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basura2319 · 5 years ago

Text

Tattoo

Hardcase x reader

(not sure I’m loving the title)

Requested by: @fxndxmxnxce (I’m sorry you waited this long for it. forgive me pls)

Word Count: 4.1k (this is so unnecessarily long and extra, i’m sorry guys)

Warnings: miscommunication? angst, alcohol consumption, cussing, and fluff.

A/N: So I added somethings into the plot I hope you like. This was so long and for some reason so difficult to do this request, making me anxious to post it. I have no idea why. But anyways here’s the end product. I hope you like and I’m going to stop rambling now

*(Y/N) (L/N)= your name

*(Y/F/N)= your friend’s name

(E/C)= eye color

��Are you gonna tell her instead of ignoring her?”

Hardcase almost tripped over his own feet at the question.

“Tell who what?”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Wow, this is way worse than I thought.”

“What are you on about?”

Jesse merely shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe how in denial you are acting right now.”

“In denial about what?” Hardcase nervously chuckled.

“Okay vod,” was all he said before walking in a totally different direction than they were initially heading to.

“Wait!” Hardcase exclaimed as he caught up to Jesse. “Where are you going?”

Jesse smirked. “To tell (Y/N) what you’re too scared to tell her.”

“Wait, what!”

“Oh look,” he said slyly, opening the hangar doors. “We’re already here.”

Hardcase paled when he saw you bent over Skywalker’s Jedi star-fighter, singing beautifully to a song played over your speakers. You had your hair tied up in a messy bun and the sleeves of your jumpsuit were tied around your waist, revealing your bare arms and collarbone, all of which were adorned with tattoos he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

“Shouldn’t you be saving your voice for tomorrow?” Jesse playfully nagged at you.

You turned off the music and turned to him with a grin. “Jesse!”

He greeted you with a bone-crushing hug.

“Okay,” you choked out, smacking his arm. “You can let go now.”

Hardcase, meanwhile was watching while shuffling his feet nervously, but as soon your gaze met his, his heart immediately stopped beating.

“Hi Hardcase,” you said shyly.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Um, hi (Y/N)…” was all he could manage to say.

From behind you, Jesse was giving him a pitiful look, gesturing him to hug you at least. And when Hardcase didn’t make a move, his brother just merely let out a silent, but clearly frustrated sigh. Hardcase felt foolish in front of you.

A flicker of what he imagined to be disappointment came over your face, but before he could think much of it your facial features warped into that beloved smile that put the sun to shame.

“So what brings you both here?” you asked, while removing your work-gloves and setting them inside your toolbox. “And don’t tell me you set a ship ablaze, because if that’s the case then you can bring it up with someone else.”

“First of all,” Jesse said in a mocked tone. “That’s harsh. Secondly, can’t a couple of troopers just stop by and say hello to their favorite mechanic without assuming they destroyed something?”

You scoffed. “Is that all?”

“No,” he continued in his teasing voice. “And third of all, what happened to your hand?”

“Oh this?” you revealed your left hand which had a white bandage covering your thumb. “I got a new ink work done a few days ago.”

At this, Hardcase’s head piqued in interest. After all, you two both bonded over tattoos the first time you met. He was awed at the different pieces of artwork imbedded onto your skin and knew what every tattoo meant to you. You too were fascinated over his blue tinted facial tattoos.

“What did you get this time,” Jesse said, reaching for your hand.

“Hey!” you swatted his hand away. “Not yet.”

“Oh come on!” Jesse groaned. “Show us!”

“It’s not healed yet,” you stated.

That was a lie. You wanted to show Hardcase first before anyone else, if he would even look at you.

“Okay,” he shrugged, while the com on his wrist began beeping.

“Sorry (Y/N), I gotta take this,” he said heading towards the door. “Can’t wait to see you perform tomorrow.”

“See you then,” you waved at him.

You agreed to sing at the clone bar 79s which was tomorrow night and you were excited about it nonetheless. Besides, the 501st, as well as all clones, have you heard you sing, so there was nothing to get nervous about.

The sound of the doors closing shut snapped you off your thoughts about tomorrow and made you realize that you were alone. With Hardcase. Who hadn’t spoken to you for about a month for reasons you didn’t know. But boy was the tension in the room so evident.

Even as you took in his rigid stance, he still wouldn’t meet your eye. Perhaps you should say something? Like how his day has been? Or how about asking him why he suddenly stopped talking to you? Or—

“I-I should probably go see what’s up with Jesse,” Hardcase said abruptly. “It’s could be the Captain telling him something important.”

“Um…okay?” you shrugged.

You turned to your equipment in haste, getting ready to get back to your work so you could ignore the obvious awkwardness between you both. Hardcase, taking the hint, left immediately.

As soon as you heard him leave, you covered your face with your hands and let out a muffled groan of frustration.

So much for talking to him.

————

“I don’t understand what I did wrong?” you ranted to your best friend as they styled your hair for your performance tonight while you touched up on your makeup.

“We were all fine and goofing off together,” you continued as you added mascara to your lashes. “Then the next thing you know, he starts avoiding me for no reason, like yesterday. He clearly didn’t want to see me when Jesse stopped by.”

Oh god. Did he find out that you have this silly crush on him? Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t talk to you.

“Did you try asking him why?” (Y/F/N) asked, setting the curling iron aside to secure your curls, making sure they stayed intact over your frame.

“How can I when he’s purposely avoiding me!” you said in exasperation. “I enter a room where he’s there, then he turns the other direction.”

And you certainly didn’t want to ask Jesse or anyone else because you didn’t want anyone else nosying in your business.

They hummed. “Well, I know one thing’s for sure. He’s definitely gonna have hard time not paying any attention to you with how cute you look.”

You stared at your appearance through the vanity and smile sadly. “I don’t know (Y/F/N)…”

“No, enough of that!” they said sternly. “You look so beautiful, in fact, if you don’t get Hardcase’s attention, then you’ll draw attention to someone else for sure.” They raise their brow suggestively.

“Stop,” you lightly smacked your friend as they raised their arms in mock surrender.

“I’m just sayin. It’s his loss.”

But you didn’t want anyone else. You wanted him. Even if he didn’t share the same feelings for you as you harbored for him, you still wanted your friend back.

You sighed and took two lip products from your drawer. “Okay which one should I wear?” You held them to (Y/F/N). “A gloss or a red velvet lipstick?”

“Hmmm definitely the red velvet,” they mused. “It goes well with your dress.”

“The red velvet it is.”

Once you’ve finished applying the lipstick, you’re facing the mirror while your friend is off to the side taking photos of you, telling you to smile and pose.

“Look at you! You look like a total goddess!”

You stared at your choice of dress. It was a classy midnight blue dress that accentuated and hugged your curves, stopping just above your knees. It was a spaghetti strap so of course it exposed your tattoos for everyone to see. Lastly for shoes, you opted for silver heels you hoped wouldn’t kill your feet later.

“You ready?” Your friend asked with a giddy smile, passing you your clutch.

You nodded, taking one last look over your reflection feeling a sudden surge of boldness. “I am.”

“Oh and one more thing,” said (Y/F/N) with a mischievous smile. “If Hardcase still continues to ignore you after tonight, tell him I have no problem coming over to kick his ass. Got it?”

You chuckled. “Absolutely.”

————

The drive to the bar, was to say the least, nerve wracking. Your heart was hammering a mile a minute and you could feel how sweaty your palms were. On top of that, you couldn’t stop fiddling with your left thumb. The one with the new tattoo you wanted to show Hardcase. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, there’s still a chance that you can show him although you didn’t want to bring your hopes up.

“We’re here,” announced your driver.

You promptly thanked him and got out of the cab, your silver heels clicking over the pavement as you made your way inside 79’s.

The clone officers you see hanging around the entrance greet you with hello’s and you greeted them back.

You took a moment to get used the flashing lights and the booming music before heading to the person who was supposed to introduce you to the clones even though they all knew who you were.

“Hello Volta,” you greeted loudly over the music to the “patron” (though he didn’t really own it, more so managed it) of the bar with a grin over the bar.

“Ah (Y/N), you’re here!” he shook your hand. “You ready to sing I see.”

“Yep,” you said.

“Right this way then.”

You followed him to the same corner where the bands would come to perform. Except standing at the stage set up was the mic and speakers.

“You have your music set up?”

“Yes.”

“Give me just a second to get this up and running, okay?”

You nodded and shifted your eyes to the clones in the room until you spotted the familiar white and blue. Your friends Jesse, Kix, Hardcase, and Fives, you saw, where doing rounds of shots. Let’s rephrase that. Jesse, Hardcase, and Fives were the ones doing them. It seemed only Kix decided not to join them, but to laugh at their antics instead.

You smiled as you approached them and then quickly snatched the shot glass Jesse was holding out of his hand.

“Hey!” cried Jesse.

“Hey boys!” you greeted.

“Wow…” whistled Five looking at up and down. “(Y/N) you look amazing.”

The other’s murmured in agreement. All except Hardcase.

“Thanks, I try,” you said jokingly, missing the way Hardcase’s eye lingered on you like he was in a trance.

“Give me back my drink,” Jesse griped reaching for it but you side-stepped away from him and downed the drink in one gulp, letting the liquor burn down your throat like fire.

You placed the empty glass onto the table and smiled sweetly. “What drink?”

“You shouldn’t be drinking before a performance you know,” said Kix with a laugh. “It dries your throat.”

“It was just one shot,” you retorted with a light shrug. “I’ll be fine.”

Speaking of performing, you looked back at the stage and saw Volta waving you over. He was about to start.

“Kix can you hold this for me?” you handed your clutch over. “I have to go.”

“Good luck,” he said patting you on the shoulder as did Fives.

“Jesse?”

He harrumphed, still bitter about his stolen drink.

“Look I’ll buy you another round you big baby,” you said thumping him on the back.

“Okay,” he replied haughtily. “

You shook your head in disbelief and sauntered away, ignoring the gnawing feeling in your stomach over Hardcase’s uncharacteristic silence.

He still wouldn’t meet your eye and he didn’t even wish you good luck.

“Good evening gentlemen,” began Volta over the mic following a hush over the audience as they prepared for what’s coming. Please welcome to the stage Miss (Y/N) (L/N) who will be performing for you tonight.”

You heard a chorus of cheers and applause from the crowd making you heart swell in excitement. Pushing away your sadness, you stepped onto to the platform

On cue the lights beam onto your form without blinding you. The beginning notes of the song commence and with a smile gracing onto your red lips, you sung.

—————

Hardcase had no words.

When he saw you walking towards his table, he had felt like he had lost his voice entirely. Your dress, your perfectly styled hair and makeup. You were perfect. You were like something out of a holomovie.

You looked like a holomovie star now more than ever onstage. The way the light shines around you like a halo, deserving of everyone’s attention. How you swayed your hips to the rhythm to the song carrying that smile that radiated nothing but complete confidence.

But your voice was what enraptured him most of all. It always did with each high and low note you were able to pull off seamlessly. Remembering how you both would sing together, you cackling as he tried singing even though it was horribly off key, but you knew he did it to make you laugh. Remembering all the times you would bare your soul to him singing when he felt his spirits were at an all time low. Not just to him, but to all his brothers.

Why would he push someone like that away?

He knew very well why. No matter how many times he tried to shove the truth to the back of his mind or tried to deny it.

He loved you.

And if you ever found out, he couldn’t even imagine how the scenario would turn out. His brother’s like to tease and crack jokes when it came to his quirks and habits, jokingly passing them off as annoying, but at the end of the day, their comments about him didn’t bother him.

Except it did when it came to you.

What if you do end up loving him back and then change your mind because something he did made you feel comfortable? What would he do then?

He set those intrusive thoughts aside and reverted all his attention to you again. He let himself get lost to your angelic voice, unable tear his gaze away.

Kriff how he wanted to kiss you then there. He wanted to take your hand and trail his lips over your tattoos, starting from your hand as he makes his way up your arm to your shoulder, and then to your collarbone—

His breath hitched.

Your (E/C) were boring into his brown ones as you continued singing. As if the words you were singing were only directed at him alone and no one else in the room, making the moment almost intimate.

You continued to gaze at him from afar, up until the song ended breaking the spell along with the cheers and the applause coming from every direction of the room.

“You’re a di’kut, you know that?” drawled Jesse as he looked from him to you smiling at the audience’s praise. His brothers, Kix and Fives, all looked at him as if they too agreed with his statement.

Hardcase said nothing. He knew. He very much knew.

And he needed to do something about all of this.

—————

You performed a total of seven songs overall. All of them went without a hitch, thank goodness, and you desperately needed a drink because your adrenaline and excitement was just soaring at this point.

A lot of compliments over your singing were thrown your way as well as many “thank yous” and you felt giddy.

But your giddiness was short lived.

As you make your towards your friends, you noticed the space Hardcase occupied was currently empty.

Your smile faltered.

Did he leave? You didn’t remember seeing him leave.

“Hey! You did amazing over there,” said Jesse bringing you in a hug.

“Yeah!”

“You were incredible!”

You forced yourself to speak. “Thanks you guys!”

“Of course you were going to be amazing,” praised Fives. “You always are.”

You grinned at them, trying so hard to not let the disappointment show. You needed to move around or do something because you did not want your friends to see you like this.

“Wait here while I bring in the round of shots I owe Jesse here,” you patted his shoulder before heading to the bar.

The drinks, as Volta put it, were on the house as courtesy for performing and you were completely fine by that. You just wished you felt the same about this aching feeling in your chest.

Was it because you made eye contact with when you were singing? Did that drive him away?

“Ma’am, your drinks?” said the server, pushing the tray towards you.

You murmured a thanks and made your way back promptly.

“Ah thanks (Y/N),” Jesse said picking one of the shot glasses tray as you layed them on the table.

You picked one up too.

“Um Kix?” you asked in a low voice so the others didn’t hear, although they appeared to be preoccupied with their conversation. “Where’s Hardcase?”

“I think he left to go use the ‘fresher, though I don’t know what’s taking him so long,” he stated, looking at you in an almost apologetic way as if he knew something you didn’t. “Why?”

You shook your head and downed your drink. “No reason.”

About thirty-minutes later, Hardcase still hadn’t returned. And your mood was beginning to turn foul even as you try to laugh along with your friend’s jokes and enjoy the drinks that were being passed around, but you didn’t feel like getting wasted. Like Fives and Jesse who were getting absolutely hammered trying to out drink each other. Y

You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Guys I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Come on!” slurred Jesse with a toothy smile. “Stay!”

You took your clutch in your hand. “Nah, I’m exhausted, but you men have fun!”

They said their goodbyes and you quickly left the place. But you don’t call for a cab. Not yet anyway. You leaned against the railing overlooking the rest of Coruscant, breathing in the night air for what seemed to be awhile, just stuck in never ending cycle of your own thoughts. Mostly about him.

You felt tears fall down your face and you snarled as you furiously wipe them away, trying not to ruin your eye makeup.

Who were kidding? It didn’t matter if anyone saw you like this.

Your lips trembled and you bit your bottom lip to stop it. You felt like such a dumb ass, believing that Hardcase still wanted you around after his avoidance of you. You should’ve just moved on like he apparently did. With no fucking clue as to what you did wrong for him to act like this towards you. The worst thing about the situation, to your annoyance, was you still crying about. He didn’t care about you. So why do you—

Someone tapped your shoulder.

“What?” you growled at whoever was bothering when you clearly didn’t want to be.

You stilled.

It was Hardcase, taken aback by your outburst.

You both stared at each other in absolute silence, studying each other’s appearance. You realized you probably looked like a mess in his eyes with the obvious tears ducts over your cheeks, but to you, he looked didn’t look any better. He looked almost…miserable.

“What so now you decide to talk to me after a month of avoiding me?” you snarked.

He passed a hand over his face and sighed. “I didn’t mean to do that to you I-I just—”

“‘Didn’t mean to do that?’” you said in disbelief. “What the hell kind of excuse is that?”

“(Y/N) please just let me talk.”

He was fidgeting with his arms. A habit you realized he only did when he was nervous and it was rare for even him to act nervous.

“Okay,” you inhaled through your nose and exhaled, hoping it would soothe you some of your anger at him though wanted to scream at him. “Talk.”

“Look, I’m sorry about all of it,” he said quietly, his gaze softening towards you.

You felt all of your ire directed at him begin to crumble just by the way he looked at you.

Damn him.

“I-It’s just that…,” he stammered, finding it difficult to even begin telling how he felt. “I’ve come to realize something during…you know…me avoiding you.”

Okay now he looked downright scared, you thought.

“Hardcase?” you questioned with a concerned face.

“I…”

Oh god. He looked he was about to grow sick.

You reached over to gently take his hand with yours, giving it a soft squeeze, and with that single action, Hardcase caved in.

“I love you,” he said rapidly.

You let the hand you that held his fall limp.

He loved you? No, no that can’t be right.

Your brows furrowed. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again if—”

He was cut off by your sudden burst of laughter. Okay more like maniacal laughter.

“Kriff Hardcase,” you managed to say between fits of laughter.

His face was pulled into that funny, but adorable baffled expression as you continued to still laugh.

“I don’t know if I should kiss you right now or punch you!” you finally said after your laughter sort of subsided.

His face brightened. “Wait so—”

“You’re such a doofus, why didn’t you just tell me instead of ignoring me for weeks!” you exclaimed, shoving him by the shoulder.

“I thought you wouldn’t feel the same way!”

“Of course I feel the same way!”

He let out a breathy chuckle, as if he couldn’t believe that you actually liked him back. You above all people.

Hardcase then pulled you in to a hug as you rested your head against his armored chest, feeling the happiest you ever felt reunited in his presence once again.

He chuckled. “I’d never thought you would never see me as anything but a friend.”

You locked eyes with him and cupped your tentative hand over his cheek, thumbing the blue tattoo below his eye. “Why would you think that?”

He took your hand in his and pulled brought it to his lips. “You’re so beautiful, smart, and so talented,” he pressed on, his nerves buzzing at the close contact. “And I’m just…me.”

“No,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “You’re brave, you make me laugh until my sides get sore, you encourage me to continue my passions without judging me…”

You pressed your lips over his slowly, but cautiously, afraid to scare him off.

“I love you,” you whispered over his lips.

Hardcase’s nerves were on fire at what was happening before him and so he kissed you back, his lips in sync with yours, giving shivers over your whole body.

He brought your head in closer to deepen the kiss, allowing him to give access to the inside of your mouth, his tongue clashing against yours. You let out a moan over the sensation, tasting the slight tinge of alcohol he had consumed beforehand, as did he.

The noises you emitted along with his set both of your entire faces into a heated blush. He broke the kiss and took your hand as you watched him slowly brush his lips against your knuckles then stops.

He looks at what’s written over thumb. Something he knew wasn’t there before.

501st

Written in Aburesh over your thumb. The one he saw yesterday covered in a white bandage.

You realized what you he was staring at in shock then shyly looked away. “It’s probably dumb, I know—”

“No it’s not,” he smiled in the way that made his eyes crinkle. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said faintly. “I just felt like I had to include it somewhere, you know?”

His kissed your tattoo. “I know.”

He knew why you got it. You cared about him and his brothers because they’re a part of you just as are a part of the 501st too.

You both stood there, still in each other’s embraces staring adoringly at each other.

That is, until you were.

“Kriff, is that (Y/N) and Hardcase?” interrupted a loud, but familiar voice.

Jesse.

“Guys look! They were kissing,” he said slurred while leaning against Kix and Fives for support. “About kriffing time vod!”

Hardcase groaned at his brothers’ cat-calling while you flipped them off.

“I think we should go somewhere else?” Hardcase murmured against you ear.

“Lets” you giggled, taking his hand and dashed towards the nearest cab.

#requests #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper hardcase x reader

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ceruleanmusings · 5 years ago

Note

“fuck you.” dreo angst prompt for when youre feeling it!

I’m always feeling Dreo angst! They’re the poster children for it. One of these days I’ll be nice to them and let them be soft and happy but today is not that day!

This takes place during the Battle of Hogwarts because why not?

Also on AO3 and FFN

Scuffed shoes, once shiny and pristine, stumbled over a pile of rubble that tripped him around the corner. Pitching forward, Draco slammed onto his hands and knees, his wand handle pressing into his palm like a rock in his shoe.

The rough corners of concrete and stone slabs pushed and prodded and tore at his knees when he fell. The resulting throbs and stinging pain cut across his kneecaps. He didn’t have to look down to see that his dress pants had been brushed with dust and torn apart

He spat, forcing out the dust that had sucked moisture out of his mouth and his body bent at an odd and unrefined shape in an effort to hold himself up. No sense in damaging his nose any more than it already suffered.

Merlin, that Weasley could pack a punch. He didn’t look it, with his gangly frame and awkward limbs. Yet the punch delivered to his nose, in front of Death Eaters no less, smacked him a good one. And yet that hurt a lot less than his aching pride. Or what was left of it, anyway.

Easing himself to his feet, Draco brushed a dirty, soot covered hand against his shirt. It left a darkened smear on the white starchy fabric, a black scar along his silver and green tie. With a grunt and a sneering curl to his lips, he wrenched off his tie and allowed the silky fabric, a badge he once wore pinned to his swelled chest, to lay in the ground in a discarded heap, coiled up like a snake.

He pushed a breath out of his nose, licked his dry, cracked lips, and continued down the hallway. His gait was slow with a slight limp but he pushed forward. Every now and then the castle rocked with the force of an explosion followed by a burst of screams and a roar of rage. It bounced off him, like oil on water, and he kept going as the hurricane surrounded him.

He needed to get out. He needed to get to his parents. He needed—

The acrid scent of fire flashed passed his nose, a breeze squeezing through a crack in a nearby wall. He stopped all at once, rooted to the spot, dull gray eyes wide as a roar rushed in his ears. It howled and screamed, growing in volume, and grew human in tone. Drowning in agony, bleeding in fear.

Draco clapped his hands over his ears, squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and begged for the screaming to stop. For Crabbe to be released from the painful grip of Hell. For the scent of burning hair and the sound of popping flesh to fade. For his heavy heart to be forgiven.

Air. He needed air.

Vice tightening on his chest, squeezing his lungs, Draco dropped his arms to the side and started forward again. Moving faster. His parents! He needed to find his mum and dad, to make sure they were okay. They needed to be okay. They needed—

Draco’s heart dropped when a hand grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him sideways off his feet, down a darkened corridor. All breath flew out his lungs when his back connected with the steady stone wall. The grip on his shirt loosened, only slightly, and it took him a startling second to realize something was being hissed into his ear.

“What?” he uttered.

“Was it worth it?” Theo demanded, his hazel eyes blazing, a sharp turn at the corner of his mouth.

“What’re you—?” Draco’s words died on his tongue as his brain registered just who it was that had a hold on him and who it was that spoke to him. His lips parted for a second, disbelief shooting out of him in a single breath, and he moved to push Theo away. “You’re not supposed to be here you idiot.”

Theo ignored him, a skill that he’d mastered years ago but still rubbed Draco’s nerves after all this time. His grip shifted to the sleeve of Draco’s shirt, yanking it upwards in one deft and fluid motion. Even seething, Theo had a way of making all his movements graceful.

“This!” Theo jerked Draco’s arm upwards and a burn of bile shot up his throat that the sight of it. The black mark etched into his skin; flickering beneath the nearby torch lights. The snake seeping out of the mouth of the skull seemed to wag its tongue at him, winking, taunting. “Was this worth it?”

“Sod off, Nott!” Draco pushed him off, brushing his hands against the wrinkles in his clothes. Habits died hard, he supposed. But it was expected of him, normal. He needed normal. It was nice. At least he could do that right. “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t need to understand much to know you’re a coward.”

Draco scoffed. “Of course that’s what you think. You’re missing the big picture, you’re…” His words trailed off and he pressed his lips together. Better flashed in his mind but he pushed that fleeting thought away. “Leave. I have something to do.”

“Bend over?” Theo offered.

He wasn’t sure what set him off; the blasé tone that seemed to be permanently attached to Theo’s words, the air of judgement crackling around him, or Theo’s general undermining disposition. Or maybe it was all of it that sent Draco surging forward, colliding with Theo, slamming his body into the opposite wall.

The two boys collided with a heavy thud, a minuscule sound beneath the battle raging on around them. Their wands lay forgotten on the ground, fits curling and sinking into the fabric of their shirts as they fought one another, shoving this way and that, grunting and hissing as they battled for the upperhand. Theo was a hair taller than Draco and had the leverage but Draco was faster. Years of Quidditch helped build strength within him compared to Theo’s penchant for shutting himself away.

A stream of dust fell on their heads when the castle rocked again, shaking them, pushing them away from one another. A stark metallic taste seeped into Draco’s mouth; running his tongue along his bottom lip was met with the sting of a fresh cut. Blood dotted his tongue. Theo, worse for wear, leaned against the opposite wall, chest heaving, a swelling red patch by his eye. He brought an arm up to his mouth, wiping away a streak of blood. Whose, he wasn’t sure.

“You think you have this all figured out, huh?” Draco asked between pants. Theo turned his eyes to him but didn’t speak. Draco sniffed and spat. Dark blood splattered on the ground in between them. “You think this is all easy. What I had to do.”

“You made that choice— ”

“I had no choice!” The words shot out of Draco’s throat, raw, hitting Theo like bullets. He winced. Draco relished in it, in Theo’s resolve falling. “He doesn’t give us choices. We just…we have to do it. I have to do it! I have to! My family…you don’t get it.” His mouth stumbled over the words that came up in a rush, clumping together, fighting to be heard, to be understood. To be taken without that look in Theo’s eye, without the airs of an upturned nose, without the disappointment. Like Draco could just…stop. Could change. Could walk away. “I have to…I have to make it right. My parents…”

“They’re letting you walk to your death,” Theo said.

“Fuck you!” Draco hissed. He shook his head. No, no that’s not what they were doing. They cared about him. He cared about them. He was trying to save them. There was no other choice. It was up to him now. He couldn’t fail again. Not after… His stomach pitched hard and he pressed his lips together, forcing his mind away from the image of Crabbe back in the Room of Requirement. His hands trembled by his side; in the back of his mind fire cracked and popped like fireworks. Or was that the battle going on a few floors down? “Why are you here?”

“This is my school.”

“Your father— ”

“I’m hoping to run into him, actually.” The icy tone to Theo’s words made Draco lift his head, lock eyes with his longtime friend.

All at once he was brought back to the days before Hogwarts, when they would run around the large gardens at the Malfoy Manor, trying to get as far away from their parents as possible. When they would grin at each other beneath windswept hair and ruddy cheeks from managing to get a good flight in on the brooms laying around. When they would sneak out at night and talk by the dragon fountain, waiting for it to change its pose or spit water at them instead of the basin at the bottom.

“My father’s sick,” Theo spoke so suddenly that Draco almost missed it. Theo didn’t talk a lot but when he did Draco listened. He always listened. “Healers came today. Said it could be bad.”

“Oh,” was all Draco said. What else could he say? Theodore Nott Sr. was a man he never crossed paths with much. He only saw the elderly man when he came to visit the Malfoy Manor to speak with his own father behind closed doors. His bony hands shook as if he were nervous but the way he lifted his chin and held his body told Draco that he was anything but. He saw that same assuredness in Theo sometimes. Draco once thought of Nott Sr. as a walking skeleton. The grim reaper. Theo laughed at that once. Draco still didn’t get why that was funny. Still, he said, “I’m sorry.”

The lights that one sparkled in Theo’s eyes they could put the constellations above to shame faded as Theo said, “I’m not.”

And it was now, as the two stood in the cramped corridor, regarding each other, that Draco witnessed the hardened look from their youth settling in Theo’s eyes.

“You came back for him,” Draco said. An odd pang accompanied his words, a gash ripping open on his heart. A deep, soulful ache, like rubbing a wound on glass.

A muscle in Theo’s jaw twitched. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Oh.”

Silence pulsed between them, gazes unwavering, and then…

“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

Like an ebbing wave, all sound seemed to be sucked out of the castle save for a low hum. It took Draco a few seconds to place that it was the still of anticipation.

“Malfoy—”

“I need to go,” Draco said, cutting Theo off. This was his only chance. He could find his parents and they could leave. Before…before He found them. Before he could get them. They could hide out…somewhere. They could never go back but…at least they’d be together.

“You don’t…” something in Theo’s voice made him stop and turn. His heart stuttered. “It can be different.”

“…No, it can’t. It’s too late.”

“It can all stop. Right now.”

“Forget it, Nott. …I have to do this.” Draco flashed a sad smile. “It’s already been done, really.” His eyes drifted back down to the Dark Mark on his forearm.

Somewhere down below a wail echoed upwards.

“…Merlin, you’re such a git!”

Once again Draco was bodyslammed into the wall but Theo was too close and beneath the sweat and grime he smelled too redolent and his grip was too tight and his kiss was too good.

His whole body sighed into Theo’s, pressing up against him, slotting together like a missing puzzle piece. His fingers dug into the tight fabric of Theo’s starchy white shirt, tugging him closer still.

Theo’s fingers dug into his hair and their lips collided with every greedy grab for another and another and another. Theo’s tongue ran across the cut on Draco’s lower lip, coaxing, and Draco let him in.

At the touch of tongues the two boys groaned. Draco’s head swam, a dizzying exhilaration that would’ve knocked him off balance if it were for Theo’s steady, sure hold on him. Draco lifted his hands to Theo’s face, thumbs brushing the stubble that coated his jaw—a new development in these past couple months that Draco admired from afar—and gently touching the swelling beneath his eye.

Their hearts hammered together, Draco felt Theo’s beats in the spaces between his own, a push and pull that mimicked their kisses, their desperation for touch, their effort to hold onto something in a world that spun them out of control. With every kiss, every sigh, every rush of goosebumps, Draco wondered if this was a better choice. If Theo was a better choice. If they could turn and walk away.

But he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve Theo to care about him. He made his bed, he had to lie in it. And not in the way that flashed in his mind when Theo’s fingers pressed into his spine, eliciting a moan from deep in his throat. This was nice, welcomed, needed, wanted, but it wasn’t for him.

Fingers twitching by his side, they then curled around his wand as it slapped into his palm. In one swift motion, before he could think, he jabbed the tip of it into Theo’s stomach and whispered “Crucio” into his mouth.

With a bang and a rush of green light, Theo was thrown backwards. His body slammed against the ground with a sickening thud and Draco’s racing heart beat erratically for a different reason. The previous exhilaration died, as it should, and he lowered his shaking hand. Theo’s body seized and convulsed, eyes wide and unfocused.

Turning on his heel, Draco hurried out of the corridor but not before hearing Theo’s scream of agony. He stopped, eyes clenching, the sound echoing in his head, etching a new scar on his heart. It blended in with the others.

Clenching his jaw, lifting his chin, Draco kept moving, Theo’s screams melding in with the bellows and cries of loss below.

#draco malfoy #theodore nott #theo nott #hp rare pair #dreo #rair pair hell #my writings #lareiism #answered #ok i somehow fucked up and put a readmore in the askbox part when it shouldn't be there and i can't fix it #so i'm going to tag this as a long post if someone wants to skip this #i'm sorry i don't know how to fix it!#long post

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kurokoros · 6 years ago

Text

Focal Point | Part Two

Title: Focal Point

Rated: M (language, smut, references to past violence)

Words: 10.5K

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Jones!OC

Summary: Jubilee stares at him in disbelief, mouth opening and closing though no words come out. A dozen emotions flicker in her eyes as she takes in what he’s said, but they pass too quickly for him to register anything but her confusion. Eventually, she crosses her arms, leaning back in the booth, quirking a brow at him. “You want me to pose for you,” she repeats slowly, absolutely bewildered by the request. “Naked.”

Sweet Pea wets his lips, mirroring her pose, looking far too calm for the request that just came out of his mouth. His eyes meet hers, throat bobbing with a harsh swallow, and she’s relieved to see a flicker of nerves in his eyes. “Yeah.”

College!AU in which Art Major Sweet Pea needs a nude model for an assignment. He decides to ask his best friend.

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Epilogue

Read on AO3

AN: This is going to be a four part fic (now with a short epilogue!) that’s part of my extended College!Verse Like the Kids in Art School Said! It should be updated every Thursday until complete assuming nothing comes up in my personal life! Inspired by @sweetpeasbabydoll wanting an artist Sweet Pea au with him doing a nude portrait!

Movie nights are something they’ve been doing since they started college.

At first it was just the Serpents, but it didn’t stay like that for long. Every Tuesday night Sweet Pea ends up with nearly ten people piled into his flat, squished onto his couch and curled up on the floor with blankets. They used to rotate the apartment they were at, but his has the most open space and eventually they just settled on his place. Sweet Pea doesn’t mind it, not really.

It’s loud and cramped, and sometimes the movie choices are awful, but it’s comfortable. It’s home.

Sweet Pea groans when he sees what movie Jughead is queuing up to watch next. “Really, Jones?” he grumbles from his spot at the opposite end of the couch, glaring at him over Jubilee’s head. “Nightmare on Elm Street?” He raises an unamused brow, pursing his lips when Jughead sends him a look of offense.

“This movie is a classic, Sweet Pea,” Jughead tells him, his eyes narrowing in a way that lets Sweet Pea know he already has several different arguments ready for why the movie isn’t garbage.

Movie snob.

“It’s not actually that great,” Sweet Pea starts, smothering a laugh when Jughead’s eyes widen in horror.

Jubilee sighs and shifts her head against Sweet Pea’s shoulder, tilting her head up to look at him. Sweet Pea’s arm tightens around her and he breaks his stare with Jughead to glance down at her. “Don’t argue with him,” she mumbles, “he’ll just start ranting again.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his fingers squeeze around her upper arm apologetically when she turns back to the TV. “Sorry, Doll,” he murmurs in her ear, keeping his voice low so not to disturb any of their sleeping friends. Lydia and Kevin both passed out halfway through the first movie. And Fangs only looks half-awake where he’s sprawled across the floor, though he keeps shooting curious looks at Sweet Pea and Jubilee, unable to figure out how their conversation went earlier or if Sweet Pea even asked her to model at all.

Jubilee shivers and curls closer against his side. “Must you antagonize him?”

Sweet Pea’s thumb strokes the bare strip of skin on her shoulder where her sweater has slipped down over the course of the night. “He’s funny when he’s angry,” he reasons, hiding a grin against her hair when she snorts and shakes with muffled laughter that draws Jughead’s attention.

“Behave,” Jubilee chastises, slapping at his chest playfully, making his smile widen.

He turns back to the movie, but he’s only half-focused on the story, distracted by Jubilee’s gentle breaths against the side of his neck and her soft curves pressed against his side. Sweet Pea was hoping that the movies would keep him from thinking about their conversation at the diner, but he’s having a hard time not thinking about it when he can smell her perfume and hear every little sound that escapes her as she watches the movie.

He’s still surprised she agreed to it. He’s never been entirely sure what’s going on in her head, but Sweet Pea has known her long enough to know that she doesn’t do anything without a reason, even if it genuinely is just to help him out. Regardless, he’s just glad it didn’t make things awkward between them. Lunch went the way it always does, and afterwards she went with him to pick up snacks for the movies.

Sweet Pea doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Freddy Krueger,” he whispers in her ear partway through the movie, during a quiet scene. His fingers drum against her shoulder absentmindedly and her bent knees are resting against his left thigh.

Jubilee shifts as his lips brush against her skin. “What about him?”

“Think you could beat him in a fight?”

She glances up at him briefly, eyes narrowed in bewilderment. “He has knives for fingers, Sweet Pea,” she reminds him, baffled but amused by his question. It’s a distraction and she must know it. Jubilee has never liked horror movies much, but tolerates them for Jughead. It’s not that they scare her, exactly, but the loud noises leave her irritated and a little jumpy. And they make her headaches worse.

“So what?” Sweet Pea snorts, watching the character on the screen. “He’s skinny. I bet you could take him.”

She turns to whisper in his ear and her lips brush against his cheek. “I bet I could take you,” she says slowly, almost purposeful. Her breath is hot against the side of his face and he sucks in a sharp breath, mind suddenly in the gutter.

There’s something about the way she says it, low and teasing and it makes him all too aware of every inch of her that’s pressed up against him. She doesn’t move away from him, lips still brushing against his cheek. Sweet Pea tilts his head just enough to look down at her.

“You could try, Sweetheart,” he teases, swallowing the lump in his throat. Jubilee shifts her head against his shoulder, dark eyes alight with mirth.

“You’re not that tough.”

His eyes widen a fraction. “Oh yeah?” he challenges her, the arm around her shoulders drifting lower, his fingertips dragging down her arm slowly. “You sure about that?”

He pinches her side at the same time the score crescendos and Jubilee gasps, jerking against him as her right hand latches onto his thigh a few inches above his knee. He almost jumps at her sudden touch, breath catching as her fingers squeeze around his leg. Jubilee’s eyes snap back to the TV as a character starts screaming, but Sweet Pea isn’t able to shift his gaze away from her, staring for a moment too long.

A piece of popcorn hits him in the center of his forehead. Sweet Pea blinks, gaze snapping to floor and a smirking Fangs. His amusement is clear as he glances between Sweet Pea and Jubilee, wiggling his brows obnoxiously. Sweet Pea flips him off, but it only makes him smile wider.

Sweet Pea hopes Fangs chokes on his popcorn.

Jubilee’s hand doesn’t leave his thigh for the rest of the movie, her grip tightening anytime there’s a sudden loud noise. He reasons that she probably doesn’t realize that it’s there, to engrossed in the movie to notice, but Sweet Pea is painfully aware of every twitch of her fingers against him.

“So,” Sweet Pea starts, cutting off Jughead and Joaquin mid-sentence as he plays with the straw in his glass of water, the four of them waiting for their food to arrive. He steadfastly ignores the grin growing on Fangs face, deciding to just rip off the proverbial Band-Aid and get it over with. “I have to do a nude portrait of a friend for my art class,” he tells them casually, hiding a smirk when Jughead nearly chokes on his drink.

Joaquin blinks at him from across the table. “That’s one way to start a conversation,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he leans back against the booth. Already, Joaquin looks exhausted by the turn in conversation.

Sweet Pea only shrugs in response. He wasn’t originally planning on telling the other guys about his situation with Jubilee, but figures telling them now is better than them finding out after the fact when either he or Fangs are drunk off their ass and feel like sharing. Besides, Fangs has clearly been antsy about it all day. He wasn’t able to corner Sweet Pea last night after the movies were done, and Sweet Pea managed to slip into their morning history class just before it began, saving himself from the expected interrogation, but their psychology class afterwards ended up being canceled, leaving the four of them with a free hour.

Jughead pulls a face before narrowing his eyes at Sweet Pea, a little wary. “Sweet Pea, if you’re asking one of us to model for you I’m going to have to say no.” Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. He doesn’t actually like Jones enough to ever want to draw his pasty ass anyway.

Fangs leans around Sweet Pea to stare at Jughead, wiggling his brows suggestively. “What happened to ‘no Serpent stands alone?’ ” The quip makes Joaquin snort and shake his head. Meanwhile Jughead sends Fangs a look of utter annoyance.

“I draw my line at getting naked around any of you,” Jughead informs them, looking almost queasy at the thought. He’s never been one for public nudity, especially not after everything that happened their second year on campus.

“Afraid he’d draw your dick to size?” Fangs teases, resting one elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “You could ask him to scale it up.” Sweet Pea doesn’t bother to hide the snort that escapes him, his lips curving up at the edges at their bickering.

Fangs’ teasing is always more amusing when it’s not directed at him.

Jughead shoots Sweet Pea a nasty look before his gaze jumps back to a snickering Fangs. “Fuck you, Fangs! There’s nothing wrong with the size of my dick!”

The two of them dissolve into an argument over Jughead’s cock and Sweet Pea watches them from his spot closest to the window, thoroughly amused by the turn in conversation.

Joaquin groans from across the booth and shoots Sweet Pea an annoyed look. “Look what you did, Pea,” he chastises, rolling his eyes at their other friends. It’s not until their waitress returns with their food that Jughead and Fangs stop bickering. It doesn’t take long for Jughead to become fixated on his burger and forget all about Fangs’ ribbing and Sweet Pea’s unprompted declaration.

While the other two are busy with their food, Joaquin turns back to Sweet Pea, raising a curious brow. “So is there a reason you’re bringing this up?” he asks, resting his elbows against the table between them. “The modeling thing, not Jughead’s penis. Because, no offense man, but I wouldn’t let you draw me naked if you paid me.”

Sweet Pea snorts and rolls his eyes. He has no idea why everyone just assumes he’s asking them to get naked for him. Is that the kind of guy he seems like? “I already have a model,” he informs Joaquin. “I asked someone yesterday.”

“Okay?” Joaquin frowns at him, like he’s not sure why Sweet Pea is bringing this up to begin with.

“It’s Jubilee,” he continues casually.

Jughead’s burger falls out of his hands.

Joaquin blinks at him, eyes widening just a fraction, but his expression is otherwise unreadable. He doesn’t say a word as Jughead wheezes, choking on his lunch. Sweet Pea opts to ignore this, as do the others.

“Seriously?” Fangs gasps, positively giddy as he swivels in his seat to look at Sweet Pea. “You seriously asked Jubilee?”

He frowns at Fangs’ surprise. “You’re the one that told me to ask her,” Sweet Pea reminds his friend, baffled by his excitement, though he probably shouldn’t be. He’s known Fangs practically his entire life and Fangs has always been way too dramatic for his own good. That’s probably why he’s currently majoring in theater though.

Fangs gives an over-exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d have the balls to actually do it.”

“Dude, if you’re just being a bitch because I don’t want to draw you naked—”

“I’d be a great model and you know it!” Fangs snaps, glaring at Sweet Pea over his sandwich.

Sweet Pea glares right back at his friend, an argument on the tip of his tongue, but Jughead cuts him off before he can say anything. “You asked my sister to model for you naked,” Jughead repeats slowly, blue eyes wider than Sweet Pea has ever seen them before. “You asked my sister to model for you naked?” His expression quickly melts into one of disgust.

Sweet Pea isn’t entirely sure if it’s a question or not. “Yes?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Sweet Pea, I’m gonna kill you.” He pulls out his phone, grumbling something to himself that the rest of them don’t catch.

“What are you doing?” Sweet Pea questions, quirking a brow at Jughead’s furious typing.

“Texting my dad.”

“FP can text?”

Sweet Pea sighs, feeling a headache coming on. “He’s not that fucking old, Fangs. And knock that shit off, Jones.” He reaches across the table and slaps the cell phone out of Jughead’s hand, sending it clattering against the table.

Jughead huffs as he slips the phone back into his pocket. They eventually quiet down as the surprise wears off and Sweet Pea is suddenly aware of how quiet Joaquin is being. He’s never been that much of a talker compared to the rest of them, but he’s not the definition of the silent type either. Sweet Pea meets Joaquin’s eyes for just a moment before turning to his food.

They eat in silence for several minutes.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Joaquin asks him suddenly, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes from across the booth. He stares at Sweet Pea seriously, an odd look on his face. “You know, Jubilee modeling for you? Naked.” He stresses the last word and Sweet Pea rolls his eyes.

Sweet Pea shrugs, chewing his burger slowly as he glances at Joaquin. “Why wouldn’t it be? Jubilee doesn’t seem to have an issue with it.” She’d definitely let him know if there was a problem, never the type to let something like that slide. And it didn’t exactly take much convincing to get her to agree. “Besides, Jubilee is just a friend.”

“A friend who you’ve slept with,” Fangs immediately counters, rolling his eyes.

Sweet Pea stiffens.

Joaquin’s eyes widen just a fraction, his mouth dropping open. “What?”

“You slept with my sister?” Jughead questions just a little too loudly, gaining them a few looks from other patrons nearby. For the third time since the conversation started, Jughead looks queasy.

“Bed!” Sweet Pea corrects them, shooting Fangs a nasty glare that only makes him smirk in self-satisfaction. “We shared a bed!” he says, keeping his voice low to avoid any additional unwanted attention. “That’s it. And it only happened one time.”

“When the fuck—” Joaquin cuts himself off, glancing at one of the nearby tables before leaning across the table closer to Sweet Pea. “When the fuck did you share a bed?” he hisses, bewilderment flashing in his eyes.

Sweet Pea groans, dropping his head back against the booth and squeezing his eyes shut. He drags a hand down the side of his face, avoiding the varying looks from his friends. “Last semester,” he mumbles, “when Mantle came to see Lydia.” Sweet Pea drops his hand, looking between them slowly. “Their apartment was crowded and Jubilee asked to stay at my place. I would have taken the couch, but someone was slumming it there,” he explains, sending Fangs a look that the other man waves off. “Nothing happened.”

Fangs raises an unimpressed brow and snorts. “You popped a boner,” he reminds Sweet Pea.

Sweet Pea takes a deep breath through his nose, fighting the urge to throttle his friend. “Fangs, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Okay, first of all,” Joaquin says, glancing between the two of them and settling on Fangs, “I don’t wanna know why you know this.” Fangs opens his mouth to speak, but Joaquin continues before he can somehow make things worse. “Second of all,” he turns to Sweet Pea, “you got hard from sharing a bed? And you think that won’t happen when she takes off her clothes for you?”

Jughead pulls another face at the mention of his sister being naked and Sweet Pea rolls his eyes, wishing they would just drop it. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid this morning.

“Well, as long as her ass isn’t pressed against my crotch I think I’ll be fine,” he tells them sarcastically.

Joaquin frowns at him and raises a brow, apparently surprised by the new information. He glances at Fangs for clarification.

“They were spooning,” he explains.

Nodding, Joaquin slowly turns back to Sweet Pea, considering him for several long seconds. “Man you are in so much trouble,” Joaquin finally tells him, shaking his head almost sadly.

“I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this.” Sweet Pea crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “There’s nothing sexy about figure drawing.” And really, there’s not. Figure drawing can be awkward at first, and it’s definitely intimate, but he definitely wouldn’t call it arousing when he’s trying for the sixth time to shade a face and the model is obviously sweaty and uncomfortable under the studio lights.

“So you’re not going to pop a boner after Jubilee takes her clothes off for you?” Joaquin asks him.

“There’s nothing sexy about figure drawing,” Sweet Pea repeats firmly, rolling his eyes at Fangs remark and trying to ignore the suddenly very prominent thought of Jubilee undressing for him. He takes a long drink of water.

Fangs shoots him an impish look. “There’s something sexy about Jubilee though.”

Jughead looks physically ill at that and Sweet Pea’s fingers curl into a fist as his jaw clenches. Fangs doesn’t bat an eye at the warning look Sweet Pea sends him. Joaquin just shakes his head and murmurs something about them being dumbasses. “Can we just drop it, please?” Sweet Pea grumbles, running a hand down the side of his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.

It’s quiet for a second.

“But what if you have to stop halfway through to rub one out?” Fangs asks.

Exasperated, Sweet Pea stops their waitress as she walks by, suddenly very glad that he has no qualms with day-drinking. “Can I get a rum and coke, please?”

The week passes by far too quickly and before Sweet Pea realizes it it’s Friday.

Normally, he’d have at least made an attempt to start his project by now, but he’s come to realize just how complicated it can be when there’s two schedules that need to align. He’s used to working when inspiration hits him, waiting for that right moment to start, even if it means pushing the limits of a deadline. He’s never been afraid to rush his work. The pressure helps sometimes—keeps him focused.

But this isn’t the kind of project he can rush. Figure drawing takes time. Hours depending on the subject and posing. People can only stay still for so long at a time and it isn’t unheard of for people to take more than one session on a single piece, especially for a higher level class like this. He has three days left to finish and he’s not quite sure if the nerves prickling across his skin are because of the looming deadline or something else.

It’s not that he’s been avoiding the project, exactly—at least, not on purpose—but between his and Jubilee’s work schedules they’ve both been busy. He hasn’t seen much of her since Tuesday night, after he dropped her off back at her place. A few times in the hallways on campus and that was it.

It’s close to that time in the semester where they’re all cramming to finish things and going out of their minds with papers and projects. Jubilee and Jughead have had it the worst, their literature classes kicking their asses as they cram out one paper after the next. It’s not uncommon for the Joneses to disappear for a few days every semester, locking themselves in their rooms and threatening anyone who dares to get close to them.

It happens every semester, but he’s never gotten used to her not being there.

Something cold always creeps into his apartment when she’s gone for more than a few days, the silence coming back when she isn’t there to chase it away. It makes him more irritated than he’d ever admit, but his friends can recognize his moods after so many years of knowing him.

None of them have brought up the nude modeling thing since Wednesday, and Sweet Pea is thankful for that. He wouldn’t tell them, but their teasing got to him more than he was expecting. As much he brushed them off and rolled his eyes they were right about one thing: it is different with Jubilee.

Sweet Pea isn’t a stranger to seeing people naked. He’s had a few girlfriends over the years and was never shy about hooking up with people at parties during his first years on campus. He spent an entire semester taking a figure drawing class where he spent six hours a week drawing various models. The nudity isn’t what makes him nervous about this project. It’s Jubilee.

Not for the first time he considers what this might mean for them. There’s always been a delicate balance between them. Sweet Pea’s always been careful not to let things get too far, even when he catches himself thinking about her more than he should.

He knows why he asked Jubilee to be his model; what he doesn’t know is why she said yes.

And now it’s Friday and the deadline is creeping up on him faster than before. It makes him antsy, irritated, and he barely sits through his morning history and psychology classes without picking a fight with the frat guys in the back of the class who won’t stop talking. Sweet Pea doesn’t even like psychology, but at least it’s something to distract him from thinking about Jubilee being naked.

There’s nothing quite like psychology to kill a boner before it can start.

By the time their professor dismisses them, Sweet Pea is ready to go home and spend his Friday night on the couch watching bad Netflix movies and drinking that bottle of whisky he’s been saving for the right occasion.

He figures frustrated and a little horny is a perfect excuse.

He blames Fangs for putting the idea of asking Jubilee in his head in the first place. Sure, he’d pictured it a few times, imagining her dark hair tickling her soft skin and the way her eyes might catch the light, turning to gold in the late afternoon. It isn’t hard to picture her like that. Jubilee has been in his thoughts for longer than he’d like to admit, there in the back of his mind and creeping up on him when he isn’t careful.

This project has only made it worse.

Sweet Pea slings his bag over his shoulder, intent on bolting from the classroom before any of his friends can stop him, but Fangs catches him before he can get far, tossing an arm around Sweet Pea’s neck and yanking him down slightly. Grunting at the strain on his neck, Sweet Pea glances at Fangs, who grins back cheekily as they leave the classroom.

“So, any plans for tonight?” Fangs asks him casually as Sweet Pea pulls himself out of Fangs’ hold and sends him an irritated look.

He already doesn’t like where this is going. The last time that Fangs asked if he had plans, Sweet Pea ended up in Cancun during spring break and was nearly arrested. He’s pretty sure he and Fangs are both wanted criminals in Mexico now. “Home,” he tells Fangs firmly, rolling his shoulders and straightening to his full height, “to drink and ignore my responsibilities as an adult.”

Fangs clucks his tongue, sending him a critical look. “No you’re not,” he decides, making Sweet Pea roll his eyes. Fangs knocks his shoulder against Sweet Pea’s, grinning and wiggling his brows. “We are going to a party tonight.”

“Fuck that,” is Sweet Pea’s immediate reply. He stopped letting Fangs talk him into going to parties their second year on campus after deciding the nasty hangovers and shitty hookups weren’t worth it. He’s only been to a few since then, and he’s regretted it almost immediately every time.

“Oh, come on, Pea.” Fangs heaves a dramatic sigh, clearly put out by the quick dismissal. “SAE is throwing a rager tonight and I need you as my wingman. Kevin and Joaquin are going on a date tonight and you know Jughead can’t wingman for shit.” Sweet Pea will give him that. Jughead is just about the worst wingman ever and is more likely to start a brawl than anything else.

He quirks a brow at Fangs. “Sigma? Really?” he asks, shaking his head in disappointment. “They’re all assholes.” Sweet Pea went to one Sigma party a few semesters back and all he got out of it was a morning spent in the bathroom afterwards. That’s not something he needs a repeat of anytime soon.

“Yeah, but they throw excellent parties and hot people show up,” Fangs reminds him, waving off his concerns.

“Why can’t you just use Tinder like everyone else?” Sweet Pea asks, annoyance dripping from his voice. It would be so much easier for the rest of them if Fangs would just take up online dating instead of attempting to hookup with anyone with a pulse and pretty eyes.

Fangs shoots him a pleading look and Sweet Pea has to look away, steadfastly avoiding his puppy-dog eyes. “Come on man,” Fangs tries again, “you promised you’d help me out after last time!” Sweet Pea snorts, fairly certain he didn’t promise Fangs shit. “Besides it beats drinking whiskey and jerking yourself off.”

“Isn’t that what you usually do on a Friday night, Fogarty?” a familiar voice teases from behind them. Sweet Pea’s head snaps around, his eyes finding a dark, amber gaze already looking at him. His whole body relaxes when he sees Jubilee standing behind them, a grin spreading across her face. She glances between them, looking comfortable in a pair of dark jeans and a big sweater.

“Jubilee!” Fangs greets her excitedly, crossing the small space between them and tossing his arms around her in a bear-hug, making her giggle. A fond smile slips onto Sweet Pea’s face as he looks at her. “Where’ve you been, girl?” Fangs asks as he releases her. “You disappeared on us there!”

“Clarkson assigned a paper due today and you know how he is,” she explains, waving off Fangs concern. She glances over at Sweet Pea, her lips curling into a smile. “I just ran down here to drop off a book with Jughead, figured I’d see what you two were up to.”

He’s a little surprised to see her this far away from the cluster of literature classes on the third floor until he remembers that Clarkson doesn’t have classes on days papers are due, a small mercy from the asshole professor.

Sweet Pea steps up to them and places a hand on her back, guiding her closer to him as students mill around them. A few of the frat guys glance at her as they walk by and Sweet Pea glares at them over her head, letting his hand linger on her hip until they turn away.

“I hate Clarkson,” Fangs mumbles off-handedly, wrinkling his nose at the mention of the professor.

Sweet Pea snorts, trying to ignore the way Jubilee leans into his side. “Why?” Sweet Pea asks, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Because he failed you?”

“Yes, because he failed me!” Fangs snaps at him, a sour look on his face. Despite it being two years since Fangs had a class with the professor, he’s never been one to let a grudge go so easily. “That paper was solid and you both know it!”

Jubilee shakes her head. “You wrote it two hours before it was due,” she reminds Fangs, crossing her arms when he looks at her and pouts. “What else were you expecting? You knew Clarkson was a hardass.”

Fangs just waves off her comment, a retort ready on his mouth before he pauses seeming to realize something very important. He looks down at Jubilee before his gaze flicks up to Sweet Pea instead. “Wait, does that mean you’re free tonight?” he asks Jubilee, suddenly excited.

Sweet Pea swears under his breath and groans, already knowing where this is heading.

Jubilee glances up at him, raising a brow. “I don’t have to speed write a paper,” she tells Fangs slowly, “so no, I don’t have anything going on. Why?”

“How would you feel about going to a party tonight?” Fangs asks her, ignoring the glare Sweet Pea sends him. It’s a dirty trick and Fangs knows it too. Sweet Pea doesn’t let any of the girls go to parties without him there to watch out for them, knowing how college parties can get.

Jubilee considers it for a moment, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Fine,” she decides, making Sweet Pea groan, “but I’m not playing beer pong.”

“Deal!” Fangs tells her, clapping Sweet Pea on the shoulder before backing away with a grin, having to run to the theater department. “I’ll see you guys tonight!” he tells them, then points to Jubilee. “Wear something sexy!”

“Don’t I always?” Jubilee calls back to him.

Sweet Pea sighs through his nose, fairly certain they’re trying to kill him.

Sweet Pea picks at a loose thread in Jubilee’s couch as he waits for her to finish getting ready, trying not to disturb the cat sleeping on his chest even as he grows restless. It’s been almost a half-hour since he showed up at the girls’ apartment, planning to walk with them the entire way to the party even though his apartment is closer.

He should have known better than to think they’d be ready by the time he got there.

“You know, you don’t actually have to dress up for a frat party, right?” Sweet Pea calls to Jubilee down the hall, where she’s getting ready in her room, hoping she’ll change her mind about wearing something nice and just go in jeans like she usually does. “Everyone is going to be too wasted to remember anything tomorrow anyway.” He’s pretty sure he won’t be able to focus on anything else tonight if she wears one of the flashy little dresses he knows are tucked into the back of her closet.

Jubilee scoffs at him from the other room and the cat on his chest opens one bleary eye to glare at him. “Just because you wear the same leather and flannel combination to every party doesn’t mean the rest of us have to,” she reminds him.

He rolls his eyes and the cat stands up, stepping on his ribs and stretching before hopping off the couch and stalking away, clearly bored of waiting with him. Sweet Pea watches Howard as the cat trots off into the kitchen just as Toni walks out. She does her best to avoid the cat, but Howard still hisses when he sees her.

“Asshole,” she murmurs, glaring at the retreating feline before plopping down on the chair in the living space and pulling out her phone.

Sweet Pea raises a brow from his spot on the couch. “No Nat tonight?” he questions. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it, knowing it’s only Fangs wondering where they are and why they aren’t already at the party and why he has to wait for them alone. If Fangs didn’t want to wait by himself he should have waited with the rest of them.

“Nah,” Toni shakes her head, still typing furiously. “She had some project to finish up. She and a few other ceramics majors are going to pull an all nighter and hope they don’t break the kiln like they did last year. Or each others pieces. Nat was pissed last year when that freshman’s piece exploded and took hers with it.”

He hums in agreement, remembering that particular incident. He’s pretty sure Natalia would have killed the poor kid if one of the other majors hadn’t stopped her. The whole thing was an accident, but it’s still ridiculously shitty when something like that happens. Sweet Pea had one of his watercolors absolutely drenched last year by someone that wasn’t paying attention, so he gets it.

“So how’s your project coming along?” Toni asks him casually, glancing up at him over her phone, a little smile on her face. “Jubilee said you asked her, but she hasn’t said much since.”

Sweet Pea shrugs. “It’s been a busy week,” he tells her, brushing it off. It’s part of the reason, but when Toni purses her lips, Sweet Pea knows she doesn’t quite believe him.

Toni narrows her eyes at him, opening her mouth, and Sweet Pea groans, not wanting to get into this conversation with Toni, of all people. Not only is she practically his younger sister, she’s also one of Jubilee’s best friends. And talking about Jubilee agreeing to model naked for him is edging towards very dangerous territory.

Toni’s gaze shifts to something above him, her lips twisting into a large grin. “Damn, girl, you look hot tonight,” she jokes. Frowning, Sweet Pea sits up on his elbows, peering over the back of the couch.

He nearly chokes when he sees Jubilee coming down the hall. Sweet Pea’s heart lodges in his throat as his eyes trace down her frame, taking in the short, tight, plum colored dress clinging to every inch of her. The cut of the dress leaves her legs bare and her heels make them look so much longer than usual, and even from here he can see a teasing amount of her cleavage that makes his mouth go dry.

Jubilee rolls her eyes, a grin pulling at her mouth at Toni’s complement. “You say that all the time, Toni,” she chastises, amusement lighting up her eyes.

“Yeah, because it’s true.”

Shaking her head, Jubilee’s gaze shifts from her roommate to Sweet Pea, catching him staring as she comes around the couch into the living space. Something he doesn’t recognize flickers across her face, but it’s gone just as quickly as she sends him a sweet smile. “Hey, Sweets,” she starts almost too casually, “zip me up? I can’t reach.”

The question hits him in the gut and his breath catches.

He blinks at her owlishly as she grins at him, taking her lower lip between her teeth. Toni snorts, muttering “unbelievable” as Sweet Pea sits up on the couch. He hesitates for just a second before standing, ignoring Toni’s blatant amusement as he steps over to Jubilee, who shifts around so he can reach the zipper on her dress.

Sweet Pea swallows as she brushes her hair to the side, letting the wavy strands drape over her left shoulder. It’s hard not to stare at the open expanse of her back: soft, creamy skin and the gentle curve of her spine leading up to her neck. The zipper is low on the small of her back, the delicate, off-shoulder straps the only thing holding up the front of her dress, and he nearly groans when he sees she isn’t wearing a bra.

“Where’s Lydia?” Toni asks Jubilee, crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair.

“Finishing her hair.” Sweet Pea’s left hand settles on Jubilee’s waist and she takes a sudden breath. His finger find the zipper, big and a little clumsy as he takes it between his thumb and first digit. “She should be done in just a minute.”

Toni hums. “I’m surprised she wanted to come tonight.”

Sweet Pea tugs on the zipper slowly and Jubilee shivers as his knuckles brush against her soft skin. “She doesn’t,” Jubilee tells Toni, laughing lightly, “but I’m getting really close to throwing that piano out of the window.”

“Well at least you got that paper done early.” Amusement is thick in Toni’s voice, like she’s trying not to laugh, and Jubilee mumbles her agreement.

Even with her heels, Jubilee is still so much shorter than him, and from where he’s standing behind her he has an almost perfect view down the front of her dress. His eyes are drawn to the soft rise and fall of her chest as Jubilee’s back arches under his touch, and he rips his gaze away from the teasing amount of her cleavage on display. His fingers linger as he reaches the top of the dress, his knuckles brushing against the faint, silver scar on the back of her shoulder.

She looks at him over her shoulder but makes no move to pull away from his touch, even as his thumb traces the mark on her skin. “Thanks, Sweets,” she whispers, breathy and so soft he wouldn’t hear her if she wasn’t so close. Distantly, he realizes she smells like roses.

“Yeah,” he murmurs back, staring a little too long at her lips.

Lydia bursts out of the bathroom, shouting “I’m ready!”, and Sweet Pea yanks his hands away from Jubilee, shoving them into his pockets as he turns around.

“About damn time, Boyd,” he jokes, shaking off the tension and making her roll her eyes at him in annoyance. He glances back at Toni and Jubilee as Lydia walks into the living room, nearly tipping over as she fixes the strap on one of her heels. “You guys ready to go? Fangs is gonna start bitching soon if we don’t leave.”

Toni sends him an incredulous look before glancing at Jubilee and shaking her head.

The frat house is already crowded by the time the four of them get there, Fangs waiting impatiently for them out front, his foot tapping against the front porch. Music blares from inside and Sweet Pea is only a little surprised the cops haven’t already been called on Sigma. It wouldn’t be the first their parties have been shut down early and it’s only a matter of time before they get more than a slap on the wrist.

Sweet Pea can’t say he’ll be too disappointed when that happens.

When he makes a face at the house Jubilee rolls her eyes and grabs him by the hand, pulling him along behind her. Sweet Pea follows after her willingly, fighting to keep his eyes off her ass in her short dress. He catches Toni’s eye as the walk up the porch steps and she smirks at him. Sweet Pea pretends he doesn’t see it as his fingers lace through Jubilee’s.

“You guys are late,” Fangs calls to them as they get close, hands on his hips and an irritated look on his face. “We agreed on ten.” Sweet Pea rolls his eyes, knowing it’s not any later than fifteen after and Fangs is just being a big baby over nothing.

“Blame them not me,” Sweet Pea huffs as he’s led up the stairs. Getting Jubilee, Toni, and Lydia anywhere is like trying to herd cats and he’s pretty sure they do it on purpose just to fuck with him. That’s something they would absolutely do.

Fangs ignores him. “Get your game face on, Pea.” He reaches around Jubilee to slap Sweet Pea on the shoulder. “We’re playing beer pong in fifteen and I am not losing to some Sigma assholes in front of pretty girls.” Before Sweet Pea can argue about not signing up for a beer pong match, Fangs yanks open the front door and tosses his arms around Toni and Lydia’s shoulders. Both girls roll their eyes but let him lead them inside the frat house. Fangs leans down to whisper something in Lydia’s ear that makes her gasp and shove at his shoulder, making Fangs and Toni both laugh as Lydia turns red.

Sweet Pea waits for Jubilee to follow after and pull him along with her, but she doesn’t. He glances down at her when she hesitates and a frown twists at his lips when he sees an odd look in her eyes. It takes him a second to remember she hasn’t been to a frat party since their second year, after the time Kevin had to call him to pick her up.

“You okay, Doll?” he asks her, voice low against her ear as he ducks his head to her level. A couple of guys come up behind them and Sweet Pea guides her to the side, away from the door.

Her fingers squeeze around his. “Yeah,” she tells him, still staring at the front door, eyes far away. His palm presses against her hip and she jolts slightly, turning back to him with a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sweet Pea keeps his hand on her hip, keeping her steady. “Jubilee, if you want to leave…” he trails off, leaving the offer hanging in the air. If she doesn’t want to be here he’ll take her anywhere else she wants to be. He can deal with Fangs later.

“I’m fine, Sweets,” she repeats. Jubilee’s hand slides up his arm to squeeze his bicep, her touch reassuring as she tilts her head back to look him in the eyes, a more genuine smile on her lips. The nervous glint he saw before is gone as quickly as it was there and he relaxes as her thumb strokes back and forth across his flannel over-shirt. “I promise.”

He sighs but nods, and she stretches up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. He leans into her without really thinking about it and Jubilee’s hand slides back down his arm. Sweet Pea lets her pull him into the frat house despite the uneasy feeling swirling in his stomach.

Somehow fifteen minutes turns into nearly an hour as Sweet Pea waits for Fangs to find him in the house. He isn’t particularly interested in playing beer pong so that Fangs can find someone to hookup with tonight, content to stand against one of the walls in the open living space and keep an eye on the girls as they have a good time. Parties have never been Sweet Pea’s thing. They’re too loud and crowded and are only good for lousy hookups and cheep beer.

And he still has the good whiskey back at his place.

Laughter rumbles in his chest as he stares at the girls, nursing a bottle of beer. Lydia has downed two fruity drinks in the last hour and is already acting a little goofy, pulling out dance moves that make everyone else in the room look like professionals. Jubilee is laughing too hard to finish her own drink and Toni has her phone out, filming Lydia and offering her encouragements.

“Sweet Pea!” His eyes snap away from the girls as a hand grabs him by the arm and yanks him away from the wall. Sweet Pea stumbles slightly, nearly spilling his beer, and he shoots Fangs an irritated look when his friend tries to drag him across the room. “I’ve been looking for you for like twenty minutes,” Fangs huffs, glaring up at him half-heartedly. Sweet Pea’s brows narrow in confusion and Fangs rolls his eyes. “We’re up dude!”

Snorting, Sweet Pea downs the rest of his drink and leaves the empty bottle on the nearest surface. He casts another look back at the girls to make sure they’re okay before following his friend. “You do know you’re shit at beer pong, right?” he reminds Fangs.

The only reason the two of them ever won at beer pong back in high school is because Sweet Pea used to play on the basketball team, and he hasn’t done that in almost four years. Besides, the only good part about beer pong is watching Fangs suck at it.

“Fuck you, Pea,” Fangs shoves at his shoulder, barely moving him, and Sweet Pea laughs. “I’m great at beer pong!”

“You’re good at losing at beer pong,” he corrects. “I think Lydia is better at beer pong than you, and one time she last by over twenty points playing mini-golf.”

Fangs rolls his eyes. “Mini-golf isn’t exactly a sport.”

“And beer pong is?”

“Irrelevant.” Fangs waves him off. “A hot blonde offered to kiss the winning team and she’s exactly my type.” He looks up at Sweet Pea, wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously and Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. The only qualification for someone to be Fangs’ type is that they’re breathing. He doesn’t exactly have quality standards.

He doesn’t complain as Fangs leads him over to the beer pong table set up on the far side of the room. There’s a decent amount of people clustered around the table as a couple of Sigma guys set up the game, spacing the cups out evenly. Sweet Pea isn’t sure what’s entertaining about beer pong aside from watching the players get drunk off their asses, but he doesn’t think about it for long.

One game should be enough for someone in the crowd to want to fuck Fangs, and then Sweet Pea can go back to drinking and skulking in the corner of the room.

He and Fangs slip through the crowd and stop at one end of the table. A pair of Sigma brothers glance up when they see Fangs, clearly recognizing him from somewhere, but their eyes widen just a little when they see Sweet Pea and it makes him grin and straighten even further, happy to intimidate a couple of asshole frat guys.

“This your partner, Fogarty?” one of them asks as they walk up. “You weren’t fucking kidding,” he mumbles. Sweet Pea quirks a brow, but doesn’t question it. He’s better off not knowing what Fangs says about him when he’s not around.

“I’m Kyle,” the other one says. He’s shorter, blond with a good-natured grin on his face and definitely less sober than his friend. “That’s Tyler.” He gestures to his partner, who just rolls his eyes and turns back to the setup.

“Sweet Pea,” is all he says in return, already ready for the game to be over. He turns away from Kyle, searching the room and relaxing when he sees the girls chatting near one of the walls, the three of them laughing about something.

He only half-pays attention to the game, even as it draws a slightly larger crowd. The girls never join, content on the other side of the room where it’s less crowded, and Sweet Pea is angled in a way that he can keep an eye on them while he plays.

Sweet Pea hasn’t missed a shot yet, and the game is going by painfully slow. Fangs is more tipsy than he is, a little wobbly on his feet, and he keeps missing his shots, but they aren’t losing the match yet. The Sigma team is struggling just as much. Kyle is about as sober as Fangs, but the other one, Tyler, is definitely the better player of the two, and he’s pretty sure Fangs is going to be in a world of hurt in the morning because of it.

They aren’t playing a traditional game of beer pong and Sweet Pea isn’t exactly impressed by the house rules. When someone sinks a shot a member of the other team drinks, and while Sweet Pea is buzzed at best because of Kyle’s poor shots, Fangs isn’t doing quite as well.

A smile pulls at his lips when he watches Jubilee throw her head back in laughter at something Toni says. Her eyes crinkle at the edges, a wide grin spread across her face. The low lighting makes her look hazy and his eyes drag along her frame slowly, lingering on the hem of her dress for a moment. Jubilee turns suddenly, her eyes meeting his across the room, so much darker than usual and they drag him in deep. Her smile shifts into something soft when she catches him staring, and he should be embarrassed, but he can’t bring himself to look away from her.

“Which one is your girl?” His eyes snap away from her at the sudden question. Across the table, Tyler is staring in the direction Sweet Pea was, eyes following the girls for a moment before sliding back to Sweet Pea lazily. “You keep looking at them.”

Sweet Pea’s brows furrow slightly, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Just friends,” he tells the other man after a moment, unsure why he’s asking. “I’ve known them since high school.”

Tyler nods slowly, gaze drifting back to the girls as Fangs sinks his shot. “Good to know,” Tyler tells him, picking up the cup from the table and fishing out the ball Fangs sunk. “Any of them single?” He downs the beer.

Sweet Pea clenches his jaw. “No.” Fangs glances at him, quirking a brow, but Sweet Pea ignores it, staring at the man across the table.

“Shame,” Tyler says, tossing the ball into the air and catching it again. He looks across the room at Jubilee, Lydia, and Toni, staring for a little too long, and Sweet Pea’s long fingers curl into tight fists. “The one in the purple dress is a nice piece of ass,” he mentions casually. “She has some really nice cocksucker lips.”

A dark, bitter laugh bubbles up from Sweet Pea’s chest as his opponent mentions Jubilee. He looks up at Tyler and the humor immediately slips from his face. “You talk about her like that again and I’m gonna take that ping pong ball and shove it down your throat.” The threat draws a few murmurs from the crowd but he doesn’t give a damn. “Now take your shot.”

The game is tense after that, and his irritation makes him sloppy, which only drags it out longer. Eventually, they’re down to one cup on each side and it’s Fangs shot. If he doesn’t sink it they’ll definitely lose the game. Sweet Pea wouldn’t care much, but he’s tired and pissed and a little drunk, and he doesn’t want to see the Sigma team win.

“Dammit, Fangs,” Sweet Pea huffs as he leans against the ping pong table, watching as Fangs sways slightly in place, one arm raised to throw. “Just throw the fucking ball.”

“Fuck you, Sweet Pea, there are like three of them,” Fangs hisses back a him, squinting to get a better look at the cup. “I can’t see shit.”

“I swear to god, Fangs, if you let them win—”

Fangs squeezes his eyes shut and tosses the ball. Sweet Pea’s eyes widen as he follows the ball, his mouth dropping open when it drops into the last cup of beer with a gentle splash.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, dimly registering the crowd cheering and the frat boys swearing as they lose. Fangs lets out a drunken “whoop!” and punches his shoulder, but Sweet Pea only stares at the cup in bewilderment, smug satisfaction curling through him when Tyler downs the drink and crumples it in his fist.

He’s eyes seek out Jubilee in the crowd without him really thinking about it, and maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the fact that she’s already looking at him, but Sweet Pea breaks into a wide grin that she mirrors. He pushes away from the table, swaying for a second as he’s suddenly hit with the sheer amount of alcohol he’s had in the last hour. Jubilee’s eyes flicker with amusement as he stumbles and she breaks away from the girls, heading towards him.

Sweet Pea’s chest tightens as he stares at her, heart pounding harder the closer she gets.

Soft hands cup his face and he’s suddenly ripped away from Jubilee. Before he really realizes what’s happening there’s a pair of lips on his, fingers clenching in his hair and yanking him down. He inhales sharply, stiffening at the unexpected kiss and the hands running through his hair and cupping his cheek.

He doesn’t see the way Jubilee’s steps falter halfway to him or the open, raw hurt the flickers in her eyes when the stranger kisses him, and by the time he pulls away from the drunk blonde that quickly moves onto Fangs, Jubilee is already gone.

It’s a little after midnight and he’s back where he started, leaning against the far wall, eyes searching the room. It’s only become more crowded as the night’s gone on, and he can’t find any of his friends. There’s a nervous pinch in his gut when he doesn’t immediately find the girls, but he knows them well enough to know they’ve stuck together. And Toni promised to stay sober for the night, so at least one of them is making good decisions. He’s not sure where Fangs went off to either. Last Sweet Pea saw of him, he was making out with the blonde that kissed Sweet Pea after the beer pong match.

“Sweet Pea!” His blinks in confusion at the sound of his name, his eyes narrowing when he sees Lydia shoving her way through the packed room.

“Lydia?” he asks, a tinge of relief in his voice. “What are you—”

She cuts him off before he can finish, grabbing his hand and yanking him back in the direction she came from. Sweet Pea lets her pull him around, trying to follow the rush off words slipping out of her. “I don’t know what to do,” she tells him, voice higher than usual, almost scared. “Toni said to get you. I don’t—”

“Lydia—”

“Something’s wrong with Jubilee,” she tells him, and it’s like the ground is yanked out from beneath him. He doesn’t say a word as she pulls him into the kitchen and his eyes immediately find Toni and Jubilee on the floor. Jubilee is trembling, breaths coming in wheezing gasps as Toni strokes her hair and murmurs quietly in her ear.

Sweet Pea’s heart stops when he sees her like that, already knowing what’s wrong. “What happened?” he asks as he pulls out of Lydia’s grip and drops onto his knees in front of Jubilee. Toni looks up at him, relief in her eyes,

“I found her taking shots with Fangs and then some asshole grabbed her and—” She cuts off, shaking her head as anger flashes in her eyes.

Sweet Pea swears under his breath, anger surging inside him, but he swallows it back. It’s not what he needs to focus on right now. “Hey,” he coos, reaching for Jubilee slowly. She flinches, sucking in a sharp breath, and he places a hand on her bare leg, trying to get her to look at him. “Hey, Doll, it’s just me,” he murmurs. “Jubilee, it’s just me.”

“Sweets?” she breathes back, his name soft and so shaky that it breaks his head. Jubilee peers up at him through watery eyes, and this time she doesn’t move as he reaches for her, placing a hand on her cheek and letting his thumb brush against her skin.

He tries to smile for her. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispers, hushing her gently, wanting her to focus on him and not the crowd of people that’s taken notice of her panic attack.

“Is she okay?” He glances away from Jubilee for a second to look at the stranger who’s come up to them, concerned. Sweet Pea recognizes a Sigma insignia on his jacket.

“Is there somewhere I can take her?” he asks, slipping an arm around Jubilee’s back and lifting her, holding her close to his chest as he stands up. Her breathing is choppy, too fast against his neck, and her fingers clench in his flannel. The Sigma member nods at him, gesturing for Sweet Pea to follow him.

Sweet Pea sits with her in some strangers bedroom for too long, Jubilee’s back pressed up against his chest as she trembles, a shivering mess in his arms. He talks her through it, whispering in her ear and stroking her hair, reminding her to take deep breaths. Nails dig into his arm as her breathing slowly evens, her wheezing gasps crumbling into sobs. He rocks them gently, lips pressed against her temple.

It takes almost a half-hour for Jubilee to calm down and by then she’s practically boneless against him, exhausted. Sweet Pea brushes her hair away from her neck and she sighs.

“You okay, Baby?” he murmurs, gently running his hands up and down her arms as she hiccups. Jubilee curls further into his chest, one of her hands blindly groping until she finds his. Her fingers squeeze around his tightly and she nods jerkily. Her heart is still pounding in her chest, a little too fast, and he laces their fingers together. He need to get her out of here. Take her somewhere else.

She’s quiet for a long time. The only sound in the room is the thumbing bass from downstairs, muffled by the closed door. Finally, Jubilee shifts, moving just enough to look up at him, her eyes bloodshot and wet. “Take me home, Sweets?”

He knows she doesn’t mean her apartment.

The walk back to Sweet Pea’s apartment is quiet. Jubilee’s arms are loose around his neck and her head is lolled against his shoulder, her dark hair tickling at his collarbone. He figures she must have fallen asleep sometime during the walk, even if it wasn’t far between his place and the frat party, only ten blocks at best, not far from campus. It’s not surprising really, that she would fall asleep. She’s been busy all week and between the drinking and her panic attack earlier she’s bound to be exhausted.

It would have been best if they just stayed in tonight, but Fangs always has had a way with persuasion.

Jubilee doesn’t stir until he shifts her in his grasp, grip tight on her back as he pulls his keys from his pocket, trying not to jostle her too much as he unlocks the front door. She makes a quiet sound against his ear, pressing her face deeper into the curve of his shoulder. Sweet Pea hushes her gently, one hand rubbing her back soothingly as he steps into his apartment and kicks the door shut behind him, wincing at the bang that echoes in the otherwise silent room.

“Sweets?” she mumbles against his neck, warm breath sending an aching shiver down his spine. Her grip around him tightens just the slightest, limp arms moving, her fingertips dragging up his back over his flannel.

“What is it, Doll?” he murmurs back, dropping her shoes just inside of the door and tossing his keys onto the little side-table. Sweet Pea hooks an arm under her thighs, hiking her up higher as she starts to slip from his arms. “You feelin’ any better?” She doesn’t respond and he isn’t sure if she’s asleep again or not. “You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow, Jubilee, you know that? You’ve never been able to handle tequila and you thought matching shots with Fangs was a good idea?” He chuckles. It’s always easier on her not to mention the panic attacks. Usually she doesn’t remember them the next day. “You should know better than to let him talk you into—”

“Sweet Pea.” He cuts off abruptly, glancing down at her as she shifts in his grasp, pulling her head away from his shoulder. She looks up at him, blinking slowly, half-awake and exhausted from crying earlier, and there’s something he’s never seen before in her big, dark eyes. Something soft and fond, but determined. It makes him pause just a few steps into his apartment, the look in her eyes pinning him in place.

He frowns. “What’s wrong, Jubilee—”

Sweet Pea barely gets her name out before she surges upwards, lips sealing over his in a gentle kiss. He inhales sharply through his nose as one of her hands fists in his hair and Jubilee pulls him down to meet her. For a second he can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think as her mouth moves against his, slow and coaxing. Her chest presses against his and her thighs flex around his hips at the same time as she releases a soft, quivering sound against his lips.

A thud echoes through the apartment as he presses her against his front door, mouth moving against hers frantically. Sweet Pea’s heart pounds erratically in his chest, blood roaring in his ears as he’s lost in the taste of her, something like honey, sweet and thick on his tongue. Jubilee’s arches into his touch, her chest pressing flush against his as her hands rake through his hair, pulling harshly and drawing a low grunt from Sweet Pea. He grips at her thighs, her hips, wanting her closer, and a low, throaty sound rumbles through him when her legs tighten around his waist.

His mouth leaves her to wander along her soft skin, lips on her jaw and trailing lower as she breathes heavily against his ear. He suckles at her neck, leaving faint, red marks in his wake as her fingers dig into his shoulders. Sweet Pea presses her harder against the door and she sighs. His name leaves her lips in a breathy moan and a sick feeling curls in his stomach as he realizes what he’s doing.

One of his hands leaves her soft skin, his fist banging against the door beside his head as he rips his mouth away from her racing pulse. The little bruises on her neck make his gut clench painfully, and he’d kick himself if she wasn’t still wrapped around him, her fingers playing with his hair and her legs wound around his hips.

Jubilee peers up at him with bleary eyes, still rimmed slightly with red, evidence of the party’s events. Sweet Pea immediately feels like shit. Hot, white guilt cuts through him like a knife.

“Dammit!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a second before looking down at her again. “You’re drunk,” he tells her, a lump growing in his throat as she continues to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He feels like he’s on fire as her fingertips slide across his skin, and Sweet Pea wants nothing more than to lean into her touch, to pull her back into him and taste her skin like he’s wanted to do for years but knew he couldn’t.

But she’s drunk.

There’s a look in her eyes like she wants to deny it, but she’s flushed and unfocused and he knows he’s not sober either. “Yeah,” she finally responds, so much softer than usual, and it makes something in his chest tighten, his heart squeezing painfully beneath his ribs.

“You’re not gonna remember this tomorrow.” She looks up at him sadly and he releases a slow breath through his nose as he pushes away from the door. Jubilee’s grip on him tightens as she’s suddenly airborne again and Sweet Pea cradles her close to his chest with an arm banded around her back. “Right, that’s what I thought.”

He fucked up. It was never supposed to get this far and he fucked up. Sweet Pea knows how she gets when she drinks tequila.

Jubilee drops her head back against his shoulder, her fingers clenching tightly in the back of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, lips tickling the side of his neck just above his Serpent tattoo. She noses at him, curling close against his chest in some sort of apology, and one of his hands slides up to cup the back of her head and stoke her hair.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Baby,” he promises her, sighing.

Sweet Pea carries her through his apartment, moving carefully in the dark, and she’s quiet again by the time he drops her down onto his bed. He drapes the blanket over her as she curls up, a soft, content sound slipping from her as she sinks into the mattress. Crouching beside the bed, Sweet Pea brushes her hair away from her face, a bitter smile tugging at his lips when she leans into his touch.

He pulls his hand away from her and drops down to the floor, his back pressed against the bed as he stares into the darkness in the room. There’s a dull ache already forming behind his eyes and Sweet Pea knows tomorrow is going to be a shitty day. The exhaustion of tonight is already weighing on him and he can only hope that Jubilee drank enough to not remember any of it.

Already he wants to forget.

Rubbing a tired hand down the side of his face, Sweet Pea pulls at his hair painfully. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head back against the bed. Jubilee’s soft breathing and his erratic heartbeat are the only sounds in the room, and Sweet Pea basks in the silence. When he finally forces his eyes open again the first thing he sees is his large sketchbook resting on the easel in the corner of his room.

#riverdale #sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea imagine #serpentcentral #sweet pea fic #oc: jubilee jones #swubilee #fic: art school #fic: focal point

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orpheusmegafictions · 6 years ago

Text

John and Seth Size Matters Chapter 2

John and Seth: SIZE Matters; chapter 2

Seth marched down the narrow street his massive size now dwarfing the surrounding buildings. His elephantine tread caused the alarms on parked cars to sound, and the foundations of the storefronts trembled. His impressive and gravity defying belly lead the way. The afternoon sun shown down on him causing the light sheen of sweat all over his naked body to glisten. The round globes of his monolithic ass bounced with each jumbo foot step. The area was quickly being vacated by any would be onlookers. His eyes fixed on the McDonald's that was now standing abandoned. He didn't bother to look behind to see if John was following. The gnawing hunger in his newly fattened and overgrown body was too consuming. He approached the empty structure and bent down to grab the roof with both hands. As easily as he could have removed the lid from a can of food the roof crumbled and came way as he lifted up.

He set the roof aside and looked around him to see if there was enough room to plant his ample backside without causing further destruction. It was a tight squeeze but he managed to bring his immense weight down onto the ground to sit cross-legged, his belly spilling out to cover his groin and most of his thighs. The edifices of the buildings around him pressed against the fat of his back, ass and the sides of his belly. He then reached down and began to pluck all the food that had been left behind by both staff and patrons. The food was comically small in comparison to him but he didn't care. All he could think about was satiating his hunger. He brought handfuls of burgers, fries, toppings, and anything else that was edible to his gaping maw to swallow them whole. Most of the food wasn't even out of the wrappers but as his size that posed no problem.

He was so centered on his task that he didn't even notice that John was coming up to his position. John was wearing a scowl on his handsome face that belied the frustration and discomfort of his current situation. John had never asked to be turned into a giant, and especially not a giant that was so FAT. He was still making some attempt at modesty as he tried to keep one hand or both covering his genitals. Though with the size and girth of his monstrous belly it was difficult to keep his hands in place. He tried to walk gently to keep the noise down but also to keep the bountiful amount of lard on his body from jiggling sloshing like a waterbed. And yet, in spite of his attempt to practically tip toe down the road his belly wiggled and shook along with his ass, thighs, and the fat around his pecs. When he reached Seth his scowl turned to a look of disgust.

“My god, aren't you big enough!” He chided. “We've been turned into a couple of hideous freaks and all you can do is stuff your face.” John blushed a deep crimson again as he remembered the suddenness of his transformation and what a sight he must be to behold standing naked and bulging in the middle of downtown LA.

John's comment seemed to snap Seth out of his gorging trance. He shrugged. “Hey man I'm starving.” He replied. “I think being this big as really increased my appetite.” Then a deep rumble emanated from John's protuberant belly, which solicited a chuckle from Seth. “Sounds like it did the same to you.” He said as he reached out a hand and poked a mammoth finger into John's perfectly round and impossibly deep belly hole. Seth's finger slid all the way into it up to the last knuckle but he could tell there was still more room in there.

John removed one hand from his groin to slap Seth's hand away. “Cut that out!” He admonished. “I don't see how you can be so bloody cavalier about all this.” As he looked down at Seth his expression of annoyance shifted to a look of worry. “What if eating more makes us bigger? I don't want to grow any larger or fatter, I just want this nightmare over.” He looked around himself to see if any authroties or worse, the army, was on it's way to them. “Maybe if we just wait it out we can shrink back down to normal.”

Seth paused his gorging to scratch the side of his belly. “I don't think we're gonna shrink back down man, this all feels kinda permanent.” He tossed another handful of food supplies in his mouth and swallowed them down. “You might as well make the best of it like me.”

“The best of it!” John shot back. “And how do you intend to pay for all the food you're stuffing yourself with? Or the property damage we've caused.”

The question solicited another shrug from Seth. “They can bill me.” He said with a smirk. John looked around again nervously anticipating the arrival of men that would surely be ready to cut them both down on sight. But the feeling of hunger was growing in his gut and he began to think that starving himself probably wouldn't undo what had been done to him. He sighed and relinquished. He removed his hands from his groin, content to just let it all hang out and looked to the ground to see if he could find a way to join Seth without reducing anything to rubble.

Squeezing in as tightly as Seth, John managed to bring his bulk down onto his haunches and sit on the black pavement of the road. His belly spread out onto his thighs much like Seth's concealing his genitals, which gave him some relief not to be so exposed. Deciding to forgo hesitation he reached into the dilapidated building and began to join Seth in the eating. At first it was awkward to swallow food whole, while most of it was still in packaging but he fell into a rhythm with Seth until all that remained within the structure was bare shelves and metal equipment. John rubbed his belly hoping the hunger would subside but it was still gnawing on his insides.

“Bloody hell, I'm still hungry.” He said as he winced.

Seth didn't seem to be any less relieved of his stabbing hunger pains. “Guess we're gonna have to clean out a few places before we're full.” He glanced a ways down the road to see other fast food establishments and restaurants along the street. “Might as well.” He said before lifting himself off the ground to standing position. He misjudged the difficulty in lifting such a fat body and stumbled forward crushing the side of an adjacent building. “Oops.” He said sheepishly. He brought his bulk to stand upright and began heading toward the next food place.

John groaned. “For Christ's sake.” He began to bring himself to standing and had to do so slowly bringing one knee out first. Unfortunately that tactic didn't work out as well as he planned because doing so made his amply fluffy buttock in contact with a few street lights and traffic stop. They toppled over like matchsticks crashing into several cars along the street. “Damn it.” He grumbled before heading in Seth's direction. “Seth wait up.” He said.

For the next hour the two giant tubs of lard ransacked the numerous food establishments along the street. Rending the roofs off the respective buildings and devouring everything edible within. At some point John had noticed that his member had gone soft. He was thankful that his body decided it wasn't going to revel in the changes that had overtaken him, at least that was some hope that he wasn't actually enjoying all this. As they finished cleaning out a Burger King, John began to feel the terrible pangs of hunger subside. He was grateful that neither of them had ballooned out any bigger or fatter from the gorging. His belly was still immensely round and fat but it didn't look to be growing any larger. The fat of his thighs, ass, arms, and pecs didn't seem to swell either so perhaps he was simply going to stay at his current size. Judging from the scale of the buildings around them he guess they had to be a least 50 feet tall each.

Seth sighed contentedly as he finished what remained within the restaurant and leaned back to allow his belly plenty of room. He was in a dazed kind of euphoria and didn't seem to care that when he leaned back another building was pulverized to dust by his mighty back and ass. He spread his legs apart allow his mammoth gut to take up all available space between them. Then a deafening belch erupted from his gullet as he rubbed his belly in slow circles with his hands.

“Urrrrrrrrrhhhhhpppppppp!” The belch rolled on for what seemed like several minutes, rattling the windows of every store front, causing a few of them to shatter completely. He grinned a dopey grin. “Man that felt good.” He exclaimed.

John frowned at him. “You're such a.....” But he was unable to finish his sentence as another monster belch escaped his own mouth. “Errrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuupppp!” His belch must have been a stronger decibel because this time all the glass in every building around them shattered to pieces and fell to join the other detritus on the street. Both men felt a tingling sensation and drop in the pit of their gargantuan bellies.

Seth took a hold of the sides of his belly with both hands and the realization of the inevitable dawned on him. “Uh oh.” It was the only thing he could say before he witnessed his belly suddenly and violently expand larger and fuller. It lurched out of his hands expanding with such speed that it collided with the fast food place destroying it utterly. His city block sized ass ballooned beneath him causing him to rise higher and higher in the air. His pecs swelled larger adding more muscle than fat this time. They became positively meaty as they rested atop his gut. His legs increased in girth and length as they smashed into the other structures on the street, one foot sailing straight through the lobby of a bank. His skin had become so thick and impenetrable that no damage was done to his body as it ripped through the building like tissue paper. His feet expanding wider and wider to accommodate the bulk being added to his frame. The euphoria from his gluttonous feasting intensified causing his quickly growing cock to stand at attention. He moaned in pleasure as he felt himself swell up to truly Godzilla like proportions. He wanted to see if John was undergoing a growth spurt of his own but his belly had risen up so high and spherical in front of him that it obscured his vision of anything beyond it. The pleasure centers of his mind were firing over and over as he wondered if he could just keep on growing like this. Getting fatter and bigger, and more powerful until the world would be too small for him anymore.

While Seth was inflating into a behemoth of epic stature, John was also undergoing his own growth. His belly inflated with new fat as it swelled larger and rounder. As it grew to unimaginable roundness and size it smashed into Seth's engorging belly and actually caused him to be catapulted back. He fell into a row of boutiques and crushed them under his immensity. His ass blowing up bigger and fatter underneath him, growing taller even as he lay in the wake of his own destruction; his head crashing into other buildings like a bulldozer, mowing each one down as he grew. His arms and legs grew with more fat and muscle, spread further and further apart by the belly that was ballooning up into the air. His pecs increased in size and musculature, his nipples expanding rounder and larger as they swelled. He felt a wave of euphoria hit his own brain then and, in spite of his reservations about his size, he found himself also moaning in extreme pleasure as he became a man of such size and girth that wondered if he could ever be the man he was again. He brought his hands to his belly as he watched it expand bigger and bigger and bigger. He found his arms could no longer encircle it completely. His own swelling cock was now stiff as an iron rod and thumping against the soft flesh of his underbelly. He was panting and watching his belly rise and fall when the growing finally ceased. The sun glinting off the dark hair covering his belly brought him out of his post growth bliss. That, and the fact that when he looked up he saw an equally titanic belly looming over his own mountain of flesh. Seth stood there grinning down at him.

“Hey man.” Seth said. “Looking good.”

John's face flushed again and he brought his hands to it. “I told you this would happen.” He groaned. “Every time we eat we're just going to keep getting bigger and bigger.”

Seth gave his protuberant belly a slap and watched as the fat wobbled. “Yeah you were right.” Then he reached a hand down to gently place it on John's immense fatness. “But you know I gotta say, I never realized how good you look like this.” Seth's hand gently stroked John's ample belly flesh tenderly. John was going to protest but the sensation of Seth's hands on his fat sent a jolt through him. His skin must have become more sensitive with the growing because it actually made him whimper slightly as the sensation. Seth took notice and began using both hands to caress and rub John's belly. “Oh somebody likes that doesn't he?” He said chuckling. The feeling of having his vast belly adored was making John feel light headed and extremely turned on.

“Seth, what are you doing?” He panted. As good as it felt to have hands caressing his belly so tenderly, he had never thought he would end up in position like this. He had never liked any attention on his belly even when he had been trying to be thin. But he couldn't deny how electric it felt to have Seth massaging his gut.

“Just relax, and go with it.” Seth replied with a wink. “I've never been with a guy as big as you but there's a first time for everything.” Before John could retort, Seth lowered his face down and buried it his belly. The contact of Seth's beard a soft lips on his sensitive belly flesh caused John to moan loudly. It was exhilarating, but also bizarre to have another man giving attention to his belly when he was like this. However, the feeling was so intensely good that he didn't want Seth to stop.

“As big as me?” He said between pants. “You mean you've been with men before?”

Seth looked up from John's belly for a moment. “Come one dude, you've seen those naked pics of me and James, of course I've been with a guy before.” He used his hands to push the fat of John's belly together making it stick out further and closer to his face. “But this is something else, I mean there's so much here to play with.” John wanted to protest again but then Seth opened his mouth and plunged his tongue deep into his belly hole. That was the moment he succumbed to the delight of the moment. The feeling of a wet, warm, soft tongue probing the crevasse of his navel was more than his mind could handle. He moaned again his cock now leaking a wealthy amount of precum.

Seth responded by driving his tongue deeper inside. He flicked it and lapped at the soft fat crowding the inside of John's navel, tasting the salt of sweat along with the distinct flavor that was manly and powerful. All the while Seth's hands were kneading and caressing the supple fat of John's belly. He gently slapped the sides of that gut and felt the flesh bounce against his face. He attempted to put his arms completely around it but John had grown too big to accommodate Seth's arm span. He nibbled at the base of John's belly hole and then trailed his tongue along the happy trail leading to the incredibly soft underbelly. Using his increased strength from the muscle mass added to his arms he lifted John's belly up slightly to expose more fattened skin and began kissing and licking it. John nearly came from the sensations he was feeling, and yet he was still trying to collect his senses.

“Wait....Seth, this is.....too much.” He said breathlessly. “I....don't....want to be....”

Seth chuckled again as he lapped his tongue all the way from the soft underbelly back to the navel. “What? Fat? A giant?” He reached a hand up and pinched one of John's massive nipples. “Looks like it's too late for that.”

John moaned again in ecstasy at the feeling of having his nipple played with. Seth's hands returned to his belly with renewed vigor and admiration. “Just enjoy it bud, this is all for you.” Then he plunged his face back into John's belly his tongue shoving itself as deep as it could into the navel. John gave up the fight at that moment and just allowed himself to experience the pleasure of being worshiped for his size. Seth worked at his navel for a few moments longer, practically making out with it the way a lover would. Then he moved his mouth down past the underbelly to the throbbing cock that was begging for release. Maneuvering his own bulk to adequately give John a blow job was not easy and he was sure a few more buildings were demolished in the process, but Seth managed to get himself into proper position before taking all of John's cock into his mouth. The part of his mind that wasn't focused on making John happy wondered if there were any armed forces on their way to break up they're little tryst. He decided that at the moment he didn't give a damn. Anyone that was watching was going to see one colossal fat ass giving the blow job of a life time to another colossal fat ass.

Seth slurped John's impressively large cock down and deep into his throat. Bobbing up and down on it, savoring the moment and thoroughly enjoying himself. He glanced up a moment and saw nothing but a humongous ball of flesh looming over his head, even managing to eclipse the sun that was still shining down on them. The sight of so much fattened, rounded, enormous belly hanging over him only made him want to devour John's cock more. For John's part, he was in sheer bliss. He could feel Seth's warm mouth wrapped around his member but couldn't see his head over the mountainous belly that was rising and falling with greater speed as his breathing quickened with every stroke of Seth's tongue. He brought his hands up to grab the sides of his belly and for the first time since his calamitous transformation he was actually allowing himself to enjoy the changes in his body. He shook his belly with both hands and watched it jiggle and slosh feeling his underbelly collide with the silky hair on Seth's head. Finally he could take it no more and allowed himself to release all the tension that had built up. He was cuming. And cuming more than he had ever thought possible. His boulder sized balls emptied themselves into Seth's waiting mouth. Over and over and over he came. Spurt after spurt that was lapped up by Seth. When he felt he was finally spent he let out a long sigh of relief.

Seth had felt as if a hose had been turned on inside his mouth. He had to swallow quickly to accommodate the copious amounts of semen that was flowing into it. And, though he attempted to make sure nothing was spilled, he couldn't stop large globs of it from seeping out of the corners of his mouth and falling onto the street below. He didn't think anyone would have been foolish enough to be standing below them, but if they had been they were in for a sticky and abundant surprise. When he felt the last of John's cock's spurts subsiding he released the cock from his mouth, wiping at his mouth with his fingers and then licking off the excess splooge. He had been so turned on by the experience that when he drew himself to his full height he began pumping his own considerable member with his fist. It took only a few moments of staring down at John's belly before his cock erupted with plentiful amounts of his own cum spraying into the air and landing on John's belly. He coated the dark hair and soft flesh of John's belly with his seed, shuddering at the intense elation of his orgasm.

Both men began to come to their senses when they heard the sound of approaching planes. Seth looked off in the distance to see that several jets and helicopters were headed in their direction across the city. Looks like the armed forces had finally decided to take action. John got himself to a sitting position as quickly as he could considering how much weight he now had to lift. He shot a worried look at Seth. “We'd better get out of here.” He said. “I don't think they want to just talk.” He mustered all of his strength to pull is massive fat body to a standing position. “Besides, I think we've done enough damage here.” He glanced around at all the rubble and devastation at their feet. He knew there was no way anyone was going to just let them get away with what had happened to the city.

Seth nodded. “What do you think? Head for the mountains?” He asked.

John shook his head. “No, look the shore line isn't that far away.” He replied pointing to the west. Indeed at their current size and height, which John guessed had to be at least 100 feet tall, the shore was the best bet. “I say we hit the ocean and just swim till we find an island big enough to hide on.” At their size and fatness they would float easily, and there had to be somewhere they could get to where they wouldn't pose any risk to civilians.

“You think we can hide with all this?” Seth said with a smirk as he slapped the side of his mammoth belly again.

John rolled his eyes. “You know what I bloody well meant.” He riposted. “Let's get a move on before they start firing missiles at us or some other such nonsense.”

John didn't waste another moment and began plodding toward the direction of the ocean. As big as he had become it was impossible to not create greater property damage. His feet were now several city blocks large but he resigned himself to the fact that it couldn't be helped. He hadn't seen any civilians on the streets below the entire time they spent eating, growing, and....playing, so he had to believe that most of the city was evacuated. Seth followed after him. Both men were now almost taller than the skyscrapers in the heart of downtown. The earth shook with the force of their footsteps as they headed for the open ocean. Neither man knew what was going to eventually become of them but they had to get out the urban metropolis to some destination unknown; if only to spare the city from any further hardship.

One other thing that neither of them had known was during their hot and heavy play session, one lone civilian had in fact been on the streets below. Roy Coffee, the intrepid, and voraciously horny personal assistant had been standing on the street directly beneath the shower of semen that had fallen only moments before. After the initial incident of John and Seth's transformation, Roy had managed to get himself right in the center of all the action that he had help facilitate. Since the area surrounding his too mammoth fat asses had been abandoned, it was easy for him to break through a storefront window and steal some clothes to dress himself with. After that he had decided that since he had already shoplifted he might as well add grand theft auto to his list of crimes. He'd smashed the window of a vacant car on the street and hotwired it. Then making a b-line for the objects of his lust he had sped down the empty streets. Pulling up a few blocks from where his two titanic lard butts were pleasuring each other he exited the car and ran toward them. His heart was racing hoping he'd get there in enough time. He jumped over debris and rubble in his path, racing to stand in the perfect position to receive what he knew would be coming.

He reached the exact point he needed to be in just as the first glob of jizz leaked from the side of Seth's moth and plummeted down toward him. He looked up smiling broadly and opening his arms to welcome it as it sloshed onto him. He felt himself covered in warmth and wetness. It knocked him off his feet and felt the force of more warm sticky cum envelope him. He gave himself over to it completely following it's ebbs and flows as it settled onto him. He opened his mouth and greedily lapped and sucked at it. Swallowing mouth fulls of the salty sweet seed, gulping and slurping, and desperate to have as much as he could. He felt his usually flat stomach begin to swell and bloat. It rounded out straining against the button down shirt he had stolen. He drank, and slurped, and swallowed, practically swimming in a pond of cum. He couldn't see, or hear anything but he gorged himself on the giant's jizz until he felt like his stomach would explode.

Finally he felt solid ground beneath his hand and crawled his way out of the massive puddle he'd been splashing around in. He dragged himself to a dry bit of pavement and flopped onto his back. He rubbed at his eyes clearing them of the semen and looked down at himself. He was lying sticky and soaked on the sidewalk. His belly so full from all the cum that it jutted out from him as if he had swallowed a beach ball. It was hard as a rock and straining against the buttons of his shirt. He coughed a few times and managed to scoot himself into sitting position against and nearby wall. He looked up and saw his two colossi heading off in the direction of the ocean. He smiled and began rubbing his belly in slow circles trying to relieve the pressure. This day just couldn't get any better. Then there was a sudden rumble from his distended gut and an unearthly belch erupted Roy's mouth. It's shear force and power surprised Roy as it roared out of him. When it came to and end he noticed the pressure in his overstuffed belly was lessened. Then there was a tingling and a drop in the pit of that swollen belly. A huge smile spread across Roy's face. It turned out this day actually could get better. He laughed a throaty laugh.

“I'll see you soon boys!” He exclaimed.

TBC.

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gaycrouton · 6 years ago

Note

I swear that some of those prompts were tailor-made for the X-Files, but I'd love it if you'd write one of the less obvious ones: 44, "this is a totally inappropriate soundtrack." (MSR obviously)

I went a weird route with this, but I hope you like it!

Scully got flustered from time to time, but this was the first instance in a while where she was thoroughly and utterly embarrassed. Hell, even Mulder looked like he was trying his best to sink into the seat beneath him, attempting to look casual even though the red tips of his ears hinted at what he was truly feeling. It all stemmed from a misunderstanding too. A humiliating, misconstrued misunderstanding.

Mulder and her had simply been riding in the elevator yesterday when her pen fell on the ground. She turned around and bent down to get it when the elevator made an abrupt stop. She hadn’t anticipated anyone would get on, so the sudden stop toppled her forward and she grabbed onto Mulder’s belt to steady herself. Mulder, ever the chivalrous one, placed one hand on her shoulder and the other hand on the side of her head to steady her.

She had attempted to stand up, but her heel was at an awkward angle, so she ended up falling to her knees completely in front of him, her movement inadvertently making the hand in her hair slide to the back of her head. At that same moment, the elevator doors decided to slide open and reveal their incriminating pose.

And that’s what A.D. Skinner, along with five other high ranking FBI officials saw; Scully on her knees grabbing at Mulder’s belt as he loomed over her, pressing his hand against the back of her skull. Perfect.

Oh yeah, and Mulder just had to choose that morning to forget to zip up his fly after making a pit stop at the restroom.

And it had to be the day he ran out of underwear and boxers.

Of course.

Mulder, quite literally, grabbed her by the biceps and hoisted her to her feet, dramatically stating, “Woah there Scully, are you okay?” to make it look like the accident it was. It probably would have worked, except her necklace got caught on his belt, stopping her midway up. She raised her hand up to disentangle it, but since she couldn’t see very well, her hand accidentally slid into the opening of his fly and grazed his bare penis. Mulder gasped and jumped and immediately reached his hand down to help her, also to zip up his fly. An action definitely obvious to the group of spectators.

“What the hell is going o-” Skinner’s voice boomed, but the elevator door closed before the last of his reprimand could be heard. As soon as the doors closed, she was free and snapped up, coming face to face with a flustered Mulder. They just stared at each other for a moment in pure mortification.

Their boss, along with several other people, were under the assumption that Scully was blowing Mulder in the elevator.

It was no surprise for either of them when they both received emails declaring that their presence was mandatorily required at the next day’s sexual harassment seminar. She contemplated e-mailing Skinner and explaining the situation, but if he wanted clarification, he would have just summoned them for a meeting. She had a feeling the other men with him pressured him into doing this, and the message rang loud and clear; go to the seminar and we’ll just forget about this.

Now they were sitting in a room filled with a bunch of newbies and men that obviously got caught doing something they shouldn’t have. The seminar was only required once at the beginning of your career. You only had to go back if you messed up. They stuck out like sore thumbs.

She knew it wasn’t Skinner, but someone who saw the incident must’ve been spreading it around, because they were currently the center of attention. If she heard ‘spooky’ whispered one more time she was going to self-combust into flames. Mulder must’ve been aware of the unwanted attention too, because when one man leered at Scully and poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek suggestively, Mulder was quick to bark, “Turn around pervert.”

She turned to him and saw he was playing with the sheet of paper in front of him nervously. She tapped his leg under the table to get his attention and whispered, “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No it’s not. It was an accident. If anything, I really made the situation worse.”

She shook her head and played with her pen idly, “No you didn’t. You were just trying to help.”

“I’m really sorry about, um, that, by the way,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

“About what?” she asked, not quite sure what in particular he was referring to.

“I should have zipped up, um,” he rambled, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck self consciously. “I’m sorry my, uh, little Mulder was in your face and that you accidentally touched it.”

A few people around them turned around and gave them an awkward glance, making them both blush and look away for a moment until they turned around. “Don’t be sorry. We’ve all gone without from time to time,” she ignored the way his eyebrow cocked up suggestively at that, “-and I wouldn’t call it little,” she teased.

He turned to her fully with a grin on his face, but before he could respond the exuberant woman at the front jumped up to the podium and started. “Welcome, welcome everyone, to this year’s sexual harassment seminar!” Scully and Mulder exchanged a judgemental glance at the woman’s enthusiasm.

She spent a while explaining what the seminar was for; so those who are new to the bureau would understand the standard of the work environment and for those who had strayed off the path could get a refresher. Then they had to sit there and endure a horribly dated video that essentially could be summed up in the statement “Don’t slap a female coworkers ass” since it was really the only thing depicted over and over again.

When the lights came back on, the woman asked that everyone look at their sheets of paper and take note of the five blank spaces at the top. She was going to give everyone ten minutes to partner up and brainstorm five things that would constitute sexual harassment in the workplace. After the instructions, she ran over to the corner of the room and turned up the volume on the radio for background noise, and “Cherry Pie” by Warrant filled the walls of the room.

Scully swiveled in her seat to face Mulder who was wearing a knowing grin on his face. “Isn’t this song about cunnilingus?” she asked.

“Cunnilingus, so technical, Scully,” he teased.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Isn’t this song about eating pussy?” she deadpanned.

His eyes widened at her vulgarity and his smile widened. “My, my,” he admonished jokingly, “Yes, this a pussy-eating anthem. This is a totally inappropriate soundtrack for a sexual harassment seminar isn’t it?” he laughed as she mentally recovered from hearing him say pussy-eating.

She cleared her throat and tried to resume a semblance of professionalism. “So, number one, um-”

“Your partner touching your penis without permission.” She glared at him and he added, “Kidding, kidding.”

“I’ll write inappropriate touching,” she stated, humor lacing her voice as he wrote the same thing on his paper.

She looked up and caught him glaring at another man sitting across the room. “What?”

“Let’s add leering and ogling,” he growled in irritation, writing the words down as if he had a personal vendetta against them. She turned around and saw he’d been glaring at an older agent who, upon seeing her, winked and puckered his lips in a mock kiss.

She turned back around to Mulder’s irritated glare and stated, “For good measure add inappropriate gestures and comments for number three.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered sincerely as they wrote down the answer.

“I told you already. It was obviously an acciden-”

“Not that.” She looked at him expectantly for an explanation and he continued, “That you have to deal with men like him.”

“What? Men who flirt with me? I’m partners with a man like him,” she teased, finishing the last few words of the third answer. She noticed he hadn’t moved and looked up to see a face of stricken hurt.

She realized instantly that he hadn’t taken it as a joke and thought she was sincerely implying he was anything like the other men in the room. She set down her pen, put her hand on his bicep, leaned into him, and vehemently reassured, “Mulder I was kidding, I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny. You’re nothing like the men who harass me. I enjoy it when you tease me, please don’t be upset. I’m sorry.”

“You’d tell me if I crossed a line, right?” he asked.

“I’ll never need to,” she promised. His face lit up in surprise and she realized her phrasing had, yet again, been misconstrued. She meant that she knew he’d never do anything to make her uncomfortable, that she trusted him, but the way she said it made it sound like she was implying he could do anything to her and she’d like it. Which wasn’t a lie, but it was still bold of her to say.

“You enjoy it when I tease you?” It was a question, but he said it like a statement, like he was toying with the idea in his head. She realized then just how close she had leaned into him and she didn’t want him to see her get flustered.

So instead she decided to alleviate the budding tension by going back to her paper and writing “Teasing partner on purpose,” under number four, speaking it aloud so he knew what she was writing.

He barked out a laugh and wrote it down on his too. Then they both stopped and stared at their papers for a moment before looking at each other, “Is it bad I’m having a hard time thinking of another one?” he asked sheepishly.

It was only five, it shouldn’t have been so hard. “Ummm,” she pondered out loud. Before they could reach a conclusion, the woman called time and was asking for volunteers. “No physical contact between partners.”

Mulder and Scully looked at each other and scoffed at the vague answer. Of course partners would touch, that was just a part of the job. “That’s exactly right!” the seminar lady declared, making both their attentions snap to her in confusion. “There is no reason for partners to have physical contact unless it’s an emergency. Touching of the arm, the small of the back, even if well intended, is too familiar for colleagues.”

When she mentioned the small of the back she felt hers burn. That was Mulder’s designated area, he touched it every time they entered or left a room practically, and she literally was just touching his arm a minute ago. She tried to remember other partners she saw around the building and she started to realize she actually didn’t see any of them close. She hadn’t really realized they were doing anything out of the ordinary.

She picked on someone else and they confidently stated, “No phone calls outside of work hours.” Now she felt Mulder’s discontent with that one. If she looked at her phone bill she was positive 80% of her incoming calls would be from him and plenty were off hours. She didn’t quite understand how that was sexual harassment though.

“Great example. Phone calls after hours usually have an ulterior motive of intimacy that the recipient might not appreciate.” Mulder looked over to her, slightly concerned and she shook her head in reassurance that she did not find his calls invasive.

There were several more examples that followed: No adjoining hotel rooms, never buy something for your partner, hugging was against the law, agents should only be seen by other agents in professional attire, never meet up outside of work, never consume alcohol in the other’s presence, respect personal space, etc. Mulder and Scully just sat there in stunned silence. They thought it was bullshit, but they broke every single one. Every. Single. One.

Mulder leaned over to her so he could whisper in her ear, “We may as well have been having sex in the office and we’d be just as guilty as we already are apparently.”

She felt her face flame up at the bluntness of his words and the way his warm breath tickled the shell of her ear and the hollow of her neck. She turned to smirk at him, but was interrupted by a harsh, “Excuse me!” She jolted upright and looked at the front of the room only to see everyone was looking at them, making her face flame up even more. “That’s a prime example of why we’re all here today.”

She turned around to look behind her to see if there was an unfortunate soul behind her that was the center of attention, but alas, it was definitely directed at them. “What do you mean?” Mulder asked.

“You were all over her,” the woman, whose name tag read Kimberly now that Scully was actually looking at her.

“No he wasn’t,” Scully shot back.

“But they’re married, so it’s different” a man in the front row stated as if it was obvious.

“No we’re not,” they exclaimed in unison.

“Why were you invading her personal space?” Kimberly asked.

“I was not invading her personal space.”

“Look at how red her face is, you clearly made her uncomfortable.”

“No, he didn’t,” Scully spat, irritated that her face was probably only getting more red under the attention.

“Weren’t they caught having sex in the elevator?” someone whispered loudly.

“That’s it,” she barked, making a hush fall over the murmurs. She stood up and made a show of pulling Mulder up with her. “First of all, we shouldn’t have to be here. Second of all, physical touch or proximity,” she grabbed Mulder’s shoulder for emphasis, “Is not sexual harassment. Most of what you’ve said isn’t. You’re being ridiculous. We have the highest solve rate in the Bureau, so if someone has a problem with us leaving, report it to A.D Skinner.” She grabbed Mulder’s wrist and pulled him out with her, leaving the room in stunned silence.

She pulled him all the way to the elevator that got them into this situation and didn’t let go until she slapped the basement button. She started to calm down when they were in the seclusion of the elevator and she glanced at Mulder to gauge his reaction. It was unlike her to overreact like that, but, since her relationship with Mulder was the most important thing she had right now, she didn’t appreciate people trying to poke holes in it.

She wasn’t all that surprised that he was staring at her in awe. She was about to apologize when he spoke up, “Would it be sexual harassment if I told you that was really hot?”

#msr #msr fanfic #msr prompt #x files prompt #x files fanfic #xf fanfiction #mulder and scully #dana scully #fox mulder #gaycrouton #onlytheinevitable #my fanfiction

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hartlessfiction · 6 years ago

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Title: Torque to Size Ratio Rating: Teen Pairing: Sterek Summary: The summer heat makes Stiles sweat. Unfortunately not only does it make him sweat, his shitty ancient building seems to sweat. Or at least, none of the doors seem to sit in the frames correctly. Most importantly, his front door. The front door to the house that just might hate him, and at this moment, won’t let him inside to the pure and beautiful air conditioning that is just waiting on the other side. Luckily, his neighbor is there to help him, again.

Tags: sterek, flirting, awkward Derek, oblivious Stiles, alternate universe–human Notes: This prompt was posted by @pantydean on a sterek server I’m on but I sadly only have a this screen shot as a reference. Thanks for the prompt Crypto because it was the perfect inspiration for @comedicdrama‘s BIRTHDAY FIC!

Happy Birthday to my lovely Dessert Prince

<3 I hope you like these dorks falling in love.

p.s thanks to @tobythewise for jumping in and beta-ing for me <3 ily

Read on A03

“Mother fucking–shit–fuck.” Stiles, once again, runs his hands through his hair, pulling on the strands until his scalp tingles. With a frustrated growl, he kicks the base of the door and then hisses as pain shoots up his toes and into his ankle. “Mother fucker––”

“This is great.” Stiles stiffens at the voice, at that voice. Derek Hale’s voice, his frustrating, attractive neighbor. Frustrating, because the guy is perpetually grumpy, but also, like, super nice, and Stiles just doesn’t get how that even works. How does a person have constant R.B.F but still manage to be the most helpful? It’s really hard to get a read on Derek because of it. And attractive... because, well… Stiles isn’t blind and even if he was, he’s sure that he’d somehow instinctively know of Derek Hale’s Hotness™.

Slowly, Stiles turns around. Derek’s sprawled out along the stone front steps of his duplex like he’s posing for some kinda sexy summer heat photoshoot. He’s leaning back on his elbows, hips cocked forward, his long legs kicked out and crossed at the ankles. There’s a half-empty bottle of Jack sitting next to his wrist. And it’s in that moment that Stiles decides Derek should absolutely be wearing more, or significantly less than his sweat-stained white tank top and a pair of grease-stained, faded Levi’s. Boots… those scuffed work boots will be the death of Stiles.

“Being locked out together,” Derek clarifies when Stiles just stares at him.

“Yeah, great,” Stiles grumbles turning back to his door. “Except I’m not locked out.” To further illustrate his point he jerks his keys out of the lock. Well, he tries to anyway but just like the door, they’re stuck. Derek just shrugs, his long fingers stretching to grab the bottle next to him.

“Either way, we should hang out more.”

Stiles drops his forehead against the door groaning. He’d love to ‘hang out’ with Derek. He’d love to, just once, look competent and graceful in front of the guy. But that’s not his life, and Derek seems to show up every time Stiles is having a…. moment. Like now, like this moment where his shitty, ancient, prewar building is acting up, and just hates him! Scott doesn’t believe him, but Stiles is convinced the building is sentient and just… hates him! Scott’s never had trouble with the front door, he’s never tripped up the steps while holding three fresh, hot pizzas only to be caught by one, Derek Hale before he can drop the boxes. Those steps have it out for him, Stiles swears it. He’s never tripped up or down steps as much as he does with these.

Scotts doesn’t understand because the house loves him! He’s never gotten stuck half in half out of the ground floor window when the thing suddenly dropped on him. To be fair, Stiles probably shouldn’t have been going through the window to get to the laundry room but he was tired of fighting with the front door. And, just to make everything worse, of course, Derek-fucking-Hale shows up and rescues him. With his bulging biceps and wide palms, making the stupid stuck window slide up like its been freshly greased. Not like Stiles hadn’t been, valiantly, fighting with it for the last 20 minutes trying to buck it up off his spine, no, of course not. That’s the last time Stiles tries to use the window as a shortcut to the basement laundry room. Creepy dark stairs from then on out. Until they try to kill him too.

“You should kick it,” Derek says and Stiles rolls around on the front door, keeping his head connected to the ancient wood, he looks down his nose at Derek and Derek fucking smiles. It might be the first real smile Stiles has ever seen on the other man and he just doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Derek’s smile widens as he brings the bottle up to his lips and tilts his head back like he’s putting on a show, one clear, bright eye pinning Stiles back against the door as he drinks, slow, long drags of the whiskey. Stiles bites the inside of his cheek as Derek’s Adam’s apple bobs with each hearty swallow. He’s got no idea what's going on but he likes it, he likes this side of Derek.

“Go on.” Derek breathes, as he puts the bottle back down. “Kick it, you should. Yeah, try, try a kick.”

“A kick?” Stiles' brain clicks online, slow and buzzing. Sweat’s dripping down his back, thick summer air wraps around his skin like a blanket, his mouth is dry and he licks his lips watching Derek track the motion. “K–kick it?”

Sweat drips slowly down the tendons of Derek’s neck and he seems to shine in the fading early evening sun. “Yeah,” he shrugs and then points at the door with the bottle “Kick it,” he says before bringing it back to his lips.

Kick it,” Stiles grumbles pulling himself from the door. “Fucking kick it,” he repeats to himself. Yeah, he thinks. It’s time to show this fucking house who’s boss. Flattening his hands against the door for stability, Stiles rears forward, pulls his knee towards his chest and donkey kicks the shit out of the door, twisting his hip and really putting everything he has down into his leg. The vibration of his foot connecting with the sold weight of the door thrums back up his leg and chatters his teeth. But other then that, nothing happens.

“That… Wow.” Stiles looks up, jaw tensed to try and stop his teeth from clacking, at Derek who's now leaning forward, forearms braced on his bent knees. His head’s cocked to the side and his brows are raised in what could be surprise, amusement or… Stiles doesn't even know, now his knee hurts.

“Yeah…” Stiles is ready with a dismissal when Derek laughs and it’s beautiful and Stiles hates him a little for keeping that sounds caged up inside of himself for so long.

“That was, wow,” Derek smiles and stands, the bottle dangling dangerously from his fingertips. He skips down the last few steps at the front of his building and practically float/jogs across the small street. Again, Stiles hates him, just a little bit, for the beautiful flex of his neck muscles as he checks for traffic, the roll of his shoulders as he hops up Stiles’ front steps and comes to stand just a little too close for Stiles’ sanity. “That… wow. More torque than I expected.” Derek grins and Stiles flushes from his feet to his hairline. He can feel it, the burn of heat on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the weather.

“You’ve got, uh...” Derek’s eyes drag over Stiles body, slowly and he licks his lips before meeting Stiles eye again. This can’t be happening. “A surprising, uh, torque to size ratio.”

“Uh…” Stiles is never at a loss for words, but right now, with Derek looking him over, with Derek leaning in, his wide palm landing on the door over Stiles' shoulder, bringing their chests so close together that if Stiles breathes too deeply they’d touch. Well, he’s got nothing. Stiles Stilinski has nothing. Nothing to say except a very elegant: “...uh... Y–yep”

Derek makes a soft noise in his throat before tilting his head towards the door, his palm slides up the wood and it really takes every ounce of his very limited self-control for Stiles not to turn his face and lick the sweat out of the bend of Derek’s elbow.

“Here,” Derek says, almost absently handing the bottle to Stiles, his whole body changing focus to the door behind Stiles.

It’s really a beautiful thing, Stiles thinks, as he takes the bottle from Derek and–what the hell–takes a drink. How Derek gives something his entire focus and how Stiles would like to have that focus on him, just for a little while.

He sighs around the mouth of the bottle, letting the very, very stuck door take his weight. He’s suddenly tired. Whether it's the heat or Derek, or the stupid house, who totally hates him, Stiles has no idea, but he’s done. Closing his eyes he tilts his head back against the door, the bottle halfway up to his lips again when Derek grunts, the house shakes and a very, very manly squawk erupts from Stiles' mouth.

Bracing for an impact that never comes Stiles’ flailing limbs grapple for the first thing they can find. His free hand grips a thick, sweat-slick neck as strong arms wrap around his back, and before he can get too far, Derek is hauling him back to his feet, pulling Stiles into his space as he grins.

“Careful there,” he says and Stiles can smell the whiskey on his breath. “Should have warned you I guess.” Derek goes on, glancing over Stiles' shoulder at the now gaping doorway. He tugs a little making Stiles shuffle forward, his wide, scorchingly hot palms brace the small of Stiles back. This cannot be happening.

“Nah…” Stiles manages “...we–we’re good.”

“Are we?” Derek asks looking at Stiles out of the corner of his eye, one of those thick murderous brows arching in a way Stiles has never seen before. It sends butterflies swooping in his stomach.

This is happening.

“Yeah, we are so good.” Stiles grins at Derek, and hoping he’s reading the entire situation right, takes a swing of the Jack before passing it back. He slides his hand up Derek’s chest to join his other cupping the back of Derek’s neck. Derek licks his lips, brings the bottle to his lips and then places it on the wide cement banister.

“Got anything else you need me to manhandle for you?” Derek asks, his hand returning to Stiles’ back only to slip lower and dip into Stiles’ back pockets.

“You–you...and me?” Stiles tilts his head, this cannot be happening, this cannot be fucking happening. Not with Derek-Fucking-Hale.

“If... you want?” Derek says, and its soft, shy, cautious, and Stiles realizes that Derek is worried about Stiles rejecting him.

“Me?” Stiles need to clarify because he’s pretty sure he’s kept his huge, massive, crush on Derek a secret. At least he’s tried to.

“Yeah, since that time with the pizza boxes.” Derek blushes, blowing out a breath and looking away. He shrugs his shoulder, trying for nonchalance but Stiles sees the way his jaw tenses. “Been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you, but you know….”

“Uh?” Stiles is trying not to laugh, the reality of the situation hitting him full force. He’s not this lucky. The steamy hot guy across the street doesn’t like him, it’s never him, except this time it is. Derek seems to be getting more embarrassed and frustrated as he tries to explain.

“You’re always stuck in things! Or late for something, or rushing. I… I’m not good at just, doing this….stuff…. out of the blue.”

All at once it clicks. “You’re not actually locked out of your house are you?”

“No,” Derek bites his bottom lip, the hands he has stuffed in Stiles back pockets twitch. “You’re two hours late coming home! I got nervous and … it was only supposed to be like one drink, something to give me courage, make me stay out here till you got home, but…”

“My class ran late.” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, cursing his TA responsibilities– not for the first time.

Derek clears his throat, nods, and to Stiles’ great horror starts to withdraw his hands from Stiles pockets.

“Right so…”

“You know,” Stiles grins, flinging an arm out, he grabs the bottle and gulps down the last few shots. “I think,” he says, wincing around the burn in his throat, “that the door to my bedroom….” Stiles steps backward through the front door, using the hold he has on Derek’s neck to tug him along. “Could use some man-handling...”

Derek’s smile returns full force. He steps in, pulling Stiles' hips against his own as they move out of the sweltering evening sun and into the confines of Stiles’, maybe not so haunted house. Comment/kudos on AO3

#sterek #sterek fic prompt #derek hale #stiles stilinski #awkward derek #oblivious stiles #idiots in love #neighbors #hartless writes #my mutuals #happy birthday Drama #<3

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emospritelet · 6 years ago

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KoL! Prompt --- Gold starts to feel better but the storm rages on, leaving them some time alone to, erm, bond.

Last time, Belle had returned to Gold’s house to check up on him, the power went out, and she injured herself. Gold decided they needed to light a fire to keep warm.

Kiss of Life verse

Belle watched him go, and pushed to her feet, unconsciously rubbing her bandaged wrist. The candlelight was enough to see by, and so she searched for a dustpan under the sink and swept up the broken china. The tea had brewed, so she got out fresh cups and saucers and set them on the tray with the teapot and milk jug. She carried it through to the lounge, setting it on the coffee table. Gold had lit more candles, dotted on the fireplace and mantelpiece, the room bathed in a warm glow. He was lighting kindling in the hearth, and she left him to it, going upstairs to fetch blankets. She brought his cane too, tucked under one arm, the blankets piled on top, still warm from the heat of his body.

When she returned to the lounge, the fire was just starting to crackle to life, and Gold was sitting on the couch, head lolling back against the cushions. She felt a stab of sympathy for him; he had left his warm bed to come and find her and patch her up, and he must be feeling terrible. He glanced up as she entered, and she shook her head.

“Stay there,” she said firmly, and draped the blankets over him, covering the couch. He tugged them around himself,shifting position a little.

She poured them each a cup of tea, adding milk and setting the cups on the little table to his side of the couch before lifting one edge of the blankets and getting underneath, wriggling into the seat next to him and pulling the covers up to her chin as she shivered.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “Not sure what I could make that doesn’t need heating. There might be some bread and cheese.”

“There’s cheese,” he said. “I think there’s fruit. Some cookies in the cupboard. Just help yourself to whatever you want.”

“I’ll go now before the house gets too cold,” she said, and slipped out of the covers, trotting to the kitchen.

Searching the fridge yielded three kinds of cheese, some grapes and apples, and some sliced ham. She sliced the cheese and apples, and laid out the food on a wooden chopping board. There were the rolls she had bought, too, so she sliced two of those and stacked them on the side. Tucking a box of choc chip cookies under her arm, she carried the tray through to the lounge. The fire was starting to build, warmth flowing out from it, and she pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and set down the tray and the box of cookies. Gold had picked up his tea, and was watching her, cup in hand.

“At least we won’t starve,” he said. “We may die of boredom, though. I don’t think there’s enough light to read by.”

Belle chewed her lip, glancing around.

“Do you have any cards?”

An hour later Belle was warm and snug, seated at one end of the couch with her back against the arm, her knees bent and her feet up on the cushions. Gold was at the other end, in a similar pose, cushions propping him up. He had generously offered her a pair of his pyjamas, and she was enjoying the feel of dark blue silk against her skin, the blankets tucked around her waist as the room was heated by the warmth of the fire. After snacking on the bread and cheese (Gold ate little, but drank three cups of tea), they had decided to play gin rummy.

Wind howled outside, a fresh blast of snowflakes hitting the window, and Gold raised his head from the cards in his hand, frowning.

“It sounds as though it’s getting worse,” he observed. “I doubt they’ll be able to fix the power before morning at this rate. Probably some trees down.”

“You don’t mind me staying, do you?” Belle asked a little anxiously, and he shook his head.

“Who would remind me to drink fluids and rest up if you weren’t here?” he said dryly, and she grinned.

“Don’t you have family?” she asked.

He took another card, sliding it in between two others and tapping it down with a fingertip. His face was expressionless, but she had grown used to that over the course of several games. The guy would have made an excellent poker player. Unfortunately she didn’t know how to play, and was too tired to learn that evening. Besides, she liked winning.

“Both my parents are dead,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

There was silence for a moment, but for the snap and crackle of the fire. Belle ran her eyes over her cards, and glanced up at him.

“Siblings?” she asked, and he gave her a twisted smile.

“It seems I was more than enough for them to cope with,” he said. “You?”

Belle shook her head.

“Just me,” she said. “Mum died when I was ten.”

“And your father never remarried?”

“Never even dated,” she said sadly. “He loved her very much. Don’t think he’s been happy since.”

“That must be difficult,” he said quietly, and she shrugged.

“Kinda used to it by now,” she said. “Maybe - maybe he’ll be different if I have my own family. Grandchildren, you know?”

“Maybe,” he agreed, and looked at her over the top of his cards. “Have you any designs on that front?”

Belle giggled, pleased that the dim light would hide her blush.

“Not right now, but you know what I mean,” she said, and put her head to the side. “What about you? You want kids?”

He was silent for a moment, running a finger over the edges of the cards to even them up.

“I’m - very fond of children,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, so I noticed,” she said. “You want to have any?”

“It’s not something I’m giving any thought to at the moment,” he said, his voice a little stiff. “I’m busy enough as it is.”

He seemed uncomfortable, and she supposed it was a very personal question to have asked. It made her feel awkward, and she tugged at her lip with her teeth as she tried to think of something to say to change the subject.

“Is Dorothy gay?” she asked suddenly. Why, brain? Why was that the only thing you could think of?

“I - yes, I believe she is,” he said, looking bemused at the change of topic. “She’s single, as well.”

“Oh, good!” she said, and he eyed her.

“She drinks in the Rabbit Hole most Fridays, if she’s not on shift,” he said carefully. “If you like, I could maybe ask for a change of the rota so you two could - get a drink, or something.”

Belle’s brow crinkled, and her eyes widened as she understood his meaning.

“Oh, I wasn’t asking for me,” she said hastily. “It’s - it’s my friend Ruby. She kind of has a crush.”

“Miss Lucas from the diner?” Gold looked amused. “Well, she should trust her instincts and ask out the lovely Nurse Gale. I’m ninety-nine percent certain she’ll get the answer she wants.”

He grinned at her, eyes glinting in the candlelight, and glanced down at the cards in his hand. She let her eyes run over him, soft hair falling around his face, his skin warm and his long fingers plucking out cards to rearrange them. His lips looked very soft, and she wondered how it would feel to kiss him, if she were to sit forward and press her mouth to his. If it would be soft and gentle, or hard and passionate.

“It’s your turn,” he said, making her start.

She quickly glanced at her hand before reaching for another card, unable to hide her smile of triumph as she pulled the King of Diamonds.

“Gin,” she said happily, laying out her hand, and Gold groaned.

“How are you doing that?” he demanded. “That’s five games to one!”

“Guess it’s my lucky night,” she said, winking at him.

“Blizzards and power outages notwithstanding.”

“Admit it, you’re having fun.”

“Fine, I admit it,” he grumbled. “Would you like a glass of wine, since we can’t make tea?”

“Are you sure that’s the best thing for you to be having when you’re trying to shake a flu virus?”

“Who’s the doctor?” he asked, looking amused. “Let me make my own bad decisions.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll get it,” she said. “It’s your deal.”

She threw back the covers, taking the tea things through to the kitchen. The dim light outside showed that the snow was still falling rapidly, and she sighed. No chance of making it home, and it was looking less likely that she’d be able to get to work in the morning. She pulled a bottle of red wine from the rack, rummaging in the drawers for a corkscrew. It seemed strange to be going through his cupboards as though she lived there, but he didn’t seem to mind. She found two glasses and opened up the wine, carrying the drinks through to the lounge. Gold had dealt the cards, and she shot him a suspicious look.

“You better hadn’t have peeked,” she said accusingly, and he pressed a hand to his heart.

“I’m a gentleman, Miss French.”

“Hmm.” She set down the wine, getting back beneath the covers and drawing up her feet. “We’ll see about that.”

#ficlets: kiss of life #ficlets: candy striper verse #rumbelle #dr gold x candy striper belle #hey nonny nonny

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shingeki-no-scenarios · 6 years ago

Text

Title: Grow Down

Characters: Kuchel Ackerman, Dina Fritz, Carla Jaeger

Genre: idk

Warnings: Spoilers, AU/OOC depiction, Language

Summary: Just when Kuchel thought everything was falling apart, her beloved girl friends wasted no time in patching things back together.

A/N: guess who’s still not over Mamma Mia 2 & is also inspired by this scene & of course @queenofidealism + @quietcelt to write for under-appreciated characters :’) A little self-indulgent drabble that’ll hopefully help me get back into the swing of things !!!

Overwhelming stress was an understatement to describe what Kuchel was feeling.

With her son’s upcoming wedding, her older brother incessantly nagging her on how to run the family business, and her knees cracking every freaking time she bent down to stick a wad of paper under her pathetic cafe’s wobbly chairs. To make things worse, her pig of an ex-husband resurfaced out of no where and demanded to be invited to their son’s wedding. All those incidents caused intense emotions to boil up and spill over, leading her to cry her eyes out into her pillow, as her best friends, Dina and Carla, rubbed soothing circles on her trembling back.

“I say we go out and forget all of this bullshit!.” Carla declared as she lightly nudged the sobbing woman’s shoulder, hoping that’ll get at least a smirk out of her. As much as Dina didn’t want to be a bad influence, she couldn’t help but mutter her agreement as she moved her hand to stroke Kuchel’s hair.

“I second the motion.” the blonde cheekily responded, holding back a loud snicker as she high-fived Carla, who was also trying to hold back a laugh; the last thing the pair would want was to further upset their dear friend by letting her think she was being mocked.

Sniffing and lifting her red, tear-stained face, Kuchel merely blinked her puffy eyes at the pair, wondering if they seriously couldn’t resist having alcohol and men on their minds at a trying moment like this. Upon seeing that they were indeed serious, the ravenette let out a frustrated sob as she buried her face in the pillow once more. While the mischievous pair of women were slightly startled by her reaction, they were more amused by it as their faces turned red from their suppressed giggles.

“Oh, darling!” they cooed in unison as they leaned on her, resulting in a rather suffocating, awkward, but affectionate, dog pile. Chuckling in an attempt to get the other to be infected by their happiness, they pulled the distressed woman out of the pillows by her shoulders. Once they got her to face them, they gave her reassuring, tender smiles before wiping the semi-dry tears off her face.

“The last thing I need is for you to be immature about this.” Kuchel muttered, sniffing as she lifted a hand to her chest, trying to calm her sobs and wild heartbeat down. To her dismay, she was met by nonchalant scoffs and rather mocking chuckles, further upsetting her. “I mean it!” she exclaimed, lightly hitting her lap in frustration.

“Well, the last thing we need is for you to wallow in self-pity, honey.” Carla retorted, pushing herself off the bed and sauntering over to Kuchel’s wardrobe, leaving her to look to Dina in desperation. Much to her dismay, the blonde seemed to have sided with her sassy gal pal upon nodding in agreement. “We’re going dancing!” she excitedly exclaimed, tossing a feather boa Kuchel proudly showed off in her younger years, before wrapping it around her neck and striking a dramatic pose.

As she giggled, the usually gentle-natured Dina shoved Kuchel off the bed, leading the woman to let out a surprised yelp as she clumsily stumbled into Carla’s arms, who then spun her around before dipping her. With a flustered expression and red cheeks, the ravenette watched Dina from an upside-down angle, seeing how she took the liberty to dig through her accessory drawer. While she initially felt excitement, the reality of how they weren’t young anymore, and that they were in the midst of preparing of a big event dawned on her, leading her to shove Carla off as she flopped back on the bed, burying her face into the pillows.

“No. No dancing.” her words were muffled but audible, and it confused the pair standing above her with trinkets and clothes in their hands. Feeling the tension of their perplexed silence, she slightly moved her face off the pillow to further explain. “The last time I ever went dancing, I ended up pregnant.” she added with a sigh. While she never regret having Levi at such a young age, she regret not being able to provide him with a “normal” family dynamic– all due to her carelessness.

“That means it’s been thirty years since she’s last seen a penis.” Dina chimed, leading Carla to holler and let out a hearty laugh as Kuchel raised her head from the pillow, shooting a threatening glare at the blonde who was too caught up in her amusement to even notice. “Come on, Kuchel. It’s just one night.” she pleaded once her laughter died down, moving closer and widening her eyes in hopes that it will weaken the other’s resolve.

“No.” was the only firm reply she received before Kuchel ducked back down to hide her face. As embarrassing as it was, there was no use denying that it really had been thirty years since she’d gone out and had fun. While she did had a glass of wine from time to time, she was too caught up with trying to be the perfect mother and sister that she had forgotten to let go and breathe, barring herself from going out on dates or doing things she was deathly passionate about when she was younger. More often than not, she envied Dina and Carla for being independent, brave, and single women, allowing them to have way more fun than she’s ever had in thirty years given that they had full control of their commitments and responsibilities.

“Come on!” Carla exclaimed, flopping down on the space next to the sulking woman. “Where’s the Kuchel we know? The one that was always down for a street party or shots of tequila?” her sentiments came out in a whine, punctuating each word with a shake to Kuchel’s hunched form.

“She grew up.” she replied in an as-a-matter-of-factly tone, sighing and moving to press her cheek against the pillow, allowing herself to breathe. Unexpectedly, her best friends let out mocking “ooh’s” as they forcibly pulled her off the bed.

“Well, then, grow back down!” they exclaimed, harshly shoving her towards the dresser’s chair before flittering around the room, trying to find clothes and jewelry that would bring back Kuchel’s fun, unconventional image she often sported during her youth. Despite her protests against the skin-tight, shorter-than-short dresses and unnecessarily flashy accessories they picked out for her, the two women wasted no time in getting the ravenette into their outfit of choice, before sitting her back down to work on her hair and make-up.

“A drink or two wouldn’t hurt, would it?” she asked softly, slightly embarrassed that she was letting her guard down and giving into her friends’ girlish demands. It was the point of no return, after all, especially with how firm and stubborn her best friends could get. As if on cue, Dina and Carla let out a defensive “no!” before giggling, Kuchel soon joining in as the adrenaline bubbled in her stomach, the idea of going back in time just for one night finally appearing to her.

Closing her eyes, she let out a content hum as Dina worked on her hair whilst Carla applied the most vulgar red lipstick she owned. As initially irritated as she was by their immature persistence, she couldn’t help but crack a small smile as she saw her glowing, youthful image resurfacing and breaking through her tired, matured self. Quietly, she thanked all her lucky stars for the women who have been her rock and fortress– from high school to infinity.

#snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot #attack on titan #kuchel ackerman #dina jaeger #dina fritz #carla jaeger #fic #drabble #snk spoilers #shingeki no kyojin spoilers #aot spoilers #attack on titan spoilers

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alpha-imagines · 7 years ago

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Ford Thunderbird (pt 1)- Billy Hargrove

A/N: So i got inspired eventually and i can see where i want to take this so welcome to part 1! Seems a bit slow but will hopefully pick up!

It was mid-April and Billy was bored and restless. The novelty of him being a new kid had worn off and after working his way through 80% of the girls in his year, he needed something new to occupy him and save him from his boring routine of driving recklessly through the Hawkins back streets, drinking his weight in beer at any party that arose and being grounded for his lack of manners to Susan or for continually irritating Max to the point she yelled and screamed at him for being “the biggest dickwad she’d ever met”

So when he saw the red fourth generation Ford Thunderbird parked 3 spaces across from his usual spot, he couldn’t contain the excited grin that spread to his lips as he pulled out a smoke and flicked out his lighter with a snap before replacing it in the trusty pocket of his undone maroon shirt.

His eyes scanned the hallway, he figured whatever the new kid was doing he’d have a trail of girls around him, if the girls went weak at the knees for his Camaro he was certain they’d do the same for the new boy and his cherry red thunderbird. Billy was excited, he felt the rush of adrenaline that he hadn’t felt for ages, like the buzz he got from pressing the accelerator all the way down until it couldn’t get any higher. He was glad for some competition, Steve had been his source of entertainment for a month at the most and after that no one had challenged him, he was glad to have some fresh meat to conquer.

Lunchtime rolled around and he still hadn’t caught sight of the new kid and now he was just getting frustrated. He pushed the double doors to the parking lot open and with a bang the smacked against the wall behind them before violently juddering shut again. He pulled out a cigarette and headed over to his car, slowing down as he neared the red one that had piqued his interest.

The white top was up but the windows were down and he bent forward slightly looking in through the passenger side. The interior was red leather and remarkably well kept, there was a pack of camel blue cigarettes left on the passenger seat as well as a tube of ‘sweet talk’ lip gloss beside it- so the new kid evidently had no problem with getting girls Billy thought.

“Can I help you?” He heard and looked up from the red leather seat to see your head bent down through the driver’s window, a smile gracing your lips, your eyebrows quirked in question as you stared back at the boy.

“This your car?” He asked after a moment of silence as he watched your smile drop as you awaited an answer

“I hope so” You laughed “Would be kinda weird nosing around a car that isn’t mine huh” At that you let out a laugh but Billy didn’t find it funny, he just backed his head out the window and took a step back

You weren’t a boy at all- he didn’t have fresh meat to create some rivalry with, you wore lip gloss and skirts and definitely posed no threat to his king Billy title.

You didn’t say anything else to Billy, just climbed into your car and reversed out past him, glancing at him briefly in your mirror before speeding out of view through the school gates.

With your car gone he looked up to over to his own to see Tommy and Carol stood by it laughing at the awkward encounter they’d just witnessed

“Better luck next time hotshot” Carol laughed, popping her gum as she did so

Billy just sighed and irritably began pacing over to his car, after spending months in their company he only just realised how much he detested Tommy and Carol, Carol was worse he thought, she was ignorant and obnoxious and he couldn’t stand to hear Tommy repeat the same story about how many rounds they lasted for in the backseat of her Ford. At least Tommy was good to drink with, and he backed up Billy with almost anything he did but he wasn’t like his friends back in California.

Billy had barely said a word all lunch, suddenly his mood has switched and he didn’t feel like talking or laughing not matter how hard Tommy tried and teased so when he saw the flash of red pull up back into the parking spot he pushed himself off the bonnet and bee lined for the car, not that he knew why, his legs were moving before his mind could even process it.

He had to admit he thought you were attractive, not that there was much competition. He’d found that every girl at school was either brainless, boring or a complete bitch but he was really hoping that you wouldn’t fall into any of those categories.

“Hi again” You said as you shit the car door behind you and ended up face to face with Billy who was stood in front of you. “Stalking me or something?”

“What? No” Billy asked, not picking up that you were in fact joking

Billy didn’t say anything more and truthfully he didn’t know why he’d gone over to talk to you in the first place. Maybe he was sick of spending all his time with Tommy and Carol, maybe he wanted a challenge or maybe he just wanted a friend- he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Then what are you doing?” You asked with a hesitant laugh

“I uh wanted to introduce myself” He announced after a minute, his voice sounding as cool as ever “I’m Billy”

“Hi Billy” You said politely, extending your hand out towards the boy in front of you “I’m Y/N” and as you finished the word the bell rang out signalling lunch was over

“Well I better get to class” You laughed, shrugging your bag onto your shoulder “Don’t want to be late on my first day”

“Sure thing peaches” Billy smirked turning to the side so you could get past him

“Hey peaches” He called out making your head turn at his nickname “Let me take you out tonight” He smirked, leaning against the car behind him

“We’ll see” You smirked back before turning back around and walking inside.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove imagine #billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #stranger things billy #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things writing #series #own fic

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blaindersonkummel · 7 years ago

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Klaine Fic: A Dizzy Twister Dance

Written for Day 4 of Klaine Advent 2017 Prompt: “Drink”

Summary: Blaine feels terrible, but he simply cannot miss his dance exam at NYADA today. He's just going to have to pull through it - hopefully with the help of Cassie July's gorgeous teaching assistant.

Word Count: 2000 - Read on AO3.

Blaine was dying.

Okay, that was slightly dramatic, even for him.

But if someone were to ask him, “Hey Blaine, how you feelin’ today?”

His response would have to be somewhere along the lines of, “I’m dying.”

However, it didn’t matter that Blaine had woken up this morning with a pounding headache, a scratchy throat, and a thrumming heart rate; Even if he was dying, he had to get to today’s class.

After the results Cassie July had given him for his last semester in dance class, Blaine was truly feeling the pressure on this, the morning of his practice examination. Okay, so it wasn’t his final graded performance today, but Cassie was known amongst students for making her mind up about eventual grade decisions based on how well they did on this day.

Blaine felt queasy as he let the subway car he rode to NYADA rock him from side to side, leaning his forehead against a poll he was certain contained the kinds of germs that made him so ill in the first place. He hadn’t even eaten any breakfast this morning but that wouldn’t stop him spewing up on the poor unsuspecting old lady sat in front of him unless he could get off soon. Luckily, his stop was next.

‘You only need to be here for a couple hours, then you can crawl back home to bed and wallow in self-pity again’ he told himself as he all but fell out of the subway doors and made his way to class.

“Listen up, rejects! We’ve got a lot to get through today, so I want to keep to a tight schedule as we do this. Am I clear?”

There was a faint mumble from the group but no clear answer. Blaine could barely keep his eyes open, let alone answer the question. At the front of the class, Cassie July looked highly affronted.

“Excuse me?” she asked menacingly. “AM?” *BANG* “I?” *BANG* “CLEAR?” *BANG*. She brought her dance instructor’s stick down hard on the floor after every word, to wake everyone up and get their attention. All it did was make Blaine’s head pound even more.

“Yes, Miss July,” the class all but sing-songed together in a manner befitting pre-schoolers, not college kids.

“Okay,” she abruptly turned and walked to the stereo set up in the corner. “Now, first thing’s first, we’re gonna start with a ten-minute warm up, and then I’ll call you in alphabetically, in groups of four or five, to do your individual assessments.”

Blaine’s heart dropped at that word. Alphabetical. That meant some serious cursing on his part that his mother ever agreed to take his father’s surname all those years ago. It means he will now most definitely be in the first group to perform. He didn’t think it was possible, but the room began to spin a little more.

“Also supporting me today will be my junior assistant from this year who I know some of you may be unfamiliar with if you had classes with Laura this semester. So for those who don’t know, this is Kurt Hummel.”

She gestured over to the man next to her who gave a small smile and raised his hand in greeting.

Just like that, Blaine’s headache seemed to dull but his heartrate also picked up exponentially. Ahhh, Kurt Hummel. Sweet, gorgeous, muscled, older, tank-top wearing dancer, Kurt Hummel. Yet another reason for Blaine to drag himself out of bed this morning.

The man was a Greek god and Blaine was pretty sure Kurt was put on this earth to make dance class that little bit more bearable for him. Blaine certainly wasn’t immune to the guy’s oblivious flirting and (on the odd occasion) eye-fucking he directed at Blaine in class warmups; usually when Blaine was bent into a strange yoga-like pose with his ass in the air or his foot up on the barre.

Kurt was also so very kind and sweet to Blaine on the few occasions they’d interacted, which usually ended in Blaine doing something stupid like snort-giggling at his own joke or tripping over his words. Kurt’s ability to humour Blaine’s flaws only made Blaine crush that little bit harder on the guy who was senior to him in both age and position at NYADA.

Blaine was pulled out his moony-eyed staring at Kurt as the warm up music began playing through the sound system and everyone around him was moving to find their own area in the dance studio.

‘Okay. Focus, Blaine. You only have to make it through this class and then you’re done.’

Blaine tried as hard as he could to follow Cassie’s directions and keep up with her speed and position as she moved from one stretch to another and from one dance move to the next. By the end of the first phase of the warm up, Blaine’s temperature was quickly rising and he used the few seconds of interlude between songs to hurriedly unzip his hoody and throw it off to the side somewhere.

The room really was spinning now and when he turned back to get in line, he caught eyes with Kurt who was looking at him rather concernedly.

“Are you okay?” Kurt mouthed to him from the sidelines.

Was Blaine okay? Honest answer: No. He felt awful. Was he about to let Kurt think that?

“I’m fine,” Blaine mouthed back, trying for a smile which probably looked painful.

Kurt didn’t look all that convinced as the music faded in to a new routine and Blaine worked to pick up the speed. When Cassie eventually had them all exhausted, she called for time as everyone stopped to catch their breath and wipe away the sweat before their upcoming individual performances.

As Blaine stood in place, he suddenly found it hard to keep his head up. Bending at the waist, hands on his knees and head hanging down, Blaine panted for air and desperately willed his heart rate to slow down and the room to stop spinning.

“Blaine?” Kurt called, making his way through the group towards him, concern in his voice.

Just as Blaine was about to lift his head and reassure Kurt he was fine, the room seemed to turn a whole 360 degrees as his vision went black and he heard Kurt shout his name.

“Woah man, is he okay?”

“Oh well, that’s one less person to compete against today.”

“Miss July, should I call the medic?”

“Ugh, Fat Ass has probably been skipping meals. That’s why he fainted.”

Blaine only dimly registered these voices swirling around his foggy mind from above him. He felt something solid underneath him and suddenly seemed to realise he was lying on the wooden floor of the dance studio.

“Ooh, Mr. Hummel, I think he’s awake.”

“Oh, thank god. Blaine? Blaine, it’s Kurt.”

Kurt? Kurt was there. Instantly, Blaine felt pressure on the side of his face and neck. A hand. And a thumb stroking his cheekbone.

“Can you hear me, Blaine? If you can, just give me a little squeeze.”

Suddenly Blaine found one of his limp hands being entwined with Kurt’s and he made sure to squeeze with all the energy he had.

“That’s great, Blaine. Can you sit up at all? Open your eyes?”

Groggily, Blaine’s eyelids fluttered open and he was greeted with a rather disconcerting sight of Kurt leaning right over him and half a dozen students standing around him. The shock was enough to make Blaine want to bolt upright, but Kurt’s hand seemed to slowly steady him as he helped Blaine gently ease himself up.

Kurt was knelt next to him, still holding on to his hand as Blaine moved his other palm to his forehead – the migraine from earlier lessening but not going away.

“Okay guys, he’s alright. Can we give him some space now? Miss July has just come back in so go get back in formation,” Kurt said, waiting for them to follow commands.

The group of dancers turned on their heels with a grumble of indignation, but not before the rudest one of the bunch made a comment about Blaine landing on his fat ass – intending for him to hear it. Blaine blushed a fair amount and Kurt shot the girl a filthy look before turning back to Blaine.

“For the record, I’d say I owe a great debt of gratitude to that ass of yours, then,” he winked as he said it and Blaine found himself blushing even more.

“Oh!” Kurt suddenly dropped his smirk as he leant behind to pull something out of a supply bag. “Here! Take this.”

Kurt had produced an energy drink from one of the bag pockets as he unscrewed the cap and handed it to Blaine.

“Drink up!” he indicated to the bottle as Blaine put it to his lips, still in a bit of a daze. “I can’t let you go fainting on me again, huh?”

It wasn’t until he started drinking that Blaine realised how dehydrated and hungry he was, finishing half of the liquid in one go.

“Ahhh,” he exhaled after his gulp, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

There was a somewhat awkward pause here as Kurt didn’t really know what else to say, so Blaine just took another sip and waited.

“Okay,” Kurt sighed, “So it looks like your assessment isn’t going to go ahead today now. Cassie even said to me she’ll find room for you to do it by yourself on another day. So, for now, you have the rest of class off.”

Blaine heaved a sigh of relief. Thank god Cassie wasn’t going to make him do his performance today. He didn’t think he would make it through if not.

“The problem now is, I don’t think you should be going back home on your own quite yet. You still look a little pale.”

Not to lie, Blaine did still feel pretty terrible. What felt worse, however, was having Kurt (always pristine and amazing Kurt) seeing him looking far from put together like this.

“If I didn’t have to help Cassie out, I totally would have offered to come home with you an-“

Now it seemed it was Kurt’s turn to blush. Blaine couldn’t help it when he started to giggle and had to cover his mouth. Kurt looked somewhat embarrassed for a few seconds before he too chuckled a little.

“It’s okay, Kurt, really. Maybe I can just wait for my room mate to finish classes and I’ll go back home with him.”

Kurt was ready to accept this when he asked, “So what time does he finish?”

“Oh, not until 5pm today. But it’s fine, I can wait in the library.”

Kurt’s affronted look indicated to them both that he was so ready to argue, neither of them noticed Cassie had made her way over, coming to stand towering above them both. Crossing her arms, she interrupted whatever Kurt was about to say.

“Look, Hummel. Here’s the deal. I know you wanna jump the kid’s bones so badly you’re gonna pop a boner in class one day. And Anderson, I know you would climb that like a tree in an instant,” she jerked her thumb towards Kurt here. “So just take the lesson off, Kurt. I’m fine. I can manage on my own. Take the poor kid home. And Blaine, I’ll e-mail you with a new assessment date this afternoon. Don’t worry about it.”

With that, she turned her back to return to the class as they were finishing up the routine she’d left them rehearsing.

Kurt and Blaine seemed to find themselves in stunned silence for a moment before an exchange of looks and a small smile told them all they needed to know. It was about time they got out of here.

#klaine advent 2017 #klaine advent: drink #klaine #klaine fic #nyada #my fic

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batsinwhitechapel · 7 years ago

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A little drabble

Set after chapter 27

A little fantasy I've been obsessing about for the past month or so, so much that I had to write it down.

Be warned, as I rarely write and English is not my native language, some sentences and word choices are bound to be a little awkward (or downright incorrect). And the rules for the use of punctuation signs differ a lot between English and French, so I probably got it wrong somewhere too. And I can't get my software's spell check to work in English, so there are probably typos in there as well.

Also, the story itself is a bit corny and OOC. Actually, I got carried away by my own fic and didn't know how to end it.

For all these reasons, I'm far from 100% satisfied with it. I keep amending it a little, in the hope that I can make it better.

I've been lurking around the Saezuru fandom for a year, and never participated in anything. I took and never gave, not even an anon post or an intake on anyone's theory. So now, I'm contributing with something, however small or lacking (or corny or OOC). I hope you enjoy reading it!

Doumeki burst into the room.

Kageyama and Kuga sprang apart. Clearly, Kuga had been trying to seduce a relunctant Kageyama into having sex at the clinic, as he often did – sometimes successfully. At the unexpected intrusion, Kuga shouted an angry 'Who the -?' and seemed ready to throw a few punches. But when the identity of the intruder was revealed, his expression actually turned pleased.

'Doumeki!'

In a flash, he crossed the room to where Doumeki was frowning, looking lost and supremely oblivious to the two people in the room. His gaze swept the room twice before finally settling on them.

'Is Boss here?' he asked with even more intensity than usual.

'What? Uh, no, haven't seen him since yesterday.' answered Kuga. 'Why, is playing hide and seek a new fantasy of his?'

The taller man ignored this as if he had not heard (indeed, he had not) and started to retreat, mumbling what sounded like a vague apology. Kuga, now very intrigued, grabed Doumeki's arm, pulled him back into the room and threw him into a nearby chair, alarmed at the half-hearted way Doumeki was trying to fend him off. The more he watched him, the more he realised how dejected and anxious Doumeki was. He looked like an overgrown child who had just learned that his parents had abandoned him.

'What the hell's wrong with you?'

Focusing on him again, Doumeki answered with none of his usual calmness 'I have to find him. He left while I slept after... after, and I don't know where he is now! He could be hurt or- or worse, and it would be all my fault! Again! And I couldn't bear it!' and he lowered his head in his hands.

Kuga and Kageyama stared at him, then raised their brows at each other. Well, Kuga did.

That was more words than they had ever heard the usually unflappable man say, and more fervour than they would have thought he could show, at least in public. Something was definitely very wrong there.

Kuga spoke again. 'God, you seem completely off. Tell us what happened. You're his bodyguard, why would he leave you behind?'

Doumeki straightened up took a great breath, but said nothing.

'Is he angry with you? Did you do something you shouldn't have?'

Doumeki tensed.

'You did?' Kuga said, only half believing his luck. He regained his footing now that he had a vague idea what was going on. 'Sooo, what did you do?'

Silence.

'Did you kiss him?'

Silence. Kageyama frowned.

'Did you... touch him?'

Silence. Kageyama frowned at Kuga. Doumeki seemed to be made of stone.

'Did you... did you fuck him?' said kuga, in disbelief.

'Kuga...' Kageyama sounded stern.

Doumeki hung his head.

After a second of bewilderment, Kuga's laughter broke out, but was swiftly cut off by Doumeki's soft 'That's not right.'

'Huh? What's not right?' asked Kuga, his mirth receding a little at Doumeki's earnest expression.

'I didn't fuck him. We... I made love to him.' and with this, Doumeki raised his head and stared defiantly at the two other men.

Kuga's complexion became a couple of shades redder. 'Doumeki, that's... uhm, very corny.'

Doumeki lowered his gaze.

Kuga started to pace.

'But still, that doesn't really explain... wait.' Kuga stopped and turned back to Doumeki, asking mishievously: 'Are you that bad in bed?'

'Kuga.' Kageyama said, louder and more assertively this time.

'What? The guy took off while Doumeki here was sleeping it off, by the sound of it. One has to wonder. So, Doumeki, did you manage to make him come, yes or no?'

'Yes'. As if it was a matter of course. Despite himself, Kuga shivered.

'How many times?'

'Kuga!' Kageyama sounded slightly alarmed.

'Four'

Kuga's mouth hang open. Kageyama stared at Doumeki. The former was the first to recover.

'In a row? Holy...'

'But one was unintentional'.

'One was... how the hell is that even possible? My God Doumeki, I know the guy's a dirty perv, but even so, you probably overdid it.'

'Don't say that.'

'What?'

'That the boss is a pervert. He just... has a strong sex drive.'

'And likes to take it up the ass so much he can come four times in a row' Kuga countered with a cheeky smile.

'No.'

'No what?' the smile faultered.

'He did not come all four times like that.' Doumeki finished his sentence reluctantly. He realised belatedly that the conversation had taken a rather intimate turn.

'Oh, I see.' Kuga's face went another shade redder. 'And how did he come, intentionally or unintentionally?'

'KUGA!' Kageyama was definitely alarmed now. He was trying to find a way to avoid hearing this conversation without storming out of the room or stuffing his fingers in his ears, and he was failing. He did not believe he could stop his boyfriend's questions, now that Kuga's eyes were so bright with interest.

'I don't think I should tell you.' Doumeki already regretted having told them so much. He found he did not like other people prying into his private moment of bliss with Boss.

'Why not? I'm sure your precious boss would tell us himself if he was here.'

'Tell you what?' sounded a voice in the background, making them all start guiltily. Yashiro's voice. Its owner was standing just outside the room in one of these poses that made him look so effortlessly beautiful and sexy.

Before the two others had a chance to move a muscle, Doumeki had jumped out of his chair.

'Boss!' He crossed the distance that separated him from Yashiro in a single long stride, and fell to his knees in front of him. Then he prostrated himself. 'Boss, I'm so happy to see you! Please don't do this ever again, don't leave me behind. If you want me to, I will swear I'll never touch you again. But please, I beg you, don't send me away, let me stay by your side!'

'My, my, how chatty you've become in my absence' Yashiro sounded playful, but a troubled undercurrent was nonetheless perceptible in his tone. He addressed the two other men in the room. 'So, what was I supposed to tell you if I was here?'

Yashiro's presence and attitude gave Kuga a strong urge to unsettle him. Still a little red in the face, he said: 'How he made you come, including the unintented orgasm, since from what he said he did not manage it all four times with his dick.'

For a second everything was still. Yashiro's eyes widened a little. Everyone else was staring at Yashiro: Kageyama with apprehension, Kuga with defiance, and Doumeki apologetically.

Yashiro shot the latter an unreadable look, and the former a scary smile.

'That's true, I came only twice with his dick. The other two times were with his tongue and with his fingers, respectively. Oh, and the “unintentional”, or' his fingers fluttered to Doumeki's cheek 'should I say “unplanned” orgasm was the first, with his tongue in my ass. Was that everything, or was there something else about our fuck that you wanted to know?' He inclined his head in a gesture that would have been inviting at another time. Instead, Yashiro's tone and expression made it intimidating.

Doumeki looked as if he had been slapped.

Kuga recovered from his embarrassement at the thorough way Yashiro had answered his question when he noticed Doumeki's reaction. He glared accusingly at Yashiro and cried out:

'How dare you say it like that?'

The violence of Kuga's reaction took Yashiro aback. He was used to Kuga's hostility towards him, but he realised this time was different.

'What do you mean?'

Kuga pointed to Doumeki.

'To him, it was not a fuck. He said... he said – Damn, Doumeki, how could you say that with a straight face?' He tried and failed to prevent his face from reddening again. Turning back toward Yashiro, after a deep breath, he managed 'He said you... no, he said he made love to you'.

He was not the type to blush, he wasn't! But those two damn guys really were too much. He could feel his face burning.

Yashiro went very still. A mix of uncharacteristic emotions showed on his face. He looked uncertain and deeply moved, but also very frightened. Kageyama's jaw dropped a fraction.

Yashiro stared into Doumeki's eyes, very slowly raised his hand again, caressed Doumeki's cheek, and whispered 'you said that?' before concluding more loudly, trying for his usual carefree manner 'How corny.'

'That's what I said', interjected Kuga. But Kageyama had already grabbed his arm, giving off a strong “you shut up, now” vibe.

Doumeki was kneeling and staring adoringly up at Yashiro as if the man was his only anchor in a storm.

'Yes, because I do' he said softly.

'You do... what?' said Yashiro breathlessly.

Little pink spots appeared on Doumeki's cheeks. “So, he can get embarrassed” thought Kageyama.

Doumeki straightened a little and whispered:

'Love you'

A beat.

Then, very slowly, almost hesitantly, Yashiro bent to kiss him.

Kageyama wished he was anywhere but there. He was looking for another way out, as the kissing couple was blocking the door. But of course, as he very well knew, there was none.

He cleared his throat. It had no effect whatsoever on the deepening kiss he was made to witness. He suspected Yashiro and Doumeki had totally forgotten his and Kuga's presence.

'Oy! This is a private clinic here, go do this somewhere else!'

Doumeki stood, and for an instant, Kageyama thought he was going to act on his words. But then one of Doumeki's hands shot to the side of Yashiro's neck and the other to the back of Yashiro's head, and Doumeki kissed his partner even more fiercely than before.

Things were escaladating fast.

Kageyama was trying to find a way to halt the kiss and throw the two intruders out without actually getting too close to them, in case Doumeki lashed out at being interrupted. The two of them looked positively entranced, as if nothing and no-one else existed.

He turned to Kuga, and at his mesmerized expression, shook him a little.

Doumeki ended Kageyama's predicament as he lifted Yashiro from the ground and carried him towards the hospital bed on which Kageyama and Kuga had been when he interrupted them, clearing the doorway.

'Let's go' murmured Kageyama in Kuga's ear.

'Huh? You bastard, so we can't do it here today, but they can?' He pouted, craning his neck to watch the other two as they were starting to undress each other, totally oblivious. 'That's so unfair'

Kageyama did not answer. They were finally out of the room and into the corridor. He closed the door and locked the room from the outside. 'Thank God, we're out. They really have no decency'

'No, they really don't'. Kuga smiled.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru fanfiction #doumeki #yashiro #kageyama #kuga #unsettled doumeki speaks a bit too much

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summerstarsandsea · 8 years ago

Photo

A Shred of Hope (AO3)

A fluff-crack fic for @spacewitchqueen , @fandomfix8 , @iamsittinginatincan , and @cut-off-the-grain (thanks for the headcanons <3), who are DIRTY ROTTEN ENABLERS and responded to this dumb post and now here we are.

Fic under the cut, or at the link above.

Monday morning at 8:58 a.m. the doorknob on Hux’s office door twisted and he startled. His expected visitor was two minutes early today. He automatically straightened, smoothed a hand over his hair for the tenth time in five minutes, pulled up some Very Serious Document on his computer screen, spread some papers out in front of him. Trying to look busy, important.

The door opened and a short man stepped in. Hux huffed and slumped out of his pose. It was only Mitaka.

“What do you want?” he snapped, glancing at the clock at the bottom right of his screen as it changed to 8:59. Mitaka absolutely could not be here when he arrived.

“Y-your stepmother is on line two.”

“Tell her I’ll call her back.”

“But-“

“Just do it!”

The secretary slunk back out, closing the door. Hux sighed and sat back in his chair.

Just as his heart rate had started to calm, the door clicked open again. He sat up quickly, trying to appear casual and disinterested.

This time it was exactly who he hoped for.

The man entered, pulling a wheeled plastic bin behind him. He looked the same as ever: dark blue work shirt pulled tight over a broad chest and arms, black pants on long legs, dark hair pulled back into a messy bun. The white nametag reading Kylo, written with sharpie on white tape covering what had been there previously. The captivating face which glanced at Hux from the doorway and almost smiled before giving a quick nod. Hux half-smiled and nodded in return, eyes darting back down to his work.

This had been their routine for over five months, since Kylo had replaced the elderly man who used to come in to empty the container where Hux deposited confidential paperwork to be taken away and shredded. Every Monday morning at nine he arrived, pulling the bin with the Solo and Sons Information Security logo on the side, underneath it their slogan: Because Your Business is No One Else’s Business. The moment he showed up, Hux had been drawn to him in a way he couldn’t explain, but was too awkward to do anything about. So every Monday their eyes met, they exchanged a smile-and-nod, maybe a polite “good morning”, and then Kylo did his job and left.

But today was going to be different. Today, Hux decided, he was going to exchange more than two words with him. The date was 7/17/17, he’d found a heads-up penny the night before. It had to be the day. Right?

(He could not have been more wrong.)

Kylo entered and made his way to the confidential bin, a waist-high structure that just looked like a shelf but had a thin opening for slipping paper into. He found a small key on the keychain on his belt, bent slightly to reach the lock, opened the front of the container, pulled out the bag of papers.

From his desk, Hux had a perfect view of the man’s marvelous ass. He took a moment to appreciate it, just in case he did screw this up, in case this was the last time.

Kylo dumped the contents into his bin, replaced the bag, shut the door, locked it, returned the keys to the clip on his belt. He straightened and turned, and that’s when Hux spoke.

“So,” he began. “Are you the ‘son’ in Solo and Sons?”

Kylo looked at him abruptly, a scowl on his face, and Hux regretted speaking, in fact he regretted every word he’d ever spoken in his life.

So, of course, he continued talking, unable to stop the words from babbling out of his mouth.

“H-how many ‘sons’ are there?”

The scowl deepened into a dark look and Hux was suddenly glad he was sitting down or it would have made his knees wobble. From the look of Kylo’s arms, he could probably snap Hux in half if he really wanted to.

(Hux had thought, too much, about being bent in half by Kylo a different way, but now those fantasies were quickly fading…)

Kylo didn’t say anything, in what felt like the longest seconds of Hux’s life. Then he muttered something Hux didn’t catch and hurried out the door.

Hux leaned forward and put his forehead on the desk with a dull thump. He wondered if it was possible to die of shame.

Kylo spent the entire rest of his shift, and his lunch break, and the drive home, and the evening, and the next day, and then the rest of the week, berating himself over what had happened.

He finally talked to you. He was trying to have a conversation. He asked you a question. You couldn’t just answer like a normal person, no, you had to scare him and then run off like some kind of freak…

By the time Monday rolled around again, he’d rehearsed about ten different versions of an apology and, if that went well, was even going to take a leap of fate and ask the cute redhead – whose name he didn’t even know, he never got close enough to the desk to make out the little name plate – out for coffee. Or dinner. Or lunch. Or anything.

One thing at a time, he told himself. The first order of business was fixing this mess.

When he entered the office, he made himself give an actual smile, or, as much of one as he could manage without putting his slightly crooked teeth on display.

He was greeted by an empty chair.

His face dropped. There was a coffee cup on the desk, papers neatly stacked beside it, the windows were cracked to let air in. But there was no sign of the man.

Kylo was so distraught he nearly forgot to do his job, and then he took his time doing it, hoping that maybe he would show up while Kylo was still there.

He didn’t.

The only, only silver lining was that Kylo finally had his chance to sneak a glimpse at the man’s name. He crept over to the desk and read the black writing on the shiny little placard.

A. Hux.

Not a first name, but it was better than nothing. Hux. He liked the sound of it…sharp and clean, the way the man himself seemed.

With no other reason to linger, and the rest of the building to cover, he sighed and left the room. He’d try again next week.

You are many things, Hux told himself the next Monday, but you are not a coward.

That was patently untrue. He’d deliberately scheduled a meeting for nine in the morning the previous Monday for the sole purpose of not being there when Kylo arrived. He just…couldn’t face him after screwing up so badly.

Every day since then he’d wondered what exactly he said wrong. Maybe the ‘Solo’ of Solo and Sons was dead, and it was a touchy subject? Or…was it possible that Kylo wasn’t the son, but the father, and had young children who would eventually inherit the business? He seemed too young for that, but Hux supposed it wasn’t completely out of the question.

Whatever the answer was, he was certain he’d never find it out. He’d blown his one shot. But he wasn’t going to hide anymore.

When Kylo entered that day, Hux didn’t look up. Keeping his eyes fixed on the screen took every ounce of well-cultivated self-control he had, but he did it. Kylo lingered in the doorway for a moment and Hux could feel his gaze on him. For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to say something. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Finally, Kylo moved into the room with his bin and began emptying the container. His movements seemed slow, hesitant. This must be incredibly awkward for him, too, Hux realized, though in a different way. To have to continue doing his job even if it put him around someone he now clearly couldn’t stand…

Kylo finished up and put away his key. As he moved to turn back towards the door, Hux blurted out, “thank you.”

Kylo froze. He half-turned in Hux’s direction, gave a short nod, and left.

That was better than nothing. Right?

The next week, they both nodded to each other when Kylo came in. No smiles or words were exchanged, but at least there was eye contact.

The week after that, a nod and a quick half-smile.

The week after that, “good mornings” were exchanged.

The week after that, “good morning” and “thank you” and “you’re welcome”. Kylo even threw in a “have a nice day,” which startled Hux so much he couldn’t formulate a reply until the door was already clicking shut.

“Good morning,” Hux said. It had been six Mondays since The Mistake. Things had finally returned to more-or-less normal. It was a relief, he supposed. But it meant accepting that nothing would come of this, and he should probably let it go and move on.

“Morning,” Kylo replied. He cleared his throat, entered the room, then did something he’d never done: he let go of the bin and walked up to Hux’s desk. Hux’s breath caught in his throat.

It was then he noticed Kylo was holding something: a plain white envelope.

A small, deeply buried, overly-romantic part of Hux hoped against all logic that it was some sort of…

What? A love letter? What is this, grade school? Pull yourself together, you sentimental moron…

Kylo held out the envelope.

“That twitchy guy at the front desk asked me to give this to you,” he mumbled.

Hux’s heart dropped so fast he thought he might be sick. Stupid, stupid to get his hopes up.

“Thanks,” he forced out, reaching for the envelope.

As he grasped it their fingers brushed, and they both froze. For one brief, wonderful moment they were actually touching for the first time.

Like a spell breaking, Kylo suddenly pulled away, leaving the envelope in Hux’s shaking hand. He started to turn away.

“W-wait!”

Hux flinched at his own voice, too loud, too desperate. Pathetic. But…he had Kylo’s attention.

“I’m sorry if I- If I upset you, the other week.” His voice shook, but the moment he said it he was suddenly glad. The only thing worse, he realized, than ruining his chance with Kylo was knowing that he might have hurt him.

Kylo stared at him, bewildered.

“You’re sorry?”

“I- yes?”

“But why, you were just…shit, all this time you thought...” Kylo made a frustrated noise and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m sorry!”

It was Hux’s turn to be confused.

“For what?”

“For reacting like that. You didn’t do anything wrong, you were just asking a question. God, I’m an idiot, you finally talked to me and I –“

Kylo snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide. Hux blinked quickly as his mind tried to process what he’d just heard. Could it be that all this time Hux was hoping for Kylo to say more than two words to him, Kylo was secretly hoping the same thing?

Above all his confusion was a voice telling him this is your second chance. Don’t. Blow. It.

“Can we start over?”

Kylo halted in his self-deprecation to look at him warily.

“Huh?”

“Can we…pretend it didn’t happen, and start over?” His voice, to his relief, came out much calmer than he felt. He took a deep breath and extended his hand. “My name is Hux. Please don’t ask my first name, it’s horrible.”

Kylo huffed a laugh.

“Only if you don’t ask mine. I go by Kylo. It’s…nice to meet you?”

Hux chuckled at the absurdity of it, introducing himself to someone he’d seen almost every week for over half a year. But the moment Kylo’s hand grasped his, the breath was stolen from his lungs. It was so warm, big and slightly calloused and so perfect in his.

It was gone too soon, but as their hands parted, there was a smile on Kylo’s face. Not a little twitch of his mouth some reserved, polite thing, but lips curved up, revealing a glimpse of teeth, brown eyes sparkling.

Hux was powerless to do anything but smile back.

An hour later, Kylo finally left. He repeated over and over how he wished he could stay but he’d already be in trouble as it was. Hux reassured him it was fine.

They’d talked the entire time. Hux found out that Kylo’s father had named his business Solo and Sons long before having children, simply because he and his business partner had liked the sound of it. Kylo had been working for him since he was sixteen, and was beyond tired of being referred to as some variation of “the Solo Son”, hence his reaction when Hux brought it up.

Hux told him what he did there, bitched about clients and coworkers, and took his turn complaining about his own father.

By the end, it was hard for Hux to let him walk back out the door, but he felt a thrill at knowing he wouldn’t be waiting until next Monday to see him again.

The door began to shut behind Kylo. Just before it closed, he heard him speak to someone in the hall briefly, and then the door opened again. Hux quickly wiped the besotted look off his face and scowled at the intruder.

It was a tall, muscular man with messy blonde hair, darker at the roots, likely dyed, and large, slightly askew glasses.

“Can I help you?” Hux snapped.

“Uh. I’m here to help you. You called for someone to come fix your printer?”

Oh. That was right. He’d been so caught up in everything with Kylo he completely forgot.

“Yes. Of course. It’s, uh. Right there.” Hux pointed.

“Yeah, I can see it.” He adjusted his glasses and made his way to the printer next to Hux’s desk. Hux peeked at his nametag. Matt. And underneath, Printer Technician.

Wait a minute. Kylo had spoken to this man.

“Do you know him?” Hux motioned towards the door.

“Who, the shredder guy? Yeah, we go to the same gym.”

“Oh.” Hux clenched his fists under the desk and tried very very hard not to picture Kylo at the gym. Matt seemed to catch something in his expression, though, and gave him a smug look.

“Want to know something?”

“What?”

“The shredder guy is shredded.”

Friday evening at 5:59 p.m., Kylo waited outside of Hux’s building. He held a single orange rose, purchased spontaneously from a man he’d passed selling them on the corner a few blocks back. It was cheesy, but he hoped it would make Hux smile.

And then, at six on the dot, there he was, walking at a casual pace but the way he chewed his lip to hold back a smile gave away his excitement.

Kylo handed him the rose. Hux smiled, yes, blushed, even better, took a polite sniff of it, and immediately started sneezing.

Horrified, Kylo snatched the rose from his hand and crushed it in his fist. Through his watery eyes, Hux laughed and laughed. Kylo started laughing too.

All things considered, not a bad way to start a first date.

#kylux #benarmie #my fic #modern au #fluff and crack and nonsense

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watermonkey0 · 8 years ago

Text

The Ramen Princess: Scroll One

The Girl and The Bar

"Crap," I breathed, shoving my hands deeper into the sand, fingers digging frantically. "The book said it would be just below the surface…"

The midday sun was beating down on my back from the open skylight and sweat beaded my brow. Blood dripped onto the thirsty earth, my knees skidded and chaffing from the gritty sand beneath.

When my fingers finally glanced over something prickly, I sighed in relief. "Found it!"

"Why would someone break into the herb canyon?" Temari asked, annoyed. Somehow, she had acquired an elusive grain of sand in her sandal and it was stabbing her foot with a vengeance—but even that wasn't worse than this stupid mission.

"The real question is: how are they stupid enough to trip the chakra wires? Nobody ever comes out here," Kankurou responded, not caring in the least.

Gaara didn't say anything...per the usual. Since his birth, Gaara didn't do much of anything...except kill and breathe. His existence was so singular that when Temari was bold, she considered him retarded for how simple-minded he was. Kill. Breathe. Kill. Breathe. Staaaaaaaaare.

She glanced back at him for a moment as they trudged through the desert and shuddered.

Up ahead was the Herb Canyon, used for growing healing herbs for medicinal purposes. The few medic-nin Suna had hailed it as their sanctuary. Temari vaguely recalled Baki telling them why the herbs were grown in this specific canyon, but she hadn't really been paying attention.

None of that idle stuff mattered to her. She was trained to have all the pertinent facts and see all the moves, but that didn't involve storing useless information such as which herbs made your boo boos feel better. Her brain space was better spent mastering her new summon.

"Isn't it supposed to be guarded?" Kankurou pointed out as they got closer.

Temari nodded, eyes scanning the area for any signs of enemies.

As a hailed sanctuary, the medic-nin required someone to stand watch day and night, although it seemed pretty pointless to her.

Who was going to raid the herb canyon anyway? What nation would brave her desert for some cactus blossoms?

It was just another useless thing she had deleted from her memory.

But the lack of guard did pose a problem. Were they walking into some kind of hostile situation, or had he just gone off on his own to sleep away the noon heat?

I impatiently pulled up the spiny root, cutting my palms in the process, though I barely noticed the pain. It wasn't the worst I'd had.

I glanced back at the scroll with the instructions, just to make sure I wasn't missing anything. My stomach churned at the sight of bloody fingerprints marring some of the words of the text, when my ears picked up voices from the entrance.

"Oh no!" I scrambled to my feet.

It wasn't like there was anywhere for me to hide in here. The canyon was just a round outcropping in a large sandstone hill. The walls were all smooth and round, with one way in...and one way out.

Only one option then, I thought grimly. I have to make a run for the entrance.

I jumped to my feet, scooping up the scroll and roots, but before I could even try to move, a yell stopped me in my tracks.

"Hey!" Temari yelled as she and her brothers shadowed the entrance.

She saw the intruder hovering along the back row of crops and spun wildly, looking for an escape. She couldn't have been any older than Temari, and the look on her face was complete terror. Brown hair, tan skin, old clothes, shinobi sandals, scarred left arm…Expertly, Temari took in the details, making her evaluation.

No threat.

"What are you—" Kankurou started to shout, only to be cut off by Temari.

"Shut up," she snapped, grinding her teeth in displeasure. She was team captain on this assignment, and he was to follow her lead.

The final thing Temari noticed as she made her assessment was the girl's arm. It hung limply at her side once she'd frozen in place, and it was covered...literally coated in blood. The red liquid dripped into a small puddle by her feet, and swung this way and that like a streamer attached to a stick.

Blood and sand, thought Temari, shuddering inwardly. Gaara…

"Who are you?" Kankurou yelled, despite Temari's direct growl.

"Kankurou, I told you to shut up," she snapped. He immediately shot her an annoyed look but acquiesced.

"Stay here," she ordered, and started towards the girl.

The only thing worse than getting caught, was getting caught by shinobi.

I could clearly see the giant fan on her back, and the Suna headband around her neck.

This was not just any Suna-nin either. I knew exactly who she was once I got a good look at her—Temari.

She was famous for her ability to use her Kyodai Sensu, her giant fan, and for being the only sister of Gaara—the sand demon.

Everyone knew of him, of course. Rumor had it that he'd killed hundreds of people over nothing.

I always doubted he could be any worse than Giia, but as I stood in the middle of a restricted area and saw his silhouette in the entrance, I wasn't so sure.

Temari stopped a few feet away from me and squinted, like she was sizing me up. Surely, there was no mistaking the fear in my eyes, or the lack of hatred and malice.

I wasn't going to strike first—surely, she saw that.

"What's your name?" The kunoichi asked.

My eyes trailed downwards, and I saw that she was standing in the Pleurisy root like she had no idea how rare they were.

Was she going to kill me?

I was stealing from the village, but that wasn't punishable by death, was it? Accidentally, I glanced over her shoulder to the mouth of the canyon and caught a glimpse of her brothers.

He killed over nothing...

When I didn't answer, she barked, "Answer me. Name?"

"Daagana," I said thoughtlessly.

I should have given her a different name. Maybe the name of one of those girls who worked at the perfume shop by the ramen bar. Maybe the blonde one that snickered at Giia whenever she floated by.

"And why are you here, Daagana?" Temari went on, not in the least bit phased. My name sounded dull on her lips, like she was just listing off another noun on a long list of unimpressive nouns.

"...My arm…" I glanced down at the bloody mess that was still leaking from a wound on my shoulder.

In theory, it shouldn't have been bleeding this badly, unless something more precious had been nicked, such as an artery.

Temari took in my wound with a long calculating stare. It made me antsy, and a wave of dizziness gave me the vague reminder that if I didn't do something soon, Hiniku was going to be performing her first amputation before she even graduated from the academy.

"Give me the herbs," Temari ordered.

It was my turn to study her skeptically.

Was she just going to take them and banish me from the canyon, knowing I would probably die on the walk back to the village? Or would she snatch my arm when I gave her the herbs and chop it off herself? Was there even a scenario where I got to keep them?

I didn't have any other options at this point, so I reluctantly held them out to her, quickly pulling my arm back before she could draw her knife.

With a melodramatic sigh, Temari pulled on the sash that was tied around her waist, folded it up neatly and stepped forward. I stumbled backwards, hardly believing she was going to try and strangle me! There were plenty of other ways I could die that wouldn't take that long! But she was quicker than I was and firmly pressed the sash on my wound.

"Apply pressure or the bleeding won't stop," she said, and then looked down at the herbs in her hand.

I stared at the crown of her head in shock, but obeyed her command reflexively, holding the sash where she had instructed me to.

I suppose it was just in my nature to obey.

I had no spark, no spunk or, as Giia would say, no spine. If I followed directions and didn't cause a fuss, everything should work out fine...

An insidious voice, one I usually ignored, whispered in my ear, that philosophy never rang true at home, so why should it now? It always pipped up when I didn't want it to, making my hands sweat and my tongue go numb. I couldn't let it get the best of me here, though. If I gave even an inch, Temari would see, and she would not be so understanding then.

Temari bent down and placed the herbs on the ground to begin sorting through them. She seemed to know a little first aid and applied it as she pulled the leaves off all the stems and discarded them.

I whimpered a little at the discarded greens like I was watching someone stomp on silk. They could still be used to make tea, she didn't need to-

"Sit down," she ordered, and I flopped to the ground with a thud, all floral comradery forgotten.

Temari made a face, but didn't comment. She spun all the stems together, and made a simple hand seal over them, then pulled back the sash from my arm and placed the twined stems right in the gash.

I winced and looked away quickly when she made the other hand seal and the stems started to glow green. They activated, leaking out a dull white foam that stretched over the wound, and pulled the two sides together again, then hardened. What was left was an organic plaster scab.

Once the procedure was done, Temari took her bloodied sash and tied it securely around the new scab.

"In case it falls off or reopens," she said under her breath.

I couldn't believe it.

Temari...the strongest kunoichi in the village was helping me! Me, of all people!

She'd applied the stems just like the diagrams in Hiniku's book, and the reaction was exactly right.

If I'd read it correctly, the scab would rejuvenate the connective tissue between my muscles and fall off after a few hours.

And on top of it all...she'd given me her sash!

I guess I couldn't help myself. I flew forward and tried to throw my arms around her, but her hand instinctively flew up and I slammed my face into it.

There was an awkward moment of realization before I pulled back and sunk into a bow, used to my affection being rejected.

"I'm so sorry! Thank you! Thank you! I'm sorry! Thank you!" I squeezed my eyes tight, hoping she wouldn't pull out a kunai and gut me right there. It wouldn't be good for the herbs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she coughed awkwardly, nonchalantly glancing over her shoulder to see if her brothers had noticed. "Now get out of here, and don't come back!"

I jumped up and ran for the entrance, blowing past her siblings. My heart skipped a beat as I ran past Gaara, hoping he wouldn't kill me for being in his general vicinity.

Giia usually didn't need more of an excuse than that, after all.

Days Later

"Temari, I'm starving! I need food!" Kankurou whined as the two elder Sand Siblings made their way through the streets of the village.

Baki hadn't given them anything challenging to do during training, so they had the rest of the day to work as they wanted, but Temari was tired of babysitting her whiny brother, so she agreed.

Gaara never trained with them, and she was thankful for that, but it also meant he never ate with them, and for that, somewhere deep down, she felt a little guilty.

"I wish you weren't so damn annoying," she grumbled, but Kankurou was already sitting down at the closest ramen bar.

This wasn't a street they usually traveled, but it was a nice enough part of town. The building was old but well-kept and sported bright lanterns to chase away the coming evening drowse.

"How many?" the old man behind the counter asked as Temari bent past the noren and sat down beside her brother, leaning her fan against the bar.

"Three," Kankurou said immediately, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together like he was about to receive a blessing from the almighty god of food.

"Three?" Temari sneered. "Why? You think Gaara's going to magically appear and you'll be able to sate him with ramen?"

"No, I'm eating two," Kankurou said happily, ignoring her quip at him.

The old man was cleaning bowls on the other side of the counter and, although he had acknowledged them, he didn't make a move to prepare their meal.

"Heeey, start on our food, old man!" Kankurou whined.

"Soon as my hired help gets here. She's late again." He shrugged at Kankurou's ire.

"So fire her," Temari said, leaning her head on her hand, bored.

"Wouldn't be right. She ain't got a good home life," the old man said with an angry sigh. "New cuts and bruises every day." He picked up another bowl and began to dry it. "That hag comes in and takes all her money too. It's a sad sight."

"But I'm hungry…" Kankurou whispered to Temari but she shoved his face away.

"I tried to stop 'er once..." The old man continued, before catching himself.

"What happened?" Temari asked, just to keep anyone but Kankurou talking.

"That darned woman hollers for everyone to hear that she can raise her daughter however she well pleases, and it ain't my place to go against the woman, especially if the daughter don't complain."

Temari cocked an eyebrow.

"You're telling me she doesn't complain?" Temari asked incredulously. "Even though her mom abuses her?"

"I told ya' it's a sad sight. The girl ain't strong enough to hate the woman. I tell 'er every day, she ain't a mother anyone should have," the old man said, the frustration in his heart prompting him to offload somewhere. "But she's stubborn, and won't let anyone help 'er."

The thought occurred to Temari that this wasn't exactly table talk. It couldn't be good for business to discuss child abuse with your patrons.

"Why are you saying all this, old man?" Temari asked, feeling edgy from his overshare.

"Jus' between you and me, I thought maybe ya could—"

But before he could finish, a girl came rushing out of the back room, apron flying.

"I'm sorry Ojiisan! I...tripped and...had to clean a wound," said a familiar girl with a nervous smile.

Temari's eye twitched slightly.

Daagana.

I hated lying to Ojiisan, but he always took things too far.

Sure, Giia had pushed me into a pile of her shoes and one of her stilettos dug into my leg in a bad way, and cleaning it up made me late, but that was because I had rolled my eyes at her when she was picking her outfit for the day.

After I pulled the shoe from my thigh and rinsed it for her, I made a mental note to keep all eye movements in check. It was ridiculously cheeky, I don't know what had gotten into me lately…

But one glance at Ojiisan told me that he didn't believe me.

It was a good thing he never asked questions anymore. The last time he had, I didn't come to work for four entire days because of Giia's punishment.

I glanced over the bar, and saw the wonderful faces of Temari and Kankurou. Gaara was nowhere to be found, although I wasn't sure if Ojiisan would have served him if he had shown up. Sabaku no Gaara wasn't welcome at any Suna establishment, even all-accepting Ojiisan's. 'Oh great.' I thought to myself.

"Serve 'em three," Ojiisan said, and went back to drying bowls.

I nodded my head and quickly began to fill three bowls of ramen as ordered. It didn't take long. After two years, it was more muscle memory than cooking. I worked in this shop every day, and it was more a home than my house was.

That's pathetic, the insidious voice whispered, and I firmly suppressed it. It would not get the better of me here, either. With practiced ease, I bumped my hip into the searing stove, feeling the singe on my side. I held my breath, knowing that no one had seen, but feeling relief when the shadow in my mind simmered back to where it came from.

Without missing a beat, I placed a bowl of ramen in front of each of them, but paused with the third bowl…maybe Gaara was coming, and I was suddenly self-conscious of my ramen.

I didn't want to die because my broth was too salty.

But Kankurou motioned for me to put it in front of him as he slurped up his first bowl of noodles.

When they were content, I turned my back and began to beat udon dough into noodles.

"Where's Hiniku?" I asked Ojiisan, with my back still turned.

I heard him chuckle, and quickly spun around, only to have a bottle of water dumped on my head.

My first thought was of the noodles that were now ruined, and my second thought was to take her down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Temari looked confused, but Kankurou burst out laughing, noodles wiggling from his mouth. I quickly recovered and grabbed a loose bottle from the counter, throwing it in her face. Temari couldn't help but smirk.

"Dinner and a show," she hummed as I play-fought with my friend.

Hiniku's curly blond hair was sticking to her face, my face, and everywhere as we giggled and ran circles around Ojiisan, splashing water at each other. He sputtered and waved his spatula around in the air like we were little mice scampering around his kitchen.

Just when I was winning and Hiniku's waitress uniform was more sodden than mine was, the worst person had to walk in.

Giia came waltzing up to the bar and leaned over so far that her breasts rested on the menus. I only caught the flash of her golden hair before I nearly threw Hiniku to the ground to make myself presentable, knowing it was in vain.

Giia was beautiful and terrifying, and I was plain and spineless. Next to her, I was nothing.

She leaned back rigidly while I jumped to my feet, smoothing down my damp hair and straightening my rumpled skirt and apron. She looked like smoke was about to come out of her ears, she was so mad.

Hiniku jumped up in front of me protectively.

"So, is this what you do here? Make fools of yourselves in front of respectable customers?" Giia gritted through her teeth. Her eyes slid over Temari and her brother and I saw her debate her next move, realizing who they were.

My head hung in shame.

I shouldn't have let Hiniku distract me from my duties, especially not in front of customers. Especially not in front of Temari and Kankurou.

Ojiisan was going to be put out because I would have to remake that batch of noodles, which I should have started on immediately. This was my fault.

"Outside," she hissed at me, gliding out of the ramen bar with a snap.

"Gana..." Hiniku murmured quietly, but I shook my head and slowly walked around the bar to follow my mother.

She spun around to face me after leading me to the back alley, and before I could even say anything, she slapped me across the face.

It wouldn't have hurt so much, but she wore a ring on her right hand, and had a habit of turning it around her finger. It was a huge, fake thing, but sharp. She'd stolen it from the night market, hidden it in her purse, and showed it off to me later, while I scrubbed the floors at home. It just so happened to be the thing that came in contact with my face.

"You're due," she hissed, palm outstretched.

My face stayed to the side, just so I could hide the tears that were building up.

"Now," she demanded.

Slowly, I pulled out my old wallet, but she was impatient. She snatched it from my hand, tore it open and took all the money, then dropped it on the ground and stepped on it with the heel that had been in my leg that morning.

She wore them out of spite, I was sure, but there was still no mistaking how good she looked in them.

"Remember Daagana, you make a fool of yourself, you make a fool of me. And you don't want your mother to look foolish, now do you?" she asked, and I quickly shook my head.

"No, mother."

"That's a good girl," she cooed, patting my bleeding cheek.

I didn't fail to notice her perfectly manicured nails, or her new purse. She wafted the smell of cheap perfume around her like a cloud as she turned on her pretty heels and sashayed down the street. I watched her enter a bar further down the road and I knew she would not come home alone tonight...and that I should not go home at all.

Temari, without even really registering it, was anxious to know what was happening out there.

She couldn't hear what they were saying, but that in itself unnerved her. From what the old man had said, Daagana's mother was not the kind to let her give an excuse.

Power was one thing. Power was respected and feared.

Cruelty was an entirely different thing.

Cruelty was her father.

Cruelty was Gaara.

And apparently, cruelty was this woman.

Temari didn't know why she cared. Maybe it was the helplessness of the girl, something innate that made Temari want to protect her. Maybe it was simply because she already knew the girl, however tenuously.

Maybe it was because something of this girl's situation echoed her own.

Maybe…

After a few minutes, I re-entered the bar bleeding, and Temari stood from her stool abruptly. There would be no hiding the shallow gash across my face, but I still averted my face from her angry eyes just the same.

"I'm gonna kill her!" Hiniku roared and charged towards the entrance, but I caught her at the end of the bar.

Her anger was expected, and wholly unnecessary. This situation played out all the time. What reason was there to get upset about this one little thing? Giia had just had a bad morning that was all.

Yeah, just like every morning. Admit it—you'll never be good enough to help her.

"Will you help me?" I asked disarmingly, ignoring the whispers. It was unfair of me to manipulate Hiniku like this, but I couldn't have her go after my mother.

It was a misunderstanding, end of story.

Hiniku immediately dropped her rage and threw an arm around me protectively. "Let's get you cleaned up, Gana," she said, and led me to the back where we kept the first aid kit.

I didn't deserve someone like Hiniku, but that was alright. In a few months, when she's graduated, she'd forget all about me, just like Giia always said. I wouldn't hold her back anymore.

"I hate 'dat woman," the old man said disgustedly, shaking his spatula in the air. "One of 'dees days, I'm gonna let Hiniku at 'er. That'll show 'er."

Temari glanced at her brother, who wasn't paying much attention to anything but his second bowl of ramen.

She felt foolish for reacting to the evidence of abuse on Daagana's face. It was nothing compared to what she got during simple sparring matches with her friends. Cuts, bruises, and even the occasional broken bone were all very normal.

She was a shinobi. Pain was a weapon and an occupational hazard.

But this girl…was not like them. She didn't know to use her circumstances to her advantage. Before Daagana had come in, the old man was going to ask her to do something about it, Temari was sure.

But what was there for her to do?

Quietly, Temari walked out and glanced down the road.

She couldn't see Daagana's mother, but when she looked down, she saw a ruined wallet and a few small drops of blood.

She picked the torn piece of leather up and brushed it off.

It was a cheap thing with the Suna symbol on the front. It piqued her interest as she pulled out her own wallet and saw that she had the same one. She had gotten it in the academy when she was younger, before her Genin exam.

Perhaps this girl understood her own circumstances more than Temari gave her credit for.

#naruto #gaara #sabaku no gaara #sabaku no temari #sabaku no kankuro #sunagakure #suna #abuse #ramen #princess #shinobi #ninja #mother #best friends #daagana #giia #hiniku #ojiisan

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