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the-trinket-witch · 2 years ago

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Practically Perfect Ch. 4

(Ch 5|Ch 3|Ch 1)

"Ace and Deucy legit challenged Riddle to a duel?! You for real?" Cater called between Trey and Albert off on the sidelines.

"I tried to stop 'em," Trey muttered.

"Neither could I. - sigh- I'll have to leave early to prepare one of the rooms for good, it seems…" Albert lamented.

It seemed by the time the three turned to move attention to Crowley and the others, starting the match, the collars that had been removed were immediately placed back on.

"Damn, we didn't stand a chance, did we?" Ace whined.

"Didn't even take five seconds. I told you: rulebreakers are useless. You thought to challenge me? How embarrassing. Mother was right…" Riddle chided.

Deuce growled, "Yeah, rules should he followed-but enforcing such absurd ones just makes you a pedantic tyrant!"

Riddle gritted his teeth at the defiance. "Excuse me?! Break the rules and you have no one to blame for losing your head but yourself!"

>That's Completely Wrong!

>You don't get to do what you want just because of some 'rules'!

" I decide who's wrong! You can't follow simple rules, I can't imagine what kind of education you must have grown up with!" Riddle continued, "No magic, no sense of order-pitiful."

" Riddle , please-" Albert finally stood to intervene. The tone of his voice came off a little harsher than he wanted. He didn't get far walking over, as Riddle's attention being diverted opened him up to a fist right across the jaw.

"Shut your damn mouth!" Ace barked. "I don't even care anymore; being dorm leader, this stupid duel, none of it! Kids aren't their folks' trophies, and what they do doesn't reflect on the parents. It ain't your parents' fault you're a little bastard-that's your own damn fault! No wonder you can't make a friend with the balls to tell you off for being a little dictator!"

"Hey!" Albert snapped. "You're crossing a line I'd really advise you don't cross." His eyes burned, almost daring Ace to take a swing at him next.

"You're not helping any! All you've done is coddle him like a baby since you two met!"

"A-a baby?! You know nothing about me! " Riddle shrieked.

"We don't, but we can-" Albert tried to say but was cut off.

"Enough Enough ENOUGH! Mother was right-so that makes me right!" His eyes could bore holes in those he oversaw with their intensity.

Crowley injected, "Mr. Rosehearts-please! The duel is over. They've been disqualified!"

An onlooking resident yelled, tossing out one of the croquet balls, "I'm fed up with this whole thing too!" The projectile rolled out landing at Riddle's feet, breaking up the argument.

"WHO THREW THAT?! You're fed up? I'm fed up with all of YOU! All you rule-breakers just keep breaking them no matter how many times I take off your heads! Nobody wants to come forward for this?" Riddle pointed towards the ball, "Nobody wants to come forward?? Fine. Nobody? Then I'm taking off ALL YOUR HEADS!"

Riddle flung his arms out, pointing out targets to shackle with the magical collars. His face twisted with his increasing anger. Cater voiced concern for Riddle’s overuse of magic, but all too late as a surge of magic ripped the hedges and trees from their roots. Riddle’s fury directed the projectiles, and everyone braced for impact. When the crash of trees didn’t connect, everyone stared back to find the deadly timber replaced with cards.

“What? What’s happening?” Riddle howled. Grim noted the collars being gone, along with the floating foliage changed to cards. Riddle’s breathing quickened, trying to stem another screech.

“I told you, my ‘Doodle Suit’ can override anything for a small time-I overwrote Riddle’s magic with my own,” Trey explained. Riddle skeptically tried slapping collars back on everyone, only to find the collars be transmuted to cards. “Riddle, please, stop this; we can talk!”

“So...your magic is stronger than mine?”

“No, but please, let’s talk it out.”

“I’ve endured and endured…We upheld the rules here together… And now you want to tell me that I’m wrong?! I. AM. IN. THE. RIGHT!”

A small miasma surrounding Riddle’s crystal erupted into a flame of darkness, replacing his form with something entirely twisted. Ink dripped from wherever it could, his body hung suspended in air by sheer force of magic, and a large fiend that hadn’t been there before towered over his form with a large inkwell in place of its head.

“Those foolish enough to defy me have no place in my world! I am the Law, I am the Rules. I AM ORDER INCARNATE. No other response than ‘Yes, Lord Riddle’ is acceptable!” Riddle bellowed with a reverberating cackle.

“What’s happening?!” Grim yowled.

“Young Rosehearts has Overblotted! He’s been caught up in a whirlwind of negative emotions and overusing his magic!” Crowley explained, “His life is in danger if this continues-I have to evacuate the students!”

As Crowley disappeared, Ace took to slinging flames at Riddle, with Deuce at his side summoning a cauldron of all things. Trey stepped up to further provide time replacing Riddle’s magic with his own. Albert snapped to attention with his umbrella at the ready like a sword, ready for battle.

“Riddle! You have to be in there-you’re better than this!” Albert called.

“I am already better! That guy, this guy…Even you, of all the nerve-I’ll have all your heads!” Riddle shrieked before attempting to attack again.

Trey’s magic was able to stave off most devastating attacks, and Albert’s hold over time was able to allow more opportunities to attack the viscous figure behind their friend. Fire, cauldron, magical swap, time stop, repeat. Their attacks seemed to do some kind of damage to the figure; the movements between it and Riddle seemed to interchange between who was the puppet and the master. Trees flew when Trey couldn’t change them to cards, one sending a resident flying, another almost impacting the main group before Albert halted its trajectory with time, pulling it out of the way. The crowd volleyed magical shots at Riddle, with one seeming to make the final deciding impact.

The spell dropped its target out of the air, at last felling the inky beast. At last free, the tether the monster had over Riddle cut, sending him dropping to the ground. Albert took one last opportunity with his magic to throw himself under Riddle to lessen the impact of gravity. He propped him up in his lap and flagged others over. The crowd surrounding the redhead, who hadn’t come back to consciousness, but seemed more wrestling with a nightmare. Al directed a resident to get first aid equipment, as the only thing else he could do was watch his friend fight with something in his own mind. Beads of tears mixed with ink welled in his eyes, before said eyes sprung back open with a gasp.

“Wha-what happened? What’d I-?” Riddle pleaded.

“Hey, now-don’t worry about it now-how do you feel?,” Trey assured.

“You keep coddling him like this, and this is what happens! He goes berserk just by getting a little mad!” Ace muttered to Trey. “Look around. The place is a disaster and I’m sure we’re in big trouble now.”

“Really-it ain’t any good bottling your stress like that,” Grim chided alongside everyone else.

Riddle diverted his eyes from everyone around him, more tears beading in the corners of his eyes. The garden was in shambles. porcelain lay shattered and tossed around from his outburst. Shrubs and furniture lay twisted and torn from their original positions.

“I-I really did want to eat that mont blanc," Riddle sniffled. Everyone looked between each other in confusion. “The roses were fine white…I even like honey over sugar cubes in my tea. I don’t even like lemon tea-I like milk tea. I really want to try that rose syrup you gave me in it. And-” he choked out, “I wanted to spend more time with Cater, Trey, Albert…” His confession opened the floodgates, unleashing the tears he’d been holding back. He buried his face in Albert’s chest as he wept; his shoulders shuddered with each sob.

“Woah…Didn’t think there’d be a day I’d see Riddle cry like a lil kid,” Cater muttered.

Ace interjected, “Oh quit, we ain’t forgiving you just ‘cause you start bawling like a baby!” Al whipped his gaze to stare daggers at him; Deuce gave him a reminding elbow to the side to remind him about reading the room.

“I’m sorry, too,” Trey said, “I saw you suffering with all this but I just assumed you could handle it, but, I gotta say it: You’ve been going about this all wrong. I think you owe a lot of folks an apology.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Riddle choked out between sobs. He attempted to catch his breath from his crying. Al could only help by keeping a hand to his friend’s back, rubbing it in reassurance and grounding.

Ace spat, “There’s something I’ve been wantin’ to say to you if you ever tried apologizing for everything: WORDS DON’T FIX EVERYTHING. Don’t think I’m willing to forgive you so easily!” Cater chided him like Deuce before, but he continued, “Why not? He put us through the damn wringer! He threw out that mont blanc we took all that time to make; why should I forgive him so easily?”

Grim muttered, commenting about how he’d never met someone who could hold a grudge like him before.

“But, what should I do? What can I do?”

“Well, my birthday isn’t for a bit-How’s this: a Revenge Unbirthday? We didn’t even get to enjoy this last one. This time, you make the tart. No help from Trey, either, got it?”

Albert rolled his eyes while Yuu chastised Ace for his hypocrisy. Riddle fumbled out of Al’s lap to hold his hand out to shake.

“Got it.” Riddle replied. His hand was met with Ace’s in agreement.

With the agreement, everyone’s attention diverted to the state that the dorm’s garden sat in. Most sighed in resignation that they would have to clean up. Albert picked himself up to help assist, making a mental note about Grim wolfing down some black rock off of the ground. He just rolled his eyes with the assumption that beasts’ digestive tracts were just built differently.

______________________________________________________________

Days had gone by before Heartslabyul’s garden was in fit enough shape to host an Unbirthday Party again. Decorations had been set, Trey and Albert helped Riddle along as he was still recovering from the other day, and roses were being finished painting, albeit with the Dorm Leader’s help and direction.

“How’re you feeling?” Albert asked. He had been kicking himself internally for not doing what he thought would be more, for the past couple of days. He and Trey worked closely in hand making sure Riddle had been taken care of; Trey brought food, Albert retrieved homework and other materials.

“I’m fine now. Thank you, again, for helping with the tart, as well. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it all the same,” Riddle said.

“Ace said you weren’t allowed Trey’s help, but he didn’t mention mine,” Al beamed with a signature cheekiness.

Trey noted, “It does look good for a first try-you got the strawberries glazed beautifully, even if the rest is an…interesting shape.”

Everyone seemed to chomp at the bit to try the tart, after Cater had his way with photographing it, of course. A toast with forks, and all took a bite…only to immediately spit it back out.

“Salty?!” Everyone remarked. Ace wondered if Riddle had somehow trapped the ocean into the thing.

“Albert measured all the ingredients, I added them. WAIT-is it because of the oyster sauce?” Riddle mentioned. Albert’s face twisted in confusion as he didn’t add any, but was cut off. Riddle noted, “You didn’t measure out any so I thought you’d missed that part of the recipe; I took to adding it while you prepped the oven.” Albert tried stifling a giggle, but erupted into a burst on the realization.

“I’ve heard a spoonful of sugar helping the medicine go down, but never oyster sauce !” he smiled.

“Trey said all good tarts have it as a secret ingredient,” Riddle tried explaining.

Ace shook his head, telling Riddle to try using his own. Cater wondered how much he’d put in, noting it wasn’t as bad as everyone seemed to make it. Trey could only laugh at the confirmation of his suspicion. As everyone had a moment to laugh, a familiar giggle joined in. Riddle and Albert turned to recognize a splash of purple hair and cat ears.

“Che’nya, what’re you doing here?” Riddle asked.

“Oh! Alchemi, it’s erm, good to see you,” Albert greeted stiffly, as if his presence had been caught red-handed.

“Nya, I came to celebrate an Unbirthday Party; congrats, Riddle,” Che’nya replied. “Oh, hey, Nya’lbert, how’ve ya been? New school treating you okay?”

“Well, yes. I’ve got to meet a friend of yours too, it seems,” Al replied.

The attention paid to Che’nya by the group had also attracted the attention of other Heartslabyul residents, who protested a student of Royal Sword in their midst.

“Oop, time to go-got my tart anyways,” he sang before disappearing piece by piece.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with conversation, tasting sweets, and the first time Riddle had been able to enjoy tea with rose syrup instead of sugar cubes. Albert was more than glad to offer Trey the recipe, with the two diverging from the group to talk further about cooking and swapping recipes. Afternoon turned to evening, and signaled the party to eventually close. Yuu, Grim and Albert made their way back to their dorm, with Ace and Deuce’s status as residents of their original dorm finally restored.

“It’s going to be a bit quiet without those two living here full time, though I have a feeling this won’t be the last they’ll be over. Do keep me informed if they do, I have to make sure I make enough food for everyone,” he smiled. He took notice of the green flickers of light dancing through the headstones as they passed, “Hmm, the fireflies seem rather lovely tonight. Any thoughts, yet on a name for this Ramshackle Dorm of ours?”

#practically perfect fanfic #albert eastwind #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland

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softomi · 4 years ago

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i like you so matcha

prompt: is it really a rivals to lovers if one likes the other?

pairing: osamu x reader

word count: 3.2k

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsumue @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen

Osamu wasn’t one to worry about competition; he had heard of the new café just a few stores down from his own restaurant and while he believed that the grand opening was nothing more than large interest, the hype reached his own workers. While he prides himself on providing a menu that is cost efficient and perfect for anyone; his workers seem to think that the new café combined low cost with high quality and aesthetics.

Again, Osamu wasn’t that interested in the new place until through the grapevine he heard they were selling onigiri. It wasn’t just any onigiri, apparently their take involved changing the color of the rice to add an artistic component. They were even going as far as shaping the onigiri into novelty orientations, one of his workers showcased the hello kitty onigiri.

Once more, Osamu tried to reason that it wasn’t interesting but he can’t help the sudden tick of his forehead when his brother walks right passed the windows of his restaurant only to emerge thirty minutes later with a to-go box of rainbow colored onigiri. It irked him even more when Atsumu had the audacity to sit at the counter and eat the onigiris with such happiness.

“Hey Samu, you think you could make some of these.” Osamu takes the box, promptly throwing it into the trash, eliciting a whine from Atsumu who declares that now he must wait another twenty minutes in line for more.

Osamu finds himself waiting in line with his brother. Atsumu cries that his stomach is hungry, but Osamu keeps his attention to how long the line is; it didn’t wrap around the block but it was fairly long enough to understand that the place was popular. The glow of the neon blue sign is just barely evident under the sun, but it must appear better under night conditions.

When he looks inside, he sees pristine white tables that balance with the brightly colored food; the chairs looked to have comfortable padding, some decorated with different colored pillows. There were mirrors displayed along the walls, one moon shaped, one stars, one of the sun, he takes it to understand that this was probably a theme of the café.

“We’re almost to the front!” Atsumu’s stomach growls the closer they get.

Osamu notices there’s decorative fairy lights along the window looking out into the street, the windowsill is large and he thinks it’s a good idea when he sees some customers using the space as a seating area. There’s a chalkboard used to display the menu behind the workers at the counter and even a small one at the cash register that lists the specials of the day.

Even as they find a seat, Osamu’s eyes are staring at the ceiling, how aesthetic, he thinks, there’s even a mirror above where they sat. He observes the customers, most are women but here and there are a few men; some with their lovers, some just here for the food. He can conclude that most of the hype of the place is from the aesthetic alone. It’s the perfect place for a photo opportunity with how decorated everything is.

“Order for Miya!”

Atsumu practically sprints to the counter and back. When Osamu tries to touch the food, Atsumu slaps his hand, “Wait! Let me take a picture!”

Osamu rolls his eyes; his brother has fallen into the trap that is the café. Atsumu takes five minutes to capture every angle that he can, even utilizing the ceiling mirror to get a picture of him and his brother with the food. Osamu takes note of Atsumu’s drink, clear plastic with a secure top; it allows you to see the different layers of the coffee but he knows once Atsumu mixes the drink it’ll turn green for the matcha flavor.

“Look!” Atsumu is shoving the cup in Osamu’s face, “There’s a design on the cup!” Atsumu’s eyes sparkle at the cute print of a Pokémon character, “That means I was one of the first hundred customers of the day.”

At this point, Osamu wants to applaud the aesthetic of the restaurant. Even taking the time to print on designs for customers as a novelty item to which they could boost about on social media, Osamu is impressed. But he reasons that the aesthetic of the place must hold to a high standard with the food.

So when he takes one of the onigiri’s, he’s ready to critique the flavor.

“Are you enjoying your meal?”

When Osamu looks up after taking a bite, the rice flows down the wrong pipe; he coughs loudly, wheezing at the way the salted salmon is a lump in his throat. Atsumu gives up his drink for his brother and Osamu nearly falls in love with the sweet taste of the matcha coffee.

“Are you alright?” Your hand is pressed on his shoulder, it moved from when you had been lightly hitting his back to help.

Osamu’s cough dies down as he watched you move to the counter; the workers listening intently to your words before nodding off.

“I’m sorry.” Osamu coughs for a last time as you approach the table.

Your hands are on your hips, a grin pressed neatly on your lips as you hold out a hand, “It’s my fault, I must have surprised you coming over all of a sudden. I’m the owner and you run Onigiri Miya don’t you?” Osamu feels sweat beat down the side of his face when he reaches out to grasp your hands, “I’m a big fan, you have great flavors, I can only hope that ours matches yours.”

Your attention turns to his twin, Atsumu gladly takes your attention, this gives Osamu time to collect himself. Osamu discoveries himself staring at you, you radiated a type of energy, one that he feels matches his own when it comes to running a business. The smile on your face makes him flush slightly and his palms remain sweaty from when he held your hand.

“It’s an honor to have a professional volleyball player eat at our establishment. We hope to see us on your social media page. One of my workers will bring over a free drink for the inconvenience.” Your head lowers in courtesy, waving to the men to continue their dining experience, “Oh and Mister Onigiri Miya, I’d love to bounce some ideas off you, I think we’d work great as partners for a few projects.”

Business partners was the last thing Osamu was going to agree to now that he had been up and close with the café; it’s been deemed a threat. It irked him when he saw you, a smile on your face as you wave to him early in the morning. His business seemed to always open and end with you, that’s how he discovered that even your hours of operation were the same as his.

It annoyed him when you visited, a large cup of matcha coffee in your hand as you offer it to him during the middle of lunch rush. It’s sweet when he drinks it, but he tries not to like it too much and he even tries to repress the craving for it on days when you don’t visit his shop. He even holds back the urge to visit the café when he really wants some matcha coffee.

He also finds it absolutely annoying how the parking spaces in front of his restaurant are always blocked by your customers. One time he stormed into your café, the workers were no stranger to his complaints. He’s automatically walking to your office in the back. When he can’t find you, he discovers you in a hidden kitchen meant for creative purposes.

“Oh, Miya Osamu. What can I do for you?” There’s rice on your cheek, your apron dirtied with minced ingredients, you wipe your hands on the ends of your apron to leave streaks of flour.

Osamu pushes aside the thought that he finds your hair pulled up cute, his hands on his waist as he puffs out his chest, “You need to do something about the parking situation! Your customers are parking in spots specifically meant for Onigiri Miya!”

You laugh, the back of your hand wiping against your cheek to remove the rice, “No problem! I’ll just put up signs on parking. Good?”

Osamu’s eyes twitch, the rice on your cheek is still stuck there and you can’t seem to find just where it is. He takes a step forward, fingers reaching out to graze the speck of rice and flick it off into another direction. You’re grinning.

“Thanks, did you want some coffee?” Your hand is already preparing a cup, pushing buttons on a machine as it spews out coffee, “I’m trying out some matcha and chocolate fusion drinks. I think I just figured out the perfect balance. Taste test?” You hold out the cup to him.

It’s sweet, just a perfect blend; absolutely beautiful. Osamu ends up taking the drink back to his restaurant, eyes staring at the cup with doodles of hearts and stars.

The next day, Osamu barges into your office stating that the music from your café is too loud, even though he’s three stores down, and none of his workers could hear anything but he’s insisted that the music is too distracting. He returns once more with a complimentary drink and a lighter mood than before.

“Isn’t he being too demanding?” One of your workers watches Osamu peer into the shop.

You’re smiling, already prepping the matcha drink, “I think it’s cute.”

“He’s acting like he’s part of the neighborhood watch committee.” Your worker stands straight up, “Good morning mister Miya, another complaint today?”

Osamu crosses his arms, lips in a thin line, “If you’re going to have your workers hand out flyers, I would prefer it if it wasn’t done in front of my restaurant.”

“Here’s your order.” The cup in your hand is stretched out to him.

“I didn’t.” Osamu frowns but his finger brush against yours when he reaches for the cup.

“I’ll be sure to tell them to stay closer to our café.” Despite him turning away, he flushes, “Have a great day Miya Osamu!” Your voice makes his ears go red.

The workers giggle when he turns around to thank you. It was painfully obvious that he had a crush on you. Excuses upon excuses as a way to step into your café and have brief moments with you. His eyes distracted by the cup, he runs into the door, giggles follow him as he leaves.

Osamu has himself crouched behind the counter, hands in his hair, hiding from the world. He remains a roadblock to his workers but they all move around him; he can’t possibly step back into your café after that embarrassing moment.

“It probably wasn’t that bad sir.” The worker has been waiting for five minutes trying to get one of the rice bags from behind Osamu.

Osamu digs his hands into his hair, “I basically face planted into the door.”

“Can I just get the rice please? We have orders.”

When Osamu stands to his feet, the wind gets knocked out of him. You wave from behind the counter and Osamu coughs as though he was busily trying to do something from under.

“Can I help you with something?”

You lean on your toes, it makes him want to delve just a little closer to you, “Yeah, there’s a car blocking one of our carry out spots, it has an Onigiri Miya sticker on the bumper so we thought maybe it was yours?”

Osamu facepalms, he had forgotten to move his car. He’s quick to round the counter, making his way to you until he feels it. He’s suddenly thrusted forward, unable to comprehend the wet floor sign before he’s tumbling right into you. Your hands steady his arms, Osamu’s find themselves clutching your waist. He was blushing madly, nose brushing against yours; customers and workers alike stare at the rather intimate hold.

“Are you alright?”

Osamu lets go but the step he takes back makes him slip, your arm stretches out to grasp him but it only sends you forward. Everyone gasps. Osamu lands on his ass, your body hovering over him and he’s blushing even harder now with your breath against his skin.

“I’m so sorry.” You pull away from him.

“It’s my fault.” Osamu dusts himself off, helping you to your feet, even holding your hand to try and balance the both of you, “Are you okay?”

Besides minor embarrassment, you grin to him, “Nothing I haven’t experienced before. Have you ever slipped and spilled rice in the middle of lunch rush, effectively getting grains of rice in everything?” Osamu laughs, “Truly one of my more embarrassing moments.”

He feels his heart suddenly more at ease, the restaurant goes back to their bustling conversations and the two of you walk out together. Osamu thinks to himself that the term rivals didn’t fit the category that he has you under in his head.

“It’s called love.” Atsumu draws the word out and Osamu smacks his arm, effectively making Atsumu bang his head against the table, “Dammit Samu! Stop doing that!”

“Stop being stupid then.”

Atsumu begins a snarky outcry of obscenities at his brother. He doesn’t mind it as he sees you walking past his restaurant. The sun makes it hard for you to notice him through the windows but he has a perfect view of you carrying boxes towards your café. Your steps halt as the top box begins to tilt, leaning the rest of the boxes in the same directions.

“I got you.” Osamu pushes the boxes, he takes the top half to balance in his hands, “I’ll help you.”

“Thanks.” You beam, “I see your brother is visiting.”

When Osamu looks at the window, Atsumu has his face pressed against the glass. His heavy breathing creating fog, “Samu!” It amuses you when Osamu knocks against the glass, sending Atsumu to jolt back, “Samu! Get me some onigiri from the café.”

“You’re literally in an Onigiri restaurant!” Osamu barks.

Your giggle pulls him along and as if cupid had struck him with fifty arrows, he follows you happily.

It came to no surprise for literally everyone when Osamu finally mustered up the courage to ask you out. In the after hours of work, he discovers you flipping chairs all by your lonesome; his hand knocks against the glass, it causes you to jump in surprise but it quickly fades when you see him motioning for the locked door.

“Where are all of your workers?” Osamu has begun to help turn the chairs onto the tables, something he’s accustomed to doing at his restaurant.

“I sent them home. I don’t like making them stay too late.”

Osamu thinks about how his workers are cleaning up at the moment; he follows you to the back, eyes trailing themselves over your body, he finds the way your hair is tied with ribbons to be cute and he wonders if you look just as cute with your hair down.

“Osamu?”

He blushes when you bring him back to reality, “Sorry, I was thinking about something.”

“I’m just finishing up some prep for tomorrow, you don’t have to stay.” Your hands dust flour onto the table, your fingers forming bagels for tomorrow’s breakfast rush.

Osamu stands next to you, he curiously takes a piece of dough, following your hand movements to form the bagel shape, “This is the first time I’ve formed bagels.”

“Really?” You glance at him, “You’re a natural, I’d definitely hire you as a chef.” Unexpectedly, Osamu feels your hand hold over his, “You just need to make sure it’s all uniform. I don’t think my customers would enjoy bagels that are one size five times bigger than another.”

It’s another two hours before you two finish forming and proofing the bagels for the next day. He waits outside the doors of your café, he can clearly see his workers are just about to leave too, they snicker seeing him waiting outside. He quickly motions for them to go away, when the door chimes, he pretends as though he was just about to scratch his head.

“Thanks for the help.” Your hair falls past your shoulders, Osamu wishes time would stop for a second so he could run his fingers through them. It’s just the two of you standing on the empty street, the lamps barely doing you justice, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Wait.” Osamu tugs on your sleeve, “Do you want to have dinner with me? Or will you? I mean, you don’t have to but if you want to.”

“Are you asking me out?”

Osamu gulps, “Are willing to go out with me?”

He may have reached another level of joy when you clasp onto his arm, “Duh! You’re a little slow but you got there eventually.”

Osamu lets you drag him along the sidewalk, opting for a place nearby rather than driving elsewhere. He can’t help the smile of content on his face watching you stuff your mouth with food. The meal is comfortable and nice; but the date is absolutely, blissfully, perfect. At the end of the night, he walks you to your car, hands dug deep into his pockets and he isn’t sure if he should shamelessly kiss you or do the awkward hug and goodbye.

“Are you thinking if you should kiss me or hug me?” You laugh when he looks at you bewildered.

“Are you reading my mind?”

You lean forward, a whisper on you, “It’s a secret superpower I have.” The both of you chuckle and before he can register it, you stand on your toes, pressing a quick kiss onto his cheek. You open the door to your car as he blushes profoundly, “Normally I don’t kiss on the first date, the one on the cheek is just a guilty pleasure, because you’re cute.”

Osamu knew from the beginning that the competition shouldn’t have been one to worry about. What he should have been worried about was how cute the owner was.

“Uh-oh, here comes leader of the neighborhood watch committee.” Your workers snicker seeing him strut into the café, “Good morning mister Miya.”

“I have a complaint.” Osamu crosses his arms, eyes staring at you. He leans forward, “I’d prefer it if you kept your hair down.” His fingers pull on the ribbon in your hair, your strands fall to your shoulders.

On your toes, your lips meet his from over the counter; there’s a hum in him, “We take complaints here very seriously.” You steal the ribbon from his fingers, “But you know I can’t be walking around with my hair down.”

“I have a solution.” He situates a hat that he’s made appear out of no where onto your head. He pushes strands of your hair behind your ears and fixes the hat’s strap to fit nicely onto your head, “Perfect.”

You roll your eyes to your boyfriend, “It says Onigiri Miya on the hat doesn’t it.”

Osamu happily claps his hands, “Product placement.”

“You’re so shameless!” You set the drink in front of him, “Cash or card?”

Osamu scoffs, “You’re making me pay now?”

“Yup.” You wink to him, “It’s what boyfriends do.”

“You boyfriend trapped me with free matcha coffee.” Osamu takes the drink, pressing a kiss on your lips quickly, “Put it on my tab.”

“You literally don’t have a tab, Samu!” He’s laughing as he runs away with the drink, turning around to blow you a kiss before running off to his restaurant to prepare for the lunch rush.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #osamu #osamu x reader #osamu scenarios #osamu miya #miya osamu

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jackiebrackettt · 2 years ago

Note

I think my interest in conlangs started when I read Eragon (Inheritance Cycle?) as a kid, where the author had a “conlang” for the elvish language. I found out much later that this ever so brilliant little conlang was actually just an Old Norse dictionary with some original (essentially english) grammar slapped onto it and some hints of other languages sprinkled in for flavour. Still, I was fascinated that you could just make your own language like that! And that the language could be culturally important and magical! From there I learned the “Egyptian Alphabet” that was in our 5th grade history book and it all went downhill from there, which is to say at breakneck pace. I started just doodling everything in made up or learned “languages”, which is to say i yoinked or made up shitty writing systems and then wrote normal ass german or english with them. Then at some point i started learning latin and therefor started inventing my own words too, resulting in a shitty half language made of some very suspiciously latin-german words and grammar.

All this to say that once I started learning more about actual conlangs that people had made, like na’vi and esperanto and toki pona I shoved that original shitty conlang very far down the garbage disposal and made a new language, that retained some very few hints of that old one but not many. I got even more interested in writing systems and what you can do with them and started making weirder and weirder ones in an attempt to not just be another pen and paper conlang. Did you know that in ancient peru they used to count and do maths for tax purposes with an intricate system of knots in strings? I sure didn’t! And then I did and I was like “woah, you can write information on things that aren’t essentially writing?? (Paper, papyrus, stone)”. So then I made a writing system for an aquatic species that would have very little access or use for things like ink and paper and light, so i made a writing system based on a system of strings made from seagrass and kelp fibers that would have knots and carved pearls strung on them in little segments that encoded a whole bunch of phonetic and grammatical elements! This slowly (through the need for actually writing my ideas down) turned into a more “written” writing system that at some point became the writing system for my current main conlang! It still has some hints of the original but is otherwise fairly disconnected from it.

The IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet) is a very helpful tool for creating languages like this too! It’s a standardized way of writing sounds so you don’t have to write things like eye-buh-s and hope the person you’re talking to gets what you’re trying to say. Instead you have 1 symbol for every sound a human could possibly make with their mouths! And it helps you think more about what sounds you actually know how to make! A foreign. Language might seem scary to pronounce until you have a clear set of instructions on where to put things in your mouth and how to put them there! Also, it is very fun to just make noises and test things out!

There’s so many different approaches to making a conlang too! International communication, spicing up a fictional world by making something that’s not just gibberish, for other people to learn, just for yourself. It doesn’t even have to be possible for you to speak it! Though most are fairly humanly speakeble because where’s the fun in not being able to do anything with the thing you spent so long on!

And conlangs are never really static beings, they evolve as you come up with new ideas or adjust the language to the world it belongs to or the people who speak it! So much has changed about my languages as I learned new things and added stuff and removed things. Radägesa became Lat?änk?ésa and changed from being spoken by water dragons with strings and pearls to being spoken as a lingua franca with styluses in clay. It gained a tonal system and ejective consonants and changed so much.

Did you know that chinese is a tonal language? It has a few different tones that can completely change the meaning of a word! And did you know that a lot of south and some east asian languages have something called click consonants? Something that you’d never consider part of speaking in english and it’s an incredibly common part of their languages!

Creating a conlang really makes you think about the limits of language and how you can stretch them and what makes language. The way the culture the language arose from thinks and acts impacts the language just as much as the language impacts culture.

this is literally so fucking cool - my brain is veryyy fried atm so i can't respond massively but man i love learning things so this was a wonderful read. i've tried to make little writing systems before <- never kept up with it, although i did learn morse code so i could pass notes to my friends in school LOL! we also passed messages via games of hangman. although i should probably say "i've tried to write new letters for english" as "writing system" has a lot more going on with it adjs such as grammar syntax etc etc - you would know more than me ajkdj

anyway yeah that's like.. so fucking cool that you have ur own conlangs - they've always seemed wildly out of reach to me whenever i hear about them, like in the same way that science is wildly out of my reach so like.. yeah!! so fucking cool !!

#asks #dracolunae

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honeyheartsandkisses · 4 years ago

Text

Let me Love you

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: None:) Maybe a little heavy kissing

Word count:1.6k

One shot!

You absentmindedly doodle small stars on the corner of your parchment, losing concentration of the lesson. Professor Trelawney had a way of putting you off. Maybe it was the huge googly glasses she wore, or the disheveled messy hair. Whatever it was, you couldn't ever take her seriously. You almost forget you're sitting at a round table with Blaise and of course, the Slytherin Prince, when suddenly, Draco taps your arm with the end of his quill.

“Hm?” you hummed in response, looking up from your parchment. With his silver hair and mischievous grin, Draco lifts the edge of his own parchment for you to take a look. You see three small hearts doodled at the edge of his parchment, making you roll your eyes with a small smile. He always did these things, trying to win you over. You thought that after a year of chasing you, he would’ve given up by now.

“Everything alright back there Miss y/l/n?” Professor Trelawney inquires, peering suspiciously through her massive glasses.

“Yes professor. Just fine.” you quickly say, trying not to laugh.

As soon as class was dismissed, the three of you gather your things and descend down the ladder to exit the classroom. “Did you have to do that earlier? You almost earned me detention!” you complain, walking towards the great hall for dinner.

Blaise laughs, putting and arm around you. “Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. Draco’s just shooting his shot.”

“Blaise.” Draco says, his voice low and threatening. It makes you and Blaise stop walking, turning to look at him. “Arm.”

With that one word, Blaise quickly moves away from you, holding his hands up as though surrendering. “Sorry It was an accident.”

You laugh, starting to walk again. “You know you can't do that Malfoy. I don't belong to you.” Draco shrugs, taking your textbook from your arms to carry it for you. “Perhaps. But he listens to me. And I don't like it when he touches you.”

Your heart did a little backflip, but you did your best to conceal it. “Whatever Malfoy.”

After dinner, the three of you head outside to the black lake, sitting under a tree. Here in the warm summer breeze, you felt relief. “You know what this reminds me of?” you say, turning to your side to look at Draco and Blaise. “That day last summer when we went to Draco’s house for a swim.”

Blaise nods. “You mean the first time Draco tried to kiss you and you slapped him- OW!”

Draco had knocked him hard on the head.

“Hey! For merlin’s sake I've apologised for that a million times!” you laugh.

Draco positions himself nearer to you, making you peer up at him cautiously. “So you have. But what's going to heal me in here?” He takes your hand and places it on his chest.

“Such a drama queen.” You smile, pushing him away.

“I think I'm permanently concussed.” Blaise groans, still rubbing the spot on his forehead where Draco hit him.

You stand up going to him. “Let me see. Is it bad?”

Blaise pushes his hair out of the way and you see a dark bruise forming on his forehead. “Gosh it doesn't look good. But it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can't fix. I’ll walk you there.”

“No no it's alright. I’ll get to the hospital wing just fine. You two lovebirds stay. It shouldn't take long.”

You try to protest but he insists you and Draco stay here. Eventually you give up and slump down at the foot of the tree, watching Blaise head off back to the castle.

“You just had to injure him did ya?” you say to Draco.

He simply shrugs. “Wasn't intentional.”

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Well, it still wasn't nice of you to do that. You need to apologise.”

“Fine. If you want me to, I will when he gets back.”

“Wow that was easier than I thought.” You smile, gathering all your hair to one side, resting over your left shoulder.

“Of course.” he simply says. This earns him a curious look from you. “I'd do anything you tell me to.”

A shiver went down your spine. This handsome, perfect, smart boy was head over heels for you and you loved him too. But you couldn't let yourself do anything. His pale blue eyes peered down at you, almost staring into your soul, searching for a sign. Anything at all. The sun is now beginning to set, the golden glow illuminating his pale skin. He almost looked angelic. Your eyes travel down his face, landing on his lips. His lips. You've always wondered how it would feel like to kiss him. He must've noticed it because he slowly leans forward, bringing his face closer to yours. You didn't want to move. You wanted to let it happen. For him to kiss you until everything no longer made sense. But at the last second, you quickly turn away.

“Umm lets go for a swim! It’s so warm today.” You quickly say, standing up to remove your uniform.

“Wait y/n-”

You quickly kick off your shoes and run off, leaping into the water with a big splash. The icy water was a relief, cooling down your red and heated face. That was a close call.

Seconds later, Draco jumped in, causing a huge splash. “There you are!” you exclaimed cheerfully, hoping to ignore the moment from minutes ago. “Doesn't the water feel nice?”

He swims toward you, and you playfully splash him with water.

“Y/n.” he grabs your hands, pulling you close to him. He holds you tight by the waist, leaving you no escape as your arms go around his neck for stability.

“Yes what is it?” you smile, praying to Merlin you didn't look nervous.

He stares deep into your eyes, making you feel unusually self conscious. “You love me... don't you?”

“Hun, if i did have feelings for you don't you think I would've said something over the past year?” You laugh, looking away. You couldn't lie under his gaze.

He shakes his head. “You're lying.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Firstly, I saw the way you looked at me. I felt it. And secondly, when you're lying, you can never maintain eye contact.”

“Okay Malfoy, that's insane.”

“Then look at me and tell me you don't love me.”

You take a deep breath, finally looking at him again. “I don't love you.” you mumble, quickly looking down at the water.

“Not like that y/l/n. Do it properly. Look into my eyes.”

You look into his eyes this time. The glowing sunset, his wet skin, his drenched hair, you loved everything about him. You couldn't deny it.

Letting out a sigh, you push a lock of hair away from his face. His eyes once again searching yours for a clue. Anything that gave it away.

“I love you.” you finally admit. “I love you so much it scares me. When you're not around, I can't breathe. When you're around I just want to kiss you. I-”

He cuts you off, smashing his lips with yours. The kiss is heated and needy. All the pent up sexual tension pouring into this kiss. The water no longer felt cold. All you could feel... was him. Your hands travel from his shoulders up into his silvery blonde hair, earning a soft moan from him. His right hand cupped your cheek while his left held you firm against him around your waist. Your legs wrapped around his torso, a hot needy impulse growing in your lower belly.

“Wait wait...” you pull away, gasping for air with one hand on his chest.

Still panting, he looks at you full of concern “Im sorry I didn't mean to-”

“No don't apologise. I loved every second of it.” You manage to say between breaths.

He loosens his grip, and the two of you swim to the edge of the lake, sitting on the river bank. It took a few more seconds to fully process what happened in the past minute. Everything happened so fast, you couldn't keep up.

“I love you y/n.” Draco suddenly says, taking your hand in his. “You know I love you. Why have you been holding back?”

You look up at him, seeing so much pain and worry behind those blue irises. You owed him an explanation.

“Remember when Goyle and I were together? He made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. But a month went by and he cheated on me with Pansy.”

He nods. “I’m aware.” You could see a flash of anger in his eyes. “Thats why I took care of it.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “No Draco, you bullied him so much he transferred out of Hogwarts.”

He kisses the back of your hand. “Yes. I took care of it.” he smiles, a beautiful but rare sight.

“Well, I guess i got scared after that. Someone can make me feel so special and loved, and change their mind in an instant. Either that, or some other girl could always come along and replace me.”

It was silent for a short while before he let out a sigh. “I can't believe that useless git left you feeling so small.”

“It’s not your job to fix me Draco.” You say, giving him a sad smile. “I can't ask you to wait around for me either.”

“No. I’ll fix this. I’ll show you how beautiful and special you are. I’d never let anyone hurt you, and I'll never let you go. From now on, you’ll be mine and I'll never let anyone lay a finger on you.”

“I’ve always been yours...” you whisper. “But what if that doesn't work?”

He lets go of your hand and holds your face between his palms. “It will y/n. Because I love you. And now that I know you love me, there's nothing I can't do. Just... promise me one thing.”

You feel your legs go weak and your breath catch in your throat. “Anything.”

“Let me love you.”

You smile, nodding lightly. “Will you kiss me again?”

He smirks, lowering his face closer to yours. “I never wanted to stop.” He lays a soft and sweet kiss on your lips. It was gentle, and full of love. For the first time ever, you feel safe. You know that as long as Draco was by your side, nothing else would matter. Because you had him.

“Actually when did you realise you had feelings for me?” He asks peering curiously at you. “The day you tried to kiss me.” You giggle, seeing the frustrated look on his face. “So you're telling me, we could've been snogging this whole time?”

You nod, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re not mad are you?”

“Of course not, love. But if I ever lay my eyes on Goyle I might just rip his head off.”

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

Author’s note:

HI! Thanks for reading my fanfic:) Let me know what you think and just drop a comment if you have any ideas for Harry Potter fanfics:)

#Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco fluff #draco x you #harry potter fanfiction #draco fanfiction #hogwarts #harry potter fluff #draco Malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fanfiction #hogwarts fanfiction #black lake #draco malfoy x y/n #oneshot #draco malfoy oneshot

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dreamypeaches · 4 years ago

Text

don’t wake up pt. 6 | rafe cameron x reader

summary: after the night at the kegger, you and rafe tend to your broken hearts

warnings: alcohol use, cursing, drug mention, angst

word count: 3.9k

a/n: okay, so, i know i said this would be the last part, but it was getting so long and I had a great stopping point so there will be one more part after this. enjoy :)

series masterlist

Heartbreak is not a physical sickness, but it can consume a mind like nothing else. As you lay in your bed, your mind constantly filters through every moment, every word, every touch over the course of your relationship with Rafe, trying to figure out if there was something more you could have done. It had only been about two months, but love can feel like a lifetime. And you could very safely say that you were in love with Rafe Cameron, even if he did break your heart.

Three days had passed since the Kegger and you had yet to leave you and your sister’s shared room. It was pathetic really, laying there in silence staring at the wall. You had at least two playlists that you used when you were sad, but even music reminded you of Rafe now. He had called, texted, left voicemails, but you refused to even read or listen to them. It was too much right now.

The Pogues had tried to console you, comfort you in anyway they could but you could hear their thoughts beneath the soothing tone of their voices. That’s what you get when you date a Kook. Especially Rafe Cameron.

Your sisters tried to comfort you too, to the best of their ability, but they were both busy with work, so most of your days were spent with your nephews and niece. Your niece, Jones, was the oldest, five years old and acted more mature than she should, but that was how it was on the Cut. She could tell something was wrong, and cuddled with you on the couch while the four of you watched Disney movies on repeat. You had called into work, not wanting to face anything for the rest of time.

It was lunch time, you were busy in the kitchen making sandwiches for the little ones. There was a knock at the door and all three of the children raced and wrestled each other to be the first to open it. You heard someone talking, but couldn’t make it out.

“Aunt Y/N, there’s a boy here,” Jones appeared at your side with a concerned look on her face, “and he looks like a Kook.”

You dropped the knife you were using to cut the sandwich, a quiet bang echoing through the kitchen. There was only one Kook who would show up at your door. You took Jones’ outstretched hand. She led you to the door where your two and three year old nephews were glaring up at the man standing there, the older one punching him in the leg. They learned early not to trust a Kook.

“Kelce?” You asked, furrowing your brows at the Kook in your doorway. He was grinning down at your attacking nephew, but the grin faded at the sound of your voice. He looked suddenly solemn, giving you a weak smile. You noticed a small box in his hands but couldn’t make out what was inside

“Can we talk?” You nodded, prying your nephew from Kelce’s leg and urging them inside and back to the living room. You turned back to Kelce who looked so out of place you almost laughed. Crossing your arms across your chest, you surveyed Kelce, waiting for him to say something.

Rafe had always spoken highly of Kelce, the nicer of his two friends. Before you had dated Rafe, Kelce had always been the Kook you were least intimidated by. Sure, he was still a dick to your friends, but you had never seen him throw a punch or heard him shout some horrible name at you. So you were ready to hear him out. If it had been Topper, you would have let your nephews bite his leg off.

“You need to talk to Rafe,” He said. You scoffed.

“I don’t need to do shit.”

“Please, Y/N! I know he hurt you and he does too. I’m not saying you need to forgive him but at least listen to him. He’s a mess. I’ve known him my whole life and he’s been bad before but this time…” Kelce trailed off, looking down at his feet and shaking his head.

“Just call him, please. You don’t even have to talk, just listen to what he has to say.”

“Did he send you?” You questioned.

“No, I’m just here as his best friend. He fucked up, bad, but he loves you.” You scoffed again. Kelce held out the box to you and you took it hesitantly,

“I found him this morning, passed out drunk. He’d been holding these. I thought you should see.”

He gave you one last nod and turned, walking down the path to his car.

You waited until he had driven away to go back into the house. Returning to the kitchen, you set the box down on the counter. You looked up at your niece and nephews, who were happily eating their sandwiches and watching PJ Masks. You looked back at the box and took a deep breath, having absolutely no idea what you would find inside.

A sob worked it’s way up your throat as you removed the lid to find a rainbow of scattered sticky notes filling it up. You recognized your doodles and handwriting covering them and slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your cries, not wanting to disturb the kids.

After your first night with Rafe, it became a habit to leave the notes for him. You felt bad sneaking away in the morning, leaving him all alone after the night you had. They were stupid, just something to remind him of you. You hadn’t known it then, but you were already falling hard for him. You had no idea he had kept them. Every. Single. One.

Jones suddenly appeared at your side, staring up at you with a worried look.

“I’m okay, sweetie, don’t worry,” You said, smoothing a hand over her hair. She wrapped her arms around your waist and smashed her face against your side. You accepted the little girls comfort gladly, holding her close to you with one hand while the other sifted through the notes. After the last time you saw Rafe, you had been sure your feelings had been unrequited. How could he do that to you if he really did feel the same? But now, you weren’t so sure.

The moment your older sister got home, you retreated to your room with the box. You looked through every note, picturing Rafe as you did. You thought of how the morning light filtered in through the window, illuminating his bare back. The peaceful look on his face as you sneaked through the door. Then you remembered another Rafe, a Rafe who was already awake by the time you were. An arm thrown around you waist, a sleepy smile on his lips, hair sticking out every which way. Good morning, Angel. A deep and consuming kiss on your lips.

Tears were still silently pooling at the corners of your eyes as you opened your phone, finally opening your text conversation with Rafe.

I’m so sorry, Angel

Please answer me. I fucked up.

Is JJ okay?

Please, Angel, I need to hear your voice.

Y/N, I know I fucked up but please just answer me.

Are you okay?

Please. I need you to know something.

Please answer your phone

The waiting tears spilled out as you read through the several texts he had sent over the past few days. Taking a deep breath, you tapped on his name and held the phone up to your ear. He answered almost immediately.

“Y/N!” His voice was deep and scratchy and desperate. You wanted to reach through the phone and give him a hug.

“Angel, please say something, I need to hear your voice.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, half of you wanting the end the call and through your phone in the ocean. The other half wanted to drive down to Figure 8 and hold him in your arms.

“Just say what you need to say, Rafe.”

You hear him sigh, half relieved half terrified. Then he starts crying

“I-I’m so sorry. I fucked up so bad and I hurt you, and I can’t forgive myself. You shouldn’t forgive me either. I know Kelce came to see you and showed that box. I hope it helps you realize how much you mean to me because…fuck…you mean the world to me Y/N. You may not think so because of what happened the other night, but you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Before you found me on the beach I though I would never be happy. That I didn’t fucking deserve to be happy. But you changed that. You loved me so much that I had to believe I could be loved. ‘Cause if someone like you loves someone like me,” He laughs and you choke back a sob, “than I must be pretty great.”

You barely hear him over the sound of your own sobs. Trying to picture him here, right in front of you, you see a dumb smile on his face. That dumb, dopey smile that always appears when your with him. He’s giving you that look. That look he gave you that night at the beach and again that night in the kitchen and again and again every day after. That sparks sits in his voice as he speaks, willing you to understand that it was still there.

“I love you, angel. I fell in love with you under the stars and fell into an endless hole because I will never stop falling. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I just needed you to know that I am in love with you. I couldn’t go another minute without telling you. What I did was terrible and you should hate me for it. But if I can get even an ounce of your forgiveness, that would be enough.”

Your sobs were still coming, but had decreased in the harshness. You could hear Rafe breathing on the other side of the phone, interrupted every now and again by sniffling. With scotch tape and white glue, your heart was slowly being put back together. It was messy and fragile, but it was a heart nonetheless, put back together by Rafe’s shaking hands and words of love. Taking a deep breath, calming yourself down enough to speak.

“Rafe.” You hear him let out a breath of air.

“Y/N…” Your name is like a prayer

“I love you completely. But you fucked up and you hurt me so…I’m going to need some time.”

Silence. Sniff.

“Okay, angel, whatever you need.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hang up the phone and throw it to the edge of your bed. Emotions wash over you like a wave, pulling you under and pummeling you against the current. You let out a final sob as you sink into your bed, snuggling into the pillow that quickly became soaked with your tears. The bedroom door creaks open and tiny feet creep in. Jones stands in front of you dressed in her pajamas and clutching her stuffy.

“Do you need a hug?” She asks. You nod vigorously and open your arms to welcome the girl. Her arms circle your torso and squeeze you as hard as five year old can. Giving her a kiss on the head, you hold your niece tight and try to ease your recovering heart.

Jones falls asleep quickly. Laying there, you stare up at the ceiling where glow in the dark stars sill lingered from when you were a child. Rafe runs through your mind like a wild fire, igniting every thought that wasn’t about him. Decisions race through your mind behind it, flashing through quickly, but only one stands out.

You detach from Jones’ Koala like grip and grab your phone.

To: Sarah Cameron

I need your help.

To say Rafe missed you was an understatement. His life felt different without you, empty. He was so used to you being there everyday. A call, a text, a kiss away. No longer having that luxury made his heart ache. The only thing getting him through the day now was the possibility that he would have another chance.

After your phone call a couple days before, he had clung to the notion like it was the only thing that kept his head above water. You still loved him. You just needed time. Time. Rafe hated time, the cruel bitch. But he would give you it. He’d give you anything.

As Midsummer grew closer, Rafe felt the ache in his heart grow and grow into a numbing pain. That was supposed to be your night. Everyone would know that Rafe Cameron was the luckiest man on Earth. He would sweep you off your feet and tell you he loved you like it was a god damn fairy tale. If only he hadn’t fucked it all up. If only he hadn’t turned to drugs. If only his dad wasn’t a dick. If only he could control his anger. If only.

“Maybank.” Rafe walks up to where the three male Pogues stand on the dock. JJ’s face is black and blue, one lip split, an eye swollen almost shut. Rafe somehow looks worse than him. Dark bags under his eyes and eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep and crying. You still hadn’t called him.

“Fuck off.” JJ spits.

“I’m sorry.” JJ is suddenly convinced Rafe killed him that night. This couldn’t be real.

“About your face I- um - it was uncalled for and…uh…yeah, sorry.”

JJ laughs suddenly, his one good eye glaring.

“Are you fucking serious? You come over to apologize so I can put in a good word with Y/N, is that it? So you can break her heart again?”

Rafe flinches at the malice in his words, dropping his head to look at his feet.

“No, actually, I would prefer if you didn’t tell her I came. I just wanted to try and make things right. I also just need to know…is she okay?”

Despite the colors painting his face, making it unrecognizable, the hate on JJ’s face was evident. The other Pogues noticed JJ steaming and pushed him back, whispering something to him. Pope stepped forward, a similar look of hate in his eyes, but his exterior was cooler.

“No, she’s not. For some reason, she really liked you. She’d been so happy these past couple months and we had no idea why. Now, she’s the saddest we’ve ever seen her and we know exactly why. The only reason I won’t let JJ smash your face in is because we don’t want to upset her even more. Just leave us alone. Leave her alone.”

With that, the boy stepped back into the boat and floated away.

He should have listened to Pope’s words and left you alone. But you had called him and he couldn’t stop himself from pouring his heart out to you. Every word he’d wanted to say spilled from him, just the sound of your voice being the last crack in the dam before it broke. Rafe was selfish and in love with you and he didn’t know what he would do if he lost you completely. So he would wait as long as you needed him to, even if it meant waiting forever.

But as he woke up the morning of Midsummers, the fact that you weren’t beside him tore him to pieces. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to move from his bed, not when this was supposed to be the day that he showed you just how much he loved you.

He woke up late, only pulling himself out of his bed when Wheezie came in, jumping on him while saying he needed to start getting ready. He showered and slinked into his closet, trying not to look at the dress bag hanging beside his suit as he changed.

He’d spent so much time picking out the perfect dress for you, agonizing over every piece of fabric he came across because it had to be absolutely perfect. He’d even gone as far as to ask Sarah for help, being extra careful not to let her know who he was buying it for, and he would be forever grateful to her for it. She helped him find the perfect dress, it was almost like she knew it was for you. Simple and but beautiful, not too flashy because he knew you hated that. But, as much as he loved the dress, he had been more excited to get it off of you and reveal the matching lingerie set he had bought underneath.

Rafe pulled his suit on and staggered down stairs to find Topper and Kelce waiting for him, passing him a flask as he approached. He saw Sarah, John B, and Kie outside by the pool, the Pogues looking uncomfortable in their formal wear.

“You alright, man?” Kelce asked slapping him on the shoulder. Rafe just nodded, taking another swig from the flask.

“Forget about that Pogue for the night. Have fun, get shitfaced. There will be plenty of girls willing to help you get your mind off things, if you know what I mean,” Topper said with a smirk.

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Her name is Y/N, Topper. Not ‘that Pogue’ and I don’t want to forget about her,” Rafe snapped. Topper held is hands up in defense, taking the flask from Rafe’s hand and taking a large gulp.

“Whatever, dude,” He said, putting an end to the conversation.

By the time they make it to the club, however, Rafe is ready to drown his sorrows in booze and coke. His mind is adamant on torturing him with images of what could have been. He imagines you by his side as you walk up to the door, arm wrapped around his own. Before you walked in, he would lean down and kiss your cheek, whisper to you about how beautiful you looked. You would blush and tell him to shut up, but he wouldn’t. He would have worshipped you the entire night (and every day after).

As the group is about to enter, Sarah grabs his arm and pulls him back, allowing the others to on ahead.

“Can you just wait here moment?” She asks.

“Why?”

“Just do it! I promise, you won’t regret it.” And with that, Sarah turns and hurries after her friends. Rafe huffs in annoyance, fingers tapping against his leg as the need for some sort of substance grows stronger and stronger. He’s about to turn and go inside and drink himself silly, but is suddenly frozen to the spot.

“Rafe.”

Had he woken up this morning? Was he still laying in his bed wasting his life away? There was no way this was real. He turns and your image only adds to his belief that this was a dream. The orange light of the sunset surrounds you, adding to the already heavenly glow that follows you everywhere. You’re wearing the dress he had bought you and you look a million times more beautiful than in his dreams. A crown of daisies sits atop your head like a halo. Rafe had always called you angel, because that’s what you were. An angel that walked the Earth and graced him with your presence. That nickname had never been more perfect than in this moment, because Rafe was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

“Y/N,” He stumbles towards you, hands reaching out hesitantly. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, touch you in anyway he could. Deprived of your touch for so long, he craved it more than any drug. But he doesn’t want to overstep. You’re here, but he doesn’t know how close you really are, how close you want to be. He let’s you make the first move and he doesn’t have to wait long.

You hand moves to his cheek and cups it, thumb stroking across his cheek bone as you smile up at him. He covers it with his own hand, grasping on and allowing himself to believe that this is real. You stand like that for a moment, off to the side of the walkway to the club. People glance and whisper, wondering who that girl is with Rafe Cameron, but neither of you gave two shits.

Tears begin to well up in Rafe’s eyes as it sets in that you are here and you’re smiling at him and touching him and the dawning realization that he hadn’t lost you overwhelms him. Your other hand cups the other side of his face, pulling him closer to you. He collapses into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you into his chest. His grip is firm, refusing to let you go ever again. Burying his face in your neck, he speaks a mantra, hoping that it sinks through your skin and lets you feel every ounce of his apology.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” He repeats over and over again until you shush him, running your fingers through your hair and planting a light kiss below his ear.

“I know, baby,” You pull away, holding his face again and looking into his eyes, “I’m still working on forgiving you, but I want to be with you. We have a lot of shit to work through, but we’ll work through it together, okay?”

Rafe takes a deep breath, pulling away slightly to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He nods and you smile at him and kiss his cheek.

“Tonight, though, I just want to be with you. I’ve missed you like crazy. And I believe someone promised me an incredible night. Which means no crying,” You say, wiping away your own tears. Rafe grins at you, extending a hand to aid you. It’s your turn to soak op his touch. You lean into it, missing the comforting warmth of his palm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Rafe says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Just what I said! I was promised a wonderful night and I am not going to pass it up! I asked Sarah for help and told me about the dress and stole it from you. She helped me do my make up and hair and whatever and now I’m here.”

Rafe grasps your head between his hands, holding you like you were made of glass. The gaze he has on you is filled with so much love and joy and pure adoration that your stomach begins to flip.

“You’re here. And you’re so fucking beautiful.”

A few seconds of gazing at each other, taking in every inch of the other’s face, passes before you speak.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

The hesitancy from earlier vanishes as Rafe pulls you into a breathtaking kiss. It’s wild and messy loving, just like Rafe. He literally sweeps you off your feet, his arms rapping around your body to lift you, pulling away as he sets you down.

Rafe feels his heart soar. None of his dreams could ever compare to the euphoria he felt, nor any drug. For the first time, he looks into her eyes and speaks the words, “I love you.”

And for the first time, with a smile on your face, you speak the words back, “I love you too.”

taglist: @teenwaywardasgardian @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @obxmxybxnk @butgilinsky @juliarose21 @bluesiderudy @ilovejjmaybank @diverrdown @diverdcwn @mdlyncline @https-luna @broken-jj @nqbmf @ityagirljay @downbytheouterbanks @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @trinnwazheree

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #obx fic #my writing

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

Text

Lady Noir/Adrienette: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter Two

Read it on AO3: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter Two: Self-Help

At some point three years prior, before Adrien became cognizant of his crush on Marinette, he had surreptitiously begun to pay close attention to her. These years of reconnaissance allowed him to quickly pick up on the fact that something was up with his charming friend that Monday at school.

She was fidgety and distracted, obviously preoccupied by something.

Alya and some of the other girls noted her particularly odd behavior, but, when asked what was wrong, Marinette politely waved away their concerns and made excuses.

Adrien let it go that first day. He knew she had a lot on her plate with all of her extracurricular responsibilities. Marinette was rivaled only by Ladybug in her jam-packed schedule and need of multitasking.

When she was noticeably agitated the second day in a row, Adrien caught her as they were packing up to move classrooms, resting a hand on her forearm and giving her a confidence-inspiring smile.

“Hey. You’ve seemed really stressed out the past two days. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. Even if you just need to vent, I’m here for you, okay?”

She blinked, blushed, and looked away, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Adrien. I really appreciate the offer. I’m okay, though.”

His own smile faltered slightly because she obviously was not okay, but…if she didn’t want to confide in him, it wasn’t like he could force her.

He nodded, turned up the wattage on his grin, and removed his hand from her forearm. “Well…let me know if you ever change your mind.”

She nodded, returned the smile with one even more fake than his own, and quickly finished packing her books, hurrying out the door as fast as she could without appearing to be fleeing.

On the third day of watching the woman he loved in obvious distress, Adrien could no longer stand by and do nothing.

He packed up quickly and waited for her outside the locker room after school, and when she came out with Alya, he flagged her down, asking if she were headed home.

“May I walk you there?” he inquired, shooting Alya a quick, meaningful look.

Alya promptly remembered that she’d forgotten a notebook she needed back in her locker, literally pushing Marinette towards Adrien as she beat a hasty retreat.

Quick of reflexes, Adrien deftly stopped Marinette’s fall and helped her get steady on her feet.

“I’m going to kill Alya,” she seethed, straightening her jarred purse and backpack as they nearly slipped off her shoulders.

“Forgive her,” Adrien chuckled. “She and Nino have this scheme about setting us up with each other so that the four of us can double date. Goodness knows I need all the help I can get to make you fall for me. Alya is doing God’s work.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, glaring petulantly at her friend’s retreating back as Alya disappeared into the locker room. “Goodness also knows that I don’t need help falling flat on my face, so I think I can do without Alya shoving me.”

“Fair,” Adrien allowed, holding out a hand. “May I carry something?”

Marinette shook her head, hugging her sketchpad closer to her chest reflexively. “No, thanks. I’ve got it,” she assured, starting to head for home.

In the back of her mind, she worried about coming off as rude, but the last thing she needed was for Adrien to carry her books and somehow see the endless doodles she’d been doing of Chat Noir all week as she fretted ceaselessly about him.

Slightly dejected, Adrien slipped his hands into his pockets and followed after her, regretting her brisk pace, fearing it wouldn’t give them much time to talk.

“So…” He cleared his throat as they made their way down the school steps.

She looked back at him and nearly tripped to her death.

Luckily, he caught her by the arms, keeping her from nosediving into the concrete.

Unfortunately, her books and notebooks went flying as she flailed in the seconds before he steadied her.

Once he was sure she wasn’t going to fall, Adrien bent down to gather up her things, only to be stopped as she gasped, “Don’t look!” and rushed to retrieve them herself.

“Sorry,” she added when she came to her senses. “Just…private stuff. I don’t…” She paused to take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Sorry I’m being such a spazz today. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Is it anything I could help with?” he offered, holding out a hand to assist her back to her feet.

She shook her head, getting up on her own. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, debating whether or not to let it go.

“…I’m really worried about you,” he confessed after a moment, unable to hold it in.

She stopped mid-step, turning to face him with a puzzled expression. “…You are?”

“Yeah,” he replied in a hushed tone. “Seriously worried. You’ve been really off all week. I’m not trying to force you to talk to me if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but…I just want you to be okay, and I don’t think you are, and I’m feeling kind of helpless, so…”

He almost felt bad for forcing her hand, but it was getting to the point where he was worried about Marinette getting akumatized, and that was no good for anyone because how was he supposed to fight against the girl he adored if worst came to worst?

He couldn’t…so he crossed his fingers and hoped he’d be forgiven for being slightly manipulative.

“I’m concerned about getting akumatized over worrying about you,” he told her with a grimace.

Her eyes flew wide in alarm before fluttering rapidly in a series of astonished blinks.

“And, if that happens, I’m scared my akumatized self will come after you because you’re technically the source of my negative emotions, and then you’ll be caught up in things,” he elaborated, “and I really don’t want that. The last thing I want to do is add to your stress, so…”

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and gave her a pleading look. “Sorry, but…isn’t there anything I can do to help? I’m not asking you to talk to me about your problems, but if there were some way I could feel like I wasn’t so powerless to help you…”

He watched as her surprise crumpled up like a note passed during class into a troubled, thoughtful expression.

“…Sorry for being such a pain. I don’t want to cause problems,” he added earnestly, dropping the act and retreating one step at a time. “Sorry. Forget I said anything, but if you do want to talk, know that I’m always here for you.”

He turned to go, but she caught him, fingers wrapping around his forearm, gripping, holding him in place.

“…Wait,” she called softly, a weary resignation in her voice.

He arched an eyebrow questioningly and waited for her to continue.

She sighed and tipped her head, motioning for him to come with her. “Walk with me a bit?”

“Sure,” he easily agreed and followed as she led him across the street and then past her house to the park next door.

They completed one lap around the square, Marinette deep in thought the whole time. Then, she went and took a seat on one of the park benches, and he sat beside her, waiting patiently for her to give some kind of cue.

She inhaled deeply and, gazing down intently at her shoes all the while, finally spoke. “So…there’s this guy.”

Adrien stiffened, his heart screeching to a halt as his mind called up helpful memories of all the times Ladybug had told him about her mystery boy.

Why was there always some other guy? Adrien wondered bitterly but then mentally slapped himself because of course there were guys in the lives of smart, talented, beautiful women like Marinette and Ladybug.

“A friend,” Marinette clarified. “A really close friend, and I’m worried sick about him,” she sighed heavily, shaking her head, at a loss as to what to do.

Adrien relaxed slightly at the friendship label but didn’t let his guard down as she continued.

“He’s having some trouble with mental health and his family relationships, and I think he’s really depressed.” She looked up from her feet to meet Adrien’s gaze, and it hurt his heart to see the glistening tears blurring her vision. “I’m scared, Adrien, and I feel really useless because there’s nothing I can do to help him.

“It’s complicated,” she explained softly, looking away as if it would hide her guilt as shame turned her cheeks pink. “I can’t be there for him the way a friend should, so…I guess I’m feeling for him what you’re feeling for me. I’ve been agonizing over this since Saturday night, and I don’t know what to do. I know that there’s nothing to do. I just wish I could make it all okay for him.”

She lifted her head once more as she vehemently informed, “Adrien, he’s one of the sweetest, best people I know, and he deserves better than what he’s stuck with. I wish there was something I could do so that he wouldn’t have to struggle so much. He shouldn’t have to.”

Adrien nodded, tentatively reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re such a good friend, Marinette. I wish someone would worry about me like that,” he chuckled, but the manufactured mirth didn’t quite make it into his voice. “He’s really lucky. It sounds like you care about your friend a lot.”

She smiled wretchedly, giving a sad little nod as she admitted, “I love him.”

It felt like getting hit with an icy blast of winter air or walking outside without a coat, shocking his system.

His hand froze on her arm.

It took a minute for him to form words, and, when he did, they came out stilted and awkward, betraying his distraction. “Oh. Wow. Uh… That’s… He’s really lucky.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side, frowning in concern. “Is everything all right, Adrien?”

“Sorry.” He forced a smile, cheeks stinging as he blushed. “Ignore me. I was just a little surprised because I think this is the first I’ve heard about you having your eye on someone. I mean, it’s only natural that you would, but…”

His hand went up reflexively to rub at the back of his neck, and he shook his head, trying to clear away his muddled thoughts. He was supposed to be helping her feel better, not having a pity party for himself.

“Sorry,” he repeated softly, sheepishly. “I’m just kind of flustered…and more than a little bit jealous,” he added honestly.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and she leaned in to stare at him in shock. “W-Wait. What? Like…what?”

“I thought I was pretty obvious,” Adrien laughed openly at himself, hoping to keep the atmosphere light so that she wouldn’t see his heart breaking. “You really didn’t know I have feelings for you?”

Slowly, she began to shake her head from side to side, speechless in her astonishment as she tried to determine whether or not she was dreaming this entire scenario up.

“Marinette,” he chuckled more genuinely, his voice warm and affectionate. “You’re amazing. Any guy who didn’t fall in love with you would have to be a total idiot.”

She gripped the bench seat to keep herself from tipping over and falling flat in the dirt.

Her head was spinning. How could this be happening? Adrien loved her?

Impossible.

And yet…he was looking at her with such a fond, soft expression in his eyes. It was just like the looks Chat Noir often gave Ladybug, so… Maybe it was real.

Her lips parted to respond, to confess her own feelings, but Adrien cut her off.

His eyes widened in alarm, and he gave a start, jolting back and putting up his hands in defence. “…Oh, but, I mean, I totally support you! With this guy. If he’s the one you love…. I support you,” he rushed to assure.

Marinette blinked, mentally reeling from the whiplash.

Did he love her or not? She wasn’t entirely sure now, if he weren’t willing to fight for her. His affections couldn’t be that strong if he was okay with giving up so easily.

“More than anything, I’m your friend, so I don’t want my feelings for you to get in the way of that or make things weird between us,” he explained, desperate for her to understand. “So, if you have to pretend that I never said anything, that’s totally fine. I support you. Whatever makes you happy is the most important thing.”

She had to pause to consider before responding. Her thoughts were so twisted up like a ball of writhing serpents battling to consume one another.

“Thank you, Adrien. That’s so sweet, and it’s seriously not a problem,” she promised, reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine…. Honestly, there’s nothing for you to support. Things aren’t going to work between me and my friend, so…thank you, but nothing’s going to happen between us.”

Adrien’s eyebrows gradually pulled together into a V of concern. “Is it…because of his mental health situation?”

Marinette recoiled, staring at him in stupefaction. “What? No! No, of course not! Nothing like that. He’s amazing, and I’d be more than willing to stay by his side and support him through his struggles. He’s worth putting in the hard work for.”

Adrien’s stomach stopped clenching, and a faint hope welled up in his chest. If things weren’t going to work out between Marinette and this other guy, maybe Adrien still had a chance. Maybe she could see past Adrien’s struggles and still care for him too.

“So…what exactly is the problem, if you don’t mind me asking?” he pressed gently, chewing nervously at the inside of his lip.

She looked away, frowning down at her knees. “It’s…complicated.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow. “Is he gay?”

It was the only reason Adrien could come up with why a guy wouldn’t want to overcome all obstacles to be with Marinette.

Marinette chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No. He’s bi, so…”

She looked back up at him, scrutinizing his face, evaluating his trustworthiness. “…I’m going to tell you a secret.”

He scooted in closer, nodding that he was ready. “I won’t tell a soul.”

She glanced around, scanning the area to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard before she lowered her voice, whispering, “It’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien blinked slowly, uncomprehendingly. The words meant nothing to him.

Seeing his confusion, Marinette elaborated, her cheeks turning cherry blossom pink as she confessed, “My friend, the guy I’m in love with…it’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s brain crashed, and it took him a good ten seconds to reboot.

His initial inclination was to laugh hysterically because finally his love was requited, and he couldn’t have asked for a better romantic partner than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

His mind next trotted off to construct a detailed plan of all the ways he was going to make her happy and spoil her rotten.

It then occurred to him that he needed to tell her his identity, but then he decided to table that idea because Ladybug would be furious, and he wasn’t sure how Marinette would react.

He also wasn’t so sure that this was the best time to reveal his identity because Marinette was convinced that things wouldn’t work between them. She was also currently upset…because of him.

“You’ve been worried all week because of Chat Noir?” Adrien breathed as his brain came back online.

She nodded meekly. “I…Yes. He’s having a rough time, and I’m worried that there’s nothing I can do to help him. I’m not doing a very good job as his friend.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Marinette and pulling her into a fierce hug.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered into her hair, wishing he could express how much it meant to him, knowing that her skylight door was always open when he needed a safe space to escape from his life.

He may not have confided in her before about how bad things were because he was afraid of burdening her and scaring her away, but all the times when she’d allowed him to hang out on her balcony or in her room, all the times she and her parents had strong-armed him into making dinner and eating with them once they’d found out he ate alone most meals, all the times she’d saved pastries for him and Plagg…

Chat Noir might not have let Marinette see how dark it was inside of his mind, but she’d always been there to help right when he needed her. She’d gotten him through many tough times, even if she’d never known it.

He pulled back to look her intently in the eyes. “Marinette, I’ve seen you two together before, and Chat Noir is crazy about you. Trust me. I can tell. If you love him and he loves you, why can’t you two be together?”

“Adrien, he’s a superhero,” Marinette snorted, rolling her eyes as if the problem were obvious.

“So?” he scoffed right back. “You don’t think you’re good enough for a superhero or something? Marinette, Chat Noir is the one not good enough for you. Stop being humble and date him already.”

“I’m not being humble,” she returned saucily. “I’m being practical. I can’t date a guy whose identity I don’t know.”

“Then let him reveal his identity to you,” Adrien suggested matter-of-factly. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

“I am not,” she protested, crossing her arms indignantly. “It’s too dangerous for me to know his identity.”

“How so?” he argued. “All you have to do is just not tell anyone that you know. Don’t get caught kissing Chat Noir, and no one will be the wiser. No one’s going to think twice if you start dating his civilian self.”

She pursed her lips, trying not to see his point. “What if I get caught up in an akuma attack and get brainwashed into revealing his secrets?”

“Chat Noir has been mind-controlled countless times, and he hasn’t given away his secret identity yet,” Adrien continued to stack solid argument on top of solid argument. “If you don’t tell anyone you know who Chat Noir is, Papillon won’t know to come after you. You’re perfectly safe so long as you keep your mouth shut. I think you can manage that, Marinette.”

“What if there’s a truth-telling akuma?” she tried in one last-ditch attempt.

He frowned at her in mildly annoyed disappointment. “Has there ever been a truth-telling akuma? In the past three and a half years?”

She averted her gaze, her lip pushing forward into a pout.

“No. No, there has not,” he answered his own question triumphantly. “See? I’m not going to say it’s perfectly safe for him to reveal himself to you, but the risk is small enough that I feel comfortable with you taking it. Don’t you think he would be worth it?”

“Of course he would be worth it,” she replied in a small, tired whisper. “It’s just…it’s complicated, Adrien.”

“It’s really not as complicated as you’re making it,” he sighed, gently cupping her cheek and tipping her head up to make her look at him. “Marinette, you’re a wonderful person, and you deserve happiness and love. Why won’t you let yourself have this?”

Her lips slowly moved into a self-deprecating smile, and she shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid that I really am a masochist who doesn’t allow herself to have nice things.”

It was like a foggy pane of glass shattered between them at her words, and Adrien flashed back to Ladybug sitting on the roof of Sainte Chapelle saying the same thing Saturday night.

He couldn’t breathe.

“What…did you say?” he choked as the pieces slid together: Ladybug’s insistence that Chat go to Marinette when Ladybug couldn’t be there for him herself. Marinette’s claims that things were complicated between herself and Chat Noir.

She shook her head again. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

His Lady, his Princess…the same person? Could he be so lucky?

Her brow pinched into a frown as she registered his expression. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Because I love you,” he chuckled giddily, rendering her utterly speechless.

She found that she literally couldn’t remember how to make her mouth, brain, and vocal cords work in concert to form any kind of reply, so she just sat there, parting and closing her lips like a drowning fish.

“Hey,” he called softly, slipping his hand into hers. “I really need to talk to you. It’s important,” he emphasized. “Could we please head to your house so we can talk undisturbed?”

She tried to speak, but it came out sounding like a collection of gibberish syllables, so, instead, she nodded and got to her feet, leading him back to her house and up the stairs to her room.

He had to let go of her hand in order to file up the narrow staircase, and, by the time they reached the attic, Marinette’s brain was once again semi-functional.

She took a seat on her chaise longue and motioned for him to sit anywhere he liked, urging, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I’m good standing, thanks,” he assured. “I’m actually feeling kind of jittery, so…do you mind if I pace?”

“Uh…go right ahead,” she encouraged, watching as he did indeed start to walk back and forth across her carpet. “…You said that you needed to talk to me?”

He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, “Yeah. Yeah. I did. I do. I…”

He bit his lip, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to get his harried thoughts in order. “I’m not sure you want to know, but I feel like I have to tell you. You’re not going to be happy, but this isn’t something I can keep from you.”

He stopped and turned to face her. “Honestly, I’ve kind of been in a dark place lately, Marinette.”

Her eyes rounded, pupils dilating in fear for yet another one of the most precious boys in her life going through a hard time.

“I’ve been feeling pretty down,” he confessed. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to bother anyone or make them worry.”

“Adrien, we’re your friends,” she scolded, fighting back a whirlwind of emotions.

Hurt that he hadn’t trusted her, frustration that he thought so little of himself and how much he meant to them.

“Worrying about one another and supporting each other is what friends do,” she stressed, hands going to her hips. “When you need help or just someone to listen to you vent, you come to us. We will always be there for you.”

His lips quirked into a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I know. I just…have self-esteem issues. But I’m coming to you now, so…better late than never?”

Her expression softened, and she pushed herself up, going to him and wrapping him in a loose hug. “Oh, Adrien…you idiot.”

He rested his head against hers, muttering, “I was also afraid to talk to you about it because I was worried about ruining my chances with you. I know I wouldn’t want to deal with me and all of my insecurities and hang-ups. I couldn’t imagine someone as epic as you picking someone like me when you could do so much better.”

“Adrien,” she cooed, pulling back to meet his gaze with an abundance of sympathy and affection. “Don’t…say things like that. There are so many amazing things about you.”

“That’s what Plagg said too,” he chuckled softly.

She blinked, her brain not registering. “Plagg?”

He nodded. “Saturday…I told Ladybug about how lost and alone I’d been feeling, and she told me to come talk to you…so here I am.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped as she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing.

Saturday night, Ladybug had talked to Chat Noir, not Adrien, so…

Her lungs seized, cutting off her breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered like a chastened child waiting to be struck. “I know you didn’t want to reveal identities and that’s why you sent me to Marinette instead of trying to help as Ladybug, but…I think the cat’s out of the bag, My Lady.”

To her credit, Marinette did not faint. She would have liked to because, if she were unconscious, she wouldn’t have to deal with reality right away, but she remained in full control of her faculties and, thus, had to attend to the matter at hand in real time.

“I need to sit down,” she announced, heading back over to the chaise to compose herself.

Adrien followed nervously, taking a seat beside her without infringing upon her personal space. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She waved away his words, shaking her head. “No. No. It’s fine. I…This is my fault. I knew you could potentially figure out my identity every time I had Chat Noir over to watch movies or play video games. I knew I was taking a risk.”

She turned to look him in the eye. “If I had the chance to do it all over, I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Oh,” he whispered, dazed as she leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek, smiling softly.

“I don’t regret anything except not being able to be there for you more,” she added, making his heart swell. “But now we have to sit down and figure out what to do about this catastrophe now that we’re here.”

He arched an eyebrow, echoing, “Catastrophe?”

She nodded. “I mean…you know my identity. We’re in grave danger, Chaton.”

Deep furrows gradually dug their way across his brow. “Are we actually, though?”

She blinked, taken aback.

“Is this really the end-of-the-world scenario you think it is?” he pressed. “Like what I was saying earlier, if we don’t advertise that we know, why should Papillon target Marinette and Adrien more than any other Parisian?”

Marinette opened her mouth to argue her point but then closed it again when she realized that she didn’t have any good rebuttals to make.

“That’s why I’m always so careful when I come over here as Chat Noir. I don’t let myself get spotted coming and going so that I don’t tip anyone off to the fact that you’re important to me and could be used against me,” he explained, scooting in a little closer on the chaise. “If no one knows we know, how are we in danger?”

She pursed her lips and thought hard, trying to come up with a way to refute his logic. “…But what if there’s a truth-telling akuma?” she inquired weakly, knowing the feeble argument wouldn’t hold water.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and swore, “I would literally die before I betrayed you.”

Her heart cracked open at the very thought, and tears started to stream down her face.

“You die too much already,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to die…. I love you.”

He didn’t protest as she leaned in and pressed a butterfly’s wing beat of a kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” he chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. “No dying. We’ll figure something else out, but it’s going to be okay, Marinette. No matter what, we’ll get through this together.”

“Promise?” she hummed, a gentle smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“Promise,” he affirmed, inching forward to steal a more substantial kiss.

When they broke apart, there was a question in his eyes. “…Me being Adrien doesn’t change the way you feel about me, does it? You said you loved Chat Noir, but…”

A scarlet flare lit up her cheeks and spread across the bridge of her nose as she finally confessed, “You know the mystery boy I’ve been pining after since we were thirteen?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yeeeees?”

“His name is Adrien Agreste,” she giggled.

He burst out laughing. “You have horrible taste in men.”

She slapped him playfully on the arm. “You have horrible self-esteem. That’s the real problem here. I only fall for the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful guys. I have impeccable taste.”

“…You really think so?” he sought to verify, amazed that such a thing could be true, that such a woman could want him.

She nodded, gaze earnest. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Adrien. We’re going to have to work on changing that.”

“Is this a team effort thing now?” he hummed, delighted by the prospect.

“Absolutely,” she confirmed…but then the air of teasing left her. “…I’ve been really worried about you since Saturday. If there’s anything—anything—I can do for you, please let me know. …What do you think I could do to help?”

He chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. “…I don’t know, really. You’ve done so much already for me as Chat Noir just by giving me a warm, safe, place to go when I need to escape. I feel bad asking for more.”

“Don’t,” she urged. “It really is fine, Adrien. Earlier, you said that you wanted me to be okay, didn’t you? That’s how I feel about you too, so don’t ever feel bad for asking.”

Slowly, he began to nod as comprehension dawned upon him. “…Oh….”

She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand. “Yeah.”

Blushing, he looked down at their joined hands. “Okay. Well…I’ll have to let you know as I think of things, but…I don’t know if there’s a whole lot you can do. I think a lot of being mentally healthy starts and ends with me, so…I think I have to do most of the work myself.”

“But you can still let me know if there’s anything I can do to support you,” she reminded.

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. …I will. I think mostly I just need someone to talk to about things.”

“You can talk to me whenever you need to,” she assured. “I mean, I hardly sleep, so you can call or text whenever.”

He frowned at this. “I think maybe we need to reevaluate your self-care behaviors while we’re at it. I’ve always known that Marinette had a crazy hectic schedule full of stress and deadlines, but now that I know you’re juggling a side gig as a superhero on top of everything you do as Marinette, I’m kind of worried.”

She averted her gaze, sticking her lip out in a pout. “I liked it better when we were focusing on you.”

“I’ll bet you did,” he snickered. “Just know that this is a two-way street. I’m here for you too, Marinette.”

She dropped the pout and looked up at him with a soft smile. “Thanks…. I think you should talk to Nino about how you’ve been feeling lately. Maybe Alya too, if you feel comfortable talking to her, but definitely Nino. He’s going to freak.”

Adrien winced. “Yeah…. Yeah, I know. I just don’t want—”

“—Don’t you dare mention being a burden or bothering him,” she warned. “Nino would be insulted. He loves you literally as much as he loves his brother, if not, more.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, sufficiently cowed. “I’ve just been too scared to say anything.”

She hesitated before continuing, “And…you know…maybe we could go see a therapist?”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise at the suggestion. “A therapist?”

She nodded tentatively. “I know I’m awesome, but I’m only seventeen, Adrien. There are a lot of things that I’m completely clueless about. I’ve looked into psychology a little bit to help me deal with akuma victims, but I’m not an expert. I was just thinking that maybe talking to a counselor would be helpful. Maybe they’ll think of things that could help that we would never come up with on our own.”

“That’s true,” he allowed, considering the idea.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I just know that there are a lot of times where I think, ‘Man, I wish I had an adult to help me out with this’. Most of the time I’m completely on my own—besides you and the others and Tikki, I mean…. I was just thinking that this is maybe one time where we don’t have to go it alone. Maybe an adult can help.”

“I’ll think about it,” he granted. “It would be hard to see a doctor without my father finding out, and he isn’t going to like this, but…it’s a good idea,” he agreed.

“Good,” she sighed in relief, leaning into a languid, exploratory kiss that Adrien was more than happy to return.

They broke apart a few minutes later with a contented hum and stared dreamily into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Adrien, and he gave a start.

“Stupid question,” he announced hesitantly.

“No such thing,” she assured, wrapping her arms around him more snugly.

“Are we dating now?” he warily inquired. “Sorry. Do I need to ask you out still? I mean, I assume we’re on the same page because we both said that we loved one another, and we’ve been kissing, so one would think that we’re dating, but I just wanted to make sure because I’ve never done this before, and I’m—”

“—Adrien?” she cut him off gently.

He tipped his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Will you go out with me?” she asked so that there would be no doubt in his mind as to what she wanted.

“Yes,” he responded breathlessly, and the joy in his eyes made her heart melt.

“Good,” she chuckled. “For our first date, would you want to have movie night tonight? We could snuggle on the couch and make cookies together.”

He surprised her by saying no.

“That can’t be our first date,” he whined. “It’s not romantic enough. I’ve had our first date planned for years, Princess. There have to be rose petals and candles and mood music. We’re supposed to eat at this amazing restaurant and take ballroom dancing lessons and then have a rooftop picnic as we watch the stars and snuggle. We can’t have a night in as our first date,” he argued.

She stared at him with a deadpan expression, debating whether it would be damaging to their nascent relationship for her to face-palm.

“My boyfriend is a high-maintenance dork,” she sighed.

“Hey,” he pouted, and she could almost see his ears and tail drooping despite the fact that he wasn’t transformed.

“All right,” she relented. “If we don’t call it a date, would you like to hang out and snuggle and watch movies and bake cookies?”

“Definitely,” he easily approved but then thought to add softly, in a slightly hurt tone, “I’m not silly, you know, for wanting my first date with the woman I love to be everything I’ve ever dreamed it would be.”

“No,” she agreed, reaching up to stroke his hair lovingly. “I’m sorry. You’re not. You deserve to have the first date of your dreams. I shouldn’t have scoffed, even if it is a bit more…” She searched for the word, came up with “over the top”, and decided against voicing it. “…more than I had in mind,” she ended conciliatorily.

“I love you, and I want you to have nice things,” she assured, earning herself an affectionate nuzzle from him.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “That means a lot to me.”

She then did something she knew she would later regret as a show of her love for him: “You can plan our first date,” she offered. “Whatever you want it to be. Go wild.”

The way his eyes lit up at her giving him free rein confirmed her fears…yet, the pure joy in his expression made her think that, if a crazy rom-com-cliché-filled date was the price of his happiness, it was well worth it.

The End

#Lady Noir #Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Ladybug #Identity Reveal #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #Friends to Lovers #Love Confession #Talking #Honesty #Mikau's Writings #Save Yourself (I'll Help You)

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writer-k-pop · 5 years ago

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Since When?

난 사실 좀 좋아해. I actually kind of like it.

Description: Yunho and you have had crushes on each other for some time but a semi planned night reveals those secret crushes to light. Warnings: NONE Genre: FLUFF Word Count: 1.6k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

“Yes! I won!” Wooyoung yells happily and giggles, “I won.”

Yeosang throws his cards down on the table. “Why do you always have to win so quickly?”

I smile and place my own cards on the table while my roommate, Sophie, collects the cards and shuffles them.

“Yunho,” Sophie sticks out her hand towards the boy sitting across from me, “Cards please.”

“But I like these cards.” Yunho whines, clutching them closer to his chest. His child-like antics make me laugh slightly.

Sophie raises an eyebrow at him and he immediately relinquishes his cards to her. The power my roommate has over our friends is astonishing. Would make sense as to why she’s the mom of the group.

“What time is it?” Yeosang asks, looking around for a nonexistent clock.

Taking a peek at my watch, I answer while he still looks around. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Midnight?” Yeosang repeats. “Since when did it get that late? We’ve only been here for like an hour tops.”

“You guys have been here for like 6 hours.” Sophie replies. “Where have you been?”

“Look here.” Yeosang snap backs, “You guys are distracting.”

“More so for some of us than others.” Wooyoung says under his breath.

I look at him, confused. “What does that mean?”

Wooyoung shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“We should get going.” Yeosang says standing up. “We have 8am’s tomorrow.” He emphasizes ‘we.’

“Why did I let you convince me to take that stupid class?” Yunho asks, putting his head in his hands.

“Oh, before you guys go, can I take a picture?” Sophie asks, making all of us stare at her with puzzled looks.

“My photoshop class is making us use only our photos for a project.” Sophie tries to explain though this is the first time I’m hearing of such a project and she always tells me everything that goes on in her classes. “Just, please? I only need one.”

“Fine.” I say and stand up to move towards the couch. Sophie pulls out her phone and prepares to take the photo. Wooyoung and Yeosang crowd a corner of the couch as if I have a deadly disease they don’t want to contract.

Just as I sit down next to Yunho, he stops me.

“No, sit here instead.” He says and pats his leg.

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, “O-okay.” I hesitantly sit on his lap afraid that he’ll change his mind and I’ll look like a creep.

As I settle down, he wraps a protective arm around my waist to keep me in place. My heart is pounding away in my little chest and I almost don’t want to look towards him. But before I know it, my body moves against my mind’s will. Yunho from this close is astonishing. Breathtaking even.

From my left, I hear Yeosang and Wooyoung giggling like school girls.

“You boys can’t do anything right, can you?” Sophie asks, slightly annoyed and lowering her phone.

“They’re just so cute.” Wooyoung giggles happily, making my heart skip at least 7 beats. I try so hard to keep my smile at bay.

I’ve always thought Yunho was cute and all but it’s different hearing it from someone else, especially one of our mutual friends.

“Woah, look at how red their cheeks are!” Yeosang jokes, pointing at the two of us.

My hands immediately fly to my burning cheeks as I feel Yunho stiffen up slightly. Glancing at Sophie, I beg for rescue from the other two.

Taking my silent hint, she starts walking away.

Not what I-

“Yeosang, Wooyoung, come help me.” Sophie calls, “I have a date tomorrow and I need help picking out an outfit.”

“Oi!” Yeosang immediately stands up with Wooyoung right behind him, “Who is this dude? Is he nice?”

“Where did you meet?” Wooyoung asks, walking to Sophie’s room, “Do we know him? He better not be like the last three!” Sophie’s door slams shut but neither Yunho or I move.

“So, uh,” Yunho clears his throat, “Don’t you just love our friends?” He asks, attempting to clear the stuffy air around us.

“I, I guess.” I nervously laugh. “They know how to pull good jokes.”

It’s then that I remember Yunho’s arm is still around and that I’m still sitting on his lap. I slowly try to move off of him when his grip on my waist tightens.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Yunho asks, super concerned. “I knew my thighs were too bony.” He rambles. “Oh no, that sounded wrong. Ah, I meant, ah.” Yunho stutters and facepalms himself.

I try so hard to stifle my laugh but no to avail. The laughter comes out and he looks up at me.

“What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing.” I say, “I’m not uncomfortable, I just thought you were cause I was, am, still sitting on your lap.” I explain.

“I don’t mind.” Yunho quickly reassures me, “I actually kind of like it.” He mumbles. My heart swells hearing this and immediately my courage creature crawls out of hiding for a moment.

“Wanna know a secret?” I ask, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“What?” He looks up.

“I kind of like it too.” I smile at him.

“You, no, wait, you like, wait.” Yunho stops himself from stuttering further. “Since when?”

I think back to the moment he refused to leave my mind. “I think it was the second day we met? The one where Sophie gathered us for bubble tea and the promise of photos for days.”

Yunho nods, “Okay but what exactly about that day?”

“No, no. That’s not how this works.” I shake my head at him, “You asked for when, not what. And now you have to answer the ‘since when’?”

“Do you ever remember taking a stupid class called ‘Intro to Chem’?” He asks and I nod, remembering spending everyday doodling instead of paying attention. “I sat behind you in that class and literally wanted to talk to you every day but never did. That class is my since when.”

My eyes widen, “Yunho, I took that class like two years ago.”

“(Y/n), and we’ve been friends for like a year and we’re only now having this conversation.” Yunho feigns shock and covers his mouth with his hand.

I slap his shoulder, “You know what I meant.”

Yunho grins wide like a child who’s just been given the best compliment.

“Ah, that reminds me.” Yunho says, opening his eyes. “You have to do what Sophie’s doing.”

I scrunch my eyebrows together. “What is Sophie doing?”

“Picking out an outfit.” Yunho states.

“Why do I need to do that?” I ask, looking down at my clothes, “The one I’m wearing is just fine.”

Yunho looks at me with another wide smile, “For tomorrow night. For our date.”

“That was one hell of a way to ask out a girl, Jeong Yunho.” I smirk, realizing what he’s just done.

“And to think, you’re the only one it would probably ever work for.” Yunho says smugly.

“So when can I be expecting a dashing date tomorrow night?” I ask, playing along with him.

“Mmm, well since you’re an early eater, how does 5:30 sound?” He asks, rubbing his chin.

“5:30 sounds awesome.” I smile and he squeezes my waist.

Suddenly, I hear Sophie’s door open and sounds of a struggle float down the hallway.

“No, Wooyoung.” Sophie strains.

“What if they haven’t confes-“ Wooyoung’s voice is cut off.

“Let them have their moment, stop ruining it.” Sophie says through gritted teeth.

“But-“ And the door slams shut again.

I look at Yunho who just looks at me.

“Did they-“

Yunho nods, “I think they did.”

“Remind me to kill my roommate.” I say, leaning further into him.

“But you do have to thank her, otherwise we may not have said anything to each other for another whole year..” Yunho says with wisdom while wrapping his free arm around me.

“I hate that you’re right.” I mumble.

“As much as I love this right now, I actually do have an 8am class that I can’t miss.” Yunho says with a sigh.

“I thought you hated 8am’s?” I ask, pulling back.

“I do.” Yunho agrees, “But this class fills a requirement for my major and it’s only offered at the crack of dawn. Yeosang begged me to take it with him.”

“Oh, I hate when classes do that.” I tell him and remove myself from his lap.

He stands up, “There’s only a few more weeks left so I can suffer through it.”

“Yes, you can.” I encourage him then turn towards Sophie’s room.

“Yunho’s leaving!” I yell, “Can he take the other two children with him?”

The door swings open and Yeosang strides out, “For the record, we are not children.” He defends himself.

“Speak for yourself.” Wooyoung says, happily skipping towards the door.

“Get home safe, you guys.” Sophie says, leaning against the wall.

We all say goodbye and the guys walk themselves out of our apartment.

“Well?” Sophie asks, following me to my bedroom.

“Well what?” I ask, playing dumb.

“You have a date tomorrow night, don’t you?” She asks, giddily.

“What I have is a need for a less nosey roommate.” I roll my eyes.

“But you do, don’t you?” Sophie asks again.

“Yes.” I mutter annoyingly, knowing she had some part in it.

Sophie squeals and skips out of the room. “You’re welcome!”

“Sleep with one eye open, Sophie!” I call after her, the smile on my face betraying the annoyance in my voice.

“Oh, honey,” She pops her head in the doorway, “That’s impossible because they’re already nonexistent.”

“Your eyes are not that small.” I roll my eyes at her over-used joke, “Hey, can I have the photos you took earlier?” I ask her, hoping she actually took photos.

Sophie smirks and disappears from my doorway, “You’ll see them on your wedding day!”

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez yunho #ateez yunho imagine #yunho #yunho imagine #jeong yunho #jeong yunho imagine

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doggy-woggy · 5 years ago

Text

Studying Together (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Requested by @spaghetittiesbcimgay: “dude i love ur writing!! could u do one where rogah and reader have been friends since high school and now they’re in college studying for exams?? and basically rogah can’t stop staring @ reader bc he thinks she looks beautiful concentrating like that.. and basically feelings boil over and fluff ensues?? and could u do the same type of thing where reader is doing a self portrait and she hates it bc she’s self conscious but rogah loves it bc it’s her?? thank you so much dude :))|”

A/N: Thanks for the request! I decided to combine your two prompts into one. I’ve never done requests before and I didn’t know how well I can do them so I thought in case this is bad, it’s better to have one disappointment than two :/ It came out very cheesy smh. Also excuse the misleading title since they won’t actually be “studying” in this. Anyway, hope you like it!

Can be read as Ben Hardy!Roger

Words: 1.6k Warning: Fluff, some light cursing Unedited ******************************************

Roger tapped his pencil at the edge of his drawing file as he looked at you. Your head was lying on the armrest of the couch and your feet were stretched into his lap.

“Roger?” you started, not removing your eyes from the paper in front of you. He hummed in response. “Stop that,” you said.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, with the corners of his mouth turning up.

“The tapping,” you looked up at him seriously.

“Oh.” Roger put down his file and stretched his arms leisurely. He put an arm over the back of the couch and leaned his head on it.

Both of you had to submit a self-portrait for the art class you were taking that semester. You had often studied or worked on projects together since high school. You got work done only half the time because you’d always end up finding ways to distract yourselves in each other’s company.

But this submission was important and you had both promised to do nothing but work, except Roger just couldn’t focus.

He wasn’t fully conscious of it, but his gaze rested on your face. You looked messier than usual, given the stress of finals, but he loved the way your hair unintentionally fell out around your face. He observed the way your tongue poked out slightly in the look of pure concentration on your face and he smiled to himself.

“Y/N, I’m bored,” he whined.

“Come on, Roger the deadline is this week. If we don’t do this right we might just fail,” you looked at him sadly.

“Nah, we won’t fail,” he said lightly tickling your feet. You laughed and instinctively kicked your foot violently into the air. “Geez,” Roger laughed.

“Not unless you don’t start working on your portrait now.” You reminded him.

He didn’t react, but extended his arm to the side of your head and pulled it back to show you the coin he had supposedly pulled from behind your ear, grinning smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “Roger, come on. You’re distracting me. We promised we will try to focus.”

“Ugh, this is so stupid! How can they grade us on art anyway? Isn’t art the reflection of the soul? And if this is a world where one soul gets to assess the worth of another soul, much less assess it by a presentation that the soul may or may not accurately be able to express, then I don’t want to be in this world,” he huffed.

“Well too bad you’re already in this world. And you don’t get to leave it anytime soon, not without me at least. Now your soul might just be expressed as a little dot on this paper but the professor’s soul sure as hell won’t give you a grade for that.” You sighed. “So, we have to adhere to the rules of this world and make a presentable self-portrait that appeals to the majority of art intellectuals and academics, and most importantly, the professor.” You looked back down to your page and murmured, “Come on. We got this.”

With that, you returned to the file resting on your thigh. Roger’s amused eyes lingered on you for a few moments longer, filled with adoration. He reached for his pencil and returned his attention to his file.

After about an hour, you felt frustration take over. You glanced up to find Roger already looking at you, but he quickly looked away when he saw you noticing.

“Roger I can’t do this!” You said, slapping down your file. He looked up and you continued, “This is impossible. I can’t draw myself. I don’t even remember how I look anymore!”

“Like an ogre,” he smirked.

“Not fucking funny,” you gritted your teeth as you threw a cushion at him. “This looks so ugly.”

Roger peered over your file to look at your portrait, and just blinked at it. “Y/N, this is fantastic,” he whispered. He saw your faithless expression. “I’m not kidding, it really is beautiful,“ he tried to convince but you still looked dejected. “Hey, you know, it looks very you. So at least you've got the concept of self-portrait down?” He offered.

You had your eyebrow cocked as you stared at him weirdly. “Whatever. This was a practice sketch anyway,” you said as you began to rip the page out of the notebook.

“Don’t do that!” Roger cried.

“Look I can’t hand this in. I’ve drawn closed eyelids. And it looks bland. You know I can’t draw eyes for shit but I feel like it looks lazy to draw closed lids without a purpose.” You finished tearing the page, and looked up to see Roger’s expression frozen in panic. Just as you were about to crumple up the page, Roger grabbed your knee to stop you.

“At least-“ he sighed, “at least let me have it.” He avoided your gaze as he took the portrait from your hand, hiding his reddening cheeks, and carefully placed it on the coffee table.

You sat in silence for a minute before you said: “Show me yours.”

“No,” he returned.

You looked at him in disbelief. “Show me!” you pressed as you reached over to grab his file.

“No!” he repeated as he backed the file away from your reach.

You put down your drawing file and got up on your knees to get further. You ignored Roger’s protests as he murmured “No, stop it!” while you climbed over him to get to the file.

Roger loved the proximity, and couldn’t help but glance down at the back of your leg, where your pyjama shorts where high up your thigh, given your stretched-out body. He always loved those shorts on you.

In his distraction, you were able to reach the file, and Roger gave in. You blew out air as you sat down with it and looked at two gorgeous eyes drawn on the sheet.

“Wow,” you gasped. You studied the eyes. Although he pretended to have limited interest in it, you always knew he could draw extremely well, since you’d caught plenty of glimpses of his doodles in his school notebooks. This pair of eyes, however, was breath-taking.

“But they don’t look like yours,” you thought aloud. You didn’t notice how Roger’s cheeks seemed to have changed permanently to crimson. He scratched the back of his neck and put his hand inside the top of his shirt.

“That’s because they’re not.”

“Forgot the ‘self’ in ‘self-portrait Rog?” you laughed. “Well, whose are they then?”

Roger looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. After seeming to contemplate it, he briefly stated, “Yours.”

You stared at him, confused and not knowing what to say. He seemed uncomfortable. “They’re your eyes, Y/N. I think they’re beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well...they’re sure prettier on here than the real thing,” you joked, a little taken aback.

“Well, in any case, I can’t ever seem to look away.” He drew in a breath and took your hands in both of his. “Y/N I can’t do this anymore.”

You sat up straighter as you looked at him with concern. “Do what?”

“I can’t keep looking at you and not be able to do anything else.” His eyes roamed the room. “You probably think of me as some kind of an idiot, but…whenever I’m with you I just want to stay with you, and I can’t focus because you’re all I can think about. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long and now I-”

He stopped abruptly as you reached out to brush your knuckles on the side of his head. He looked at you as you gazed back into his wide eyes that were slowly growing droopy. “Roger,” you breathed as you took in his words. “Can I-do you want me to kiss you?”

Roger closed his eyes for a moment as his silent breath quickened. “More than anything,” he said softly, his breath fanning your face.

You leaned forward to brush your lips with his. You then kissed him properly, and felt his arms wrap around your waist. You laced your fingers in his blonde hair as his hands swiftly roamed your body, seeming unable to settle at just one place.

You pulled away to catch a breath, and he chased your lips with his. You looked up at him to see him part his eyelids slowly, a dopey smile playing across his lips.

“Roger, I really like you. No. More than that. I don’t know what it is but I have felt it for quite a while now,” you said nervously.

“Really?” He smiled. “Y/N, you don’t know how happy that makes me. I really, really like you too.”

Silence fell over as you two simply smiled at each other like idiots. Your gaze then dropped to the two pieces of art lying in front of you. “You’ve drawn the part of me that I couldn’t figure out for myself,” you observed, looking at the pair of eyes he drew.

“I suppose that’s right,” Roger chuckled.

You smiled broadly at him and raised your eyebrows. You put on a high pitched voice and a dramatic accent to say “I guess you complete me.”

Roger rolled his eyes but laughed as he pinned you down on the couch to dive in with his lips. Once again, you two had found a way to distract yourselves from work.

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

I apparently have a problem with concision. Feedback is very welcome! @theedwardscollection

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wwounu · 6 years ago

Photo

“Jihoon’s ‘usual’ is this place?” Surprised yet not, you find yourself definitely stupid not realising that the café was the usual place Jihoon would want to meet.

“You know about this place?”

You nod at the confused Seokmin’s question. “Ran into Jihoon and Soonyoung here one time.” Which was partially true, taking away the real reason why you went.

You show a smile, wincing as the bruise remained on your cheek. Seokmin shakes his head, silently meaning to not smile due to the slight pain.

That ex could slap hard.

“They’d be at the same spot, let’s go!” You hook your arm around Seokmin’s, almost hugging it. “Is this fine?” Carefully, you ask. The male raises an eyebrow at first before he nods, unable to hold the warmth forming on his ears.

You couldn’t hold back either, you were bursting into shy giggles once you looked away and continued to brought bring inside the café, happy to greet an enthusiastically-waving Soonyoung as Jihoon shuffles away in disgust when Soonyoung’s hand hits his face.

The pair of you settle in your seats, watching as Soonyoung’s expression present a big, sad frown on his face. “Your face looks horrible.”

“Gee, thanks Soonyoung! I didn’t notice.”

“Sorry Y/N, we should’ve been there… We could’ve at least get that idiot to know where she stands.”

“It’s over now. Nothing much we can’t do,” You shrug, hoping Soonyoung’s face would change, “but I did let her hear a few things or two… Besides, this one helped me too.” You poke Seokmin’s arm and the latter swats your hand a way, playfully sticking his tongue at you.

“It was nothing…” Says Seokmin. “All I did was tell her to leave Y/N alone.”

“Good on her! Let that bitch get what she deserves! I wouldn’t mind for her to go to hell—” Soonyoung protests before Jihoon pinches his ear.

“Language! Calling her that doesn’t make you a better person than that fucking asshole is.”

Everyone looks at Jihoon, confused. He doesn’t realise the hypocrisy he just made, only thinking everyone was looking at him funny for no reason. Eventually it hit him after a late beat

“Well woe is me!” He throws his hands up into the air, breaking from his sarcastic tone to a chuckle amongst the three of you.

It didn’t take long for you to tell Soonyoung and Jihoon about the accident — it was actually the next day when you told them — but they handled it well, despite Jihoon’s outburst of anger, needing to be held back by Soonyoung and Seokmin from leaving his shift.

“I’m gonna get coffee. Usuals everyone?”

“I’m still surprised how you can remember all of our orders ‘Hoon.”

“If I can remember your order, I can remember everyone’s Soonyoung.” Jihoon looks at you. “You haven’t told me your order the last time we met, wanna come?”

Looking quickly at Seokmin, you present him a smile before you accept the male’s request. “Sure.”

The line was pretty long, which wasn’t a problem to Jihoon since he was patient, but cursed at anyone who would cut in line (“I’m looking at you, idiot in the red beanie.”).

Suddenly, Jihoon’s voice pops out out of the blue. “I find it funny that we met because Seokmin got offended about you not liking dogs.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty weird for a first meeting.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen worse.” Jihoon’s face strangely zones out, panicked, looking like Seokmin’s when he was talking about his friend. What was his name again? Won-something?

He comes back in a second when the line moves forward and you take the quick moment to check on Seokmin. You didn’t need to really check, since you could hear his loud laugh blend with Soonyoung’s from across the coffee shop, you just had to make sure.

Jihoon notices this, pouting his lip out slightly.

“What are Seokmin and you?”

“Jihoon can you stop scaring me like this.” You threat as his voice, yet again, scares you. But his question had got you thinking too. You never thought of it either. “Um… Friends?”

“It’s hard to believe that.”

“Okay okay! We haven’t discussed about it. Why would we? We’re fine just the way we are.”

“Fair point. You two look comfortable with each other though, so I can’t help but to ask.” Moving along the line, the coffee scent growing stronger, Jihoon speaks more. “And Seokmin can hold things in often, but never do them. You know this, right?”

You nod, now weighing up your options.

“I don’t have place to say this to you — and what the fuck do I know anyway — but as long as you’re comfortable with Seok’, that’s fine. He cherishes you a lot too. But mixed messages won’t do any good for you two if the lines of where you stand are still blurred.”

“Yeah, heard you loud and clear…” Again, you turn to Seokmin who was posing while the male across him was drawing doodles on the back of a napkin. “I don’t want him to push him too much.”

“Same goes for him, but we’ll stop talking about it, you look more like a kicked puppy the more we continue.”

“Thanks Jihoon.”

“Hm, it’s nothing.” Jihoon smiles, finally happy that they’re at the front of the line and ready to order. It amazes the moment he recited all orders so casually, the cashier — who Jihoon said was a new employee — dropped their jaw in surprise whilst processing the information, stopping once he mentioned the amount of milk and sugar to put in.

An employee walked over and greeted Jihoon as if they were best friends and took the order instead, getting to work quickly. The male stops him before going, now turning to you.

“Oh right, what would you like Y/N?”

Nervous, particularly because you didn’t actually have an order or regular to go by, you chirp, “Well… That drink you gave me last time was nice, so I’ll have that maybe?”

Jihoon looks surprised, not expecting what you said. “Oh. Okay then.” And like that he repeated an order without skipping a beat or hesitating.

Scary thing is, it was the exact taste when you had gotten it.

How does he do that?

For the rest of that period, things seemed relaxed. All of you discuss about your current courses and tell a few stories about the flower shop and tattoo parlour. You also speak up about your tattoo for the first time, letting the two males be the first to know that Seokmin did it. He was holding your pinky the whole way through — You tried so hard to not get caught off by it.

Soonyoung rants about his art block, not finding inspiration for ages, but when Seokmin and Jihoon leave briefly, you use up all that time to get as much information about this Sailor Moon Soonyoung slipped out through text.

All you got was that she was a writer, the reason why Soonyoung found inspiration again (which was so cute), bullies him with another friend of his and a bunch of incoherent giggles the more Soonyoung talked.

But when the duo came back, they were suspicious at how pink Soonyoung’s cheeks were, but brushed it off when the giggling gradually grew, thinking he was probably thinking of something stupid, like a worm with arms.

After spending almost an hour in the shop full of chattering and empty coffee mugs, the sun appearing in its golden form, Jihoon offers to go to his apartment. Something about wanting to have drinks and pizza, and Soonyoung was very enthusiastic on the idea.

When you all got to the apartment, Soonyoung landed face first on his couch, snuggling the big, fluffy and grey rabbit toy on there. Jihoon ran in, prying the plush away from the male as well as shoving him off the couch.

“Soonyoung you ass, move! You aren’t the only visitor in here. And since when can you touch Tofu?!”

Soonyoung, hurt, pouts his lips and sits up from the floor while you and Seokmin sit together on the couch closely — for Soonyoung’s sake, obviously. “What pizza are we getting?” The male on the floor asks.

Jihoon tilts his head to you and Seokmin, the strange look coming up again when looking at your proximity. “What do guys want?”

“Let’s have chicken on the pizza!”

“I’m not asking you Soonyoung — so?”

You and Seokmin meet eyes, silently discussing through what you want. It was strange however, because it was more like you were speaking with your eyes. You didn’t hear the ‘are they gonna respond or…’ from Soonyoung.

After a long silent discussion, Seokmin looks over and beams a smile. “We don’t mind!”

The short male grits his teeth, “Gosh, you’re too nice and no help. Let’s look on the site Soon’.”

“But I wanna stay here—“ Soonyoung stops his sentence when he sees the look Jihoon signals to him, which you caught too. “Oh — Oh! Yeah I’ll come with, be right back guys!” And Jihoon lifts him up (Jihoon is strong) and they leave to go to the kitchen.

“Jihoon, that mischievous brat…” You mumble when they leave, and Seokmin hears, loudly laughing. “What?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re so moody towards Jihoon, I thought you guys were fine!”

“We are! But not now. Kinda.”

Seokmin snorts, nodding. “Okay.”

“Can I ask something?”

“Shoot.” He replies, leaning on the couch as you follow, resting on top of him. “I’m tired.”

“Me too… What… What are we Seokmin?”

You physically feel the breaths in Seokmin stop, scared to turn around to look at his face, so you continue to stare at Jihoon’s ceiling.

“I—“ Seokmin chokes out, “I dunno, friends?”

“Do friends lay down like this together?”

“I mean… No, but I don’t mind you laying on me. I lie with the dogs sometimes if that counts.” The two of you chuckle at the comment, thinking about the topic further. “Do we have to be something?”

“Only if you wanna.”

“You don’t… Need to stay with me you know.” The tone of the male’s voice changes with hints of insecurity.

“I want to. I’d really like to stay.” You pick up his hand, adjusting it so its cupping your cheek. The male stifles a laugh, allowing you to roll your eyes. “See, you’re giggling over me touching your hand, that certainly isn’t a ‘friend’ thing.”

“I’m not giggling over that Blossom.”

“Okay then, I’ll just remove your hand from my face-“

“No, keep it there…” Seokmin is quick to react, a small gasp coming out of his mouth from his action.

You’re surprised too, noticing his lack of hesitation. “Seokmin? Everything alright there?”

“Yeah — Yeah… I just — Wow, I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Recently, Seokmin had started seeing someone to help him. You were the first person to know as you recommended the idea, and although Seokmin can normally act like his upbeat self to others, he still had demons to face on the lonely side of things. Again, you didn’t know if this was going to certainly help him, but it was worth a shot.

Seokmin started opening a lot more to you as well. Talking about his feelings, or when he can’t, he’d send written notes to you explaining himself.

And saying the things he wants was definitely improving.

“It’s a sign you’re getting there. You’re doing great.” You praise, pressing his hand closer to your face, trying to ignore the pain stinging through. “That deserves a reward. What should we do to celebrate?”

“Pizza and drinks sound great already. You’re here too which is a bonus too.”

“True…” You agree, snuggling more into his hand, before the pain comes back and makes you sharply inhale.

Seokmin sits up quickly, bringing you with him as he takes his hand away and turns you to look at him. The cool air was hitting the skin where his hand previously was and you missed the touch.

“Are you okay?” He’s talking about your bruise, carefully placing his hands back on your cheeks. The missing touch was gone and you felt your stomach go warm. He checks your face carefully to look at the fading mark closer, too scared to touch it. “Do you want me to get ice? Cold water?”

You shake your head. “This is nice.”

Seokmin blushes, not knowing what to say. And when moments go silent, you let the moment rest and enjoy it.

“I like you.”

Quickly opening your eyes, you face an equally-shy Seokmin who was even more speechless than before. It seems that the man himself didn’t expect to say that out loud either.

“Blossom I’m so sorry — I don’t know what went over me. This is awkward now. I should shut up. Yeah. I’m going to do that. Right about now.”

Seokmin avoids looking at you.

“… Ignore that. I dunno why I said that out loud, you were just… Pretty like that…” His voice fades out, but neither of you want to let go.

“We don’t need to rush, okay?” You reassure. “But I’m happy we think on the same wavelength.”

The male immediately perks his head up, “Does that mean-“

“Of course, I thought I was caught out easily after all this time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,”

And you curse to yourself about the wrong move you just made, but have a plan to lighten up the mood with a joke.

“Ow, my cheek…” You fake, attempting to make a convincing-enough flinch. Seokmin falls for it, which is perfect.

He studies your face again. The plan is going well. “Are you sure you don’t need an ice pack?”

“Kiss it better maybe?”

Rather than a laugh, you get greeted by a serious look, worrying you a little. The pout on your lips retreats back the more you watch Seokmin stare at you, oddly holding in his breath.

That’s funny, this is what he usually does when he’s deciding things—

And that’s when you feel the soft tug, pulling you closer until the gap closes. Except it doesn’t. Not fully, anyway.

It’s unreal — Seokmin and you were kissing — but the male places the kiss on the corner of your lips, a move done on purpose. You smile into the thought, he probably wanted to save that time for later, not in your friend’s apartment waiting for pizza.

But that would be a fun story to tell all your friends.

He moves away, in a mix of bliss and fear. But he’s smiling. He’s smiling so brightly.

The smile doesn’t leave your face either. In fact, it grows, playfully commenting, “Wrong place, dummy.”

“I better kiss you again then.”

Seokmin’s careful with his words, but takes your comment light-heartedly and shifts his location to your bruise, lips gently pressing on the spot.

“I like this,” He adds and do too, you peck his jaw, humming in agreement.

It’s silent before the two of you burst into a spill of quiet laughter, like high school sweethearts kissing for the first time — the fluttery feeling, awkward silences all present.

“THIS IS SO CUTE I’M GOING TO DIE—“

You scream at the voice, hiding into Seokmin’s chest. Seokmin, too, says nothing but his face is as terrified, staring in the kitchen’s direction. After a while you look too, with no other than Soonyoung’s sparkly eyes watching the moment.

“You just ruined the whole mood Soonyoung!” Jihoon groans, slapping his hand over his eyes. Again, he couldn’t say much, he was adding to the scene too. “Let’s just get that pizza!”

Like earlier the shorter drags the other out by the ear, throwing some spare keys to you, but missing horribly by hitting a wall, yet continuing to tell you to lock the door and that they’ll back back in twenty minutes.

The door closes and it’s quiet again. But the silence is unmuted rapidly when you and Seokmin laugh non-stop, mainly at the duo’s sudden scene, but other than that you don’t know why you were laughing so much. It just felt nice.

Seokmin holds you, wrapping his arms and pulling you back so you’re laid down and laughing in each other’s embrace.

Sure, you don’t know what you were.

Yet whatever it was, it was nice.

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART FIFTEEN — Tattoo Artist!Seokmin x Florist!Reader

hope this didn’t drag on too much guys! i just love hoshi and woozi a lot bye bye~ plus i love the group chat too okay bye for REAL now

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • nine • ten • eleven • twelve • thirteen • fourteen • fourteen ½ • fifteen • sixteen

masterlist

#seokmin #lee seokmin #seokmin au #seokmin texts #seokmin imagines #dokyeom #dokyeom texts #dokyeom imagines #seventeen seokmin #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen texts #seventeen opposites attract au #kpop #kpop texts #kpop imagines #tattoo artist!seokmin

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dolcenco · 6 years ago

Text

Ay, Mami Likes It Rough

(CNCO x Reader)

Plot: Spa day shenanigans with CNCO

Warning/s: Semi-naked CNCO and a small smut-ish scene in the end!

Syrah’s Note: I actually had fun writing this. Also, please note that these are the same characters from my other fic: I’m So Wet. Lastly, thank you to everyone who love and support my writing and fics, it means so much to me that people actually like them 😭💕 Don’t forget to leave feed-back, loves.

But now, on to the story!

You and Joel decided to spend the day hanging out in his hotel room while the other boys were doing whatever shenanigans they do on a day-off.

You were on the bed laying on your stomach, editing the latest CNCOMonday video while Joel was in the bathroom, too busy staring at his zit for the past thirty minutes.

It was bearable at first until he starts complaining about his monstrosity of a pimple.

“(Yyyyy/n), it’s huge!” Joel whines for the nth time that morning and being his good friend / media manager, you ignored him.

“uUURGH! (Y/N)!”

You sighed in annoyance and rolled out of bed. You trudged into the bathroom and grabbed Joel’s face forcefully, making him look at you.

You grimaced when you saw the popped zit and finally get why he was complaining. It was sitting on top of his nose in all its oozing red glory.

“Ooooh, that’s one hella godzilla.”

He glares at you as you release his cheeks and sighed at this man-child.

”Joelito, sweetie, you’re not supposed to pop a zit when it’s fresh and not ready, now that’s gonna scar,”

“What?!” he panics and was about to pick at it again when you slapped his hand away from his face.

“Ay dios mio, Joel!” you scolded, flicking his forehead. “What did I just say? did you even wash your hands?!”

He ignores you and continues to intently stare at it as if it was going to magically disappear.

“Just wait it out a few days, you won’t die.” You say and start to walk back to the room but he grabs your arm and pulls you back.

“Make it disappear, pweaaaase,” He begs, his two hands clamped together below his chin.

You frowned, “Do I look like the zit fairy to you? If only we can-no, wait that’s it! I know what we’re gonna do today!”

“What?”

You grinned at him, getting all excited for your amazing idea. You dashed to your hotel room and returned back to Joel’s with your skin care essentials and numerous face masks. You even brought your small humidifier with you.

After preparing everything, you and Joel decided to have a stress-free, relaxing spa day. It was not long until you both were lounging on his bed in your bathrobes, sipping chamomile tea with clay mask on.

You both sighed in contentment as the room filled with the scent of lavender and calming sound of spa music.

“So…” Joel starts as you take a sip from your cup.

“Are you falling for Chris?”

You spat your drink, coughing while you clapped on your chest from your sudden outburst. Once you got it together, you glared at Joel.

“Of course n-“

Your reply was cut short by a sudden knock on the door.

You and Joel froze giving each other a knowing look. No way you’re going to let anyone see you both with a face mask on, so you both pointed at each other.

“You get it,” You say at the same time.

“Admit that you’re falling for Chris and I will get the door,” Joel says with a devilish grin on his face.

“You’re the one with godzilla on your nose!” You retorted and he glares at you in return.

When you realize he wasn’t going to budge anytime soon, you groaned and hopped out of bed. You reluctantly opened the door and sighed in relief when you find Zabdiel on his phone texting as he leaned against the doorframe.

“What can I help you with zabdaddy?”

We got to admit. Zabdiel is the absolute daddy, hence, the fitting nickname you gave him. He didn’t mind you using it but what you didn’t know is that he secretly likes it when you called him daddy.

He looks up and was slightly taken aback when he saw you in your face mask but stifled a giggle because he was just sweet like that. “Que estas haciendo?”

“Joel and I are having a spa day, wanna join?”

He smiles and shrugs in response. You let him in, closing the door behind you. He sighs when the lavender scent hits his nose, feeling relaxed already.

“(Y/N), who was it?” Joel asks lifting one cucumber from his eye.

Zabdiel laughs at the sight of Joel and takes a photo, “Te ves ridicula,”

Joel snickers, placing the cucumber back and murmurs, “Still perfect though,”

You instructed Zabdiel to change into the spare bathrobe Joel had in his hotel room while you prepare the clay mask for him.

Moments later, you were briefly interrupted again with a knock on the door and when you open it Richard and Erick enter with a bottle of wine and drinking glasses. They were wearing their bathrobes untied so their chest and abs were exposed.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked closing the door behind them.

“Zab told us that you were having a spa day and your daddy needs relaxing.” Richard says setting down the wine on the table before plopping next to Joel, taking a cucumber off his eye and eating it.

Zabdiel emerges from the bathroom with his bathrobe on, setting his neatly folded clothes on the table. “I’m ready!” He exclaims with so much enthusiasm.

You sat on the sofa with the bowl of clay mask mixture and patted your lap, “Come lay here, Zab”

He sits next to you and rests his head on your lap as you begin applying the paste mixture. He hisses the moment the mossy green substance touches his face.

Erick sits on the floor next to you like the little kid he is, dipping his finger in the bowl and taking some of the paste on his finger.

“Is this edible?” He asks sniffing the mixture.

“I don’t think-ERICK COLON DON’T EAT IT, GOD!” You slapped his hand away from his mouth when he was about to lick off the mixture from his finger.

“Sooo, (Y/N)......” Richard begins, “Are you and a certain someone dating?”

“Who?” You retort mindlessly, mixing the paste. When you were about to apply it on Zabdiel again, he was already looking at you expectantly. Even Erick looked amused.

“I’m not dating anyone,” You clarified, knowing damn well who they were referring to but hey it was true. You weren’t dating anyone. Sure, you shared flirty banters but it was nothing.

“Oh, you’re not dating our laughing ass boy?” Richard grins from ear to ear in amusement waiting for your reaction.

You sighed in exasperation. If you get a dollar for every time someone asks you that question, you’d be a billionaire by now.

“We’re not dating!” You snarled, throwing a face towel at him.

“Sure you aren’t, kiddo,” Joel pats the top of your head, making his way to pour Richard and himself a glass of wine.

Before you could protest, a knock interrupts you once again, halting the conversation.

Did the boys arrange a party or what?

You made your way over to the door and when you opened it, you were greeted by the devil himself: Christopher Velez.

And he was topless and wearing only his boxers.

Oh my god, damn this pendejo and his sex appeal.

You shot the image of you running your fingers across his chest immediately when you hear him cough.

You didn’t realize you were gaping at him until he smirks and says, “You like what you see?”

With that, CNCO spa day chaos has commenced.

That afternoon, the spa day turned out to be the complete opposite of what you expected. It wasn’t the soft-kind of relaxing you and Joel opted for but it was rather amusing…

Richard was pinning Erick down on the floor, doodling on his face with the clay mask while Chris filmed his helpless friend for his instagram story. On the other side of the room, Zabdiel was giving Joel a full-on back massage, behaving like the good little children they were.

There came a point that you had to take the bowl of clay mask away from them because Richard and Erick thought it would be a great idea for Chris to taste the healing clay mask.

When night fell you were finally at peace when the boys decided to settle down for pop-corn and netflix. Erick and Joel were on their makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor while Richard and Zabdiel occupied the bed.

As for you and Chris? You both sat on the couch with Chris laying in between your legs and his head on your lap as you stroked his hair absentmindedly. Every time you stopped, he would squeeze your hand, telling you to continue.

And yes, you were just friends.

While you were focused on the movie, you can’t help but notice from the corner of your eye: a bulge forming in Chris’ boxers. You snorted and Chris looks up at you, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You shrugged and giggled, “Maybe you wanna calm down a bit?” you say, your eyes looking over his bulge. He follows your gaze and smirks. He chuckles before drawing his attention back to you.

“Or maybe you can not be boring and help me calm down?”

You blinked. You didn’t know if he was joking or not.

But hey, you don’t mind helping him with his little problem, oops.

“You’re such a horny ass shit, aren’t you,” You tugged on his fringe for his crude comment but only to have him respond with another.

“Ay Mami likes it rough,” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” You groaned, flicking his forehead.

“Get a room!” Erick yells.

“Ooooh, Chris and (Y/N) -” Before Richard can finish his sentence, you glare at him menacingly threatening to color his nails as you did with Erick, who was furiously removing the nail polish.

Everyone continued watching the movie but as minutes pass, the boys grew sleepier and sleepier. Zabdiel was the first to retire and slept on the bed. Erick and Richard went back to their rooms while Joel fell asleep half-way through the movie.

You and Chris managed to switch positions wherein he was sitting upright and you were laying down with your legs on his lap. You yawned and blinked the sleepiness away.

“Tired?” Chris looks down at you, rubbing his hands on your legs which sent chills through your body.

“A little,” You murmured and he looks at his phone to check the time.

“It’s late, I better go.” He said gently lifting you legs from his lap as he stood up, placing them back on the couch. You were kind of disappointed that he didn’t want to stay and sleep together but hey, it’s whatever, right?

“Okaaaay” You said sleepily, reaching out your arms to him for a good night hug. He giggles at how cute you looked.

“Good night, babe,” He says, leaning down to give you a hug and your wrapped your arms around his neck.

You feel him nuzzle into your neck but what he did next caught you by surprise.

You let out a breathy moan when you suddenly feel Chris kiss your neck, gently sucking on the skin before giving the spot a small lick.

Before you could react, he pulls away and kisses your forehead. You stare at him in disbelief as he opens the door, blows you a kiss and finally exits the room, leaving you hot and bothered.

Your hand flies to to the spot on your neck where he kissed you, the sensation of his lips lingering as you sat there in shock.

What the hell just happened? Why did he do it? I wasn’t drunk enough, he wasn’t drunk enough. Did he like me that way? I mean, I liked him but what????????

Thoughts raced through your head and you couldn’t sleep that night but before the night ended, you thought to yourself:

I am 72 shades of done with Christopher Velez.

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professionally-unprofessional · 6 years ago

Note

bus ride makes Shouto's crush sleepy so she unconsciously cuddles Shouto into the window and mumbles nonsense in her sleep (need a flustered Shouto fluff) please and thank you (bonus: Shouto's inner thoughts)

Ah I’m so glad you sent this in Anon! This was such a cute request and writing some Todo fwuff was exactly what I needed. I’m sorry it’s so late!

Oh, I slightly changed something from the request. You said for Todoroki to be next to the window… but I had a really cute idea so I was like ‘well I’m just gonna roll with this’ because my other idea wasn’t as good. This just worked out a lot better.

I hope it’s still okay.

I’m soooooo out of practice with Todoroki oml. I hope it’s still acceptable xD

Enjoy!

The training camp was coming. A bright smile formed on your face as you cheered excitedly with your classmates about the camp. There was a call for everyone to get on the coach in order to leave so the cries of excitement died down and changed to a chorus of requests to sit beside friends.

Todoroki watched as everyone disappeared into the coach and realised he hadn’t asked anyone to accompany him. Oh well, he’d find someone. He followed Sero up the mini stairs and looked for somewhere to sit. Midoriya and Iida were already sat down together as were the majority of the calmer boys. There were still spaces by a few of the girls, but he didn’t fancy stopping them from sitting by their own friends.

He was saved from the great conundrum of finding a place by a hand waving at him from a seat right at the back of the coach. You were on the right-hand side behind Uraraka and Tsuyu. It seemed you’d chosen the spot in order to remain reasonably close to your companions.

How did you always manage to see when he was struggling with something? Did you have some sort of sixth Midoriya-sense where you meddled in issues you didn’t have to? These sorts of situations were becoming more common.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” you smiled before you lowered your voice as a certain person passed. “I’m just glad I don’t have a long journey with Mineta next to me.”

He nodded in understanding and found that he was rather glad that he’d prevented such a situation from occurring. As the remainder of their class settled down on the coach and the vehicle took off, the chatter began. The noise rose rather quickly and Iida’s calls to be respectful and follow the rules was only increasing the volume inside the coach. You’d been talking a little with Uraraka as she turned to see you through the gap between the seats.

The bi-coloured boy watched you quietly, making sure to glance away whenever you looked as though you might catch him. What else was there to look at? He watched a couple of exchanges that bounced across the bus but found there was little else to tune in to.

“Want a piece?” Your voice brought his attention back to you once more. His gaze went from your pretty eyes to the object you were holding out to him. A box of pocky. Wait, did he just think your eyes were pretty?“Uh, no thanks.”

He shook his head and you shrugged, telling him it was his loss before taking one yourself and passing the box back forward to its owner. He didn’t really fancy a sweet snack right now.

What was he thinking? Had he always thought that about you?

You’d grown quiet again. He wondered why he was finding it so hard to find something else to look at. There were so many people and lots of windows for his gaze to settle on, so why did it seem that he couldn’t take his eyes off you? Confused, he looked down at his hands for the sake of not creeping you out. When he looked back up he realised you’d pulled out your phone and plugged a pair of headphones in.

This time you caught your companion watching you. A sheepish smile formed on your lips and you removed the pocky from your mouth. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind if I listen to music. We can chat if you want.”

Ah, you were trying to be considerate towards him again.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

He didn’t blame you anyway. From how loud the bus was, he’d rather be listening to anything rather than the sound of voice clashing against each other. Hearing random bits and pieces of speech without being able to properly catch what the conversation was on was beginning to make his head spin.

You’d turned your head slightly to gaze peacefully out of the window. For someone who could be socially quite dense, Todoroki noticed how your body language had changed. The tension had slid out of your shoulders and you’d sunk further into the chair. It was the first time he’d seen you well and truly relax.

Since your gaze was on the window he was free to look at you without getting caught.

Hold on, why did seeing you like this make him feel warm? Had he accidentally let his left side warm up. He noticed you inch slightly closer towards it. Sitting upright like that couldn’t be all that comfortable. Some part of him was debating telling you that if you wanted to lean against him a little in order to be a bit comfier then you’d be welcome to.

But was that weird? Would you find that a bit creepy?

He inwardly sighed. What to do what to do.

“Uh, do you want one?” You’d tilted your head back slightly to look over your shoulder and up at him. It took the aspiring hero a moment to realise you were holding out an earbud in offering. Why were you offering it in the first place?

“You look as though you’re about to get a headache,” you told him blankly with a small smile. “It is pretty loud.”

Had he been making a face at the prospect of offering you a shoulder to lean against? At least you’d mistaken it from irritation at the chaotic noise of your classmates rather than an internal struggle.

“It’s fine.”

“You can say if you want something you know. I’ve got some spare water and some snacks. Just poke me, kay.”

“Sure.”

With that, you returned the earbud to its home and continued to watch the world fly by outside the window. You grinned suddenly to yourself and leaned towards the window, puffing softly until it was covered in mist.

Perplexed, he watched as you childishly began to doodle something on it. You seemed to be mentally reciting something as you did so. ’42-42-564’ was written on the window. What on earth were you up to? You giggled softly to yourself before rubbing it out. You were so silly sometimes.

All of a sudden a shiver shook your body and your head turned back to observe the air conditioning above your head. No cool air was coming through, but the coach was pretty chilly. Averting his gaze slightly, the half and half boy found himself warming up his left side which was the side closest to you.

You shifted slightly, pulling your sleeves down a little as if they’d be able to actually cover you and in the process had brushed up closer to your new personal hot water bottle. He almost couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his features. You were trying to be casual and subtle about it.

He rolled his eyes and decided to just go for it. If you were snuggling up to him of your own accord, chances were that it’d you’d be fine if he offered himself as a pillow.

“Hey…” When you didn’t respond he mentally slapped himself. You head headphones on. Poking your shoulder, he waited for your reaction. You leaned further back just as you had before to look at him as you removed the earphone.

“Hmm?” You let out a soft hum and he had to stop himself from getting mildly flustered. As you were closer to him this time than before, your head was practically on his shoulder now.

“If it’s more comfortable, you can lean on me a bit. It’s a long trip; you’ll be stiff if you keep sitting like that.”

Your eyes widened a little in surprise. Had he crossed a boundary or read the situation wrong? What did you—

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” you grinned, moving slightly to rest your back against his side and placing your feet on a little ledge on the side. You’d effectively curled up into his side.

Now, Todoroki wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting you to do, but it wasn’t this. He was getting internally flustered at the amount of contact you now had with him. What was a teenage boy to do? His left side was warming up again and you were softly pushing yourself against it for warmth.

He relaxed into the corner of his own seat and glanced down at the head now settled on his left shoulder. Regardless of what anyone else thought, he couldn’t complain about this new position. You looked so happy and content in your new, comfortable position. However, there was just one issue. His left arm. It was trapped underneath you in a rather awkward position.

So here were the choices. Suck it up, or move and risk you moving away from him. Hmm…

He decided on the former, allowing you to continue gazing peacefully out of the window. At some point, his gaze had moved from you to the world flowing by outside. Somehow, his cheek had ended up resting atop your head as you were now partially his pillow too.

After a while, he could feel that the rising and falling of your chest was deeper and steadier than before. Had you… had you fallen asleep on him? It was a sensation which was reasonably akin to that of when a cat or small dog falls asleep on a person. The sense of a divine blessing having been bestowed by said feline or canine followed by a pang of affection.

Affection… He closed his eyes and came to accept the fact that he was, most definitely, crushing on you. In his defence, Todoroki had known about these feelings for a while but hadn’t placed them and hadn’t been sure if that was exactly what it was. There was no denying it. He was hopelessly crushing on you and now he was stuck with your form snuggled into his side for a good long while.

So be it.

What wasn’t to love about you? At least if he was going to have a crush, then he’d had a crush on someone as special as you. It was obvious from your interactions with the others that you didn’t think the world of yourself. Maybe, just maybe, if he could work up the courage to ask if you’d be with your properly (and you actually reciprocated his feelings) then he could teach you to appreciate yourself the way he did.

He resisted the urge to shake his head for fear of disturbing you. These strange thoughts kept invading whenever you came up. Would he even be able to concentrate at the training camp knowing that he most certainly wanted to be beside you?

Only time would tell.

You were so warm and comfortable though and something about your smell was soothing. Before he knew it, he’d closed his eyes as he rested his head against yours. The training camp could wait. For now, he would be damned if he didn’t savour this precious moment with you.

Bonus!

The sounds of movement brought him back to reality and he opened his eyes. They were at a rest stop apparently. Aizawa was getting everyone off of the bus. It seemed that nobody had noticed your little moment at the back. Thank goodness. Gaze settling on you once more, he realised that you were still sleeping peacefully. Ah, those earbuds must have made it a lot easier to drift off and stay asleep.

Gently nudging your shoulder, he received a small whine and a shift in position. Your nose scrunched up a little and he had to force down the urge to smile at how adorable you looked. “(Name), everyone’s getting up.”

You grumbled a little and moved your head back a little bit, brushing your nose against the side of his neck slightly. “Five more minutes…”

His mind was instantly scrambled by your action. The feeling of your warm breath against his collarbone and neck had immediately brought a fiery blush to his cheeks.

Ah, people were beginning to stand up. Any moment now someone was going to look back and spot the two of you! However, he was saved from having to wake you up as your eyes slid open, bleary and unfocused. Rubbing them slightly, you sat up without realising the compromising position you’d just been in. He let out a sigh of relief and stood, letting you out into the aisle ahead of you.

He didn’t fail to notice the looks his classmates gave the two of you once you were outside of the bus.

Mind you, he’d deal with all of them in order to have another moment like that again.

Don’t judge my reference halfway through shhhhhh. For those who noticed it in the first place lmao.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki #Shoto #shoto todoroki #fluff #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #oneshot #my hero academia #my hero academa x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader

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snarkybluechristian · 5 years ago

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Hazbin Hotel: Yandere Alastor x Vaggie Chapter 17

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After breakfast was over, Rosie dragged Vaggie into a classroom that looked like it was from the turn of the century. As soon as they arrived, Rosie shoved Vaggie into a desk and walked up to the chalkboard.

Vaggie looked around angrily and started having negative flashbacks from the parochial school she attended as a child. Much like Catholic schools her Mother told her about, there were rulers for hand slapping and cuffs that prevented the use of writing with the left hand.

Vaggie looked at the desk and stared at the left-hand cuff for a moment before glaring back at Rosie.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Rosie reassured Vaggie. “That won’t be required unless you’re left-handed.”

“So, why are we here?” Vaggie asked in annoyance.

“Today is the first day of your etiquette lessons,” Rosie said cheerfully.

“And why do I have to do this again?” Vaggie asked.

“Why, so we can make you a proper lady,” Rosie replied.

Vaggie scoffed and said, “I’m proper enough.”

Rosie chuckled to herself and said, “I’d beg to differ.”

“How so? What makes me so fucking improper?”

“Swearing for one.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Vaggie, proper ladies do not swear.”

Vaggie smirked and retorted, “I read somewhere that swearing indicates a high level of intelligence.”

“Does sleeping with another man when you’re engaged indicate intelligence?” Rosie asked in a mockingly sweet voice.

Vaggie scowled in response and said, “We were not having sex.”

“Whatever you were doing, you need to learn some manners,” Rosie said. “Alastor told me that you grew up as a whore in the slums of El Salvador.”

“I had to provide food for my mother and siblings, you bitch!” Vaggie yelled standing up at her seat.

“You also had such a horrible temper that you hurt people and found your way to hell,” Rosie said shaking her head judgmentally.

“You’re here, too,” Vaggie spat back.

“Ah, ah, ah, no changing the subject, dearie.”

“What makes me so much worse than you?”

“For one thing, I didn’t show my flower to multitudes of unsavory men.”

“You sure about that? You seemed experienced when you went after Angel, you bitch.”

“Oh, he led me through it,” Rosie said calmly.

“Sure,” Vaggie said sarcastically. “You’re a bigger whore than I am!”

“Nah ah ah,” Alastor’s annoying voice rang from the door. “Vaggie, dear, no disrespecting your teacher.”

“What are you doing here?” Vaggie asked. “I thought you were taking care of Angel.”

“Only if you don’t sass or talk back to Rosie,” Alastor chided.

Vaggie rolled her eyes in annoyance, so Alastor’s staff glowed a threatening shade of red.

Vaggie gulped fearfully as she realized how serious he was.

“Alright,” Vaggie conceded. “I’ll listen.”

“Good girl,” Alastor said happily calming down. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have some work to do while the familiars are healing some of Angel’s broken bones.”

Alastor disappeared before Vaggie could ask what he meant.

A demon’s injuries healed faster than human injuries, but a broken arm still wasn’t something that could be healed in a day without help if the demon in question was as badly injured as Angel was.

Sadly, before Vaggie could think anymore, Rosie started talking again.

“Now then, let’s work on balance and posture,” Rosie said.

Vaggie simply groaned in anticipation.

Rosie set a notebook on Vaggie’s head and said, “Now, balance this book on your head.”

Vaggie sat up straight while keeping the book balanced on her head.

“Good,” Rosie said. “Now, shoulders back, feet flat on the floor, and chin up.”

Vaggie reluctantly did what Rosie asked scowling at her condescending tone the whole time.

“Smiles go for miles, my dear,” Rosie said shaking her head at Vaggie’s frown.

“Aren’t you sexist?” Vaggie muttered under her breath.

“Manners, Vaggie,” Rosie rebuked.

Rosie took the book from Vaggie’s Head and put the notebook on the desk before handing her a pen.

Vaggie glanced down at the notebook and pen and asked, “And what do you expect me to do with this?”

“Take notes, dear,” Rosie replied ignoring Vaggie’s rude tone.

“Of what?” Vaggie asked.

“Of my lecture, young lady,” Rosie replied patiently.

“Ugh, fine…” Vaggie grumbled.

“Today, you will be learning about four main topics,” Rosie explained as she turned around and wrote on the board to correspond with what she was saying. “Lady’s social etiquette, table manners, your place in your marriage, and how to carry yourself when you are with your husband…”

“Wait,” Vaggie interrupted. “My place?”

“Of course,” Rosie said.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“As Alastor’s wife, you’re supposed to be at his side at all times and not one word should be said by you unless you’re granted permission. Not the unruly behavior you’re used to.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

“It is not nonsense at all.”

“Yes, it is,” Vaggie snarled angrily. “You’re saying a woman should be nothing more than glorified arm candy!”

“As far as you’re concerned, that is correct,” Rosie said with a smug grin.

“But why?” Vaggie asked.

“Because your husband is a high-ranking demon,” Rosie replied.

“Alastor is not my husband.”

“Not yet, but he will be soon.”

Vaggie knew she wasn’t going to win that argument, so she sat back and said, “Fine, but why do I need to learn how to conduct myself in front of my ‘husband?’ Charlie’s the princess of hell and she never asks me to do that.”

“Simple,” Rosie hummed. “Her parents never taught her how to conduct herself.”

Vaggie began brimming with rage. Fortunately, that was when Rosie turned around and began her lecture.

“Now remember, elbows are to be off the table so you can have perfect posture at all times…” Rosie began.

Vaggie began "taking notes" which included mostly making mean doodles.

Rosie wrote notes on the chalkboard continuously for over two hours.

After keeping her back turned on Vaggie for a while, Rosie turned around to look at her pupil and thought she saw something in the notebook that shouldn’t have been there.

Rosie moved forward and snatched up the notebook. On the notebook was a portrait of her but Vaggie had drawn numerous daggers stabbing Rosie’s eyes out and her organs were removed.

Rosie glared at Vaggie who only smirked in response.

“You didn’t hear a word of that,” Rosie said in a sickly-sweet voice that didn’t cover her anger very well. “Did you?”

“Not a damn thing,” Vaggie said defiantly.

Rosie grimaced in disgust and yelled, "You naughty little savage! How dare you disrespect me! You will be punished immediately!"

Vaggie snorted and said, “Oh really? And how are you going to punish me?”

It was then that Alastor opened the door.

“Oh, Alastor!” Rosie squealed while showing Alastor Vaggie’s drawing. “She spent my whole lecture drawing this obscene portrait of me and didn’t listen to a word I said!”

“Vaggie, that was very rude of you,” Alastor said furrowing his brow in disappointment.

“I had to do something to keep my mind occupied,” Vaggie said remorselessly.

Valastro shook his head and said, “Oh, my darling…”

“Excuse me if her lecture was too boring for me to pay attention,” Vaggie retorted.

“Vaggie, I think Angel should be given some punishment for what you’ve done to Rosie,” Alastor said coldly.

“What?!” Vaggie asked fearfully. “You can’t! You have to keep him in one piece for the auction!”

“Oh, I won’t hurt Angel. Not exactly…” Alastor said summoning a tablet with security feed coming from Angel’s room. “It's about time I introduced you to my healing process.”

On the screen, Vaggie could see Angel strapped down on that table with medical stabilizers and bandages covering his broken arms and knee. His mouth was open panting painfully and trying to suppress his moans as Alastor’s various familiars flew around him.

“I bet you’re wondering how I plan on healing Angel in about a week considering the extent of his injuries,” Alastor said. “I mean, demons heal faster than humans, but we still need time. I’ve found a way to use my magic to accelerate that process according to my will.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Vaggie asked suspiciously.

“Because this process is more painful than the normal healing process, dear,” Alastor replied with a smirk.

“What?”

“Let my familiars demonstrate.”

Back on the camera feed, the familiars stopped flying around Angel and stood at attention. That was not lost on Angel.

“Heya, boys,” Angel said with a seductive smirk. “We’re gonna have some fun today. Aren’t we?”

“First,” Alastor said. “Let’s repair the ribs.”

The familiars took hold of Angel’s ribs that were broken, causing Angel to scream out in agony. Then, they forced them together as a red light shimmered around his chest. Angel screamed louder and struggled under the restraints.

Vaggie couldn’t take it.

“Stop it!” Vaggie yelled in a panic. “You’re hurting him!”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s not that bad,” Alastor mockingly reassured his betrothed.

Vaggie glared at Alastor as Angel screamed louder in pain.

“Well, maybe it’s a bit painful if you aren’t given an anesthetic,” Alastor said with a chuckle.

Vaggie swallowed her pride and asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“Just to behave for Rosie,” Alastor replied. “Do that and I’ll keep Angel anesthetized and in the room next to yours.”

Vaggie looked at Angel one more time before pleading, “Okay, I’ll behave! Just give Angel the goddamn anesthetic!”

“I thought so,” Alastor said snapping his fingers prompting the familiars to stop.

The anesthetic was then brought to Angel in a glass mixed with a pink protein shake to give Angel some nutrients. A familiar held up Angel’s head while another one held the glass and made him swallow the concoction. As soon as the spider demon swallowed the drink, he fell asleep and the familiars resumed their work.

Alastor turned off the tablet’s camera feed, put the item in his pocket, turned back to Rosie, and said, “There you go, Rosie. From here on out, you should have few problems.”

“Thank you, Alastor,” Rosie said sweetly. “You are a wonderful friend.”

Alastor turned back to Vaggie and said, “I'll escort you to the bathroom, Vaggie my dear, so that we all can have a quick break. Rosie, get yourself ready for the lecture. You don't mind the interruption. Do you?”

“Of course not,” Rosie replied. “I’d like the opportunity to powder my nose as well.”

Unfortunately, Vaggie did have to use the bathroom, so she allowed Alastor to escort her out of the room to the bathroom down the hall.

For a minute, Alastor was eerily silent. It was unnerving as Vaggie followed behind him hearing nothing in that hallway except the sound of their shoes walking on the ground. That silence was daunting, and it was honestly a relief when Alastor spoke again.

“I have to warn you, dear,” Alastor began. “Angel’s recovery will continue to be painful if you don’t cooperate with Rosie.”

“I’ll cooperate as long as you aren’t hurting Angel,” Vaggie replied.

“Good,” Alastor said stopping in his tracks and opening the bathroom door for Vaggie to walk in.

Alastor then allowed Vaggie to enter the bathroom and take a few minutes to take care of her needs before she emerged and allowed herself to be escorted back to the classroom.

Like before, the two were silent until they closed in on their destination.

“Oh, yeah. Why do you have a classroom in your house?” Vaggie asked.

“No reason,” Alastor said. “Other than having a place to teach our future children.”

“I am not having kids with you,” Vaggie said. “I can’t believe you agreed to that.”

“Oh, Vaggie, I didn’t want children originally,” Alastor explained. “The idea of intercourse is still an idea I’m getting used to. That is not why I agreed to Titoc’s terms if that’s what you’re insinuating. I only agreed to his terms so that I could have his approval to marry you.”

“How romantic,” Vaggie added sarcastically.

“I’ll take Vaggie from here,” Rosie interrupted taking Vaggie’s arm in hers. “Come along, dearie. Chin up, straighten up your spine, tread lightly. Good job. We’ll have to have a late lunch if we want to catch-up, but we will have so much fun.”

“Joy…” Vaggie muttered sarcastically under her breath.

“See you gals later,” Alastor said with a wave before he turned away to go back to whatever he was doing.

#hazbinhotel

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boredroo · 5 years ago

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A Messenger pt. 4

Summary: The Council has heard of the names that have reigned down London; the Frye twins have evidently brought upon a change for the better good against the Templar’s tyranny, but order must still be kept.

You have been sent by the Council to evaluate the two sibling assassins, report what is must and maintain control where it must be maintained.

Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[][][][][][][][]

The sun filtering through the glass window feels warm, but not too warmly as it must be if you were actually outside. You’re rather content, really, spending many hours in the moving train, interviewing and interrogating the people residing, or just resting within. Sometimes you are poring over notes of the Piece of Eden Evie has been so very devoted in searching for as well.

You’ve talked to the Assassins’ contacts who can be found from time to time lingering around the compartments, aside from Frederick Abberline who is of the Scotland Yard, so understandably he won’t spend much time here as the others.

Ned Wynert, for example, is an amiable fellow who doesn’t ever mind your company and is always happy to answer whatever inquiries you have. Then, there’s Clara O’Dea, the child that has taken upon herself to lead other unfortunate children of the streets. And with her, truthfully, you find it more... difficult to even keep any sort of eye contact with. She has noticed this, the intelligent one she is, and has decided for both of your sake to stay away from you as long as she could help it—You remain indifferent to this, perhaps even relieved.

...She reminds you too much of a certain someone after all. And you refuse to have that familiarity, that... pain hold you back from your responsibilities.

But now, you focus on a different second party of yours; Henry Green smiles politely, kindly at every question you have. He is rather helpful for your part, having made observations and notes of his own on the Frye twins, though you can’t help but notice that...

“...Mr. Green, are you afraid of me?” you ask after a moment of consideration. He never looks you in the eye, you’ve noted.

Henry startles at this. “Uh, w-well...” He recollects himself, smiling a strained one. “You are a rather... authoritative person, I must admit. But I mean no disrespect, of course-”

You nod. “Not at all. But I do worry how you’re taken to Evie if you possibly find her intimidating as well.” The Frye sister is a definite nightmare to those who cross her, and so you can’t help but be curious.

Henry splutters in shock. “(Y/N)...! What are you saying?!”

His cry comes to you as a surprise. “I apologise, I didn’t mean to offend-”

“You’ll have to excuse me, (Y/N),” he rushes, walking past you in a manner of someone escaping from getting caught red-handed.

...Did you say something wrong? You never expected that Henry, someone as collected and professional as himself could ever put up such a display, and yet-

You hear a small laughter from behind.

Turning around, your notebook in hand...

“Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Frye.”

“And to you as well,” he winks as he tips his hat slightly, leaning comfortably against the wall not far from where you stand. Has he been there long?

You’ve come to a realisation not long before this—that, as of late, you sometimes discover him in the periphery, watching you, your interactions, your routines, and only announcing himself quite later than what is appropriate. If not, he would be out there, surely setting fires to carts and carriages and doing the complete opposite of what his smart sister is doing.

“Very smooth there, what you did with Henry. Very subtle,” he smirks, coming to stand near you.

You purse your lips. “I didn’t mean any harm-”

“Of course you didn’t,” he’s come to stand nearer, having you look up to him, to that unchanging confident smile of his. “Just forget about Greenie, he’ll get over himself.”

“Greenie...” you couldn’t restrain an amused smile of your own, though you manage to avert your eyes away before you’re caught. You never notice the curious grin Jacob wears towards you.

“So, (Y/N),” Jacob rests his hand on your shoulder—you can’t help but freeze at the sudden, almost intimate gesture. “How are your reports so far? Surely you’ve seen just how much I am capable, and might I say, quite handsome?” He leans in playfully, complacently grinning.

You make a show of attentively going through your book with a hard, serious gaze, before forcefully snapping it shut. “Not a single bit,” you deadpan.

Rather than retaliating, he only stares, and laughs lightly right after, looking away delicately. His rather... gentle reaction has you frowning in confusion, but you cough the thought away.

“On a more serious note, I do think you of a capable assassin. You’re better than me, and many others I’ve known, that is obvious,” he looks briefly surprised at that. “But a little pinch of wisdom and careful planning would carry you even further. Alike to your sister and father.”

There, he groans.

“I’m telling the truth,” you insist, but he waves his hand in disinterest.

“Okay, let’s not ruin the moment, yes?” he sighs exasperatedly. ...What moment?

You’re tempted to ask, sate your puzzlement but at his seemingly soured mood, you barely manage to hold your tongue.

“I was actually going to ask, (Y/N), if you wanted to tag along with me today,” Jacob says.

“Doing what?”

“Just a bit of extermination work, you know...” he snickers. “From those pests.”

He’s inviting you to work in the field with him?

You cock an eyebrow, hesitant. “Why?”

“Why not?”

You couldn’t prepare a ready answer for that, and Jacob grins in satisfaction in response.

“This is more of an opportunity for you to evaluate me, wouldn’t it?” He emphasises the ‘evaluate’ part, making you fidget in reluctance. Heat as if sears through where his hand is still touching your shoulder, and you feel your stomach churn for no good reason. Could he be using some sort of a... fear tactic on you?

“That is true, Mr. Frye,” you begin diplomatically, “But I never expected you to actually want to be evaluated. I admit, my reports on you are quite diminutive compared to your sister’s.”

His voice then sounds much closer than you expect, smooth and almost soft, like a whisper into your ear, “Then there’s no reason to say no, am I right?”

You look towards him, juggling the bundle of tangled words you have no idea how to string coherently. His eyes are bright as they lay against yours, and you suppress the urge to gulp.

“...Very well.”

The change is immediate; he pulls away briskly and slaps the small of your back. You’re almost hurled forward from his eager strength.

“Splendid! It’s a date then,” he beams, already making way towards the exit of the train.

“I-It is?” You mutter incredulously under your breath.

He doesn’t deign to answer, only catching your attention to show the meeting place on the map on the wall, along with sharing with you the designated time.

“Why aren’t we going together?” you ask before he could leap out.

Jacob scoffs. “Now, now, shouldn’t we take this slowly and steadily?”

You’re close to pulling your hair out and scream in frustration. What does that even mean?!

With a cheery wink, he removes his hat in bidding farewell, before leaving the train entirely.

...You really don’t understand the work which is Jacob Frye, and you aren’t sure whether you will ever, to be frank.

***

Meow.

You look up from your sketch in black ink, frowning at the cat sitting in front of your crouched self.

“Did you change positions again?” You grimace at the feline, refraining a weary sigh. She blinks blankly in response, and naturally goes to bathe herself, not exactly requiring any privacy from your eyes.

Your forehead scrunched up in dismay, you flip to the next page, beginning to doodle from scratch yet again, simply because the damned adorable cat refuses to stand still and let you bask in all her glory without giving you such a hard time. You suppose you’re drawing a cat licking her underside now, if that’s what she wants...

“...Now that’s what I call a masterpiece,” a voice comes from right behind you, and you scream.

As you scramble to stand upright, your notebook and pen slip out of your grasp and you’re a hot fumbling mess trying to catch them multiple times. And when you have, you whirl around, gaping to see Jacob standing there. You quickly brush down your clothes in a desperate act to appear... anything that you weren’t just seconds ago.

The hard twitch of Jacob’s lips brings you despair. You’d prefer if he’d just laugh all he wants, but instead his attempt of suppressing a surely wide smile is a gigantic blow you have to take to your pride and honour.

There’s a pause, just briefly as he seems to look you up and down, arms against his chest, until...

“Hello,” he slowly greets, the single word tinged with so much hidden meaning, so much mockery and amusement that you might as well have taken damage just from that.

“...Hello, Mr. Frye,” you answer, quieter. His smile cracks for just a second before he promptly nods, putting up a serious face, but failing utterly.

You really can’t take this any second longer. “You were late,” you say, almost accusingly. “You were late, so excuse me if I had to-”

“Woah there, settle down,” he says, raising his hands mid-air as if in surrender, “Not my business, yeah?”

“Indeed,” you almost sag in relief. “Thank you for understanding-”

But then he snatches your book out of your hands, immediately flipping through to land right where your horrible doodles are. Panic rams into you like a horse.

“F-Frye!”

“Wow, look at this one,” Jacob is now laughing without control, more than enjoying your masterpieces. “Art imitates life, as they say.”

“Frye, come on!” You struggle against him to take your book back, but he avoids you deftly. You’re not an artist at all, you were simply trying to fill the time, time that he himself made for coming later than the appointment you’ve decided on, but now he’s being childish! And you’re really just embarrassed about all of this...!

“Hey, that’s you, see?” He even shows the cat what you’ve drawn, which the latter finds interest only momentarily, too self-absorbed to care.

“Jacob!” You demand, and finally you’re able to get your hands back on your book after what feels like an hour of struggle. Jacob takes a step back, admitting defeat, but that stupid grin of his still won’t go away.

You’re huffing begrudgingly as you shove your items into your satchel, that when you’re done, you don’t allow Jacob to speak at all and instead push a finger against his chest, making him recline another step back.

“You’re insufferable!” You shout in frustration. He seems unfazed, and so you do it again, pushing him with your whole hand this time.

But he catches it with his own, holding onto your wrist, that when you try to retract back your hand, he doesn’t let you. You grit your teeth, snapping up angrily, only to fall back—almost fall back when you catch sight of his expression.

...Why is he looking so endearingly at you like that?

You frown, so furious, so... confused. You don’t understand what it is he’s trying to do, what he wants from you.

...It feels too long before the... strange atmosphere finally fades. He doesn’t let you go still, but he does slip something into your hand.

“Here,” he says, voice abnormally quieter than usual.

“Huh?”

In your grasp now, is something you’ve seen before. In fact, you recognise it immediately—

“This is... a grappling hook?” You question, looking over it at the same time. Jacob hums in confirmation.

“Thought you’d need one if you’re going to stay with us, really helps out in the long run if you’re not planning to scale every single building in the city,” he elaborates.

...He expects you to stay long with them?

The grappling hook, or the rope launcher as you can identify it both ways, is a tool specific for the use of the twins, and only the twins. Even Henry doesn’t own one, if you recall correctly. At least, not one that was specifically asked to be made, not like this one that Jacob is giving you.

“...Is this why you came late?” You ask. Jacob shrugs nonchalantly.

“Might’ve. I would’ve brought you to see Aleck as well, but mad scientists are busy men, it seems,” he says with a chuckle. “Perhaps next time.”

“...Thank you,” you barely manage to say, still a bit too caught off guard, and honestly, winded after that... silly, unprofessional little interaction between the two of you—You didn’t exactly expect this at all.

“Really, thank you,” you repeat, more genuinely this time. You look up to him, wanting to say more; Thank you for thinking of me, you try to say. ...But you can’t, you aren’t able to.

He doesn’t respond immediately, simply staring back at you in silence. But he breaks into a smile afterwards, then casually pats your arm.

“Don’t mention it,” he starts, and with a more mischievous smile, “Take it as... compensation. For laughing at your beautiful drawings.”

Your face falls. “I don’t usually draw, alright?! Like I said, you were late and I was bored-”

“Yes, yes,” he chuckles, his tone as if consoling a child. You’re still trying to prove whatever the point it is you’re making as he urges you to walk, both of you walking side by side to your next destination.

“No, really. If anything, those were impressive works considering I never pick up drawing or painting.”

“Of course, (Y/N). And I’m sure those cats will prove helpful for your reports to the Council.”

...And at that, you could only fall silent.

——

Aaaaaaaahhhh I think the relationship moved a bit too fast in this one but I kinda can’t help it :’) It’s supposed to be longer, but had to cut it here and save the follow-up for the next part. Thanks for reading, really appreciate the likes guys! 💖💖💖

#jacob frye x reader #jacob frye #assassin's creed #assassins creed #assassins creed syndicate #henry green

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waypathfinder · 5 years ago

Text

Crimson Lane - Chapter 2 - The Night Shift

Moodboard by @ashtyntaytertot Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

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Chapter Text

The rain was unending. Lashes of it beating against the large-tinted window of the bedroom suite. Rey rested her head against the glass, letting her breath fog the surface, enough for her to doodle idle words on it: Idiot. Whore. Nobody. Nothing.

She had changed into the underwear Phasma had given her, a racy red and black number, made of Chantilly lace and silk satin. It was expensive stuff, making her appear much sexier than she really was. The padding pushed her breasts together, revealing an impressive cleavage that even she envied.

Rey looked down at her backpack, a ragged lump on the floor, worn with use over the years. How she wished she could change back into her cotton briefs and sports bra. A pair of tracksuit pants and sweater wouldn’t go astray either. She pulled the aubergine chiffon robe around her tightly, holding it in place by crossing her arms to hold it in place.

Outside the rain was luminous and hypnotic as it ricocheted off the street lamps and in the headlights of cars. The surrounding walls rumbled fleetingly, a distant storm circling the edge of the city ominously.

The fireplace was alight, looking more ornamental than practical. Above it was a painting of an endless desert, the straight line horizon broken by windswept dunes. She stared at it lost in thought, feeling a kind of synchronicity with it. The scene felt empty and abandoned, the orange and gold-hued sand stretching out into the lonely expanse, to nowhere and no-one.

It was a stupid print, and didn’t fit the decor of the room, with its king-size bed and black satin sheets, layered in decorative pillows. Then there was that bloody mirror. She scowled at it above the bed. Would she really have to watch herself making the biggest mistake of her life?

She shivered, rubbing her arms to generate warmth. A single flash of sheet lightning illuminated the street below and her heart stopped. In the fleeting light, she had seen a man in black running through the rain; he was tall and dark-haired, and as he disappeared below her vision she heard the door and open and close downstairs.

It was him. Kylo Ren. The colour drained from her face at the thought of what was to come.

One month. She reminded herself. Just one month and you can try another way to pay the money. One month and you will be free.

There was a hint of muffled voices below, drowned out by the escalating moans of ecstasy coming from down the hall.

And then, Footsteps.

She tried to slow her breath, closing her eyes and imagining the ocean, hoping the thunderous beating in her chest would steady and she could stop shaking.

Creak. Step. Creak. Step. Creak. Step.

There was the sound of a hand gripping upon the door handle, and the hairs on her arms rose like a chill had crept down her back.

It was turning.

Her pulse points thumped so heavily inside her she could feel them hammering away inside her body.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. I can’t do this.

She turned, wanting to run. She would have run but a monster of a man filled the doorway.

He was huge, his form blocking out the bright light of the corridor behind him. Rey gaped, her brows pinched together in confusion. He was not… he was not what she expected.

He reminded her of the night. Dark ruffled hair falling wildly around his narrow face, with droplets of rain still clinging to each strand. Dark brooding eyes, piercing and intense. And at last his dark clothes, black pants, and a shirt that clung tight to a firm body.

The only contrast was his skin, pale moon-white, glistening from the rain. He was not beautiful. But there was something sensitive in his face. Or at least she thought so. Until she saw how he looked at her.

His eyes grazed over the entirety of her body hungrily, glancing only momentarily at her face before roving along each edge and curve. The darkness in those eyes deepened as they roved across her. Finally, he looked in the direction of her face, again, but never in her eyes, almost as though he looked past her, through to the black door behind. She knew at once she was nothing to him, just a body ripe for fucking.

“I haven’t had you before.” His voice was low, measured, controlled. “What’s your name?”

Rey hugged her arms closer to her body.

“Desert Flower.”

He laughed, the sound sardonic and cruel.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking stage name. Give me your real name.”

Rey swallowed, hesitating whether to tell him the truth. He stepped forward, and she backed away.

“It’s Rey,” she said quickly. The curtness in her tone seemed to catch him off guard because for a fleeting moment his eyes flashed to hers, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Come here, Rey.” He beckoned her with a hand as he spoke.

Her back straightened, and she breathed in sharply. She had let no one tell her what to do, and she sure as hell didn’t want to start now.

He stalked forward with one more stride and she forced herself not to back away. She was here to get paid. Fuck him and take home a fat wad of cash to get out of this life.

Mouth shut, legs open.

She moved towards him, eyes fixed on his shoes. He had trailed in mud with them. She wondered if his mother had ever taught him to wipe his feet at the door. When she was less than a metre away, she stopped before him, waiting.

Kylo Ren circled around her, his gaze meticulously studying her like he was critiquing a work of art. She shivered as he paused behind her. He was close to her now, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body. His hot moist breath pressed against her neck with every inhalation, sending shivers down her spine.

A single finger ran down her back, tracing the shape of her, and then two large hands were on her hips, running up and down her sides.

What the hell was she supposed to do? She knew what she was supposed to do with him, but how was she supposed to —

He pressed into the back of her and she could already feel his arousal.

“Take off your underwear.” The whisper came close to her ear, making her jump.

So this was it then?

She untied the sash around her robe and pushed it back from her shoulders, He removed it, warm fingers trailing over her body as he pulled it to the floor.

Next, he unclasped her bra. The straps dropped by her sides and she pulled it off the rest of the way, letting it drop to the floor in a heap.

At the sight of her naked breasts his breath hitched in his throat, large hands running up her body until he reached her breasts, squeezing them gently.

“Who does Phasma think she’s kidding?”

“She told me to wear the padding,” Rey said. “Sorry, I know they’re not—”

“Forget it,” his voice was abrupt as he pulled her back closer to him. He massaged them firmly before running his fingers down her waist and to her panties. He slipped two fingers beneath the elastic, running them along the edge before tugging them down over her arse. She pulled them down the rest of the way, embarrassed, and exposed.

His face leaned into her again, wet hair brushing against the side of her cheeks as he told her to “get on the bed.

Rey pursed her lips at the order. She did not belong to him—

“Get on the fucking bed!”

Rey gritted her teeth and held tight to her dreams, her first debt paid, college, freedom.

Just one night, she bargained with herself. Just one night. Then don’t come back.

She lay down on the bed. Back flat against the raven sheets. Her eyes stared at the sight of her naked flesh in the mirror above. A slim and muscular body, more practical than sexy, utterly exposed.

He unbuttoned his shirt and then she heard the short zip and drop of his trousers falling to the floor, the buckle hitting the ground with a thud.

Lastly, the rustling of a wrapper. Rey’s stomach tightened at the sound.

She saw his naked body in the reflection of the mirror, prowling over her like a jaguar on the hunt. Noticing the rise and fall of his shoulder blades and the muscles tightening in his arms. They planted themselves and either side of her and she felt his knee push between her legs.

She squeezed her legs together instinctually and froze.

He waited for her to part them.

When she didn't part them, he pressed his knee down, shoving them apart.

“Stop fighting me,” he said low in her ear, his hair tickling the side of her face again as he spoke. “I’m paying you, remember? Now are we going to do this or not?”

“Just do it,” she replied and spread her legs further apart for him.

The warm tip of him pressed against her and her stomach muscles tightened at the sudden anticipation of what was to happen.

Without another word, he pushed into her.

She cringed, wishing she’d remembered her lubricant. She put her hands on his shoulders, grasping them as she bucked her hips to take his full length.

He breathed with a sigh once he was fully inside her. Seeming to savour the tightness of her grip. Rey inhaled slowly, trying to allow her body adjust to him. It wasn’t working.

And then he began to move.

In, out, in, out.

His dark eyes were coal, staring past her face with ferocious intensity.

In, out, in out.

It burned her. Every thrust. He was too large, and she was too dry.

She moaned, a sorry attempt to play the part in faking her pleasure. That’s what they were all doing, surely? All those women in the rooms beyond her.

“Oh, it’s…” she tried to say something flattering but came up blank

In, out, in, out, harder, faster, in, out.

His body thrust against her, slapping loudly. His eyes, locked on that dark and lifeless place far beyond where she was.

Fuck! The friction was building. He was close to coming now, each thrust releasing an animalistic grunt from his mouth. She couldn’t keep pretending. She wasn’t meant for this. She—

“Stop!”

He froze, arms trembling at her sides. His lips pushed together and she swore she saw a twitch above his cheek.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice was hoarse and strained.

“It…” she pried the words from her lips.

She couldn't talk to him like this, with him looking above her, completely detached from the fact that she was a human being. Her skin prickled with anger. It was almost like she wasn't even there.

“Look at me!” she said, louder than she meant as she tried to hold back frustrated tears.

His expression darkened and for the first time, his amber-brown eyes met her own.

Those lost, lonely, painful eyes.

His pupils expanded as they locked on her close beneath him, consuming the warm brown hues around them. He was coming back from wherever his mind had imprisoned him, and suddenly he was looking at her with such emotion that she couldn't even face him anymore. This wasn't pleasure or companionship, it wasn't even sex. It was something else, a release of trauma. An outlet.

He was broken. She saw it in his haunted face.

“It hurts too much,” she said, her voice quaking.

And then he ... there was no other way to describe it, the way he looked at her was like an awakening, a rush of something in his eyes. A fleeting thought, there one minute and gone the next. He didn’t wait, sliding out of her, breath shaking and restrained.

As soon as he pulled out, she breathed a sigh of relief, cupping her hand over her vagina. It still burned and she fought hard not to cry, not only for the discomfort but for everything. For what she had done. For what she now was.

She blinked, trying to hide her tears.

“I hurt you,” his voice was soft, different, curious. And is eyes? They were enraptured. Like he had just seen the first dawn of the sun.

Now she was the one who couldn't look at him.

“It’s okay. We can try again. I just need a moment.”

He moved off her, and she sat, looking at the way his wide chest still heaved, his body just as hard as when he penetrated her.

She got up and walked over to the nightstand that supported a carafe and two cups. She poured two glasses of water out, the pouring of liquid being the only sound in the room.

“Here.” She came back and offered him a glass.

He didn’t take it, and still, his eyes did not leave her.

“If you want, I can get one of the more experienced girls.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” He almost said the words right over the top of hers.

Rey blushed, not because of the compliment— if that was a compliment—but more because the way he was watching her, it made her feel vulnerable and shameful. He was the one paying for it, she shouldn’t feel ashamed.

She returned to the bed, laying back as she had earlier, arms by her side, knees bent, eyes fixed on the mirror above.

“Okay, I’m ready now.”

She waited for the weight of him to press down on her, for the length of him to spear inside her, but nothing. She looked up in time to see the bathroom door close.

She watched for the door to open again, for the toilet to flush, for anything.

Silence.

She crept up to it, pressing her ear to the door. She couldn’t hear much, just the repeating sound of…

Oh … she backed away with hot cheeks. He was finishing without her.

Rey wanted to cry, and she didn’t know why the hell that was. Humiliation, shame, fear, the sudden realisation she was now a prostitute—but one so shit her client was actually paying $400 an hour to jerk-off in the bathroom.

She checked the time. 12.15am. had paid for the whole night.

An hour passed but the door did not open. She slipped into bed, her naked body snuggling into the sheets, pulling the duvet up around her face.

Waiting.

1.30am, 2.00am .

She nestled into the pillow. That was at least one perk, the bedding here was luxurious. Her eyelids lingered closed with every blink.

2.15am, 2.30am...

The bathroom door cracked open, and she heard quiet his quiet footsteps. Rey didn’t dare look at him, and he didn’t speak. She just held her pillow, eyes half-closed, heart pounding in her chest, waiting for the moment he would turn her over and fuck her again.

He came in next to her and he pulled her close, cradling her waist as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt his cock twitch at the press of her body against his. She waited, and the minutes passed.

“Kylo?” she whispered.

More silence. He was not asleep, she knew this by the fact his fingers were moving against her skin, and then his lips pressed into the back of her neck with a slow kiss.

What was this? Hugging. Kissing. He was breaking all his own bloody rules. She was about to ask, when his fingers tentatively began to draw circles across her abdomen, gradually creeping below her navel. She could hear him breathing, soft but still heavy. The tantilising motion sent a tingling pleasure inside her. Then his hands were between her legs, moving slowly and softly.

Rey gasped with surprise at the gentleness of his strokes, and the panting warm breaths against her ear.

“You don’t need to...”

She lost her words, the sensation building within overwhelmed her senses. Her breathing came on heavy and harder as she moaned involuntarily at his touch. Each swirl of his touch brought her tighter and tighter—fingers slipping inside, sending more waves through her body.

She tried to be quiet, but the pleasure was building to a point that she was struggling to keep control

Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and lowered his head between her legs.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He pulled her legs apart purposely, and the gentle nudge of his tongue rubbed against her insistently.

She moaned at the sensation. No one had ever gone down on her before, and it was...

“I’m going to come!” she told him breathlessly, arching her back. Euphoric and guilty at the attention he was giving her.

“I’m coming!” she tried to pull his head up towards her but he pressed her further, legs locked open with his hands as his tongue slicked around her centre. He flicked and sucked, building an avalanche with her. Faster and harder he whirled it around her most sensitive places.

Rey had never been one to moan during sex unless she was faking, but oh God … His tongue thrust harder and harder against her. She tried to hold in her cries but she was so close, she arched back higher and higher into the air… it felt…

She cried out, body trembling and shuddering with every wave of release. She lay there limp and panting, his gentle strokes back to running circles around her abdomen. He pulled her close, cradling her once more into the natural curve of his huge frame. She fit well there. More than ever, she could feel his heat beside her, the tip of him wet with arousal.

“Here let me—” she reached for him and he stopped her hand, gripping it at the wrist.

“But what about—”

“Sleep,” he said. “I’m tired.”

“You don’t feel tired,” she whispered, feeling the gentle nudging of his body behind her.

He didn’t answer, but she felt him chuckle.

“I am tired.”

She didn’t press him, opting instead to lay there, stiff and unsure, the erratic throbbing of him behind her and her own body throbbing with the comedown of pleasure.

Eventually, his sharp hot breaths turned into slow, lingering ones and she knew he was asleep.

t was done she supposed. Whatever that was, it was done. She took a deep breath, feeling the emptiness inside her. The only comfort coming from the strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into sleep.

She placed her hand over his own, closing her eyes, and drifted off to sleep only wondering what the morning would bring.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfic rec #crimson lane #reylo au

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