#twenty twenty snore: just go back to bed its not worth it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nerdzzone · 2 years ago

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Worlds Apart

Chapter Five

Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?

Series Masterlist

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Waking up the morning after her birthday, Bridget was immediately reminded of why tequila shots were rarely a good idea for anyone over the age of twenty-two. Her head was pounding, it felt like it weighed far more than it usually did, and even simply rolling over had her feeling like her brain was going to burst out of her skull. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, taking a few big swigs in an attempt to get rid of some of the dryness in her mouth and she was relieved when her stomach didn’t turn and immediately attempt to force it back out. She might have been a far cry from feeling her best, but she’d definitely had much worse hangovers in her life and she was grateful for that small win.

However, a wave of dread washed over her as the memories of the end of their night came back to her. Frantically grabbing her phone, she was hoping to find that the messages she remembered sending had all been a dream, but the several notifications of messages from Chris confirmed that it was all true. She was torn about whether she should read what he had to say or just assume that she’d embarrassed herself enough that he no longer wanted anything to do with her, but eventually her curiosity got the best of her and she opened their conversation.

The first thing that caught her eye was the picture of his face that popped up on the screen. He looked tired and like he’d had a very long day, but he was handsome nonetheless. The visible neckline of the t-shirt he was wearing and the soft light in the room told her that he must have sent it after he was home for the night and the timestamp confirmed her suspicions as she realized his reply had come long after she’d fallen asleep.

After staring at - and appreciating - the picture for longer than she was willing to admit, she tore her gaze away to focus on the message that accompanied it.

Sorry for the late reply, it’s been a long and busy night. Not sure my face is quite up to Paul’s standard, but who am I to deny the birthday girl?

The picture came through after that message, but it was followed by another.

I think it’s only fair that I get a picture in return though, don’t you? I have a theory that I’d like to prove and it would really help me out.

Her curiosity was piqued, but the heavy feeling of residual mascara around her eyes and the crunch of leftover hairspray in her hair despite its current out of control style had her cringing at the thought. A glance at the clock told her it was just before ten - a fact that surprised her considering her routine usually made it impossible for her to sleep after eight even on days she didn’t work or have Landon - which meant it was just after seven where Chris was on the west coast. Feeling comforted by the time difference, Bridget answered him.

A theory? What would that be?

She assumed she had plenty of time - especially if Chris was up late - to relax and freshen up before he answered, but she’d barely had enough time to snuggle back down under the blankets next to her still snoring friend and open her other unread messages of delayed birthday well wishes when a notification popped up.

I’ll explain when I get the evidence I need.

Again, her curiosity was getting the best of her as she tried to puzzle out what exactly a picture of her face could be used as evidence for. She was intrigued enough to sit up a little higher in bed and fluff her wild hair as she opened the front camera on her phone. The reflection that appeared on the screen had her dreading the thought of Chris seeing her in her current state, but there was something about the casual picture he’d sent her that made her pause just as she was about to turn her camera off. He definitely still looked great - she doubted there was ever a time when he didn’t - but it was also drastically different to the pictures she’d seen of him on the red carpet earlier that day. His hair was messy, his eyes were tired, it wasn’t a perfectly poised snapshot, and if he was willing to share that vulnerability with her then it had her thinking that maybe she should let her guard down and return the sentiment.

She ruffled her hair a little more in an attempt to shift it from unruly messy to sultry messy and leaned into the hungover look as she stared at the camera and snapped a quick picture. It absolutely wasn’t her best - definitely not a picture she would want to share all over social media - but it wasn’t entirely awful and she quickly sent it before she could change her mind, adding a disclaimer underneath the picture.

I don’t always look so rough in the morning, but I’m currently facing the consequences of drinking over the age of thirty.

Bridget tried not to let the suspense drive her insane as she stared at her phone, desperately hoping that Chris hadn’t fallen back to sleep and wouldn't leave that picture unanswered for a moment longer than necessary, but she was relieved when he once again replied almost immediately.

Haha well that’s the thing! You mentioned something about not being cute after a wild night and I couldn’t imagine that you’re ever not adorable. Turns out I’m right, you’re gorgeous even when you’re hungover.

The giddiness that his words stirred up inside her had her feeling a touch embarrassed by how easily a few sweet words could get under her skin. She felt her cheeks heat up and her smile stretching wide across her face as he seemed so genuine in what he’d said. Of course, it could have just been mindless flirting - she was sure he was well versed in how to charm a woman - but the fact that he’d remembered her offhanded comment enough to circle back to it encouraged her to believe that he was being sincere - even if she wasn’t entirely convinced he was right.

Wow, that is very generous of you to say! I’m glad I wasn’t there to see your actual horrified reaction, but thank you for being so kind.

Wrapped up in the conversation happening on her phone, Bridget hadn’t even realized that Molly was awake until a voice croaked out from the blankets beside her.

“Who are you talking to?” She questioned, her face barely visible as it peaked out from under the duvet. “The ear to ear grin on your face is blinding me.”

“Sorry,” Bridget giggled as she let her phone fall onto the bed beside her. “Well, I’m not really. It’s almost ten so you should be waking up anyway, but I was talking to Chris.”

The blanket lowered slightly as Molly poked her head out of the soft cocoon she’d buried herself in enough for Bridget to see the excitement in her eyes once again.

“You were? What did he say?”

“He was just commenting on how gorgeous I am even when I’m hungover.”

She spoke with a nonchalance that she hadn’t had when sending the picture, but the way that Molly’s eyebrow raised at that information had her biting back more giggles.

“And how would he know that?”

“Because I sent him a picture.”

“Well, that was bold of you,” Molly teased, a smug look on her face as she ventured a little further out from under the blankets just in time to hear Bridget’s indignant scoff. “Not that you don’t look super cute while you’re all ruffled and sleepy, but you must really like him if you’re feeling confident enough to send him a picture so early in the morning after one date.”

“Well, he sent me one last night when he was tired,” she admitted. “So it seemed fair to do the same.”

“That’s adorable,” Molly smiled. “You guys are already disgustingly cute.”

“Shut up,” Bridget blushed. “It’s no big deal.”

“You haven’t been on a date in five years,” Molly reminded her, finally throwing off the blanket completely as she stretched. “And now you’re exchanging selfies with someone you clearly like. That is a big deal and I’m very happy for you.”

Bridget’s first instinct was to roll her eyes, but she knew her old friend was most likely being more sincere than teasing in her excitement so she flashed her a smile instead.

“I’m happy for me too,” she admitted. “I’m really trying not to get too ahead of myself, but he seems really sweet and it’s nice to have someone that I’m excited to talk to.”

“You deserve it,” Molly assured her before adding, “And I deserve some coffee. Do you want some?”

“Yes, please,” Bridget nodded as Molly dragged herself out of bed. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

When Molly had disappeared out of the room, Bridget checked her phone and saw two more messages from Chris.

I’m not being kind, I’m being honest. You’re beautiful.

How were the birthday celebrations?

She answered quickly - not wanting to draw anymore of Molly’s well-intentioned attention to the situation - and explained briefly about her day with Landon, the dinner with her friends, and drinks with Molly before turning the conversation back towards him and asking about the premiere. She briefly wondered if she’d overshared by giving him so much detail instead of sticking to something simple like ‘it was good, thanks for asking’, but when Chris responded to her own question with just as much enthusiasm, she felt more at ease. He informed her that it had been a pretty exciting evening, but shared that he always found the big premieres to be pretty draining. He mentioned the anxiety that he struggled with before every big event and how hard it could be to get out of his own head and really be in the moment in the midst of all the chaos. He assured her that it had all worked out well in the end and been a success overall, but she appreciated his willingness to open up. There was something about Chris that made her want to let her guard down and it was comforting to know that he apparently felt the same way.

They continued their conversation throughout the morning - as Bridget cooked a big, greasy breakfast with Molly and Chris prepared for the day of press he had ahead of him - but it petered out just as Bridget headed home to shower and get some chores done before she had to head back into the city to pick Landon up from daycare. Chris was on her mind for almost the entire drive as she tried once again to understand how someone as kind, interesting, successful, and attractive as he was actually seemed to be as interested in her as she was in him, but just as she was trying to force herself to get a grip back on reality before she got carried away, she pulled up to her house and noticed the almost comically large bouquet of flowers on her doorstep.

Curious about who they could possibly be from, she hurried out of the car and as she read the card that was tucked in between the bright and beautiful arrangement, she felt her heart soar.

Happy Birthday!

Sorry for the belated gift, but everywhere was closed by the time I found out. I hope you had a great day and aren’t feeling too rough this morning.

Chris

In the days after her birthday, Bridget and Chris spent almost every free moment they had messaging each other. With Chris busy doing press for the movie and Bridget busy balancing work and her duties as a mom, they’d had to sneak in short conversations whenever possible but Bridget was grateful that Chris was making an effort to reach out at all. However, despite the fact that he was already exceeding her expectations for staying in touch, she had a feeling that it was about to change on the Sunday after her birthday when the press tour went international and he was heading to Beijing.

They’d texted back and forth most of Sunday afternoon after she’d dropped Landon off with his dad, but Chris had to say goodbye early in the evening to board his flight. Bridget had been determined to give him space - let him initiate the conversation so she didn’t bother him or make him feel pressured to reply to him when she knew his schedule would be pretty busy - but she caved almost as soon as she woke up the following morning. Her fingers were practically itching to text him as she opened and closed their conversation at least three times before she decided that it was only polite to send him a message. Not checking in to see if he arrived safely would be pretty rude and she quickly sent him a text before she could change her mind.

After their various conversations over the weekend, she was pretty sure that he would answer her as soon as he could. However, she wasn’t prepared for the way that her phone screen lit up less than a minute later with an incoming call from Chris. A million questions instantly started running through her mind - was it an accident? did he hit the wrong button when he saw the notification of her text? did he mean to call someone else? - but she quickly realized the only way to get any kind of explanation was to answer.

“Hello?”

Her voice was quiet and tentative as if she expected it to be a pocket dial with no one on the other end, but the sound of Chris’ chuckle floating through the phone immediately put her at ease.

“You sound tired,” he informed her. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” she assured him before pointing out, “I texted you first.”

“Good point,” he admitted. “But is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Bridget smiled. “It’s really nice to hear your voice.”

“Yours too. I was gonna text you back, but I’m pretty exhausted so I thought this might be easier.”

His admission had a frown sliding onto Bridget’s face.

“If you’re exhausted then you should get some sleep…”

“I’m trying to stay up a little longer,” he assured her. “I wanna beat the jetlag a little.”

“Oh, that makes sense. What time is it there?”

“Almost seven-thirty in the evening.”

Bridget glanced at the clock beside her bed and saw that it was also almost seven-thirty for her.

“So you’re twelve hours ahead?” She questioned, waiting for him to confirm before she asked him another question. “How was your flight?”

“It was long,” Chris sighed. “I was hoping to sleep, but it was pretty turbulent so I kept waking up.”

“I hate when that happens,” Bridget sympathized. “But if you didn’t sleep much on your way there then maybe you’ll adjust to the time difference even if you go to sleep now?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He’d tried to sound offended, but Bridget could hear the smile in his voice.

“No,” she giggled. “I’m trying to be considerate.”

“Well, thanks, but I’d rather stay awake a little bit longer,” he insisted, pausing slightly before adding, “Especially if I get to talk to you.”

The words had Bridget’s breath catching in her throat as she felt an increasingly familiar goofy grin slide onto her face.

“You’re such a charmer,” she teased, earning another chuckle from Chris. “So, do you get to bunk alone or does Marvel make you guys share rooms?”

“They’re pretty generous,” Chris admitted. “I’m not sure about everyone, but most of us get our own rooms.”

“Ah, yes, all the big superstars have to be spoiled, I guess.”

She hoped he could hear the teasing edge to her tone and was relieved when he went along with her joke.

“Yeah, well, you know what a diva I am.” The smirk in his voice was clear and Bridget bit her lip to hold back another giggle as he continued. “But it does have some drawbacks.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I hate being alone in hotel room beds,” he admitted. “They’re always so cold and stiff.”

“Are you wishing you had someone to break it in with?”

“Not like that,” Chris chuckled, grasping what she was implying. “But it would be nice to have someone to warm up with, maybe cuddle a little.”

“Yeah? And which of your co-stars were you hoping they’d make you share a room with to help you with that?”

“You’re hilarious,” Chris drawled sarcastically. “I actually had someone else in mind. How do you feel about cuddling?”

“I love it,” she confessed, feeling a wave of yearning wash over her touch starved body just at the thought of being wrapped up in his arms and pressed tightly against his side. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty physical with my affection.” The images that his words conjured up in her mind doused her in a flood of heat that was followed by a flush of embarrassment that she was clearly so desperate for any of the affection he was willing to offer. “So I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too,” Bridget smiled before boldly adding, “It’s just a shame we’re not in the same bed.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the phone as if Chris needed a second to process what she’d said, but just before she could mumble out an apology, he chuckled. It was a slightly darker, rougher chuckle than the lighthearted ones she’d heard earlier and the sound sent another shiver down her spine.

“That is a shame,” he agreed. “I guess I’ll have to suffer in this giant bed all by myself.”

Bridget laughed at the dramatic sigh that fell from his lips, but another glance at the clock had her amusement quickly replaced by disappointment.

“Sounds like quite a hardship,” she mockingly sympathized. “But unfortunately, I have to leave my nice, warm, cozy bed and get ready for work.”

“Oh, right. I’d already forgotten that it’s Monday morning for you.”

“Unfortunately,” Bridget stifled a yawn. “So I’ll let you go get some sleep.”

“Alright, I hope you have a good day.”

“Thanks, good luck with all your interviews tomorrow and have fun at the premiere.”

Chris thanked her for her well-wishes as well before they said their goodbyes and hung up, leaving Bridget to drag herself out of bed and go about her day with a smile on her face that she just couldn’t shake.

The first week of Chris’ travels made it difficult for them to stay in touch. The twelve hour time difference meant that one of them was always just about to start their day while the other was winding down which meant their conversations were mostly limited to brief check-ins. However, Chris still made the effort to send her a message every single day so even if the conversations were short, Bridget was content. She really hadn’t expected to hear from him more than once or twice while he was away, but now the thought of such limited contact had her stomach in knots. She knew it was silly - they still barely knew each other and he was still well within his rights to change his mind and cut their contact altogether - but he was always so eager and genuine in their conversations. She didn’t get the impression that he would be looking for an excuse to toss her aside any time soon.

She found herself sitting on the couch as Landon built a train track on the floor by her feet debating for what felt like the millionth time whether or not she was letting herself get too attached. She was willing to admit - at least to herself, not anyone else - that Chris took up more time in her mind than anything else currently did and that she looked forward to their conversations maybe a little more than she should, but it was fun and refreshing and Chris seemed just as enthusiastic as she was so that made it easier to let herself indulge.

Almost as if to prove her point, her phone lit up in her hand with an incoming facetime call from Chris. They hadn’t even spoken on the phone since the last time he’d called so she was a little surprised by the sudden shift to video, but she lifted up her phone until it was in front of her face and answered.

“Hey!” Chris grinned as his face appeared on the screen. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Bridget confirmed, matching his smile as she let her eyes drift to the small shot of herself in the corner to make sure that she looked at least somewhat presentable. “Did you make it to London?”

“I did,” he nodded. “We got in a few hours ago, but we went out for dinner to try and stay awake a bit longer.”

“You must be exhausted,” Bridget sympathized, doing the math of all the various time differences in her head. “I don’t know how you can handle bouncing through all these time zones.”

“I get used to it,” Chris shrugged. “And then sleep for a week when I get home.”

Bridget was just about to comment on how he’d earned the rest when their conversation caught Landon’s attention.

“Who are you talking to?”

“My friend, Chris,” Bridget informed him. “He’s all the way across the ocean in England right now.”

“That sounds really far…” Landon’s eyes widened as he scrambled up, standing on the couch to lean into the camera’s view. “Hi, Chris!”

“Hi, Landon!” Chris smiled. “Do you have baseball today?”

The question confused both of them for a moment until Bridget realized what Landon was wearing.

“No, not today, but Landon loves wearing his jersey,” she informed him. “I had to order a second one just to get the first one off of him long enough to wash it.”

Bridget rolled her eyes, but Landon puffed up his chest to make the logo a little more clear and Chris chuckled at his pride.

“I don’t blame him, that’s a pretty cool jersey. Are you liking baseball so far?”

“I love it,” Landon frantically nodded. “I even hit the ball sometimes! Not all the time, but sometimes I do!”

“Well, that’s better than I can do,” Chris admitted. “Usually I can’t hit the ball at all.”

“I can teach you!” Landon offered, earning a snort of laughter from Bridget at his confidence. “Maybe when I’m a little better at it.”

“That would be really fun,” Chris agreed. “I could use a good coach.”

“Landon might have to work on that a little bit more,” Bridget teased. “We were playing catch yesterday and he gave me a pretty hard time for not being able to throw very well.”

“But you were bad at it,” Landon protested over the sounds of Chris’ laughter. “I couldn’t even catch the ball!”

“Good coaches have to be patient.”

Bridget had to admit that she was embarrassingly bad at the game they’d been playing and Landon’s frustration was probably justified, but she appreciated the way he had the decency to look a little sheepish as he sighed and agreed to her criticism. However, before anything else could be said about it, a look of realization crossed over Landon’s face as he changed the subject with a lack of tact that only a four year old could get away with.

“Do you have a dog?”

The question was directed at Chris who nodded in confirmation.

“I do! You met him at the park one day, remember?”

“Yeah!” Landon grinned. “Where is he?”

“He’s not with me right now, he has to stay home when I travel.”

The sadness was clear in his voice and Bridget thought it was sweet how much he obviously missed his little companion.

“Landon loves dogs,” she explained even though she was pretty sure she’d mentioned that before. “He wants us to get one.”

“I love dogs too,” Chris agreed. “But, you know what? Dodger is staying with my sister right now and I’m sure he’d love it if you took him for a walk some time.”

The suggestion had Landon’s whole face lighting up as he blurted out an excited, “Really?!”

“Yeah,” Chris smiled. “He really misses me when I’m gone so I bet making a new friend would cheer him up a lot.”

Landon’s attention turned back to Bridget as he bounced on the couch, his excitement making it hard for him to sit still.

“Can we, Mommy? Can we, please?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bridget shrugged. “Is he with Carly?”

“Yeah, he likes being around the kids. They keep him entertained.”

“Okay, then I can text her and see if we can set up a time to borrow him,” she agreed, earning a squeal of joy from Landon before he jumped off the couch and turned his attention back to the trains. “I think you just made his day.”

“I should have suggested it sooner. I’m sure Carly won’t mind the break, but there’s no pressure if you don’t have the time.”

“I think we can find time to fit it in,” she assured him. “And hopefully it will get Landon off my back about getting him a dog for a little while so it’s a win-win.”

“Unless it just makes him want one more,” Chris pointed out with a smirk. “But you can borrow him when I’m home too if it does help.”

“Thanks, I think,” Bridget smirked. “Unless you’re just looking for some free dog sitting.”

Her teasing earned a bark of laughter from Chris as he shook his head.

“One day you’re gonna have to stop thinking the worst of me.”

“You’ve gotta earn that privilege, I’m afraid,” Bridget giggled. “But anyway, how’s London?”

“It’s good so far,” Chris shrugged, but as he launched into a little more detail about where they’d gone for dinner and the brief parts of the city that he’d actually had the chance to see that day, Bridget was struck by how natural their conversation was. Considering they’d only been on one date - maybe two, if painting her house counted as an unofficial one - it was amazing how easily they slipped into casually chatting like old friends. It felt far more like they’d known each other for years than the reality of them being virtual strangers, but Chris drew her focus back as he sleepily rubbed his eyes and admitted, “I’m tired though. I don’t feel like I’ll really be able to enjoy it here because I doubt I’ll have much energy for anything other than work, but maybe I’ll feel differently in the morning.”

“That’s understandable,” Bridget assured him, knowing how exhausted travelling always made her from the limited experience she had with it. “Have you been there before?”

“Yeah, so I’ve seen a lot of the big tourist attractions,” he admitted. “There’s a few other places I’d like to see, but nothing that I’m convinced would be worth losing sleep over.”

“I’ve never been, but I bet there’s some amazing libraries,” Bridget mused wistfully before she felt her cheeks heat up as she realized how lame she sounded. “Sorry, that was super dorky. I just, uh, I know that there’s one that supposedly used to be an asylum so that’s kinda cool. They're not all boring, sometimes the architecture is pretty impressive too.”

She cringed at her rambled defense as she was once again reminded that she was in a very different league to Chris when it came to interesting careers, but the amused look on his face slowed her spiral into humiliation at least a little bit.

“I know what you mean,” he assured her. “Some libraries are pretty incredible. I haven’t been in a long time, but the one in Boston is beautiful.”

“It is! It was my home away from home for a long time.”

Technically, if she was being honest, it was more like home to her than her actual home was for a very large portion of her childhood, but she was relieved when the fond smile that accompanied her words didn’t spark any more questions from Chris.

“Maybe I’ll try and squeeze in a library tour while I’m here,” he decided. “I bet there are some pretty great ones. I’ll check it out and report back, see if it’s worth your time coming all the way over here some day.”

“Well, I’m sure I could find other things in London to entertain myself.”

“Yeah,” Chris flashed her a smirk. “But would you want to?”

A giggle slipped from her lips as she felt a strange flush of pride that he apparently already had her so well figured out, but she couldn’t resist shooting him a playful glare.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “I do have other interests.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one.”

It was a teasing challenge as while his tone implied that it would be a difficult task for her, she was pretty sure that he knew she’d be able to come up at least one other thing she liked besides libraries and books, but the answer that rolled off her tongue surprised her almost as much as it surprised him.

“Well, lately I’ve been getting kinda into Captain America.”

Her answer earned a chuckle from Chris as he pressed for more information.

“Yeah? The comic books or the movie?”

“If I’m being really honest, I’d have to say the actor is what appeals to me the most.”

“Wow, I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

Chris flashed her a wink that had her biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a giggle, but as he let out a yawn she knew that his bedtime was probably long overdue.

“I hope he is and I hope he doesn’t mind that I have to cut our conversation short, but I should probably go make Landon some dinner,” she informed him, hoping he’d be less resistant to ending their conversation if it wasn’t solely for his benefit. “And you should probably go get some sleep if you’re planning on finding the energy for that library tour.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “I guess I’ll have to do that now, won’t I?”

“Yep,” Bridget smiled. “I expect a full written report.”

“Of course you do,” Chris smirked. “There’s that sexy librarian side coming out.”

Despite the blush that the word ‘sexy’ had flushing over her cheeks, Bridget stuck out her tongue before saying goodnight and hanging up. She tried her best to keep the lovesick smile off of her face, but it was hard when her conversations with Chris left her feeling so giddy and she was just grateful that Landon’s age left him clueless and distractible enough not to question her suddenly great mood.

Most days, Bridget liked being a parent.

She liked watching Landon learn new things, she liked any opportunity to see things from his point of view and she liked getting to teach him about the world. She even liked helping him work through his bigger emotions and watching him slowly but surely learn better problem solving and coping skills.

However, there were also days when it was a struggle.

Days when Landon showed his stubborn side and refused to listen, when he would get frustrated and upset over every little thing and when it seemed like nothing Bridget tried to do could turn his mood around. Luckily, those days were few and far between, but as Bridget sipped a glass of wine at the end of one of those particularly rough days, she found herself feeling very glad that it was over.

It wasn’t until she was almost halfway through her drink that she felt like her head had stopped spinning enough to turn her attention to the text that remained unread on her phone. It was the first time since Chris had left town about a month and a half earlier that she’d let any message go unanswered for more than about an hour and while the guilt of ignoring him had weighed on her, she hoped he would understand as she typed out a reply.

Sorry. Had a bad day. I’m glad you made it back to L.A., maybe we can chat tomorrow if you’re not busy. I don’t think I’d be great company tonight.

He’d been bouncing back and forth between L.A. and New York since he’d returned to the US at the start of May and they’d spent almost every evening chatting and catching up about their days. They’d planned to talk that evening, but Bridget really didn’t feel like she had it in her to be cheerful and she wasn’t sure that their relationship was at a point yet where he wouldn’t be scared off by her bad mood. That was why she was surprised to see her phone almost instantly light up with an incoming call and Chris’ name on the screen.

“Hi, Chris…”

Her greeting came out as a sigh and she immediately felt bad for how disinterested she sounded, but before she could apologize, Chris replied.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t feel like it, but if you need someone to vent to then I’m happy to listen.”

His words would have made her laugh if they hadn’t sounded so sincere. He reminded her of one of those cliche descriptions of the perfect man that women just want to rub their feet and listen to their problems, but she could hear the concern in his voice and doubted that he was feigning interest just to win her over.

“It’s just been a tough day,” she admitted. “But I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me complain.”

“You’ve listened to me complain plenty since I left,” he pointed out and Bridget did have to admit that it was true. He often opened up about how monotonous and exhausting all the press and interviews could be and she was happy to listen so she wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so guilty sharing her frustrations as well. “What happened?”

“Landon’s just been giving me a hard time all day,” she told him. “He didn’t sleep well last night so I should have expected it, but I literally Googled ‘am I a bad mom?’ at least four times today so that’s the point I’m at in my parenting journey.”

“Well, I can answer that question for you because you’re definitely not.”

Considering the rather small amount of time that Chris had actually seen Bridget and Landon together, it would have been easy to dismiss his support as meaningless reassurance that he knew would make her feel better with no evidence behind his claim, but Bridget knew that his heart was in the right place as she thanked him for the gesture.

“I appreciate that,” she sighed. “But sometimes I just feel so ineffective. Like, there’s only so many times I can warn him not to do something before I have to just let him do it and deal with the consequences, but then it’s hard to watch when he’s devastated by the outcome.”

“Is that what happened today?”

“Yeah,” she nodded to herself. “We’ve spent the entire week building this big Lego spaceship and he was so proud of finally finishing it, but then he wanted to play with it which is totally fine, but he kept balancing it right on the edge of the coffee table so I warned him that it would fall off and break and he just kept getting irritated with me and saying that it would be fine until it fell onto the floor and shattered into a million pieces.”

“Oh man, that’s rough,” Chris sympathized. “But sometimes I think they’ve just gotta learn things like that the hard way.”

“Definitely,” Bridget agreed. “But he was so crushed when it broke and that turned into anger because I couldn’t immediately put it back together even though it took days to build in the first place.”

“Patience is a hard skill at his age.”

Chris’ words were said with a chuckle that - despite her still lingering bad mood - had Bridget’s lips twitching into a smile.

“It is. And that was the last of a long list of hiccups we had today so I think we were both just kinda over it,” Bridget reflected. “But I’m sure tomorrow will be better and I’m sure that you are tired of hearing me vent about something you have no interest in.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone - long enough to make Bridget a bit nervous - before Chris spoke again.

“Well, you’re wrong about that for a couple of reasons,” he informed her, a hint of something that sounded like hurt in his voice. “First of all, I asked you to vent, I told you it was fine. I wouldn’t have done that if I was going to be irritated about it after two minutes of listening to you. And second, I am absolutely interested in hearing about Landon - even on days when things aren’t so great. I know he’s a big part of your life and if we’re gonna to do this then I’d like to be involved in that too - even if for now that just means getting to listen to you work through your frustrations.”

Again, his words sounded so much like exactly what she wanted to hear that she would have questioned how genuine they were if she couldn’t hear the sincerity in his voice. He was clearly bothered by what she’d said and she felt bad for assuming that parenting woes weren’t a part of her life that he would care much about, but something he’d said had her momentarily distracted from what he was saying.

In all their conversations, they hadn’t mentioned anything about what exactly their situation was. They talked a lot - enough that they’d become pretty good friends - and they flirted pretty regularly - enough that it was obvious that friends probably wasn’t all they would be - but they hadn’t actually talked about what their plan was. So Chris speculating about if they were ‘gonna do this’ was something that Bridget took as a pretty good sign that his time away hadn’t given him any second thoughts and had her biting back a smile despite the guilt she felt from his scolding.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I wasn’t trying to be dismissive, I really do appreciate your support. I just don’t want to bore you if it’s not a problem that you can really relate to.”

“I can relate to it in some ways,” he assured her. “I’ve spent enough time with my niece and nephews to know how tough kids can be some days. They’re good kids, but even good kids have their bad days.”

“Absolutely. Landon is a good kid too, but that doesn’t make days like today any easier.”

Another heavy sigh fell from her lips as she sipped her wine and tried to shake off her bad mood, but it was what Chris said next that really cheered her up.

“I know, but I bet tomorrow will be better,” he assured her before adding, “And I don’t want to be presumptuous by thinking that this will help at all, but I’m gonna be home in a few days. Maybe I could take your mind off things by taking you out on another date?”

The flush of excitement that Bridget felt as she processed his offer easily succeeded in washing away the last of her melancholy feelings. Her heart raced, her hands started to sweat, and it took more effort that she was happy to admit to play it cooler than simply immediately blurting out an enthusiastic ‘yes!’. She’d been curious about when he would be coming back as she did remember him saying he’d only be gone for a couple of months - which by her math was wrapping up pretty soon - but she couldn’t think of a way to ask about it that didn’t feel too desperate so she’d just been hoping that he’d mention it when he was ready. So, to hear that he was eager to make plans for when he was back was music to her ears.

“I would really like that,” Bridget accepted, grateful that they weren’t using video and Chris couldn’t see the goofy grin on her face. “And you’re not being presumptuous, I was hoping you’d be back soon.”

“I'm happy to hear that!” Chris let out an audible breath of relief and Bridget couldn’t stop a giggle from slipping from her lips before he continued. “I have a few more things to do over the next few days, but I think I’m gonna fly back on Tuesday night.”

“Great. I’ll be childfree until Sunday, but I understand if you need a little while to catch your breath when you get back.”

Even though her statement was true, the thought of having to wait almost two weeks until she had another free evening made her heart clench with disappointment and she was relieved when Chris rushed to assure her.

“Nah, usually just a couple days is all I need. We could aim for Friday if that works for you?”

“Absolutely,” Bridget smiled. “That’s made me feel better already, thank you.”

“No, thank you for saying yes,” Chris chuckled. “I was worried you’d come to your senses while I was away and turn me down.”

“Definitely not. I’ve really enjoyed talking to you.”

Bridget felt that was a somewhat obvious statement considering how much time they’d spent chatting while he was away, but there was something that made her feel vulnerable about actually admitting it to him and she was relieved when he returned the sentiment.

Once their plans were in place and the weight of Bridget’s bad day had lifted, they continued their conversation as they figured out what their second official date would entail, talked about what other obligations Chris had in L.A. and what else Bridget had planned that week. It was the same easy and comfortable conversation that they always seemed to fall into, but the excitement of seeing each other again so soon bubbling under the surface had Bridget feeling desperate for that close connection that could only be reached by actually being in the same room and from Chris’ enthusiasm and increased flirtation she thought it was safe to assume that he was feeling the same way.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fic #worlds apart

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lynnarang · 1 year ago

Text

Walkies

"So I've got this problem with the doll I picked up a few weeks ago."

The amateur witch had called the antique store twenty minutes before closing, smoking a cig on their front porch while watching their doll waddling in circles in the distance.

A sigh escapes the other side of the line.

"I thought I made it clear I don't do refunds."

"No no! It's not that, I just.. well I need advice and I don't exactly have a lot of friends who are doll-owners."

"Well spit it out then, I close up soon."

"Well, it works well enough and it's in good condition but.. well it keeps trying to change that."

"Ah, it's a cutter? Pretty common in dolls. Most of them either do that or drink 'special tea', if not both. It's how they cope."

"No it's not.. it's not exactly that."

The witch took a long drag and watched their doll stumble over, only to get back up and walk a little slower.

"It… It just walks in circles for hours until it's body begins to break apart. It looks like it's in pain but it won't stop."

"Have you tried forcing it?"

"Well yes, but it gets very distressed when I do. It won't come back until it's clothing are beginning to wear apart and it has to walk with a limp."

"Hmm.. well, have you tried walking with it?"

"Well… No…"

"Give that a shot, maybe leash it while you're at it."

Bewildered by the idea, the witch shrugged their shoulders and rubbed out the remains of their cigarette. Their doll was already limping back, too exhausted to go any longer.

The next day, the witch surprised the doll by clipping a leash to its collar before it could step outside. Immediately the doll's entire behavior shifted and it began to run in circles around its witch.

"Walkies! Walkies!"

"W-Woah, calm down you!!"

Despite their command, the doll practically dragged its witch out the door and down its usual path, happily trotting ahead.

An hour later an exasperated witch called the antique store back and explained what had happened, much to the amusement of the store owner.

"Well lucky you. Didn't realize that old toy was a puppy doll or I would have charged you extra. Those things are a big hit with collectors, though I suppose without the ears and tail it's lost a fair bit of value."

"I thought puppy dolls were just normal dolls besides that!"

"Well basically, but they're a bit higher maintenance. It's why their original run got discontinued. I'll see if I can fish up an owner's manual for you. Of course I'll be willing to buy it back if it's too much, I'd pay you double the amount you bought it for."

The witch looked to their doll, happily curled up in a ball at the foot of their bed, snoring softly.

"No, it's my doll."

"Was worth a shot. Drop by in a few days and I'll give you that manual and we can see about refurbishing the missing pieces-- for a price of course."

The witch smiled and shrugged, petting their dolls sleeping head.

"Sure. Thanks for the help. It's a good doll."

Somehow, the witch could swear they heard a tail thwapping.

#empty spaces #microfiction #writing #repost from twitter #dollposting #cw: sh

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prettynxsty · 3 years ago

Text

Stirring the Hooch 🍷

Domme!Reader x Sub!Jin

Warnings: Morning sex, jin has a pussy, consumption of booze and drunkenness, graphic mentions of vomiting, appearance of ot7, dirty talk, jin is a little bossy, y/n has a big ass dick, use of noona/hyung in a non sexual way, a little bit of cum play, creampie, partially clothed sex.

A/N: Vacation sex with just a liiiiittle bit of plot lmfao. There’s no facefucking because i was worried that it was getting too long. Anyway, enjoy.

You all but crashed out of bed this morning, landing on your hands and knees with a muted thump. You would’ve patted yourself on the back for even managing to strip and change your clothes for bed last night, but you felt like you were still drunk.

You should have regretted everything that happened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You plant your palms on the floor, rocking yourself forward and will yourself to start crawling. You knock your yoga mat away from your bags, watching the little purple tube bounce until it goes still.

You slap your hand over it, messily swatting it open. You crawl over it with a sigh and position yourself over the mat. It should have been a bad memory.

The table was 3 rounds of shots in before the waitress kindly reminded you that bottomless mimosas were only 5 dollars. Eyebrows rose around in a wave, sharing a devilish look of agreement. It was vacation, wasn’t it?

Something crazy began to leak out of your ears when you decided to cash in.

Namjoon was the first to throw himself to his feet, climb on the booth and begin dancing. Jimin whoops to the beat in encouragement, clumsily scrambling up on his chair to join his hyung.

Yoongi gets this strange look in his eye, dumping himself over Hoseok’s shoulder. They howled in laughter until Yoongi was crying. Actually crying.

What pleasantly surprised you the most is when Yoongi kneeled on the booth, facing away from the other side of the table, and began to shake his ass in a way that you wouldn’t have expected from him.

Jungkook’s faith was tested today, usually as the one who finishes everyone else's food, he decided to polish off the rest of everyone’s glasses.

Your sight of the world is stilted, moving in colored frames. You hear the noise of a bit of crashing and chair shifting, turning to see Jin. His sandals slap noisily against the floor as he barrels onto the dance floor, into the middle of the crowd.

Taehyung is bouncing up and down in his seat, shouting adlibs to the sound, pumping his hand in the air. You allow your head to fall forward, shoulders bouncing with a slow bout of laughter that makes your whole body bounce.

You slide your hands backward until they reach your knees, flipping your palms. You take a slow breath in, resting your forehead against the floor. You feel a dancing in your spine, your body so desperately wants to sway to sound that is not heard. The spirits must dance amongst themselves, you must return to yourself, to the terran world.

The same translucent lasso wraps around your arms and squeezes them to your sides. A burning call. You’re apt to rise when you’re full of this feeling, the pull is something indescribable. It crawls from the soles of your feet, causing them to tap. It races through you, your shoulders are swaying like a pendulum.

Deny yourself, you will not. You flew, tripping over the flat of the ground and blitz into the crowd to dance.

You breathe out slowly, flipping your palms and walking them forward. Your torso follows until your hips carefully nestle on the mat. Like sizzling wisps of smoke, the tightness knotted in you began to dissipate. You stretch your shoulders backward, gentle snaps and pops bursting in the air due to the tension knotted into your limbs like loops pulled too tight.

You’re screaming to every second beat, the world below is more than a reach away. Your legs are swinging through the gap between Namjoon and Jungkook’s shoulders. It feels as if the whole building is bouncing with you, your sanity went back to the home to rest.

You tilt your hips forward, leaning your weight onto the balls of your feet before rising into downward dog. Your lower back clicks, a rattling groan of relief shivers its way out of your mouth. You were finally beginning to feel your clothes against your body.

Your cock hangs limply out of one of the leg holes of your tiny shorts, scrunched up to your inner thighs. Your breasts sway gently, peering their way through the large holes of your oversized tank top. There was no reason that you wore that thing to bed, you usually woke up with a breast hanging out somehow.

It was a wonder you weren’t kicked out. You had no idea who paid for dinner, the amount would feel exorbitant. Nonetheless, a vacation should be indulgent.

Despite everyone being so ridiculously inebriated, you managed to concur that taking a taxi would be more trouble than it was worth since nobody was sober enough.

The villa was only a few blocks away anyway.

You hardly made it two block away from the place before everything seemed to fall into itself. Jimin dumped himself on the curb to take off his shoes even though he was only wearing sandals. Jungkook tripped his way over to the trash can on the corner as quickly as he could for someone who was plastered.

He grips handfuls of his shirt to hold it out of the way, even when drunk he was still meticulous. He retches weakly.

Risotto wasn’t nearly was beautiful or decadent when it came back out. Twenty-plus dollars directly into the bin on the city street. He gags so forcefully that he misses for a split second, a bit of cream colored mush dripping over the side before wetly splashing over the rest of the discarded garbage inside.

“Oh gawd- let’s go get him something.” Hoseok misses at patting your shoulder, but grabs your hand to drag you across the empty street to the convenience store on the other side.

You tried to straighten up when the cooler air washes over you, but your eyes were still very bleary. You stop by the baked goods and grab him a delicious yeasty smelling twisted donut and a ginger ale.

Hoseok stumbles up to the counter beside you, plopping a few bags of chips on it. “The salt will settle his tummy,” he explains quickly.

You give him a goofy smile, shaking your head and hand the cashier a little over exact change in cash. You gently push their hand away when they offer back the remaining coins, scooping up your items and head on your way.

You return across the street to Jimin struggling to stay awake from where he sat on the curb, Yoongi and Taehyung quietly hugging, Jin staring into the void of stars, and Namjoon showering kisses over Jungkook’s forehead.

“My poor Googoo,” he wails dramatically. Jungkook puckers his lips, prompting a raspy shriek from the older as he stumbles away. Jungkook chuckles, spreading his arms wide in request of an embrace.

You cringe, holding out the donut and drink with an awkward smile. It wasn’t as if he reeked of vomit, you just preferred for him to settle his stomach first.

“Googieeee~!” Hoseok shrieks, nearly tripping over the curb before hugging the younger man.

“Thank you Noona.” Jungkook pouts from over Hoseok’s shoulder, clumsily taking the items from your hand.

You turn your torso to the side, shifting your left foot forward into a lunge. You raise your arm with a slow breath inward, shifting your weight accordingly.

Jin was beautiful even when he snored all night, he was propped against the pillows like Snow White in her glass case. He’d opened his eyes quite a bit ago, silently watching you stretch yourself out.

“You look really tempting when you do that, babe.” He rasps.

Your impenetrable focus is shattered, causing you to cover your face with an incredulous laugh. “Before breakfast?”

“Hell yeah before breakfast, I don’t just wanna look, I wanna touch. Come here.”

“You’re still drunk too, huh?”

“There are a lot of times that I’m insatiable, but I want it right now.”

His assertiveness always sends a funny little churn through your belly.

You slowly shift the weight of your body onto your feet and stand. Not as heavy or dizzy as before, but a different tingling began to set inside of you. Your glance down, reaching to unfurl your shorts.

“Uh-uh, leave them like that.” He gives you a smile that’s absolutely devilish, shoving the sheets away from his lap. “Come to mama.”

It dawns on you as you approach the bed that he must’ve snatched up your shirt to sleep. It rode up his belly just a little, leading way to his light blue slip.

You plant your hands on the mattress, crawling in between his thighs. He leans forward, placing his hands on your hips and gently rubbing your sides. You cup his face, gently combing through his messy black tufts with your fingers.

His eyes scrunch up with a giddy chuckle, his neck was still flushed. Not quite as much as dark juice that leaks from berries gnashed between teeth. But rather the breath of age that colored ripened flesh of fruit from taught and pale shells surrounding infant seeds.

You imagined him as your first cabernet.

You were home alone. There was never any alcohol in the cabinets, not within your reach. However there was one bottle that sat on the highest shelf that’d begun to haunt your mind.

You thought about him day and night, wondering if you should be so daring as to wrap your fingers around the cork and pluck it out.

The bottle was dark, not so much as black, but an impenetrable brown of iodine or creamless coffee.

You stood in the pantry, door closed behind you as if there would be a soul to see. You rise with the aid of a little black stool, carefully grabbing the ruby red scarf wrapped around the bottle’s neck.

The pop of the remaining forth of the cork causes your breathing to break away. Dare it be said this noise was foreign, not yet attributed to merriment and celebration for you.

You raise the bottle to your lips and pour it in. The mouth feel is heavier than water, nothing unsettling.

Your tongue begins to glitter in a way you cannot determine if it’s unpleasant or lovely. Effervescence. Armoracia assaults your tongue, strangling with a fruitiness.

Your brows furrow, trampled all is with acridity. Your throat seems to close, denying entry to such drink, warming the back of your nostrils. With a thick noise, you manage to swallow it. A strange trail of fire roasts a trail over the back of your esophagus before heating the pool of your stomach.

Your adolescent tongue was unable to accord with this experience. Turned away, you squeeze the cork back in the bottle and return it to where it rest before and exit the pantry.

He, before you, a taste of wine that prompted you to have another sip. You couldn’t help but polish him off over and over again. His well never ran dry.

You kiss him with a soft hum. You imagine the taste of mature grapes. His lips push against yours hungrily, flexing and relaxing like the yielding of fruit under your teeth.

From the spring, you made him feel refreshed and clear. God himself ran your droplets from the glacier and straight into his cup.

He drank from many places, many streams. You were of the first, the only to cleanse and wash his palate.

Your depth, your minerals, mellowed his harshness, his sting. No longer rousing spirits, he bestows joy amongst all.

Your hand slips from his hair, landing gently on his shoulder. Your fingertips roll into the thick of his shoulder, squeezing it as he slips his tongue through your lips.

He reaches up the leg of your shorts, wrapping his hand around your warm shaft. He’s priming you to fuck him, to use him like some breeding buck.

He jerks his hand slowly but firmly. You groan into his mouth, nearly squirming at the sensation of your foreskin rolling and stretching over the tip of your cock.

Your hand drops from his shoulder, fingers dipping their way under his panties. His croon tingles the seam of your mouth as you slip your fingers in between his outer lips and spread them apart.

It was as if he shocked you, you pull from his lips with a wet smack to catch your breath. He always made you feel so crazy. Jin smiles, slowly thumbing at your tip.

The tip of your tongue heavily slips from your gums to sweep away the deeper notes on your bottom lip.

He hesitates not to drink of your spring, leaning in and draws your tongue between his mouth with a greedy swallow. Flushing and blooming, your belly burns just as your first taste did.

His lengthy fingers slip under your night shirt, curling around the heft of your breast. He releases your mouth with a full sigh of satisfaction.

You lift your fingers to your mouth, sweeping away his pussy juice with your tongue. You hum from the pit of your gut, you could taste the fruit of the land already. The musky aroma of papaya and melon, added tang of pineapple, the earthy, milkiness of coconut.

“I wanna do it raw,” he breathes as his knuckles gently close around and twist your nipple. You glance up at him, slipping your slick fingers out of your mouth and dig them back under the hem of his undergarments.

You never did it with condoms anyway, but he never failed to grasp his chance to set your blood asunder. You drag the tips of your fingers over his inner lips, stretching and spreading them. You drag your middle finger along the seam of his petals, swirling it around his hole and gently digging it against his clit.

He hisses, rolling his hips in hopes you’d give him more.

“Did you hear me?”

He releases his grip on your breast, cupping your chin and guiding you to meet his eyes.

“I want you to fuck me raw, that means I want you to cum inside of me.” His following moan is a beautiful titter as he drags the thick of his tongue over your lips, kissing you noisily. He releases the grip of your cock, wiggling forward to lay back against the bed.

He was only ever so demanding when he was itching for you to make a mess of him. As he moves to make simple work of his panties, you take note to do the same and rid yourself of your own bottoms.

You wiggle off of the bed, wiggling your shorts down to your ankles.

“You’re so bossy today. You’re gonna need to slobber on it first, Jinnie.”

His heart seizes, bursting into a shower of pretty pink butterflies. His cunt flutters immediately at the sonority that coats your voice in viscous amber.

He quickly walks his hands forward, shifting toward the end of the bed and rolling onto his tummy. He needlessly pretties himself for you, combing his hair away from his forehead. His eyes are positively twinkling as he rests his chin on the mattress.

“It’d be quite the inconvenience if one of the others were to come in and see me cramming my dick into your mouth,” you click your tongue. You place your hand on his head, lovingly stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Maybe I should use this mouth more often, it’s much quieter.”

He furrows his brows, inhaling quickly to fix you with a response.

Your resolve crumbles with your face scrunching up in amusement. “Okay! Okay! Don’t say anything, open your mouth.”

He makes a face, cutting his eyes at you as you grab ahold of your shaft and position it at his mouth.

“Fuck, fuck.. Turn around, let me see your pussy.” You step backward to free yourself from his mouth, trying to catch your breath.

He licks his swollen, slobbery lips with a smile and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jin turns slowly, propping himself up on his knees. You took an unsteady breath inward to ask about his well being, but when he presented himself, you understood immediately.

His cunt was fully in bloom between his thighs, fatter, puffier. Healthily flushed and glistening, you clap your hand over his ass.

He whines, couldn’t you see the syrupy drips and trails clinging to his inner thighs?

You push his ass up with your palm, admiring how his pussy stretched and trembled. You decidedly slip your thumb just barely in between his lips and swirl your finger through his arousal.

You grip the base of your cock with your other hand and press it up against his hole. The upper half of his body relaxes instantly, slumping against the bed with a croon that sends chills spidering over your heated flesh.

You rock forward gently, pushing your way inside of him. Jin takes to you without hesitation, pulsing and squeezing around you.

“This fucking-” you clap your hand over his ass with more force “-cunt is always so good to me,” you growl.

He mewls when you bottom out, rolling your hips forward to push deeper into him.

You rear back, easily building your pace inside of him. You move your grip to taking tight handfuls of the shirt that rolled up his back, yanking him back against you with each thrust inward.

Each moan of his began long and drawn out like the soft calls of the loon under nightfall. You prop your foot up on the bed frame, planting yourself more firmly to set a stronger pace.

The noise of your skin clapping together began to bounce off of the walls, rocking to bed to which he gripped so dearly.

You allow yourself to fall astray of control, pounding into him with deep, sharp strikes. His moans quickly evolve into frantic wails, his voice catches in his throat each time you drag him away from squirming into the escape.

You cease only for a moment to allow him to catch his breath, to which his forehead drops against the sheets with a muted rustle.

A second was efficient enough, you shift your foot and plant it more firmly before you continue your assault on his poor pussy.

He whines something at you, muffled.

“What was that?” You purr, continuing to jerk your hips shamelessly. Your moans rise and flow from your lips like a steady spring.

He manages to lift his head, thrashing it with a keen when you plunge in just a bit harder than before. It was so hard to speak when you kept knocking the breath out of his lungs. “You’re too deep inside,” he whines, unable to control the moans squeezing through his noisy panting.

“It’s too deep?” You coo, feeling your lips curl in a slight smile when you watch his messy head of black hair bob up and down.

“Roll over so I can play with your pussy,” you slow your relentless thrusts and gently move back until your cock flops wetly out of his hole.

He slumps almost completely when you pull out of him, weakly propping his palms up and laying down. Use of his legs was reasonably impossible as of now, which you quickly noted. “Move back a little,” he scoots himself backward almost pitifully.

If you weren’t almost painfully hard, you’d be more willing to let him take a break. You climb onto the bed and straddle his right thigh, propping the left over your shoulder.

You nudge yourself in between his lips, guiding your shaft until it catches against his sloppy hole. He whimpers, dropping his head back when you push your way in. His pussy accommodates you with an indecent squish.

You wrap your arm around the leg thrown over your shoulder, rocking into him. You peer down at him, his eyes were still glassy from your abuse of his throat. Your breath hitches in your throat as you jerk your hips forward, the clap of your balls against the back of his ass echoes louder.

“I wish you knew what you do to me,” you sigh hotly through teeth clenched. Your molars grind together as you return to pistoning inside of him, mashing your pelvis into his.

He was foolish enough to tilt his hips forward, the entire bed rocks pitifully as a testament to its modern craftsmanship.

Jin was flushed down to his chest, puckered lips flapping with each noisy gasp. He felt so light, he couldn’t tell if he were near fainting.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” he yelps. He is barely able to lift his hands and shove his shirt around to play with his nipples.

You gently stretch his mound toward him, stroking your thumb around the spongy flesh near his clit. His shriek catches on the back of his tongue, you feel yourself begin to burn and melt.

Ruby red drips of wax cooling against a marble counter.

You nearly pull out of him on instinct, gripping the base of your dick with an ugly whimper. Your body seizes, rigid as you begin to cum.

You can hardly hear his breath in your ears over the sound of your heartbeat, your own moans are high and shaking.

You pull away from him with a rattling breath, unleashing a few final weak spurts against his folds.

You struggle to regulate your own rhythm, clumsily slipping your fingers in his sloppy cunt to spread your cum around. He whines, swatting at your hand.

“Heh,” your chest bounces weakly, “we were probably so loud.”

“I’m too tired to nag you, but I could’ve died.”

“Oh hush, we need to get ready soon.”

He gives you a crazy look before dropping his head back down and motioning you toward the door. “It’s not like you broke my legs or anything.”

“When do we get our turn?” Jimin calls from the dining room with a telling smile.

You stop cold in the entryway of the hall, turning to see the table full of your friends. They erupt in whooping laughter that causes you to continue hurrying on your way to run the bath. None of them should have even been alive at that hour, not with how they were last night.

“Nah, come back! I didn’t know Seokjin-Hyung could hit those kinds of notes!” Namjoon calls after you, cackling.

#sub!bts x reader #sub!jin #sub bts #domme reader #sub! jin x reader #sub jin x reader #sub!jin x reader

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peepeepotter · 4 years ago

Note

Idea: enemies to lovers w Fred or George, with smut???

oh HELL yeah that’s what i’m talking ab!!! i’ll be writing that soon thank u <33

UPDATE: I wrote it. Here!!

Pride and Prejudice

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, NSFW 18+ ONLY, smut (I’ll add a warning so you can skip it if you don’t want to read it): face fucking, oral (male and female receiving), grinding, unprotected sex (it’s not worth it irl pls use a condom <3)

Word Count: 4.2k

One could definitely say Y/N and Fred didn’t get along. It was always strange to both of them, considering that they were so similar, they got along with each other’s friends, but when it came to each other something just didn’t click. George figured they were too similar, Angelina thought they were just too competitive with each other, but neither Fred nor Y/N could really place why. They just didn’t like each other and did about anything they could to piss the other off.

It was always silly pranks, minor jokes, and constant bickering. The first time Fred had ever pranked Y/N was their first year at Hogwarts. Right as she was pulling a mandrake out of its pot, he slipped her earmuffs off, causing her to faint. Or, at least, this is how she remembered it. Little did he know, Y/N was just as fierce as he was and more than willing to get him back. He had successfully started a prank war. About a week after she had been embarrassed in front of her entire class, she decided revenge was a dish best served by house elves. She sweet-talked some of the house elves in the kitchens into charming his plate, so every time he tried to put food on it the food would disappear. The pranks went on, ranging from changing each other’s hair color, charming broomsticks to constantly knock them off, and stealing the other’s homework.

Although, it seemed to be getting a lot worse in their sixth year. The pranks were getting to be a lot, the lack of teamwork during quidditch, the bickering. All of it was starting to get old to their friends. Finally, one day, everything exploded.

Fred had a great idea that morning for how he was going to fuck with Y/N that day. He had gotten his hands on some veritaserum the year before, and although their friends typically used it during truth or dare, he had decided it might be fun to give it to Y/N right before potions. So, as she turned to talk to Angelina, Fred slipped some into her juice. About fifteen minutes later, Y/N answered every question asked to her truthfully, and she knew there was a problem.

“Hey, Y/N, what time did you go to sleep last night?” Fred asked, testing to see if it had kicked in yet. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

“I couldn��t fall asleep until like four because of Angelina’s snoring.” She quickly put a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“Y/N! That’s kind of rude.” Angelina lightly slapped Y/N’s arm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.” Y/N’s cheeks were flushed red. When they all sat down in potions, trouble started.

“Miss Y/L/N, what is the last ingredient meant to be added to liquid luck?”

“I’m sorry, professor, I don’t know the answer because I’m busy having a life.” The class, Snape included, fell entirely silent, Fred trying to hold back his laughter as to not give himself away.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Y/L/N see me after class.”

“What, so you can mentally abuse me like you do your other students?”

“Fifty points, want to make it more?” Snape threatened, turning around. His cape flung across the front of the classroom, and before Y/N could make another comment about Snape, Angelina spoke.

“Y/N, what’s gotten into you today? That’s not funny.” Angelina whispered to Y/N.

“Angelina, it’s not meant to be funny, but even if it were, it would go over your head.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aren’t you failing all of your classes right now? You spend so much time practicing quidditch, like sure we get it. You’re good, but maybe you’d be a little smarter if you paid attention in classes.” Once again, Y/N slammed her hand over her mouth. Fred started cackling, although neither Angelina nor George found it funny.

“What are you laughing about?” George asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure that’s why she’s failing?” Fred snickered, ignoring George.

“Actually, Angelina, maybe if you spent less time ogling George you’d do better in this course. Or maybe it’s just because Snape actually is a terrible teacher, right professor? I mean, he doesn’t actually teach anything, all we do is read from the stupid text that’s older than Professor-I-don’t-wash-my-hair up there.” This time, Fred was laughing so hard that other people in the classroom started quietly laughing. Y/N and Angelina were both crying at this point. “I can’t stop, what’s wrong with me?” Snape, immediately understanding what was going on, sent both Fred and Y/N to their head of house.

“Mr. Weasley, do you understand that you drugged a student? This is a serious offense. We have a girl in tears in potions.” McGonagall lectured. Fred held back a smirk, trying to keep himself from laughing.

“It’s just veritaserum, she’s the one who said all of that mean stuff.”

“Yes, Mr. Weasley, but it’s also your fault. Frankly, the professors and I are quite tired of the pranking and joking between you two. We understand there’s some kind of rivalry here, but it’s gone too far this time. You humiliated a student and a professor during class. Both of you.” Y/N had tear tracks on her cheeks and almost started crying while being lectured.

“I think it’s time you two learn to get together. One month of detention. Immediately after classes, I want you both in my office. Every afternoon, weekends too. No more Hogsmeade trips this year.”

“Professor--”

“I don’t want to hear it. We’ll see if you can attend the yule ball in December when we get there.” Now Y/N was crying, upset that she might miss out on something everyone else would be able to go to.

“I can’t believe you drugged me.”

“Shut up, it’s literally just veritaserum.”

“Whatever, you prick, no one will talk to me anymore. Angelina’s my best friend, and she won’t even look at me.”

“Well, George won’t talk to me, either. So, whatever. We’re in it together.”

“Because of you, do you ever even think before you act?”

“I’m sorry, you’re speaking to me about thinking before I act? Couldn’t you have just not spoken?”

“Do you even know how veritaserum works? You dipshit.”

The two argued on opposite sides of McGonagall’s classroom, having been ordered to literally just sit there, eat dinner, and go to bed when they’re done.

“What kind of detention is this anyway? No lines, no trophy polishing.”

“They’re just trying to get us to deal with each other. And stop pranking each other, probably.” Y/N glared at Fred, narrowing her eyes. He rolled his.

The next day at their second detention, they sat in silence for the majority of their time together. Y/N was just glad they weren’t arguing this time.

“Has Angelina spoken to you, yet?” Fred broke the silence about a half-hour before detention was over, and they could return to their common room to do homework before bed.

“No, has George spoken to you?” Y/N asked politely.

“No.” Fred deadpanned.

“Do you feel bad yet?” She smirked, staring at her hands.

“Yes, but not for you.” Y/N rolled her eyes at his response.

“Whatever, prick.”

“Look, we wouldn’t be in this boat if you hadn’t dyed my hair green last year.”

“Actually, we wouldn’t be in this boat if you hadn’t made my broom knock me off in the middle of the quidditch pitch. I had a concussion, you fucker.”

“Actually--”

“Oh my god, actually, I don’t care. Okay? Shut up.” Y/N snapped, finally turning to look at him. He looked over at her. Their eye contact was uncomfortable, challenging.

Finally, a week after their detentions started, Y/N decided to try civility.

“So...how was your day?” Y/N asked, picking at her nails.

“So we’re not arguing today? Are you playing a trick on me?”

“If you’re going to catch an attitude with me then forget it. I just haven’t spoken to anyone other than you for the past week. I figured we should at least have one positive conversation.” She rolled her eyes, turning in her chair to look over at him.

“My day was uneventful, thanks,” Fred answered, turning in his chair to look over at her. “...how was yours?”

“The same.”

“Lame.”

“I mean, yeah, obviously.”

“What homework do you have?”

“Potions still. I suppose Professor Oily wasn’t too happy with the truth on my mind.” Fred smirked at this answer.

“You have to admit, what you said to him was hilarious.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t give a shit about bullying him, I’m just upset Angelina’s still upset.”

“That’s fair, I didn’t mean to cause that. I’m sorry. I guess.” Fred apologized. “Don’t let that go to your head.” He added quickly, seeing a smile form on Y/N’s face.

“Have you ever apologized in your life before now.”

“Countless times, I just didn’t ever care enough to apologize to you.” He chided.

“Oh, so we are arguing today, then?”

“No, sorry. I just,” He paused, looking for the right words.

“Don’t like me?” Y/N assumed.

“That’s not even it, I guess. I don’t have a reason to dislike you.” Fred shrugged. It was weird because he only disliked her because she disliked him.

“I know!! I only dislike you because you started the pranks when we were eleven.” Y/N spoke up excitedly.

“Did I?” Fred scrunched his face, trying to remember.

“Yeah, you took my earmuffs off when we were pulling mandrakes in herbology first year.” Y/N shrugged, now seeing that it wasn’t worth being so upset about.

“Oh, no, that was an accident. I was trying to make it cover your ears better, but I accidentally pulled it off.” Y/N froze, her eyes closing.

“Oh, Godric.” She facepalmed.

“What?” Fred asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“You idiot!! If you had just told me that we wouldn’t be here.” She stood, stomping her foot.

“What does that mean?” Fred stood.

“I pranked you a week after that happened. I made all the food on your plate disappear.” Her hands were balled into fists at her side.

“See! I knew you started it.” He pointed accusingly at her.

“Only because you’re awful at communicating!” She pointed back.

“...So…this all started from a miscommunication?” He stared at the ground, realizing he had an enemy after all this time that could’ve been a friend.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, go home.” McGonagall flung the door open, excusing the two. The two grabbed their bags and left the classroom. On the walk back to the Gryffindor dorms, they spoke about how stupid they felt after all this time of hating each other for no reason. They worked on their homework together, having no one else to help them, and went to bed.

Saturday arrived, and the two arrived at the classroom together. After McGonagall left, they spoke of previous pranks that had actually been great ideas. They spoke about quidditch, classes, the Triwizard tournament. Eventually, they got back to talking about their lack of friends.

“I guess it’s probably worse for you, though, since George is your twin.” Y/N offered, a frown on her face.

“He’ll get over it. He always does, and I’ve tried apologizing a ton already. At this point, I think maybe they’re being a bit dramatic.”

“Or they’re planning something.”

“Like, revenge?”

“Maybe.” Y/N’s face scrunched in thought.

“Well, anyway, did you see McGonagall use Ron when she was teaching us how to dance.”

“Oh Godric, yeah I did. I was laughing so hard. Did you get to practice?”

“No, she told me to wait it out. You?”

“Same.” Y/N frowned, looking at her feet.

“Wanna practice together? In case we do get to go?”

“Who will even go with us? Even Slytherins won’t talk to me.”

“That’s a problem we’ll fix when we get there.” Fred stood up, getting closer to the sitting girl. She blushed when he held a hand out for her to grab. She grabbed it, standing up. She was able to fully realize how tall the twins were, never getting that close to either of them. Fred towered over her, making the dance a little awkward. They kept accidentally making eye contact, both just trying to peek at the other.

“Wait, no, I think you messed up that part.” Y/N stopped, staring at their feet.

“I thought it was right left left right?” He asked, looking at the top of her head until she looked up and made eye contact.

“I thought you’re supposed to switch off?” She furrowed her brow.

“Honestly, you probably paid more attention than I did.” He shrugged, his hands still holding hers.

“You’re right, I definitely pay more attention than you.”

“Oh, shut up.” Fred laughed, gently pushing Y/N away.

“Aw, a little sensitive?” She asked, grabbing his hands and looking at the floor again.

“Never sensitive from you, darling.” He also stared at their feet, making sure the steps were right.

“Except for when I turned your hair green.” She looked up at him, he shook his head.

“Oh Merlin, okay, yeah. That one time, I cried, yeah.” She squeezed his hand to make sure he knew she was joking, and he squeezed back.

The two practiced dancing every day for a week. The following Saturday, Y/N brought a muggle music player (“What’s that?” “It’s called a walkman.” “Oh, weird.”) so they had something to listen to while they practiced, but they pretty much knew the steps by heart by then. They swayed, dancing to the music much closer than they had been the previous Saturday. Y/N rested her head against Fred’s lower chest.

“What’s your family like?” She asked, bored.

“Big.” He laughed.

“Well, duh.” She laughed, trying to take her hand out of his to hit his chest, but he held it tighter. She looked up at him, chin against his chest. “I mean, like, what are they like? What do they do, what do they enjoy, what are they passionate about?” She bombarded. He looked down at her, his heart fluttering.

“Ginny is a killer quidditch player, and she’s just so kind. She befriended this girl who doesn’t have any other friends just so she can stick up for her when she gets bullied. Ron doesn’t have any common sense, but he’s pretty smart. He’s really good at Wizard’s chess, and quidditch, too. I think he feels like he’s second-best a lot because of Harry, but neither of them can really help it. George is just me,”

“That’s not true. You guys are very different.”

“Mum can’t always tell us apart.”

“His nose is more hooked than yours, and your voices are different. Besides, he’s more soft-spoken, and he probably feels like Ron does with Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“Second best to you. You have this ability to make a spotlight on yourself in any room you walk into. But that’s not something either of you can control. I think you’re just more extroverted.” Y/N shrugged, placing her cheek against his chest again. Fred stopped moving his feet suddenly. Y/N looked up, pressing her chin against his chest again. “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

“No, you just...nailed it. No one’s ever done that before. George and I used to get into little spats because of it. Also, I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed our differences before.” He once again felt a flutter in his heart.

“I think Angelina has noticed too.” Y/N shrugged, trying to make a lesser deal of the issue.

“Maybe.” He smiled down at her, she smiled back softly.

“You know, we only have like a week and a half left together. What should we do? I feel like we’re experts on this dance.” Despite her words, they continued swaying softly.

“I don’t know. What do you like to do other than pranks and quidditch?” He asked, leaning down to rest his chin on top of her head.

“Read.” She shrugged.

“Bring a book tomorrow, read to me.” This time her heart jumped into her throat. Something about reading aloud to someone seemed intimate.

“Okay.” She smiled.

So Y/N brought a book the next day. Her favorite muggle book, pride and prejudice. It didn’t take long for them to finish, Fred’s head in her lap, sprawled across the floor together.

“Why’s it so...old-timey?”

“It was written in the late 1700s.”

“They kind of remind me of us.”

“Why? Because they used to hate each other?”

“I guess.” He shrugged. He was hoping for a love story like Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

“What do we do now?” Y/N raked her fingers through his hair, his eyes closed at the feeling.

“Wanna make out?” He grinned without opening his eyes. She laughed.

“Stop it!” Y/N stopped her movements, still smiling. He opened his eyes and sat up, smiling.

“Stop what?” He asked, starting to tickle her sides. She laughed loudly, throwing her head back. He continued until she was lying on the floor. He was on top of her, straddling her. Finally, he stopped, and she opened her eyes, still smiling.

“Do you...would you want to go to the Yule ball with me? If we can go.” He asked, not moving from the position. She sat up on her forearms.

“I don’t see why not. We already know how to dance together.” She shrugged, trying to play nonchalant by looking at her nails.

“Y/N?” She looked up. “Can I kiss you?” Fred asked, looking somewhat sheepish for the first time ever. She offered a soft smile, grabbing his cheek and pulling him down to her face.

(warning: smut starts here)

The kiss started soft, sweet. Y/N’s heart was beating out of her chest. Fred’s heart was in his throat. Eventually, she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth softly, causing Fred to moan. At the sound, she felt wetness pool in her panties. “Y/N, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He whispered against her lips.

“Maybe I’m falling for you, too, Freddie.” She whispered, pushing their lips back together. She pulled his hair softly, causing the noise again. Smiling slightly into the kiss, she grabbed his arm, flipping them over so she was straddling his waist.

“Woah,” He paused, lips swollen. “That was kinda hot.” She laughed, leaning down to kiss him again. She felt his hard member against her clothed heat. She ground her hips down onto his, causing a much deeper moan to arise from Fred’s throat. He brought one hand to her waist, the other holding the side of her face. His hand on her waist traveled down to squeeze her ass underneath her skirt. This time, she moaned, making him harder. His hands traveled to the bottom of her t-shirt, tugging on it. She pulled away.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, his face slightly pink. She nodded wordlessly, helping him pull it off of her. He took his own shirt off, sitting up to kiss her. He grabbed one side of her face, kissing her hard once again. He slowly moved, leaving pecks from her face to her neck, where he latched and started sucking, causing soft moans to come out of her mouth.

“Freddie,” She panted, eyes closed. He moaned at the sound of her voice, his rough hand on her wait moving to grab her breast above her bra. She reached behind her and took it off, pulling his hand back to her bare breast. He kneaded it, paying extra attention to her nipple. He latched his mouth onto her other nipple, rolling his tongue over it. She moaned softly.

“Don’t hold back, darling, we’re here for a while.” He encouraged, whispering against her breast. She softly pushed his chest encouraging him to lay down. She kissed down his chest to where his pants started, looking up through hooded eyelids to ask if she could take off his pants.

“I want you to face fuck me.” She whispered, he moaned at the thought alone. He helped her take his jeans off, pulling her face quickly towards his to kiss her once more. “You don’t have to, you know. I didn’t say that because I wanted to fuck you.”

“I know, Freddie. I want to do this.” She smiled, sitting up on her knees. “Now stand up.” She encouraged. When he stood in front of her, she grabbed his cock, licking a stripe down the bottom of it. She wrapped her lips around his tip, causing a guttural groan to arise from Fred’s throat. He collected her hair into his hand, and she grabbed onto his thigh to steady herself. He was gentle, pulling her head towards him slowly. Each time she made it back to his tip, she circled her tongue around the head, causing a deep groan. She started pushing her head faster, encouraging him to take control of her. He did, pulling her far deeper onto his cock, until she could feel him on her throat. He set the pace faster, pulling her head quickly back and forth on him. When she could feel his cock twitched she pulled away gently.

“I don’t want you to cum yet. I want you inside of me.”

“Are you trying to commit a murder today? You’re killing me with the way you speak.” He moaned, pulling her up by her cheek to kiss her once again. He sat her on a desk without pulling away, unzipping her skirt. He kissed her neck and down her chest as he pulled her skirt off. He pulled her closer to the edge of the desk, his face inches away from her cunt. As he kissed the inside of her knee and thigh he asked if what he was doing was okay, and she nodded, moaning. He pulled her panties off, latching his lips onto her clit quickly. He flicked his tongue quickly against the small bundle of nerves.

“Finger me.” She moaned out, her hands tangled in his hair. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back. He started with one finger, curved up, keeping a steady pace. She whispered, asking for more, causing him to use two fingers to fuck her. Between his tongue and his fingers, she was unwinding quickly. He quickened his pace with both, causing her to moan his name. It wasn’t long before she had unwound completely, pulling his hair as she let out a string of curses. When she was finished, she pulled him up by his hair to her lips.

“Do you still want me to fuck you, baby?” She nodded in response, wrapping her legs around his hips. He teased her entrance, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her pussy lips. When she started whining, he pushed into her cunt slowly. They both breathed a sigh of relief after the build-up. Their foreheads rested together as he slowly fucked her. He moved his lips to her ear.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum for me, you know that?” He whispered, licking the shell of her ear, causing her to take a deep inhale. She grabbed the back of his neck pulling his lips back to her own.

“Freddie, I’m gonna need you to fuck me faster.” She said against his lips. He grinned into her kiss, fucking her faster. He reached down, using his thumb to rub her clit. She moaned, despite still being sensitive from the previous orgasm. The faster he rubbed her clit the faster she felt the build-up in her stomach. He was already well on his way to finishing, but at the rate he was going she would cum first. He latched onto her neck, gently sucking, pushing her over the edge quickly. “Freddie,” She moaned, throwing her head back, toes curling. He came soon after hearing her moan his name. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, both of their breathing starting to match again.

(smut ends)

“Well,” He spoke after a few minutes, leaving her body. “I can’t say this is what I expected out of detention.” He smirked, looking up at her. She smirked back, getting up to get dressed.

“I think detention just got a lot more fun, Darcy.” She referenced. He grinned.

“I like the way you think, Miss Bennett.”

About two weeks later, they arrived at the Yule ball together. When they showed up hand in hand, many were surprised, but George and Angelina smirked at each other.

“I told you if we just left them alone long enough they’d end up together,” George stated.

“Well, you were right,” McGonagall stated, approaching the two youngsters. “And now my classroom has a smell to it.” Causing Angelina and George to break down with laughter.

permanent taglist: @amourtentiaa

#Fred and George #fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #Harry Potter

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬3

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death'; violence, attempted rape.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: So this is for black Friday and then I’ll be working all today and tomorrow and schedule’s are super late so I dunno when Im working after that. Hope you guys enjoy and don’t hesitate to drop by my asks.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Arvin let you pick the record. You found it among the box of your daddy’s music. It was one of your favourites and you were glad he wasn’t bothered by Patsy Cline’s droll tones. He seemed to enjoy it as he sat and read a magazine and you searched for a button from your large tin to match that missing from Roy’s jacket.

“You ever listen to Elvis?” He looked up from behind the pages.

“I… I heard him on the radio but you know we haven’t got new records since Daddy died,” you said as you continued your hunt. “And Roy don’t like all that new music. He says it’s no good.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to like much, does he?” Arvin sniffed, “I always knew he was a grouch but I just thought it was the job.”

“He’s not… He’s just stressed. He works so much.” You looked down and settled on a button that was close enough.

“You do too,” Arvin hid behind the magazine again. “You should be the one goin’ out and doin’ what you like on a Saturday. Hell, if he ain’t gonna spend his time with you, you should do something of your own.”

“I like sewing,” you shrugged as you threaded the button, “You know, it’s not so bad. I get time to myself. A lot of people can’t say that.”

“Sounds pretty lonely to me,” he flicked the page.

You were silent. You didn’t know how to respond. He was skirting around what he really wanted to say, what you didn’t want him to talk about. The tension in the air thickened as you feared he would admit that he knew or you might confess that your husband wasn’t much of one. Hell, you’d yet to accept that yourself.

Your fears were assuaged by the sudden clatter on the porch and the hinges of the door as it was swung open. You sat up and set aside Roy’s jacket. You stood as he staggered inside. He always did like to drink when he fished, or did much of anything else. You frowned as he tracked mud in on his tall rubber boots.

“Roy, you’re making a mess,” you said as you went to the doorway and watched him stumble around the entryway.

“Keep ya busy,” he slapped a hand on the wall and wiggled his leg free of a boot. “There’s a whole pail of fish out front too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as his cheeks glowed. You doubted he’d be awake that long. “Well, I’ll just fry those up while you sit down.”

“Agh,” he tripped over his other boot as he slipped it off and Arvin brushed by you to catch him.

“Hey, Roy,” he took his arm, “How was the fishing? Why don’t you sit down? We’ll have a beer.”

“I almost forgot about you, boy,” he shook free of Arvin and ambled closer to you, “Maybe you can hide away after dinner for a while?”

He dragged his hand up your thigh and slapped your ass as he passed you. Arvin turned as Roy clumsily traipsed into the living room and fell onto the couch. He looked at you but you couldn’t stand to meet his.

“Sure,” Arvin uttered, “I’ll just go get those fish first.”

He disappeared through the front door and you crossed your arms as you turned to watch your husband. His head lolled as he chuckled.

“You think he ever fucked a girl?” He asked, “Boy tiptoes around like a virgin.”

“That’s crass, Roy,” you reproached.

“Don’t act so innocent,” he snapped, “If you didn’t, maybe I’d… well.”

His words trailed off and he closed his eyes. He yawned and sighed loudly. You grimaced and listened to the door as it hit the frame again. Arvin continued onto the kitchen as Roy began to snore. It must have been a record how quickly he’d passed out this time.

You went through to the kitchen as Arvin drained the water from the pail of fish. You went to the drawer and got a knife. You rest it on its end as you gripped it and looked out the window.

“He’s already out for the night,” you said, “You hungry?”

“I said I’d make the fish, I meant it.”

“Nah, I’ll flay them and put ‘em in the fridge,” you swallowed, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That you’re stuck here with us. Sorry he’s always drunk.” You looked down at the blade. You didn’t say what you really wanted to. Sorry you were stupid enough to choose Roy.

“That isn’t your fault and you know, I don’t mind it so much.” He neared, “We’re friends now, aren’t we? That’s worth it.”

You nodded but couldn’t smile. He always tried to make things seem nicer than they were. He was much better at it than you were.

“You comin’ to church tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he answered like it was obvious.

You turned away and laid out the fish across the cutting board. He stayed behind you, the record silenced and began to skip.

“I think I got somethin’ nice I can find.” He left you and the crackle of the Victrola died.

You slice the fish, careful not to cut your fingers as you deboned it and tossed away the heads and tails. You heard Arvin speak in a low voice and a grumble. Then heavy footsteps interspersed with lighter ones. The stairs groaned and you kept on, wrapping the filets in paper and tucking it away.

You cleaned up and washed the smell off your hands. The living room was empty so you climbed the stairs and found Roy face down on your bed. You turned to the open attic and Arvin descended the ladder.

“You got him to bed?” You tilted your head.

“Wasn’t so hard. Poked him a few times.” He grinned. “So what time do I needa be ready for church?”

“We leave about twenty minutes before service. It’s at eight.” You answered, “Oh, you know what--” You raised your index finger, “One sec.”

You spun and scurried into your father’s room. It was just as it had been before he died except now there were boxes stacked along one wall. You pushed open the closet and fluttered through the clothes hanging within. You pulled out the old grey suit and white shirt that had yet to yellow. You grabbed a tie from the drawer as you passed the dresser.

You smelled them as you went back to the door as Arvin peeked in.

“For church,” you held them out, “My daddy was a bit taller but he got skinny near the end. I can pin up the pants for you and you’ll look just fine.”

“Oh,” he face paled, “You-- I can’t--”

“Roy’ll never fit into these so please,” you pushed them against his chest. “And I don’t think he’ll be up in time for church so I need you to drive.”

He smiled and took the clothes. He hugged them as if they were precious. “Thank you. I’m gonna sound like you for a moment but you really didn’t have to.”

“You think I’m gonna forget that you promised to make the fish? It’ll be a nice Sunday night dinner.” You inhaled deeply, “I think that for tonight, I’m gonna lay down though.”

“Alright,” he let you past, “You have a good night.”

“You too,” you neared your bedroom door as Roy’s snores grew louder, “Might have to stuff my ears with cotton.”

🚬

As you expected, Roy was too hungover to get up for church. You didn’t really go for the sermons but your daddy made it a habit when you were young to make sure you got to see the other kids in town. Sunday school had socialised you in the circles of the small town but they had proven less than welcoming. And since you’d grown out of your education, you went to trade recipes with some of the other wives.

Arvin was awake before you. As you pulled a cardigan over your blue dress you stopped at the bottom of the stairs and he appeared from the front room.

“Oh, Arvin,” you smiled, “That suit looks real nice on you. And the pants…”

“I sewed them myself last night,” he lifted his foot, “Remembered a few stitches.” He straightened the jacket, “You look real good too.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair?” You chimed. “Gonna have to be since Roy hasn’t moved since you dragged him to bed.”

“After you,” he waved to the door, “Think we should get goin’. My daddy woulda whipped me being late for the lord’s prayer.

You led him out the door and climbed into the truck opposite him. He turned the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. You felt calm as you smelled the early morning dew and you looked out the window as he shifted into gear. The lush green grass passed you by and trees swayed as he steered along the old country road.

As always, the church was crowded. You and Arvin squeezed in at the back. He was quiet and sombre as you entered. As you sat, you looked over at him. His jaw squared as the preacher came out and began his weekly scourge. A fire burned behind Arvin’s brown irises and he scowled for a moment before his face went placid.

You looked forward and folded your hands as you listened to Father Milton. You never cared much for his talk of hellfire and brimstone, to be fair, your daddy didn’t either, but in a small town, everyone knew when one was away from service. Roy never cared what anyone thought but you had to deal with Noreen and the other ladies at the grocer or around town about their own tasks.

When mass finished, you stood but Arvin hesitated. He stared up at the altar before he finally rose. He nodded to you and followed you and the other worshippers out into the sun.

You heard your name as you headed for the truck. You stopped and Arvin did too. You turned as Noreen, a woman older than yourself who fashioned herself to be the model for all society ladies, approached you. She wore a wide-brimmed hat over her blonde hair and took short steps in her heels.

“You promised me that carrot cake recipe. The one with the raisins.” She said. “Now I’ve been hounding you for three weeks.”

“Oh, uh,” you unclasped your pocketbook and fished out the card you’d made sure to stow after last Sunday. “Right here. I’m sorry, Noreen, but I gotta get back.”

“Where is Roy? Was he off drinkin’ again? You know, the lord did warn us all against excess.”

“Well, perhaps we can get him to come next week and you can warn him,” Arvin intoned and Noreen looked over in shock.

“Excuse me. And who is this… man you have as your escort?”

“Roy is letting the attic out to him. They work together. This is Arvin.”

“Arvin Russell,” he introduced firmly.

“That’s an unusual name,” Noreen remarked, “You’re not from here?”

“No, but from a place like this.” He countered, “I’m gonna go get the truck goin’.”

He turned without courtesy and marched away. You looked back to Noreen as she curled her lip.

“Oh, he is a rough one, isn’t he? You have that scoundrel livin’ with you?”

“He’s a good man. Helps around the house. It’s a big place and Missy Grable has a tenant of her own.”

“Missy Grable has a farmhand to tend the fields,” Noreen lifted her chin.

You weren’t certain what to say. Noreen always found issue with whatever you said and you hated to give her further reason to.

“Well, here’s the recipe. I really ought to go.” You said.

“I understand, honey,” She smirked, “Your husband needs his caretaker… oh sorry, wife.”

You flinched but said nothing else. Your shoulders dropped as you turned away and dragged your heels through the dirt. You opened the truck and climbed in without a word. You clutched your pocketbook and stared ahead as Arvin back out of the lot.

“Pardon my saying so and I don’t use this word often, but she was a bitch,” Arvin said. “Remind me why I ain’t go to church.”

You looked down and nervously unclasped and unclasped your purse. “You didn’t have to come.”

“No, it’s your house and I wanna be a good guest,” he said, “It’s nothing to do with you.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “My daddy hated goin’ too but he didn’t want me to be ostracised, you know? He told me, near the end, that he stopped believin’ durin’ the war. He said no god would let the things happen that he saw.” You leaned against the door and watched the buildings pass. “Seein’ how these Christians act, I can’t blame him.”

Arvin was quiet as you left the main street and the house began to thin out until the country sprawled out around you.

“My sister…” he said so low you barely heard him. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “My cousin, she was tricked by a preacher man. She was young and too willing to love. And he was just a liar. He knocked her up then refused her.” His voice was brittle and you glanced over as his hand tightened on the steering wheel. “She hung herself but it was that snake-tongued charlatan who killed her.” He shook his head. “No god would take her like that. No god would let a man sworn to him trick the innocent.” He rubbed his forehead as his eyes bore into the distance, “I’m sorry. Just been a while since I sat in a pew.”

“No, I’m… sorry. Sorry about your cousin.” You said, “I didn’t-- You can stay home next week.”

He pondered it and a little smile curled his lips. “Don’t think I will. Think I’d like to see that Noreen again. Maybe say a prayer for her soul, wherever it may be.”

🚬

Roy was still in bed when you got home. You tried to rouse him and he swatted you away. You brought him a sandwich and some water and left it beside him. You went back down to clean up as Arvin sat in the front room, As you wiped your hands, the record player buzzed and a tune rose on noontime air.

You went to the living room as Arvin stood straight and you listened to the smooth tones of Sinatra. He turned to you as you entered.

“I like this one,” you said.

“Me too,” He had shed the jacket and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, his tie disposed of. He turned his palm up as he stepped away from the player. “You dance?”

You giggled and shook your head. “No, not much of a dancer. Roy wouldn’t even at the wedding.”

“Come on. It’s a good song.” He got closer and began to sing out of tune, “I get no kick from champagne. Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all…”

You shied away and he caught your hand. You let him draw you closer and smiled as your cheeks warmed up.

“Just follow my lead,” he urged as he moved his feet, “Don’t look down, just one, two, one, two…”

You moved your feet around his as he swayed you and turned you on the spot. His hand settled on your lower back and you grasped his shoulders. You were jittery as you moved with him in time to the music.

“Arvin…” You breathed.

“Every pretty girl should dance,” he said, “I’d say you’re a hell of a dancer for a beginner.”

“Thanks,” you trilled and settled into his embrace.

“I mean it. You deserve more.” He leaned closer and you felt his hot breath on you. “You deserve the world.”

You smiled as he gazed across at you. Your heart leapt as there was a sudden clamour by the stairs and you pushed away from Arvin as Roy stomped into the doorframe. His hand fell away from your back and you tiptoed over to your husband.

“Roy, you’re awake? How ya feelin’?”

“All this goddamn noise you makin’ down here,” he grumbled, “Shut off that dang thing. There’s a game on.”

You flitted away and turned off the Victrola. You looked at Arvin as he watched Roy. He looked irritated and repulsed by the man.

“I gotta do some chores,” you muttered. “You boys enjoy the game.”

“I think I’m just gonna go upstairs,” Arvin tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be down to cook that fish in a bit.”

You watched the younger man leave and Roy turned the dial on the radio. Your husband flopped onto the couch as the commentator’s voice filled the room.

“How about a beer?” He demanded, not asked.

🚬

The day turned to night. Dinner was quiet and tense. Roy didn’t drink as much as the day before but the alcohol made little difference. Arvin was pensive and seemed to lose himself in thought. You were nervous as you thought of the dance and your temperamental husband.

You hadn’t done anything wrong. It was just a dance. How come Roy could spend his days drunk and dozing and you couldn’t do anything you liked?

You cleaned up after supper. Arvin retreated to his room once more as Roy sat in the living room with another bottle and you tidied up. You cleared the last of the mess and looked out into the front room. Roy belched and sneered as he saw you.

“Wife,” he beckoned you forward with two fingers, “What did you do today?”

“Went to church. Cleaned.” You edged closer. “That’s all. I was real worried about you, Roy.”

“Were you?” He snorted and stood as he dropped his bottle on the table. “You didn’t seem too bothered when I came down.”

“What do you mean?” You stopped a foot away from him.

“You and that kid. You get on real well, don’t ya?” He snickered. “You down here dancing.”

“Just a dance, Roy,” you said meekly, “I didn’t wanna be rude.”

“You just wanna be a whore,” he snarled, “Huh? What you doin’ with that boy? I’m your husband.”

“I know, I know that, Roy. I never-- I didn’t do nothing.” You pleaded as he stepped closer. “I was just waitin’ for you to wake up.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he hissed as he grabbed the back of your head and thrust you close to him. “You been doin’ everything but what a wife is meant for.”

He tore open the front of your dress and you cried out. “I’m gonna fuck you and let that boy hear who you belong to.”

“Stop, please.”

“Stop!? This is what you promised me, dear wife.”

You struggled with him as the smell of alcohol on his breath made you cringe. He spun you and shoved you so hard you stumbled back against the couch. You got up as he ambled after you and were knocked back by his fist. You cradled your cheek as you fell onto the cushions.

He pushed you up against the back of the couch and tried to wrench your legs apart. You squeezed your knees together and slapped at him blindly as fear bubbled in your veins. He forced your legs open and knelt on the couch between them. He grabbed your throat as you tried to wriggle away and he struck you again. He never hit your face; he didn’t like people to see what he did to you.

“I’ll show you,” he muttered, “I’ll show you, you little whore.”

He reached for his fly but his face mirrored your shock as he suddenly stilled and for a moment, he froze in time before he fell back onto the floor. Arvin stepped aside to avoid the crash and turned to hit him across the face. Roy’s brow split and began to stream with blood.

Arvin struck him a third time and pointed the gun at his head as he laid prone on the floor. Roy touched the back of his skull as he stared up barrel. The whack from the butt of the gun would likely leave a worse lump than his punches.

“Get up and go.” Arvin growled. “Or I’m gonna smear this carpet with your brains.”

“Are you crazy? This is my house!” Roy barked and pushed himself up. The pistol clicked and Arvin pressed it to his head.

“It’s her daddy’s house.”

“She’s my wife, boy.”

“You don’t act like no husband,” Arvin said gruffly, “You think I’m scared? Think I haven’t shot a man before?”

“Sure you have, boy.”

“It’s different. You go out and you hunt your bucks and they don’t know what’s comin’, they don’t even know when they shot. But a man, oh he knows to the end. He begs, even if he can’t speak, he does. It’s in his eyes, in the way he gurgles as the life drains from his lips.” Arvin kicked Roy, “And once I pull this trigger, you’ll be begging too but it’ll be too late and there ain’t no words you can say to stop the blood. So you shut up and you go before you can’t.”

You were paralysed on the couch. Your head throbbed as you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You trembled as Roy stood slowly and winced as Arvin followed his movement with the muzzle of the gun. Arvin followed your husband to the door and you heard the sharp whine of the other before it clattered shut.

Crickets chirped as dirt stirred beneath feet and you heard the old truck shudder to life. The door snapped shut and locked loudly. Arvin appeared and lowered the gun. You stared at it as he came close. He set it on the table and sat beside you as he touched your face and you winced.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he pulled you against him, “I’m sorry he hurt you. I shoulda-- shoulda been faster.”

“Arv…” Your voice turned to a wisp and you let him hold you.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I got you now.”

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #Dark Fic #dark!fic #reader x oc husband #fic #series #the devil all the time #of something beautiful but annihilating

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

eyes full of stars

word count: 3.1k

warnings: insinuated!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, slight sexual innuendo (kind sorta maybe, minors please be aware)

recommended listening: cowboy like me | taylor swift

a/n: it’s cold and snowy. to combat the winter blues i wrote about a sunny minnesota summer with brock :))

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Brock this carefree.

The season was hard on him. There were large periods where he didn’t put up any points, and trade rumors started to circulate. Halfway through, before the playoff push even started, the negative social media comments came rolling in. You frequently saw fans request a trade or say that the organization should regret drafting him. Brock did his best to brush everything off, but it was beginning to waer on his mental health. You’re devastated when they fail to make it to the postseason, but you know it’s for the best. The injured team will spend the offseason recuperating and be ready for the next one. Besides, it means you and Brock will get to spend more time on the lake.

So here you are, packing the car for the twenty-seven hour drive to Minnesota. Brock insists on driving, says it’s relaxing, but you aren’t sure you agree. Prone to car-sickness so fierce you can barely look out the window, you’d much rather fly. Everything is exasperated by the fact you’re a nervous traveller to begin with, afraid of taking a wrong turn or missing an exit. You’re a terrible road trip partner but at least Brock could talk to the dogs. Coolie and Milo loved car rides, and you can typically hear your boyfriend having full on conversations with them as you fade in and out of consciousness.

“Ready to go babe?” Brock asks as he closes the trunk. The question is delivered with a bright grin, and despite your anxiety you return it with ease.

“I don’t really have much of a choice do I?”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he moves towards you. Sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans he kisses you lazily. It’s comforting and all-consuming at the same time; doing a great job of occupying your mind with thoughts of him instead of the journey ahead. “I suppose not,” he says, planting a final kiss on your forehead. “It’ll be fine. You can take a Gravol right before we cross the border and you’ll be asleep before we hit Seattle.”

It’s the best plan of attack, so you agree immediately. After taking one last run into your shared apartment to use the bathroom and make sure everything is in order, you make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat of Brock’s jeep. Music filters through the speakers at a low volume, and you focus on the retreating skyline of Vancouver. You’re excited to get back to Minnesota, to relax and see your boyfriend in his natural habitat. Countless days are about to be spent lounging lakeside enjoying each other’s company. It will also be nice to spend time with Brock’s family: they’ve been incredibly welcoming over the years and you can’t wait to catch up with them. You know Brock’s itching to spend time with his nephew, and just to be at home.

Just as Brock said, you’re asleep before Bellingham. It’s fitful, and you’re frequently woken up by the dogs barking a little too excitedly in response to something Brock said. However, it does a good job of keeping you from emptying the contents of your stomach onto the floor. Somewhere in Idaho, a good seven hours after you left Canada, you awake for the final time.

“Look boys, Mom’s finally awake!”

You laugh at the comment and lean over the center console to ruffle his hair. It’s still long from the season, and curls slightly around your fingertips.

“You’re hilarious.”

Brock takes his right hand off the steering wheel, unravelling yours from its resting place and entwining your fingers together. He places a kiss to the back of your palm. “You know I’m just teasing,” he whispers. “I know these drives are hard on you. Thank you for doing it twice a year.”

Instead of answering verbally, you squeeze his hand tighter. Though it’s true you hate driving through five states, you’d do it twice a week if it would make Brock happy. It seems a bit much to convey with a single gesture, but you can tell from the smile that graces his features that Brock understands. The two of you sit in silence, enjoying the scenery and trying to scout for a rest stop. Coolie and Milo are getting antsy and you’re also due to stretch your legs.

After letting the dogs run around to release some energy and using the bathroom, you start the final leg of the day. Missoula, Montana, is the destination. Not quite the halfway point, but close enough that you could tackle the rest of the miles tomorrow, the city has a wide variety of pet-friendly lodging. You insist you drive the rest of the way, giving Brock a well deserved rest. Looking at the interstate for hours can cause serious highway hypnosis. Not even twenty minutes after getting back on the road he’s asleep, snoring softly as he rests his head on the window.

You take a moment to admire your boyfriend. He looks so relaxed and peaceful, and the forehead creases that are starting to develop from over analyzing hours of tape disappear. Brock looks years younger, and you know the youthfulness will creep back into him the longer you’re in Minnesota. You can’t wait to see him without any cares again.

Less than two hours later, the hotel creeps up on your left. Pulling into the first available parking space, you turn the car off before waking Brock.

“Brock, we’re at the hotel,” you say softly, jostling his shoulder. “Let’s get checked in and then we shower.”

The mention of washing off a day’s worth of travel has him letting the door fly open. You had made sure to pack your overnight bags in an easily accessible spot, and work at getting them out while Brock wrangles the dogs. For being cooped up all day, they’re extremely well behaved. Once cleaned up you imagine you’ll take them on a long walk and grab some food.

“Hey, give that back. Milo!” you hear Brock yelp, and peek around to see what’s happening. The younger pup has Brock’s bucket hat between his teeth and is in the process of tearing across the parking lot.

With a giggle you call him back. “Milo, come here baby,” you say. Without a second thought, the dog bolts towards you, knocking against your shins when he fails to stop in time. You lean down to scratch Milo’s ear, and as soon as you ask him to drop the object he places it in your open palm. “Good boy,” you coo, letting him lick the side of your face.

“He’s your dog alright,” Brock huffs from where he’s standing, Coolie running circles around his ankles.

You toss the hat over the roof of the car as you laugh at him. “You’re just jealous he listens to me.”

“I sure fucking am. He’d be an absolute nuisance if it wasn’t for you.”

The rest of the night is spent unwinding from the long day. Dinner consists of the greasiest burgers you can find, and you roam around the city hand in hand, the dogs leading you. By the time you get back to the hotel you’re spent. Sleep takes over rather quickly, and you’re dozing off before Brock gets back from brushing his teeth. Once ready for bed, he slides his body against yours. The pair of you fit together like a puzzle, and after a quick kiss you let sleep consume you.

The second day of travel is much the same, except you do a better job of staying awake. You take a different anti-nausea medication and frequently switch with Brock. Conversation flows easily, ideas for summer excursions and repairs that need to be done around the house. The Boeser’s are kind enough to lend you their lake house during the off season, but the property can be a lot to manage. Brock takes it all in stride, and somehow actually enjoys spending hours mowing the grass. He says it’s relaxing, mind numbing work, so you let him handle it. Country music flows from the car speakers, and eventually talking turns into a full on concert. Milo and Coolie do their best to harmonize with Brock, and it’s too cute not to post somewhere. You sneak your phone from your pocket and manage to catch some of it on video, posting to Instagram immediately. Those from the Canucks organization you have on social media will love it; Brock’s teammates will most definitely chirp him for being tone deaf.

It’s late by the time you pull into the driveway of your temporary home, almost eleven. Grabbing only the essentials and leaving the rest to be unpacked tomorrow, you unlock the door before flopping on the couch. The dogs follow suit, laying on top of you. When Brock walks in he shakes his head, but still leans over to kiss you.

“Make sure you text your mom and let her know we made it,” you call to his retreating figure. “And let her know we’ll be over in the afternoon once we get situated.”

You swear he flips you off, no doubt poking fun at your maternal instincts. “Yes ma’am,” he replies.

“Ma’am?” you shriek. “I am not fifty. You’re so gonna get it Boeser.”

After gently nudging the dogs off your legs you’re chasing after him, laughing all the way. Brock’s a lot faster than you, being the athlete he is, but you don’t give up hope. In a last ditch attempt to get him back, you launch yourself forward, square into the middle of his back. The change in weight distribution has him falling to the floor, sprawling the width of the hallway. Both of you are giggling messes, delirious from lack of sleep and the knowledge you get to spend four months of uninterrupted time together.

“I love you, you know that right,” Brock murmurs into the crook of your neck. He dots chaste pecks along the skin and you sigh at the feeling.

Pulling him closer, you make sure to properly enunciate your words as you respond. “Yes sir.”

Brock eyes darken visibly, and he shifts his body so he’s resting on top of you. “You’re in for it now,” he groans, dragging himself to his feet. You quickly follow, meeting his lips in an eager kiss. The pair of you stumble the rest of the way to the bedroom, bodies intertwining like ivy vines, and Brock makes sure to kick the door shut to ensure your pets don’t interrupt the salacious activities he has planned.

☼☼☼☼

You settle into a routine fairly quickly. Mornings are spent alone while Brock works out, and afternoons are for lounging in the sun. The hours after the sun fades away are spent huddling around a bonfire with friends, and midnights are for just the two of you. Sometimes Brock lets himself rest and spends the day in the middle of the lake doing his best to fish, leaving you to spend time with his mom and sister. They’re lovely; warm and welcoming, making sure you’re never too lonely or bored. You and Brock also spend a lot of time with his nephew, doting over the toddler. Seeing your boyfriend with him makes you want kids, but that’s a conversation that is yet to be had in any serious light.

Sometimes you join Brock when he does typical professional hockey player in the summer things. It turns out you're quite the golfer, and have put him to shame many times. Countless days are spent helping him fix the roof of the lake house because he insists on doing it himself even though he knows nothing about roofing. At least seven phone calls to his father and a desperate run to the hardware store later, it’s completed; sealed and free of cracks. Though you’re a terrible fisher, Brock tries his best to teach you. Truth be told, you don’t have any interest in the sport, but his tongue pokes out slightly when he’s thinking about how to explain a concept and you think it’s adorable.

Coolie and Milo are loving being able to roam free, and you both spend a lot of time outside with them. You’re only ever really in the house at night, reading or playing games on the patio furniture Brock’s mom picked out. It’s peaceful; existing like this. You swear you could do it forever.

Being home allows an invisible weight to be lifted off Brock’s shoulders. There’s a pep in his step, and he’s always smiling. Even the intense at-home workouts can’t seem to bring him down. You’re delighted, how could you not be? It’s as if the only things that matter to him are enjoying a few beers lakeside and coaxing you out of shorts in the dark. You suppose that’s the truth.

☼☼☼☼

It’s incredibly warm out. The sun beats down on your back as you turn the pages of your novel, half listening to the conversation Brock is having with his friends. A group of you are on the boat, enjoying one of the last full days of summer. Later in the week you and Brock will pack up the car again, making the long trek back to Vancouver. You’re sad time has passed so fast, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to be back in the city. It’s your home, and the boys seem to be really fired up for the new season. You have a feeling some really good hockey is going to come out of Rogers Arena.

“Yo Y/N, who’s the better driver. Me or Boes?”

The question pulls you from the fantasy taking place on the pages, and you look to see who’s speaking to you. It’s Brock’s dearest childhood friend, someone you consider family at this point. “It’s absolutely not Brock,” you shrug. The comment earns a loud laugh from everyone and you find yourself joining in.

“Ouch babe, that hurts,” Brock says as he slides into the free space next to you. Casually wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder, he leans down to whisper into your ear. “Looks like you need to be taught a lesson.”

His words have a vaguely sexual connotation, and you look around nervously. Your swimsuit won’t cover the flush that will be sure to rise on your skin if Brock tries anything. Everyone seems to be engaged in their own conversations, but you still feel queasy about getting caught. Though Brock’s friends are the type to laugh it off, you’d be absolutely mortified.

Before your brain can overthink anything else, you’re being lifted from your seat. It only takes two seconds for Brock to hoist you over the side of the boat and throw you into the cool water. You land with a glorious splash, but take your time coming to the surface. Partly to bring your temperature down, partly to make your lover squirm.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you yell to him from below, but the bright smile you flash him lets Brock know you don’t mean it.

He sets his hat on top of your book before climbing over the edge. “Shut up,” he fires back, diving gracefully to join you in the water.

A small splashing match breaks out, and soon everyone else is in the water, picking sides. You swim until your skin is wrinkled beyond recognition, pruned and puckered something akin to a raisin. Only once the sky begins to redden do you head for home. Brock keeps the boat at cruising speed, and you sit comfortably in his lap. Once back on land, dinner is quickly thrown together. A mish-mash of what’s left in your fridge and what others have brought, but it works. The boys huddle around the grill and everyone else swoons over the dogs, who are on their best behaviour.

Later in the night, once the dishes are cleaned up and some guests with day jobs have left, you settle into Brock’s side at the fire. Not caring if you get chirped for the PDA, you hold his face in both your hands and rest your forehead against his. The scruff that’s grown in since the last time Brock shaved tickles slightly, but you’re too in love with him to care. It’s been so refreshing to see him relaxed, acting without a care in the world. Hopefully the attitude he currently has will stick and not disappear once you hit the Vancouver city limits.

Brock takes a sip of his beer before offering the bottle to you. You gingerly place it to your lips, making a face at the taste. He laughs at your reaction, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Still tastes disgusting,” you mutter, reaching for your own drink to wash away the taste.

The fire crackles gently behind you but you barely register the sound, in your own little world where everything is perfect. It’s you, Brock, and the dogs living in a house similar to the one you’re currently residing in, living life to the fullest.

“You gonna come back to me, space cadet?” Brock chuckles, tracing the outline of your nose.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” you apologize. “Was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Us. The future. Living in a lake house just like this one and spending all our time being so in love with each other that our friends constantly make fun of us. Maybe having kids in a couple of years. How I love seeing you like this; so at peace and full of life.”

In lieu of a response, Brock kisses you passionately. It’s a soft kind of passion: one that holds you tenderly and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. He tastes like the Coors Light he’s been drinking, but somehow the idea of beer is much more appealing when mixed with Brock. You lose yourself in him for a while, relishing in the gentleness of his hands resting on your waist. Eventually you return some of your attention to the others, but even then you can’t find it in yourself to focus. Your mind is filled with nothing but love for Brock.

It’s seems that he’s feeling the same way, because he continually leaves kisses across your shoulder blade. “I really, really love you,” Brock confesses, and you feel him smile through the thin material of your worn hoodie.

You intertwine your pinky with his and let them sit comfortably in your lap. “I love too. So much that it’s all consuming.”

Brock often leaves you breathless in more ways than one, but sweet sentiments like this will always take the cake. Especially when they happen on summer nights where he’s free to be his authentic self.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#why tf did i spend so much time detailing the car ride lmao #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser fic #vancouver canucks imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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djadins · 4 years ago

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jate’kara | the mandalorian x f!reader — part one

After your ship had been damaged beyond even your abilities, you find yourself stuck on Nevarro doing menial repair work. That is, until a shiny man and his little green child interrupt your day to day.

warnings: canon-typical violence

rating: T

word count: 2k

a/n: this popped into my head and I had to get it out. I have definitely taken some creative liberties with the razor crest so bear w it and I know nothing about fixing things or mechanics so I did my best :) set sometime after season 1

You carefully wiped your brow with the back of your forearm. Your hands were covered in filth, your face too, but you weren’t willing to add to the mix already caked atop your head.

One leg flung over the side of the speeder, you brought the engine you had been working on for the past hour to life. It purred beautifully underneath you and you quickly shut it off. Easy work, you thought to yourself. If only it paid better.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that at first you didn’t feel the tugging on your right pant leg. It wasn’t until you tried to move away from the speeder that you felt a tiny anchor holding you back.

A sharp inhale filled your breast as you looked down at the little green creature who was peering back up at you. He had your pant leg firmly grasped in his little hands. His head cocked to the side, a small whimper escaping his mouth. He let go of your jumpsuit and reached up with grabby hands.

You grabbed the wet rag you had kept on the back of the speeder and quickly wiped your hands off. You reached down and grasped the curious little creature. He seemed to coo at your touch.

A green palm went up towards your cheek. His hand was a lot warmer than you had anticipated. “Well hello to you too, little guy,” you chuckled. He cooed in response.

“Where are your parents? Are you hungry?” you spun around, grabbing a cracker out of the supply you had in your bag. The little green thing was quick to reach out and take it, but after the first bite he dropped it on the ground and stuck his tongue out. You laughed, your chest shaking the both of you.

“How about this?” this time you handed him a piece of jerky. He quickly gobbled it down, causing you to giggle again. You fed him more and more, until your entire stash was almost out.

“You’re gonna bleed my dry, buddy!”

The barrel of a blaster pressed up against your lower back stopped your laugh dead in its tracks. You stiffened, biting your lower lip. The little gremlin cooed in your arms.

“Drop the kid,” came a modulated voice from behind.

“O.. okay..” you stuttered, slowly reaching down to put the kid on the ground. He went running to the person behind you, almost tripping on his long taupe cloak. You straightened back out, keeping your arms up on the way.

“Who are you, how’d you get into the Crest?”

You gave the stranger your name. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you answered honestly.

“Turn around.”

Hands still up towards your head, you slowly did a 180. In front of you was a tall Mandalorian in a polished beskar suit. He held the kid in one arm and a blaster pointed at you in the other.

“My ship,” he emphasized. He pointed his blaster at your tools spread out around the speeder. “You break in?”

“What?! No!” At your enthusiastic defense of yourself, your arms dropped back down. You pointed at him. “Look here buddy,” you turned around and waved your arm at the speeder. “I have been fixing this hunk of junk for one of the locals. I just finished up when your kid came over to me. He seemed hungry so I gave him a snack, that’s it.” Your arms were waving furiously as you spoke.

The Mandalorian cocked his head to the side as he studied you. “You’re gonna bleed me dry buddy,” he repeated your words under his breath. The Mandalorian reholstered his weapon and nodded at you. “My... apologies.”

You shook your head and muttered to yourself, starting to pack your tools up. You didn’t know the Mandalorian was still watching you from behind, which caused you to jump when he started to speak.

“You repair things,” he stated, his modulated voice ringing out.

You turned around, sure that a dumbfounded look was plastered on your face. Your first thought was how has this idiot survived this long, but you quickly brushed it aside.

“Uh... ya,” was your intelligent response.

“My ship could use a looking at. I’ll pay double your fee, considering the kid ate your food.”

As your brows scrunched together, your mouth dropped open. You swallowed hard. Part of you wanted to yell at him for what had just transpired. The other part, the more rational one, remembered that you were marooned here until you had some serious credits in hand.

“...Okay,” you finally agreed. He only nodded in acknowledgement and begun making his way out of town with the kid. You grabbed your bags and followed behind him. His ship wasn’t far outside of town, only a 5 minute walk past the main gate.

“Ahh, a Razor Crest,” you put the pieces together. “Surprised it’s survived this long,” you said mostly to yourself.

You busied yourself for the rest of the afternoon with the small things that the Mandalorian pointed out needed fixing. You almost felt guilty, you could do these repairs in your sleep and they definitely weren’t worth double your rate. The little green one followed you around for most of the work, sometimes taking a tool or two in his little grabby hands. The Mandalorian busied himself with supplies and other odds and ends inside the ship.

Nevarro’s lone sun was just touching the ground when you finished up. You made your way up the ramp into the Crest, where you found the Mandalorian sitting with the child on a supply crate. He nodded at you as you entered and you returned it.

He motioned to a crate next to him. There was a plate of food sitting on it. “Please, eat,” he offered.

You hesitated. Opening your mouth to say something, your stomach instead took its place with a low rumble. You smiled as you bit your bottom lip. “I guess I could eat,” you conceded.

Cross-legged, you sat at the floor in front of the crate. The Mandalorian offered a wet rag for your hands and you shot him a silent thank you. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you ate, feeding the small green alien in his lap.

“Does he have a name?” you finally spoke up.

The Mandalorian hesitated. “No.”

You wanted to ask but you didn’t pry. You continued to eat your food in silence until the plate was emptied. When you stood up from your seat you cleared your throat.

He did the same, setting the child down atop the crate with the rest of the food. The child continued to feed himself behind his caretaker’s back while the Mandalorian reached for a small velvet black pouch. He offered it to you.

You took the pouch in your hands, fingering the credits inside. It felt heavier than you expected.

“I think you may have overpaid,” you admitted, guilt creeping in.

The Mandalorian shook his head. “I have a proposition for you,” he admitted. His voice was unwavering, monotone through the modulator. Your stomach tightened up and you straightened your posture.

“I would like to hire your... services.”

Your brow furrowed. “My services?”

The Mandalorian nodded once. “With my line of work, my ship can sometimes take... a beating.”

“Like the scorch marks on the hull plating?” you questioned, a little too bold.

The Mandalorian nodded again. “And the kid. He likes you. Need someone to watch over him when I’m gone.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you looked behind him at the kid. You shifted your gaze back at Mando. “How much?”

The Mandalorian shifted his weight from his right leg to his left. “Twenty percent plus room and board.”

“You only have one bed,” you shot back, mouth working faster than your brain. Your cheeks heated up to a bright red.

The Mandalorian hummed. “Consider it yours, if you’ll take the job.”

You started chewing your bottom lip again, the taste of iron seeping through your mouth. “I could probably... rig up another bed along there,” you pointed along the wall where some crates were stacked.

He looked over to where you were pointing and nodded. “Does that mean you accept?” he questioned, his voice low and almost crackling through the modulator.

You took a deep breath it and shakily let it out. “Yes.”

A cooing sound came from the crates beside you. The kid was making grabby motions towards you again. You rubbed him gently on the head, pulling lightly at one of his ears.

“Feel free to use the shower, the kid will want to sleep with you in the cot,” the Mandalorian looked down at his green friend. “We leave tomorrow at midday.”

“Thanks, Mando,” you responded after a moment of silence had passed.

He nodded without another word and made his way silently up to the cockpit. You were surprised a man in that much armor could be so quiet. The only sounds he made was the soft clunk of his boots when the bottoms connected with the ladder rungs.

You grabbed the kid and punched the button to open the door to the sleeping quarters. “Get settled, I got a day’s worth of grease to scrub off me.”

*****

When you woke, you were surprised that the little gremlin’s snores didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. My goodness, how can something so little be so loud? You stretched your body out as quietly as possible as not to wake him. He was sleeping sound in the hammock Mando must have built for him above your head. Thank god he didn’t roll off it in sometime in the night.

You crept out of the cot and stood up on your tippy toes, this time stretching out as full as possible. You had a tendency to curl up in your sleep from your old ship’s sleeping situation but it seemed as if you weren’t going to have that problem on the Crest. There was plenty of room in the cot, you and the kid could have slept in the bed together with a few feet still in between you. Guess you were just used to sleeping in a ball.

You grabbed the last of your food from your bag and started eating as you made your way around the ships cargo hold. When you found a piece of fabric that would do nicely you began to get to work.

It took you under an hour, and you hoped you got the measurements right but nonetheless you started to put the fabric sling around your body. You put both hands in at the opening at your stomach and pushed out as much as you could. Sturdy. Should do the trick.

You crept back over to the cot and carefully grabbed the kid from his cradle. You slowly set him in the opening of the sling. Perfect.

His snores were quieted and you attributed it to his upright positioning, you hoped. You wanted him to sleep a little longer while you grabbed a few things you needed before the journey.

“Clever.”

You inhaled sharply and bit your lip. It took everything in your power not to yelp. “Mando, you scared the bantha fodder out of me!” you whispered harshly.

You could have swore you heard a chuckle coming out of the silver helmet now standing in front of you. He nodded his head towards you. “The carrier. It’s clever.”

Your cheeks turned a bright red as you looked down at the kid, luckily still asleep against your chest. “Thanks.”

He walked over to you. “Going into town?”

You nodded up at him. “Just need to grab a few things before we leave.”

“I’ll join you.”

You said nothing in response, simply grabbing your bag that had previously carried all of your belongings. You had dumped it and sorted it out in an empty crate before going to bed last night.

Mando lowered the ramp and you walked down with him trailing not far behind you.

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beau-draws-and-cries · 3 years ago

Text

Late Night Demonics - Hunter Clawthorne AU Oneshot

Summary: Hunter is still adapting to the little demon sharing the bedroom with him

Tags: Hunter clawthorne au, king clawthorne, the owl house, fluff

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33452722

"Psst. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter." King baped him on the face.

"What!" Hunter said, annoyed by being woken up when he was almost dozing off. The small demon was on his chest, holding one of the plushies Eda gave to him, with those big yellow and pink eyes seemingly staring into his soul "What do you want??? Stop baping me!"

"I, huh, need to go to the bathroom." He muttered, like he was ashamed of asking for it.

"You know where the bathroom is." Hunter said, a bit dry, trying to get into a comfortable position again.

King looked between the door and Hunter, whimpering a bit, and when Hunter closed his eyes, King baped him on the face again.

"I really, really, really need to go." Now he got sad eyes on, begging something without words, the said eyes slightly glowing into the dim light. Hunter groaned, it looked like he had no choice. He slowly got up, and King went to the floor, near Hunter's leg.

On the corridor, Hunter was already really annoyed and it got worse when something cracked on the house and King hugged his leg tightly, closing his eyes and whining. When he looked down to King to yell for him to let go of him, something hit Hunter like a truck. That was an actual demon child. Small, scared, needing comfort. He could talk like he knew about stuff and like he lived a long life before being this small child, but King was a 4 years old or so that still was scared of the dark and other stuff, and needed help to stop being scared and just…. Go to the bathroom.

"Hey, huh, that sound is Hooty snoring. The walls are kinda alive so sometimes the whole house breathes. It freaked me out a lot when I moved here because it seemed like the house would fall apart with me inside. But after you get used to, it's kinda soothing." Hunter calmed him down, remembering that that was how Eda explained it to him on the second week he spent there.

"Really?" The house breathed again, making him scared, but not as much as before, looking around instead of hiding his face into Hunter's leg.

"See? Not scary at all. Just old Hooty-hoot doing his… stuff." They kept walking down the corridor, and finally got into the bathroom. King quickly used it, feeling brave enough to close the door while at it (which Hunter thanked), and then Hunter helped him to reach the sink and wash his paws.

"Every time you come here, wash your paws well. You can get sick and get other people sick if you don't."

King nodded, doing as he was told, and was put on the floor again. They walked half of the corridor when Hunter scooped him up, seeing that his small, short legs were getting tired, and after all, the fur and bone didn't feel that bad against his skin, unlike other witches' skin (one of the reasons he hated the playground. The kids would keep hugging him and touching without asking. And for some reason it always felt sticky and made Hunter want to cry and throw up at the same time), so he could stand it brushing on his arms.

He walked back into the bedroom, putting King into his bed and tucking him in, then laying down on his own bed.

"Night night." King said.

"Night night, little guy." Hunter answered.

"When I get back my powers, I will be remembering this." He said, again telling that story of his powers being stolen with his crown.

"Thank you, King. I would be honored." Hunter played along, smiling. Some minutes passed and Hunter felt something climbing his bed, getting on his chest "Need to go to the bathroom again?"

"I can't sleep."

"Oh. Well, I am kinda awake too. Huh, have you ever read Demonics: a detailed encyclopedia?"

"No! What is that?"

"It's a book I checked in from the library a while ago. It's very interesting, but I never had an actual demon to read it with me." Hunter smiled at him, and got up to get the book in his wardrobe. After sitting on the bed, he lit up his bedside light and King cuddled up in his arms, looking at the book "Do you wanna choose a chapter or can we start from the beginning?"

"I wanna start from the beginning!" King said, excited. Hunter did so, starting to read the introduction for him, and at some point King stopped him "How do you know this is written there?"

"Oh, huh, I read the words on the page. Those formed by the little letters."

"What letter is that?" King pointed to a number 5.

"That's a number. They're used for counting things. Its name is number five. Here, let me show you the numbers. There's one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight and nine. There's also the zero that means nothing. Then you can mix and match to form bigger numbers." He skipped to the last page of the encyclopedia "Like the number 867."

"That's a lot of numbers." King said, amazed.

"Yea, and those are the meanings." Hunter proceeded to show the numbers but now with his hands, closing the hands to show zero. King seemed to be interested, tail waving lightly "Then we got twenty, thirty, fourty… and we go on and on and on and on because numbers are infinite."

"What does infinity means?" King asked, raising his small fingers (claws?) To try to count them.

"It means that something never ends."

"Woah, that's so cool! I hope this book never ends."

"Sorry buddy, but we got only like, 820 pages worth of content. But after we're done with this one, we can get another book at the library."

"And then it will be infinite?"

"Well, no." Hunter said, scratching King's head "But there's a whole lot of books, and it would take a very long time to read all of them. It would look infinite for us."

King closed his eyes, getting comfier into Hunter arms. After sometime like this, he opened his eyes again, pointing at a letter B on the page.

"What is this letter?"

"It's the letter B. Boiling Isles starts with a B."

"Ohh. So all words start with letters?"

"Yes, all words, like my name or yours."

"And which letter is the first on my name?"

Hunter looked on the page for a K, and got a piece of paper and pen from the drawer. He pointed at a letter K.

"It starts with this letter." He then wrote it on paper "Then there's an I. Can you copy the letter I am pointing at the paper?" He handed the pen, and King nodded, making a shaky I after the K "And now there's an N." He pointed at the N, and waited until King copied it "And then a G. K-I-N-G. King. That is your name."

King cheered, asking for another piece of paper and writing his name over and over. After he got tired of writing the same thing, he cuddled up on Hunter's lap again.

"Can we continue the book?"

"Sure thing, King." Hunter nodded, continuing to read the book for the small demon, until eventually both fell asleep.

#hunter clawthorne au #king clawthorne #hunter toh #hunter golden guard #the owl house

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remedialpotions · 4 years ago

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The Forbidden Forest

For my friend @jamezbot 🤖 and his love of this particular, super-canonical, not-at-all-ridiculous ship.

I cannot emphasize this enough: this is a crack fic.

***

It was the clicking of Ron’s fingers in front of his face that finally snapped Harry back to reality.

“Mate,” said Ron, half-laughing as he sat back down on his bed, “what’s wrong with you? I’d say you look like you’ve seen a ghost, but that’s actually not all that strange around here-“

“No,” Harry interrupted. His voice felt hollow, detached from him somehow. “Definitely not a ghost.”

He still struggled to believe it - even after all of the bizarre things that had happened in his life - but what he had seen had been very, very real.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Ron swung his long legs over the side of his bed, feet flat on the stone floor. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“Erm-“ Harry gulped. “Just... out. With Ginny.”

A grimace flashed over Ron’s face, then he said, “then why’ve you got this look on your face? Did you ditch her?” he demanded. “I swear to Merlin, Harry, if you-“

“No! No, nothing like that.”

“All right, well then - oh fuck, it’s not Malfoy, is it?”

“No, no - all right, listen. Something - something happened,” he began. “But if I tell you, you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone else.”

“What, not even Hermione?”

“Fine, but just her.” Harry paused, eyes darting around the quiet dorm room. Neville’s garbled snores sounded from behind the closed curtains of one bed; Seamus and Dean’s beds were both empty. They’d both been out past curfew more and more lately. “So listen, Ginny and I were out on a, erm, a walk-“

Ron’s features twisted into disgust. “Ugh, come on, mate, I know what happens on these so-called walks-“

“That’s not the point! Just listen.”

“Harry,” Ginny laughed against his lips, her fingers curling in his hair, “we’re going to get caught-“

“So what?” Harry kissed her again. “What’re they gonna do? Expel us?”

“I know, but-“ Ginny glanced toward the greenhouse, where lantern light flickered behind the dingy glass. “Professor Sprout is still - mmm - still in there-“

Even as Harry couldn’t stop himself kissing her again, it did occur to him that he didn’t particularly relish being found in such a compromising state by anyone, let alone a teacher.

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right.”

Ginny grinned, her face still close to his. “I know.”

“I’ve got an idea, though. Come on.”

Ginny extracted herself from his lap, and they stood, then started off hand-in-hand across the school grounds. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, bathing everything in dusky blue light. All was quiet and calm; even the Whomping Willow could not be bothered to wave its branches at them as they passed, and Hagrid’s hut was completely dark.

“The forest?” said Ginny as they approached the row of trees that marked its perimeter. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect. No one ever goes in here.”

“You don’t think there’s a reason for that?”

“Can you get on with the story already?” interrupted Ron. “‘Cause I know I said I’m all right with it, and I am, but I don’t love hearing about you and my little sister looking for a place to get off-“

“And I don’t really love telling you about it,” replied Harry. “But if you’d just let me get to the point-“

“Sorry, sorry. Go on, then.”

“So where are the centaurs?” asked Ginny as they wound through the thick maze of trees.

“Way further in,” Harry assured her. “We don’t need to go that far.”

“And Grawp?”

“He won’t bother us.” Harry slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “He likes Hermione best, anyway.”

Ginny’s laugh sounded through the quiet air. “Poor Ron’s always got competition.”

Harry chuckled and leaned over, intent on kissing her cheek, when the sound of a twig snapping caused Ginny to freeze in her arms.

“What was that?”

Harry shrugged. “Thestral, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Here, let’s just go over-“ Harry’s words died in his throat, because now he wasn’t just hearing the sound of twigs snapping; deep, very human-sounding murmurs met their ears.

“Oh my God,” Ginny breathed. “It’s Dean and Seamus.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely.” Even in the low light, he could see her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Sounds like two blokes, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it actually does.”

“We’ve got to investigate,” said Ginny, her voice a low, excited whisper. “Please? We won’t let on that we’re there or anything, I just want to see-“

“You want to see your ex-boyfriend snogging his new boyfriend?”

Ginny nodded, gleeful. “Yeah, I do! Let’s go see. Please?”

Harry, admittedly, was curious - he had heard the rumors, he’d suspected, but he didn’t really know, not for certain - and anyway, it didn’t really matter what Ginny asked of him. He’d do it without a second thought.

And so they crept, careful to keep their footsteps light lest they make their presence known, in the direction of the voices. The thing was, the closer they got, the less it sounded like Dean or Seamus. There was no sign of Seamus’ Irish brogue, nor Dean’s London accent. And these voices didn’t sound like those of teenagers, either: they were timeworn and mature.

“‘M so glad ter be with yeh again,” came a gruff voice from within a particularly thick copse of trees. “Feels like it’s been ages.”

Harry’s stomach leapt into his throat - this was Hagrid.

“Merlin’s pants,” Ginny breathed. “Who do you think he’s with? Madame Maxime?”

But before Harry could answer, another voice - this one just as familiar and yet just as surprising - responded.

“I’ve missed you as well, Rubeus. I regret how little time we’ve been able to spend together lately.”

It was a voice Harry would have known on his death bed. It was one that had imparted wisdom and had comforted him in his darkest moments. One that had been a constant source of safety and stability in an increasingly uncertain world.

It was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Next to him, Ginny positively quivered with excitement.

“We should go,” Harry muttered, trying to steer Ginny by the waist. “We shouldn’t be here-“

“Are you kidding?” Ginny hissed back. “We have to go see this.”

As she crept, catlike, through the forest, Harry had no choice but to follow in her footsteps.

“You’re fucking with me,” said Ron decisively. “And I mean, twenty points to Gryffindor for creativity, but-“

“I’m not,” Harry insisted. “I’m really, really not. When have I ever lied to you?”

“I don’t know, but maybe you’ve decided to start-“

“With this?!”

“I don’t know!” Ron threw his hands helplessly in the air. “Maybe Ginny’s put you up to it, to see what you can get me to believe-“

“She hasn’t. And anyway, the story’s not over.”

“Look!” Ginny pointed into the copse of trees, her face a mixture of shock and utter delight. “Oh my God, this is mad.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t Dumbledore, in spangled, midnight-blue robes, leaning back against the trunk of a tree with Hagrid pressed closely against him. Their Care of Magical Creatures professor positively dwarfed their wizened Headmaster, but neither seemed to mind. Dumbledore, in fact, seemed to relish it as he entwined his long, wrinkled fingers in Hagrid’s bushy beard.

“Are we hallucinating?” asked Ginny. “We’ve got to be, right?”

“I don’t think I could hallucinate something like this.”

As they watched, rapt, Hagrid wrapped a massive hand around Dumbledore’s thin, knobby one. “It pains me ter see yeh hurting, Albus,” said Hagrid as he pressed a whiskery kiss to Dumbledore’s blackened fingers. “Are yeh sure it’s worth it?”

“It is for the greater good.” Dumbledore rose up on his toes, reaching toward Hagrid, and as their lips met, their beards brushed. “Soon, my love, it will all make sense.”

“My love,” Ron repeated weakly. “You’re sure you heard right?”

“Oh, quite.”

“So...” Ron raked his fingers through his hair. “So Hagrid and Dumbledore are-“

“Yeah.”

“D’you reckon they’re... er...” Ron gestured uncomfortably, waving his large hands awkwardly around. “Y’know-“ He laced his fingers together; his implication was clear.

“I didn’t exactly have a chance to ask,” Harry retorted.

“Well, yeah, I just - how would that work, exactly? Hagrid’s so much...” Words failing him, Ron resorted again to gesticulating wildly. “Er - bigger-”

“I don’t know!”

Harry’s sharp words rang out in the silence of the dorm, and they both froze as there came a rustling of sheets from Neville’s bed.

“Well,” said Ron, once Neville had resumed snoring, “makes sense when you think about it, doesn’t it? The way Hagrid’s always talked about him, I just thought he admired him - great wizard, and all that - but I s’pose it must be more.”

“Yeah, I s’pose it is.”

“But,” added Ron, pointing a finger at Harry in mock seriousness, “I really don’t want any more stories about you snogging my sister.”

“I don’t want to tell any more of them, so we’re good.”

#crack fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #albus dumbledore #rubeus hagrid #hagrledore #apparently this is the only kind of writing I do anymore #hope you liked it!

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tamagochiie · 4 years ago

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late night escapades with hq boys + a song that goes along with it

genre: fluff! oneshots! character roster: bokuto koutaro, atsumu miya, sugawara koushi, kuroo tetsuro, oikawa toru a/n: i haven't been able to write in a while, and i'm really happy with these one shots. i kinda started this because i miss my friends and all the dumb things we used to do pre-quarantine. anyway, i hope you enjoy! oh, and happy kuroo day! 😌✨

— bokuto koutaro [the way you remember me by st. lucia]

Without a doubt he's always been your number one go-to for a pick-me-up.

So, when you call him in the middle of night, without needing to finish your thought, he'll tell you he's on his way and hangs up the phone; and he'd be there in less than an hour.

You've got a lot of pent up emotions waiting to burst, so where does Bokuto take you? He'll drive you through the tunnels.

Bokuto glances over to you, one hand on the wheel and the other on the stick shift; his back relaxing against the cool leather of his seat. He coyly smirks at you as your weary eyes meets his; mischief twinkling in his golden irises. You hear a whirling above your head, and you look up to see the sunroof sliding open.

You raise a brow, tilting your head. "Koutaro, what are you—"

"In about 2 minutes we'll be in the tunnels," He cuts you off, his attention flickering from the road ahead to you ever so often, "and when we get there, you're gonna poke yourself through that sunroof, and you're gonna let everything out."

"I—I don't understand—"

He sighs,"Look dude, you've taken a lot of L's this month, and I love that you call me whenever you're about to bust, but I just don't think it's enough for you anymore. So, I'm just tellin' you to scream it all out."

You pout, still looking at him quizzically.Though odd in nature, Bokuto usually means well...most of the time he means well.

You shrug your shoulders and give to it, unbuckling your seat belt as you draw nearer to the tunnels. You rise from your seat and try to balance your weight on the cushion as you poke your head out the sunroof.

"You ready?!" Bokuto yells to you, tugging on the cuff of your sweats. "Yeah!" You reply as you start to pull yourself up.

The cool wind meets your cheeks and sends a euphoric feeling down your spine. There's a persistent white noise ringing in your ear as your heart begins to float away form your chest. Even if you don't scream, you already feel lighter than you had earlier.

Bokuto rolls down his window, sticking his head out like a dog as he continues to drive. "Raise your arms!" He shouts, the sound of his voice pulling you out of your daze.

You do as he says, but you close your eyes to let the feeling wash over you. You scream, you shout, and you even sing a little as the excitement thrums in your chest.

Bokuto closes his eyes for just a moment, shouting along with you as he smiles to himself; the wind rushing against his face.

Your voices echo, intertwining with each other's as you continue with your "woo-ing" and "cooing". You ride your high to its fullest, screaming to the top of your lungs as the weight that's made a home on your shoulders disappears.

Even when you're free from the bright lights of the tunnels and engulfed by the darkness of the night, you don't come down from your high. With your arms still raised and the wind in your face, you let yourself get lost in the moment, hoping to stretch it a little longer.

--atsumu miya [as we ran by the national parks]

Signing up to be Atsumu's friend was basically signing up for nothing but life long surprises.

He's unpredictable, coming and going into your life through a revolving door full of stories. He'll disappear for a little while, and when he feels like it, he'll resurface.

He's kind of like confetti; he'll go out with a bang, but he'll make sure to leave glimmering traces of himself behind for you to remember him by until he comes back;

And when he does, he'll immediately coming running to you like a boat towards a lighthouse.

He won't tell you he's on his way to pick you up, he'll already be there and call you out of your house to drag you somewhere while you're half asleep, still processing what's going on.

But no matter how much of an inconvenience it is for you, you can't help but give in anyway.

The winter air is thick; your knees begin to shake and your breaths grow ragged. You groan in pain, images of you shoving your foot up Atsumu's ass flash across your mind. If it wasn't for your lack of athletic abilities, you would've thrown your shoe at the back of his head by now.

"We're almost there!" He calls out to you, twisting his head to find you hunched over, finding support in your knees as you catch whatever oxygen that's still in you. "C'mon, don't give up on me now." His tone is playful, not a single sign of struggling from the twenty minute jog uphill you've just made.

The fallen leaves crunch beneath his feet as he walks back to you.

"You know, 'Tsumu," You gasp, trying set your pulse back to its resting rate, "I'm so close to killing you...I really am."

He takes your words lightly, disregarding the resentment laced in your words as he laughs heartily. "Ya don't mean that! Ya'd miss me too much, I know that for a fact."

There's a ringing in your ears that cuts Atsumu off mid-sentence; it dangerously nears to a C sharp. Your vision blurry ever so often as you train your eyes down to your bunny slippers.

The asshat didn't even let you change out of your shoes, let alone your clothes. He just showed up unannounced (as per usual), and dragged you out of the house because he had "something cool to show you".

"I—I don't think I can keep running." You huff.

"S'okay," He replies, "we can walk the rest of the way since we're close anyway...Here, gimme yer hand; I'll pull ya the rest of the way."

You raise your head; though he's sweating profusely, there isn't a single trace to tell you he's had a hard time as much as you have, or at least a little.

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him for his lax disposition. He's smiling down at you, eyes glimmering beneath the florescent light post as he waits for you to take your hand in his. You want to swat it away, but against your better judgement and sheer desperation, you take it anyway.

"Atta girl!" Atsumu cheers, still holding that damn smile.

You grumble the whole way through, whining about your feet aching and how dizzy you feel. Though it should've annoyed him or at least got a small rise out of him, but he only draws circles over your hand with his thumb, humming in response every now and then to let you know he's still listening.

Luckily for you, it only takes you both five minutes to reach...the very deserted destination.

"Oh my God, 'Tsumu," You groaned, throwing your head back as you try to pull yourself out of Atsumu's hold, but he only tightens his grip, "you pulled me out of bed for dirt?"

"I—What? No!" He rolls his eyes and pulls you close so you're standing next to him. "Why ya gotta be like that? I dragged yer ass outta bed for this!"

Your gaze follows to where he points, and the moment you see the view of the city before you, your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat.

The city lights twinkling, outshining the stars. You can hear the echoes of life from where you both stand, and all you can manage to say is, "Wow."

In all of your five years living in here, you never thought a sight like this was only a twenty-five minute walk away.

"Told ya it was worth it..." Atsumu slings he's arm around your neck and pecks a kiss on the crown of your head. "Ain't it cool havin' a friend like me?"

You shift beneath his arm, finding a more comfortable position in his hold as you pat his chest. "Yeah, you're alright..."

He squints at you, furrowing his brows at your poor choice of words and lack of excitment. You laugh at him, his crinkled nose and the deep frown lines on his forehead make him look like a child.

"Whatever," He sighs, pulling you close. "I know ya love me, ya don't even gotta say it."

"Shut up, 'Tsumu." You tease, burying your head into the dip of his neck. "All your talking's ruining the view."

—sugawara koushi [like real people do by hozier]

Just like Bokuto, Sugawara's your number one go-to except instead of having you screech into a tunnel, he'll be your soundboard.

Though he doesn't have a specific place he'll bring you to, Sugawara will definitely drive you around for hours and hours on end—anything that'll help calm your nerves or help you fall asleep.

He'll listen to your laughs, your cries, and even the quiet hum of your snores. He wants to be there for you in every moment you need him, hoping that one day you'll see him in a different kind of light.

But on the one night it rains, he thinks of something better for you to do to relieve your stress.

"You can't be serious..." A nervous laugh escapes you when Suga parks the car on the side of the empty highway, unbuckling his seatbelt before switching off the engine. "Ko-Koushi you can't be serious?"

"Live a little," Your name falls off the tip of his tongue so effortlessly, it completely escapes you that he's already getting out the car; and within seconds, he's completely drenched by the rain. He calls to you, motioning you to join him.

"You're crazy!" You shout through the glass, shaking you head as you laugh at him. "We'll get hit by a car!"

"No one's out here but us!" He argues. Suga begins to jump and down, dancing beneath the rain regardless of the lack of music playing in the background.

This is so stupid, you think to yourself, slumping into your seat. You sit there and watch as your best friend continues to dance in rain, smiling to himself as he spreads his arms open as if he's waiting for the sky to hug him back.

When he notices you still glued to your seat, he marches over to you with a devious grin painting across his lips. You rush to try and lock your door, but you're left betrayed by his car when he swings it open.

"Get out of the car," He sing-songs. "Get out of the car while I'm still asking nicely."

You widen your eyes, lips falling into an 'o'.

You think its best not to get out, fearing you might get hit by a car or something worse like catching a cold. But when Suga looks at you with a warm, comforting smile, holding his hand out to you, how could you possibly resist?

Kicking off your shoes, you slip your hand in his and step out of the car.

Slamming the door behind you, he slips one arm around your waist before bending down to swing the other beneath your knees, carrying you back to where he stood.

He spins you around, and you snake your arms around his neck tightly as you scream. Even in his recklessness he's careful with you, making sure his grip is tight on you. But when he feels you slipping from his hold, he carefully sets you down.

Your arms still around his neck. Suga cranes his neck just a little to meet your eyes; his smile charms you and you can't help but smile as well.

"Are you having fun?!" He shouts over the rai to make sure you can hear him. You nod your head as you wipe away the hair sticking to his face. "Yes I am!"

"Do you still feel like crying?!" He asks, still shouting.

"Not at all!" You reply. "I'm too busy worrying over the fact we might get run over! This is still crazy, Koushi!"

"Well, then you're just as crazy for joining me!"

"It's not like I had a choice, you jerk!"

Suga dismisses your last words as he flutters his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against yours . You stiffen at the sudden closeness, but oddly enough you don't mind it. You try not to choke on your own breaths, swallowing down a cough to keep you in this intimate moment you didn't know you were longing for.

Through your glossy vision, you take notice of his eyelashes. Was it always this long? Was he always this pretty?

You study his face; his clear skin, thick browns, cute little dimples in the corners of his mouth. He's so beautiful, you think. Was he always this beautiful?

You shut your eyes when you notice him blinking away the raindrops from his lashes.

"I like you," The rain is loud and thunderous, yet you can hear Suga's faint confession between the howling of the wind and the rhythm of the rainfall. Its as if for a moment, the rain died down just enough so you could hear his words as well as his nervous heart.

You bite your lips, keeping your eyes shut as you smile at his words; and he can see it. He can see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids; he cans see your lips quivering to smile, and he can feel you shaking between his arms.

It could be because you're cold, or it could be the because since the start of the year, you've had it rough and this was the first time in a long while you had something to be genuinely happy about without having to doubt it or worry that just like the storm, it'll eventually pass.

The moment you open your eyes, Suga's looking right at you, peering into your gaze as he waits for your response.

"How cheesy of you," You tease, "confessing to me in the rain."

"I thought you'd like it."

"Well, I like you, so I guess that's enough, isn't it?"

—tetsuro kuroo [real estate by adam melchor]

A bit random, but I'm a firm believer that Kuroo definitely likes to buy food from anywhere and park the car in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night to talk about whatever with you.

He'll call this adventurous, but you'll call it lazy.

It became a thing when you were both in high school; he'd come over in the middle of the night after you called and told him you weren't feeling your best.

he'd get you out of the house, not minding the time because he is a firm believer in physically getting out of the negative energy.

he'd bring you to convenience store because it was the only place open in your village, and share a meal with you that he bought as you both sit on the edge of the sidewalk and talked.

"How's my girl doing now?" The car circles around the parking lot once more before it comes to a slow stop. Kuroo rests his arm behind the headrest of your chair, looking at you intently as you wipe away a stray tear. "Still not-so great, huh?"

You shake your head as it hangs low. You don't want to meet his eyes, too embarrassed of yourself, but you must've forgotten that he's seen worse.

One of the many plastic bags Kuroo's got settled on his lap rustles as he digs a hand through the many snacks he bought at the convenience store. He pulls out an onigiri from the bag and sets it in one of the cupholders that's sitting just below the heater.

Turning the air up he says, "Food's just cookin', it'll be ready when you are." You can only mutter a soft 'thank you' in between your sniffling.

He sits in the silence with you, nudging your arm and patting your head ever so often, waiting till you ride out your crying to the fullest. He'll even wipe away the river of tears pooling at the tip of your chin.

You didn't feel like crying when you had first called Kuroo; you just wanted to use him as a soundboard to let all your pent up stress you've been trying to anchor through the week. But the moment you found yourself in his presence, you couldn't help but break. Its as if Kuroo was the comfort you were looking for in the pillow fort you made at home, or the warmth you were missing when you made yourself into a burrito blanket.

"I'm just tired," Your voice croaks as you whine to him. You lift your head to lean it against the headrest, flickering your eyes to Kuroo who looks at you intently, leaning in closely as if nothing else mattered but you."I'm so tired, and I don't know what to do...I-I feel so pathetic! Like, everything that I do doesn't measure up to how I want things to be—like—does that even make sense?"

"Plenty of sense," He hums. A soft smirk plays across his lips and you can already feel yourself healing.

You wipe away the stray tears. "You probably think I'm silly...I've cried over so many things so many times, you'd think I'd go dry by now, huh?"

He shakes his head, reaching out to you to cup your cheek. He softly grazes his thumb against your skin, and you can help but sink into his touch. "I think you're just perfect."

A laugh escapes you, but you don't tear your eyes away from him. "Thanks, Kuroo...You're always listening to me go on and on—you're a great friend."

His gaze lingers a little longer than usual, and you swallow the panic hitched in your throat when you notice him inching towards you. You close your eyes as the space between you lessens; you feel him hovering over you lips, his breath fanning against your skin.

"I also think I might be in love with you..." He whispers, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyelids.

Your breath stays hitched in your throat and it takes all the energy you have left to quietly say, "Well, kiss me so you can find out."

—oikawa tooru [tell me by jonny jewel ft. saorise ronan]

oikawa's extraordinary efforts to make his life reflect in the same manner was one of many reasons you fell in love with him.

he was a bit dramatic in nature, so just like atsumu, he'd show up at your doorstep without a single warning to whisk you away at the dead of night.

in every visit, he'd always take you somewhere new. This always left you looking forward to the next time he'd come knocking on your door.

You giggle as he peppers kisses over your hand, intertwining your fingers together so effortlessly like the many times he's done before. With his eyes etched onto the softly lit road ahead, the florescent lights twinkle past you as Oikawa continues to drive.

You coil your hold around his toned arm, pulling the bed sheet you clung with you when he whisked you away. His lips curve into a soft smile just as he's about to kiss the top of your head.

"How much longer you?" You asked, your voice taut as its strained, fresh from slumber. He hums in response, cooing your name as he tells you its not much longer till you're there.

You wonder where he'll bring you next. At the top of a hill overlooking the city? A weird shop that had an underground bar? Though you aren't really dressed for the occasion, so maybe not.

You didn't mean to drift away so easily, but the sudden yet smooth halt jolts you back to your senses. Oikawa cups your face and draws circles over your skin, waiting for you to completely wake up.

When your eyes flutter open, a rather large neon sign greets you, reflecting onto the windshield, "The Neon Graveyard".

You squint your eyes before craning your neck back to look at Oikawa. "Toru, where are we?"

He does nothing but smile, leaving your question unanswered as he gently steps on the gas and begins to drive forward. He cranks the volume of the radio a little higher, setting the mood.

The place is canvased in old bright signs in different shapes and sizes, twinkling fairy lights, and everything other glowing thing you can possibly think of. Signs from buildings long forgotten and a string of lights that no longer gleamed for anyone.

The car once again comes to a halt and you feel Oikawa peeling away from you, making you frown. He only smiles, cupping your face to leave a kiss on your forehead before to tell you to get out of the car. You're reluctant, but you do so anyway.

Wrapped like a California Maki, you step out of the car and take in the sight before you. It isn't long till you feel a familiar pair of arms caging you in, swaying you back and forth to the beat of the radio faintly playing in the background.

"D'you like it?" Oikawa asks, his breath fanning across your ear. It sends a hot flash across you cheeks and all you can manage to do is nod. "I knew you would...A friend told me about it and I knew I just had to bring you here."

You rest against his back, leaning your head on his shoulder as he continues to sway you back and forth. Only until you manage to twist yourself around to come face to face with his eyes—eyes sparkling beneath the colorful lights.

"Tell me that you'll never leave me," He presses his forehead onto yours, his sigh warms your cheeks. His hands fall to your waist, weaving his fingers into a tight hold to pull your closer."I love you so much..."

You lean in to kiss him; the warmth of his cheeks meets the coolness of the palm of your hands. "I'll love you forever, Toru."

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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

Text

The Weight of Love (TMA)

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust.

Note: This was just a little something inspired by @janekfan‘s wonderful art of Jon sleeping in all sorts of weird positions. It takes place in my ADHD Jon Adventures universe, but is totally fine as a stand alone piece! <3

Martin Blackwood was awakened once again by a knee to his side.

Look, Jonathan Sims was the love of his life. An all-around wonderful human being. Sweet, caring, intelligent, clever. A thousand other descriptors that he kept track of in a small journal (for sappy poetry that wouldn’t see the light of day). Every moment they spent together was precious to him, even when they bickered. Especially when they bickered. So, needless to say, Martin Blackwood was a very happy and lucky man. But there was just one thing he couldn’t get used to.

Jonathan Sims was incapable of staying still, even in his sleep.

It would start out fine. Jon would curl into his side, Martin would nod off, everyone comfortable and cozy. But after about an hour or so, Jon would start to move. A restless turn here, a mumble or two there. Occasionally he would grab Martin’s hand and intertwine their fingers. A kiss to his forearm, a gentle nudge to his chin. All very cute. But that was just the prologue.

The main event came closer to midnight, when Jon thought it was suddenly appropriate to treat Martin like some sort of jungle gym. If Martin attempted to sleep on his stomach, he very quickly acquired a Jon-sized backpack. If he moved to his side, Jon would throw himself horizontally over Martin’s hip, as if to prevent him from getting up. If he slept on his back, he would wake up to a mouthful of black curls.

It didn’t help if Martin stayed still. Jon would find a position comfortable for about thirty minutes before he started contorting into a new one, all elbows and knees. None of this could’ve been comfortable for him and it was clear he wasn’t sleeping soundly, but he woke up with seemingly no knowledge of his late-night misdeeds. Either that, or he was unwilling to acknowledge them. Martin, however, was starting to get a bit tired.

Last night had been the final straw, with Martin waking up to Jon trying to climb him like a ladder, a knee almost knocking the wind out of him. He pulled the man back down from what looked like an almost-successful attempt at crawling up the headboard. Jon simply mumbled in response to the manhandling, attempting to curl back up in his arms. Martin groaned aloud at the adorable display, clearly a clever ruse to distract him from the task at hand: namely, making sure Jon didn’t kill him in his sleep.

“Oh no you don’t- wake up, Jon.” A small snore, then silence. Martin ran a finger down his side, a dirty trick as it was his most ticklish spot. “C’mon. Rise and shine.”

Jon squirmed, his eyes blinking open as he quickly adopted his trademark scowl, as if he was the offended party. “Hnnh. What time s’it?”

“Time for you to stop assaulting me in my sleep, that’s what.” He instantly regretted that choice in words as Jon shot back, almost flailing out of bed in an attempt to put some distance between the two of them. Martin grabbed hold of his arm with a sigh, pulling him back to safety.

“That’s- sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Martin winced. “Well, it kind of is, but-”

“I’m-I’m sorry, Martin.” Even in the dim light of the room, Martin could make out two big eyes looking at him apologetically. “What did I do?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a very active sleeper?” Jon immediately looked down at his lap. That’s a yes. Martin moved to reassure him. “It’s very endearing, but er, not very conducive to sleeping. For me.” He reached out to rub at Jon’s back, letting him relax into the touch. “Honestly, I don’t know how you sleep that way. You’re not even that energetic when you’re awake.”

“Georgie did mention it once or twice, yes. But she ah, gave as good as she got, as it were.”

Martin shuddered at the image of the two of them, punching and kicking their way through the night. What a nightmare. Jon looked guilty and chastised and that wasn’t at all what he was aiming for. He just wanted some fucking sleep. He could move out to the couch, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable and he genuinely liked sleeping with Jon. When he’s still, and not fighting off some unseen enemy or climbing Martin like a fencepost. “Is there anything that helps? Or is this just...normal?” Jon shook his head and sighed, leaning into his side.

“I’m sorry, Martin. I’ve never really been good at this ‘resting’ business.”

“What if I wrapped you up in a blanket or something? Like a little burrito!” Martin framed it as a joke, but he was actually half-serious.

Jon gave a weak laugh. “I think I’d just roll out of it.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try!”

Turns out it did in fact hurt to try. Not forty minutes later did Jon roll out of his cocoon and off the bed, momentum carrying him almost to the wall. It would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the large bruise on his forehead and the ice pack he was now nursing as he sat on the couch, complaining.

It was still a little funny. And a bit of payback for all of the bruises he’d given Martin. But Martin was determined to find a solution to their little conundrum, and let them both get a good night’s sleep. If he was going to survive sleeping with Jon, he would need a little help.

_____

“What do you want, Blackwood?”

Martin sighed. All things considered, this was a rather tame greeting from Melanie. “Hi, Melanie. How are you?”

She glared at him for a moment too long before opening the door fully, gesturing for him to come in. “Usual. Heard you’ve got someone keeping you up all night.” She snickered, collapsing onto the sofa with a smirk and propping her legs up on the coffee table. Martin gaped.

“How did you-”

“Jon’s been texting Georgie. And what Jon texts Georgie, Georgie tells me.” She patted the couch cushion next to her. Martin shuffled over, plopping down with a sigh. “Never thought I’d see the day where Jonathan Sims landed a hit on someone.”

“I have no idea where that strength comes from!” He bit out, happy to have someone to commiserate with. Melanie’s never complained to him about Georgie, though they aren’t really on close enough terms to confide in each other like that. “He’s completely still and then wham! Foot to the shin. How do you stand it?”

Melanie shrugged. “Georgie doesn’t do that anymore. Not since she got one of those weighted blankets from a sponsor. Sleeps like a log, she does.” Martin paused.

“Huh.”

“Yup.”

Why didn’t I think of that? He’d always considered buying one for his anxiety, though he never bit the bullet on the purchase. It seemed like a needless extravagance on his already limited budget. But it was worth it, for a decent night’s sleep. And being able to sleep in the same bed as Jon.

“We have another, if you want to try it out. They send us loads of free shit, it’s actually pretty wasteful.”

And so, armed with one incredibly heavy blanket and the hope of a restful night, Martin made his way back to their flat.

_______

“It’s got ghosts on it.”

“Cute, right?” Jon scowled.

“Look,” Martin sat down on the sofa, where Jon had been curled up for most of the day, still pouting over his head injury. “Just try it out! You might actually like it. And if you don’t...well, we’ll just try something else.” In actuality Martin wasn’t sure of any other options, but he figured he’d leave it open, try not to pressure him. “Here.”

He unfolded the blanket, large and black with tiny white ghosts on it, and held it out towards Jon enticingly. He rolled his eyes but still stretched out his legs for Martin to place it over. “Fine. If you must.”

He carefully spread it out on Jon’s legs, tucking it up around his waist. It was an adorable picture, really, Jon scowling and covered with all of those cartoonish ghosts. Martin felt him tense underneath it and he paused, ready for the inevitable failure of his experiment. “Too heavy?”

“No, it’s-” Jon shuffled around a bit, like a skittish animal trying to get its bearings. But then he melted before Martin’s eyes, leaning back on the couch with a look of utter relaxation that was so un-Jon like he had to do a double take. “Oh that’s-that’s rather nice, actually.”

Martin beamed. “So you like it?”

“I-maybe? Give me a minute.”

“Sure.” Ten minutes later he was passed out on the couch, utterly still. Like magic!

Mission accomplished.

_________

Jon dragged it into bed that night, noting with some grumpiness that the ghosts glowed in the dark. Martin thought he protested a bit too much.

“Childish nonsense. They didn’t have any others?”

“We can buy a different one, if you like.”

Jon let out a long-suffering sigh. “No, it’s...fine.”

And it was. Within twenty minutes, the two of them fell into a peaceful sleep. Jon had the occasional fidget, but was so weighed down and sleepy that it was never more than a twitch. It was the best night’s sleep Martin had in ages, and he reckoned the same for Jon.

He woke up the next morning to find Jon had once again migrated in his sleep, though only to lay himself completely on top of Martin, unmoving otherwise. He was a dead weight in addition to the blanket, but he wasn’t being actively kicked or climbed or otherwise maimed.

Now this he could work with.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349760

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #also inspired by the many sleeping partners ive maimed throughout the years #sorry bout that #adhd jon au

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stellar-starseed · 4 years ago

Text

Jungkook Drabbles

Just to be With You

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 1,670

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Missing your boyfriend was part of the deal. It was the absence of alone time you had to get used to, but you were coming to the realization that just being with him was enough.

A/N: posted on ao3, but this one is a tad longer; cross posted on hsk-wthego.

You were the worst at keeping surprises from Jungkook. You were always so excited about whatever it was that you would spill. This time was no different. As soon as his text notification popped up you were ready to tell him. You smiled at your phone.

Gukie: :*

You: I’m coming to visit!

Gukie: When??

You: Two days. I miss you so much! I wasn’t supposed to tell you :x

Gukie: :D

You: Don’t you mean *bunny emoji*

Your phone began to ring and you were soon on FaceTime with your handsome boyfriend who was laughing at your last message. He was all smiles and you were too. It had been over a month, and you were having withdrawals. You missed everything about him. Wandering around your apartment earlier that week you realized there weren’t any dirty clothes of his to pick up or shoes laying out of place. As weird as it might’ve sounded, you missed that, too.

“I miss you, angel.” Jungkook blew a kiss through his phone, “I can’t wait to kiss those lips!” You could hear Hoseok and Namjoon in the background making fun of him. He blushed and you almost shrieked at how adorable he was. You were soon interrupted when their car had arrived at its destination.

“We’re here, baby.” He pouts. “Sound check time. I’ll text you when the show is over!” You blew each other kisses and said your goodbyes before the call ended as abruptly as it had started. You sigh. You knew your boyfriend had a very demanding job, but it didn’t make it any easier. He was your best friend and your true love. After two years together you were certain this was the man you were going to be with for the rest of your life. So, distance and work obligations were just hurdles you had to overcome. Missing Jungkook was part of the territory.

________

You left as soon as the concert had ended, not wanting to get stuck in the inevitable traffic that was the after concert chaos. You knew he was in the hotel room because Jimin was wandering the halls when you got to the floor. He informed you that Jungkook was doing a Vlive.

You quietly enter the room and shut the door with almost no sound. You can hear the clinking of glasses and your boyfriends familiar chuckle. You cock your head trying to listen. Was he with someone?

“Apparently when I drink I get more eloquent.” He chuckles again. You can hear the smile in his voice before he says he’s in a really good mood. You round he corner and as soon as he catches your eyes he smiles his bright smile. His nose wrinkles when you smile back. You gently place your bag somewhere and find a place off camera to relax for the duration of his live.

You can’t help but smile at him. He loves what he does. One of his favorite things is interacting with fans, and who were you to deny him his favorite things? To be honest all he had to do was flash that smile and you were putty in his hands. You would give him the world if it were up to you.

“I can’t be on here for too long.” You hear him say and perk up. “I have people that can’t go to sleep until I finish this. So I have to be considerate.” The corners of your lips turn into a small smile. He finishes his glass yet continues the live.

You’re so sleepy that you cuddle up with a scarf as your pillow. Soon enough you’re dreaming of cuddling with your boyfriend. A firm hand on your shoulder wakes you up.

“Baby, lets go to bed.” He says softly. “I’m sorry.” He pouts at you as he helps you up. You smile at his sweet face. You place your hand on his cheek and he nuzzles into it. You’ve missed him so much this past month and a half.

As if he read your mind, “I missed you, baby.” He whispers. His eyes are closed and he’s still nuzzled into your hand, your heart flutters. You wrap your arms around his shoulders. You breathe him in.

“I’ve missed you more.” He laughs into your hair, hugging you tighter and lifting you off the ground.

“Guk-ah!” You yelp with a giggle. He places you on the bed and slips off your shoes before he crawls in bed beside you. You stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment, just taking in one another.

“You guys were great tonight. You were incredible.” You rub your thumb over his cheek and lean in to kiss his soft lips.

“Only because I knew you were out there.” He smiles wide and buries his face in your neck.

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes, “you’re always amazing for your fans. It’s one thing I love about you, you truly care.” He kisses your neck and leans back to look at you.

“Well, yeah, but I was looking for you the whole show. When I know you’re going to be there I gain so much energy. Baby, you made the show better tonight.”

“That was all you kookie.” You kissed him again not wanting to let up this time. The feel of his lips against yours made excitement rise within you. It was always the best after you hadn’t seen him for a while. To remember how he tasted, to remember what he felt like made everything worth it.

His hand slipped around the small of your back and he pulled your body against his. He hummed with satisfaction. His tongue slipped over your lips as he gently asked for permission to deepen the kiss. You obliged. His tongue explored your mouth like it was the first kiss all over again. He was eager, but he wanted to savor each moment.

There was a knock on the door that interrupted your kiss. You whined and pouted at him when he pulled away. Jungkook sighed pushing himself off the bed he went to answer the door. You covered your face with the pillow you had been laying on. You were half trying to contain the excitement of being with Jungkook again and half irritated that you were interrupted. Why was the universe trying to keep you from enjoying your boyfriend?

“Ah, hyung!” Jungkook complained. “I wanted some alone time with ______.”

“I know that’s why I gave you some time.” Jimin smiled the sweetest innocent smile. You knew he liked to spend time with Jungkook when he couldn’t sleep, and after a concert he was either too exhausted to do anything or too hyped up to relax. Apparently tonight was the latter. Jimin plopped down on the bed next to you and wrapped an arm around you. He gave you a lazy hug and you could see the energy he had just radiating from him. He was buzzing.

“You gave us 20 minutes hyung.”

“That’s enough time for you to finish isn’t it?” Jimin laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh at his dorky tendencies. Jungkook rolled his eyes. You did miss the other guys when they were gone too.

“I don’t think we’re getting rid of him, baby.” You shrug. Jungkook sighs in an over dramatic fashion and Jimin just laughs, recognizing his victory.

“Can we watch movies?” He asks. Jungkook climbs into bed, shoving Jimin to the opposite side, and cuddles up next to you. He kisses your neck and whispers an apology next to your ear. You really didn’t mind Jimin being there, you knew he had a hard time sleeping, and honestly just being with Jungkook was enough.

You whispered, “I just like being next to you. That’s all I need.” He releases short puffs of air on to your cheek as he laughs. He still had a cute embarrassed laugh around you at times. Moments like these when you had been away from each other for extended periods of time brought about his shy nature. It gave you butterflies. You were so pleased that you could make him a shy mess after a few years together.

“I love you.” He tells you.

“Do you love me too?” Jimin asks, pouting. “I want to join in on the cuddles. Can we watch something scary?”

“No you’ll never go to sleep!” Jungkook barks. You whisper you love him in his ear and he relaxes, irritation calming down.

“Did you finish that wine?” Jimin suddenly gets up in search for alcohol. You shake your head and turn to face Jungkook. Jimin finds the bottle and pours you each a glass. You take it and both boys down it while you sip on yours until it’s gone.

Jimin tries to cuddle up with you. Jungkook kisses you and pulls you closer if that was possible at this point. Every chance he got he was pulling you into himself. You felt his possessive nature taking over. It made you feel loved. His strong arms wrapped tight around you made you feel safe. His all too familiar scent made you feel at home, and his kisses made you feel butterflies rising in the pit of your stomach.

After half a bottle of wine and twenty minutes of a scary movie, Jimin is snoring lightly. You nudge Jungkook and point over at Jimin. You both giggle at him. Turning to face Jungkook now you kiss his lips and pull away to look in his big brown eyes. He smiles down at you before he takes you into a deeper kiss.

“I am glad I’m here.” You whisper to him as he pulls away from a kiss.

“Even if I can’t spend a moment alone with you. I’m glad you’re here too baby.” You place your head on his chest and he rests his chin on the top of your head. Tired from the flight and the concert, you easily drift off to sleep in his arms.

#Jungkook #jjk #jk #jeongguk #golden maknae #bts #BTS imagines #BTS scenarios #fan fic #Jungkook x reader #kpop fic #kpop scenario #kpop imagines #kpop

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thesolitarystripe · 3 years ago

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Writing Prompt # 8: A 96-year-old woman’s phone number is one digit away from that of the suicide hotline. She could have changed it long ago, but she does not mind.

Here's your TW: Talk of familial loss, mention of suicide.

I found this writing prompt on tumblr from writing-prompts-re and for whatever reason it spoke to me. I just thought, what an endearing prompt for a subject that could potentially be so dark. It is dark, it's sad, and what a rainbow a little old woman painted over it. At least, in my head. I've been slumping back into that habit of losing my motivation. I'm not sure why. I'm giving myself the grace to do what I can and not beat myself up over it. Finding this writing prompt sparked it up all over again for me. It made me really miss my grandma. While I don't think she ever had this problem, I know she would have been just as comforting as Myrtie. In a way, I think I wrote this for her. I love you Nonni! Thank you for always being a soft spot to land. Enjoy.

Another Friday evening, another Jeopardy re-run. Myrtle, or as all her friends used to call her—Myrtie sat within the comfort of her reddish, brown recliner that was much too big for her. Always a petite woman, she looked like a twelve-year-old with the way the cushions swallowed her thin limbs, but she also appeared immeasurably comfortable. Myrtie pulled up the purple knitted blanket over her knees, gently tugged up the arms of her robe over both wrists as her hands lifted, poised with knitting needles and she began to bring yet another blanket into existence. This was how Myrtie spent most of her evenings, swaddled in a plush terry cloth robe, a pair of thick socks pulled up to the calf, and her hair resting beneath a bonnet, wrapped in curlers. Beside her was a cup of decaffeinated tea and a plate of cookies. Myrtie’s hands, while weathered by 96 years of life, worked the needles flawlessly as if they were an extension of a machine designed exactly for the purpose of knitting large lounging blankets. Every so often, she would giggle over something Alex Trebek would say to the participants on the show but save from the singsong chuckle, the room was silent. Myrtie had lost her husband twenty years ago. After marrying at the age of eighteen, it had been a difficult transition into this life alone. A life without his stories, hugs and forgetfulness. Myrtie often smiled sadly, wishing now for a sock to be left out of place or for the trash to be forgotten on the side of the house on garbage day. All those little things that would always make her so furious with her spouse, they were the details she missed most. Myrtie survived much longer than most of her friends, save for one that had gone to live inside a facility. They never spoke much, Myrtie assumed that either her friend had limited access to her phone or was too busy hustling the other residents in Bingo to bother calling. Myrtie was grateful for her loving and supportive family, but they could do nothing during the lonely nights when they went home to their families. She could not blame them. So, when her phone rang every so often late at night, Myrtie would answer. When the calls first began, she thought it odd that telemarketers would call so late but she soon realized her mistake.

This night, when her landline phone rang, she picked up the corded antique beside her and spoke.

“Hello?” Her voice held that raspy quiver that all good grandmothers had.

“I think I’m done.” The voice was new to her.

“Done? Done with what sweetheart?” There was a pause, as if the other voice sensed something was off but the draw of Myrtie’s kind voice urged them on.

“With living. With the world. I’m done here.”

“Oh, surely there’s things to stick around for,” Myrtie said, fluffing out her half-knitted blanket as she tucked the phone against her shoulder and ear to better use both hands.

“I don’t have anyone.”

“You have yourself. Isn’t he worth living for?” Another beat of silence. “You sound like you’re being too hard on yourself, your importance in the world does not hang on teeter-tottering validation of other people, honey. To be loved by others is a wonderful thing but loving yourself is just as important. Why don’t you stick around for yourself?”

“I’m lonely! Why would I want to be alone?”

“That is a good question, baby. Loneliness is so hard.” Myrtie’s hands paused, her heart gave one of those familiar throbs as it related to the young soul on the other end of the phone. Loneliness was something she was well acquainted with. “Before you go, have you got time for a story?”

“Well…yeah, I guess…”

Myrtie straightened up in her recliner, stretched out her back, and sighed. “I was married at eighteen years old to the love of my life. Albert. Goodness was he handsome! Now, we spent the first few years of our marriage apart—he went off to serve our beloved country. I was so desperately lonely without him. It didn’t matter that I had friends who called me up every day, parents to have supper with at night, I even watched the neighbor’s kids next door for a little spending money, and as busy as they kept me, I could never shake that feeling. When he came back, oh, it was the best day of my life! We spent the next fifty-six years together, every day! We had five beautiful children, a handful of pets that came and went, we lived in two different states and bought over four different cars.” Myrtie sat there smiling, her knuckles buried in the thick knots of her craft. “I miss him every day, it’s been twenty years and I still roll over in bed and miss the sight of him lying there, snoring.” Myrtie laughed. “Oh Lord how he snored! It was like someone was chopping down logs all night. I hated him for it,” her laugh tapered off in that pensive way, as her heart remembered fondly the memory then internalized the pain of it. “I would give anything to hear it now.”

There was silence. Sixty seconds of silence.

“Someone’s going to miss you like that, honey.”

A soft sob rustled against the receiver of the phone.

“I don’t know who you all have in your life, but I know you have a mama and a daddy. Even if things aren’t good between you now, they’ll miss you like that. Even if you haven’t spoken in years, they’ll miss the way you laughed, the way you hugged, the way you smelled even when you were nothing but a stinky young thing! Sometimes loneliness clouds our vision of all the people we do have. It is so easy to want for something, to be lonely because what we have doesn’t live up to what we think we should have. A girlfriend, boyfriend, spouse, best friend of forever, doting parents—we all have some sort of expectation. We are human and that is perfectly all right. I’ll tell you what though, there are no shoulds. Don’t let those insidious little shoulds run your life. I should this, I should that—toss that notion away, baby. There is just what is, what you want and what you don’t want. You got someone that loves you? Even one person that you’re not quite thinking of?”

“Yes…” a soft sniffle followed the confession.

“Good, all you really need is you baby but, I’m glad you have someone looking out for you. They’ll be missing you something fierce if you decide to be done. Even if they’re all you got, remember it’s about quality. Albert was my only friend for as long as I can remember. Sure, I met some ladies over the years and we gabbed and baked and knitted together but—the quality of those relationships were different. Don’t cheapen the idea of the one you have just because you think you need a lot! It’s better to have one person at your funeral to speak on what a wonderful person you were than be lying dead in a room full of people with nothing to say. What do you think about calling them right now and telling them what’s on your heart? You think that might help? If not, I’m happy to keep chatting with you, sweetheart. I ain’t got nothing to do but finish up this blanket I’m knitting. My kids already have ten of them in each of their houses so maybe I’ll just give this one to you. You like purple?”

There was a soft laugh that responded. “It’s a good color,” he said with a deep breath, one that sounded like it cleansed years of his life.

“Yeah, it is, baby. I’ll finish it for you and when you come to get it, I’ll make sure to have some cookies on for you. We’ll sit and chat and make sure you’re doing all right, hm?”

“That sounds nice,” he was chuckling again, the remnants of his tears still dripping off his face. “I think—I think I’m going to call my friend Greg.”

“All right, well tell Greg I said hello. He’s welcome to come with you now, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Another silence followed. It was only broken by another slow breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Thanks for calling honey. You have my number now so don’t be leaving grandma Myrtie without saying goodbye! Promise me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good. Go call Greg now, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I will, bye Myrtie.”

The phone clicked and Myrtie hung up her landline with a soft clack of its plastic body. Myrtie knew there would be no visitation from her new friend. It was what she offered to all of them, a place to escape their loneliness. A reminder that while life’s peaks and valleys were relentless, there was always something to look forward to. Even if it was just a warm plate of cookies and a handmade blanket. Myrtie knew her phone number was one digit away from the suicide hotline. She pieced that together after receiving a dozen calls from hurting hearts. At first, she thought to hang up but, something about the way the broken words of other human beings dipped into her soul—she knew she could not let them go. Myrtie had no idea if anything she ever said actually helped someone, if they stayed. What she did know is that it helped her. In her own loneliness, it was like a salve on her own heart to know that others shared the same feelings but soldiered on despite the pain. Myrtie had lived within the dark recesses of her own mind and found light only in those around her once she willed herself to be open to seeing the love she did have, even if it wasn’t Albert’s. Myrtie reached over and grabbed her teacup, put it to her lips, rocked in her recliner, and looked at the phone. She hoped it would always ring when it needed to.

#creativewriting #writingprompts #writing #me writing #thesolitarystripe #author #tw #tw sui mention #tw loss

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

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Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Four

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Four

When Adrien woke up, everything smelled fresh and clean, like fabric softener and laundry detergent.

He was warm and dry, and the bed, the covers, and his pyjamas were all comfortable and soft.

He’d been holding his cat plushie, Chat Noir the Third, when he’d fallen asleep, and C3 was still tucked under Adrien’s arm, fur fuzzy against Adrien’s skin.

It was comforting. In a way, it reminded him of Plagg and how they would sometimes snuggle.

Adrien rolled over onto his back and hugged C3 closer.

Grief and joy mingled in Adrien’s chest as he stared up at the clean, white ceiling.

The morning sun was pouring in through Adrien’s windows in a cheerful, inviting way that Adrien had never experienced in his old room with his old windows.

He was safe. He had a home—a real home this time.

It had been eleven years since he had last had a true home…since he’d lost his mother and the mansion had become silent, cold, and empty.

But now Adrien was home and safe and wanted.

He buried his face in C3’s fur, remembering what Luka had told him the previous day: Luka had bought C3 for Adrien so that he would remember he was loved.

It had been a long time since Adrien was last loved, and the prospect of getting something like that back was overwhelming.

He set C3 aside so that he wouldn��t get him dirty as he cried.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was crying, if it were happiness or sadness or stress, but it felt good to get the emotions out.

When he was done, he sat up, cleaned his face with the tissues on the nightstand, and got out of bed, ready to do his best with the second chance he’d been given.

It felt amazing to get dressed in new, clean clothes with the knowledge that he could throw them in the laundry whenever he felt like it at no charge and that he didn’t have to sleep in them or wear them for multiple days at a time.

It was really nice to have a spacious, private bathroom with a door that locked where he didn’t have to worry about the sanitation.

Well…Luka’s bathroom was currently a mess with toothpaste and shaving cream smudges on the counter and mirror and grooming products left spread out all over the place. Used towels were scattered, crumpled on the floor, and the medicine cabinet was left open.

But Adrien wasn’t necessarily worried, unlike he had been when using other bathrooms where he didn’t even want to think about what kind of germs were growing on surfaces.

Once dressed, Adrien went to Luka’s door and listened for signs that his roommate was awake.

The apartment was still, and Adrien didn’t see any light peeking out from underneath the door, so he assumed that Luka was still sleeping and, instead, made his way to the kitchen.

It was a war zone that had been subsequently ravaged by flood, famine, and pestilence.

It was hard to believe that things could go to ruin in as few as six days, but Adrien was seeing the evidence with his own eyes. Luka was the comparatively neat and tidy Couffaine, but The Breakup had obviously laid him very low indeed.

Dishes were piled high in the sink and crusted with days-old food debris, so Adrien rinsed and scrubbed to the best of his ability before loading them all up in the dishwasher.

Hardly anything in the fridge was worth salvaging.

Adrien got out trash bags from under the sink and started checking dates. He sniffed the items that still resembled food and summarily tossed the ones that were more petri dish than pasta.

He cleared off the counters, sorting the refuse from the misplaced possessions and raided the cabinet below the sink for cleaning supplies.

Once the kitchen was spotless, he expanded his efforts to the living room, picking up the dirty clothes, junk food wrappers, and takeaway containers.

He located the mop, broom, and vacuum cleaner in the coat closet and set about sweeping, reasoning that he would vacuum the rug once Luka was awake so that he didn’t disturb him.

With the living room looking presentable, he gathered up the rubbish, dirty clothes, and items needing to be returned to their respective homes, putting each grouping in their own location to be dealt with later. He then moved on to the bathroom.

By the time he was done tidying and scrubbing, it was midmorning, and he was starting to get kind of hungry. When he’d woken up, he’d still been full from the ridiculous amount of food he’d eaten the day before, but after burning so many calories cleaning, his body was getting ready to eat again.

Luka still hadn’t emerged from his room, so Adrien left a note on the blank page of a sketchbook he had found while cleaning to let Luka know that he hadn’t run away. He was just grocery shopping.

He tore another empty page out of the sketchbook so that he could write up a list of the things he needed from the store.

There was a Monoprix just up the street from the apartment, so it took him less than an hour to walk there, shop, and make it back home again.

He picked up a croissant from the bakery section to snack on as he cooked breakfast but noted that it paled in comparison to what he remembered of those from Tom and Sabine’s.

Adrien was beginning to think that Luka was dead as he plated the food. It was almost noon, and Adrien hadn’t heard a peep.

Luka had looked exhausted the previous day, and he’d mentioned not sleeping well since The Breakup, so maybe he was just catching up on sleep, but Adrien had enough experience with depression to know that it was time to step in and drag his flatmate out of bed.

He knocked on the door, but there was no response.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and discovered it was unlocked.

“Luka, I’m going to be really mad if you’re actually dead,” Adrien grumbled, hesitantly pushing the door open. “Luka?”

Adrien blinked as he got his first glimpse at the inside of Luka’s bedroom.

It was even worse than the rest of the apartment, and that was saying something. Garbage and dirty clothes were strewn everywhere, and the floor was like a minefield of filth.

“Oh, Luka,” Adrien cooed, carefully making his way across the room to the bed. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

Luka snored softly, deaf to Adrien’s sympathy.

“Orpheus.” Adrien kept his voice quiet as he gently shook Luka’s shoulder, not wanting to startle his friend. “Luka? Hey. Wake up.”

Luka drew in a long breath, and his eyes slowly blinked open.

He stared up at Adrien in a daze.

“Angel,” he whispered, reaching out to stroke Adrien’s cheek.

Adrien was torn between enjoying the attention immensely and feeling guilty about it because Luka was obviously still out of it.

“You are not awake,” Adrien chuckled, carefully removing Luka’s palm from his face. “Earth to Luka. Come in, Luka.”

Luka gave a jolt as he blinked and his eyes came into focus. “Oh my gosh. Adrien. Sorry. Hi. What’s wrong? Did you need something?”

“It’s breakfast time. Get up,” Adrien teased, tugging on Luka’s arm lightly.

Luka cursed under his breath. “I am so sorry. Give me just a minute and I’ll go to the grocery store and then make you some breakfast.”

Adrien snorted in laughter. “No need. It is I who have made you breakfast. Come eat before it gets cold.”

Luka blinked at Adrien. “You what?”

“I made omuraisu,” Adrien explained with a pleased smile.

“You what?” Luka repeated, wondering if his ears were failing him.

His Adrien didn’t cook.

“I’m twenty-four,” Adrien enunciated. “I make my own breakfast. Now, get up or I’m seriously climbing in bed with you and pushing you out.”

“…You made breakfast?” Luka echoed in disbelief as he followed Adrien toward the door.

“Yep,” Adrien confirmed with a pop to the p. “I’ve worked in a lot of kitchens these past few years. The chefs taught me some things.”

They stepped out into the living room, and Luka had to do a doubletake. “Faeries came during the night and cleaned the apartment.”

Adrien cracked up. “I mean…it’s not like this is the first time someone’s ever called me a faerie, but…I prefer the term ‘knight in leather armor’.”

Luka gawked at Adrien. “You cleaned the apartment?”

His Adrien wouldn’t know what to do with a broom if his life depended on it…unless he needed to use the broom as a weapon. His Adrien had that covered, but to use a broom for its intended purpose…

Adrien came to a stop in the kitchen, pushing one of the plates of omuraisu towards Luka.

“Surprise,” he announced softly, a sad expression in his eyes that made him look older than Luka had ever remembered. “I’m a functional, responsible adult now too.”

“Yeah,” Luka breathed, looking at Adrien with new eyes. “You went and grew up on me, didn’t you?”

He pulled Adrien into a tight hug, and Adrien squeezed back.

“I had to get it together pretty quickly,” Adrien confessed bitterly. “I cook, clean, do laundry… I even scrub toilets now.”

Luka pulled back, looking mortified. “Please tell me you didn’t clean the bathroom.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Adrien assured.

Luka dropped his forehead to Adrien’s shoulder and let out an animalistic groan. “I am so, so sorry. I swear I was going to clean everything today.”

“I know. I believed you when you kept telling me so last night,” Adrien informed. “It was just that you were completely wiped out, and I saw an opportunity to be helpful.”

Adrien took Luka’s face in his hands and tipped it up to look him in the eye. “This isn’t like before when I’d sneak out and come visit you when I was upset. I may still be a mess, but you’re a wreck too at the moment, and, now, I’m able to help and support you too.”

“Don’t sound so pleased about me being a disaster,” Luka chuckled, horrified and amused all at once.

“I promise I’m not. I’m just glad that I can finally do something for you after all you’ve done for me.” Adrien gave Luka a sincere smile and then stepped back to focus on his food. “Eat your breakfast already.”

Luka sighed, resigning himself to this alternate universe where his Adrien was fully capable of taking care of himself.

“Thank you,” he stressed, digging into the omuraisu. “…Geez, this is good!”

Adrien smirked around his fork. “Told you so.”

“What else can you make?” Luka wondered through a mouthful of rice and egg.

“I specialize in ethnic food,” Adrien preened. “I do desserts passably too, so maybe tomorrow I can make tiramisu and chickpea coconut cashew curry.”

Luka bit his tongue to stop himself from confessing his eternal love to Adrien because it was way too soon after The Breakup to be developing feelings for anyone. Besides, Adrien was vulnerable; Luka would be taking advantage of Adrien’s dependency on him if he made any kind of move.

He never wanted Adrien to feel pressured into anything for fear of winding up back on the street again.

Instead of the declaration of love, Luka smiled gratefully. “I’m really, really glad you came back into my life yesterday.”

Adrien paused, looking taken aback for a moment, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. “You like curry that much?”

“It’s not just about the curry,” Luka chuckled. “Thank you for all of this.”

“Sure.” Adrien returned the smile with a grin full of pride. “I’m not even done yet. I still have your room to clean.”

“No,” Luka groaned. “I can clean my own room.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m going to help you,” Adrien informed in a tone that told Luka he would not be backing down. “You can tell me what you don’t want me touching, but I can at least help sort the trash from the dirty clothes from the dishes from the stuff that just needs to be put away.”

“I will consider letting you help,” Luka conceded through gritted teeth.

“Perfect!” Adrien chirped cheerily. “…So, I didn’t start any laundry yet because I wasn’t sure what your preferences were, but this evening after we sort through the stuff in your room, you can tell me how you want your laundry done, and I can work on that while you hide your dirty magazines or whatever.”

Luka rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure that Adrien remembered that Luka was demi and didn’t experience sexual attraction unless he had a strong emotional connection with someone and, therefore, had no need for dirty magazines. They’d talked a lot about sexuality when Adrien was sixteen/seventeen and trying to figure things out. Adrien didn’t have trusted adults to talk to, and Luka was actually really honored that Adrien had come to him.

“I will consider letting you help with laundry,” Luka repeated with a shake of his head.

“Great. So…status update,” Adrien prattled right along, leaning his forearms on the counter as he consumed his omuraisu. “I gathered all the trash and piled it up in bags by the door because I didn’t know what the building’s trash collection procedure was.”

“We can take it down to the dumpster on our way out the door to band practice,” Luka replied.

“Cool.” Adrien nodded, taking in the information. “I also piled all the clothing articles in two heaps over by the couch….” He hesitated, biting his bottom lip. “…Not all of the clothes are yours. I can wash them and fold them up in a trash bag so you don’t have to see them, if you’d like.”

Luka winced. “…I don’t know right now. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Adrien rushed to assure. “I’ll just go ahead and do that, and then you can deal with them whenever you’re ready.”

“I really hope there wasn’t anything too embarrassing,” Luka groaned.

Adrien grimaced. “You both have impeccable taste in underwear?”

“I want to die,” Luka replied with an ironic smile.

“It seriously wasn’t a big deal,” Adrien stressed. “…Though, I wasn’t able to determine as easily what was yours as far as possessions go, so I just lined them up neatly against the wall out of the way. I hope that was okay? You don’t have to go through them anytime soon. They can just wait until you’re ready.”

Luka reached out and rested a hand on Adrien’s bicep. “Thank you.”

Adrien placed his hand over Luka’s and smiled. “What are friends for?”

“For times like this,” Luka hummed, feeling blessed.

There was a beat, and then Adrien went back to his status update. “I cleaned out the fridge and went shopping for the essentials, but we’ll need to shop again tonight or tomorrow for the rest of the week. Also, I bought a cheap rice cooker. I hope that’s okay. I had a rice cooker up until a few months ago, and I used to cook all kinds of things in it. I can do a lot with a rice cooker.”

Luka grinned, watching Adrien fondly as he animatedly recounted his rice cooker culinary adventures.

Adrien had slipped so easily into Luka’s life, making himself indispensable in less than twenty-four hours. It left Luka wondering what he’d been doing without Adrien for the past four years.

“Émile!” Josie cried, sprinting across the bar and enveloping Adrien in a fierce hug.

Luka, smiling fondly, stepped around them and went over to get the things he’d left with Jacob the previous day from the bassist. “Glad to know I mean nothing to you, Josie.”

Josie ignored Luka, focusing all of her enthusiasm on Adrien. “Look at you! You clean up nice, Kid! Look at your little baby face! You are the cutest thing. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Josie,” Adrien chuckled, hugging her back with genuine affection.

Luka couldn’t stop grinning because Adrien was adorable. He got attached to people so quickly.

Jacob looked back and forth between Luka and Adrien and quirked an eyebrow quizzically. “You two came together?” he whispered so only Luka would hear.

“He’s actually my roommate now,” Luka confessed, wanting to get this conversation over sooner rather than later.

Jacob’s eyes bugged out. “Dude. You work fast,” he hissed. “You’re already shacked up?”

“No.” Luka winced. “It’s not like that. It’s completely platonic. He just needed a place to stay.”

Jacob nodded, not believing that for a second. “Right.”

“Émile!” Marc greeted, leaving his guitar propped against his keyboard on stage to go give Adrien a hug. “Hey, Kiddo. I did get your text with your phone number. Sorry I didn’t text back. I read it right away, but I was in the middle of burning food, and I completely forgot.”

“No worries,” Adrien assured, returning the hug and absolutely loving it. “So long as you got the message.”

Luka promptly shoved down the little niggling of jealousy that sprouted up at seeing Adrien being affectionate with another guy.

Josie quickly distracted him as she came over and hung off of his shoulder. “You don’t look like crap today.”

“Thank you?” Luka frowned, trying to decide whether to be insulted.

“He said Émile needed a place to stay, so he moved in with him yesterday,” Jacob reported, looking at Josie expectantly.

Josie’s eyes went wide. “Wow. Very opportunist. You get any yet?”

Luka swatted her away. “It’s platonic. I just broke up with The Girl, guys. I am not jumping into anything for a very long time.”

“Are you trying to say that my baby brother isn’t good enough for you to seduce?” Josie snorted, doing a very good job of actually looking offended.

Luka threw his hands up in frustration. “You know, I was having a good day until I had to deal with you two clowns.”

“Émile!” Jacob waved as Adrien and Marc came over to join them. “Sup, Kid?” He opened his arms for a hug which Adrien readily gave.

“Hey, Jacob.” Adrien smiled nervously as he pulled back, reaching up to rub at his neck. “I actually have something I need to tell everyone.”

The band’s expressions suddenly went serious.

“What’s up, Émile?” Josie prompted gently.

Adrien took a deep breath. “That isn’t actually my real name.”

Luka’s eyes widened, and he reached out to rest a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “You sure you’re ready to do this now?”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. They’ve shown me nothing but kindness. I don’t want to lie to them.”

“Is your real name ‘Adrien’?” Marc inquired.

Everyone looked to him in surprise.

Adrien blinked. “You knew?”

Josie and Jacob turned to Marc with twin frowns.

“How’d you know that?” Jacob demanded.

Marc shook his head. “I wasn’t sure. I just thought you kind of looked like the billboards I used to see all the time.”

“Billboards?” Josie echoed, arching an eyebrow.

“My name is really Adrien,” Adrien confessed. “Adrien Agreste.”

Jacob blinked. “That…sounds familiar?”

“I used to be a model,” Adrien elaborated. “Especially about ten years ago my face was on everything. You couldn’t get away from the advertisements if you tried…. I’m also known more notoriously as Gabriel Agreste’s son,” Adrien informed, gaze directed intently down at his shoes. “You know. Papillon.”

Jacob promptly pushed Luka out of the way and wrapped his arms around Adrien, announcing, “Just so you all know, this is mine now.”

“I don’t think so,” Josie huffed, coming to join the puppy pile. “I saw him first, but if I get caught when I sneak into jail to assassinate his father, you’d sure as hell better take care of him for me.”

She turned to Adrien (who looked very, very confused).

“You’re adopted,” she declared, her voice just on the right side of calm even as it came out clipped and furious. “There’s no way you’re actually related to that slimewad. He akumatized my little sister when she was being bullied, and there is no way you’re related to him. Besides, like I keep saying, we are officially adopting you now.”

Marc reached out a hand to rest on Adrien’s shoulder. “We’re here for you. Promise.”

“People…don’t usually react like that,” Adrien hiccupped. “They usually want nothing to do with me when they find out who I am.”

“People suck,” Jacob reported. “Obviously, they didn’t put much effort into finding out who you really are because, if they had, they would have discovered that you’re a precious baby who deserves to be loved and protected.”

Adrien turned to Luka with a watery smile. “You pick good people.”

Luka grinned. “I picked you, didn’t I?”

The whole group besides Adrien groaned.

Adrien only smiled.

“…So why ‘Émile Dupain’?” Josie inquired as they slowly pulled away.

“‘Émile’ is actually my second name,” Adrien explained. “I was named after my mom.”

Everyone nodded, making cooing, “that’s so sweet” noises.

“‘Dupain’ I stole from a friend,” he confessed with a blush that made Luka narrow his eyes. “It was the most common surname out of all of my friends, so… Plus, it was like taking a little piece of home with me while I roamed around.”

They all cooed again.

“Wait. Hold up.” Jacob turned and pointed to Luka just as the conversation was about to shift. “He’s not surprised about any of this. Did you tell him already yesterday?”

Adrien bit his lip, smiling guiltily. “I’ve known Luka for about a decade now, actually. I didn’t recognize him yesterday until we were outside on the street, though. He still had blue hair when I last saw him.”

“Man, I dated him when he had the blue hair,” Jacob sighed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have let him go so easily if I had known the black hair upgrade was coming.”

“Hey,” Luka grumbled. “I looked good with blue hair. It went with my eyes.”

“I actually think the black offsets your eyes better,” Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “The black makes the blue pop. I like it like this.”

Luka’s brain broke. “O-Oh? You think so?”

Marc put a hand over his mouth, holding in a laugh. “He’s never going to dye his hair again.”

Josie opened her mouth to quip, but then she caught the soft, warm, gooey way Luka was looking at Adrien.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Holy crap! He’s Adrien!”

Adrien gave a start, suddenly very worried. “Uh…yes? I thought…that was okay?”

She waved her arms, shooing away his concerns. “No. The thing with your father is fine. I meant that you’re Adrien. Luka’s Adrien!”

Jacob’s jaw dropped. “He’s The Boy!?”

Adrien looked to Luka for reassurance, quite obviously anxious at something he had no way of understanding.

Luka grimaced and wrapped a comforting arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “Yes,” he said pointedly. “He’s the dear friend I’ve mentioned many times to you.”

Jacob scoffed under his breath at that.

Marc decided to stay out of it.

“I really was worried about you while you were away,” Luka explained to Adrien. “I may have been a little preoccupied.”

Slowly, Adrien began to nod, thinking he understood. “Sorry again for worrying you.”

“He survived,” Marc assured, beckoning Adrien over to the stage. “He was a real mess for a while, though.”

Josie hung back, giving Luka a skeptical look. “You moved in with The Boy a week after breaking up with The Girl?”

Luka shrugged helplessly. “It’s platonic.”

“You make questionable life decisions,” Jacob snorted. “You’re screwed.”

“He’s going to wish he were,” Josie sighed. “Does your sister know that you’ve set yourself up for total emotional annihilation by platonically moving in with The Boy a week after your breakup with The Girl?”

“Adrien isn’t ready to tell people he’s back in Paris yet, so don’t you dare say anything to Juleka,” Luka growled protectively, getting his friends’ attention.

They shared a look and then held their hands up in surrender.

“We’re just worried about you, Dude,” Jacob clarified sympathetically.

Luka sighed, all the hot air coming out of him. “I’m kind of worried about me too,” he confessed.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #Slow Burn #Friends to Lovers #Flirting #Pining #Mutual Pining #Roommates #Mikau's Writings #Zebras Can't Change Their Stripes

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