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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Text

Time Apart

CW: Trauma survivor, referenced noncon and assault, heavy internalized victim-blaming and self-loathing/anti-asexuality (Chris has serious issues from his conditioning around this)

(references events from this small series)

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

When Chris picks up his phone, it's not at all the message from Laken he expected to see. Not the kind of thing they've ever sent before.

He has to read it two times, then three. The letters swim and shake along with a dull pounding inside his head, but no matter how he tries to make them into other words - tell himself he must have misunderstood, must be missing something - they come back together the same in the end.

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

Each letter is as crisp and clean as a sterilized blade between each rib, one by one by one by one.

The words are a body blow. They're a hundred blows, beating him into a barely recognizable shattered shell of himself. It wasn't supposed to happen this way - it's been a bad few days, yeah, a bad week really, but until yesterday's fight it had never occurred to him that Laken might give up on him.

The fight was his fault, anyway.

He meant to apologize last night, but then Nova had come into his room, and he'd lost the rest of the night to lying next to Jake, trying to remember how to stop living inside his head again, how to stop being still.

He'd woke up this morning with his stomach doing butterfly flips inside him, nervous, but he'd really wanted to say he was sorry, for the fight, for all the weirdness lately. He'd wanted to apologize for being difficult.

Instead... he'd woken up to find a missed text from the night before, sent after he'd shoved Nova away but before he could stand to look at anything again.

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

There it sits.

He hasn't unlocked his phone yet. Instead, he keeps tapping the button to light up the screen, looking at the message preview that has all he needs to see. Lets it go dark again. As if one of these times he'll click and it'll say something else.

But it doesn't,

It just says the same damn thing.

I think you should spend time apart.

Not with me.

He's still staring at it when another one comes in. He feels the soft pulse of his phone in his hand, and the screen lights on its own.

LAKEN - NOW Did you see my message?

He thinks maybe Kauri had it easier when he was the age Chris is now. Back when Kauri carried on entire conversations in emoji form, letting the nuance and ambiguity take over, the recipient working through the meaning on their own. With this, each letter is merciless, each word is unmistakable. He can’t misunderstand it.

Can he?

He opens the phone with shaking fingers, types back yes, presses send, and turns his phone off.

Then he throws it at the wall.

He’s grateful for the heavy plastic case that makes it bounce off and drop to the floor without breaking. There's a strip on the back, textured and a soft purple, gray, white, and black. He rubs his fingers over it sometimes in class to keep himself from rocking and being distracting.

Now he just... stares at it.

Laken bought that for him. They bought the shirt he's wearing right now-

He yanks it off his head before he can think, balls up the soft fabric and throws it as well. It just sort of drifts pointlessly to the floor, a single eyeball from the print of a band he likes staring back at him.

Laken has ranted before about people who break up by text message, and Chris has to breathe through a physical ache in his chest that tightens every muscle at how awful he must be that they're not doing this face to face. How awful, how used-up, how shredded apart, how fucking pretty he is.

After all, he and Laken have been together for more than a year, and he still held perfectly still for Nova to touch him before he remembered how to move. After all, he’s a grown man who still cried and fell apart when Jake was hurt. After all, after all, after all...

He scrambles across the floor for his phone again, turns it back on. Part of him hopes he’ll see a new text saying they take it back, they didn’t mean it. Or just asking him to apologize for what he’d said that night before, for how he’d thrown their confusion over his reaction to something back at them, echoing out the way Kauri fights sometimes, talking about himself the way he thinks everyone else might be thinking about him, so he says the insult first and no one else gets to surprise him with it.

But there’s nothing new.

He manages to open the texts again, barely, and breathes in gasps, nearly pants, as he types out, you don’t want me at your place?

Not right now.

Is it because of what I can’t do?

It takes them a minute to answer. Every single second ticks by with a slowness Chris hasn’t felt since his days in the cold white room, tied down to stillness, forced to endure every minute that passed in perfect silence or to the soundtrack of his own tears and pleading for it to stop.

When they do respond, it’s just, it’s because of what you won’t do.

His breath catches in his throat. The ache in his head starts to pound harder, and he has to close his eyes against a sharp stab behind them.

What he won’t do.

They’ve never cared before. How-... how could they suddenly care now? The fight had only a little bit been about that, it’d really been about something else. About his nightmares, how he’s not sleeping, not seeing his friends, skipping therapy. It hadn’t even been about... that. About what Chris can do and what he can’t, in bed.

But that was the thing - the fight had started when Chris had flinched back from Laken’s touch to his back, and snapped at them, and accused them of wanting too much, and...

And now this.

It’s like they knew about Nova. Knew that he could be good just fine - better than fine, Handler Petrus said he was one of the best he’d ever worked with once - he just... wouldn’t. Won’t. Doesn’t want to. Never wanted to.

Can’t do it without tearing himself to pieces all over again.

It was always a scream inside his mind, but should he have pushed it down and tried harder to be more like everyone else? Is he losing Laken because of it? Did Nova pick up on something Chris himself doesn’t know?

Should he have... tried?

Even if it hurt?

He drops the phone again, then kicks it viciously under his bed, listening to the scrape of it sliding across the floor, the thump as it hits the wall. He hears it vibrate again, but this time he doesn’t care what Laken has to say.

They’ve said enough.

He understands.

Part of him expected this eventually.

He leaves the room, doesn’t bother to pull on his compression shirt, even. He lets his skin prickle bare and exposed to the air. He accepts the discomfort, the uneasy feeling of being too seen, too felt.

The house is quiet, this early.

He makes himself toast with butter, wincing at the scrape of the knife against the crisp bread, the sound boring into his ears. But eventually it’s done, and he slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, willing himself to cry. Somehow, the tears just... don’t happen.

He can hear Jake snoring softly from the living room. He’d been up with Chris until nearly 4 am, then Chris was awake again at 6:30, looking at that text, looking over and over and over again. Two hours of sleep leave him weirdly euphoric alongside his despair. Like he’s floating in some nightmare place that isn’t awake and isn’t sleeping, either.

He’s probably slept nine hours in three days at this point. He keeps seeing Jake with a knife sticking out of him every time he closes his eyes. Jake, screaming as Antoni pushed cloth into his wound to stop up the bleeding. Jake with a bullet wound, sitting up against the wall, staring at him with wide eyes whispering, It’s okay, Tristan, I love you, it’s okay as he dies.

He can’t sleep. He can’t leave for long. He can’t breathe. He can’t think.

Him being what he is, it’s the reason Jake is hurt. If he hadn’t been his brother, he wouldn’t have decided to run a house for Romantics, and he wouldn’t have ended up dealing with all the dangerous bits about them.

Jake said it himself, didn’t he? It’s a mistake, running a house for Romantics. Not his best idea. A mistake.

Chris is a mistake.

Him being weak, and cowardly... it’s hurting Jake, making his life harder.

He makes everyone’s life harder.

There’s a soft sound of footsteps behind him, and he turns to find Nova in the doorway, staring back. She’s in a sleeveless gray dress and has her long dark hair pulled back from her temples, spilling in a waterfall down her back. Her eyes are dark and fathomless, and she gives him a faint, slight smile.

She had smiled like that with one hand down his pants.

Chris turns around, too fast, his head spinning a little, and hunches over his toast. “Good... good, um, good morning,” He mumbles.

She clears her throat. “Morning. Chris, about-... about last night...”

“Don’t, um, don’t-... don’t don’t don’t worry about it.” He takes a breath. He doesn’t want his toast any longer.

“I’m sorry,” She says, simply. “I spoke to Sarita about it, and... and she said this happens with us, and I should apologize, but, um. So I am. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-... I thought I was helping.”

“I... know you did.” His words are slowing down. Chris can’t hold on to his thoughts, they want to drift away somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere darker.

“When I was with-... with my Miss, she would always say, if you are sad the best way to fix it is to make your body forget that feeling, replace it with something else. And that was what we replaced my sadness with. So, you were sad and upset, and I thought I could fix it that way.” She pauses, flushing a little, looking down and to the side as she moves with effortless grace to get a glass and fill it with water, take a small sip.

“Kauri used to... to do that,” Chris says after a pause, thinking about it. Kauri, who would show up in the small hours of the morning reeking of liquor and someone else’s cologne, or just didn’t show up at all. Kauri, who would laugh instead of crying, and laugh with someone’s arms around him, a guy whose name he didn’t know.

Kauri, who ran and ran and ran and can do things and be things that Chris can’t.

Or... won’t.

What if he’s been hurting Laken this whole time and didn’t know it, because he was already hurt himself?

His foot starts to tap tap tap on the floor until he stops it.

“Did he? Did it-... work for him?” Nova asks it with genuine curiosity, and her eyes are so pretty. He looks up at her, and then down again, pushing the plate of toast away from himself.

“I don’t know,” Chris whispers. “I, I don’t know. He’s happy now, but...”

“Was he happy then?”

“No. But, but, but... maybe we aren’t supposed to be. At least... not with, with anyone... who isn’t like us.”

“Jake isn’t like us,” Nova points out. Her presence in the room feels heavy, like a weight pushing down on him. But what does it matter? He’s not with Laken anymore, anyway. If he wanted to, he could stand right up and kiss Nova right now, press her back into the counter, and learn what it’s like to be the one doing things and not just having them done to him.

But his body doesn’t stir at the thought. It never has.

“He is,” Chris answers. “A, a little bit. I’m, I’m, I’m sorry, too, Nova. Sorry that I-I can’t.”

“No, I know. You have a partner, and I shouldn’t have-”

“I don’t have... I, I, I I don’t have a partner anymore.” Chris stands up, leaving her there with his plate of untouched toast. The sky outside is bright as the sun rises, as if mocking the way he feels like a stormcloud inside.

Nova watches him leave, and whispers to herself, “No partner?”

Chris goes outside, pulling a sweatshirt that hangs on the coatrack on over his head to protect his skin, curling up on the porch swing and watching cars pulling out of driveways as the neighborhood starts to head to work in ones and twos.

He doesn’t cry.

He sits very, very still, and he is silent.

Upstairs, under the bed, his phone vibrates, again and again, unnoticed.

Just go talk to Nat, Chris. That’s all I said. Just go see Nat and get a night or three away from the house. Being there all the time is overwhelming you. Are you even looking at these? Chris you can’t just ignore me every time I say something you don’t like Chris answer me ... ... Oh shit, Chris, my phone autocorrected earlier and I didn’t notice I meant “some time at Nat’s”, not apart Chris? Are you seeing my messages? Baby? Chris, please check your phone and answer me. Please.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years ago

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 29 - No Sound but the Wind

Masterlist; Chapter 28

Summary: Stalsk-12.

Warnings: Angst™️, swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we are... at the end of all things. My take on Stalsk took a lot of pain and time to figure out and actually write down so I hope it will be satisfactory. As usual, thank you Shet, for life saving diagrams and patience, as this wouldn't be possible without you.

Still probably 2-3 chapters to go so we're not quite at the end end just yet 😅 With that said, this chapter is as much a finale is it could be. Do hope you'll enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Waking up on the morning of the battle was strange. After the group conversation on the bridge, you and Neil collapsed into the bed, falling asleep instantly. The dreamless night was a welcomed surprise, and so, when you finally resurfaced on the side of consciousness again with the phone alarm ringing in your ears, you felt kind of rested. With the tight schedule, you took no liberty in wasting minutes cuddling and promptly got up, with Neil asking you to join him in his cabin in a quarter for the suiting up. There was no chance in hell you would refuse that.

It was once he left, after a kiss and quick reassurance that somehow it would be alright, the reality dawned with full force. Anxiety settled in your stomach, the nauseous feeling growing with every minute. A strange ache in your right shoulder, radiating down the arm, adding to the rising pile of questions. And doubts. At the edge of your consciousness, a festering thought that would not disappear. What if… what if? The question too terrifying to name, let alone answer.

Desperate for a distraction, you looked outside at the blue skies dotted with clouds, painting a contradictory image to the inside of your mind. At least you didn’t have to worry about the inverted rain… Sighing, you took one last look at the right shoulder and massaged the area with a frown permanently etched onto your face. Maybe it was nothing. With the time nearly running out, you quickly grabbed the battle gear and left the room.

As expected, the suiting up with Neil proved to be the distraction you needed. The moment he opened the door for you, wearing nothing but dark green combat trousers and a matching fitting long-sleeved shirt, your jaw fell slack. Somehow, out of the mess in your head, the only thought that survived was the attraction towards him. Because he looked very good. The shirt complimented his upper body in all the right places, making your eyes widen, overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings. The unbelievable luck and the gravitational pull that always pushed you towards him. And not without reason. Neil instantly caught your wandering gaze, took your hand in his, and pulled you inside the room, letting the door close behind you. The clueless look, checking your sanity from up close, before he asked:

“Why are you staring at me like that?” running a hand through his hair, making the strands stick up in every direction.

Adding to the charm. Stifling a groan building up in your throat, you placed the clothes on the empty chair before turning to face Neil again. Utterly perplexed in his dark green outfit. Stupidly hot. Just… fuck it.

“Because I can’t believe how attractive you are,” stating the truth felt relieving, but still like an understatement, “Like- my god, I-” you huffed, annoyed at both him and yourself.

Passive aggressively, you took off the shirt and pants, taking fleeting pride in how Neil seemed transfixed as well, watching your every move with fascination. Yet, it was much easier for him to shake off the mood and grab the holster. The brow furrowed; coherence lost:

“Seriously?” he was looking at you as though you have lost your mind, thoughtlessly fiddling with the thigh holster.

It was the glimmer of uncertainty that you noticed in his gaze that made you push forward. In any other moment, you would have backed off, pretended the exchange never happened, or responded with a joke to change the subject. But faced with the slightest potential that Neil could be genuinely doubting your claim, embarrassment and pride had to be abandoned. You quickly buckled up the trousers and took a step closer, taking a long look over his body. Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the details that never failed to make you want him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you nodded:

“Yes. Being this fit is unprecedented,” grinning, you took in his stunned face, letting the frustrations and feelings lead the speech “It’s those broad shoulders and the narrow hips that always distract me when you’re wearing shirts,” letting your fingers skim over his chest and down the stomach in appreciating strokes “Long legs with those thighs… Darling, you’re making that holster look almost illicit” you eyed the accessory encircling his upper thigh with unhidden hunger, the tip of your tongue poking out to deliver the punchline “And let’s not even get to the best part because you know what I think about it” settling your palms on his hips, you grinned wickedly, meeting his gaze.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Still so adorably confused. But now, you could notice the faint flicker of gratitude. And amusement. Might drive the point home then…

“Always knew you’d be a spectacular lover, but Jesus Christ… you’re making me regret half the times when I said no to you before” brushing over his backside and pulling your lower bodies flush together, you teasingly slipped your thumb underneath his shirt.

Taking immeasurable joy in the shallow gasp, he let out upon the simple action. You observed as he slowly shook himself awake, blue eyes searching yours, and then a hand raising to cup your cheek, tenderly brushing over the skin:

“What’s gotten into you?” the outpouring of affection waking up the butterflies in your stomach “Not that I’m complaining, though,” he shrugged, the slight concern tinted with happiness.

With your brain eager to remind you about the terrifying reality and the spikes of pain pulsing through your right shoulder, you chose to dive headfirst into the feelings warming up your chest. You shrugged and covered his hand with yours:

“Adrenaline fucked up and activated the wrong part of my brain. I’ve no clue,” your lips twisted in a hesitant smile, “But I want you, and that’s that” with the free hand, you traced the outline of his jaw.

Running over the stubble on his chin and the fading bruise underneath his ear, light blush spreading over your cheeks at the memory connected to it. It still felt strange sometimes to be this open with him. To speak your mind without fearing rejection or ridicule. To know that the sentiments were reciprocated with equal strength.

“Can we move that to after the battle?” Neil wrapped his arm around your waist, searching your face for clues, “Because now… now I just want to hold you. Kiss you, maybe” the timid whisper tugged at your heartstrings as he ran the pad of his thumb over your lower lip.

A familiar gesture, sparking up the fire and asking for consent. As if he still needed to.

“Maybe?” you arched an eyebrow, latching onto the word if only to make him smile.

Neil grinned, happiness radiating from his gaze as he tipped your chin upwards, syncing up with how you rose on your feet to meet him halfway.

“Certainly,” the murmur laid to rest on your lips.

The slow, gentle kiss, beginning with the tenderest of touches, his lips gliding over yours, carefully igniting the flame. It was as though he wanted to commit it to memory, softly drawing out sighs from your throat with the delicate pecks and ghostly brushes. The texture of his lips getting imprinted on yours, the taste of his kisses becoming a permanent memory. The hints of Earl Grey tinting the tip of his tongue as he finally deepened the kiss, trailing along the outline of your mouth and slipping inside to give you the necessary fix. You tangled your hand in his hair to bring him closer and to feel the strands between your fingers. Running out of air, at last, you withdrew by a millimetre and smiled against his mouth, giving in to the chaste pecks, extending the contact even if for a second. Neil grinned back, his thumb caressing your cheek in soft strokes, eyes showing everything you should need to know. The intimate moment awash with affection, adding meaning to the scene. Holding his gaze, you made sure to return the sentiments with equal strength before you leaned back and took in his lovesick expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll address all of what you said later… Because I’m flattered” Neil broke the silence at last with a glimmer of gratefulness shining through the blue irises.

You grinned, allowing yourself a rare dose of hope for that later. May it come. Sending silent prayer to whatever god could be listening, you brushed away the hair from his eyes before responding:

“Good, because I meant it,” your eyes roaming over his face, admiring the striking features, “You handsome bastard,” the nickname coming out without hesitation.

How very fitting. Your grin only getting brighter when you saw Neil’s double-take, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion once more, only to be replaced with an uncertain head tilt and a thoughtful pause.

“… that sounded way too enticing than it should’ve,” he admitted finally, drawing you closer with his hands on your hips.

Confirming the sentiment, he licked his lips thoroughly with the gaze focused on your mouth. Bingo. Unable to stop the smug smile from spreading on your lips, you suggested an answer to his predicament:

“Maybe that’s just because I said it,” the rare rush of confidence and pride spreading blush on your cheeks.

Once more, you were separated by a breath of space with your lower bodies flush together. That impeccable pull, doing its work as usual as you felt his breath ghost over your lips. Then Neil smiled, confirming the beliefs with a simple statement:

“Yes, that too,” another kiss shutting down the worries and strengthening the feelings.

It only took three more before you continued with the suit up. To prevent distractions, you settled on the opposite side of the cabin, slowly assembling the military outfit, the silence occasionally interrupted with comments. It was once you have adjusted your thigh holster and slipped in the faithful Glock that the reality has once more dawned on you. You were about to head into a battle. An actual, large-scale battle, on the Siberian steppes, armed with nothing but a handgun and rifle. And Neil, both the protector and the protected. Not that it made any sense.

Sighing at the mess of thoughts in your head, you turned back to the man in question, observing him for a moment. He was busy packing the military backpack with the needed supplies, half-dressed in the top layer of the suit. With the hair grown out and the slight stubble on his chin, the outfit gave him the ‘rough mercenary’ look that could not help but quirk your lips in a tiny grin. Luck, and all that. As your gaze fell on the dark green backpack, your eyes got caught by a pendant attached to the zipper. With the curiosity piqued, you crossed the space to see the trinket, asking the question in the process:

“What’s that?” tenderly, you reached out to touch the pendant.

It was a vintage coin from India, attached to the zipper with a red and orange piece of yarn, washed with the years of use. Upon your innocent question, Neil let out a long exhale. Nervous. Perplexed, you glanced at him, immediately noticing the shy smile and hesitant gestures. Running a hand through his hair, he finally strung together a sentence:

“I… uh, that’s something Alex gave me and I- I can take it off if you-” stopping the panicked ramblings, you placed your finger upon his lips.

Idiot. Smiling gently, you let go of the trinket and took Neil’s hand in yours, slowly rubbing out the tension and cherishing the feel of his palm in yours. There were no doubts as towards what you had to tell him in response to something this outrageous.

“Neil, why do you think I’d want you to get rid of that?” you watched as he struggled for an answer, the adorable pinkish tint darkening his cheeks, “I’m glad you had him. And that he was lucky to have you” as his eyes turned glossy, you swallowed the sudden rush of tears and added “I can only hope I’ll be fortunate enough to have you for the rest of however much have we got” the uncertainty creeping in, forcing to add the necessary disclaimer “If you’ll-”

If you’ll want me for that long. But you never got as far as telling that. Neil closed the gap, pulling you close with cheeks wet with tears and eyes full of inexplicable emotions:

“Shut up” he brushed his nose over yours as a prelude before covering your lips with his in a kiss.

A hungrier one this time, a way of returning the feelings you have poured into your words. His teeth grazed over your lower lip in a familiar expression of passion. In response, you could only draw him closer, sighing when the salty tears tinged the contact with boundless weight. Somehow you knew that whatever would happen beyond this moment, the love you had was real. Probably the only genuine feeling you ever had the luck of experiencing. With the realisation fresh on your mind, you could only whimper quietly when Neil broke the kiss at last and pressed another to your forehead. He kept on holding you close as though worried your time was running out. Overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions, you reached out to brush away the evidence of his tears, caressing his face in a dream-like daze. Finally, he broke the silence:

“Never thought I could love someone that much again, but there we are. And you know what?” the happy smile contrasted how his eyes glistened with melancholy, “I like it,” you mirrored the grin, letting the blue of his eyes pull you under “Emotional compromise has never been this tempting” reference to the nightly conversation making you giggle.

A perfect opportunity to lighten up the moment and shake off the premonition shadowing your every gesture and word. Distractedly, you placed your hand over his beating heart, glancing up at him with a playful smirk:

“Does your gob just like… never run out?” Neil’s grin widened, your interference doing its magic, “I’m impressed,” as a confirmation, you patted his shoulder humoredly.

Neil shrugged, the look in his eyes clear: you knew what you’re signing up for. And you did. Frankly, you would not have it any other way. No matter the consequences or the future. Love is merely a madness, after all.

“And I-” when Neil spoke again, you could tell what was coming.

Getting into the temptation (and because you haven’t said it in an hour), you interrupted him with your confession:

“I love you. I know,” a smug smile splitting your face once more upon seeing his reaction.

The eyes widened for a split second, furrowed brow and lips open in a gasp. Before Neil somehow became even more beautiful as the morning light lit up the joyful glimmer in his eyes. The hair caught on the golden fire, giving him the look of an angel that has fallen straight from heaven. And was yours, for some unknown reason. Your affirmation added a spark of confidence to his expression as he thanked you for it with another breathless kiss.

The rest of the dress-up continued in that manner, often interrupted with kissing, hugs, and banter that seemed to wash away the fears. Even if only for the moment. As you adjusted the bulletproof vest and made sure the front pocket was full of the extra magazines, you checked the time. A little too tight, considering you were yet to assemble the oxygen tank and prepare the rifle. Looking up, you met Neil’s attentive gaze as he was shamelessly staring at you. For a second, you could tell that you were both considering never leaving the room and ignoring the reality. Just saying ‘fuck it’ to the universe and abandoning the post for whatever cost to never let this moment end. But it had to. The mirroring mournful smiles on your faces contrasted with the desperate hope you tried to hold on to. Finally, without breaching the gap, you remarked quietly:

“We should move, or else they’ll leave without us” a meaningful look at the window.

Yet without urgency present in your heart. Because you did not want to go. Not at all.

Neil could easily read the sentiment from your face, for he picked up the remaining parts of the equipment and asked:

“Do you think there’ll be bears?” the innocuous question dropped with the needed effect.

A distraction. A way of making the exit easier for you.

“… what?” staring at him with confusion written all over your face, you gaped.

Beloved idiot. He grinned, taking that one step closer to brush away the hair from your eyes with extra care.

“You know, bears, Siberia… Rasputin?” his lopsided smile adding the punch to the ridiculous statement.

And then, just as you were sure the situation would not get stranger, he started humming. Boney M. Rasputin, naturally. You groaned, pondering life decisions. Seduction through talking absolute nonsense and humming Boney M? Sure, why not. Ignoring the urge to facepalm, you let the amusement and bewilderment spill through the glare you gave him. He shrugged in response. Another message easy to understand: your idiot. Taking his hand in yours, you decided to play along:

“I don’t think it’s that sort of Siberia,” you frowned, looking for the correct metaphor, “Think more like… Chernobyl, graphite, and radiation poisoning. Inverted, at that” wincing at the mental image, you squeezed his palm.

The quiet reassurance complementing the silent conversation. All that you did not need to say but knew anyway.

“Inverted Chernobyl?” Neil met your absent gaze with a laugh reflected in the blue irises.

The laughter never felt this important before. Clutching his hand tightly, you collapsed into his arms. A few minutes of delay wouldn’t hurt anyone.

***

If anyone later were to ask you how the briefing looked like or about the specifics of what you did before boarding the container attached to the chinook, you would not know what to tell them. As though in a dream, you attended the meeting led by Wheeler and crafted to fit the needs of the Blue team, registering half of what was said. You had the plan for your unit memorised, and that had to be enough. Rest was up to fate. With the pain resonating through the shoulder and the suffocating anxiety making a home in the pit of your stomach, Neil’s presence right next to you and his hand resting on your thigh mattered more than usually. You had a feeling he knew, shooting you worried looks now and then and focusing intently on Wheeler at the same time. As though he knew that he had to be the strong one. The leader. You could only hope that you would not disappoint him or fuck it up. After all, the fate of the world was a pretty crucial cause to fight for. Even if your world has shrunk to that 1,85m, blue eyes, and dyed blonde hair. Fighting for your future together was good enough, too.

You settled on the bench in the blue container, struggling to find the air to breathe in the cramped space, weighted with the fears and the suit covering every inch of your skin. As the chinook rose and the wind shook the container with force, you strengthened the hold over the helmet resting on your lap and screw your eyes shut. The throbbing sensation in your arm only seemed to get more prominent with every passing minute as though sensing that Stalsk (and whatever awaited there) was getting sooner for you. Trying to keep the mind at bay, you went over the plan once more. The bullet points straightforward enough to be recited like a prayer: upon the landing, exit the container and run towards the epicentre, following Neil; stay out of trouble; enter the dead-drop chamber with 5 minutes to spare (ideally); cover Neil as he deals with the lock; leave and arrive at the drop off zone in time to come back. Simple, right? You glanced at the watch on your wrist. It already felt like ten minutes from the explosion will not be enough. Because what if you were stopped? What if something went wrong, and you will never make it to the lock? What if you mess it up by letting nerves take over everything else? What if something goes wrong?

With the questions multiplying at an alarming speed, you quickly found yourself struggling for breath. The mask and the constant rattling of the packed container were not helping. Shit. A louder gasp was unnoticed by everyone but the man to your right. Neil turned on the bench in a second, scanning your face for the obvious signs. As your wild, panicked gaze met his, he tilted your chin firmly:

“Hey, hey,” the gentle whisper urging you to focus on him only “Look at me” he searched your eyes for something and then asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was that patience and kindness that always got you. No matter the circumstances or the advancement of your relationship, Neil always reacted with the same gentleness. And that was both the reason to love him and to be disappointed by your inability to keep it together.

“Sorry, it’s just nerves… and… fuck, I’m sorry” stumbling over the words, you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, betraying you “You need me, and I’m already fucking it all up by being too weak-” your rant was gathering speed, stopped only by Neil.

“If it wasn’t for the bloody oxygen masks, I’d make you shut up now,” he sighed with exasperation, eyes glancing at your mouth to point out the true meaning of the sentence “Stop it, give me your hand” obediently, you let him entwine your fingers “Actually, I’d be a little worried if you weren’t scared. But we’ll manage because it’s us. And there’s nothing we can’t do” the words spoken with confidence you could only dream of having “Do you trust me?” he asked the question with startling resolve in the blue eyes.

Despite the mess of thoughts, the answer was too easy.

“With my life,” you squeezed his palm for comfort and added, “And heart too, apparently” a sheepish shrug to complete the confession.

But is it still a confession when it’s glaringly evident? Talking with Neil like this with the troops all around and the chinook’s rattle overhead, everything felt surreal. But it did not seem like anyone noticed your ‘heart-to-heart’. Thank fuck.

Neil did not seem to mind, staring at you with that familiar affectionate glimmer in his eyes. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, soothing the anxiety and reasserting his presence.

“I’m glad because I kind of need your heart to pull this off,” he grinned, the sudden tentativeness endearing and distracting you successfully “Because this way I know that it’s all worth fighting for” locking your eyes with his, you somehow knew what was coming “Do you remember the promise?”

Of course. It was not as if you spent many hours thinking about it. And praying that you will never have to break it.

“Yeah, I… I hope it won’t come to that” the careful answer to make sure he would not catch on to your doubts.

And the countless plans you have made in the quiet of your mind. Just in case.

“Me too, but if- If it’s me, or you, I’ll always choose you,” the simple statement made the breath hitch in your throat.

As did the look in his eyes, assuring you that he meant it. Boundless love, pouring out of every glance and expressed through the firm hold over your hand. There was no escaping it.

And I, you. The answer unspoken; whispered only to yourself. And that had to be enough.

***

The moment of quiet did not last long. Soon after your conversation ended, the wind picked up, increasing the shaking of the container. Even without windows, you could tell that you were getting closer. After another violent jolt, Wheeler stood up, holding on tightly to the railing overhead:

“We’re coming in on the shock wave,” her voice rang out loud and clear, “Hold on, people!” with the warning, you strengthened the hold over Neil’s palm and used the other to tighten the seatbelt.

You tensed, body preparing for the impact and everything else that could come after. As though following your instincts, you turned to Neil at the exact moment he glanced at you. Your gazes locked as the chinook flew through the explosion shock wave, eliciting gasps from the troops and increasing the feeling of doom. The only anchor, the blue eyes gazing back at you with love and determination, were a perfect place to wait for the landing. You kept on staring, letting yourself find a piece of hope in his face and knew Neil was doing the same. But the time was already running out.

Two minutes later, the blue container touched the ground with a thud giving you the signal to stand up and prepare for the charge down the ridge. You fastened the helmet and prepared the rifle, ready for the strike. As the doors opened, you got struck with the piercing light outside. The area was covered in the sandy steppe, the ruins of the city littered with crumbled grey buildings and blocks. The blue skies, giving nothing but a contrast to the scene with its startling serenity. As Wheeler gave the Blues signal to begin, you followed the troops, running out of the container and down the steep ridgeway, instantly noticing the hundreds of mercs in your way. Inverted, normal. Everything the hell had to offer. You could see the Reds fighting them off, trying to create a safe passage for the splinter unit. Before it began, one final thought resonating through your head – you never even got to say goodbye to TP. It felt strange. And yet.

You did not have much time to process the realisation as Neil tugged at your hand in a clear signal: C’mon. You followed him down the hill, rifle comfortably placed on your shoulder to allow easy aim if needed. 9:35. The bullets were wheezing past, inverted, and normal. An additional level of chaos was introduced by the crumbled buildings, flying upwards in denial of physics. That’s what the training was for. Focusing on staying alive and relatively unharmed, you swerved between the rocks and walls, eyes open on those that behaved differently. Rounding up the corner of one derelict building, Neil pulled you to crouch as he scouted the horizon for obvious traps. The construction acted as a hideaway, giving you a moment to catch the breath burning your lungs and give the legs a millisecond-long rest. The ringing in your ears seemed permanent as you stared at Neil, awaiting instructions. 8:00. The blue digits on the watch speeding up the pounding heart. After too long a pause, you asked:

“Are we clear?” your voice wavered, showing the anxiety brewing underneath.

“One second” Neil glanced at you before going back to risk assessment.

You tensed, closing your eyes for a split second to ground within the moment. To find clarity in the chaos of the battlefield. A breath in and out. Hand tightening the hold on the rifle. The other was squeezed by Neil. The sign to sober up.

“Go” your eyes shot open as he whispered the command.

Without a second of hesitation, you leapt up, turning around the corner and running straight towards the bunker. You could hear Neil following close, the sounds of your footfall the only noise you allowed in. And then the third one joined. Startled by an explosion nearby, you looked to the right in time to see a merc running in your direction. Inversed, luckily. He was too close to use the rifle, and so you faced him for combat. A kick there. A backhand to weaken the enemy. Adrenaline rushing in your veins as you successfully brought him to his knees. Now it was just the question of pulling the trigger. The shot echoed in the space as he fell on the ground with a thud. It never got too easy. Stifling a heavy sigh, you only managed to turn on your heel when Neil’s yell broke the silence:

“Watch out!” you saw the worry in the blue eyes before the world turned upside down.

In a flash, you heard strange noises coming from the rumble laying all around. There was no time to jump to the side as the stones flew up. A piece of rock hit you in the shoulder as another large boulder made you trip, landing face down on the ground. Fucking physics. The breath knocked out of your lungs as you groaned:

“Fuck,” the curse coming out as you tried to pick yourself back to standing.

The time was still running out. You winced as the pain radiating from the right shoulder increased by a notch.

“Are you alright?” Neil pulled you up with a frown etched onto his face.

No.

“Yeah, let’s go. It’s close now” you offered him an unconvincing smile and looked towards the buildings.

From the distance, it looked like a barrow or a war-time bunker with the top covered with soil and the entrance through a dark tunnel. The main way in was not yours, however. Projecting the mental map of the compound, you searched the terrain for your entryway. Soon, just where you expected it to be, you noticed a metal trapdoor in the ground, partially hidden by the shadow of a crumbled building. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he gently pushed you in the direction without a word. 6:02. On time. Sort of.

The rusted padlock keeping the door shut gave way after a forceful kick. You stood on the lookout as Neil opened the flap with a creak of the old hinges. Making sure no one was on the horizon, you looked over your shoulder to see the progress. It seemed like your way in was a vertical tunnel with ladder steps ending in eerie darkness. And beyond? God knows what. Fantastic. As Neil peered down the hole with a small torchlight, you frowned:

“A dark hole in the ground… brilliant” letting out a small sigh, you met Neil’s eyes as he looked up at you.

A glimmer in the blue irises told you he was up for no good. And you were right.

“… there lived a Hobbit?” Neil completed the quotation in an innocent tone.

Just as if you were not in the middle of the battle with bullets wheezing past and explosions punctuating every heartbeat.

“… Neil, what the actual fuck?” gaping at him, you almost forgot the reality.

For a split second, there was no ticking clock and worry of death waiting around the corner. Only you and Neil, entangled in yet another dialogue of nonsense. As it was supposed to be. You knew he understood, for he squeezed your hand once more before responding:

“Sometimes I ask myself that too,” a perfect punchline to elicit a sharp gust of laughter.

But there was no time. You both checked the horizon one more time before Neil pushed you in the direction of the entrance:

“Go, I’ll follow,” a whisper, giving the necessary support.

No chance of backing out. With a final sigh, you secured the rifle on your shoulder and took the first step down the ladder. The railings were cold and corroded by time and elements, giving that additional spark of anxiety you did not need.

Looking down, you could make out the end, and so, making sure to ignore the aching body and screaming mind, you began the descend without a second of hesitation. There was no time. With only the light from the world above, you soon lost the count and the ability to see, relying only on your instincts not to slip and fall.

After what felt like hours, your feet touched the ground with a shallow thump, resonating through the cavern. The tunnel was lit by a single fluorescent, giving out its swan song underneath the Siberian ruins. As you took a step to the side to let Neil join you, you scanned the surroundings. The dark cave with rusted pipelines lining up the ceiling and the metal crate and railings covering the ground. You exchanged a glance, similar reactions mirrored on your faces. It was easy to feel unwelcomed.

You turned to the right, as the maps indicated, following the tunnel towards the epicentre. With each step, the anxiety rose, manifesting itself through the shaking fingers and shallow breaths. You could feel the inexplicable feeling of dread fill your heart with nothing to blame it on. Until you finally turned the last corner and found yourselves at your destination.

The dead drop chamber had a high dome with the entrance at the top and a cage-like construction underneath, edging a dark cavern. In the poorly lit space, your eyes took a second to adjust and take in the necessary details. Inside the cage, you could see TP and Ives, hunched over a mysterious, steel object, shaped like a coffin. The Algorithm. A shudder ran through your body as you noticed the yellow countdown clock attached to the item. Next to them, there was a body. A man lying flat on his back with a gunshot wound in his head. You immediately recognised the face from the folder given to you long before the mission took off. Volkov, Sator’s right hand. Your blood turned cold as though anticipating something that was yet to happen. The pain in your shoulder has reached the levels of tolerance, increasingly growing to make sure you could not ignore it. Tough luck.

“Neil… something’s wrong,” you whispered, grasping his hand in yours, seeking comfort.

Even though he could not offer anything beyond his presence. You knew that whatever would happen, you had to face it alone.

“I know,” the low murmur bringing you back to the present moment.

As you locked eyes with Neil, you could see the worries confirmed. He was tense as if anticipating the worst yet not knowing when or how it would come. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Ives and TP stare at both of you, seemingly unsure of how they should act or which part to play. The body language, showing nothing but unease and confusion. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he quickly closed the space to the lock and rummaged in the front pocket of his vest for the tools.

“Let’s…” throwing a look at you with the necessary determination.

No time to waste. You nodded, blocking out the pain, if even for a second longer. Job to be done.

“I’ll watch your back,” the assurance he did not need, but you gave anyway.

As Neil began the lockpicking, you positioned yourself sideways, hoping to have a good vantage point to observe the inside of the cage and the tunnel leading to the epicentre. A glance at the watch picked up the heart rate. 03:27. With the muffled sounds of the battle above the cavern, you could hear your heavy breaths filling the silence, sometimes interrupted with backwards gibberish coming from the splinter unit and Neil’s curses. The time was both suspended and was ticking away mercilessly.

Upon a louder sigh, you glanced in his direction. The question died on your tongue as you perceived movement through the bars of the chamber. A gasp pierced the silence as your eyes landed on Volkov raising from the ground. No bullet hole in his head. Fuck. Before you could utter a word, a gunshot resonated through the space. Ives lowered the gun, staring at you with a strange emotion. Neil glanced up, a shaky breath the only sound on the comms.

It was easy to put together the pieces. And make the decision. Ignoring Neil’s startled look, you crossed the remaining gap to the cage. The gate was almost open, needing a few seconds more, at most. And after… It made so much sense. Easy. No need to think or analyse. Shield Neil, keeping your gaze fixed on Volkov. The pulse, pounding in your ears. The backward gibberish, coming from the splinter unit, talking to the henchman. It all did not matter. You awaited that faithful sound of the lock opening. A breath in and out. It would be alright. It would be worth it.

The click came both sooner and later than you expected. A jolt of adrenaline ran through your body, elevating the heart rate, making your reactions fluent. Fear is your companion. As the gate creaked, Neil’s tools clattered to the ground. He looked up at you, questions and worries multiplying in the blue eyes. He didn’t know yet. Taking comfort in the realisation, you smiled at him. For reassurance. I got you.

And then swiftly threw yourself between him and the now open door as the second gunshot echoed in the chamber. A flash of pain ripped through your shoulder; the inverted bullet tore through the tissue before you could perceive it. Of course. Everything made sense now.

Volkov lowered the gun and retracted through the tunnel in the dome. With a strangled yell, you fell onto the ground. Your knees hit the crate as you toppled onto your side. The edges of your vision darkened; your brain overwhelmed with the increasing agony. As though through the glass, you could hear Neil scream your name before he gathered you in his arms. Through the tears, you could see his furrowed brow. The eyes glossy with unshed tears of his own. You wanted to brush them away. To tell him that you are going to be alright. That you love him. But no sound could come out through the tightened throat.

The warm liquid was pooling inside the suit and spilling through the gaping hole. Pain flooded your vision as you fought to keep your eyes open. Through the ascending fog, you could hear Neil’s whispers, begging you to stay with him. To stay awake. Easier said than done.

Slowly, he stood up, cradling you in his arms. Horror and determination etched onto his face. You laced your hands on his neck, following the instincts that played out their roles without your actions.

The tunnel. Please, don’t cry. Bright light, hurting your eyes. Explosions in the distance. The boundless blue cast with fear. I love you. Burning agony radiating through the body. I don’t regret it. Neil’s panicked screams. I’ll do everything for you. The soil underneath your fingertips. You’re my everything. Scarlet hands. Pain.

No sound but the wind.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago

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Unprofessional [pt. 2] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Bro can I request a super smutty yandere tendou x reader please there’s literally no content for him and I’m just a honry simp for him 😔 (also your writing is FANFUCKINGTASTIC I have read and reread all of your docs dude at least twice in conclusion you’re my favorite writing blog now)

A/N: Thank you omg I’m so honored, seriously I’m blushing?? Also I love Tendou too so ty for the request. Finished the second (and final) part one day late for his birthday 🎂🥳🎁🎊🎉

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 1]

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 23), noncon, mildly inebriated sex, restraints/bondage, threats, Tendou is incapable of shutting up, liberal use of “senpai”

You look so cute like this, wrapped up like a pretty birthday present just for him. Tendou likes you so much it hurts.

Your breaths are intentionally steady, like you’re counting out the proper number of seconds on each inhale and exhale in an effort to appear calm. Your chest heaves lightly, and he’s got an almost-perfect view of it with your blouse unbuttoned and your bra pushed up over your tits. He’d prefer to have you completely topless, but with your hands tied behind your back with his belt, his options are limited.

Tendou’s already shimmied your sensible pencil skirt down over your thighs to expose your legs. You looked so sexy in just your open shirt and pantyhose, but he had to take the hose off for access. Besides, removing the sheer black fabric (slowly, so that it wouldn’t rip—he knows those things aren’t cheap) gave him the opportunity to feel up your legs. Panties came next, and now you’re on your back glaring up at him with your legs crossed and folded to hide your naked pussy.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Of course he took a few pictures.

The only issue is the gag. Tendou has his tie wound over your mouth to keep you quiet. It won’t do—he wants to see your face, after all—but he’s already got a fix, in the form of a little square of plastic he takes from his pocket.

He holds it up close enough that you can see it. “Do you know what this is?”

You don’t nod or anything, but you definitely recognize it—a condom.

“We’re going to have sex, senpai.” Tendou picks up on the little catch in your breath when he says the word ‘sex’, but he doesn’t think about it. “I don’t really care if I wear a condom, but I think you probably do. Is that right?”

You don’t respond.

“Senpaiii…don’t be stubborn. Nod yes for a condom, or else I’m not gonna wear one.”

You glare like you want to kill him, but you nod. Haha, how cute.

“Okay, good. I like when you do what I tell you. Now, I want to take the gag off, but I won’t do it if you’re going to be loud, you understand? It’s rude to bother your neighbors late at night. And…” He pauses. “Just to make sure you play nice, if you don’t listen to me I’ll take the condom off and cum inside. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shake your head frantically.

“Thought so.” Tendou’s pale, nimble fingers splay out over your inner thigh. “Then can you promise you’ll be nice?”

It takes you a long minute during which Tendou entertains himself petting the sweat-damp skin of your thigh, but you finally nod.

“Great!” Tendou grins and reaches down to untie the gag.

You take a minute to open and close your mouth, probably trying to stretch out the stiff muscles before you speak. Your voice is impassive and cool like you’ve been practicing what you’re going to say. “Tendou, you need to untie me. You’re very drunk and not in your right mind. Don’t do something you’re going to regret.”

Instead of listening to you, Tendou chooses to strip. Your composed mask slips for a second when he takes off his boxers to reveal his stiff, throbbing hard cock, already aching red and drizzling strands of precum onto his hand when he strokes it up and down. “Don’t worry baby, I sober up quick. I might be a lil tipsy but I’m not gonna have any trouble performing. Not for you.”

He crouches down to center you in between his arms, holding his head directly above yours. “And besides—“ you try to pull back away from his hot breath but your limited range of movement prevents you from getting anywhere— “I’m not going to regret this.”

Your lips are soft under his and you still taste fresh and sweet and minty from the toothpaste. You’re unresisting when his tongue prods into your mouth, but that’s not enough. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs, and you do. Maybe it’s just mindless—he’s sure you’ve kissed other people, as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise—but the movements of your lips and teeth and tongue against his feel almost eager.

“Ha…my first kiss with senpai,” Tendou says, pulling back and licking over his swollen lips. It would be nice to take his time with everything, but there’ll be more chances for that later. He loves the way your eyes trace him as he sticks his own fingers in his mouth to cover them with saliva.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but your question is answered when Tendou easily pulls your legs apart and settles himself between them so he can have easy access to slide his spit-soaked fingers up the length of your slit. “Tendou—Tendou, wait—“

He shushes you and continues to drag his middle finger all the way up from your entrance to your clit, letting the rough texture of his skin combine with your slick lubricant and give you just enough stimulation to make your hips twitch. “Mm, you like that? Gotta get you ready baby…not to brag, but I’m a little bigger than most guys. Wouldn’t want to—oh, easy, easy, relax—wouldn’t want to hurt you.“

You wince and then try to hold it back, school your expression so he won’t see the discomfort on your face when a single finger pushes into you. It’s not that painful, but the physical feeling isn’t nearly as bad as the fact that you don’t want any of this.

“How is that?” Tendou asks, slowly rocking his index finger in and out of your pussy, barely curling the tip to seek out your g-spot. You suppress the minuscule jerk of your core as best you can, but you can’t quite make it invisible and he feels it. “That good, huh?”

You want so badly to be angry. You are angry. If you could speak your mind right now, you’d tell him to go to hell. Yes, it feels good (and even admitting that to yourself makes you want to curl up and die), but it’s just hormones, stimulation, reaction. You can’t help it. But you’re not going to say that to him, not if you have the least chance of convincing him to stop before he goes any further. “It’s…fine. But, Tendou—“

“Knew you would like it. Oh—“ Another finger forces into your cunt. “—you’re tight, senpai. It’s been a while, yeah? You don’t have a boyfriend, I’d know if you did…and you’re not the type to do this casually. Too focused on your career.”

“I…mm…” What is he saying? Typical Tendou running his mouth even while you’re focused on him fucking you with those long fingers, prodding away at that spot—that fucking spot that is somehow, somehow—

—making you wet.

It’s not like some kind of precision activity. Tendou isn’t building you up or being subtle about it. There’s no teasing, no gentle touches, he’s just stroking that same spot over and over and the flat of his hand is mashing against your clit carelessly and it’s so stupid and so messy and there’s nothing kind or loving about it so why is it working?

“Feel that? Feel how wet you are?” Tendou has that same self-satisfied grin as he works his fingers in and out. “Poor senpai… You needed this, but you can’t ask for it yourself, I understand.”

“I don’t need anything…” you say, but you can’t expect him to believe you when your juices are slipping in and out of your hole along with his fingers, lubing him up to move even faster than before. When he started, you were so tense and tight that he could barely twist his fingertips up to pad at your g-spot, but now? Your walls are hot and sticky and supple, sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

He wants to make you cum, he does. And if he keeps going, it’s not going to be long, is it? But it’s your first time together… Tendou feels his cheeks getting hotter. First time with senpai, first time seeing you and touching you and having you totally, completely belong to him. The first time he makes you cum, it should be together.

If he’s not mistaken, you look almost disappointed when his fingers work their way out of your pussy, drawing away from you and wiping clean on the inside of your thigh. “You—You’re not…?” you question, trailing off when apparently you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.

“Don’t worry baby, plenty of time for that when I’m inside you.” Tendou walks his way up on the bed to leave a kiss on your forehead, so quick that you can’t cringe away when he does it.

You look off to the side, determined not to give him the satisfaction of eye contact—not to mention you hate looking at him, you hate seeing his stupid creepy face leering at you like you’re…you’re lovers or something. Like he’s not forcing you. But your attempt to maintain even that measly degree of avoidance shatters when you hear plastic crinkling. Ripping.

He’s opening the condom.

“Tendou—Tendou, wait! Listen!” You swallow and try to pull yourself back into your workplace persona, the mentor he respected and learned from, even if it was just an act. “Listen to me, please. You’re making a mistake. If we—if we stop now, we can forget about it...we can go back to normal, I promise. Do you hear me? I promise.”

“Normal isn’t enough anymore. Y’know what normal is for me? I’ve loved you for fifteen years. Wanted this for so long.” Tendou rolls the condom on and then hikes your ass upward so his cock is lined up with your slit. “Senpai, don’t you think you’ve had your way for long enough? It’s time…it’s time for me to get what I want.”

For the first time since he caught you and pinned you down on the floor of your living room, you struggle, really struggle for all you’re worth. The stiff leather of Tendou’s belt bites into your wrists and forearms as you try and get out of it, but the restraints hold firm—in fact, it feels like they’re getting tighter the more you move. Your hands are going numb from lack of blood flow, the prickles of pins and needles stinging into your skin, but you ignore it. You’re too worried about being heard to scream (and how twisted is it that you’re more scared of your neighbors than him?) but you jerk your leg up in an attempt to kick him away.

Tendou catches your foot before it can hit him. Easily. It’s like he sees everything you’re doing before you do it. “Hey, hey, stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Let me go, Tendou!” you hiss as loudly as you dare.

“Senpai…” His grip on your lower thigh tightens, a warning. “What did I say about being nice?”

You go limp. You don’t want to have sex with him, but you cannot—absolutely cannot—have him do it unprotected.

Tendou sighs as you relax in his grasp. “Good choice… Always so rational. But I want you to say it out loud, okay? Tell me you know what’s going to happen if you misbehave.”

Once again, you find yourself avoiding his gaze. How dare he say he loves you and then treat you like this. “…You’re going to take off the condom.”

“Yeah…” Once again, you feel the thick, stiff cock nudging against your inner thigh. He slides it up between your lips to slick it up. “And what am I going to do when I take it off?”

“You’ll…put it in raw. And…”

“And?”

“…c-cum inside.”

“And you don’t want me to do that. So behave, senpai.”

Tendou pushes into you in one deep stroke and you gasp. ‘A little bigger than most guys,’ he’d said. A little bigger? He’s a liar, again—he’s so big that you can already feel the thick head flush against your cervix, pressing there like he wants to go deeper. “T-Too deep, it’s too deep—“

“Shh, you just gotta get used to it…” Tendou leans down, folding your legs up into your chest so he can trap you between him and the mattress and speckle light kisses over your face. “You have to relax. I’ll be slow.”

The position is uncomfortable. He’s got your spine curled up off the bed and your thighs are burning from the stretch, but his skin bumps against your clit every time he makes the slightest movement. Once you’re steady, he pulls back a fraction and then thrusts back into you, barely moving, just enough that you can feel the pressure of his cockhead receding and then hitting back against your cervix. It’s slow, but it’s not slow enough—nothing is slow enough with how big he is.

Tendou kisses you again, pulling your head back to center so he can shove his tongue into your mouth just like he’s shoving his cock into your pussy. He’s not content to keep up the languid pace for long, though—as soon as you’re the tiniest bit relaxed, as soon as the barest muffled whimpers are forced out of your mouth, he’s lengthening his thrusts and slapping the entire length of his heavy cock back in and out of you.

You almost wish he would stop dragging it out. You don’t want to feel this, any of this, not him groaning into your mouth, not the weight of his body holding you down and spreading your thighs apart, and definitely not the dizzying friction of the head of his cock on your g-spot. You wouldn’t even be feeling it like this if he hadn’t prepared you and left you wanting.

You close your eyes and try to pretend that it’s someone else doing it to you, but it’s impossible. Tendou was right earlier, it’s been too long—there’s no one else in recent memory who you can picture in his place. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever been fucked like this. Everything you can sense is screaming out that it’s him, him, him, from his whiny voice moaning out love confessions you don’t want to hear to the spicy-sweet cologne, the same one he wears around the office, now mixed with his sweat and so saturated you think you could choke on it.

You’re trying to imagine someone else’s cock driving your pussy open, anyone else—a boy you had a crush on in high school, the guy you’d lost your virginity to in college, even an actor you like—but it doesn’t work, because no matter who you try to pretend is fucking you you know it’s Tendou.

“Hey—senpai, look at me…” He’s patting your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. “Open your eyes…look what I’m doing to you.”

“Don’t…don’t make me…” You shudder as he pushes all the way back in, bottoming out so he can grind his hips cruelly against your mound and provide untidy stimulation to your clit.

“Look.” Tendou’s voice is hard. He isn’t asking anymore.

With the threat from earlier hanging over your head, you don’t have a choice, do you? You open your eyes and look at him.

Tendou Satori. Even in the middle of drilling you, he’s beaming like you’re making him happy. There are twin pink patches high on his cheekbones under his eyes. He’s sweating—makes sense, he’s doing all the work. His lips are red and swollen from kissing you.

Tendou Satori, who brings you coffee at work even when you didn’t ask for it. Who misspells the same word 3 different ways every time he writes up a sales contract. Who said during his first interview that his greatest weakness is that he has a habit of going with his gut, and that his greatest strength is that his gut is usually right.

How is this the same person? No…no, that’s not what’s making you upset. It’s not that the Tendou fucking you is somehow so different from the one you thought you knew. It’s that he’s the same, the same man who never really listens when you say no, who never stops touching you when you say it bothers you. This is just the next thing. It makes sense.

“Senpai?” Tendou’s hips slow and he leaves his cock sitting thick and hard in your battered pussy. “Senpai? Are you…you’re crying?”

He’s blurry and your eyes sting and you want to wipe at them, but, well, your hands are tied. Literally. Tendou holds himself over you with one arm so the other can thumb over your wet eyes. “Don’t touch me,” you blubber out, knowing it won’t have any effect.

“Shh, shh, stop crying,” he says, sounding panicked. “Please stop crying. Please stop.”

Your silent weeping is interrupted by a whimper as he pulls out of you. You feel…something, maybe relief or maybe disappointment, but mostly you’re just overwhelmed. You’re slack as a puppet while he flips you over and carefully unbuckles the belt from your arms. The pins and needles return in full force once you’re unbound, discomforting to the point of pain as Tendou massages over the tender flesh with his own hands.

“Sorry…Looks like it was a little too tight.”

Once Tendou’s released you, you hold up an arm to examine yourself. There are red marks where the edges of the belt dug into your skin. Your hands are still prickly, still desensitized as you clumsily rub your eyes, but you just can’t seem to stop crying.

“Shh,” Tendou says over your shoulder from where he’s sitting behind you, and you’re so sick of hearing him shush you but you can’t bring yourself to respond. “I love you, senpai… Please don’t cry.”

The way he says it—so hurt, so caring, so desperate, makes your heart ache. You’d almost believe him…if he weren’t pushing you back down onto the bed, face first this time. You don’t have the energy to resist as he pulls your ass up to his hips. At least now you can bite down on the sheet to shut yourself up as he fills your aching cunt again.

This time, though, now that he’s fucking you like a dog, he’s got the space to reach down around your hips and stroke your clit. The shock of the contact is enough to scare the tears out of your eyes and you cry out.

Tendou takes your response as permission to do more, rubbing over your button with no regard for how delicate and sensitive you’re feeling. “Yeah, yeah, you like that… Senpai likes it when I touch her needy little pussy? Come on, let me hear you.”

“Tendou—mmph, Tendou, st—ahh…?” But you can’t really tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop. If you’re going to have to get fucked like this, shouldn’t you at least get to get off? It’s only fair.

Fair. The thought crosses your mind and you almost laugh—maybe you would if the force of Tendou’s body weight wasn’t smothering your face into the pillows. Nothing about this is fair.

“Do you like it?” You can hear how excited he is. “Tell me—tell me you like it, senpai? Please. Please?”

With trembling arms, you raise your upper body off the bed just enough so that you can turn your head to the side and speak. “Keep touching me. Like that.”

He does, padding over your clit senselessly while his cock does its brutal work on your insides. You feel…fucking amazing, and Tendou’s so happy, so grateful to have your beautiful pure dirty body holding onto him, sucking him into your cunt and holding yourself around him like you’ll fall apart if he’s not inside you filling you up. Your pussy is incredibly responsive, clenching down in him in time with his fingers moving on your clit. God, he could cum right now…but you have to cum first, he has to make you cum, it has to be together.

He’s so glad you’re not crying anymore. You like it, he knows you do. He’s had you getting closer and closer for a while now, and all the ups and downs and stopping you before you can cum are definitely making you need it even more.

You’re getting louder. You probably don’t even realize it, but you are. Tendou wishes he had something recording.

“I’m—fuck, I’m…c-cu…” Telling him is reflexive, a gesture of courtesy you’re used to from previous partners. He doesn’t deserve it, but you give it to him anyway.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Tendou coos. His touches grow even rougher somehow, abusing your clit while he nudges himself out so he can slide his cock back and forth over your g-spot. The aggressive rhythm of the stimulation has your spine arching up and he pushes you back down to keep you in place. “Stay down…let me do it for you.”

“Tendou!” you cry out, and he feels it, feels you cum, feels your whole body wracked with tremors, feels the walls of your cunt squeeze his cock like you’re trying to hold him inside. Fuck. Fuck. It’s too good, your pussy is so tight and warm and drenched in your juices, he can’t think, he wants it, wants to cum, wants to cum with you, together, together, together.

Tendou’s hand leaves your clit just in time to grip your ass and slam himself back into you, holding you impaled on his cock while both of you shudder through your post-orgasm aftershocks. “Senpai…senpai. I love you,” he gasps, and cums, hips jerking against yours as his mind goes blank for a second.

Fuck, it feels good, feels like his eyes are rolling back in his head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Tendou…” It’s all you can say. You can feel him getting softer inside you, and he pulls out to take off the condom. Once he’s gotten rid of it, you let him flip you onto your side and lie next to you on the bed.

“How was that, senpai?” Tendou asks, kissing you slowly. He cuddles up to you, pulling your back into his chest so your bodies are fitted together like puzzle pieces. His heart is pounding like a rabbit’s—you’d think it was cute if not for…everything.

You’re quiet.

“I know you liked it.” Another kiss, this time on the back of your neck. “You needed it just as much as I did. And I know you won’t want to admit it at first, right? You’ve got your professional reputation to maintain, I get it. But don’t worry—“

You wish he would shut up. You wish he would leave you alone. You wish he wasn’t holding you so close that you can feel his cock against your ass, and you wish—you wish you couldn’t feel him getting hard, again.

“—this was just our first time. And there’s gonna be lots more. You and me? We’re going to be together forever, senpai.”

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori #smut #tw noncon

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hajimewhore · 4 years ago

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Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 1.9k words ➷✈Part 1, Part 2 ➷Humor, awkwardness involved, if you’re me and I’m you who’s flying the plane?! ➷Summary: When you woke up at fuck o’clock on a Sunday morning, you cursed yourself for setting an alarm so early on the weekend. Afterwards, you came to realize a few important things: 1. You didn’t set the alarm. 2. Hajime set the alarm. 3. You were in Hajime’s room. 4. Why? 5. Because you ARE Hajime.

A/N: I’m taking forever on this Akaashi fic so I decided to throw this series out here, I hope you enjoy!🥺 Body swap is a trope I find absolutely chaotic and hilarious, so let’s get it!

♡ ♡ ♡

Releasing a deep sigh, you pull your warm comforter over your face to hide the light peaking in from your blinds.

You're almost positive you closed the blinds and pulled the curtain over the prior night, but the thought doesn't sit much longer as you're lulled back into your slumber.

Hearing your alarm blare, a groan scratches at your throat as you smack your bedside desk, missing your phone entirely. Was your voice always this deep when you first wake up? You chalk it up to morning grogginess, deciding not to dwell on it any longer due to the obnoxious ringtone.

Also, did you even set an alarm? The thought sits at the back of your mind as you fiddle blindly for the sleep button.

It's Sunday, why would you even set one so early? How did you fuck that up?

Sitting upright, you blink blearily. Something feels off.

This isn't even your phone. These aren't your covers either...

The Godzilla posters decorating the walls definitely aren't yours, and this most certainly is not your room.

‘Hajime?’

You think looking around. This is definitely Hajime’s room. You hadn’t been in it in awhile, but it’s unmistakable.

You wrack your brain for the missing details, unfortunately coming to no result or explanation.

Why are you in Hajime’s room?! You didn’t drink last night, so there's no explanation for the missing details in your memory for how you wound up in his sheets. Also, he isn’t here currently.

What the hell?

Shoving the covers aside, you immediately notice your... significantly more masculine figure.

“What the fu—AH!”

Your surprisingly gruff voice startles you. Though, it’s not so much your voice, but Hajime’s.

Stumbling out of bed, nearly tripping over your tired legs, you barrel into Hajime's bathroom to check the mirror.

And despite all the clues handed to you, you're still completely stunned to see who's staring back at you in the mirror.

Your childhood best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.

Cupping your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream, you pace back to the bedroom.

'It's a dream haha. A hyper realistic, very detailed, dream.'

You attempt to convince yourself as you slip back into the sheets, still warm, cursing your subconscious for forcing this abnormal dream onto your unwitting self.

Squeezing your eyes shut, twisting and turning, willing away your current situation, you realize... nothing is happening.

‘God damnit.’

You don't know who's fault this is, but it's probably Tooru's.

If you're Hajime then, yes you're starting to accept this fucked up situation, that that must mean Hajime is...

Shooting back up to a sitting position, you curse at the ache in your abdominal region. Jesus, how hard did Hajime go at practice?

Also, you can't believe you have Hajime’s abs right now.

Throwing on a random t-shirt and pair of sweats, decidedly not thinking about his abs, and how he was sleeping in briefs only, you jogs downstairs like a mad man.

Completely forgoing shoes, you cross the street and use the hidden key stuck in a potted plant to open the front door.

You're positive by now your parents have left for work, and Tooru is more than likely sleeping in after staying up late last night (no doubt pouring over tournament videos), so there's no chance for interruption from either party.

Not that your parents would question Hajime's presence, but you really aren't in the mood for doing small talk with your own parents while pretending to be Hajime.

You head straight up the stairs for your room, swinging the door wide open.

“That’s... me.... augh, this is so weird!”

You run a hand through your hair, almost startled by the different texture. This will definitely take some getting used to.

...Also, was Hajime’s hair always this soft?

You physically dash that train of thought from your mind, shaking your head. You remind yourself of the task at hand and your current dilemma, crossing the threshold of your room.

You shuffle over to the bed, climbing on top of the covers.

If that’s Hajime, he’s no doubt gonna freak out over seeing himself wake himself up.

Well, you might as well have fun with it.

“Hajime!”

You shake... yourself, watching your eyes blink open.

“Wha—?”

The physical-You blinks awake, catching eyes with physical-Hajime.

“What the f—”

You cover presumably Hajime's mouth (you're mildly hoping there hasn't been an awful three-way swap between you two and Tooru),

"Hajime! Confess to your sins!"

"I— What the fuck?! I haven't done anything! You're— How are you me! I'm me! Why is my voice—"

Hajime is quite clearly panicking and word vomiting his stress. And while it was a little funny at first, you're starting to feel a bit bad.

"Alright alright, before you go full panic, look in the mirror. I know this seems like bullshit, but it’s me!”

You lean back, gesturing to the mirror above the dresser.

Hajime’s eyes furrow, following your gesture before locking eyes with... Your eyes in the mirror.

But that’s definitely him moving like that, lifting his arms, tilting his head. Or rather, your arms, your head, fuck, this is confusing.

“Why the fuck am I you?” after a momentary pause, “What did Oikawa do?”

Hajime snarls, and it sounds odd coming from your tone.

“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that. I came here as soon as I woke up.”

“Well, this all better be a really fucked up, disgustingly realistic dream I’m having.”

Hajime sighs, rubbing his eyes.

“I really don’t think it is. I already went through that crisis.”

You pout, and Hajime raps you on the forehead.

“Don’t make faces like that with my face, you’re freaking me out!”

“Me? You have the biggest resting bitch face ever! It’s scary on me!”

His expression softens marginally, after a deep frown.

“Well... I guess we should figure out a way to fix this.”

“How’re we gonna do that!?”

You whine, and Hajime cringes at the way it sounded coming out of his mouth.

“No clue. In the mean time, we should try and keep this a secret and attend classes like normal. Also—”

He cuts himself, frowning deeply.

“What?”

“Shittykawa. Volleyball.”

“Aw fuck!”

You groan, falling back into your sheets at the foot of the bed.

“How are we gonna pull that off?!”

“Just talk to Oikawa like I would, and I’m sure I could... do the same.”

You somehow doubt that will work, and you can plainly see Hajime is going to have an issue conversing with Tooru in your mannerisms. Tooru has known the both of you longer than anyone else, and tends to be perceptive in and out of volleyball. Regardless, you have no choice but to have faith in Hajime's plan, even if it is lacking the finer details.

“As far as volleyball...?”

You tilt your head, chewing at your cheek at the thought of club activities in an entirely different body. Hajime rubs his hair, briefly startled by it being... not his hair.

You bring up very valid concerns. He's the ace of his team, you're a middle blocker for the women's team. Neither of you are especially privy to your respective team's plays or teammates.

“I’m sure we’ll catch on fast. We’ll just have to spend today teaching each other everything we need to know. At least we both know how to play, even if it’s different positions.”

He locks eyes with you slumped in the sheets, trying not to picture it as himself laying back in your bed. Realistically, it is him, but it isn't his mind. But now is not the situation whatsoever to be thinking about the suggestiveness of that image, so he shakes the thoughts from his head.

“Mm, guess you’re right. As far as school goes, our class schedule is pretty similar, so we can just study together. How bout we get ready and practice volleyball at the park?”

The unspoken ‘before Tooru wakes up’ hangs off your lips.

“Alright, I’ll get ready.”

He stands from the bed, before freezing and blushing heavily.

“Absolutely not!”

You match his blush, sitting upright in a flash.

“I-I’ll help you get ready! Just keep your eyes closed!”

You cry out, and Hajime turns his nose with a heavy blush.

“Like I’d open them!”

“Better yet—“

You snatch your uniform tie from your bedside table, wrapping it around Hajime’s eyes.

After tying off the makeshift blindfold, you ponder what transgressions you must have committed in your past life to be here undressing yourself as Hajime.

“God, this is so weird.”

You whine, awkwardly tugging your, Hajime’s, clothes off.

“How do you think I feel?!”

He snaps, but there’s less venom in the tone due to the pitch of your voice. There is a classic Hajime ring to it though, and your mildly impressed he pulled that off with your natural voice.

You make quick work of dressing him in athletic wear, not wanting to suffer in the stifling awkwardness any longer than necessary.

He removes the tie from his eyes, averting his gaze with pink still dusting his features.

“...”

“What now?”

You're worried to hear what he’s contemplating, and you certainly don’t like the sheepish, awkward expression stretching across his features.

“I really have to pee.”

“Haaaajiiimeee! Just hold it!”

You turn scarlet, and he glares.

“I can’t hold it forever! And who knows when we’ll be able to turn back. We might as well break the seal now.”

Ordinarily that kind of wording would be humorous, but you can’t find anything funny about the situation you’re currently in. Hajime stomps towards the bathroom, looking not unlike a toddler throwing a tantrum.

‘Damn, I really look like that?’

♡ ♡ ♡

“I can’t go with you staring at me!”

Hajime growls out, makeshift blindfold back in place. He has an inkling that he’ll be wearing this a lot now, but he can say for certain he never thought he’d be using a blindfold in this manner.

“You can’t even see me!”

“That’s not the point, I know you’re standing there!”

“Ugh, this is so humiliating! Just get it over with!”

You huff, slamming the door shut and flopping unceremoniously onto your bed, shoving your face into the pillows.

You hear the rush of water, good to know he washes his hands, and Hajime steps out of the bathroom feeling.... new, for lack of a better word.

“You’ll have to deal with it too, you know.”

He turns his nose, drying his hands on his pants, cheeks still hot.

“...I already did.”

You huff, and Hajime cries out with indignation at the revelation.

“What the fuck? And you made such a big deal out of—”

“You’re really packing!”

You stick your tongue out, and Hajime moves to legitimately strangle you and make an attempt at your life, not caring if it’s his own body.

“H-Hajime please, I was kidding, I haven’t gone yet, I swear!”

“Whatever!”

Upon closer inspection, you look way less threatening than Hajime ever did, but you hold back the snicker before Hajime can get too pressed about it.

“Let’s just go back to my place and get ready for practice.”

He huffs, trailing out of your room as you follow, relieved he’s calmed a bit.

Your relief is short lived however, and a panic washes over you when you think about how you'll have to go through Hajime forcing his clothes onto you.

[Masterlist] [✈Part 1, Part 2]

#hq!!#haikyuu!!#i really am just here for iwa content dont let my other stuff fool you #hqradiostation #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #iwaizumi hajime/reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu drabbles

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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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serenade | mark (m)

title: serenade pairing: mark x reader genre: fluff, smut summary: you and mark spend your first night together at the dorm, and you try to think of a way to say what you really want. word count: 2.5k warnings: fingering, PIV sex, riding, handjob a/n: i still kinda see mark as like a little bro or something so it felt weird to write this. lmao. in other news, who do i have to pay to get a full cover of “get you” from him?

“We better not get caught.”

You say this as you and Mark head up to their dorm floor, his hand in yours the entire time like he’s unwilling to let you go.

“We won’t, promise. The manager went to go visit family so we have the room all to ourselves this weekend.” He winks at this, and you give him a look in return.

You plunk yourself onto his bed once you get to the room he shares with the manager, your overnight bag slipping out of your hand. You only mean to lie there for a few seconds, but you’re taken in with the smell of Mark on the sheets and comforter, and you try to inconspicuously bury your nose in them. Of course, he notices anyway.

“Do you like the smell of me that much?” Mark comes over to you and tugs the comforter around you so you’re rolled up in it like a burrito, and you giggle uncontrollably as he does so. “Shh! Don’t wake the whole dorm up.” Mark puts a finger to his lips and looks around suspiciously as if there could be someone in the room already eavesdropping on your conversation, and you roll your eyes.

“Hello, Mark, you’re the one who said the coast was clear.” You try to unravel yourself, but he’s gotten you pretty wrapped up in the small amount of time you were laughing, and now you can’t get free. “Uh, what the hell!”

“I know, but if the guys find out they aren’t going to let me hear the end of it…” Mark says, coming to rescue and pulling you from the mesh of blankets. You slide off the bed, trying to fix your hair, but it doesn’t matter much anyway; you’re going to be dressing for bed soon.

You go to the bathroom to do just that, changing into your sleeping clothes. You and Mark have been dating for a little while but haven’t done much yet, so you’re still unsure about changing in front of him or how he’d react—though you’re hoping to change that tonight. Maybe if you’re lucky.

When you enter the room again, you see that Mark has done the same and is lying on the bed in his pajamas. He’s looking at something on his phone, but his eyes drift back to you when you walk in and climb on the bed beside him, tucking your head into his arm.

“Are you gonna fall asleep so soon?” Mark laughs, throwing his leg over yours. “We still have the whole night ahead of us.”

“I’m just resting,” you say, though you also know you probably will fall asleep soon if you stay like this long enough. “But if you don’t want me to fall asleep, we should probably do something. Like watch a movie.”

“What do you want to watch?” Mark asks, sitting up straighter at the suggestion. He reaches for his laptop nearby.

“Doesn’t really matter,” you say absently. “Maybe we could try something we haven’t seen before.”

You and Mark go back and forth about which movies to watch until you finally settle on an action film that looks interesting to you both. It’s better than you expected it to be, so you decide to watch the sequel when the first one ends. Halfway through the second film, though, you start losing your focus. Much to your annoyance, it leaves a lot to be desired compared to the first.

Your attention starts drifting more towards the boy beside you. Your eyes follow the sharp lines of his jawline and cheekbones, and you think about bringing up the subject that’s been burning in your mind. Mark must feel your eyes piercing the side of his face, because he soon turns to you with an amused smile on his lips.

“What’s wrong? You’re not watching the movie. Are you bored with it?”

“Ha. A little…” you admit, distractedly playing with the fabric of his shirt sleeve. Mark pauses the movie and sets the laptop aside. He grasps the hand that’s tugging at his sleeve and plays with your fingers, clasping them between his own.

“What do you wanna do now, then?” Should you ask him now? How do you even say it? Let’s fuck? I’d like to have sex? You almost roll your eyes at the thought of saying either of those lines. You squeeze his fingers between yours and open your mouth to speak, but you become stuck on what to say.

You chicken out at the last second. “C-can you sing something for me?” you ask instead, nervously wetting your lips.

Mark blushes a little and laughs. “You wanna hear me sing?”

“Anything! It doesn’t matter what.”

He nods, then pulls away from you to grab his guitar and take it out of its case. He resettles himself on the bed in front of you, crossing his legs. You push the sheets away from you and sit like an excited puppy, waiting to see what he’ll play. He strums thoughtfully, warming himself up and wondering what song he should sing for you.

Suddenly, his eyes widen a bit and he smiles slyly, like he’s just unearthed the answer to a mysterious case. “Oh, I got it.” Mark plucks at the strings on his guitar, his voice flowing out softly.

Through drought and famine, natural disasters My baby has been around for me Kingdoms have fallen, angels be callin' None of that could ever make me leave

Every time I look into your eyes, I see it You're all I need Every time I get a bit inside, I feel it

Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you? Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you?

And when we're making love, uh Your cries, they can be heard from far and wide It's only the two of us Everything I need between those thighs...

He continues singing the rest of the song as you look on, a grin on your lips and excitement buzzing in your body. He has to make an effort not to look at you as he sings, because your grin makes him want to giggle every time.

Mark smiles bashfully when he stops strumming, and he’s about to say something when you cup his cheeks and kiss him on the lips. He’s surprised for a moment before he responds, kissing you back as tenderly as you’re doing to him.

When you separate from each other, you’re still holding his face, studying him carefully. Mark swallows nervously, though his eyes shine with a mischievous light. “Did it work?” he asks, his voice low.

You look at him questioningly. “Did what work?”

“Have I seduced you with my voice?” He seems embarrassed about his own line, but he says it anyway with all the confidence he can muster.

“You’re embarrassing,” you answer, trying to hold back your laughter. “But if you really want to know, we can find out.”

Mark sets his guitar to the side, and you kiss again, his tongue nudging carefully against yours. He draws you closer, though neither one of you is really taking the lead yet—instead choosing to move at an even pace and test the waters of this whole thing.

It’s not your first time—or his—but it is your first time with Mark, and you don’t know quite what to expect. You let yourself relax against him as his hands slide across your sides, curving around to your back to bring you closer still. He soon ends up lying you back on the bed, settling himself against you and feeling your body heat reaching out to him through your clothes.

You think you could kiss him like this forever, but you can feel him getting hard against your hip, and your own body is answering in kind, wanting to explore further. “Take your shirt off,” you say quietly against his lips. He pauses—but only for a second—before pulling back and stripping his shirt off.

You run your hands across his chest and stomach after they’re revealed to you, and he asks you just as tentatively, “Can I…take this off?” while holding the hem of your shirt. You nod yes, and he does so. He’s quick to nuzzle into your breasts, which makes you laugh tenderly and pet his head. He lavishes them with warm kisses, sucking the nipples past his lips and making you moan softly. His hair is soft as you run your fingers through it.

He continues kissing his way down your chest and stomach, and you feel anxious and eager all in one. When he reaches the hemline of your pajamas, he asks if he can take these off, too, and you reply with a yes. He slides your bottoms down, and you feel a little self-conscious about it but try not to let that get to you, wanting to enjoy the moment.

“How do you want this to be?” Mark asks this simple question as his fingers trace across your thighs, soft like a bird’s wings, and it makes your insides tremble. You’re not entirely sure how to respond, because Mark could fuck you in every way possible and you would likely enjoy every moment of it.

You answer by sitting up and climbing into his lap, feeling him hard under you.

“Please touch me,” you say this against his lips as you kiss him again, feeling the silky texture of his mouth caressing your own. One of his arms snakes around your waist to hold you in his lap, and you gently grip the other one, guiding his hand to the space between your bodies.

He touches you carefully at first, feeling you over your underwear and nudging his fingers against that small bundle of nerves that has you shifting on his lap. His touches grow a little firmer when he notices how you respond to him, and he gains the motivation to pull your panties to the side for better access.

Mark slips his fingers across your lower lips, noticing how wet you already are and then nudging them against your entrance. Tentatively, he pushes one inside, and you melt into him more, wanting more of him inside you.

“More, Mark,” you murmur into his neck, his pulse beating against your lips. He adds a second finger, stretching you out around him. You whimper into his skin as Mark thrusts his fingers into you, coaxing more pleasure from you.

When you cum on Mark’s fingers, your orgasm arrives with a shuddering moan. Your eyes drift back a little as he keeps scissoring his fingers inside you, and instead of pulling away, you find yourself grinding into his hand again so you can chase a second climax. It doesn’t take long for another wave to rush over you, with Mark mouthing at your neck and collarbone as he feels you shake in his arms.

He eventually pulls his fingers out, which are slick with cum, and slides them into his mouth. He makes a satisfied sound at this, which turns into a groan as you pull his sweatpants down far enough to release his dick. It slaps against his stomach, leaving a smear of glistening precum behind on his skin.

“You should find a condom,” you say as you take his member in your hand, drawing your thumb over the sensitive spot just below the tip. This move makes more precum leak from him, running onto your thumb and wetting your fingers. Mark’s eyes flutter, and he tries to steady his breathing.

“You have to let me go, first,” he responds. You know that, but you want to have a bit more fun with him first, thumbing the slit of his cock and fondling his balls with your other hand. You haven’t really begun touching him yet, but he’s already taken apart by these actions, groaning as quietly as he can.

You play with him a little more, making him tremble against you as you stroke his cock, before finally letting him go and allowing him to get up. After he retrieves a condom and slips it on, you practically pull him back onto the bed, causing him to land on you. He holds himself up to keep his weight off you as he claims your lips again. You think he’s going to slide into you in this position, but with his lips at your ear, he says, ”I want you to ride me.”

Your body is burning hot with the idea of it, and you comply by nodding and placing yourself back in his lap, his member sliding against your sex.

Mark makes a sound between a moan and a whimper when you sink down onto him, snugly fitting his dick inside of you. His breaths are heavy as they hit against your skin, and his hands go to your hips, needing to take hold of something to keep himself grounded.

Mark thrusts up into you as you bounce on him, and your toes curl both with the pleasure of it and from the effort of not being too loud. “Mark, God…” You hold onto his back for stability as your bodies slide together more perfectly than you could’ve dreamed. His lips go back to worrying the skin of your neck as he pushes himself up into you, holding you tight enough against him to have your breasts pressed against his chest. His hand slides lower to grip your ass, and he moans openly at the feel of it in his palm.

Your hands slide easily across each other’s skin from the sweat; some of it drips down Mark’s collarbone and you lick it away. HIs dick twitches inside you in response to your actions, and you decide that you like teasing him this way, drawing your tongue against his body and making him shiver underneath you.

“Y/N…” Mark’s voice shakes as he groans into the side of your neck, and you know he’s likely already close. You bring your hand to where you’re joined together, wanting to bring yourself closer to orgasm, but Mark replaces your hand with his. His touches on your clit make you thrust yourself harder onto him, wanting to get as much of the sensation as you possibly can.

Mark spills into the condom soon after this, his thighs jerking beneath you, though he never stops pleasuring you the whole way through. The barely-concealed sounds of his moans and his fingers on the most sensitive part of your body is enough to have you following after him, leaving small imprints of your nails on his shoulders.

After you are both spent, Mark lies back on the bed and you cling to each other, your head resting on his chest. You’re wholly satisfied, waves of contentment enveloping you in their warm embrace. Mark remains seated inside of you, and you’re delightfully full from it.

“I should sing for you more often if this is what happens afterwards,” Mark comments, tapping his fingers against your back absentmindedly.

“...Do you always have to ruin the moment?” You shake your head, though on the inside, you definitely can’t deny that you’d do it again.

#mark smut #mark scenarios #mark imagines #mark fic #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fic #nct 127 imagines #nct smut #nct fic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #ambw #ambw scenarios #ambw fic #ambw imagines #ambw smut

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lala-ladybug · 4 years ago

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter 2

I promise I’m not this fast at writing, I’ve just had the first few chapters laying around for a while lmao. Reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

Previous | Next

Chapter 2: u guys r moding my night :(

There was chaos in the Wayne Manor. This was nothing unusual, of course, and today it even seemed to be surprisingly tame. But it was chaos nonetheless.

Timothy Drake-Wayne careened down the spiral staircase, catching himself with a well-timed front flip handspring, and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Alfred briefly paused to look up from where he was preparing dough for a batch of homemade pasta, then offered the boy a smile and a greeting.

“Good evening, Master Drake. Dinner won’t be ready for another half-hour, I’m afraid.” Tim had opened his mouth to reply when a growl echoed from the nearby ballroom.

Jason Todd-Wayne sprinted into the kitchen brandishing a nerf gun. “There you are, replacement. You won’t get away with beating me this time.” He pulled back the reloader of the play-gun, making a threatening click ring through the kitchen.

“I’m afraid you are both late to the party,” Alfred calmly announced as he mixed ingredients together. “Miss Cain has been here for the past five minutes.”

Cass Cain-Wayne indeed poked her head out from where she had been perched beneath the bar. She gave her brothers a shit-eating grin and wiggled her fingers as way of a cheeky greeting.

Tim gave a groan as he and Jason begrudgingly handed some money over to their sister. “She cheats.” Cass stuck her tongue out at that. “Besides, racing you here was just an excuse to get my mind off waiting for midnight.”

“And because Alfred is the only one polite enough to actually listen to you rave about that stupid game,” Jason scoffed, sitting down at the bar to watch Alfred work.

“--thought I heard voices in the kitchen, oh there you are, little wing!” Dick Grayson-Wayne’s cheery voice came from the foyer, increasing in pitch as he spotted Jason and swept him up into a tight hug.

Barbara Gordon wheeled herself in not too long after, chuckling at the squirming Jason and delighted older brother.

Meanwhile Tim, who had taken offense to Jason’s insinuation, was reassuring Alfred that if he wanted the boys to leave him be he only ever had to ask. “It’s just that I’m so excited for the launch tonight, and you know B is too busy to hear about it.”

Jason had finally muscled his way out of Dick’s embrace as the latter’s attention focused on his youngest brother. “What launch are you talking about?” Dick asked, giving Cass a side hug.

“Oh, tonight is the release of this new VRMMORPG game called Mindscape!” Tim practically bounced as Dick came over to give him his hug too.

Dick gave Barbara a confused glance. “I know some of those words,” he nodded slowly. “So what’s got you so excited? Video games come out all the time.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Jason on the barstools. “Well yeah, but this game has groundbreaking virtual reality tech. Supposedly, the textures took five years and a team of almost 1000 artists.”

Jason put Tim into a headlock and said casually, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard replacement talking about this yet. He kinda won’t shut up about it.”

Cass nodded her head in solemn agreement while Tim struggled to get out of Jason’s grasp.

“Such are the woes of moving out.” Dick shrugged. “Sounds crash though, got room for one more?”

Tim finally shoved Jason off. “I actually bought enough passes that we can all play if you want,” he gave each of his siblings the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

Barbara snorted even as Dick pumped his fist in the air beside her. She wheeled herself up to the bar to pinch Jason, who was poised to jab his fingers into Tim’s sides. Jason yelped and glared at her as she said, “Sorry Timmy, I’d rather let someone else be the guinea pig for this new kind of tech. Besides, Dad will worry if I let myself get sucked into pouring too many hours into this.”

“Papa Gordon is a force to be reckoned with,” Dick attested earnestly. “Jay?” he prompted.

“Absolutely not,” Jason answered immediately. Tim was quick to protest. “But why? We could spend more time together! It’ll be good team-building.” Jason’s face soured at that.

Dick leaned in and stage-whispered, “Do I have to tell B to force you into family bonding? You know he’ll make you do it.”

Cass covered her silently laughing mouth with one hand as Jason threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, don’t get Bruce involved. I’ll play your stupid game,” he finally relented. Tim grinned at his win, then cast a hopeful look at Cass.

She pulled a face and signed No thank you. Better things to do than watch VR pornos.

Tim’s face blushed profusely as he opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Jason’s cackling. Even Alfred cracked a smile while he rolled the dough onto the ravioli press.

Once Jason quieted down, Tim crossed his arms and said, “Suit yourself. Looks like it’ll be no-girls-allowed anyway.”

“Guess we’d better tell Cassie that, Timbo,” Dick wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which Tim elected to ignore.

“Speaking of suits,” Alfred said while seamlessly spreading filling in the ravioli and placing another sheet on top of the press, “aren’t you boys going to miss the premiere if it is indeed at midnight?”

Tim looked imploringly at the two girls. “You wouldn’t be willing to trade shifts for your favorite brother, would you?”

* * *

Wally West strolled out of the zeta tube and into the Justice League’s satellite, known to himself and the other heroes as The Watchtower. He was dressed in a casual NASA t-shirt and jeans, slurping a smoothie, and playing a game on his phone.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up. He was greeted with the sight of his old team, Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian, Rocket, Zatanna, and Artemis, waiting impatiently. They were dressed in full hero attire-- he didn’t even realize Artemis still had her costume-- and looked to him expectantly.

“Hey guys, what’s poppin’?” Wally grinned and gave his friends a lazy chin jerk.

“‘What’s poppin’?’ Babe, are you serious? You told us to meet here ASAP for an emergency. So you can tell us what exactly is ‘poppin’.” Ah yes, his Spitfire. Artemis Crock still wasn’t afraid to give him a piece of her mind. But this time it looked like everyone else was on her side too, as they nodded in agreement with her emphatic air quotes.

“Oh, uh yeah, Mindscape is coming out tonight!” He set his smoothie down on the table. “I got us all passes and I’m super stoked for the launch. It’s got this super cool new VR tech that’s basically being released for the first time ever. I got the equipment through my internship, so we’re all set! You guys are totally coming right?” He made finger guns at his increasingly exasperated friends.

Artemis facepalmed. Kaldur’ahm raised his eyebrows in that I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say it way of his and said, “Wally, with you and Artemis retired from the life, understand that we took this to be a literal emergency and rushed to your aid. Do not abuse our good intentions.”

“Seriously West, I have a lot on my plate right now!” Rochelle Ervin was also, apparently, a little upset with him. “You could’ve said it was about a dumb game.”

The speedster tried to do damage control with some lighthearted humor. “Hey guys, stay whelmed. I get it, I probably should have given a few more deets about this very-much-not-dumb game, but do you know how many candy bars I had to eat to win these passes?”

“This is why you’ve been spending so much on junk food?” Oh, he was in big trouble with Artemis now. “You probably didn’t have to eat all of them, babe.”

M’gann M’orzz, Connor Kent, and Zatanna Zatara looked similarly annoyed. Well, the girls did. Connor just looked like his usual brand of annoyed, which was honestly a small victory.

“So...” Wally felt a little sheepish now, “who wants in?”

The rest of the group exchanged a look. Artemis was the first to speak up. “Well, you’ve already invested too much of our money in this to turn back now.” She walked up to him and poked a finger at his chest. “But you owe me so many dinners for this.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal!”

Rochelle spoke up next. “Me and my plate don’t need any more helpings, thank you very much. I’ll see y’all at the next team reunion!” She flew out through the zeta tube.

Kaldur clapped him on the shoulder. “If you need any assistance, I will be there. But for now I am running Atlantis in Aquaman’s stead while he is off-world, and I must return to my duties.” He then bid the rest of the team farewell and stepped through the zeta tube.

“Haha, he said ‘duties.’” Wally said once he’d left, then winced as Artemis smacked his arm lightly. Lightly for her. Rubbing his arm, he looked imploringly at his other friends.

M’gann and Conner looked deep in a telepathic conversation, which was just awkwardly intense eye contact for onlookers. Zatanna crossed her arms and sighed, “Fine, why not. I didn’t have plans for the weekend anyway. Lead the way to your chocolate factory, Charlie.”

Connor, having caught the tail end of the conversation, looked confused at the reference. He shrugged and said, “I’m in, could be fun.”

M’gann gave her friends an apologetic smile. “Sorry guys, my uncle needs help back on Mars. There’s tensions between the white and green martians again, and he really needs me there to get it under control.”

She gave Connor a peck on the cheek and left to board the nearby Bioship.

“And then there were four,” Wally said with a smile. “Now let’s go make you guys some avatars!”

* * *

Bart Allen could hardly contain his excitement. Scratch that, he couldn’t contain his excitement! “Bouncing off the walls” may be an exaggeration for most people, but he was not most people. Being the grandson of The Flash certainly had its perks, and being able to literally bounce off the walls was one of them.

The cause of his excitement, his friends Timothy Drake-Wayne and Wally West, had just called to ask if Bart wanted extra passes to the premiere of the biggest video game of the decade. And uh, yeah duh he wanted them! He already had one he’d bought for himself, but bringing four extra friends? So totally crash.

He opened up his phone and pulled up the group chat titled Badass Babes.

CrashBandicoot: hey bitchez n babez (u kno who u r), u ready 4 the best videogame of the yr to drop?!

BlueMenace: ese, do you HAVE to type like that?

WonderBabe: yea it’s super annoying

CrashBandicoot: gtta go fast babez

CrashBandicoot: now answer the question

GreenMenace: oh i heard about that! mindscape, right? isn’t it some vr game

CrashBandicoot: yes! nd i got extra tix, so come ovr to cave

GirlBoss: No can do, got research tomorrow!

MaleWife: you always have research bae. sorry little speedster, gotta drive the lady to work

CrashBandicoot: u guys r moding my night :(

BlueMenace: totally not a word but I’ve got you cariño, be there in an hour

WonderBabe: ah what the heck, I’ve got nothing better to do

GreenMenace: always down to whoop ur ass in video games

CrashBandicoot: u wish

CrashBandicoot: roy?

Ginger1 is typing...

WonderBabe: it’ll be fun! more ~mingling~ with kids our age

Ginger2: Hold on, give him some time

Ginger1 is typing...

BlueMenace: Roy, I can pick you up on my way in if you want

Ginger1 has stopped typing.

Ginger2: Um, he says he’ll meet you guys there

Ginger2: He may have destroyed his phone with his “non-typing” hand

GreenMenace: pog

WonderBabe: see u guys soon!

Bart pumped his fist, then ran at top speed to his boyfriend Jaime’s house, where it looked like he was doing homework. Seriously, on a Friday night? Bart had absolutely no qualms about whisking him into his arms and making for the nearest zeta tube.

“Woah Bart, I said I needed an hour!” Jaime protested.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you definitely don’t have anything due tonight, and we have to make your character online before the launch!”

Jaime just looked resigned as they sped into the zeta tube. He knew what he had signed up for.

#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic

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pixieungerstories · 4 years ago

Text

Quarantine -3

It would have been nice to have something other than the word of a shadow to go on. I stared at the ceiling. I wished I had a cat or a dog or - hell - a pet hamster. Some other living thing in the house. I had no idea what Nick was but I wasn’t entirely sure he counted as a living thing.

“Humans who don’t sleep start to hallucinate,” I muttered to myself. Maybe if I actually got some shut eye, I would wake up and this would all be a dream. “Fuck it.” I got undressed and crawled under the covers. I settled under the covers, then realized I was facing the closet, so I rolled over. Having the door in my blind spot wasn’t necessarily better.

“Nick?” I wasn’t really expecting an answer. “Can you move the bed to another room?”

“I can. I don’t want to. I like having you where I can see you.”

I nodded. “I’ll go sit in the kitchen until dawn.”

“Go! To! Sleep!”

I jumped then started to shake. “Yelling at me isn’t going to help me sleep,” I muttered.

The bedroom door slammed shut. Rattling the door knob and pulling as hard as I could didn’t make it budge. “Please don’t do this,” I whimpered, then I screamed as something brushed my face.

The door opened suddenly enough that I unbalanced and fell on my ass, but a moment later I was running down the stairs and out the front door. I was at the gate before I knew what I was doing.

The cops were still right there.

“You need to go back inside ma’am!” the closest one called. After that they were all looking at me.

I paced for a moment, uncomfortably aware how odd I was behaving. I needed to get out of here. I needed a smoke. I needed to stop acting weird before they decided I had killed my neighbours.

Oh god. I was trapped in a house with a creature that probably killed the looters.

I didn’t want to face the idea that Nick was a killer.

“Ma’am! Go inside!”

“I saw what happened on the news,” I explained. “It’s giving me nightmares and I’ve been stuck in that house for more than a month. I wasn’t expecting to be quarantined in a construction site.”

“Be that as it may, you need to go back inside,” the patrolman called.

“I’m more than six feet away from you. Can’t I just stay out here near some other people and the street lights? Please?”

“You aren’t exactly dressed for the weather,” he pointed out.

I crossed my arms over my chest as I realized I was standing on my lawn in my night dress. I should go in and at least get my robe. It was in the room with Nick’s closet.

I thought about just confessing to something so that I could go with them. Prison wouldn’t have Nick. Maybe I just needed a hospital. No. That was a death sentence these days.

He was driving me off. He had flat out told me that he was good at that.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“No!” I snapped. “I’m scared.”

He gave me a pitying look but still insisted, “You need to go inside now. You will be safe in your house.”

I snorted, and swatted at the bugs that had found me.

“Go inside,” he said gently. “The last thing you need is to catch something from the mosquitos.”

I nodded slowly and headed back in to sit in the kitchen. Maybe he would let me make a pot of coffee. When I got inside the lights in the kitchen was on and the bed was set up on the main floor.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome. This is temporary. You will sleep upstairs when the walls are repaired.

The next morning I got a phone call ordering me out into the garden as a forklift delivered a load of drywall. It was left in the middle of the floor next to my bed. I looked at it. Nick’s voice was too close to my ear, “Someone will come hang in tomorrow.”

“How did you pay for this?”

“You have an excellent credit rating and you aren’t spending much of your money.”

“Great. Did they say how long it would take?”

There was no answer to that.

“I guess drywallers wear masks all the time anyway,” I mused. “At least there will be some other people around.”

“Yes.”

I didn’t have walls the next day. In fact things were worse as the last of the lath and plaster was taken down. They found hundreds of razor blades in the wall in the bathroom. The construction guys assured me that it was normal to find all kinds of weird things in the walls of old houses, but they still looked uncomfortable that it was razor blades and that some of them were more bloody than you would expect from a mere shaving accident. I spent the night picking them up with tweezers and dropping them into a jar for safe disposal. Nick didn’t say a word and the lights stayed on that night.

One half the team turned up the next day. No one commented on why that was.

I ordered a hammock and a grill for the backyard. I got the hammock but someone had changed the grill to a chiminea when I wasn’t looking. It was nice, but I couldn’t cook on it. My order had also been edited to include a bunch of bug repellant candles and some sunscreen. I tried to figure out if that was something a shadow creature would actually do or was this another sign that I was losing my mind.

Either way, I worked on the concrete table out back at the very limit of the wifi during the day and concentrated on fixing up the yard after official work hours.

One of the drywallers sold me a patio umbrella.

I also got the lecture that just because the walls were up didn’t mean that it was safe to use the shower.

“You still have to get a membrane installed and your tiles up and sealed,” the guy explained.

I nodded, “You don’t happen to know a tile guy that is still working?”

He frowned, “I’ll ask around. Do you have tiles yet?”

“No,” I admitted.

“That might be the hard part. You can still find a few guys willing to come out, but all the factories are shut down.”

“Shit.”

He gave me a look of sympathy. “Yeah. There are stories of people doing penny walls or using their grandma’s china to tile just so they have a working bathroom.”

“I don’t have either of those things,” I said sadly.

He nodded, “I’ll ask around. It isn’t a big project and people might have some leftovers.”

Given how protective Nick was of the house I should have expected his warning. I was still unimpressed to see “no ugly tile” written on the drywall in the morning. Still, he could have used the last of my lipstick and instead had found a pencil somewhere. I tried to ignore it as I brushed my teeth. I didn’t even have a mirror over the sink. Grumbling around the toothbrush I realized, “Fuck. I’m the only person who could buy a haunted house where the ghost had been watching too much HGTV.”

That earned me a creepy house shaking laugh and proof that he hadn’t just left.

“It’s your fault,” he purred in my ear. “You are the one who fell asleep all those nights with decorating shows playing on repeat on your computer.”

I sighed. “Yeah, it was,” I agreed sadly. “If I hadn’t would you be haunting me right now?”

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen the value in what you are doing and I wouldn’t have spent a week keeping you alive when you got sick. Perhaps you would have been haunting me.”

I frowned, “I wasn’t sick for a week! It was only a couple of days!”

“You should check your calendar. It was a couple of days of you being sick and a week of me forcing you to breathe.”

“There is no way I lost a week without noticing!”

He didn’t say anything. When I checked my calendar there were nearly two weeks missing. I told myself it didn’t mean anything. Nick used my computer, he could have just deleted the information. I could just call work or Penny or someone and ask how long I was away for.

I kind of didn’t want to. What if he was telling the truth?

I took my coffee and toast and ate breakfast outside, once again wishing for a cigarette. Nick had never left the house, as far as I knew, and I didn’t want to talk to him just then. This was ridiculous! Shadow monsters didn’t … do that! They didn’t … exist. I was just … this wasn’t happening!

I was out of coffee and the coldness of the concrete bench was soaking through my night shirt and into my ass. I had left the folded towel I used as a cushion inside overnight so it wouldn’t get damp. Now I was cold and damp instead. Fuck.

When I made it back to the kitchen, my laptop was open and had apparently been searching for bathroom tiles. ‘Fine. Whatever. Pick something nice that I can afford.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to do, but contacting a local stained glass artist wasn’t it. I really wasn’t expecting her to check if it was OK if my boyfriend picked out the design since it was my credit card that was paying for it.

I was afraid to ask, but I had to know, “What did he pick?”

Nancy cleared her throat, “Well, originally he wanted a reproduction of a stained glass window from Maison Schott in France. But when we talked about how complicated it would be for a tiler to install that, he settled on a simpler rose on trellis pattern.”

I set down the phone to close my eyes and scrub my face. “Do you like what he picked out?” She seemed a little taken aback by the question. “Yes? It’s a little modern for your age of house, but it’s a nice piece and will be easy to install. It mostly uses different textured white glass, so it would be in keeping with a white bathroom. I can have it ready next week. I’m not exactly over run with work right now.” She paused before she added, “I’ll send you some sketches and if there is anything you need changed, just let me know. I could really use the income, to be honest.”

“Yeah. I understand that. I guess I’m just doing my part to keep the economy running.”

“I really appreciate that. The whole ‘buy local’ movement ended when we weren’t allowed to leave our houses,” Nancy pointed out.

“Ok. Send me the sketches and the quote and I’ll get back to you in the next couple of days.”

I lay in bed that night and looked at the newly drywalled dining room ceiling. “What are you doing, Nick?”

“Making a home for you,” he whispered.

“Can I even afford this? You don’t have a secret money vault hidden in the walls with the razor blades, do you?”

There was a long moment of silence, then he whispered, “You could sell the wine instead of drinking it.”

I froze. “Just because it’s old doesn’t mean that it’s valuable,” I pointed out.

Something caressed my calf as he purred his reply, “But it is.”

I closed my eyes and let my body melt into the mattress. My breath caught in my throat as the touch moved up my leg. As soon as I made the noise, the contact vanished. I groaned.

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking the rules,” he grumbled from across the room.

I needed to know, “Why were there razor blades in the walls?”

“There was a slot in the back of the medicine cabinet for used razor blades to be dropped between the wall boards so that they were safe and wouldn’t hurt anyone in the trash. That was perfectly normal at one point in history,” he explained.

I considered this, “Why were there bloody razor blades in the walls?”

He didn’t answer that one. “Why haven’t you used your little toy since I cleaned it for you?”

Now it was my turn to be silent.

“You liked that toy,” he prompted. “I liked watching you enjoy yourself. Good for everyone.”

“That’s really creepy. Can’t you just watch porn like a normal person?”

“Porn isn’t as satisfying,” he replied. Then he added, “For either of us. And I am not a normal person.”

“I noticed.”

“Would we have fucked by now if I was?” he just sounded curious. The vocal leer from a moment ago was gone.

“I would have had you arrested by now if you were.”

The low chuckle rumbled through the house at that. I closed my eyes and he stroked my face. “Let me watch,” he purred. “I can feel how badly you want.”

That made my eyes snap open. “What?”

“I can taste your fear, but also your pleasure. I enjoyed watching you cum in a way that humans can not understand. And I am very aware of your frustration.”

“What happens to my soul if a shadow … creature watches me play with myself?”

“It gets to live in a house with a happier guardian?” he suggested.

“A guardian? Is that what you are?”

“Guardian sounds better than monster or eldritch god but that’s just semantics.”

“I’m pretty sure there is a difference,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps the difference is what I’m doing at the time. And right now, I am guarding this house, taking care of you and hoping you will take care of yourself.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” I joked. “I’m too damn tired!” I thought for a moment, “I need more rules, Nick.”

“Like what?” he asked in a breathy hissing rasp that sounded pretty much like how I imagined a death rattle would sound.

“Well, there’s that,” I pointed out. “Now I’m scared and I can’t see you so this is going to be another night of sitting up until I fall down.”

“You need to rest,” he murmured in a more normal voice for him. It wasn’t human sounding, but it wasn’t deliberately scary.

I had already set up and was fumbling for a light switch. I shrieked when he caught my hand. “Ugh! Look, either I get to sleep or you get to scare me, but you have to pick one. And I can’t see when you are going to touch me, so it’s scary every time. That’s why I asked you not to. But if you can’t do that, can you at least tell me when it’s coming?”

“Would that really make it better if you knew I was going to lick my way up your back?”

“It would if I knew you would listen when I tell you not to. This is about trust, Nick. I don’t trust you. I am already very aware of how vulnerable I am here. You could easily lock me in the basement and wait for me to starve to death. You could smother me with my pillow. Hell, you could slice open an artery and hide the razor blade in the walls.” I stopped abruptly, wondering if I was just giving him ideas. “I can’t stop you and I can’t leave and I can’t trust you not to lock me in the bedroom because you think that will help me sleep.” He let go of my hand. I turned on the light and looked around the empty house. “My head hurts and I don’t want to be afraid any more.”

“I have never done anything to hurt you, but I can see how I have done things that are frightening.” It sounded like a whisper on the very edge of hearing. “Turn out the light, lay down and I will rub your back until you can sleep. I will do my very best not to be scary.”

I turned on my laptop as a source of light and sound before I turned off the light switch. “I can’t believe I am saying this, but if you want this to be less scary for me, find me a nightlight. I haven’t needed one since I was ten, but, congratulations, I do now.”

I felt the bed dip. It didn’t always do that. “I’m going to rub your back now,” he whispered. “You can tell me to stop.”

“Ok,” I acknowledge.

It wasn’t a massage; it was more like a person petting a cat. He started at the top of my head and stroked back to my waist, then stopped and started again. It was vaguely soothing and I was really exhausted by then. At some point in the night I woke to see a huge black shape hunched over my keyboard.

In the morning I had emails confirming my order of six cartoon animal night lights from IKEA and one from an auction house saying they would be happy to broker the sale of my wine and that they would send an expert to confirm its authenticity.

I wondered how you forge wine.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #shadow monster

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pearl-pilots-in-chains · 4 years ago

Text

Ice Cream Expertise (All the Little Lights #1)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Kawoshin

Rating: G

Summary: Shinji is faced with a dilemma of sorts, and is characteristically indecisive. Fortunately, Kaworu is there to give some helpful advice. Or maybe just call himself an ice cream expert. Let's be honest, it's a bit of both.

Notes: This is intended to be the start to All the Little Lights, my attempt at a relatively happy Evangelion high school AU featuring the pilots we know (and maybe love) actually getting to live a normal life (including all the cute gay romance they deserve). That said, it also works totally fine as a one shot. Considering it's an AU, there's going to be some rather interesting deviations from canon, some of which are alluded to here. So, if something seems off, that's probably because it is.

As usual, any errors, grammatical or typographical, are mine. I apologize in advance.

This was originally posted to my old AO3 on May 21, 2020. I hope you enjoy it!

_________________________________________________________

Shinji Ikari was not having a good day. No, perhaps that was an understatement. He was having a distinctly bad day. School had been tedious to say the least, considering that testing week was approaching, and the teachers seemed to be doing their best to “prepare” the students using every form of academic torture known to humankind. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it had been a hectic hell all the same. Not to mention the fact that his best friend Touji was going through a rough patch (not the first one, mind you), with his girlfriend Hikari, which led to a tense mood within their friend group outside of class as well. Adding onto this was the fact that he was getting worried about his sister (what wasn’t new?) Rei, who had been especially quiet the past week or so, even by her standards. That was usually a sign that her depression was going through a rough spot. He had wanted to mention something to his mother about it, considering she usually had better luck at getting through to Rei than he did when his sister was going through a difficult time, but unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He was gone too often, and his mother was gone too often. There was all of a one to two hour period when they were both home and awake on any given night. Rei always ending up alone probably doesn’t help her state of mind improve either. I wish she had more friends. People she could connect with.

And, of course, to top all that wonderful baggage off, he had had work after school, which had gone lovely. Just lovely. A simply wonderful group of customers had come in, and stayed for a better part of three hours, ordering intermittently while they all talked (way too loudly, in his opinion) at their shared table, which, in a predictable move, they hadn’t even bothered to clean off. He was a barista, not a waiter, despite what some people seemed to think. To make matters worse, they had been laughing so hard partway through their “discussion,” that one of the party had practically flung her iced latte through the air by accident (how someone could do that by accident, was a whole other topic for conversation), sending its contents flying halfway across the room (in a bafflingly impressive display, he had to admit, as irritating as it was). Of course, he had drawn the short straw and been the one tasked with cleaning it up. His boss seemed to get a special satisfaction out of giving Shinji all the “fun,” jobs. Okay, maybe Mr. Anno’s not that bad, but he still gets a kick out of watching me suffer. Or something like that.

Shinji sighed as he pulled his car into the store parking spot. As he exited it, he glanced down at his phone. 7:16. That meant he should have enough time to get home and get dinner going before his mother got home. These days, it seemed as though she worked progressively later and later. It had been a couple months since she’d been home before 8. She was almost certainly still out at the base at that moment. Whatever project she’s working on now is one of the more intensive ones.

He headed for the doors. He was planning on making stir fry, which meant that he needed to get soy sauce for sure, since he knew they had run out from the last time. He thought they had most of the rest of what he needed at home. So, this should be a quick run. Just in and out. After a day like today though, he was tempted to grab something sweet. Come on, after this whole mess, I think I at least half deserve something to take my mind off of it. Just a little.

Inside, he made a bee line for the condiments aisle. Alright, first things first. Get what I need. Then, maybe, I’ll just check out what they have. He grabbed soy sauce, and then wavered for a moment, trying to decide just for what he was in the mood. Okay, just something little. Nothing too big. I am going to be cooking, after all. Hmmm . . . I mean, it’s probably not the best idea, but . . .

Making his decision, he set off for the frozen section. Once again, he paused when he arrived at the aisle, looking through the glass freezer doors at the available options. I’ll just get a pint. That should be more than enough. Even if Rei goes for some too. ‘Cause mom hardly ever eats anything sweet, so I doubt she’ll have any. He tilted his head, tapping the soy sauce bottle against his thigh as he considered the selection. Why are there so many flavors? I didn’t even realize they sold Pumpkin outside of November. And Lime-Raspberry? What would that even taste like? Who comes up with these things? I’ll go for something classic. I could always do Vanilla. But, that’s a little boring. I don’t even really like it that much. Chocolate’s always classic, except that Rei doesn’t like it. And her favorite is Cookie Dough, which I don’t like the texture of . . . there are way too many choices here. Running his eyes over the racks, he did a quick count. Forty-two different flavors. Why are there forty-two different flavors? I wonder if anyone’s ever tried them all. Then again, that might take a while. And be kind of pricey. Dammit, I’m getting distracted again. The only conclusion that Shinji was coming to was the fact that he liked ice cream far too much, and was wasting far more time than he should be trying to pick out something. Maybe I should just get the soy sauce and head home. He peaked down at his phone. 7:29. Yeah, I’ve already been here longer than I should be.

A voice interrupted Shinji’s thoughts. “So, what’s your drug of choice?”

Shinji head snapped to the side, his concentration broken. “What?,” He asked, a little surprised.

The source of the interruption was standing a little further down the aisle, casually leaning on one of the freezer windows, his head cocked to the side, watching Shinji with a friendly smile on his face. Shinji thought the interrupter looked to be about the same age as him, though that fact was complicated slightly by the fact that though his face was youthful, his hair was an ashen grey. He must dye it. Is grey hair a style though? The interrupting individual sported a pair of black jeans and a band shirt for a group whose name looked vaguely familiar to Shinji. Porcupine Tree . . . I feel like Rei might listen to them. Maybe. Not to mention the fact that the newcomer had red eyes. Red eyes. Okay, so maybe this is a look he’s going for. I mean, those are definitely contacts, right? Unless there’s a genetic mutation I’ve never heard of, I don’t think humans can be born with red eyes. Which means that they’re contacts. Which means that the hair is almost definitely dyed too. I’m pretty sure that’s not what ‘scene’ looks like . . . there’d be brighter colors . . . and I don’t think it’s emo either . . . I’m pretty sure his hair would be black then . . . huh . . . maybe that’s goth. Yeah. Let’s go with that. In addition to making him second guess what scene fashion looked like, Shinji’s visual analysis of the interrupter also led him to a more definite conclusion. That regardless of what category his fashion fell under, he was pretty cute. Seriously Shinji, focus here, and stop thinking about how some random boy in Safeway who asked you what type of drugs you like is cute. Don’t be an idiot. Sure, you haven’t been on a date in months, ever since Martin broke up with you, but he was a manipulative jerk anyway— Shinji realized the interrupter had started talking again, which snapped him back into reality and out of his wandering mind.

“Yeah. What flavor is your favorite. I mean, out of the forty-two, there has to be one you’d pick, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Probably cookies ’n’ cream,” Shinji answered, feeling more than a bit confused. On an afterthought, he added, “You’ve counted all the flavors too?”

“Not a bad choice,” the boy said with a firm nod. “Although, I’m more into mint chocolate chip myself. And yes, I’ve counted them all. It’s an important part to being an ice cream expert. Keeping track of the available flavors at the nearest store.”

“Okaayyy.” Shinji’s tone betrayed his uncertainty concerning just how he should deal with this stranger. “Ice cream expert?”

“Yep, that would be me,” the boy replied matter-of-factly, as though the question was a pointless one. He strolled over to Shinji and extended his hand. “Kaworu Akagi, ice cream expert, at your service.”

Shinji shook the offered hand, deciding he should be polite, despite the fact that his perplexity had not been substantially diminished in any way. This guy is . . . interesting, to say the least. As their hands met, Shinji was struck by the strange, but intense, sense that this wasn’t his first time meeting Kaworu.

“Shinji Ikari.” Against his better judgement, he decided to follow his introduction with, “Have we met before?”

Retracting his hand, Kaworu pursed his lips, ostensibly mulling over the question in his mind. After a few moments, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least, not that I can recall. I just got into town a few days ago. Why do you ask?”

Shinji shrugged, trying to play off his earlier question. “Oh, I think you just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Kaworu nodded, seeming to accept this answer. “Ah, that makes sense. So, have you come to a conclusion, or would you like a second opinion?”

Shinji raised an eyebrow. “About the ice cream, you mean?”

“Indeed. That is the topic on the floor, as they say,” Kaworu responded nonchalantly.

Shinji blinked. “Who says?”

“Why, they do of course.”

“Oh. Umm, alright.” Shinji looked back through the window, surveying his options once more. A obvious choice didn’t present itself. “Well . . . I suppose a second opinion probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great,” Kaworu stated, his tone even and pleasant. “Any occasion in particular you’re buying for?”

Shinji shook his head. “Nope, not really. Just . . .” he hesitated, uncertain how much he wanted to tell someone who was still basically a stranger to him. “Just a bad day,” was what he ended up deciding on.

Kaworu pretended to stroke nonexistent hairs on his chin, nodding slowly as did so, in an amusing imitation of the stereotypical philosopher. “Hmm . . . ice cream for a bad day, you say?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess so.”

“I’d have to recommend Cherry Chip for that. It’s a guaranteed mood improver from my experience. It is nearly impossible to feel down while you’re eating Cherry Chip ice cream.”

“Really?” Shinji’s ice wandered down the display, finally locating the flavor in question. Fortunately, they had it in pint size, which meant that the option was on the table. He couldn’t think of any reason not to go for it. As far as he knew, Rei liked Cherry Chip. At least, he thought she did. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever seen her eat it. For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever eaten it himself. Which means it might be pretty good, and I just don’t know it yet. You never know. “Really. Trust me, I’ve tested its potency. It won’t let you down.”

“Alright. Why not?” Shinji opened the door and grabbed a pint of Cherry Chip. He examined the container in his hands for a few seconds, before looking back up at Kaworu, who now seemed to be smiling in encouragement, which had the effect of making him look even cuter than before. Come on Shinji, don’t get distracted! Sure, he might be attractive, but he’s also a self-proclaimed ice cream expert. . . not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing yet, to be honest.

“That’ll do the job,” Kaworu remarked, in a straightforward tone that made it sound as though he was utterly confident in the truth of his words.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Shinji furrowed his brow as another question popped into his mind. “Hey .. . you said you just got into town a few days ago. How is it that you already know all the different flavors they have here?”

“It was one of the first things I scoped out after we got into town. Always important to know what kind of ice cream game you’re going to be dealing with. Plus, I had plenty of free time once we finished unpacking, considering I won’t be in school up here until the fall.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Almost on a whim, Shinji was tempted to ask Kaworu where he had moved from, but decided that could come across as prying a little too much, since Kaworu hadn’t offered that information. As it was, Kaworu gave a partial answer to the question without Shinji even verbalizing it.

“School down south ends earlier. Though, to be fair, it also starts earlier there as well. We left a couple days after my semester ended. Which means I currently have relatively few obligations, other than locating and obtaining a job for the summer.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Shinji still wasn’t exactly sure how to respond, but he decided to field a question of his own. He figured it could come across as a polite inquiry, rather than being nosy, taking into account what Kaworu had just revealed. “So, what brought you up north?”

“My mother got transferred out to the base,” Kaworu returned offhandedly.

Shinji tilted his head in response to this answer, the gears in his brain turning. Well, that’s interesting. He almost wanted to make some sort of follow-up remark expressing their similarity in that regard, but he decided that might be a bit too much to say for the moment. Instead, he merely offered a casually, “I gotcha.” He continued with an amiable, “Well, welcome to Asherdale,” along with a more ironic, “It’s halfway decent, once you get used to it.”

Kaworu’s face broken into a grin at the humor, an expression that Shinji couldn’t help but feel made him look all the more attractive. Oops, getting distracted again. . . don’t do that . . . too much.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Kaworu said warmly.

“No problem.” The thought suddenly entering his mind, Shinji shot a momentary glance down at his phone. Hmm, what time is it? The answer was 7:37. 7:37?! I’ve been talking for eight minutes?! That felt like four or five at the most. I have to bail, now, if I’m going to make it home in time to get cooking.

He looked back up at Kaworu, who was still watching him, his gaze soft, the smile still on his face, his head tilted to the side. Shinji had the strange feeling that if it had been anyone else, the observational pose the boy had struck would have looked unusual, to say the least, but somehow, on Kaworu, it didn’t look half bad. It gives him a kind of elegant aesthetic . . . okay, where did I come up with that? I definitely need to head out.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry to leave so quick, but I need to get going.” Shinji cringed a little internally, hearing the awkward tone in his voice. You could have said that in a way that didn’t basically announced the fact that it made you flustered. Great going.

“Understandable. You wouldn’t want that ice cream to melt before you get the chance to test out its powers.”

“Haha, yeah, you know it.”

Kaworu nodded, imply that yes, he did indeed know it. “Why don’t I give you my number?” He remarked. “That way, you’ll have someone on hand for any future ice cream dilemmas.”

“Ahhh . . .” Okay, that was actually kind of smooth, in an odd way. And . . . it’s not like it could really hurt anything. I mean, he didn’t even ask for my number. Which means he’s not even necessarily flirting with me. It’d probably be a bit of stretch to say he is. After all, if I have his number, and he doesn’t have mine, that means I can choose whether I want to text him or not, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Which isn’t really a good way to flirt with somebody. I think I’m stalling again here . . .”

Shinji noticed Kaworu was watching him again, waiting for a response. “Sure. Sounds like a good plan.” He pulled out his phone and hastily created a new contact, before offering it to Kaworu. “Here, you can put it in.”

Kaworu nodded, his smile remaining intact, and typed in the digits, before handing it back to Shinji. “It was nice to meet you, Shinji Ikari,” he commented affably.

“You can just call me Shinji,” Shinji quickly responded.

“Alright then. It was nice to meet you Shinji.”

“You too . . .” Should I use first and last name like he did the first time? Or just go with first name. I don’t want to offend him, if that’s the sort of thing that’s important to him. After all, he does seem a bit, umm, particular.

“You can just call me Kaworu,” the boy suggested, his smile widening.

“It was nice to meet you Kaworu,” he finished lamely. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yes, maybe so.”

Shinji nodded again, spun on his heels, and promptly made for the registers. Well, that went excellently. You meet a boy who’s kind of cute, even if he is a little eccentric, and straight off the bat, you’re second guessing yourself and fumbling for words. Fantastic.

Shinji shot a brief glance back as he reached the end of the aisle, to see that Kaworu was now retrieving an ice cream carton of his own from the merchandise freezer. Shinji turned away again before the boy could look back in his direction. Don’t want him to think I’m staring at him or something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinji collapsed back onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. He was glad to have finally reach it, after the nigh-interminable day. Well, maybe not quite interminable. But definitely overlong. Without much thought, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and spun in about in his hands a couple times, feeling the sensation of the textured case against his skin.

Dinner had been a success, such as it could be, anyway. He had impressed himself with just how fast he managed to throw things together when he went into slight (well, maybe more than slight) panic mode.

The ice cream had been a success as well. He had to admit, Cherry Chip was a pretty good flavor. He still wasn’t sure whether he had tried it before or not, but he was glad he had definitively tried it now. Rei had also enjoyed it, which was an added plus. In fact, their mother had even had a bowl, something altogether unexpected. Apparently, Cherry Chip ice cream was one of the sweets she would indulge in. Didn’t see that coming. All in all, the majority of the pint was no more.

Powering on his phone, Shinji was faced with another choice for the evening. Unlike his earlier ice cream deliberation, however, this cerebration was of a cursory duration. After a few seconds, he had composed the text, and was hovering over the send button. Alright. Let’s do this. He tapped the icon.

Shinji I.: Thanks for the recommendation. It was a good choice! Lol. This is Shinji, btw.

The response to his message came swiftly. Wow, he must type fast.

Kaworu A.: Happy to be of service. I’m glad it worked out.

Shinji found a smile edging its way across his lips. Maybe, in spite of everything, today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

#evangelion #fanfic #kawoshin #shinji ikari #kaworu nagisa #shinji x kaworu #neon genesis evangelion #eva #fanfiction #high school au

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adenei · 4 years ago

Text

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 8

AO3 // FFN

Adjusting

“Mum, I really don’t think all of this is necessary..” Hermione said the following day. Her parents had both taken the day off to spend time with them, and Jean had whisked her daughter away for lunch and an afternoon of shopping.

“What? Being able to spend time with my daughter? When’s the last time we went shopping together? Hermione, dear, you are desperately in need of some new clothes! Plus, I want to help you find something special for your date tonight,” Mrs. Granger smiled knowingly.

Hermione sighed. Her mother was right. The clothes she did have were ragged from being on the run for almost a year, and it was nice to be able to spend time with her again. This was the kind of thing she’d hoped to do with her mother before sixth year started, when she thought she and Ron may be on the verge of something then. Speaking of…

“Mum, what did Ron say to you last night to change your mind about things?” she asked again, hoping she’d crack on the fourth try.

They’d been out much longer than Hermione had expected, which made her nervous, but when they’d returned, Ron looked relieved and Mum had a smile on her face. Hermione looked at her dad for help in gathering an explanation, but he simply shrugged. Even Ron was tight lipped about the exchange last night. That annoyed her, and subsequently cut into their ‘getting to know you’ time she was hoping for.

What Ron did admit was what her mother was planning for tomorrow evening. “She called to make a reservation at some posh seafood restaurant for us tomorrow evening.”

“All four of us?” Hermione asked for clarification.

“No, just you and me. She wants us to go on a proper date. Said something about checking the cinemas, too, whatever that means. Would you be alright to join me for dinner tomorrow evening, say, around 6:30?” he said with a chuckle.

“I’d be delighted,” Hermione played along. “But I’m not sure I have anything to wear,” she frowned.

“Right, I forgot that bit. Your mum’s planning to be here around eleven tomorrow to take you to lunch and shopping.”

Hermione smiled at the recollection as she browsed the current boutique they were in. They already had several bags between them of new clothes for Hermione. Several new shirts and jumpers, a couple pairs of jeans, trousers and skirts, and even new undergarments, which Hermione had been resistant towards at first. She was secretly happy, though because when she was ready to take that step with Ron, she wanted something cute or sexy and not just plain old boring cotton. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of wanting to be ‘sexy’ for someone.

She’d even caved and allowed her Mum to purchase a new swimsuit. It felt like ages since Hermione had worn one, not since their trip to France all those summers ago, and it took several choices (of both her own and others her mum tossed over the dressing room door) before Hermione had decided on a bright blue two piece with white polka dots. The top was modest enough with a twist front that had string ties in the back, and the bottom was somewhat high waisted, which made her feel more comfortable. Her mum had also picked up a couple beach towels and insisted Hermione buy flip flops, or thongs, as the Aussies called them.

“The weather is supposed to be beautiful tomorrow. You and Ron absolutely need to experience a beach day, so you’ll be prepared!”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Mum, are you trying to plan the rest of our stay here?”

“Of course not! I just want you both to experience everything we’ve grown to love about this little corner of the world. Plus, you both deserve a bit of a holiday after everything you’ve been through.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Hermione said, as she felt an overwhelming need to hug her mother right then and there.

Their last stop found Hermione the perfect dress for her date tonight. It was teal, and flowy with wide straps and a keyhole opening. A satin band gathered at the waist to provide some shape on her body, and the flowy skirt came to her mid thigh. It was the perfect balance of elegant, yet beachy, and her mum had found a wedge, peep toe sandal to finish off the look.

“Thank you again for all of this, Mum. Even after everything I did…”

“Hermione, you’ll always be our daughter, and I’ll always love you. I only want the best for you, and even though Ron’s made mistakes in my eyes, he’s certainly proved to me that he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, and I respect that.”

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve him.”

“It’s all about balance, my dear. Tell me, did you ever apologize to him about the canary incident?”

Hermione felt as though ice had been poured down her back at her mother’s words. She knew that she and Ron had gotten past the whole Lavender debacle, but thinking back on it, she realized that there never was an explicit apology for that.

“I- erm-” she stuttered.

“You really should. I raised you better than that.”

“You’re right. And I suppose I probably should apologize for attacking him when he came back as well..” she hesitantly admitted.

“Excuse me?” Her mother stopped on the sidewalk and looked at her. “I did not raise you to react with violence, young lady.”

“I know, I know! I just- I let my emotions get the best of me. I promise I’ll do better about keeping them in check.”

“I’m not the one you should be making that promise to, but I appreciate the intent.”

“You’re right.”

“Dare I ask what you did to that poor boy when he came back?”

“Umm, I used him as a punching bag, as Dad would say,” Hermione admitted.

“Oh, Hermione..I know you inherited my anger, but please don’t take it out on him like that.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.”

She knew it was wrong, and even though it wasn’t something she talked about often, she was ashamed of her actions. Pride and embarrassment had forced her to ignore bringing it up, but if they were going to start off their relationship properly, it needed to be discussed.

Hermione noticed her mum checking her watch. “We’ve got just enough time to get you cleaned up and ready for your date. I had your father bring a few items over to your flat when he went to pick up Ron.”

“Items? What do you mean?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Hair product and makeup, of course!”

“But-”

“No buts! We have an hour to get you ready before Ron’s due to pick you up.”

“He’s not already there?” Hermione was having trouble keeping up with her mum, both in walking speed and conversation.

“Heavens, no! It’s a proper date, remember? Now, let’s go!”

~o~

Ron was standing in the guest bedroom of the Granger’s home. He was looking in the wall mirror at his own reflection. His afternoon had been spent out with Hugo. He’d gotten a haircut at a local barber, found swim trunks for their ‘beach day’ tomorrow as Jean kept calling it, and an outfit for his date tonight. He was wearing a nice pair of trousers with camel colored dress shoes. His shirt was light blue with faint, thin pinstripe lines to give the illusion of texture.

For the first time since Bill and Fleur’s wedding, he was proud of the way he looked. Mr. Granger had a knack for muggle style, and even though he was older, Ron trusted his judgement. He reminded himself of one of those business lads that flooded the sidewalks on the morning and evening commutes. He felt bad, and had tried to pay for the clothes himself, but Hugo had insisted. Mr. Granger had offered to purchase more for Ron when he caught him eyeing a new pair of trainers, and jeans that might actually fit his long legs, but Ron politely refused.

“Ready to go?” Hugo called from the bottom of the stairs, drawing Ron out of his thoughts.

He couldn’t wait to see Hermione. It’d been a long afternoon without her. Especially because he’d grown accustomed to being with her day in and day out. They made the short drive over to the flat, where Jean was waiting by the door. She held the door open for Ron as she wished them well for the night and reminded him of how to get to the restaurant, which was about five blocks away.

He watched them go and then bounded up the stairs. He was about to just walk into their shared flat, but paused and remembered that this was a date, so he knocked on the door. Ron barely had to wait for Hermione to open it.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the sight of her in front of him made his jaw drop and he was pretty sure his heart stopped briefly. She was gorgeous. Her mum had no doubt helped her tame her wild curls, and it looked like she was wearing just enough makeup to accentuate her features. Not like the grams of it Lavender would plaster on her face every day. Her chocolate brown eyes were brought out by a light layer of deep purple, which were staring at him in much the same way he was looking at her, with adoration. And Merlin, that dress. She wasn’t one to wear dresses casually. Not that this was casual or anything, but he’d only really ever seen her in her school uniform or formal wear. He needed to say something to snap himself out of it before he lost his senses completely.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“And you cut your hair,” she responded. “It suits you. You look really nice in muggle clothes.” Hermione smiled shyly at him.

Ron smiled back at him as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. Why did this feel so weird? This was Hermione, his best friend. “Should we, er, get going? We’ve got a bit of a walk.”

Hermione nodded as she grabbed her purse and locked up. Ron held out his hand and she took it as they made their way down the sidewalk towards the restaurant. They were quiet for a while, until Hermione finally said, “Is it just me, or does this feel…”

“Weird?” Ron finished.

“Yes!” Hermione said through an exhale.

“Yeah...what’s wrong with us? We haven’t changed or anything,” Ron joked.

“I know,” Hermione said. He noticed her blush in the soft glow of the streetlight.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that- nevermind, it’s rubbish,” Hermione talked herself out of saying what she was thinking.

“No, tell me. Please?” Ron urged gently.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just worried I’m going to mess this up. I don’t want to do or say anything wrong,” she admitted.

“Me too,” Ron agreed. They walked another block or so, double checking street signs so they didn’t miss a turn.

“Do you think it’s like this for all couples who were friends first?” Hermione asked him.

“Er, yeah, could be. Never really thought about it, though.” Ron admitted.

“So, then, maybe we should just act like nothing’s really different. Let’s not put extra pressure on anything,” Hermione suggested.

Ron chuckled. “That works for me. I think this is it.” He pointed to a sign just up ahead.

They checked in at the hostess stand and were seated at a table on the edge of the main dining room. It felt more private than some of the other tables in the center of the room, and gave them a spectacular view of the ocean lit up by the moonlight.

As Ron began to look at the menu, he noticed the prices. It was expensive. They ordered their drinks from the server, and then they were alone again to look over the menu.

“Er, Hermione,” Ron said, getting her attention. She peeked at him from over her menu. “I don’t know if I have enough to, er…”

He saw her eyebrows raise in understanding. “Don’t worry, Mum gave me her credit card. It’s taken care of.”

“But your parents have already done so much for us,” Ron protested. “And it’s our first, er second, date. I should pay..” That’s what a true gentleman did, wasn’t it?

“Please, it’s okay. They want to spoil us,” Hermione told him.

He sighed and gave in. It was either that or insist they leave, which could cause a scene and he didn’t want that either. “So then, what would you suggest for a meal?” he asked her, looking at the varieties of shellfish that he’d never had.

He ended up settling on a pasta dish that included a variety of seafood. Scallops, shrimp, and clams in a light wine and butter cream sauce. Hermione had chosen a salmon dish over risotto, and they’d split an appetizer of crab stuffed mushrooms. The meal was delicious, despite Hermione having to help guide him through eating so he wouldn’t accidentally consume any shells.

They were browsing over the dessert menu as Hermione said, “Seafood always tastes better when it’s fresh, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure it does, not that I have much to compare it to. We’ll have to find a place when we’re back in England so I can see if there’s a difference.”

His heart skipped a beat as he watched her face light up at his suggestion. “I’d like that.”

Their desserts came shortly after as they talked about what they wanted and needed to do when they got back to England. Ron had opted for a chocolate mousse cake, while Hermione chose creme brulee. She began picking at it about halfway through.

“Everything alright?” he asked her.

“Yes, of course! I’m just getting full, that’s all.” He could tell when she was lying because she didn’t make eye contact.

“Hermione…”

“I’m sorry about attacking you with the canaries sixth year,” she said through a grimace. “It was, um, brought to my attention that I never actually apologized about it.”

“That’s what was bothering you? It’s ancient history, Hermione, it’s fine.”

“See, you always say that, but it’s not. I can’t just physically hurt you when I’m angry at you. Like when I punched you after you came back to the hunt..”

“It’s...alright. I was a prat, too,” Ron tried to make her feel better.

“Yes, but you’ve never physically hurt me. I promise I won’t do that ever again. I’ll keep my emotions in check.” She met his eyes this time, indicating her sincerity.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ron smiled. “Now, can we discuss something a bit more light hearted?” He suggested.

Hermione smiled gratefully as she took another bite of her dessert. “Did you want to go to the cinemas?” She checked her watch. “If we hurry, the one Mum suggested starts in twenty minutes just down the street.”

“I don’t know. As much as I’d like to experience it, I think I’d rather take a walk on the beach if you wanted to.”

“I like that idea so much better,” Hermione smiled. “Mum will forgive me for not following her plan completely, I’m sure. Besides, I’m sure some movie will be playing on the telly when we get back.”

“Brilliant!”

After they paid for their meal, they exited the restaurant and crossed the street to one of the many public entrances to the beach. They chose to walk along the water where the sand was a bit harder, and headed in the direction of their temporary flat. Hand in hand, they meandered along.

“The waves are so much calmer here than at Shell Cottage,” Ron remarked.

“That’s because the weather is much nicer. Every body of water can be rough and choppy or smooth with gentle waves,” Hermione explained.

He knew that, of course, but sometimes he loved to listen to her explain things. It had become a sort of comfort to him years ago. He just pretended it annoyed him to get under her skin. “Do you know how many times I hoped that we could experience something like this, but was convinced we’d be dead by the end?” he asked softly.

“I know. We nearly were...several times,” Hermione said.

“How’d we make it out? How’d we get so lucky. We shouldn't have..” Ron had to catch himself before he went into a spiral as he was reminded of who they’d lost. Fred, in particular.

“Don’t think like that,” Hermione said gently as she squeezed his hand. “We are still here, and you know he would want us to make the most of that.”

She somehow always knew what to say when it counted the most. Ron felt a rush of emotion flood over him. He loved her so much. His feet stopped right there, and he pulled Hermione back when she kept walking and was caught by her fully extended arm, their fingers still intertwined together. “You’re right. And I’m the luckiest bloke alive to have this chance with you.”

The setting was perfect. Sand beneath their feet, the moon and stars shining down on them, creating a soft glow of light, and the gentle crashing of waves close by. He pulled her close to him, bending down to kiss her. Ron felt her arms snake around his waist, while his own split duties. One hand cupped her face while the other snaked in her hair.

He deepened the kiss and allowed himself to forget they were on the beach as he became lost in her. All he could feel was her, as he hesitantly grazed her bottom lip with his tongue. She opened her mouth further, granting him entry, as his tongue gently moved in and explored her mouth. She eagerly met his tongue with her own as Ron’s hands began to move down her body.

He wanted more. Not that he wanted to rush things, but he was so overcome with want that it was hard to think straight. It took a car horn blaring from the streets to draw them back into reality. They reluctantly broke apart as he sought her eyes with his own.

“I think we should get back to the flat,” Hermione said breathily.

Ron simply nodded, not trusting his voice. They’d have plenty of time on the beach tomorrow.

#ROMIONE #hp post war #hp australia #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #ron x hermione

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atmilliways · 4 years ago

Note

16 Murderface & Pickles; 19 Nathan & Toki! 🖤

I’ll probably write the Nathan and Toki one too, eventually, but for now here is some Pickleface for the prompt “defending each other.” This is set during Goingdownklok and, uh, probably the porniest thing I have ever written.

Trans Pickles, Murderface’s internalized body issues, first time blow job, Pina Colada flavored lube because Pickles was drunk when he ordered it and thought he was asking Alexa for more drinks.

If anyone can think of other tags that should be on this, or if it should be marked Explicit rather than just Mature, please let me know. I’ll reblog with the Ao3 link in a sec.

This Might Just Stick

It had been hours. Maybe everybody had forgotten by now. . . . No, no one was going to forget that he’d tried to tackle and hump Toki in front of everybody.

But he was getting hungry. . . . But what if he ran into any of his bandmates?

Murderface lurked in his quarters until the necessity of avoiding starvation drove him out and skulking towards the mess hall. By the time he arrived and saw from the hatch that someone was already in there, the lure of dinner was stronger than his shame. Maybe Pickles wouldn’t notice him.

“Hey,” Pickles mumbled in greeting almost immediately. The drummer was presiding over a large plate piled high with iced cinnamon buns, glumly holding a half eaten one in his hand.

“Uh . . . hey,” Murderface replied. Maybe if he kept walking the conversation would end there.

“I got shot down by Abigail,” Pickles continued, sounding positively morose.

Murderface slowed, curious in spite of himself. He glanced towards the counter where a hooded servant waited to take his order, but hesitated. This was his chance to let the whole embarrassing incident start getting glossed over until no one ever brought it up again or even remembered it had ever happened. “. . . Schoundsch rough, pal.”

“I mean, I got all dressed up an’ everything, and nothin’.” With a sigh, Pickles took a bite of his cinnamon bun. He continued while chewing, “I figured she must be at least as hard up as the rest of us, y’know? Nope! Turns out, she thought to bring a vibrator!”

A vibrator. Huh. Now there was a thought. Murderface automatically pictured a naked female form, legs spread wantonly, a buzzing wand sinking into—

Well, this had been a mistake. He should’ve just kept walking and taken his food back to his room. Instead, before the sudden tent in his shorts had a chance to become too obvious, Murderface drifted casually over to Pickles’ table. It was one of those picnic style set-ups, except the benches weren’t bolted down, so there was a screech as he pulled it out to sit across from him.

“Schuper rough! Schorry to hear that, pal. Hey, uh, mind if I eat one of thesche cshinnamon rollsch?” He didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing one and shoving half of it in his mouth. Maybe sugar and something to chew on would provide enough distraction to will his libido back to manageable levels.

“Go ahead.” Pickles gave a deep sigh. “I thought I’d feel better if I had some rock n’ roll cinnamon buns, but I guess I’m not drunk enough for that yet.”

“Schorry man,” Murderface said again. “I don’t know why Nathan wasch scho bitchy about you going for her, it’sch not like we all wouldn’t hit that if we could.” He gulped down the second half of his cinnamon bun and reached for another.

“I know, right?!” Pickles said, nodding. “And hey, for what it’s worth, I get why you went after Toki, too. I mean, your approach did lack some zazz, but I’m pretty sure we were all thinkin’ the same thing.”

They’d all taken part in mocking him after the incident, Pickles included, but Murderface still appreciated the small token of solidarity. His fingers already had a coating of sticky white icing on them which he was trying not to notice; the sight sent reflexive twinges of pain running up from his jerking-off wrist. But the mechanical motion of chewing and the fact that he was a born stress-eater just like his grandma made the texture of the bun richer, the nuance of spices more compelling, the fresh-out-of-the-oven warmth more soothing . . . so there was that. And anyway, he’d come here in the first place because he was hungry.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of bringin’ something,” Pickles continued, drifting back to his original train of thought. “I mean, I have tons of shit at home! But did I bring any of it? No, ‘cause Charles didn’t tell us about the no ladies thing until we’d already got here. I kinda want to break into her room and just use it, who fuckin’ cares if she catches me. Maybe she’ll see something she likes!”

“You could do that,” Murderface managed to say with his mouth full. God, he was lucky that Pickles was dressed in his usual black shirt and loose jeans, nothing tight or revealing like Toki, because all this talk about vibrators was really getting him going. Just the idea of turning the toy on and moving it teasingly against a stiff dick (he didn’t know what Pickles’ looked like so naturally he pictured his own)—

He stifled a whimper with yet another cinnamon roll. The pile on the plate was shrinking at an alarming rate.

“Hey.” Pickles looked at him with wide eyes, a strange glint in them. “You could come with me. Come on, dood, let’s do it. Let’s break into her room!”

“I. . . . I don’t know, Picklesch. . . .”

“No, in case she doesn’t catch me! We can both—there’s ways we can both use it at the same time, no waitin’!”

Heat rising to his face, Murderface shook his head and reached for the cup on the table to wash the latest mouthful of sticky, sugary bun down. He grabbed it and gulped from it—ah yes, straight vodka. The Pickles special. “I’m, uh, not going to do that with you, Picklesch.”

“Why naht?” Pickles all but whined. “Come on, we’re all in the same boat here. Literally. What’s Toki got that I ain’t got?”

Murderface’s first instinct, which he insta-repressed, was to say An ass. But on further reflection, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? While Toki’s toned rear end looked great in those shrunken pink shorts, Pickles had slightly more of a bubble butt, better for grabbing a handful and really, unf—

And now he was thinking about Pickles’ ass. Great. Super. That was totally helping with the boner that wouldn’t quit. Murderface wanted to bury his head in his hands, but they were too sticky for that so he crammed another half a cinnamon bun in his mouth instead. He was, distantly, starting to feel rather full.

“Look, I’m juscht not doing it!” he burst out, bringing one fist down on the table so hard it rattled the now empty cup and nearly empty plate. “Chrischt, you guysch were ragging on me earlier for the whole Toki thing, and now you’re, what? Trying to jump on my dick?! Uh-uh, I don’t think scho!”

Pickles put both of his hands up. “Dood, calm down! Flag on the play, okie? I’m naht trying anything!” He paused, then grinned sheepishly. “Alright, I am. But look, I’m askin’ first, so . . . there’s that. And hey, no strings attached, I promise. It’s just, you got rejected, and, and I got rejected. . . . I jest think we can help each other out, y’know? It doesn’t have to be that big a deal.”

Murderface narrowed his eyes. “It’sch a very big deal, Picklesch.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Pickles replied, leaning forward conspiratorially and dropping into a throaty whisper. “Dood, we could do it right here, nobody’d know. We’ve got this place to ourselves, all we gotta do is have the Klokateers shut things down for a while so we don’t get interrupted. And I could get you off first—fuck, I’ve been thinkin’ about going down on somebody ever since Abigail told me how she keeps from going crazy down here! Please?” Under the table, a sneakered foot bumped and rubbed suggestively up Murderface’s shin, making him shiver. “I’ll treat ya real nice.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a chick,” Murderface grumbled.

“‘Kay.” Pickles smirked. “I’ll suck you off and make you come so hard you’ll be cross-eyed into next week.”

Biting his lip to stifle a groan, Murderface considered.

. . . He picked up the last cinnamon bun and crammed it into his mouth, still considering.

There were two options here. Option one: he could say fuck you, yell at the hood at the counter to send food to his quarters, and storm out with an angry boner to go hump his bedframe or some pillows or something until his meal arrived. His stomach was pretty full (he shifted slightly on the bench and let out a soft, cinnamon-scented burp in between chewing) but he knew how his body reacted to stress and depression, and knew he could eat again in maybe an hour. He’d need at least the next pants size up by the time they got back to the surface. Story of his fucking life.

Or, option two: take Pickles’ offer. It wasn’t like it was any less gay for Pickles to offer than it was for him to accept, so they were both implicated here. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he’d already passed desperate a few stops back.

“Scho, it’sch come to thisch.” Murderface swallowed the last of his mouthful and sighed. He looked at the empty plate instead of his bandmate, because the longer he entertained the idea of actually doing this the more confining his shorts felt. “If you make fun of me for thisch I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Right back at ya, dood. So . . . is theat a yes?”

“. . . . Yesch,” he whispered, and—he couldn’t help it—palmed himself through his shorts despite his sticky hand and the twinge of pain from his still-tender wrist.

As soon as he said the word, Pickles leapt up, knocking his bench over with a clatter, and spun to yell towards the mess kitchen: “Hey, guys! Take a break for like, an hour or something! Lock it up and get outta here!!”

“Yes sire,” someone called back, and the confirmation was quickly echoed by the clangs and bangs of cookware being put in order for the coming downtime.

An hour, Murderface thought, twitching in stunned anticipation. He fingered the button on his shorts but didn’t unbutton it until the shutter over the counter window had been pulled down and one of the hoods ran to close the mess hall hatch for them from the outside—their servants were nothing if not efficient.

He could’ve done without his full stomach forcing the zipper all the way down as soon as he unbuttoned, but hey, pobody’s nerfect. Now that he was committed to doing this he was practically vibrating to get started, spreading his legs as wide as he could.

“Scho, uh. . . . How are we doing thisch? Should I turn around or schomething?”

“No, stay right there.” Pickles grabbed at a random dreadlock and used it to tie the rest back.Then he winked and ducked under the table.

“Oh fuck,” Murderface whispered, and leaned back to get a partial view of Pickles kneeling in front of him.

With a mischievous grin, the drummer slipped his fingers up the legs of Murderface’s shorts, teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “It’s sexier if you don’t look, dood.”

“Right, okay. Schure.” He sat forward again hastily and his lip as he felt Pickles’ hands move to his stomach, palms warm through his t-shirt and against the sliver of exposed skin peeking out at the bottom, and then—

“Ow,” Pickles muttered.

Murderface looked down, hoping against hope that he hadn’t somehow fucked this up already. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my wrists, dood. I can’t . . . ugh.”

“Can’t what?” Murderface pressed. He felt bitter disappointment already welling up like bile in the back of his throat, and honestly if Pickles ditched him at this point he probably would throw up out of pure disgust and disappointment with himself for fucking up such a wonderful opportunity by being so utterly repugnant.

Pickles groaned. “Fuck. Look, there’s no good way to say this, but you gotta hold yer stomach up outta the way. My wrists won’t bend that way right now and it’s kinda . . . blockin’ stuff.”

Murderface felt his face heat up to approximately one hundred degrees, but when he didn’t immediately reply Pickles gripped at his thighs and whined impatiently. With that encouragement, he slid his hands under his belly and hefted it up. At another wordless whine, he stood slightly so Pickles could tug them down to his ankles and plopped his bare ass back down on the warm metal bench.

“Thanks for freeballing, dood,” Pickles commented, and Murderface felt delicious chills from the drummer’s breath ghosting over his eager cock. “Saves valuable seconds in a sex emergency.”

He couldn’t see through the table, but Pickles sounded downright hungry for it. Just imagining the guy staring intently at him under there, maybe licking his lips, maybe already touching himself through his jeans in anticipation—

Then Pickles shocked him by enveloping him all at once, tongue sliding down the underside of his cock and lips closing possessively around the base as the head hit the back of Pickles’ throat and holy fucking shit. Murderface moaned so loud that he was worried the entire submarine could hear, but it wasn’t like his hands were free to stifle himself. He’d hold his fat belly out of the way for a million years without complaint if it meant being enveloped like this. Hands grabbed at his ass and tried to drag him forward greedily as Pickles began to bob expertly up and down his length with the perfect amount of suction, going from nose-buried-in-pubes to kissing-the-already-leaking-tip and back again, repeat and repeat and repeat, with an eagerness that Murderface had never once experienced before and zero hint of gag reflex. It was all Murderface could do to sit still and keep holding himself, biting his lip for dear life to keep his ragged breathing from turning into the breathy moans of the thoroughly fucked.

Goddamn, this was going to ruin him for groupie blowjobs, wasn’t it? Fucking Pickles and his oral fixation, and his warm, wet, tight, talented mouth.

It had been way, way too long, and Murderface was so hard up that he came embarrassingly quickly. He didn’t even have time to give a warning, but Pickles seemed to know. One hand stopped fondling his ass long enough to fondle his balls instead, massaging encouragingly as they tightened and tightened and—

Murderface couldn’t contain the wordless gush of sound that accompanied his orgasm, milked out of him without complaint as he bent over the table.

His face was all but touching the empty, sticky plate before him when he finally managed to open his eyes again. “Fuck,” he breathed shakily. “Pickles. . . . That wasch. . . . Fuck, I don’t think I can schtand.”

“Push the bench back, then,” Pickles said urgently. Whatever he was doing down there, Murderface could hear shuffling and felt bare skin bumping against his hairy legs.”Cahm ahn, dood!”

It made him grin lazily to realize that Pickles’ accent must get stronger when he was horny, just like it did when he was super pissed or super wasted. He obliged, scooting the bench with a brief screech of metal scraping metal, and Pickles popped out from under the table like Jack out of his box. Murderface was half expecting him to sit on the table edge in front of him so he could return the favor, but instead the smaller man settled in his naked lap.

Apparently Pickles had been shedding layers under the table, because he was equally naked from the waist down and grinding eagerly, wetly against the bassist’s middle, pushing his vest further open and his t-shirt further up. He grabbed Murderface by the hair and rammed their mouths together, eagerly licking his way in, the taste of spend on his tongue mingling quickly with the sweetness of cinnamon bun icing still on Murderface’s.

There was something very unexpected about this that Murderface was too dazed and into it to quite pinpoint, but holy shit what Pickles was doing felt amazing. Like, fucking against his stomach? Which was kind of weird, but the force and desperation of it was blowing him away.

Pickles whined in his mouth as though all this wasn’t enough, as though he wanted, needed more. His legs wrapped around Murderface and crossed at the ankles for leverage to grind even harder. Automatically, Murderface reached to support him—one hand splayed against the freckled back and another on his ass, where the muscles were already trembling with effort and eagerness for the building climax.

And he was so wet. Had the guy come once already just from sucking him off? Murderface felt briefly lightheaded at the thought. Felt his spent cock twitch too, for all that he was still recovering from the number Pickles had done on him already.

Really . . . really wet. Not exactly leaking-dick wet. Not that Murderface had a lot of experience identifying that sort of thing rubbing on him, but still.

. . . Huh.

Pickles was still kissing and clutching at him, and Murderface was drowning in this unprecedented desire for this stupid body he’d always kind of hated. But Pickles didn’t seem to mind, did he? Really made it feel like he wouldn't have offered this to just anyone.

A moment later Pickles shuddered, going rigid and squeezing him tight before relaxing completely, Murderface’s arms around him the only thing keeping him from falling back against the mess hall table.

“Woo-oo,” Pickles mumbled, eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded. He patted the arm supporting his back. “That was fucking great, man. Ten outta ten, would ride again.” His tongue peeked out and wetted his kiss-redden lips. “Was it good for you?”

“Huh?” Murderface blinked, shook himself a little. He’d been staring intently at the tip of Pickles’ tongue. “Yeah! Yeah, that wasch. . . . I, we could do that again schometime. If you want.”

Pickles patted his arm again, eyes drifting shut. “Mmm, yeah, that album ain’t getting finished any time soon. . . .”

“Uh, Picklesch? Can I ashk you a perschional queschtion?”

“Heh, you just came down my throat, dood, Pretty sure personal questions are fair game.”

Murderface glanced uncertainly down between them, but with their lower halves still pressed together all he could really see was a bright red trail of hair leading downward and his own belly button. “Is there a. . . . Do you have. . . . Are you okay down there?”

Pickles laughed. “I’m more’n fine, dood, I’m great.” Then he cracked an eye open to study the other man’s face, one double-pierced eyebrow slowly rising. “What?” He followed where Murderface’s eyes were aimed. “. . . Don’t tell me ya never fucked a trans dood before.”

“I’ve never fucked any dudesch before,” Murderface retorted defensively. “And schince when are you transch?!”

“Dood, everybody knows. I thought you knew!”

“Well I didn’t! No one tellsch me anything,” he whined, and in the strange clarity of his relaxed, post-orgasm state was entirely aware that the not being told part bothered him more than the trans part. Not that he knew much about what being trans meant, but . . . probably better to google it later than ask while they were still sitting junk to junk. He reached down to self-consciously tug his t-shirt down and felt wetness on his fingertips. After a moment’s hesitation, he brought his hand up to his nose and sniffed. “. . . Why doesch thisch schmell like pina colada?”

“It’s lube,” Pickles said with a chuckle. “I always keep it—” he absently patted at his own ass, then snorted “—in my pants, under the table. Back pocket. I don’t gaht a lahtta ‘natural lubrication’ so, y’know. Always be prepared or whatever. . . . I dunno, I was never a boy scout.” Stretching, he sat up and leaned in, resting his arms languidly over Murderface’s shoulders. Noses about an inch apart, he stared probingly into his eyes. “You weirded out?”

“Uh . . . no, I guescch not,” Murderface mumbled, going cross-eyed trying to return the stare.

He felt . . . okay, actually. Wasn’t having sex with a bandmate supposed to feel like a mistake? Wasn’t he supposed to be having some sort of crisis right now? Because he’d definitely just had sex with a guy—he’d known Pickles for years, he was definitely a dude, trying think of him as anything else just didn’t compute.

Pickles darted forward and gave him a wet snack on the nose, then pulled back with a pleased smirk. “Cool. ‘Cause we’ve got about, uh. . . .” He looked for a clock, finding one once he’d twisted almost all the way around—which just made Murderface think, Bendy, and then his brain fizzled a little at the possibilities. “About forty-five minutes left before anyone comes back. Whaddaya say we get some drinks and fuck some more? I’ve got a couple months of fantasies I still wanna try out.”

“Fa, fantasies?” Murderface stammered as the drummer slid off his lap (oh sweet friction) and bounded over to the counter to rustle up some bottles. His eyes were glued to that pale, freckled ass. “About me?”

“Yeah,” Pickles called. Regrettably, he and his ass had ducked out of sight for a moment. “I mean, fer pretty much everyone down here who has a face, to be honest.”

Oh, Murderface thought with a sigh.

“But hey!” Grinning, Pickles popped back into sight with a fifth of Irish whiskey held triumphantly in each upstretched hand. “Ta be honest, I’m glad this happened with you, dood. The ones with you in ‘em were my favorites.”

Murderface brightened immediately. “Really?” It almost didn’t even matter if that was true, he just appreciated Pickles going out of his way to say it. “Like . . . like what?”

“Well, what we just did, fer one.”

This had all happened because of curiosity (and a background level of horniness that defied physics and shit); Murderface saw now reason to change things up now. He asked, even as he drank in the sight of Pickles sauntering back towards him half naked, whatever secrets were hidden between his legs obscured by a thick forest of bright red pubes, “What elsche?” The words came out sounding breathless, and his cock was already stiffening again.

After all, he’d come here in the first place because he was hungry.

Smirking, Pickles came back around, moved the empty cinnamon bun plate down the table, and hopped up to take its place, legs spread. He handed Murderface one of the whiskey bottles, cracked open his own, and in between drinking and wantonly touching himself started listing every last, filthy little detail of things they could do to each other.

It was going to be a very good rest of the hour.

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #trans pickles #pickleface #william murderface #pickles the drummer

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eigwayne · 3 years ago

Text

A Little Spoiled (CQL canon ChengQing, ch. 4/4)

Chenqing Ling/The Untamed Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing Rating: E

AO3 link: Chapter 1 | Chapter 4 Tumblr link: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

I wrote so many versions of this author's note for chapter 4, with so many thoughts about the writing process and apologies for not adding more internal dialog and all that. I do want to note/admit, I was a little free with the theories about spiritual energy and especially yin-yang energy in this chapter. Wen Qing is being playful at the time (yes really. It will make sense in context, if I did my job right) so don't take it as gospel.

But really, the most important thing to know is this:

Jiang Cheng is the little spoon.

Oh, and also there’s a bit of golden core angst but on Wen Qing’s part.

---

It was strange and a bit uncomfortable, to sleep next to someone for the first time. Wen Qing was currently tucked up against Jiang Wanyin’s back, one arm draped over him, pretending to be fully asleep.

Oh, she had been asleep at one point, exhausted by his earlier attentions and an extremely relaxing hot bath. But she woke several times, no longer used to a bed that wasn’t lumpy and chilled, never used to cuddling in the first place. She wasn’t the only one; Jiang Wanyin had shifted several times as well, which is how he’d ended up in her arms instead of the other way around.

‘But this is actually a good chance,’ she thought. Her hand rested close to his lower dantian, after all, and she wouldn’t have to explain why she was feeling his spiritual pathways if he was asleep. She pressed against his back and slid her hand below his belly button.

His spiritual pathways were clearer than she’d expect, with his rather surly nature. Holding grudges, acting out of anger, and negative emotions could all warp or block the paths of spiritual energy, so of course she worried about Jiang Wanyin. But his energy moved freely and Wei Wuxian’s golden core was strong as ever.

‘It really worked,’ she sighed, relieved. There were any number of things that could have gone wrong, after all. ‘I should find a way to tell Wei Wuxian. He’ll be happy.’ She pressed her cheek to Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder. ‘You are so very loved, Jiang Wanyin, and the proof is spinning inside you. I wish I could tell you that.’

She lay like that, pressed against his warmth, arm around him with her hand resting on his stomach, and dozed fitfully until the first weak glimmers of dawn brightened the sky outside their window. As the sun rose higher, he shifted and made a soft noise, protesting the change in light, and it startled her awake. She started to draw her hand away.

He murmured, “A-Qing,” with the hushed and jumbled tone of one still dreaming. She froze, her heart pounding to hear such an intimate name from his lips.

What could she call him in return? She was more awake, more aware, and wasn’t much of an endearment type. A-Yuan and A-Ning were exceptions; she couldn’t make herself say ‘A-Cheng,’ not yet.

He started to roll toward her and she shifted to give him space, but he fumbled about with one hand to keep her close. His grip was loose and he didn’t open his eyes at all. He didn’t say anything, just made a demanding noise, and pulled her back into his arms as he settled onto his back.

Wen Qing rested her head on his chest, the fine fabric of his sleeping clothes beneath her cheek. Her hand was still on his stomach and she idly ran her fingers over him, from lower dantian to above his navel. She could feel the silky texture of cloth, the heat of his body, and when she pressed her senses further, the thrum of his golden core.

His shirt hitched up, not entirely by accident, and she thought, ‘I shouldn’t let this go any further.’ But “shouldn’t” wasn’t the same as “won’t” and she let her fingers touch his skin. He breathed a small sigh that cut right through her.

“What are you dreaming of now?” she whispered, unable to hold back.

“You.” He opened one eye, just a little. She started at his sudden response. Not asleep at all, then!

He put his own hand over hers, trapping her against his body. It was the hand with Zidian on it, and the metal was warm on her skin. She pressed a kiss to his chest.

“It’s early,” she said. “You should keep dreaming a while longer.”

He grunted in protest and pulled her closer, half on top of him. He seemed tense beneath her. “As if I could sleep through this.”

Wen Qing shift against him, sliding her thigh between his to confirm her suspicions. She hid a smile against his shoulder.

“What am I going to do with you, Jiang Wanyin?” she teased as she rubbed her leg against his growing erection. “Becoming like this so easily.”

“Only for you,” he said.

She didn’t quite believe him, but it was a pretty sentiment. She kissed his neck and ran a hand over his chest. “You’ve been very good for me, haven’t you?”

The moan he let out at that was deep and rumbling. His erection throbbed, straining against his pants. The thought of feeling him get harder because of her? It was alluring. She shifted again.

This was probably not what Granny and Aunty had meant when they told her to be a bit spoiled.

“So good to me,” he moaned, and something in the way he said it made her- or at least the part of her that played at being Baoshan Sanren- ashamed.

‘He trusts me,’ she thought, and it made tears well in her eyes. Someday, he would find out about his core and that trust would be ruined, because she held no illusions about that. Secrets were almost always found out. The thought of losing his trust, losing this, was like a pang in her heart.

‘Will I let this go on? Will I touch him like this, knowing what I did to him? To Wei Wuxian?’ He made a soft sound of protest when she stopped moving, and he moaned her name.

‘I will,’ she realized. ‘I’m already in this deep. And I want him again.’

She surged up to kiss him, wanting to hide her secrets, forget them, and drown in Jiang Wanyin’s trust while she could. He returned the kiss with fervor.

This kiss was long and lingering, and later on, it was the one that Wen Qing remembered most clearly and most often when she stole a few moments to herself. His touch was firm and hot. She couldn’t feel his teeth at all for a change and she thought, ‘This is the type of kiss in stories. This type of kiss could go on forever.’

(Oh, she liked her nippy young man just fine, but there was a time for that and it was not every single kiss. She was thrilled he realized it without prompting from her.)

When they broke apart, for all kisses must end at some point, he held her close. “I want you,” he said.

“I’m aware,” she told him. His arousal was hot against her thigh, after all.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“You can.” She could guess what he wanted, even though he didn’t say. But she would give him anything. For the secrets she kept. For her family that he was feeding through his gifts. For the young man who could have loved her.

She sat up and let him pull her sleep shirt over her head. It ended up on the floor as she wriggled out of her pants. Jiang Wanyin shoved his own pants down and nearly off, and Wen Qing graciously didn’t mention he looked ridiculous, with them bunched around one ankle and his shirt still on. He was eager and she appreciated that.

She straddled his thigh again, grinding against him as she ran her hands over his stomach. He clasped her wrists and pulled her close to kiss him, and she was back where she started, half draped over him with Zidian warm against her skin. He kissed her, long and passionate, one hand holding her close and the other stroking her shoulder.

Wen Qing ran her fingers down his torso, gliding over the silk of his shirt until she reached skin. He shivered, and she was close enough to feel his erection jump.

It was too tempting not to touch. Her fingers ghosted over him, up and down his length. His breath hitched and his hips bucked in a way that was tremendously gratifying. She smirked against his lips and did it again.

He squeezed her tightly and called her “A-Qing” again. He shifted like he wanted to roll them over but Wen Qing was comfortable where she was. She rocked her hips against his thigh and closed her hand around his erection. That was enough to convince him to stay on his back.

It wasn’t long before her desire made his leg slick where she ground against him. His hands played along her back. She worked his erection in one hand, but as she leaned over to kiss her way down his body, the head brushed against her chest. His hips jerked at the contact, straining for more. She brushed him against her breast again as an experiment. It was rather nice, the hotness of him against her nipple, and although he didn’t jolt like before, he did make a pleased little hum.

‘That will be worth exploring, someday. But for now…’ She straddled his leg, bracing herself on her hands and rocking her hips into him. His right hand fell to her thigh. His left hand went to his erection and he looked at her.

“Wen Qing,” he said, his tone demanding.

Well. If he was going to be that way, she would be demanding right back. “Keep your hands on me.”

“Come closer, then. I’m waiting for you.” He held his erection upright as he stroked himself.

She paused a moment, grinding her wet sex against his thigh, just to make him wait. She inched forward until the knee between his legs was so close to his scrotum, she could feel the warmth of his skin. He held his breath the whole time.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” she said, teasing him with his title. She leaned up to press her breasts against him and whisper against his lips. “Sometimes you have to ask for things you want.”

He swallowed roughly. His erection jolted between their stomachs. “Will you touch me, Wen-guniang?”

“Good.” She sat up and shifted so his hips were between her legs, his erection trapped beneath her lower lips but not inside, not yet. He put his hands on her thighs and she rolled her hips again, this time against his straining erection.

“Thank you,” he moaned.

“Your hands,” she said. “Higher.”

He started to slide his palms up her thighs but stopped himself short. “I thought we had to ask before we touched.”

He meant it teasingly, but so soon after feeling his golden core- Wei Wuxian’s golden core, inside him without his knowledge- it hit Wen Qing more like an accusation. She leaned down, close enough to kiss his cheek, to hide her face before guilt touched her expression. “Yes, we should ask,” she choked out. “May I kiss you, Jiang-zongzhu?”

“Always,” he said. “For that, you don’t need to ask.”

She started lightly, touching her lips to his. He opened up for her immediately and deepened the kiss, his arms enfolding her. His embrace was fevered and it chased any other thought out of her mind.

“Will you…” he said between kisses, “Wen-guniang, Wen Qing, will you let me inside you? Can’t you feel-“

“I can.” She rocked into him again so he could feel her, how ready she was for him. Then she reached down to steady him and pushed against him. It was just as awkward as the first time, but also just as nice, with his soft, encouraging gasps in her ear and the stretch as he filled her. She moved, up and down, letting him deeper inside.

“Will you touch me, too, Jiang Wanyin?” She guided his hand between her legs. “Here. Like you did last night.”

“Was that good?” he asked, sliding his fingers against her.

“Very.” She sat up a little, to give him better access and so she could see his face. The change in angle let him deeper inside her. She saw every little reaction- the way his eyes fluttered close, his lips parted in another moan. “So loud, Jiang Wanyin! Do I feel that good?”

“So good,” he said, his hands falling to her hips. “So good to me.”

His words brought the golden core and her guilt about the secret rushing back again. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see the adoration in his face. ‘How did I ignore this earlier? Make me forget, dammit!’ She leaned back down to capture him in a searing kiss.

She didn’t forget, but she certainly pretended. She pretended there was nothing between them but the burn of desire. She pretended her hands on his body were only those of a lover, and never a doctor, even though she ached to feel how his golden core spun during their passion. She pretended they would be together after the morning faded to noon, that she wouldn’t be going back into hiding, that the silver hairpiece he’d put in her hair the day before was a real courting gift and not a trinket to be sold for clothes money. She pretended her eyes didn’t burn with unshed tears, and there was no desperation in her kisses.

(How easily he let himself cry earlier, even if it was quickly hidden! She wasn’t sure she could let go of her pride long enough, not in front of him.)

Oblivious to any of those thoughts, Jiang Wanyin reached for her, one hand between them as he tried to tease pleasure out of her, his other hand roaming over her as if memorizing her body. His sounds were soft and restrained, like he was holding himself back. Wen Qing didn’t dare open her eyes, too nervous about breaking the illusion she built in her head, too afraid of meeting his gaze and finding tenderness again.

But she didn’t stop. Her mind may have been spinning in all directions, but her body still ached for release.

“Please,” she sighed into his lips. His fingers were clumsy, the angle awkward with their bodies so close together, but he tried obliged her. Soon, she sat up, bracing herself above him. She grabbed his wrist and held his hand in place as she rode him, her whole body trembling as she neared her climax. Jiang Wanyin’s other hand went to her hip, Zidian pressing a mark into her skin.

He bucked up into her, and she bit back the keening cry building inside her. She put one of her hands on top of his and rocked her hips, careful to move with him this time.

“A-Qing,” he groaned, like that soft touch was more than he could stand.

She opened her eyes, unwilling to hide any longer, not when his voice sounded so awestruck. His lips were parted though his eyes were closed. His shirt had gotten hiked up when her hands were roaming and his scars were on full display but he was too focused on her to care. ‘That is the most ridiculous face I’ve ever seen him make,’ she thought, ‘and it’s beautiful.’

She worked her hips, hands on his chest, and smiled down at him fondly. “Jiang Wanyin,” she said in a low, breathy voice.

His eyes flicked open when he heard his name, and the sight must have been something because he cried out, “A-Qing!” as he tensed. He pressed down with his hands, burying himself in her with a choked moan. Wen Qing rode out his orgasm, eyes squeezed shut from the sheer pleasure of feeling him lose himself, his fingers firmly against her clit, until she came, thankfully only moments later. She collapsed on top of him, spent, and they lay entwined while they caught their breath.

“Wen Qing,” he said, his voice low and a bit hoarse and full of wonder. “Thank you.”

She hummed her own gratitude and stroked his arm before she slid off him. She decided she hated the moment when he left her body, and the cold of their mess on her thighs, but she liked the lethargic warmth of afterglow. She liked the feel of his skin under her hand, even the ridges of his scars. She would do this in the future, if she could get him alone.

Once she could stand on her blissfully weakened knees, she fetched a basin and cloth to clean them up before the sun rose too much higher. He watched her, eyes hooded and a tiny smile on his lips.

“You are lazy this morning, Jiang-zongzhu,” she said as she set the items down.

“Nonsense. I’m just enjoying the moment properly.”

“Excuses,” she teased (She was glad they both relaxed enough for teasing. It wasn’t their natural state, after all). She wet the cloth and patted his leg. She really should have washed up herself first, but her instincts were to care for someone else.

Jiang Wanyin interrupted her ministrations, coaxing her down for a surprisingly gentle kiss. She started to straighten and froze. A glint of silver called to her on the floor.

“Oh!” She knelt down and crawled a step to retrieve it. “The hairpin I dropped. I’ve found it for you,” she said, sitting back on her calves, but Jiang Wanyin wasn’t looking at the pin in her hand. He had rolled over and half sat up to stare at her, eyes hungry, with his bottom lip between his teeth. “Jiang Wanyin?” she prompted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “From every angle.” And Wen Qing flushed to think about how lewd she must have looked from where he sat, on her hands and knees with his spend dripping between her lower lips, like she had no shame at all.

“Take the pin,” she demanded, looking away from him. He obliged her, setting the pin aside. Then he pulled her up into his arms.

“I mean it. You’re beautiful, and if I could spend the whole day fucking you, I would.”

“Don’t be silly.” She ignored his rude phrasing in favor of practical considerations. “We’d need to eat at some point, for one, and you’d be expending far too much of your yang energy. As it is, when you get back to Lotus Pier, you should meditate for a while. I wouldn’t recommend another sexual encounter for at least…” He was young and his energy surprisingly well-aligned considering his difficult disposition. His qi would be perfectly rebalanced in a few hours. But the thought that he might go out and find himself another partner perturbed her.

“A month,” she told him. “No sexual activity, no other bed companions for a month.”

“Is that your diagnosis, Doctor Wen?” There was something in his voice, something rough. Had he caught on to her? But when she looked in his eye, there was no censure there. Just a lack of the usual tension creases and a sparkle.

‘He’s teasing me back!’ she realized. So Wei Wuxian wasn’t the only brother with a sense of humor! She played along, holding herself with a professional air despite her nudity. She put two fingers on his wrist and felt his spiritual pathways (still in good order, thankfully).

“One month,” she ‘confirmed.’ “You’re in good health but you’ve expended quite a bit of energy.”

“And what about the one who received that energy? Will she be well?” He looked at her with real concern then, taking her hand in his.

“She’ll be fine,” Wen Qing said, her voice catching. “She happily received everything you gave her.”

He let out a small moan and yanked her into his arms again, and just sat there with his cheek against her hair. She rested a hand on his chest.

“I would give her everything if I could,” he said. “If I find a way-“

“Don’t make promises the world won’t let you keep,” Wen Qing scolded, slipping out of his grasp and getting to her feet. “Now let’s finish getting ready. We have people waiting for us.”

---

Wen Qing arrived at the foot of the Burial Mounds shortly after noon, alone, dressed in her sedate grey and brown robes. The flowy peach dress she wore the day before was hidden at the bottom of her qiankun pouch, which was so stuffed that she almost couldn’t close it.

“Leave a message at the tree where we first kissed,” Jiang Wanyin had said as he dropped her off, after flying her close as he dared on his sword. “If you need anything I can provide…”

“Anything he could provide” was less than what she needed, and they both knew it. He never finished the sentence.

“You may leave messages if you pass by again,” she said, pressing a kiss to his bottom lip, hand on his cheek. “But be circumspect. That tree is near the main path and Wei Wuxian goes to town far more than I.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he snapped. But he pulled her into another one of those crushing hugs, and she melted against him.

‘I shouldn’t have encouraged him. But how will I live without this again?’

Reluctantly, she left the warm circle of his arms and made her way up the path. She glanced behind her only once.

Jiang Wanyin was still standing where she left him, watching her walk away. Like he had after Dafan Mountain, or after she returned that comb. She wanted to run back into his arms. She wanted to yell and chase him away.

She wanted him to follow her, for a change.

‘We are both fools,’ she thought. ‘Fools with too much pride.’

She smiled, closed-lipped and sweet, and once she was certain he was not moving, was letting her go, she turned back to her own path.

----

“Thank you for waiting for me,” she said as her family gathered around to greet her. “I had something to take care of. But my patient was grateful and sent back some gifts.” She opened her qiankun pouch gave the first bolt of linen to Aunty.

A short time later, Wei Wuxian emerged from his cave, summoned by the smell of lunch. A-Yuan clung to Wen Qing’s leg, chewing messily on treat he had badgered her into giving him before the meal, and A-Ning smiled as best he could, obviously glad everyone was home. Wen Qing’s heart nearly burst to see them all.

“You… didn’t run into Jiang Cheng again, did you?” Wei Wuxian asked her, cautiously hopeful.

She looked down at A-Yuan so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. He has things to do, and it would be quite a coincidence to keep seeing him, wouldn’t it? I don’t know why I asked.” Wei Wuxian laughed, brittle and sickly.

‘He needs to go home to his real family,’ Wen Qing thought, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. ‘Someday. Someday, I won’t have to keep those brothers’ secrets.’

But for now, she had more gifts to give out, and a family to spoil, just a little.

-------

Ending Notes: Originally, this was a mere interlude, and canon continues uninterrupted, barreling along toward tragedy despite a few stolen moments of happiness. But! I got several different ideas for how canon could diverge from this point, and I'm pretty excited to work on at least one of them (which is why I decided to finish editing this chapter and post it). I don't know when it will be finished or even which idea will get worked on when, but I don't intend to give up on it until at least one is posted. Wish me luck on that!

Thank you for reading!

#the untamed #cql #chen qing ling #chengqing #jiang cheng/wen qing #jiang cheng #wen qing #my writing #completed fic

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pollenat · 4 years ago

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“Nocturnal silence” | cjs.

➛ ITZY’s Lia. 2012!au.

➛ Word count: 1854.

➛ This short follows the events of “Liquid mirrors”.

The worst part about the overcrowded cabin has to be the snoring woman. The very same one that just a few hours ago complained about the lack of fresh brussels sprouts on a ship - the last ark of humanity after the end of the world. Humankind has gone mostly extinct, and she had the guts to be angry at frozen greens. Looking at her through half-closed lids, you’re itching to throw a pillow at the woman. Nothing can stop her from going on, like an old tractor, choking on its own engine every now and then. The very pillow you’re trying to deafen the noises with, does nothing to your sensitive ears. You’re growing more and more irritated with each passing second.

Others seem to not mind. You look down, at the bunk underneath yours, where a mother with her son are sound asleep. The boy has kicked thin blanket off of his body, as if to prove how much space he can take. His mother is lying on the very edge, somehow calm despite her tragic situation. A man, lying above the snoring woman, has earplugs. Lucky asshole.

Your body thrashes around for an hour or so. At least it feels like it. The duvet is in desperate need of changing, but who cares about laundry during the apocalypse? You’re all sticky from sweat, annoyed by incoming headache and ready to commit a murder, which is just a figure of speech, don’t worry. The fact that nobody else is as affected by the snoring? A perfect way to drive you insane.

At some point you can’t take it anymore - the night feels useless. You miss the rays of sunshine, the sign of life, the reason to stay away from the cabin. Tonight, just like many times before, you jump off of bed, barely avoiding the snoring woman’s husband. He has made himself a sleeping station on the ground. You wonder is he really asleep or just way more patient than you. Either way, you don’t plan on staying around a second longer. As soon as the door closes, you’re welcomed by sweet silence. It’s an odd contrast to the loud snoring. Its lack has you almost creeped out.

The floor is cold under your naked feet. To the point where you can’t touch it for longer than a few seconds. Jumping from one foot to another, you look down the dark hallway. Its only source of light are small windows in the cabins’ doors. Circle-shaped rays fall on walls, like headlights, showing you the way across narrow scene.

Nobody will mind you getting lost in the ship’s hallways, right? You’re just another survivor, struggling to find their place aboard the ark. There are no perspectives. Exploring it seems to be the most compelling thing one could busy themselves with. So you travel down the scene, stepping inside the circles of light and looking inside the cabins as you pass. There’s no other soul up. Everybody is sleeping. It’s sort of weird and you wonder whether it’s just a dream you’re stuck in. How come you’re the only one unable to fall asleep?

Humming some tune you faintly remember makes the night feel more bearable. You’re tired of the crowded spaces, of eyes settling on you, even if they’re just traveling. They’re a tiresome phenomenon that does nothing, but fuel your anxiety. The worst part? Aside from the night, there’s nowhere to escape. All-ocean has made sure of that.

Step by step, you move forward, never putting a foot down for longer than two seconds. You’ve already observed that, but now it reminds you of the past. The tiled floor of your balcony during Winter. Dusting used duvets while cursing at temperature. Welcoming the texture of a carpet with relief. Digging your toes into the fluff. It’s weird to miss carpets in the middle of the night, but you do. Their last reminder is the one snoring woman’s husband uses as his mattress, an object completely out of your reach. What interior designer forgot about additional carpets onboard a luxury ship?

In front of you a door opens. Some silhouettes leave their cabin in hurry. Hushed giggles resonate down the hallway. You can neither make out a sense to their conversation nor put faces to dark shapes. But they do sound familiar. The silhouettes disappear behind a corner in the hallway’s other end.

Heart beating fast, your steps speed up. A thought, string of memories, collection of pictures swims in the back of your head. Common sense is the only thing keeping you from describing them. Number 203 is meaningful, though it’s just a number.

You’re just by the door when it opens again.

“Oh!” Jisoo. Jisoo? Jisoo! “You scared me!” She laughs, eyes morphing into crescent moons. But as soon as her voice raises in volume, Jisoo covers her mouth, worried she will wake up other residents.

“I see there are more night owls around the ship?” You motion at where the two silhouettes, you can now safely identify, disappeared.

The girl looks in the same direction. Her eyes stay there for a longer time, while you watch her profile. Perhaps (you won’t admit it), you should be thanking the snoring woman for a chance to see Jisoo at a different time. Her hair is disheveled, but the little mess is a beautiful one. Eyes glossy, lips dry, t-shirt creased. She’s a painting you enjoy watching. Even when her smile disappears as she returns to facing you.

You grow nervous instantly, because the mood shifts and you slightly prefer the easy-going Jisoo to solemn and serious Jisoo. The easy-going one loves joking, which is much better, as it consists mostly of laughing at yourself and your inability to form proper sentences.

“Uh, yes. I don’t know why Ryujin and Yuna left though. They didn’t tell me. Probably to spy on Yeji.” Pause. “Or something...”

“So, are you going to follow them?” Jisoo seems to consider your question.

Then she steers the conversation to your person.

“I don’t know- Why are you up? Came to spy on Yeji too?”

“As if it has ever bothered me what's Yeji doing at night. I have my own problems, mainly, a snoring roommate.”

Jisoo nods her head in understanding, mouth opened to build on the effect. You’re stuck in nocturnal silence, both scared to break it. Frankly, you don’t even have any idea where to go from here. Maybe you should just return to exploring the ship, but then again, it’s not everyday that you catch Jisoo alone.

“I’ve been walking around, you know, exploring.”

Again, she nods.

“So you’re looking for some place to rest?”

“In a way, yes. Do you happen to know any?” She smiles.

“Actually, I do.”

You’re surprised by her boldness. Jisoo lies down on her bed and you’re watching her with an awkward surprise.

“Don’t make it weird, I’m just sharing a bed with you. Okay, perhaps it does sound weird. But we’re just going to sleep, not- do anything weird? Okay, ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” To be honest, her joke doesn’t make you feel any better about the situation.

After a defeated sigh, you walk over to the bed, eyes never once meeting hers. Jisoo holds the edge of her duvet. She’s patiently waiting until your stiff posture joins her side. Then she slowly follows your lead.

The first thing you register is the smell - Jisoo’s smell. It’s an overwhelming sensations you’re eager to breathe in after many attempts at small doses. Now that you can experience it in its full form, you can safely say it’s bound to become one of your favorite sensations. It causes you excitement, one that you’re embarrassed to show. Maybe she will call you a creep if you don’t stop yourself from smiling? Suddenly worried, you look for other things to focus on. Like the coldness of her skin against your left hand’s knuckles. Frankly, it’s stuck. The bed is meant for one person and you can’t just sprawl across its surface.

A moment of hesitation passes. Then you turn to lie on your side, facing Jisoo.

At first you’re both stuck in shy silence. Jisoo’s looking down, perhaps thinking over something. But you don’t plan on disturbing her. It’s as if you’ve forgotten your tongue - you can’t even feel it. The darkness is all-consuming and you wish to stay hidden in its embrace, so Jisoo never learns of how hard it is for you to say a word, but also look away.

“So.”

Her eyes, so hesitant to meet yours, finally reach them. She’s surprised to find you staring back.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad?”

“Yeah, how bad is lying next to me on a bed?” Dark eyes pull away to avoid you.

Your brain orders you to be smooth. “It’s not bad.” isn’t the type of smooth you had in mind.

“But not good either? Ah, forget I said anything-” Jisoo laughs nervously through clenched teeth. “I’m just nervous. Because I made you come here with me! That’s why I’m nervous.”

“Jisoo,” The silence returns. “you don’t have to be nervous around me. I know, my magnetic personality and good looks are to die for,” She snickers in disbelief at your words. “but I’d rather you felt comfortable around me. Which doesn’t mean our current bed situation- I mean, I don’t mind it.”

There’s a blunt taste on your tongue. As if you have just finished your entry for a spelling bee and were in dire need of some water. Some actually meaning a lot.

“Do you think your roommates will make fun of us?”

“Definitely.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Silence.

“Um-” She dares a look into your eyes before dropping them again. “Let’s go to bed then, hm?”

You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep next to her. At least not with the possibility of seeing her face at the cost of merely opening your eyes. Jisoo seems to have the same idea. Her turning around causes a way too powerful sting somewhere in your abdomen. Before you know it, instead of her soft face structure, you’re looking at void-like black of her hair.

Your left hand sticks to your chest, but what about the right one? Keeping it on your thigh feels tiring. Placing it on Jisoo’s side? Too wonderful and too dangerous. Even if you’re itching to offer yourself, you cannot imagine the amount of courage it would demand from you. Instead, you rest it in the hold of your left hand. That way, perhaps, it will be stopped before any unconscious action takes place.

For a moment, you wonder, would she mind? Still, it’s a question you have no answers for. You also have no idea what will happen in the morning. How will the girls react? What will Jisoo do? How will you feel in the morning and will your left hand let go because of that damn itching...

Perhaps, the snoring woman is weaker than your true enemy - your vivid imagination.

“Goodnight Jisoo.”

“Goodnight.”

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#itzy fanfiction #itzy scenarios #itzy imagines #itzy fluff #itzy blurbs #itzy au #lia fanfiction #lia scenarios #lia imagines #lia fluff #lia blurbs #lia au #girl groups #pollenat's shorts

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caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 4 years ago

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Peripheral 7.5

Pairings: OT7 x reader; Taehyung x reader; Taehyung x Jimin

Series Summary: An unfortunate accident leaves Kim Namjoon with amnesia, and Big Hit, BTS, ARMY, and the entire world is desperate to help him regain his memories and knowledge. Fortunately, a new genetics company has successfully created a system to alter our brains into human databases which can help someone regain knowledge and memories through a simple input/output exchange. Can this new invention give us back our beloved leader?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Idol AU

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Cursing, oral (female receiving), teasing, groping, bisexual overtones

Word Count: 2K+

Taehyung POV

All that skin...so soft, so smooth, so pretty…

Y/N’s thighs were rubbing together slightly and her hips lifted off the mattress as she released a barely audible moan. The oversized RJ shirt covering her body shifted further and further up her thighs and Taehyung licked his lips at every inch that was revealed before him.

“Tae,” she breathed out. “Please, touch me.”

Taehyung groaned at the needy tone in her voice and palmed himself over his pajama pants. The impressive tent he was rocking was barely contained behind the thin fabric. Y/N’s seductive movements caused his dick to twitch to life with a copious amount of precum pooling on his pajama pants,

Probably should’ve worn underwear.

Y/N reached out and pulled on Taehyung’s forearm, encouraging him to get closer to the bed. As soon as his thighs made contact with the edge of the mattress, Y/N was already trying to pull him onto the bed.

“Y/N-noona,” Taehyung chastised playfully. “You should be resting.”

“Rest with me, Tae-Tae,” she pleaded sweetly. “Come on, I’ll let you be the big spoon.”

Taehyung looked around the room in search of another person, but alas, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, even though Taehyung could swear his hyung was just in the room a moment ago. Now, it was just him and Y/N.

Big spoon, little spoon.

There was a seven second pause before Taehyung released an exhale full of excitement and climbed onto the bed, hovering over Y/N’s barely clad body. The RJ on the shirt slowly morphed into a Tata graphic, and Taehyung was incredibly pleased.

It’s not just about being cute, it’s about being unique.

“Tae,” Y/N sighed. “I need you.”

“Do you now?” Taehyung grinned. “Where do you need me, beautiful?”

Y/N’s smile increased in brightness as she reached down to remove the oversized T-shirt from her body. The golden skin that was revealed nearly blinded Taehyung as he drank in every centimeter of her glorious body. His breath caught as she lowered one hand down her stomach and straight into her dripping folds. Taehyung gulped as her fingers split into a V shape to reveal her swollen jewel hidden in the folds. It glistened enticingly in the dim lamplight of the room, and Taehyung felt his throat dry up in response.

“I need you right here, Tae-Tae,” Y/N purred. “Be a good boy and help me out, yeah? Are you my good boy?"

"Fuck yeah, you know I am," Taehyung responded gruffly. "I'm a good boy, I swear."

“Show me how good you are, Tae,” Y/N pleaded. “Show me what that silver tongue can do.”

Taehyung happily situated himself between Y/N’s legs and started licking, kissing, and nibbling his way to her flushed core. The trails of arousal he swiped away with his tongue just made his dick ache even more.

She’s fucking delicious.

Once Taehyung’s lips made contact with Y/N’s hidden jewel, she released the most incredible sound from her throat. It was airy and light and full of passion and sweetness. Taehyung wanted to record it and play it on repeat so he could always have it bouncing around his ear drums. Every erotic moan she released just increased his desire to have more of her in his mouth, in his ears, in his world.

He dragged his tongue across every millimeter of her sex, not allowing a single drop to go to waste. The more he licked and slurped, the wetter she became, and the flavor of musky fruit pirouetted along his taste buds delightfully. Y/N’s essence rivaled the most exotic fruits and Taehyung was lost in the extravagant taste on his palate.

How can one person be this unbelievably sweet?

“Tae,” Y/N groaned. “Kiss me.”

Taehyung placed one last lingering kiss on her glistening lips before traveling to the ones above. He slotted himself between her legs and allowed his girthy erection to nestle on top of her throbbing sex. She hissed out of sensitivity, but the fabric was so soft that it wasn’t causing any discomfort. With measured precision, Taehyung dipped his lips to capture Y/N’s and he began languidly teasing her with small kisses and playful tongue flicks.

Y/N’s hand slid between their bodies to grasp Taehyung’s warm length over his pajama pants and he groaned as soon as she applied any pressure to his turgid length. Her delicate hands stroked him up and down while he continued drawing small whines and moans from Y/N’s mouth. The numerous rings on her hand confused him at first because he didn’t remember her wearing much jewelry, but he quickly dismissed the thought when Y/N sucked especially hard on his bottom lip. He moaned out in response and pushed his cock harder into her ring clad grip.

“Tae,” Y/N gasped as his lips traveled across her jaw and to her neck. “Ah, Tae.”

“That’s right, beautiful,” Taehyung whispered. “Say my name.”

She continued to chant his name in a hushed, breathy voice and her hand tightened around his shaft, causing him to groan and buck forward against her upper thigh. Taehyung nipped at her earlobe and made his way back to her lips, which were fuller than he remembered. In fact, they seemed to have doubled in size in the last few minutes. He sucked on the bottom one, puzzled by its plush texture.

What’s going on? Am I imagining things?

Y/N’s other hand traveled into his hair and pulled gently on the golden locks, desperate to recapture his attention.

“Tae,” Y/N whined cutely. “Why aren’t you touching me?”

Taehyung chuckled at the pout evident in her tone and he lowered one of his hands to palm her plump ass. It was unbelievably firm and warm in his palm and he used his leverage to rut against her even more, drawing more breathy moans out of her with every shallow thrust. As a matter of fact, her ass felt firmer than he thought it would.

Weird, but nice. She’s got a dancer’s ass.

“Tae,” Y/N squeaked out. “Tae, Tae,”

“What is it, beautiful?” Taehyung grunted as his pushed himself against her bare sex. “Do you want me to put it in? Tell me you want my thick cock inside of you. Say the word and it’s all yours.”

“No, Tae,” Y/N’s voice deepened slightly. “I want you to wake up.”

Did she just say she wanted me to wake up?

“Wake up, Tae,” Y/N persisted while stroking him. “Wake up.”

Taehyung wrinkled his forehead in confusion and took a moment to clear his lust-crazed mind. Her voice didn’t sound the same. It was almost like she sounded like someone else, someone he knew very well.

It couldn’t be his voice. That’s impossible.

As he pulled his face up from Y/N’s neck, he was pleased at the bright pink blossom he’d left behind, but that elation was short lived as he looked down and realized Y/N was no longer beneath him.

“Taehyungie,” Jimin smirked up at him. “Wake up.”

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

Abruptly, Taehyung lifted his head and realized that he was still on the couch in the living room. He glanced at the lap he was in and repressed the urge to yelp. He looked up and realized that Jimin was giving him the strangest look and he gulped nervously before pulling himself into a sitting position, grabbing a pillow to cover the erection begging to be released from the confines of his pajama pants. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before he met Jimin’s curious eyes. As soon as he did, he immediately hoped that he hadn’t done anything to Jimin to hint at what his dreams consisted of.

“Are you ok, Taehyungie?” Jimin asked sweetly, while scooting closer to him. “You looked like you were having a nightmare. You kept moaning and moving against the couch. Was something chasing you?”

After releasing a nervous giggle, Taehyung shook his head and breathed out a sigh of relief. Jimin lifted a hand to rub at Taehyung’s shoulder, trying to ease the tension he could see tormenting his soulmate. Fortunately, Jimin didn’t seem to have a clue about what just occurred in Taehyung’s dream, so it appeared as though he was in the clear.

“I’m ok, Jiminie,” Taehyung assured his soulmate. “Just a weird dream, that’s all.”

Still though...what the hell was that all about?

Footsteps were heard coming from the hallway, and Yoongi appeared at the threshold looking less pissed than before. His facial expression gave off a serious vibe, but his eyes were sparkling with contentment.

Oh man, something happened between him and Y/N, I just know it.

“Hey, guys,” Yoongi greeted them with a sigh. “I’m sorry about my harsh words earlier, but I was really worried that we’d harmed our guest and it really upset me. I apologize if I hurt any of your feelings, but I didn’t want Y/N to have a bad impression of us. She’s only been here a few days, and we haven’t been taking care of her properly.”

Everyone offered up an apology at once and Taehyung almost missed Jimin’s hand slipping down and under the pillow on his lap. Delicate ringed fingers slid over the hardened outline of his erection over his pajama pants and Taehyung resisted the urge to yelp. His head snapped over to look at Jimin, but Taehyung found the cherubim's eyes locked onto Yoongi.

What the fuck are you doing, Jimin?

Yoongi lifted his hands and quieted everyone down and then leaned against the kitchen counter to look at them.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook piped up. “Is Noona ok?”

“Yes, Jungkookie,” Yoongi smiled softly. “She’s awake and she’s ok. She used some machine to run some tests on herself, but we have to wait for the results. Whatever fever she had earlier is gone now, but she’s feeling a little weak. She will probably be in bed all day.”

“Can we go in and talk to her now, Yoongi-hyung?” Hoseok asked. “Would she be ok with that?”

“I told her that you needed to talk to her and she’s waiting for you now,” Yoongi replied. “Visiting hours are open, but please, only go in a few at a time. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Hobi-hyung and I will go first,” Jungkook spoke up. “We want to tell her about the weird stuff that’s been happening.”

Taehyung was about to speak up, but Jimin’s hand retreated from his lap and he was momentarily distracted.

“You guys go ahead,” Jimin suggested. “Taehyungie and I will go in and see her after you’re done. If we all take turns, she won’t have to be alone unless she wants to.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Yoongi agreed. “Where’s Jin? Still sulking?”

“I sent him to his room,” Hoseok explained. “I told him he’s grounded until we find out more information from Bang PD-nim.”

“Ok,” Yoongi nodded. “I’m going to go shower and change while you two visit. It’s been a long morning and I’m exhausted. Tell Y/N that I’ll be back to bring her something to eat after I’m done.”

With that, Yoongi turned around and made a beeline for his room and Hoseok and Jungkook followed him into the hallway, heading to the end of the hall to Y/N’s room.

Left alone, Taehyung readjusted himself on the couch as Jimin turned sideways and stared at him with a neutral expression on his face. The living room was eerily quiet and Taehyung zoned out listening to the sound of the air conditioning kicking on once again.

“So,” Jimin’s voice broke through the tension in the room. “Do you want to tell me why you were dry humping the couch while nuzzling my dick earlier, Taehyungie?”

Taehyung inhaled too quickly at Jimin’s sudden question and ended up coughing uncontrollably. When he was finally able to speak, he met Jimin’s fiery gaze and gasped at the seductive grin blooming on his face.

Fuck...

Author’s Note: I finally got back to this story again. I’m hitting a stride with the plot and I am going to start working on the next big chapter since I already have most of it outlined. Things are getting a little sticky in the VMin corner, and I think the dynamics of their relationship are finally evening out. Should make the next couple of chapters very interesting. Thank you to @xxxille-girlxxx, my gorgeous Goguma, for Beta reading this for me. Borahae, soulmate!

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PERIPHERAL MASTERLIST

Caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma’s MASTERLIST

#peripheral #bts smut #kim taehyung #taehyung #v taehyung #bts v #V BTS TAEHYUNG #bts fanfic #bts fic #vmin

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

A ROTTMNT FanFiction: Support System Part 1

This is a gift (Part 1 of a few chapters) for a special friend of mine @jadethest0ne who i hope never forgets what a wonderful person and friend she is.

Also I”m warning you now, this story is going to have a lot of medical incidences, which will include blood, stitches, and many other things. Including allergic reactions. If this makes you uncomfortable do not read. But its no more intense then what you’d see in a Med Drama (I think so?I don’t actually watch those. Except Scrubs, does that count? I love Scrubs)

Summary: Leo always understood his role in the family. Ever since he was a child, he was going to be the one who helped his brothers and heal them after their worst pains. But what if that wasn’t enough anymore?

Pairings: OH sure you can come look! * picks up flaming tree branch* If you dare

Characters: Leonardo, Donatello, Splinter, Raphael, Michelangelo

Genre: Hurt Comfort, friends family With a smidgen of angst

“Donnie catch!!!”

Even though he was seven years old, Donnie had had enough natural instinct at this point to grab the book he had been reading (twice as thick as Raphies head) and summersault over the back of his beanbag chair in time for a large brick to land where he had been with a painful ‘thud’. Donnie peered at the thrown object before frowning at the perpetrator in a large red jersey, “Raphie what did we talk about the reading bean bag?”

“To, uh.” Raphie’s eyes crossed as they usually did when he was asked a question. Leo said it was because Raph didn’t like to t hint. But Donnie knew it was just because Raphie knew if he played dumb people would stop asking him things he didn’t want to answer, “throw things at you when you’re sitting on it? Look at my jersey!” He spun around to show the back, where Raphie marked out players name (with what looked like green jello) and wrote ‘Ghost Bear’ in its place (written in pudding) “See?! Isn’t this great?!!”

“Not great enough to throw a brick at me.”

“You’re right! I should of thrown more!!”

Don puffed up his cheeks so hard that his glasses misaligned, he wanted to say something to deter the possibility of having to dodge a downpour of bricks (again) when a crashing sound came from the living room followed by loud crying. A moment later Splinter was running out of the bathroom with only a shower curtain for a towel and head full of soap, “Whose hurt whose bleeding?!” He called sliding past the living room for a moment in a streak of soap before running in. Donnie was already hurrying after him with Raphie on his heels.

The source of the crying came from Mikey who was siting on the ground with a large cut on his scalp, probably the result of the broken lamp by his side, and the source of the louder crying came from Leo knelt by his side, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry-“ before looking to their father with a unnatural amount of tears pouring out of his eyes, “dad I think his skulls broken and now hh-his brain is leaking out!!!

“Blue its ok it’s just a cut.” Splinter hoisted Mikey up into his arms, looking his head over, “Mikey is it more hurty or scary?”

Mikey let out a small hiccup, wiping at his streaming eyes “S-scary.”

“Alright, lets Go get this fixed up my brave orange.” Splinter held Mikey to his chest, before reaching out and cupping Leo’s face in his free hand, “Blue it was a accident. He’ll be ok.” Giving the still weeping child a peck on scalp, before looking back at Leo who looked like he was going to be sick with concern, but Donnie was already out of the room and dragging a chair over to the fridge and using it to climb up, pulling open the freezer to the sight of several dark blue teddy bears lined up in the corner. He didn’t particularly like the texture of the ‘cool bears’ so he put his hands and his sleeved and made sure to grab the one with one ear and a green Jupiter Jim shirt that nearly froze his fingertips through his long hoodie sleeves and hurried back to the living room knowing Dad wouldn’t leave Leo’s side if he was this distressed, “Its ok Dad.” Donnie said, sitting by Leo, “I got him.” The minute Leo saw the teddy he stopped his loud weeping and grabbed it, hugging the icy cold bear to his chest and burying his face in it. Splinter let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you Purple.” He said rubbing his scalp, “Red can you brush up the broken pieces? I’ll clean them up later. I’m going to take care of Mikey.” He said standing up, carrying the youngest child out of the room. Raph, puffed up his chest, “Ok you two heard, I’m in charge so that –“

“Raphie go do what Dad said.” Don wasn’t in the mood to have Raphie power trip on him, before you can ask yes a child can power trip if they’re left in charge for longer then two minutes, the oldest brother puffed up his cheeks. But when Donnie gave a pointed look to Leo, who was still rocking softly with his face buried in the cold teddy bear, he seemed to understand what he was saying and went to go get a broom. Donnie stood up, brushing the dirt off his hoodie, “come on Leo, “ he said, taking up his brothers hand. The blue turtle stood up, trailing after Don with his face still pressed into his bear as though is the was the last life preserve to his sanity. Donnie pulled Leo into the kitchen, so he could grab another cool bear if the one his brother had defrosted too much. Leo he climbed up miserably onto the round diner couch and curled up into a little ball, “Leo you didn’t mean to hurt Mikey-“ There was some muttering but Don couldn’t understand, “Leo I cant hear you through LL Cool Bear-“ He tilted his head hoping to get a better read on what Leo was saying. Don climbed up onto chair to sit next to him, he barely had time to open his arms before Leo was curled up against him. With one hand still pressing Cool Bear against his face, Leo’s free arm hugged Donnie tightly to him. Though Donnie was usually the one who didn’t like physical contact, he also knew when his brothers needed him. So he took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around his still trembling brother.

There was a shuffle as Splinter came into the living room, his shower curtain now wrapped like a toga (he was probably sick of holding it up) with hair clips to hold it in place “Alright alright Oranges boo boo’s have been bandaged and kiss glass cleaned up where’s-“ before seeing the two curled up int eh boooth. With some effort he managed to squeeze in on the other side, “Blue it is alright no one is in trouble. Orange said he just tripped over the lamp cord-“ But like last time, the only response Leo was able to give was another muffled shout into the teddy bear.Splinter looked to Don, “how long has he been hiding his face?” Don shrugged in response “Alright time to pull out the big guns.” Splinter shuffled out of his seat and went to the fridge, “Oh Bbblllueeee, I have three red hots/ raisin cookies with your name on it.”

Leo gave out a loud sniff, raising his eyes from Cool Bear but refusing to pull it completely from his face or leave Don’s arms, “With hot sauce milk?”

Don could see Splinter struggle not to cringe , “of course my Blueberry! What a lovely,” the rat shivered, “Lovely combination.” He said pulling out a bottle of hot sauce and a gallon of milk, pouring out a glass. He visibly gulped before twisting open the hot sauce lid and pouring half its contents into he small class of milk. If he hadn’t been focused on being Leos’ support he would of laughed at Splinters struggle to maintain a straight face. But he managed to stir up a light pink glass of contaminated milk, “Purple would you like some?”

“Not hungry.” Purple shook his head, “Dad when are you going to get dressed? You’ve been eating a shower curtain for forever.”

“Oh this is nothing Purple. I spent the first four years in a shower curtain.” When Splinter set down the plate and glass Leo finally pulled his face away from his bear long enough to uncover his mouth, taking one of the abomination cookies (as donnie liked to call them) and dipping them into his hot sauce milk, pressing the bear to the other side of his face. “Blue, do you understand no ones in trouble? It was a accident-“

“B-but Mikey got hurt.” Leo’s eyes filled with tears again “He was bleeding, I don’t want my brothers to be in pain ever.”

Splinter gave a sigh that Don recognized a mile away, scooting closer and letting Leo snuggle into his fathers side, “Blue, you understand that you can not prevent your brothers from getting hurt? They are their own people, who happen to love playing rough.”

Don could see the tears reforming in Leo’s eyes as his breathing quickened, “No, I love them I don’t want them to get hurt ever.” Donnie scooted closer to rub at his shell, “how can I help them if I can’t keep them from getting hurt?”

“Well,” Splinter thought for a moment, “ as your father I don’t like seeing you boys get hurt either, when you have four boys running around in four directions it’s nearly impossible to do, but I instead make sure that I’m prepared for when you do get hurt. I have a first aid kit”

Leo sniffed, “You mean the booboo box?”

“I-yes. The booboo box. It has bandages, bandaids, and what ever I need incase one of my favorite boys gets hurt.”

Leo pugged up his cheeks, squeezing Don’s hand for all it was worth. Donnie could tell he was thinking something through-“Can I have one?”

“I.” Splinter paused, “I’m not sure Blue first aid kits aren’t really toys.” But the moment Leos eyes swelled with tears again their father sighed. While Their dad was easy going when it came to small things he rarely gave in to request like this. But later on Don would wonder if it was Leo’s sincerity that caused Splinter to smile “How about this, i’m not going to give you a full first aid kit now. But how about I give you a couple of bandaids to carry with you if you weld them responsibly. And you must tell me when your brothers are hurt as well, Ok?” Splinter he dug through eh med kit and pulled out a few Lou Jitsu bandaids, “If you prove you can be responsible with these, then we can talk about you getting a first aid kid later, is that a deal?”

Leo’s eyes widen to the size of monster truck tires, holding his free hand out taking the bandaids as though they were a treasure, “I-I’ll do it! I’ll be re’ponsible! I-I’ll keep my brothers safe!” He puffed up his chest. He pulled from donnie and stood up on i the chair, hugging his father rightly around his neck, causing their father to chuckle and hold him back , “I believe in you my little Blueberry.” Stroking the back of his head.

Of course Leo would hold his word, using his powerful bandaids only when needed, and going to get Splinter when he needed him. So next Christmas, when he received a first aid kit (albeit one that was been modified for a child to mess with safely) he smiled for days to come.

But on that day, donnie watched Splinter hold his brother who, just a hour ago, had been in the midst of a intense panic attack. Wouldn’t forget how he felt watching his brother. Unlike Leo, Donnie already had a understanding of the world that a child shouldn’t have. Wheel his brothers dreamt of what it would be like to go to the surface, Donnie knew what dangers would await them.

If they got hurt

If they got discovered

If they-

So the next time he earned enough ‘good stars’ to go to the library he not only got the books he knew wouldn’t arouse suspicion, he also picked up one he hoped he would never have to use.But one he would read over and over again till he ad the entire thing dedicated to memory.

He would be ready

He would protect Mikey

He would protect Raph

He would protect Splinter

He would protect Leo

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

(Seven years later)

Mikey looked around in panic, searching for a escape route. But before he could do anything Leo gave a mighty shriek of unknown animal origin (he had been going for something between a kitten and bat) and lunging forward. Mikey gave a yelp of surprise before falling back on the armchair. With his quarry trapped, Leo brought up his fingers in a claw form and attacked. His six fingers becoming weapons of death as he dug them into Mikeys sides, his brother burst out laughing, squirming In a desperate attempt to escape this assault, but Leo danced around the arm chair, both keeping Mikey trapped and attacking his most sensitive spots, “Submit to Leo the Nardo!!!! Submit to your older brother!”

“OK OK!!!’ Mikey kicked at his brother “You win!!!! You can pick the movie tonight!!!!!”

Leo drew his hands back allowing Mickey to finally breath, in between his barely kept remaining giggles. With a dramatic twist he turned to Donatello who was leaning against the wall watching this whole spectacle with one eyebrow raised, “And now, “Leo said in his best intimidating voice (as threatening as a fourteen year old whose voice still cracked once in a while), ‘“Two down, one to go. The boss battle.”

“Uh, shouldn’t Raph be the boss battle? He is the oldest”

“Puh-lease. Watch this.” Leo took a step back to look into the main room of the lair where Raph was lifting weights on the half pipe , Leo raised a eyebrow at him and immediately the largest brother burst into laughing again, rolling off his weight bench and onto the floor with enough force to send a soft tremble through the lair, “See? You jus look at him weird and he burst out laughing. That is why you are my last challenge.” Leo said with a dramatic point, “if I can conquer you, then we have no choice but to watch a movie of my choosing tonight!”

“It’s Little Women again isn’t it?” Donnie pulled out his phone with disinterest, “You posted twenty five quotes from little Woman on Fumlbr in the last hour, and I saw you taking a nap with your copy of the book on your face.”

“YES ITS LITTLE WOMEN!!!!!” Leo brought up his fingers up again, “make it easy on yourself brother, submit now.” Donatello let out a soft if maniacal chuckle, before Leo could ask what was going on something on the back of his cross-body belt shot up towards the ceiling as he shrieked in surprise hanging from some unknown inventions thatDonatello must of attached to his belt when he was tickle tackling Mikey. Leo crowed his arms with a pout, “well played Donatello.”

“Yes I know. And i’’ll let you down if you listen to my conditions.” Donnie gave him a small nudge on the forehead, making him start spinning in a slow circle, “One we watch a series of movies everyone likes, and in return I will not only buy you a carton of any ice cream you want, even if the name of it alone makes me physically sick, and I will let you try out your new jokes on me for, “ Don looked at his phone, “Five minutes.”

Ok, even Leo thought that was a good deal. But the loss of watching his favorite non Lou Jitsu / Jupiter Jim movie was still a blow to his still spinning heart. It must have been obvious because he heard Don sigh, and move over to be in his line of vision with his head tilted to keep eye contact with him at a somewhat up right level, “AND I promise to watch Little Women with you at a later time. The only reason I don’t want our brothers watching it is because they’re sensitive. I showed Mikey a drawing of a frowny face once and he cried for three days.”

Its one of the rare times the memory of one of his brothers crying makes Leo chuckle. But he can acknowledge Donnie is making an effort. Donnie wasn’t always the most open turtle when it comes to others, but the fact he was trying to make him happy sorta made him happy. While still hanging from the ceiling (How long was this rope?) He reached his hand out, “deal first favorite Donnie!”

Donnie shook his hand back, “No problem second favorite Leo.” He brought up his gauntlet and tapped the screen. Leo could hear whirring on his back as he was set on his feet, frowning with a large wrinkled pout on his face, “I’m going to get you to admit I’m your first favorite Leo someday I swear it Donnie.”

“Uh huh.” Don gives him a smug look that’s obviously mean to make him pout more (which it succeeds in doing). “Now if you heathens excuse me, I have a package coming in and I want to get to it before the rabid rabbits next door eat it.”without looking up, Donnie gave a half attempted peace sign before heading out of the living room. Leo crossed his arms and looked over to Mikey “I am his favorite Leo he just doesn’t want to admit it.’

Mikey wiped his finally dry eyes as one last laugh escaped him before looking up at Leo from his upside down spot on the arm chair , “whose his supposed first favorite Leonardo? Da’Vinci? “

“No, cause hes not alive anymore apparently he likes Leonardo DiCaprio more then me!” He crosses his arms,

Mikey giggled before sitting up, ‘“Actually, you know what? Donnies got a point, Leonardo DiCaprio might be my favorite Leo too.”

Leo Let’s out a loud offended gasp, “FOR MY HONOR!!!!” This time Mikey had the common sense to roll over the back of the arm chair when Leo came at him. Laughing as Leo chased him around the living room, throwing random pillows and bean bags to block his path. Mikey had ducked to run out of the living room when Raph appeared in the door way probably investigating the noise, Mikey let out a squeak of surprise bringing his hands up to bounce off Raph’s chest and roll behind him, “Raphie I need help!”

“Wh-“ poor Raph looked more confused then usual, “what Leo-“

“I’ve gotta punish Mikey!” Leo explained, ducking around him. But Mikey kept to the opposite site of Raph with a loud laugh, “Not if you can’t catch me!!!!!” Raph raised his arms over his head, probably to keep one of them from accidentally scratching themselves on his spikes , “Whoa! No playing ring around the raphie you two-“ eh said before letting out a small cough

Leo reached up and caught a hold of Raph’s arms like a parallel bar before tucking his legs up enough that Mikey didn’t have Tim to notice where he was and dropped down on him, “GOTCHA!!!!!’ Mikey shrieked in terror before laughing again, bringing up his elbows to protect his sensitive sides. Of course this time Leo hadn’t been planning on showing any mercy unless Mikey promised to cook him a batch of his famous jello filled cupcakes with mozzarella frosting, and if he just happened to get hot sauce it’d be even better-

That was before he heard a slight wheeze behind him, he was about to tell raph he had forgotten to take out his retainer again when that wheeze became a full on cough. Leo looked to his brother to see Raph with both hands pressed over his mouth, smothering the loud coughs that were now escaping his sweating face, “Raph?!” He climbed off Mikey and ent over to Raph’s side, “Raph do you need water?” Before noticing that his face, though normally squishy, had began to swell up in a way that made his heart stop, “He’s having a allergic reaction!” He said to Mikey now at his side with an equally anxious look on his face, ‘“How did he get peanut butter?! We keep it locked up!”

“I-“Mikeys eyes began to swim with tears, “I-I have a peanut butter sandwich earlier but I cleaned up after myself I swear!”

Oh frick, he must of still had peanut residue on his hands after he ran into Raph. Leos’ heart was already racing a mile a minute, Raph hadn’t had a allergic reaction to this volume since he first discovered his allergy. They were so careful with peanut-butter, “dad?!” He called loudly, digging around his satchel and pulling out his first aid kit. Epi pen, did he have one? He never thought o put one in, where did they keep them? Did they have any? How long before Raph’s throat swelled up completely?! Another loud cough escaped Raph causing Leo’s eyes to fill with tears-

He was so wrapped up in digging through his med kit that he barely noticed the sound of a box being dropped at the entrance to the lair. Not until Donnie was running past him, holding a beanbag at had been close to the entrance and swinging it around, “Raph sit.” He ordered, his free hand pushing down hard on Raph’s shoulder giving him little choice, In a fluid motion, he pulled out a epi-pen from his battle shell, pulled off the blue cap and slammed the point on the outside of Raph’s thigh. The effect was almost instantaneous as Raph took a loud deep breath, his airway finally giving him much needed oxygen, cleansing his lung with a few loud coughs before he sighed in relief. Raph’s face was still slightly swollen as he massaged his throat.

Don pulled out the pen and began to massage the injection point for a few seconds. His free hand rubbing Raph’s shoulder, “Nod if your airway is opening up.” Raph did as he was told, tears streaming down his face, Don looked to Mikey, “Micheal go get Raph’s blanket from his room and go get Dad.”

“I-I” Mikey looked at their biggest brother with his own tear filled eyes, “I-I’m so sorry Raphie-“

“Micheal.” Don added a edge to his voice that demanded Mikeys attention, “It was a accident, if you want to make up for it then go do as I say.” The youngest nodded and hurried out of the room.

Leo blinked, for a moment he had forgotten he even existed. His hand was still stuck in his med kit as though still hoping to find a epi pen he knew he didn’t have. He watched Don pull out a second epi pen from his battle shell and coach a trembling crying Raph through breathing. When Mikey returned with Splinter, Splinter wrapped the blanket around Raph’s shoulders and helped him up. Donnie made the recommendation that they keep an eye on Raph and consider going to the hospital if the symptoms returned and that Mikey go scrub down in the shower to make sure he didn’t have anymore peanut butter on him. The only acknowledgement he got was Donnie calling to him over his shoulder to go to the kitchen and check that it was clean of any more nuts. After all that, he stood at the kitchen counter with a sponge in his hand and asked himself one thing

What the hell just happened?

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #support #undercoverwizardninjaturtle #hurt/comfort #brotherly love #leo #donnie #mikey #raph #warning #allergic reaction #blood #ll cool bear

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