#or even if i do the whole scene tonight it should be much shorter than the old version so it shouldn't keep me up too late or anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lvis44 · 2 years ago

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Sweet Escape Pt. 6 // LH 44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ (mentions of sexual activities), Anxiety, Jealousy, Angst, Mentions of Alcohol, Regret, Emotional Turmoil, Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Note: I felt bad leaving you all in pain, not that this will be much better but hey, we're getting there! This part is a tad shorter but I felt that this whole thing should be stand alone. The next part will be the final part of the story, but don't worry there will be an epilogue. I'm glad you have all been enjoying so far and I greatly appreciate everyone's support!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

It was nearing three in the morning when you heard your door open. The second you had arrived home you had grabbed your stuff out of Charlotte's room and moved back into your old one. You weren’t particularly in the mood to face anyone. You had spent the last few hours quietly sobbing into your knees, balled up on the bed like a child. You had seemingly run out of tears but the sorrow didn’t change. You hadn’t even heard everyone come home, somehow beating them even on foot, you assumed it was because they had to go find everyone else.

“What?” You snapped at whomever had entered your room, not even looking toward the door.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You heard Miles’ voice from the doorway, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do I seem fucking okay?” You snapped again, your filter long gone.

He let out a sigh, closing the door behind him softly as he dared to make his way over to your bed, sitting down beside you gently.

“I’m sorry Y/N, it wasn’t fair to you to cause a scene like that.” He says softly, glancing over at you to see you staring into space, your attention fixated on the blank wall to the side of the room.

You scoff, not trying to be rude but unable to control anything that comes out of you, “Well at least one of you knows how to fucking apologize. I’m still mad at you though.”

You hear him sigh again, moving closer to you so he can place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. You don’t even have the energy to flinch away from him, just letting him rest his hand there and enjoying the slightest bit of comfort.

“I know you’re pissed at Lewis, you have every right to be. Don’t kill her but Charlotte kind of filled me in when we got home. He massively fucked up.” His hand continues it’s light circling pattern, “And truth be told so did I. I don’t know why but I constantly feel like I need to protect you and hearing that asshole call you anything other than perfect made me want to kill him, he’s honestly lucky Lewis had half a brain to pull me away from him. I know you can take care of yourself but I’m always gonna look out for you, no matter what. Hence the reason I tried to deck my best friend earlier tonight.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” You whip your head towards him, that last bit of information really catching your interest.

“Yeah, when Charlotte filled me in I was still livid with the whole situation from the bar and finding out what sparked it really pissed me off. It only felt right he get at least a swift kick to the groin. Not to disappoint you but Char stopped me. I’m shocked you didn’t hear us.” He almost sounds like he wants to laugh as he tells you, like he can’t believe the whole situation himself.

“He needs a kick to the groin, taking that thing out of commission for a little while might do everyone some good.” You joke dryly, making Miles laugh next to you.

“If you need me to do it, I’m more than willing.” He offers, only kind of a joke, you feel like if you genuinely asked him to do it, he would, given the circumstances.

“I hate that I can hate him and love him all at the same time. I don’t want to lose him, but this can’t carry on this way.” You confess to Miles.

“I know Charlotte already said this to the both of you, but you guys really need to fucking talk.” He tells you seriously, before adding, “And sober.”

“I know, I know.” You groan, “I’m sorry we’ve managed to fuck up so much of vacation.”

“It’s been much more him than you sweetheart, he brought every ounce of drama himself. I could tell something was up with you over the last few days but I couldn’t really figure out what. I’m sorry it’s him.” Miles brings you in for a side hug, his arm wrapping protectively around you.

“I’m just so fucking sick of it all. I’m so tired.” You tell him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I know, understandably so.” Miles lets out a sigh, holding you in silence for a few moments. “You get some sleep and I’ll check on you in the morning, okay?” He says as he presses a kiss to your temple.

All you do is nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know you’re not all good or anything, but I’m glad you're still here. I was worried you were gonna be at the airport by the time we got home, we freaked for a second when we saw your stuff wasn’t in Charlottes anymore.” He tells you quietly, still not having let you go.

“I just didn’t want to have to face anyone, figured moving back to my old room would be the easiest way.” You just about whisper, feeling your exhaustion catch up to you.

“Well, I’m sorry to have intruded, but I needed to check on you,” Miles says, kissing your forehead one more time before easing you back toward your pillows, “get some sleep hun.”

. . .

You had no idea what time it was when you finally woke up and you have no idea how long you’ve been laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. It has to have been a good hour at this point. You can hear people moving around somewhere in the house, the last thing you want to do is go and interact. You were embarrassed, angry, hurt, and so much more you couldn’t even wrap your head around. You’ve had enough. As you’ve been laying there, more than once you’ve contemplated if you could manage to pack your stuff and sneak out of the house, fly back home without another word. You knew you couldn't and more than likely someone would come track you down the second they knew you were gone, well normally they would. You don’t know what your friends know of the situation. How much did everyone else see, how much had they been told? You knew you should get up and eat something but you had no appetite, anxiety and dread having taken over your body. You lay there going through your thoughts for more than an hour. You want to sit down and talk with Lewis, you need to, but the anxiety of the possible outcome is paralyzing you. What if he confirms your fears, admits that all he’s ever been trying to do is get it your pants? What if now that you’ve shut him down he doesn’t see a reason to keep you around anymore? The rational part of your brain knows that you're overthinking, that your friendship with Lewis still stands on semi solid ground. Maybe there will be some change to how he is around you or how often he’s with you but at the base of it all your still close friends. Lewis knows things about you that your own family doesn’t, he’s been able to read you better than you can read yourself on more than a few occasions, all of that can’t go up in smoke this quickly. Can it?

There’s a soft knock on your door, making you groan. You don’t respond hoping they’ll go away. They don’t, only knocking again and gently pushing the door open. You roll your head to the side, seeing Miles peeking his head into your room, a comforting smile on his face. True to his word, here he was to check on you.

“Good morning,” He says softly, making his way into your room once he sees you’re awake, “I brought you something to eat, you need to get something in you.”

You give him a small smile as he places a tray of fruit and a large glass of ice water on the table next to your bed.

“Thanks.” You croak out, your voice hoarse from crying all night.

“Everybodies in their rooms for the most part if you need to venture out of hiding at any point.” He tells you, knowing you’ve been avoiding everyone, but one person in particular.

You just nod, taking a small sip of the cold water. It feels amazing on your burning throat, as if it’s your first drink of water after a month in the desert.

“What time is it?” You ask, trying to get some bearing on where you are in your life, even if it's just the time of day.

He glances down at the watch on his wrist, “Just before noon.”

It’s still earlier than you thought it was at this point and it fills you with a small sense of dread, there’s so much more of the day to go about trying to avoid everyone.

“You know no ones mad at you, right?” Miles makes sure you know that there’s no hostility facing you in the house.

You just shrug, unsure of how true that actually is and also not quite wanting to admit that it’s more so that you’re embarrassed to even see your friends. There’s another soft knock on the door and you're praying it’s Charlotte, the only other person you could bare being around right now. Much to your dismay, a very tired looking Lewis pokes his head around the door that Miles had left ajar. Your breath hitches, anxiety filling your body.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I’ll um-” Lewis stutters, not wanting to interrupt your chat with Miles.

“All good man, I was just gonna head out anyway.” Miles says, standing from where he had sat on your bed.

You know Miles can sense your anxiety but he gives you a look that says “just get it over with” and heads towards the door. Before he exits he turns back toward you and says “Holler for me if you need anything, alright?”

He whispers something to Lewis as he walks out and you can see a pained expression on Lewis’ face at whatever he said. Once he’s gone, Lewis stands awkwardly in the doorway, not quite being able to look at you as he plays with his hands down in front of him.

“You can come in.” You squeak, not actually fully wanting to say it but knowing it needs to be done.

He finally looks at you, putting his hand on the door as if to close it but you can see the question in his eyes. You nod, not wanting your whole conversation to be heard by everyone in the house. He very gently pushes the door closed, making his way further into your room. He looks around, evidently unsure of what to do with himself. He opts for perching on the edge of your dresser just across from where you sit on the bed, you’re facing each other and you can feel your stomach filling with butterflies, but not the good kind you usually get when you’re around him.

“I owe you an apology, well, multiple apologies.” He finally says, looking down at the ground, ashamed. His voice is hoarse as if he’s just woken up.

You don’t say anything, unsure of what you would even say.

“I’m sorry for the way that I’ve treated you. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner. I’m sorry that my company embarrassed you in front of everyone. I’m sorry for my behavior last night, all of it. I’ve treated you in a way that if anyone else did the same to you, I would hate them.” He finally apologizes for the last few days, finally looking at you as he does so.

He looks exhausted, much older than usual with bags under his eyes and more scruff than you're used to him allowing.

“Thank you,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry I avoided talking to you too.”

He shakes his head, “It shouldn’t have been on you to fix, I’m the one that fucked up.”

You offer a small smile in his direction. All is not immediately forgiven and this conversation needs to continue, but hearing him acknowledge the reasons he needed to apologize in the first place does your heart some good at the very least.

“Why did you do it?” You ask quietly, your voice timid, not sure you truly want the answer.

He looks surprised by the question, also not quite sure how to respond. He lets out a sigh as he collects his thoughts.

“I know it doesn’t make it right,” He starts, pausing for a moment to make sure his words come across as clearly as possible, “but, it’s been on my mind for a long time. I’m well aware that I went about it all wrong, especially last night, I was incredibly out of line last night, but I’ve thought about it alot.” He cringes at his admission.

You furrow your brow, worried this is going exactly the direction you feared, hoping he will continue.

“I don’t mean for that to sound creepy, but I’ve been really attracted to you for quite a while. I should have made that clear in a much different way. I never want you to feel like I’m trying to take advantage of you in any way, it makes me sick to think that I have ever made you feel like that.” He says, a look of regret on his tired face.

“What I said last night was harsh, my drunk brain just felt like it was the best way to get my point across.” You admit to him.

“But it wasn’t really that harsh, despite it not being intentional, it’s kind of true. What I said on the other hand, that was harsh, I never should have called you a tease or said you indulged in it, it wasn’t fair.” His words are firm, for the first time he’s holding steady eye contact with you, demanding your attention so you feel the remorse in his words.

“I need to be honest, it really hurts that you’re able to treat me like all the other girls you fuck around with, I thought I was more important to you than them.” You quietly admit to him.

“Fuck, you are. So much more important to me.” He says, finally moving from where he’s been leaning on your dresser and cautiously making his way toward where you sit on your bed. He carefully sits next to you, leaving a good distance but making sure he’s near you.

“Then how can you be so okay with chatting up the bar tender, grinding on some random woman, and then still come over and try to fuck me, yet again. All because your ego couldn’t handle me dancing with someone else, when you were doing exactly the same.” You push, needing him to truly understand just how shitty his actions made you feel.

“You’re right, I was jealous. In my ideal world you would have been dancing with me all night, but I knew you wouldn’t have allowed that where we were in our relationship. And then you found that prick and the way you were with him, it just set something off in me. I wasn’t thinking. I know that sounds like a horrible excuse but there was part of me that was hoping I could make you just as jealous as I was, not that you would be when you’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and I should have respected that. Between the alcohol and my ego, I let myself treat you like shit and there’s no excuse for that, I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could.” His face is sincere, you can tell just how much he regrets last night but it doesn’t automatically let him off the hook. He continues “And as for the bartender, I wasn’t chatting her up, she’s an old friend. I’ve never slept with her and never will, she’s like family. I got distracted talking with her and by the time I found you again you had that Jason dude on your hip.”

You want to laugh, not only at him forgetting Jadens name, but also at him saying you’re not interested. He has every right to assume you’re not, you’ve done nothing but turn him down. You almost want to tell him just how wrong he is, how the only reason you said no is because you don’t want to lose him, but right now is not the time for that, you don’t want to open any windows and derail the conversation that so far is going shockingly well, even if it hurts.

“Is she the woman you went to after your fight with Talia?” You push him slightly, hoping to get more out of him while he’s being so honest with you.

His face screws up for a second, confused how you would know that. You see the questioning look on his face and rush to clarify, to confess.

“I know you lied to me that night, or at least I kind of hope you did. I overheard you and Charlotte talking the next morning, something about a woman named Marina.” You explain.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Yeah, I’m sorry I lied to you. I wasn’t particularly in the mood to explain the whole situation. But to answer your question, yes, that is the woman that I went and saw.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation, you want to push him but you allow him to leave it at that, at least for now.

You both sit in silence for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from here.

“Lewis,” You say quietly, getting his attention, “I don’t want to lose you.”

His face morphs into absolute sorrow and pain, for a moment you worry that he’s mourning your friendship, not knowing how to break the news to you.

“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I would go crazy without you.” His voice is soft but sincere as he carefully scoots closer to you on the bed, testing the waters slightly. You let him get close enough that your knees are touching, his hand coming to rest over yours, squeezing tightly.

“How do you think I could ever let you go?” He asks with a deep frown.

“Because you seemed to be okay with ruining our friendship just to get me in your bed.” You accuse him, your voice wavering.

“Sweetheart, I was never trying to ruin our friendship, I-” He takes a long pause, gathering himself with a deep breath, “I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but truth be told, me trying to get you into bed was never just me trying to sleep with you. It’s been a long time since I felt for someone how I feel for you and I’m not good at making that clear. I don’t even truly understand everything that I feel for you but, I know it’s a whole lot more and a whole lot different than how I feel about all of my other friends. I guess somewhere in my head I felt like I could get that across physically, that maybe it would make everything make sense once I had you. I know it sounds ridiculous but I don’t know how to do this.”

His confession both shocks and confuses you, your mind flitting back to the night he disappeared after his fight with Talia. That night he had told you that he had feelings for her, now he was trying to convince you of his feelings for you.

“What about Talia?” You ask, voice still unsure.

“What about Talia?” He throws back at you, confused as to why she matters right now.

“The night that we talked, after your fight, you told me you were worried that you had messed everything up with someone that you cared about or liked a lot, I don’t remember exactly what you said but…” You trail off, a slow moment of realization coming over you.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he looks down at the ground before returning his eyes to yours, “Y/N, I was talking about you. In no universe was I ever even considering Talia.” His words confirm what you’ve just realized and you want to slap yourself, you feel like an idiot.

“I- oh my god.” You breathe out, shutting your eyes. His eye contact suddenly feeling like too much.

You stand from the bed, disconnecting your hand from his. He stays seated, looking up at you as you begin to pace, letting you process what he’s said.

“How long?” You ask suddenly, stopping and looking at him.

“In all honesty, I don’t really know. I only really realized it sometime last year. I was thinking it would go away, that it was just some silly crush, but it just kept getting worse.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s totally normal.

“So all the time that you were sleeping with all these other women and still flirting with me was, what?” You feel yourself getting agitated, not quite sure how to feel about his actions.

“I kind of figured that if I kept sleeping around that I would be satisfied and I wouldn’t feel the same way, but I couldn't help but keep flirting with you, it’s just naturally how I am with you, it feels right.” Once again he shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“Do you not want to feel this way about me?” You ask quietly, a slight sting of rejection settling over you.

“No, no, that’s not it at all.” He rushes out, standing to approach you, carefully he puts his hands on your arms, making you look at him, “It��s not at all that I don’t want to feel this way about you, I’m glad I do to be completely honest. It’s just that I’ve been single for a very long time and I truly do not want to fuck this up, I’m scared that I’m going to and I’m going to lose you. It felt like everything would be so much easier if I could just keep being your friend and keep you in my life. But that didn’t happen, I still managed to fuck it up.”

You can feel tears forming in your eyes, he notices them too, a look of regret on his face.

“So what do you want?” You ask him, needing more clarity.

“All in all, I want you, I want to do this with you and god I want to not fuck it up. I want you to be mine, all mine, all in.” He says confidently, much more sure of himself than you feel.

You stare at him as the tears start to roll down your cheeks, your emotions are at an all time high. Part of you is filled with pure ecstasy, the man that you have crushed on for years is standing here in front of you confessing his feelings, asking you to be his. The other part of you is filled with absolute fear, the thought of trying and failing with him, losing one of the most amazing men you have ever met, your best friend. You know that a life with Lewis could either end in the most beautiful love you have ever experienced or the worst, most gut wrenching heartache known to man.

“Can I hug you? You look like you could use it.” His voice is soft, his heart aching as he watches you cry.

All you can do is nod as you let yourself fall into his hard chest. He holds you against him tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back as he once again lets you cry into his chest. You’ve done this too many times in the last twenty four hours. He stays silent, just letting you work through your emotions. When you finally calm down you pull your head from his chest but he keeps you tight against him, one of his hands coming up to wipe some remaining tears from your cheek. You revel in the feeling of his touch, how comforting a simple action can be. As you stare into his eyes you can see how much emotion and affection is hidden behind them. A soft, sad smile across his lips.

“What’s going through that beautiful mind?” He asks, his voice just above a whisper.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly.

He just nods, understanding how overwhelmed you must be.

“I need time, I need to think.” You say, averting your eyes from his, knowing you’ll say yes if you look into them for a moment too long.

“Take all the time you need, I’ll always be right here if you decide you’ll have me.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he gives you another proper hug.

He finally steps away from you, leaving you feeling displaced in your own room, before he turns to leave he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly, “And Y/N, no matter what you decide, you will never lose me. I will always be right here.” With that he leaves the room, leaving you behind with a whirlwind of thoughts.

As much as every part of you wants to believe him in saying he’ll never leave you, you can’t help but wonder if it’s fully true. If you try this and all of it comes crashing down, you can’t imagine being able to be around him.

Is the possibility of loving and being loved by the most incredible human being worth the possibility of losing him entirely?

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misselko · 3 years ago

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LIONESS

Warnings: Angst, fluff, small violence

Words: 20.130

“Begin.”

Loud clashing of lances can be heard through Garreg Mach hallway.

The red-haired skirt chaser barely able to hear you said it when you rushed him. Sylvain knew that he should focus on his strikes. He didn’t have time to be impressed at this small, petite girl that is jabbing her lance so fast against him. Devastatingly fast. And strikingly strong. ‘It is such a wonder how a small, petite body like hers held so much power’. That’s the last thing that passed his mind before (Y/N)’s lance has cracked so loudly against his that he thought it might snap. Beautiful, fierce, deadly (E/C) orbs that staring into his soul has captivated the Gautier heir and got him hard knock on his shin, felling him over.

“Whoa there! I yield. You do like it rough, don’t you, (Y/N)?” Sylvain raise his hands on the air with and winks seductively. Rolling your eyes, you put a light tap on his neck at his remarks.

“Though she be but little, she is fierce. (Y/N) is the youngest among us, but she is indeed a Lioness!” Dimitri claps over your third in a row winning for today. You beat Felix in sword and Dimitri in the lance spar.

“That’s what you get for skipping classes, Sylvain. And.. keep up with your solid techniques, excellent moves, and rapid quick footwork, (Y/N). That’s all for our combat class today,” said Professor.

“She’s a few inch shorter than me but she had effortlessly defeated Blue Lions’ strongest lancer and swordsman! That’s my favourite lil sis (Y/N) for you!! ” said Annette giddily. She hugs you in a death grip embrace and sings her silly song.

Everyone are so nice to you, to the point of spoiled rotten! Especially Ingrid and Mercie! They are like your big sisters, always offering their help to ride pegasi and give endless supplies of baked sweets that you love very much. Felix is kinda harsh and always eager to spar with you, but he’s the first person to get angry when someone bullies you because you are so small. So kind, almost feel like a big brother! Dimitri helps you with your late night studies and picking books in the higher shelves on the library a lot. Dedue and Ashe cook dinner together with you on your duty day.

They see (Y/N) as the sweet smol bean that has to be protected at all cost!

“Are you free tonight, Munchkin?” Care to join me to visit the town and get something to eat? I know this little restaurant that has nice dessert! My treat, of course! Think of it as a token of congratulations from me on your brilliance today!” Sylvain put his hand on your shoulder in a friendly gesture and wink seductively.

“Seteth will scold us for sure, Syl! This is the fourth or fifth time we went for a late dinner this week,” you pout at his invitation. “He won’t. I’ll walk you back before curfew as usual. Don’t want my Kitten to get hurt on her way back. Night walk can be dangerous, you know.”

“Why you are being so nice to me, Syl... Your girls will be upset and kill me for sure.”

“Nah.. I don’t have any! It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful evening alone. Besides, I don’t want to let my Munchkin starved in her sleep! Not to mention that you just looked awfully cute with your cheeks stuffed.” You smacked his shin and rewarded with a loud yelp from him. “Lead the way. And.. it’s not like I like it or something like that, you know! Don’t get any wrong ideas,” you hide your blush and took his huge hand in your tiny ones.

The food was delightful as usual and Sylvain stay true to his words about going back before the curfew.

As you both closed the large door’s that marked the dormitory, you were greeted by the crisp spring night. Warm wind passed over your forms, and crickets chirped in the night.

“While we’re at it, how about a little board games rematch at my quarters? I got a new strategy to show you, Syl!”

“Bring it on then, (Y/N)! Let’s bring some sweet buns as usual to snack on later as well, then.”

“It’s a deal!”

“I’d think playing it on the bed would be more comfortable than doing it on the floor. You might catch another cold and passed out like last month in my room. It scared the living daylights out of me! Nope, never trying that again.”

“It’s not fun being frail and get sick easily.” You sigh.

“No problem. Think of it as a good chance for me to get to carry you around in my arms. For our weddi-- Ouch!!” he faux a sad face melodramatically when you punch his hand away playfully. “You might be small and petite but these hands are a force to be reckoned with. You’re as strong as a lioness,” said the philanderer as he ruffled your hair affectionately.

It was such a beautiful night.

---

“Do you have a moment, Miss (Y/N)? I have something important to tell you regarding my research and your Crest. We can discuss it in more detailed manner in my research room,” Professor Hanneman ask you out of the blue after the afternoon battle strategy class.

“Crest? But I’m sure I don’t have any, Professor! It’s stated as clear as a day in my enrollment documents, isn’t it?”

“There’s a mistake, Miss (Y/N). And I sworn it on my name as the Father of Crestology, you do HAVE a Crest. A Major one at that! Congratulations! I have sent a letter to your family and inform other Professors and your House Leader regarding this matter. I have my suspicion about your Crests since I watch your prowess at combat and when it activates, the timing, and the flash of....”

You are a bit shocked about this and decided to ignore this fact, having a hard time to process this shocking information. Your family and other members of Blue Lions will be very surprised of this information. Is it going to be a good thing or not? Professor Hanneman’s murmurs fell on your deaf ears as you politely excuse yourself out of his room. ‘It’ll be better to keep this as a secret to avoid unwanted attention nor unnecessary commotion’ you think to yourself.

---

Moons have passed. Then the night of the ball came. Urged by your curiosity, you are eager to wait for your true love at the Goddess Tower. You were hardly expecting to see Sylvain, of all people. The surprise at seeing each other was mutual. The both of you stood there for a moment, simply enjoying the scene before you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to stave off the chill that went down your spine, shuffling closer to the older man.

“Do you even believe the rumors about this place?” he asked as he lay his uniform coat over your shivering form. “My curiosity gets the best of me. But am glad to find you here, Syl.”

“Huh.” Sylvain went quiet, his face etched with contemplation. After he thought about it a little, he let out a huff of breath and frowned.

“Well, the person I’m interested in... is already here. You’re here alone. I’m here alone. I was thinking maybe....”

“Wait. Me?”

“Well, of course! We’re the only two people here, aren’t we? I keep thinking about it, and it just makes sense. My Crest and yours...”

“How did you...?”

“Dimitri told me. I have confirmed it with Professor Hanneman as well. A Major one, he said. So lucky.”

He looked down at you menacingly. Your eyes were averted away from his, looking away into the distance. “What do you mean? I’m still me, Syl. Crest or no Crest.”

Despite your dismissive answer, something changed in his expression. He took his hands from behind his neck and stalked towards you. This wasn’t at all like the kind and flirty Sylvain you loved. He’s... different.

“You know what? I’m a bit jealous. The whole time you were growing up, you never knew you had a Crest. You were free. Nobody pretended to like you. I kind of hate you for that...” he slammed you hard against the wall behind you. Strangled pained noise came from you.

His knees rest on either side of your petite body and his arms cage your head, his much bigger hand grasp yours roughly. “All you’re worth to me is a little bit of fun. We’ve been having fun, haven’t we? I thought that you understood,” Sylvain’s face a mere inch from yours, glaring daggers at you. You can feel your tears begin welling, threatening to spill at his words.

“Is that really what you think of me? I thought... I was different. So… our friendship has just been for nothing?” you muttered quietly, holding back your sobs.

He scoffed. “Of course you are. You’re just some dumb noble looking for crest babies. You never meant anything to me.” His rejection was validation of your worst fear, that you were just like every other girl. Your friendship had all fallen apart and meant nothing for him.

“Playing around with girls is the most fun a guy can have. Besides, I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t intend to change how I live my life. I’m a good-for-nothing, if you haven’t noticed, but I’m still a noble with a Crest. That’s all anyone cares about. It’s best to avoid getting too serious with fools like me.” His expression darkens and unreadable. The carefree mask was long gone.

“My Crest bring me nothing but pain. I thought maybe...if I made someone else suffer, it might help me feel better.” His hand shot up and grabbed you by your throat. Sylvain held you in front of him, tightened his grip, choking you hard. His caramel eyes glowed dark with excitement.

“Unnnghhh......Syl....”

You tried to squirm away but he clamped his hand tighter, making it harder for you to breathe. Your legs felt weak and limp. The pain was too intense.

“You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that Crest. Maybe I’ll collect the debt.” His expression dark as he looked up at you.

Focusing yourself, you punch his jaw as hard as you can. To your surprise, a blinding flash of your Crest shows up when you smack him as hard as you can, making Sylvain flinch in pain, dropping you with a loud thud on the cold floor. You stumbled back and dropped to your knees. Gasping for air, you tried to rub the pain from your throat, doing your best to pick yourself up.

“Sylvain Jose Gautier! I care not for your Crest nor title! It means nothing to me. I like.. no, love you because you are the strongest, kindest, funniest, and the most caring person that I know. Even you are such a skirt chaser, but you always very considerate and protective of me. I never felt this way before about someone. This is my first time but... This… This was a mistake. Sorry. I hope.. you find your own happiness someday,” you said, your voice is raspy from his deadly grip and your sadness. Tears were finally flowing freely from you.

Sylvain’s posture becoming rigid despite his feigned relaxed position. “H-hey,” Sylvain said, his voice softened somewhat. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry...”, he tried to pat your head, but you step back instinctively. The red head flinch and turned away when he saw angry purplish hue on your neck. Guilt began creeping on his conscience.

“I believe you. You’re not a bad person, Sylvain, no matter what anyone says. I care about you. Our friendship, dinners, late nights walk and banters... I cherished them a lot. Really, I do. I love you, Sylvain.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t look at anything besides the floor. “That’s what I came to tell you, but... nevermind. Good night, Syl. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

“Did you mean that? (Y/N), wait!” He spoke with disbelief.

“Why would I lie?” you asked, hardly audible. “Goodbye, Syl.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears as you dash yourself as fast as possible from Goddess Tower, locking yourself inside your quarters, clutching to Sylvain’s uniform coat, while crying yourself to sleep.

---

That’s the last thing that you can remember from your Academy Days. Things were never the same since that night. You never talk to the playboy ever again since that incident. No more night walks or late board games. When you have to work together in weekly duty, there’s an unseen awkward distance and heavy tension between you two.

The notorious philanderer went back into his old ways, going around with a different girl each day. You often catch him glimpse at you with eyes full of remorse and sadness (mostly when he thinks you aren’t looking or noticing). Everyone in the Blue Lions noticed the changes between your relationship but being very considerate of your feelings and trying to not mention anything about it.

Your Father called you back home because of his grave illness in Pegasus Moon, insisting you to leave the Officers Academy behind. Blue Lions was taken aback and sad with your abrupt leave. Going back to your home in Fhirdiad, days flies in a blur motion into moons and years.

---

It’s been 5 years since you left your Academy days in Garreg Mach.

A bloody coup led by Cornelia causes Duke Rufus and Dimitri both to be apparently killed. Her tyranny left Fhirdiad in poor state with poverty and famine. Holy Kingdom of Faerghus thrown into disarray condition with their Prince’s disappearance. The nation is plagued by civil strife and hardship.

With the vast majority of the former Kingdom lords having bent the knee to the overwhelming power of the Empire, all Blaiddyd territory, including the Kingdom capital, is ruled by those who are cooperating with the Empire, and is thus renamed the Faerghus Dukedom. Houses Fraldarius and Gautier were left to spearhead the resistance as the primary opponents of the Dukedom.

As the legitimate Marchioness of your major noble house in Blaiddyd territory after her Father’s passing, (Y/N) decided to keep on fighting against Empire until the bitter end, along with Houses of Fraldarius, Gautier, and Galatea. You keep maintain close relationships them, mostly with the neighbouring Houses, Fraldarius and Galatea. Whether it may be reinforcements soldiers to House Fraldarius or stock supplies to House Galatea, you are so much eager to give it all (sometimes by going there personally—much to your advisors’ dismay) to aid them. Being always giving or adding the most relevant information about current war state developments made you overjoyed when you heard about the news of Dimitri’s plan to recapture Fhirdiad.

---

It’s been forever since your last time fighting on the battlefield. Reclaiming the capital is a daunting task with shortage of soldiers and resources. Rodrigue’s death is a devastating blow to Faerghus’ military strength and resources. Not to mention that House Gautier and Galatea has any resources to spare. With limited resource of your own House, you decided to prioritize evacuation of Faerghus’ citizens and helping Blue Lions to the utmost.

Dimitri marches for Fhirdiad, causing the oppressed citizens to revolt against Cornelia’s tyranny People are rebelling against Cornelia and Fhirdiad has turned into a gruesome battlefield. Fire was everywhere The sound of metals echoed loudly in your ears. Large Titanus crowded the streets and wreaking havoc upon buildings and citizens. With your sword in your hands, you leap and cut through Kingdom Soldiers that is preparing to activate Viskam turrets against Felix.

You pushed forward with great caution. When you are done helping a pair of elders and children under the rubbles to evacuate, you saw him. Sylvain. Fighting over a mage and a large Titanus all by himself. Did he get separated? He barely dodged a fireball when you strike down that mage.

“Munchki--!” He gasped, surprised to see you back.

“Watch out, Syl!”

You leap in front of him, parrying and slash back at the Titanus’ large appendages that is going to smash him. Sylvain cast a Ragnarok and taking down the golem-like creature with a loud explosion, sending flying debris everywhere. He gasped, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the way.

“Ugh... that hurts. Are you okay, Munchkin?” He was trapped under the rubbles and the first thing that he asked is your safety?

“W-why did you do that, Syl? You got hurt protecting me. Didn’t you want to kill me?”, you said as you helped him out from the rubble. Fortunately he is okay aside from a few scratch and bruises.

“When I thought you were going to be killed for real, my reflexes kicked in. I reacted without thinking. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being jealous of you. But, come on, I can’t help looking up to you.” He look at you with eyes full of worry and sadness.

“Sylvain..... Well.. It’s been awhile, but as much as I want to chat with you, we have to help Professor and Dimitri first. Cornelia has brought us so many sufferings. Now’s the time to put an end to all of this. And... thank you, Syl.” He nods and push forward to throw his lance at a Pegasus Knight that is fighting against Ingrid.

“I will go to deactivate Titanus’ lever. I know its location and it will help everyone tremendously against that gigantic monster! I’ll open Fhirdiad’s secret passages within my House territory to help everyone to get better access to Cornelia. When I’m done with it, I’ll regroup with reinforcement soldiers from my House to evacuate more citizens on the east side of Royal Capital, then go to help Dimitri fighting against Cornelia. See you later, Syl. Please stay safe.” You bid your farewell and run through smaller alley path, doing your missions, leaving Sylvain astonished at your very thorough, detailed plans.

Without the Titanus, Cornelia only has archers as her backups. As you take the archers down with Felix and Annette, Professor and Dimitri are working together to close in on her and take her down. It was a gruesome battle, but thanks to everyone’s efforts, casualties were kept to minimum and reclaiming Fhirdiad is a big success after Cornelia has been defeated.

---

It may be spring, but the nights are quite chilly here in Fhirdiad. The people are rejoicing at the return of their King. After a hard won battle of reclaiming Royal Capital of Fhirdiad, celebratory feast shows no sign of stopping. Growing weary of the festivities, you decided to excuse yourself from the banquet at the castle balcony.

“Munchkin. Here you are. His Highness has been looking for you. He wanted to express his gratitude for your loyalty and huge help at reclaiming Fhirdiad.”

“Good evening, Syl. We just did our utmost to help. Fhirdiad’s peace and safety of the Blue Lions is of the most important thing for me, after all.”

A moment of silence passed where both of you stayed still, just basking in the moonlight and enjoying each others’ presence for a while.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” You are taken aback when Sylvain bows his head deeply in front of you.

“I know I messed up really bad and it’s fair enough if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive me. My jealousy got the best of me and it has brought you so much harm. Most girls just want me for my title or my Crest, and when I thought that it was the same for you, I… I was the one who made a mistake. I’m sorry, truly I am.” Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you could see the furrow of Sylvain’s brows, the frowning twist of his lips. It was a look you’d never seen on him. Regret and pain. He looks so vulnerable. Somehow, you didn’t doubt the apology.

“Please elaborate, Syl.”

“Since I bear a Crest, my parents made sure I was never left wanting. My older brother didn’t have one, and so when I was born, he was pushed aside. My mere existence stole everything from him. There’s so many people that want to get close to me because of my crest. Because of something I didn’t even want to be born with. I wish I could have cared as little about my Crest as you do yours...,” he grimaces, running a hand through his hair briskly. “Women smile at me for the same reason my parents adored me...and my brother wanted me dead. And I have to meet them all with a smile because I have a Crest.” Sylvain purses his lips.

“But you–you’ve never treated me differently. Always being there for me and understand me, and…and–I like you, (Y/N). No. I love you so much that it scared me. A lot,” he says, closing his eyes.

“You say that, but it doesn’t excuse the things you’ve done.” You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to let him see mixed expression you were making at his sudden confession but you knew he was looking at you. Intently.

“I was devastated when you left Garreg Mach years ago. I lost you once and I won’t let it happen again. So.... what I’m saying is…” he hesitated and briefly appeared at a loss of words which is very unlike of him.

He hugs you closer very tightly it hurts, cradling you gently against his chest. This close, you can feel the rapid pace of his heart and his nervousness. “Can you give me a second chance?” Sylvain’s touch was awkward and clumsy.

“......I will. But first… Please let me go, Syl. You are crushing me.”

Sylvain paused, as if unsure. “Did you mean that?” Vulnerability colored his tone, softened it. “I’d like to be a man who deserves that. Who deserves you. Even if you want nothing to do with me, one day I will find a way to make it up to you, to earn your forgiveness. I promise.” His voice wasn’t strong with his infamous flirtatious bravado. It was sincere.

“You’re so much more than just your Crest or your status, Sylvain Jose Gautier.” Taking his much bigger hand in your tiny ones, you smiled and whisper it against his hand. “You are the most amazing, kind, strongest, and nice man for me. Your path is your own. I love you just the way you are, Sylvain. Crest or no Crest.” His face turned dark red instantly redder than his hair at your words. Sylvain.exe has stopped working

“You are going to be the death of me, Munchkin!!” Sylvain yells frantically. You can see his ears flushed furious red. He can die happy now. Goddess Sothis please take his soul.

“Why you still call me Munchkin, Syl?” you asked much to your curiousity. “It’s been years but you barely grow a few inch! But y-Ouch!! He yelps when you jab at his stomach. “But you have... grown into a fine, smart, and beautiful woman.”

“Time hasn’t been so kind to me in these past years, Syl. After my Father’s passing, I have to succeed him. Being a Marchioness isn’t an easy task but I learned so much and am still learning.”

“My sincerest condolences for your loss. But... he must be very proud of you, Munchkin. You will be a great Marchioness. Strong, thorough, quick-witted, and lovely as a—”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Mr. Gautier.” You rolled your eyes at him. The redhead laughs softly and embrace you in his arms.

“When this war is over, will you come with me to my homeland? It’s time for the first step in the right direction. I don’t want to marry a girl who wants to use me for my Crest or a girl who someone else chose for me. I want to marry someone I really care about. With you by my side, I’m excited to find out what this new way of life is all about. (Y/N), I’m serious. Marry me. I’d do anything for you. I’m done lying, especially to myself. I’m going to spend the rest of our lives together trying to make you happy. I promise.”

“I’d like to.... introduce you to my parents. They’d love to have a new Gauti—Gyaahh!!!” He shrieked when you stomped your feet on him. “I’m so DONE with you, Syl!!” you said with exasperated look, looking away trying to hide the rising heat in your cheeks. ‘A future with Sylvain...’

There’s a pause when you catch his gaze and find something vulnerable there, something familiar. The flicker of hope, mirrored in your expression. It’s as if everything falls into place and clicks. Then his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant, so unlike his usual self. Your eyes fluttered shut, your lips moulding against his, as his hand came up to cup your cheek. It was all the confession you needed.

“I will, Syl. I promise.”

---

Bonus:

When Professor and the Blue Lions heard about your new relationship with Sylvain, they offer you heartfelt congratulations and throw a little dinner party. Dimitri is OVERJOYED and sobs a little when he saw you are radiating with so much happiness. Back then in your Academy days, he was the one who worry about you the most when Sylvain treated you poorly, after all. Ashe and Dedue throw a lavish dinner to celebrate (Y/N) and Sylvain’s relationship that evening. Mercedes and Annette provide everyone with tasty sweets and dessert. It was a heartwarming small party among Blue Lions members.

Sadly, Sylvain didn’t get to celebrate it together. Rumors had it that Felix and Ingrid has beaten him to a bloody pulp (with Professor’s EXCLUSIVE permission) because he made you their lovely sweet lil sis wept and hurt. Sylvain kept on mumbling something between “Don’t ever hitting another girl”, “RUIN his Lance of Ruin”, “Don’t ever taint her”, or “You’re finished”. Even the kind and benevolent Mercie turned her back and refuse to heal Sylvain. The Gautier heir almost went to hell that evening.

The poor, traumatized philanderer will changing his ways for the better for sure.

#fe sylvain #sylvain angst #sylvain x reader #fe3h x reader #fe3h fluff #sylvain fluff #fe3h fanfic #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #angst #fluff #romance

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 4 years ago

Text

butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

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i-only-know-fandoms · 3 years ago

Text

Descendants Royal Wedding and why it wasn’t as good as you think

I’m seeing a lot about how great Descendants Royal Wedding was and it’s just.... not? It actually upset me a lot so can I lay it out for you?

Elephant in the room is sweet, sweet Carlos and sweet, sweet Cameron, our Angel. No way of doing this without his would have been easy (Honestly it wasn’t needed but I was excited for new content until it got closer and the end is very revealing as to why they did this). But they championed they were honoring him, but not in way they should be patting themselves on the back for like they are. It was sweet, don’t get me wrong! Let me explain.

They imply Carlos is dead (I’ll get into my problem with that later) (also I refuse). They never outright say it but that’s the closest we get to an explanation so.... But they have the “I wish Carlos was here scene” and then his charm on Mal’s bracelet glows at the end, which is something, but not as big and grand as they made it seem like they were. Beyond those moments he is never mentioned. Ever. It’s like he doesn’t exist except for their mini memorial so they can say they honored Cameron.

“Well what would you have them do?”

Well first off, not kill of Carlos. That’s not honoring Cameron at all.

“You’d have them replace Cameron!?!”

Absolutely not. At the very least Disney hasn’t tried to do that (what they are doing with how the short ending is Not Good though. Please be patient, I will get to that)

“What would have them do? Have some half assed excuse to why he’s not there?”

I mean, it wouldn’t have been ideal but I think it would have been better? I don’t think killing Carlos is honoring Cameron at all. Descendants is big for Disney (Channel at least). If Carlos stays around, it’s like part of Cameron is still here, heling people, keeping his memory alive. Killing him (and not even properly explaining it) is more disrespectful.

What would have been ideal is if Carlos was there and either not talked but still was with them participating. I mean, Jay barely talked. They could have made it work. Or, they could have used old dialogue Cameron has done in the past. The past Descendants, Jessie, Gamer’s Guide, maybe some interviews Disney did. They would have access to that and not have to pay anyone to get it. Throw in a few generic lines and he has as big of a role Jay does.

“That sounds easy to say but hard to do”

Probably, but everything in art is and it would have been worth it. Besides, no offense to the animators who were probably overworked as is, but the whole thing seemed rushed? They’re isle outfits were basically color blocks. Again, the animators did a wonderful job, it would be Disney’s fault for rushing it to get it out (Probably for the ending. Be patient!)

“Wait! You said you don’t want Cameron replaced, so how could he live on through Carlos’ story”

Books? Most of the content from Descendants is from books (which the movies ignore along with Wicked World, which is a whole other issue I have. Like, you just had to mention Freddie or CJ, not cast them or anything. The cross media continuity could have been beautiful. What happened to Beelzebub, is she okay? This haunts me)

But yeah, books. Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos could still have meaningful and important adventures together in books, it would honor Cameron, and he wouldn’t be replaced. H*ck, they could have had a way deeper story if they made the Wedding a book, or even a graphic novel (that sounds like I’m belittling graphic novels but I assure you that’s not what I mean. I think a graphic novel would be a shorter story than a novel, even was used on content sized. I assume it would be like the mangas in length verses Melissa De La Cruz books) That would be a better and more lasting way to honor him

Just a little thing here that ties in the Descendants 3 complaints I have. They make it seem like Maleficent loves Mal and is maybe a good Mom? You spend the first two movies and the books nailing in their parents are abusive and terrible and they are afraid of them but the it’s all “Oh, they really love their kids, it’s not that bad” ??? Like, I’m sure not everyone parent was evil to their kids, I can believe Smee was a loving father, but the other are canonically bad and abusive and it’s actually upsetting they threw that all to the side and pretended it wasn’t real? More of a D3 complaint but they have Maleficent too nice and loving, even as a lizard in this. (Also why didn’t she turn back when she went back to the Isle in D2? Mal’s curse breaks in D3 when she crosses the barrier)

“Please, tell us why you hate the ending already!”

It’s an obvious cash grab? They want to make more money from the franchise but can’t continue without Cameron, and Dove, Sofia, and Booboo wouldn’t continue without him (this was hard enough for them) so they needed a new story to tell since they hate books I guess? This wasn’t made to tie up Mal’s story, it was there for them to add in the “someone else’s story is starting” as showing that Alice in Wonderland tease so they can move on without Cameron and the others and still make their money without caring about the actors that made the story what it is or the characters they created and people or the existing stories. That’s not honoring Cameron, that’s finding a way to make more money without having to dedicate it to Cameron or worry about what to do with Carlos. It’s disgusting.

Listen, the past few days I’ve been panicking about this (not a panic attack, I’m not making light of those and I have had several, but my chest was going tight and my heart was racing off and on when I thought about it) because I was so worried they were going to kill Carlos and shove him to the side and not really care about him, and they kind of did? At least I’m angry instead of frightened now but it’s bumming me out that it’s being praised so much. Hopefully I’m not the only one to feel this way......

(sorry, this get long and I don’t feel like proof reading but tonight has made me Tired)

#descendants #descendants royal wedding #Carlos De Vil #Mal #Evie #Jay #cameron boyce #dove cameron #sofia carson #booboo stewart

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prfctethereal · 4 years ago

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no body, no crime. | marauders

pairing: platonic!james potter x reader, platonic!sirius black x reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

wordcount: 3,608

warnings: this whole thing is about murder, blood, swearing, alcohol use

a/n: so i accidentally listen to no body, no crime all afternoon and felt inspired to write this. it was supposed to be shorter but oh well. let me know if i should write a part two - kennedy

***

I need your help. Come quick.

I scrawled the message onto three different spare pieces of parchment and hurried into the kitchen, opening the nearest window. The rush of fresh air could’ve been clarity for me but what was done was done. There was no changing the past, but changing the future was still on my plate.

Waving my arm in the night sky, I signalled my owl, Stefan, calling him over to the window. He hooted excitedly, eager to be put to use in the cold winter season. As he landed on my arm, a dusting of snow ruffled from his feather, onto my blood splattered torso, bouncing onto the kitchen counter. Looking down at my appearance, the severity of the situation settled in. There was a dead body in my living room and I had no idea what to do.

“Stefan, I need you to send these letters to the marauders. Go to James and Lily’s house first; it’s the closest, but whatever you do, don’t let Lily see it. Then, go to Remus’ house. Sirius is staying with him as well. They can both see the letter. Lastly, go to Peter’s house and make sure he comes. Keep pecking him on his hand if he chickens out. Can you do that for me?”

Stefan hooted loudly, which I instantly shushed, taking note of the time of day. I didn’t want to wake any of the neighbours. Once Stefan understood the instructions, I let him fly away. A comfortable silence was left in my house as I paced through the kitchen, not even thinking about what to do next.

“I need a drink.” I hummed softly for myself, swinging open the cupboard and taking out a bottle of red wine. After pouring a glass, I waited, sipping to calm my nerves.

It wasn’t long before I heard the distinguished snap of someone apparating, followed by a small squeal. James had arrived first, right into the crime scene. He called out my name, which I responded to, and he trudged into the kitchen, unable to make a coherent sentence.

What he saw was one of his best friends sitting on the ground, blood staining their shirt, a glass of wine firm in their grips, eyes glassy and dazed over.

“Are you going to explain this or…?” James trailed off, realising that he wasn’t going to get an answer quite yet.

“Wait until the others get here.” I responded monotonously, finishing the glass of wine with a single gulp. Mindlessly, I reached upwards to the kitchen counter, patting around for the bottle, before it was snatched away by none other than James Potter himself.

“Darling, if we’re going to be covering up a murder tonight, I think it would be best for you to be as sober as possible.” He cheeked, a cocky smirk on his face. It was soon wiped away by the sound of someone else crashing into the living room, followed by a high pitch yelp; a similar reaction to James’.

“[Y/N]? Did you kill someone?” It was the distinct voice of Peter Pettigrew who followed the quiet murmurings of James and I into the kitchen. When he walked through the door, he seemed to be nursing his right hand, which looked like it had been pecked over and over by an owl, most likely Stefan.

“Take a guess.” I muttered, unusually grumping as I desperately wanted to refill my glass of wine and drown out the sorrows and voices in my head. Oh no, I didn’t feel guilty for killing the man in the living room. I felt guilty for not even having any sort of conscience.

Peter joined us, sitting down on the other side of me. His eyes lit up as he noticed the bottle of wine in James’ hand, muttering a quick “thank you” before taking a swig of the burning liquid.

“The other two should be here by now.” I deadpanned. James and Peter hummed in agreement but it wasn’t long before the rest of them arrived. A knock at the front door signified that Remus and Sirius had arrived, as Remus always felt it was much more polite to apparate outside of someone’s home, instead of directly inside it.

Begrudgingly, I went to stand up, before toppling over into Peter’s lap. I hadn’t realised that the alcohol had already affected me so much, my fist clenching to my temples as I moaned in frustration. It was common knowledge that I was a lightweight. I should’ve thought of that before I let my gluttony become me.

“How about I get the door?” James suggested, standing up instead. “Besides, what if it’s not the other two? What if it’s the police? Can’t have someone covered in blood answer the door.”

As James walked off to the front door, I stayed curled up in Peter’s lap, his hand slowly stroking my shaking arm in an attempt to sooth me. New flash: it wasn’t working.

Two more screeches emerged from the living room which meant that Remus and Sirius had finally showed up. Still shaking, I finally rose from my seating position, with the help of Peter, and made my way into the living room.

It was the first time I had seen the mess I had made with a clear head, or a head that wasn’t plagued with wrath and hatred. Blood was all up the walls, coating too many surfaces to count. The body was lying face down on the carpet, fresh blood still leaking out of his corpse. A putrid smell filled the room, coming from the gas build up in the man’s body. Gagging at the sight, I held my ground, fighting the need to run away and throw up in my bathroom.

“Okay, Remus and Sirius are here now. Can you please tell us what happened?” James begged, his eyes filled with fear. I couldn’t blame him. Finding out one of his best friends had murdered someone must have been horrifying, but it was no time to ponder about the drastic change in our relationship. I needed to explain.

“Do you remember Este, the hufflepuff in our year? She was in our herbology class year seven. She was also in our potions class up until year six.” I started, looking at my friend’s around me, who were all listening intently. “Well, we’ve been friends since year one I guess. We were friends for many years. Even after we left Hogwarts, I still caught up with her. Every Tuesday night, we’d have dinner together and chat, you know, gossip about what’s going on. Anyway, one night, she was talking about her husband-”

“Husband?” Sirius interjected, completely confused. “Este never dated anyone during the entirety of Hogwarts. We’ve only been out for less than a year. How did she find someone to date and marry in that timeframe?”

“Well, they met the day after graduation, at a ministry party. Este was starting in the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes department and met Jason Bulstrode. They must’ve hit it off because a month later they were married. I went to their wedding in August; it was quite pleasant.”

“Okay, continue with the story.” Remus hurried me along, getting quite fidgety with the body behind him. He was anxiously looking behind him, as if the body was going to start moving.

“Oh right, anyway, one night, she was talking about Jason. She was getting nervous because she thought he was cheating on her. She kept talking about how Jason had been spending money on jewellery that wasn’t hers and how he has been coming home from work later and later, smelling like cheap perfume and merlot. I convinced her to confront him about it. A week later, we were supposed to meet for our weekly dinner but she never showed up. I went down to this bar that Jason always went to to see if he knew anything. He was drunk, going on about how she went missing. I didn’t believe it for one second.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. Peter had started drinking out of the wine bottle once more. Remus was fiddling nervously with his digits, as Sirius tried to calm him down, while listening in to every word I was saying.

“Another week goes by and a woman moves into Este and Jason’s house. You’ll never guess who. It was Lucinda Greengrass. I thought it was strange to see Jason move on so quickly because Este could’ve still shown up, but then it hit me. Este was never going to show up. Jason had murdered her. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I confronted him once again at the bar. He seemed a lot more sober though this time. When I brought up the fact that he killed his wife, he lunged at me. I thought I could apparate away to protect myself but he had already grabbed onto me. He was trying to kill me first, so technically it was self defence. I grabbed a framed picture from my mantle and smashed it on the ground. I used one of the broken pieces of glass and used it to protect myself. Then, I wrote a letter to you four and got you to come over. I think we’ve caught up.”

I was out of breath by the time I had finished talking, expecting to be bombarded with hundreds of questions. Except, they all seemed quite silent, their own plans formulating over in their heads. I stayed quiet, letting them think, biting my own nails at what was going on. Remus was the one who spoke up first.

“Did anyone see you leave the bar with Jason?” Remus asked, hurrying out of the kitchen into the living room. He seemed to be looking for something, but what?

“No.” I put simply, watching as Sirius’ face lit up, understanding what Remus was getting at. James and Peter made eye contact and with that, it seemed like everyone was on the same page except me.

“Then his last known location was the bar. He could’ve gone missing at the bar.” James muttered, following Remus. Except, James headed for the laundry, hurriedly looking for cleaning supplies.

“Missing?” I called, frantically trying to follow them, but they all seemed to be in a mind of their own, understanding what had to be done. James emerged from the laundry with a mop and a bucket of bleach. Peter came from the direction of the kitchen holding a massive black garbage back, gloves decorating his hands.

“No one knows you killed him, [Y/N], and we intend on keeping it that way. He’ll stay a missing man.” Peter finished off the thought, carefully trodding over to Jason’s bloody corpse on the ground. “Besides, Este is also classified as missing. It could be played off that they ran off together or something.”

I was rooted to the spot as I watched what was going on around me. Peter had put Jason’s body in a weird contortion to fit in the garbage bag and tied a knot. Quickly, he grabbed another to double line the bag, making sure there were no leakages. Once it was secure, Peter placed the bag outside to air out, making sure the smell wouldn’t linger much longer in the house.

Sirius was quick to clean the linen. He picked up the rug from the ground and hurried it off into the laundry so it could clean itself the muggle way. The next task was trying to remember the cleaning spells from year three and being able to execute them at such a high quality that it can get rid of even the strongest of stains, like blood.

“Can you help me with this, love?” Sirius cooed, motioning for me to help him with the stains on the couches. Muttering the incantation, we watched the stain fade ever so slightly. Cursing under his breath, Sirius tried again, whispering the spell once more. The blood splotch faded once more but only slightly. “At this rate, we’ll be here for hours.”

At this moment, Remus came back into the room, holding up what he was looking for before. My old boat keys. Being a half blood with a muggle father meant that he had taught me a few things about the muggle world. He had also taught me how to drive a boat, helping me get my boating license at only fifteen years old. It was perplexing though; why would Remus care about my boat? It wasn’t going to help us now.

“Where do you dock your boat?” Remus said calmly, spinning the keys around in his fingers effortlessly. By now, he had caught the attention of the rest of the marauders. Sirius poked his head out from behind the couch, James looked up from where he was mopping the floors, and Peter walked back into the living room from checking on the bag in the backyard.

“Uh, all the way back in my hometown, miles away from here. Old Muster Lake.” I stuttered out. With that, Remus opened up more of my drawers, searching for a map. When he had found it, he motioned for me to follow him into the dining room where he splayed the map out on the table.

“Show me.” Remus stated firmly, brushing his fingers over the dirty map. Hesitantly, I pointed my fingers about a hundred miles north of here. Remus bit his lip, thinking about what to do next. His breathing was shallow and I could feel his nervousness from here. All I hoped was that his plan would work out.

“Can you still drive the boat?” Remus said after a while, looking me in the eyes. I nodded slowly and Remus looked content, grabbing the map from the table and motioned for Peter to come to him. “We’re going to the lake to dump the body. You’re coming.”

“What? No.” Peter spluttered, his heart racing quickening. “I get terrible motion sickness. Oi! James!” Peter called James over who was focused on his task at hand, scrubbing the floor with the mop. “I’ll take over your job and you can go to the lake with these two.”

“Alright.” James huffed, passing the mop over to Peter. When they were ready, Remus, James and I walked outside into the night, walking over to the garbage bag where Jason’s body was already rotting. Even in the darkness of the night, I could tell that the bag hadn’t leaked, which was a good sign. With a nod of Remus and James’ head, I knew they were ready, so I held onto the bag while they held onto my arms and I apparated away into the night.

As we arrived at Old Muster Lake, a wave of post apparition nausea washed over me, nearly toppling me over if it hadn’t been for James holding me up. When I got myself sorted, I looked out onto the lake where I hadn’t been for years.

The whole lake looked deserted at this time of year. A faint mist was rising off of the lake, reflecting in the moonlight of the crescent moon. Big trees breathed in the like breeze, swaying softly in the wind. A hooting owl and the rustle of tree branches were the only noises that could be heard between the three of them.

Remus was the first to break the silence, stepping forward, his feet crunching onto the leafy ground. The dead leaves cracked underneath his shoes, giving away his position. He paused, listening out for anyone, sniffing the air slightly, before continuing to walk up to the docks. Thinking it was safe, James and I followed after him until we reached the end of the dock. The planks of the dock were old and unkempt, seeming like they might break underneath our feet. Carefully, we walked across the together, before the dock finished beneath us. I could see my boat a bit away from the dock, but it was too far away. There was no way of reaching the boat, until I had an idea.

“Remus, give me my key.”

“What?”

“I can swim over to the boat and bring it around. Give me my keys.” I repeated, holding my hand out to him. Obliging, he placed the keys on my palm and watched as I looped my digits around the key ring tight so it wouldn’t escape me.

I hadn’t swam in years. As I dived off the dock and into the freezing water, I remembered the rush of it. Resurfacing, I gasped for air, shivering in the winter water. My clothes hung uncomfortably by my side, sticking to my cold figure. My teeth chattered unconsciously, reminding me to get a move on before I froze in the temperature. We didn’t want two dead bodies in the lake now, did we?

Free styling in the lake, I stroked my arms by my side, swimming towards my boat in the ocean. It was about a seventy meter swim which was an okay length, but the warmth of the water made it feel like an eternity. When I finally reached the boat, I climbed up the ladder at the back and clambered into the boat. A chilly gush of wind hit my skin, sending goosebumps up my spine. I was too cold but I persisted, fumbling with the key in my hand and struggling to put it in the key hole. When it finally went in, I turned the engine on, letting a roar come out of the exhaust. Luckily, there was still half a tank of fuel in the tank from the summers ago when my family had come to the lake. Back then, it brought such happy memories. Now, not at all.

I brought the boat around to the dock, letting James and Remus pile in, pulling the heavy bag over the side of the ship. When we were ready, I sped off into the middle of the lake, where it was deepest, the perfect spot to dump a body.

“The next open season will be summer. By the time it comes, the body should’ve decomposed a lot more.” I spluttered out, my cold body shivering, making the words come out of my mouth in an unsteady stream.

“Here. Take this. You look freezing.” Remus said quietly, placing his jacket over my shoulders, which I gratefully accepted. Immediately, I started feeling much warmer, continuing on with our mission.

Once we reached the middle of the lake, there weren’t a lot of words said between the three of us. Instantly, James started untying the knot on the garbage bag, opening it up to the world. It reeked worse than before but there was nothing we could do about it now. With all three of our strengths combined, we managed to hold onto the bag and tip the corpse into the lake with a splash. Wordlessly, we headed back to the dock, as I dropped the two boys back off.

Again, I turned the engine off, tying the boat back up at the buoy. Holding onto the keys, I dived back into the chilling lake, though the cold didn’t affect as much as last time. Swimming back to the dock, I relished in everything we had done, remembering the body that was now decomposing in the lake. I felt dirty as I swam through the contaminated water.

Reaching the dock, I pulled myself out via the ladder and laid down on the planks, catching my breath. That’s when everything caught up to me. Tears were ebbing in the corners of my eyes, spilling onto my reddening cheeks. My lip quivered as quiet sobs spilled past my lips. Closing my eyes, I let the darkness consume me for a few moments, until I felt two strong arms hoisting me back up into a standing position. Stroking my arms, they both tried to soothe me from my breakdown. Minutes ticked by as I let my tears run down my cheeks. I was openly sobbing now. All I needed was a sleep.

“You wanna go now?” James muttered to which I nodded. Holding onto the deflated bag, James apparated us away, back into my unrecognisable house.

Peter and Sirius had done a fantastic job. There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere in the living room; everything looked spotless. The rug that was drenched with blood had gone through the washing machine and was now back in its usual spot. The couches looked brand new, meaning that Sirius must have figured out how to do the spell properly. An aroma of fresh flowers flooded the room, overpowering the smell of rotting flesh. It was perfect.

“How did it go?” Sirius asked, appearing from the kitchen with Peter.

“It’s been taken care of.” I mustered up the courage to say. “Now, if anyone asks, and I doubt they will, but just in case, we had a dinner party tonight.”

The four of them nodded in agreement, heading for the doorway to leave, but I stopped them.

“And you stayed the night. Everyone had had a little too much to drink. That means no one would have slipped off to kill anyone, okay?”

With that, they all followed me up the staircase into the hallway of spare rooms for them to sleep in. I thought I was alone as I stayed out in the hallway, turning the lights out. I cried again.

I cried for a while.

Until I felt a reassuring hand on my back, calming me down. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, love. No body, no crime, right?”

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chanswavyhair · 4 years ago

Text

the dancing queen.

pairing(s). akaashi keiji x f!reader

summary. you’ve had a crush on your best friend, koutarou bokuto for as long as you can remember. but surprisingly, the boy saving you prom night after watching bokuto with another girl is his best friend, keiji akaashi.

genre. a little angst?, fluff.

wc. 1657

warning(s). female reader.

Everything around me felt like it was falling, like the world has stopped. People around me weren’t dancing anymore, and the music seemed to have disappeared. I stood there, watching as Bokuto, my best friend and crush ever since I can remember, kissed another girl. She was beautiful, and honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t see that coming.

Once they parted ways, I came back to reality, and blinked twice. Then Koutarou saw me, and with a smile and his arm on the girl’s waist, he motioned me to come over, probably for me to meet his girlfriend. I swallowed, and shook my head. I put my glass in the air, with a fake smile, then I drank, and when I saw him smiling at me, I knew it was time for me to go.

I managed to get some fresh air, while my tears ruined my make up, and I shivered in the cold night. It was some minutes after, I heard some steps, and hoped that wasn’t the one who had broken my heart without even noticing. Luckily for me, it was not. A warm hand rested on my back, trying to reassure me.

When I looked up, he wasn’t staring at me, at anywhere but me. Akaashi was really handsome, he looked really good in his black suit. I didn’t know what was he doing or why was he doing it, but I didn’t ask. I just thanked mentally, and kind of awkwardly rested my head on his shoulder, wondering if he regretted being there, too.

I don’t know how much time we spent there, just being. It felt a bit awkward, but I didn’t feel like any word was needed. After I stopped crying, I finally stood up.

“Are you here with someone?” I asked, watching him who was still sitting on the floor.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t be here, if I was.” he answered with a slight smile, his gaze on the ground.

“Oh, that’s right. So, uhm... do you want to go to McDonalds, or something? I could treat you.”

He got up, and I noticed for the first time how tall he was, probably barely shorter than Bokuto. His blue mesmerising eyes met mine. I analysed his features, he has always been really handsome; different from his best friend, but both of them being good-looking.

“I know better. And you don’t have to treat me, I didn’t do anything to be rewarded. Let’s go.”

Akaashi guided me to his car, opened my door for me to go in and sat next to me on the driver’s seat. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. I did know him, but we weren’t really close, we were both Bokuto’s best friends, but we rarely hung out.

We didn’t talk much on the ride. On the radio, ABBA’s Dancing Queen was playing, and I quietly sang along. Although I probably wasn’t as quiet as I thought, because Akaashi turned up the volume with a smile, so I let myself enjoy the song, even though I couldn’t dance while sitting.

Not much later, he stopped the car, and left, telling me to wait. Then he opened the door on my side himself. I laughed softly at him, I felt like I was in another reality with the blue eyed boy.

We entered the local, it looked like a vintage cafe, and a band was playing. There were also some shelves with books, and the lighting was warm and welcoming. Everything looked really comfy. We sat on a coach near the band, but far enough to talk without raising our voices.

“This place... it’s really cool. How did you find it?” I asked out of curiosity, eying the whole environment. It looked like it just came out from a novel.

“Well... I like to try new places to read, but this one is my favourite. I can’t come as much as I wished, though.”

“What a shame... why’s that?”

“I don’t have the time. But it’s okay, I value it more when I’m here.”

“I see. Well, thank you for showing me this, this coach is really, really comfortable. And the music is quite good.” I smiled.

We talked for a while, most of them trivial things; I’d say he even subtly flirted with me, if I hadn’t known any better – he was just a gentleman, and a really nice boy. We also ordered some drinks, and when I got the chance to go to the toilet, I tried to fixed my make up. I somehow ended up with me legs resting over his lap, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Weren’t you willing to dance tonight?” he asked.

“Well, yes, but this is cool too, isn’t it?”

“But you don’t have to sacrifice it. Wait here.”

He removed my legs, and walked over to the vocalist of the group. He told her something, but I couldn’t hear. Then he looked at me smiling.

“This one is for Y/N! Tonight, you’re the Dancing Queen.” She said. And then the band proceeded to play.

Of course, I immediately stood up, feeling the beat in my bones. I sang along, and once I was with Akaashi, the boy sat on the stage, watching me dance.

“You are the dancing queen! Young and sweet, only seventeen!” I reached for his hands, wanting to dance with him. “See that girl, watch that scene! Digging the dancing queen!”

He made me sway, and looked me in the eyes as I was having what, in that moment, felt like the time of my life. I was just there, dancing with my best friend’s best friend, just the two of us. I was wearing a prom dress, and my make up poorly done... but I was having lots of fun.

And the end of the song, he lifted me in his arms, which took me by surprise, and since I wasn’t ready... we both fell to the floor, me on top of him. We laughed, I think that was the first time I noticed how cute his laugh was. He brushed my hair off my face, smilingly.

“I’m sorry, I got overly excited. Are you okay?” he said softly, and I nodded.

“I’m the one who should be saying that, I fell on you. Sorry.” I got up, offered my hand, so he could get up as well. Akaashi looked at my hand, then at me, and he took it.

Because we were kind of embarrassed after that, we left the bar, and sat on top of his car, staring at the sky. The moon was covered by some clouds, but it managed to shine through them. I got a goosebump, probably because of the cool air.

“Are you cold?”

“No, it’s okay.” I lied. Even so, he took of his jacket, and covered me with it. I rolled my eyes, but with a smile on my face. “Isn’t this a cliche?”

“It clearly is, but can we help it? You shouldn’t be cold.”

“There he goes, what a gentleman.” I laughed softly.

“Of course I am. It’s just what I should do.” he smiled back at me.

Then we went silent. Again, we were just being, enjoying each other’s companies. It felt perfect, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.

“Akaashi, why did you approached me?” I murmured.

“I didn’t have much more to do, Bokuto was with his girlfriend, and I don’t usually enjoy parties. So I followed you. Besides, crying on the prom night probably sucks.”

“Well, it does. So, thank you. Do you know why... I was crying?”

“I knew you liked Bokuto... and I actually thought he like you back. But this one time, I wasn’t right about what was on his mind.”

It kind of hurt, hearing it. I took a deep breath.

“How... how did you know?”

“I could see it in your eyes. But I never told him.” I didn’t know what he saw in my eyes at that moment, but it didn’t feel like it was the same anymore.

“I see... you’re really smart.” I tried to laugh.

“It’s nothing... I’m just kind of good at reading people. Oh, by the way, I didn’t tell you before, but you look really good tonight. You’re beautiful.”

I would be lying, if I said my heart didn’t skip a beat when I heard him. But I smiled, my eyes almost fading.

“Thank you again, Akaashi. You look very handsome in that suit, too. It makes your eyes shine.” Or maybe it was the first time that I noticed how they did.

And that’s how fast the night changes. From feeling like it was the end of the world because you saw your crush kissing another girl, to ending up stargazing in his best friend’s car.

An hour later, he took me home. We stood in front of my door, and he looked my in the eyes. He held my face, and kissed my cheek. I swore, his lips were softer than any cotton.

“Don’t cry anymore, hm? You’ll be okay.”

“I know I will. Thank you, Akaashi.”

“You can call me Keiji.”

“Thanks, Keiji... good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

With a smile, I finally closed the door. I sighed, thinking about the boy. I was really clueless I would end my night with Akaashi Keiji in mind, but I did. Maybe even in my heart.

I wouldn’t know, but him, on his side, stood at my doorstep. He took of his pone, and texted his best friend.

“I don’t know why or how, and this is not like me... but I think I may have fallen in love tonight, ironically right when she fell on me.”

He texted again.

“What’s more? I must be dumb for thinking this, but something looked different in her eyes. As if she... would give me a chance.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #akaashi x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq #akaashi #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi scenarios #akaashi fluff #haikyu x reader #akaashi imagine #hq fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #keiji akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x you

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seihun · 4 years ago

Text

7:53pm // can i be your boyfriend? — a bbh social media au

ϟ prev ◂ part 19A ▸ next

ϟ pairings: byun baekhyun + oc:reader

ϟ word count: ahaha

ϟ notes: i am so sorry for dropping arguably the climax of this whole au and then going ghost for three weeks 😬😬 why you all put up with my clownery is beyond me. i don’t have much to say here except thank you to all to lovely anons who encouraged me and to all the readers who stuck around waiting for this. i apologize that this is completely over the top drama, but hey that’s college. (lowkey inspired by real world experiences haha) enjoy 🥺

Sehun can hear Minseok and Baekhyun asking rapid fire questions behind him, but he’s too busy seeing red to focus on them. He follows behind Johnny almost uncomfortably closely, ensuring that the younger boy is in fact leading them in the right direction and not trying to pull at fast one on him.

Sehun swears on every deity above him that he’ll knock out Jongdae if even half of what Johnny has said so far is true. He couldn’t care less about Minseok reasoning with him to slow down or Chungha telling him to calm down. He’d had it up to here with the games.

It was almost a decade in the making anyway; he’d be the one to knock the lights out of those two one way or another. He doesn’t care to be rational or relax.

Jongdae and Jongin not only had no considerations for your feelings or dignity as a person, but for Kyungsoo’s either—or rather, Baekhyun’s, kinda—either. They’re willing to cross a line—and for what, Sehun’s not really sure. To make a point? Get validation? Piss him off?

At this point, it didn’t matter. Sehun was relishing in just the mere thought of seeing Jongin’s stupid surprised face when he walks in the room. So, imagine his disappointment, when he doesn’t get to see the idiots’ stunned expressions; because you seem to have beaten him to the punch.

“—Are you out of your mind? Jongdae, I’d expect this shit from you, but—”

“[Y/N]?” Sehun blinks, taking in the scene in front of him: your finger pointed at a very nervous looking Jongin, whilst a panicked Jaehyun sunk behind his laptop screen, with Jongdae leaning against a desk—looking far too nonchalant for Sehun’s taste—and Kyungsoo standing just a bit behind you, “Kyungsoo?”

“Sehun?” you question, eyes widening as you look past him to see possibly every person you know at the university filing into the room, all with similar murderous expressions on their faces, “Chung—Minseok? Baekh—what—”

“What are you doing here?” The two of you ask at the same time.

“I—Johnny messaged me,” you explain briefly, “I didn’t believe it, but then I caught Jongin walking into the building, so I followed him.”

Sehun narrows his eyes. “Johnny messaged me too,” he explains, stepping forward and in Jongdae’s direction.

“What a lovely family reunion,” Jongdae sniggers, looking over Sehun’s shoulder, “Junmyeon, long time no see, buddy. You look well.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sehun growls, stepping directly into Jongdae’s line of sight.

“You all need to relax,” Jongdae lolls, crossing one leg over the other and resting his palms on the desk, “I tried explaining that was just a prank, her little boyfriend over there wasn’t gonna get hurt or anything.”

Jongdae nudges his head in Kyungsoo’s direction, whose eyes are now wider than Sehun has ever seen them before. He looks briefly to you, watches as your eyebrows crinkle together.

“Boyfriend—are you talking about Kyungsoo?” you ask Jongdae, then snap your head towards Jongin, “Is that what this whole thing is about? You think we’re together so you were gonna try and publicly humiliate him?”

Sehun might not have gotten to see Jongdae’s surprised face when he walked in the room, but he thinks seeing the shorter boy’s eyes go wide with horror at your words is even better.

“You’re not—?” Jongin stutters, gesturing towards you and Kyungsoo.

“No we’re not!” you screech, turning swiftly to Kyungsoo, “No offense or anything.”

Kyungsoo shrugs, “None taken.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you imbecile. I don’t have a boyf—well, I kinda—it’s none of your business, anyway!” You shout, stomping your foot.

“Then—who—but we saw you!” Jongdae counters. Sehun takes a deep breath, counts to three in his head, remembers that murder is a crime.

“It’s called having a friend, you should try it sometime,” Sehun says, in lieu of breaking his jaw.

“[Y/N], look, I—I’m sorry, we—I didn’t know,” Jongin apologizes hurriedly, taking a step forwards towards you. A little too close for Sehun’s comfort; too close for Chanyeol’s too, by the way he pushes forward towards him. “We’ll go and change everything back right now, I swear—”

“That’s not the fucking point!” you cut him off, making him pause in his place, and effectively stopping Chanyeol’s strides too.

“First of all, I don’t know what or how you’d have been changing anything. Yeah, we send them to the TA’s, but then the head TA compiles them into one PDF for the showcase,” you explain frustratedly, “So nothing you changed would have shown up anyway. Not to mention we submit the final versions 24 hours beforehand. It’s protocol to make sure students don’t change anything, and the board can review for plagiarism. I used to think it was a stupid rule, but I guess I was wrong.”

Sehun watches as Jongin, Jongdae, and Jaehyun’s mouths fall into tiny o-shapes. An embarrassed blush spreads across the latter’s face as he attempts to quietly close his laptop screen. In his periphery, he can see Johnny pulling his hood over his head. Sehun rolls his eyes. He’d deal with Johnny some other time; he’s not off the hook in his book yet.

“But you were willing to completely sabotage Kyungsoo on the odds that I was dating him,” you continue, but your tone is different now. Sadder than before; not quite disappointed, but almost somber, like you’d come to a harsh realization, “I tried to get you to come with me to this for two years, Jongin. I can’t even count how many times I’d rambled to you about how much of an honor it would be to give my own presentation—about how many opportunities and important people there are here tonight—and you were willing to ruin that for Kyungsoo? For what? For what! I don’t fucking get it!”

Jongin shakes his head, has a jerk reaction to move forward and try to comfort you. “I’m sorry—it was wrong, stupid! I just… I just wanted to have your attention for a little bit.”

Sehun’s seen this scene before; the one where Jongin upsets you, and then somehow makes you believe he’s the only one who can comfort you from his own wrongdoings. He’s a smooth talker, Sehun will give him that, but he’s seen it all before. It almost hurts him to watch it unravel at this point; he can’t even think to look back knowing Baekhyun’s about to witness it, too.

But it doesn’t play out like that; not like it has before. Jongin doesn’t get close enough, but you’re already stepping back, almost stumbling into Kyungsoo.

“You did all this for attention?” you cry out in disbelief, “You wanted to embarrass me in front of my entire faculty and all my friends, for my attention?”

Sehun watches you ball up your fists, the somber timbre of your voice gone; now filled with a kind of anger and frustration he doesn’t think he’s ever heard from you in regards to Jongin.

“Jongin, when we were together I couldn’t hold your attention for more than a few fucking weeks, and now you want me to give you mine, completely undivided? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

It’s a good look on you, Sehun thinks. He likes what he’s hearing, he likes what he’s seeing; he likes this scene much better.

“[Y/N], I—” Jongin reaches out again, but you’re already moving back. Sehun smiles; you might not even realize it, but ironically your backwards movements were a huge step forward.

“Don’t touch me,” you seethe, turning your back to him. You make eye contact with Sehun briefly, then Chanyeol, then some of the others; you look at Baekhyun the longest, a kind of silent message—before sighing.

Jongin doesn’t hear you though, because he tries again, extending an arm, and aiming for your shoulder; but all he gets is a fistful of his own shirt in Chanyeol’s hands.

“She said not to touch her,” the blonde growls, shoving Jongin backwards, letting him stumble into a few desks before standing upright again.

“I—we have to go,” you mumble, shooting Chanyeol a thankful expression before pulling Kyungsoo with you by his sleeve to the door, “Soo and I should go prepare with whatever time we have left.”

You pause at the door, briefly, looking at Baekhyun again, nervous; but it’s all smiles in the shorter boy’s eyes. “We’ll be out there when you guys are up, promise,” he says to you.

That seems to be enough to put a smile on your face, small as it is, before you and Kyungsoo walk out of the room completely and back to the presentation hall.

It’s quiet with you gone now, a palpable tension in the room with Sehun and Chanyeol staring down Jongin, Chungha grilling Jaehyun and Johnny, and Jongdae and Minseok looking like they’re three seconds away from ripping each other’s hair out.

Sehun kinda feels bad for Baekhyun, caught in the middle like this. He sticks close to Junmyeon, the only other neutral party. Well, neutral enough.

“So you’re the boyfriend, then, huh,” Jongin is the first to speak, eyes aiming for Baekhyun, “Dae got it wrong.”

Baekhyun brings a hand up to his neck, “Uh, well… kinda? Not that—it shouldn’t really matter to you, now, anyways.”

God, does Sehun wish Baekhyun was the trash talking type right about now. He sighs; he supposes it’s for the best that he isn’t.

“Well then you should watch out for blondie, and eyebrows over here,” Jongin warns him, “They never let her think for herself. Not to mention, Sehun follows her around like a lap dog, probably because he’s in love with—”

Jongin doesn’t get the chance to finish before Sehun’s fist collides with his jaw, knocking the older boy over, and leaving him hunching over one of the empty desks. Jongin barely gets the chance to gather his bearings before Sehun’s got his fist in his shirt, and pushing his back into the blackboard.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you to shut that dirty mouth of yours and leave her the hell alone,” Sehun orders, voice so low it could be a whisper, “Do you understand me?”

Jongin only has the strength to groan in response. “I fucking mean it, Jongin, or so help me god,” Sehun’s mouth twitches, his free hand almost coming up to hit him again, but he’s pulled back by Chungha.

He looks at her, huffing as his resolve washes away, and lets go of Jongin completely, not caring for the way he stumbles around to find a desk for support to hold up his weight. Jongdae looks entirely too un-punched for Sehun’s liking, but he’ll leave him to Minseok. For now.

“Do you fuck around with [Y/N] like that because you’re jealous of her?” Baekhyun asks, his question leaving them stunned.

He directs his gaze to a hunched over Jongin, Sehun stepping out of the way with Chungha at his side to give him a better view. All eyes are on Baekhyun, now.

“You don’t like that she has friends who care about her. And you didn’t like that she might have cared about Kyungsoo like you want her to care about you,” Baekhyun reasons, “She has people who love her in way than one, but it’s obvious you don’t have any real friends. Not anymore, at least.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jongin replies, voice strained with coughs in-between his words.

Baekhyun frowns, hands in his pockets. Sehun’s never seen him like this either.

“I think you do,” Baekhyun corrects him, “I think you know you fucked up so bad—not just with her, with Sehun, and Chungha, and Chanyeol, too—they were all your friends before, right?”

Jongin doesn’t answer him, but Sehun nods at Baekhyun in confirmation. His lips fall into a pinched line.

“I used to think you and Jongdae were different,” Baekhyun drawls, “But I get it now. You both had people who loved you, but you thought it was unconditional right? You thought no matter how badly you fucked up, they’d forgive you. But you’re wrong.”

“Sehun doesn’t fight for her blindly; she does the same for him, for Chanyeol, and Chungha, too. It goes both way, like any functioning relationship,” Baekhyun continues, “She was even willing to do the same for you. And Minseokie for Jongdae. But they don’t have to, not if you don’t keep up your end of the bargain; love isn’t unconditional like that. They don’t need you, either of you, but you want them to. Badly.”

It’s evident Baekhyun’s words put a sour taste in Jongin’s mouth, but just enough strength for him to pull himself upwards. “And what makes you think you’re so much better that she’ll need you instead?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyun shrugs, “Because I know she doesn’t.”

Sehun finds himself smiling at Baekhyun’s words, looks around to see that everyone else seems to be in agreement.

“Come on,” Chanyeol speaks up, “We have to be out there before Kyungsoo is up.”

They all nod in agreement, everyone filing out the room. He doesn’t think to look back, not caring for the four left behind. Sehun throws his arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder as they walk towards the presentation hall.

“You know your little speech was pretty kickass and all,” Sehun starts, “But let’s talk about the boyfriend title, shall we? Or, rather, lack thereof.”

Baekhyun chuckles nervously, gone is the serious tone in his voice from before. “Well I didn’t want to call myself her boyfriend because I’m not!… Yet… And, also, she didn’t before!”

“Because you have to ask her, dumbass,” Minseok interjects from behind the pair.

“I am going to!” Baekhyun squeals, composing himself as he realizes they’re now inside the lobby, which means inside voices, “Or, well, I was going to. I don’t think now is the time, anymore.”

Sehun frowns, removing his arm from Baekhyun’s shoulder. He’s probably right. With the way things have gone tonight, he doubts you’re going to want to do anything but go home and eat your weight in fried rice when this is all over.

Still, looking at Baekhyun and Chungha groan over the lack of use of their “beautiful masterpiece of a sign” as they take their seats has him smiling. You and Baekhyun are good; official couple terms or not.

As soon as the showcase was over, he and the others met you and Kyungsoo outside of the building, with a mountain of hugs and compliments.

Junmyeon shoves a bouquet of flowers into Kyungsoo’s hand, forces him to take pictures with all of them, and Baekhyun even gets a piggy back ride from his friend for all of three seconds before he’s thrown off of his back. Baekhyun also brought a flower crown for Kyungsoo, but none of them could keep it on his head for more than a minute; now it sits atop Maize’s instead.

Baekhyun also gifts you a flower crown, albeit a little bit bigger, and more expensive than Kyungsoo’s, which you accept happily, along with telling him how much you’d loved his very bright decorative poster.

Chanyeol, Sehun, and Chungha, however make his little grown seem obsolete, as they shower you with baked treats, an expensive looking yellow rose bouquet, a homemade sash that reads “best presentation,” and falling confetti from a small confetti gun that Chanyeol had managed to wrangle into his pockets.

By god do you have some good friends.

“Thanks for the… everything, guys,” you say, speaking for both you and Kyungsoo, “I know we wanted to go out to eat after, but honestly, I think I need to call it a day.”

Baekhyun’s hunch turned out to be right, much to Chungha and Chanyeol’s chagrin; both of whom seemed to be looking forward to eating out as a group. The complaints soon settle into small talk, everyone agreeing that tonight had been a whirlwind of events, and some greasy take out and two respective movie nights at Junmyeon and your apartments would suffice.

You’d all get together to celebrate some time later in the week, and at that point there would likely be even more to celebrate for, as it would be after a joint interview you and Kyungsoo were offered for your work in the showcase.

Baekhyun thinks about the other posted rolled up in the one you’d seen, both currently in Chungha’s possession (who’d promised to keep it safe until he was ready to use it again). He’d have another opportunity to ask you, he was sure of it.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you snap him out of his train of thought, loosely wrapping his hands in yours. Baekhyun crinkles his eyebrows as you continue, “That tonight didn’t go as planned. With—”

“You don’t have to apologize!” he cuts you off with a light chuckle; however, you seem startled, confused even by his reaction, “Babe, you did absolutely nothing wrong; you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you reply, unsure of yourself, “I don’t know, I just—if they’d thought to go after you instead, who knows what they’d of done and—”

“[Y/N],” Baekhyun calls—that laugh of disbelief still airing through the syllables—wrapping his fingers around yours more firmly, “You’re not responsible for his actions, you know that?”

“I know, but still,” you frown, “I should have known he was up to something. I know I kinda told him off but I just—I don’t want anything to happen to you as a result of their antics, you know?”

“I think the punch Jongin took to the face should prevent them from bothering you again,” Baekhyun chuckles as you eyes go wide.

“Punch—who punched him! Not that he didn’t deserve it, but I told them not to punch anybody. Was it Chungha?—I keep telling her that’s not safe, even if—”

“No it was Sehun,” Baekhyun fills you in, “I don’t think you could have prevented it. Seemed like a long time coming.”

“Yeah, I—I guess it was,” you say, finally, “I know. I’m sorry—about being sorry for them, then.”

Baekhyun laughs from his stomach this time, removing his hands from yours to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pull you into him, and press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute.”

Baekhyun sees that you’re about to open your mouth to reply, when you’re cut short by the flash of a camera. When he looks up he finds the culprit to be none other than Chungha, who’s holding her phone up right, and lets out a disappointed groan.

“Ugh, I didn’t get the kiss,” she whines, shoving her screen in Chanyeol’s direction before flipping it around to face the two of you, “You guys look pretty cute still, though, so you’re welcome.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you say, a worn out lilt in your voice as you slowly pull yourself from his hold, “I need a nap. And egg rolls paid for by Chanyeol, so time to get going.”

“But I just volunteered to pay for the later celebration dinner!” Chanyeol exclaims, pouting excessively.

“Don’t worry, Junmyeon can pay when we all go out to eat,” Baekhyun grins, “Won’t even leave a dent in his pockets, right hyung!”

His comment is enough to make everyone chuckle, except Junmyeon who merely shoots him an unamused glance; but Baekhyun knows it means no harm. As if he’d let anyone else pay for a meal.

This information seems to pique Sehun’s interest, however; as the taller boy finds himself stalking towards Junmyeon and wrapping a friendly arm around his shoulder. “Is that so?” Sehun starts, dragging Junmyeon along with him and prompting the rest of the group to start walking towards the parking lots, “I don’t think we’ve met yet, hyung, I’m Sehun.”

“I think I’ve been replaced,” Minseok lolls, watching Sehun and Junmyeon’s silhouettes as they walk ahead.

You chuckle, finding yourself walking between him and Chungha, Maize on his other side, as you head towards the cars. “Don’t take it personally,” you tell him, “Anyone who’s older with a bank account is of interest to Sehun. At least as far as lunch goes.”

Minseok laughs lightly at that, the four of you making small jokes at Sehun expense about his need for companionship and affection in the form of food. It’s a few minutes later when Chungha jokes that if Minseok really needed a new friend to dote on, he should get to know Chanyeol better.

“Hey, Chan, you hear, Min—” you call out to the taller boy, turning your shoulder to face him, but he’s not there. Neither is Baekhyun—not anywhere near the rest of you, anyway.

You stop completely, and turn around, prompting Maize, Minseok, and Chungha to do the same. In the distance, you can see Baekhyun and Chanyeol; it’s as if they hadn’t seen the rest of you walking ahead. And, unfortunately, it looked like the two idiots were… dancing in the middle of the street.

“You think they’ve been hitting the whoah this entire time we’ve been walking?” Maize questions, staring ahead at them like they’re a spectacle. They might as well be.

Chungha sighs, “Probably.”

“I think Chanyeol and Baekhyun are gonna be a little busy becoming best friends,” Minseok laughs, “It looks like they’re already half way there.”

“What could they have possibly been talking about that led them to dancing like that?” Chungha questions.

You’re next, crossing your arms and shaking your head, too. You have to admit, it makes you smile a little bit. That doesn’t make them any less embarrassing.

“Do you see why I avoided introducing them to each other now?”

ϟ tag list: @artfulbarnes @bat-shark-repellant @baek-byunies @baeklooming-day @bbh-kji @cosmins @etsjusoa @exuwu @elyxion1485 @fifiaaaaaa @haechanspudu @honeyboocal @httpschoisan @junkfoodwriting @just-a-sad-writer @j-pping @joyfulponyoafhuman @kokomaesadie @kkpoptrashhh @littleflowercrown13 @loeytingz @marina-del-rey98 @mangobaek @minseokscock @miraculyfe @mochahyuck @oasissehun @ohwosehun @p-polaroid @peachesyeol @peacherparker @penguinsoo-l @rikachusworld @sakura-uji @shesdreaminginoverdose @sekshi-namjas @smolpeyy @strawberrychannie @takoyakkun @to-all-the-stories-i-love @vaiva @writingindaisies @xiutingmyself @xxbluestrifexx @yourexotextplus @zaez

ϟ more notes: once again sorry about the long wait hehe but i hope you liked it!! also, friendly reminder that the taglist is closed!! also, yes i’m sorry this is part 19A which means there is a 19B but it’s not written so don’t worry you won’t have to read through my excessive commas anymore LOL

#exo smut #exo fluff #exo reactions #exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo fanfic #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x reader #exo fake texts #exo x reader #chanyeol fluff #sehun fluff #sehun fanfic #FINALLY SHE'S HERE #exo college au #jongin fluff #*cibyb

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kuekyuuq · 4 years ago

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Q: Do we actually have any canon concept of how long Kara was stuck in the Phantom Zone?

[I answered this to a post, and decided the topic was worth its own - slightly edited - posting.]

Whee~ I love turning fictional shows into a science-project!!

So, for how long did Kara stay in the Phantom Zone?

Upfront, the question is a bit misleading, as “time does not exist in the Phantom Zone”. What that means, canonically? Dunno... My head-canon is, that time as a concept is not per se perceivable or at least measurable in the PZ. However, clearly duration exists (a perceived order of events; event A happened before event C and B in the middle - and/or in the absence of events, the ‘sensation’ of un-measurable eternity [and equally nothingness/suddenness]).

However, Kara seems to experience quite a lot of things that are more or less shown to happen parallel to the events on Earth-Prime, which I will use as reference. I looked for mentions of time, daylight / nighttime settings, and wardrobe-changes, based on the assumption that characters (outside of superhero’ing) change their casual wardrobe not more or less than once a day (esp. Lena - at least pre-unemployment - and Andrea). So, here we go:

Any and all references (feel free to comment and add) to passage of time inside the Phantom Zone and on Earth-Prime while Kara was inside the Phantom Zone:

6x01 At the end of the episode, the next morning is shown (considering Andrea only just notices Kara is not there and refers to her father’s financial crash) Later Lena says about Myriad "[...] I did use it one last time tonight" only after that, we see Kara waking up (for the first time?) in the PZ = one whole day has passed (on Earth)

6x02 Starts presumably the same evening (grabbing Silas) Next morning Nia and William get assigned to Lex's trial, Andrea later visits Lena, Lillian visits Lena, Lena testifies against Lex.. [Aside: We may assume Lex is high-profile enough, his trial is happening a day after he was brought in(?)... is fiction, okay? ...the rushed job may or may not explain the verdict :( ] Silas did mention it would take him even longer than a week to get his portal working, but he had been talked into trying to get it done by sundown. And Kelly says “that’s more than anyone could have pulled of in a day” to Alex’s efforts to get Kara back asap. Kara is rejoined with her father. ...further, judging by everyone's wardrobe: = one full day passed

6x03 J'onn refers to letting the Phantom into their world / events of 6x02 as "I acted on my emotions yesterday." Kelly says "Look, I know it's not the same thing but yesterday, when I was in my own despair about what happened at Obsidian..." Kara says: "Until yesterday, I thought my father was dead."

6x04 Alex sacrificing the crystal to save people over Kara happened within one day

6x05&6x06 3 days passed during Nia and Brainy's time-travel

6x07 2 hours of traveling inside the PZ :P Kelly, referring to events in 6x03: "Last week, you brought me flowers and asked me to move in with you" [Aside: We don't know if/when weekends happen, so if let’s say, that episode’s events happened canonically on a Monday, and the referred to events on a Thursday, only like 3-4 days would have passed and the statement of ‘last week’ would still be valid. Either that, or I missed a day or two between 6x04 & the intro of 6x05...]

====

7 days / one week seems to have passed on Earth. Kara referring to finding her father possibly matches up (her inner clock may still, at least at the beginning of her stay, have been in tune with the outside world), but cuts may or may not suggest, her subjective “duration” of her stay in the PZ was less long (maybe 3-4 days?), yet at also felt much, much longer...

I hope, that helps, or at least gives some indication as of how to interpret what the show depicted... (although, my personal take is, that the show doesn’t really know itself... soooo....) [Edit] I’ve been made aware, that between 6x01 and 6x02 William’s injury seems to have healed - although, that could be a production error. And how both, finding someone with Silas’ skill set and the preparations for Lex’s trial should have taken longer than a day, up to a week. Usually, an episode of the show spans several days and/or is set about a week after the previous one (x-parters notwithstanding). Technically, this could also have been the case here. However... Alex’ and Jonnz’ kept depicting urgency, and the way how in the following episodes characters keep referring to previous episodes’ events as “yesterday” implies to me, personally, that events did unfold rather quickly during Kara’s “time” in the Phantom Zone. If it had been about a week, however, it would mean, that Kara’s perceived time in the Phantom Zone was either even shorter than the time that had passed on Earth-Prime... or she had spent the equivalent of several days getting haunted by Phantoms before Zor-El took her to his cave... - Which I am not against, drama-wise! (Me thinks, tho, that her “No, no, no, not again!” indicates a 2nd, 3rd or maybe even fourth Phantom-attack, not a several days’ worth - seeing how Phantoms are seen showing up quickly once ppl roam about - after several ‘days’, IMO, she may have reacted much more resigned and less, dare I say, surprised? In my mind, act-first-think-later Kara pretty much spend her first ‘day’ in the PZ actively searching for a way out herself, and therefore somewhat added to her Phantom-encounter-count to merit that reaction... she still appears rather inexperienced and ignorant later when walking outside with others.)

But, again, the characters, their attitudes, how the following episodes seem to tie in back to back with another and by statements made (see above) only so ‘little’ time passed in the rest of the arc, and ...I can find no actual proof for a longer time-span at this or any other point. Meantime: William’s injury had been cauterized, he isn’t seen moving a lot without his arm-sling; Lex is high-profile; M’gann is very well connected in the alien-scene. And most importantly: Can anyone imagine Alex twiddling her thumbs for several days while her sister is in the Phantom Zone?

So, I take the liberty to stick to my above estimate - but feel free to add up to another week to your own count, between 6x01 and 6x02. :) Also, feel free to convince me and help me get this timeline more accurate! ❤

#supergirl #kara danvers #phantom zone #fanfic ideas #season 6 #supercorp #dansen #fandom #reposting myself #fiction dissected #fear knot #Kue doing Kue-things #edited #timeline

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stargaze-sunflower · 4 years ago

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(Not) Okay

Summary: After finding out that Dewey had been researching their mom on his own, Huey and Louie are surprisingly forgiving. Dewey doesn't think he deserves it.

Ao3 Link Word Count: 1737

Dewey didn’t usually have difficulty sleeping. Not like Louie, who’d always had more trouble than most, or Huey, who got caught up in his head sometimes and couldn’t seem to shake it. Dewey wasn’t like that. If he ever couldn’t fall asleep, it was most commonly caused by lingering excitement over an adventure they’d gone on that day, or the anticipation of an adventure they’d go on tomorrow. He was used to those types of jitters. He could handle it.

He couldn’t handle this.

It was late enough in the night that it was now classified as early in the morning, and Dewey hadn’t slept a wink. He’d been stuck tossing and turning and staring up at the bottom of Huey’s bunk for hours, at this point, and he was sick of it. He wondered if this was how Louie felt, when he was too restless to sleep. He wondered if this was how Huey felt, when he couldn’t quiet his mind. A little irrationally, Dewey wondered if he’d ever sleep again. Dramatic, he knew, but he was getting desperate, and he was so tired. A demon dog had chased him today, on top of the emotional typhoon he’d had to endure, and those things together tended to be exhausting.

(“How could you keep this from us?”

“I was trying to protect you from a potentially devastating revelation!”

“Or you just kept it to yourself so you could feel special. Classic Dewey. She’s our mom!”)

Dewey’s breath hitched as the scene played in his head for what had to be the hundredth time in the past few hours, and he brought his hands up to drag them down his face in frustration, groaning quietly. He tried to tell himself that it was over, that Huey and Louie had forgiven him for keeping secrets, but all he could remember was the looks on their faces when they’d found out what he’d been doing. All he could see whenever he closed his eyes was Huey’s hurt glare, and Louie on the floor cradling their mom’s jacket, smaller than he’d ever seen him.

God, he’d messed up so bad.

‘I messed up I messed up I messed up—’

The thought was echoing in his head, bouncing off the edges and coming back stronger – louder. It was all he could think, and his lungs were growing tighter and tighter, his breaths coming shorter and shorter, and he was blindsided with the worry that he was about to die, that this was his punishment for keeping secrets and hurting his brothers when all he ever wanted to do was keep them safe.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. All the moisture in his body seemed to be directed at the tears that he’d just noticed were rolling down his face, and he kicked his blanket off of his legs in a fit of panic, suddenly unable to cope with the feeling of it against his skin.

The rush of cold air that followed the removal of the blanket shocked him into being able to focus just enough to hear someone climbing up the ladder to his bunk. A new and different type of panic overtook him then, because the last thing he felt he deserved in that moment was sympathy. Or worse – pity. Whoever it was had been through enough today without adding Dewey’s little freak-out into the mix.

He wiped at his eyes frantically, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide the evidence of his fragile emotional state, but trying anyway. The mattress dipped next to him, and Dewey chanced a look out of the corner of his eye.

It was Louie, of course, because who else would it be. If Dewey was having trouble sleeping, then certainly his brother had to be struggling as well. Louie had issues falling asleep on good days. Still, though—

“Sorry to wake you up,” Dewey said, his voice shaky but not quite as obviously distressed as he thought it’d be. Maybe he could be an actor one day, after all. “I mean, did I— Were you—?”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Louie said quietly, pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning against the wall next to him. He shrugged jerkily, and it tugged at something in Dewey’s chest. “I just— I dunno. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Dewey repeated incredulously, still feeling very much like he’d run a marathon and was seconds away from passing out. “I should be asking you that. I’m the one who— I got us into that whole mess today! I’m the one who didn’t tell you about— I didn’t— I—”

(“Louie, are you okay?”

“You kept a secret about mom. That is not okay.”)

“Hey, Dew?” Louie asked gently, though with a slight tremor to his voice. Dewey hummed to show he was listening, though it was higher pitched than normal. “Can I— Is it okay if I touch you?”

Dewey took a brief moment to process the question, nodding his head almost immediately after. Louie grabbed his hand, and Dewey held on for dear life, forcing himself to reconnect with the present and keep himself grounded. It was only working a little bit.

A sob caught in his throat. He was tired, and he kind of felt like he wanted to go home, but he was already there. It was a confusing feeling.

What he really wanted was to feel safe, and whole, and loved, even though he’d made the worst mistake of his life. Even though he wasn’t sure if he’d earned it.

“You’re okay, Dew, I promise,” Louie said, and he sounded worried, scooting a little closer on the bed. “Breathe with me, okay?”

Louie brought their connected hands over to rest against his chest, demonstrating slow, even breaths. Dewey did his best to follow, and it took longer than he felt like it should have, but Louie never rushed him, and he didn’t seem angry with him.

Eventually, the vice around his chest and lungs seemed to loosen, and his mind cleared a little. All he was left with was his exhaustion, and yet he still didn’t think he could fall asleep. Regardless, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, avoiding Louie’s concerned gaze and yet still holding tightly to his hand.

Somewhere outside, an owl hooted.

“So, uh, do you want to talk about that?” Louie asked after a few long seconds of silence. Dewey could feel his younger brother’s heart pounding, and he felt a stab of familiar guilt. “I mean, panicking and all is never fun, so… I mean, usually I’m the one who needs the help, so I don’t know if I did it right. The helping part, I mean, ‘cause Huey usually does that. This kinda felt like the blind leading the blind, you know? But I hope you— I hope you feel better, and if you want to talk about it, I, uh, I can listen.”

Dewey blinked in surprise at the rush of nervous words that had just come from his brother, and he turned to look at Louie, who was looking back at him anxiously, but with care in his eyes. For some reason, it made him tear up.

“Why would you want to?” Dewey asked – blurted, really, because he certainly hadn’t authorized that coming out of his mouth. He could roll with it, though. He kind of wanted an answer, anyway. “I was terrible to you and Huey today. I’ve been hiding things for months, I—”

He cut himself off and looked out the window to pull himself together. There was no moon in the sky tonight, and that bothered him, for some reason.

“…I’m sorry,” Dewey finished lamely. It didn’t feel like enough. “I’m so sorry.”

“We forgave you, Dew,” Louie reminded him, squeezing his hand. “It wasn’t, like, okay, but I don’t blame you. Huey doesn’t either.”

“You should,” Dewey insisted, swallowing past the lump in his throat, staring at their dark bedroom. “I know it hurt you guys. I know I messed up.”

“I mean, yeah,” Louie said, though not unkindly. “You’re not perfect, Dewey. You’re gonna make mistakes sometimes. I’m sure Mom made mistakes, too.”

“But—”

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Louie continued, cutting him off. “It did hurt me. It still does, honestly. But I— I mean, I get it, I guess.”

Dewey stared down at his bed, feeling the pit in his stomach like a weight dragging him down.

“You were always the one who was asking Uncle Donald about mom. I knew it was important to you.” Louie pulled his knees tighter to his chest, still holding Dewey’s hand and not seeming keen to let go. “I guess I never really gave you much reason to think that it was important to me, too.”

“She’s our mom. I knew you cared about it,” Dewey said, and then he sighed. “I just— It wasn’t much, at first, but it went from 0 to 100 real quick, and I didn’t want to pull you guys into it. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Oh, but risking yourself was fine?” Louie snapped, and Dewey winced. His voice softened when he kept speaking. “You’re my brother, Dew. I want to help. You don’t have to carry all this on your own.”

“I thought I could wait until I had good news to tell you,” Dewey said quietly.

“In this economy?” Louie asked wryly, and Dewey snorted.

“I guess it was pretty stupid,” Dewey admitted, his shoulders dropping.

“We’re all entitled to our moments of questionable intelligence,” Louie said, pressing closer to his side with a yawn. He lazily raised his free hand to poke at Dewey’s chest. “I forgive you. I’m not holding a secret grudge. I really don’t have the energy for it.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Dewey said, a smile tugging at his beak. “No more secrets, Lou. I promise.”

“Does this mean that you’re gonna tell me where you hid the TV remote?”

“Come on, let’s not get too crazy.”

Louie giggled quietly under his breath, and Dewey grinned, resting his chin on top of Louie’s head as his younger brother collapsed onto him.

“You gonna stay here for tonight?” Dewey asked, already beginning to draw his blanket over them.

“As if I’d leave,” Louie said, casual as ever, and Dewey’s grin fell into something softer.

Yeah, things were okay.

(This is a gift for @reesiereads Ily)

#ducktales #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales fanfic #dewey duck #louie duck #my fic #enjoy :]#the secret(s) of castle mcduck

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strayingdawn · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a felix one where they go to a small shop to buy snacks at midnight and get in a tiny bit of trouble with the store owner by accident?

Of course! And sorry this took so long, I hope you like it! :) (I didn’t mean for it to get this long...oops. Sorry about that) >and feedback from anyone is always appreciated uwu

wc: 1,8k

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“Are you crying?” Felix asked you with slight amusement in his eyes as he lifted one eyebrow.

“What?! Why would I be cr-” A startling hiccup interrupted your sentence. “... Okay, maybe I teared up a little.” No one would believe your failed attempt at denial if they could see you, and Felix had a front-row seat. Your red-rimmed eyes slightly stung as more salty streams of tears flowed down your face. The image was quite pitiful without context. However, in this scenario, Felix couldn’t help but let a few giggles escape him.

You and Felix had been trying to schedule a night to spend together for weeks, maybe even months at this point. Whenever you both thought you had finally set a date, one of your teachers would rip it from your fingertips and replace it with a new project or test to study for. Sure, you could have study dates, but you both know that your heightened crackhead energy when together and deliriousness induced by deadlines would not mix well. In short, you would both fail. And if you weren’t both drowning in assignments, either you would have a club meeting or Felix would have a swim meet.

However, finally, the odds were in your favor. After many tiring weeks of missing each other's warmth, smiles, and comfort, you both found a clear weekend.

So, tonight, you’re in your bedroom, surrounded by many blankets you didn’t even know you owned inside the elaborate fort you and Felix managed to somehow build. Of course, the first attempt failed after you “accidentally” passed a pillow to Felix while he wasn’t looking which resulted in a pillow fight, and Felix cheating by tickling you. Obviously, you still won, but that’s not important. You finally finished your fort after cleaning up the pillows and blankets that were scattered everywhere (including the pillow that somehow ended up on a curtain rod) and prepared Disney+ for your movie marathon while Felix got snacks downstairs.

Now, the reason why you’re crying right now. You and Felix were well aware that as long as you were involved, it wasn’t truly a Disney+ movie marathon if Hamilton was not played at least once throughout the night. And Felix is always willing to tolerate your addiction to the music and action that is Hamilton. However, with the number of times you’ve already watched it, which has surely exceeded fifty, he didn’t think you would still have the ability to cry by the final curtain call. Clearly, he was mistaken.

“Haven’t you seen this like fifty times?” he questioned with skepticism in his voice and some confusion painted on his face, especially since you usually remained neutral through any movie, despite the occasional teary eyes.

“Who cares! It’s heartbreaking seeing his monologue before death, Burr’s guilt, and then Eliza goes on to tell his story and the stories of others,” more sobs break through the air as you recall the final scenes. Sure, you could admit you were being a little dramatic, but how could anyone not find someone’s death and unfinished legacy depressing. “Wait...did we run out of snacks?”

But of course, food is some of the best medicine for sadness, and easily snaps you out of your misery.

“Huh, I guess so…”

“Well, what do you want to watch next? I can set it up while you get more.”

“About that...those were all the snacks you had…”

“What! What do you mean that’s all I had? It wasn’t even that much!” You knew you went through lots of snacks this past week while you studied since you usually pushed eating an actual meal to the side, prioritizing your work. But you didn’t know you basically cleared out the kitchen.

“Well, what are you yelling at me for? I’m not the one who runs on four hours of sleep a night and depends on candy and coffee to make up for it.”

“Okay, now's not the time point to point out my poor life choices.” You paused for a second, trying to think of a solution for your dilemma. “Well, what are we supposed to do now? It’s,” you glanced at your bedside clock, “12:00 am.”

“We could go to that little shop down the street” Felix suggested, but you weren’t sure you should go anywhere this late at night, especially in your current state, even though the idea of food was pretty persuading.

“I don’t know..should we be going out this late?” You were all for adventures, and you considered your neighborhood to be pretty safe, but your warm fort and stuffed animals tempted you to stay. Felix noticed your hesitation.

“Come on. It’s not like we’ve never gone out for a late-night snack before...plus, we can get creamsicles,” he said, nudging your shoulders, knowing you couldn’t deny your favorite ice cream. Curse Felix and the way he knows you like the back of his hand.

You sighed, also knowing he had you hooked. “Fine,” you huffed. “Let’s go.” You stood up and held out your hand, which he gladly grasped onto as he rose to his feet as well.

“Wow, you’ll really do anything for creamsicles,” Felix teased with a slight smirk that you could see in your peripheral vision.

“Oh shut up, you act like we’re going on some death-defying journey,” you roll your eyes at Felix’s attempt to provoke you. He simply shrugged his shoulders and chuckled a little.

As soon as you stepped out of your front door, you felt the gentle breeze envelope you. It wasn’t too cold nor was it too warm; it was slightly cool and simply refreshing. The soft wind pushed your hoodie and sweatpants into your body like a hug and blew your hair out of your face giving you a clear view of the night sky. The stars twinkled like glitter on a black piece of paper. You felt connected with everything as you inhaled a deep breath. You started to get lost in your surroundings until Felix’s slight tug on your arm brought you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot how much I enjoy nights like these.” You had a relaxed smile on your face, as you admired the stars and the shapes they created while walking beside him.

Felix simply hummed, submitting the earlier, breathtaking image of you at such peace into his memory. “It’s fine. It does feel really nice out here. Aren’t you glad I convinced you to come?” He asked in a rather teasing tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Ya did good.” You rolled your eyes while letting out a chuckle. Felix followed with some of his famous giggles.

The rest of the small, five-minute walk was filled with little jokes and clowning each other if the other one tripped or stumbled. Before you knew it you were already walking into the little shop, and the woman, who you assumed was the owner since you’ve seen them at the shop in passing many times when the shop was closed, greeted you both, fairly friendly despite this late hour.

You and Felix separated once he suggested you could split up, considering you both knew each other’s likes and dislikes fairly well. You wandered across the beige floor tiles towards the chip aisle, while the drinks caught Felix’s attention.

After choosing seven bags of different chips, for variety of course, you noticed a certain stand-alone display across from you. It held quite the selection of little cake snacks. It seemed new which piqued your interest, so you decided to search for something that might suit your taste. Apparently, you must have been so focused on the baked goods that you didn’t even hear Felix’s steps coming toward you. Felix also noticed your diverted attention.

“Boo!”

Now, those who knew you well also knew your tendencies to be dramatic, especially when startled. So Felix’s sudden exclamation had you springing forward, arms flailing...right into the display. The whole snack arrangement wasn’t even that big, shorter than you, but it still managed to make a great boom and fading rumble as the impact sent waves of vibrations through the metal and some cakes went flying in different directions.

At first, you were frozen in complete shock, staring at the disaster in front of you. Until you caught a glimpse of the freckled boy who was now beside you, also surprised by your reaction.

“Felix!” You whisper-shouted in an accusing tone, even though the clear, loud crash surely already caught the store owner’s attention.

“What do you mean ‘Felix’? You’re the one who knocked it over!”

“And you’re the one who scared me which made me knock it over!”

“Well I didn’t know you were almost worse than Hyunjin and his dramatics!”

You let out an exasperated and somewhat panicked sigh. “Well, what do we-”

“Oh my goodness!” Oh no. You wouldn’t have to think about your question for too long, as the owner would surely give a solution. Whether that was good or bad, you didn’t know yet.

“Wh- I-I am s-so sorry! I was startled, a-and accidentally knocked it over! I promise it was an accident-” you fumbled for the right words to say, hoping the store owner would have mercy on you.

“Um...it’s fine..accidents do happen. However, you’ll have to pay for this mess you’ve created one way or another.” She still wore a calm, sweet smile that eased your worries.

“O-of course! We will gladly clean this mess for you.”

Felix noticed your specific choice of pronouns. “We?” You only jabbed Felix’s side with your elbow and confirmed what you said under your breath. As Felix attempted to reason with you, the store owner grabbed a garbage bin for the few treats that didn’t take the fall as well as others.

Forty-five minutes and a whining Felix later, the display was basically back to its original state, minus a few snacks. Thankfully, the owner didn’t immediately kick you out after your work was done and continued to assure you that the two of you were still welcome anytime. So, you both walked out with bags full of drinks and food to last you a week full of movie marathons, unless you get flooded with work and revert to old habits, of course.

“I still can’t believe you dragged me into your mess,” Felix commented, still seeming a little salty about being forced, by you, to clean up the little cakes crushed by the display. However, you knew his frown was only a disguise, so he could give you a hard time. Felix would have helped even if you had begged him not to. He might laugh at your misery first but would still lend a hand nevertheless.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, it was worth it,” you held up the bag you were holding full of ice cream. A smile slowly appeared on your face as you remembered Felix’s words from earlier. Felix seemed to catch on quickly, so you both spoke your thoughts aloud.

“Anything for creamsicles.”

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #lee felix #stray kids felix #stray kids fluff #skz #skz scenarios #skz felix #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

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glitchydyke · 4 years ago

Text

what if. celeskuro pre killing game hcs <3 bc i will make content for them my damn self if i have to

• celeste takes an interest in mukuro from their very first day at hope’s peak

• she isn’t sure why - their class, hell, the whole school is filled with pretty girls - so what’s this connection she feels with mukuro?

• seriously? standoffish, obedient, quiet mukuro?

• it drives her insane for longer than she’d like to admit

• until one day, someone from an older class is giving chihiro a hard time, and mukuro breaks from junko’s side to take him down in a matter of seconds

• and it’s there, with mukuro standing proud like a superhero, with chihiro holding back tears and clinging onto her waist, with mukuro stroking one hand comfortingly down chihiro’s back, that celeste has her italicised oh moment

• celeste immediately resolves to ask her out

• and so one day after classes, she all but corners her with an invitation to tea

• mukuro looks… kind of like a deer in headlights, and celeste can’t help but find it anything less than adorable

• she waits patiently as mukuro looks to junko for permission, and is subsequently met with a harsh shove and an annoyed “whatever, i don’t care what you do”

• celeste supposes that’s as good of an answer as she’s going to get

• so she takes mukuro by the hand (a little forward, maybe, but this is important, so screw it) and leads her to the cafeteria

• it takes a single snap of her fingers to get hifumi to set down the rest of the food he’d been plating for them and make himself scarce

• (celeste briefly wonders if mukuro would approve of her blackmailing hifumi into setting this up. probably, honestly)

• it takes a second for mukuro to register her surroundings, but with a few quick blinks she steps forward and pulls out a chair for celeste

• it’s more than a little clumsy, but celeste appreciates the effort - this isn’t mukuro’s usual scene, and her attempts at being proper are incredibly endearing

• it quickly becomes clear, however, that that’s where mukuro’s knowledge of being proper ends

• mukuro’s tea cup comes close to being smashed multiple times with the way she sets it down, and the way she eats isn’t as dainty as celeste’s small bites

• celeste smiles. again, endearing

• tea ends fairly quickly, but celeste supposes she can’t blame mukuro for wanting to get it over with - judging by the flickering of her eyes, she’s clearly trying to hide her confusion and, dare celeste say it, embarrassment

• still, celeste thanks her, tells her that her company was enjoyable, and they go their separate ways

• there’s a knock on celeste’s door the next morning. her alarm reads 06:00, and it takes all of her willpower to pry herself out from under the covers

• opening the door (only enough for her to peek out - none of her classmates need to see her without her drills, clad in pyjamas) she’s met with mukuro, fingers tangling together nervously

• she barely gets a word out before mukuro says “breakfast.” celeste isn’t sure whether it’s an invitation or an order

• (she’s also not sure why she’d be fine with it being either)

• she agrees, and mukuro nods, leaving her to get changed

• when she arrives at the dining hall, there’s no one else there. mukuro sits at a table with a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, and a plate of pastries

• it takes everything in celeste not to smile when she sees one of her favourite pastries from their meal the night before on the plate, and her tea made exactly the way she likes it

• the conversation starts with an apology. “i’m sorry. it’s early, i know. i usually wake at five, but junko said i should leave you for a while so i didn’t wake you… i hope this is okay?”

• it’s more than okay. celeste tells her so

• mukuro seems to relax after that, taking tentative bites of a pastry and brushing crumbs from where they fall onto her tattoo

• it’s still quiet. given that she spends her time with junko, celeste isn’t surprised mukuro doesn’t talk much - it’s likely she usually can’t get a word in edgeways

• it’s comfortable though, and the small conversations they do have drift from mukuro’s time with fenrir (short and sweet stories there, mukuro is adamant she can’t say too much) to celeste’s dramatic tales of hustling faceless nobodies out of more money than they own

• when the clock strikes 07:00 and some of their classmates start trickling in, celeste catches mukuro’s arm as she makes to leave

• she blurts it out a lot quicker that she’d like - “i’m going out tonight. i would like it if you accompanied me”

• mukuro’s deer in headlights look comes back in full force, but she gives a short nod and an even shorter smile before leaving the cafeteria

• when celeste meets her in the hallway that evening, she dutifully pretends not to notice the weapons visibly strapped to mukuro’s body (or the ones that she’s sure are also there, in much less visible places)

• the way mukuro stands tall and proud as they walk through the streets makes her smile. celeste has always been capable of handling herself, but mukuro’s evident protective streak is a welcomed personality trait

• mukuro is only slightly surprised when celeste waltzes into a casino like she owns the place, and no one even attempts to tell her she’s underage

• when celeste takes a seat at the nearest poker table, the people already gathered there shift uncomfortably, an action that only increases when they notice mukuro stood defensively behind her

• celeste is all smiles and fluttering eyelashes and carefully trained eyes, seeking out tells and playing the game with a voice dripping in honey

• mukuro finds it… much more attractive than she probably should

• especially when a small crowd gathers around celeste, wide eyes and gasps and bated breath at every tense part of the game, but celeste stays perfectly calm, a self-assured smile painted across her lips

• when they leave, it’s with celeste much richer than she was at the beginning of the night, mukuro more content than she can ever remember being, and muffled sounds of anger emanating from behind the casino’s doors

• their return to hope’s peak should probably be quiet, given the time of night, but celeste has seemingly no fear as her heels click against the floor before she stops outside her room

• mukuro stops with her. celeste pushes her door open, takes a single step inside, and turns back to mukuro with an outstretched hand, her ring glinting in the dim hallway lighting

• mukuro doesn’t hesitate

• she takes it, and celeste pulls her inside, and there’s a few quiet seconds of sitting on the edge of the bed before mukuro feels cold metal against her chin

• the top of celeste’s ring traces gently across her jawline, tilting her head up so that their eyes meet

• and there’s celeste, beautiful in the moonlight cascading through the window

• celeste, with curious eyes and a gentle smile, her other hand reaching out to hold mukuro’s in the space between their legs

• celeste, who’s made mukuro feel something. something other than despair, something other than junko’s words echoing in her head

• celeste, who’s made mukuro something she’d never thought she’d be - happy

• mukuro leans in

• and so does celeste

• and they meet in the middle, gentle and wanting, and everything just… fits

• they can both feel it - missing pieces slotting into place, something missing finally being found, their fingers intertwining between them

• the feeling of home, of happiness, the feeling of hope

#PLEASE I LOVE THEM SM!!!!!! THEYRE SO GOOD #MORE PPL THINK ABT THEM. I DEMAND IT #danganronpa #celeskuro #celeste ludenberg #celestia ludenberg #mukuro ikusaba #trigger happy havoc #mj.txt

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thecheesiestcheese · 4 years ago

Text

Hey everyone! I know I haven’t posted on here in forever, but I was going through some old notes of mine on my phone and came across this old piece of work that never found the light of day. Figured I’d let you all give it a read. I tried to fix any grammar mistakes, but there’s probably still a few. I also have a second chapter that’s pretty much done as well, just sitting there collecting dust. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you all think!

Bella Bonding Survival 101

This was not going to end well.

Beca just knew it.

Every time the Bellas do team bonding, something always goes wrong. For example, during their first year together, the girls decided to have their first official bonding session at the city park close to Barden.

Chloe and Aubrey were setting up everything they brought for a picnic later on, while Jessica and Ashley found a place beside a tree, cuddling with a book in each of their hands. Beca could be found sitting down with her back against a tree, headphones on and eyes closed, not having anything to do, since she wasn’t allowed to bring her laptop along, due to a certain redhead’s insistence of needing to enjoy nature and maybe Aubrey’s threat of ‘pitch’ing the laptop far, far away. Amy, Stacie, and Cynthia Rose were down a little ways walking along the side of the city pond, Amy seeming to take an interest in mocking the geese nearby. Lilly was nowhere to be seen, although Beca swore she saw her in a tree earlier shooting acorns at squirrels.

A few minutes go by when Beca feels a presence beside her. After quickly debating whether or not to acknowledge who was there, the brunette decides to open her eyes just in case its the she-demon herself there to take away her music as well. Luckily enough, she is greeted by a smiling Chloe looking down at her. Not even needing to know what the redhead was wanting, Beca pats the ground beside her offering an invitation. Chloe’s smile grows even wider, making her nose crinkle and plops down beside the small brunette immediately grabbing one of Beca’s earphones for herself. Being use to Chloe and her rule for no boundaries, Beca let’s her. As they sit there, the small brunette starts to zone out only to practically jump into the air due to a loud scream, followed by shouting.

Gathering her bearings, Beca looks down to the pond to see something out of a circus and couldn’t help but to laugh. It seemed that the geese that Amy was mocking had finally had enough and was chasing the trio around the pond.

Stacie could be seen throwing one of her shoes, completely missing the target while Cynthia Rose and Amy made their way around the pond, all the while Amy could be heard shouting, “Vertical running! I’m vertical running!”

The rest of the girls laughed as they watched the chaos happen in front of them. They all stopped though, when they noticed the three Bellas heading their way with the geese right behind them.

Eyes widening, Beca scrambles to her feet, helping Chloe up, joining the rest of the Bellas and making a run for it.

That day ended with them soaking wet and smelling like wet dog.

Another time for team bonding was when the Bellas were preparing for the World Championships.

Granted, it was technically Beca’s own fault for not paying attention to where she was going. In her defense, she was too heated to take in her surroundings.

That day ended with Beca in a bear trap.

Don’t get her wrong, team bonding is fun and she loves the Bellas, but Beca is starting to see a pattern and she’s growing weary of it.

That’s why when the idea of skydiving as a team bonding exercise was introduced by none other than Aubrey, Beca immediately shot it down.

“No. Absolutely not,” the small brunette shakes her head, not wanting to hear another word.

“Aww, but Beca, imagine the bonding time we could have,” Chloe pouts throwing her best puppy-dog eyes at the brunette. “Most of us haven’t seen each other in months and I think this would be a perfect way to catch up, especially while on tour!” The redhead exclaims while also taking Beca’s hand in her own, squeezing it.

Looking between Chloe and the rest of the girls, she’s met with pouts from all sides. “Fine.” She mutters. She’s quickly engulfed in a hug by Chloe making her blush then someone in the distance yells ‘Group hug!’ making all the Bellas rush in, crushing Beca further into her best friend.

Once the hugging fest was over, the girls decided to grab dinner at a small French Bistro they saw a few days ago while they were out shopping, getting a break from the USO tour. They all get back to their hotel in one piece, the girls splitting up.

Amy, Emily, and Flo head over to the bar, Amy already calling for shots all around. Jessica and Ashley head over to claim a table big enough for the gang. Lilly and Cynthia Rose started a game of pool, Lilly looking like she won the jackpot. And Chloe disappears once she sees Chicago, saying that he could get them free access to skydiving. Beca frowns slightly as she watches Chloe run into Chicago’s arms. An arm is draped around her shoulder pulling her focus away from the scene playing out in front of her.

“Keep frowning and your face will be stuck like that,” Stacie smirks.

Shrugging the taller brunette’s arm off her shoulder, Beca glares, crossing her arms. “Thanks,” she deadpans her face still impassive.

“I think it’s been permanent since freshman year,” Aubrey remarks making her way over and hands over a drink to each of the brunettes.

“Do I even want to know what’s in this?” the small brunette asks cringing catching a strong whiff of alcohol.

The tall blonde just smirks. “You looked like you needed it.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Shouldn’t you guys be over at the bar or something?” motioning her hand towards the bar where Amy was giving Emily shot after shot of god knows what. She should probably stop them, but Stacie grabs her arm and starts pulling her over to Jessica and Ashley, Aubrey following closely behind.

“You need to relax. Let loose a little of that pent up frustration.” Stacie’s voice is muffled while drinking whatever concoction Aubrey gave her. Setting her glass down, a sly smile appears on the leggy brunette’s face, her eyes glinting with something Beca couldn’t quite figure out, but had a feeling it wasn’t going to be anything good. “Maybe we need to find you a tall blonde, I’m sure we could find someone here.”

“Dude! No!”

“I’m not sleeping with Beca!”

The loud commotion could be heard throughout the whole bar, catching the attention of many onlookers, including the girls at the bar. Emily could be seen spitting mid drink, eyes wide, Flo patting her back as she makes some comment related to Guatemala.

Amy quickly makes her way over. “Aww yeah, Shawshank! If I hear moaning of ‘auu-beca’ tonight,” pointedly looking at the tall blonde, “I’ll be taking twenty dollars to go out. I don’t know how you could pass up a good bloe though.” She comments while setting down a tray of shots that the girls were going to down, sooner rather than later.

Both of the girls groan, Beca’s face growing red, Aubrey’s showing disgust. “I would have to be completely inebriated before I even thought about sleeping with the hobbit.” Aubrey takes a long drink grimacing as the alcohol burned down her throat.

Beca raised her hand in the air, her head facedown on the table. “Likewise.”

Stacie rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t implying that you two should get together.” Groans could be heard. “But now that you mention it, I’m thinking I should have.” The tall brunette smirks. “Don’t worry Aubs, I know you’re more interested in taller brunettes.” She winks making Aubrey blush.

“Wait, what are y-?” Amy gets cut off.

“Nothing! She’s implying nothing.” The blonde stresses looking anywhere, but the Bellas.

Actually feeling bad for Aubrey, which never in a million years did she think she would ever feel anything other than anger towards the former Bellas captain until they spent time together outside of a cappella learning that they actually had more in common then they thought, Beca drags the focus back on her.

“So,” she clears her throat, “If not Aubrey, then who were you suggesting?” The shorter brunette shifts nervously in her seat averting her eyes every time she made contact with Stacie, having an inkling that she already knew who she was referring to. Stacie was grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me...”she drags the wait out knowing she was making the brunette squirm, “..little maus.”

Beca covers her face with her hands too embarrassed to look at the girls. “Don’t remind me.” Knowing they most likely won’t believe her, Beca still tries to convince them. “She was just intimidating. She’s freakishly tall and we all know I’m small.” She shrugs looking indifferent when really inside she was anything but that.

“Alright shortie, you keep saying that, but we really know what you mean.” Amy winks. Beca just groans. She’s definitely not getting out of this one.

“Now wait you guys!” Emily blurts out. “I mean she was intimidating. Who wouldn’t be!” She exclaims loudly waving her hands around in the air. “I mean, she did call Beca a troll,” she drawls, “but tiny maus is a term of endearment soo...” Emily trails off. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing.” She slightly shrugs giving Beca a look of apology.

“Just face it Beca, you were interested in Kommissar, I’m pretty sure we all were.” Stacie claims, the other Bellas nodding along even Amy. “I don’t blame you. Besides, I think the German goddess was interested right back. In fact, I’m kind of surprised she didn’t try anything now that I think about it,” Stacie mentions, a curious look upon her face.

Someone coughs. “Oh, I know exactly why she didn’t.” The girls all face Cynthia Rose who looks like she knew one of the top secrets in the world.

Even Beca becomes curious as she gets closer to the edge of her seat. “Well?” Beca starts to grow impatient.

Cynthia Rose locks eyes with the tiny brunette. “Let’s just say a fiery fox seemed to have their claws in someone, not letting them out of their sight.” Smirking, she continues. “If that wasn’t the case, Kommissar would’ve ate you up...if you know what I mean.” C.R. winks.

At that moment Chloe seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Hey guys!” She beams. “So Chicago said we could do tomorrow afternoon if that worked for everybody.” Chloe is only met with silence. “What’s up?”

She looks around the group, eyes finally landing on Beca who seemed to be showing all signs of embarrassment. “Uh, what’s going on? What’d you guys do to our poor little DJ?” She coos taking the empty seat by Beca. The redhead wraps the brunette in her arms in a hug. “What’s got you all embarrassed?” She asks sneaking a quick sip of the brunette’s drink.

Beca remains silent.

“Oh, Shawshank has just realized that Kommissar was interested in her. She would’ve ate her up, if you know what I mean.” Amy says repeating the last part that C.R. said.

Beca could feel Chloe’s arms around her tighten.

“What?!What do you mean?” The redhead demands, eyes narrowed with a hint of agitation in her voice. “That dummkopf is the enemy! She just wanted to get into your head.” Chloe fumes.

Beca refuses to make eye contact. She could feel Chloe’s stare burning a hole in the side of her head.

“Well, it worked,” Beca mutters.

“You’ve got that right little shortie!” Amy and Stacie hi-five.

“She had you all kinds of flustered.” Stacie fans her face jokingly. “But who can blame you? It’s hard to resist tall intimidating blondes. Stacie comments winking at Aubrey.

Aubrey rolls her eyes. “Can we just move on from this conversation?”

Chloe immediately jumps in. “Yes! I think we need to forget about the past and talk about the present.” The redhead nods her head seeming to need to reassure herself. Beca finally looks up, making eye contact with Chloe beside her. Chloe sends her a smile, her face still holding a slight look of irritation. Beca sends a small smile back receiving a tiny squeeze from Chloe’s hand. They’re both interrupted from their staring contest by the girls laughing.

“Damn Em! I never thought I’d hear you say that!” Cynthia Rose laughs clapping the younger brunette’s back.

“Oh look, Bloe has decided to grace us with their presence again,” Amy announces. The rest of the Bellas were still laughing at whatever Emily said. “Hey, aca-child, wanna tell our two captains what you said?” Amy nudges Emily with her arm. Emily’s face turns bright red, but what she says next she can’t stop. Later, she’d tell them that it was because of the alcohol.

It’d already be too late.

“If we can’t find a tall blonde, other than Aubrey.” The blonde sends her a grateful look. “Then I think we could find a tall brunette who maybe or maybe not also has an interest in music and is here. As in the hotel....right now...Over at the bar.” Emily points her finger, the others follow with their eyes.

“O-M-ACA-G! Emily! She’s just as bad as that blonde giant!” Chloe shouts standing up and grabbing the attention of the Bellas and even the group of girls at the bar. Beca shrinks down into her chair, gulping down what was left of her drink.

“Hey Red!” Amy holds her hands up in slight fear, “Take it easy! We’re just stating the obvious.” The blonde looks over at Beca. “I mean, you did say that she smelt like vanilla and complimented her outfit, right?” The rest of the Bellas hold their breath, torn between what Beca’s reaction would be, but also fearing for her life or Amy’s.

“What the hell Beca?!” could be heard throughout the room.

Beca just groans.

She’s actually starting to wish that she was skydiving right now.

Instead she sinks further into her seat, face burning.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

#bechloe #chloe beale #beca mitchell #pitch perfect #bechloe fanfic

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brynfelan · 4 years ago

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The One Where Hajime Only Knows Class 77b Because He Works At A 24-Hour Grocery Store

it’s DONE, it’s BAD, it has all the pacing of a POORLY-WRITTEN SNL SKETCH, but I can’t give less of a shit I am tired and putting it out into the world. @idnek83 I told you I’d fucking write it. It’s 5am and this was written purely out of spite. also, the credit for this idea goes to them. the only reason i wrote this is because they were too much of a coward to.

Word Count: 3272 Summary: Hajime Hinata works at a 24-hour grocery store and only knows class 77-B because they all come in at different times to buy some weird shit. Chaos ensues. This is crack, just straight up crack.

There are worse things than working the graveyard shift. It pays a little extra than day hours, there’s less work to do at the counter, and the only thing Hajime really has to worry about is a drunk customer getting rowdy. Actually, he enjoys it in a weird way. He just stands at the counter, runs people up, and then leaves at six in the morning to do whatever the hell he wants with his day. Usually sleeping, but it’s also nice to be free all the time.

His favourite part of the job is the set of students that come in between the hours of two and five almost every day. They aren’t usually together, but he’s pieced together that they’re all in the same class by descriptions that he’s gotten from the more talkative of the bunch. He doesn’t know all of their names, some of them he only knows by nicknames, but he does know all of their faces.

Kazuichi Soda for example, comes in at around two in the morning every Friday night. He usually buys shitty beer or cheap liquor, and complains that he’s the one that got sent out from the party to get more booze. Sometimes he also picks up random assortments of tools or screws. Hajime thinks it should probably be illegal to sell a man a 40 of cheap whiskey and a power drill at two in the morning, but he learnt to stop questioning the combination of things that people buy at this kind of hour. He dreads to think of the drunk creations that Soda makes.

On the other hand, Mahiru only comes in around once a month. Hajime knows her name is Mahiru because the first time, she drunkenly introduced herself to him and tried to explain that her combination of items were for a photoshoot and not for any kind of nefarious purpose. He isn’t quite sure what kind of crime she could commit with several bunches of half-dead flowers, a whole cream cake and a bottle of champagne, but he’d definitely like to see it.

It’s four in the morning on a Tuesday. Hajime gets off in two hours, and he’s currently dealing with one Gundham Tanaka. He knows his name is Gundham Tanaka, because he announces it every single time that he gets rung up.

“Huh. Sunflower seeds and hamster bedding. You got any pets?” It’s an innocent question, but at this point he really should have learnt not to question Gundham.

“You fool! I, Gundham Tanaka, have my four Dark Devas of Destruction at my command, ready to strike at any moment for insinuating that they are mere pets as you mere mortals call them!” Ah, good. This happens every time. “You may also notice that I am purchasing this protective potion. This is a defensive measure to protect myself from the very devils that seek to feast on my demon blood!

Hajime looks down at the mosquito spray. He’s definitely not getting paid enough for this.

“Right, yeah. Sorry man. I hope those, uh, devils don’t bother ya too much. That’ll be twenty-two fifty-nine.”

Four hamsters poke out from Gundham’s scarf to deliver the money to Hajime. He isn’t sure if that’s sanitary, but at least he gets to see some cute animals during his shift. For “warriors”, as Gundham calls them, they’re pretty sweet and don’t seem to be adverse to getting pet when they hand (mouth?) him the bills.

Even if it gives him daytime freedom, this job isn’t worth ten seventy-two an hour. He sometimes thinks about switching to the day shift, but he gets paid more to work nights and effectively does half the work. Hajime knows that it’s the best job he’s gonna get for a while, and it pays enough to get him through college. Still, he reminds himself to check for something better when his shift’s over.

Gundham is the last of the class he sees that night. He’s definitely eccentric, maybe the most eccentric of the bunch, but he’s never caused a real scene. Except for one time when he managed to smash three bottles of red wine in quick succession, but it happens. Hajime didn’t have to clean it up, so he’s definitely not paid enough to care.

The next night, it’s Sonia that walks in. She’s never formally introduced herself to him, but Soda never shuts up about her, so Hajime has a pretty good idea of who she is. She’s buying nearly his month’s rent in skincare products and murder mystery novels. She talks the whole time too, about how this store is so different to ones in her home country, how he must get so many interesting experiences working at these hours.

“Yeah, you sure could call it interesting,” He snorts a little, “You get some interesting people come in at these hours.”

“Ah, of course! You are a respectable man to hold a necessary job such as this, I believe I would be, as they say, boned without you here! Is it customary to tip workers in institutions such as this?”

Jesus, how much money does this girl have?

“Uh, not grocery store workers ma’am. Cash or card?”

When she pulls out the cash from her purse, Hajime nearly faints. He decides that she must either be a foreign dignitary or deep in some criminal ring in order to have this much money on her person at any one time. It’s not even in exact change, and she’s a hundred over her total.

“This is too much, ma’am. Here, this is yours.”

When he tries to give the hundred back to her, she steps away from the register and puts her hands behind her back. She’s smiling, and shaking her head.

“Oh, no. I shan’t be taking that! You must keep it.”

She’s either an angel, or Satan trying to tempt him with nearly double what he makes in a night. Arguing with her is pointless, she refuses to take her items until he pockets the cash. He hopes that he never has to explain that to his manager, because he hasn’t read the company policy but he’s nearly a hundred percept sure that accepting personal money is very much against it. She finally leaves nearly half an hour later, after insisting he keep the money. He can’t tell if he hopes she comes back, or that he never sees her again.

He ends up keeping the hundred. That’s way too much money to be given to pass up.

If Hajime had to name a favourite customer out of the students, it would have to be the girl that comes in a couple of nights a week to buy snacks. He doesn’t know her name, but she always talks about video games. They share the same taste in them, and he likes hearing about his favourites from another person’s perspective. He doesn’t really have anybody to play them with, but it almost feels like he does when she comes in and asks how far he’s gotten in whatever just came out that week. He thinks about her during his shift sometimes when things get slow.

That same night, a boy with all the manners of a particularly pissed off cat comes in. He’s with a girl that towers over him, and Hajime would laugh if he wasn’t afraid of getting his ass handed to him, since he’s pretty sure the girl is carrying a sword. He’s buying twelve packs of cookies, and a single toy bunny. He pays with a black credit card. Neither of them say anything to Hajime. He’s pretty sure that’s the “Baby Gangsta” that Soda has spoken about on a couple of occasions, but definitely doesn’t want to ask just in case he gets sliced in half. He only notices that he was holding his breath when they leave.

An absolutely giant man walks in just as Hajime is about to clock out. No really, he’s huge and all muscle. Hajime might be scared of him, if he didn’t have such a huge smile on his face. He occasionally comes in early in the morning to buy a hideous amount of protein powder and other groceries. Every time he does, he invites Hajime to “train” with him. Hajime is too scared to ask what training involves, and turns it down every time. By the size of the guy, he’s pretty sure any amount of training would kill him.

Hajime doesn’t know when he clocks in the next night that it’s going to be the most hellish night of his life. He doesn’t know that tonight is the night he hands in his two weeks yet. He’s pretty optimistic when he walks in, freshly showered and having just gotten back a pretty decent grade for one of his classes.

It starts at five. Kazuichi Soda walks in first, already drunk and talking to Baby Gangsta about some motorbike he’s going to jack up so much it won’t be road legal anymore. The Giant Man is close behind, talking to a girl about doing “it” (Hajime has no idea what “it” is and frankly he isn’t sure he wants to know). That’s the first sign. No more than three of them have ever walked in together at any one time.

Lagging behind a little is Gundham and Sonia, followed by Mahiru and the tiny girl that sometimes accompanies her. The only thing Hajime can remember about her is that she called some other girl a “toilet clogging bitch” one time. Three other men follow behind, one with light hair that looks just a little too skinny to be healthy, one that looks nearly exactly the same as him except taller and heavier, and one that’s even shorter than Baby Gansta. A girl with her eyes glued to a Game Girl trails behind them, the Sword Girl almost steering her out of the way of a promotional stand for donuts. Behind them is Ibuki Mioda, a girl that comes in sometimes to buy Monster Energy by the crate at three in the morning, talking to Mikan Tsumiki who usually accompanies her to run of the health risks of drinking too much caffeine.

Behind all of them is the devil himself, dressed up like an angel. Hajime doesn’t know he’s the devil yet, but he will in about an hour.

They’re in the store for all of ten minutes before shit starts going south. Hajime can hear things being tossed around in the aisles and shouting. He definitely isn’t paid enough to deal with that, so he stands at his register and hopes it calms down.

“C’mon, we just finished our finals, Ibuki wants to go hard!”

That’s never a good thing to hear when you still have two hours of your shift left.

Now, part of the reason why Hajime likes working the graveyard shift is that it’s quiet. Nothing happens, except for the one time a guy in a Scream mask came in and robbed his register at axe-point, but he’d already been working at the store for two weeks and couldn’t give less of a crap whether or not the company lost money over that. Tonight, it isn’t quiet. Tonight, there are sixteen students that Hajime thinks might give him a migraine if they don’t shut up for five minutes.

The worst part is when they disperse through the store. Before, all the noise was coming from one place. Now it’s everywhere. Hajime thinks that some of them are having a competition to see who can make all the toys that make sounds go off in the quickest amount of time. He can hear shouting and squealing and laughing (and is that crying? Is one of them crying in his store?) and he wonders if it would be worth it to just walk out and let them take whatever they want.

It doesn’t end there. There’s a loud smashing sound, and then the high-pitched whine of the girl who looks too young to be buying booze but Hajime has never cared enough to card because it’s not his job to parent her.

“You snot-nosed bitch! I bet you’re trying to make Hope’s Peak look bad, you drunk whore!”

“I’m s-sorry! I didn’t mean to!” The crying gets worse the more the short one yells, “I-I’ll clean it up and pay for it, don’t worry! Please forgive me!”

Hope’s Peak is that exclusive private place down the street, right? Hajime passes it everyday, but couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to study there. He isn’t even really sure what they teach, besides that they always push out the greatest in whatever field of study they run. No, Hajime chose the cheaper option, and while it might have been nice to go somewhere so prestigious, it definitely wouldn’t have been good for his wallet.

From the other side of the store, he hears clapping and laughing. He doesn’t even want to think about what fresh hell is going on in the DIY section, where he’s pretty sure he can hear Soda spilling paint everywhere if the swearing from Baby Gangsta is anything to go buy.

Half an hour or so after they all walked in, Hajime is ringing up fifteen people. He’s the only one working tonight until the cleaners come in, and this is more people than he’s ever had to deal with in his life.

Sonia has bought sixteen bottles of the most expensive champagne the store sells. Hajime doesn’t want to think about the ordeal he went though last time she was here, so when she pushes an extra hundred into his hand he doesn’t bother arguing with her. Gundham, on the other hand, has apparently bought up every single vegan burger that was in the freezer section. He’s also got all the buns, and what feels like a hundred different condiments and salad options. Through tears, Mikan apologises for the trouble she’s causing while trying to pay for whatever bottle she broke – while at the same time picking up enough hangover medicine to cure an army.

By the time he’s rung everybody up, he’s exhausted. He wants to go to bed and never get out of it, to never see anybody again. He hates customers at the best of times, and these people might be excellent outside of this setting, but in his store they’ve been an absolute nightmare.

They’re all packed up and ready to go when the girl with her nose in the video game pipes up.

“Hey, where’s Nagito?” She asks through a yawn.

Then, it happens. Hajime hears a “whoops” from the back end of the store, and everything he’s ever wanted to not happen on his shift happens.

One shelving unit goes down, then another, then another. The sounds of shattering and splintering echo through the now otherwise silent store. They go down like dominos, each falling shelf worse than the last. It’s five fifty-seven in the morning, and Hajime can only watch as his divine punishment for choosing to work in a grocery store near a college is shown to him. Bottles are smashing, toys are crushed, he’s pretty sure that whatever happens in the fish section is no longer safe to look at with the naked human eye.

“I’ve never thought about committing murder before,” He says, “But now I think I understand.”

Everybody is quiet until the dust settles. The white-haired demon walks out completely unscathed, with an innocently shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ah, I can pay for this. I’m so sorry to have caused such trouble,” He says, waving his hands like it’s no big deal, “Please, allow me to pay for the damages. My terrible luck is a scourge on this Earth, I simply can’t apologise enough.”

Hajime sighs, and looks at the clock. It’s five fifty-nine. There isn’t an enough money in the world to pay him to deal with this.

“What the fuck happened?” Baby Gangsta asks, from the back of the crowd, “Seriously, you’ve had some bad fuckin’ luck before, but this shit takes the crappy cake.”

“Oh. I tripped.” He dusts his knees off, and smiles again.

It’s unnerving that he’s so calm about this. Hajime dreads to think what else he’s done in the past that would make this seem so natural to him. Can you bar somebody from your store for accidentally wrecking every single item that you have to sell?

“There is some hope to come from this, Kuzuryu, don’t worry!” He pulls out a tiny stuffed dog from his pocket, “Please, how much will this be?”

All Hajime can do is stare. He isn’t sure what god he pissed off to deserve this. He doesn’t believe in karma, but he hopes that whatever he gets in return for this is pretty damn good.

Six in the morning rolls around. The day-staff have walked in to the mess that is the store, and his manager is just staring at him. Hajime looks at him, and just shakes his head.

“If you want the story, talk to the guy with the white hair. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”

Immediately after he says that, he hears a whoosh. Then, everything starts feeling a whole lot warmer.

“Shit, store’s on fire. Komaeda, you’re going to get us banned from this store!” Kazuichi yells, running as fast as he can to the exit.

The others follow, and Hajime gives his manager a “what-can-ya-do” shrug, before following. This store isn’t worth getting a lungful of smoke over. Hell, he isn’t even sure working here is worth the extra cash that Sonia seems adamant to give him every time she comes in.

Sixteen students, Hajime, four other co-workers, two cleaners, and a General Manager stare as the building burns. Before his manager can open his mouth to speak, Hajime looks at him and says, “Nope. I quit. I’m leaving. Now. This isn’t my fault, and you can’t pay me enough to deal with it.”

There’s no argument. His manager just lets him go. The sixteen students get a lifetime ban. Hajime also gets a lifetime ban. The white-haired devil writes a check and walks away basically scot-free. The store is going to be closed for the next fuck-knows how long until it can get repaired. From the number of zeroes on that check, Hajime’s pretty sure this is an expensive problem to fix. He doesn’t care, it isn’t his problem.

“Hey, Mr-Store-Clerk Guy!” Ibuki grins at him, “Wanna come and party with Hope’s Peak? We just got done with finals!”

“Ibuki, that’s a fantastic idea! To repay our debt to him for causing so much trouble, we simply must invite him to part-ay with us!” Sonia claps her hands together and smiles like Ibuki’s just discovered Atlantis, “Please do come with us! But first, might we get your name? We all see you so often, and have never thought to ask!”

It’s six in the morning. Hajime rubs his temples. Any sane person would say no, because he’s tired and just quit his job so he’s going to need to find another one as soon as possible, and having a store burn down on your watch is not good on your resume.

It’s six in the morning, and if there’s any day that Hajime wants to start drinking at ass-o-clock in the morning and not on his dime, it’s this one.

“I’m Hajime Hinata. Please don’t burn anything else down.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Nagito calls from where he’s standing by the manager, “I’m sure that after that I’ll have some incredibly good luck!”

#brainrot #drabble #not really a drabble it's like 3k #but have it #love it #do what you want with it #this is the worst thing i've ever written #yes counting the fanfiction i wrote for my gcse in english language #this is so dumb #i can't even tell if it's funny or if i'm just tired #either way #have it

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Love Talk - Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x reader (nicknamed Princess)

Wordcount: 6.6k words

Genre: smut, fluff, lowkey angst

Rating: 18+

Hello cuties! 💜

I’m back with a new piece and this time we have a very soft boy Jimin with a lot of fluff (plus smut, ‘cause we all know I’m a certified slut by now). This is the right moment to remind you that if you’re a minor the content under the cut is not intended for you and you should not read.

Anyways, quick recap: Jimin and y/n-Princess have been dating for about four months at this point, they are seeing each other exclusively, though they haven’t yet explicitly said ‘I love you’.

On to TRIGGER WARNINGS: discussion of eating disorders (they are NOT condoned, but rather addressed and gently corrected), alcohol consumption (just mild tipsiness, nothing major). Swearing. Sub!Jimin wants a spanking. Of course he gets one. Very in-depth discussion of BDSM conditions and limits related to a spanking scene. Punishment scene and powerplay. Teeth-rotting fluff. Unprotected vaginal sex (do I need to remind you to use protection whenever you engage in oral, anal or vaginal sex? Well, this is me, kindly reminding you to keep it safe). Woah, these warnings are shorter than usual.

Wordcount: 6.6K

A small thank you to @nervous-moon for the constant love and support (and for listening to me ramble for days about crazy themes and prompts) and another silent thank you goes to an amazing angel who listened to me panicking about this fic not working and putting me back on track.

Here is my masterlist!

And before I let you read in peace, please remember to vote for the next theme :) (link in my bio)!

Enjoy!

Jimin is a tense bundle of nerves, walking back and forth at the feet of the bed, pacing anxiously before sitting and grabbing his hair, tugging it in exasperation. How could he possibly do this?

It’s not like he could bend over your lap and scream “I won’t stand up until you spank me raw.”

But at the moment he was desperate enough that he was actually considering. He threw himself on the mattress, rolling on his belly and whining loudly, kicking and punching the covers.

Nuzzling his face into the duvet, he took in the smell of you on the bedsheets, finding small comfort.

What if he moved your hand on his ass, leading your wrist so your hand smacked on his ass?

He grimaced and shook his head.

Turning around he stood up and went to the kitchen. It was late. You should be here in ten minutes. Maybe tipsy from your night out with your friends. He spotted the bottle of beer in the fridge.

A little liquid courage?

He nodded to himself, grabbing the bottle.

The bottle was empty when he heard the door unlock. A sweet chill ran down his spine as he heard you take off your shoes, silent footsteps heading down the hall, following the light from the kitchen.

“Hi.” You said, surprised, noticing the bottle on the table. Your mind, already growing suspicious, noticed that there was only one glass on the table. You calmed yourself down.

“Hello.” He said with a cute blush, puffy cheeks and his sweet smile. “You’re back.”

“And you’re tipsy.” You replied, smiling at him incredulously.

He nodded, lids heavy.

“Come with me.” You murmured. “Put down that stuff.” You invited him playfully.

He looked at you with a dreamy look. “Haven’t you drunk?”

“No, Jimin. I was assigned to sober godmother duty tonight.” You huffed out, slightly stressed.

He cocked his head to the side. “Don’t you want a sip, then?”

You looked at him. Your sober godmother duty wasn’t over, apparently. You were sure of it when you saw him oscillating dangerously on top of the barstool by your kitchen island. “No. I want to undress and get to bed.”

He made a grumpy face, all of his features scrunching up, his lips locked in a pout. He extended his arms towards you, making grabby hands.

You took a few steps towards him, hugging him as he smiled once more as you helped him down the chair. He kept holding you tight, brushing his face all over your neck and the small triangle of skin appearing from your demure top. “What do you want, Jimin?” You asked sweetly, your index tipping his head back so you could look at him.

He only shook his head, trying to escape from your inspecting gaze.

You had none of that. “Jimin, love. Do I need to take you to bed?”

He smiled, eyes closed, whining out a long, giggly “yes”.

Keeping an arm around his waist, you started walking to the bedroom, leaving the lights on in the kitchen. You had to go back for the bottle anyway.

“You didn’t drink that much, baby.” You kissed his temple. “Did you eat?”

His brow creased as he shook his head.

“Why not, Jimin?” You asked.

“I wasn’t thinking about it. I had lunch with Yoongi hyung and Taetae. Dinner kind of passed by.” He mumbled.

“That’s not good, Jimin.” You reprimanded lovingly. “Your body needs yummy food. Nutrition.”

“I know. I didn’t do that on purpose, though. I wasn’t hungry. I forgot.” He admitted.

Reaching the bed, you made him sit on the edge. “I’ll go fix the kitchen. Make yourself comfy.”

In the kitchen you put some instant rice in the microwave as you threw away the bottle. Waiting for the rice, you prepared some salad, opening a small jar of kimchi and laying it all out on a tray.

The microwave dinged and you grabbed the bowl, adding kimchi and sausage slices. Satisfied with the result, you went back to the bedroom. Jimin was laying on the bed, his back straight against the pillows by the bedpost.

“Here,” you offered, laying the tray on the bedside table and sitting beside him, on top of the covers.

“I want you here with me.” He complained, trying to drag you under the sheets.

“I have my day clothes on.” You justified yourself.

“Take ‘em off.” He giggled.

You shook your head, snorting. “Stay there, I’ll go get changed.”

A few minutes later you came back, dressed in your soft silk pajamas and a robe. “Time to eat, Jiminie.” You climbed in bed, settling beside him, your legs disappearing under the sheets. Holding the tray, you moved it on your lap while Jimin curled up against your side, arms wrapping around your arm and squeezing it. You took a spoonful of rice and brought it to his lips as he leaned over the tray.

Opening his mouth wide, he put his soft, plump lips around the spoon, eyes wide, fixed on yours.

He was teasing you.

You huffed out a heavy breath. “Jimin.”

“What” He sputtered through his mouthful of food.

You shook your head.

“More.” He muttered before opening his mouth wide. “Aaah.” He said, inviting you to feed him.

You huffed out, slightly annoyed, and offered him another bite. “Come on, good boy.” He brushed the side of his face against your arm, his lips curling up in a confident smirk.

You fed him the whole bowl, alternating it with salad leaves, offering him sweet praises and cuddles. “Now, will you explain to me why you are not taking care of yourself, Jimin?”

You gave him a serious stare, your voice concerned but also caring.

“I’m just busy.” He shrugged. “No big deal.” He didn’t look you in the eye.

“Jimin.”

This time he looked up at you. “What?” He taunted.

“You’re tense, baby. I see that you’re stressed.” You caressed his hair. “What is it?”

Was this the right moment to tell you? He shook his head. “It’s just work. We’ve been producing more material than usual and it’s taking its toll.”

“Is that why you’re not eating much?” You moved the tray out of the way, taking your arm away from his grip and wrapping it around his shoulders.

He hid into your chest, nodding.

“Oh, my poor baby.” You cooed, pampering him, brushing up and down his spine with your palm. “Do you want cuddles?”

He felt spoiled. He felt cared for and loved. He felt like you could understand him. It felt right.

With a wave of courage taking over his body, he slithered out of your embrace and quickly found his way to the bathroom, fumbling with the drawer where he kept the hair dryer.

When he came back, his pace was significantly slower, his footsteps wary and insecure. His whole posture had changed as he hid his head low between his shoulders, his back hunched, his hands holding something to his chest.

You watched perplexed as he neared the foot of the bed. “I really don’t know how to say this.” He murmured with a little lisp in his words.

You felt like melting on the bed. Ever since your first day you had grown fond both of his tender, delicate side and his flirty, cheeky one. The shift from one to another always kept you on the edge of your seat, never knowing whether you’d be confronted with the sweet, affectionate boy or the forward, bold man. All that you knew was that, since you started dating four months ago, you had started falling for him. And just now Love hit you like a train on a track.

And he had been falling too. All he needed was the final push, confirming that you would satisfy that tiny whim of his, that recurring fantasy that he never had the courage to bring up since you two started messing around, a couple months ago.

“You can say anything to me, darling.” You reassured him. “Come here, show me what you got there.”

He climbed on the bed, crawling toward you on his knees, hands still plastered to his chest. “Will you promise me you won’t laugh at me?” He whispered.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You said, your voice calm and comforting.

His wide, glimmering eyes met yours and your whole body warmed with understanding and compassion.

“I would never, ever laugh at you, pretty duckling.” You opened your arms wide and he let his body fall gently into your hug. Now he was curled up against your side, head laying on your chest, leg wrapped around your hips possessively.

He let the secret object fall on your belly.

A hairbrush.

Your brow twitched. “Jimin, baby, I need you to explain.” You felt too confused to put two and two together.

“I— You know that sometimes people feel the need to… Get a little rough?” He searched for your hand, toying with your fingers. He was looking even smaller now, all your protective instincts surging beneath your skin.

“You want to get a little rough?” You asked, still trying to understand the exact implication of that.

“I want you to get a little rough with me.” He admitted, blushing violently and hiding his face into you.

“You want me to use the hairbrush on you?” You asked, trying to clarify.

He nodded into the crook of your neck.

Well, of course you were a little shocked, but not surprised. Not at all. It was clear that Jimin liked to be pampered and spoiled. He liked praises and cuddles and attention. He liked flirting and he liked when people flirted back. He liked when people decided to one-up his cheekiness, to beat him in brazenness.

And of course he liked partners who could put him back in his place.

“I need you to sit up, duckling.” You ordered him with honeyed voice. “And I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

He heard the change in attitude and he parted from your chest, looking you in the eye.

“Sit up, Jiminie.”

He obeyed, bending his legs under his torso, his ass resting on his heels.

“I’ll play it out for you, all you need to say is yes and no.” You assisted him in this laboured confession. It was unusual for Jimin to act shy, and you assumed that you had to treat such vulnerability with tender and loving care, creating a positive association to him confessing his insecurities, through praises and affection, emotionally wrapping him up in a warm blanket, putting him in a pretty bubble that could become a safe environment until he felt strong enough to go back into the real world.

“You want me to spank you?”

He nodded, hiding his face behind his lovely hands.

“Look at me, duckling.” You told him quietly, holding his wrists and taking his hands away from his eyes.

He whined a little but at the end he settled his hands down on his lap and looked at you.

“I cannot use the hairbrush on you, Jiminie. Because I don’t know how to use it and I could hurt you.” You knew you weren’t ready for it. And it would have been dumb and dangerous of you to ignore your lack of experience and preparation. This is not stuff that should be played with, especially without proper research and training.

He looked at his lap and nodded, understanding you completely, but still a bit upset at the thought that he needed to postpone this experience with you. Because it wasn’t a no, right? It was a maybe later, right?

You looked at his unhappy expression. You not wanting to use the hairbrush on him didn’t mean that the whole scene was cancelled. Maybe if you set the right terms you could be safe and still make it right for him. “Would it be okay if I used my hands? Get you used to those before we get naughtier?”

He looked up at you, eyes gleaming with surprise and gratitude at your offer. He nodded eagerly.

“Then that’s it, duckling. We’ll go with my hand. But first we need to talk about this very thoroughly.”

“It’s okay. We can discuss rules and safewords.” He suggested.

You nodded. “That’s right. I need to know what you want me to do, Jimin. I need you to help me make it safe and pleasurable for you.” You felt like you needed his guidance. “I need you to help me, Jimin.”

He noticed you using his name, twice, and the submissive side of him subdued as he annulled the power imbalance and came in your assistance. “We can start from something very easy. I would say we could try a set of ten, but the golden rule of every first scene is to stay hungry and do only half of one of the many many things you want to try. So the best way to do this safely is to limit this to five hits. Can you do five hits, ____?”

You thought about it carefully, not letting yourself be seduced by the thought of Jimin in such a vulnerable position. “I think so. But as I said, guidance is key.”

“It’s okay. I’ll try and lead you, call that a power bottom.” He giggled shyly, trying to brighten the mood. “I’ve been trying to talk about this for a while.” He explained. “I didn’t know how to ask.” He tweaked his fingers in the meanwhile, torturing himself a little.

“Is that why you’ve been tense lately?” You questioned.

“Yes. I mean, I think I’ve always thought about this since we started dating, but lately it’s a way more recurrent thought.” He explained, shoving his hands under his thighs.

“Okay. Let’s take this as a trial round. We’ll start with five hits. I’ll only use my hands. You can stop me at any moment. And I may decide to interrupt the scene, if I find myself inadequate.”

He looked you in the eye. “Do you want a safeword for yourself? I mean, technically you’ll be dominating but it is not uncommon for novice dominants to have a safeword they say before they snap out of their role. It can also be a signal that determines the end of the scene.”

You took a pause to mull over it. “Good. Do you have one that you’ve used before or that you’re comfortable with?”

He thought about it, quickly, trying to remember the information he had picked up from various websites. “The most obvious one would be the colour system. Green for good, Yellow to slow down and Red to stop?”

You smiled encouragingly and caressed his face. “Yes, of course. That’s easy.”

“Usually this kind of scene is used for punishment and atonement. I think that you can interrupt it by explicitly saying “you are forgiven”, or any sentence along the lines of that.” He suggested.

That was smart. Intuitive.

He looked back at you, holding your face. “I trust you. You’re smart and compassionate. You’re empathetic. I know that you won’t hurt me. I value your common sense and your affection. I know you’ll keep me safe, ____.” The words were almost there. I love you, Princess.

You leaned in his hold, inhaling deeply.

He continued your briefing. “I’ll help you through it. Five blows sound like a small number, but what’s important is the quality. Take your time after the first one, rub the spot you’ve just hit and the one you’re going to hit next. Sensitise the skin before you hit.” He directed you. “Normally a submissive can speak only when directly addressed to, however it’s our first scene, so if you prefer I can interact with you at any given time.” He explained, comforting you some more.

“Okay, Jiminie.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you brightly, giggling slightly.

You huffed out a focused breath. “Let’s recap. Just five spanks, with my hand. If you want me to slow down, you say yellow. If you want me to stop, you say red. You can interact with me as much as you want. Between one spank and the next, I will rub your skin and receive your feedback.” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to enter our role as a dominant. “I will take care of you, Duckling. Are you okay?” You waited for his confirm.

He nodded, looking at you with such adoration in his eyes that your whole heart melted.

“Is it okay if I call you duckling, baby?” You asked him.

He nodded. “Yes, ____. Is there any name you want me to call you?” He asked in return.

“For now my name is okay, Jiminie. Are you still tipsy, baby? Your consent is important and I cannot play with you unless your consent comes as an extremely lucid decision.”

He nodded. “I am okay. I didn’t drink that much, and I ate too. The alcohol is already gone, I promise.” He wasn’t looking impatient or greedy, both things that would cloud his judgement.

“I am very thankful that you trusted me enough to talk about this with me, and that you trust me enough to let me try this with you. I really can’t wait to explore with you, but I will have to do some research after tonight.” You admitted. The nourishing instincts of a carer had always been natural to you, and his request didn't sound absolutely inadequate or unfeasible. To put it plainly, you were quite interested into becoming more dominant, and learning about BDSM practices didn’t sound bad at all. Especially if Jimin was the one you would be using them with.

He let the thought sink in. "So you would be okay with this becoming a more frequent thing?" He asked.

More frequent? "Well, for now let's try this tonight. And then we need to learn how to do this in full safety. The best thing to do would be to learn about this first — better safe than sorry — but you said you will help me, and we’re taking this slow, so I can learn as we go. Just a few smacks, to see if you like this. Innocently. You know I wouldn't do this if there were even the smallest chance of me hurting you, right?" You reassured him, thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong.

"I know you would never hurt me.” He said, big, pleading eyes set on you. God, I’m such a fool for him._

“Do you want this, Jimin?” You asked very seriously.

He nodded before holding your hand. “Yes, I do.”

“I need you to be really, really sure, Jimin.” You repeated. The more times you asked, the better. He needed to understand that consent is important. For girls such a lesson is somehow engraved in their mind. They grow up learning that “yes” and “no” are very heavy, big words. Boys sometimes tend to forget that. They’ve been subjected to centuries of predator theory, being only subjects of desire, rather than objects of it, forced to actively initiate sexuality and hardly ever taught of being on the receiving end of lascivious intentions. They never had to learn to say yes or no because society never supposed that they would be the ones answering rather than asking.

“I am really, really sure, ____.” He confirmed, holding both of your hands now.

Nodding, you bent and kissed him sweetly. “You know I care about you a lot, right?” You whispered on his lips. You felt like the “I love you” was right there, on the tip of your tongue, still you swallowed it, letting only the watered-down taste of affection slip past your lips.

“I know.” He blushed and kissed you harder. “And I trust you. And I care about you too.”

“Then, would you like to take off your clothes, duckling?” You offered.

He hummed in confirmation, standing up at the foot of the bed and taking off his shirt.

You stood up next to him, your hand caressing his chiselled abdomen, running upwards, following the thin valley connecting his navel to his jutting breastbone. “Look at my lovely boy.” You whispered at his ear, standing behind him. “He looks so good when he takes care of himself.” You massaged the tense muscles of his shoulders. “When he eats he becomes a strong, healthy boy. So good looking.” Your hands dove into the hair at his nape, tugging it slightly so that his head was thrown back, exposing his sensual neckline and his strong jaw.

“Can you take off your sweats and underwear, duckling?” You asked, your voice resembling a sickeningly sweet dark poison.

“Yes, ____.” He murmured, undoing the ribbon of his sweats and tugging both them and his briefs to his ankles. As he was bent over in front of you, you held him steady with your hands on his hips, caressing the swell of his ass as he stood back up straight.

When he felt your hand on the muscle, a shiver ran down your spine, making him exhale and whine quietly.

“You like it, Jiminie?” You asked kindly. “You like booty rubs?”

He blushed, nodding with small motions.

“Say it out loud for me, duckling. Let me hear what makes my baby happy. Do you like booty rubs, Jiminie?” You cooed.

“Yes, I like your booty rubs, Princess.” He used your nickname, trying to reconnect with that fond, well-known part of you. He felt vulnerable and reminding himself all the times you’d been a sputtering mess below him, as he teased you with the nickname, brought back slight balance in his mind.

“Good. Now, you asked to be spanked, Jiminie. Would you like to get in your favoured position, baby?” You let him choose. If it were for you, you would love to see him on his knees and elbows on the bed, but you thought it would be better to let him choose.

“Do you think I can just lay on the bed on my belly?” He asked, insecure, waiting for you to confirm.

You thought about it. “As long as it’s not uncomfortable laying on your front when you’re turned on.” You reasoned, thinking about his possibly painful erection. “And you need to be relaxed and comfortable. Can you breathe comfortably like that?” You checked.

He nodded. “I just need a pillow under my chest.” He informed you, assuming his position. You were still at the foot of the bed, staring at his beautiful backside, taking in the strong lines of his back and spine, the twitching muscles resembling the fluttering feathers of a regal swan.

“You are a vision, duckling.” You complimented him, and his blush made him hide his face in the comforter.

“Thank you, ____.”

Miss, that’s what felt right. But that would be for next time. Right now you wanted one task and you wanted to carry it out perfectly.

“Where do you want me, duckling?” You asked for his directions, still trying to make it sound like you were the one in control, the one making him a favour by asking for his preference.

“Could you sit on your knees next to my hips, on the bed?” He suggested, his tone so sweet and delicate you felt like you would give him the moon if only he asked.

Following his direction, you sat beside him as instructed. “Here, duckling?” You felt like addressing him with such nickname was helping you separate your boyfriend from the splendid, unfamiliar figure on his bed.

He turned his head slightly, checking your position. “Just make sure that you’re comfortable staying like that, that you can fully control the movement of your arm. You can touch me and check whether the angle feels comfortable for you. You could hurt yourself too if the angle is wrong.”

You nodded, rolling your shoulders in anticipation. After taking a deep breath you let your hands run from the back of his knee to the full, toned muscle of his ass, your nails scratching delicately, in a barely-there motion.

He hummed out a gentle moan at that, nodding in appreciation. “This is the right moment to locate any vulnerable parts. Careful with bones and nerves: you must not go there. Locate the tailbone. Use your thumbs side by side, down the spine.” He instructed, the briefing identical to the one he used when he massaged Taehyung after tough workouts.

You followed his directions, finding the delicate spot a couple inches down the seam of his ass. “Here?”

“Exactly. Before you go, place your non-dominant hand on the spot you’ve just found. That will keep you from hitting anywhere dangerous. Identify the soft, fleshy parts — the lower part of the cheek, the upper thigh — there, you can hit without worrying too much.” He was relaxing you through the briefing. You felt already more confident, his calm voice leading you and making you feel like everything would be okay.

With one hand blocking the no-zone, the other one on your target, you started massaging the skin gently, correcting your posture as you went. You found yourself sitting with your thighs perpendicular to him, your palm caressing his butt cheeks, just like he’d told you. “Is it okay?” You asked.

He turned, looking at you, enjoying how he had to twist and arch his back to see you. Analysing the position quickly he nodded. “That’s good posture, princess. Check that your wrist doesn’t strain. Check if your hand creates a rough angle with your forearm.”

Your wrist kept a neat line. You nodded. “Okay.”

“I trust you, princess.” He reminded you, caressing your calf before tucking his hands under his chest.

You smiled, confidence renewed. Your aim is to take care of your man. That’s all you want. You would do anything for him. And to see him relaxed and sated? Because you gave him what he needs? Yes. Anytime, anyplace. “Are you all set, puppy?”

He released a tight breath. “Yes, ____.”

“Perfect. Do you remember your safewords, duckling?” You asked, making sure that he remembered that he could stop you at any given time.

“I do, ____.” He confirmed, his voice firm but incredibly sweet and slightly high-pitched.

“Okay. I’ll start.” You rubbed his flesh a couple times, then you lifted your hand, aiming for the lower part of his ass, where it curved downwards into his thigh. When your hand was a foot or so away from your target, you stopped, gathering the tension necessary to smack him. Biting your lip, you struck.

He chirped out a “yes” while your hand stayed on his skin rubbing gently.

“Are you good, duckling?” You checked.

“Yes, ____. Yes. That was a perfect thud. Keep rubbing.” He directed.

Fuck, that was truly a lovely thud: heavy handed, with a nice, rigid wrist, the palm sufficiently cupped to adhere to the skin.

“Any feedback?” You asked.

“Not really. Just advice. Hit with your wrist and your elbow, not with your shoulder.” He hummed as your hand stilled and just pressed more firmly against his reddening skin. “That’s good, ____. Keep your elbow tucked into your side. Try again, on the other leg now.” He suggested.

Adjusting your angle, you mentally repeated the instruction. Elbow tucked in, rub. Check the wrist angle. Check the other hand covering the tailbone. Move your dominant hand away. One foot roughly. Deep breath. Focus. Release.

The breath Jimin was holding came out as the softest, angelic sound, his head hiding in the sheets, his legs twitching while your hand on the small of his back kept him still.

Focusing on your task, you didn’t let his sound distract you as you kept your hand pressed into his bum. “You liked that, duckling?”

“Yes.” He giggled, huffing out a quiet whine. “Can you go harder? Just like before but harder?”

You took a deep breath, your palm raising from his skin so it was only the tip of your nails drawing small circles on the blushing imprints on his ass. “I can go harder, duckling. Are you uncomfortable on your lap?” You worried, thinking about how hard he must be by now.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, ____.” He reassured you.

“Perfect. Harder?” You asked, removing your hand, letting some anticipation slip in.

“Please, ____.” He moaned.

You knew what you wanted, right in that moment. You could handle just that one more thing. So you asked.

“Do you think you would enjoy calling me Miss, duckling?” You questioned very carefully.

He turned towards you. “Are you sure?” He asked, eagerness filling his voice.

“Yes.” Just like you called him “duckling”, you wanted your identity as his girlfriend the be partitioned from what you were doing right now. “What do you say to this, duckling?” Use that name for me.

“Thank you, Miss.”

Satisfied with his reply, you let your forearm swing and hit. You slightly reprimanded yourself for your shoulder slightly accompanying the motion, but how could you feel sorry when Jimin moaned like that?

The movement felt more familiar now, your arm getting used to measures and intensity.

You rested your palm for a few seconds. “What do you say, duckling?”

“Thank you, Miss.” He cried out deliciously, voice dripping in pleasure.

“That’s a good boy.” You cooed. “Ready for the next?”

“Yes, Miss.” He replied quickly.

“There we go, duckling.” You said. This time you carefully took initiative. Elbow a foot from your side, you rubbed your target. Check the wrist angle. Check the other hand covering the tailbone. Move the hand away, this time a foot and a half. Deep breath. Focus. Release. You let your forearm swing back a little, gaining momentum, before lashing forward, hitting him with a last minute flick of the wrist, curving the swipe upward.

“Oh, Miss, thank you.” He squealed, his hips thrusting against the bed.

“You’re welcome, duckling. You liked it more or less than before?”

“More, Miss.” He chirped enthusiastically.

“It’s the last one, duckling. You want me to give you another like the one I just gave you?” You asked, glad that he was enjoying the scene.

“Please, another stinging one, Miss.” He pleaded.

“Here it comes, duckling.” You took a few more seconds, feeling more comfortable, prepping just like you did before. Big breath. Swing back and… smack.

“Thank you, Miss.” He breathed out.

“Are you okay, duckling?” You asked, massaging him before bending down to kiss his reddened skin. You kissed both his reddened glutes, your other hand caressing his spine now that the spanking was over. Raising up, you kept stroking his back until you reached his head, moving his hair off his face, inviting him to look you in the eye.

As soon as he established eye contact, you gave him your agreed cue. “You are forgiven, Jimin.”

His lips parted gently, his eyebrows arching and knitting together, his soft features expressing confusion. “Is it over already?” He asked.

“Yes, baby.” You comforted him. “Five hits. One set. Just like we had agreed.” You reminded him.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Okay.”

“How are you feeling?” You asked, even though you had just checked in.

He looked at you as you sat on your hip, moving closer to his face, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m very glad I did this with you.” He whispered.

You kissed his lips. “I am glad you asked, baby.”

He slowly brought his arms out from below himself, letting the one on your side fall heavily on top of your body. “Can we make love now?” He asked with the most tender, vulnerable voice you had ever heard from him.

You felt like crying. Because of his request, of his word choice, of the gentleness of his voice.

“Yes, if you want to.” You murmured intimately. “Let me undress.”

He let go of you and turned on his side to look at you standing by the bed, removing your clothes in an absolutely ordinary fashion. The room was basking in the yellowy soft light coming from the bedside table, turning your skin a mild golden shade.

“You look so pretty.” he whispered, completely enchanted by you.

Smiling shyly, you let your panties fall to the floor, climbing on the bed. “Thank you.” You whispered.

You were laying side by side, naked, looking in each other’s eyes, no embarrassment between you. It felt right.

“I love you.” He whispered, his arm coming around your waist.

It was your turn to stare at him with your mouth agape.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He said, at the same time as you told him: “I love you too.”

He giggled, eyes disappearing, lips stretching in a fond smile.

He rolled on top of you. “Say it again.” He ordered sweetly.

“I love you too.” You murmured, chuckling.

“I love you too.” He said right back, leaving playful, messy smooches all over your face. You laughed even more, basking in the warmth of this moment, in the domestic surety that it will be forever saved in your memory, with its colour, sound, scent, and feeling. That such tenderness would always be associated with Jimin’s smiling face hovering over you.

He used his knees and one elbow to sustain his weight as his palm reached to cup your cheek, thumb pressed on your lip. “I love you a lot, princess.”

Your eyes closed as you smiled at him. “I want you, Jimin.” You said, opening your eyes and biting your lip.

“Want me to grab a condom?” He asked, always considerate.

You thought about it quickly. You were both tested and clean, you were monogamous and you were in a committed relationship. You loved him and trusted him. And he loved you and trusted you too. What could possibly hold you back at this point?

“We can do it without, if it’s okay with you. You know I’m on the pill.” You stated.

“Are you sure?” He waited for you to confirm.

Nodding, you moved your hand into his hair, bringing his face closer to yours so you could finally kiss him a you wanted to.

You immediately took his plump lower lip in your mouth, sucking on it as he growled, letting you do what you wanted with him, too lost in you to do anything but follow your lead. Your hand moved down his abs, landing on his hard length.

He drew back from your mouth, kissing your jaw, moving to your ear.

“Touch yourself, princess. I don’t know how long I’ll last bare inside you.” He explained, his mind set on making you cum around him before he lost his cool.

You obeyed, fingers finding your clit as he slid a bit lower down your body, so that his mouth was at level with your breasts. Sucking your nipple in his mouth, he focused his eyes on the expression on your face, bliss making your features flutter. As his mouth moved to the other nipple, you thrust your hips upward, into him.

“Are you ready, princess?” He asked, moving towards your face, looking at you intently.

You nodded, moaning. “Please.”

Propping himself on his elbow, he used his free arm to stroke himself a couple times, dragging the tip against your slit to make the access more slippery. “Ready, princess?” He asked. As you nodded he reminded you once more: “I love you.”

“I love you.” You replied as he slipped in.

It wasn’t easy. But it was not difficult either. It was different. He felt warm. Warmer than usual. And slippery. Everything felt wetter. Maybe because you were.

“Hell, princess, I can fell everything.” He growled. “So damn good, baby.”

You grunted quietly, panting, trying to adjust to him. One of your hand stayed on your clit, drawing small circles on it in hope that the stimulation would help you relax and stretch for him; your other palm moved to his waist, caressing his spine.

“Can I?” He asked, grunting himself as he tried to keep still.

“Just another second, love.” You murmured, closing your eyes and taking a big breath.

He bent down and kissed your cheek. “I should have prepped you.” He whispered.

“It’s fine.” You reassured him. As his small gestures of affection calmed you down, you felt ready for him to move. Pushing your hips away from him, you started grinding on him, letting him slip out only for an inch before taking him inside you again.

“Dammit baby.” He murmured. “So tight.”

You kissed his furrowed brow, eyes shut tight in concentration. He tried to open them to look at you, dropping his head to kiss your mouth, your chin, the crook of your neck. “You’re perfect, baby. I love you so much.” He repeated once more and you knew, right in that moment, that he would never get tired of telling you.

“Jimin, faster, please.” You begged.

He growled and smashed his hips against yours. “Baby, I need you to...” Still supporting his weight with one arm, he used the other one to bring your hand from his waist to his ass, where you knew his skin was still stinging with your spanks. You felt the skin grow hotter there, probably because it was red and tender. “Grab it, princess. Use it.”

He looked you in the eye with scorching intensity before his mouth dipped to your breast while his fingers unlatched from your wrist and landed on you breast, his digits tweaking your nipple.

His pace got incredibly faster, encouraged by your hand leading him, setting the pace and manhandling his sensitised skin. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin drowned your laboured pants. The hand on your clit stopped just as you threw your head back with a silent scream, your climax surprising you, and Jimin too, your tight grip on his cock becoming even tighter. He completely lost his pace, hammering furiously inside you until relief washed over him, his orgasm filling you so deep you felt your bones melt at how hot he was inside you.

“I love you.” You murmured for the millionth time as he collapsed over you.

“I love you too.”

⁂⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂

I left the book in Jimin’s office. Joon let me in. I left you some notes in it, including other useful resources. We can talk about it anytime.

It was a text from an old highschool friend of yours, who apparently had been dating Namjoon for a while now. You had met maybe a bunch of times during group celebrations, small dinners, birthday parties. It didn’t take long before you got acquainted again, going for coffee dates, hanging out together, especially when the guys were busy — you also found out that your university flatmate and her knew each other, which really seemed a strange twist of fate. Your first reaction the day after your steamy night with Jimin was to text her. You knew it would be absurd and possibly uncomfortable or embarrassing, but it’s not like you were unused to gossiping about your sex lives: your partners too famous for the two of you to confess anything to anyone else. It was a strange friendship, but somehow, among all that madness you both found solace and companionship with each other. So, when you texted her, you somehow expected her to help you, however, her reply surprised you.

It’s okay, I’ve got something for you. But we better call Lace too. She’s the best.

It took you a few days to read the book. As soon as you were done reading the guide, you texted both Lace and Vixen.

Dinner at mine this Friday?

And that’s how you found one trained brat, one certified rope bunny and a BDSM guide in front of you, at the dinner table of your apartment.

“Where do you want to start, sweetheart?” Said Vixen.

“This is gonna be so fun!” Chimed in Lace.

Thank God there was wine in the fridge and a long night before you.

#bts smut #bangtan smut #jimin x reader smut #park jimin #jimin one shot #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #bangtan sonyeondan #jimin reaction #sub!jimin

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dweetwise · 4 years ago

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yes hello, i’m back on my riconti bullshit again, this time with a cute prompt fill from @dailyau by @hcpelesshcney about fire alarms and sharing a blanket ❤️

i’m also trying something new with splitting a fic into chapters!

ship: felix x ace warnings: briefly mentioned internalized homophobia word count: 3700

[next]

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire (part 1)

It's surprising just how scattered the human brain becomes during a crisis.

When Felix was woken from his restless sleep in the hotel bed by a blaring fire alarm, he'd bolted out of the bed and scrambled out into the hallway without second thought. He'd probably even left the door to his room wide open, with his wallet, passport, phone and laptop all neatly arranged on the desk for anyone to walk by and steal.

And now he's standing in the parking lot in the chilly late summer night, dressed in nothing but his pajama pants and a t-shirt. His socks were drenched as soon as he stepped outside, running straight into a puddle while hurrying to get away from the potential fire.

At least he's not alone in the stressful predicament. There's plenty of other people around, looking just as lost and dazed as him, having been forced to evacuate the hotel in the middle of the night. Most have been sensible enough to bring their jackets and shoes, a couple of kids even huddling beneath a hotel duvet.

And since there's no sign of a fire or even any smoke, Felix feels like an idiot for not having the foresight to bring something to warm him up.

The firefighters have just arrived at the scene and are preparing to search the building for the source of the alarm. Felix tries not to shiver even more as he relents to the fact that they're still going to be stuck out there for quite some time.

The crowd in the parking lot is loud, families and partners gossiping amongst themselves, some people even arguing with the staff members about ruining their vacation. Felix wishes they'd just shut up, more than happy to forget this ever happened if he'd just get to curl back under the warm covers of his bed instead of freezing out here.

This trip just kept getting worse. Not only had he been forced to come on only a day's notice, taking over Lauren's business trip across the Atlantic when she'd unexpectedly caught a cold. He’d also had to take a shitty flight route with two extra stops, and his last flight had been no less than six hours late.

When he’d finally arrived at the hotel and started trying to sleep off the massive jet lag after barely getting any sleep on the plane, he'd been rudely awakened by an emergency. And now, to add insult to injury, he’s gone from the threat of burning to death to freezing to death.

“Hey,” a voice says from right beside him, making Felix jolt in surprise over being distracted from his internal pity party.

He sees a man standing next to him, wrapped in a hotel-issued blanket, looking up at him with curious brown eyes and a pleasant smile.

Felix racks his brain for if he knows this man or not, but draws up a blank, the tiredness and cold making his thoughts feel sluggish. The man is shorter than Felix and looks a little older, if the laugh lines and grey hair are anything to go by.

“You look cold,” the man says. “Wanna share my blanket?”

As the man lifts the fabric just the slightest bit in invitation, mortification hits Felix. Not only is his shivering noticeable enough to warrant someone taking pity on him, he's being offered physical contact from a stranger.

Isn't it a weird thing to offer, especially to another man? Does he somehow know that Felix is gay? Is he making fun of him? Or is it just an American thing? Wouldn't it be weirder for Felix not to accept, since the man has noticed how much he’s freezing?

“Alright,” the man says when Felix isn't replying, lowering the bedding in surrender. “My bad, I just thought—"”

“Yes,” Felix says, interrupting him.

“Uh…” the man says, understandably confused by Felix's social awkwardness.

“Yes, I want to sh-share,” Felix says, another full-body shiver wracking his body.

“Oh! Sure,” the man grins happily, and then he's suddenly very close, shoulder bumping against Felix's chest, and a corner of the blanket is thrown haphazardously over Felix's shoulder.

“T-thank you,” Felix stammers, both from the nerves and the cold, grabbing the soft cotton fabric and pulling it tighter against himself.

And causing the stranger to stumble even closer from the momentum.

“Sure, don't mention it,” the man grins, like he's not now pressed against a stranger's side from shoulder to hip.

Embarrassed as Felix feels, both the blanket and the person attached to it are warm. Felix has to stop himself from sighing blissfully as the other's body heat starts to warm him up, slowly working away at the chill in his bones.

“Well, since we're gonna be stuck here for a while,” the man muses. “My name's Ace.”

“F-F-Felix,” Felix manages through clattering teeth.

“I'd shake your hand, but I think we're past that stage already,” Ace jokes, and then offers a pleased grin as Felix huffs out a surprised laugh through his nose. “In any case, it’s nice to meet you, Felix,” the man looks up at him and smiles, and Felix's poor, gay heart skips a beat.

Yeah, this is definitely preferable to freezing to death.

“I wonder how long they'll take to find the cause this time,” Ace starts conversationally, while pulling out his phone from the nest of blankets. He sets to what looks like writing a text to someone, not seeming the least bit bothered by their predicament.

“You don't seem very nervous,” Felix observes.

“Not my first rodeo,” Ace looks up and grins. “Probably someone just smoked inside and tripped the alarm. Happens a lot in hotels.”

“D-d-do you travel? A lot?” Felix asks, partly do distract himself from the cold while he gets his body heat up, partly to divert Ace’s attention from his phone.

“You could say that,” Ace says. “What about you? Here on business?”

“Yes,” Felix says, with no small amount of annoyance over being reminded he still has work tomorrow. “Thankfully my meeting isn't until the afternoon.”

“Glad you can get your beauty sleep,” Ace says.

“And hopefully get rid of the jet lag,” Felix comments with a tired sigh.

Ace hums in acknowledgement before going back to his phone message. Felix tries not to take it personally; he knows he's not that interesting to talk to.

Ace is so warm, and it's a little awkward being pressed this close, but embarrassingly enough, Felix finds himself drifting even closer. Ace smells like whiskey and cheap cologne, but somehow, it's oddly comforting. He'd probably been drinking last night—well, technically tonight. Thankfully, he doesn't seem drunk, as Felix doubts he would have had the patience to deal with alcohol-induced rambling.

“Whiskey man, I see,” Felix comments. When Ace looks up from his phone in surprise, Felix realize how weird it is for him to admit to smelling the man.

“I reek that bad, huh?” Ace grins, taking the comment in stride.

“I didn't mean—” Felix flounders to explain.

Damnit, he should just give up on trying to make conversation.

“Wow, lighten up,” Ace says and elbows him playfully under the blanket, adding even more physical contact to their already borderline inappropriate situation.

Felix tries to ignore the fluttering in his gut when he feels Ace's hairy forearm brush against his own. This is more physical contact than he's gotten from another man… probably ever.

“Yeah, I had a few drinks earlier. I'm more of a wine man, but…” Ace seems to ponder. “Sometimes, you've got to try new things.”

Like huddling under a blanket with an attractive stranger, Felix considers.

Suddenly, he almost regrets the blanket blocking his view from seeing more of the man. His body feels firm against Felix's, and his shoulders look defined, though that could just be an illusion from the thick fabric covering them.

“What’s your poison?” Ace asks, following Felix's awkward silence.

“I don't drink much,” Felix lies, like he hasn’t been going through his father’s old liquor collection at an alarming rate for the past year or so. “Uhm… whiskey, I guess. And bourbon.”

He could really, really go for either one right now. Not only would the drinks warm him up, they'd also make him act like an actual human being instead of the stiff robot impression he's currently doing.

“Huh,” Ace comments.

“What?” Felix asks, trying not to get defensive.

“Nothing! I would have pegged you as a beer guy, is all,” Ace muses. “Maybe that's just the accent, though.”

“Sorry,” Felix apologizes. Now hyperaware of his bad pronunciation and extremely German accent, he tries to bury his face deeper into the blanket in embarrassment.

“Naw, hey, come on,” Ace turns toward him as much as the cramped space allows him to. “Your English is amazing! The accent only adds charm.”

Felix looks at Ace's encouraging smile and tries not to think too much about their thighs now pressing together. Ace is clearly waiting for him to say something, but all Felix can focus on is his warm body and striking features.

“Where are you from?” Felix asks instead, trying to place the hint of an accent he thinks he hears.

“Huh. Good catch,” Ace smiles, seeming surprised. “Guess!”

Felix flushes and looks at Ace's eagerly grinning face. It's nighttime, but Ace's skin seems darker than his own, and his features look Mediterranean, reminding Felix of countless business trips to Spain. But the accent…

“Italy?” Felix suggests, and Ace's smile somehow widens even further.

“Close!” Ace says. “Argentina.”

“Ehm…” Felix furrows his brow in confusion, thinking that surely, being a whole continent and world sea off doesn't exactly count as "close".

“My family hails from Italy, and it's my native language,” Ace explains. “So it was a really good guess!”

“Thank you…?” Felix says awkwardly.

“I'd ask what you were doing when the alarm went off, but…” Ace pauses, glancing up at his disheveled hair. “From your outfit choice and the bedhead, I'd put 50 bucks on 'sleeping'."

“You'd be correct,” Felix murmurs, self-consciously poking his hand out from under the blanket to run through his tousled hair. “I'm not very interesting.”

“I think I'll be the judge of that," Ace grins. “If, uh… you don't mind chatting to pass the time?”

“Not at all,” Felix says, hoping he doesn't sound too eager, happy Ace deems him interesting enough to talk to instead of whoever he was texting earlier.

They spend some twenty minutes chatting about mostly insignificant things. But as much as Felix usually hates small talk, he now welcomes it, because Ace is asking him interesting questions instead of just talking about the weather. He appears to genuinely care about Felix's story, and Felix might end up sharing a little too much, from the work stress and business trip he didn't even want to come to, all the way to his relationship that ended a few weeks ago.

Ace seems friendly and pleasant, taking Felix's awkward pauses and nervousness in stride, filling in the silences with stories of his own. Felix hears a lot about the different places he's traveled to, along with some hotel horror stories that make him feel much better about the current fire alarm situation. He manages a few laughs, some merely polite, but some genuinely amused at Ace's over-the-top storytelling.

Eventually, Ace's phone beeps again and he excuses himself and engrosses himself momentarily in the screen, and this time, Felix welcomes the brief break in socializing.

He realizes just how nice this is. It feels like a stroke of luck that only a few short weeks after ending his relationship with his ex-girlfriend and coming out in the process, he'd meet a handsome stranger this eager to cuddle up to him.

Not cuddle up—share a blanket, Felix mentally berates himself.

He glances at Ace out of the corner of his eye, seeing his side profile illuminated by the dim glow from the phone screen. Felix never really considered what his type would be, apart from the all-encompassing "men" that he'd only recently come to accept about himself. But taking in Ace's defined features and the smile that seems to be a permanent part of his face, he's starting to get an idea.

Quickly looking away before Ace catches him staring, Felix suddenly feels almost too warm. He shouldn't get ahead of himself; even though It feels like Ace is being a little too friendly, he hasn't actually made a move, seeming happy just with chatting to kill time.

Felix briefly toys with the idea of placing his hand on Ace's hip in a loose embrace, just to test the waters. He'd never be that brave, but if he was, he'd at least know for sure, even if it would probably end in Ace being disgusted and kicking him out of the blanket cocoon.

But… maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d smile even wider and return the gesture, just as eager as Felix to get even closer. Felix would wrap his arms around him, and they'd stand there cuddling and sharing even more body heat, maybe even kissing—

Shit. This is exactly what his therapist said he shouldn't do, the term "excessive daydreaming" flashing in his mind.

“Sorry,” Ace is saying, turning back to face him and pocketing the phone, completely oblivious to Felix's internal dilemma. “Where were we?”

“I, uh,” Felix stammers.

Was just thinking about kissing you.

“Did I tell you about the time a bunch of college kids decided to set off fireworks in the hotel room next to mine?” Ace offers, saving Felix from floundering for a topic.

“What—why would they…?” Felix asks.

“Well, I'd just gotten back from this extravagant New Years party—” Ace excitedly starts telling yet another story, and Felix keenly starts listening in.

Ace seems to be completely in his element, getting lost in talking about just how fancy the party was, followed by a dramatic retelling of some very incredulously sounding explosions that turned out to be fireworks. Felix keeps listening raptly, not entirely sure about the accuracy of the story, but enjoying seeing the other so happy. The blanket occasionally shifts as Ace tries to gesture with his hands to add to the narration, only to remember that he can't, looking sheepish every time.

Felix has never met someone with such effortless charisma. Ace's voice is rich and pleasant, and Felix briefly zones out while he imagines it talking him to sleep.

It's stupid, and he knows it. He's only known the man for half an hour, and even "knowing" him is pushing it. Felix is only in the country for two more days, and he’s very aware that pursuing anything would be pointless.

But he also knows that given the chance, he wouldn't say no to seeing Ace again. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, the narrowly averted emergency, or simply being far away from home and realizing nobody would ever find out. Either way, he’s feeling more adventurous than usual, the adrenaline in his veins and butterflies in his gut keeping his tired body on high alert.

Too bad he's deathly afraid of rejection and would never dare to ask if the other is interested.

Suddenly, there's the screech of a PA system, and Ace stops mid-sentence, both of them turning to look at a firefighter speaking into a megaphone.

“The fire has been extinguished and the building is now safe. Please return to your rooms,” the fireman announces.

The horde of people immediately start flocking towards the hotel entrance at the same time, creating an annoyed crowd of freezing, grumpy people and managing to clog the entryway immediately.

“I wonder what the cause was,” Felix ponders out loud, not making an effort to move toward the commotion and get stuck between the shoving, complaining people.

“Who cares? We get to not freeze our asses off anymore!” Ace exclaims gleefully.

And Felix realizes they no longer have a reason to stay huddled up together. Reluctantly slipping away from under the blanket, he feels a disappointed pang in his chest over how happy Ace sounds to get rid of him.

“Thank you for lending your blanket,” Felix says, handing his side of the fabric back over to Ace and trying not to shiver as the cold of the night hits his warm skin.

“My pleasure! Thanks for keeping me warm!” Ace quips cheerfully, wrapping the item tighter around himself.

“Ehm… you as well,” Felix says, looking away so Ace doesn't see his face heating up.

“Come on, let's get you inside!” Ace prompts, and then he leans into Felix and shoves him lightly with a blanket-clad shoulder.

It's clearly in an intent to encourage Felix to move, but it still makes newfound hope blossom in his chest. They’re no longer forced to tolerate each other if they don't want to freeze, but Ace still seems far from repulsed by him.

“Right,” Felix says, starting the short trek to the hotel entrance that has thankfully cleared up from people.

“So…” Ace drawls, easily falling into step next to him. “Can I have your number?”

Felix glances at him and blinks in confusion. Is… is Ace asking him out? Or just being polite? Is he going to ask to be added on Facebook too, like all the weird colleagues Felix has met on business trips once and then never heard from again?

“For...?” Felix manages to ask when they arrive at the entrance, reaching for the door and holding it open for the man.

“Just wondering if you wanted to grab some drinks while you're still in town,” Ace says when he slips past Felix into the building. “I wouldn't mind getting to know you better,” Ace adds, looking him up and down with a smile that is definitely not just friendly.

Heat rises up Felix's neck from more than just the warm air of the hotel lobby. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one sensing the tension between them.

“Maybe,” Felix says, trying and probably failing to not seem way too enthusiastic.

“Oh?” Ace says, quirking an eyebrow. And then he's shrugging off the blanket, revealing a rolled-up, button-up shirt and—

Fuck. Broad shoulders and a lean build, that sure as hell doesn't make Felix's predicament any easier.

Felix definitely stares longer than appropriate while they continue walking to the elevator, Ace thankfully too busy with bunching up the blanket to notice his ogling.

“What…" Felix starts, making Ace look at him, cocking his head. "Uhm. What's with the sudden interest?”

“I mean,” Ace says, shooting him pointed look. “I was interested ever since I saw you there, shivering in your ridiculously tight T-shirt,” he winks.

Felix realizes that the shirt probably leaves a lot less to the imagination than the suits and blazers he always wears. He lifts a hand to his arm in a self-conscious manner, making an attempt to cover himself.

“But I didn't wanna freak you out,” Ace adds, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “Would have been pretty awkward if you said no, considering you were kinda stuck with me for a bit.”

That's… oddly sweet, and very much appreciated. Felix would probably have imploded on himself from embarrassment if Ace would have been this forward from the start.

“Thank you,” Felix says.

“No worries,” Ace grins, pushing the button to order the elevator. “So? Are you freaked out?”

Felix considers the question for a moment, only arriving at variations of "no", "I'm leaving in two days" and "help you're really hot but I've never been with a guy and don't know what to do".

“I think the word is…” Felix pauses in thought, trying to ignore his brain screaming insecurities at him. “'Intrigued'.”

Proud of managing to be smooth for once in his life, the ding of the elevator arriving is almost lost on Felix, because he's so focused on Ace's now downright lecherous grin.

But he obediently steps into the elevator, not wanting to keep the few hotel customers still lingering behind them.

“What's you floor, gorgeous?” Ace asks with a flirtatious smile, after pressing the number four.

Wow. How the hell did Felix ever manage to think he was just being friendly?

“Three,” Felix says.

“Looks like you're under me,” Ace flirts while pushing the button for him, making Felix choke on his own spit from the suggestive comment, embarrassed yet curious.

And then Ace clears his throat and averts his eyes as a woman and her daughter walk into the elevator with them.

They stand awkwardly next to each other as the elevator doors slide close. Felix’s thoughts are a mess of excitement, nervousness and embarrassment, not sure what to do in this situation.

He discreetly glances at Ace—

And the other catches him looking.

Felix's heart skips a beat as Ace's lips spread into a lazy grin, eyes shimmering with unspoken promise.

He wonders what it would be like to wipe that grin off the smug man's face. Felix imagines pushing Ace up against the elevator wall, picturing how the other’s eyes would go wide, maybe he'd even gasp, taken off guard at Felix's sudden boldness. Maybe he wouldn't have time to say anything, because Felix would capture his lips in a passionate kiss, and Ace would groan and drop the blanket to tangle his hands in Felix's hair—

DING!

Felix is rudely snapped out of his daydream by the elevator arriving on his floor. He realizes he's been spacing out while staring at Ace's face, and the smirk is gone from the man's lips, but his eyes are somehow even more intense.

“Good night,” Felix offers stiffly, forcing himself to break the eye contact before he gets lost in his own head again.

He takes a step out of the elevator, mentally scolding himself when he notices his racing heart and heavy breathing, getting himself worked up over a dumb fantasy.

Tomorrow, he promises himself when the elevator doors start sliding shut behind him. Tomorrow, he’d go out with Ace and could maybe, hopefully psyche himself up enough to make a move. He'd just text the man in the morning—

Except they never exchanged numbers.

Shit!

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #felix x ace

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