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freedomfireflies · 9 months ago

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The One Where 404 Harry Gets Jealous:

Harry is mad.

No, Harry is past mad. He’s furious. Irate. Enraged and incensed and staring a hole right through Levi’s head.

You work to bite back your smug smile as you nod along to your date's story. And you pretend to be fascinated, even though you’re more fascinated by the furious man a few feet away.

He’s been watching you since the moment you and Levi walked through the door. And he’s been fighting his own urge to come over and interrupt, that much you’re sure of. But he doesn’t have any right. And he knows it.

And you can’t help but make things just a bit harder for him. You grin brightly at Levi’s comments. You laugh loudly at his attempts at jokes. You touch his arm and lean into him as you listen to the live band.

And it’s driving Harry up the wall.

He’s moments away from snapping. Subtly but angrily scooting closer with every passing minute. And you don’t need him to snap. Or cause a scene. But if he’s gonna act like a big fucking baby just because you’re on a date, well…

“Which was fine,” Levi is saying. “I didn’t really care for it anyway, but…I sent it back and we’ll see if they can do better this next time.”

“Sure, sure,” you agree half-heartedly, eyes drifting toward the tall, surly man in glasses now somehow even closer than before. “And, uh…you said you were hoping to stick around for a while before heading back east?”

“Yeah, that’s my plan,” he says. He points to the stage. “I like these guys. They’re good. It’s so funny, I’ve never really thought about—”

“What the fuck is this?”

You and Levi both turn as an unexpected voice loudly intrudes on your conversation.

You find Harry, unsurprisingly, looming over you as he glares down at your poor date.

“Uh, this…is Levi,” you introduce slowly, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress another smirk. “And this is also none of your business.”

Harry frowns. “Bullshit. You said you weren’t going out tonight.”

“No, I said I couldn’t go out tonight,” you correct. “Because I already had plans. With Levi.”

Levi blinks.

Harry snorts. “Right. And how the fuck did you even meet this Levi in the first place?”

“Okay, well, one...you don’t have to talk about him like he’s not here,” you scold. “Don’t be rude—”

“I’m not being rude. You’re being rude.”

“I—” You huff. “How am I being rude when you’re interrupting my date?”

“Because this isn’t a fucking date and you know it.”

You cross your arms. Stubborn. “And how would you know what a date looks like? Much less a date with me?”

“Because you’ve spent half the fucking night staring at me,” he says smugly and you feel your skin warm. “So, I’ll ask you again. What the fuck is this?”

You turn to Levi—poor, innocent Levi—and offer a sheepish smile. “I’m…so sorry. I just need to work this out with him for one second—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he says kindly and you’ve never felt worse. “I get it. I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Thank you, really,” you sigh and he nods before disappearing into the bar. And once he’s gone, you turn back to the outrageously annoying man in question. “Okay, seriously, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Harry crosses his arms now, too, and nudges his glasses back up. “You don’t actually wanna be alone with him.”

“Says who? You?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know what I want. Because I want nothing more than to be alone with him. In fact, I want to be anywhere you aren’t.”

“Bullshit, Princess. You knew I was gonna be here so you brought him just to piss me off.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Cause you’re fucking annoying.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“And what would bringing him here accomplish, huh? It’s not like you’re jealous or anything, right?”

He leans back and you’ve got him. “Oh, real fucking mature, Tink. Very nice.”

“What? You’re not,” you argue, shrugging one shoulder up. “Why would you be? We’re not exclusive or anything. I mean, maybe if we were, I wouldn’t have to go home with him tonight, but…good thing we’re not.”

He scowls at you. “So that’s why you brought him here? Cause you wanted to play your little fucking game and try to make me jealous?”

“Of course not. That would never work.”

He snorts and looks away and you finally grin.

“Anyway, you should let me get back to it,” you say, beginning to slip past him. “But this was fun—”

He grabs your arm and yanks you back to your spot. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Back to my date,” you repeat pointedly, slipping his fingers from your skin. “Do you mind?”

“Yes.” He dips down and he doesn’t let you go. “I don’t like games. And I don’t like tricks. You don’t get to fucking play me just cause you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored, I’m single,” you retort. “And I have every right to date him if I want—”

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

“No.” He holds you tighter and he’s resolute in the way he speaks. “I don’t want you going out with him.”

“Yeah? And why do you think I care what you want?”

“Because I know you,” he says calmly, and you can hear the devious undertone even beneath the loud music in the bar. “You brought him here because you don’t want to fuck him. You don’t want to waste your time on a man that talks about the fucking stock market and how much he spent at Erewhon. And you wanted me…to remind you of that.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. He knows he’s right. But you’ll be damned if you ever admit it.

“The only thing you remind me of is disappointment,” you huff. You take your arm back. “Levi is everything you can never be. And maybe it’s time you realize that.”

You attempt to brush past him again but he stops you once more. He tugs you into his body until your chest is brought to his and everything grows quiet inside your head. Your only focus is him, and his mouth, and his familiar smell, and the way he holds you in his arms.

He’s leering at you—pissed beyond belief—and yet you feel so incredibly warm and safe. Pleased.

“Do not go back to him,” he says and a chill rushes down your spine.

“What?”

“Don’t go back to him,” he says again and you want to smile. “Because you aren’t leaving with him. You’re leaving with me. And tomorrow, you aren’t gonna fucking call him and apologize and set up the next date. You’re gonna lose his fucking number. Is that understood?”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re really fucking annoying—”

He yanks you closer until you can almost taste the lips hovering near yours. “I said, is that fucking understood, Princess?”

You’ve never felt this kind of need before. This kind of yearning for another person and this kind of pain radiating between your thighs. But you’re desperate to fix it—desperate to ride this wave of his anger until it washes you both away.

"Why?" you whisper and you want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him, but you resist.

"Because," he says. He breathes you in and then he reaches up to brush his thumb along your lip. "Because how can I let you leave when I know you'll be so unsatisfied?"

Your insides feel like they've been set on fire.

"How can I go home when I know he won't take care of you the way I do?" He brushes his nose against yours. "How can I let my pretty, little Tinkerbell spend the night faking her orgasms when I know how perfect she cums when she cums for me?"

Fuck.

"You can hate me all you want," he murmurs. "But I'm good to you. And you fucking know it."

You can't seem to find a response. Can't seem to make your feet work or your lungs work or any part of your brain actually work.

Instead, you simply exhale, "Okay."

And he smiles.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. He leans back and takes his kiss way. "Then let's go."

He leads you out of the bar and toward his bike in the parking lot and you go without question. He hands you the extra helmet—which he also has to help you put on—then pulls you onto the back and secures your arms around his middle. Just like last time.

“Where are we going?” you yell as the engine comes to life.

There’s something cunning in his eye. “Figured it was about time I took you home.”

“Oh…well, my apartment’s all the way on the other side of town,” you tell him. “It’s kind of a long drive.”

He shakes his head. “Not your home,” he says and your heart instantly lodges in your throat.

Shit, shit, shit.

He smiles. “I want to take you to my home.”

DEDICATED TO MY SWEET BIRTHDAY ANON!!! I HOPE IT'S SOMEWHAT OKAY AND WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING! I KNOW THERE'S NO SMUT BUT........WE CAN WRITE THAT LATER HEHE

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seoulmatez · 8 months ago

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— 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎, 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 ౨ৎ

suna rintaro x reader. 1.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ suna and reader are roommates ﾉ jealousy ofc :3 ﾉ + atsumu appearance !

moving in with suna was a bad idea.

he’s not a bad roommate. sure, he takes extra long showers and uses up all the hot water at least once a week and you’ve had to remind him to wash his dishes every now and then, but he’s not a bad roommate.

your frustration that comes with being suna’s roommate has less to do with him and more to do with the feelings you’ve been hellbent on keeping a secret ever since they became known to you a few weeks ago.

that much is getting harder these days with midterms being upon you. there’s been a girl over the apartment—some chick suna was paired with to work on a presentation. that fact alone doesn’t bother you; suna was kind enough to ask before inviting her over. she’s where your problem lies.

she’s shameless, really. always laughs a little too loud at jokes that aren’t that funny and always sits a little too close to suna when you’re positive the coffee table they’re working at isn’t that small. and the worst part is that suna is oblivious to it all.

even now he’s blissfully ignorant of the way she’s not so discreetly flirting with him. she’s supposed to be packing up to leave but, like she’s had some sort of life-changing revelation, she stops in her tracks and turns to suna, placing a hand on his shoulder. “you have a volleyball game this week, right?”

from the kitchen counter, you roll your eyes and stuff another spoonful of rice into your mouth. you wouldn’t normally eat in the kitchen while she was here but one too many spills by your laptop and the inevitable crumbs left in your bed have kept you from taking your meals back to your room. you’re starting to think a sticky keyboard or the unpleasant feel of tiny pieces of food against your skin would be preferable to whatever you’re about to witness.

suna nods and she pulls her hand away to clap. “perfect! i’ll be there to cheer you on!”

her exaggerated excitement causes you to snort, earning the attention of both of them. there’s a curious expression on suna’s face but the girl is all but staring daggers at you like you popped her bubble of joy and ruined the moment. you’re tempted to laugh.

“sorry, saw something funny on my phone,” you lie, shooting the two of them a smile before turning around to wash your dishes.

you dawdle at the sink until you hear the front door close. suna appears as you’re drying your hands and you spare him a glance, wondering if he’ll bring up your strange behavior. part of you hopes he does—maybe then you could open his eyes, finally make him privy to that girl’s blatant attraction to him.

he doesn’t question it, though. instead, he asks, “can i see what you were laughing at?”

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

“you don’t get it, ‘tsumu, she’s actually the worst,” you tell him, dramatically dropping your head on his shoulder.

“why don’t you just leave when you know she’s coming over?”

your eyes cut over to atsumu, an unsavory frown tugging at your lips due to his outrageous suggestion. you can’t believe your best friend would side with her. “why should i? i’m the one who lives here.”

“because, clearly, it’s bothering you.” he isn’t the least bit apologetic for his outlandish recommendation. “look, it’s either that or you come out and tell suna that you like him. i’m tired of hearing you bitch and moan every time i’m here. we’re supposed to be watching them do that.” atsumu points to the screen of your laptop that’s playing some trashy reality show the two of you are hooked on.

you click your tongue at his blunt response, lifting your head from his shoulder. maybe he’s right—complaining won’t get you anywhere, but you’re too proud to tell him so. “hey. this is the thanks i get for putting up with your relationship problems? you ungrateful brat.”

you flick his forehead which elicits a shocked gasp from the blonde. a victorious grin is in the process of making its way to your lips when the plush of one of the many stuffed animals you keep in your room hits your cheek. your jaw drops in surprise at atsumu’s courageous counter.

“i’m going to kill you.”

you aren’t usually one for using your precious plushies as a weapon but any one within your reach is promptly launched at the setter. he dodges some and is whacked by others, all while theatrically screeching for you to stop. you’ve still got some steam left by the time you run out of ammunition and atsumu can tell. he reaches out, taking your wrists in his hands to prevent you from doing anything.

“wait, i’m sorry,” he breathes out, strands of messy hair falling in front of his face. “truce?”

you’re considering whether or not you want to take him up on his offer when your door swings open. suna’s on the other side.

his eyes scan the room, taking in the mess of colorful stuffed animals strewn across the space before they land on you. not you, but the way atsumu’s holding you. something about it makes his jaw tighten.

“hey.” your voice, breathier than usual, convinces suna to meet your eye. “what’s up?”

the scene he walked in on almost made him forget why he’d come by in the first place. “i’m ordering food. do you want anything?”

you hum in contemplation and then smile. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

he nods, readying to close the door. “i’ll call you when it’s here.”

the click of the door shutting sounds over the indiscernible voices coming from your laptop. taking your hands back from atsumu, you straighten out your clothes as thoughts of suna cross your mind. he usually finds any way to make a conversation drag, lingering in your doorway even when you’ve told him to leave so you can go to sleep.

you’re about to ask atsumu if he caught on to his friend’s abnormal lack of words, but he’s got another idea.

“yeah, thanks, i don’t want anything,” atsumu shouts at the closed door.

forty minutes pass before the episode ends and atsumu takes his leave. you see him out, planning your next viewing party as he puts on his shoes. he whispers something about settling shit with suna before then so he isn’t subject to your fussing the next time he comes around and darts down the hall before your fist can meet his shoulder.

you make a mental note to get back at him when you see him tomorrow as you shut the door and spin on the ball of your foot. from the foyer, you can see suna situated at the coffee table. there are plastic delivery bags on the surface and he seems to have already started eating from his portion.

“what happened to letting me know when the food was here?” you ask, shuffling over to his figure and plopping down on the floor beside him.

through a mouthful of noodles, he replies, “i didn’t want to interrupt.”

you almost scold him for talking with food in his mouth but then his words register. your eyebrows furrow as you split your wooden chopsticks. “interrupt what, exactly?”

it’s petty, he knows, but he can’t ignore the feeling that’s been gnawing at him since he saw atsumu touching you so comfortably. it’s like the image is seared into his eyelids and he’s forced to see it every time he blinks.

“i don’t know.” he flicks a mushroom with his utensil. “just seemed like you two were in the middle of something when i walked in.”

you hum, not paying much mind to his words as you pick up the stir-fry with your chopsticks. the noodles hang right in front of your lips when you respond, “i guess we kind of were.”

suna frowns at your answer. he wanted to hear you say it was nothing so he could kick himself for being so unreasonably bent out of shape. instead, your reply fuels him to ask the question he’d been wondering about for nearly the past hour. “are you and atsumu together?”

“what?” you sputter around your noodles. you want to tell him no but, unlike suna, you aren’t one for talking with your mouth full. your silence, however, only leads suna to keep going.

“i don’t care if you are but you should have told me so i wouldn’t just barge in on-”

“i’m not dating atsumu,” you finally reveal after swallowing your food. you’re not sure what possesses you to say the next part—perhaps you feel the need to really drive your point home—but it comes out speedily. “i like you.”

quiet blankets the room following your declaration. the two of you stare at each other with parted lips, suna’s eyes slightly widened in surprise. his lack of a response makes your heart beat heavily against your chest. it’s loud in your ears and you wonder if he can hear it too.

you breathe out an awkward laugh after a couple more seconds of silence. “look-”

“i like you, too,” suna admits.

“jeez, suna, you should have just said that!” you slap his shoulder, cheeks warming in belated embarrassment. “i thought i was going to have to move out because of one-sided feelings.”

“sorry.” he chuckles, rubbing the spot you had just hit. it didn’t hurt, but it felt different than the ones he had been met with in the past. he could get used to the tingles you leave behind on his skin. “i had to let it set in.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x you #haikyuu x you #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles

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saetoru · 2 years ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。AKADEMIYA GOSSIP — ALHAITHAM.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 alhaitham’s attire elicits a response you’re not all too happy with through the akademiya

☽ contents ⋮ gn! reader, jealous! reader, mentions of girls taking an interest in alhaitham but reader is unspecified, you sit on his lap, sfw + fluff

☽ notes ⋮ you had jealous haitham. now have jealous you

personally, you think alhaitham needs to get rid of that awful skin tight top of his. it’s an outrage—it’s unfair, really, always serving as a distraction for you with his sculpted abs and defined pecs taunting you at the most improper of times.

but that’s not even the worst part—recently, there’s something much more concerning than the distraction of his (very well-maintained) physique.

“you know, i think they should consider giving you a work uniform for this position,” you mumble, and there’s a slight pout on your lips that makes alhaitham pause as you gesture at his attire, “this isn’t very appropriate for a high position such as grand sage.”

he raises a brow, putting his pen down.

“acting grand sage,” he corrects, “and are my fashion choices not up to your standards?”

“that’s not the problem,” you mumble, “your terrible eye for clothing is your problem, not mine.”

“well, that’s wonderful to hear. i wouldn’t want to inconvenience you with my lacking aesthetic,” he says sarcastically—because everything is always a quick witted reply with him, and you send a glare his way through a huff.

“the problem here is the way your clothes fit.”

this time, there’s a very visible and very deep pout on your face—if alhaitham wasn’t as good with self control as he is, he might even have marched across the room and kissed it off by now. instead, he only gives you a quizzical look before he turns back to his…endless pile of papers.

“and what do you mean by that?”

the question alone is all the encouragement you need to dramatically fall back on the couch you’re seated at, arm falling to cover your face as you sigh with a little more emphasis than you really need. it’s so like you—so typical to bring out the theatrics, and it’s so like him to roll his eyes and mumble about how you’re over exaggerating.

and yet, somehow, it works. everything about you and alhaitham works—even as you glare his way while he rolls his eyes, even as you whine about everything while he always has that same dry tone, even as you jump to conclusions while he thinks through everything meticulously. somehow, it always works—which is why you refuse to let those filthy, home wrecking girls from the akademiya come anywhere near your (slightly irritating, but very attractive) boyfriend.

“today i overheard two girls talking about your abs. two! only archons know how many other people have been talking about them—”

he clears his throat, cutting you off and silently hoping you don’t notice the slight blush on his cheeks as he mumbles, “well, there’s not much you and i can do if other people—”

“and just imagine if they’ve stared at your tits! this is horrible—”

“i don’t have tits,” he hisses, “why must you always insist on calling them that—”

“oh no,” you croak woefully, cutting him off as you ignore him, “they can’t have your tits. you have to stop wearing that tight shirt, our relationship depends on it,” you insist.

“you can’t be serious—”

“in fact, i think you should just wear the akademiya robes. they won’t be able to stare at much of anything if you wear those.”

“and if they stare at my face?” he raises a brow, lips quirked slightly in amusement even has the lingering flush of pink still grazes his skin.

and he looks beautiful like that—soft rays of sun kissing the silver strands of hair so they look golden, flowing over his skin and letting shadows nestle into the sharp slopes of his cheekbones. you can’t see from where you are, but you know there are flakes of gold lit up in those teal eyes of his—the same eyes you glare into when you’re mad, the ones you meet first thing in the morning, the ones you can’t look away from as you whisper i love you like a secret you’ve held onto in this life and the last.

you crinkle your nose, clearly distressed at the idea of people fawning over his features, and he can’t help but smile gently at the sentiment.

“you’re right,” you nod, “you face is also very attractive. maybe you could—”

“i think you’re looking too deeply into this,” he says, making your face twist into a scowl.

“this is serious,” you hiss, and the way he blinks at you like you’re crazy earns him a harsh glare, “have you not listened to people speaking of you? grand sage alhaitham looks soooo handsome today,” you mock in a high pitched voice, “i think his muscles look larger than yesterday.”

“i don’t concern myself with akademiya gossip,” he shrugs, “as long as it causes no trouble for me—”

“well this time it will cause trouble for you,” you narrow your eyes, “acting grand sage or not, you aren’t immune to sleeping on our lovely living room couch.”

and you’re stubborn like this sometimes, irrational and just a little flawed in your logic, but alhaitham finds his chest constricts anyway, finds that even when he can’t make sense of you, that faint thrum of his heart tells him he doesn’t need to. so he rolls his eyes, holds out an arm for you that makes you scoff even as you instantly make your way over.

and when you seat yourself on his lap, arms twisting around his neck as his settle for your hips, you faintly think that the akademiya girls would lose their minds if they saw you like this—like you’re the earth’s core pressed to his hands, like you’re the center of his entire universe.

“it’s a bit unfair to punish me for what other people say,” he hums, making you huff.

“and it’s unfair walking around like this when you’re heavily committed in a relationship,” you accuse, poking at his chest as he chuckles.

he presses a gentle kiss to your nose, lets his eyes close and his breath exhale softly as you cup his cheeks. and even with the endless pile of paperwork on his desk and that meeting he’s forced to join after this, alhaitham enjoys being the akademiya’s grand sage just a little bit if it gets you worked up like this—if it gets you to pay a little extra attention to kissing him and tugging him closer.

and when your fingers slip into his hair, and his thumb rubs circles into your hips, there’s an unspoken truth between you that makes you smile to yourself.

i love you, you think.

i love you, he knows you know.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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villain-crown · 7 months ago

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forbid | @jegulus-microfic | words: 657

critical care, part 3 (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

The thing about calling a code blue was that it could quickly turn into social hour if you weren’t careful. Mates that you hadn’t seen in awhile came out of the woodwork from all over the hospital to get in on the action, leading to a sort of impromptu reunion over the patient you were working to snatch from the claws of death.

“Lily! Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in ages—“

“Dorcas! What unit are you on these days?”

“Oi, Barty, I thought they fired you!”

Like now, apparently, as every person James had ever fucking met decided to grab a front row seat to spectate as he tried to make small talk with Regulus Black.

“It was a lovely day yesterday,” James began when they’d finished delivering a second shock to their patient. “The sun was out. Do you get out much, Regulus?”

James could feel Sirius’s suspicious gaze as Regulus glanced incredulously away from the new rhythm tracing itself on the cardiac monitor.

Still v. fib.

“…No. Sirius locks me in my bedroom and just lets me out four days a week when it’s time for me to be here—what the fuck kind of question is that, Potter!?”

Bloody hell, but Dorcas had clearly lied to Marlene about Regulus’s personality.

Sweet, Dorcas had called him.

No. This was a feral devil cat with a mouth full of knives and Merlin save him but James was so fucking into it.

“I wouldn’t rule that out,” Barty Crouch Jr. butted in unnecessary, watching Regulus’s vitriol land with an entertained expression. “One time I asked Reg if he wanted to check out my new apartment and Black threatened to peel my face off and put it on the CPR mannequin. I still haven’t gotten a proper answer.”

“There’s no need for him to go anywhere with you unsupervised, Crouch,” Sirius scowled, turning up the energy level of the defibrillator for their next attempt. “Just describe it to him.”

“Describe it? Well, okay. Picture it, Reg. You and Evan, in my bed—“

“Stop messing with him, idiot,” Regulus rolled his eyes, finally shoving Crouch’s arm off his delicate shoulders as Sirius picked up a spare saline flush and squirted it right in the blond’s face. To Sirius, he added, “he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, you know.”

“I’m calling HR you fucking asshole!”

“Fine, if you want to play that game. I’m sure they’d love to hear about you taking it from Lupin in the supply room last month.”

“Reggie! You can’t say dirty things like that! I forbid it!”

“I say a lot worse under the right circumstances, Sirius.”

James felt a flash of lightning race down his spine as Regulus maintained unwavering eye contact with him as he said so, ignoring Sirius’s outraged sputtering.

“I told you not to let Sirius catch you looking at his baby brother,” Marlene pointed out in an undertone, sidling up to James in the already crowded room.

“He’s bloody perfect.” James replied, unrepentant. “I’m going to marry him.”

“Dorcas called him sweet. I’m not getting that vibe.”

“Maybe he just needs a little… persuading.”

Marlene rolled her eyes, opening the airway drawer of the crash cart at Dorcas’s behest. “He’s mean, James.”

“He’s pretty, Marlene.”

“…You aren’t going to see reason, are you?”

“Absolutely not. Regulus Black is going to have my children.”

She looked back at the petite man with obvious misgivings. “If he doesn’t kill you first.”

“He could carve his initials into me with a scalpel and I’d thank him.”

“…You’re fucking crazy.”

#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #sirius black #starchaser #sirius and regulus #james loves regulus #jegulus microfic #protective sirius black

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 7 months ago

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Dare | Song Mingi

-> Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader. -> Request: from anon -> Synopsis: When it's readers turn at truth or dare, they choose dare. -> Warnings: no use of pronouns. Drunkteez. Alcohol, drinking, doing shots, truth or dare. DRINK RESPONSIBLY. DO NOT DRINK IF YOUR UNDERAGE. -> Word Count: 405 -> Requests: Open.

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Yunho turns to you and says, "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

Feeling a mix of confidence and nerves, you reply, "Since I already did truth, I'll go with dare." The guys always come up with crazy dares, and you can't help but remember the last time they dared you to do something. You didn't really want to think about it.

Suddenly, Wooyoung raises his hand high in the air and shouts, "I have one!" Everyone's eyes turn to him, and you can't help but feel a bit anxious. Wooyoung is known for his wild and outrageous dares, with Jongho always there to encourage him. "I dare you to take a body shot off of mingi."

You feel your face flush with embarrassment as you look at Mingi, who’s expression is just as flustered as yours. Feeling your heart racing, you weigh your options. Do you back out and risk being teased for weeks, or do you go through with the dare and potentially make things awkward with Mingi? It didn’t help you have a big fat crush on him.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go for it. You walk over to Mingi, who is trying to hide his own nerves with a nonchalant expression. “I’ll do it if you’re okay with it.”

He nods, giving you the green light. You can feel the tension in the room as you take the shot glass from Wooyoung and pour the alcohol onto Mingi's stomach.

As you lean down to take the shot, you can't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. You lift your head, a mix of shock and amusement on everyone's faces. Some of them thought you wouldn’t go through with it. Wooyoung and Yunho are cheering, while Jongho looks impressed and slightly amused.You can't help but laugh along with them.

But suddenly you are caught off guard as Mingi's lips crash to yours in a passionate kiss. The room falls silent once again, the shock evident on everyone's faces. Time seems to stand still as you melt into the kiss, the taste of alcohol lingering on both your lips. The kiss was so much more than you expected. You had never imagined your first kiss with Mingi would be this way, but you wouldn’t change it for anything else. The electricity between the two of you is undeniable, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only two in the room.

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moog-rt · 9 months ago

Text

GO TO HELL [ch. 4]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter Three

➨ Chapter Four

Next: Chapter Five

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

A/N: shout out to my very own "power bottom at rock bottom" (aka my roommate) for harnessing her inner Angel Dust and feeding into some of his dialogue.

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER FOUR

The car ride home was mostly silent and incredibly tense.

You also couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. When you looked around to sate your paranoia, you found nothing suspicious and whittled it down to the anxiety having your face plastered across every news channel in hell.

On your way out of her father’s manor, you decided to fill Charlie in about your hands and cheek. She said it was a gamble whether her dad would react well to your being human or not. Being neutral to it, however, was something she would not have imagined. She was just relieved that you were alright.

She theorized that he may have assumed you were just wearing face paint for ‘shits and giggles’ (your words, not hers). There were some demons in Hell that did have skin tones similar to when they were human, so it wouldn’t be too outrageous for you to, as well.

Though it would be no surprise if he jumped to the conclusion that you were human due to your being televised all over Hell the day prior.

Not knowing where his head was at was going to kill you.

But worrying about that wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Charlie believed you two had searched everywhere in her old place that was likely to hold the key to you getting home. To your relief, the likelihood of returning was slim to none.

There was no need to stress over her father figuring you out since you wouldn’t have to risk running into him again.

The only thing you needed to focus on was getting those godforsaken cobwebs off the chandelier in the hotel foyer.

Vaggie was able to get the place mostly cleaned up in the time you were gone, but there were still a few things left that you were able to help with. After all they had done for you, this was the least you could do for them in return.

As you climbed back down the ladder, you saw Charlie pacing and muttering to herself. Even though you only met her recently, you knew how much the hotel and her plan to redeem sinners meant to her.

If this didn’t go well, she would absolutely take it to heart. She seemed like the type to barricade herself in a room to sulk for weeks on end. Or maybe bawl her eyes out whilst shoveling heaping spoonfuls of ice cream down her own throat.

Probably both.

“You know, this place is really coming together,” you said as you walked up to her.

She paused to face you.

“You think so?” she asked, glancing around the foyer in search of anything in need of tending. “Gosh, what if he doesn’t like the color scheme, or—or the motifs? What if he decides he isn’t interested in redemption at all?”

“Hey,” you said to get her attention as you leaned back into her view. “If he weren’t interested in what you’re offering, he wouldn’t be coming by to check things out. And I really don’t think your choice in décor will be what turns him away.”

You chuckled a bit as you glanced at the odd horse statues and slightly tattered wallpaper. It wasn’t modern or trendy, but it did have character. That was for sure.

She nodded with a far-off gaze, ruminating on your words.

“Even if he does decide that this isn’t for him—though I don’t think that will happen—there are so many people down here! I find it hard to believe that you won’t find some who are interested,” you continued. “Think about all the souls that believed they’d be going to Heaven but ended up here instead. They’d probably give up an arm and a leg to be redeemed.”

Her shoulders slacked, and her back loosened as she released a deep breath. Looking back at you, her face appeared more relaxed.

“Yeah…you’re totally right,” she said with a soft smile. “We just need to be patient.”

“I think this guy would be stupid not to accept your offer.” You bumped her arm playfully as you went to continue tidying up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her smile and walk off, presumably to do the same.

Everyone was putting the final touches on everything when there was a knock on the front door. You paused in the middle of sliding the sofa across the room so you could get a look at whoever was there.

Charlie and Vaggie looked at each other in surprise.

“I told him to text or call before showing up,” Vaggie grumbled, running a hand through her bangs as she went to answer the door.

He was quite…tall.

You had forgotten their appearances could vary so much. Charlie, her father, and Vaggie were relatively similar to a regular person, despite some slight cosmetic differences. This guy, however, had an extra set of limbs and was covered head to toe in what looked like fur.

Upon closer inspection, he also had what appeared to be three additional pairs of eyes underneath his primary ones.

Was he supposed to be a bug?

You shuffled forward as Charlie introduced herself. She had fixed up your makeup once you returned, so there was nothing to worry about regarding your own appearance. You had double and even triple-checked beforehand.

“This is it?”

“Uh…yes?” Charlie said meekly with her hands clasped in front of her chest.

He gave the foyer a hard once-over.

“Eh, anything’s betta’ than my current digs,” he said with a shrug and started walking around. “You got drinks?”

“No? The point of redemption is to stop engaging in sin,” Vaggie stated, crossing her arms. “Which means cutting out drugs?”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” he said as his body slumped. “What the hell am I supposed to do then? Play checkers?”

“Ooh, Checkers would be a fun way to break the ice!” Charlie sang, clapping her hands together.

This earned her a blank look from the new guest.

“Aha…” she laughed awkwardly at the bland response, then turned to gesture at you. “Well, this is our current resident! We have faith that she will be redeemed very soon.”

You gave a wide smile as you were being shown off. Should you strike a pose? Put your hands on your hips and puff your chest out in pride?

You didn’t mind being a fake example of a sinner-gone-good to help her out. It was the least you could do at this point. Plus, when you finally got the hell out of there, you could all play it off as you being ‘redeemed’.

“Yup, yup. Sin-free life has been pretty great,” you said, crossing your arms.

The guy already seemed exasperated. Vaggie was right when she said he was more interested in free rent than redemption itself.

“What did you say your name was again?” you asked in an attempt to keep the conversation from dying out before it had even started.

He perked a bit and plastered on a sultry smirk.

“Angel Dust,” he said as he swiped a hand through his hair(?) (head fluff?). “If you’re interested in gettin’ to know me betta’, I’ve got a nice collection of videos I can refer ya to.”

“No,” Vaggie groaned. “He’s a pornstar.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“I mean, more power to you,” you shrugged, and he snickered.

“Wasn’t expectin’ that sorta career choice to fly with someone aspirin’ to cross through them pearly gates.” He tilted his head as he eyed you carefully, leaning down slightly to be more at your eye level.

“What makes you think that?” you asked, raising your chin. “In my opinion, a redeemable gal like myself should be respectful of other’s bodily autonomy.”

“Last I checked, the pious types weren’t so down with cock-suckin’ hoes. I mean,” he paused and smirked, “some of ‘em were down with us cock-suckin’ hoes, but they did their darndest to pray that shit away afterward. The guilts part of the kink.”

Vaggie’s stance tensed more and more with each word that came out of his mouth. You were pretty sure her eye was twitching.

“Good people are accepting people!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing her arms out.

“You ain’t ever have to deal with the living, sugar-tits,” Angel said, draping himself over the couch in a way you were sure would be put on the front cover of a Playboy magazine. “But sure.”

You all began a short tour of the hotel much like the one you got when you first arrived. This time, however, Charlie was really trying to sell her redemption plan to him. She explained the terms of their deal. He would refrain from acts of sin, such as violence, drugs, yada-yada, and he could stay there for free.

As you began filing out of one of the available, move-in-ready rooms, you noticed Angel pause. He was looking at the ground with a blank expression, clearly contemplating something. You assumed he was weighing the pros and cons of Charlie’s offer, but you were no mind reader.

After showing off most of the relevant parts of the hotel, you gathered back in the entryway. Charlie stared Angel down expectantly, waiting in suspense for his decision.

She was overjoyed when he finally agreed.

“There’s no harm in tryin’, I guess.” He shrugged shooting a half-lidded smirk. “But I ain’t makin�� no promises that I’ll be the paragon of redeemability. I ain’t that type of model.”

When he left, he said he had to clear some things with his boss first and then he would start this whole ‘redemption thing’.

The three of you had a miniature celebration—juice, soda, and popcorn to go along with eager chatter—before you decided to address the stack of books you had hauled back to the hotel.

The evening was going swimmingly thus far, and you hoped that good luck would carry on to the very end of the night. Somewhere in that pile was your key to getting home. Your fingers were crossed that you would be sleeping in your own cozy bed that night.

You could finally take up your own offer on a nice hot bubble bath and let it soak away all the stress that had stockpiled within your body.

Sitting in a circle around the books, you began sifting through them.

Your hope dwindled bit by bit with every one you flipped through and set aside. They had everything to do with the living world except for the means of getting there.

Once the last book was deemed useless, you sat in sullen silence. A sort of emptiness settled within your chest.

If that was your best shot at returning, what else was there?

“Okay…that’s okay!” Charlie said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “We just have to try something else. Vaggie, you said you knew people who had access to Earth, right?”

“I said I knew of people,” she corrected. “But I did do a little bit of digging while you were out, and I might have a few leads?”

“Oh, perfect!” Charlie chirped, sitting straight up with her hands on her knees. “How about we look into those tomorrow then?”

You and Vaggie both nodded because what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t really have the option of giving up in this situation. Your life wasn’t going to wait on hold forever. It probably wasn’t waiting at all.

At this point, two full days would have passed since you ‘disappeared,’ but living alone makes it harder for people to notice that sort of thing. You doubted Devon would have reported it since that would likely result in them getting into even deeper shit (in addition to the can of whoop-ass you’d release onto them once you made it back).

And you knew better than to put any amount of faith into Jack. You were sure he noticed your absence. You had the texts to prove it. But he seemed to be convinced you were giving him the cold shoulder, which would most likely result in him pretending he didn’t give two flying fucks about you.

Fuck that bitch.

♡

You wouldn’t say you slept like a baby that night, but you sure did sleep. You slept with the weight of despair threatening to overtake you with each failed attempt of finding a way back home.

And you know what?

It wasn’t half bad. Would you recommend it to someone else? No, not really. But you couldn’t tell them it was terrible.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you padded your way down the grand staircase. It was nice not having to wake up early to get all done up, but you still felt groggy. Possibly from sleeping too much.

You also appreciated being able to spend more time in the pajamas you were given, because good lord were they comfy.

Charlie and Vaggie let you know last night that they’d be leaving earlier in the morning to talk to the folks Vaggie believed might be able to access the living world. You stayed behind because you all agreed that dragging you through public in a not-so-durable disguise was a disaster waiting to happen.

However, they planned to be back in time for Charlie’s father to visit.

He had called her the previous night—just before you were all about to go your separate ways—to let her know he wanted to stop by. She told him he could drop by in the afternoon, and that was that.

You planned to coup yourself up in your room for the duration of his visit. You would rather die than address what had happened with the paint. If he had any questions regarding that, he could direct them towards his daughter. Thank you and goodnight (love you, Charlie! Muah!).

There was nothing to do until Charlie and Vaggie returned, but you still wanted caffeine or anything that could clear your brain fog.

They had stocked up the fridge and ‘pantry’ a bit more since you arrived, and Angel would likely move in any day now so there was also that to consider. Yet it was still a gamble on whether or not you could find something appealing.

You kneeled down in front of the fridge and began rummaging through your options.

Mysterious leftovers?

No.

Artichoke Hearts?

Eh…for breakfast? Probably not.

Coconut Milk?

No… You were surprised they even had coconuts in Hell. Unless, of course, they had sinners that manifested as coconuts, then you reckon they could milk—

No, absolutely not.

You were thinking about settling on a popsicle when you heard a knock at the front door.

Nobody should have been stopping by yet. Charlie’s dad wouldn’t be there until later, and you guys weren’t expecting anyone else. It could possibly be Angel, but you doubted he already spoke to his boss considering it was still morning.

The stained-glass doors didn’t disclose much about your surprise visitor. They were merely a shadowy figure, distorted by the odd shapes and colors.

Regardless of who it could be, you needed to hide or at least find a way to get back upstairs without being seen.

Slowly rising to your feet, you locked onto a rather large crate near the edge of the entryway.

You wouldn’t have to cross in front of the door to get there, which was ideal. Even though you knew the person on the other side couldn’t see you clearly, you preferred they not know you were there at all. Once you were at the crate, you could easily make your way around the room undetected.

Just as you were about to slip around it, you heard the front door creak open.

“Hello~” sang a familiar voice.

You hastily dodged behind the crate, your feet sliding slightly underneath you due to the new socks you had been gifted by your hosts. Thankfully, you were able to stabilize yourself before falling into anything.

Your heart was pounding away in your chest.

What was he doing here so early?

You pressed your back against the crate as you carefully sat down to wait for him to pass. Listening to his footsteps crossing the room was doing nothing to soothe your nerves. It was clear that he was in no rush to move on through the hotel. You could hear him as he sauntered around the foyer, pausing every once in a while before continuing on.

If he was taking in the sights, it was only a matter of time before he got to your side of the foyer.

You had to get out.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly peeked around your hiding spot to see where he was and whether he was looking your way.

To your relief, Charlie’s father was investigating a portrait on the wall opposite of you.

You wasted no time creeping across the floor to take cover behind the tattered old reception area. There was a body-length mirror resting against the wall just a few feet away that would give you a relatively good view of where he was.

As you were about to lean close enough to see through the mirror’s reflection, you heard him begin to hum just a few feet away. You scrambled to get beneath the desk.

How did he get so close so fast?

You understood the guy wasn’t human, but still. You were able to hear his footsteps clear as day up until that point. He shouldn’t know you were there; you were being so quiet…

Holding your breath, you waited for him to put some distance between the two of you. When you felt he was far enough away, you slowly scooted to the other side of the desk where you could hopefully get a view of the mirror.

Hearing him tampering with something, so you took the opportunity to glance at the mirror’s reflection.

He was prodding at one of the broken columns, testing its stability, it seemed. And his back was facing you. Perfect.

Glancing around the edge of the reception desk, you could see that the stairs weren’t too far away. It was a pretty open area, however, so you wondered if it would be better to beeline it down the adjacent hall instead.

Figuring that was likely the safer option, you checked the mirror once more to make sure his back was still turned.

You met his gaze in the reflection, and your eyes went wide as his lips curled into a wicked grin.

Fuck.

In a panic, you threw yourself out of view and knocked your head into the desk’s edge. The collision was certainly loud enough for him to hear, but you kept your pained whine quiet as you cradled your temple.

Your train of thought was quickly growing fuzzy, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Was it best to run?

What if he was faster?

Would your chances be better if you found another place to hide?

Probably not… He already knew where you were, and you weren’t sure where else you could even go.

All you knew was that you couldn’t stay where you were. If his eyes were still trained on the mirror, you would probably be better off going back the way you came. Maybe there was a gap in the crate that you could worm through to hide. It would be like you disappeared.

You turned back in that direction, and as you were about to dart back to the safety of your original hiding spot, two legs stepped in front of you.

You gasped, sliding to a halt just before you could crash into him.

Charlie’s father slowly crouched down to your level as you tilted your head to look up at him, eyes as wide as saucers. His smile was wide, showing off his large, pointed teeth.

“What do we have here?”

Next Chapter

♡ ♡ ♡

Tag List: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z @mixplara @juskonutoh @tinywolfiegirl @lafy-taffy @glowinthedarkbones1150 @froggybich @darling-angel222 @preciousbabypeter

#lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #demon summoning #occult #charlie magne #charlie morningstar #Vaggie #Angel Dust #Hazbin Hotel Angel #Hazbin Hotel Angel Dust

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beybaldes · 1 year ago

Text

but I ignore things, and I move sideways

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “defending them against everyone, even when they’re not there to witness it” requested by anon

content warning : i make everyone out to be a dick for the sake of the plot

an : i <3 roy kent and I hope he is happy forever !! title comes from ‘growing sideways’ by Noah Kahan I really recommend great song and no skip album!!

“I’m just saying, since his injury, he has become a has been. There is no shame to it, it is just a fact.”

Usually, you’d let Jan Mass’s bluntness slide, given - as each member of the team had explained to you at some point - he wasn’t mean, just Dutch. Usually, his casual cruelness in the name of being honest didn’t concern Roy, however.

“Unfortunately, I have to agree.” Dani added, surprising you and the rest of the room. “If a baby was born today, they wouldn’t know ‘Roy Kent, football legend’ they know ‘Roy Kent, coach for Richmond.”

While Dani’s words greatly discredited and diminished Roy’s career to his post-injury life, his kinder explanation had the rest of the lads humming and nodding in agreement.

“Doesn’t make it any less mean.” You spoke up, everyone attention snapping to you, where you’d been sat in front of Roy’s old locker - you’d become somewhat attached to the seat in all your years with Roy spent in this changing room. “Yeah, sure, Dani’s right. A baby born today would probably hear about Roy Kent the coach before Roy Kent the footballer. But one search of his name would tell you otherwise.”

You couldn’t look at them as you spoke. Despite wanting to stand up for him, knowing you would regardless of who or what they were saying about him, it didn’t make you any less nervous. “He’s not a fucking has been though, is he? Each and every one of you take his criticisms as Gospel, work as hard as possible to meet his expectations and preach the Roy Kent effect like it’s the only thing keeping the team running. Is that a has been? Or is that a great fucking coach who works his ass off to keep you guys together?”

Sam placed a hand against your arm, your eyes snapping up to meet his. “Ignore Jan Mas, he is just-“

“Dutch. I know.” Turning to face the blonde that had started the outrage you were feeling. “But there’s a difference between being honest and blunt about it and just being fucking mean.”

You left the changing room after you’d spoke, fed up with the boys you had come to love like family. Unfortunately for them, you loved Roy more then you loved them.

“They were right.” Isaac growled, arms folded across his chest as he spent a moment staring down each and every person in the changing room. “We know that’s not true about Roy, and non of us stood up for him. We’re fucking cowards.”

The second the doors to the changing room had closed behind you, you bumped right into a firm chest, rough hands grabbing at your arms to keep you up. Upon recognising the heather-charcoal shirt, you melted into the touch, tucking your head into the junction of his neck and shoulder without a word. Before you could vent your frustrations to the coach, he pressed a kiss to your temple, leaving his lips ghosting against your ear and you in his arms.

“Heard you in there, sticking up for me.” Roy scoffed, though not offendedly. You could almost feel his heart beating out of his chest as he held you against him. “Nice of you.”

“Of course I’d stick up for you, Roy.” You pulled your head from the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and staring up at the dark haired man you loved so much. “I’d stick up for you anytime, anywhere, to anyone.”

Roy had never been good with words; and he knew he’d never be able to truly tell you how much your actions meant to him. He often thought of himself as a has been, someone past their prime who was still hanging around cause he had nothing else going for him - but you clearly didn’t think that, and that was enough for Roy. However, he hoped that as he pulled you in for a delicate kiss, featherlight and gentle in a way you weren’t overly used to with Roy, that you understood.

You did. Completely.

#beybaldes summer sleepover !!#ted lasso x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot

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dark-frosted-heart · 10 months ago

Text

Inexperienced KissXXX - Roger

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

(Found him…!)

Spotting the person I was looking for, I ran over to him.

Kate: Roger, I’ve been looking for you.

Roger: Hm? Ah, it’s you, little lady. What’s got you so out of breath?

Kate: I heard you came back from a mission far away and wanted to brief you on the next one… I was thinking…

I trailed off when I saw the empty glasses lined up on the table.

Roger: As you can see, I’m in a drinking mood today. Sorry you had to come all the way here, but can we do this tomorrow? If you can’t, then you gotta wait for me to sober up.

Kate: I’m in no rush, it’s fine. Um…I heard about the mission from Victor. That you went to look for a cursed person for your research, but he was already dead…

Roger: Yeah… Fate was at work.

It’s said that all cursed people were doomed to fall, regardless of their type.

The same could probably be said for the person Roger went to look for.

Roger: Haha, it was bad timing. Had I gotten to him earlier, I wouldn’t have missed out on an interesting research subject. No matter how much I wanna, I can’t chase him to the afterlife.

At face value, Roger sounds like his usual egotistical self.

(But for some reason…Roger seems a little down)

I got a sense that Roger wasn’t just sad over his loss, but also mourning the death of a cursed one.

(I wonder if they have the same curse…)

Roger: Hey, you know you’re gonna get eaten by a bad guy like me if you’re wandering about a pub at this hour, you know? Go home before you get involved with them.

(If Roger was his usual self, he’d be the one making a pass at me, but he’s not)

Roger’s unusual attitude started to worry me.

Kate: I-I’m not going back yet!

Roger: …?

Kate: Can I drink with you? I feel like having a drink!

I couldn’t leave Roger to himself, so I sat down next to him without waiting for a reply.

(By being next to him, I can help Roger get home if he gets drunk and passes out)

(As long as he doesn’t mind, I’ll do what I can to cheer Roger up)

Roger: You’re so kind, little lady…

Kate: T-that came out of nowhere…

Roger: You’re here with me ‘cuz I’m feeling down, aren’t you? You’re alike like that.

Roger squinted as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The feeling of his callous fingertips against my ear tickled a little.

Kate: Alike…?

Roger: Whenever I was feeling down, they’d come to my side… They’d stay until I felt better.

(There was a kind person like that by Roger’s side…)

Kate: I don’t know if I can replace them, but…what else did they do? Please tell me.

When I told Roger that I wanted him to feel better, even just a little bit, his eyes softened as he started to reminisce.

Roger: Hmm~ That’s right. We used to wander around the city every day.

Kate: It’s important to go outside for a change of pace.

Roger: Yeah. We loved to wander around during autumn. It was cooler and it felt like we could run anywhere. Oh yeah…I remember laughing so hard when they ran into a pile of leaves on the way home.

Kate: I don’t think I’ll run into a pile of leaves, but…I can go on a walk with you!

Roger: What, do you really wanna fill in for them?

Kate: Yes. I want Roger to feel better.

Roger: Oh…?

There was suddenly an intense glow in those eyes hidden behind those glasses.

I had a bad feeling based on my past experiences, but by the time I realized it, it was too late and I had lost my chance to escape.

Roger: We used to sleep in bed together…

Kate: Huh.

Roger: Also, they used to constantly lick my face even when I told them to stop. When I held them, their warmth made me feel at ease. [Me: It’s a dog isn’t it]

Kate: Lick…Hold…?!

My eyes widened as he added one outrageous thing to another.

(No matter how much I say I want to cheer him up, there’s a limit…)

Roger: So…you wanna take their place?

Kate: I-I…

I don’t think I could do most of the things he just mentioned.

However, I really want to cheer Roger up.

(By licking, does that mean kissing…)

(I wonder if I can kiss him somewhere beside his lips…)

My eyes looked him over as I searched for a place to kiss him without anyhidden meaning. And then-

Kate: Mm…

After making up my mind, I took Roger’s arm and kissed it lightly.

Kate: How’s…this?!

Roger: Pfft, haha! What’s up with that challenging look!

I must’ve looked distressed, and Roger let out a hearty laugh.

Kate: Please don’t laugh! This is the best I can do…

Roger: Sorry, sorry. I’m just surprised it wasn’t a little more sensual. At any rate, do you have an arm fetish since you kissed mine?

Kate: F-fetish?! No! That kiss was to cheer you up! I can’t lick you and stuff so I did that instead.

Roger: I heard that a kiss on the arm or neck meant desire…

Kate: HUH?!

Roger: I wonder, what kind of desires were you hiding when you touched me?

Roger closed the distance between us and stared as if observing me.

I couldn’t stand it and looked away.

Kate: I think it’s you who has desires, not me…

Roger: So what now. It’s only natural to have desires if you’re alive, isn’t it?

With a deep laugh in his throat, Roger hugged my waist.

How could he still be this strong even though he’s drunk?

Before I could mush him away, a hand reached out and exposed my right shoulder.

Roger: You know what kind of guy I am, yet you keep coming to me.

Kate: P-please wait. People can see-

Roger: And what if they can’t? They can’t see us in the shadows.

Roger’s lips fell onto my exposed right shoulder.

Kate: Nn…

His lips traced along my collarbone as if inspecting it.

I felt a strange sense of pleasure as he lightly sucked on my neck, and my body shivered.

Roger’s intense eyes were on me the whole time, as if he didn’t want to miss a single look on my face.

Roger: Do you like it here?

Mischievous lips touch me as if inspecting me.

Roger: *chu* Mn…Haa…

I hate my body for responding so honestly.

Roger: Oh…You like being sucked here?

(I…What…?)

(Does Roger…Kiss others like this too?)

(Is that how you memorize what a person’s body is like…and think back on it like before?)

I wonder if I too will one day become a part of Roger’s past.

When that thought popped in my head, my heart couldn’t help but ache.

Kate: Did you do this with the person you mentioned before?

Roger: Person…?

Kate: The person that cheered you up… [Me: Kate please…]

I don’t know why I’m so bothered by it.

However, once I spoke up, I couldn’t take it back.

Roger: I never said it was a “person” yanno?

Kate: Eh…?

Roger laughed at my dumbfounded look.

Roger: Pfft, haha…They were a dog. The family corgi.

Kate: Dog…?!

(So when you were talking about walking around town, you meant taking them for a walk…And licking your face is something dogs do.)

(Feeling warm and at ease when you hold them…Yeah, got it)

Roger: They’re still in good health. Spoiled and fat too. Wanna see him some time?

Kate: *sigh* Sure, but…

Without daring to state the important part, Roger misled me into thinking the other party was a person. [Me: I thought it was obvious he was talking about a dog when he talked about the licking]

But I felt like an idiot for having my imagination run wild, and got discouraged before I could blame it.

Roger: So, I’m only doing this with you. Relaxed now?

Kate: N-no! Don’t say weird things like that!

I hurriedly pushed Roger away and this time, he let me go easily.

The fact that he didn’t stop me made me feel a bit unsatisfied…I’m sure I just lost myself for a moment.

Roger: Now that we got that misunderstanding cleared up, I’m gonna ask you again…Do you wanna take their place?

Kate: I can’t!! I’m a person!!

(Even though I’m the one that misunderstood, it’s frustrating to be teased again…!)

In contrast to my reproachful glare, Roger smiled in amusement.

(Ah, but…Roger’s feeling better, so that’s a relief)

#ikemen villains #ikevil translations #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil #ikevil jp

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breakfastteatime · 6 months ago

Text

Today's Survivor request is for @noire610 - Don't go.

Cere is the first to leave. Cal can barely look at her, his anger, his disappointment, choking him into silence. He finds her in her cabin, packing up her belongings. Well, she’s missing one, and he holds it out to her; her lightsaber hilt, his crystal removed from it.

She takes it, as mute as he is. He’s not sure what the gesture truly means.

It’s yours, it belongs with you, take it back. It feels right.

I can make my own lightsaber. I’ll find my own way without you.

Thank you, Cere, for everything.

Cere shoulders her pack and heads for the exit. Her final words?

“Be safe, all of you.”

Greez sobs.

Merrin returns her well wishes.

BD accepts a final pat on the head.

Cal says nothing.

Don’t go.

He can’t say it. He’s not sure he means it.

(He does. He does mean it. Don’t go, Cere. Don’t leave – )

Merrin is the next to leave. Like Cere, she takes everything she has, packing it all into a backpack she shoulders without complaint. She gives Greez a hug, accepts one from BD, and takes one of Cal’s hands in her own.

“I will see you again,” she tells him.

Don’t go.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice so harsh he’ll be lucky if Merrin ever looks his way again, let alone speaks to him. “Be safe.”

He can sense her need to say more, a need maybe to explain herself, but even if she screamed it directly into his ears, he wouldn’t be able to understand it.

Don’t go.

They drop her off on Ord Mantell. She doesn’t look back, and Cal doesn’t watch her go.

It’s no surprise when Greez says he’s going too, it’s too much for him, he’s lost his touch, literally, and all this flying from one warzone to the next isn’t doing him any good. He tells Cal to leave him on Nar Shaddaa, he’ll figure it out from there, and yeah, kid, the Mantis is yours, take care of her until I ask for her back, because she’s still mine, don’t you forget it, and by the way –

Don’t go.

But Greez goes too. He goes, and then it’s just Cal, BD, and the Mantis. It’s too big for the two of them. It doesn’t matter than Cal can walk around barefoot or leave dirty plates, cups and spoons all over the galley without reprimand. It doesn’t matter that he can leave laundry wherever he wants. It doesn’t matter if he fails to wipe down the decks. Who cares if he takes caf into the cockpit? No one’s there to yell at him.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave me.

Don’t leave me with all your echoes.

Greez in the cockpit, checking landing coordinates.

Cere, reading in the lounge.

Merrin, making potions in the galley.

All three of them, living ghosts all over the ship.

He sits in the pilot’s seat, adjusted for his height and number of arms, staring out at space, BD beside him on the dash. He swallows, throat dry, belly empty because he’s forgotten to eat. He’s forgotten a lot of things, including how long he’s been staring out at the stars.

Alone, again.

Adrift, again.

“BD?”

BD looks over.

“If you’re waiting for the time to tell me you’re going to, this would be it.”

Outraged, BD squawks and launches himself into Cal’s arms. He’s not going anywhere. Where Cal goes, BD goes.

“You’re sure?” Cal hears a crack in his voice.

Sure? Is he sure? BD thumps his head against Cal’s chest.

“Thanks, buddy. For everything.”

BD suggests they get back to the mission, after Cal’s had some dinner.

“You up for it?”

Of course BD’s up for it! “Great, because I know where Saw Gerrera’s at, and he’ll have a mission for us.”

#fic requests 2024 #star wars jedi: survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #jedi survivor headcanon #jedi survivor minific #the mantis crew #cal kestis #cere junda #merrin #greez dritus #bd 1 #angst #oh the angst #this one hurt #it hurt a lot

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photmath · 2 years ago

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Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: cursing

Note: At the end, happy readings! (:

“For how long?” Kylian’s eyes shoot between the team’s psychologist, Dr. Minic, and his coach. Both of their faces are unyielding to the reluctance of Kylian’s voice.

“A month.”

“You want me to uproot my entire life for a month? At someone’s random house?” Kylian is quick to his feet, despite the ache that runs through his sore thigh. He shifts his entire weight onto his crutches and uninjured leg.

“Sit down,” Galtier reprimands, beckoning him to take a seat with an outstretched arm. Kylian lets out a scoff before he takes a seat back in the chair. “You’ve had a blow to your calf. One that you got for being careless! If you had just kept your head leveled and never went for that tackle, you wouldn’t have wound up in this situation.”

Kylian stares out the window behind Galtier’s head, knowing the words were true. Kylian had played reckless; not caring for the fouls he was committing and being frustrated that none of his teammates' passes were connecting. He had committed a dirty tackle early on, him and the other player then continuing to butt heads throughout the game.

And then finally, Kylian got a breakaway, but he was so selfishly aware of his inability to execute the ball that he forced himself through traffic when he should’ve passed the ball to an open Messi. After one too many sloppy touches trying to regain the ball, he felt a searing pain rip through his calf. He was quick to blame the Marseille player, immediately rising to his feet and pushing him. Once the Marseille player got up to shove an off-balanced Kylian, he fell to the floor harshly, only clutching onto his leg.

He wanted to argue to Galtier that his calf deciding to strain was not because of the opposing team and the foul attitude they put him in throughout the game, but it was. He was trying to prove to himself and the team that he could tie up the match if he was just given one more chance. It was something he had been doing since the World Cup; trying to prove to everyone that he still had it in him despite the sour taste of finishing in second place. And after another failed season at PSG, the last way he wanted to end the season was with a loss at home. No Coupe de France. No UCL. And now no Ligue 1 title.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of the city, but not be too far,” Dr. Minic inquires. “A change in environment. Somewhere calm.”

“I can do that at my apartment,” Kylian replies. “Or in Switzerland—anywhere, really.”

Noé Martin, the team’s main physiotherapist, shakes his head, “Somewhere preferably that is one floor and where I can visit regularly.”

Kylian tuts, groaning at the idea of being sent away to the ‘middle of nowhere’ for the next month of his break. His injury was still a day old and they already had an outrageous recovery plan.

“Will you be there to facilitate my recovery?”

Martin nods, “I’ll visit. But you’ll be in good hands, I taught her everything she knows, a bright student of mine.”

“I don’t know her.”

Martin waves Kylian’s worries away, “She’s the best. Quick with her thinking and has dealt with these kinds of textbook injuries. She has a nice yard for you to do some running once you get to that point. Oh, and a good cook.”

“Why doesn’t she work with us if she’s the best?”

“She denied my offer.”

Kylian raises his eyebrows with interest, “Why?”

“I guess you’ll just have to ask her yourself.”

Kylian quiets down as he thinks about it. He didn’t have much of a choice now that everyone sided against him. He could try to tell Galtier that it wasn’t a smart idea but if both the physiotherapist and psychologist recommended it for him, there was no reason to continue discussing.

It was just going to be a month. Living with a complete stranger and her healing hands as Martin put it. Somewhere secluded without the presence of fans and overly eager journalists. He hoped that he could invite some of his friends and family to this place at the minimum.

Kylian leans back into his seat, his fingers running along the metal of his crutches, “When do I start?”

“Today,” Galtier advises. “If you want to be fit for the rest of your break and the next season, what are we waiting for?”

Kylian nods absentmindedly, “Fine, let’s get the month started then, and then I’m coming back to Paris.”

------

“This isn’t exactly a one floor house,” Kylian comments as the view of the wooden house comes into view. It was taller than it was wide. The brown was rich because of the previous downpour that the area had gotten. Despite the windows being closed, the smell of the wet grass was enough to make him sneeze.

Martin looks back at Kylian from the passenger seat, “You’ll be staying on the first floor.”

“Perfect,” Kylian whispers.

The van bounces on the rocky surface as it roars up the driveway. As he looked through the lit up windows, he could make out what seemed to be books on shelves in the first room beside the front door. The upstairs blinds had been drawn up, not minding anyone who viewed the inside. It wasn’t like they could see much anyway because he sure couldn’t. And she certainly didn’t have to worry about peeping neighbors because the last house he saw was over five kilometers away.

Martin and Dr. Minic hop out of the car, quick to aid Kylian onto the ramp that led him to the front door. They then grab his duffel bags and suitcases from the trunk.

“Try not to be sour,” Martin warns. “She’s also finding out about this arrangement just now, too.” Kylian can only muster up an unenthused smile as he comes into contact with the owner, but it quickly morphs into a strained cough.

She wasn't what he had in mind. He thought someone older, perhaps in their forties—knowing that Martin had taught at a university many years ago—so that meant whoever she was had to be older, but she isn’t. She’s around his age. That single piece of information has his irritation dissipating out of his throat and the etched scowl leaves his face immediately.

“This is Kylian,” Martin motions, his palm squeezing around Kylian’s shoulder.

Kylian gives her a timid wave, his crutch swinging with him, “Hi.”

“Hi!” She beams, her gaze glancing down at his boot. “I’m Aurèle, but you can just call me Aurie.” He doesn’t realize his own eyes are traveling down to her smile until he chokes, getting lost in the way her cheeks rose. He never thought a pair of cheeks and the crinkle beside her eyes could make his breathing so difficult to control. Not even the most back and forth game he’s played in had him jutting his mouth open for oxygen like this. “It’s nice to meet you, come on in.”

The three of them follow closely behind her, Martin’s strict glare towards Kylian doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Kylian soaks in his new surroundings for the time being. The small area to the right, the one he was able to see from the car, was a small library. A little circled table with two chairs filled the room, floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the walls of them. Towards the side seemed to be a small closet and restroom. The kitchen is pretty spacious despite a wall covering it from the living room. The dining room and living room seemed to be the main focus of the first floor, and a room hidden behind the kitchen that he couldn’t make out. But what caught his eye the most were the abundance of plants that cluttered walls and ceiling. Some were hanging down like vines while other pots were just held by a rope.

He scoffs.

“Take a seat, I’m sorry everything is a bit cluttered,” she apologizes, pointing to a stack of textbooks on the living room table. Besides that, it wasn’t messy at all, very clean and smelled of rustic leather. “I’ve been in and out of the house, trying to have everything perfect.”

Aurie lets out a nervous chuckle and Kylian’s eyes dart towards her, already feeling light on his feet from the rhythmic sound of her giggle. She isn’t looking at him though, instead looking at her mentor, Martin. For a second there, he almost wants to slap his hand across his face for thinking that sweet laugh was directed towards him.

“Anyway, I know you guys have to get back to Paris, so we can start off quickly with any instructions.”

Dr. Minic nods, pulling out the journal he kept in his back pocket, “I want you to start with monitoring his mood closely.” Kylian rolls his eyes now remembering why he was here in the first place. He decides to focus on the many photos and artwork that hang on the walls. “Kylian has a natural tendency to be easily irritable, but if anything seems too over that line, you note it.”

She nods her head, listening to his instructions despite Kylian sitting next to them. It was a bit unusual to discuss the procedures in front of the patient, but everything needed to be as transparent as possible when it came to the seriousness of Kylian’s injury.

Martin chimes, “You know the obvious protocol, but I want to view your treatment plan before you start. We’re going to go ahead and start recovery in two days, that way some of the swelling can go down. But if his swelling hasn’t gone down to a decent amount, wait one more day. He already knows that he shouldn’t be up and moving around.”

Dr. Minic agrees, closing his journal, “I think that was my only concern. I look forward to seeing you next weekend with an update.”

He suddenly stands and Martin follows suit, directing their attention to Kylian to tell him their goodbyes before she walks them out of the house.

It was an awkward and sudden shift for her too. Just yesterday she was setting up the weekly bingo event for the retirement home she worked at, to having a very animated phone call from Martin. He had to persuade her to open up her home for Kylian, having used her home for previous patients but this one was of course different. She wasn’t harboring the star of the world a couple of days ago.

Kylian on the other hand, is busy on his phone, groaning at the slow service. He was trying to find the address, knowing he was somewhere in the outskirts of Paris but couldn’t pin the exact location.

Entering the living room, she greets him again, a little hesitant on what to do with him, “So um, the downstairs doesn’t necessarily have a bedroom. The couch you sit on turns into a bed, so I’ll have to set it up for you each night until you can do it yourself. Restroom is right over there and everything in the fridge and house, you are welcome to have. Your bags, for the moment, will be in this room over here behind the kitchen—it used to be a bedroom but we had to turn it into a little gym and rehab room.”

Kylian slowly nods his head, too focused on his phone to listen to every word she says. The address had finally loaded; he was only an hour away, not all that far from his drivers.

“Next week, you should be able to go up the stairs more comfortably and you’ll have a bedroom up there. So for the meantime, I apologize that you won’t have much privacy,” she says meekly.

What finally pulls him out of his trance is Aurie reaching down in front of him, he looks up, startled to see her this close.

“Go ahead and rest your leg up on the table,” she pats on the wood. He does it reluctantly. “I’m going to take off the brace and get you on ice, we won’t be doing anything today anyway. Any pain?”

He nods, his eyes pinching closed as she unstraps the boot, “Yeah, a lot. It feels sore.”

“It’s a lot more than sore,” she mutters, a smile forming on her face. Her witty remark has him suddenly on edge, it was her first and it definitely took him by surprise. Aurie had attempted to break the tension, but instead, the corners of his eyebrows were drawn down.

“Who even are you?” He sits up, leaning closer to her. His hand lands right on top of hers to stop her from unbuckling the straps. She tugs her hand away from his contact quickly. It was too warm and soft, way beyond the lines of professionalism, but so was her comment, she realizes.

And his harsh gaze caught her off guard. She knew he was going to be upset because of the change and recent injury, but she didn’t expect his eyes to darken the longer she stared at him.

“I’m a physiotherapist and am going to be in charge of your recovery for the time being.”

His hand wraps around the buckle of his boot, clasping it closed, “Are you sure you're qualified?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t look a day older than me,” he spits.

She’s completely taken aback now. Martin certainly didn’t warn her about this, but she assumed this is what ‘easily irritable’ meant. She sits back, her hands clasping onto her thighs, “I’m sorry, it seems we got off the wrong foot so how about we just restart? I’m Aurie, I’m only a couple of months older than you, not that my age matters, but like what Martin told you, he taught me everything I need to know.”

Kylian bites onto his tongue, his eyes transfixed on her hands fidgeting against her thighs. She was just some months older than him and that seemed to make him lower his walls an inch or two. She was trying, while he certainly wasn’t. Maybe he should start. He rolls his eyes at his thoughts, “Martin seems to trust you, but after taking a glimpse at the books you keep on your bookshelf, I don’t think he was right.”

“Do you want me to call him for you?” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly searching for Martin’s number.

This causes a rise out of Kylian, he sits up further, grimacing as he bangs his leg onto the coffee table. “No.”

“Okay then,” she says, forcing a polite smile towards him. Shoving the stack of textbooks to the other corner of the table, she sits down, his leg still in front of her. “I’m in charge of minimizing the swelling for the moment, can you let me do that? Trust me, the faster you cooperate, the quicker I can be done and out of your hair.”

He watches her hands hover over his leg again, pausing to look up at him, waiting for his permission to continue. He silently exhales, giving her a small nod and she unstraps his boot. Before she takes the brace off entirely, she gets up to retrieve an ice pack to minimize some of the pain he was feeling.

Kylian watches her every step, still stunned at how she held her ground. He had felt a bit guilty for his sudden outburst when Aurie was in the same position he was, and the shooting pain he had down his leg settled him back into his senses, knowing that she was the only one able to take the pain away.

“Are you comfortable this way? You’ll have to be seated like this for at least fifteen minutes,” she asks, crouching down at his leg. He silently nods, letting her do her work.

She slides the brace from underneath his leg while he bites onto his lip to stifle any pain he expected but none came. The only thing he felt were her fingers as they maneuvered the ice pack underneath him. His eyes don’t stray from scanning her crouched frame. The simple task of taking off the boot seemed so easy for her to do, and she did it without causing pain in just a few stealthy moves. Maybe Martin was right, but Kylian wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon.

“I’m going to go ahead and start dinner until the timer goes off,” she glances at him.

“Okay.” He’s completely entranced with the way her hands held onto the timer to set it. She tosses it up before catching it, and then walks towards the kitchen.

“I hope you like stew,” she teases. She looks over her shoulder with a grin and his mouth opens, but then shuts closed. His eyes end up giving away his amusement.

------

“Why don’t you work at PSG if you’re as good as they say?” Kylian asks after too many minutes of silence. He was sitting across from her and she could feel his eyes on her the entire time he ate. He didn’t even seem to care when she caught his stares, just continuing to stare right through her.

The spoon clanks against the glass bowl as she sets it down, “It was just too much of a drastic change. I was there for a month before I refused an extension from Martin.”

“You were there with us?”

“Yes, but I only worked during training, never on the sidelines.”

He nods, it makes sense. He would have definitely remembered her face if he had seen her before because she would’ve stood out like a sore thumb in a group full of men. “Did Martin get on your nerves so much that you decided to leave?”

She smiles, taking in the kind light that glowed on his features. He didn’t seem as upset as before. Once she had taken the ice pack off of him, he took a nap on the couch and that seemed to have awakened a different man than the one before.

“Not necessarily. I was used to chronic injuries and chronic problems, that being around acute injuries was different. I’ve worked with older people extensively, so you know, they’ve lived their lives and dreams and everything they wanted to do—or they didn’t—but are still focused on the positives of their life,” she says. Kylian’s eyes don’t waver away from the smile that sweeps across her face.

She shrugs, “And then I was met with Neymar.” She chuckles and Kylian’s shoulders roll forward as he laughs. “I had seen the poor guy everyday. The more I was with him, the more stories he told me, and how he hated not playing. And then he would return to play, but then boom, be back in the room that same day.

“I got too emotional, too sad to know that whatever kind of precautions he took, sudden injuries were possible. Or in his case, because of the playstyle he has, his ankles were always going to be a problem for defenders. I disliked seeing how heartbroken he was and the others alongside him that it made me sad. How some players fight so hard for something and then it can just be gone that quickly or never comes…”

Her voice gradually fades away into a sobering tone and Kylian has to pry his eyes away from hers. He didn’t want to think of his own injury like that, and he certainly didn’t want to reminisce about lost opportunities.

“I would get too upset at seeing him in that room. He became a great friend, but god, did I dislike seeing him under those circumstances. It was like everything we worked on for weeks, anything new I tried on him, was for nothing,” she shudders and glances at Kylian’s wide eyes. Her words had startled him. “Anyway, I’m sorry about going on a tangent, I didn’t think it would get to that—”

“It’s okay, I had asked,” he waves her off, knowing that she sensed the sudden shift of the room.

“I don’t know how Martin does it,” she retreats. “Being the first on the field in a loud stadium like that, I did it once and froze up on the spot.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way her voice changed to being lively. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

She groans, “It isn’t all that much entertaining. It was a simple cramped up muscle, but I just froze up trying to take out the right bottle so I ended up spraying him with water, having grabbed a water bottle by accident.”

Kylian smirks, “But Martin said you were bright and a quick thinker.”

“I usually am, but that was a bad moment—a rookie mistake. After that, I immediately knew I didn’t belong on the field.”

His eyes trail down to her lips, his own heart suddenly soothing at the sight of it. The bubbling feeling rising in his chest is so unfamiliar that he presses his fingers to his chest to stop it.

“I should probably start washing the dishes so we can wind down, we have a big day tomorrow.” She stands up and grabs his dish, walking both of their bowls to the sink.

“I thought I was on bedrest?”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go out to the retirement home with me,” she offers. Aurie’s back is facing him so she doesn’t see the confusion that grows on his face. “We have a bingo match to host.”

“Bingo?”

“Bright and early tomorrow.”

“You can’t be serious,” he deflates. “Martin said I needed to stay out of the public, that’s the whole reason why I’m here.”

She faces him, picking up the sleeves of her long sweater, “They’re in their seventies, they aren’t going to recognize you. It isn’t what you think it is.”

He tilts his head, “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You’re thinking it’s some giant hospital or charity event,” she guesses, and he blinks rapidly. She had guessed right. Shaking her head, she turns away from him and starts washing the dishes, “It isn’t like that. Just a little building that’s about a ten minute drive from here.”

Kylian chews on his lip, knowing that he wouldn’t mind leaving to see what this side has to offer. Feeling the need to help her out despite his injury, he gets up quietly and hobbles towards her with his crutches. He stops beside her, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry off the dishes.

“Kylian!” She scolds, looking down at his leg. “You shouldn’t be standing right now.”

“Let me just help you with this,” he shrugs, his arm grazing hers in the process. “I won’t do it again.”

She fights the smile that wants to break through her lips. It was a kind gesture and it made her feel better. She washes the dishes in comfortable silence, Kylian drying each of them as she hands them over.

As she washes the last pot, she faces Kylian as she hands it to him and he’s already staring back at her. His eyes are glued onto her nose and lips; she turns away, her cheeks burning.

He wants her attention back on him, just another moment to savor the feeling of whatever was brewing in his chest. He grimaces, “Your plant is dying.”

“Which one?” she chuckles, flashing her smile towards Kylian and he loses his balance, immediately clutching onto his crutch. She grabs a hold of bicep, her hand is still wet but neither of them care. Her other soapy hand grabs a fistful of his hoodie, “Are you okay?”

He nods, his ears burning with embarrassment. Never did he think someone’s smile would have him losing balance. “Yeah. And erm—the plant on the table.”

She frowns, “Ah, that one is my niece’s. Her dad, my brother-in-law, got her a plant last Valentine’s and she went on vacation, so it dried while she was gone. She was very upset about it and I promised her I’d revive it, but it might be a goner. I’m planning on just getting her a new one. I hate seeing her sad eyes.”

He smiles to himself, thinking about his own nephew and niece. He needed to call them whenever he got the chance. “You don’t think she’d notice?”

Aurie shakes her head, “Well she’s four, so I hope not. I’m just going to repot the new one because if that pot with pink hearts goes missing, that will certainly cause a stir.”

She leans over Kylian to put away the dried dishes that he had already dried on the dishrack. The scent of her hair engulfs Kylian’s nose and he gulps it down. He steps backwards to give her a little more space, “I think you can do it. Revive the plant.”

She walks in front of him to place the pots in the bottom cabinet, “I don’t know, I’ve been trying for a week. At this point, it’s up to the plant.”

He grins, his lips mocking hers, “It’s up to the plant…”

------

Muffled groans wake her up in the middle of the night. She had left her bedroom door ajar in case something happened to Kylian while he slept downstairs.

The groans only grow louder and she sighs, knowing that Kylian was probably in a grave amount of pain by now. His pain medications had to have worn off some hours ago, given that it was two in the morning. She grabs the box of his medicine and makes her way downstairs. The lamp by the couch was turned on, and it could have only been turned on if Kylian had walked to it—but he shouldn’t be walking at all.

She picks up her pace, rushing down the stairs, and once she comes into view with the bed, she almost shrieks in terror at the sight. Kylian had his head buried in his arms as he laid on his stomach, a girl near his legs massaging both of his calves.

“Who are you?!”

Kylian’s head shoots up from the couch and the girl freezes with her hands on his calves. The stark discoloration of Kylian’s calf just continued to angrily scream back at Aurie.

“What the hell is going on?”

Kylian can only gape in shock as he looks at Aurie. Her shirt had risen up while she slept and the joggers that she had worn earlier were stripped into a tiny pair of shorts that his sudden ability to think was lost, too entranced by the sudden view of her legs.

The weight of the bed shifting causes Kylian to snap back into reality as the girl stands up, “I’m sorry—”

“Who even are you?” Aurie stands about a meter in front of them, her eyes glued to the girl.

“I was just giving him a massage, he was in pain—”

“A massage?” She yells, her fists gripping onto her shorts trying to hold in the anger that rose through her. “Massaging a not even two-day-old strain? Are you trying to ruin his career?”

“What?” She gasps, looking back at Kylian and then Aurie, “No!”

“Then what did you think you were doing?”

Her mouth falls open and then closed, Aurie grows impatient with her lack of response.

“Get out of my house.”

Kylian shifts his weight onto his elbows, “Aurie, wait, she was just trying to help.”

Aurie takes a deep breath, and then pinches herself to make sure her sleep wasn’t deceiving her. As if that girl hadn’t just impeded Kylian’s healing process by days. Another pinch to her thigh to hope that she was hallucinating, that Kylian hadn’t actually invited an entire stranger to her home.

Kylian watches Aurie as she tries to calm down, and heat creeps onto his back as he realizes his own mistake. It slowly dawns on him, “Lucette didn’t know.”

Lucette turns, her brown hair swinging towards him, “We didn’t know.”

Kylian gulps, “We thought it was okay—I was in a lot of pain and it wasn’t going away. It felt like a knot…like it just needed to be kneaded out.”

She runs her hand down her face while her thumbs press into her eyes. She was baffled at their carelessness. Especially at Kylian, he should’ve known better.

Not just with his calf, but also for disregarding the basic communication of bringing someone over while she slept upstairs. He had never asked for permission nor even mentioned it as a heads up. It was one thing if it was in the afternoon to be met with a surprise visitor, but at two in the morning?

She was absolutely livid.

Lucette swallows, grabbing her jacket, “I think I’m just going to go.”

“Please do,” Aurie responds, too upset to be nice and beyond the time to be professional.

Kylian’s eyes grow wide, “Aurie.” Lucette walks towards him, bending down to kiss him and Aurie turns away.

Of course he brought his girlfriend to her place and she wanted to be the savior. The story could write itself. Aurie tries to calm down her breathing.

Lucette beelines towards the front door and Aurie doesn’t shy away from eyeing her down. Kylian was going to get mouthful and she was going to have to tell Martin and Dr. Minic in the morning.

She locks the door after Lucette leaves and lets out a slow exhale while closing her eyes.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to her,” Kylian grits, rolling around to lay on his back. “It’s two in the morning and you really kicked her out? C’mon now.”

She stares at him in silence, still debating what she should say first.

“I needed help and you were sleeping.”

She shakes her head, “So you called someone with no kind of medical background?”

His eyebrows crease, “We had read a bunch of articles on Google.”

“Oh my god, Kylian. You can’t be this stupid. You can’t have made it this far and be this stupid. You have a Grade 2 muscle strain! If it was a Grade 1, yeah, sure you can massage it, but are you kidding? A Grade 2?” Her voice is still hoarse from the night as she places her hands on her hips.

Kylian leans forward, wincing at his leg, “Don’t call me stupid. You were nowhere to be found and I was in a lot of pain.”

“My door was wide open, you idiot! I would have heard you if you were calling out to me.”

“You didn’t hear the front door open,” he taunts.

“Because that was the last thing I expected to happen!” She retorts, “I woke up because I heard you grunting in what sounded like pain, so I got up to bring you your medicine.”

Kylian’s eyes grow as he looks at the box in her hand. After having spent the past hour gnawing his teeth, he didn’t realize she carried the very solution to end it.

“I can’t believe you,” she palms her forehead. “I can’t believe you brought a total stranger to this house. I’m just—”

He doesn’t like the way Aurie’s irritation had turned into utter disappointment, it felt too much like the scoldings he would get when he was in school or ruined a perfect pass. He turns away, his eyes instead focusing on her legs—or on anything else for that matter.

Her vision was still blurred from the grogginess of her sudden wake and the dismay of events that transpired. Her head started to pound.

“You know what, I refuse to deal with this,” she rubs her eyes. “I’m not about to sit here and make a detailed plan and timeline of your recovery while you could care less about it. Quite frankly, I’m not getting paid enough for this.”

She starts pacing towards the kitchen, searching for a glass. She fills it with water and walks where he lay. “You’re only making yourself worse and I am not a therapist for a reason. If you don’t want to do your recovery here, then fine, I don’t care. This was a favor for Martin, not you. So you know what, you can go home tomorrow. And here’s your fucking medicine.”

She rips open the bottle cap and sets a capsule beside his water.

Finished and done with the game he was playing.

“And put a damn pillow underneath your leg when you sleep,” she sneers.

Kylian watches her in complete silence. Too awestriken with what just occurred. First she was kicking Lucette out, and now she was giving him the greenlight to leave. He should’ve felt relieved, that he wouldn’t have to put up with whatever this sudden arrangement was, but he didn’t. He felt guilty again.

He knew that he had messed up and knew that he should have asked her before he let Lucette massage him, but he didn’t think much of it at the time. He especially didn’t think it would cause him further injury.

------

Kylian had woken up in a gross amount of pain the next morning. It had rendered him speechless, afraid that if he moved it would radiate through him worse. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down but he couldn’t. He wanted to call for Aurie but his mind was still repeating the events from the previous night. How willing was Aurie to still help him despite what she said last night and what he had done?

But there she was. He heard the creak of the wooden stairs as she came to him quickly.

“Hey,” she greets. His eyes are screwed shut and his arms are splayed on top of his face. She touches his arm gingerly and he wants to melt at the sound of her voice and touch, wanting to just inch towards her in hopes that the pain drowns away. It seemed to work because it had subsided by a fraction, but it was enough to have him slowly opening his eyes. “Sit up to take your medicine.”

“I don’t want to move,” he stresses.

Her lips tug into a frown, and he stares at the feature, wanting to somehow wipe away the worry. She stands before he can continue thinking of ways to erase her frown, “I’ll help you.”

Kylian hadn’t noticed that he was profusely sweating through his clothes until she tugged at his waist, his shirt feeling grossly stuck to his body. He cringes as he wills himself up. She adjusts a pillow behind him, her eyes already fixed onto his calf.

He swallows the pill and gulps the rest of the water with haste. Her hands are busy unwrapping the compression bandage he wore. His leg had swelled more, and the bandage being tight was what caused him the pain because as soon as she loosened it, he let out a groan of satisfaction.

She takes a moment to examine his leg. Lucette’s massage had done an extensive amount of damage through the night and Aurie’s job to fix it just slowly got delayed. His swelling and purple bruises only seemed to grow, already putting him two more days behind schedule. Martin certainly wasn’t going to be happy.

“Did she massage your thigh by any chance?” Aurie asks, watching Kylian’s chest heave up and down, sweat dripping down his temples.

Kylian nods, wiping the sweat away from his face, “Yeah.”

Aurie stares back at his thigh, trying to peek at his hamstrings to see if there's any discoloration, but she knows she doesn’t have to look to know her answer.

His month-long stay would now have to be a month and a half. Something that neither her or Martin had discussed. She promised her job that she would be back within a month and that Kylian would be all Martin’s responsibility afterward.

But that was no longer her problem, he was going home today anyway.

She lets out an unnoticeable sigh, grabbing the black compression wrap and starts wrapping his leg back up, making sure it isn’t too tight for him.

“Thank you,” he exhausts, his eyes fluttering closed.

Her shoulders only fell back at the sight of him: sweaty and exhausted, his eyebrows creased and his lips parted open. His hands are clenching onto the shorts he wore, trying to distract himself until the meds kicked in. Even if she wanted him to be gone already, to get rid of the fever dream she and him had both experienced last night, she would have to help him in the shower first.

That was going to take a while.

Note: I wasn’t sure to add the people from my other main taglist that I had for my other fics since this is a whole series so uh yeah haha. Just let me know! AHH first chapter, I think I was more excited to finally just get this out here so I could stop looking back at the chapter and trying to add anymore edits--especially after the disappointing loss to Bayern. Anyway, how are we feeling? Any first chapter thoughts? I’ll most likely stay between 6k-10k words for each chapter.

Taglist: @kylianswifey @darlingmbappe

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe fanfiction #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe drabble #kylian x reader #mbappe x reader #em.writes #comme les fleurs

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tojiscumdumpster · 11 months ago

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CHAPTER FOUR - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

content warnings - reader is sexually as*aulted in this chapter. she's drunk and another guy is too touchy while dancing together on the floor.

The music and the noises from the party goers fade the moment me and Y/N steps inside the utility closet. This wasn’t the ideal spot I had in mind, but anything will do so as long she’s here with me.

I could be standing on top of a fifty feet tower, and I wouldn’t give a damn if I knew Y/N was there, too.

Now, fuck my job. Fuck the bachelorette party. Fuck that annoying Gojo shithead and everybody else. All my attention is to the outrageously sexy woman that stands in front of me that can’t keep her eyes to herself. Even under the dull light of the utility closet, she has this soft glow to her deep umber complexion that’s salivating.

Her hands find purchase on my chest to become familiarized with the feel of me. Slow and delicate strokes that build arousal in my cock and burn heat on the tip of my ears. Essentially, I wanted to take her somewhere alone so I could fuck the shit out of her, but this tenderness feels… much needed.

I hate that I’m craving softness right now when I’m hornier than a virgin. Still, with how I’ve been thinking about Y/N lately. I can’t deny that I want this to be more than just a fuck.

She balances on her toes to meet with my lips because heels or not, I still have a lot of height over her. The kiss she gives me is sensual. Controlling yet needy for some type of touch. I’m quick to take the lead, but this time, I allow her to explore the inside of my mouth.

Y/N wraps her arms around my neck and loses her slender fingers into my locks to pull me closer to her. I want to tell her that I’m not fucking going anywhere, but we both know that’s not the reason why she deepens our kiss. My tongue is caught between her lips to suck on eagerly while my hands work their way to her ass.

There goes that sweet, sounded whimper that fucking drives me insane. No matter how she breathes, laughs, talks—hell, fucking blinks, she’ll always unintentionally find a way to make me hard.

Y/N breaking from our kiss almost had me whining like a brat, but seeing her plumped lips, gloss smeared across her face like the first night we met, is a sight worth seeing.

“It’s you,” she says softly, smiling.

“It is. Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You missed me, Toji Fushiguro?”

I give her a half grin because yes, I feel too sappy to admit that I miss her, but I do. “Possibly.”

“A touch one to crack, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Say my name like again and I will fuck you until you lose all feeling in your hips.

“Not really lovey dovey,” I admit.

“Understandable,” —she leans into the counter behind her— “May I ask why?”

Assuming that her stilettos are wearing her out, I lifted her onto the counter so she could sit comfortably. I took it upon myself to stand between her legs, having them both straddle my sides and if feels so damn right to be here.

Before I answer Y/N’s question, I peck her lips a few more times, then nip at her jawline, causing her to squeal and swat my chest.

“Comfortable?” I query.

“Are you comfortable? If I was any lower your dick would be rubbing against my pussy.”

Fuck .

The corners of my mouth tips up. “Alcohol makes your lips loose like that?”

“Maybe.”

I hum. “Well, to answer your earlier question, I haven’t really felt shit since my wife died. It’s like the last bit of decency went with her or it’s kept for my kid.”

“You don’t think you’re a decent guy?”

“No, I don’t think . I know I’m not, Y/N,” I tell her.

“I think otherwise.”

“Tell me.”

“Want me to stroke your ego?” she asks, teasingly.

“Hm, that, amongst other things.”

“You always find a way to be a perv.”

Y/N goes into deep thought while thinking of a way to answer my question. She looks into the ceiling but occasionally takes glimpses at me, seeing how I have a small smile on my face.

There’s a possibility that my “Not into lovey dovey shit” admission was a half lie. Fifty percent of me just want to have my way with her and pound her pussy. Then, the other fifty percent wants to be possessive and controlling to make sure no other fucker tries to push up on her.

A hundred percent of me? Well…

“It might be a reach, but from the two times that we crossed paths, you have a tendency to say how shitty of a guy you are. But really, you’re just trying to scare people away,” she deciphers. “Maybe so you don’t catch feelings, or they don’t. Maybe even both. I’m not a therapist, so who knows?”

I simpered. “And from the two times we crossed paths, you tell me you’re not a therapist, yet you say some deep shit like that—again.”

“I majored in psychology when I was in college. Therapist in the making, but I decided to be a teacher instead.” Her hands return to my chest and glide up until she reaches my shoulders to rub. “You want me to be scared of you, Toji Fushiguro… I’m not scared of you.”

For once, I’m left… speechless. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? That’s she’s right? Because maybe she is. I just can’t admit to that. At least, not right now. It’s so loud yet quiet in my head, like my senses zeroed in on the muffled noises on the other side of the door and Y/N’s soft breathing.

I can’t blame everything on wanting her to be scared of me. That would be cowardly of me. But I’m not vulnerable enough to admit that I can’t go through that again-this again, with losing someone I got close to.

“Well, you should be,” I replied harsher than I intended to. I know Y/N felt it too because she flinched a bit and curled her fists into her lap.

Shit, great job, Fushiguro.

This just feels too deja vu-ish.

“I said something that pissed you off?”

I step away from her and run my hands through my hair. “No, fuck. Just… I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know you. We don’t know each other.”

I can’t tell if that was hurt, anger or a mixture of both in her eyes. But whatever it is, was caused because of my words.

“You’re absolutely right, and it’ll probably stay like that, too,” she bites back. “Excuse me. I have a party to attend.” Y/N brushes past me to leave the closet, but I grab her wrist.

“Y/N.” Is all I say. I don’t know what else to fucking say, but I’m hoping she hears the desperation in my voice.

She looks over her shoulder. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me.” Snatching her wrist back, she leaves me in the room to leave me with my thoughts.

I never had the urge to walk out of work until now. Not when Gojo fucking talk my ears out. Not when the nightclub owner bosses me around a little too much for my liking. And not when I get puked on by some random woman after a failed attempt of hitting on me.

But at this moment, if I don’t walk out of work, at least, the floor, I will be charged with murder. Because why the fuck is Y/N on the dance floor grinding her ass on some piece of shit?

I know she’s not my girlfriend, let alone casually dating, and I understand I said some stupid shit back in the utility closet. However, this? That? What I feel like doing right now is snatching that motherfucker up and thrash his face repeatedly into the ground.

Anger flush throughout my body, and what makes me even more pissed is Gojo fucking snickering like a little bitch, knowing the reason why I’m mad to begin with.

The bachelorette party is still partially going, but most of the party either left or dispersed onto the first floor to dance. So, I’m back to my normal routine of walking the floors.

I mean, that’s what I'm supposed to be doing.

Instead, I’m in the corner near the bar, leaving a comfortable distance between me and Y/N, but just enough to see how touchy this fucker is. And Y/N is drunk. Drunk as shit. In the past twenty minutes, I noticed her downing two cocktails and three shots.

Fuck, I just hope she’s not mixing her liquor.

She probably feels numb to his hands on her. Grabbing her waist. Kissing her neck with his nose. Rubbing his fucking dick against her ass. I want to kill him. So badly. I’ve never had blood lust like this until now.

And the split second that passes when he slithers his nasty fingers up Y/N’s dress to invade her privacy and take advantage of her intoxication, all bets are off.

My strides are long and quick when I push through the other drunken individuals to get to Y/N. I noticed that she detached from that shitface and faced him head on with a drunken smile of confusion, barely having any control over her body.

I’m now inches away from them both and I see that he tries to reach for her again, aggressively. Not quick enough before I grabbed him by his shoulder, turned him around, and punched the shit out of his jaw, that I felt crack against my knuckle.

Some bystanders stop to stare, and others are too fucking drunk to care. But me? I want to make an example out of him. Though, for the sake of being in a public place, I don’t.

He’s on the floor, crying like a little bitch and looks at me like I’m his worst nightmare. Good, because I am.

I pull up my slacks to crotch down to his level, close enough so he can hear me over this loud music.

“You fucking psycho. I’m going to make sure you lose your job and go to jail,” he says.

I chuckle. “Funny, because the NDA you and everybody else in here signed before entering says, all security personnel can handle any party goer how they see fit that causes disruption, damage property, steal, coerce or attempt to sexually assault a drunken or sober individual, etcetera, etcetera, and all that other shit, so long as it doesn’t result in death.”

Continuing, I say, “That woman behind us,” — I point to Y/N that watches me with heavy eyes— “is drunk. And that camera up there,”—I look up to the ceiling— “has been recording every fucking thing. So not only will you walk out of here with a broken jaw, but you’ll also end up in handcuffs. I advise you to pick your ass up and leave before the latter happens and I rearrange your face.”

The motherfucker probably just made the wisest decision of his life because it takes him no less than three minutes to leave the club. I’m honestly surprised of the restraint I showed because quite frankly, I need this fucking job. No matter how much I hate it.

Though, what I didn’t expect was Y/N grinning at me with heart eyes. She’s really drunk. It’s like she’s in her own world and completely oblivious to what happened between us earlier and just now.

“My hero,” she giggles, slurring her words. She jumps on me and wraps her legs around my waist to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Security Guard.”

I shake my head. “Y/N, do you know who I am?”

She lays her face in the crook of my neck and nips at my flesh. “Of course… How could I ever forget you, Toji… Fushiguro?”

Drunk, yes, but she manages to remember me. I know there’s a no touching guest policy when on the floor, however, Y/N is drunk. And she’s not just a guest to me, either.

I look at my watch to see that it’s twelve fifty-five. Five minutes before my shift is over. Thank fuck I’m not closing tonight because it’s time to cut Y/N off.

Now.

She clings onto like a damn koala bear while I’m passing through to the crowd to head to the security locker room. Y/N is… clingy. Affectionate when she’s intoxicated. She keeps kissing around my neck, my face all while whispering nasty shit in my ear.

It’s not like I’m complaining. Every word and action she does goes straight to my cock. But of course, I’m not going to act on it. My main priority is to get her home safely.

“Toji, where are you going?” she asks.

“I’m going to the security room so I can change out of my clothes and take you home.”

“Oh? You’re going to take off your clothes for me?”

I give her a kiss on the cheek. “Not like that, sweetheart. Maybe another night when you’re not drunk.”

What type of hold does this fucking woman have on me?

I eventually got to the room and Y/N energy seemed to fade. When you’re drunk at one in the morning, that’s bound to happen. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got the munchies. Typically, that’s when you’re high, but either way.

Before I go to change, I place her on the couch we have in here and cover her with my sweater. She immediately dozes off. I need to hurry up out of my clothes before—

“Fuck, tonight was exhausting,” Gojo fucking obnoxiously yells. I snap my head at him while standing in my boxers, a silent command to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“This is the girl Satoru was talking about?” Geto walks in behind and asks. “She’s pretty.”

“And in what way was he fucking talking about her?”

“Relax, Fushiguro,” Gojo says, raising his hands in innocence. “I just said she was hot and apparently off limits. I saw what you did to that guy's jaw. I’ll pass.”

That’s what I fucking thought.

As much as I enjoy standing around and chatting with these two (I don’t), it’s time for me to take Y/N home. I walk over to her and her soft grumbles do something to my chest. She seems at peace, and I don’t want to ruin that, but I have to.

“Y/N, I’m going to pick you up again,” I warned her.

“Mhm.”

I take the keys out of her before I carry her bridal style, taking the employee exit that leads to the main parking lot. It’s annoying and might disrupt her sleep, but I need to sound off her alarm to know which one is her car.

It doesn’t take long for me to find it and she’s still sound asleep.

With one hand, I unlock the passenger door to Y/N’s car and place her in the seat, adjusting it so it leans back a bit. When I get in the driver seat, I look inside her purse (I know an invasion) to find her ID to put her address in the GPS.

“Fifteen minutes. Not bad,” I mutter to myself.

The radio is off. The silence in the car is loud, and I enjoy the soft sounds of Y/N sleeping while we head to her place.

Y/N’s home is very her. Earth toned colors. Plants. Art on the wall. Plants—everywhere. I couldn’t imagine it to be like anything else. I’m even picking up her vanilla and warm berries scent that drives me fucking nuts.

She’s a heavy sleeper. I can tell because since we left the club, I moved her around several times, and she hasn’t stirred once. But the moment I lay her in bed and walk away, she does.

Like the loss of my touch is what’s affecting her.

“Hey, big guy,” she mumbles. “Where ya going?”

“Home.”

She pouts. “You’re not going to help me get ready for bed?”

I’ll do anything that will let me stay with you a little longer.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Take me to the bathroom… please.”

For the next thirty minutes, I prepare Y/N for bed. Part of her being drunk is getting a ten-minute explanation about her skin care routine. I don’t know what the fuck is a cleansing balm, toner, or retinol, but she managed to show me how to put it on her face after I washed off her makeup.

We go back into her bedroom, and she sits on the corner of the bed while I go through her dresser to find something comfortable for her to wear. She prefers an oversized tee shirt, so that’s what she’s getting.

“Y/N, this okay—” I turned around to see her completely naked. Beautiful breasts out with hardened nipples. A puffy pussy. Natural thick curves with a full stomach. My cock is reacting painfully.

But this isn’t right. She’s drunk. Y/N has no idea what’s she doing right now, and I’m not taking fucking advantage of that.

I quickly turn back around and stretch my arm out so she can take the shirt out of my hand. “Here. Put it on now.”

This night just feels longer than usual. I need to go, but I couldn’t even get through the room door before Y/N grabbed my wrist.

“Stay.”

It throws me off, her asking me to stay. That one simple word didn’t sound like she was drunk or tired. And I know she’s clingy right now, but it’s more than that. It’s… the same declaration I was too pussy to say when we were in the utility closet.

I wanted her to stay. I didn’t want her to go back to the bachelorette party, and I didn’t give a damn to go back to my post. Being in that room with Y/N, just the two of us, felt like another world. And I hate that she makes me feel this way after only two times of meeting her. She’s just so comforting.

The word stay has so much meaning to it. I meant it earlier when I said I don’t know her and she doesn't know me, but I want to be around her as much as possible because the trust Y/N has in me—knowing where she lives. Driving her car. Protecting her. Caring for her before bed. It makes me feel even more possessive.

Me, the loss of my warmth from a motherfucker like me, stirs Y/N and makes her feel uneasy. Staying with her might spew out feelings, especially on my end, that will be difficult to sort out. But I don’t give fuck. I’ll figure that out later.

For now, if Y/N asks me to stay while looking at me with those pretty brown eyes, who am I to deny her?

“Okay,” I answered. “I’ll stay.”

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whipitgod · 6 months ago

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Thinking About Birds

Hannibal lecter x Will Graham

oneshot - wc: 2.7k

summary: post fall hannigram, will wishes he had thought about all of the little things that come with living with hannibal, and hannibal tap dances on wills last nerve!

warnings: language, mentions of canon typical murder stuff, somewhat crack-ish while also being serious at parts, tooth rotting domestic sweetness

a/n: Thank you for the continued support you are all so amazing!!! per usual this was supposed to be shorter than it turned out but i just can’t help my self apparently lol. If you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

Will blinked awake slowly, shifting slightly to glance at the small digital clock on the nightstand; the numbers on the display reading 4:30. The red glow of the numbers feels almost taunting as he pauses to wonder what had even woken him up, he hasn't had a nightmare in months, at least not a real one. A thought crosses his mind that leaves a taste of bitter irony in his mouth, he hadn’t had a real nightmare since he had begun sharing a bed with Hannibal.

Will quells a laugh that bubbles up inside him and threatens to escape at the thought; the very cause of the nightmares that had plagued him for years, now being the thing that keeps them at bay. Will turns to look at where Hannibal sleeps, finding his side of the bed empty; Will can hear Hannibal clattering around in the bathroom in a failed attempt to be quiet so as to not wake the ex-profiler.

Will lets out a harsh breath through his nose in irritation as he hears what he believes to be, based on the sound of the bottle hitting the vanity in their shared bathroom, step 9 of Hannibal's outrageously long skincare routine. He reaches blindly for the lamp on the nightstand, making note of the fact that the sun has yet to even begin to rise. The lamp turns on with a soft click as he finally grabs ahold of the chain he had been reaching for, the room flooding with a warm yellow light that still manages to grate on Will's nerves.

He pushes himself up so he's sitting with his back against the ornately carved wooden headboard Hannibal had insisted on purchasing for their new shared bedroom, grumbling quietly to himself as he does, “Who the hell wakes up this early,” he swats at the nightstand in an attempt to find his phone, “and who needs a 15 step skincare routine,” finally managing to grasp his phone, but only after knocking a few of the random things he keeps piled on his nightstand, much to Hannibal's dismay, to the ground, “I mean jesus christ Hannibal, just get some damn botox.”

Almost as if summoned by Will’s quiet words of discontent, the door to the bathroom opens and Hannibal steps back out into the room, seeming shocked to have woken Will when he spots the younger man awake and reading something on his phone. The shock on the cannibal’s face stirs up another bout of irritation inside Will; why is he acting surprised? Hannibal's morning routine has woken Will more times than he can count in the few months that they had been living together in the small home. Hannibal makes slow strides over to the bed where Will is now looking at him with poorly masked annoyance, “I’m sorry if I woke you,” the man says, entirely too chipper and awake sounding for Will’s taste, “I was trying to be quiet.”

Will lets out a displeased huff at this, choosing to forgo a response. He spares Hannibal a short glance before focusing back on the article he had been reading on his phone, the older man sighs at this before moving to the closet to retrieve his clothes for the day. Will was glad the man’s fashion taste had become significantly more tame since they had settled into the home in argentina, he supposes it's probably due in part to Hannibal not having anywhere to get the clothes near where they’re staying, but Will wouldn’t put it past the man to have the clothes shipped in from somewhere else, and if anyone could find a tailor near where they reside it would be Hannibal.

Honestly Will isn’t a hundred percent sure why the change in Hannibal's choice in garment had occurred, Will is almost certain that he hadn't seen the cannibal wear a tie in the entire time they've been living together, let alone his previous daily attire of carefully tailored three piece suits. Hannibal now opting to wear a wardrobe of mostly linen, the flowy material good for staying cool in the warm environment they now reside in; Will supposes the temperature of the country they've been staying in might have something to do with the change, he would imagine that the humidity might make a polyester blend a bit impractical.

He watches the man dress as his thoughts unfold, he had never anticipated his life turning out this way, but he isn’t upset about it, even though sometimes he feels like he should be. The guilt that used to haunt his every waking moment now only graces him on rare occasions. He’s always able to stamp the guilt down as quickly as it arrives now with a silent acknowledgement that his guilt will not purify him; guilt does not make you innocent. Is the man that sobs out apologies at his trial any less of a murderer than the man that doesnt?

He’s broken from his thoughts by the sound of Hannibal shutting the closet door with a gentle thud, the man pausing to look in the floor length mirror he had insisted on having in the room momentarily, the same mirror that Will had only agreed to have in the room so long as it was not facing the bed in any way. Seemingly satisfied with his appearance he turns and faces the bed where Will sits watching him.

When he spots the look Will is giving him his features soften slightly, “I’m going to make some coffee dear,” the pet names were also a new addition that had seemed to come with the shared house, “I will start on a light breakfast in an hour or so.”

Will meets his eyes then, offering a small smile despite the irritation of being woken up this early that still simmered gently within him, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

the response seems to satisfy the older man because he nods at this before leaving the room to begin making what is no doubt a very overly complicated pot of coffee. Will misses shitty coffee every once in a while, don't get him wrong the stuff Hannibal makes is amazing, but Will still occasionally craves the bitter watered down coffee that you’d find in small diners and gas stations. Hannibal would probably have an aneurysm if he were to catch Will drinking the stuff now, he muses silently, the thought causing a small huff of laughter to escape him before he can stop it.

There were a lot of things that Will hadn't considered when he had thrown them over the cliff. He wasn't trying to kill them, at least he doesn't think he was, he honestly still wasn’t quite sure what his plan was when he had pulled Hannibal into the water with him. He doesn't dwell on this line of thinking for long, choosing not to rehash an internal conversation that he’s had on many occasions in the months they had been living in the home together.

Will hadn't really considered what it would be like to live with the cannibal before he had plunged them into that freezing water; he finds himself wishing that he had quite frequently though, especially when Hannibal wakes him up with the noise of his excessive morning routine.

Will had never really given much thought of what living with the cannibal would be like prior to their dive, at least not in any practical way. He had imagined what it would be like to wake up next to Hannibal, he’d found himself fantasizing frequently about drifting to sleep tangled with the man.

Funnily enough, his fantasies never included the way the cannibal lived his day to day life when Will wasn't present, they never included how Hannibal would go about mundane everyday tasks. He really wishes he had; he’s always known, at least on some level, that the man was eccentric and particular, he just hadn’t anticipated all of his quirks.

He regrets not considering all of the little things, like the man's obsession with his morning and night routines, or the way he mutters quietly to himself when he reads at night next to Will in bed, that one Will finds particularly frustrating; he remembers confronting Hannibal about it one night as they lied in bed one evening about a month into their stay. He lets out a soft puff of air as he recalls the memory.

-——————————

Will had been growing increasingly more and more frustrated with the sounds of Hannibal reading; prior to living with the man, he had considered reading to be an almost silent activity, yet here Hannibal was disproving that notion in a way that made Will want to tear the book from his hands.

Hannibal let out a please hum at what he was reading, drumming his fingers against the back cover of the book, “How interesting,” the sound of a page turning grated against Will's nerves and added to the growing irritation he had been feeling; Hannibal made a noise that sounded curious, continuing to drum his fingers against the back. Will wanted to stab him with one of the pens that sat on his cluttered nightstand. Hannibal let out another pleased noise, this one sounding satisfied like he satiated the momentary curiosity that had occurred from the last page before muttering a soft, “Very interesting.”

Will was gonna strangle him. He had never been able to find the strength to go through with it but he reasons he had never had to sit and listen to Hannibal read while he was trying to fall asleep next to him. The sound of another page turning doing nothing to calm the frustration bubbling up inside him; he doesn’t often allow himself to indulge in the fantasies of killing the irritating man but every once in a while Hannibal will do something that annoys Will to the point where he no longer feels any guilt about picturing the man's demise. Hannibal lets out another inquisitive noise and Will fights the urge to reach over and punch him, he’s too angry to even want to kill him at this point, he just wants to get one good lick in.

Hannibal breaths out a contented noise before muttering again, “Very, very interesting.” Will sits up with a speed he didn't know he was capable of, Hannibal jumping slightly as he had assumed the younger man was asleep. Hannibal had never been a very expressive man but in that moment as he stares at a borderline manic looking Will, his expression is that of a deer in headlights.

“Reading is a silent activity!” It comes out as more of a yell than he had intended but Will finds it hard to care, all of the anger that has been steadily building for the last hour reaching a boiling point, “How interesting can a book about-” Will stops quickly, eyes scanning over the cover of the book in Hannibal's hands before letting out a laugh that bordered on hysterical. Will finally noticing that the other man had been reading a book about the migration patterns of different birds in the region; not even attempting to finish the sentence he had started he plows on, “are you fucking kidding me?!”

Hannibal chose not to say anything, his expression now contrite as he closes the book with a soft thud, setting it gently down onto his lap not breaking eye contact with Will, a little afraid that the man might lunge at him if he looks away.

The fight leaves Will almost immediately, huffing out an exacerbated, “un-fucking-believable.” before laying back down with more aggression than Hannibal had thought possible. It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the sound of Will’s agitated breathing and the occasional disgruntled mutters emanating from where Will lays facing away from Hannibal. The cannibal can’t pick up on everything that Will is grumbling, the quiet words of anger somewhat muffled against his pillow but he picks up on some of it; a quiet disbelieving, “fucking birds.” Hannibal misses the rest of what he says but the cannibal understands the message, finally moving to set the book on the nightstand. The older man sits motionless for a few moments after setting the book down until Will snaps out an angered, “Go the hell to bed Hannibal.”

Normally Hannibal would push back, abhorring the rudeness of Will’s statement but in that moment he decides not to argue with the empath; He decides to simply flick off the lamp and lay down against his pillow. He reaches out to pull Will to his chest but as soon as Will feels the man's hand touching his arm he lets out a harsh, “Don’t.”

Hannibal feeling properly scolded in a way that he had rarely felt before decides not to make things worse by pushing, he rolls onto his back and drifts off to the sound of Will’s breath evening out as he finally falls asleep.

————————————

Will is pulled out of the memory by the sound of hannibal calling his name announcing that the coffee was done; He isn't quite sure how long he had been sat there thinking about that night but given how long it takes Hannibal to make coffee with the ridiculous contraption he insists on using Will would wager that its been at least twenty minutes; Will had suggested buying a keurig one morning and he swears to this day that the cannibals eye had started twitching, Will had conceding quickly, worried that the knife Hannibal was using to make breakfast might find its way into his stomach.

Standing up from the bed with a sigh as he stretches his sore muscles; He’s had a back ache since they had taken their tumble, having been on the bottom when they hit the water his back had taken a majority of the damage, the raging water unforgiving as they crashed into it.

Stretching his back one more time with a pained groan, he strides leisurely out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Hannibal was sat reading something on his tablet, the older man looking up to greet him as he crosses the threshold into the room, “Good morning dear,” Hannibal gestures to the second mug sitting on the table, “I already poured you a cup.” Will offers him a soft smile in return, pulling out the chair closest to the other man before sitting down and pulling the mug towards him.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a bit, the only sounds between them being the gentle clank of mugs being picked up and sat down as they drink their coffee, the domesticity of the act never failing to stir up complicated emotions in will; the empath had never considered how much hannibal would behave like a housewife once they had began living together.

He stares at the Hannibal while he gets lost in thought, his mind filled with memories of multiple events that had taken place in the last couple weeks alone; Some of Hannibal’s behavior and habits seemed more fitting for a forty year old suburban housewife, not a serial killer with a penchant for cannibalism. This thought makes him let out a small chuckle, Hannibal's head snapping towards him at the sound. Hannibal gives an inquisitive hum, his gaze expectant as he locks eyes with Will; Will simply waves a hand at the man's curiosity, deciding to take another sip of his coffee instead of responding.

Will startles at the realization of how domestic they've become, from their frequent bickering to their habit of sitting in comfortable silences simply enjoying the others presence. This realization doesn't scare him the way he thinks it should; something about it feels right, like this is just what was supposed to happen. Will can't help but let out another laugh at the thought, the idea of this outcome being fated is humorous to him in ways he can't quite pinpoint.

At the noise Hannibal looks at him again, watching him for a moment before asking a gentle, “Is something funny?” In response to the question Will gives a gentle shake of his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Hannibal quirks a brow at his reaction, before speaking again, “It sure seems like something is funny,” he sets his tablet down, giving his full attention to Will, “Care to share?”

the empath huffs out another gentle laugh, he shakes his head softly once more before answering, “I’ve just been thinking about birds.”

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