keep up. It brought a smile to her lips to see him grab her homegirl and dance Pamela around. No one had ever been able to hang with her, and Erik pushed the woman to go all out.

Disa reeled everyone back in when she let Erik's voice quote "Beloved" over the music. He matched the tone of the syncopated beats. It sounded romantic. Dreamy. She took a respite and let the mix play as she watched him dance. So fluid. Like water. She knew he practiced capoeira and decided to go off script and freestyle her set. Dragging down some berimabau sounds, she cued up a Brazilian jam and dropped it on top of her own drumming in time to the stringed instrument. It struck like a thunderbolt on Erik and it shocked her to see him backflip and hold his body in a handstand as his legs moved in slow motion before he crouched on the floor low and swayed to the ancient sounds.

The boy was bad.

Loose hips and expressive arm movement fooled everyone into thinking he was just jamming instead of showing off a martial art. Disa was in awe and almost missed her next transition cue because she was so mesmerized by him. How could that brainy, standoffish, and arrogant man-child turn into a snake-hipped God of the dance?

Pamela jumped back on him and Disa played with them both by skipping her planned closing and taking the two of them to the Black Queer spaces she roamed with Pamela and friends. Punching up the voice of the icon Selvin Mizrahi, aka MC Debra, Disa brought in ballroom beats.

"That shouldn't have been the question," echoed about the space and Pamela stopped dancing with Erik and pointed a finger at Disa.

"Don't play with me, bitch!" Pamela shouted before she dropped to the floor and duck walked like the diva she was. This attracted their other homegirl Tatum who dipped several times making Yamilet stand aside with weak knees. Pamela played with Tatum in a simulated ballroom battle over Erik's attention until Tatum pushed Pamela aside and twirled around the youngster capturing his attention. The audience roared when Erik dropped into his own duck walk challenging Tatum. Erik's friends howled and the entire venue lost it when he dipped three times in front of Tatum making her storm off in a pretend huff as he duck walked after her before spinning on his back and shoulders. He grabbed Tatum's hand and ground on her ass with the closing notes of Disa's set. Loud whistles and claps erupted, and she waved to the crowd before the lights switched over to the next DJ who looked frightened at the prospect of following up after her.

Tatum rushed over to her swiping back long strands of crimped and twisty hair.

"Girl, your lil man was out here giving what he was supposed to give! Is he…?"

"Erik? No, I don't believe so."

"He was putting that thang on me like he wanted a piece of the good, Sis. He grab on me again like that and I'll let him get a taste."

Tatum's dark brown eyes were glossy from drinking and she followed Disa as she carried her crate of vinyl to the green room.

"He's not the type to turn mean if he knows….y'now…" Tatum said.

"He's very open. I don't think he'd trip to know you're Trans."

"Good. Cuz he could get it from any of these women out here. Did you see him move? I know Pamela is butt hurt that she was not the center of the dance universe tonight."

Tatum watched her tuck her crate under a covered table and push them far back with her jacket on top of it with her computer bag.

"I liked how you closed out your set."

"People liked it, yeah?"

"Yeah, but I worry cuz you know how these niggas be wildin' if you bring in the Fam in hetero spaces. Everybody turns into homophobe and kills the vibe for everybody."

Disa's cell buzzed. She pulled it from her back pocket.

"Yamilet and them. She's out by the car now."

Disa dragged her crate back out and Tatum carried her computer bag for her. They headed outside to the parking lot. Yamilet was there with Pamela, and Essie. She opened her trunk and Disa dumped her stuff. The women gave her joyous hugs and high fives before they traipsed back in to catch the other DJs.

Erik ran up to her breathless.

"Hey! I thought you were leaving!"

Disa patted his arm.

"No, just putting my gear away. Erik, these are my friends…"

She introduced everyone, and Erik shook their hands. Tatum and Pamela gave him big hugs and Yamilet snapped her fingers at him.

"Geechie… Hey! Geechie Dan, hold up!" Erik shouted.

Disa's heart dropped in her belly. Erik shook her idol's hand and brought him over to Disa.

"This is Disa Abdullah-Woods, your biggest fan," Erik said.

"My dear, sweet, woman, you are a master class of gifts. That set was-"

Geechie Dan kissed his fingers to end his praise.

Disa held out a trembling hand to him.

"No, that's not gonna do, Buttafly. Bring it in," he said opening his arms wide.

Disa burst into tears.

"Hey, I'm nobody to cry over," he whispered.

Geechie Dan gave Disa a big hug, and she stood there like a blubbering baby. The years that she spent practicing what she would say to the man if she ever met him in person went straight out the window. She used to laugh at people who became overly emotional meeting celebrities, but now she totally understood the overwhelming feeling that surged through her.

She wiped her eyes and Erik rubbed her back with gentle circles.

"I've been a fan since I was a little kid," she stammered out.

"Erik here told me. I told him how much I enjoyed his dancing and he just went in about you."

A crowd surrounded Geechie Dan, but he ignored them, his twinkling eyes on her.

"It has been a long time since I've seen a DJ create a set with so much intention behind it. You have something special in you, young lady. Never lose that gift."

Disa's mouth seemed to lose all ability to work. All the things she wanted to say stalled in her throat. He was there in the flesh. Standing in front of her.

"Disa has a radio show you should go on," Erik suggested.

"Oh yeah? Give me your number. I'll call you up and we can chop it up."

Geechie Dan pulled out his cell and Disa gave him her number, her voice a soft shell of its usual assertive tone.

"When I get some free time, I'll hit you up. Excuse me, they want me back up on stage. Amazing set, Disa. Keep spinning!"

The man shook her hand with both of his and his entourage and promoters swept him away.

"She's still in shock," Yamilet said waving her hand in Disa's face.

Erik's bright smile attracted her attention. Had he not spoken to the man, Disa may very well have missed her opportunity to meet him, let alone remember to ask the man for a radio interview. Her mind floated with the surreal nature of the experience. Her cell buzzed.

Here's my number. I'll be in New York in a few weeks, would be open to an in-person radio interview.

Geechee Dan's personal cell number. She had it. In her palm.

Disa reached out and grabbed Erik's shoulders. She planted a big fat kiss on his lips.

"Damn, what was that for?" he said.

"Being here," she said.

He wiped his lips and smiled.

"Erik…"

Chloe slinked up and slipped her arm in Erik's, tugging him towards the dance floor. Disa watched him enter the thick crowd of swaying bodies to dance once more.

###

Her night was a dreamy success.

Disa stayed in a popular hotel with her friends, and they hung out in the bar. Erik strolled into the lobby with his friends. In a tipsy stupor, Disa walked over to him with a fresh drink in her hand. "Didn't know you were staying here too," she said.

He took the drink from her and sipped it down.

"Hey… you can't drink this here out in the open, you're underage!"

She snatched it away from his lips.

"Nah, it's after midnight… I'm twenty-one now," he said.

"Oh, shit. It's your birthday? Today?"

"Yep."

"Happy Birthday, Erik!"

She hugged him tight and gave him the glass of liquor.

"Enjoy," she said.

"What room are we in?" Jace asked.

Erik's dorm companion looked sleepy along with two other guys.

"301," Erik said handing Jace a key card.

Disa's friends called for her to return to the bar counter.

"Come celebrate with us," she said pointing to her group.

"I'm beat, to be honest. Thanks for asking me though."

"If you change your mind, we'll be down here."

"Good to know."

"Thanks for everything, Erik. Tonight was really special and meant a lot to me. Especially with you hooking me up with Geechie Dan."

"Glad to make your dream come true."

His eyes penetrated hers.

"Okay grown-ass man, go to bed," she said pushing on his arm playfully.

"You're drunk," he teased.

"A happy one at that," she said stumbling off to join her girls.

Three more drinks later, after a heated discussion with a group of men who hovered around them trying to interject their unwanted opinions about dating, Disa leaned over the bar counter and asked for a special birthday cocktail for Erik. She went to the lobby restroom, collected the drink afterward, and excused herself from her friends. She took the elevator to the third floor and found Erik's room. The fruity exotic drink had a lot of strong liquor in it. Knocking on the door, she waited for someone to answer. She could hear a tv on and talking going on inside.

Kelvin, a cute nerdy string bean answered the door.

"Is Erik up?" she asked.

Kelvin's eyes nearly popped out looking at her.

"You were so good," he yelped.

"Thank you… um… Erik?"

"He's not here."

"Not here? Did he go out?"

"No, he's in that room," Kelvin said pointing across the hall to room 302.

"Thanks," she said.

Kelvin closed the door and Disa did a one-eighty and rapped her knuckles on the new door. She toyed with the blue umbrella and pineapple garnish on his drink. Erik answered. Shirtless and wearing tight gray boxers.

"Hey," she said.

"Um… Hi. 'sup?"

"Birthday drink. A proper one."

She thrust it out to him and tried to brush past him, but he held an arm up in the door jamb blocking her. Her brain failed to register that he didn't want her inside, and she bumped against him, her breasts touching his chest.

"I can't come in?"

"I have someone here," he said.

Her eyes cut behind him. Chloe was draped in nothing but a sheet, the tops of her breasts threatening to spill over her arm that clutched the covers.

"Oh, snap. I'm sorry. I thought you were staying with the guys over there. Didn't realize you had your own room. Here, enjoy the drink," she said.

Erik took the bulbous glass, and his expression was full of embarrassment. He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. Disa stepped back from him and fumbled with her hands.

"Handle your business. It's time for me to get to bed myself… get some sleep. Have fun!"

She tried to sound jovial, but something in the back of her throat made her voice accusatory. As if she caught him doing something behind her back. For months she thought of Erik as her little pet. He was her loyal puppy, and she had to admit she enjoyed all the fawning he did over her. But he was also a young man with needs. She tried not to look at the package that was hanging in his underwear. The outline of it was showing off. God forbid if he was a grower too.

"Me and Chloe kinda got this thing going on now…"

"New girlfriend and good birthday sex is a blessing. Night Erik."

She turned to leave and pivoted back to him.

"Can I put on a birthday dinner for you and your family? I know you're planning on eating at Toulouse, but I would love to host your birthday party at my place."

"That's too much Disa. I have a lot of people coming in from all over."

"How many?"

"Fifteen—"

"Pfft, boy, you've been to my dinner parties, you know how I get down. Fifteen is nothing for me."

"The cost alone will be crazy—"

"Let me handle that. You deserve a special day. You made my night amazing, let me show my appreciation. What would you like to eat?"

Erik's eyes grew thoughtful, they dropped to look at his drink.

"I love your Confit de Canard,"

"Aw, I see. I finally got you to give in to duck meat."

"It's gonna be hella expensive."

"Don't worry about it. Let's say six sharp on Saturday, three courses and Turkish coffee with a birthday cake."

His eyes lit up.

"I'll let my people know."

"Tell them to dress up. I'll plan a splendid evening with games afterward."

Erik grabbed her hand and pulled her in close.

"Thank you," he said.

"Better get back to Chloe. Don't want her chewing my head off for keeping all of this out of the bed."

She smirked at him and wandered down the hall.

###

Chloe had a frown n her face when Erik walked back into the hotel room.

"What did she want?"

"Birthday gift," he said holding up the fancy drink.

He sipped it, and the liquor was too strong for his tastes. It would knock him out before he had a chance to smash Chloe. He put the glass on the nightstand and pulled off his boxers. His dick was already at half-mast.

"Why is your dick like that already?"

Chloe sat up, and the frown on her face deepened.

"Looking at you gets me excited," he countered.

Hopping into the bed, he pulled back the sheets and swiped her nipples with his tongue.

"You're attracted to her."

"Disa? That's my homegirl—"

"Everyone knows you have a crush on her. You turn into a puddle whenever she's around."

Chloe folded her arms over her breasts blocking his access.

"If your dick is getting hard for her, maybe you should get some birthday sex from her instead!"

"Chloe. Stop trippin'. I'm giving this dick to you."

He rubbed the hardening length against her thigh. She slapped it.

"Wanna play rough?" he said.

"Was your dick hard for that Trans chick too?"

"What?"

"Disa's friend. The one with the long fluffy hair. You didn't know?"

"No. She fine as fuck though."

"You'd fuck a Trans woman?"

There was disgust on her face.

Erik sat up. He'd been around Trans women and Trans men all his life, especially in Brazil. He had a Trans play uncle in Sao Paulo who used to babysit him and his play cousin Marisol.

"A woman is a woman. She got titties I can play with and a hole I can fuck, I don't see a problem—"

"Ohmigod! You really would fuck her."

"That ass was amazing."

"I can't believe you're serious!"

"Are you a queerphobe? Cuz if you are, that's not gonna work for me."

"No… I just… I can't picture you being like that."

"Like what?"

"Accepting. You're like a man's man—"

"A Transphobe? I wasn't raised like that. My mother would never let me treat people like shit who didn't deserve it."

Chloe stared down at her hands.

"I'm glad to hear that, actually."

"Yeah? Why?"

Her eyes welled up.

"My sister… she's transitioning… he's becoming my brother and I worry about him going up against guys like you."

"Guys like me?"

"Y'know overly masculine. He's coming to visit me in a few weeks and I wanted you to meet him since he's interested in capoeira."

Her eyes met his.

"I didn't mean to be accusatory about Disa's friend. She's beautiful. Prettier than me."

"You're the prettiest woman in this room right now."

She slapped his hand and smiled.

"But you do like Disa. Right?"

"She's my friend. I had a big crush on her when I first arrived on campus, but now… she's like a mentor… a big sister. We're close and she teaches all kinds of cool stuff. I probably do act all goofy when I'm around her—"

"It's cute… really. I just… let's forget about it."

He kissed her. With guilt. Disa meant more to him than just a big sister or a mentor. She was the ultimate woman. But she would never see him as a man.

Chloe wrapped her lips around his dick and rolled a condom on his shaft after she plumped him up to complete hardness. She presented her backside to him and he sank into her walls and pumped, enjoying her soft sighs and cries of passion. He took off the condom much later as she allowed him to fuck her raw in the ass and dump a hot load in her anal walls. She kept his mind off of Disa and those lush breasts that truly made his dick thicken and visibly tell Chloe the truth. Disa was his dream girl. Everyone could see it.

###

The large package arrived at Disa's house the day before Erik's birthday party. She called him on his phone to tell them that a big box with a D.C. return address and B. Dunduza written in black block letters was sitting in her living room.

He drove over to her house, and Disa watched him tear it open. There was a note on top of the bubble wrap.

"Kept these in storage for you. We wanted to wait until you turned twenty-one to have them. Cherish them as we cherish you."

Uncle Bakari and Auntie Shavonne both signed it.

Erik removed the layer of bubble wrap and his heart nearly stopped.

He fingered the old dark brown leather, and a breath shuddered out of him.

"Erik? You alright?" Disa asked.

She put a hand on his shoulder as he lifted the leather-bound journal from the box.

"These are my father's journals," he whispered.

Opening the first journal, he recognized the careful Wakandan script written by his father's powerful hand. They taped a small piece of bubble wrap on the page. Erik unraveled it and gasped before falling on his backside.

"What is it?" Disa asked, rising concern coloring her voice

Opening his fingers, Erik stared at the wondrous gift.

His Baba's ring. Attached to the chain his mother bought for him as an anniversary gift. The chain his father wore the night he was killed by King T'Chaka.

His family birthright.

Now his.

Chapter 10 HERE

###

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[ragingpancake]

Happy Birthday, Rodney McKay

A/N: Takes place after my prompt fic, Piano Man.

It’s not easy, honestly. It takes paperwork, which everyone knows John hates and an actual legitimate doctor’s note from Keller, outlining the benefits in regards to mental health, but once he explains why he needs it, she seems to get on board pretty quickly and by the time the Daedalus is back enroute from the Milky Way, he’s got the approval notice on his desk, which means it’s only a matter of waiting now. And so life goes on. They go off-world. Ronon shoots things while Teyla tries to use a bit of diplomacy to keep them from getting their asses kicked too much by everyone that Rodney manages to offend the people of the Pegasus Galaxy by accidentally touching something he’s not supposed to in search of more ZPMs. It’s almost easy to forget that less than a month ago, they buried Carson Beckett, except he knows they all still feel it. He sees it in the way that Ronon is still skittish around Keller in a way he’d never been around Carson. In the way that Teyla still lights a candle for him at night. But he sees it most of all in Rodney, who’s nowhere near as abrasive as he usually is, who is quietin a way that he never was before. John, for his part, does his best to keep things as normal as possible which is why, despite his previous revelation in regards to McKay (or rather, his feelings for McKay), he’s yet to say anything. He doesn’t want to make things difficult or strained in the event that he’s so far off base because he doesn’t want to deprive Rodney of another friendship if he manages to completely fuck this all up. But as the eighteenth slowly comes upon them, John hopes that he can say what he needs to say without ever actually saying it at all. He just hopes the Daedalus shows up on time. ---

For once, things actually go his way. Colonel Caldwell arrives on that he never actually celebrates (which almost has John second guessing this whole damn thing), but they did at least manage to get a cake from the kitchens and Teyla has managed to guilt Rodney into leaving the labs earlier than usual for a small gathering in the mess. John knows, as soon as Rodney steps inside, that he’s not expecting anyof this. The majority of the science department is there and a couple of marines whose asses Rodney has saved more than once. Elizabeth is there too and Teyla and Ronon are waiting near a badly decorated table. There’s a less than stellar rendition of Happy Birthday before there’s cake and for the first time since before they buried Carson, John sees a genuine, happy smile on Rodney’s face. God, he’s missed that. He stands on the outskirts of the party, watching the festivities, but it’s not long after cake that the group begins to dwindle down, leaving only the team and Elizabeth, who soon after takes her leave. “I hope you are not too upset with us, Rodney, but we simply could not let another year pass without celebrating your birthday,” Teyla says kindly and for the first time, maybe ever, Rodney’s a little speechless. “Honestly,” he says, finally, “with everything that’s… well. I suppose I didn’t really expect anyone to remember,” but John can see just how pleased he is that they did. Of course they would. Teyla rises then and she grips Rodney’s forearms gently, pressing her forehead to his. “Happiest of birthdays to you,” she says, giving him a smile as Ronon claps him roughly on the back and with a single glance over at John, Teyla withdraws. “It is getting late,” she says, and she grabs for Ronon’s arm as if anticipating having to drag him off, but it seems like he hasn’t quite forgotten what John’s planned because for once, he doesn’t argue, only smirks at John as they pass. And finally, they’re alone. “You tired?” John asks, and it’s normal enough that Rodney doesn’t even question it. “Nah. I figured I’d head back down to the labs, get a head start on tomorrow’s simulations and—” “C’mon Rodney,” John wheedles. “It’s your birthday.” “Annnnd,” Rodney glances down at his watch, “it’s almost over, so there’s that!” And John rolls his eyes, but he comes over and nudges Rodney with his shoulder. “C’mon. It’s a nice night out. Let’s at least go out onto the East Pier and have a couple beers.” And this is it, John thinks. His entire plan hinges on this one moment, and he doesn’t realize that he’s actually holding his breath until Rodney finally shrugs. “Yeah, alright. One beer won’t hurt.” --- The walk to the pier is quiet. Most of Atlantis has retired to their quarters, the night shift in the control tower for their nightly briefing before they head out on patrols. For a minute, it’s easy to pretend that there’s no one else on the planet other than him or Rodney. His stomach is in knots the closer they get to the pier and by the time they approach the doorway leading outside, John is sure he’s actually going to puke. This was a bad idea. This was a horrible, awful idea and Rodney’s going to hate him and he’s going to ruin everything between them. This is the moment that he’s going to lose Rodney and--. The doors open on their approach and John knows the exact moment that Rodney sees it, because he hears the quiet gasp. Sitting just outside the door is an upright piano. “What—where did you--?” “I heard you play,” John says, clearing his throat. “When we were home for Carson. The night at the bar—.” “Oh God,” Rodney groans, “I was really hoping you’d forgotten about that.” “You were really good,” John says offhandedly and he gestures weakly to the piano. “And you, you know, looked happy for a minute while you were playing, which was um. Nice to see, you know? Especially considering why we were there. So I just thought… well. I thought maybe it would help if you had something here. To uh, you know… to have here. So. Yeah.” He reaches up and rubs a hand

against the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, as Rodney moves over to the piano, stroking his fingers against the ivory keys. “This is… I don’t know how I can ever thank you for this,” and John just shrugs, tips of his ears turning red. “You don’t, you know, have to. Thank me, I mean. I just… wanted to do something nice for you,” he says and when Rodney reaches out, grabbing John’s wrist to catch his attention, his breath catches in his throat, hazel eyes meeting blue. For a moment, neither of them speak aloud, but John thinks that maybe Rodney understands everything he’s not saying. Everything he can’t quite say. You mean everything to me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I love you. What he says instead is quiet, barely above a whisper, “Happy birthday, Rodney.”

[buckyownsmylife]

Clean - John Winchester Smut

The one where John’s your best friend’s father

Warnings: smut, age gap, rough sex, oral sex (f), p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, curse words

A/N: Day 6 of kinktober and I’m really exhausted and low. But here it is. Hope you guys like it. The prompts were overstimulation and bestfriend’s father.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I could feel his eyes on me from across the room. It was difficult not to, especially when it felt like my body was so perfectly attuned to his, permanently in search for his attention. But of course, because things couldn’t be easy, not only was he thirty years older than me, he was also my best friend’s father.

Sammy wasn’t even my age, which made it worse. Even he was older than me, as we’d met in college, where I’d been accepted even before I was of legal age. And now that we’d ran into each other after I lost everything and everyone I knew to a werewolf pack, he felt like it was his responsibility to take care of me, which is how I ended up in his family’s bunker, permanently stuck with him, his older brother Dean, their friend Cas - who was an angel - and their father, John. The muse behind every wet dream I’d ever had since our eyes had first met.

Life with the Winchesters - and Cas - wasn’t hard or bad. Most of the time I stayed at the bunker, perfectly content in helping with research - it was my favorite activity, after all. John had been scared of allowing me to join them on their hunts, saying I needed actual training that they couldn’t quickly provide, but these last few weeks had found us alone with each other more often than not, his hands over mine as he taught me how to pull the trigger of a gun.

That part was hard, ignoring how his touch made me feel electrified when he was so close, holding my hands in front of my body from behind and directing them towards a designated target, but not as hard as the cock I felt straining his jeans and rubbing against my backside in those same moments.

We never spoke of it, both pretending to not notice, but we knew better. And that’s precisely why I allowed him to run off into his bedroom immediately after our training sessions, without accompanying him to offer my help in return.

He was my best friend’s father. I shouldn’t. But fuck did I want to.

So that’s why these last few days, it felt like the temperature had been steadily rising between us, to the point where it seemed like we’d both burn up into flames at any moment. John had gotten back from a hunt five days ago and still hadn’t offered to meet me in a training session, something that struck me as weird, but I didn’t want to bother him, so I never asked for it, opting to simply wait for his invitation.

Now, I could feel him staring at me from across the room, and as much as I wanted to ask why, I didn’t. I just kept my head down as I tried to concentrate on the research Sam asked me to help him with.

Just as I was about to finally be able to focus, though, Dean decided to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

“Who wants to go to the bar?” It was an invitation made strictly out of politeness. He’d long ago given up on ever getting me to leave the bunker to “relax” in that kind of loud atmosphere, so I just granted him a sheepish smile, to which he chuckled. “Alright, I got it. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Sam, what about you?”

My best friend’s head whipped up from the book he was reading at the mention of his name, and it took him some time to tune in into what Dean was talking about. When he did, much to everyone’s surprise, he actually nodded, closing his book and stretching up. “Sure, I think I deserve some rest after this week. Are you sure I can’t convince you to join us, Y/N?”

John’s P.O.V.

She smiled, but shook her head at my boys.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun. Besides, anytime you take me with you, someone ends up having to babysit me, and I’m sure the main reason you want to go out is to find someone to spend the night with, right?” Sam blushed, but didn’t deny. Dean, on the other hand, always my son, just chuckled, no embarrassment in his features. 

“Well, a man’s gotta live.” What he didn’t add was that if she offered, he’d exchange all the skanks in the world for a chance to be with her. The only person who didn’t take notice in his obvious crush for her was her.

There was another thing that remained unspoken while the boys prepared to leave the bunker. The main reason why someone had to stay behind with her was because no other girl approached our table when she was around us. She just had that effect. We became so enraptured by her that no one else caught our eye, and so no one approached.

We didn’t mind. She took all of our attention when she was around, and she didn’t even know it. So it was safe to say that ever since she stopped agreeing to be dragged out into bars with us, we were grateful.

“Dad?” They hadn’t realized I had made no effort to get ready until they were already at the door. 

“‘M not going tonight.” Her surprised eyes found mine from the other side of the room, but just like my kids, she didn’t say anything. In another minute or so they were gone and then it was only her and I in the bunker for the night.

I could see the tension in her shoulders from the other side of the room, and I almost chuckled. Perhaps this was only another sign in a long list of things that should show me how screwed up I was for wanting what I did, but I’d given up trying to fight it. I’d fucked woman after woman thinking about the girl in front of me, and she was still the only one I could think about when I lied down at night. So now it was time to get her.

“Y/N,” I called out to her a few minutes after the boys had left, wanting to give them time to possibly come back to get whatever item they might have forgotten, but when that wasn’t the case, I broke the silence that had fallen in the room without a second thought. “Come here.”

I could see even from the distance between us that she flinched at the sound of her own name. Had I startled her? She was a hunter, she couldn’t be so easily scared, but perhaps it was the tension that had appeared between us that made her uneasy enough to jump at anything.

Her head whipped up to look at me, but she didn’t immediately do anything, just stared, like she was unsure if I’d actually called her name or if it was only her own imagination playing tricks on her. When I refused to repeat myself, but still maintained eye contact with her, she slowly got up from her chair and made her way to where I was sitting, giving me the perfect opportunity to appreciate her body.

Fuck, she really was something. The way that jeans hugged her curves, showing off her tight ass, and how her breasts bounced with each step she took towards me. It was impossible not to be aroused - I couldn’t understand how Sam kept it in his pants. I knew for a fact Dean had eyed her quite a bit, because I was the one to remove any ideas of him ever getting with her with a single slap on the back of his head when I got him smirking down at her.

That kid was too much like me for his own good.

“You called?” She asked when she was finally right in front of me, her head doing that cute little thing where it leaned to one side as she nibbled on her lower lip, waiting for any sort of reaction from me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John’s stare was an intense kind of torture, one that seemed perfectly constructed just to break me down to my most primal state. I had no doubt he’d be able to achieve that. After what felt like hours of him undressing me with those brown hues that had seen so much more than he actually let on, he finally showed me some sort of direct recognition, sitting up straighter in the armchair he was sprawled on, before clearing his throat.

“Yes, I did call you. You see, Y/N, I’ve found myself in a sort of… situation, for quite sometime now, and I’ve tried everything I could to get myself through it. There’s only one thing left, now. You.”

My eyebrows flew up while I opened my mouth several times, in search of something to say. Still, with the little amount of information I had, all that was left for me to ask was “Me? How can I help you?”

By the way the corners of his lips twitched up - the closest thing to a smile coming from John Winchester - it was clear that while he anticipated my questioning, it still amused him greatly. I got the impression that he thought of me as something precious, innocent even, and while I couldn’t understand neither where I got this idea or why he thought of me like that, the truth was that it got me hot like nothing else.

“Considering you are the very reason for my problem, I’d say there are a lot of ways you can help me, sweetheart.” My heart had started beating more quickly, the innuendo in his words, the tension that had been ever-present in the atmosphere between us, it all made sense. But I still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that he actually wanted me.

I didn’t want to do or say anything that let on what I was thinking about, because God, how embarrassing would it be if I had completely misread this situation?

John sighed at my lack of response, throwing a hand through his hair as he looked around the room before fixing his eyes on me again. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t want to put you into a difficult position and I most definitely don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want, I just think you might be interested in taking up my offer. I’ve seen the way you look at me, it’s not much different from how I look at you either. None of the boys need to know. This would just be between me and you.”

I was certain he was able to hear my heartbeat by now, but still, I forced myself to speak over the thundering sound resonating in my ears. “And what would that be, exactly? Your offer, I mean.”

John didn’t immediately answer, opting instead to run his eyes through my figure once more. I forced myself to contain the inevitable shiver, pondering how the hell was he able to feel so dominating while remaining seated, whereas I was standing up.

John’s P.O.V.

“I want to use you as my personal fucktoy,” I decided to get on with it, lay it all out in the open as soon as possible. There was no reason to hide, after all, I wasn’t exactly a blushing virgin and I wanted her to know exactly what she was getting herself into if she accepted my proposal.

“Now, I need you to really understand this, pretty girl. I’m not fucking around and I’m most definitely nothing like the boys you probably fucked up until now. When I say I want you to be my fucktoy, I mean you will be my fucktoy. I have a lot of pent up frustrations to deal with and I will not do anything other than use you. It will be rough. I will not be gentle.”

I watched with clear interest as my words registered in the girl in front of me. It wasn’t hard to see that she was interested in what I was offering, by the way she was biting her lip and changing her weight from one leg to another. I was willing to bet that she was wet already. 

“Are you sure we’ll be able to keep this from the boys?” I smiled at how she called my sons, who were both older than her, and at her priorities. There was a reason I knew I should take the leap and look for relief in her. Instead of worrying about how rough I could be, she just wanted to know about the privacy of it all.

“Come here, sweetheart,” I asked, beckoning her to my lap. She obeyed with barely any hesitancy, which instantly aroused me. There was nothing I loved more than a girl who knew her place and what she wanted.

As soon as she was in touching distance, I pulled her to sit on one of my thighs, relishing in the tiny gasp of surprise she let out at the sudden movement. “You don’t need to worry,” I assured her, while wrapping a strand of her hair on one of my fingers, while my other hand secured her in her spot. “We’re both consenting adults, right? They never have to know about what we do when they aren’t here.”

Her eyes had been staring at my mouth as I talked, and by the end of my question she quickly raised them to meet mine again, like she was scared to be caught staring. A chuckle caught in my throat, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me. “Just come here,” I said right before meeting her lips with mine.

It was exactly as I imagined, her softness meeting my chapped lips with some timidness as I forced her to welcome my eager tongue. The tiny moan that she let out as I parted her lips to get my first taste of her went straight to my cock, making me groan before I adjusted her so she’d sit properly on both of my thighs, facing me. 

Her hands clutched my shirt as mine explored her body, masculine satisfaction filling my chest at the knowledge that from now on, she’d be mine to take.”Wanna start being a good girl for me?” I whispered in her ear, fully enjoying seeing the goosebumps that rose up on her arms at the touch of my breath on her skin.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Yes,” I breathed out without even thinking twice, completely lost to the feeling of John’s warm, manly hands groping my body. His ever-present smell of whiskey and gunpowder was going straight to my head, making me feel like the world was swirling around us as he savored my lips, my jaw, my throat, his hands getting lost in my hair before grabbing my ass over my jeans, grinding me against him.

“Then get up,” he ordered, already helping me do as he said with his hands on my waist. When I was standing in front of him again, he ran his eyes through me one more time before continuing, “Now strip.”

I’d normally feel at least a bit timid of following his direction, but with John looking at me like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on, I found myself wishing that my clothes were already on the floor - especially since it suddenly felt way too hot in this bunker, the fluorescent lights a sun in itself. 

First went my shirt, before I unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall down to my ankles. John licked his lips at the sight of my body in just my underwear, before telling me to step out of my jeans.

He didn’t need to tell me to proceed with my strip-tease, I did so instinctively, my bra quickly falling down to the floor before my panties followed the same path. John’s gaze had darkened considerably, and had become so strong that it almost felt like a physical presence over me, exploring my crevices.

“Pull out that chair, sweetheart,” he nodded towards one of the simple wooden chairs we kept by one of the dining tables, and although I quirked an eyebrow in his direction, I did as he said, positioning the chair to face him, before he tutted. “Turn it around,” he instructed, and I did so quickly, my breasts bouncing with each step I took. “Now brace yourself on the back of that chair.”

For the first time, I hesitated before doing what he wanted. With him still seating right behind me, I’d be quite literally giving him a vision of everything. But of course, that was precisely what he wanted, so I just resorted to doing exactly as he said, wrapping my arms around the back of the chair and leaning over so that my pussy was on display for him.

I didn’t witness any sort of reaction for a few seconds, and my heart was beating so loudly I couldn’t even hear his breath to be able to actually pinpoint if he was still seated or not. All I knew was that with each passing minute, my nerves stood on end, my nipples tightening in the warm air of the room while I could feel my wetness start to seep out of my lower lips.

But then, I felt his hands on the back of my thighs, his warm breath right over my most intimate part, like he was teasing himself with my smell before allowing his own satisfaction. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he whispered in that rough voice of his that always gave me shivers. Accompanied by a sweep of his knuckles against my most sensitive part, it almost made my knees buckle.

John’s P.O.V.

I had to stop myself from chuckling at how much my little actions affected her. I could only imagine how she’d look all fucked out, when I was done with her. “Hang there, sweetheart, I wanna get myself a taste.” Keeping her still by my grip on her legs, I buried my face on her pussy from behind, paying attention to the adorable little gasp she let out at the first swipe of my tongue. “You can be as loud as you want, pretty girl. The boys aren’t here to hear ya.”

I slowly collected some of the wetness already slipping out of her with the tip of my tongue, relishing in her sweet taste. I immediately needed more, needed to have it dripping off my beard, imprinted on my taste buds.

All calmness and control recklessly abandoned, I pressed myself further inside of her, only half-listening to the broken moans and gasps leaving her lips as she tried to remain in the position I ordered her to be in, while I lapped up her cunt with a vigor I hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Fuck, you really are a sweet thing, aren’t you? I’d forgotten how great young pussy tasted. Hang in there, sweetheart, this might take a while.” It wasn’t my plan to spend so much time just eating her out, but she was just too delicious to leave without having her cum directly against my tongue. So I gave her my all, engulfing her pussy in my mouth as my jaw rubbed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, my beard certainly leaving a burning sensation I could only take egoistic pride in. Finally, she gave me what I wanted, cumming directly into my mouth with my nose pressed against her little clit, and I drank it all in, licking my lips and hers to make sure I wouldn’t waste any drop.

She was still trembling and trying to catch her breath when I pulled away from her, rubbing my lips to chase the remnants of her taste. Then I paused, once again looking her up and down, from the tiptoes she was resting on, the back of her thighs until the perfectly presented cunt just there for me to take.

“Wait just there, darlin’, I think I might need a second taste.” By the time I was done with her, three orgasms later, she’d cum with my hands spreading her asscheeks, after I fucked my tongue inside her pretty little asshole, with a single finger inside of her while I bit on her thighs and finally, with three digits buried to the knuckle, as she begged me for a release I was more than happy to give her. Her juices were already dripping past her ankles, and as much as I wanted to lick it all up, clean her with my tongue, my cock had been throbbing inside my jeans for far too long to continue to be ignored.

Rising up behind her, I caressed the skin of her back as I tried to calm her down, while I kept one hand on my belt, prying it open. “There, sweetheart. We’re almost done, aren’t we? All that’s left for you to do now is to welcome my cock into that tight cunt of yours. Think you can do it?”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

My heart couldn’t keep up with what was going on. It felt like I’d just run a marathon, my skin all sweaty while my wetness dripped on the concrete floor below us. “Y-yes,” I answered with all the energy I had left, flinching at how hoarse my throat felt. “I can do it.”

John chuckled warmly, and it was with a jolt of excitement that I realized his cock was out, as he pulled me against his chest by my hair. “I know you can, sweet thing. The question is… how badly do you want it?”

He rubbed his cock against me as he whispered the question in my ear, and I gasped at how thick he felt, immediately comprehending what he wanted from me. “Please, John, I want it so bad. I want your cock inside of me, I need it.” 

The growl I got in response let me know I had gotten it right even before I felt the head of his cock pressing against me, spearing me open. He shoved it all inside of me in a single thrust, not allowing me anytime to get used to the feeling of being so brutally stretched after he bottomed out.

“Now, darlin’, you just hold onto that chair and let me ruin you.” Pushing me against the chair again, he immediately started to pound against me, both hands so tightly holding onto my waist that I was sure I’d have bruised in the morning.

He wasn’t lying about ruining me. I’d never been so forcefully fucked in my entire life, and it wasn’t hard to see that I had John’s sexual experience to thank for it. “John!” I screamed out his name as I felt myself reaching that high again, my channel throbbing around him. He just kept fucking me with the same intensity, turning my sensitiveness into overstimulation in a second.

“John, please!” I begged as tears rolled down my cheeks from the way it all felt like too much - the feeling of being so filled, the way my clit ached and throbbed, my pussy trying to push him out and keep him in at the same time. Still, I couldn’t be certain of what I was asking for - for him to stop? To continue? Both ideas sounded equally necessary to me at that moment.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be my fucktoy?” He asked threateningly, pulling me by my hair again so he could lick the salt on my cheek. “You can take it, sweetheart. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” With a slap over my clit, I cried as my last orgasm suddenly intensified and I felt myself bursting with a white hot flash of an orgasm as I squirted all over our clamped legs.

When I finally managed to blink my eyes open again, I realized John was still hugging me to him, but he’d stopped moving. Then, I realized the mess between my legs was even stickier, and it all made sense.

“I forgot to ask you where I could cum,” he joked, kissing my temple before slowly pulling out of my abused pussy. He looked around for my clothes before selecting my shirt to wipe the excess moisture on our skins.

“It’s okay,” I explained as I tried to catch my breath, still frozen on the same spot and holding the chair, since I was scared my legs would fail me if I tried to move. “I’m on the pill.” Before I could say anything else, John picked me up bridal style and started moving us towards the bedrooms, making me wheeze in surprise. “Where are you taking me?” I inquired, confused and tired, but he looked down at me like I was suddenly gone crazy. 

“My bedroom. I figured I’d let you soak in a bath while I take care of the mess we left in the living room. Then I can come back and hold you for a bit, before you fall asleep. How does that sound?” As hard as it was to wrap my head around the concept of John Winchester performing aftercare, I was too tired to even question, so I just nodded, smiling softly up at him.

“Sounds perfect.”