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brrahbrrahcharacterimagines · 3 years ago

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Groceries (Might Guy x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Might Guy x Reader

Word Count: 2723

Warnings: very minor angst, food mentions (TW for EDs)

A/N: Hope you enjoy! I've been so thirsty for Naruto characters recently it's not even funny

Also, this was originally two parts but I've combined them into one so let me know if the transition doesn't work!

Growing up in Konoha you always felt safe. You knew there were experienced shinobi there to protect you. As a little girl, you would see them walk down the streets and watch in awe as they passed by you.

Despite everything you had seen in terms of violence, you still felt safe in the Leaf Village. There had been some tense battles, but the leaf shinobi always prevailed.

It was a day more peaceful than most as you made your way down to the store. You only needed a few things, but with the nice weather you decided to take advantage of the day instead of waiting for the grocery list to get longer.

Smiling, you walked into the store to the tune of children laughing and birds chirping. It was like you were in a movie.

You made your way down the aisles, picking up the items you needed as you went. Milk, eggs, noodles, and more went into the small cart in your hands as you browsed. Lost in your own world, you didn't see the other cart as it came around the corner at the same time as your own.

The carts crashed into each other, you and the other person with them. It almost winded you, both from surprise and the force of falling into the cart.

"I am so sorry!" You explained, looking up to the man you found in front of you. Luckily, neither of your groceries seemed to have sustained much damage. You found yourself surprised to be met with the most gorgeous dark eyes you had ever seen.

"It's no problem!" Said the man, flashing you a confident smile with a thumbs up. "No damage done."

You felt a hot flush rise to your face, but thankfully the man didn't seem to notice.

"Thank you," you said in a fluster. You weren't sure what you were even thanking him for, not yelling at you? It was then that you took notice of his outfit, especially the band around his waist. "Are you a shinobi?"

The smile stayed ever-present on his face.

"Yes I am! A jonin of the Hidden Leaf Village!"

If you had just half the enthusiasm of this man, you think you would be running on empty in less than five minutes. Hearing he was a jonin, you were impressed.

"Well, thank you for all that you do," you offered, moving to continue your shopping.

Although your interaction was brief, you couldn't stop thinking about it as days passed. Something about his eyes, and his confidence, drew you into him. You tried to brush it off, seeing as it was such a simple interaction, but it was impossible. Even trying to tell yourself that he didn't remember you wouldn't work; there was still a part of your brain that would never quiet down.

You had never minded being a civilian in Konoha. Sure, when you were younger you had thought about being a konoichi, but those were just the thoughts of a child. You never pursued it. You were happy with your career, teaching young children in subjects other than jutsu.

Despite your happiness, you began to wish that you had gone to the academy. Then you would have been able to find the man who was plaguing your thoughts. Even after that, you might have been a real option for him. You knew shinobi tended to mostly be interested in other shinobi.

You didn't know why it upset you so much. You didn't even know the man's name, and yet you were sad that you might not be his type. Feeling a bit pathetic, you found yourself in need of another grocery run. Trying to ignore the thought that you might see him again, you made your way to the store.

Sadly, at least for that persistent, gremlin part of your brain, the trip was rather uneventful. At least, until you found yourself in front of the produce.

You were trying to eat healthier, but it was hard. It wasn't that you didn't like your body, you just wanted to feel better in your own skin. As you stood there pondering, a male voice scared you from your thoughts.

"Excuse me."

You turned, disappointed to see a man with silver spikes instead of the dark bowl cut you had hoped for. You mumbled a sorry, stepping out of his way.

"Careful Kakashi," boomed another voice, "I'd keep your distance from that woman's cart if I were you."

Now that is the voice you had been hoping for.

As you turned, the tall man immediately caught your eye. You blushed at his words, remembering your initial encounter. The other man, Kakashi, looked at you with confusion. He grabbed what he needed before walking away, leaving you and the other man alone.

"So what brings you back here?" He asked. Normally you would have thought of this as awkward conversation, but your heart leapt at the opportunity to talk to him again.

You sighed, "I'm trying to decide what I want. I wanted something healthy but I didn't want to just start grabbing vegetables."

"Then you're in luck," he grinned, "I'm somewhat of an expert. Try some blueberries, they're a superfood." He grabbed a package, placing them in his own cart. "They're on me today."

You tried to protest, but he wasn't having any of it. You made your way through checkout, paying the rest of your items before meeting back up with the man.

"Thank you," you told him, looking back up at his deep eyes. Pausing for a moment, you realized something. "I don't even know your name! How could I thank you for buying these before me without even learning your name?"

The man chuckled, extending his hand out to you.

"The name's Guy," he said loudly, shaking your hand. "Would it be crazy to ask for your name in return?"

You blushed as you grabbed his hand, his grip firm yet his hands soft.

"Y/n," you told him. He smiled.

"That's a beautiful name." His words did nothing to help calm the blush on your face. You were sure he knew exactly what he was doing to you based on the color of your cheeks alone. Suddenly Guy grew rather sheepish. "I know how this is going to sound, but would you want to come by my place sometime?"

Your eyes widened. After all this time wondering what this man was really like, he was just the type to invite you into bed with him immediately? Admittedly part of you was curious, but you weren't stupid.

"Excuse me?"

Now it was his turn to blush.

"Well I know how that sounds," Guy said quickly, trying to get his words out faster than he could think. "But I just meant to make you dinner. I could show you how to cook some vegetables so that they aren't all that bad."

Immediately you felt bad for assuming the worst, offering him a small smile.

"I would like that."

He smiled back at you. Guy gave you his address as the two of you decided on a time before parting ways. You couldn't help the giddy grin that covered your face as you walked home. Your date couldn't come fast enough.

---

In the days leading up to your date with Guy, it was all you could think about. You told yourself that was fine, since you were obsessing over him already. At least now you had a reason to.

The day was finally here, and as the hours ticked away you found yourself growing more nervous. Deciding what to wear was a challenge in itself. Did you want to try to dress up nicer, or would that be too much? Yet at the same time you worried dressing too casual would give him the idea that you weren't as interested as you were.

You tried on just about everything you owned, settling for a dress that made you feel pretty. It was fancy enough to make you feel like you were trying, but still casual enough that you would be comfortable.

You looked at the clock, seeing that you still had ample time before you needed to leave. Sitting down, your mind wandered. What would tonight be like?

in your mind you ran through a myriad of scenarios. If you didn't like the food he cooked, you would have to just stomach it and hope for the best. Based on what he told you at the store though, it seemed like he would know what he was doing. Still, you worried that something would go wrong.

Above all, there was a bigger question ringing out in your mind. Would he try to kiss you? And, would you want him to?

The seconds turned to minutes as you pondered, the minutes turning into hours until it was time to go. You collected your things, making sure to grab any and all essentials before you left. You had already told your friends who you would be with, going as far as to give them the address should anything go wrong. Guy seemed like such a nice guy, but you could never be too careful.

Locking the door to your apartment behind you, you set off. It was early in the evening, and the sun was just beginning to set in the sky. You were thankful you wouldn't have to walk in the dark. You knew there were plenty of shinobi around, hell, you were even meeting one right now. But even then you felt uncomfortable walking home alone at night, surrounded by darkness.

It was a shorter walk than you anticipated, and before you knew it you were at his place. Taking a deep breath, you reached up to knock on his door. It seemed like a nice enough part of town, and his place itself was well-kept especially considering how much time you were sure he spent on training.

You heard Guy's loud steps make their way to the doorway, pausing on the other side before the door swung open. His usual confident smile was on his face, but instead of moving his mouth into words he just looked at you. You felt yourself growing red under his gaze.

"Hello Guy," you said softly, looking up at him.

Guy had been making the same amount of preparations as you, if not even more. He planned the meal out carefully, even practicing it the night before to make sure it went well. He had spent more time than usual perfecting his hair, making sure not a single strand would be out of place. He had even thought of exactly what he wanted to say when he opened the door.

Hello Y/n, he would say as he smiled at you. You look more beautiful every time I see you.

Sure, it was more forward than he had been with you before. This was a date after all, and he wanted to make how he felt about you clear from the start.

That plan went right out the window when he saw you, your sundress captivating him. It looked so cute on you, and at the same time there was something about it that sent a wave of tingles between his legs. To put it simply, he was speechless.

He knew he should say something but he couldn't, enraptured by the way you looked in his doorway.

"Hello Guy," you said to him. That sweet voice of yours would drive him crazy someday, and he knew that. He loved hearing his name fall from your lips, hoping it would be far from the last time. Everything about you made him fall for you more.

Despite his thoughts about your voice, your words were enough to stir him to action himself.

"Hey," he said.

Really Guy? He thought to himself. You're the Blue Beast, a strong shinobi. And yet all you can say to a woman is 'hey'?

You giggled at him, and he felt a smile creep onto his face.

"It's good to see you again," he continued. He decided to dial back the forwardness, realizing he had already kept you waiting outside for too long in his daze. "Come on in."

You followed Guy into his home, taking in the delicious aroma filling the rooms.

"I don't know what you're making," you stated, "but it smells amazing."

Guy beamed with pride, ushering you over to the kitchen.

"It's my favorite." He told you. "A spicy, vegetable curry."

Thankfully, you didn't mind spicy. In fact, you enjoyed it. Your mouth watered, taking in the sight and smell of the food in front of you.

"Actually, it should be just about done." Said Guy, stirring it all for a final time before putting it onto beautiful dishes to serve.

He had already set the table, candles and all. He pulled the chair out for you, pushing you back in as if you weighed nothing. He sat across from you, and the way he smiled at you made you weak in the knees. It's a good thing you had already sat down.

You wasted no time, digging in. And it was delicious.

"Oh my god Guy," you said in near disbelief at how good it was. You could see his expression perk up. "This is amazing!"

"I'm glad you like it," he chuckles, eating his own.

The rest of the meal went off without a hitch. You talked about your job and his, bonding over your love for your respective students.

"Maybe sometime I can come watch one of your training sessions," you mentioned. "I would love to see you teach them."

Guy smiled, "I would love that." The sincerity in his tone took you by surprise. While you knew he was never joking with you, there was always some sort of bravado to his speech that now was missing.

You helped him clean up despite his protests. You told him that if he cooked, you would at least clean up. It was only fair, after all. You scrubbed the dishes, oblivious to the way Guy was looking at you.

He never would have admitted it to anyone but himself, but he was falling in love with you. He had no problem picturing a life with you. Coming up to you at the end of the day, sharing a meal together. He wanted everything that life would bring him.

"Well," you said, finishing up, "I should probably get going."

"Let me walk you," insisted Guy. "A lady such as yourself should never walk alone at night."

He offered his arm to you, and you accepted it with a shy smile. You could feel his prominent muscles under the fabric of his outfit, and you could feel your face growing warmer. You were thankful for the darkness for obscuring your face from him, hoping he couldn't tell.

He could tell.

As the two of you made your way back towards your own apartment he would flex his muscles every so often, loving the way your face would flush. A couple of times he timed it right so that you were speaking, making you stutter.

The walk ended much earlier than either of you would have liked it to. Suddenly your heart started racing. You could answer your questions from earlier clearly.

Would he try to kiss you?

You sure hoped so.

Would you want him to?

Definitely.

You paused in your doorway, letting go of Guy's arm. You looked up at him, flashing him a genuine smile.

"I had fun tonight."

He reciprocated your own expression with a smile of his own, "me too."

You both paused for what seemed like the longest second in the world. It was as if he was building up the courage to actually go through with what he wanted to. He cleared his throat.

"Y/n, may I kiss you?"

You nodded your head and he lowered his lips to yours slowly. As you pressed your own lips to his you couldn't help the gasp that escaped them.

That's a sound I'll keep replaying... thought Guy.

He pulled away sooner than you would have liked, but he was a gentleman.

"I'll see you soon." Guy ended his sentence with a wink, sauntering off as you went to go inside.

"I can't wait."

#guy x reader #guy sensei x reader #might guy x reader #might gai x reader #gai x reader #maito guy x reader #maito gai x reader #naruto x reader #naruto #naruto shippuden

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january31st · 4 years ago

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I show up to the party just to leave (Venable x reader)

Summary: After a long time of not seeing each other, your brother invites you to his birthday party.

A/N: Title from Amoeba by Clairo. Her new album is like salt on an open wound, but in the softest way possible, and I love it :'). This has been in the drafts for a month and it was supposed to be a quick one to get me out of a slump :/ oops i guess (also i have no idea what this is or how we got here)

The reader doesn’t know about the whole selling their souls to the devil thing

Warnings: Drug addiction, overdose and hospital mentions.

Masterlist

~1800 words

The brightness inside Kineros was somehow even worse than outside in the California heat. Its whiteness and clean, modern look took you by surprise, given that your brother’s room back home used to be a mountain of unwashed dishes and dirty clothes, his PC setup the only thing you could look at without getting a headache.

“This.... is insane Jeff” you said as you took your sunglasses off, squinting very hard.

“I told you! I don’t know what’s so hard to believe about it. The whole multi-million company thing wasn’t convincing enough to make you believe this place is nice?” He said as he led you around to his office.

“Well, I’m just saying that coming from you I expected more of a nerd bunker than a sci-fi spaceship”

“Are your standards really that low Y/N?” he said with his hand on his chest, pretending to be deeply offended.

“Yeah, in the beginning you bragged for months about your Van”

“Oh but you can’t say that a company on the move isn’t cool”

“Sure” you said, shifting your attention to the woman in purple sitting behind the desk.

“Hi, you must be Ms.Venable! I’m Y/N, Jeff’s sister.” You said with your hand stretched out in front of you.

She looked from you to Jeff, and then at your hand, considering whether she should take it or not. Slowly, with the help of her cane, she stood up and shook it.

“And I hear you would be joining us to prepare for tomorrow, although I’ve told Mr. Pfister I have it handled.” She said, shooting your brother a menacing look, but you were too distracted by the feeling of her gloved hand still in yours. Had someone turned off the AC?

“I know Ms. Venable, I just had to show her the place before the party so she would believe it is nice. And by having her help get things ready she would know we didn’t mess things around to make it look better than it is” He said, and when you managed to shift your gaze away from her you noticed how Jeff looked. Someone finally taught him respect?

“If I had met Ms.Venable before, maybe I wouldn’t doubt how nice it is.”

“If you hadn’t left home for so long, maybe you would know more about the company”

“If you didn’t have so much blow up your nose all the time back then, maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to run away!”

“Awww family reunions are so cute” You turned to the circle door on the left side of the room to see your brother’s work partner leaning against it and looking at you two with a pout.

“Oh… hey Mutt”

“How is my favourite Pfister doing? I can’t believe how long it has been since I’ve seen you bro!” He said giving you a hug you did not expect.

“Hey! What the hell? Your favourite Pfister? Really? Stop flirting with my sister, asshole” said Jeff.

“I’m not! But it’s true, your sister is the best. Back then before we even dreamt of Kineros, the three of us would have so much fun!” Mutt answered, his arm still around your shoulders.

“Yeah I guess, before you two started your bullshit in between the lines” you said, scratching at your nose.

“Oh, speaking of flirting, how is that girlfriend of yours doing?” Jeff asked.

“Girlfriend? What… Ah. Yeah, well- she..” You laughed “ I swear I can’t make this shit up. Has it been that long since we spoke really?” The topic was making you even more uncomfortable, and you noticed that Ms. Venable was looking at you with an almost curious look? Was it? She was hard to read.

“Well, would you believe it, she fell in love with your dear coke instead.” Jeff looked at you as if he had just broken your favourite toy.

“Yea she just dumped me a while back and hit the streets. I tried to look for her, but she was just gone. I have no clue if she’s even alive.”

“Shit Y/N I’m sorry” Jeff said.

“Are you? Or are you still sniffing lines like a mad man?”

“Technically not lines no.” He said, smiling at Mutt knowingly.

You took his arm from your shoulders. “So you’re telling me that if I punch your ass right now it wouldn’t be snowing in here?”

When he didn’t answer with anything other than laughter you went on “It’s not funny! None of this is funny Jeff! Not now, and not that time I had to take your ODing ass to the ER! And not on all those times you were in withdrawal!”

He only laughed more, and said “It would be hell if that happened again!”

“Jeff! Have you-”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but the last of the decorations for tomorrow are just arriving.” said Ms. Venable. And despite her low voice, all three of you went silent.

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

“You worry too much”

“What?” You asked through the pen you were chewing at, with your back still turned to her from the top of the chair, as you exchanged the regular lightbulb with a colorful one from the box you were holding.

She didn’t repeat herself for a while, as if she regretted saying anything in the first place. The past hour or so you had barely exchanged more than a couple words, her impassive looks making you assume she just didn’t like you.

“You worry too much about him.” She said, her voice loud and clear this time.

You stepped down from the chair placing the white bulb on the box she was holding with one hand. Thinking about your brother now made something clench on your stomach. To hide how hard it was to find an answer for her, you went to write a check on the lighting part of your to-do list.

“How could I not?” You asked.

“I must admit his lifestyle is… interesting. But it seems to have worked to bring this company to where it is today.” She said.

“I know he’s your boss, but you don’t have to doll-up how things are around here. And don’t give him more credit than he deserves, he is cocky enough about it.” after a pause you added “I know that if it were up to him, he would still be assembling robots amidst his dirty socks. It doesn’t take much to realise who’s behind everything that isn’t necessarily robots here.”

You reached for the box she was holding to go put it away, and noticed she was standing as still as a statue. Grabbing it from her with the ghost of a friendly smile on your face you went on, since she didn’t seem to know how to answer you this time.

“He used to say it helped him think and work better. And maybe it does but as his sister I can’t just ignore it and pretend I’m okay with it. He never takes things that matter seriously.”

“Before we got here I- for some stupid reason- actually thought he stopped it. He isn’t like he was before. Something has changed about him.”

“It has.” She said. “I think his dedication to the job put him in his tracks somewhat. Whatever his tracks are” She added with a smirk.

Giggling at that, you said, holding the checklist for her to see “Now that we´re done, how about we go get a snack and talk about something that doesn’t involve dumb and dumber or their tragic hairstyles?”

Fighting back a smile, she guided you somewhere you could eat, and said “I’m glad you don’t have a bowl cut too.”

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

For the first hour or so Jeff introduced you to random people at the party, none of them getting much of your attention at all. Fancy and famous people, and though it was hard to believe seeing your brother around them- their nice suits next to his striped shirt, jeans and hoodie- you didn’t feel astonished at all. You felt crushed by everyone around you and took every opportunity to avoid dull conversation.

Some of them were surprised to meet you, to see how his casualty wasn’t a trait you shared, and given that you knew this would be a somewhat big party you did, in fact, dress up to the occasion. You decided to wear a nice blazer over a silk lingerie type shirt, straight legged pants and heels, hair slicked back and makeup dark and bold. Anywhere else you would look out of place, but here you managed to melt into the rest of the well dressed crowd. Thankfully that worked to your advantage so you could be away from the center of attention.

On the quick calls you did have, your brother never failed to gloat about his life and how great things were, and a part of you hoped blindlessly that it would mean he left his bad habits behind. Though now as you stood under the coloured lights it was more than obvious that he wouldn’t change, and all the bad memories from his addiction came back to you at once. Overwhelmed by your thoughts and the ambient itself, you made your way to the outside of the building unaware of the tic-toc of a cane following you.

“Where are you going?” her voice pulled you back to reality.

“I don’t know. Just away from this” you said, hand waving in the air. Then you took a second to look at her, as formally dressed as the day before, lilac suit and all, only her expression had changed. Though you knew she would never admit it, her face was contorted in a plea, almost begging for you to stay.

“I thought he changed. I really did. Like a foolish fucking child.”You blurted out.

“You don’t have to leave like this.” She stated, sounding disinterested despite herself.

“I do. I really do.”

“I never come to these events… I hate these people just as much as you do.” You narrowed your eyes at her, waiting for the rest of it, and when it didn’t come you asked “What made you come this time?”

After a long pause she said “I was surprised to meet you. I would never believe your brother had someone as… prudent and sensible in his life.” Another pause. “I’m trying to say don’t leave m-” She stopped herself.

“Then take me somewhere” You said without thinking, looking straight into those brown eyes as they seemed to soften. And for the first time her face twisted into what was definitely, unmistakably, a smile, and all you could do was smile right back.

“Come along then”

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escapewithbts · 4 years ago

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You Have A Panic Attack - All Members

*Trigger Warning* Symptoms of panic attacks described, mention of anxiety disorder

———————————————————————

The living room was dark except for the bright lights of the tv screen. You were cuddled under a soft blanket on the couch squished between Hoseok on your right and Taehyung on your left. Next to Tae was Namjoon, then Jimin, Jin and Jungkook were sitting on the couch opposite of you. None of the members had had an evening off together since the promotion of their newest song "Dynamite", so it was nice having them all in one place... well minus Yoongi who was in his bedroom down the hall working on music. It was mid-October, almost Halloween, so when you all chose to watch a scary movie, he instantly retreated to his room.

You glanced around at the 6 boys surrounding you who were staring intently at the tv. You couldn't help but smile. You loved being their friend, and you loved when they all could be in the same place. It was rare these days, so you wanted to take in this moment completely.

Tae caught you looking and smiled back, pinching your cheek in affection. You then rested your head on his shoulder as Hoseok reached over to feed you another piece of popcorn from the bowl he was hogging. This was your happy place; with these wonderful humans you were grateful to know. You curled further into Taehyung and sighed peacefully. You hadn't felt this relaxed and content in a very long time.

Which is why what happened next took you by complete surprise.

It all starts with your shoulder muscles and jaw tensing without you even realizing it. Then your hands start to get cold and fidgety. Suddenly your breathing gets shallow, labored and out of rhythm. Your chest aches and your heart pounds so hard and fast you're convinced it's going to stop abruptly or burst out of your chest. Your mind starts racing.

Stop. Not now. Please not now. What's going on? Come on, come on, stop freaking out. There's nothing wrong here. You're ok, you're ok, you're ok. Relax, breathe, relax. Deep breaths.

Your mantra doesn't work. Your brain doesn't listen. It has already told your body something is wrong, and your body is quick to react, cutting off any reasoning your mind has to say.

Suddenly you're burning hot. You want so badly to keep your cool in front of the boys as they have never seen you have a panic attack before, but you know you have to escape the blanket and the heat of the members' bodies immediately.

You pull off the hot blanket and suddenly realize how sweaty you are. You're about to shimmy out from between J-Hope and V and excuse yourself to the bathroom to try and calm down alone, but as soon as your feet hit the ground the room starts spinning and you have to shut your eyes. You bury your face in your hands and lean over, attempting to get your breathing back on track.

"(y/n)? Are you okay?" Hoseok's voice sounds from right next to you. You feel him place his hand on your back.

"(y/n)-ah? You good?" V sounds scared next to you and you see his worried face appear in your peripheral vision.

"Guys, guys, someone pause the movie and turn on a light," you hear the leader Namjoon command.

The sound of the movie stops, and warm yellow light floods the room.

Jimin comes and kneels in front of you, putting his hands on your knees trying to get a look at your face.

"(y/n) please say something, please," he begs.

"I'm... I'm fine," you manage to say, putting your hand against your neck where you feel your pounding heart, "Please, I'm sorry guys, you can keep watching, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Hoseok says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"Yeah, seriously, we're worried about you," you hear from Jin who is now standing over you.

You lift your head slowly and make eye contact with Jimin's concerned face, tears almost look like their forming in his dark brown eyes. You simultaneously notice your hands shaking.

"Your hands are shaking!" he exclaims, grabbing them in his, "and they're ice cold!"

"Shit..." Namjoon mumbles as he gets up from his spot on the couch. He scratches the back of his head and points to the youngest member, "Call the doctor, the emergency on-call doctor downstairs."

Jungkook nods, his eyes wide in worry. He starts to pull out his phone.

"No, no, don't," you protest looking up at them.

"What? Why, (y/n)? Clearly something is wrong, you're not feeling well. Please, let us get the doctor." Namjoon pleads.

"I don't need one." You try to smile reassuringly, but your lips quiver.

"Jesus..." Namjoon sighs and runs a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss of what to do if you're refusing help from a professional.

You look back at Jimin's sweet face in front of you. He's the only one who truly knows the extent of your mental health, as the two of you once spoke about the similar difficulties you share, your general anxiety and the anxiety he has about his self-image.

He puts a hand on your warm cheek.

"Is this... are you... is it an anxiety attack?" he questions softly, but loud enough that the other boys hear him, too.

You nod and shut your eyes out of embarrassment and worry.

"I-I think so."

The shamefulness you feel makes your heart pound harder. You feel stupid and needy, and then bad for feeling like you're doing something wrong. Your mind goes a mile a minute.

"Ahhh, shit," RM says again.

"How can we help? What do we do?" Taehyung asks worriedly, rubbing circles on your back.

You can't respond, you feel like you're going to start hyperventilating soon.

"Get her water," Jimin commands to anyone, "And-and a cold cloth!"

Jin walks out of the room towards the kitchen.

"I'm really sorry guys," you manage to whimper out.

Jimin clutches you in a hug.

"Stop, stop apologizing, we are sorry. What can we do, what can we do to help you, please?"

You just shake your head against his chest, and soft tears start to fall from your eyes, your many emotions finally taking over.

"Fuck umm, Jesus Christ," Namjoon paces the room thinking of how he can help.

"You sure we shouldn't call the doctor?" you hear Jungkook whisper to him.

Namjoon shakes his head and waves his hand in protest.

"No, no, not yet, we have our own doctor here," he turns to the couch, "Hope, go get Yoongi-ah, bring him in here. I think he's gone through this before. He might know what to do."

Hoseok nods and sprints down the hall towards Yoongi's room. Jin returns with the water and damp towel. You shake your head when Jimin tries to get you to drink, but you welcome the cool feeling of the cloth as he pats your hot face.

"What the fuck is going on in here?"

J-Hope comes back into the room with a confused and annoyed looking Min Yoongi behind him.

"It's (y/n), she isn't feeling well... We think...she thinks she's having an attack." Jin informs him while motioning to you on the edge of the couch.

Yoongi turns to look at you and his face falls immediately. He runs a hand through his messy black hair.

"Fuck, ah, ok, Jimin-ah, move," he nudges Jimin away and takes his place kneeling in front of you. The other boys watch intently.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi," you mumble.

"Hey, hey (y/n)-ah," you look him in the eyes while still trying to steady your breathing. He looks worried, but confident and determined.

He moves a strand of hair away from your face which catches you by surprise. Yoongi is not the type for any kind of physical contact.

"Yeah, you are flushed," he observes, "And you're shaking. Does your breathing feel off? Does your chest hurt?"

You only nod.

"Hey," he coos gently looking you deep in the eyes and taking your hands in his, "hey, you're okay. I promise. You're okay, (y/n). Everything is okay. It's just anxiety. You're really okay, I promise."

You shut your eyes and listen to his soft voice.

"Can you take deep breaths with me? Ready?" he inhales then exhales slowly. You follow, your breaths coming out shaky at first.

"Just listen to my voice and let's breathe again, okay?"

You do as he commands and repeat the breathing.

"You're okay, I promise. Deep breaths, you will be alright."

You notice your heartbeat slowing down a little, and your mind clearing from hearing his soothing words.

"Someone put on something funny on the tv, but keep the volume low," he instructs.

You keep breathing as you hear shuffling and whispers from the boys.

Soft sounds come from the tv speakers and you open your eyes to an episode of Run BTS.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but smiles.

"I said something funny."

You stifle a little laugh as the other boys chuckle and shrug.

Suga turns back to you.

"How are you doing, (y/n)? Would you like to try sitting back? It may help to have your chest straightened out."

You nod and rise from the leaning position you were just in and press your back against the comfortable couch cushion.

"Here," Yoongi sits down gently next to you and wraps his pale arm around your shoulders. You hesitate as he has never been this affectionate before.

He nods at you.

"You can lean on me if you need to," he says awkwardly.

His body next to yours feels comforting, and so far, everything he has done has made you feel better, so you slowly curl into him and rest your head on his chest. You feel him flinch, and his muscles tense, but after a few seconds he relaxes.

You're still shaking, and you feel dizzy and drained, but your heart is beating at a normal rhythm again and your breathing is more controlled.

"Just... focus on this episode and you will be okay," Yoongi says to you.

Your eyes go to the tv screen, it's the episode where the seven of them have a competition to test their 5 senses.

"I chose this one because I know it is one of your favorites," V says with a big smile, proud he remembered.

"Yes, thank you, Tae," you smile back at him.

The boys finally began showing signs of relief after seeing that Yoongi's methods seemed to have helped. They sit back down and frequently glance back and forth from the tv to you, reassuring you were going to be okay.

After a few minutes tiredness suddenly overcomes you; panic attacks always took a lot out of you both physically and mentally. You were so comfortable laying on Yoongi, the sound of his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest lulling you to sleep.

"Good call getting Yoongi-ah to help, Joonie." You heard Jin whisper just before you drift off to dreamland.

"Thanks, but we really owe it all to him," RM replied, "Thank god he was here. You handled that really well, Min Suga, thank you."

You felt Yoongi shrug and squeeze his arm around you tighter.

"It was nothing," he said quietly so you could barely hear, "you know I would do anything for her."

Masterlist

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fangroyal · 4 years ago

Note

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping.

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

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whumpingcrow · 3 years ago

Text

Pt.24 "Hunting for Bunnies"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, stalking, discussion of homicide/suicide (explicit), injury mention/description, blood (explicit), strangulation mention, gun/gunshot mention, character death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, prison mention, tics/tourrettes (descriptive), ptsd/nightmares, panic attack, chloroform use, self injury, x-acto knife (brief), gag/restraints, discussion of past whump, vomit mention (brief), conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome-type language (let me know if I missed anything!)

Healing was a good look on Elias. As weeks went on, his smile returned to his face, his bruises slowly melted away, the numerous scars scattering his body faded into small pinkish lines. He cut his hair a little shorter, dyed a streak of blue through it. He and Tyson got matching tattoos, little rain clouds and with lightning bolts on their forearms. They were happy, very obviously so.

August wanted to kill both of them for it.

He wasn’t entirely jealous (he was, so jealous he was blood thirsty every second of the day), he was more so just frustrated that Elias thought he was able to be happy without August. He was stupid. Adorable, but stupid. He didn’t know that he needed August to survive. He didn’t know that being away from each other was killing them both. Rather, he didn’t know how much the distance was making August want to kill them both. It would have to be a grand gesture, a murder suicide so beautiful there’ll be copycats. He had to talk himself out of those violent fantasies several times a day, hold himself back from getting out of his car while he followed Elias and just grabbing him. Maybe he’d strangle him again, watch the life drain out of his face, watch him slip into the dark abyss of death. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he’d take him home and torture him until he was broken beyond broken and then put him out of his misery. Single shot to the face, like he’d made Elias do to Sawyer so long ago. And then...August guessed he would do himself in after that. He was tired of being in and out of prison, and if Elias didn’t exist anymore, then what would be the point in living? Maybe that was the thought that made him change his mind, when his hand was on the door handle and he was getting ready to make a huge, violent, romantic scene. Maybe the idea of a world without Elias was just too sad, and he knew he didn’t really want Elias dead. He just wanted him away from Tyson.

They were both entirely oblivious that August was even close by, let alone watching them all the time. He was renting a room at a motel a couple streets away from Tyson’s apartment, but he was hardly ever there. He spent most of his time parked near their apartment, which was conveniently on the first floor and had a large window in the living room that was facing the street. There was also a porch in front, where Elias would occasionally sit outside late at night and smoke cigarettes or blunts. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes Allen was there with him. August often thought about how hilarious it would be to walk up to both of them at times like that, just to see them both unravel with fear at the same time. A few nights, when Tyson is working and Elias is all alone, August sits out front in the grass next to a tree and just watches Elias inside. He can see him smoking in the living room, he watches him pass out on the couch, sometimes he goes into the kitchen, comes back with nothing. When he goes to bed, August watches him lock the door, and it pisses him off so badly he wants to throw a rock through the window. He doesn’t want to go inside, he’s letting Elias heal again, he’s respecting his space, for the moment. Still, knowing that Elias actively wants to keep him out stings. So, he holds off breaking in for as long as he can.

It’s just a shame his resolve isn’t so strong, not when it comes to Elias. He can’t stay away from him anymore, he knew it the second he bought a plane ticket back here to find him, despite the very real possibility of being arrested any second. On the plane, he came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no control when it came to Elias. He couldn’t stay away from him, he couldn’t restrain himself when he was hurting him. He loved Elias, loved him so much it was driving him insane. Things just didn’t make sense when they were apart, August could hardly form a coherent thought that wasn’t about Elias, or how much it hurt to only be able to look but not touch. Though, when he broke in he wasn't able to touch Elias still, but it was at least closer than being separated by a window.

Tyson and Elias left the house, August wasn't sure where or when, but when August finally left his motel and pulled up to their place, the car was gone. It would be easy enough to find them, August had Tyson's number still and could get his location in minutes, if he wanted. Instead, he tested the door handle. It was unlocked. He guessed if they weren't there it didn't matter to them whether someone broke in or not.

August didn't make it obvious he was there, not the first time. He went through some of their things, put everything back in its place. He took one of Elias's shirts, a pair of his boxers. He didn't think either of them would notice, which bummed him out because he wanted Elias to know he was close by.

The next time he snuck in, it was when Elias was there. August had held himself off for as long as he could, he'd been in LA for 28 days already and he hadn't been closer than six feet from him the entire time. So when Elias smoked a huge bowl and went to bed without locking the door, it was like he was practically inviting him in, and August just couldn't help himself. He let himself in, he smoked what was left in Elias's bong, and he walked around the house for a little bit, waiting to make sure Elias was actually asleep before he went to see him.

Something about watching Elias sleep had always made August go disgustingly mushy for him. He looked so small, so vulnerable and unaware. This time was even better, because this time Elias thought he was free, thought that life was moving on without August, and yet here he was, kneeling next to the bed and watching Elias's chest rise and fall with each deep breath. He was beautiful, August was jealous of the moonlight kissing his face and making his face glow pale blue, he was jealous of the blankets wrapped snugly around his waist, he was jealous that Tyson got the privilege of sleeping next to this - his - angel almost every night.

August didn't have the courage to touch Elias, he was afraid that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, he didn't want to get carried away. It might start with trailing his fingertips over his face to see if he'd wake up, then if he didn't he might kiss all over his body until he opened his eyes, then he'd probably smother him with a pillow.

That time when he left, he took the blanket that Elias had been using in the living room earlier. It smelled like him. That night he slept in his car right out front, wrapped up in the same blanket that had touched Elias's skin, his clothes, his face. It was the closest he'd felt to him in months.

After that he was cocky. He found their spare key poorly hidden under a potted plant on the front porch, and he completely took advantage of it. He went in all the time when neither of them were home, cleaning up after them in small, nearly unnoticeable ways, or looking through their things, or just sitting on the bed where Elias often slept, wishing he was there at the moment. He also used it on nights when he couldn’t stand being away from Elias for a second longer, waiting until late in the night to sneak in and sit on the floor for hours to watch him sleep. Once, and he never did it again because Elias almost woke up, August reached out and gently pushed his hair away from his face, where it was tickling the tip of his nose and making his face twitch. It was a reflexive touch, August had only realized he’d done it as an afterthought, when Elias huffed softly and started to move under the blankets. August stared at his hand in disbelief, oh shit I just touched him. And then he left. But Elias still didn’t know he was there, and truthfully, August was getting bored. Bored? Try going insane. He wanted them to notice that something was off, that maybe they weren't as safe as they thought. But they just continued on with their stupid, repulsively happy lives. It was maddening, and at some point August couldn't take it anymore.

The first deliberate mistake he made to blow his cover was running into Allen at a grocery store. He wore a hat and a hoodie, and he carefully avoided him until he was near the front, in a crowd of people. August walked right into him, caught one of the many snack foods that he knocked out of Allen’s overflowing arms, and handed it back to him with a smile.

“Sorry, my bad,” he said smugly, watching Allen’s face fall from his tight frown to a blank, horrified stare. And then he just walked away.

Allen surprisingly didn’t go and tell Tyson and Elias that he saw him, at least if he did, neither of them seemed bothered in the slightest. That irritated August further. He’d been counting on Allen to run and tattle on him, rattle them up so that August could dive headfirst into chaos and whisk Elias away. Incompetent. Unreliable.

So August wrote love notes. He taped them to trees in the yard, tucked them under Tyson’s windshield wipers. They said stupid things like “you’re my favorite brand of heroin, I want to overdose on you” and “I can’t stop thinking about the heavenly way you scream my name today, you look nice by the way”. (His sister had taken a poetry class while they were in high school, he would like to think she would find this humorous. He’d tell her, if she would ever talk to him.) That shook them up a little bit. Really, he believed that Tyson was the only one finding and reading them, and he didn’t think he ever told Elias. Probably didn’t want to scare him. But he started really keeping an eye on the locked doors, as if August hadn’t already made himself at home there multiple times. Elias could sense his tension, it seemed, because he started passing out on the couch and staying there more often, waking up multiple times from nightmares. They were anxious. It wasn’t enough to have them anxious.

Again, August just couldn’t control himself.

So he paid Tyson a visit. He knew his work schedule, knew that he left a little after five in the morning, knew that on normal days he would be home and in bed with Elias by six, they would sleep until around nine. But that day, August was waiting for him, along with chloroform and some duct tape. He followed him to his car, he came up behind him and slowly lowered him to the ground as he knocked him out with the dowsed rag he was holding. He was hardly able to put up a fight. Then he dragged him to his car, and drove him to his motel room. It was easy enough to get inside unnoticed, and also easy enough to tie Tyson up in a chair and gag him before he woke up. He made sure it was all secure before he went back to their apartment.

Elias hadn’t woken up yet, so he had some time to smoke some of his weed and pour himself a glass of wine before he got started. He brought an x-acto knife from his motel, and he wandered around the apartment, slicing into his forearm and using his finger to smear his own blood into declarations of love on their perfect, off-white walls. He wished he could be there when Elias woke up. He could only imagine how his face would look as he walked around reading “I love you so much it hurts”, “you’re mine Bunny”, “we’ll be together forever”, things of that nature. He’d be mortified. Before he left, he slipped into the bedroom and left the nearly empty glass of wine, messy with his bloody handprint, on the bedside dresser so Elias would also see that upon waking up. Then, completely on impulse, he reached out and traced his fingertip over Elias’s cheek in the shape of a heart. The blood on his finger stayed behind on Elias’s pale skin, and August smiled brightly. Elias would be so scared when he got up and was all alone, he’d surely call Tyson first thing. Too bad he wouldn’t have his phone.

August left his car there, took the bus home with his hood pulled low over his face, folding his arms so no one could see the blood seeping through. His hands were buzzing with excitement, high off of the idea of being able to get Elias back.

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

Elias almost slept late into the morning, that was the first sign that something might be wrong. Tyson would usually be home when the sky outside was the washed-out blue it got before sunrise, would crawl into bed with Elias and pull him close. Then he would apologize to Elias for waking him up, and Elias would ignore his apology and ask him about his night, and then they would fall back asleep for a while. That morning, hours and hours after Tyson would usually be home, the sun was floating in through the partially opened curtains and turning the insides of Elias’s eyelids a bright red in it’s warm light. He woke up, stretched against the soft mattress, and then slid his hand over the sheets until he found Tyson, who would be in bed with him by now. Only, he was met with more blankets and an empty bed. Elias could feel the tired, confused scowl spread across his face upon realizing Tyson wasn’t right next to him, but he pushed the bitter anxiety that came with it away. Maybe he was making breakfast, maybe he was in the shower. It was just like Tyson to not wake him up when he decided to start his day, to try and let Elias sleep for as long as he could. He was sweet like that, always had been.

With a yawn, Elias tossed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his tired muscles out. It was still relatively new, and a little weird, for Elias to be able to stretch and move and even breathe without the addition of earth shattering amounts of pain, but he was getting used to it slowly. It didn’t come with nearly as much strange guilt anymore, he could hardly hear that little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he wasn’t deserving of a painless life, a life of ease. Even some days, when that little cruel voice was more of a brutal yell in his ear, telling him that he wasn’t worth any part of this simple, enjoyable life, he was able to get past it now. The voice would say “this is way too nice for you, you don’t deserve any of this”, he was able to, for the most part, smile and think back, “yeah, and aren’t I lucky I get it anyway?” and most of the time, it helped. On days that it didn’t, Tyson stepped in instead, told him anything he needed to hear: “you deserve everything to be nice, you’re an angel” or “it’s a shitty apartment, not a castle, it isn’t ‘too nice’ for anyone,” or sometimes, when Elias couldn’t be convinced, “even if you don’t deserve it, I want you here with me”. It was starting to feel like today was going to be one of the days that Elias needed Tyson to be louder than that voice in his head, as he pushed himself to his feet with ease and felt bad about it. He tried to reassure himself, he told himself that Tyson was right in another room and all Elias had to do to feel better was go see him. That was easy, he could do that.

He would have done that, if right before he stepped toward the door he hadn't caught sight of a wine glass sitting on the dresser next to the bed. The glass was dirty with a rusty brown color, and Elias frowned and looked around the room before stepping closer to it. He was too afraid to pick it up (it still had some deep red wine at the bottom and Elias knew there was a chance that once it was in his hands it would end up as a stain on the floor) so instead he crouched down in front of it, inspecting the grime closely. It was hand shaped, surrounded by a couple of smudges and fingerprints here and there. It looked like blood.

“What the fuck!” Elias ticced, then, much quieter: “Ty?” As he stood straight, his stomach dropped and his head felt light and airy.

No more blood. No more blood. No more please, god, no more.

“Tyson!” He called louder this time, already feeling the familiar burning of panic clawing restlessly in his chest. There was no answer. His mouth and throat were a desert. His knees were shaking. There was blood in his room. Was he bleeding? He tried his best to keep his arms still enough for a moment to run them over his torso to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t even fucking hurt. “Pathetic,” he heard himself whimper, “pathetic, pathetic, pathetic! Ty-fucking pathetic- Tyson!” He stumbled back, away from the blood covered glass. Where was Tyson? Surely, Elias was being loud enough with his irritating shouting to get his attention, he would’ve come running, by now, with a comforting hug and reassurance and promises that Elias is safe and good and not dying.

The apartment was a crime scene straight out of a psychological thriller. Every few feet there were drops of blood on the hardwood, and then when he got the courage to look, he also saw that there was more smeared across the walls. As soon as he recognized it as more drying blood, he closed his eyes tightly, breathing picking up the longer he stood there. He tried to imagine Tyson’s voice teaching him how to calm his breathing: “Inhale, Eli. Deep, deep, all the way into the bottom of your lungs. Good.”

“Good boy, letting me cut you open like this. So pretty for me, all covered in blood.”

No more blood! No more fucking blood no more no more-

“Exhale now, baby.”

No more no more no more no more-

“Elias, breathe out. Stop holding your breath now.”

“You breathe when I allow you to breathe. I don’t think you’ve been behaving well enough for air.”

Don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me!

With his shoulders held high and his head dropped toward the ground so that he could open his eyes without seeing the blood, he turned on his heel and threw himself back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him, letting all the air out of his lungs in ragged sobs. Even then, it was hard to catch his breath in between his unintentional cries of “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

Something deep in his gut made him swivel around and lock the door, and then he slid down it until he was on the floor. He covered his face with his hands, knees up to his chest to protect himself as much as he could. It felt like a nightmare, waking up alone in the middle of the day to find his walls covered in blood, only he just couldn't wake up. “Tyson...Ty...fuck...Tyson…” he crawled across the room, toward his phone, left on the charger next to the bed all night. His fingers were trembling as he tapped in his password, then still as he found Tyson’s contact to call him. As he waited what felt like an agonizingly long time for the ringing to stop, he tucked himself in the corner of the room behind the bed. He made himself small, “pathetic,” so that any pain would be limited to his arms and his legs, and he wouldn’t be hurt so badly, at least.

He couldn’t wait for Tyson to start speaking once he answered the phone, only able to wait with bated breath until the long pause after the last ring.

Click.

“Tyson!” He sobbed, clutching the phone tighter to him like a lifeline. He felt like throwing up. “Ty-Tyson I need you to come ho-fuck-home, I need you to come home right fucking now! P-please-fucking shit- come home.” There was a soft, muffled, sigh on the other line, Elias let out another hoarse sob. “Where the fu-fuck are you?! I...I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry. Tyson please, please co-come home, something’s wrong-”

“Calm down, Bunny.”

No.

No no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO!

“You’re freaking yourself out way too much. You have a tendency to do that. It’s adorable, really.” August laughed, Elias almost threw his phone, barely stopping himself. “But not very helpful.”

“No…” Elias squeaked out. He craned his neck to look over the bed at the wine glass. August was here. Is he still here? Elias folded in on himself smaller, safer, more pathetic, “fucking pathetic!” He ticced. August laughed again. “N-no, please, August. Please don’t...don’t…”

August made a soft shushing sound, slightly softened by the static of the phone. Elias’s head always gets messed up when August acts like that, makes it feel like cotton candy and causes his chest to flutter in an agonizingly confusing way.

Sometimes he’s so nice to me I think, since I have no other choice, I’ll force myself to love him. Just so that my love doesn’t go unused. That way I’m not a waste of life completely.

“Stop working yourself up, sweetheart. Seriously, I want to have a conversation with you, you always do this.” He sighed, gruffly, with an air of boredom. “Pretty fucking annoying honestly.”

Sometimes I want to give him a bunch of his own stupid drugs and drag his ass down the stairs and chain him up and bleed him dry-

No more blood! No more blood!

Elias gritted his teeth, he tried to feel the scar on the back of his tongue, he tried to keep his mouth shut. “Where’s...Tyson?” He grumbled.

“Ugh, shut the fuck up!” August shouted.

Elias flinched, pulling the phone away from his face. He didn’t think he heard an echo of his yell in the house. He listened, close, and could hear August’s voice distantly on the phone, but not out in the hall. Not distantly, in the living room or kitchen. He relaxed a little, straightened out his spine as he pulled his phone back to his ear.

“I was about to tell you all of that. I had a whole speech...Impatient little thing.”

Elias forced himself to his feet, took a few shaking steps for the door. He didn’t turn the lock, not right away, shaking hand hesitating over the brass knob. “If y-you hurt him I’ll-”

Again, August chuckled cynically at Elias’s stammering, his false braveness, his beginning to an empty threat. Elias cringed hard. He wanted to hang up the phone and crawl back into bed, fall asleep, and then wake up from this nightmare to find Tyson next to him. But he wasn’t in a nightmare, and his apartment was covered in blood, and Tyson was gone.

“This would be so much easier for all three of us if you just listened, Bunny. Can you be a good boy and listen closely for a second?”

Embarrassingly, Elias felt his knees buckle at the words, and he reflexively nodded at August’s voice.

I’ll do anything you ask, just call me good, just stop hurting me, I’ll do whatever you want.

When August spoke again, Elias could hear the smile to his voice without even seeing him. “Perfect, sweetheart. Now, I need you to do everything I say, ok? Tyson will be just fine if you just do exactly what I tell you.”

“Oh, f-fuck,” Elias whimpered, pressing his forehead against the door to try and steady himself, “God fucking d-dammit-”

“Shh, Bunny. Take a deep breath.” Somehow, August had added some sort of softness to his words, making himself sound caring and gentle and human, and it made Elias even angrier.

Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar!

He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, just because he was told to, just because it was August’s voice telling him what to do, and it was easier to just listen to whatever he was told the first time rather than face the ugly alternative.

“I left my car keys on your kitchen counter, my car is right out front. Full tank of gas, it drives beautifully, by the way. Can I trust you to take care of it when you drive it over here?”

Elias unlocked the door with his breath still held, shuffling out into the hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at the blood on the wall, and his stomach churns terribly. Before he could even process it, his shoulder hit the wall as he stumbled to the side.

I love you so much it hurts.

Elias would prefer the freezing blanket of death over the paralyzing fear he felt reading that.

We’ll be together forever.

He could never get away. No matter where he went or what he did, August would find him, August would destroy him. Maybe it would be easier to just hand himself over to the wolves instead of trying to outrun them.

You’re mine, Bunny.

There were scars everywhere on Elias’s body that validated that, there was a switch in his brain that flipped every time someone sounded too much like August that also proved it, Elias belonged to him now, even when he was far away from him.

“I asked you a question, baby. Will you take care of my car?”

“You’re fucking c...crazy.” Elias cast his eyes back to the ground, pushing himself off of the wall and stumbling out to the kitchen. He found the keys August was talking about. Thinking about August in the apartment, helping himself to a glass of wine, tossing his keys onto the counter, made Elias sway where he stood.

There was a groan on the other line. August was annoyed, Elias would have to pay for that. “I know that, idiot. You don’t think I fucking know that?” A sigh, a soft thud in the back, a small laugh. “Just get here, ok? The address is written on a paper in my car. You might want to hurry, Tyson’s waking up and he’ll be wondering where you are. And if you take too long...he’ll be wondering why you didn’t come rescue him.”

He laughs.

Elias wants to kill him.

Click.

18 notes · View notes

fleetingpieces · 4 years ago

Text

My One in a Million Chapter 2

Thank you @inloveoknutzy for proofreading and support <3 and @lumosinlove for your amazing OCs!!

You can read Chapter 1 here

Chapter 2 - Bad habits

“So how’s that new apartment of yours?” Alice asked over the phone. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me sooner, are you already too much of a star for your commoner friends?”

Remus laughed goodheartedly as he sat down on his bed. He’d missed Alice’s voice.

“C’mon, I’m by no means a star. And I would never forget about my best friend, you know that.”

“Ohh good, I finally dethroned Leo?”

“Ok, let me rephrase that. I would never forget about my midget best friend,” Remus corrected and laughed again when Alice cursed at him. “I’m sorry Al, it’s just been a very busy couple of weeks.”

Remus glanced around his room. It looked much more homier now that everything had been unpacked and he’d gotten himself a few paintings and decorations. Everything looked exactly as he’d imagined, and Remus felt a sense of contentment at the image.

He closed his eyes, letting the sun warm up his skin and enjoying the light breeze drifting in through the open balcony door. But when he breathed in, a strong smell of nicotine wafted to his nose.

“Fuck, not again,” Remus groaned, raking a hand over his face with an exasperated sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?” Alice asked.

“My asshole of a neighbour. I swear to god Alice, it’s like he does it on purpose.”

Throwing himself down on the bed, Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to remind himself that the guy wasn’t technically doing anything wrong at the moment, but this little thing together with everything else was cutting Remus’ patience short.

“Uh oh, are you having trouble already?”

Remus snorted.

“You could say that.” He focused on breathing in and out before launching on a rant. “I have this beautiful balcony with a view, but I can never leave the door open cause he’s always smoking outside and somehow the smell always gets into my room which is fucking annoying.”

“Well...I guess it could be worse?” Alice said uncertainly after a moment.

“That’s not all. He sometimes leaves the garbage right outside his door for hours. I don’t know what the hell he does at midnight, but I can hear his music at the weirdest hours, and then out of nowhere there are loud screams coming through the walls.”

Alice snorted and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Not that type of screams. Like angry screams?”

As the smell became too much, Remus got up and started walking towards the door.

“And the weirdest thing is, there’s so many people coming in and out from that apartment all the time. Every day. I swear, it’s ridiculous. Is he a drug dealer or something?”

Remus thought about the past week and how confusing it had been, as he’d bumped into a lot of weird, different people.

On Monday, when he was coming back from finally doing grocery shopping, he got into the elevator with a guy with messy hair and glasses. The guy was smiling so much it was a bit weird, but he was nice enough to hold the door for Remus when they were getting off. Remus smiled as well and nodded before going to his apartment and watching as the guy disappeared next door.

On Tuesday, a bloke with red hair was going out just as Remus was coming back home; they exchanged a ‘good afternoon’ and they each went their way.

On Wednesday a tall, dark, handsome stranger smiled and winked at Remus.

Thursday, a woman with red hair and green eyes struck up an animated conversation with him when he was coming back from his morning run. Remus had actually liked her, she seemed very nice and easygoing. He wondered if she was related to the guy he’d seen on Tuesday.

When Friday came around, he’d been slightly wary as he’d stepped out to take Cocoa to the park nearby. Almost as if on cue, he heard a door open and close when he was going to the lift, and soon he was joined by a shorter man with tan skin, a snapback on his head with dark curls slipping out.

He’d had to wonder if it was some sort of silly prank. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Cause every day, for a week, he’d bumped into a different person every time he went out or came back to his apartment.

All of them coming and going from apartment number 12.

Just how many people lived there? He'd casually asked the concierge about it and was surprised when the man said it was just one guy. Someone called Black, whose description matched the one of the first guy he’d met in the building.

Alice’s huffed laugh brought him back to the present as he reached the door and peered outside. And then he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Black was standing on the edge of the balcony closer to Remus’ own, and had his back turned on him. A very tanned, muscular, bare back. Remus cursed under his breath. The guy was only wearing a pair of sweatpants, and was leaning on the rail as he exhaled a plume of smoke. The way the sun reflected beautifully over his skin and dark hair had to be illegal.

“And he’s hot! Really, his back is so sexy it’s unfair!” he said as he closed the door a bit harder than he’d meant to.

Alice cackled on the other end of the line.

“Well Rem, at least you have something to look at,” she teased. “Why don’t you go say something to him?

“I would rather avoid confrontation so early on,” Remus said as he leaned back on the glass panel, ignoring Alice’s first statement. He didn’t want to have his first neighbor fight not even two weeks after moving in. But the guy was just getting on Remus' nerves, and even if he didn’t want to be that neighbour, he knew he would soon need to set some boundaries.

“I’m sorry about that sweetie,” Alice said in a sympathetic tone. Remus hummed in reply. “I hope it didn’t ruin the excitement of moving in.”

“Nah, it’s alright. It would be nice if we could get along, but worse comes to worse I’ll just have a talk and that’s it. We don’t have to be friends or anything,” Remus decided not to mention the issue with his Mum’s painting, otherwise Alice might just show up here to kick the guy’s ass herself. Smiling slightly at the idea of tiny Alice standing up to that guy, Remus glanced at the clock and cursed. “I’m sorry Al, I gotta run or I’ll be late for my first class.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Don’t be a stranger!”

“Yeah, yeah, bye Alice!”

As soon as Remus hung up, he scrambled through his room to grab everything he needed. He stopped only for a minute to fill Cocoa’s bowl and pet him on the head before heading out, thanking the heavens that for once, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him in the hallway.

Remus had been working non stop ever since he’d started gaining popularity online, and took a few days off to adjust to his new living space before he started working at the new studio. Not that he’d completely stopped, what with making and editing videos for the page.

Some students were already waiting when Remus arrived, but he was just in time. For the first time ever he had a fully booked class, and even some people in a waiting list in case any space would free up. Remus was so thrilled, he couldn’t keep a smile from his face.

He looked around when he entered the room where he would be imparting the yoga lesson, and the first thing that caught his eye was a head of flaming hair.

The girl was wearing black leggings and a loose shirt, and Remus recognized her at once from last Thursday. She glanced up, and surprise crossed her face before she broke out in a smile.

"Hello! You're from Sirius' building aren't you? Are you here to take this class as well?"

Remus wasn't sure who Sirius was, but given the fact that she had been to the apartment next door, Remus figured it must be his dear neighbor.

Sirius Black.

Even his name was pretentious.

"Ah, no, I'm actually the new instructor," Remus said, smiling shyly.

"Oh that's great!" the woman beamed. "My friend Natalie recommended your class, said I would not regret it. So, you're Remus?"

Remus nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, pleased to properly meet you um.."

"Lily," she smiled, and Remus couldn't help but return it. It was so easy to talk to her.

Remus moved to start setting up his things while they waited for the last few students to arrive. Lily followed.

"Natalie should be here any minute, she was super excited about this. Apparently, you're pretty famous! I don't pay much attention to social media, so I haven't heard from you before." Lily smiled apologetically, but Remus waved her off.

"Oh that's not true, I'm just a normal guy that happened to have a bit of luck. I do hope you enjoy the class though." He bit his lip, wondering if he should ask the next question or if he would come off as a prying old lady, but then curiosity got the better of him. "What's the deal with all the people in that apartment? Do you all secretly live there?"

A dark look crossed Lily's face, but it was gone in a second and replaced by a small worried frown.

"No, that's just Sirius' home. I'm sorry about all the trouble, I swear it's not always like that,” she said, tugging at a strand of her hair. “Things should calm down soon...I hope."

Remus wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew asking more about it would be too nosy. It was none of his business after all, he just wanted some peace and quiet.

"Oh, I know!” Lily suddenly perked up. “We're throwing a Halloween party at Sirius' in two weeks, why don't you come over? That way you can meet everyone!"

Remus schooled his features carefully to avoid cringing. He didn't particularly like parties, the smell of smoke and alcohol, the inebriated people doing stupid shit, the many mistakes made in the thrill of the moment...yeah, Remus could live without all that crap.

"I don't know, Lily...I don't think I'm invited." And that guy and I don't really get along well, he thought.

But Lily just rolled her eyes.

"I just invited you. That flat is almost like my own home, so Sirius won't mind me inviting someone over, if that's what you are worried about."

Remus busied himself searching his bag for nothing in particular, wondering if Lily and Sirius were dating. They certainly seemed really close to each other, he could tell by the way she said his name; but how could someone as nice as Lily date that ass?

"C'mon, it'll be fun! You can make new friends, and that way it won't be so weird if you bump into any of them in the hallways again."

"I'll think about, ok?" Remus said to appease her, but he knew there was no way he'd be going to that party.

However, the look Lily gave him and the glint in her green eyes told him she wouldn't let him off so easily.

***

Later that night, Remus was sitting by the window of his living room, meditating. He’d gotten into the habit of doing it when he needed to wind down, or when there was too much on his head; and today, after a long day back at teaching, it was a good way for him to relax.

And for once, everything was quiet. No loud music coming through the walls, no people shuffling about all over the building, even the city outside seemed quieter than usual, and Remus basked in the silence that filled his ears as he breathed in deeply.

Or at least he did until he heard a loud whoop that almost made him jump out of his skin. What the hell was that?

A string of muffled words and a loud laugh followed as Remus sat there with a hand over his racing heart, trying to calm down. And even then, with his breathing completely messed up, Remus surprised himself thinking it was the first time he’d heard laughter from next door instead of just shouts, and how oddly familiar it sounded.

“For fucks sake,” he muttered, getting up.

He’d finally had enough. He’d tried to let it be and avoid confrontation, but was it really that hard to be considerate? Did he think he was the only person living here?

Breathing out, Remus made his way through the hall and knocked on the door. There was no response at first, but the noise inside quieted down. Remus waited for a bit before knocking again, a little louder than before. This time there were approaching footsteps on the other side, and he was pretty sure he could hear someone cursing.

Remus was going over his speech in his head, trying to figure out the best way to talk to this person, but as soon as the door opened, all words disappeared from his mind. Actually, every thought in his brain flew out the window as he was met by stormy grey eyes boring into his.

It was the first time he was seeing Black’s face, and why the fuck did he have to be so fucking gorgeous?

He had high cheekbones, and a jaw that was screaming to be kissed; his inky black hair held in a messy bun at the top of his head, with a few strands framing his face. Remus already knew he was fit as hell, but fucking God, those eyes.

Remus’ breath caught in his throat as he took in the slightly surprised look on Black’s face, who was looking him up and down. It was then that Remus realized he was so pissed that he hadn’t even thought about changing out of his yoga tights. His cheeks warmed up, and the thought of blushing in front of this guy annoyed him even more.

He glared at Black, who arched a perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he started, still trying to be polite, “I live next door, and I didn’t want to do this, but could you please keep it down? I’ve been listening to your music all week, and even if you have good taste it’s getting really annoying.”

You have good taste? What the hell was that? Remus chided himself.

Sirius glanced behind him at his apartment with mock surprise.

“There’s no music right now, is there?”

Remus rolled his eyes; he didn’t care how good looking this guy was, or how curious he was about the slight accent in his voice, he was absolutely obnoxious.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause the screaming is so much better,” Remus deadpanned. He thought he saw the corner of Black’s mouth quirk up, but he was still staring Remus down.

“Oh, I was just punishing the gang for not making the drugs faster,” Sirius said, and his mouth moved to the side, like he was biting the inside of his cheek to fight a smile.

Remus' eyes widened.

"Yeah, I'd invite you to come in and have a look, but it might be too hot in here," he continued in a teasing tone.

"Oh my God, you heard that?" Remus fought the urge to cover his face, which he was sure was beetroot red.

"Just bits and pieces. You were talking pretty loudly," Black said, the amused smile finally appearing on his face. He leaned with a shoulder against the doorframe, looking Remus up and down again. “But hey, I could show you more of my sexy back if you really want to.”

Remus did his best to fight his embarrassment as he squared his shoulders, his expression going hard. How did this guy manage to make him so angry every time?

“I would never want anything to do with a disrespectful, self-centered prick like you." Politeness be damned, he was not going to stand here and let this man make fun of him.

Black's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he regarded Remus with new interest.

"I -"

Some voices came from inside the flat, and Black looked over his shoulder. When he turned back around, he looked Remus straight in the eye with a penetrating gaze.

"I will try to keep it down," and without another word, he closed the door in Remus' nose.

Remus just stood there for a few minutes with his mouth hanging open, absolutely bewildered, before a scowl took over his face. He turned around and marched straight into his apartment, closing the door behind him and taking a few slow breaths to calm himself.

When that proved fruitless for the first time in a very long while, he went straight to his computer and onto Padfoot’s channel. A pleased sigh escaped his lips when he saw that he was going live and clicked the video immediately. Padfoot hadn’t made a new video in a few days, which had been slightly worrying, so Remus was glad to see he was back.

When the video loaded though, Remus frowned. A game was being shown full screen, but the character was just standing there, not doing anything, and the only voices heard were from other players. Padfoot wasn’t there. The live chat was going crazy asking what happened, saying everything seemed fine and then Padfoot had just disappeared.

But a few seconds later Remus, heard a small laugh and a familiar voice talking to the viewers.

“Hey guys, I’m back! I’m so sorry about that, I was just very rudely interrupted. Although I must admit, it was a very interesting interruption. Anyway, let’s crack this thing, I left my partner alone for a long time and we all know he is as useful as a chocolate teapot.”

“I protected your sorry ass while you were away, and that’s the ‘thanks’ I get?” another voice came from the video with mock offense.

“Yeah, yeah, I appreciate your efforts Prongs, but we both know who's the one that gets things done here."

“Oh, yeah? It’s always like this with you, whenever you do something awesome it’s ‘Oh, look at me, I’m amazing’, and whenever you fuck up it’s ‘Oh, we are a team’.”

“That’s how teamwork works!” Padfoot said in his most convincing tone.

Remus laughed at Padfoot’s antics, feeling a lot better than a few minutes before, and started thinking about everything with a cooled head. He would have liked to get along with his neighbors, to have a quiet, happy life, but he could try to ignore him. He didn’t have to see the guy more than was strictly necessary. He wasn’t going to.

#My One in a Million #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #fanfic #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #writing #hp marauders #marauders

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nalgenewhore · 4 years ago

Text

dream of me

rowan x lorcan, regency era au, word count: 1963

Rowan is not surprised when a battered, bloodied hand appears on his windowsill.

He calmly stands from his reading chair and puts the leather-bound tome on the small end table. A candle burns steadily in its wrought holder, wax beads melting down it. Rowan picks it up and carries it with him as he walks.

A large body pushes itself up and heaves itself over the ledge. Lorcan’s hair is falling from the sloppy bun he’s shoved it into. The dark strands cling to his temples and the sides of his cheeks, raindrops falling down his face as it splits into a golden type of grin, “Evening, pretty boy.”

“Do you not know how to tell time, Lorcan?” Rowan asks casually. “It’s far past evening.”

A slight groan leaves Lorcan’s lips as he swings his leg over the windowsill and nimbly lands on the spot of hardwood before the thick carpet. Rowan used to have the carpet flush with the wall, but when Lorcan’s midnight drop-ins became frequent, Rowan quickly became tired of him trailing mud on it, so he moved the carpet for Lorcan to have a designated area.

Rowan sees the way Lorcan leans to the side and the way his arm is loosely wrapped around his waist. He sighs through his nose and waves the other boy to his bed, “Sit down. I’ll take care of those ribs.”

“There’s nothing-” Lorcan hisses through his teeth, “-nothing wrong with my ribs, Whitethorn.” He toes his dirty boots off and limps to the messy bed. The old frame creaks under his weight and Lorcan tries to hide his sigh of relief, but Rowan hears it all the same.

“Your clothes are soaking, Lorcan. You should change before you catch a cold,” Rowan says, refusing to look at Lorcan. The young duke abhors the fact that his pale cheeks blush, giving himself away at the thought of a shirtless Lorcan. Rowan busies himself by gathering the necessary medical fixings for Lorcan’s injuries.

It must’ve gone wrong, he thinks. Lorcan spends his nights breaking into the rich’s homes, stealing whatever he can. For a few weeks, he lets the town have its little fit and then, he offers his deductive skills to unearth whichever priceless treasure he’s kept hidden away.

They pay handsomely for his services. It humours Rowan, to keep his mouth shut and laugh quietly at them all. From the moment Lorcan emerged as the city’s up and coming investigator, Rowan knew there was something the young man hadn’t told them. And his suspicions had been confirmed on that fateful night, when Lorcan had mistaken the Whitethorn residence for the Havilliard’s. That night, he pushed Rowan up against the bookcase in the library, a wicked dagger at his throat. His wild eyes searched Rowan’s until they calmed and he stepped back. I know you won’t tell anyone, Master Whitethorn. Keep this between us, will you?

Obviously, Rowan agreed, though he made Lorcan swear to him that the Whitethorn mansion would never be a target. He added that Lorcan would come to him for help, whenever he so needed it, and Lorcan had done so ever since.

“Rowan. Rowan. Rowan,” Lorcan says, waving his hand in Rowan’s face. “Are you alright? Are you tired?”

“Of course I am tired, Lorcan,” Rowan snaps, tersely putting down the gauze and soft cloths. “I am made to wait up for you every night and patch you up, only to have you ruin my work the night after!”

The thief’s dark eyes widen and when he opens his mouth to respond, nothing comes out. Rowan stares at him for a moment, willing his gaze to stay on Lorcan’s face and not notice the way his loose cotton shirt sticks to the chiseled planes of his chest from the rain.

When he still does not speak, Rowan scoffs and picks up the wooden bowl. “I’ve got to fetch some hot water. Do not move.” He stalks into his bathing chamber, where he’s kept a bucket of boiled water. He boiled it earlier in the evening, meaning it was the perfect temperature after it sat for a few hours.

Rowan’s frown does not fade as he fills the bowl and puts the cotton cloths into the steaming water. He carries it back with him and sees Lorcan carefully pulling his shirt off. His entire left side, from hip to shoulder, is covered by dark purple and violent red bruising. Rowan’s breath hitches in his throat and he forgets that he is angry with Lorcan.

He rushes to the bed and puts the water bowl down, his hands light over Lorcan’s tender body. Despite the delicateness with which Rowan treats him, Lorcan still bites his lip to muffle the sound of his groan and his eyes screw shut.

Lorcan pants, “Are you going to help me or continue to prod me, Whitethorn. I’ve- fuck, I’ve broken them.” The skin above his heart tap-taps with its frantic beat.

“If you wish to be rude and uncooperative, you are free to leave,” Rowan says drily. He picks up the strips of gauze, “Lift your arms. Your ribs need wrapping.” Lorcan complies, groaning again when the motion causes him pain. “Would you stand, too?”

Again, Lorcan does as he’s told. He stands between Rowan’s spread legs, probably closer than is necessary or considered appropriate. Rowan doesn’t mind. In fact, he would like Lorcan closer, would like their bodies pressed together, would like to know if they fit as well as he thinks they do.

Neither speaks as Rowan snugly wraps the gauze around Lorcan’s middle. He doesn’t do it too tightly, knowing that if Lorcan cannot breathe normally, his lungs could catch an infection, like pneumonia. “What happened tonight, Lorcan?”

“I learned that the Perringtons had left for a month and broke in for the skull of Erawan,” Lorcan says, his voice low, nearly too quiet to be heard above the soothing pitter-patter of rain. “They came back early, just two days ago. Apparently Adarlan is not agreeable this time of year.”

Rowan snorts and tucks the ends of the bandage away. “What a shame.” He stands and gasps softly when he becomes near nose-to-nose with Lorcan. He’s so close he can differentiate the browns and onyxes in Lorcan’s depthless irises.

They share a breath for a moment, Lorcan’s full lips so close to ghosting over Rowan’s. “You- you should s-sit,” Rowan stammers out, that same damned blush blooming across his cheekbones. “Rest, you have been injured.”

Lorcan nods, silent, and lifts his hand to tuck a curl of Rowan’s light hair behind his ear, “Yes.”

Rowan moves so that Lorcan can sit again. He takes the spot next to Lorcan, and tucks a leg beneath him so he can face Lorcan. They all but refuse to speak as Rowan cleans the wounds on Lorcan’s face, his heart splintering at the long cut, indicative of a knife, slashing down Lorcan’s face. He breathes tremulously, his fingers shaking.

Rowan tenderly takes care of Lorcan's wounds and is powerless to stop the tears from lining his eyes. He hates this, seeing the boy his heart and soul belong to, so battered and bruised. So hurt, he can hardly breathe without pain.

Every night, it becomes more difficult to stand. He wishes every morning that he does not see Lorcan again, that he’s left, run away to the countryside like he once drunkenly admitted to dreaming of, without a note or a farewell. It’s a foolish hope of Rowan’s, really, but he’d rather be foolish than face reality.

“You are crying,” Lorcan notes. Rowan realises his cheeks are wet with tears. “Why are you crying, Rowan?”

Surely he must be joking, Rowan thinks. Surely no one is that dense. Surely Lorcan knows it’s all for him. “You are playing a trick on me,” Rowan says, dumbfounded. “You truly cannot be this stupid, Lorcan.”

The dark boy frowns, pulling back, “I am not stupid. I want to know why you are crying. It is not you that has been injured. What pain are you feeling?”

“You are stupid,” Rowan insists, tossing the cloth to the side. “You are the stupidest boy I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing, Lorcan Salvaterre.”

Lorcan frowns harder, his temper flaring in those eyes of his, the ones Rowan dreams of. “Stop calling me stupid, Rowan. I cannot help you if I do not know what is the matter!”

Rowan stands, his arms flung out wide, “I hate caring for you! I hate, with a burning passion, caring for you.”

Hurt flashes across Lorcan’s face and it stays there. Normally, anger would be all too quick to follow, but his grave features remain drenched in agony. “How could- then why- what have I- I do not understand,” Lorcan says, his words shaking. “Why are you saying this to me? Why would you say that to me?”

“Because I hate it when you are hurt, Lorcan,” Rowan spits, too far gone in his rage to notice the beginnings of understanding in Lorcan’s gaze. “I hate it when you climb through my window and I hate it when I have to patch you up and I hate it when you return to the gutter, just to repeat this all over again.”

“Ro–”

“You told me you once despised this life. You told me that one day, you would leave and run to the country and never once look back.” Rowan swallows as tears roll down his cheeks. He sits down once more and, with such care and adoration, takes Lorcan’s face in his hands, “I pray for that day to come every night, so I do not have to see the boy I love hurt again.”

Rowan tips his forehead against Lorcan’s and whispers, “I love you, Lorcan. You… have my heart and my soul and whatever it is that makes me whole. And if you keep-” he chokes for a moment, his eyes falling shut, “-if you keep being hurt and showing up at my window, battered halfway to death, I will shatter into a thousand pieces that can never be put back again.”

“You love me?” Lorcan asks, his words light with wonderment and golden, golden hope. “You- you love me?”

“Yes,” Rowan breathes, confessing his most twisted secret. “With all that I am and all that I will ever be, Lorcan.”

“Ro,” Lorcan murmurs, his hand lifting to the curve of Rowan’s neck. “Rowan, open your eyes. Please… look at me, my darling.”

Rowan’s hummingbird heart flutters and trips over itself. He’s never been anyone’s darling and how lucky is he, to be Lorcan’s, the only person he will ever love and the only person he will ever tolerate. He opens his eyes, quietly searching Lorcan’s. “What is it,” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“I have loved you for years,” Lorcan tells him. “There is nothing in this god-forsaken life I want to take with me to the next one, save for you, Rowan. I love you, most ardently.”

The two boys smile softly at each other, twin spots of pink on their cheeks. It is Rowan who closes the distance between them first, pressing his rosy lips against Lorcan’s mouth and stealing his air. Rowan’s hands slip around Lorcan’s neck as Lorcan pulls him closer, mindless of the hurt in his body that pains at every movement.

They kiss slowly, they hold each other so closely, like the other is the most precious thing to them, like the other’s love and touch is the only thing they shall need in life.

And maybe it is. Maybe that’s all they’ve ever needed.

an: they deserve this and i deserve this so i was self indulgent and did what i wanted again <3 enjoy darlings

@mythicaitt @ladyverena @empress-ofbloodshed @ladywitchling @darklesmylove @shyvioletcat @the-regal-warrior @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @thewayshedreamed @sassyhobbits @tswaney17

#i luv them i luv them i luv them !!#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #regency era au #isa writes gay shit #nalgenewhore

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tehrevving · 4 years ago

Text

Cocked and Loaded

My piece for the @ssszine. I was waiting until I received my copy to post it buuuut it’s been stuck in about 3 different countries now, so I’ve decided to just go for it.

This is a funny fic that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Enjoy!

The bar is so deserted that Dante can’t even find someone to refill his drink. He just sits there, swirling the ice around his empty glass and staring at the strange fruit bowl in front of him. He doesn’t know why there’s one on the bar, or why it’s filled with only bananas and a giant purple fruit that looks like the emoji thing that young people use when they text. If he’s not going to be able to get another drink, he decides to just leave. He stands up, not noticing the woman standing behind him, lower than his eye line. He almost knocks her to the floor. She’s pretty, older but with a bit too much plastic injected into her face for his tastes.

“Sorry Miss,” he says sheepishly, moving around her.

She puts a hand on his bicep and squeezes, “don’t worry about it big boy.”

Dante carefully lifts her hand off his arm. She just puts her other hand on his chest. “You’re quite a catch aren’t you Love,” she smiles sincerely, through the face fillers. “I’d popped in here for a drink, but now that I’ve seen you. Well I could go for something a little bit more,” she pauses for dramatic effect. “Salty.”

Dante chokes. He’s never heard that one before and it catches him off guard, especially said with such a serious tone. The man behind the camera sighs.

“Cut!” he yells, and the room comes alive.

People are running around, adjusting the angle of the spotlights while the director yells. Dante sits back down on the stool and takes a sip of his whisky, shaking his head. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

It was an offer he hadn’t been able to refuse. A simple, quick job attached to a ten thousand dollar cheque. He was already eyeing up a stylish new coat, custom holsters for his guns and the very expensive pizza shop down the road. The catch was the very nature of the job itself. The client wanted him, Dante Sparda, Legendary Devil Hunter, to star in a full frontal pornographic film, for their personal collection.

Dante needed the cash desperately. He’d been sent a script, a time and an address, and now he was here, thrust into the spotlight and still not really sure what was going on.

He thought that he would be walking into an amateur type affair. A casting couch in a dark room with a handycam sort of thing. There’s a whole team of people though, including an eccentric director - stupid hat included - who seems incapable of speaking in a volume lower than a shout.

He takes another look at the client, his co-star. She’s a socialite, rich, influential, and apparently a huge fan of his. She’s nice enough even though there’s just something off about her. She doesn’t look quite right when she smiles. She reminds him of the hellspawn he regularly exterminates.

“One minute warning!”

Dante takes a deep breath and steels himself.

It takes two more attempts for the director to be happy. Dante is already bored of repeating the same thing over and over. He wonders why getting this scene right is such a big deal. It’s not like anyone ever watches the intro to porn films anyway. He just drains his glass and reaches over the bar for the bottle to refill it.

One of the cameramen is next to him suddenly, grinning. “Are you sure drinking more is a good idea?” he smirks, biting back laughter, “it’s all well and good to calm your nerves, but don’t let it affect your performance. If you catch my drift,” he winks.

Dante rolls his eyes, the great Son of Sparda getting whisky dick? Please. Dante reckons that even flaccid he’s got a bigger cock than this idiot. He downs his drink as the man drags him into the next room.

The director has a megaphone now and is screaming into it. He walks over and puts the speaker right next to Dante’s ear. “All you have to do is let her undress you. Got it?”

Dante nods, desperate to stop the ringing in his ear as he’s dragged to the centre of the room.

“Action!”

His co-star stands in front of him again, she’s tiny. He wonders if the camera can even get both of them in the same frame.

Dante takes in a breath and puts on his usual act, cocky and carefree.

“Why, is that a sword in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” she smiles, winking.

Dante struggles not to laugh at the lines, or at the expression on her face. He just follows the script, cocking out his hip. “Why don’t you come a little bit closer and find out Sweetheart,” he purrs flawlessly, finishing off with some finger guns for effect. He’s starting to feel a little bit more relaxed.

She steps in closer as a wind machine starts up. The sound almost deafening. Dante feels the breeze push at his hair and uses his heightened senses to time the shrug of his shoulders. His coat falls off his shoulders effortlessly, fluttering stylishly to the floor.

The wind machine stops and he shakes out his long hair. He flexes his arms and reaches up, over his head. He pulls off his shirt, struggling not to get caught in the fabric or mess up his hair. Sure, it’s an impractical way to take off a shirt, but he saw it in a movie once and thought it looked pretty sweet.

She stands up on her toes and starts licking at his neck and then his hairy chest. His skin is covered with saliva when she pulls away and it feels pretty gross. She works her way down his body until she’s half crouching to be level with his crotch. The cameraman moves to get the shot, getting tangled up in the cables. Dante tries not to laugh. He tries to look sexy instead. Like he’s excited to have a desperate woman kneeling between his legs, instead of apprehensive.

She traces her hands down his thighs and works quickly down to his boots. She licks the buckle and uses her teeth to pull the zipper down. Dante notices, as she pulls off his shoe, that everyone in the room is staring at his feet.

“Cut!”

The director storms over, his voice distorted static through the megaphone. “What are those?!”

Dante looks down, “my socks?” he questions, wiggling his toes inside of his lucky, pizza print sock.

The director groans, holding his head in his hands.

“Costuming!”

They take away Dante’s favourite sock and the mismatched pink strawberry print one from his other foot. He’s given replacement socks that are boring and plain black. He’s just managed to get them on when an assistant appears and throws all of his previously discarded clothes at him. Dante gets dressed again.

He can’t believe he has to go through it all again. He has a lot less enthusiasm during the next take. His coat falls dismally to the floor and he takes his shirt off the normal way because he’s not going to risk stretching the neck out. Eventually they get back to where they were, and then further. Now she’s crouched awkwardly in front of him, working on his fly.

She rubs her face all over his clothed cock. He’s not really hard yet but not one seems to have noticed. It’s all going well so far. She undoes his fly and slowly pulls his pants lower. She works seductively, dragging the fabric down his legs while biting her lip. Dante cocks out his hip while the camera pans around him.

“Cut!”

The director is utterly irate this time, stalking towards Dante like he’s going to murder him. “Your underwear,” he spits. Dante twists around. He’d accidentally put on his smokin hot black briefs this morning, the ones with the word ‘sexy’ stamped across the ass in giant, holographic letters.

His co-star turns, struggling not to laugh. “I don’t think those are a problem.”

The director stares at her like she has two heads but quickly relents.

They don’t have to redo the whole scene again apparently. Dante’s just glad he doesn’t have to get dressed again, or deal with the wind machine. He just does his pants back up and they go from there. There’s only one more hitch on the next take. She’s a little bit too enthusiastic ripping off his underwear and his semi-hard cock springs up. Hitting her solidly in the face. She’s not hurt, but she’s definitely a little bit shaken up. The next time they try the take, she makes sure to hold him steady with her hand.

There’s a team of people adjusting a stool in front of him. His co-star kneels on it and they mess around trying to get her high enough to comfortably reach his cock. Dante tries to play it cool. He’s starting to feel a little bit out of his depth, now that she’s about to properly touch him.

The director turns to Dante. “Get ready,” he scoffs and makes a jerking motion with his fist. Gross.

Dante has never had any problems with his performance, even with an audience. It’s different in the dark recesses of a strip club though, compared to harsh lights and critical stares. He ignores them, reaching down and stroking his cock a few times. He quickly gets into it, adding in a twist of his wrist here and there. It feels good.

The director fawns over him, tells him to bend his knees, cock out his hip, tense his butt. Dante tries his best to follow the contradicting directions, ignoring the strain in his thighs.

“Action!”

It’s now or never. She reaches out and wraps a hand firmly around the thick base of his cock. She strokes him a few times, making exaggerated movements while she leans her face in closer. She holds him in place and then sticks out her tongue.

Dante is watching closely. There’s something not right with her tongue. It’s slightly too long and flicks out strangely from between her lips. Her grip tightens painfully around the base of his cock. He hears her hiss. “Gotcha!”

Dante recoils. Managing to pull himself back just in time. Her maw crunches down on the empty air where beloved lil’ Dante was only moments ago.

She crouches to the floor, splayed out with too long limbs. “Famed Devil Hunter,” she hisses, staring at him with glowing, slitted eyes. “You’ve fallen right into our trap. Let us see how strong you really are, aroused, naked and without any weapons.”

Dante doesn’t need to look around the room. The grotesque snapping sounds echoing off the walls tell him that everyone else in the room is transforming too. She takes a step back as the others gang up on him.

This is his element though. He can handle a fight. “Oh, Darling,” he taunts, “I’m always fully loaded.” He winks and flies head first into battle.

The creatures aren’t strong. Dante doesn’t need weapons. His bare fists are strong enough to puncture through their squishy chests. He has fun, backflipping and dancing around. It’s interesting, getting to fight with parts of his body that he doesn’t normally. He laughs, snapping necks with his thighs. Yelling out, “cut” and “action” as he slams disfigured faces to the ground. It’s easy to improvise, though he has to be careful not to bang his large adrenaline filled erection on the furniture.

Far too soon for his liking, it’s just the woman and the director - stupid hat still perched on his reptilian head - left. The director stalks forward, looking just as agitated as he had when he looked human. He’s so focused on Dante that he doesn’t notice the camera cable, stretched taut and hidden by streaming corpses. He trips. Dante watches it play out in slow motion. The director flails, trying to keep his balance. His hat flies off his head. There’s a pause and a click as the swinging cable flicks the fan blades on. Dante can’t tear his eyes away from the director’s horrified face. He screams as the sharp blades slice through him and paint the walls with his blood.

The client is furious now. She screeches at him. The sound threatens to shatter the windows. Dante throws a quick come hither motion in her direction, goading her on. She lunges forwards.

It’s an accident, honestly. Dante was having way too much fun. He wanted to capture her, interrogate her, find out exactly what was going on here, who sent them. But it wasn’t to be. It wasn’t that he mistimed his stylish double pike backflip exactly, it was more that she anticipated his movement and decided to attack him with her teeth.

Her head swung back as he twisted. Neither her nor Dante though have accounted for the unrestrained and exceptionally lethal weapon between his legs. His dick hits her solidly in the neck. He has too much momentum. He doesn’t stop spinning. Her neck splits with a pop as her decapitated head flies across the room.

Dante stops moving as quickly as he can. Frantically inspecting his makeshift sword for any damage. There’s a little bit of devil gore, but otherwise everything is intact. He sighs with relief as he looks around the room.

Dante sneaks out of the apartment through the back window, dropping into the bushes below. He’s haphazardly dressed, already having put on and taken his clothes off way too many times today. He leaves the mess of bodies and equipment as they are. Not his problem. He steals the bottle of booze though, along with the strange purple fruit from the bowl and the tape from the camera, which has ‘Cocked and Loaded’ scrawled across the front of it.

He starts the slow, long walk back to the office, still broke. He’s pretty sure that the large cheque he has in his pocket is gonna bounce. He turns the purple fruit around in his hands and then takes a bite. It’s disgusting. He throws it away. Why would anyone want to eat that?

He can’t believe that he’s walking away empty handed. He’d been so confident this job was going to work out. He pats the tape in his pocket, glad he has it as a souvenir. He’s almost giddy, thinking about watching it later tonight in private. He’s already decided that he’s never gonna show it to anyone else, and even if it never really got juicy… well, he figures at least one person should jerk off to it.

#dmc #dante sparda #dante #dmcv #rev writes #my writing #ssszine

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mrsluttystark · 5 years ago

Text

Repeat After Me Part 2

Part 1

You guys have no idea how much it meant to me that part 1 was so well received. Thank you from the bottom of my little starker heart!

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student, mention of daddy kink, mention of choking

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter wakes up five minutes before his alarm, like he always does. He absolutely hates the shrill screech of it. His bed creaks and groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side. Suddenly, the springs that had previously been holding him up collapse under him, making him yelp in surprise. Peter made a mental note that maybe it was time for a new bed, he’d been holding on to the rickety twin mattress he had all his childhood since it was the only thing he had left from May’s.

He usually went into the lab on Saturdays, even though he was supposed to be off during the weekend. It’s not like he has plans or anything, but he guesses he could shift his schedule around a little to go mattress shopping.

His arm darts out like clockwork and taps his screen to turn the alarm off before his phone could utter the first mind melting ring. Peter runs a hand through his hair to brush some stray curls out of his face and stretches before getting out of bed to do his morning routine.

It’s not until Peter sits down at his two-seater dining table with a bowl of captain crunch berries, two pieces of toast, and a cup of earl gray tea, does he finally check his phone.

The spoon is barely out of his mouth when he sees the notifications. Eyes wide, he chokes on the cereal trying to force its half chewed self down his throat. He can taste the oat milk is his nose and it is not good.

Mr. Stark accepted his friend request and messaged him? Peter looked around his apartment, skeptical. Was he dreaming? Was this one of those life-like dreams where he gets ready for the day then wakes up and has to do it all over again? He looked down at his arm, should he pinch himself? No, Peter, that’s stupid.

He shook his head and looked at his phone again, opening the Messenger app.

Hey, Kid.

Shit, he was toast. Collecting himself, Peter took a deep breath to prepare himself for a conversation with his former high school teacher (that he may or may not want to fuck him senseless and cuddle afterward). He racked his brain thinking about how to approach this. Should he be bold?

Hi, Daddy. Please cum down my throat? Yeah...that might be too bold.

Hello, Mr. Stark. I humbly thank you for accepting my friend request. Ugh, too weird.

He’s overthinking it, he knows. Peter types out and deletes maybe five more messages before he finally settles on:

09:10 am

Hi, Mr. Stark. It’s Peter.

09:11 am

Parker.

Peter threw his phone down on the table and put his head in his hands, bowl of cereal soggy and forgotten. He made a face at it and pushed the bowl away, pulling his toast closer. He took bites of a slice distractedly and washed it down with some tea. He’d regret not eating a proper breakfast later, but right now his appetite was replaced with a turning feeling that he couldn’t quite place. His phone vibrates on the table, startling him from his thoughts.

From Tony Stark 09:22 am

Yeah, Peter. I did read your name on your profile.

09:23 am

Right. Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:23 am

Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just pokin’ fun.

09:24 am

(sweating emoji)

Thanks for accepting my friend request btw, Mr. Stark.

From Tony Stark 09:26 am

No big deal, thanks for the request, it’s been a while.

And Tony is fine, you’re not my student anymore, Pete.

09:26 am

Yeah, okay. Tony. I can do that

So you remember me?

From Tony Stark 09:27 am

I remember all my students

09:27 am

Really???

From Tony Stark 09:28 am

No, not really lol

But I do remember you, you were a lot skinnier back then.

09:30 am

(eye roll emoji) And you were a lot younger

From Tony Stark 09:31 am

Ouch, that was uncalled for

09:32 am

You asked for it

So what have you been up to?

From Tony Stark 09:34 am

I’m a mechanical engineer now, quit teaching a few years ago. What about you?

09:35 am

That’s awesome! You were way too smart to be a teacher.

I’m a research chemist

From Tony Stark 09:38 am

Thanks, kid.

That’s about where I’d thought you’d end up, as smart as you are.

09:40 am

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stark

Tony*

Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:40 am

Everywhere?

09:41 am

Everywhere.

From Tony Stark 09:50 am

Say, Pete. I don’t actually have a habit of checking this app and I’m about to head out of the house for the day. I’d like to continue this conversation, so here’s my number if you wanna text me [hidden contact information].

No pressure of course.

From Tony Stark 09:53 am

Peter?

New Message

To: Tony

You know who I am.

From: Tony

Had me there for a second kid.

I’m about to drive, I’ll text you in a bit.

Peter put his phone down for the first time in almost an hour, eyes straining to refocus after staring at his screen intensely for so long. His heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling. Had that really happened? Peter brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, still in a daze. He was finding it very hard to believe that this wasn’t some elaborate dream because there is absolutely no way that this could’ve happened in real life. Talk about a glitch in the simulation.

He really got Tony Stark’s phone number, and he didn’t even have to ask for it!

Peter scoffed in disbelief, no fucking way! He opened the Facebook app again and went to Tony’s profile. Turns out there wasn’t much else on it, he had a total of 3 profile pictures and less than 100 friends, none of which were other students and only a few midtown teachers. So, he either was a very private person or he didn’t use Facebook at all. And if it was the latter (or both for that matter), why did he accept Peter’s friend request in the first place?

Peter decided not to think about it right now.

He went to his profile pictures and glanced at the current one he already studied last night. The previous one was just the Guns N’ Roses album cover for Appetite for Destruction. Classic Rock fan, noted. His first profile picture, though, was an absolute masterpiece. Tony looked to be on a beach somewhere, his hair was wet and messy from the clear blue salt water. Peter wanted to run his tongue over every inch of the olive toned skin exposed to the sun. His smile was radiant, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, with thick, dark eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses. Swung low on his hips right below a toned stomach were hot rod red swim shorts that stopped in the middle of his thigh, showing off his tan legs dusted with dark hair.

Peter tried not to look, he really did, but he could not stop his eyes from landing on the older man’s crotch. And he was not disappointed. There, curving onto his thigh, was a long, thick unmistakable dick print. Peter’s mouth watered at the sight as his own cock stirred with interest.

Fuck. He wondered how big he really was in person. How far he could take it down his throat. He wanted to know how it would feel to be stretched and filled by Tony’s cock.

Scooting his chair back abruptly, Peter shot up off of it. His hard-on tenting almost painfully in his pajama pants and it was starting to create a wet spot. Mattress shopping can wait, Peter needed to cum, like, yesterday.

He rushes to his room and yanks the drawer of his night stand open, revealing a wooden box. Peter unlatches the box and grabs a bottle of lube and his veiny lifelike vibrating dildo with a suction cup right behind the silicone balls from his small collection. This one was by far his favorite, it’s eight inches long and he loved feeling the veins and the girth of it filling him up.

Peter lays a towel down on his bed and climbs to the middle, carefully avoiding the new dent in the mattress. He bunches up the pillows behind his back so he’s laying at an incline, then starts rubbing himself over his pajama pants while he uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto his fingertips. Clumsily, he pulls and shimmies his pants down his hips with his left hand, breath hitching when his heated erection makes contact with the cool air in his apartment. It lands with a light smack against his abs and Peter tugs his shirt up and under his chin. Kicking his pants off his bed, Peter spreads his legs. He can feel his hole puckering in anticipation of being used.

His left hand begins lightly skimming his torso, feeling his abs contract under his finger tips. Bringing them higher, he rubs across his chest, pinching his nipples softly. Peter rubs the lube between his thumb and forefinger to warm it up, then starts rubbing the tight ring of muscle in circles, making his cock jump.

Once he’s coated, he sinks a finger in slowly to coax himself open. His left hand continues caressing his body, skirting across the area right above his cock. Peter lets out a plethora of whines and pants, eyes screwed shut at the feeling. The image of Tony’s face urging him to take another finger.

He knows Tony’s fingers would be thicker, stretching him wider than Peter ever could with his own. The younger man hoped his former teacher would be able to handle him the way he wanted. Peter imagined large, strong hands encircling his throat while the other gripped hard on his hips while he took him.

Three of his fingers are buried deep in himself before he even touches his neglected, leaking cock. His left hand comes to collect the precum pooling at the head and dribbling down his shaft, allowing his hand to glide along his hot skin. He strokes himself lazily as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dildo. Uncapping the lube again he slicks up the silicone and brings it to his open, waiting hole.

Pulling his left hand off of his cock, Peter grabs one of the pillows and stuffs it under the small of his back.

He imagines Tony looking down at him with dark, analytical eyes, watching Peters every movement. The rise and fall of his chest, his heaving breaths. The way Peter keens when he’s stretched like he longs for the sting of it. Would he fuck into him slowly or would he seath himself in one smooth, quick stroke?

Peter chooses the latter.

He cries out as he pushes the dildo balls deep into his ass without pause. The pain from the stretch mixes deliciously with pleasure. Sweat beading on his forehead has Peter’s curls sticking wetly to his skin. His entire body is covered in a thin sheen of it.

The young man turns onto his left side, dildo still deep inside him. Peter reaches around his back with his right hand and grips the bottom of the suction cup. He sighs, easing the dildo out slowly before pressing the button at the base of the shaft to turn on the vibration and ramming it into himself once more.

Tony would be taking him from behind, a long arm encircling Peter’s body, hand coming to grip him at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone so that he could pull the younger man down and onto his thick cock while he fucks up into him.

Peter continued to fuck himself roughly with the dildo while he thought of Tony’s hard body doing it to him instead. He’d whisper dirty things in Peter’s ear while he fucked him. Tell him that he’s such a good little slut for his teacher. Peter whined at the thought, he’d love it if Tony let him call him Mr. Stark in bed.

He starts stroking his cock faster, feeling his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach. His right arm is starting to get tired from fucking the dildo into his ass for so long, he’s gotta cum soon.

Peter’s eyes fly open when he hears his phone vibrate through the thrumming in his ears. It’s a text from Tony.

How’s my favorite student? Miss me?

That does it. Peter’s entire body jolts as he cums all over his hand and the towel he laid on the bed, a high whine caught in his throat.

He’s still trying to catch his breath a few minutes later, after he eases the dildo out and places it on the towel. He wipes his hand off on it as well before he grabs his phone. He definitely needs a shower now. Then he’ll go to the mall.

To: Tony

Don’t flatter yourself

To: Tony

Maybe a little

Tony can’t help but smile at his phone, he might have been a little too eager with the message, typing it up as soon as he put his car in park. The easy banter going on between him and Peter was refreshing. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt genuinely excited to talk to someone, let alone text.

As the conversation kept flowing while Tony picked up his dry cleaning, he could only deduce that it was because they were nearly equal on an intellectual level. It may have helped that Peter was easy on the eyes as well.

They talked about their projects at work and the research behind it, what it was like at Columbia for Peter, and how MIT had been to Tony. The older man made a mental note to ask where Peter worked at a later date, maybe he could recruit him. He learned that Peter’s favorite colors were blue and red. That he hated horror movies but watched them anyway just to spite himself. He loved rom-coms and (surprise, surprise) sci-fi movies. He couldn’t cook to save his life, Tony assured him he could give him lessons if he wanted, he could make a mean Chicken Piccata.

Tony couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it at all. The conversation was innocent and Tony was a flirt by nature, Pepper never had a problem with it. If anything, this thing with Peter was just a budding friendship. The universe knows Tony needed someone to talk to.

Around noon, Tony’s stomach started to grumble, not surprising considering the hearty breakfast of black coffee he had this morning. Peter mentioned earlier that he’d been craving Gyros, and that didn’t sound half bad right about now. He was a few blocks away from the mall anyway.

From: Peter

Here’s a contact picture, in case you needed one...

[see attachment]

The picture Peter sent was absolutely adorable. His bangs fell over his forehead, slightly parted to the side so it wasn’t completely covered. Tony felt utterly entranced by the younger man’s smile and the way his left eyebrow looked like he’d slept with his face buried in a pillow. He was wearing a T-Shirt with a science pun on it, as if the kid couldn’t be any dorkier. Tony loved it.

To: Peter

Is that a sly way of getting me to send you a selfie back?

Cute shirt by the way, where ya headed?

From: Peter

Maybe...did it work?

I’m going shopping for a new mattress, old one crapped out on me.

To: Peter

Here, since you asked so nicely

[see attachment]

From: Peter

Oof, you can just delete mine. You just made me go from a solid 6 to like a 2

To: Peter

Hey, give yourself some credit, you’re definitely at least a 5

KIDDING, I’d rate you a solid 9, kid. Just because there’s always room for improvement

From Peter:

I would just like to know who gave you the right to be so sassy and RUDE

To: Peter

Definitely my narcissistic ego

No, but seriously Pete, you’re stunning. Don’t listen to the old guy

From: Peter

Pls you’re not that old, Tony.

To: Peter

A man after my own heart. Thanks, kid.

From: Peter

Anytime :-)

You’re more like my friend’s hot dad if anything

To: Peter

Little shit.

From Peter:

;-)

Tony shook his head fondly and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he entered the mall, looking around for something indicating what direction the food court was in. He hadn’t been to this mall in a while, he admits since he’s been making more money it’s kept him from coming and eating the fast food they had here. So he followed the signs until he got to the food court, and noticed there were still quite a few tables open for him to sit and eat at. He made a point to stay as far away from the family with three screaming children as possible.

He scanned the choices until he found somewhere that had gyros and went to go stand in line. The menu wasn’t too extensive, he could either get a gyro platter or a falafel platter, and he already knew what he was here for. His eyes fell from the menu to the person in front of him. Not to be a creep, he’s only human, but he had a fantastic ass. A perfect little bubble butt.

The man was a little shorter than him, he had a trim waist that opened up to broad shoulders not bigger than Tony’s. Incredible figure. He’s probably a dancer or a marathon runner. He also noticed this man had brown curls. That made him snort softly to himself, he either had a type or Peter just invaded his mind in a short amount of time. It could be either, honestly.

His eyes dropped to the phrase printed on the back of his shirt.

Never trust an atom, they make up everything

Ha. Peter would love that shirt.

Wait.

Peter has that shirt. It’s the one he was wearing in his selfie.

“Peter?”

The man in front of him whirled around to look at him with a puzzled expression. Tony suddenly found himself unable to move or say another word. He was instantly captivated by doe eyes and one of the prettiest faces he’d seen in a long time.

He watched his confusion turn into realization and then disbelief and dare he say: panic.

“Tony?”

@sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @ironspiderstarker, @katzenbaby1, @spider-iron-man, @rebel13lion39, @twokinkybeans, @frenchfrostpudding, @cherrygoldlove, @silkystarkk, @icandoakickflip, @irondaddio, @briesb1tch

creds to @problemchildnoonewanted for some of the messages in the beginning

#starker #sluttystark stuff #starker fic #starker au #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #Peter Parker/Tony Stark

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze (24/25)

Warnings: Jaskier has a small panic attack in this chapter, but Geralt helps him through it. The whole thing is barely a paragraph.

_______

Saturday.

Finally!

The first day of the summer holidays! Jaskier had barely been able to resist throwing his arms around Geralt the day before when the fireman had come to collect Ciri after school but they’d both agreed that they should at least try to wait until the weekend. So he’d forcibly stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled on his feet. He couldn’t help the dazzling smile he flashed at Geralt but at least he managed to keep his hands to himself.

But that was now a thing of the past.

He sat up in bed with more energy than he’d had in the mornings in years. He pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a hand through his hair as he searched for his phone within the pile of sheets. He found the bastard under one of his pillows and immediately rang Geralt without looking at the time.

It rang a few times before Geralt picked up.

“The fuck?” Geralt grumbled into the phone.

Jaskier frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear so he could look at the time. “Oh shit!” He cackled and then put the phone on speaker. “Sorry, darling. I’m still on school time.”

“Jaskier, you’re never on school time, even during term time,” Geralt muttered.

“Oh shush. I just wanted to say that I love you!” He trilled happily.

Geralt grunted.

“Oh ho ho! Aren’t you a grumpy arse this morning?” Jaskier giggled and rolled onto his back, planting his legs up against the wall.

“Fuck off.”

“No! Because it is the school holidays and I, Jaskier Pankratz, love you, Geralt Rivia.” He sighed wistfully.

“Hmm.”

“Geralt!” He whined.

He knew the fireman was tired but he could at least say it back once. The fucker.

“Love you too, now can I get back to sleep?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear heart, but call me when you’re awake, alright?”

“Fine.”

The line went dead.

The bastard.

He considered going back to sleep himself but he had too much energy. He jumped out of bed, tripping over his shoes that were on the floor right by his bed, and went flailing across the room.

“Oh cock!” He cursed as he landed, rather painfully, against the door. He would probably have a lovely bruise on the hip that crashed against the wall, but it was better than landing on his wrists and breaking them.

He sort of needed those to play his instruments.

He supposed he could always just sing.

Nah. That was shit.

Plus Priscilla would kill him if he couldn’t finish up the new album. He still had at least one lute track to put down, and even though she could play the lute, he was more skilled and she preferred to focus on the singing. She’d complained enough about his insistence on using the lute over the guitar on this album but he’d refused to back down. He had a vision!

So fuck the guitar.

He sighed and straightened his glasses, frowning as he noticed the smudges on the lenses. How the fuck were they already dirty? He’d only cleaned them last night before bed.

Fuck it.

Pancakes!

Ooh he could make the chocolate chip kind and send photos to Geralt. They had an unspoken rule that one did not make chocolate chip pancakes without photographic evidence unless they were both there to enjoy it. He frowned as he reached the edge of his living/kitchen area, and stuck his tongue between his lips. Maybe he should wait until he could make pancakes with Geralt and Ciri? He didn’t want to make them too often. They wouldn’t be special if he made them too often.

He scoffed. “Yeah, well. I’m hungry.” He muttered. He gazed longingly at the flour and sugar on the top shelf of his cupboards and then grabbed a box of chocolate cereal instead.

Yes he still ate chocolate cereal. The boring old flakey stuff was shit and he actually had taste buds. He preferred his food to not taste like cardboard.

Gods, how was he an adult?

He sighed and scrolled through the social media on his phone. Triss had put up a few pictures from the pub the night before. He’d reluctantly declined the invitation as the wolves were going along, even though Geralt had stayed behind to look after Ciri. There were quite a few of Triss and Eskel pulling funny faces at the camera, and one adorable photo of Triss kissing his cheek. Eskel looked incredibly happy. They were cute together. Jaskier hit the heart button and typed out a string of heart-eyes emojis in the comments.

Even Yennefer had put up a rare personal post. She normally kept her social media for her art stuff but there was a stunning photograph of her outside the pub. She was wearing a long white chiffon dress matched with a leather jacket and heavy leather boots, not exactly summery but it was Yennefer. She was gazing off to the side, her face lit by dull glow of the street lamps, one fiery violet eye almost glowing in the darkness.

Jaskier pouted. How was she so fucking photogenic all the time? Seriously how was Geralt now dating him after that?

“Urgh,” he groaned and hit the heart button.

JaskierTheBard: Stop making us all look bad, Yennefer! Stunning photograph darling x

He reread the reply twice and hit send. It was kinder than he usual response to Yennefer but honestly he had to admit she was a little bit sexy in that one, which just wasn’t fair.

Renfri had posted a group photo of the whole gang and he whined. It looked like a fun night. Stupid Philippa and her rules. It wasn’t fair that he had to miss out, but thankfully those days were officially over!

He lost track of time as he scrolled on his phone. He swore as he suddenly remembered his cereal. He groaned as he peered into his bowl. The milk was chocolatey and the cereal had all but disintegrated. He fucking hated soggy cereal.

“Cock,” he muttered and threw the whole lot in the bin.

He was about to put some toast on when his door bell rang. He yelped and jumped at the sound. He looked down at himself. He was still just wearing his boxers. Fuck. He ran to his bedroom and grabbed his dressing gown. It was too hot really to wear it in the summer but he wouldn’t have time to get dressed.

As it turned out, he needn’t have bothered. Geralt was at the door holding a bunch of roses with a sheepish smile on his face.

Jaskier grinned. “Geralt!” He flung his arms around his boyfriends neck and then swore as he realised he was probably crushing the flowers. “Umm, let me just go get some water. Wait. These are for me? They are beautiful. Geralt!” He whined and covered his face in his hands.

Geralt, the fucker, just laughed at him. “They’re for you. I thought… well, Ciri said I couldn’t go on a date without flowers. She was really stubborn about it.”

Jaskier snorted and carefully took the flowers from Geralt. They weren’t too badly crushed, thank Melitele for that. “I wonder where she gets that from,” he teased.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Calanthe, her grandmother. Even Pavetta had a stubborn streak. Trust me, this one has nothing to do with me.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit! I’m sorry. I forgot. I didn’t mean… hmmph!”

Geralt had kissed him.

Not that he was complaining. He smiled into the kissed and then pulled back to gaze into Geralt’s beautiful amber eyes.

“You don’t get to do that every time you want me to shut up, dearest,” he chided gently.

Geralt smirked and just kissed him again.

Ok so perhaps he could.

Gods he was so smitten.

“I love you,” he breathed against Geralt’s lips when they finally pulled apart.

Geralt brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “I love you too, even if you do have morning breath.”

Jaskier gasped and shoved against Geralt’s chest. “Rude!” He pouted.

“You love me,” Geralt reminded him. “How are you not dressed yet? You’ve been awake for hours.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Internet.”

“Come on, get dressed. I want to take you out.” Geralt instructed with a tilt of his head.

Jaskier laughed. “Take me out how? Kill me or date me? Honestly I’m down for both.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt growled and rolled his eyes.

“Kill me, right. Got it,” he winked at his boyfriend. “Now are you absolutely sure you want me to get dressed? Because I have the perfect outfit to wear but once I’m in those jeans I am not taking them off again,” he stroked Geralt’s cheek with one finger and then bopped him on the nose.

“Hmm. Brush your teeth and I’ll get water for the flowers.” Geralt took the roses back off him. “Do you have a vase?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Of course I have a vase. I’m gay!”

“That’s not an excuse for everything, Jaskier, and I’m pretty sure you’re bi,” Geralt rolled his eyes.

Jaskier laughed. “That’s just homophobic.”

“That’s not—” Geralt cut himself off and pinched his nose. “Bathroom. Now. I’ll find the vase.”

Jaskier giggled happily and went to brush his teeth.

Oh sweetest Melitele! He loved the summer holidays!

__________________

After a few false starts they finally made it out of Jaskier’s flat. He was slightly regretting his choice in black skinny jeans but really they made his legs and arse look great. It was was his first proper date with Geralt and he wanted to look good. They both managed a quick shower and Jaskier braided Geralt’s hair to elevate his usual half up do. Geralt even let Jaskier slip a couple of buttercup clips into the braids.

Geralt was wearing the outfit he’d turned up it which Jaskier hadn’t managed to appreciate before but he could now as he gazed happily at his partner across the table. Geralt had also gone for black skinny jeans, thank you Freya, and a slick black short-sleeved shirt. Honestly Jaskier didn’t know how the man wasn’t boiling in the heat of the summer in all that black but he wasn’t going to complain. It was the first time he’d seen Geralt in a shirt and he was loving it.

In comparison Jaskier had decided on a bright turquoise shirt. He’d left the bottom few buttons undone and tied the ends in a knot to turn the shirt into a crop top. The intensity of Geralt’s gaze on him when he’d finally been allowed to see the whole look had almost cause yet another delay to their date but Jaskier had just winked and pulled his slightly dazed partner out of the flat, switching his glasses for his prescription sunglasses.

He had been far too hungry to delay any further and he wanted to go on a cute date with his boyfriend!

Geralt suggested an adorable little sandwich parlour. It didn’t look like much from the outside but inside it was cosy and quiet, a perfect lunchtime date spot.

Or it would have if they hadn’t been interrupt by Lambert and Renfri… again.

Seriously, every time they ended up in a coffee shop those two were there. They both had wet hair and flushed red faces. Jaskier assumed the pair of them had been at the gym. Geralt had mentioned they liked to spar together on the wolf pack’s days off, that and the work out clothes sort of gave them away.

“Well, well, well,” Lambert laughed as they approached and crossed his arms. “So much for Triss and Eskel’s theory of you moving on, Dandelion.”

Jaskier gaped at the redhead. “Wait what? Have you been talking about us?!” He pointed a finger at the pair of them.

Renfri rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly think they have anything better to do? I’ve had to keep my mouth shut for months whilst these idiots try and think of a plan to set you two up. Triss was heartbroken when you told her you’d moved on. She was really rooting for you guys.”

“Wait, you knew?” Lambert growled at Renfri, she just shoved him in the face.

“Of course I knew. It was fucking obviously. You just had to look at Geralt’s face whenever Jaskier was mentioned. He lit up like a petrol can.”

“Renfri,” Geralt sighed. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Renfri snorted and Jaskier cackled. Oh ho! He was going to have so much fun with this. He held Geralt’s hand over the top of the table and smiled at his lover. “Oh darling, I didn’t know you cared so much,” he simpered with a flutter of his eyelashes.

“I’m pretty sure I showed you how much I care this morning, more than once.”

Jaskier blushed and pulled his hand away. “Touché, dear heart, touché,” he licked his lips as he remembered the morning’s activities. “Please, feel free to remind me any time.”

“Nope!” Lambert yelled and covered his ears. “No. You are not going to be that couple. Urgh.”

“Months I’ve had to put up with this!” Renfri complained. “Come on, wolf. Let’s leave the love birds in peace. They’ll put me off my lunch otherwise.”

“So gross,” Lambert agreed.

Jaskier laughed as the pair of them scarpered from the shop, and he rested his head on his chin as he ate his chips. They were like the kind you get in fish and chip shops and covered in blessed salty goodness. Geralt, the monster that he was, covered his with vinegar so Jaskier wouldn’t steal his chips as well.

“So what’s their deal?” Jaskier asked though mouthfuls of delicious fried potato.

Geralt tilted his head, he also now had a mouthful of cheesesteak sandwich.

“They said they weren’t dating?” Jaskier tried to explain.

Geralt huffed and Jaskier waited for him to finish eating. “Renfri doesn’t date. She has no interest in it.”

Jaskier nodded. “Asexual?”

Geralt shook his head. “Don’t think so. Just the dating thing,” he scowled as he tried to formulate his thoughts. “I think she called it aromantic, but even then her and Lambert are practically siblings. They’d probably both stab you for suggesting anything else.”

“Right. Noted. Rather not be stabbed. I made it all the way through the school year. It would be a fucking shame if I got stabbed now,” he flicked his fringe from his eyes. “Especially when you look so bloody sexy in that shirt.”

Geralt scoffed. “Says the man wearing a crop top.”

Jaskier grinned and leant forward so his lips were almost touching Geralt’s. “It would look better on your bedroom floor, darling.”

Geralt’s eyes went dark and Jaskier kissed the tip of his nose. “But not yet. I’m starving and these chips are brilliant! I cannot believe you would ruin them with vinegar.”

Geralt groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re a fucking tease, Jaskier.”

Jaskier just laughed and brushed his foot up against Geralt’s leg under the table. “You love it,” he agreed with a wink.

“Hmm.”

“You doooo,” Jaskier insisted. “And you love me!”

“I admit nothing.”

“I’ll make it up to you later?” He flashed his most flirtatious grin at Geralt, rubbing his foot further up Geralt’s leg.

“Jask,” Geralt half moaned and Jaskier laughed at the pretty blush on Geralt’s cheek.

“Yes, dearest Geralt?” He sang, feigning innocence.

“I hate you.” His boyfriend groaned and hid his face behind his hands.

“I know, love. I know.”

____________________

Jaskier was busy pulling on one of Geralt’s hoodies that he’d pinched earlier on in their relationship, when Geralt sighed loudly. Jaskier bounced back over to the bed and straddled his boyfriend’s hips.

“What’s up, dear heart?” He said with a tilt of his head.

Geralt’s long hair was now loose. Jaskier had taken great delight in undoing his own work and letting the silver strands fall loosely by Geralt’s face. His hair was naturally wavy after a shower anyway but it had been accentuated where the braids had been, and by the gods, Geralt had looked so beautiful. He still did. Only now he had his grumpy face back on. Jaskier gently stroked his thumb along Geralt’s cheek, brushing a loose strand away from his eyes.

“We need to tell Ciri,” Geralt groaned.

“Already? I thought we were going to tell her we’re friends first.”

“Won’t work.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow and huffed. “And why not?”

“She’s too clever, and I love you,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier felt his smile soften at Geralt’s words and he shifted so he could lie back down on Geralt’s chest, nuzzling into the crook of Geralt’s neck. “And I love you, my dearest of hearts.”

“Hmm.” He felt Geralt kiss the top of his hair and he sighed happily.

“So we tell her when?”

“Come home with me?” Geralt suggested. “She knows I was on a date.”

“It has been a long date,” Jaskier hummed thoughtfully, and it really had. Geralt had arrived mid-morning at it was now late afternoon bordering on early evening. “Won’t she be worried about you?”

Geralt chuckled and Jaskier felt his heart race faster in his chest. Geralt’s laugh was so warm, rough and woefully underused. It always made Jaskier’s day when he could make Geralt laugh so freely. “Yennefer took her to the zoo. She thought we might need the extra time.”

Jaskier giggled. “I cannot imagine Yennefer Vengerberg at the zoo!” He laughed harder as he pressed his face against Geralt’s bare shoulder.

“Why?”

“Oh I don’t know,” he grinned, placing a kiss on Geralt’s shoulder. “She seems too classy for the zoo.”

Geralt threaded his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and he hummed in contentment. He’d always enjoyed it when his partners played with his hair. The gentle tug at his scalp just turned him to goo. If he was a cat he was sure he’d be purring. As it was he couldn’t stop the happy hum in his chest.

“No one is too classy for the zoo,” Geralt said with such sincerity that Jaskier let out a peal of laughter and rolled onto the mattress next to Geralt. He felt Geralt roll onto his side and their eyes met. Geralt was smirking at him with mirth in his eyes.

Jaskier was overwhelmed with the love that was in his heart. In reality his time with Geralt really hadn’t been that long at all but it had just been blissful. Their forbidden romance seemed to have extended their honeymoon period and he still felt as gooey over his boyfriend as he had the first time he’d seen Geralt enter his classroom ten months prior.

“Quite right, dear. I love the zoo,” he sighed longingly. It had been ages since he had been.

“Next time we’ll go.” Geralt suggested. “I like the animals.”

“Deal. Ooh does this mean I finally get to meet Roach?!” He cried in excitement, a smile lighting up his face.

Geralt nodded. “She doesn’t like new people though. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Jaskier reached over to kiss Geralt and then rest his forehead against Geralt’s. “Of course not, darling.”

“Good…” Geralt paused. “Darling.”

Jaskier’s heart clenched in his chest and he buried his face in one of the pillows of the bed, making sadly incoherent noises that he wasn’t proud of. “Geralt!!” He whined pitifully. “You can’t just say things like that!”

Geralt scoffed. “You do all the time.”

Jaskier glared at him with a pout. He could feel the heat of the blush on his cheek. “Yeah, well…”

“Don’t worry.” Geralt smirked, kissing Jaskier’s temple. “I don’t think pet names are my thing.”

Jaskier pouted. “Hmmph.”

Reluctantly he rolled off the bed and pulled Geralt to his feet. With one last kiss he let Geralt get dressed. His boyfriend really did need to get back to Ciri and apparently Jaskier was going to be re-introduced to the young girl as her father’s new boyfriend; only a day after the term had finished.

Jaskier wasn’t nervous. Why would he be? Ciri loved him… as her teacher. Oh gods, he was going to fuck this up so badly. His heart was racing, and not in the good I’m in love way. Oh no. No, no, no, no.

He gasped a breath and leant against the wall. Geralt’s arms wrapped around his waist in an instance. “Breathe, Jaskier.”

Jaskier breathed, trying to match his breath with Geralt’s. “Sorry,” he mumbled when the worst of it was over.

“What happened?”

“What if she doesn’t like me?” He asked, his voice sounding pathetic even to his ears.

“She adores you, Jaskier.” Geralt nuzzled his neck gently. “She was disappointed when I said it wasn’t you.”

Jaskier groaned. “She’ll hate that you lied to her.”

“She’ll come round.” Geralt insisted.

“How are you so calm?” He snapped.

Geralt sighed. “Because she’s my daughter and she loves me, and she adores you.”

Jaskier nodded. “Ok. Ok. Yes. Let’s do this, before I run away and decide to live in a cave with just my lute for company.”

Geralt scoffed. “Always so dramatic.”

Jaskier managed a smile at that, even after his little wobble of anxiety. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

__________________

They were standing, hand in hand, outside Geralt’s house. Geralt and Ciri’s house. Jaskier hadn’t been here since the beginning of May when Ciri had been away with Yennefer. Ciri wasn’t away this time and they were about to reveal everything to her. He curled his toes in his shoes and hummed nervously under his breath. Geralt’s house suddenly seemed a lot larger than it had before.

Geralt squeezed his hand. “It’ll be fine, Jask.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “I know. I know. I trust you.”

“Come on then. You’ll stay for dinner?”

Jaskier nodded again. “But I should probably go home after dinner. I imagine we’ll both need our own space by then.”

Geralt chuckled quietly. “Yeah. Ready?”

“Yes?” Jaskier’s voice squeaked a little, much to his embarrassment.

“Good.” Geralt moved to unlock the front door but it opened before he could get the key in the lock.

Yennefer stood on the other side with her hands on her hips. She was smirking at them both, looking far too evilly delighted for Jaskier’s liking.

“MR JASKIER!!” Ciri shrieked and there was a blur of blonde hair before Jaskier was knocked flying by the young girl.

He laughed nervously and hugged her back. “Hello, Ciri.”

“I knew it was you!!” She screamed happily. “Dad said it wasn’t but I knew it was you!”

“You don’t mind?” Jaskier asked, tentatively patting his former student on the back as she clung onto him.

Ciri pulled back and looked up at him. Her nose was scrunched up and she pouted. “Why would I mind?”

“Well, because I was your teacher and now I’m dating your father?” Jaskier stammered. He glanced at Geralt who just raised a knowing eyebrow at him. The bastard had known this would happen.

Ciri rolled her eyes and scoffed. “So? Everyone will be jealous. You’re the best teacher at school!” She announced as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “Maybe you shouldn’t boast too much about it Ciri. It’s not kind.”

Ciri just stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his tongue out right back at her and she giggled.

“Jaskier’s right, princess. It would be best if you don’t tell everyone just yet,” Geralt said as he scooped her up into a hug.

“But it’s Mistle’s birthday party next week!” She pouted.

“Ciri,” Yennefer sighed, brushing the young girl’s hair out of her eyes. “Can we trust you to keep this a secret for now?”

Ciri scrunched her nose but nodded. “Ok, but only if we can go back to see the lions at the zoo! They were my favourite.”

Jaskier met Geralt’s eyes and smiled. “Well, buttercup, funny you should say that….”

____________

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #wolfie's witcher writing

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pandemilkbread · 4 years ago

Text

abashed ✩

eyes like sinking ships on waters

ᴛᴏᴅᴏʀᴏᴋɪ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ✩ masterlist

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: It was something that crept up so slowly it left Todoroki unaware, but he thought that was the best kind of love; one so natural you don't even notice.

[ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴏ ᴢ’s ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs]

warnings: suggestive themes of smut, though only detailed at the last parts. read at your own discretion. not really smutty tho...

author’s note: i promised to upload this earlier, whoops, i apologize. hehe

ⓐ — ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ

ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ:

/əˈbaSHt/

adjective

embarrassed, disconcerted, or ashamed.

Warmth.

Warmth was the ray of light shining through the gray-like curtains at the peak of dawn, the heat amassed within the heavy blankets that covered skin, the hotness of pillows from where your touch lingered and left, with all the toss and turning in between; the very definition of warmth described the comfortable heat radiating from the arm wrapped around your stomach like a safeguard—

Cold.

Cold was the sweat dribbling down your forehead in sheer panic, the chilly breeze that encased your body as you quickly ripped the blankets off, the freezing temperature of the tiled floor immediately upon falling on your bare bottom soon after, cold and empty was your mind, connecting the images of what transpired the previous day— or night rather.

All you picked up were bits and pieces: bright lights, booming music, the smell of strong alcohol, a pop of a balloon… ‘Ah, yes.’ You thought, hesitantly. ‘The birthday party.’ Who knew an adult as yourself, who had the alcohol tolerance of a Viking from the late eighth century, could flat out collapse from drinking too much.

And God you wanted to throw up.

Besides wanting to spill out your guts onto the crystal clear floor—you cringed at the thought of whoever was supposed to clean the mess after, if you chose to do so anyway—there was a direr issue to address; which was… knowing where the hell you were, and who you were with.

You slightly inched yourself onto your knees and peered back at the comfortable blue sheets where he laid, fast asleep. Surprisingly, your fumbling did not wake the sleeping man. You assumed as much as you were knocked out from the liquor, he was in a similar state as well.

Sighing, you pulled yourself up only to be met with a painful ache on your upper thighs, forcing you to stumble on your backside. You hissed. ‘What in the world?’ Squinting at the dark splotches on your skin that darted from your lower thighs up until your upper stomach, a small part of you believed there were more sprinkled on your chest and neck. It forced one notion down your thick skull.

First, you were naked. The bareness of your skin provided neither protection from the cold breeze coming from the air conditioner, nor the heat radiating from your cheeks in embarrassment. The pain from earlier, and the bruises that enveloped your skin were two of the many testimonies of your late night endeavor.

You groaned. In truth, you weren’t the type of person to be hooking up with a stranger, no— scratch that, you were never the type of person to be having sex at all, and with a stranger nonetheless. Frankly, the only time you were close to doing the deed was with your boyfriend of a year and a half, whom you broke up with months ago, and it did not end well.

Let’s just say, he had a ‘technical difficulty’ with putting on a simple condom; leaving the touch starved you, furious as he suggested to do it otherwise without it. And the night was cut short. ‘A great night forever encased into my memories.’ You mused.

Back to the crisis at hand, your eyes shifted to the human unconscious on the bed, the sound of small breaths reached your ears. You prompted yourself onto your knees then leaned your upper body on the bed, a small blush dusted your cheeks as you glanced at the man.

‘Great.’ You breathed. Over 126 million people in Japan and you slept with the one person you’d rather not see again.

Your fingers gently swiped the strands of red hair covering his closed eyes. Breathtaking. Even while asleep he managed to send your heart into a frenzy, and brought shivers down your spine, and reignited the little speck of hope you had left, one you thought had blown out years ago, only to reemerge stronger than ever.

Oh, god, you hated hope.

You propped your chin on the palm of your hand. Sighing, you continued to play around with his hair. A part of you hoped the beautiful stranger, not-so unfamiliar anymore, woke from his slumber— a sort of wakeup call and signal for you to get going. Another, cruel part, wanted him to stay asleep, a somewhat impossible wish; and you wished, you really wished, this was a dream.

If it was one, please, please, please, you wanted to crawl back under the covers, just for a few minutes.

You pinched yourself.

Once, then twice, then thrice.

Maybe seventh times a charm?

You massaged your temples. If it were a dream, you would have awaken by now. Then, you were not in a dream, and this was real. And if it was real… you can afford to be a little selfish. So you sat up from your spot and leaned forward, brushing your lips against the top of his forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

Loud enough to satisfy your wants, but as quiet as the passing breeze, rendering it nonexistent.

You could always shuffle back into the sheets, you know you wanted to; bask in the warmth of the bed, so soft and cozy; pretend reality did not exist, yes, in another life this apartment was your home; and the notion of walking in shame was all fiction, you were abashed.

You sighed, sounding more like a mix of a hiss and a groan.

It was time to go. There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens. Simply, you are an adult. Yet, the years of being humbled at college, forcibly awoken by the harsh realities of adulthood, and the gruesome jobs at the hospital— could not diminish your fairytale dreams and hopes, by now reverted back into one intense form.

Your high school crush on the one and only, Todoroki Shouto.

Something that had shrunk to the size of a pea, had somewhat grown into a bowling ball, all in the span of ten minutes and by all means, it would continue to grow bigger. You were sure of it. The plausible solution?

Running out while you still had your mind, heart, and spirit intact. Oh, yes. The very same went for your embarrassment and shame: behold, the little youngling had initiated her very first hook-up for all the world to see! ‘Technically anyone awake by seven’ you presumed by looking at the light from outside.

Grabbing your discarded clothes, you walked to a room, closer to a closet than an actual bathroom, and put them on. Now that you were fully dressed, the whole idea of sleeping with your high school crush was unbelievable.

A prank? You rolled your eyes. No one would go that far to prank someone as unimportant as you.

…Would they, though?

Your mind wandered back to the mix of silver and red asleep in the bedroom. Was he the type of person to sleep around with anyone he wanted?

He can, though. You thought. Then again. He did not seem like the type to do so.

You ruffled your hair in front of the mirror, sliding your fingers through your hair in an attempt to smooth out the tangles.

Is it possible? Perhaps you never slept with him in the first place? Maybe, your lower pain was the symptoms of a forthcoming period, or maybe the bruises on your skin were the scars of an epic battle fight sequence in the bar, or maybe the person sleeping on the bed was never Todoroki Shouto and you were delusional.

Putting it that way, the lame excuses sounded more ridiculous than reasonable.

The door opened with a click, and you winced at the sound, your fingers quickly twisted the knob to prevent any more unnecessary noise. Stepping out of the bathroom, you glanced at the person laying on the bed. For someone considered one of the nation’s top heroes, Todoroki slept pretty peacefully while a stranger used his room to her volition.

What if I was a villain, hm? You grumbled. One slit to the throat and you’d be a goner.

The exact moment you thought about assassinating (not that you would actually do it, you were a hospital resident for heaven’s sake!) the peppermint boy stirred in his spot, forcing you to freeze. The blankets shifted downwards to reveal the bare skin of his chest, littered with splotches of dark blue, and you gaped.

His neckline gleamed with love bites, his collar taking the brunt of all the kisses, and the chest area had a trail of kisses all the way down to his lower stomach, where the blanket laid comfortably— ‘did I do that?’ you breathed.

This close, you were this close to pulling all your hair out in frustration. Last night must have been the best night of your life and you couldn’t remember a thing! The whole thing was unfair!

You shook your head. No time to dwell, time to go! And go you must before the object of all your teenage fantasies woke up. Eyes scanned the room for the last item of your possessions, the shoes you wore.

You scoured under the gray sofa to the side of the bed, then softly shifted the blanket on the floor, it was not in the bathroom where you changed, the carpet showed no sign of the footwear, and you remembered really wearing shoes to the party. ‘So, where is it?’

After searching for what seemed like twenty minutes, you plopped down on your knees in front of the bed. ‘Maybe Todoroki knows where it is?’ A stupid suggestion, why would a sleeping man know the location of your shoes? He was not psychic; and if you did not know the place, how on Earth would he know?

But that did not stop you from asking either.

“Good morning, dear. Happen to know where my shoes are?” You joked.

It was barely a whisper, a joke for your ears only; a gag really to soothe yourself during moments of distress. He was not supposed to reply, you weren’t expecting a reaction either, so you slumped. If you could handle three back to back shifts at the hospital without a break, you can handle walking out of this damned apartment without shoes.

By the shine of the bright light outside, and knowing it was a Sunday morning, there should not be a lot people to gawk at your unruly appearance. If you were lucky enough to hail a taxi in three minutes, all before the early joggers on the street gushed about your lack of footwear, you would be safe from the impending embarrassment.

Maybe, you could take a pair of slippers from the apartment? The hero will never know, and if he did, what kind of rich hero would search far and wide for a woman who stole his flip-flops? It was just some slippers! ‘All right, do it!’ You dared.

Just as you were about to stand up, a warm arm reached for your neck— the base of his palm wrapped around the back of your head, compelling your chest to rest on top of the bed. Mismatched eyes of gray and turquoise stared back at you—your stomach jumped, and you gulped, God was it that hot in here?— rather groggily, the corner of his lips smirked.

“Have you tried the shoe rack outside?” Todoroki murmured.

One blink, two blinks, three blinks. You hissed in realization. ‘Of course! Who brings their shoes inside?’ You had to be the dumbest drunk to have ever lived, you weren’t drunk right now per se, but, the alcohol must have done something to your brain. It was strong enough to make you forget simple Japanese customs, you wanted to smack your skull.

Eyes peeping at the man, you diverted your gaze sheepishly, the intense stare he had made you bashful, slightly making your insides churn and almost making you a spluttering mess. You glanced back at Todoroki, and tilted your head.

“W-Were you awake this whole time? I-I thought I saw you move…” You admitted.

He loosened his grip on your neck and rested his palm on your shoulder. “You were not exactly quiet,” he then traced tiny circles on your collar. “Falling off the bed…must have hurt, are you all right?”

Your face swiftly turned three shades darker. ‘He was awake!’ The moment you woke up in shock and slammed your bare ass on the floor, he was awake! ‘Naturally! He’s a god damned hero!’ Obviously, who wouldn’t stir awake from the loud smacking sound, and your cry of pain?

You squinted at the smirk on the corner of his lips. ‘He’s teasing you!’ He was awake this whole time… then, he must have felt your lips on his forehead, and heard the ‘good morning’, and the fumbling for your shoes, and the swipe of your fingers, and you playing with his hair, and everything else!

How was it possible to be this abashed? Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire, oh fuck, it had to do with his stupid little smirk, his stupid intense gaze, his stupid hold on you as if you meant something to him like—like you meant the world to him.

Oh, how your stomach kneaded at the thought.

“I’m… fine.” You snatched his hand and placed it on the bed.

By the way he looked at you, you reasoned out he was waiting for something. Gratitude for the night before sounds way too conceited, he did not seem like a narcissist. An apology for taking too much of his time and space sounded too sad, your heart ached and hearing him jab it with regrets would hurt.

What else was there to remember? God, did you puke into his suit, or clothes, did he want you to pay for his dry cleaning? You cringed, goodbye self-esteem.

“…I’ve never done this thing before, you know?” You spoke. “Ah, I don’t really know what happens the morning after…” Blushing, you pinched your fingers, a nervous habit. “I’ve… I mean… I watch those shows and… I know someone has to walk out after and seeing this isn’t my room, I have to walk out. Yes. Me.”

His face contorted, confused. “Why do you have to walk out?”

The whole purpose of walking out was to signify the end of a session, like you would tell him that. Basically, the room was unfamiliar territory, therefore, not your apartment. Who else would walk out if not you?

“This,” you gestured the room, “is your apartment. Not mine. Why would you walk out of your own apartment?”

“Yes, I know.” Todoroki said, matter-of-factly. “But, why?”

“What do you mean ‘but, why?’ Why? Me… and you… we aren’t even a thing! We just happened to—“ You pointed. “You! This is all your fault! If you just pretended to sleep and continue doing it, we wouldn’t have this awkward exchange in the first place!”

“You asked where your shoes were.”

“I didn’t actually think you were going to reply!”

He pulled himself into a sitting position and stretched his arms. You heard the sound of a crack followed by a soft groan, and his feet perched on the ground, right in front of where you stood. The sleepy man placed his chin on his closed fist, while his elbow laid on the top of his now crossed legs.

Todoroki sighed. “You did not answer the question. Why do you want to leave?”

There were a hundred reasons to leave. He was a top hero, a celebrity in the eyes of his followers, an untouchable God by his multitude of fangirls. You believed it was impossible to stay with someone like him, your ego would not allow it.

A part of you was scared. If you stayed, the chances of talking about what happened increases. Staying meant realizing you really slept with him, and in a way reconfirmed your feelings that you might actually stand a chance. Maybe your feelings were worth it, maybe he would give you a chance, and maybe your impossible love was never impossible at all, maybe—

“It’s— It’s… not proper…” You conceded. “You’re… you! And I’m me! I barely even know you and in all honesty… I don’t really remember what happened last night. I’m sorry, it’s better if we pretend this never happened.”

He paused for a while before answering. “Why? Do you hate it that much? Do you want to talk about it?”

You clenched your hands. It was infuriating how easily his words planted fantasies into your head. The way he phrased the sentence drove an idea down your throat. ‘Did he want you to stay?’

“The thing is… I don’t remember. Do you?” You replied.

“Of course…” He took a quick glance at your face, almost looking for something, before staring back at the curtains. “Are you married?”

‘Married? Married!’ You gaped. You could not begin to comprehend why he asked such a question. Did he think you were running away because you had someone waiting at home for you? Or did he ask because he tied the knot with someone else? God… did you sleep with a married man?

You don’t recall him being married. “No! I don’t have a ring on my finger…”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He added.

Oh, you breathed. Was that the reason why? Was he asking all these things because he felt inclined to know whether the woman he slept with had someone waiting for her at home? He was minimizing the potential of a possible scandal. You sunk at the thought. “Ah, I did… But that was months ago.”

Do all hook ups have these morning questionnaire sessions? Or was this a top hero only session, to reduce the possibility of a hot and spicy front page article on the tabloid? Oh, maybe he felt guilty. You glimpsed at the man, his eyes closed in ponder.

You were never one to snitch, and something like this was a secret that would never leave your lips, until, well… you were six feet down under. You deflated yet again, presuming after his barrage of questions, he would send you out the front door.

“If it is not because you are married, not because you are taken, not because I did something wrong…” He began. “Then… stay.” His arms wrapped around your waist, while he leaned his forehead on your stomach.

Faint, you were going to faint. You heard it right, didn’t you? He said ‘stay’, not ‘leave and never come back,’ not ‘forget this, go,’ not ‘get away,’ he told you to stay. You died and went to heaven, didn’t you? Was it possible for someone like him to want you? Even if it was just for a moment, you wanted to succumb to the feeling of being loved.

Your face heated up, and your hands unconsciously reached for his head, dragging your fingers slowly between the locks of his hair. “…Are you this touchy with all the girls you sleep with?”

Right off the bat you tested the waters, almost grimacing at the implications. Why you formulated such a simple sentence into something with a double meaning, you never knew.

“No. Just you.”

Great. The issues with double ended questions. What did ‘just you’ mean? Did he sleep with a lot of women, and you were the only one he cuddled with so far? Did it mean something else? You had to pry further, not that it mattered whether he slept with other people.

“So… do you sleep with people this often or…?”

He scowled. “What makes you think I take anyone I see to bed?” Todoroki swiftly twisted you around, facing your back, and pulled your body to his lap. “…Only you.” He mumbled.

Ah, you instantly felt relieved. Though, the reassurance only managed to disorient you even further. What happened at the bar? What conversations happened during the hours of the party? What did you say to make him interested? Was he really interested? Maybe, by the way he was holding you right now, his body language proved he was.

Your stomach stirred at the close contact, pulse racing as he settled one hand on your thigh while the other swaddled your waist. “…Do you really not remember?”

You wanted to recall as well. “I don’t… sorry.”

He sighed in defeat. “All right.”

His breaths caressed the back of your neck, sending goosebumps all over your body. You shook your head and forced yourself to breathe, breathe in, and out, in and out, in and— were you being cuddled by the Todoroki Shouto on his fucking bed, why me? Out of all the women in this world, Japan rather, why would he be wrapping his warm arms around you— breathe out!

Everything was so confusing, so perplexing, so—a prank! ‘Ha ha ha, good job everyone!’ You mused. ‘Time to reveal yourselves, you assholes!’ Your list of ‘bastards who pissed you off for a living’ had hundreds of guys. The idiot from work, the bartender near your apartment, your next door neighbor who played rock music at 3 in the morning, stupid Monoma who fucked around at the hospital.

You sighed. One more time, one more phrase of reassurance. Just one more. And you’ll stop asking.

“Hey, hey… Todoroki?” You nudged him with your head, gently. You heard a soft ‘hm’ and continued. "Are you really Todoroki?”

He paused. “…Shouto.”

“I know who you are,” You hummed, a smile flickering your features. “I mean, is it really you? You’re like this… cool hero. A celebrity, really. And I’m just… sitting on your lap, in your room, in your apartment, wherever this place is.”

His grip tightened on your waist. “Who else would I be?”

“Monoma trying to fuck around and fuck up my feelings.”

“Ah, trust me, princess. I would not let that happen.” His so soft voice, sent shivers down your spine. “…Do you really not remember?”

Knock out! He called you ‘princess’, princess, princessprincessprincess. Such an endearing word for a stranger, oh but you love it so. You took a double take, the word was very familiar. Very familiar. It was difficult to pin point a certain time or place, but…

You pinched his ear. “Why do you keep asking? Was it that good that you can’t stop talking about…?”

“We talked about this right before I took you to bed and you—“

“You know what,” You spluttered. “Never mind! Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

The tips of your own ears tinged red, you could feel the heat. Learning more of what happened last night made you squirm, …it will flow back eventually. You hoped. Learning about it from the man himself made you embarrassed, super embarrassed. Knowing he was the type to be nonchalant about everything, he might describe the whole night without any reservations.

Feeling braver, you wiggled yourself into a position that had your legs wrapped around his waist and your head rested on the crook of his neck. Cloud nine, you sighed. This is what cloud nine feels like.

You closed your eyes and listened to the beats of his heart, the rhythm pulling you quicker and quicker into the sensation of sleep. As long as the man himself told you to stay, you shall indeed stay, God, you wanted to stay.

Eyes moving under your lids, one memory emerged— and boy did it send your heart tumbling. You yelped in reaction, eyelids immediately snapping open.

“Hm?” Todoroki asked, certainly with a teasing tone. A fraction of smirk was displayed on his lips. He had sort of an inkling of what happened.

“Nothing, nothing.” You deflected, snuggling your head back into the crook of his shoulder, a way to hide your forthcoming blush.

Warmth was his breath on your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbone, as his teeth lightly nipped the base of your throat. Your head blanked at the pleasure, the heat, the excitement— and only he, calling your name pulled you out of your drunken stupor, though the words he muttered afterwards sent you into a crying mess.

“…I love you.”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha todoroki #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #eyes like sinking ships on waters #todoroki shouto x you

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taeswurld · 4 years ago

Text

Ace III [Sporky]

pairing: bakugo x fem!reader

genre: humor, romance

TW: violence, cursing, angst, fluff

Summary: Shifting into My Hero was a total mistake, all those tiktoks you watched on a daily about shifting somehow convinced your brain to take part. Now the question is how to wake up, and most importantly, DON’T GET ATTACHED TO STUPID DRAWINGS!

A/N:

New chapter! Not sure how my upload schedule will go, I’ll probably just wing it or something. And I don’t really know in what direction I wanna take this fic, but I promise to make it as great as possible! Anywho, here’s sporky!

{ACE MASTERLIST}

Oops. Well it’s clear what big of a mistake you’ve just made.

While being on the verge of passing out, you decided to grab the closest thing next to you, so you don’t fall and hit your head. Instead of a counter or wall (or literally anything else) you decided to grab onto an arm.

A very muscular and warm arm.

You quickly retract your arm to look straight into glowing red eyes. They look at you in that moment with so much hated and anger, that you literally had to do a double take.

Jesus did you kill this dude’s grandma or something? What is going on?

“Next time you even think about touching me, I’ll be sure to remind you why I’m the strongest guy here.”

“Well shit my bad, no need to act like I shoved a scorpion up your ass. Jesus christ, what the fuck is your problem man? Did someone spit in your coffee or something?” You move to walk away, you are not about to deal with someone who acts like complete dick. Before you could though, this asshole grabs your arm and pulls you back.

“What did you say, extra? Alright then since you act so tough, fight me! I doubt you would win though, I mean, you have a weak ass quirk anyways!” He shouts as explosions start to come out of his hand, putting it up to you face as to scare you.

Wait, pause. You just realized you have a quirk. I mean it had to be good enough to get into U. A. But what was it? Was it like Aang, and you were like some type of avatar? Or were you more like Wonder Woman, and had super strength? Or were you like Spiderman, and could climb walls with spidey-senses? Or maybe, you were just incredibly smart, like Batman or Iron Man? No, that wouldn’t make sense, they would’ve thrown you into the support course if that was the case. Or maybe, you could-

“Hey! Did your dumbass not hear me? Or are you deaf as well as stupid?”

Okay. That’s fucking it.

You were hungry, had an agitated dog, and you still haven’t gotten your stupid pills.

You push the guy off you with as much strength as you could (which wasn’t much) and growled at him.

Yes, growled at him.

“Bro, shut the fuck up! No one wants to fucking hear you scream at 7 in the fucking morning! Just stay fucking quiet! Or are you too fucking stupid to do that? Your dumbassery is getting on my last fucking nerves, so just SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Immediately, everyone backed away, and looked scared to be within 5 feet of you. And you don’t blame them, you always looked scary when you were really mad. You’re glad your angry, and not frustrated. Otherwise, you would’ve broke into tears. Nope, all you felt right now was pure hatred and rage.

You took a quick peek at your reflection in the microwave and you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

You had a white aura around you, and your eyes were a dark blue, with a little bit of fog coming out of them. With you’re pajamas still on, your eye bags, and a little bit of smudged mascara from yesterday, you look like you crawled out of the straight depths of sleepy hell. Hiro growling next to you waiting for your orders to attack didn't exactly help you look any friendlier.

You quickly calmed down, and decided to just take a quick breath, and whistled for Hiro to back off as well.

“Okay, I’m calm. Does anyone know where the Tylenol is? I have headache. I also need food, not just for me, but for Hiro. I’m sorry for yelling, I’m just really irritated right now, so I ask that no one pushes my buttons.” You take another breath, just to calm your heart rate.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, no worries Y/N. I know how Bakugou can get on your nerves pretty badly.” A girl with pink hair quickly comes up to you. Well, not just pink hair, pink everything.

“Here, Ochako, you know where the pills are right? Go get them from the medicine cabinet. I’ll go get you some breakfast, hun.” She quickly runs off to get me some much needed food. The girl with the short fringe, Ochako you assume, goes off to get you my stupid pills.

“Koda, would you mind going to Hiro-san and asking what he might want to eat? I’ll help out.” The boy with green hair asks. A really big guy comes up to Hiro, and tries to whisk him away.

“Hey! Sorry to disappoint but he stays with me. I’m on edge right now and he’s the only dude who can calm me down.” They are not to about to take him away, you don’t know these guys yet enough to trust them, you still don’t even know how you got here. Hiro’s pretty much the only thing closest to home, if he leaves now God knows what could happen.

“Oh! I apologize L/N-san. He already told me his answer anyways, so I’ll go prepare his breakfast so you can both relax!” He blushes, and bows before running off to make some food.

“Thanks, sorry for yelling. I’m just kinda anxious right now.” Hiro barks as if to agree with you. It’s not even 8 a.m and you’re both already done with this bullshit.

“It's okay L/N-san. Last night, you got hit pretty hard, you we’re not going to blame you for being a little rough around the edges.” The boy with green hair says before walking away to join the other dude. Jesus, you really need to know everyone’s name. You can’t call them ‘dude’ and ‘guy’ forever.

“L/N-san! Sorry about Bakugou! I know the two of you seem to bash heads a lot, but I promise you that he doesn't mean it!”

A cute little redhead comes up to you. He looks really sweet, except for his razor sharp teeth that look like they could cut thought anything. He puts his hand on you shoulder, as a little gesture to calm you down a little. Apparently Hiro didn’t like it, because he started to growl.

‘Back off, dude. Don’t touch,’ he seemed to say.

“Oi! Shiity hair!” Oh god. “Don’t apologize on my behalf! It makes you look stupid, and me look weak!” The red eyed blonde from earlier walks over.

‘Shitty hair’, or whatever his real name was, put his hands up and took his place next to the blonde, tossing his arm around him.

“Come on, Bakugou! You’re always fighting with her, maybe it’s best to just chill down! Come on! It’s a beautiful Saturday, we don't have any plans except to relax! We should totally go out! When was the last time we hung out with the class?”

“Tch, I don't want to deal with these extras longer than I already have to. Besides, when doesn’t she get on my fucking nerves? That’s the only thing she’s good for anyways.” He shoves the red head’s arm off of him and stares at me.

“Come on Kacchan! You know she’s only teasing! Besides, you need to learn to be sweeter to girls! This is probably why you don't have a girlfriend, and why Ca-”

‘Kacchan’, or ‘Bakugou’, you’re not even sure anymore, grabs the pikachu looking dude from earlier by his shirt and looks like he’s about to punch him.

“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence Dunce Face! And besides, it’s not like your desperate ass could get pussy anyways!”

The piss-yellow blonde immediately gets scared and screams to run away.

“Well you don’t have to say it like that, ya know! At least Y/N likes me!” He comes over to me and puts his arm around you. He pulls you into his chest and places his head on top of yours. Since you're sitting, it’s quite easy for him to tower you.

“Not now dude, you are on my last fucking nerve.” You muffle into his chest as you move to push him off.

Okay, super strength is for sure not your quirk.

“Right, your pissed right now, sorry. By the way, I’ll go get you some wipes for your makeup. You look like a demon right now, no offense.” He runs off to God knows where, finally letting you breathe.

“None taken,” you mutter.

“Y/N! I brought the Tylenol, and some water for your to drink!” Ochaco comes back with a small pill tablet and a glass of water. As she hands you everything, she rubs your back as to say ‘don't worry, you’re in good hands now’.

“L/N-san! Hiro’s food is ready! Midoriya helped out, so the process went by faster.” Koda and the green haired kid, Midoriya, comes back with a bowl of kibble and some steak.

Of course Hiro would ask for steak. Why did you even bother?

“Y/N! I’m back!” The pink girl from earlier comes with some rice and eggs. Weird combination, but okay.

“I know you’re still getting a little used to using chopsticks, not being from Japan and all, so I had to look around for a fork.” You hands you your breakfast and a spoon.

“Um, this is a spoon.” You say, holding it up for her to see.

“Yeah, I know. I said I had to look around, I never said I was successful.” She gave me a smile and little shrug before walking away.

Oh boy.

#bakugou katuski x reader #myhero #my hero academia x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha ochaco uraraka #izuku mydoria #denki kaminari #shouto todoroki #ochako uraraka #eijiro kirishima #mina ashido #boku no hero academia #ace #anime #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugō

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 5 years ago

Text

Shut Up

Summary: A celebratory drink after a hunt gone well leads to something she least expected.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 3K+

Warnings: Language, excessive alcohol consumption, nausea, vomiting, unwanted advances, angst

Square Filled: Accidental Confession

Authors Note: This is written for @spngenrebingo as well as @winchester-fantasies 1000 Followers challenge. I picked the phrase “Please shut up. I can’t stand how appealing your voice is.”. For some reason I couldn’t get it out of my head as a drunken confession, thus this was spawned. Let me know what you thought, xo Alex.

The crowd that greeted the three of them as they entered the dingy, dark bar was no surprise to any of them. It was the only bar nestled on the south end of the main road of the no-name small midwestern town that they had just finished up a vampire hunt at. Besides the small market, a few kitschy stores and a bank, the town mostly consisted of farms nestled on the outskirts of the one block of downtown. That was the lot of them that graced the worn out furniture of the place advertising a cold beer; farmers. Most of them were graying men in dirty, worn jeans sprinkled with a few women and brighter, younger men that hadn’t yet been hunched over by the weight of a lifetime of manual labor.

“Grab us a seat?” Dean raised an eyebrow at her and his brother. Sam tilted his chin in acknowledgement and guided her to one of the only empty booths in the whole place. The old leather cracked under her weight as she slid in across from Sam, not that she noticed.

Places like these had become commonplace in her life since becoming a hunter. It was not a life of luxury, it was one of blood, declined credit cards, stain motels, and self-stitched wounds. She didn’t regret it, as stupid as it all may sound, because it was the most free she had ever felt. It was proof that you didn’t need to surround yourself in material things for your life to have meaning. She got to save people, the one thing that her heart seemed more drawn to than anything. That’s also why she guessed she had been so drawn to the hunter leaning over the splintered bar.

Both of their lives had been defined by being a hunter. No matter how much the notion of living that apple pie wormed its way into their heads, somewhere deep down, they have always understood this is where they belonged. Dean was her in male form in so many ways, self-sacrificing, intelligent, beautiful, and a major idiot. Dean just happened to possess the bravado to put on a front, to be the macho ladies man that he thought he was supposed to be. She knew better than that. The late nights spent in motel after motel, with more whiskey than any human should consume, and witnessing the love and the loss. It was in these moments, when the shell came down, that she was able to see that the man that every monster feared was just a soft boy who wanted nothing more than to do a little good in this fucked up world. It was in these moments that she stupidly fell in love with Dean Winchester.

“Looks like there might be a case up in Maine, sounds witchy.” Sam’s nose scrunched and drew in his brows as he read what was sure to be some news article on his phone.

“Seriously Sam? I just rinsed the vampire blood from my jeans, can’t you at least have one beer before you are looking for a new case?” She mocked his signature scowl, but Sam only rolled his eyes. Folding her arms on the table top, she leaned into the stained wood.

“I like to keep moving.”

“You’re exhausting is what you are.” Movement in her peripheral had her turning her gaze onto the incoming Winchester. Dean handed off a beer to his brother and to her, her signature old fashioned. With a lick of her lips, she took an eager sip. The alcohol settled low in her empty stomach, hitting her brain with an instant warmth. Dean nudged her elbow, urging her to scoot into the booth. She obliged, allowing the man to scoot in next to her.

“Why is Sammy exhausting?” Dean cast his glance between her and his brother as he took a pull from his own beer.

“Your little brother has already found us another case.” She admonished with an accusing gaze towards the man across from her.

“Come on, man. We haven’t even had our celebratory drink.”

“That’s what I said!” Her jaw dropped in excitement at their shared thinking.

“Besides, I haven’t even had a chance to engage with the fruits of the local’s labor.” Dean smirked as though he had made the most clever innuendo, his elbow digging into her side as he sought her encouragement, only to jostle her enough to spill the sugary liquid down her leggings. Setting the drink down, she grabbed some napkins from the dispenser on the table, blotting up the wetness on her thigh and trying to hide the way her jaw was now clenching.

“Classy.” The huff left her lips as she tossed the now torn napkins onto the table. Sam shared her same annoyed expression, though you’d think by now they would be used to Dean and his antics.

“Aw come on, kid. You can’t tell me there isn’t at least one guy in here you have your eye on.” Dean turned his narrowed eyes onto her as the heat rose in her cheeks. Of course there was one guy, not that she would ever say his name aloud. Thankfully, working as a hunter had given her a chance to refine her acting capabilities. Sitting up a little straighter, she mocked scanning over the men in the bar, though she had already done so when they had first walked in.

Casting a disgusted yet thoughtful look on her face, she shook her head. “Nah, not really anybody my type in here.”

“Well, that bartender is just my type.” Dean shrugged and pulled his car keys from his pocket before tossing them at Sam. “Don’t wait up?”

Sam and her watched as he sauntered over to the bar, no doubt flashing his pearly whites and giving the unsuspecting women some truly awful pick up line. She pointed her thumb at his retreating figure as she turned back to Sam. “Why do we take him out?”

“I think it’s usually him taking us out and then ditching us.” Sam clarified.

“Ah, yes. How could I forget?” The alcohol still in her glass was now offending her, as it was not yet in her stomach. She tipped the glass back and swallowed the rest of the amber liquid in one go, knowing it would only be the start of many. Sam’s nose was already stuck back in his phone and she knew that she was officially on her own for the rest of the night.

With a huff, she slid back out of the booth and made her way to the bar. The beautiful woman who had caught Dean’s eye was currently preoccupied, soaking up whatever compliments Dean was surely throwing her way. Y/n’s waving hand caught the bartender’s eye, and she knew that the woman had seen her, but she instead chose to stay leaned over the bar, accentuating her assets for the tall hunter.

Trying again, she called out. “Excuse me?” The bartender turned her head finally, her eyes rolling slightly and the interruption before heading over to Y/n.

“Yeah?” She sighed, the gum in her mouth popping as she chewed. Y/n ordered two more drinks, much to the bartender's dismay. The woman nodded and moved off to make the drinks. As she came back with the finished product, Y/n could feel Dean’s gaze on her. When she turned her head to him, he was grinning from ear to ear. Dean tossed her a wink as the bartender came back to him, only to elicit a groan from his friend.

“I’m gonna need a lot more of these if I’m going to make it through tonight.” She grumbled to herself. This was not the first time that Dean has hooked up with a woman, lord knows he was doing it long before they ever met, and it would not be the last time either. Usually, she was good at letting it roll off her back. Dean wasn’t hers to claim and she has had her fair share of hookups, but tonight she was just pissed. As her best friends, she just wanted to celebrate a successful hunt with the Winchester brothers. She wanted to let loose and have a few laughs, but both went and smashed that dream. Sam was already focused on the next monster hunt and Dean was focused on his next woman hunt.

With her first drink already warming her body, she downs the second in two gulps. Her head shakes as the liquid burns all the way to her stomach. Fuzziness begins to cloud her brain, the exact feeling she was looking for to get her through the night.

After a number, that of which she could not articulate, of drinks later, she was twiddling with the bowl of empty nut shells in front of her. The anger and sadness that she was trying to drown from her gut was still there. She should have known that with the man she stupidly let herself fall for, shamelessly flirting away with another woman only feet from her, it was a feat she could not conquer.

“You’ve been sitting here all by yourself for quite some time. Whoever you are waiting on has really made a mistake.” A gruff voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her head rolled towards the man now leaning against the bar next to her. She could only grunt out a response at the irony.

“Luckily for you, I’m here now.” The words left a nasty taste in her mouth. The guy reached out and moved her hair back over her shoulder, the action sending a chill through her body that stoked the anger in her belly. This time she really looked at the man. He was probably around her age, though it was hard to tell underneath the unkept beard and dirty trucker hat. The skin she could see where his sleeves were rolled up was tan, telling her he most likely worked on one of the many farms nestled around the town.

“Don’t see how that makes me lucky.” She chided as she did her best to convey to this man that she was not in the mood. The guy did not take the hint though, and even through the cloud enveloping her mind, her hunter instincts were on high alert.

“Baby, you don’t even-” His words were cut short as her hand flew to his wrist when he reached out for her face. His head slammed against the bar as she twisted his arm behind his back. The slamming of his weight against the wood echoed throughout the bar, gaining the attention of everyone inside.

With venom dripping from her tongue, she leaned in by his ear and whispered, “Never, put your hands on a woman without her consent.” She pushed his head again for effect before releasing him and heading for the door. Adrenaline was now pumping through her body, but she needed the cool air of the night for some clarity as the reality of the situation began to sink in. She heard the stomp of his boots before she heard his words.

“Fucking bitch!” The expletive had her spinning on her heels, the action making the room spin far after her body ceased moving. As her vision focused, Dean and Sam stepped in between her and the stranger.

“Uh, uh. I’d think twice about that buddy. She could still put you on your ass even with the amount of alcohol she consumed.” Dean shrugged on his jacket and lowered his shoulders, making himself somehow seem taller than he already was. She watched as Sam copied the action as the guy stepped up to Dean, again not all deterred by the two huge men in front of him.

“Oh yeah, so why don’t you let her?” He challenged, his eyes darting to where she was standing over Dean’s shoulder. Dean laughed in his cocky, I-could-give-a-fuck, way and looked over his should to glance into the eyes of the inebretaed woman behind him.

“Nah, I think I’ll save you the embarrassment.” The guy reeled at Dean’s comment, his fist flying out straight for Dean’s face. Dean dodged the action easily, ready to return the favor only to be stopped by his little brother. The two shared a silent conversation before Dean relaxed and darted off towards her. He put his hand against her back to guide her out of the bar, only to switch tactics when he realized she was wobbly on her feet. Tossing the keys for the impala to Sam, he slung her arm over his shoulder and helped support her weight on the walk to the car.

“I was fine.” Her argument was slurred as he opened the back seat for her.

“I know you were, kid.” Dean promised with a small chuckle as he slid in the backseat beside her. He answered her quizzical look with a pat of his thigh, inviting her to rest her head on his lap. Without hesitation, she obliged his offer, snuggling up to the warmth of his body.

“Not drivin’?”

“Gotta make sure you don’t ruin the upholstery back here.” One of Dean’s hands began a gentle stroke up and down her arm as his other brushed her hair away from her face. The last thing she remembered before slipping into darkness was the feeling of his fingers running through her hair

One nuisance after another kept tugging her back into consciousness. The sahara inside her mouth was the first thing she noticed, followed quickly after by the pounding inside her head. She rolled onto her stomach and shoved her face into the musty motel pillow, only for her movement to cause her stomach to roll. With the bile rising in her stomach, she leapt from the bed and made a beeline to the bathroom. She made it to the toilet in just enough time to lift the seat before she was emptying her stomach into the creme colored basin. Once the damn had opened, it couldn’t be stopped. Her stomach was hell bent on keeping up this whole fiasco until it had nothing left to give. Even when a hand met her shoulder and pulled her hair back from her face, she couldn’t do more than weakly swat at whoever it was behind her.

“Shh, that’s it, get it out.” Dean’s soothing voice filled the small bathroom as he rubbed her back. At least she knew who it was behind her now, though that didn’t make it any better. This was the last thing she wanted him witnessing. No person ever needed to witness the horror show that was currently happening.

When it seemed that she had nothing left to give, she left out a low groan and collapsed against the bathtub. It was then she noticed the coolness of the tile against her legs and her subsequent lack of pants.

“Here, kid.” Dean offered her a wet washcloth and she took it, washing away the saliva from her chin and sweat from her forehead. “I’ve got some pain killers here and a sports drink.” He handed them over as well. “But just go slow, you don’t want it all coming back up again. Been there, done th-”

“Please shut up. I can’t stand how appealing your voice is.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. It’s just that he was using his concerned and deep rumble, the one that always got her heart racing a little bit and she so did not want to deal with that on top of everything else at the moment. Not to mention she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wasn’t still a little drunk.

“What was that?” Dean chuckled softly and she didn’t have to look up at him to know he was smirking. There was no way she was ever going to live this down, so she might as well just throw caution to the wind.

“I’m just… my head hurts and I’m trying to figure out why I don’t have pants on and you just keep going on with that voice of yours.” She gestured her hands in his face, only causing him to laugh again at her. “Don’t laugh.” She pouted at him.

“You took your own pants off once I got you into your bed. I had to stop you from taking off the rest of it.” Heat rose up on her cheeks, knowing fully well that he was not lying. Her clothes tended to come off the more she drank because she always got hot. Dean moved to sit beside her, their shoulders touching as his back hit the tub.

“Yeah, that’s not surprising.” She mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” There was a pause as he took a deep breath. “So, you think my voice is appealing…”

“Ugh, Dean please forget I said that.” She let her head fall back and her eyes close in her embarrassment.

“No way, kid.”

“Dean, I-” Dean put a finger in front of her lips, shutting her up and confusing her still muddled brain. His hand trailed across her jaw, the large span of his fingers enveloping her neck as he pulled her to him. Her eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into her, his lips hesitant against her own. As the shock of his action subsided, she melted into him, allowing everything Dean to invade her senses. The feeling of his chapped lips against hers, the faint smell leftover from his cologne last night, and even the soft groan that emanated from his throat as she gripped the back of his neck and pulled him closer to her.

As she pulled back when her lungs began screaming for oxygen, the realization hit her. “Oh my god, I just puked!” She squealed in disgust, only for Dean to laugh at her again. As much as she used to love the sound of his laughter, it was really beginning to tick her off now.

“Trust me, not the first time I’ve made out with a girl who just puked.”

“I really don’t want to know.” She took another sip of her sports drink as she mumbled under her breath.

“No, you probably don’t. But it doesn’t matter anyway, cause you’re the only hungover, vomiting chick, I ever want to make out with again.” Dean shrugged with a soft smile gracing his lips.

You shook your head, laughing at the cheesy, soft hunter sitting beside you. “God, I hate you.”

___________________

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lush-lavenders · 4 years ago

Text

❀Chocolate❀

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: You and Steve have a sort of thing. But that’s all it is. That is until at one fateful party, liquid confidence and a little push of emotions take you over.

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: This is the first fic I’m posting, so I hope you like it! And please feel free to send me requests. (I hope it isn’t too bad)

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Underage Drinking, Blood, Angst

!I don’t own this gif!

You, Y/N Henderson, didn’t go to parties. You much rather sit at home, watching geeky sci-fi movies with your little brother.

This Friday night wasn’t supposed to be any different. That is until your best friend decided for you to change up your plans.

Your arms were crossed as Olivia opened the passenger’s side door. Music from the house blared out over the whole area. It wouldn’t surprise you if someone called the police with a noise complaint.

“Come on, Y/N. You’re not going to sit in my car all night.” She tried to reason, but nothing stuck.

“If I have anything to say in the matter, then yes, I will.” You mumbled, shifting as if you were trying to become one with the seat.

Olivia simply rolled her eyes. “You know he’ll be here, right?”

You seemed to sink into the seat deeper. “That’s the main reason I shouldn’t be here…”

There was no doubt that something was going on between you and a certain Golden boy with great hair. But no one knew what it was that was going on. No one, including you. Steve, in your eyes, always seemed to have things planned out, while you sat there wondering what you were going to do minute to minute.

After some more coaxing, you finally get out of the car and are immediately pulled into a den of drunk and high teenagers.

Olivia pulls you through a crowd of dancing drunks in the living room to a crowd of tipsy girls in the kitchen. You didn’t notice it when she grabbed you a cup and filled it with some liquid as your eyes had been scanning semi-familiar faces. You were looking for a certain familiar face.

You didn’t know how long you were looking, but it was long enough for Olivia to disappear from your side.

You sighed to yourself and started to maneuver your way through the crowd. You didn’t really give what could be in your cup any thought. You knew Olivia probably would be drinking and that you were the one that would have to drive her home. Yay for you.

This was the only real thought that swarmed around your head when you spotted a certain tuft of hair. Then, all thoughts went to him.

He looked good. He always looked good. He wore a simple dark blue polo with a pair of jeans. His hair was slightly a mess, probably from partying. He wore the perfect smile, which infected you with a stupid, bashful smile.

He looked exactly like he does now when this whole ‘thing’ between them started.

“Y/N! Popcorn!” Dustin called out from the living room. He wouldn’t dare get up and get it himself.

“Hold your horses!” You called back out, grumbling something to yourself. Steve’s kitchen was big and impossible for you to navigate alone.

The Party was having their weekly movie night at the teenager’s house and Dustin had invited you for the first time. You thought it would be to spend some more time together. Nope. He just wanted you as a snack server.

You didn’t know why, but even Steve wasn’t helping. And this was his damn house.

You found the popcorn and started to get it ready. You waited for it with crossed arms. A minute or so later it was done and you started now looking for a big enough bowl. Just your luck, the perfect bowl was in a cabinet above the fridge, behind a glass bowl.

You pulled over a bar stool that sat at the island in front of the fridge. You were determined to do this yourself. Too determined.

Standing on the wobbly stool, you reached back and grabbed the bowl, carefully pulling it out. Turns out, you weren’t careful enough.

The glass bowl that was in front was hit lightly once, but that was enough to send it out of the cabinet and onto the floor with a loud crash.

“Shit shit shit.” You mumbled, quickly getting down off the stool.

You could hear some of the Party talking from the other room, wondering what the hell you were doing. Steve came rushing into the kitchen, looking around to try and find out what happened.

There you were, on your hands and knees, cleaning up the pieces of broken glass. “I’m so sorry Steve.” You seemed to sense his presence.

He shook his head, but you didn’t see him. “Uh, no, it’s alright.” He grabbed a trash can and came over to start helping you clean up. “It was probably just some cheap, expensive bowl that my mom got from Europe or something.”

You almost snorted, a small smile tracing your lips as you shake your head. “Yeah, no big deal at all.”

That smile was quickly wiped away and replaced with a look of pain. “Fuck…!” You mumbled, pulling your hand away from the glass and inspecting the cut you just got.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, noticing immediately that your demeanor changed.

You quickly stood up, rushing over to the sink to make sure you didn't bleed all over his floor. "Um, I think so, but I'm not completely sure, to be honest." Your tone of voice was on the edge of blinding pain and crippling embarrassment.

You didn’t hear him get up or move closer to you, but you could suddenly feel a presence right behind you.

You turned to say you were fine but were hit with a wave of dizziness and started to stumble and lose balance.

Steve was quick to catch your arms, helping you steady yourself. “Woah there. Come on, let’s clean that up before you bleed out.”

He held onto you tightly as he led out of the kitchen and to the bathroom next to his bedroom. You were seated on the toilet as he grabbed a first aid kit and squatted down in front of you. This was obviously all a blur to you, only remembering the sound of his voice and the pain coursing through your hand.

Before you knew it, your hand was fully wrapped and you were feeling a little better.

“Thank you…” You said quietly, meeting a pair of chocolate eyes.

His smile made your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips. “She speaks. Thought I lost you there for a moment.” He jokes, bringing a slight smile to you. But that wasn’t on your mind for long.

You didn’t notice you both slowly leaned in until your lips met.

The kiss was rushed, yet calm and sweet. He tasted like chocolate, no doubt from the candy Dustin had brought. Chocolate. He tasted just as his eyes looked. Was that a coincidence? It had to be.

Any thoughts about chocolate fled your mind as a chocolate haired girl rested her hands on Steve’s chest, his hands finding her swaying hips.

Now, normally you weren’t the drinking type. You never had a reason to. It seemed pointless. But at this moment, it felt like the only option. Why watch the guy you like and thought liked you back dance with a different girl when you could get shit-faced and forget about him?

Within seconds, the red solo cup that was in your hand was completely empty. You downed whatever liquid was in it. It wasn’t the best tasting, but the only thing you cared about was the buzz you were starting to feel.

You listened and nodded your head to the music, ignoring the ringing in the back of your head and the thumping of your heart.

You let your eyes wander, trying to find where Olivia could be. She was the one who dragged you here, she was going to be the one to deal with your drunk ass.

She’s standing behind a couch, cheeks a rosy red as she laughs with some meathead from your English class.

You make your way over to her, stumbling due to your tipsy state. A familiar hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“Didn’t know you left that fortress of yours for parties like these.” Steve’s voice almost completely sobered you up.

“Believe me when I say I’m never coming to one of these again…” You mumbled, reluctantly letting yourself face him.

He was holding an identical red solo cup, but he didn’t seem as fazed by the contents as you were. He knew how to hold his liquor. “Then let’s make your first and last party as enjoyable as possible.”

He was standing in front of you, talking to you as if he wasn’t just dancing with someone else. “Actually, I was just about to head home.” That was a lie. Olivia was your ride home, and she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

You wormed yourself out of his hold, not sticking around to listen to his response as you bolted it out the front door and out to the street. You’d rather walk home then act like everything was okay.

It didn’t process that tears were streaming down your face until someone calling out your name broke through the quiet of the night. Why did he have to follow you?

You frantically wiped your tears as he appeared beside you. You tried speeding up, but he was faster and caught your arm in his hand.

“Y/N, did something happen?” He asked, as if he didn’t know that he was the cause of every feeling of pain and love in your mind.

You ripped your arm out of his hold. “Don’t fuck with me like that, Steve.” You didn’t know why, but you were suddenly angry instead of sad. “Don’t act like you don’t know anything.”

He was shocked, and for obvious reasons. “I don’t-”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot you were King Steve. You just kiss whoever the fuck you want and then ignore them. Kiss and tell. Kiss and then go dance with other girls.” You never talked like this. But he had this kind of effect on you.

Everything looked like it was connecting in his head. “Y/N…” He reached out to take your hand.

“Don’t touch me.” You pulled your hand back as fast as you could.

He put his hands up in a defensive way. “You know that’s not like me, Y/N. Me and that girl in there, there’s nothing. Hell, I don’t even know her name.”

You shook your head. “It sure as hell didn’t look like that.”

He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Y/N. What do I have to do to get you to believe me?”

You stayed quiet. You just wanted the truth. “How do you feel about me…?” You asked quietly after a long moment.

It was Steve’s turn to be silent. “Fuck, Y/N.” He mumbled after a moment. “You wanna know the truth? I can’t get you out of my head. Even before that damn kiss. I was ignoring you because I didn’t know how to feel. You don’t get how many times I’ve been hurt. I don’t think I could take it if you rejected me too.”

Your anger sizzled as quickly as it came. Now, you just felt bad. Not completely bad, but partly bad. “Steve, why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed in a bit of frustration. “I just told you why.”

You bit your lip a little. Good point. “You should have come to me…” You said quietly, looking down. “Cause I can’t get you out of my mind either.”

Steve’s footsteps shifted as you felt a hand on your waist and a hand on your cheek, making you look up at him. “I guess I’ve come to you now.”

You crack a small smile, rolling your eyes. “You’re a piece of work Harrington.”

He chuckled and smashed his lips to mine. He tasted like alcohol, which wasn’t the best taste on him. I definitely preferred chocolate over cheap booze.

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minmotl · 5 years ago

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Chapter 43: Sui Zhou Takes Care of a Sick Tang Fan

Context: A partial continuation of Chapter 42. Tang Fan is still trying to recover from his cold, and his new acquaintance Wang Zhi turns up at the house to visit him. Sui Zhou leaves them both alone in the room to talk, and Wang Zhi ends up in a compromising position with Tang Fan, much to Sui Zhou’s displeasure. His cousin turns up again and this time, he rejects her firmly.

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Wang Zhi approaches him without him realizing it and with one hand, he lifts Tang Fan’s jaw up, looking from left to right.

“Speaking of which, you are rather good-looking in certain aspects. If you can’t be an official anymore in the future, just head to the streets and sell your books and I suppose with many women, old and young, visiting your stall, your business will surely be good!”

Tang-daren can no longer resists and rolls his eyes in a way that is anything but elegant, “If that day comes, I will definitely head to the doors of the Western Depot and sell my books there!”

Just as he finishes saying his piece, they hear the doors creak open.

Sui Zhou is holding onto medicine when he walks in and coincidentally sees Wang Zhi positioned slightly over Tang Fan, one of his hands pinching at Tang Fan’s jaw. This forces Tang Fan to have to raise his head a little, but he is still in a sitting position in bed wrapped in blankets — two rosy circles are visible on Tang Fan’s pale complexion because of his cough, his hair a mess and his clothes not properly worn. Both men are in close proximity to each other as well and just looking at this sight, it is easy for people’s thoughts to take a strange turn.

What’s more important is that Ming dynasty officials are not as unmanly as most people think. Among them there is no lack of manly and aggressive types with large builds, and if not for their lack of facial hair, no one would even notice.

Although Eunuch Wang doesn’t look aggressive and is more on the side of dark and gentle, but one would not use the terms gentle, weak and skinny to describe his body. To think of it, for someone who has learnt martial arts since young just like Sui Zhou, how skinny and weak can he be?

In comparison, because Tang Fan is a civil official and coupled with him being unwell, who is strong and weak is immediately clear at a single glance.

No matter who comes over and takes a look, all they will see is Eunuch Wang being overtaken by lust as he teases Tang-daren.

Under Sui Zhou’s icy, wordless glance, Wang Zhi naturally releases Tang Fan and then lightly pats at his cheek. In an overly intimate tone, he says, “I’ll come and visit you another day, rest well.”

“…”

Why does Tang Fan feel that there’s something really amiss by Wang Zhi’s tone, which could be very easily misperceived by others?

Facing Sui Zhou’s cold and powerful aura, Wang Zhi continues as if he’s not seeing any of it, “Sui-baihu is so virtuous, serving medicine and taking care of him. If this goes on, I believe Tang-daren won’t have to marry a wife in the future?”

Without waiting for Tang Fan to react, Wang Zhi laughs loudly and leaves the room in large strides.

Saying this, Wang Zhi exercised no tact and was extreme loud and arrogant. If it was anyone else today who ended up being flirted with as if he was a woman, comparing a grown man to a wife, he would have quickly developed a grudge for Wang Zhi. Thankfully Tang Fan hasn’t taken any of his comments to heart and Sui Zhou cannot be bothered to confront Wang Zhi about this, and so they allow the Western Depot’s Admiral to leave as he pleases.

The one who’s down on his luck is Tang-daren.

The moment Wang Zhi leaves, he’s lectured at. Sui Zhou says with a cold look, “Wang Zhi is temperamental and morally ambivalent. It’s not worth it to be in a close relationship with him.”

Although Tang Fan agrees with his appraisal of Wang Zhi, he still says, “He is an extremely favoured eunuch to the Emperor at present and this will not change any time soon. Stern, considerate and firm officials like Huai En are lesser in numbers and the type that the Emperor likes is still those like Liang Fang, Wang Zhi and Shang Ming, those who can welcome and cater to his views. So even if it’s not Wang Zhi, it will also be Li Zhi, Zhang Zhi… As long as we are able to subtly guide him onto the right path and drive him to act in the interests of the country and its people, this is considered a good thing.”

Seeing that Tang Fan’s thoughts are clear on this, Sui Zhou does not add on. He shifts the medicine in front of Tang Fan.

Forcing a smile, he says, “You see, can we negotiate a deal on this? I’m almost recovered, can we just skip this round?”

That’s what he says, but in reality, he’s still sniffling.

Sui Zhou is straightforward and simply returns, “Are you going to drink this yourself, or do you want me to feed you?”

Without another word of protests, Tang Fan takes the bowl from him and swallows the medicine while pinching at his nose. His brows and eyes are scrunched up tightly together and even when Sui Zhou passes him an osmanthus sweet, he blearily waves his hand, not interested at all.

Gluttons may love to eat, but this does not include medicine.

Sui Zhou’s three-sectioned house is actually not small at all, but aside from himself, Tang Fan and Ah Dong, there are no frequent visitors. The help that cleans the house are temporary workers and they typically have their own lodgings within the city. After they’re done with cleaning they head home without imposing any further on their employer, so much so that Sui Zhou does not even have a steward to watch the house or their doors. The master of the house has to personally open the doors, but this way, they have more freedom. For people like Sui Zhou and Tang Fan who do not like restrictions or burdens, they do naturally prefer not to see outsiders move around every day in the house under their eyes.

After Sui Zhou leaves, he does not come in again. Tang Fan finds this a little strange, but then he sees Ah Dong sneak in suspiciously.

Tang Fan laughs, “Would I ban you from my room? Why are you acting like this?”

Ah Dong giggles, “Sui-dage’s cousin from the Zhou family is here at our doors again.”

Tang-daren is a fully grown man and is both easy-going and direct. He does not have any grudges with Young Lady Zhou and of course, will not simply be irritated at her visit. He was a little bad-tempered that day, but that was because he had just experienced the East Palace case. Having seen so many people’s demise, people who should not have died, and then coming home to see Ah Dong and Sui Zhou chattering so happily with Sui Zhou’s cousin (it actually wasn’t all that happy, this is purely Tang-daren subjective point of view), and so he couldn’t help but feel the loneliness of a person without any friends or family inside.

That was a long time ago and Tang Fan cannot really be jealous and throw a tantrum just like a little child, even going as far as to stop his good friend from becoming close with the young lady. Listening to Ah Dong’s words, Tang Fan chuckles lazily, “Ah Dong ah, are you jealous that someone is getting close to your Sui-dage? But you’re still young, it’s not that Da-ge doesn’t want to help you, but if you like Sui Zhou, then after a few years have passed and you’ve grown, I can suggest this to your Sui-dage and see if he’s willing to take you in as a concubine. You’re only as big as beansprout right now, even if you complain to me, there’s nothing I can do!”

While Ah Dong is usually quite bubbly and cheery, but she is after all a servant who was born in a big house and family so it’s impossible for her not to have any knowledge about internal family affairs. Hearing Tang Fan’s reply, she launches herself at him and sulks, “Da-ge, what are you saying? I’m not jealous of Zhou jiejie, I’m worried about you!”

“What do I have to be worried about?” Tang Fan asks, bewildered.

“Think about it, if Sui-dage truly gets married to Zhou jiejie, what will you do?”

Tang Fan is usually a smart and intelligent person, but listening to this right now he’s entirely confused, “What do you mean what I will do? The things you’re saying are getting more and more incoherent!”

Rolling her eyes, she continues, “Da-ge, how did you become stupid after getting sick! If Sui-dage and Zhou jiejie get married, then she’ll definitely have to move in correct? When that time comes, it wouldn’t be good for us to still live here, so won’t we have to move out? That’s why I’m concerned! Da-ge, it’s not you can earn a lot of money and of course I hope that we can stay here for as long as possible, and then you can save some money too!”

Don’t be fooled by Ah Dong’s young age, because she really has a knack for accounts and is making a lot of sense right now.

Tang Fan’s voice lowers, “In your eyes, your da-ge is so useless? If we move out, we have to be subject to the winds and storms?”

Ah Dong sadly answers, “Are you not? Da-ge your salary is so low and you love to eat. You eat so much everyday and can eat someone poor, so what will do in the future? The silvers for rice and noodles that you gave me, I’ve been counting our finances meticulously. Now we can still grow some fruits and vegetables in our backyard, and then buying some meat from outside, we can still save some money every month and put it away for when you marry someone. if we move out, we will surely be unable to save and then what will we do?”

Listening to this, Tang Fan wants to roll his eyes out of anger, but he is a little touched too. At the end of the day, this is the reason why she’s so concerned over whether Sui Zhou and his cousin will get married?

Tang Fan caresses at her head and firmly states, “Put your heart back in your stomach, we will not end up on the streets. Besides, even if I end up on the streets, you’ll disown your da-ge?”

Ah Dong shakes her head fervently.

“Then isn’t that settled? As long as I eat, you eat. Besides, don’t belittle the old Tang family. When my parents were still alive, the Tang family was still considered to be of elite ranks. Although we’ve fallen from the ranks a little since then, we still have a lot of good things and assets stored away as our last resort. And if that doesn’t work out, my sister lives in Xiang He Prefecture, and when the time comes we can run to her.”

He’s only saying this to reassure Ah Dong. Once his sister married someone else, she is technically part of her husband’s family and Tang Fan is an official in Jing city, so it’s not very likely that he will go to his sister’s to stay.

However, the young girl is all smiles at the news.

“Alright then, Da-ge, I won’t complain about you eating too much again. It’s still much better if you eat more. After this bout of illness, the meat on your face is almost gone, and people who don’t know might even think that you fled here as a refugee!”

Tang Fan pinches at her face, “If you continue to spout nonsense, then we don’t even have to wait for you Sui-dage to marry, I’ll be the first one to chase you out!”

As the both of them play and banter, they hear a cold voice sound from the door, “Who’s getting married?”

The both of them turn around, only to see that Sui Zhou has come to the door and conveniently heard the last part of what Tang Fan said. Behind him stands the young lady Zhou and her servant.

Sui Zhou says, “My cousin heard that you were ill and thought about talking back to you that day. She asked me to bring her here to see you and apologize as well.”

In recent years, even though there are some lines delineated clearly between men and women, it’s not as if the customs rigid to the point of no flexibility. Take Tang Fan as an example - he is Sui Zhou’s good friend and has already shown his face to Sui Zhou’s family, and Sui Zhou is also physically present in this case, so seeing young lady Zhou is not a problem. In comparison, if they were in the south, the customs and etiquette there are much stricter, while the North is a little more lenient.

Lady Zhou also doesn’t seem as prickly as that day and in front of her cousin she is the very picture of shy and demure. Anyone can see the feelings she has for her cousin, but only the cousin in question still has a stoic face on, and who knows how much he actually knows?

Tang Fan smiles, “You’re too courteous, Zhou-guniang. We didn’t know each other’s identities and that’s why we had a misunderstanding, and now that it has been resolved, everything is naturally alright. However, as I still have a cold and the air here is unclean, so I have to ask Zhou-guniang not to remain for long.”

Zhou Xiu Yue nods and then exchange a few more pleasantries with him. She is clearly not used to the medicinal smell within the house and does not even move to sit inside. Standing at the door, she says hello to Ah Dong, and then moves to leave.

As the master of the house, Sui Zhou naturally has to walk their guest out.

As they approach the main door, Zhou Xiu Yue speaks delicately, “Biao-ge, it seems that winter is soon to be upon us. Shall we find a day with good weather, and you accompany me to Yun Ju Temple to pray, how about that?”

Sui Zhou may be cold and emotionless in personality, but he is strong and heroic, exceedingly competent, humble and outstanding, and has a promising future ahead of him. The Sui family naturally sees plenty of matchmakers coming to their doors, but Sui Zhou’s parents have never been able to control their younger son’s decisions. More than that, the Sui family and Zhou family made a verbal agreement on a possible betrothal, and thus, they’ve managed to ignore the issue of his marriage temporarily.

Now, the Zhou family’s uncle has brought his family back to the city on one hand to take care of his aging mother, and on the other hand, to decide on his daughter’s marriage.

In actual fact, Zhou Xiu Yue’s father has another match in mind and the potential suitor’s father also works at Han Lin Yuan and he himself is currently studying at Guo Zi Jian. This is a born and bred academic-focused family and is wholly different from Sui Zhou, who is an Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Since the Zhou family managed to have Empress Dowager Zhou, its members began to dream of walking the civil official route, forming connections across several other influential families and move to greater heights. It is only natural that his uncle will choose this.

Of course, personally, it’s not as if Sui Zhou has to marry his cousin and no one else.

The relationship between them was formed when they were younger but stopped there. After so many years, there is no dramatic plot where he will marry no one else but her no matter what obstacles they face. The only thing is, it seem that Zhou Xiu Yue still has some unexplainable feelings for Sui Zhou and this is the reason for her repeated visits as she tried to find out what he thinks about her.

It cannot be helped that they do not think the same.

It is not easy for the woman to take the initiative and invite him, but Sui Zhou shakes his head, “I’ll pass. Tang Fan has been ill for a while and Ah Dong cannot cope, so I have to be at home to take care of things.”

Zhou Xiu Yue bites at her bottom lip, “Then I can send a servant from home to come here and take care of him?”

He refuses, his tone bland, “Forget it, you don’t have to go to the trouble. You should just go with uncle, and I hear that uncle is intent on confirming a match for you. I believe the man’s character is good. While the both of us are cousins but some lines have to be drawn still between men and women, so it is best if you visit less, lest people gossip.”

Zhou Xiu Yue’s face sours at that and she glares at Sui Zhou, before spitting, “You are truly despicable!”

She then turns and angrily walks out. The Zhou family’s servant was following behind them both and after seeing that they were speaking in hushed tones, she put some distance between herself and the cousins. All she sees right now is her mistress getting angry for no apparent reason with her sleeves rolled up, and she frantically chases after her.

Sui Zhou watches as they leave without a change in his expression, and then returns to Tang Fan’s house.

The medicine he just took has taken effect and Tang Fan is already asleep.

Ah Dong says softly, “Da-ge just fell asleep not long ago, Sui da-ge, what would you like to have for dinner? I’ll go prepare.”

Sui Zhou nods, “Anything is fine. You can just heat up the leftover porridge from earlier.”

They’ve both been busy taking care of the patient these couple of days and Tang Fan cannot have too fancy dishes, and so Ah Dong cannot be bothered to go to too much trouble either. She makes a noise of assent and heads out.

Once she leaves, all that’s left is Tang Fan and Sui Zhou in the house. One is awake and on his feet, the other is asleep in bed. It is easy to fall sick, but incredibly difficult to fully recover.

It is very quiet in the house, interrupted only by Tang Fan’s deep and long inhales and exhales.

Sui Zhou helps him to adjust the covers, then stands quietly there for a long while. Only when Ah Dong knocks on the door and calls for him to have dinner does he leave.

===

Notes:

*提督 ti du

Formally, the equivalent of this would be a admiral, but I believe in this novel it can be interchangeable with “head” or “chief” as well. A ti du is one of the highest ranks an official can have and along with the chief army commander, the admiral can possess military power.

*风吹雨打 feng chui yu da

Literally translated means wind blowing and drops of rain hitting at you - in this case, Tang Fan uses this phrase to mean being homeless, without shelter (and thus they are subject to the mights of the weather) and possibly being out on the streets.

*把心放回肚子里 ba xing fang hui du zi li

Literally translated means to put your heart back into your stomach, of which meaning is to keep your concerns and worries.

*病来如山倒, 病去如抽丝 bing lai ru shan dao, bing qu ru chou si

An idiom to describe the ease of falling sick and pains of recovery - Falling sick is akin to a mountain collapsing, but recovering from illness is as difficult and challenging as getting silk from a silkworm.

#the sleuth of ming dynasty #tsomd #tsomd novel #成化十四年 #fanzhou #fanzhou highlights #tang fan #sui zhou #HAHAHAHA once again tang fan is trying to marry sui zhou off #and sui zhou is like #ARE U KIDDING ME?!#sorry for the hiatus!!#i'm on this again hehe

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