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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable.

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits.

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions.

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart.

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words.

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll.

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag.

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom.

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty.

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list.

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them.

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed.

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that.

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety.

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

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“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker.

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now.

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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently.

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking.

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave.

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto.

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on.

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say.

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home.

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped.

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out.

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty.

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late.

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening.

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding.

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away.

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking.

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice.

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name.

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position.

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good.

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark.

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan.

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely.

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good. Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed.

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly.

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room.

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down.

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?”

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response.

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth.

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?”

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks.

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip.

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth.

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input.

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips.

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries.

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more.

Intensifying.

Exhilarating.

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you.

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck.

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning.

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

The Graveyard Shift (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: Frankie works overnight shifts at the local mechanic. Tonight, both of you are awake at a late hour.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, food and eating, talk of not being able to sleep, otherwise fluff

A/N: this idea has been in my head all week I had to! Hope you like it :)

Frankie may be a real insomniac, but tonight you’re feeling like he might have rubbed off on you. Your bed is normally your favorite place, your haven and escape from life. It’s a place to rest and cuddle your teddy bear of a boyfriend, where you can close your eyes and let go of reality. Unfortunately, that glorious disconnect from reality isn’t finding you tonight. You toss and turn in your bed for what feels like hours. Who knows how long it really is?

You try laying on your side. On your back. On your stomach. Legs sprawled out, with no Frankie in the bed to occupy your space. Still, nothing is comfortable. You’re cold without the blankets and hot with them on. The pillows are flat or too squishy. Nothing works.

Frankie’s on the night shift tonight, leaving your bed empty enough for you to toss and turn. Your boyfriend works as a mechanic at a local 24-hour garage, and every week or so he takes the overnight shift. It’s just part of the job. Of course, you don’t mind; he does what he has to. The only downside is the chill in your bed where Frankie’s warm body usually lies.

You try to avoid your phone, checking your alarm clock for the time rather than looking at the blue light and messing up any more chances you have at sleep. But then an hour progresses, and another, and now it’s 1:20 in the morning and sleep is nowhere to be found. You give in and check your phone, sighing.

Frankie can’t possibly be busy. The shop rarely ever gets a car after the sun sets, but it’s worth it to be the only shop in the area open at night. It means more business when someone’s in desperate need. You know he’s awake, and the odds of a car being in the shop now are slim. Maybe talking with him will help you fall asleep.

Deciding to give it a shot, you call his phone. It rings for a few moments, then continues and finally you reach his voicemail, hearing his gentle voice announcing that he’ll call you right back. You frown and set it down only for the phone to ring again. It’s him.

“Hey, babe,” Frankie’s voice speaks through the phone. He sounds tired. Well, you suppose it’s natural. It’s late at night, even if Frankie is practically nocturnal. “Sorry. My hands were covered in grease so I had to wash them before I picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you inform him, your voice groggy from the lack of sleep you’ve found despite hours of lying here. “Just can’t sleep. How’s work?”

You can hear a metallic clanking as he moves some tools around. “Fine. Just a usual night shift, working on this car that’s an absolute piece of shit. Got oil all over myself.”

The thought makes you smile; Frankie’s grumpy face when something goes wrong, the sigh of exasperation as those dark blue coveralls are stained dark with the car’s oil. “Good job, babe.”

Frankie is rolling his eyes on the other end. You can tell. “Really great job, yeah. How are things at home?”

“Same here. Nothing exciting. Just… can’t sleep and missing you.”

“Missing you too. God, it’s so boring here,” he groans. “I’ll finish this car pretty damn quick then have nothing to do all night. And I’m so goddamn hungry.”

Your eyes light up with an idea and you’re silent as you ponder the idea, long enough for Frankie to be concerned. “What is it?”

“Can I come visit you?” You ask him, a grin crossing your sleepy face. Your eyes are still shut from the weight they carry right now, but your face is clearly happy. “I’ll bring food.

There’s a frown on his face; that much you know for certain. “Babe, it’s late. You should sleep.”

“Francisco, for the love of God. I’m awake right now because I can’t fall asleep. Would you mind a visitor?”

He sighs but you know you’ve won. It makes you smile even wider as you clutch a pillow to your chest. He can barely get the words out before you interrupt. “Great! What are you hungry for?”

There’s another beat of quiet as he thinks. “Let’s order a pizza.”

Late night pizza: Frankie’s biggest weakness besides you. “Perfect. You put in the order and I’ll be there soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. See you then.” Frankie hangs up.

No one else will be around. You know Frankie works these late shifts alone, so you don’t bother to put on anything nicer. Pushing back the covers and bracing for the chill, you stand and slide on a pair of shoes, allowing your pajamas to suffice.

The air is cold as you leave your shared home, and at the last second you grab one of Frankie’s flannels and wrap yourself in it. The night air is chilly around you, the dark sky contrasting the bright lights as you turn on your car. Teeth chattering from the cold, and turning down the air conditioning in your car, you set out on your route to Frankie’s workplace.

There’s no one else on the road besides a spare car or two flying past, neglecting to turn off their high beams for you. It doesn’t matter; if anything, it wakes you up more. When you finally park outside of the building, you rub your eyes desperately hard in hopes of waking yourself up more. It doesn’t really work, but you pretend it does as you pocket your keys and walk inside.

“Hi, I’m here for an oil change?” You call out teasingly into the large garage, entering through an open bay.

Frankie rolls out from beneath a car on a dolley, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Don’t even bring that up now.” He sits up, removes his earbuds, and unsnaps the top half of his coveralls, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. He removes his gloves and meets you halfway into the garage, kissing you softly and laughing as the brim of his hat bumps against your forehead. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hi,” you beam, kissing him once more. “You look hot in this. Very Danny Zuko.”

“Mhm, and this piece of shit is Greased Lightning,” he laughs and pats the hood of the car he was previously beneath. It’s ugly, brown in color and rusted with a grungy looking interior. “I don’t know why they don’t just scrap this thing. It’s not worth the money.”

Your arms remain wrapped around Frankie’s middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you admire the crappy car. “Honestly, I gotta agree,” you laugh and nudge his side so the two of you can move closer to a workbench. “Here.” You offer him the crappy blanket you brought to sit on. “Tell me the best place to set up.”

“Right here, really,” Frankie shrugs and unfolds the blanket, laying it down over the oil-stained concrete. “You get comfortable. I’ll go put on a clean pair of coveralls.” He kisses your head as you sit cross-legged on the blanket, pulling his flannel tighter around yourself. “And stop stealing my clothes!” He calls over his shoulder before retreating into the back.

“You know you love it!” You shout back with a laugh, leaning against the side of the beat-up car.

Out of nowhere, the radio in the shop starts playing. It’s loud, making you jump at the sound of the KISS song that starts blasting. With that, Frankie returns from the back, wearing a clean pair of blue coveralls with that embroidered Catfish patch over his heart. His curls peek out from beneath his cap, and he scratches at the scruff of his beard. “Way to scare the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, adjusting the volume back down from the garage control before making his way over to you. “Just thought we could use some music.”

“I guess,” you grumble, though it’s clear there’s no ill will when he sits next to you and you nuzzle into his side, sighing as he drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Didn’t have to freak me out like that though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and kisses your head, leaning back against the car too and letting his head fall back.

No sooner do the two of you get comfortable, nestled into each other’s arms and taking a breath of relaxation, is there a knock at the glass. It’s the pizza delivery, a guy who looks exhausted, just like most normal people would be at this hour. “Be right back.” Frankie kisses your nose and stands, groaning as his joints creak and his back pops.

“Grandpa.” You tease with a grin.

“Stuff it.”

He pays for the order, giving the delivery guy a generous tip for delivering food at this hour of night. Frankie returns with the box and you shimmy in happiness as he opens the box and the smell of the pizza wafts out of the cardboard.

Frankie pulls over a rolling dolley to set the food on, at least somewhat like a table. “Your fine dining experience, my love,” he chuckles as he sets down the box and a stack of napkins next to it. He sits across from you, once again groaning as he makes himself sit cross-legged to match you.

Taking a hold of the crust, you pull out a large slice, the cheese pulling from the center of the pizza. Sighing happily, you tear the cheese apart and pile it on top of the fully-topped pizza, complete with Frankie’s go-to order. Waiting for him and humming to the song, you finally take a bite when he does.

Both of you moan in happiness, laughing a little as each realizes that the other did the same. Once your mouthful of pizza has been swallowed, you grin at Frankie and he grins back. The shop is quiet, the dull rhythm of the oldies station playing in the background. There are no words, but there’s no need for them.

Frankie finishes his slice at about the same time as you, and your hands bump as you both reach for another piece, the one loaded with toppings. “Back off, Morales,” you laugh and swat his hand away, though your hand instantly moves for another piece.

“No, you can have it,” he says, brow furrowing as you leave the piece alone.

“It’s yours. You’re the one working; you deserve it.”

He knows you inside and out. He knows that there’s no arguing when you’ve made the decision, so he takes the piece with a loving “thank you”.

It takes hardly any time for either of you to finish the second piece. Leaning back against the car, your eyes finally shut and you sigh in relaxation. You have food, you have Frankie, and finally you’re starting to get tired. “What time is it now?”

“Late. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m not tired,” you bluff, though your body slumps against the car, head falling to the side.

Frankie just shrugs and munches on another piece. He can’t help but smile at the sight: you’re in your pajamas and his flannel, falling asleep on the floor of the mechanic shop. He certainly never expected to see such a sight, but he grins at how cute you look like this.

By the time Frankie’s third slice is gone, you’re half-asleep, barely conscious, body holding what little tension and energy you have left. Frankie just leans back, watching you, still smiling at the sight.

He can see it happen when you finally do fall asleep. The tension in your back drifts away, your body slumping down against the car. Your face, which was scrunched in concentration of trying to stay awake, finally slips into the neutrally peaceful state of sleep.

Frankie closes the pizza box, standing and bringing it to the back. He can have some more later if he’s hungry; if not, he’ll send it home with you- later. For now, you need to rest.

His knees and back scream at him as he bends down, but Frankie squats in front of you and wakes you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep. Come on, get on up and I’ll take you to the couch in the back.”

Your sleep-addled state doesn’t let you argue. You stand, still half-asleep, using Frankie’s hands to help you up. He wraps the clean side of the blanket around you, almost like a burrito, but leaves your legs enough room to walk. Holding onto your arm, so that you don’t trip thanks to your barely-opened eyes, he leads you to the break room in the back.

The old leather couch is beat up and worn, scratched and occasionally ripped from tools left in back pockets and too many years of careless plopping down after a long shift. Frankie makes sure your blanket is swaddled tightly around you and helps you lay down, chuckling at the burrito you make on the couch.

Frankie bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just sleep now, babe.”

You murmur something in response, something that might’ve resembled words if you weren’t already fading out again.

Frankie doesn’t go too far, just across the room to the computer. He fires up the machine to check out the schedule for tomorrow, what the store needs to order more of, the usual. The thing that makes it better, maybe even enjoyable, are your soft snores from the couch behind him.

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asterroidd · 4 years ago

Text

cotton sweatshirt

↬ College AU

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Reader

↬ Word count: 2.6k

↬ Synopsis: Fatigue was slowly consuming you, luckily your roommate is there to save the day

↬ Notes: Thank you so much for the request anon! I apologize it took so long before I wrote it. Anw, I hope you enjoy it!

↬ no proofread whatsoever, capn’

5th and 12th prompts: “Give me back my keys! I’m fine!” and “Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

It was too much. All too much; the endless tasks, the studying, and numerous all-nighters that you had pulled by now.

It was so taxing that your body couldn't keep up; eyes blood shot red from restless staring at the laptop screen, sunken cheeks due to the insufficient meal you are getting, and dark bags under your eyes that are evidently visible even from afar. If one would see you in such a state, one would assume you are a zombie or the living dead.

Chewing your bottom lip, fingers anxiously taped against the wooden desk. Drained yes boring into the laptop screen as you tried your best to understand the text displayed in it. Your professor just had to be missing in action that week due to health reasons and as such couldn't attend most of the classroom session to teach. The replacement is just as worse—having no mastery over the lesson at hand that it only made it more confusing than before. So, you had to self-study for the sole sake of having a passing grade this semester. Finals weeks is looming around the corner and it's best that you understands the lessons beforehand so that you wouldn't have difficulty in studying once again later on.

Your study session was supposed to be done before noon, yet here you are still hunched over the desk. A pencil at hand in attempt to take notes in the filler notebook. Your other hand curled up a fist full of hair, then ever so often tugging it in frustration. True, you did try to search online for other readings and videos that could potentially help you in your dilemma. Alas, you find yourself scratching your scalp and pulling your hair in frustration as you failed, yet again, to grasp the concept of the topic.

Perhaps a book, you thought to yourself. There is a local library nearby—suppose a ten minute walk, could be even seven if you walked fast enough. For sure there are a handful of books there that could finally help you in understanding the lesson. And so with a drained sigh, you closed the lid of the laptop and stood up.

You took in your surroundings; which was an utter mess. Eraser shards littered on top of your desk that some even fell to the floor due to you hastily sweeping them off. Mountains of books scattered around—some opened with a random item on top to act as a makeshift paper weight. Sticky notes plastered all over the walls and stacks upon stacks of paper everywhere. In short, your room looks like a battleground.

Which it is; an academic battleground, that is.

That said, you swiftly stuffed a handful of notebooks and pens into a small backpack so you could continue the study session at the library. Perhaps a change in environment would ease you off and clear your mind. When you exited from your room, you were surprised to see Levi lounging off the living room. A bowl of popcorn on his lap whilst lazily popping one in his mouth every so often. His eyes glued to the TV screen as it played a series, The Confession Tapes you presumed. Ever since you showed him the first episode a few days ago, he was so intrigued and thus became so hook with the story line.

Oh, to have freedom and time for leisure activities like Levi. You would willingly kill just to have that.

"I'll be heading off to the library for a while," you uttered under your breath. Levi turned his head towards your direction, slowly munching on the popcorn. "I might come home late so I'll bring the keys with me."

He paused the movie momentarily to narrow his eyes at you. Levi looked at you from top to bottom, assessing and processing the current state you are in. Which was hell. You looked like a vampire that crawled out of your coffin after decades of isolation. Of all the years he and you had been roommate, Levi had practically memorised most of your mannerism and behaviour so much. And at the moment, he knew all to well that you would be, yet again, working yourself to the grave.

With a sigh, Levi placed the bowl of popcorn on top of the coffee table before approaching you. "Can't you see yourself, idiot?"

You scrunched up your nose in confusion. What does he mean by that?

"When was the last time you ate?"

You racked your brain for answers. When was it truly that last time you had a proper meal besides energy bars that you bought from the convenience store. You went silent for a moment, eyes cascading down.

"I had instant noodles I think? Last night," you answered after a pregnant pause.

"Then that means you have not eaten anything since this morning?"

You only nodded in response, all too tired to argue back with him. All you wanted to do was to finally leave the apartment and resume your study session in the library. Where, in hopes, you could finally progress in.

Levi clicked his tongue. No wonder you look like a living dead. You are barely getting any nutrition in your body at all! Being studious is a great thing—but being all too unforgiving and torturing one's body too much is an unacceptable habit.

As swift as a fox, he snagged the keys from your hands. You, in your drained state, reacted poorly and sluggishly. Though, you gave him one ferocious glare.

"Give it back, Levi." You held out your hand.

"No. You should rest. You look like shit."

"Give me back my keys. I'm fine!"

Levi, much to your surprise, had a hint of worry in his eyes. Silence fell between you and him, eyes focused on each other. You thought of kicking him on the shin, then took the chance to grab the keys. But you find yourself unable to as your body slowly slumped over.

You let out one tired sigh, eyes closing every now and then in drowsiness, but you can't give in. Not now. Not at least you'd finally understand and finish writing your notes. Still, exams is a couple of weeks away. Surely a brief break wouldn't hurt?

You groaned, the floor beneath your feet swaying as you struggled to keep yourself upright. It was only then did you notice the ever growing itch in your throat which signifies tonsillitis, mucus flooding your nasal passages, and increased body temperature.

"I'm fine. . ." you inhaled sharply. "Just—" you continued but was caught short when your knees buckled under your weight, causing you to lean forward. Luckily enough, Levi caught you just in the nick of time before you fell face first into the wooden floor.

"Tch. Look at what you got yourself into," he huffed, palm pressing against your forehead. "You also have a fever, dumbass."

Did you now? You let your head rest into his touch, relishing his cool touch against your flushed ones. Maybe you really need a rest.

"How about you take a seat on the couch while I brew you a cup of tea?"

"Sounds good. . ." you uttered under your breath.

That said, Levi practically dragged your body towards the couch and helped you settle on it. Making sure that you are comfortable enough by placing pillows behind your head. The male crouched down to your level, bringing a hand up once again to your forehead to properly estimate your temperature this time.

"Looks like a bad one. . ." he muttered.

"You tell me. I feel like shit," you've managed to crack a joke despite your conditions. Levi rose his brow at you, shaking his head at your idiocy. Then you watched him as he removed his cotton sweatshirt that hung loosely on his figure. Suffice to say, you were beyond perplexed when Levi placed the article of clothing on top of your lap.

"You're cold aren't you?" he shrugged his shoulders. "Wear that for the time being to keep you warm."

That said, he soon disappeared inside the kitchen to perhaps brew you a cup of tea much to your delight. It is practically known that the male had an immense skill in brewing and perfecting the art of tea. And as his roommate, Levi practically forced you to learn how to brew yourself; mainly because he doesn't want you wasting precious tea leaves that are far too expensive to be wasted. You recalled the time spent with him, hours upon hours inside the kitchen while trying your best to not burn your hands as you, yet again, try to perfect boiling tea. Levi stood beside you, a scowl present on his face as he frowned at your blend.

Do it again, he snarled. The temperature is not right.

It was little moments such as those reminds you of how much of a stuck up bitch Levi is. Nonetheless, the male still have a special place in your heart as your roommate and perhaps crush.

Gingerly holding his sweater in your hands, you took one deep whiff of his scent—despite mucus flooding your nose—relishing the soft floral scent of the detergent that he bought about a week ago. Yet, Levi's natural aroma gradually overflows your nasal cavity; refreshing and clean with a hint of musky scent. It was pure heaven.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you let his sweatshirt hug your body, encompassing you more with his scent. Truth to be told, it was your long time dream to wear one of Levi's clothing. Suppose it was the thought of you in his clothes that brings butterflies to your stomachs, or the pure concept of his smell flooding your senses. Either way, you liked it.

"Hey. . ." Levi's voice boomed which slightly startled you. The male placed a mug full of tea on the coffee table before kneeling down and opening a pack of fever patch.

"What flavor did you brew?" you mumbled.

"Chamomile," Levi replied, brushing your hair away from your forehead. For a brief moment, he stopped to stare at your glossy eyes due to the fever. Small patches of sweat that peppered your skin that glistened slightly under the light. Not to mention your lips that he oh so long to get a taste of for months—but he wouldn't tell you that out loud. Red dusted his cheeks ever so lightly that you would've missed if it weren't for your keen attention to detail.

Levi bit the insides of his cheeks, slapping himself internally to focus at the task at hand which it to place a fever patch on your forehead. That said, he carefully set it against your temples. Making sure that it is adhered on firmly as to not fall in case you tossed and turn in your sleep. A smile adorned your features as soon as the cool hydrogel rested against your skin. You mumbled a quick gratitude towards the male before snuggling deep into his sweatshirt.

"Levi. . ." you started to which he hummed in response, helping you sit up. Then, the male gave you the mug with hot tea. Its heavenly aroma making you sigh in relax. "Come sit with me?" you asked, patting the space next to you.

The male opened his mouth to argue; to refuse your request because he doesn't want to catch your germs and be sick himself. Though, with one look at your puppy-dog eyes and pouting lips, Levi knew that he wouldn't be able to resist you. "Fine. . ." he begrudgingly replied.

You let out a small cheer of victory. Placing your head on top of his shoulder the minute he sat beside you. Even for just a moment—just for this day—you want to delve into your fantasies and revel in the company of the male. Levi looked at you from the corner of his eye, admiring how his sweatshirt that embraces your form. Due to him being quite short in stature, his clothes were not too big. So, naturally, most of his wardrobe would probably fit you. Which he has no complaints about.

"Can we watch Kitchen nightmares?" you asked, taking one small sip of tea as to not burn your tongue.

Levi shrugged, "Why not?" That said, he adhered to your request. Playing that one episode in the series that he knew you enjoyed watching despite the countless times you've already seen it.

You relaxed back into the couch, letting more of your weight press against Levi as your hands cupped the warm mug in between. The brutal and fierce howls of criticism of Gordon Ramsey brings a small smile to your lips, and oddly enough, as well as Levi's. Watching Kitchen's Nightmares (as well as other shows that the iconic chef starred in) was a guilty pleasure, so to say, of both yours and the male's. There is just something so satisfying how the chef makes people humble down and admit their mistakes.

One great thing that comes from watching his series was that Levi could learn a thing or two in cooking. Even though he was already great from the start. The male picks up a recipe or two just by watching the series, much to your satisfaction. Between you and Levi, he is the mother of the household, if you will. While you're just one lazy couch potato who would receive an ear full of scolding every now and then.

Soon enough, you felt your eyelids closing involuntarily, yet you fought to keep them open. It was getting into the good part—the climax—of the episode and you didn't want to sleep through it. Though, you find yourself giving in and finally letting your eyes rest for once. You exhaled, rubbing your cheeks against Levi's shoulder blades in attempts to get more comfortable. The male shifted on the couch, allowing you to be cozy and warm with him beside you.

In your dazed state, you swore that Levi slowly rest his head on top of yours. Nevertheless, you couldn't conclude if it was true since the sweet embrace of sleep consumed you. For the first time in that week, you finally had a good night's rest.

Levi relaxed under your touch, finally relieved that you gave in and let your body get the rest it deserves after days upon days of continuous work. He contemplated whether to turn off the television so that the noise wouldn't bother you in your sleep, or keep it open since a part of him wants to finish the episode. Though, his thoughts were caught short when you murmured.

"Levi. . ." you mumbled in your sleep, hands gripping his sweatshirt.

"What?" he humored, despite knowing that you are in deep slumber and is probably sleep-talking.

Then to his surprise, you whispered a phrase that he never anticipated would slip past your lips.

"I love you. . ."

He was taken a back, eyes wide while his mouth slightly hung open. Levi blinked once, then twice, trying to process if what he heard was real or was his imagination deceiving him.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" Levi said, testing to see if you were truly asleep or was just toying with him. When he concluded that you were—in fact—knocked out and catching some Z's, he breathed lowly the three words he oh so wanted to tell you for months.

"I love you, too. Brat." He snaked his hand around yours, intertwining his fingers around your hand.

Little did Levi know, you were half-awake during his confession.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #reader insert #asters fics

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

Text

Queen of the Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki takes you to the rooftop greenhouse to show you his favorite flower, the queen of the night. Your evening ends with a confession of love. Warnings: the tiniest bit of angst but also excessively fluffy A/N: The reader is gender neutral; queen in the title refers only to the flower. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer! Gif not mine

You looked up from your game of solitaire as Loki flopped down on the sofa next to you. He looked exhausted, even more so than he usually did after a training session with Thor. Loki sighed, and you set your cards aside, turning your body to give him your full attention.

“Are you ok?” you asked as he shook his head no. You hugged his head to your chest and scratched his back lightly. He was practically purring at your gentle touch. “Want to talk about it?”

“Yes, darling, I do,” he began. “Thor uses brute strength, and not to mention Mjolnir, when we train. Yet I am unable to use my magic, for it is against the rules that he set for our sessions. Just like back home. He doesn’t even seem to have a strategy; just punch. It is so unfair!”

“Extremely so,” you agreed. “Have you tried talking to him? Or not training with him anymore.”

“I have, but he just makes those pathetic puppy-dog eyes. Says it reminds him of Asgard. I, on the other hand, was hoping this would be one of the things I could escape by moving to Midgard, these wretched training sessions.” He sighed again. “It makes me think I preferred my cell.”

“You don’t mean that!” you said in a panic. It broke your heart to hear him say such a thing.

“You are right, I do not,” he calmed you. He pulled back from your embrace a little so he could cup your cheeks. “It is just very frustrating.”

“Well, if you ever need to rant, I’m here.”

“I know, darling. Thank you.”

He leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You tried not to get your hopes up. Heaven knows how many times you’d been in this same situation, one of you leaning in towards the other before thinking better of it. Everyone else in the Tower seemed to be over the unspoken thing between you and Loki. Quite frankly, you were pretty exasperated with it, too. Still, that voice in your mind kept wondering if maybe you were wrong, if there was no unspoken thing. Then you’d look like an absolute fool, and maybe even lose your best friend. Or, at very least, make things uncomfortable between you for a while. Regardless, the pattern continued, and he broke away.

“Darling?” he said after a minute of silence spent sitting in such a close proximity without actually doing anything, that it was bordering more on awkward than adorable. “I was wondering if you would like to join me tonight in the greenhouse on the roof? There is something I wish to show you.”

“I would love to, Loki,” you replied with a shy smile.

“Well then,” he grinned, placing a small kiss to your knuckles, “I shall see you there, 8 pm sharp.”

As he left you on the couch, smiling and giggling to yourself, a simultaneously thrilling and terrifying idea suddenly raced through your mind. Wait, you thought. Did he just ask me out on a date? You supposed there was nothing left to do but wait and see.

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

You found yourself wishing you’d worn a heavier coat as you stepped out onto the roof in the cold night air, shivering in your lightweight clothes. You chose to wear your favorite top, which just so happened to be the same shade of green that Loki had claimed as his own over a millennium ago. It was purely coincidental, you told yourself; it definitely hadn’t become your favorite top when you noticed the way he looked at you when you wore it. That was preposterous, of course.

As you stepped into the greenhouse, you found that your choice of clothes wasn’t so terrible, after all. The glass room was temperature controlled and dimly lit. It was so warm, in fact, you wondered if you might have to take your hoodie off. You wouldn’t mind, of course. You’d be able to show off your shirt even more. You quickly shook your head before you got started on that train of thought again. It’s not like he specifically said it was a date, so you shouldn’t get too far ahead of yourself. Though, if anything was going to convince you this was one, it would be the romantic atmosphere, and the way Loki was sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket, pillows and fallen petals surrounding him.

“Darling,” he said upon spotting you. “There you are. Right on time.”

“Yup. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. But, uh, what exactly is this?”

“The Epiphyllum oxypetalum.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, looking at him like he had six heads. You had been hoping his answer would be more along the lines of ‘this is a date’ or ‘we’re just hanging out’. But nope, he’s speaking Latin or something.

“Epiphyllum oxypetalum. More commonly known as the queen of the night,” he explained, patting the spot next to him on the blanket. “It is my favorite flower.”

You hesitated a second before going to sit beside him. “May I ask why?”

“You may, indeed,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “See, when I was younger—one hundred, maybe two hundred years old—my mother grew this flower in her garden, but I could never see it bloom. I would watch it all day, but then when I went to sleep and came back in the morning, I just found out more had wilted without ever having bloomed! It was infuriating. Well, I went to my mother about it, and she explained that it only bloomed once. At night. So, we stayed up all night to watch them. It was, in a word, magical. Something about the way they will only bare themselves to those patient enough to wait, to look carefully. I can not explain it, but it is wonderful.”

“I think I can explain it.” You looked at him with a soft gaze and took his hand, swiping your thumb over his knuckles. “The flower and you are kind of one and the same, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps.”

“Like the way you let yourself be true to who you are around me,” you continued. “It’s like the blooming thing. I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, of course you would. Somehow you seem to think I have never done any wrong,” he said, a nearly imperceptible tear rolling down his cheek. Nearly. You leaned in and kissed the wet drop away. He looked startled as you pulled back, and he held you an arms length away. “Darling.”

“Sorry,” you said, silently cursing yourself. “I hope that was alright. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I can go, if you want.”

“No, please do not mistake this as me wanting you to leave,” he quickly pleaded. “I want you closer, even. It is just that you compare me to this flower, though it is beautiful. But me? I am a monster.”

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re not. Look at me? Please?” you asked, cupping his cheek as he stared at the ground. “You are not, I repeat, are not a monster. Loki, you are good, kind. Those who have hurt you do not dictate who you are. I love you, Loki, and I don’t think I could love a monster.”

His face said nothing, but a million thoughts flashed behind his eyes. You? Love him? By all accounts, it made no sense. Could he be dreaming? He must be.

“You should not love me. I do not deserve it. What if I hurt you?”

“Well, I’m surprisingly resilient,” you joked, trying to cheer him up. “But that doesn’t matter because you’re not going to hurt me. So whether I should or should not—and really, who’s to say?—I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you a thousand times, to the moon and back. With all my heart, every fiber of my being. I love you.”

Loki didn’t even think, he just kissed you. He kissed you so deeply, so passionately, you forgot everything else you ever knew. It was just him now, in this moment. His scent, his touch, his lips. Him. Perfect and loving and gentle and tender. Neither of you moved, besides to wrap your arms around each other, to hold each other even closer, to deepen the kiss even more. Other than that, you just sat there, lips locked, affirming everything your words said and didn’t say. Nothing else mattered. Just him, king of the night. King of your heart.

“I love you, too, darling,” he said. He had pulled away just enough to speak what was on his mind, and his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “I am still dangerous. I still fear I will hurt you, ruin you. But I cannot go on without you. If I am to allow myself one thing, it must be this. Oh darling, I love you as I never have anything or anyone before. No throne could compare, no crown could better. All the gold and riches in the Nine Realms could not even dream of competing with your kiss, your embrace. I love you so wholly and completely, I do not know how I ever lived without you.”

“Loki,” you whispered. He was looking in your eyes so intently it made goosebumps erupt on your skin. “You’re more beautiful than every flower, more precious than their delicate petals. I don’t think words will ever be enough to tell you how I feel.”

“I agree, words will never suffice.”

He kissed you again, trying to express everything he didn’t know how to say, everything he didn’t understand about how this could be real. And you responded, reassuring him that it was real, that he did deserve it. That what you felt for him in this moment would never go away. It would only get more intense, more powerful. Loki wasn’t sure what magic you were working exactly, but he started to believe. He supposed that was just the power of love.

Eventually, you broke apart and laid down next to each other. You chatted a little, but fell into periods where you just held each other. The picnic basket he’d brought was filled with your favorite foods, and you snacked on them a bit, holding small bites to the other’s lips. You watched the flowers, too. A few of them bloomed as you looked on, and it brought a smile to your lips. The smile that bloomed on Loki’s face was even more breathtaking than the opening petals, in your opinion.

“Loki,” you said, and he turned to look at you, gently caressing your cheek. “Thank you so much for sharing this with me.”

“Of course, darling. It is like I said,” he replied, a light, happy sound in the tone of his voice. “I love you. I am glad you like it.”

“And like I said, I love you, too. I really do like it. It’s beautiful, just like you.”

Again, the two of you met in a kiss. Whether or not he had intended for this to be a date, it had sure turned into one. And something more, too. A new beginning, a perfect start to something that would last long beyond just one night. You’d planted the flower of your love, and you knew its petals wouldn’t wilt in the light of day; they’d last forever.

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roughentumble · 4 years ago

Text

did it ever really mean anything?

geraskier, 7k, pining, angst with a happy ending. crossposted to ao3 here

Geralt goes along with Jaskier to meet some of his Oxenfurt friends, and comes to realize he isn't the only one Jaskier gets touchy-feely with or calls "dear heart".

The realization that those gestures don't mean what he thought they did-- that he seemingly doesn't mean as much to Jaskier as he thought-- leaves him a pained, pining mess.

~*~*~*~

"Gibby!" Jaskier shouts with delight at the sight of his friend and rushes forward to greet her. His arms envelop her with ease, like it's a practiced motion, like he does this all the time, and she folds into the embrace with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you again, dear heart." He says, and,

Dear heart.

The phrase ricochets around in Geralt's mind. Jaskier's used that endearment with him before, and it always sounded so weighty, so... meaningful. Dear heart. Doesn't sound like something you throw around for just anybody, but here it is, laid out casually at the feet of someone who he'd never even mentioned before. Someone who wasn't important enough to be the subject of even a passing tale to regale Geralt with on their many nights around a campfire.

He's struck a bit dumb as they continue to greet each other, hands clasped together in a friendly way, patting cheeks and ruffling hair, and he thinks about,

Jaskier, just after a winter apart, standing at a crossroads together, hand pressing only the faintest pressure into his shoulder, lips brushing his cheek so tenderly, words practically whispered right into his ear,

I missed you, dear heart.

The realization comes slow, but hits hard all the same. It twists in his stomach, burrows slowly between his ribs and clenches down tight on his heart.

He doesn't mean as much to Jaskier as he thought.

He's always held value in touch, in words, he's never handed them out easily or casually. And logically, he was aware that Jaskier was his opposite in this regard. Bright and vibrant and eager to bend someone's ear or pull them in close, loose with his affections, Geralt... Geralt knew all that. But somewhere deep down, he'd thought that these were a bridge too far, even for Jaskier. That these tender moments were something of milestones to him as well. They'd felt too weighty, too momentous to be something casual.

So, of course he'd been wrong. He'd known he was wrong, but he'd still held that hope, until... well. Until Jaskier handing out every tender moment he'd had to fight tooth and nail for with Geralt to someone in the middle of a crowded tavern, like it was nothing more than party favors. Like it was almost perfunctory-- that's what you did.

Is this what it looks like? To watch Jaskier with him? Is this what they look like to outsiders? Geralt's never seen him with a friend before.

This is just what he's like with friends.

Geralt's not special.

And he knew that, really he did, but there's knowing something and there's knowing something, and it's so hard to see someone else pulled into the force of gravity that is Jaskier's undivided affections. Given freely, with no expectations of reciprocation, because that's who he is, and,

and it never once mattered they were given to Geralt.

His consternation must show on his face, because Gibby shifts nervously and asks if he's alright. Is he glaring? Must be, although he didn't mean to. Jaskier waves a hand dismissively. "He's fine, just not a big fan of loud places." It's either a smooth lie, or a genuine assumption, but either way the subject is dropped.

"So, Geralt, this is Gibby, and-- well, there'll be time for proper introductions once everyone's here, of course, but suffice to say we had more than a few classes together, and she was my unofficial partner in crime for some time." He ushers the two of them into their seats as he rambles, and Gibby titters goodnaturedly where it's appropriate, but otherwise seems uncomfortable under Geralt's gaze. Her eyes linger a bit too long on a few too many spots on his face that he knows hold things like scars, or unnatural eyes, or the hint of too-sharp canines, and he feels bad for it, truly. It can't be comfortable being on the receiving end of his glare, but he can't quite get his face to arrange itself any other way, so he turns the weight of his gaze to the side instead to inspect the room with unseeing eyes.

Jaskier either doesn't notice the discomfort or decides the best way to deal with it is to ignore it in hopes that time and exposure will ease things.

It doesn't.

More people filter in, join them at the table, and Geralt's introduced to each in turn, and then the group as a whole, but most of it goes in one ear and out the other. He feels bad about it-- Jaskier wanted him to meet his friends, he wanted to meet Jaskier's friends-- but as soon as he gets his eyes to focus, sounds grow vague and muffled, and when he focuses on making out words he loses his ability to connect shapes with any sort of meaning. He spends most of the night with his nose in his ale-- overpriced and watered down, though it is.

He takes in snapshots, catalogs them away. He doesn't want to, but he can't stop himself, mind catching on every instance like a hang-nail, Jaskier's voice,

Dear,

Darling,

You are a wonder,

hand on a knee,

an elbow,

a shoulder,

tucked around a waist,

nose behind someone's ear, whispering conspiratorially,

eyes crinkling at the corners with delight.

There's a man to Geralt's immediate left that, through the haze of the evening and his newest revelation, he recognizes as a bit of a pompous man. Voice a little bit grating, and a little too interested in his own successes, prompting more than one eye roll from Geralt, but Jaskier takes it all in stride, turns everything around into a joke without making it at anyone's expense, pulls the conversation back on track without leaving him behind.

Because Jaskier is easy with affection, talented at making friends,

even with people who aren't necessarily worth it.

~*~*~*~

He feels as stupid, as foolish, as every one-night-stand who thought Jaskier might stay in some no-name village for her. Of course he never meant anything. Of course they were just casual friends. Of course it was him, getting too intense and making assumptions.

Jaskier couldn't have meant anything bad by it, of course. Hadn't even intended to string anyone along, probably hadn't even realized he'd done so. He was just so funny and charming and personable and free with affection that it sucked you right in, he made you feel important, because for a minute, when those blue eyes lock on you, you are important.

Just. No more important than anyone else he spots.

No more special than the next shiny, flashy thing to catch his attention.

No cruelty in it, just a shortness of attention span and a certain openness that most other folks've had beaten out of them by the world once they reach his age.

Jaskier isn't evil, isn't trying to be calculating by any means, but Geralt lays in bed and clutches a pillow to his chest and aches anyway. Aches over how he'd let himself forget, aches over how he'd let himself be tricked, aches for the closeness he'd thought he had.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, Geralt gets up early, dons his armor, gets his bags together. He almost leaves, just like that, but-- well. Jaskier might get anxious if he just up and vanishes overnight, and Jaskier hadn't done anything wrong precisely. Geralt doesn't mean this at a punishment. So he knocks on Jaskier's door, and after far too long, he answers, bleary and smelling faintly of vomit.

Geralt comes up with a lie, says a contract came up suddenly, and Jaskier's face falls. "But-- we were supposed to..." He starts, leaning against the door frame for support, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and heaves out a sigh. "Well. Alright. I suppose it can't be helped."

"I-- I liked meeting your friends." Geralt says, because Jaskier looks sad, and he doesn't want Jaskier to be sad.

Jaskier perks up at that. "Oh, you did? That's wonderful, and they were so eager to meet you too, they absolutely loved you!" Jaskier says enthusiastically.

Geralt thinks back on the space he'd been given all night. No one had bumped him, even accidentally. Almost none would meet his eye.

"I'm glad," he says.

"I," Jaskier's voice sounds a bit odd, maybe a little over-eager as he reaches out to take Geralt's hand in his own, "I have a performance coming up in about a week. I don't know how long this contract will take you, but... if you can, I'd like to see you there."

He should say he can't make it. He should say it'll be a long contract. There isn't even a contract, it's a lie he's making up so he can skulk away and lick his wounds without anyone around to notice and call him out for being pathetic. Jaskier has friends here, they'll come to his performance, he doesn't need Geralt. Instead, what comes out is "We'll see."

Jaskier lights up even further, grips his hand even tighter. His eyes crinkle at the corner, just like they did the night before. "Well, do try your best to make it, my dear. And be safe, alright?" He leans in, and before Geralt can move, plants a kiss right on his cheek. "For good luck." He explains.

Geralt's cheek tingles from the contact. He wants-- he wants to shuck the swords from his back. He wants to explain the contract wasn't real, he wants to shoulder his way into Jaskier's room and press kisses to his mouth until he's red-lipped and rosy-cheeked, he wants-- he wants--

But he doesn't. Because it isn't like that, because Jaskier isn't his, because he doesn't mean it that way. Because Geralt's another in a long list of pining fools, waylaid by Jaskier's effortless charm. Because they're just acquaintances, and none of it ever meant anything.

Geralt steps back, and nods curtly, and Jaskier mimics the gesture in a way that's both mocking and completely fond, and that's that.

~*~*~*~

He does, actually, stumble on a contract, so he doesn't make a complete liar of himself. A whole stack of them, in fact. There's a little town less than a day's ride out from Oxenfurt, on the opposite side of the city from where he'd initially entered with Jaskier, and it seems they've got more than a few beasties vying for the land they're sitting on.

Ghouls and rotfiends and drowners, oh my.

It's a straight week of shitty, tedious work. Of running himself ragged taking out minor but insistent infestations. Of maybe staying up later than he should, and waking up earlier as well, because in the back of his stupid mind, all he can think about is how Jaskier had asked him to come. As he decapitates a ghoul, the day of the performance in question, he knows-- knows it's not important that he personally shows up. That Jaskier just wants a friend there, anyone he knows, and-- well. He just happens to know Geralt. It's not important. It doesn't mean anything. He's thinking about how it doesn't mean anything when a different ghoul catches him right in the thigh, an impressive swipe of razor-sharp claws, bright-hot and agonizing. He curses under his breath and returns his mind to more pressing matters.

He should've taken the time to wallow, like he'd intended. He should've taken the time to pine and ache and be a miserable bastard. Instead he lost himself in the flow of his work, because--

because--

because Jaskier asked him to come back.

And it was stupid, anyway, to run away, so he might as well keep right on being stupid by ignoring the issue entirely when he lays in bed at night.

The decision to walk back is split-second, but he's also been operating under the assumption that he was definitely going back, his mind and time itself seemingly on some sort of disconnect. He's back in the moment now, maybe, he thinks, though it feels like his brain's been shut off and his feet have been making their own decisions the past few days.

~*~*~*~

When he stumbles into the tavern-- the same one he'd met Jaskier's friends in, spent the night in-- he's absolutely drenched in rapidly congealing blood. Mostly ghoul, but some his own. Jaskier's on stage, and Geralt's seen him perform often enough that he has a vague idea of what his setlists normally look like, what the usual flow of a performance by Jaskier feels like. He gets the impression he must be more than halfway through already. A few people turn their heads and gasp when he gets closer, shuffle away from him in horror, but no one screams and he isn't kicked out, so he just stumbles over to the nearest wooden beam and leans against it for support.

Jaskier's voice washes over him as he waits, world gone slightly fuzzy at the edges. He should've stopped somewhere to stitch up his side, but-- well. It certainly won't kill him, and...

he didn't want to get there too late. Didn't want to miss this, have Jaskier think he didn't care. Which is a terrible, mindless decision, because they're really not that close, apparently, but, well... Story of his life. He cares too much-- he can't make himself stop caring too much.

It's over too soon, the music giving way to applause and Jaskier's expressions of gratitude, proclaiming the tavern to be a lovely crowd. Without a tune to follow, Geralt suddenly feels bone-deep tired, and his head droops a bit, but somehow-- probably all the blood, honestly-- Jaskier spots him through the throng of people. He pushes through them politely as he can, lute thrown over his shoulder, and makes a beeline for Geralt.

More people turn and gasp as they move out of the way, following Jaskier's line of sight, but he isn't deterred. "Geralt!" He announces brightly, "You made it!" He pauses then, and adds after a moment, "You're absolutely filthy. Didn't think to wash any of that off, darling?"

Darling. The word leaves him feeling hot and cold at the same time. "Didn't want to miss your show." He mumbles, which is a little too honest, but he has a flesh wound, so he thinks he can be forgiven the momentary lapse in judgement.

Jaskier lights up, of course. "Oh, aren't you sweet?" He asks rhetorically, then glances to the side and notices his audience's attention has continued to follow him. "The great White Wolf, back from another successful contract!" He announces as an explanation to attempt to quell their obvious discomfort, sweeping his hand out as if Geralt were something impressive to display, and not a man bleeding all over the floor. Ah, well, he'll clot soon enough anyway. "If you'd be so kind as to draw a bath for my companion, good sir." He calls out, locking eyes with one of the employees and reaching for the purse on his hip.

The man nods and Geralt huffs. "I can pay," he starts, but Jaskier waves him off.

"Nonsense. I just got paid, my treat."

Geralt rolls his eyes. "I also just got paid. I can afford my own bath."

Jaskier grabs his hand and pulls him away from the support beam, following after the person on his way to fill a tub. "You buy us a pitcher, then, or dessert. I'll get the bath." After a moment he screws up his face and glances down at their joined hands. "It's slimy."

"That'd be the blood."

"Ew." His nose scrunches up further, but he doesn't let go.

~*~*~*~

By the time the bath is filled, the blood's dried just enough that separating their hands is a bit of a hassle, and while Jaskier makes some (justified) disgusted squawking at the way their palms peel apart, Geralt's busy going on a bit of a downward spiral about the prolonged contact. It makes his heart do something funny in his chest, which he then has to chastise with a quick reminder that the gesture doesn't mean what his heart seems to think it means, which then leads to a lovely (it is not actually lovely) sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Well, hurry up and shuck the armor." Jaskier says, apparently having paid the man while Geralt was busy staring at his own palm. "You're not going to get any cleaner just standing there." He swirls his hand around in the bath, then uses the rim to scrape off the worst of the gunk.

Geralt sets to work unbuckling what needs unbuckling, trying not to think too hard about Jaskier's little pet names and affectionate gestures. Jaskier watches out of the corner of his eye-- not perversely, so much as critically. "You're quiet." He says. Geralt flicks his eyes up, then back down to the buckle on his left side. His fingers slip off it, and he mutters a quiet curse as he attempts to wipe his hands off on his pants, to no avail.

"Aren't I always?" He responds, and manages to get the buckle on his second try with a liberal usage of fingernails.

Jaskier tilts his head, considering. "Not quite like this, no."

Is he acting different? He doesn't feel like he's acting different. He almost looks up-- gets as far as seeing Jaskier's boots before he's looking back down again-- and wonders if maybe it's that he can't seem to make eye contact. His chest piece hits the floor and he works on peeling off his shirt, steadfastly ignoring Jaskier's scrutiny.

"Did something happen on your last contract?" He asks, voice laced with concern.

Other than the chunk missing from my leg because I was too busy brooding? He thinks, but doesn't say. "No," he says instead, bending over to unlace his boots. Jaskier makes a little, appraising sort of hum, but doesn't press further. When Geralt straightens, Jaskier has his back turned, slipping his doublet off his shoulders and hanging it on a nearby hook. He stays like that as he rolls his shirt sleeves up to elbows, and Geralt takes the opportunity to shuck his pants(makes a mental note to patch the thigh, now in tatters) and slip into the waiting tub.

The hot water feels better than he'd like to admit, though he can't help the small hiss that escapes as it envelopes his thigh. Jaskier looks sharply over his shoulder at the sound, eyes narrowing. "You're hurt, aren't you?" He asks, turned to face Geralt now, hands on hips. "Should've known some of that blood was yours... I thought I told you not to do that. What did you waste the luck I gave you on?"

And really, Geralt has something for this, some quip he could come back with, but the memory of Jaskier's kiss-- just a little peck, nothing more, and yet-- makes his stomach twist uncomfortably and all words flee him. He grunts back, and Jaskier heaves an exasperated sigh. "Of course. How silly of me. I've seen the light." He says in a deadpan drawl, dragging over a stool so he can sit beside the tub. "One of these days I'm going to crack through that grumpy exterior and find the soft, gooey center I know you have." His voice is light, teasing, and he picks up a wash cloth and reaches for Geralt as if to help, and it's suddenly too much.

Geralt doesn't know what it all means, except that it must not mean anything, because it seems to easily handed out to everyone, equally. He's not so selfish that he feels entitled to some sort of special treatment, but he doesn't-- he doesn't know what it means. Just that it suddenly feels very hollow, and far too casual, and he can't stand the idea of those hands touching his skin casually. Like it means nothing. Like he's anybody.

His body jerks out of the way to avoid Jaskier's touch of its own accord. "Geralt?" Jaskier asks, sounding almost alarmed, and Geralt heaves out an answering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. His hair falls down around his bowed head like a clumpy, bloody curtain. He doesn't know how to act, now that the dynamic's shifted-- or now that he understands it better, anyway. He's suddenly very tired.

"Geralt, are you sure you're alright?" Back to concerned again, hand reaching for Geralt's shoulder, but he flinches away before they touch.

"I'm fine." He grits out.

"Dear heart,"

"Don't call me that." He bites back, bowing his head further. Because I can't tell, he thinks to himself miserably, I can't differentiate. I can't make myself remember how you mean it. It feels too real.

"But I--" Jaskier starts, only to get cut off once more.

"I said don't." I can't take it. I can't take it.

After a tense, quiet moment, Jaskier finally says "Alright." and he sounds defeated, but a weight lifts itself from Geralt's chest, knowing he won't have those words burrowing their way under his skin any longer.

Guilt starts to creep in as seconds tick past and the room remains silent but for the water gently lapping at the sides of the tub. Jaskier asked him to come, was excited about this performance, but Geralt had never asked what made this one special, and now here he was elbow deep in Geralt's mess and miserable. He feels his stomach twist itself into knots all over again. He hadn't meant--

He chews on the inside of his cheek, hunches in a little further. Reaches out tentatively, but keeps his head bowed and face obscured. "Could--" And even as quietly as he said it, his voice sounds almost painfully loud in the silence. "Could you pass the..." He trails off, but the soap is placed in his upturned palm anyway. He hums a short 'thank you' sort of sound, but he just holds the bar in his hands, examining it. Jaskier doesn't say anything. "You were good tonight." Barely more than a whisper, but it still feels so loud. Is there an echo, or is it just his imagination? "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." The silence stretches on, and he almost thinks there won't be a response at all.

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" His voice is carefully even.

It startles Geralt a bit, and he glances up, brow furrowed. "No, I... I wouldn't..." He looks away again, down at the water. It's too pink, saturated with blood. He'll never be able to get fully clean. "I liked it." He says again, unsure of how to say it in a way that proves he means it. "It's-- your voice is... soothing."

Jaskier huffs a sigh through his nose. "Well, in that case, thank you very much, Geralt." Geralt. Seems too impersonal, after everything, but it's what he'd asked for, isn't it? No right to complain about it now. "I'm glad you made it. Always nice to see a familiar face in the crowd at the end of a long set. Here, let me." He adds as an aside, plucking the bar out of Geralt's hands. Geralt ducks away once more, and Jaskier gets quieter, pleading gently. "Please? If... if you truly want me to leave I will, but... please let me help."

Geralt doesn't say anything for the longest time, and eventually Jaskier reaches out, presses a hand to his shoulder. He flinches again, but he doesn't pull away this time. It rubs up against him wrong, but Jaskier huffs a sigh of relief, and he wants-- he wants it to be like how it was. How he thought things were.

He doesn't want Jaskier to be upset.

He allows the washcloth sliding across his back, and tries to pretend it doesn't just leave him cold.

~*~*~*~

"I never asked... what made this performance so special?"

"Hmm?" Jaskier's nails scratch over Geralt's scalp pleasantly, and he shrugs. "Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted you here."

Something warm and sweet curls up low in Geralt's stomach. He tries to remind himself that it doesn't mean anything.

~*~*~*~

"Before we set out again," Jaskier says the next morning, once Geralt is clean and rested and the world seems more solid under his feet, "I have one more friend I'd like to see, and if you're willing, it would mean a lot to me if you'd come with me and meet her. We've been friends for the longest time, you see, and she's very dear to me, and honestly the group you met the other night were mostly drinking buddies, but she's an actual friend. A companion, you know? So..." There's a sinking feeling in Geralt's stomach as Jaskier continues to ramble, but Jaskier looks so hopeful, hands clutched around his lute strap like that, eyes glittering... Geralt steels his resolve and agrees.

~*~*~*~

He berates himself on the short walk to her house. Honestly, if he can't handle meeting one friend-- one-- just because they're closer to Jaskier than he is, he's even more pathetic than he thought.

He can handle this. It won't be fun, but he can handle it.

~*~*~*~

They're gorgeous together. Her hair is blonde where his is russet, eyes a deep, honey brown where his are bright and blue, but otherwise they look alike in that way that only disgustingly gorgeous couples do. She matches his wit, and they share a passion, and once Jaskier gets over his seeming allergy to commitment, Geralt could envision him back here. With her. Making music together, a perfect little matching set. It works too well for it to go any other way. And even if they don't figure it out, well... they're very close. Best of friends.

He calls her dear heart and misery claws its way up Geralt's throat.

Geralt waits until Jaskier is in the middle of a story he's already heard to very quietly excuse himself for some fresh air. He steps out the front door and leans against the exterior wall of Priscilla's rented home.

How selfish, he thinks, standing alone outside the house of a woman he barely knows, waiting on a friend who's barely a friend, how fucking selfish.

What right does he have to jealousy?

What right do I have? He thinks, almost wildly, an edge of hysteria to his thoughts, what right do I have,

we're not even that close.

~*~*~*~

Apparently he takes too long, because eventually the front door creaks and Jaskier joins him outside, looking confused. "Is everything alright? What are you doing out here?"

"Fine." Geralt keeps his eyes closed and his head tilted back, pressed against the bricks. "Just needed some air."

"Air?" He parrots back incredulously, brow furrowed.

Geralt presses his head back against the bricks more firmly, so they dig into the back of his skull, little dull pinpricks of pain. "Priscilla's nice." He says, to avoid the topic of why he's outside, and because it's true.

Jaskier lights up at that, steps a bit closer. "Isn't she just?"

"You make sense, the two of you." Something aches in his chest to say it.

"We do, don't we? Been two peas in a pod, ever since we first bumped into each other at a bardic competition. Oh, and she was so excited to meet you, as well, what with all the stories and the songs n' such."

Geralt can't help but snort at that. "Mhmm, sure she was over the moon."

Jaskier's brow furrows again. "Well, what do you mean by that?"

He sighs. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"No, clearly something's wrong, I want to know what."

Certainly Priscilla had been made of stronger stuff than Jaskier's other bard friends, hadn't so much as flinched, but the rest... "Most people aren't you. They don't really feel much desire to fraternize with witchers."

"Oh, that again." He says dismissively, rolling his eyes. "Well, these aren't most people, they're my friends, whom I've regaled with many a tale of both your bravery and your kindness."

"Lots of people you talk to still don't like witchers by the end."

"Are you doubting my abilities as a storyteller, or just as a judge of character?" he asks hotly, arms crossed over his chest. "I know them, they wouldn't--"

"I'm not a complete fool, I know when people are frightened of me." He bites out, harsher than he meant to.

There's a beat of silence as he stares sullenly at his feet. "Oh, darling..." Jaskier says, tone pivoting to something sad and earnest as his hand reaches out.

"I asked you not to call me that." He says, same harsh tone, because the endearment twists between his ribs, and Jaskier's hand falters, his shoulders slump a bit further.

"I thought-- I mean, you'd only mentioned... I thought you just didn't like dear heart, but I can... I can stop using others too, if you'd like." He sounds soft and confused and a little bit hurt, and Geralt groans, scrubs a hand down his face.

"Fine, it's-- fine. I am a fool, actually. Just... call me what you like."

"No, if it upsets you, I won't say it anymore, just tell me which ones to avoid and I will."

"It doesn't matter, Jaskier, it's fine. I'm being stupid. I know that's just what you call people, so..."

Jaskier's entire face scrunches up this time, instead of just his brow. "What do you mean by that?"

He lifts a shoulder, fingers coming together to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. "I mean what it sounds like. You don't mean anything by it. It doesn't matter. Say whatever you're going to say."

"No, you're-- you're phrasing it oddly. What do you mean by that?" He reaches out to grasp at Geralt's wrist, tugging his hand away from his face to try and meet his eye, but Geralt just glances past him instead, eyeing the door.

"We should go back inside. Rude to keep someone waiting."

"You've never cared a day in your life what is or isn't rude."

"I care when the person's nice."

"You've never minded being rude to me, though." He sounds indignant.

"I care when the person's nice." He repeats, trying to pull the conversation back into something approaching companionable ribbing.

Jaskier gasps theatrically, puts a hand to his chest in mock-offense, but blocks the way when Geralt tries to shoulder past. "She's not that nice, and you're not getting out of this conversation. You've been acting oddly for a while, and now the sudden offense over endearments-- what's wrong? I'd like a straight answer, please."

Endearments. As if there's anything endearing about him. He leans back against the wall with a groan, tipping his head back so it thunks gently against the brick.

"It's not..." He tries to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat. He becomes, suddenly, crushingly aware of how embarrassing his current predicament is. "It's... pathetic." He mutters, glancing to the side so he doesn't have to look at Jaskier.

"You don't have to worry, you know I won't judge, not if it's really important." Jaskier's hand comes to rest on Geralt's bicep, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you... worried about making friends, perhaps? Because we can get back together with them, give you another chance. Just because you got nervous--"

"It's not that." He replies, exasperated. "It's just... I... I get too attached. I forget who I am... what I am," he says with no small amount of bitterness, "I forget my place."

"Geralt, you don't have a place!" Jaskier visibly cringes at his own words. "Ah, I meant-- of course you have a place, you know, a place amongst friends n' such, I just meant... you're not lesser or anything like that."

"Right..." Geralt lets out a long sigh, scrubs a hand down his face once more. "It's just... rough being reminded that you're more important to me than I am to you." He clicks his tongue, mouth twisting into a frown. "Fuck, that sounds manipulative now I say it out loud. I don't mean it that way, it's-- fine, really. It's my fault anyway."

Jaskier inhales sharply and pulls back almost as if struck, mouth agape. "Wh-- Geralt, what are you talking about? You're very important to me!"

Geralt nods along, but he keeps his eyes trained on the ground. "Yeah, like your drinking buddies are important, and the barkeep you know by name is important, and... and everyone is important to you. I know. It's just... it's different for me. But really, it's my fault, I'll... I'll get the moping out of my system eventually, alright?"

"Geralt, I genuinely have no clue what you're talking about, you're incredibly dear to me."

He can't help the snort that escapes at that, but every endearment just stabs him somewhere deep now, brings with it echos of every other time he's said it, like the words meant nothing. Probably because they didn't. "Yeah, dear. Dear heart. I get it." He all but mumbles.

He can see Jaskier's hackles start to raise, out of the corner of his eye, and he turns his head a bit more to escape having to look-- having to see-- "What's wrong with--"

"Nothing." He says before Jaskier can get started. "Nothing wrong with it at all. I just... I built it up to be something it wasn't, in my head, and-- and I know I'm the one in the wrong for it, for making something out of nothing, for getting a scrap of kindness and assuming it had some deeper hidden meaning, when clearly you're just... a nice person. I'm not being accusatory-- not trying to be, anyway."

"Geralt," he says, and he sounds devastated, but that can't... that can't be right, because... because-- he reaches out and grabs Geralt by the shoulders, tries to meet his eyes, but he keeps his head turned away, "where is this even coming from? I-- wait, is this because I called my friends dear heart as well? At the tavern?" He sounds incredulous, and something about the tone makes heat rise in Geralt's cheeks. He scowls and tries to push the feeling down.

"I just thought... I was a fool. I thought you only... I thought... that maybe that kind of closeness was... different for you too, but I'm-- I'm just realizing it wasn't, and I know it's foolish, but it just kind of... it hurts, alright? So just stop trying to say that it's equal, because I know it's more to me, I know I'm... being more."

Jaskier huffs and grips him tighter, tries once more, unsuccessfully, to catch his eye. "If you'd just listen to me, and stop cutting me off, you'd hear what I'm trying to say, which is--"

"Stop--"

He just gets louder, grips tighter, "Which is that you've got it all wrong, you do matter to me. I consider you one of my dearest friends--"

"Just stop, stop trying to--"

"And I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't. I never meant--"

The words come tumbling out so fast he doesn't have the time to think about what he's saying, or what he really means by it, he's too desperate to get Jaskier to stop. His mind casts back, reuses the metaphor it did when he was alone in his room that first night, and he says, "Yeah, Jaskier, I know, I know you never meant it, you never mean to, I'm just like every other two-bit fool you've left behind in every single shitty town who thought she was special just because you smiled at her, alright? And I'm just realizing that, even though I should've known it didn't mean anything special, because you're nice to everyone. But I didn't, and I let myself think it mattered, like a fool, let myself think I was more important than I was, so just-- hurry up and get your shit together and go kiss Priscilla," Jaskier echoes her name, sounding somewhere between mystified and scandalized, but Geralt barrels forwards, "and leave me behind like every other broken heart you've left strewn across the continent."

"Geralt," miserable, he sounds miserable,

The words stick in his throat, but he forces them out anyway. "And I'm not, I'm not mad at you for being you, or for saying it, or thinking we were some sort of friends, you're-- you're wonderful. That's the problem, see, you're wonderful, I'm mad at myself for reading into it, thinking it meant something more where clearly it--"

Suddenly, hands, strong and sure, are tangled in his hair, grabbing at him, forcing his head forward to finally face Jaskier, and he's tugged down into a kiss. It's little more than the firm press of Jaskier's mouth to his, but it brings his mind and his speech to a screeching halt anyway.

All too soon Jaskier is pulling away, as Geralt sits there, stock-still and dumbfounded. "Of course it means something," he says, quietly into the air between them but no less emphatically for it, "of course it does. It's always meant something when I say it to you." His hands slide forward, come around to cup at Geralt's jaw. "Who else do I travel with, like I travel with you? Who is it I wait for all winter? The pet names, the endearments, all those sweet words-- of course they mean something when I say them to you, darling."

He lets out a sound distressingly close to a whine, but Jaskier is right there, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in close for another kiss. Geralt's hands come up this time, clutching at Jaskier's back, feeling the warmth of him through the doublet, and he tugs him in close, so they're pressed chest to chest. He kisses Jaskier until he's dizzy with it, his mind reeling, then pulls away just so he can tuck his face into Jaskier's neck and breathe deep, grounding himself.

Jaskier's runs a hand through his hair, petting him gently and pressing him that much closer. "My dear, foolish witcher..." he mumbles fondly.

"I thought--" Jaskier shushes him, murmurs a soft 'I know' against his temple, then tucks his own face into Geralt's neck. Geralt marvels at the feel of him in his hands, at the fact he knows what Jaskier feels like against his mouth, at the fact that this is something he can have, and he can't resist the urge to press a kiss into Jaskier's skin.

He giggles a bit and shies away, as if tickled, and Geralt tucks in closer, presses another kiss to the same spot, this one open-mouthed and sucking. Jaskier lets out an appreciative hum and tilts his head away to open up more space, fingers tracing nonsense patterns across Geralt's shoulders. "Fuck, that's nice... love you so much, darling."

A wounded noise works its way out of his throat, and his chest feels fit to bursting. "I love you too," he says, kissing a desperate line up Jaskier's neck, "I love you, gods, I love you," he repeats between kisses, over and over, until their lips connect again, as if he could somehow press the love into Jaskier's skin, sink the bone-deep truth of it into him in a way it could never leave or be misunderstood.

He walks Jaskier back and presses him up against the wall, intent on kissing him senseless, when he hears someone behind him clear their throat. Both of their heads snap to the side to find Priscilla lounging against the door frame, eyebrow raised and lips upturned. "Do you boys plan on coming back inside, or are we cutting this lunch date short?"

Geralt feels bad about eating into so much of her afternoon with his own problems, and is instantly chastened by her words, but Jaskier seems to hold none of the same reservations, eyes crinkling at the corner happily. "Oh, we'd love to. Good timing, by the way."

"I waited until the sounds of arguing stopped, but apparently I didn't wait long enough." She looks faintly amused.

"He was the one who pushed the issue..." Geralt mutters, face heating up once more.

"Mm, sounds about right. He's a little hellion when he wants to be."

"A compliment, I'm sure." He says brightly, and she rolls her eyes fondly and disappears back into the house, front door left ajar for them to follow after.

Jaskier turns back to Geralt, smiling from ear to ear, and takes his hand in his own. "We can talk more about this, and what it means for us, later." He presses a kiss to Geralt's cheek. "I do love you, dearest." He says quietly, then starts towards the door, tugging Geralt along after him. "For now, let's go finish visiting our friend, hmm? We can head back to our room after that."

Dearest. Our friend. Our room. Geralt's throat gets tight, and he nods weakly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. As long as you're with me."

"Of course I'm with you." Jaskier's smile gets a bit softer, just that much fonder, and Geralt falls into step beside him.

#witcher tag #writing tag #geraskier

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

Note

Is it alright if I request some YanTuber? Pretty please? I just really loved the idea. It can be an OC of yours! Thank you so much.

With the number of concepts I’ve done about Yandere YouTubers, it’s about time I actually get around to, y’know, writing something. I hope this suffices, if only as an introduction. I think the formatting on its own is enough to disqualify this from being a real one-shot.

Title: Livestream.

TW: Kidnapping, Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug-Use, Isolation and Slight Victim Shaming.

‘They’re so pretty!’

‘I wasn’t expecting an actual person… This is getting a little too real, isn’t it?’

‘Finally. I thought this was going to be another prep vlog.’

You kept yourself focused on the bright screen, despite the way the white lettering on the dark background stung at your eyes, a headache forming deep in your temple as you tried to read the comments appearing at the side of your captor’s display, coming too quickly and too mindlessly for anyone to ever properly keep track of. You didn’t move, didn’t blink, you wouldn’t breathe if you didn’t have to, you were sure of it.

Your stalker, your kidnapper, your captor, Kane, as he’d asked you to call him, had sat you down an hour before and explained that you had to stay on your best behavior, for the sake of his fans. He’d already spent most of the ride back to his secluded, woodsy cabin going on about his ��passion project’, about the hundreds of thousands of people that’d been looking forward to seeing you for months, now, your gagged mouth and your sedative-addled mind making it impossible for you to interrupt his rambling. He’d said that he wanted to make a good impression, that you’d just have to smile and sit pretty for a while while he gave his subscribers the good news. You didn’t even have to say anything, just wave to the camera when he tells you to. Just behave.

You’d asked why you shouldn’t scream. It was going to be live, you knew that much, and nothing could stop you from flailing and yelling and crying until someone called the police. With a patient smile, he’d kissed your forehead and told you that, if you were going to be stubborn and make a fuss, he was sure there’d be plenty of time to do something graphic and unpleasant before the authorities found a home so hidden by the forest. He’d made a video on the importance of finding a private place to keep you, and he promised to show it to you, sometime.

You hadn’t said much of anything, after that.

‘They look so sad.’

‘Kane, you should tell them to cheer up!’

‘This ARG sucks. The actors can’t even pretend to be happy to be here.’

“Hey, don’t be too harsh,” He chided, speaking not to you, but the screen, to the thousands of people watching you squirm in his lap, one of his arms looped around your waist and the other idly tapping melodies into the tabletop. “It’s been a big change for us, and I don’t think my angel got a lot of sleep last night.” He sighed, shaking his head, absent-mindedly running his fingers through his short, dust-colored hair, the same shade of tan as his paling freckles. “It’s one thing to say you’re going to drive five hours straight with someone tied-up in your backseat, but I didn’t think I’d be so worried. I feel like I found an excuse to stop every five minutes and make sure this one--” There was a nudge to the back of your shoulder, edging you towards his screen. “--hadn’t died in their sleep.”

Kane pulled you a little closer, letting your back settle against his chest as he let out a slow, nervous laugh. The lights in the room were dim, all candles and oil-lanterns, but you could almost make out a dull blush coating the skin of his cheeks. For a moment, you wondered if he was camera-shy, but whatever sympathy you might’ve felt was quickly discarded as he continued. “It was my first time using a tranquilizer on another person - or, a person I cared about keeping alive, I mean. My hands were shaking so badly, I didn’t know if I’d be able to find a vein. It was easier on the practice dummies. The poor thing took an hour to stop bleeding, too.” Another sigh, another kiss, this one to the top of your head. You flinched away from the gesture, but Kane didn’t seem to care, only going on with a renewed sense of affection. “Don’t worry, though, I took care of it. You’re alright now, aren’t you?”

You shifted in your seat, his repetitive beat soon being pressed into your hip, instead. “My wrists still hurt,” You managed. “The handcuffs don’t really help.”

‘What an ungrateful fucking bitch.’

‘I’d let Kane stab me as many times as he wants to.’

‘I need a handcuff reveal!’

“And I need a pair nobody’d be stupid enough to try and break,” Kane countered, his hand finding its way to the back of your collar. With a low grunt and a half-hearted effort, you were hauled backward, forcing to settle closer to his waist than his thighs as he took you by the forearm, gently guiding your hands into frame, along with the restraints he’d been generous enough to use. It was a clunky, heavy contraption, the surface more rust than steel with chain too short to help you do anything useful, but it served its purpose. You couldn’t thrash, couldn’t struggle, not unless you wanted an infection your captor could ineffectively and lovingly treat. “It’s a little old, but I didn’t really plan on needing it. There’s a nicer pair in our bedroom, but that’s not the kind of content that keeps me monetized.” He paused, allowing himself a small smile. “Someone a little overwhelmed, so I’m just trying to make sure they don’t get into anything they’re not supposed to. They were so mad when they came-to… I guess they’ve never really been an outdoorsy type of person.”

You couldn’t stop yourself. You weren’t sure you wanted to, not when another one of his adoring fans seemed to speak up every other second. “It’s not like I wanted to leave the city.”

“You didn’t,” He admitted, shrugging carelessly. “But, you’re going to like it. There aren’t as many creeps out here, and no one’ll try to tear us apart, not when so few people know where we are. I was really careful about that, I’d be surprised if anyone even knows your gone, yet. And if you don’t come around…” His eyes flickered towards his camera, towards the chat, more alive than it’d been all night, buzzing with dozens of different thoughts and theories and debates as disjointed as debates could be. He seemed to revel in it, in the controlled chaos, his eyes lighting up as he addressed his loyal, fiery, dependable following. “You’ll help me out when the time comes, right, guys?”

‘Definitely, as long as you promise to record it!’

‘Why wait? The brat looks like they need a reality check.’

‘I want to see them bleed.’

You felt yourself go still, the shock less severe than the dread that accompanied it, the numb awareness that even if you screamed, even if you cried, even if you begged, half the people watching wouldn’t believe you and the other half would rejoice in your suffering. Kane didn’t seem to feel the same hopelessness, though, not as he leaned against your shoulder, his lips pressing against your back and his voice dropping into a tone only you could hear. “See, baby?” He whispered, the edges of his teeth ghosting over your skin.

“It’s just like I told you, they’d do anything to make sure we’re happy together.”

523 notes · View notes

sevlgi · 5 years ago

Text

don’t want to see you

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: jennie x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: fashion designer!au, rough breakup

warnings: none

synopsis: After your terrible breakup 4 years ago, you’re the last person Jennie wants to see at her dream job.

a/n: I accidentally did 4 years instead of two but eh... I’m glad you enjoy my writing!

word count: 2.4k

“This is it, huh?”

Jennie laughs as Jisoo wipes a fake tear away, pouting as she opened her arms for a hug. “Stop pretending to be sad, unnie, you know you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“Never!” the older girl protests, arms wrapping around Jennie. Under the cold winter sky, Jisoo is a source of familiarity and warmth that’s all too hard to let go of. “But I am glad you got this position. It’s been your dream for such a long time, and you gave up your first opportunity for… her.”

As soon as the mention of you slipped out of her mouth, Jisoo winces; she knows that over 4 years after your breakup, Jennie’s still not over you, not in the slightest. The younger girl forces a smile, hitching her designer bag up her shoulder a bit as she detaches herself from her friend. “Yeah. Thanks for sending me off, I’m off to be a successful adult now.”

“Rude!” Jisoo calls out, hands on her hips but a smile beaming across her face. She hopes that Jennie isn’t too affected by her words, and that nothing spoils the day her friend has been looking forward to for years. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly successful actress!” She continues waving until she’s just a tiny dot, her younger friend passing through the building’s gate.

Even the air smells fancy, Jennie notes as she steps through the revolving doors. She’s glad she wore an expensive outfit, no matter how cold the skirt is-- name brands are practically glued onto every person in the building. Filtered sunlight shines off of silk scarves and glimmers over fine dresses, heels clicking on the glossy marble floors. Various colognes and perfumes mix in the air, and Jennie inhales with a grin. This is her new life, the one that she’s wanted and worked for ever since she was a child.

The elevator ride up is lonely, of course, but she recognizes the frosted glass door she passes through to reach the office of the man who interviewed her for the position in the first place. “Ms. Kim,” Taehyung greets her, his voice deep and gentle. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Mr. Kim,” Jennie bows politely. Despite the fact that she’s only a year younger than him, he’s interestingly intimidating. “Ah, I thought you said my partner would greet me today?”

Taehyung nods, hands fidgeting with the Gucci blazer he wears. “Yes, we decided your new partner yesterday. Y/N’s just a bit busy, though, so she sent me to greet you first. Come with me to the elevator, your studio’s on another floor.”

Y/N. Jennie’s blood runs cold at your name even as she scurries to keep up with the man’s long legs, memories of screaming and slamming doors suddenly fading into her mind. She does her best to shake it off, though; it’s not like you’re the only person ever with that name. The world doesn’t revolve around her, never mind her shitty relationship from years before. “Oh. I see.”

Professional chatter about work fills the elevator ride; Taehyung’s already a senior at the company and a prodigy with fashion. Honestly, he could be a model as well as a designer, Jennie thinks as he smiles politely, opening her new office door for her. “Please.”

To no surprise, the studio is gorgeous, with floor-to-ceiling windows and sparkling modern furniture. Gorgeous swaths of fabric are displayed on benches all over the room, golden mannequins draped with clothing. Jennie doesn’t stop an exhilarated gasp from escaping her lips as she reaches to touch one of the designs splayed out on the table, and she also doesn’t stop the horrified one when she recognizes the signature on the paper.

Just in time, Taehyung’s deep voice sounds behind her. “Y/N, glad you could make it.”

Jennie turns quickly to face the doorway, and her heart leaps up into her throat as a far too familiar face greets her.

You look a hundred times better than the last time Jennie saw you, she has to admit that. The fancy outfit, probably something you made yourself by the looks of it, suits you perfectly, and your makeup is probably professionally done.

At the sight of her, your jaw drops, though you recover quick enough that your shared supervising officer doesn’t have a reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. “Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself as you stick a hand out to shake. “You must be Jennie Kim.”

“That’s me,” she breathes, still a bit horrorstruck at the sight of you. It’s so difficult to pretend not to know you when Jennie still remembers every inch of you; she almost shudders when she remembers the way your skin felt under her fingertips. “You’re my new partner?”

“Yep,” you nod, biting down on your lip. Jennie remembers that habit of yours; it got annoying sometimes, when you tasted of blood. “I am.”

Taehyung smiles, “Y/N, I expect you to take care of Ms. Kim. I think the two of you will get on well. For now, I’ll leave the two of you to become acquainted, and Jennie, take all the time you need to become comfortable. Please, ask me if you need anything.”

As soon as the elevator door closes again, Jennie relaxes and you go rigid. Her eyes widen as she hisses, “What’re you doing here? Since when are you a fashion designer, Y/N?”

“Oh, good to see you too,” you scoff, turning away and plopping into your desk chair. To her annoyance, you’ve already occupied the side of the room with the better lighting. “I see you’re just as rude as when we broke up, Jennie Kim. No tact or professionalism at all; how did you even get hired?”

“For my talent,” Jennie scowls, crossing her arms defensively. “And you really expect a hello after that disaster? Remember when you got me evicted from my apartment, and we fought for days in a row?”

You sigh and pinch the area between your eyebrows. “I told you time and time again, that wasn’t my fault. It’s just like you to blame me for your own failures, no wonder I got your dream position years before you did.”

An incredulous gasp escapes Jennie’s lips as she tosses her bag down on her desk. From the start, it was an insecurity of hers that you were more accomplished, more successful than her, and she still never expected you to throw it back in her face. “Real mature, Y/N. Did you really usurp my position just to spite me? How childish.”

“I didn’t usurp anything, Jennie.” Standing suddenly, you’re eye-to-eye with Jennie, and she can smell the familiar perfume you’ve always worn. Your eyes are narrowed in anger, nose scrunching in anger. “I have my own dreams too, aside of you, but you’ve never seen that. You’ve always seen me as an object, without my own capability of thought.”

“That-- that’s not true.” She curses herself for stuttering, drawing her chin up. You’re barely inches away from her face, nails digging into your biceps with your arms crossed. “You know what, Y/N? I hoped you changed in these past 4 years, and I hoped that we could stay civil, but you obviously have remained just as much of an asshole as you always were.”

Rounding her desk and sitting down in her chair with a huff, Jennie pulls her computer closer to her. It’s just her luck to see the person she never wanted to see again on her so-called perfect day.

Weeks pass without you and Jennie holding a real, full conversation; to be honest, she knows that any single word out of your mouth would sound rude and conniving, even if you didn’t mean it that way. You fight over the stupidest things- did Jennie take your stapler? Did you take hers? What about that nice sweater you left in the office overnight?

Suffice to say, it’s nothing less than miserable.

Jennie finds solace in Joohyun, who was the one to recommend her for the job. The older woman knows plenty about the disastrous breakup years ago, and is a perfect source of good advice.

“Are you sure you’re not still harboring feelings for her?”

Okay, maybe not-so-good advice.

Spluttering, Jennie coughs on the sandwich she was eating for lunch, Joohyun’s gentle taps on her shoulder not really helping. A few other coworkers stare as they pass by in the cafeteria. “What?”

The other woman shrugs, delicately sipping at a cup of coffee. “You’re obviously not over her, and she you, if you’re still fighting over stupid things. If you didn’t like her anymore and simply hated her, you’d just ignore her existence.”

Jennie scowls, patting at her lips. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We were miserable in our relationship, Joohyun unnie, and she broke my heart.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still love her.” The brunette sounds sage, as wise as the demure blue silk blazer she wears. “You need to have a good talk with her, without shouting or arguing. Get your feelings out in the open, no matter what they may be.”

The younger girl pouts, chewing contemplatively. It’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever agree to a talk with her, as hostile as you are. Maybe Jennie’ll just have to survive like this, arguing with her partner.

She can survive anything for her dream job.

Jennie stares in shock at the huge pieces of fabric missing from every single one of the 5 dresses she was working on, skirts and bodices alike ripped to shreds. “What. In the hell?”

She slams her coffee down on one of the desks, not caring of the brown liquid splatters all over the papers that just happen to be yours. Her eyes sweep the room, narrowing in rage when she finds all of your projects completely untouched.

“Holy shit,” she hears behind her, and swirls to find you standing in the doorway, mouth agape in shock. “Um, that’s an… innovative design?”

Lunging forward, Jennie’s hands connect with your chest, pushing you into the wall. “Did you do it?” she shouts, barely noticing that you flinch when she raises her voice. “I thought you were better than this!”

“I…” You’re lost for words, seeing the sheer anger in your ex-girlfriend’s eyes. “I didn’t! I swear! You have to believe me, Jennie, I wouldn’t stoop so low.”

Her forearm slams into your chest again; you wince, not at the pain, but just at how evil of a person you must be in her eyes. “I don’t.” Her voice is flat and cold as she seethes, “I get it if you hate me, but don’t sabotage me like this. You know better than anyone how important this job is to me.”

She lets go, stumbling back a bit as she stares at her hands. Your sound raw when you ask, “Is that what kind of a person you think I am? Jennie, I may have hurt you, but I’m not evil.”

The other girl bites her lip; some part of her wants to apologize, and another part of her- damn. Maybe Joohyun was right after all. “I don’t care. Stay away from me, Y/N. It doesn’t matter if we’re partners, I don’t want to see your face.”

“Ms. Kim?”

Taehyung knocks on the open door of the studio, stepping inside. His eyes widen at the sight of the fabric shreds that Jennie sweeps into a dustpan. “Ah.”

“Please, call me Jennie.” The girl bows and attempts at a professional smile, though she’s sure that anger still twitches in her eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?”

“Taehyung, then,” he says kindly. “Someone reported that your designs were destroyed? I came to take a look and evaluate what should be done. This is much more serious than I thought it would be.”

Jennie frowns; she doesn’t believe that it wasn’t you, but she also isn’t the kind of person to be so petty as to ruin your career. “Yes. I’m not sure who did it, and I’d like to know who.”

Holding a shred of fabric between his forefinger and thumb, Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have any suspicions at all? Not… your partner, perhaps?”

“Why would you say that?” Jennie lowers her dustpan, schooling herself to look expressionless as she says, “Y/N is just my partner. I have no history with her whatsoever.”

Sighing, the tall man turns with his hands in her pockets. “Jennie, Y/N came clean as soon as Joohyun suggested you for the position. She told me that you two have… a past, and that she feels terrible about it. She requested you to become her new partner, actually.”

Silence falls between the two designers, Jennie stepping back as if to shield herself from information she doesn’t want to know. “What? You must be mistaken. If Y/N told you that she’s my ex, you must know that she hates me.”

Taehyung walks a bit closer, a soft smile on his face when. “Look, Jennie, I know her. She regrets hurting you, I promise, and she’d never want to sabotage you like this. You need to talk with her.”

His shoulder just barely brushes up against Jennie’s as he walks out, pausing at the door to reassure her, “We are reviewing security footage, though, and I promise we’ll have an answer for you soon.”

Once he’s gone, Jennie’s left alone, staring at the shredded remnants of her projects on her desk.

Can it really be that you don’t hate her?

Jennie stares at the bowing employee, Taehyung smiling cheerfully at his desk. You avoid her eyes, counting ceiling tiles where you sit. “This is him, Jennie. He sabotage you. Would you like to tell why?”

The employee looks almost scared as Jennie crosses her arms, eyes flicking to yours and Taehyung’s. “I… was jealous. I wanted to be Y/N’s new partner. I should’ve been the first choice, not someone random that a senior recommended!”

Even as he explains himself, Jennie can only find herself staring at you; when your eyes meet, Jennie’s struck by just how much she’s missed you in the past 4 years. A soft smile from you elicits a feeling she hasn’t known since you left her, a feeling other than heartbreak or anger.

Taehyung fires the employee on the spot, and Jennie feels like she’s in a daze the entire time. After being kicked out of the office so that Taehyung can work, she avoids meeting your eyes in the hallway. “So…”

“I hope you don’t still believe that it was me,” you interrupt, stepping a bit closer to Jennie. “I know I hurt you, Joohyun told me how heartbroken you were. I’ve changed since then, Jen.”

The nickname’s nostalgic, and Jennie is startled when she feels a tear pricking at her eye. “I… I know. I’m sorry for thinking it was you in the first place, I should’ve known.”

Your hand brushes under her chin, tilting Jennie’s face up so that she can meet your eyes. Your expression is soft, no longer guarded, and emotion pulls at the corner of your lips. “I don’t blame you. Breaking up with you was the worst decision of my life, Jen. If you’d let me, I’d like to make it right.”

“What, you want to be together again? It doesn’t work like that, Y/N.” The other girl wipes furiously at her eyes with her hand, not caring if her makeup smears. “You might regret it, but you really did hurt me.”

“Yeah. I did. And I’m not asking to be together again.” You inhale, the corners of your own eyes a little bit wet. “I’m asking for you to forgive me, with time. Give me a second chance, just let me become your friend again. That’s all I want.”

A second chance. Do you even deserve a second chance? Jennie wonders. After everything you did to her, do you deserve to be let in her heart again?

But as you search her eyes for an answer, suddenly so much older and wiser than she remembered you, Jennie knows.

Her hand reaches for yours, soft fingers curling around yours as she smiles, “I’ll try.”

374 notes · View notes

straydawg-writing · 4 years ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦.

- 𝓚. 𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙮𝙘��

• hunter x hunter series!

summary:

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙝.

𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨.

ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡̩̥̩ ⋆ ♡̩̥̩♡̩̩̥͙♡̩͙̩͙ˊˎ

- 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙪𝙖. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩. (𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙩 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙘)

┕━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┙

Chapter 1 —

⋯✰⋯

"Book."

"Gain!"

Bisky's eyes shined like stars as a smooth blue gemstone appeared in front of her. You could spot tears of hers spring up as she cradled the glittering rock like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"What should I name it? Blue-chan? Planet-chan?" she gushed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. You stifled a laugh, catching a glimpse of Killua's dumbfounded expression. If one thing were true, it's that he does not understand women.

While Gon and Killua endured Bisky's brutal training during Greed Island, you had grown to like her. Despite her being 45 years older than you, you imagined she was the closest thing to what a big sister would be like. Or maybe a mom? You wouldn't know.

Unfortunately, you weren't special enough to escape her unforgiving training either. Bisky knew no mercy. While training their physical bodies, she also trained the trio's nen abilities.

Gon developed his special punch move by using the rock, paper, scissors of Chinese martial arts. Killua learned how to better channel his electricity, though Bisky had looked concerned when he first demonstrated it to her. You couldn't blame her. Killua's ability to withstand electricity only came from years of shock torture, and you noticed how he rarely mentions the fact that he still feels the pain. You caught on to it the night you watched his Heaven's Arena match, remembering his voice floating to the stands.

"𝘐'𝘮 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴."

Your heart clenched for him every time you remember this fact. He has a tendency to hide his pain, in order to not burden his friends.

Then there's you, who Bisky took upon herself to help.

Since the day Wing opened your nen pores and declared you a Manipulator, you practiced your nen with Gon and Killua daily. When the time came to decide your special ability, the answer was as clear to you as a cloudless sky.

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

Since then you'd been seen carrying around leather pouches of dirt, water, and vines wherever you went. It was a nice start, but it sure did make your back hurt. And of course, Bisky would not accept that. Ordering you to dump out all of your pouches to the ground, she had you draw out your power from the scattered elements that had begun already mixing with the dirt.

Unsure, you had hesitantly stretched out your arm and tried pulling from the water. It took you a number of tries to get it right. You had squinted long and hard, focusing on extending your nen to the elements around you. To your giddy surprise, small, sparkling droplets of H20 were separating from the glob of inky mud to float just a few inches above your hands. Concentrating harder, the droplets began orbiting one another. They looked like little planets.

Sensing the vines, you were able to control their movements too, even manipulating ones that hadn't originated from your leather pouch.

Bisky's wide smile was all that you needed.

From that day on, you only practiced manipulating whatever was around you. The earth was your ally.

"Well, what will you do once you find Ging?" Bisky's voice snapped you out of a daze.

"Naturally, I'll introduce him to Killua, my best friend in the whole world!"

"What am I, a roach?" You mocked, but couldn't keep a smile from spreading across your face.

Gon's unyielding positivity and bubbly voice was like honey to your ears. No one could ever doubt the adoration he held for his best friend.

"Stupid, cut that out! It's embarrassing," said Killua, turning red as a tomato. He looked away in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, except you were right there to catch his blush.

You flashed a mischievous smile to Killua. "You know, I think an I-Love-You-Too-Gon-I-Also-Think-You're-The-Best would suffice once in a while."

"Shut up."

Killua was as stubborn as ever. You are playfully rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to the rest of the group. Gon was inviting Bisky to come with them and meet Ging, but she had said something about not being interested in men who already have kids.

"If I stay with you any longer, I really will get too attached..." Bisky tried to mask it, but you've always been good at noticing little details. She was going to miss them. And truth be told, you were going to miss her too.

"The hunter world is a small place. We'll all see each other again in no time!" you reassured your friends. "See you later, Bisky."

"Take care, Bisky." Gon said his goodbyes, Killua nodding next to him.

⋯✰⋯

"Accompany on."

"Nigg!"

At that, a bright light enveloped all of them, streaking them through the sky. Every time you did this on Greed Island, you had always shut your eyes tight. You'd never get used to the feeling.

The next thing you knew, the three of you landed in an area thick with white fog. It was slightly chilly, causing you to shiver. A hundred feet in front of you was a tall sakura tree with roots so large they could be mistaken for a magical beast. It had to have been there for at least a couple hundred years. Soft, pink petals drifted in the wind, dancing around you and your friends. As your eyes focused, you noticed a shadowy man reclining on the tree's roots. Could it be Ging?

Before you realized what was happening, the mysterious man turned towards the three of you and opened fire on Gon.

Then, Killua was diving in slow motion and pulling Gon out of the way and the two of them were rolling on the ground holding onto each other. Getting a hold of your senses, you looked down at dozens of bullets that had made holes in the ground and noticed an injured ant lying motionless on the floor. The thing was completely decapitated.

"Now look what you've done, you killed an innocent soul!" you exclaimed to the man, pointing at the poor bug.

"That's not Ging..." Gon whispered.

"What was that all about?! First, you push us down, then you fire at us. Stop messing around!" Killua accused the Not-Ging.

After helping Gon back up, Killua examined the insect too. That is, before it ruthlessly attacked him.

"Oh. It wasn't dead," you stated the obvious.

The man quickly finished off the ant biting Killua's leg with his machine gun before scoffing at you. He took off the black jacket he was wearing, unveiling straight, platinum white hair so long it almost touched the floor. You could get a better look at him now. He was lanky, and the beret he wore casted a shadow over his eyes. If you had to guess, you'd say he's about 6'3. Just who was this man? Had God finally sent an angel to cleanse you from your sins?

"I was being dead serious. If I hadn't opened fire, you would have been attacked. That was no ordinary ant, it was a Chimera Ant."

"A what?"

"An aggressive, carnivorous insect that's been designated Quarantine Level 1. You three didn't realize it, but you were standing right in front of their nest. If I hadn't fired the moment I did, an army of Chimera Ants would have consumed all of you by now," the angel explained.

You gawked at his beautiful long locks, gracefully flying in the wind as he turned to leave.

Gon seemed to have recognized the man, asking something about if he were the one who had saved him back then. Gon told a story about being rescued from a fox bear, though it looked like he had remembered something else because he held his cheek as if he'd just been hit. For the first couple of seconds, the man looked at Gon like he was in denial about the person right in front of him. Then, like it was nothing, he called Gon by his name. And if by a miracle, he also knew Ging.

"My name is Kite. Ging was my master."

You nudged Killua, "Did you hear that?! He knows Gon's dad!" Killua looked just as shocked as you.

The three of you followed Kite to a small campfire as he told them stories about Ging, himself, and his current mission. You were thankful for the heat source, warming your hands against the flame as it was only getting colder as night fell. You cursed yourself for not being like Gon and Killua, who always had their long sleeve layers and could just strip them whenever the weather deemed it necessary. All you were wearing were burgundy shorts, combat boots, and a black t-shirt. And of course, your necklace. You reached your hand and held onto the choker pendent around your neck. It was all you had left of your home. Just holding onto the pink pendent brought you enough comfort to warm you from the inside out again.

The sun was beginning to set by the time you met Kite's friends and the cute dog that had taken a liking to Gon. Your eyes softened as you watched Gon play with the puppy, having found its sweet spot right behind its ear. He caught you staring, and flashed his pearly whites.

"Y/N, come rub his belly! He's so soft!"

Getting up from your spot next to Killua and wiping the dust off your shorts, you traveled to where Gon was now teaching the dog new tricks.

"How are you gonna teach him anything without any dog treats?" you asked, petting the little dog.

"With this!" Gon pulls out a handful of goldfish from his pocket. He tossed one to the pup, who caught it in midair.

You held in a laugh. "Gon, why do you just have goldfish lying around in your pockets like that?"

"You don't always have time to snack when you're training you know.. Plus, It's in a baggy!" He showed you the zip -block bag that was stuffed inside the pocket of his green shorts, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. This time you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"Oh I see, as long as it's in a bag, right? Can I see one?"

Gon nodded and put some goldfish in the palm of your hand. Looking for Killua, you spotted him sitting on a log watching as the sun set under the ocean's horizon. He looked so ethereal as the orange light reflected off of him. The light made his fluffy white hair shine, and a slight breeze made delicate strands wisp in the wind like snowflakes. You almost felt bad for disturbing the picturesque scene in front of you.

"Hey, Killua! Come feed this dog Gon's two-year-old musty goldfish with me!"

Yeah, you had ruined the moment.

"It's not two years old! I bought it in Yorknew," he whined.

"But it's musty?"

Killua walked up to the two of you with a questioning look, and you paused your bickering to hold open his hand and transfer the goldfish. The dog barked.

"I'm not sure, animals typically run away once they smell Mike on me," he said, referring to the oversized human-eating guard dog at the Zoldyck estate. Considering it's job was to deter people, you guessed that made sense. Still, you had faith that this innocent pup could show Killua some love. He needed the free therapy.

"Just try it!" Gon pushed.

Killua succumbed to Gon's request, holding the treat out to the tail-wagging puppy. Though, instead of taking the treat, it knocked Killua clean over, licking his face.

"What the heck— Help!" Killua desperately tried wiping the slimy slobber off of his lips.

"I think he's trying to kiss you." You giggled.

Mission accomplished!

"Kite did say that hunters are well-liked by animals. This means you're a great hunter, Killua!" Gon excitedly shared.

Killua offered a small smile. "I haven't passed the test yet, dummy."

⋯✰⋯

author's notes: hope you guys liked the first chapter! i'm excited to keep this story going!

#hunterxhunter #killua x reader #killua fanfiction #hunter x hunter fanfiction #killua zoldyck #self insert #killua zoldyck x reader #chimera ant arc #kite #gon

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cami-chats · 4 years ago

Text

Controlled Explosions

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Warnings: Normal superhero shenanigans

Summary: Tony doesn't go out of his way to create explosions. He just happens to be in a lot of situations where things explode, and that's hardly his fault, is it, Steve?

Five times Tony is the cause of an explosion, and one time someone else tries to be. Written for MTH2020

Read below or on AO3

1. Define 'controlled explosion'

"You said it would be a controlled explosion," Steve said.

"Yeah," Tony said, confused, and still-- if he was being honest-- having a little trouble hearing. He'd been a bit closer to the bomb when it went off than he'd meant to be. "It was."

"That was not controlled!"

At some other time, it would be fascinating to see the differences between Steve in Captain America mode and when he wasn't. When he'd been in Cap-mode, talking to Tony about how setting off the explosion early might be a bad idea, he'd been very calm about it all. Now that he was just Tony's boyfriend, he was kind of freaking out.

Tony blinked at him in confusion. It had been controlled. "The previous location of the bomb would've brought the whole building down. I know you don't really understand chain reactions, but suffice it to say that we saved an entire city block by moving it."

"For fuck's sake, Tony! I told you to go ahead because you made me think it was going to be safe!"

"I never said it was safe. I said that it was safer than letting it go off where it had been placed, which was true."

"You said it would be a controlled explosion!"

"And it was. Maybe you should look up what an uncontrolled explosion looks like," Tony said, patting him on the arm then getting on his tiptoes for a quick kiss before leaving. He needed to take a shower and get some of this grime off. He heard Steve say something in response, but it was too low for him to really make out with his ears still ringing-- and not facing him, so he couldn't read his lips and try to piece it together. He imagined that it was something half-loving and half-derogatory, since that's what Steve usually did when Tony did something dangerous in the field. If it was really important, Steve would say it again.

2. Who knew that artifact would explode?

Despite what some people-- like Steve, Coulson, the rest of the Avengers really-- thought about Tony and his workshop, he did practice safe procedures. What they didn't seem to really understand was that there were situations where he could be safe and shit would still go wrong.

Like this. This was an alien artifact, and Thor was out of contact dealing with royal Asgard business-- presumably; it's not like he'd filled them in, just said that he had to go home and would be back as soon as he could-- so Tony was guessing. He had on thick gloves and goggles, and he wasn't even touching the glowing sphere directly, which was progress that he thought they should be appreciative of. He had tools. Not as easy to work with as his own fingers, but it was still good enough that he'd been able to pry away part of the outside protective, metal shell.

He gingerly placed the tongs on the inside and made to turn it so he could confirm that it was the same all around, but he didn't get the chance. An explosion rocked the workshop, leaving a crater where his table used to be and blowing him halfway across the room.

"Huh," Tony said, then started coughing. Bright side? He still had all his fingers. The tongs he'd been using were vaporized as best he could tell. In fact, everything metal within a foot of the sphere was now gone. Tony's gloves were untouched. He pulled one off and slid the goggles off his face so he could get a better look at them. The lenses were fine, as expected. Most of the components were plastic, but there were a couple places that had metal pins, just to help hold it together. The pins were gone. One firm tug, and the strap would disconnect from the lenses.

Half the team-- the half that had been in the Tower-- came running into the room. Tony gave a half-hearted wave, still coughing.

"What happened?" Natasha asked.

"Well, let's look on the bright side," Tony said roughly, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm still alive." If he'd been closer to it when it went off, it would've taken a chunk out of the arc reactor. Its range had been small enough that he was safe. It was obvious that things hadn't gone as wrong as they could have, so he didn't see why they were looking at him with that much concern. He coughed again. "Maybe I'll call the Fantastic Four to take this one over." He didn't want to, but he hadn't been having any luck with it before it took a bite out of his workshop. If nothing else, it wouldn't instantly kill any of them if they were standing too close. Besides, Reed was pretty good about passing information back to him. And if there was any superhero group he had to work with, he'd choose the Fantastic Four every time.

"Yeah, I don't think that really answered the question," Clint said. "You're lucky Cap's not here, or you'd find yourself wrapped in a blanket before you took another breath."

Tony flipped him off. He should probably go to medical. There hadn't been any smoke, but he was coughing like there had been. What a pain.

3. Oxygen works differently here

Other planets were weird. He could tell, just by breathing, that the air here wasn't what they were used to. The good news was that they were all still alive and were going to stay that way for a while. The Guardians-- short for Guardians of the Galaxy-- were explaining a few things to Steve. Apparently, the villain that had transported them here was one that had beef with the Guardians, and Steve wanted to be prepared in case it happened again.

Tony knew that he was going to have to wait until they were done with the official superhero talk before he had a chance to ask them about atmosphere, gravity, and what it was like to have more than one moon. He also had a few questions about the air, because this was definitely not the cocktail he was used to.

He was feeling... high, almost. It could be any number of things, but higher oxygen levels would be the answer easiest to solve on his own. If he lit a match and it burned bigger than usual, it was oxygen. If it was brighter, it was nitrogen. If it did both or a weird mixture of other stuff, he'd have no idea what it was without taking a sample of the air and analyzing it. Chemistry wasn't his strong point when it came to the sciences, but he knew the basics. Enough to make sense of breathable air, at the very least.

Nothing wrong with a little test. He had a laser in the armor, but that wasn't as predictable as regular fire even though it was easier for him to access. He had a lighter in one of the fingers of the armor, so he held his hand as far away from himself as he could for a better view, and activated it.

It went off like a fucking firework. Tony deactivated the lighter almost as soon as he'd started it, but the damage had been done. "Shit," he bit out, jerking his hand back, but he could tell that his hand had already been injured. The suit was protected from the outside, not the inside, and since it had been his lighter that had started it... yeah. That shit stung.

Even after turning off the lighter, the fire persisted. Tony cocked his head as the flames stayed where it had stared but lasted longer on its own than a fire could on Earth without something to hold onto. Despite knowing that nothing was helping it keep burning, Tony couldn't help but peer at it, trying to find a wick or gas line.

That was a bit more than he'd expected. It took a full eight seconds for the fire to burn itself out.

"Huh." Weird. He really should ask- that thought stopped cold when he turned and saw everyone staring at him.

"Dude," Sam said.

Steve's mouth was slightly ajar, like he wanted to ream into Tony for being stupid but didn't know where to start.

"In case anyone was wondering, this air isn't the same as what we have on Earth."

"Yeah, thanks Tony," Natasha said dryly.

"Always happy to help. Uh. Anyone got burn cream?"

"Is he like this all the time?" one of the Guardians-- a new one, Tony didn't remember their name-- asked.

"Yeah," Steve said.

4. Home-made, on a budget

"This has got to be one of the worst things we've done," Steve said under his breath.

"Is it?" Tony asked absently, looking at the chemical breakdown of the fertilizer. Hmph. Better for soil probably, but not really what he was looking for. He put it down and picked up the brand next to it. Ah, this was more like it. He set it down and squatted to get the big bag and add it to the cart.

"No weapons, no intel. Why aren't you freaking out?"

"No weapons is a very closed-minded view of the situation, babe."

"What, are you going to drown people in fertilizer?" Steve asked. He sounded genuinely confused, which was weird. Tony had thought everyone these days knew that fertilizer could be used in explosives.

"Just keep pushing the cart and leave this part to me," Tony said, because he figured that giving a quick chemistry lesson in the middle of the gardening section was a bad idea. See? He was getting better at this whole pretending-to-be-a-normal-person thing. No matter what Clint said.

"I'm not stupid," Steve said, and Tony was familiar enough with him to catch the irritation there.

"Never meant to imply you were, but I figured we should get in and out before we get caught." Ooo, Christmas lights. He didn't know what he would've done if they'd had to buy normal lightbulbs for this; it would've taken like five boxes instead of just the one, and they would've been less effective since they were for everyday use and used a completely different composition for the bulb covering. "Besides," Tony said, aiming a grin back at him, "you'll probably figure it out as we put these together."

"You're making stuff we can use," Steve stated, like he hadn't really known what they were doing here. Tony would like to pretend to be offended that Steve thought he'd be gift shopping at a time like this, but he'd done that during a crisis before. Then, "Are you sure it'll be powerful enough?"

"We're not blowing up a bunker. This'll be plenty. There's a lot more firepower in everyday household items than you'd think."

"Clearly," Steve muttered.

"Trust me, Cap, by the time we're back in the Tower, you'll know enough to be able to put together your own pipe bomb for the next time you get stranded like this."

"I'm hoping this is the only time."

"With our lives?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of odds are you being given on that? I don't think even a hundred to one would be worth it when you know you're going to lose. Or rather, I know you're going to lose, and since I have more experience, I feel like you should listen to me."

Steve rolled his eyes, but with more humor than before. Apparently, knowing that Tony had the situation in hand was enough to soothe all of his worries.

"Hey, you should be happy this place even has a hardware store. There's like, one gas station with a McDonald's attached, and then this store. I don't think I'd be able to do a lot of damage with whatever I could find in a McDonald's."

"I have faith in Iron Man's ability to save us," Steve said, and when Tony glanced at him, he was looking at him fondly and with a healthy dose of love thrown in for good measure. He'd gotten used to that expression on Steve's face in a hurry.

5. Bucky agreed with me

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Famous last words, Tony knew, but it really had. He'd tell Steve that he regretted it, if that's what he wanted to hear, but he held that it was a good idea. That it was bad for PR was hardly his fault, and frankly, he didn't understand why it would be bad for PR anyways. It was a Hydra base! They were Nazis, and everyone hated Nazis. If anything, him and Bucky should get a thank you card for performing a public service.

He got the distinct feeling that Steve wouldn't agree with that, though.

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked, looking a little frazzled around the edges. Given that he was having to deal with Tony and Bucky for this, that made sense. Normally it was one or the other. Now, he was outnumbered.

"It seemed like a good idea," Tony said, and Bucky nodded.

"A really good idea," Bucky added.

"You blew up a building!"

"There weren't any other buildings around it," Tony said.

"No civilian casualties," Bucky said.

"It's still personal property damage, and I thought we all agreed to try and cut down on that."

"Do we care about Hydra's personal property?" Tony asked, frowning. He'd been under the distinct impression that they didn't. For fuck's sake, it was Hydra they were talking about.

"Officially, the Hydra organization itself didn't own the building or the land," Steve said.

"How do you know that?" Bucky asked curiously, which was a good point. Since when did Steve pay attention to details like that? It wasn't exactly something he could know just from paying attention to the situation.

"Agent Coulson told me. As our handler, it's his job to know those details and share them with us as he sees fit."

"Damn, are you quoting the handbook now?" Bucky said, raising an eyebrow.

"Besides, if Agent is our handler, then it's his job to take care of the buildings we blow up."

"Tony, stop missing the point on purpose."

"Who said I'm missing it on purpose? Maybe I'm missing it on accident, you don't know."

Steve gave him a flat look. "You can't go around blowing up buildings just because you feel like it." He looked at Bucky. "I get that you want to, and as your friend, I support you. As the team leader and another Avenger, I have to tell you to stop. We don't get to do whatever we want."

"Yeah yeah, there are rules, we all agreed to them, we'll be better next time, all that jazz," Tony said, throwing an arm around Steve's shoulders and getting up on his toes to give him a quick kiss.

Steve just sighed. "I love both of you, but seriously, what the hell?" He put his arm around Tony's waist since he didn't move to walk away. "We've been fine on this for a couple years. What made this different?"

Tony and Bucky shared a look. They hadn't agreed not to tell anyone, but there had been an unspoken understanding that the less people knew about it, the better off they'd all be. "It was a research lab," Bucky said, and he left it at that. They didn't need to elaborate what kind of research, because Steve knew that any research Hydra was doing was bad news. The only way they'd had of making sure that none of the research was recovered was by getting rid of the entire building. Whatever hadn't been destroyed in the initial blast was then rendered unrecoverable when the roof collapsed on top of it all.

Steve glanced between the two of them. He knew that basic research wouldn't have gotten this reaction, but Hydra didn't do 'basic' research; there wasn't any point in being an evil organization if you were going to be moral with your experiments. Tony could see it on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to ask what kind of research, but none of it made it out of his mouth. "Okay. You know the speech. Don't do it again, formal apology if Agent Coulson says it's required, all that crap."

"Done," Bucky said immediately, and Tony gave Steve another soft kiss in thanks. They both knew that Steve was on their side for stuff like this, but sometimes he wanted so badly to be a good Captain America that it muddied the waters.

+1. Half-heart, Half-bomb

"I guess that's one explosion you finally don't have to worry about," Tony joked with a tremulous smile.

Steve smiled back, just as weakly. They were both pretending. Tony wondered how long that would last before Steve couldn't take it anymore and worried over him in a more obvious manner. It would probably last all the way up until they were back home, with the doors shut and no outside eyes on them. Then he was going to worry like the world's biggest mother hen. For now though, Tony was grateful for him trying.

The whir of the quinjet was comforting to him now like it had never been before. Tony didn't know what was wrong with him. He'd been in dangerous situations a hundred times before, as Iron Man. Hell, he'd been in more dangerous situations than the one he'd just gotten rescued from.

The problem, he guessed, was that... well, this one hit closer to home. It was the arc reactor. It was a part of him. Having that be turned against him felt like a betrayal, somehow.

Since becoming Iron Man, he'd done his fair share of starting fires and creating explosions-- more than his fair share, if you asked Steve. With Obadiah, he'd used the first arc reactor that Howard had built as a bomb. A small one, considering the amount of firepower it had, but a bomb all the same. To see the same thing happen to his own had been nothing short of a nightmare. The kind of nightmare that woke you up in the middle of the night, shaking and clammy. He'd woken up from a drugged sleep and seen wires coming out of his chest. He hadn't been convinced that it wasn't a vivid hallucination, at first, but it hadn't stopped him from panicking.

They got to the Tower, headed inside, and went straight to their room. Well, officially it was Tony's room, but it was only a matter of time before Steve moved in.

"You want to talk about it?" Steve asked.

Tony rubbed over the arc reactor reflexively. He couldn't feel any sensation from it, but he could feel the heel of his palm on one side, and the tips of his fingers on the other. The fact that his palm wasn't skipping over emptiness did quite a bit to reassure him that he was fine. The problem, of course, was that he already knew he was fine. He was here, and he wasn't in pain. Steve was here, and they weren't in a battle. He knew that everything was fine.

Now if he could just stop freaking out about it.

"It wasn't even a good bomb," Tony said, the words slipping out of his mouth one after another. "Like, can you imagine making a bomb out of someone's pacemaker, so it would kill them, but you're not even going to get the destruction radius that you want? The arc reactor has so much energy that you could easily level a city block, but with the way they did it, it wouldn't have gone more than ten feet. It wouldn't have made it through a wall if I'd been standing right next to it. What kind of bullshit villain do you have to be to not know how to properly make a bomb? The only one it would've killed was- me, and- it's not like there aren't easier ways of- doing that. It's like-" He was having trouble breathing now. He was talking himself into a panic.

Steve wrapped him up in a hug, and Tony hid his face against Steve's neck. "They're stupid, you're not. We're gonna wake up tomorrow and get to do whatever the hell we want, and they won't be able to. It's gonna be okay. We all know you're better at this than anyone else, right?" he added on the end, smiling a little to try and raise Tony's spirits even though he couldn't see him; Tony always said that he loved Steve's smile.

"Yeah." He took a shaky breath in. It was weird; he felt like he was closer to falling apart now than he'd been while it was happening. Once he'd figured out that he wasn't trapped in the middle of a nightmare, he'd been able to deal with it. Grace under pressure or something, he guessed. It didn't make much sense to him for why he should be so calm then only to fall into pieces now. And he did. Fall into pieces, that is.

Steve just held him and said, "You're safe now. I've got you."

He didn't cry, not really. Mostly he stood there, shaking and clinging to Steve like a lifeline. He knew that he'd feel better by tomorrow, but for now, he let himself feel bad.

#stony #marvel #fanfic #steve rogers #tony stark #my writing

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jjkpls · 5 years ago

Text

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes.

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile.

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon drabble #namjoon fanfic #my writing

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marshmellowedhues · 4 years ago

Text

The Couples' Discount

The thing is, Annabeth knows Percy.

Annabeth knows Percy from middle school, where he would shyly ask her for a spare pencil every day, his big green eyes flitting from the floor to her face and back to the floor, and his face as red as a tomato.

Annabeth knows Percy from high school junior year, where every lab session involved Percy running late into class from swim team practice, a ball of inexhaustible energy: his legs continuously bouncing under the table as he leaned over to ask her what the atomic mass of carbon was for the third time that day.

Annabeth also knows Percy from across the hall at a freshman party in college, where her friend Jason and his friend Piper first locked eyes with each other and subsequently became inseparable.

Suffice to say, Annabeth is familiar with who Percy is. She just doesn’t think this level of familiarity is enough for her to engage in a conversation with him for five minutes, let alone share waffles with him for one hour.

Yet Percy is standing right in front of her, hands gripping the straps of his backpack as he waits for her response.

“You want us to go to Sveltes’ for waffles?” Annabeth’s right hand comes up to massage her temples as her laptop rests on her left arm.

“Blue ice cream waffles, Annabeth,” Percy emphasises. “Please?”

Anyone who knows Percy knows how much he likes his food blue - blue shakes, blue cakes, blue toppings and blue ice cream… Annabeth once saw his eyes light up when their high school Chemistry teacher told them they were making blue copper sulfate crystals. If Annabeth hadn’t kept an eye on Percy, she was pretty sure Percy would have tried his luck and eaten the crystals.

Annabeth steels herself and avoids Percy’s wide baby seal eyes (no, they’re not adorable at all, shut up) before replying, “No.”

Annabeth turns on her heels and walks down the courtyard as Percy chases after her, whisper-yelling, “But if they think we’re a couple, we can get the couples’ discount!”

Annabeth stops short, and Percy almost bumps into her from the momentum.

“What?”

Percy laughs shakily, before biting his lips, the blush surging from the base of his neck to his cheeks. There goes the tomato, Annabeth thinks with an odd sense of satisfaction. Percy opens his mouth and blurts out his words at the speed of a freight train.

“Yesterday was Valentines’ Day, and Sveltes’ has this wicked two-for-one ice cream waffles deal for couples which ends today, so the only way I can get these waffles is if you agree to…” Percy trails off, his lips pursed.

“Agree to what?”

Percy lifts his shoulders in a half-shrug as his face lifts with a timid half-smile. “Be my girlfriend for one hour?”

“Absolutely not. Can’t you ask anyone else? Piper?”

“Piper works there. Besides, Jason will kill me.”

Annabeth huffs. “Reyna?”

“Reyna will kill me.”

Annabeth snaps her fingers. “Hazel.”

Percy glances back at her, horrified. “I am not going in there looking like a pedophile.”

“We’re seventeen, Percy,” Annabeth grits out.

“She’s fourteen!”

Annabeth throws her hands up. “It’s a three-year difference.”

“That’s still illegal!”

“For what? Getting waffles?”

Annabeth glares at Percy for a few seconds, before Percy sighs in defeat.

“I just really want those waffles, Annabeth.” Percy mutters, training his eyes on the floor.

It makes total sense if she just walks away right now. He asked for something she doesn’t really want to give, and her homework awaits in her dorm. Though that isn’t due till next week, and today is only Tuesday… but she has stuff to do. Kind of.

Annabeth doesn’t know what went through her mind - given her final decision, probably nothing sane - but she hears herself say, “Fine. I’m free after classes at four.”

Percy looks up at her, his green eyes unfairly bright and filled with such a child-like hopefulness she almost felt the urge to slap him and stomp off in both embarrassment and confusion. He grabs both her hands in excitement. “Thank you so much, Annabeth. You will not regret this. I’ll treat you to that strawberry milkshake you like.”

“How do you know I like strawberry milkshake?”

For a moment, Percy’s eyes widens before he rushes out, “You told me sophomore year, okay, see you later, Annabeth!”

He turns and runs down the courtyard, leaving Annabeth to over analyse her very perplexing thoughts alone.

Despite Percy’s reassurances, Annabeth finds herself regretting her decision as Percy pulls the door of the cafe open for her. Annabeth steps in cautiously, cursing herself as she finds the place filled with couples. Maybe if she covered her face by resting her hand against the crown of her head, she could get away this entire hour without making eye contact with anyone she knew.

Luckily for them, they find a seat fairly quickly, and Annabeth busies herself with looking at the menu. She thinks there is a possibility they can just eat their waffles and leave without anyone noticing them, when a bright, excited voice calls out, “Percy!”

Before she could hide her face, Piper, decked in her Sveltes’ waitress uniform, walks towards them, her braided brown locks framing her face as her kaleidoscopic eyes shine in elation.

“And Annabeth’s here too,” Piper grins, then turns to Percy. “I thought you’d never work up the nerve to ask her out!”

Percy’s eyes widen comically. If Annabeth hadn’t felt her heart jump, she would have laughed at how quickly his neck turned red, along with his ears.

“To get the discount.” He blurts out, nodding meaningfully at Annabeth. She tilts her head to the side and raises one of her eyebrows challengingly, settling into a smirk. Percy’s face turns a darker shade of red as both his hands reach out to cup the back of his neck.

“Right, to get the discount,” Piper scoffs. “If that were the case, why did you call me last night--”

“I want the two blue ice-cream waffles and a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and cinnamon in a large venti cup, please, now!” Percy almost yells.

Annabeth was about to shush him when she heard him recite her usual order. Piper nods and rolls her eyes, muttering something about “that ungrateful little idiot who asked me what he should wear today”.

“You know my order?” Annabeth asks as Percy breathes a sigh of relief. His head snaps up as he stutters, “I-I have a good memory.”

“Do you remember the atomic mass of carbon?”

He scoffs. “Of course, it’s 16.”

“That’s oxygen.”

Percy winces as Annabeth smirks. “So, you’ve been planning this for awhile, haven’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Chase,” Percy shoots back. “I really just couldn’t find anyone else.”

Percy launches into a commentary about how waffles are just the best thing the world has ever created, don’t you agree? That quickly turned into an explanation of why he liked blue food so much.

“I placed last for my first swimming competition and my terrible stepfather laughed at me and said I was useless and it would be impossible for me to ever get an Olympic medal,” He shares with an easy smile, hands fiddling the napkin on the table. “So my mother baked a blue cake and told me nothing was impossible as long as I tried my best. A few years later, she divorced my stepfather and we never looked back.”

“That’s very inspirational.”

“I know, I should become a motivational speaker.” Percy replies sardonically.

Annabeth snorts. Conversations with Percy have always been easy, even during high school. Lab sessions were always filled with bad Percy jokes, the kind that out of anyone else’s mouth would have made her cringe and roll her eyes, but she found hilarious when Percy said it.

The good thing about Percy is, he never took himself or anyone else too seriously. He was genuine and self-deprecating, and never really dwelled on one problem for too long. But when he was really passionate about something, he could go on and on about it, and Annabeth finds that he makes even the most confusing marine biology concepts sound understandable.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing on earth to hear him talk about marine biology everyday, Annabeth thinks.

Percy stops short in his ramblings, and a nervous hand comes up to palm his neck. A nervous tick, Annabeth thinks. Cute. Then she feels like plunging her head into the confectionary’s refrigerator because what in the world was that about?

She jolts back to reality when Percy chuckles. “I think I’m talking too much about my major. How about yours? How’s architecture going?”

“Marine biology’s interesting, especially when you explain it.” Annabeth reassures him. “Right now, we’re covering Greco-Roman architecture, and it’s the best thing in the world.”

Percy grins and nods at her to continue. So she launches into an explanation of Doric and Ionic columns and gushes a bit too enthusiastically about the wonders of the Roman aqueducts. Percy listens attentively and asks questions appropriately, and Annabeth thinks that it would be easy to go on more waffle dates with him in the future.

The waffles and milkshake arrive before she can entertain that terrifying thought. Percy oohs and ahhs at the blue ice cream waffles and she laughs at the number of photos he takes of his waffles.

Annabeth is digging into her waffles when a low, hearty voice asks, “Percy?”

Percy’s face brightens as a tall, burly boy stops at their table. “Beckendorf, what are you doing here?”

“Getting waffles with his girlfriend,” Another sweeter voice replies teasingly. “And who’s this, Percy?”

Annabeth glances up to see a petite girl in a pastel pink summer dress with her hands tucked around the arm of a muscular boy in a football jersey and shorts. The girl looks vaguely familiar, and judging by the way her eyes narrow at Annabeth in recognition, they definitely know each other.

“Aren’t you from my psych class? Annabeth, right?” The girl asks.

Annabeth panics slightly, racking her brain for a name. “Silena Beauregard?”

“Yep, and this is my boyfriend.” Silena smiles. “I didn’t know you guys were a thing.”

Annabeth starts, “We’re n--”

“Yeah, we, um, you know,” Percy fumbles with a smile. “We are a thing.”

Annabeth frowns at Percy, who glances at her with pleading eyes.

“How did you guys meet?” The boyfriend - Beckendorf, Annabeth recalls Percy saying - asks.

Before Annabeth could glare at Percy, he replies, “Oh, we actually grew up together, attended the same middle and high school. And as it turns out, the same college too.”

Percy grins as Annabeth forces out a short laugh. Silena cooes at them and turns to Beckendorf, “That is so sweet. When did you guys fall in love?”

Percy chokes on his cup of water, a sure blush forming at his neck. Annabeth maintains her smile as her mind runs a mile a minute while Percy stutters out, “Uh, um, you know, like normal people --”

“Two months ago,” Annabeth interjects. Percy looks back at her, confused. “We were having a double date with our friends,” Annabeth shrugs convincingly. “He was really easy to talk to, and I thought he was really sweet.”

Percy gazes at her, bewildered and with a little bit of wonderment in his eyes that she didn’t understand. What she said was true, Piper and Jason had forced them to a double date, simply because, in their words, they were “the two luckiest people with two of the loneliest friends”.

Annabeth and Percy had protested, but she had to admit that the night had been much more bearable with both of them commenting on the ostentatious fashion choices of some of the diners. Without him, Annabeth would have been stuck watching Jason and Piper hold hands from across the table and gaze into each others’ eyes every few seconds.

Silena grins. “And how about you, Percy?”

Percy blinks and bits his lip. “She makes me happy.” His eyes flit nervously from Annabeth’s face back to the couple.

Percy laughs subduedly as Annabeth clenches her jaw. This was getting too real too fast. Percy’s unexpectedly sweet confession threw her off guard and a strange silence descended upon them.

Silena breaks it, “Well, I’ve never seen you this way before, Percy. It’s a cute look on you.”

Beckendorf nudges her and signals to his watch. She sighs. “Sorry, we have to go now, but we’re actually having a small sorority party this week,” Silena turns to look at Annabeth. “We would love it if both of you could join us.”

“We’ll try our best,” Annabeth replies.

Silena and Beckendorf share a smile, before turning to leave the cafe.

When the couple were out of earshot, Annabeth hissed at Percy, “What was that all about? You could have just told them we weren’t a couple.”

“In case there were Sveltes’ waitresses nearby,” Percy says in a matter-of-fact manner. “If they catch us, this whole meal isn't going to be worth it.”

Before she could protest that very obvious excuse, he stuffs a large chunk of waffles into his mouth and points to his mouth. Annabeth narrows her eyes at him, and for some reason, Percy glances down at his food with a shy, lopsided grin.

After the meal, Percy respectfully insists on walking her back to her dorm on the account of her agreeing to get waffles with him.

And when that didn’t work out, he brought out the big guns. “Annabeth, please, what would my mother say if I let you walk home at this time of the night?”

She snorts. “You would be the type to be a mommy’s boy.”

Percy’s eyes crinkle. “I take pride in being a mommy’s boy.”

The easygoing banter starts again, and Annabeth occasionally catches Percy glancing at her for too long, each time his soft smile causing a lump in her throat and a distinct feeling of warmth on her cheeks.

It isn’t until they are nearing her dorm building when Percy starts talking less, his feet awkwardly shuffling.

“So,” he looks down as he lightly kicks the fallen leaves in front of him. “I had a great time today.”

She smirks. “Okay, I’m leaving.”

“Annabeth,” Percy blurts out, his hands coming up to stop her from leaving, before he thought better and pulled back, hands coming to rest near his body as he fiddled restlessly with his fingers.

She turns back around to face him. “I… I wanted to say that…” Percy closes his mouth, then opens it again, but no sound comes out.

He laughs nervously. Although she knows what he’s trying to do, this knowledge does nothing to quell the warm feeling in her stomach.

“I mean, since middle school, I kind of…” Percy raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “No, I…”

Annabeth almost wants to help him when his eyes catch hers.

“... So, I know this really nice pancakes place just down the street, I might need your help again because I think there’s a couples’ discount there too--”

“Percy, just ask me out.” Annabeth interrupts, exasperated.

“I want to do this properly.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles at him. “Great, we’ll be here all night then.”

#first fic #fluff #definitely fluff #i hope it's cute and brings some joy #the word svelte just came into my mind don't ask me why #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson #percabeth

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willowistic22 · 4 years ago

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Hey :)

For your post concerning Ikeshot - would you maybe consider writing an Ikeshot Soulmate AU during the canon era?

Thanks in advance

left this in my drafts for the whole month bcs i was doing no content november which was definitely not used as an excuse of me not wanting to fight off my writers block heheheheheheheh spoiler alert : it was. but i got around to write this one so i hope it suffice! i mean i hope so bcs it ended up being 2.5k words long lol!

So pls enjoy my canon era ikeshot soulmate au! the concept is where soulmate marks are in the form of the first things your soulmate says to you when you guys meet. also ik this will kinda flop since it’s a rarepair but pls do your best to not let it flop :)

Ike doesn’t like the thought of soulmates. Not one bit. Well, at first he liked the idea of having someone out there waiting for him. He doesn’t need a mark of any kind to tell him that. He knows it on his own terms. But there was a little bit of excitement that exploded in his stomach when his soulmate mark appeared on his forearm. And it was… weird to say the least.

He got his mark a year earlier than his twin brother, right on their 13th birthday. A delicate black writing engraved in the skin of his forearm. The soulmate mark stories he has ever heard were about people with sweet sayings engraved in their skin. It was all romantic, innocent, and soft spoken words tread lightly by the lips of their lover to be. But Ike’s? It was downright strange. None of those sappy and sweet stuff people say when the subject is about soulmates. Which is why Ike never bothered showing it off. He has heard enough jokes from Mike about that text.

And here’s the kicker for his situation: despite getting his soulmate mark a year earlier, Mike was somehow granted the gift of getting a sweet soulmate line and meeting his soulmate first! That really pissed Ike off.

He’s left with his thoughts on that subject this evening, carefully holding up his forearm while he lies on the top bunk he and his brother call their own. The words on his forearm echoes inside of his brain as he strokes the ink on his skin, blocking out the loud Lower Manhattan lodging house. He’s bound to meet his soulmate eventually. He’s sixteen for crying out loud! Mike met his when they were fifteen. So this mysterious soulmate of his has to turn up any time now. They have to. Ike doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself entertained with stringless flings and flirtings with random guys in secret.

Ike sighs desperately, dropping both his arms above his head and onto his thin pillow. He wished he was tired enough to go to sleep already since he doesn’t have anything to do before the lights go out in the lodge. He peaks down towards the lower bunk. Ike sees his brother fast asleep, cuddled into his lover’s embrace. Two chests, rising and falling at their own different slow pace.

It’s not that Ike ever had a problem with Mike’s soulmate, the only problem is that Ike hasn’t met his and constantly feels lonely with the presence of the couple. Ike didn’t believe his brother when he said his soulmate turned out to be Jo Jo. Not only is Jo Jo practically a total opposite of Mike, Jo Jo is also out of his league. There’s no way a kind hearted, properly brought up, bright smiled boy would end up with a scruffy idiot like his brother. But the more time he spends with the two, the more he sees how compatible they are with each other.

Ike is happy that they found someone to make each other happy, even in their sleep. He’s just sad for himself that he hasn’t found the one for him yet. Third wheeling is the worst thing Ike has ever discovered in his life.

He sits back up properly, letting both legs dangle freely down the bunk. Ike puts on his newsie cap and his vest that was left hanging on the bedpost before jumping down the bunk.

Unfortunately he wasn’t being careful and accidentally woke someone below him from the loud thud his feet made when it came in contact with the old wooden floor of the lodge.

“Where are you… going?” a voice groaned.

Ike turns his head towards the lower bunk to see Mike lifting his head up slightly from where it was resting, rubbing his eyes a little bit to enhance his vision. He’d sit up straight, but one of his hands is strapped down to the mattress by a certain head full of brown curls.

“Not tired yet. Think I’ll get myself busy” Ike replied. Before turning back to his original direction, he catches his brother’s eyes before he lets himself fall back asleep again, “Got a pack?”

Mike snorts to himself with an eye roll, but it ends with a low chuckle. He gestures his head towards his vest left hanging up high on the bedpost, “Check my vest. I’se think there’s still half in there”

Untangling the vest from itself, Ike sees one of its pockets forming a rectangular shape through the fabric. He slips his hand in it and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. His hand doesn’t feel the usual light weight of the tiny box he usually feels after getting himself a fresh pack. This one feels so much lighter, like there’s a lot of room in it. But Ike could still feel a few stems moving inside.

“Don’t finish the whole thing” Mike added.

Ike simply smirks down at him, turning around with the pack in hand. He calls out, “No promises!”

“Pay me back if you do finish it!”

“Also no promises!”

“Little shitter”

Ike turns his head around, and an offended look on his face as the twins’ old inside joke has resurfaced from the past. In the calmest way possible, yet still obviously annoyed, Ike voices out, “Fuck off, alright?”

“No promises!”

Mike laughs at his brother’s obvious annoyance. At the same time, Jo Jo starts to stir in his sleep. He stops laughing, directing his full focus on the boy shifting in his arms. Jo Jo groans as he flips to face away from Mike, letting out a long and peaceful sigh once he gets comfortable.

Ike watches as his brother lays back down, holding Jo Jo a little tighter than before. The couple is enveloped back by their slumber just like before.

There’s that jealousy resurfacing in Ike’s heart as his eyes linger at the sight of the lower bunk. But despite it, he is actually happy to see Mike like this. Being happy with his soulmate doing whatever. It’s a different kind of happy. It’s the kind that Ike longs for.

He pushes that thought away for a while, walking through the loud lodging house. Some newsies went to sleep earlier, somehow being able to ignore all the commotion caused by their friends. Some are also just hanging out with others while they wait for the lights to go out.

Ike chooses to be alone this evening. Accompanied by a cigarette or two, and maybe his own thoughts he’d like to sort out. He’d walk out the front door downstairs to smoke in an alleyway, but he knows the downstairs are currently occupied. Jack had warned everyone to avoid going downstairs because the borough leaders are having a little meeting.

So Ike decides on the fire escape, since it already leads directly to the alleyway. Ike slips out the window, instantly noticing the lovely evening air. His only view is a dull brick wall with trash scattered around the ground, but he doesn’t really mind as the street ambience makes him feel less lonely.

He notes the fire escape being a little wet, since it previously did rain a bit. He nearly slipped when he first stepped on the metal bars, but was able to balance himself pretty quickly.

But to no avail, his feet clumsily slips away from their grip on the fire escape. It sends him falling down with a loud yelp, passing through the little gap in the fencing reserved for the ladder and onto the concrete floor in the dirty alleyway.

Ike was disoriented when he rose back up from his fall. One hand on the ground to help support his back as he recovers from the impact, and the other rubbing the pain on his head away. He realized the pack of cigarettes is long gone. What he doesn’t realize is why the fall isn’t as painful as he thought it would be.

He glances over to his legs, which he realized just now that it was tangled with something else. Someone else. They were groaning in pain as they rose back up. He catches a glimpse of the face once it was finally lifted off the ground, smudge by a little bit of mud.

Oh shit.

Ike fell on another boy who obviously looks like he’s twice his own size. Not that he thinks he can’t take him on in a fight if he asks for one, but right now he’s too disoriented to even figure out how to punch straight. He quickly gets up on his feet, giving the stranger some space so he can recollect himself.

“Oh look, the universe has thrown me a little shitter from the sky to ruin the rest of my already shitty day! Is there anything you can possibly do to magically make it better?!”

The words were uttered as the stranger got back up on his feet, revealing himself to be a tall and muscled figure. The mud also got on a little strand of his dark brown hair and his eyes were squinted with fury. But Ike wasn’t focused on any physical features this stranger has. He’s more focused with the words that he uttered. Words that Ike knows by heart by now.

“What?” The stranger growled, deep and raspy. He realized the boy was astonished by something, but was certain it isn’t in any form of fear.

“Do you have any idea how much shit I get with that written on my hand?! It made me look like I’m a fuckin’ dumbass my whole life!” Ike started his little rant, a little bit of rage building up from the pits of his stomach, “Oh, but of course I’se stuck with a huge asshole that doesn’t know how to be a decent human being and give a guy a break!”

The stranger stays completely still, lips slightly parted.

“How do you think I feel with that?”

He shows his soulmate mark on his right forearm to Ike. A smaller font size and a longer paragraph written on his skin. Ike almost wanted to laugh.

“Hey!”

The two boys turn their attention towards the sound. Just outside the alleyway, right on the sidewalk where the rest of the world is, three tall men stood. There isn’t enough light for either boys to identify who they are, but given from the vague shadow they can sense trouble.

As the three men take a few steps closer, letting a little lamp stuck to the wall illuminate their figures, they reveal themselves as the bulls.

The boys activated their flight instinct, running towards the other end of the alleyway. The bulls chased after them while telling them to stop. Ike, being the smaller one, runs ahead and leads the chase. Hopping from one sidewalk to the other, crossing the roads without looking.

Jacobi’s deli came into view in the corner of the block, despite being unlit. Ike kept running towards that corner and took a sharp turn. He makes another sharp turn towards an alley, just next to the deli. He hides in a little corner the deli has created. He has gotten away from so many troubles by hiding in this ‘wall bump’ because people miss it easily.

He was surprised to see a large figure stopping right next to where Ike was hiding, huffing out heavy breaths of exhaustion. Ike said nothing at first, thinking it’s one of the bulls. He simply watches the figure hunching over their knees, trying to recollect themselves from the chase.

But after a few seconds, he realizes it was the same boy he just met at the alleyway. His soulmate. To that, he widens his eyes and gasps under his breath.

Oh crap, if he keeps on standin’ there we’ll get caught!

“Hey!” Ike whisper shouted.

The boy was still disoriented from all that running, but he was still able to pick up the voice.

He saw Ike hiding in the corner, but didn’t think much of it. To that, the smaller boy just rolled his eyes and grabbed him by his suspenders to pull him to the little corner to hide together.

Ike peaked behind the little wall hiding them to see if the bulls that were chasing them had passed. Just as he suspected, they were clueless as to where they could be. The bulls went past the alleyway. Until Ike was sure that they’re gone, he lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to where he is.

He was surprised to be met by a chest, but soon remembered that he had another boy hiding with him. A very tall one.

Ike looks up to his face. The details are much clearer now. Brown locks, strong jawline, brown eyes, ivory tinted face with a few smudges of ash and dirt. The face sculptured... so perfectly.

Ike only realized this now. Staring up at it, taking in every detail before him. Cheeks a little heated up when his head realizes how close they’re being. Chest to chest and Ike is up against a wall.

And the other boy… he stared back. Just as frozen and shocked as he is.

“I-I didn’t catch your name earlier” Ike mustered up the last bit of concentration to get that out.

“My friends call me Hotshot”

“Hotshot…” Ike repeated, nodding along without getting his eyes off of him.

“But… you can call me Tyler. Y-y’know if you… wanna use my real name” Hotshot said with a little awkward cough at the end.

“Oh…”

Ike has no idea what’s happening right now. All he knows is there’s a cute guy right in front of his nose, who is his so called soulmate. They’re hiding in an alleyway, and neither seems to want to move away. They were both caught off guard by the beauty their eyes are being presented with in front of them.

“I-I’m Ike, by the way…” Ike added on, realizing he hasn’t said his name yet, “It’s short for Isaac. Y’know, ‘cause my twin brother calls himself Mike and we wanted to-- y’know what? That’s too long to get into…”

The two share a heartfelt laughter. Their hearts pumping faster than before, the other being able to feel it right through their chest.

“So uhh… Ike…” Hotshot started, still staring down at the smaller boy, “About what I said earlier…”

Ike started to laugh, remembering what he meant.

“I’s want to apologize… is all”

“Y-yeah, the same goes for me!” Ike added, “Well, I don’t know if we should even apologize. We were supposed to say that to each other anyways!”

Another heartfelt laughter, sounding softer than the first one. It somehow made the moment even more serious as it slowly died down. Their gaze hasn’t left the other’s. Nor, does it seem like they want to in the first place.

“Ike, can I… try somethin’?” Hotshot suddenly asked.

Ike simply nods, not having any clue as to what he meant. The message behind that was soon cleared the moment Hotshot softly crashed his lips against his, pushing his head backwards and gently pinning it to the wall behind him. Ike moves his hands up to pull him by his suspenders. Hotshot brushes his finger on his jaw, angling him up for a better kiss. Their lips moved in sync perfectly and it felt good. Just like how they would picture a first kiss shared by a soulmate.

#newsies #drabble requests #ikeshot #ikeshot newsies #ike newsies #hotshot newsies #tw cursing #tw smoking #tw implied violence #tw light injury

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levisnackajack · 4 years ago

Text

The Wrath of War

Chapter Eleven

Eden and Levi’s sparring sessions strictly continued. He would constantly bark and fix even the smallest mistakes in her posture and movements. It made Eden frustrated; but deep down she knew it was best if she kept her mouth shut and profusely followed his articulate instructions.

Levi glared back at Eden with an irritated scowl, his eyes squinting as she once again messed up her posture. She let out an irked sigh and raised her arms, the long strands of her fringe blinding her for a split second. But, that was enough time for Levi to smash her against a nearby try; his forearm pressing against her windpipe as she choked.

“Dammit, brat are you playing dumb or are you actually just an idiot?” The Captain seethed at her, his jaw clenching as Eden tried wriggling out of his grasp. She held his hard stare, her face reddening at the pressure of her closed windpipe. Her heart faltered for a moment as she caught Levi’s hooded, grey eyes flicker down to her parted lips.

She came to the conclusion that she was either about to die or she was already dead.

Levi let go of her swiftly and watched her sink down against the ground, desperately gulping in air. She mentally thanked him for pressuring her because now there was a more obvious reason for her blossoming blush.

“Guess I’m just an idiot,” she muttered under her breath before flippantly rising to her feet, scowling back at Levi’s unreadable expression.

He continued torturing her until it was time for dinner; yet the rest of the squad had already bathed and eaten.

“Eden.” A brusque voice called for her once she finally fell asleep after hours of trying.

Levi walked in hastily as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes; ignoring the deep scowl that edged into her face. He was dressed in his gleaming uniform, the green hood of his cape pooling around his pale nape.

“What’s going on?” She asked lazily, eyes widening when a fistful of her uniform was thrown her way.

“Get dressed. We’ve received intel that Wall Rose has been supposedly breached and so we are to go and investigate. I want us to leave before sunrise,” he replied in a clipped tone before heading towards the hallway.

Eden quickly got dressed, brushed her teeth and pulled her hair into her signature bun. She worked on fastening her harness buckles as she walked down the stairs. Her small frame collided into Jean’s lean body at the bottom of the staircase.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbled, squeezing his bicep lightly as she slowed her pace.

“Woah, Eden, at least buy me some dinner first,” he drawled out, flashing his pearly teeth down at her with a smirk. That smirk was soon replaced with a thin frown as he gently grasped her wrist, turning her back to face him.

“Is everything okay?” Jean asked her in a low voice, eyes searching her fatigued face.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just having a hard time waking up,” Eden replied, her cheeks painted with a soft, peachy blush.

He smiled gently down at her, releasing her limb slowly. “My bad, I thought you’re always up for my jokes.”

She snorted, elbowing him as they made their way to the stables. “Don’t be daft, I’m never up for your jokes.”

As they made their way out of the stables with their horses; the sky had grown lighter, the soft rays of the sun barely peaking through the thick curtain of somber clouds. Eden felt a wash of uneasiness flow through her like tap-water.

She vaguely heard Mikasa’s gentle voice calling after her. Snapping her head back at her, she sent the approaching girl and boy a sweet smile.

“We came to wish you good luck,” Armin began in a soft voice, causing the girl with the reins to frown.

“What do you mean? Are you not coming too?” Her hazel eyes flickered from Armin’s face to Mikasa’s, her voice betraying the disappointment growing inside her.

“Hange wants some help with her research and Mikasa’s staying behind for Eren. Krista's staying too. Besides, I overheard Captain Levi telling Hange that a squadron of just you and him would suffice for this mission. It was Hange who told him it was best to play it safe,” Armin offered as Mikasa wrapped her arms around Eden.

“Stay safe and everything will go fine.”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” she mumbled against her friend’s red scarf, the fabric tickling her cheek as she gripped her harder. After embracing Armin, she waved them goodbye as she urged her horse to merge with the rest of the squad’s.

Captain Levi’s jeweled horse strode proudly in the center of their small formation, the green hood concealing his face, leaving Eden scowling at his back. She was met with his hard glower when she sauntered back towards the group after saying her goodbyes to Armin and Mikasa.

They had been galloping beside Wall Rose for absolute hours- the whole day had practically trickled under the horse’s hooves.

But, there was no breach found yet.

Eden began feeling uneasy as she gripped her horse’s reins tight enough for her fingers to cramp. She listened to Sasha and Connie’s light chatter up until Levi couldn’t take it anymore and ordered for them to bite their tongues.

His demeanor was so cold and cruel today; it made Eden agitated. It began raining, the drops becoming larger and thicker as time went by. They were drenched and the sky continued rumbling.

But nothing compared to the warmth seeping through Eden as she tried thinking back to her and Levi’s sparring session the day before. It was only when the Captain’s voice ripped through the silence; that she snapped back to reality.

“Guys, we should halt for now. It’s too foggy and no one knows how much damage this breach has done to Wall Rose,” Levi snapped, tucking at the horse’s reins as he turned to face his team.

It was true; an eerily thick fog settled around the Squad. Eden could barely make out the scenery behind Levi’s shoulders.

“According to my calculations; if we continue heading straight, we’ll reach an old village in about a few hours or so. We can camp out until the storm passes by and then we proceed,” He announced, face void of any emotion. “We should hurry before the weather worsens. Let’s go.” He urged his horse to break into a sprint, Eden’s and the rest of her team’s animals following queue.

The air was ice-cold and the water droplets smacking Eden in the face were like needles sinking into her skin. She chewed on her bottom lip as they followed Levi blindly; her heart sinking when Sasha’s scream unnerved her horse.

Sasha’s own horse whinnied as it plummeted to the ground, its owner crying out in pain as she thrashed in panic. Connie’s horse tripped against Sasha’s one and the young boy was thrown off his saddle. Jean immediately sprung off his horse; reaching the two fallen soldiers before Levi and Eden could.

Sasha’s horse had stepped into some sort of ditch, trapping the girl under its weight, completely twisting her ankle. Connie on the other hand had dislocated his shoulder in the most unnerving way.

Wrapping her arms around Jean’s neck, Sasha bit back tears as he hauled her out of the ditch; Eden calming her horse in the meantime.

Levi bent over the injured girl, inspecting her ankle. She winced as he prodded at her, clicking his tongue as he stood straight.

“You’re in luck Blouse, nothing’s broken today. Springer, I have no idea how you managed to dislocate your shoulder like that...but there’s no way you guys can continue with us,” Levi began, his blank stare settling on Sasha’s pained expression. He nodded to Jean; who helped her up as Connie stood beside them, groaning in pain.

“Jean, go back to base and have the medic tend to their injuries.”

“Yes sir. Eden, let’s go,” Jean began as he placed his arm against her waist, gently guiding her back to her horse.

Levi let out a soft “tch” as he tilted his head to the side. “No, straw-head, I told you to leave with Connie and Sasha. Eden’s staying with me. We don’t know what we’re up against so I’ll need backup, just in case. We still have a duty to pursue,” he said, the white canvas of his features completely vacant as he scowled at the younger man.

Jean gritted his teeth, the hand pressed against Eden’s side growing tighter around her waist as she pursed her lips, eyes trained on her Captain. “It’s fine, Jean. We’ve already lost two squadmates. We need to find Wall Rose’s opening before it’s too late,” she stepped away from the tall boy, lifting her chin upwards as she stared into his warm, brown eyes.

He scoffed under his breath, nodding tightly before moving over to secure Connie on his horse and tie the reins to his own. Eden bit her lip, trotting over to Sasha.

“Hey, here. I figured you’ll probably need this more than me now.” She handed the injured girl her packet of biscuit rations, her eyes crinkling at the sight of Sasha’s astounded stare.

“Well, that’s very sweet of you. I guess you can have this in return. You’ll definitely need this now that you’re on a lone mission with Captain Levi.” Sasha pulled out a large glass bottle out from the satchel tied to her saddle; a mischievous smirk glossing her lips. Eden’s eyes widened as she looked down at the bottle.

Whiskey.

She had known of this alcoholic beverage; but never got the chance to try it. The raven-haired girl thanked Sasha, wishing her and Connie a safe journey back home before securing the glass bottle in her own satchel.

“Eden? Can I talk with you for a second?” Jean’s voice whispered behind her. She spun around, cheeks coloring at the lack of proximity between her body and his. Giving him a strained nod, he smoothly took her by the wrist and led her to some miniscule amount of privacy.

“Are you going to be okay? I mean, with just you and the Captain...I can offer to take your spot if you want. That’s absolutely no pro...-”

“No no, don’t worry about it, Jeanie-boy,” she raised a brow at his glower. “I’m perfectly capable of handling challenges on my own.”

Jean hesitated for a moment, running his fingers through his soaked hair before pursing his lips. Eden took his hand in hers and squeezed on it reassuringly. “You’re acting as if you’re a better soldier than me.”

He snorted, taking a step closer to the girl, his fingers lacing with hers as he pulled on her hand. “I can only dream.”

The boy tilted his head downwards, pressing his warm lips against her cold ones. Eden’s eyes widened, brows raising in surprise as Jean gently pressed his body against hers, fingertips brushing against her jaw. It was as though he was trying to physically memorize Eden, her scent, her taste- everything about her.

Her hands pressed against his chest as she took a step back, separating her mouth from his before bending her head downwards.

“Jean, now is not the right time.”

He frowned deeply, turning his head back towards the Squad. Scowling at the attention upon them that still lay unbeknownst to Eden; Jean turned back to face her.

“I know. I just didn’t want to regret not kissing you if something were to happen to you.”

Eden met his affectionate chocolate eyes and smiled at him awkwardly, squeezing his arm before beginning her pace back to her team. “We can talk about it when I come back, if you want.” Her heart sighed in relief when Jean nodded in affirmation.

Once merged with the squadron, Eden met Levi’s bitter-cold stare once more. She shivered under her clothes; mounting her horse and moving them closer to the Captain.

Wordlessly, Levi edged his horse onwards, completely disregarding the cadet’s surprise at the lack of commands. Eden turned once more to meet Jean’s worried gaze and praised him with a wide smile that somehow didn’t manage to reach her almond eyes.

The sun was about to set when they reached the abandoned village. A blanket of clouds continued following them, the raindrops soaking into their uniforms; drenching both individuals.

He had not spoken to her once; not that Eden had tried striking up a conversation with the Captain. She could sense his bad mood emitting from him. It was like a drug that made her feel uneasy; the feeling of helplessness etching into her bones as she wondered what the hell he was thinking about.

“We’ll camp here for the night. I’ll start a fire while you go and secure the horses. I have a feeling this storm will not stop anytime soon,” Levi finally broke the silence dryly as he stroked his horse’s muzzle; his hair dripping with tiny raindrops as the longer strands lingered against his pale face.

“Yes, Captain,” Eden mumbled, taking his reins out of his hand, a feeling of warmth spreading within her as his cold fingers brushed hers in the process. Levi glared at her before huffing under his breath, disappearing into the chosen house.

When the horses had settled, Eden walked back towards the empty living room, eyes planted on Levi’s bent figure as he discarded his soaking cape. Folding it against a wooden chair; he glanced back at the girl, eyes narrowing as she wordlessly followed his suit.

Thunder struck the sky, the violent wind knocking the windows aggressively, threatening to unlatch the wooden blinds at any minute. Eden flopped beside the Captain, her fingers nearing the lit fireplace- her blued lips trembling.

“How do you think the breach happened?” She asked Levi in a soft whisper, her brows scrunching together when he sighed irritably.

“I don’t know, brat, why do you think Erwin sent us out to go look for it?” Levi snapped at her, eyes never leaving the burning flames.

When their clothes finally beginning to dry to a limited extent, Levi walked over to the wall of the living room; slumping down gracefully as he pulled out his thermos of tea. Pouring some out in the cup-like lid; he glared at Eden as he drank. She shook her head slightly, pulling her hair out of the tight bun.

The silence lay thick in the room, making Eden want to choke on it. Any time she tried to ask Levi something- start up a civil conversation of some sort- he would sharply slice through her attempts and close his eyes- as though the sound of her voice wanted to make the Captain go deaf.

Eden couldn’t lie to herself and pretend she wasn’t hurt. She walked over to check whether their capes had dried, then she lingered beside the window to watch the downpour of heavy rain crash onto the muddy earth floor. It was torture.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and then began walking up and down the now warmer room; earning another witty remark from the sitting Captain.

“Are you unable to stand in one place? You’re giving me a migraine,” he growled out, shoving the empty thermos in his bag. Eden scoffed, tilting her head to the side as she glowered down at him through narrow, irritated eyes.

“Is there something I can do without pissing you off? I can’t talk, walk, sigh or even cough without earning some sort of bothered remark out of you...” Eden folded her arms across her chest as he looked up at her menacingly.

“Well, there you go- you answered your own question. And I never said you can’t just sit on your ass and keep quiet, brat,” he sulked, jaw clenching tightly as he ran a hand through his dampened hair.

“Fine,” Eden sulked back, marching over to sink down beside him, the warmth of being on the same level as the withering fire breezing against her face nicely. His eyes widened in surprise, but other than that he chose to completely disregard her presence for some time. His arm brushed against hers as he settled his forearms against his bent knees, the scarce friction causing Eden to clear her throat awkwardly as she played with the strands of her charcoal locks.

Suddenly, her mind whipped back to Sasha’s surprising gift as the weather’s iciness reverberated deep within her core. She reached out towards her satchel, pulling out the glass bottle before raising her brow at an emotionless Levi.

“There’s two options here; either we share this bottle of whiskey to warm ourselves up or we rely on body heat to do the same job,” she offered jokingly, biting back a laugh as his grey eyes widened.

Wordlessly, he snatched the bottle out of her hand without a second thought and poured some of the liquid into his cup. “Where the hell did you get this from?”

She tried masking her expression the way he usually would; but the crinkles at the corner of her eyes betrayed the humor erupting inside her. “I don’t know. I guess I just prayed for someone to help me go through the night and this appeared in my bag.”

He glared at her through hooded eyes, taking a sip as though he was drinking regular, black tea- face devoid of any reaction.

His response to the strong beverage starkly contrasted Eden’s. She took a hesitant sip, her face immediately scrunching up in displeasure as the liquid burned down her throat. She coughed in disgust, the taste still lingering in her mouth- much to her displeasure. But, she was satisfied with the way it immediately warmed her insides up as Levi called her an ‘idiot’ under his breath.

Her cheeks grew pink and her reactions became lazier two hours after taking her drinking a fair share of whiskey. The bottle was now half-empty and Eden’s little hiccups echoed through the room like birds chirping.

The rain still battered at the exterior walls and Levi was as indifferent as ever- his stoic expression revealing nothing about his slightly drunken state. He watched her stretch her limbs as she pulled one of the capes off the wooden chair and around her body.

Much to her ignorance, it was his cape that she had taken.

She turned to gaze back at Levi, capturing his curious stare immediately. “Why do you hate me?”

He paused, jaw clicking tightly as he scowled at her. “When have I ever said that I hate you, you idiot?”

Eden shrugged comically, glancing at him from her peripheral vision. “I know you do, otherwise, why the hell would you be so harsh towards me?”

He didn’t respond, instead, he jutted his chin forward and rested his head against the wall. Eden twisted her body to face him, crossing her legs, resting her elbows as she leaned in. “You see? You can’t even deny that fact. You’re always pushing me harder than everyone else. We could be training with the rest of the team, and I could be doing the exact same thing as Sasha is; but you’ll still come to me and yell about my ‘shitty’ posture.”

His face was void of any expression, except for his grey eyes. They flashed back to her face searching Eden. She felt so miniscule under his scrutiny; as though whatever she was saying went from one ear and immediately out of the other.

Irritation coiled inside her. “You never get mad if Krista makes a mistake. Even Jean, if he messes up, you just tell him to start over and that’s it.”

Levi scoffed soundly at the sound of Jean’s name. Eden raised her brow quizzically, her teeth capturing her bottom lip as her brain processed his reaction. She took another swig of whiskey, the liquid burning against her lips as she swallowed it with dissatisfaction.

“I wish I could read you better,” she mumbled, more to herself than to him. Levi watched as she brought the bottle back to her lips in silence.

“Am I that interesting to you?”

His question hung in the air as she thought over her slurred response. “It’s just really frustrating when my Captain downgrades every single thing I try and succeed in. It’s like I’m never good enough no matter how hard I push myself.”

Eden finally felt the fire in his eyes as he scrunched his brows together, the anger burning a hole through her skull.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Eden, but weren’t you the one whining about how you didn’t want to be seen as fragile? And then, the second I go hard on you, you’re going to back down?” He glared at her in a perplexed way, catching how the girl’s ears burned as she ran a hand through her hair; trying to calm her palpitating heart.

“You’re right, but one thing is helping me get better and another thing is being a sadist about it.” Eden winced at her own words before she could shut her mouth. She fearfully watched Levi’s head swiftly angle towards her, his fingers grabbing her collar as he shook her towards him.

“You’re an idiot. An absolute fucking idiot. Regardless of whether it’s the drink that’s talking or you- you must be very thick to even think that.” He shoved her away from him as he watched her blush deepen. “Sorry if I’ve disappointed you with my actions. I guess I should start babying you the way your boyfriend does since that seems to be what you’re after.”

Eden’s eyes widened at his words, lips parting slightly as she lost her voice. That irritation that spread deep within her quickly transformed into anger and embarrassment.

“Jean? He’s not my boyfriend.” Levi’s impassive expression did not move off the wall behind her as she gritted her teeth, baring them viciously. “If someone were to hear you, they would have assumed you’re just jealous of him and I.”

Her words brought his deadpan expression back to her. “And what if I am?”

Eden faltered. She felt like Levi had thrown her into the most deep and unknown waters as she wordlessly drowned trying to collect herself. Her heart clenched and the blood rushed to her head and she settled back against the wall.

Neither of them spoke. His cup lay long forgotten on the wooden floor as he snatched the bottle out of her hands, bringing it to his lips as he drank deeply. Eden stared at his discarded cup in wonder; then back to him. The way the curve of his jaw flexed as he drank; the way his face remained void of any sign of emotions.

“I’d be fine with that.”

The moment her soft words- a mere whisper- reached Levi’s ears; he peered at her through the soft strands of hair caressing his face. Eden swore on everything she had ever known in her life, that the ghost of a smile flickered against his downturned lips- albeit it being long gone after she had blinked.

Eden reached for the bottle once more, her fingers clasping its throat before the Captain pulled it back away from her gently, his stoic expression present once more. She pursed her lips as she searched his fatigued face and decided that this was a battle not worth their energy.

She cupped her mouth as she yawned, her back arching as she stretched once more. His clean scent engulfed her, swallowing her whole. Levi’s cape wrapped around her neck comfortably as her eyes drooped.

Leaning her head back against the wall, Eden mimicked Levi’s stance as she wrapped his cape around her tightly.

“What’s the one thing you really want to do when the war is over?” Her muffled voice asked him softly from behind the fabric.

Levi glanced at her, relaxing his stance just a little as he swished around the whiskey in the bottle. “I’ve always wanted to open up my own teashop,” he replied after a short pause. Eden’s heart raced as she imagined Humanity’s Strongest Solider in a small teashop, making and drinking his favorite brew of tea all day long.

“Will you make coffee?”

Levi pursed his lips in distaste, shaking his head stiffly at the thought of disturbing his teashop filled with the strong scent of coffee. “No, why would I want to make coffee?”

Eden’s eyes slowly began closing more, heavy with sleep. His soft voice didn’t really help her case as she fought hard to stay awake.

“Because then, I can come visit you in the teashop,” Eden managed to mumble out; her head lulling to the side until it rested against a solid physique.

Behind her closed eyes, Eden’s vision began blurring as the darkness of sleep called for her gently. She couldn’t really tell whether she had begun dreaming or not as calloused, careful fingers tenderly wrapped around the waves of her hair; twisting and turning until she had completely gone to sleep.

Link to the full story in AO3 is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Pea//still, i find you

Request: Can I make request for Sweet Pea from Riverdale with the song "next to me" by Imagine Dragons, please?

hey! i had a few ideas for how to write this but in the end i settled on this one! i hope you like it!! also, i watched the music video for this, and the difference between the song and the video...yikes. have a great day/night!

The first time the thought of marriage plants itself in Sweet Pea’s head, it hits him like a truck. It comes out of nowhere and he needs a few seconds to recover from it. Marriage has never been something that Sweet Pea has ever really thought of. On the Southside you don’t see much of it, at least not happy ones, and so its never been something he’s given much thought to.

But there’s something about the way that you walk into the living room of your trailer, its a mundane task, something he see’s you do every single day, but for some reason its different today. You look at him casually, picking your bag and jacket up ahead of your shift at Pop’s. The two of you graduated a few years ago, but decided for now to stay in Riverdale. You want to be at least a little more financially stable before you decide what you actually want to do with your lives. So both of you took jobs at Pop’s, its simple, but stable.

“What?” Your eyebrow quirks and he quickly looks away, a blush creeping its way up his neck.

“Nothing.” He mumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pretending to check it. You stand up straighter, a hand resting on your hip as you stare at him. It takes him a few minutes but eventually he looks back in your direction and you narrow your eyes at him. There’s a playful smile on your lips but it still doesn’t make him any less nervous.

He doesn’t even know if you’ve ever thought about marriage, let alone marrying him.

“I don’t believe you Sweet Pea.” You sing and he rolls his eyes in response.

“Don’t believe me then.” He replies, crossing his arms and you huff, annoyed that you didn’t get an answer from him.

“I’ve got to go.” You cross the living room to where he’s sat, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You’re about to turn around, but he grabs your hips and pulls you on top of him. “Pea!” You squeal but he just giggles and captures your lips in a sweet kiss. “I really have to go now.” You pull away, out of breath after your impromptu make out session, but with a blissful smile on your face. He pouts as he watches you leave but you blow him a kiss and it seems to suffice. “Oh. Don’t forget about those bills. The money’s on the table I just need you to sort it out.”

“I’ve got it babe.” He calls after you. “I love youuuuu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” You tease, sending him a wink before finally closing the door.

----

There’s an eery silence spreading throughout the trailer. After hours of screaming, crying and shouting until your throat feels like its on fire, its silent.

Sweet Pea thinks he prefers the shouting, at least then you’re talking to him.

“Babe.” He knocks gently on the bedroom door. Its got the be the fifth time in a minute that he’s done so, and each time he gets the same answer...nothing.

He’d rather you tell him to go away because he would be able to know how you’re feeling. If you’re feeling anything other than anger. Although, if he hears you crying, he thinks that might be worse.

He sighs and turns around, sliding to the floor. His back is resting against the cold wood, but his skin still feel hot. He runs a hand over his face, sighing again and then tipping his head back. It hits the door with a soft thud but he doesn’t move it. He can practically feel the stress lines starting to appear on his face, feeling like he’s aged ten years in the past 2 hours.

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he takes a deep breath before lighting it. He’s tried countless of times over the past few years to quit. It was a stupid habit that he took up way too young, and since he met you, he’s been trying to quit. But whenever he’s stressed, he always falls back to it. In some way, its like an odd comfort. He knows you hate it, but he figures he’s already upset you enough tonight, whats one more thing to say sorry for. Plus, if you smell the smoke it might lure you out...so silver lining.

The first drag makes him close his eyes, a calmness washing over him. It stays for all of three seconds before he remembers what he’s done. And then he finds himself looking around for somewhere to put it out. He settles for a plant pot, the plant inside is fake, but somehow it still seems to be dead and he stares at it confused.

“Please Y/n. I said I’m sorry.” Nothing. “I know I screwed up, but I’m going to fix it tomorrow.”

“You said you’d pay it.” Its the first thing you’ve said in half an hour, and the way you say it makes his heart ache more than any amount of screaming could. You sound disappointed, and thats something he never wants to make you feel.

“I know.�� He replies. “I know I let you down. I’m sorry.”

“We could be kicked out Sweet Pea.”

“We’re not. I’m going to fix it, first thing tomorrow.”

“I asked you to do it a week ago.”

“I know.” He sighs. “I don’t know what else I can say, but sorry. I really am sorry Y/n. Please believe me.” He pleads. Its quiet, until he hears shuffling and then the door opens. He quickly scrambles to stand up, placing his hands on either side of your face.

“I do.” You nod. “You’re an idiot.” You shake you head and goofy smile come to his face.

“I know.” He nods. “Do you still want me?”

“Of course I do.” You roll your eyes, but kiss him anyway, scrunching your face up as soon as you taste smoke. “You know I don’t like it when you smoke.” You send him a look and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll quit...I promise.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Are you going to keep it?”

“Probably not.” He shakes his head. “But I’ll do my best for you.” As soon as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, he sighs contently. And marriage crosses his mind for a second time.

----

The first time you fixed Sweet Pea up, you had only been dating for a few weeks. When you were friends, he would usually do it himself, not wanting to worry you. And even when you got together, he didn’t want to worry you. But the fight he’d gotten in had been rough, rougher than any other and he’d been pretty badly beaten.

So, despite his entire body screaming at him to just go home, he dragged himself to your house, and hoped that your parents wouldn’t be in. He’d tried throwing stones at your window, but couldn’t lift his arms without winding himself, so he pulled himself round to your front door, and forced himself to knock on the door.

The wait for you to answer felt like a lifetime, his lungs burning with each breath and the blood dribbling down his face faking him squirm. When you opened the door, a bright smile had lit up your face, almost like you knew it was him, but as soon as you looked at him, it dropped. Instead being replaced with concern and fear.

“Sweet Pea? What the hell happened to you?” You’d ushered him inside, standing behind him with an arm on either side to make sure he didn’t fall. And after an excruciating five minutes, he was up the stairs and in your bathroom.

“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing he says. It comes out more of a wheeze and your eyebrows knit together. You stop, midway through searching through the cabinet and turn to him.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come here but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” He rasps, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the bath.

“Its okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He shakes his head and tries to stand up, but you’re beside him in an instant, pushing him to sit back down as gently as you can.

“You’re absolutely not going anywhere.” You reply. He parts his lips to argue, but the look you send him makes him shut up, something he learns quickly, and something that has followed him throughout your entire relationship.

You patch him up quietly, knowing that if he wants to talk, he will. You hum a song as you dab the blood of his face and despite the pain he’s feeling, he smiles at the sound.

“What?” You ask, glancing at him before going back to cleaning a particularly deep cut on his cheek.

“Just you.” He smiles and you roll your eyes. “Y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“I am really sorry for coming over.” You stop what you’re doing to look at him properly, but he looks away, worried you’re going to get annoyed at him.

“Believe it or not Sweet Pea, but I actually like seeing you. Even if you are all bloody. You’re still pretty to look at.”

He’s never been called pretty before, and as the years go by together, you tell him more and more. When he asks about it later, you tell him its a crime nobody has ever called him pretty, which like always, he answers with a scoff.

“Shut up.” He blushes, but you can barely see it through his blood soaked skin. “You’re the pretty one.”

“And so are you.” You boop him gently on the nose, very matter of factly before going back to work.

Now, years later, he still looks back at that memory with fondness. At the time he thought it was the worst thing he could have ever done. That you would break up with him for dragging you into his mess. But you didn’t, if anything, you think it made you love him more.

He’s been in so many fights since he was old enough to remember, each one getting more and more violent. After a while he thought he lost all innocence, all faith, all privilege. But each day he spends with you, whether you’re patching him up, or cuddling with him on the couch, he can feel himself claw back a little bit more of each.

Sometimes he feels as though he’s a deck of cards, one blow away from toppling over. But then he see’s your face, and its like your the super glue that him and Toni used to use to stick decks of cards together. Despite everything, you still want him, and he feels lucky every single day. Even after all the stupid things he does, and he does do some stupid things, you want him. He’s never thought himself as a good person, thats what years on the southside with a huge label hanging round your neck will do to you. But sometimes, he see’s himself the way you see him.

With you beside him, he loves himself a little more.

This realization, makes marriage drift through his head for the third time.

----

“Sweet Pea?” You call as you kick your shoes off. You’ve been at work all day, and as soon as you walk through your front door, your muscles seem to suddenly start aching. The lights are off, and your eyebrows furrow as you look around. “Sweet Pea?” You flick the kitchen light on and suddenly it hits you. “Sweet Pea. I swear to god, have you been smoking.” The smell of cigarettes linger in the air and you could kill him. He only smokes when he’s nervous about something, and so you suddenly feel worried.

You’ve been having money problems so you’ve had to cut back on a few things, but you’re coping, picking up more shifts at Pop’s. The time apart has taken a toll on the two of you, but you’ve been trying to spend as much time together as possible.

Maybe that its? Maybe he’s worried things are going downhill.

“I promise I won’t kill you.” You add, now feeling slightly bad about your previous comment, but you still get no answer. The living room is empty, and the bathroom door is open, so he can only be in one other place.

“Sweet Pea?” Pushing the bedroom door open gently, your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. Fairy lights are strung around the room, bathing the room in a soft glow, there’s rose petals covering the bed and floor, and candles are spread out around the room. But the prettiest sight is Sweet Pea wearing a suit, down on one knee with a ring box in one hand a bouquet of flowers in the other. “Oh my god.” You gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. You shuffle further into the room, tears already flowing down your cheeks.

“Are you okay babe?” He asks, his voice full of concern, but you nod quickly and he goes back to normal.

“Y/n.” He hands you the flowers, before grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “This proposal has been 6 months in the making, but the journey here has spanned our entire lives. You’ve been by my side through everything. Through the good, the bad and the just plain depressing. You’ve celebrated with me, suffered with me. You’ve made me laugh, cheered me up when I’ve cried and most importantly of all, you’ve just been there. All of my life you’ve been next to me, but until just a few years ago did I truly appreciate it. You have the patience of a saint and the smile of an angel, which is something you need to put up with me, which I honestly don’t know how you do. So thank you for taking a chance on me, believe me, I know its not easy. But I hope its worth it. I hope in the end I make it worth it. So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Of course I will.” A relived smile spreads across his lips as he slips the ring on your finger and stands. As soon as he’s stood up, your arms are around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. His hands find your waist, pulling you tighter to him and the two of you sigh contently.

He’s the first to pull away, a blissful look on his face as he just looks at you.

“So.” You toy with your ring. “You know I don’t like it when you smoke.” You tease making him roll his eyes.

“Shut up.” He mumbles, tugging you back to him and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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solohux · 5 years ago

Text

We’re almost halfway through the year so I felt in the mood to make a rec list, and what better fics to rec than the ones which have possibly been overlooked in 2020!

Please remember that this is my own rec list and not being on here does not reflect skill, enjoyment or anything else. It’s just my opinion!

Enjoy! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

• Pretty Little Bunny by funnylookinfella (2.2k, E) Kylo makes the 'mistake' of telling Hux he thinks bunnies are cute. Just a silly little smut fic for springtime!

• Kitten by koi_boi (3k, M) Hux sleeps in an orange cat onesie (which happens to match Millicent). Kylo catches him snoozing in said onesie. They cuddle.

• Paintball Warriors by @rudbeckiasun (2k, E) Supreme Leader Kylo Ren decrees that all officers must have shore leave. Then someone suggests teambuilding activities. Hux isn’t convinced, but paintballing turns out to be far more entertaining than he ever imagined.

• You're My Fucked Up Remedy by @nonsensicalsoliloquy (15.7k, E) For years now, Hux had plans. For so many long, arduous years he’d schemed in the shadows, waging a silent war with the men who’d taken his life and diligently strived to have it suit their every desire. He thought himself prepared for anything. However, what Hux hadn’t planned for, what took over his messed up existence like it suddenly had any other meaning beyond vengeance…was Ren.

• Revenge is Best Served with Hesitation by @heresetrash (4.6k, E) Hux had never been one to do his own dirty work. He preferred to send others to perform those tasks for him. Not because he couldn't do them himself - he was more than capable - but such work was time-consuming and messy, and he had better things to do. Kylo, however, was different. This was personal. Hux didn't just want to kill him himself, he needed to.

• Matters of Efficiency by mundanecactus (4.3k, T) A diplomatic mission goes awry, and General Hux is forced to admit that maybe he doesn't have a protocol for everything...

• Sick Day by newh0pe (2.3k, T) Kylo Ren has killed Supreme Leader Snoke and become one of the most powerful men in the galaxy... but his boyfriend still has to drag him out of bed when he isn't feeling well and baby him.

• We Remain by @drxcomxlfoys (1.1k, G) Kylo finds Hux in the holding cell after Pryde shot him. They both decide to leave the First Order.

• Smirks and Cigarettes by @ashenpages (1.8k, T) The first time Hux has Ren light his cigarette, it isn’t planned or discussed, or even a sensible time to be smoking.

• ghosts from the past by morlawny (<1k, T) It was the same nightmare he had been having for the past few months, and it was haunting him. His father’s voice, the look he gave him… The way his hand touched his face... Kylo released a deep, heavy sigh, causing the body next to him to stir.

• Regeneration by DaisyChainz (3.8k, E) Hux discovers Kylo Ren out in the woods practicing a local ritual to welcome their current planet's Vernal Equinox. Somehow he gets drawn into the rites and finds that, while he objects to the mess, there might be something to the idea of 'renewal'.

• You're Making Fun of Me by DeviantDarkBelle (<1k, M) Kissing something that shouldn't be kissed.

• A Murder on Starscatter Isle by @theweddingofthefoxes (WIP, 8.2k, M) Detective Armitage Hux has volunteered for the case of a lifetime -- solving the murder of Snoke, the leader of a mysterious and isolated commune. If he succeeds, he's sure to get promoted. But if he fails, he could be in for more than he ever expected. Is the new leader, Kylo Ren, a friend, a foe, or something else entirely?

• By the Grace of the Fire and the Flames by Mothwing (11.1k, E) The sight of the pale, sunken chest lifting, pausing, falling again as the valve released. Air escaped the slack mouth with a little huff. Hux’s eyes were sunken and closed. He looked so much smaller than Ben remembered, vulnerable, almost soft around the edges, all his wiry strength gone. Ben had strangled him with both the force and his bare hands before, in anger and in a lust that felt very much like anger. And even though it could have never been easier to end his life, something stopped Ben just as it had always stopped Kylo. Something about the dry patches on his hands. Something about the blue shadows under his eyes. It felt odd to say this, but there was simply no honour in killing this man. Nothing good would come from ending this life, even though, and Ben knew that, they both deserved to die. A little balance. A little justice. And you could not tell a corpse that it’d lost. Ben dismissed the thought. No one was even keeping score any more.

• Whole Worlds Fade by boomsherlocka (34.5k, M) Their first meeting was not noteworthy. Hux was not yet General, and Ren was not yet what he would eventually become.

• Watch This by DaisyChainz (2k, E) Hux had never had a lover like Kylo before: someone that wants Hux, and not just a random warm body. So Hux Really wants to give Kylo what he's asking for, but he's just so damn exhausted. Luckily, Kylo has a stimulating solution.

• Aural by @kyluxtrashpit (2.7k, E) Hux fucks Kylo's ear.

• let go by DarthKyloRen (1.8k, G) “You’re in pain,” Ben’s small voice broke the silence. Kylo nodded in agreement. “I am.” “You don’t have to be.” “Yes I do.”

• The Bidding by tsar_saltans_swan (3.4k, T) "Going once, going twice, won't these gentlemen suffice?" Armitage, a young lawyer, is suddenly thrown into an auction house to atone for the crime of not finding a wife by 25. It's a living hell... until he meets Ben.

• My Jolly Sailor Bold by @ellalba (<1k, G) A ship wonders into the Knight’s of Ren territory and get taken down by Kylo and his knights. Kylo has always been fascinated by humans but never really gotten the opportunity to actually interact with one in a way that doesn’t end with bloody murder. So he spots his opportunity to keep one when he sees a survivor getting away in a rowboat. A survivor with red hair.

• Take A Jump And Pray, May The Force Guide You by @ggerisminth (5.5k, M) The Resistance won, there is peace, well their version of peace. It isn't peace, it isn't even stability. It's just as worse as it was if not worse. But the far greater tragedy is the death of her family, and she will do everything in her power to get them back, even if that means using a technology created by the Sith to take her back in time. Even if it means that it might not work, or that she can never come back. She will never stop fighting to get them back, that is a promise. A promise to the Force, the Stars, and the Moon.

• Stay or Go? by Lokisbestgirl (5k, M) Hux enters into an arranged marriage with General Pryde for power and protection, but he's not getting any satisfaction in the bedroom. When Kylo comes around, they start sleeping together behind Enric's back and Hux finds out he is expecting. The trick is to get Pryde to sleep with Armitage again before suspicion arises. Will Pryde find out or will they get away with it all?

• Fixed by Offing (<1k, T) There was a small bottle sitting on the side table. It was clear, filled with a yellow liquid, and labeled simply, “Happiness”. A hypodermic needle sat next to it.

• I Really Wish I Hated You by inquisitor_tohru (1.5k, T) In another galaxy far, far away, Kylo Ren becomes aware that the voices he's hearing may not be aIl that they seem and comes to the unfortunate conclusion that Hux may be his only hope.

• Caim by Eiramma (20k, T) Hux is stolen from his academy bunk late one night and is dumped on the frozen waste land that is Ilum along with a small handful of his other classmates. Despite never having dreamed a night of his life, on his first night on this frozen planet, Hux finds himself in the body of an angry padawan, Ben Solo. As his stay on Ilum continues, it becomes apparent that pair of them share some sort of deep connection forged through mysticism of the Force, that permits them spend their dreams in one another's waking lives, and Hux has no idea why. But with danger lurking around every snow covered tree, Hux begins to wonder if he will be able to live long enough to understand the mystery of their bond, never mind deal with the growing fondness for the other boy that has begun to bloom in his heart.

• A War of Wages by R_Quarion (2.9k, M) When Kylo Ren kills Palpatine and the power is passed onto him, the Rebellion becomes a story of the past. With the First and Final Order in control of the galaxy, Hux cannot believe that he doesn't even have control over his own paychecks. Phasma is stubborn.

• Wookie Wash by @bostarsky & @sunnywritesstuff (5.6k, E) There had been posters, propaganda on the minuscule level. Nobody had been bold enough to do anything directly, but Hux could tell the decision had not been taken well by his men. That was when he had prompted the head of morale on base to do something about the insurrection, and she had told him she would fix it. Hoping he had finally washed his hands of the matter, Hux had gone back about his day as normal. That had been three days ago, before all the racket. The issue with the campaign was that the model who had been shown in the ad was... Incredibly attractive, to say the least, and apparently the morale officer said that that man was none other than Kylo Ren. Now, nobody had ever seen his face before, but everyone always assumed he was ugly. Hux loathed drama and gossip of all kinds, it distracted his officers from their important duties... But even he couldn't get over the ridiculousness of the new advertisement. There was no way in the galaxy that such an attractive man could be under that mask, and Hux wanted to get to the bottom of it.

• To be Licked, Topped and Loved by hexgoldyloins (2.1k, E) Ren wants to be licked, topped and loved. Hux is willing to explore that.

• For This One Night by Lady_Faulkner (<1k, T) As Starkiller Base nears its completion, Supreme Leader Snoke orders General Hux to go on vacation. The general isn’t pleased. At least he has Kylo Ren in a speedo to look at.

• Halloween Candles by @paperprinc3 (1.3k, M) Ben convinces his friend Hux to help him with a ritual so that Ben can try and talk to his dead grandfather Anakin. The ritual requires a virgin host to take the spirit however Hux didn't think that it was meant literally.

• Fate Is A Cruel Thing by shinogi (<1k, T) What would happen if Kylo was on the steadfast during the events that took place to Hux?

• An Eros Festival Gift by Lady_Faulkner (<1k, T) Hux has been away for two weeks, but he’s due back on the start the Eros Festival, a galaxy wide festival of love, and Kylo has the perfect gift for him. That is, he hopes he does.

• An Earned Reward by PrincessDesire (5.2k, E) Hux rewards his sub Ren for a successful mission.

• Snow Powered by IsaiahVirus (<1k, G) Kylo finds comfort in the snow and in Hux.

• Calligraphy by @emperorsvornskr (1.1k, T) Kylo goes back to an old form of meditation assistance, and asks Hux to participate to give them both some stress relief.

• He's Got the Whole World in his Hands by undernightlight (<1k, G) Finally, he is the Supreme Leader. He has the power he’s always deserved, the power that was promised to him, so then, why does he still feel hollow?

• Twin Crowns by kylux_nonsense (<1k, G) Twin thrones, one black marble on white floor, one white marble on black floor. Twin crowns, one rests amongst long, dark hair, one sits atop fiery red. There is but one galaxy, and in all its infinite variety every corner owes its allegiance to one or the other.

• Eh, it's love by @abboh (<1k, G) Hux was never one to show love of any degree but then there was Kylo, who showed his love in his own little ways.

• Castles in the Sand by orphan_account (2.4k, T) A depressed General Hux and his secretive obsessive pining for Kylo Ren.

• The Duel of the Fates by mheb (31.2k, E) Hux’s datapad chimed again, a call from Kuat this time, and he sighed aloud at it, exasperated. “What?” Hux leaned back in his chair, eyeing the holographic figure seated across from him, the shadowy form of their TIE cockpit barely visible around their body, the entire image emitted from the steel inlay in the far wall that Hux used to transmit his speeches. Hux carelessly knocked over a good half of the physical chess pieces in front of him, putting his bare feet up on his desk. His projected guest scowled at him. But Hux paled at the words that met his ears through his datapad. 'Jedi are with the rebel group that bombed the fueling station...the girl is here.' He ended the call without a goodbye, returning to the other conversation he’d been having, up until this point quite pleasant. “Ren.”

• And They Were Bottoms! (~oh my God, they were bottoms~) by Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi (<1k, T) Kylo and Hux both had very similar -and yet very different- plans for how their first night of intimacy was going to go.

• Tough Games by ouigeneral (4k, E) Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux have been participating in a secret relationship for a while. Both men love power play and experimenting with bondage. One night Hux organises a surprise for Kylo. Kylo certainly is surprised.

• Hate until you love by SuperEllen (<1k, T) Can you hate someone so much that you actually love them?

• Mark Me, Burn Me (the sun is nothing compared to you) by DiamondCrystalInk (1.7k, T) Enjoying a morning on Coruscant, Hux gives Ren a proposition. It's time Hux leaves his mark.

• Put Your Money on Me by Asrael_Valtiri (2.5k, E, WIP) He felt Ren press against his back, wrap his arms around his waist. He couldn’t help himself; he leaned back into Ren’s broad chest. Hux was glad their full-length mirror was behind them; he didn’t want Ren to see his face. So Hux closed his eyes a moment, let himself pretend he possessed all he’d ever wanted. Power, security, order, galactic peace--and above all, Ren.

• deep by g4t1t0 (2.9k, T) snoke dies and kylo ren is lost. hux hates to see him this way, but for a reason he cant name/hux prefers to see ren enraged, violent, hungry/he gets what he wants

• Heads Will Roll by @pizzzazlut (2.3k, M) Hux and Kylo decide to venture into the notoriously haunted Arkanis Asylum one night to try and see if they can get actual evidence in their ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?

• Grandfather of the Century by ashangel101010 (<1k, T) The Emperor of the Seven Sith Hells does his best to protect his grandson.

• Love and Fear by @abboh (<1k, G) Sometimes it is better to be feared than loved by your people. But, gazing down from above, love can be found amdist all that fear.

• Take A Moment To Ask Yourself, Is This How We Fall Apart? by @bumblebae8 (1k, T) Take a moment to ask yourself… if this is how we fall apart?

• You Ruined It by ravenlights (1.1k, T) Kylo Ren is serious about home-baked muffins, and Hux, well. Hux ruins it.

• Crevices Of Sanity by WynneWritesHQ (<1k, T) How late the hour was, or how ramshackle the small room in which General Hux had decided he would spend the night, did not matter anymore. Not when everything he could think about was the man kissing his neck, carrying him aloft and onto some crates that, miraculously, withstood the general disorder better than the dusty residues beneath his always-well-polished boots.

• Pygmalion by orphan_account (17.4k, T) This is a story inspired by the theme of artificial intelligence and explores Armitage Hux's feelings of loneliness and isolation in the First Order. Unable or unwilling to seek out human connections and relationships, Hux turns to a company which provides custom built androids as personal companions to satisfy his need for intimacy.

Adjacent Ship Recs

• Home for Dinner by DaisyChainz (2.9k, E) Matt is always so sweet and attentive to Techie. When he's having a bad day, Techie tries to be brave enough to make things better for him.

• Icing on the (Strawberry) Cake by Luxuria_Ira (3.6k, G) On a rainy night in June, Clyde takes Stensland up into the rolling hills of West Virginia and asks him a question that's been on the tip of his tongue since they met.

• Better, Ren? by DeviantDarkBelle (1.5k, E) Before Hux and Kylo have to return from leave, Hux hopes he can treat Kylo to something nice. Of course, Thomas and Charlie are more than willing to help out.

• Someone could see us by DeviantDarkBelle (<1k, E) Thomas McGregor is on vacation in NYC. He runs into Charlie Barber. Somewhere along the way, feelings are caught.

• Horny Hearts by Rattlesnake (9.5k, E, WIP) Techie has a new flatmate called Matt and all he can really think about is doing it with him.

• Leaving It Up to You by undernightlight (8k, E) Henry Beard had been staring at him all day - Flip wasn't blind. Once it was just the two of them in the office, Flip decided to casually confront him about why. He had a mild suspicion, but he wanted to know for sure. He likes to be proven right.

• The Might and Measure of Love by @atlinmerrick (1.2k, E) A clearer invitation to go poking around inside Mr Cheung's house was never made, so a minute later and sure enough Clyde found Stens in the bathroom making weird little frantic noises. Clyde knew those noises. They were 'trying desperately to get off because of awkwardly-timed stiffy' noises.

#kylux #fic rec #kylux adjacent #and honestly i'm still a little salty about the same few big fandom fics being recced on lists over and over again #there are almost 14000 fics in the ao3 tag #let's rec something other than cwu

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