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strawberry-jammers · 3 years ago

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One Year

a dreamsmp x reader where a young (y/n) wants to rebuild an old old kingdom before they have to be crowned to rule over their parents kingdom. with the help of their friends and a couple of servants, they hope to rebuild it all with out their parent knowing about it.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

part 3/?

masterlist

unedited, so their will be parts that are off

actual story ooooo

word count: 4247

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Nikki and (y/n) have been riding their horse for over an hour. It started to get a bit painful so they decided to take a break in a small clearing in the woods.

They set up a small picnic filled with baked goods, bread and sandwiches. They had plenty of water and hooked up thunder in a tree not far from them.

"How are you not tired? We all wake up at ungodly hours in the castle." (Y/n) asked, taking a bite of their sandwich. Nikki giggled. "I've had to stay up for days to get orders done for some clients. What about you?" (Y/n) sighed. "Slept for awhile before we left. I can't stay up like you can." They laughed, setting their sandwich down. "Thats fair, will you be able to stay awake before we get there?" Niki asks, drinking some water.

"Mm Idk, might sleep on you while we travel." They both laugh a bit. "If you do, I'm kicking you off." (Y/n) dramatically gasps. "You wouldn't!" They jokingly say, making Nikki giggle slightly. "Oh i would! Watch your back (n/n)." (Y/n) smiled.

"Aww we are friends!" The two of them continue to joke like this, occasionally eating and such.

The sun continued to rise as they talked. Birds chirped and flew above them, some even trying to eat some of their food. The breeze was nice and soft, the air warmer than it was when they first left. Flowers flicked softly as the wind pushed them, along with the grass around them. It was a peaceful morning, two newly made friends chatting and enjoying eachothers company.

The two of them soon finished up, packing up and hun hooking thunder to the neighboring tree. They made sure thunder was well fed and such before getting on him. They made sure to leave nothing behind.

“Ready nikki?” (y/n) asked, hopping on the horse. Nikki nodded, getting on as well. “Don't fall asleep on me, okay?” (y/n) rolled their eyes. “Wouldn't dream of it.” Nikki smiled. “Good, cause your not gonna be dreaming on my watch.” they both laughed, starting up their journey once more.

It took a couple more hours and some stops, but they finally made it to the neighboring village to the arctic kingdom. The drastic weather change hit them harshly, having to grab the coats and appropriate clothes they packed for this weather. “I forgot how cold it was around here. I wonder how they even manage to have a garden in their castle…” (y/n) says, hugging onto nikki more so than before. “I've never even been here before. Never imagined how could it would be..”

They stopped at a random motel esc thing in the village. They hooked up thunder in the horse pen nearby, grabbing their bags and walking inside. Ordering a room threw niki, the two of them got into their room and collapsed on the bed there.

“Oh god i forgot how tiring traveling was. You good there niki?” (y/n) asked the pinkett, rolling over to face her. “Everything hurts.” she says, muffled by the blankets beneath her.she laid face down so it was a bit hard to hear, but they managed “Yeah i get that. We should get a bit of sleep before going to the castle.'' Nikki nodded, rolling onto her side instead of the uncomfortable position she was in before.

They fell asleep quite easily, having been up for longer than they were used to. Niki slept soon after, snoring softly. It was peaceful, for a bit, but they had to get up eventually.

It was past noon when they awoke, groaning softly. Nikki was still sleeping, drooling a bit. (y/n) shook her awake. “Come on get up!” niki sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "What time is it?" She asked, her voice slightly hoarse. "A bit past noon. We should buy some things at the market out of town, sense We've run out of food." Nikki nodded, looking down at her cloths. "Oh god i slept in my shoes…" Nikki says, slipping off the soft mattress. (y/n) nodded, getting off as well. “Yeah we both did. Thank god we didn't get the bed all messed up. Come on, we need to a market.” niki nodded, readjusting her clothes. “Let's go then!”

The market wasn't too much to brag about. It was small and selled the basic things any market would. When they two of them got back, it had reached around 6 pm. (y/n) opened the door to the room they were staying in, sitting in one of the chairs. “Can't believe we had to travel that far to get to the market outside of town.” Nikki nodded, sitting on the bed, taking off her shoes this time. “Yeah, the snow didn't help either. Thunder wasn't having a fun time with that one.” (y/n) nodded, looking out the window of their room. It was nearly dark.

“How do you think we're gonna get into the castle without them thinking we're gonna kill them or something?” niki said, getting up and slowly walking up towards (y/n). “I don't know, if tommys room has changed or he isn't there, we might have to go to techno.” niki nodded. “Getting caught will make things messy.” (y/n) looked at their bag of stuff, the letters nearly falling out the bag. “This better go well. Tommy should be back from his trip with their army, there's no threat of war, everything should be okay.” niki nodded, looking out the window. It had gotten dark, the only light there was came from intown or their room. “We need to wait till midnight.” she said, plopping on the bed. “Yeah, midnight is always the best option. Wanna read till then? I brought a book or two.” niki nodded while (y/n) whent to their bag and grabbed the book in question. “I'll read to you! I like telling stories so..”

(y/n) climbed into bed next to their friend, opening the book. They start to read, niki reading along as well.

This went on till it had reached around midnight, the book being forgotten about and the both of them being fully dressed and prepared to get to the castle.

“We shouldn't take thunder, he could be more trouble than good.” niki says, lacing up her boots. “Yeah, you're probably right. Got your stuff?” she nodded, having reduced her bag to only things that would help with them sneaking into the castle.

“Alright, let's get going then!”

Niki and (y/n), making sure thunder wouldn't leave, left the small hotel for the arctic kingdom, wearing appropriate clothing for the harsh arctic weather that happens in the night. The kingdom was pretty lively at night, cloaking the two of them. Reaching the outside of the castle, they noticed no one was guarding the gate. (y/n) thought for a second, then remembered a secret entrance they and Tommy used when they were younger.

“Niki, follow me.” she nodded, walking with (y/n) to the side of the castle. They noticed a window with a light on, one of the few ones on this side of the castle. (y/n) looked down, seeing a crack in the big wall that surrounded it. It was made of iron bars, one of which had been broken for years. They walked through, trying not to get hurt by the metal. (y/n) looked at niki. “This isn't a crime right?” they asked. “Breaking and entering? Definitely not.” she joked, looking up at the castle. “Which ones the right window?” (y/n) pointed to one of the windows. “The one to the left of the lit one. That's a storage room, so we can enter and sneak towards Tommy's room.”

Niki nodded, looking into their bag. “Wait how are we going to get up there?” she asked, looking back at their friend. (y/n) pointed towards the vines leading up to the window. “Vines. They should be sturdy enough to still go up. If not...we’ll be in a lot of pain.” niki sighed. “So reassuring.” they laughed, starting to get onto the vine. “It should be fine.”

They climbed up the vines, their breath being shown in the cold air. The vines were pretty sturdy, being thick enough to hold them up. Niki stayed behind, waiting for (y/n) to get through the window. (y/n) looked at the window, it being closer to them now. They noticed it was opened slightly, the room letting hot air escape. They climbed up a bit more, latching onto the window. They looked inside, seeing the door open to the small room. They sighed, opening the window and climbing threw. Once landing onto the floor of the castle, they looked out the window towards niki, waving her up.

“WHO’S THERE!?!??” (y/n) jumped, looking towards the person who just yelled at them.

They saw wilbur holding a lantern in his hand, taking a look at the person who had just broken into his home. “Oh goddamnit..” wilbur lowers the lantern, looking at the disappointed person. “..wait (y/n)?? what are you doing here?” they sighed, stepping away from the window. “Heyyy will. This isn't awkward at all.” they sighed. “Please don't arrest me and my friend.” will, looking towards the window. “You brought a friend?” (y/n) looked at the window, seeing niki latch onto it. They helped her up. “Okay now we-AHH PRINCE WILBUR!” niki shouts, hiding behind (y/n). Wilbur laughs slightly.

“Yeah, we got caught right away.” (y/n) says, looking at the pinkett. Niki moved out from behind them, waving shyly at the prince. “Hi...im niki.” wilbur smiled. “Nice to meet you niki. Now, what are you two doing sneaking in here when you know you can just enter like you normally did.” (y/n) and niki look at each other. “That's a long story that you can tell phil.or my dad.” Wilbur sighed, moving away from the door. “Come on, we’ll go to my room. This better not be illegal.” (y/n) chuckled. “Trust me, it already is.”

The three of them walked threw the castle, noticing just how dark and lonely it can be at night. Wilbur turned the corner heading towards the last door in the hall. He opened it, letting the two of them in. It was of decent size. The room was covered in papers, the walls being barren while the bed and desk covered. Some had ink spilled on them, either as a mistake or out of rage. (y/n) looked towards the prince. “What's all this about?” they asked, pointing towards his untidy desk. He sighed. “Tell my why your here first.” he moved the papers from off his bed so the two of them could sit down. “Fine fine.” they said, sitting on the bed. Niki followed. Wilbur closed the door, deciding to just lean against the wall.

(y/n) looked into their bag, pulling out the paper on the old kingdom of lmanburg, handing it to wilbur. “A few days ago I found this in one of my parents' history books. It had fallen out so I read it. It's about an old kingdom destroyed by a group who didn't like its ideals, probably anarchists or something. Since I wanted to get out of the castle for a while, I decided to go see it, rebuild it if you will. When I told father he didn't let me, however, niki and another friend, Karl, helped me out. I wanted to rebuild the kingdom with tommy and tubbo, so me and niki whent to see him and give him the letter i was originally just gonna send him. Now here we are, in your room.”

Wilbur was reading over the paper (y/n) had given him. He smiled, handing it back to (y/n). “I could maybe help out. Tommy just got back so he's in a deep sleep right now. I'll hide you here till the morning when I'll bring him in here. There's one condition though.” Wilbur states. Niki nodded her head. “What is it?”

“I help rebuild lmanburg. I like its past ideals and wanna help out. I've been wanting to get out of here for awhile, Phil leaving everything to me has been taxing. I won't be king for a long while, so I've got time.” (y/n) stood up. “Do you have a year?” the young man nodded, stepping forward off the wall. “Yeah i think so, do we have a deal young one?” he asked, holding his hand out. (y/n) looked towards Nikki, who nodded her head. (Y/n) turned back, smiling. They took his hand. “We have a deal, also I'm not that young.” he chuckled, ruffling their heads. “Sure kid.” They laughed together.

The three of them talked the rest of the night, none of them really getting tired. It was light out when someone knocked on wilburs door. They opened it without any warning, scaring the three of them. (y/n) accidentally fell on the floor while niki grabbed a carrot from her bag as a weapon.

“Heh? Wait (y/n) why are you on the floor.'' They looked up to see an unimpressed techno at the door. Wilbur rushed towards techno, shoving him inside and closing the door behind him. He made sure to lock it this time.

“Heeeyyy techno.” they said, getting up. Niki shyly put away her carrot weapon. Techno sighed. “What are you doing here?” he asked, standing next to will. “Well firstly, please dont tell Phil or my dad, secondly it's a long story.” they said, gesturing to the bed. Techno sighed, sitting down. The three of them told him what was going on, and why they had to stay a secret. Techno looked at the three of them.

“Fine i won't tell phil, but in turn you have to braid my hair like you used to.” (y/n) smiled, nodding. “I won't be able to put any flowers in it though.” techno stood up, shaking his head. “When you're talking to Tommy, I'll get the flowers. I'll go distract Phil while you three head to Tommy's room though. I woke him up before i got here so.” (y/n) nodded, thanking the immortal man. He nodded, walking out the room.

“Why does lmanburg sound so familiar?” he said to himself, walking through the halls.

Wilbur turned to niki and (y/n). “That went well.” they both nodded, speaking agreements to the man. (y/n) grabbed their bag. “Yeah, it went pretty well. Now, let's head to Tommy's room. Gotta complete our mission.”

"We didn't break in here for nothing." Nikki said, following (y/n). Wilbur nodded, walking behind the two and closing the door. They looked around, making sure no one was around to see them. They walked back down the hall towards the teens room, praying no one would spot them.

They reached the door, wilbur knocking on it. An angered tommy opens it, all of them being able to feel the air from the door. “What will happen!? Can't you see I'm busy??” (y/n) steps out from behind wilbur. “No your not. Let us in.” tommy stared at them for a second. “Wait (y/n)!?” they nodded, smiling. “Mhm, now let us in.” they said showing a deadpan face. Tommy gasped, letting them all in, noticing niki as well. Wilbur closed the door, staring his younger brother down. “Tell father these two are here and where we’re going i will murder you.” tommy rolls his eyes. “Like you could kill me.”

“Boys boys shut up your both stupid. Ugh this is gonna be a long year.” (y/n) says, turning to niki. “Why can't it just be us two.'' She laughed at this. Tommy gasps dramatically. “I am not stupid! Wilbur is though.'' Wilbur glared at tommy. “I am so gonna kill you when we leave-” “okay okay, calm down.” (y/n) says, interrupting the older man. Wilbur sighs, slumping.

“Anyways, tommy, we snuck in here to recruit you for something!” (y/n) says, leaning against tommys bed posts. They were on both ends of the bed. Tommy stared at both niki and (y/n). “Well first who's this?” he said, pointing to the pinkett. “I'm niki! It's nice meeting you! (y/n) told me alot about you, they even told me you used to braid technos hair and put flowers-” “OKAY I DO NOT LIKE HER!! SHUT UP BITCH!!'' Tommy shouts, interrupting the smirking girl. “Yeah yeah, you hate everyone.” (y/n) says. “Now you know niki, we wanna talk to you about something we had planned.”

(y/n) then told tommy all about the kingdom, and how they missed hanging out with him and tubbo. They wanted to see them again, so they snuck in here to get him to come with them. Tommy processed all of this, thinking if he should go with them. “What ideals did it hold? How long will it be? And can i be the president?” (y/n) handed him the lmanburg paper. “Independance, freedom and others listed there. Up until i get crowned to rule the uranian kingdom so like a year. No not in a million years.” tommy ponder for a second. “Alright I'm in. I will be president one day though.” (y/n) patted his head. “Sure buddy. Sure you will.” (y/n) looked into their bag, handing him the letter they wrote to him. “This might go into a bit more detail. Now if you excuse me, im gonna sleep on your bed. “Hey hey no your not! I have more questions.” (y/n) nodded. “Alright fine. What is it. “

Tommy looked at the letter. “How are we gonna get to tubbo? He's never had a concrete place of living, how will we find him?” (y/n) thought for a second. “No idea. Might ask Jack for help since he runs the only train system in the smp...i'm really not sure though.`` Tommy just stared at them. “Wow, amazing. We’re actually gonna have to do work to find him.” tommy complains. Wilbur shuckled. “Like youre gonna help.” tommy glared at him. “Why are you even coming along anyway?? You have things to do here you know.`` Wilbur smacked Tommy's arm. “So do you! You literally lead our military tommy. We can just leave it to phil and techno sense they do absolutely nothing.”

“What do you mean i do nothing? I have to deal with you two everyday, that's enough.” techno interrupted the two's conversation, standing in the doorway. Niki and (y/n) laughed at this. “I bet their a handful.” niki said. “Oh yeah, tommy especially. The childs really annoying and hard to deal with. Nearly strangled him once or twice.” the pink haired man said. Tommy glared at him. “Dad would kill you before you could.” techno laughed, sighing. “I'm not scared of your father, I could totally win against him in a fight.”

“Do they always fight like this?” niki asked me. “Yes they do. It gets annoying real fast.” they both laugh together. Techno turned towards (y/n), gesturing towards the basket in his hands. “You, braid, now.” (y/n) chuckled at this. “Alright alright. Sit on the bed.” techno follows this, sitting down on the side of the bed. (y/n) got behind him, grabbing the flowers and sectioning his hair. Tommy saw this and sat next to them, wanting to help out like he used to. Niki and Wilbur smiled at this, Wilbur grabbing his guitar and looking towards niki. “Do you know any songs you could sing?” he asked, sitting down on one of tommys chairs just after closing and locking the door. Niki responded, smiling softly. “I know i few.”

(y/n) and Tommy braided and placed flowers into technos hair like they did when they were kids, while Wilbur and Niki played a few songs together to add to the peaceful atmosphere. It was a nice, calming experience the five of them needed. It was peaceful, and held a bit of nostalgia for some of them. When (y/n) and Tommy finished up technos hair, they still stayed like this, quietly playing a few songs and just catching up with one another. Getting to know niki while she got to hear some funny stories about the two brothers and a young (y/n) was a nice experience. It was nice knowing they would be close friends.

They noticed how it had reached mid day by the time they had stopped telling stories. (y/n) had gotten a bit tired while Tommy got quite bored or distracted. Wilbur suggested that they had lunch together, since Phil had left that morning for a week-long trip. They all agreed, and went off to their kitchen to make a real quick meal for the five of them.

Tommy and (y/n) were in charge of setting the table, since Tommy was banned from the kitchen and someone needed to keep him in check. Niki and Wilbur made the main part of the meal, along with some treats, while techno made tea and other drinks for them all. He helped make some of the food though.

Once finished up, they all ate together at the big table in the dining hall. (y/n) and niki talked of their adventure here, how they had a horse that they needed to return to jack soon and how they had nearly gone the wrong way at some point.

Once finished, Wilbur and Tommy agreed to pack up since they had to leave to give back the horse. Wilbur and Tommy said they had their own so they did have a way of transportation. Techno, (y/n) and niki sat in the dining hall, waiting for the two of them to be done packing.

“So, i've been thinking about this lmanburg place.” techno says, messing with one of the glasses at the table. “I think that place has a lot more significance than you think.” (y/n) looked at techno. “Hm? What do you mean.”

“Well for starters, I think yo-” “WILL DONT PUSH ME DOWN THE STARS!!!! I WILL STAB YOU IN AN ALLEYWAY WITH A KNIFE!'' Tommy Yelles from upstairs, interrupting techno in the process.

Wilbur came running into the room, being chased by an angry tommy with a knife in hand. Niki got up from her seat and tackled tommy. “GIVE ME THE KNIFE!!” she shouted, trying to get the knife from his hand. “LET ME GO BITCH!!!'' Wilbur stood near (y/n) who was wheezing in laughter.

“GIVE.ME.THE.KNIFE!!!!” niki said, trying her best to grab it. Eventually, tommy gives up and hands niki the knife. She smiled “good. No more knives okay?``Tony nodded, grabbing his bag which had fallen by the entrance. He sits next to where niki sat, who soon stood next to him. “Are we all ready to go?” (y/n) asked, standing up from their seat. Everyone nodded, techno getting up as well. “Might as well actually get stuff done instead of what normally happens.” he said, walking over to (y/n) and hugging them. “It was good seeing ya.” he says, letting go. (y/n) smiled. “Yeah, it was nice braiding your greasy ass hair again.” techno rolled his eyes. “It's not that bad.” “Sure, sure it isn't.”

Everyone said their goodbyes to techno, Tommy opting to try and stab him (he somehow got another knife). He didn't stab techno.

They 4 of them left the dining hall, opting to just walk out the castle since no one would see them today. They went to the stable, grabbing two horses for the trip. When leaving, (y/n) and niki told them they needed to go back to the motel to get anything they left behind, plus the horse they needed to give back to their friend. They nodded, walking to the village to grab thunder and anything else.

“Thunder, I know you were alone all night and morning, but you gotta come with us man!” (y/n) said to a sluggish thunder. He didn't want to get out of the stable. “Hungry? Thirsty?” thunder seemed to respond to that, so (y/n) gave him what he needed and he finally agreed to leave. They met back with niki, wilbur and tommy, who were in front of the hotel. “We’re do we go from here?'' Tommy asked, eating a cookie he snatched from a market aways back. “We’re going to the arctic kingdom trainstation to give thunder back to jack, maybe ask him if he knows where tubbo lives nowadays.” they said, hopping on the horse niki was on. Wilbur nodded, looking down at Tommy who was the only one not on a horse. “Gonna hop on?”

“I have my own horse, dick head.” Tommy says, hopping onto the said horse. “Well i didn't say you could ride with me now did i?” “you literally did!!” the two bickered a bit, niki and (y/n) just

leaving them behind. After they noticed the two had started to leave, they stopped fighting and followed the two of them.

They headed to the train station that was a bit out of town, hoping Jack would be there. If not, this plan got a bit more complicated.

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twomanyideas · 3 years ago

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The Grill Next Door

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

Gratsu Week 2021 Prompt(s): Impress, Smile, Smokey Pairing: Gray x Natsu

AO3

Summary: Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck.

But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly.

0-0 Summer was arguably the worst time to be moving. Who in their right mind would want to spend all day inside unpacking boxes when it was 90 degrees outside? Definitely not Natsu, and yet here he was, dragging another box full of stuff up the stairs in his new home. He was grateful for his friends, who had been there when he’d gotten the key and helped him clean the house, paint some walls, and install the larger pieces of furniture. But now that there was only the smaller clutter left, he was on his own, and he was missing out on all the summer fun. His friends were all enjoying themselves without him; spending their free time at the beach or the pool, barbecuing in their yards, raiding the ice cream parlor… “Soon…” Natsu sighed to himself. Soon, he could join them again. He just had a few more boxes filled with necessary items to go.

He’d already unpacked the ones filled with kitchen utensils and Happy’s stuff. All that was left were his toiletries and a few clothes. He’d sort through the rest of his crap bit by bit, one or two boxes every night until he was done. That way, he could still get the most out of the vacation days he'd pulled out for moving. He opened the box he’d brought upstairs with him and groaned; of course, he’d grabbed the wrong one. Instead of towels and shower products, he was looking at some of the housewarming gifts he’d gotten. A key hanger from Lucy, because he was always losing his keys. A baking set from Erza, which Natsu had to admit was the most optimistic gift he’d ever gotten, and a cute houseplant from Wendy, carefully wrapped up in brown paper, with wet paper towels to keep the soil moist.

There were a few more small gifts, but Natsu’s attention was drawn to the flat package at the bottom. More specifically, to the image that was on it, giving away what was inside: a bright pink flamingo kiddie pool. “So you can have a pool in your backyard!” Sting had grinned when Natsu unwrapped the gift. It was obviously a gag gift, and at the time, Natsu had seen the humor in it. He’d even joked that he’d call Sting for a pool party once he was all settled in, but right now, it only fueled his longing to do something fun. Actually… Screw unpacking, he’d do that later. One look through the window, at the bright blue sky and the burning sun, was all it took to finalize his decision. He picked up the box and took it downstairs again, quickly watering the plant before it could die in the summer heat, and putting it on a windowsill. Leaving the rest of the box’s contents for now, he took out the inflatable pool and started digging through one of the other boxes in search of his swim trunks.

He’d done enough for today. He was going to sit in his backyard and enjoy his stupid pool, damn it. Once he’d changed into his swimwear, he applied a thin layer of sunblock he’d found during his search for a towel. He went outside with the pool under his arm, sticking his foot out when he slipped through the sliding door to keep Happy from sneaking outside.

“Sorry buddy, you can’t go out yet,” he apologized, knowing that it was for the best.

They'd only moved in a few days ago, and Happy needed to get used to his new home. If he were to run away, he'd get lost trying to find his way back to their old apartment, and the last thing Natsu wanted was to end up like Rogue, who had spent all night frantically searching for Frosch when he had just moved in with Sting and failed to shut the front door behind him fast enough. Still, Natsu couldn’t help but feel guilty at the sight of Happy pawing at him from behind the glass. Maybe he could get him a cat leash tomorrow, so he could at least explore the backyard safely. One thing was for sure, he’d definitely give him some of his favorite fish treats to make up for a few hours of sitting alone inside. With that in mind, he smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air and the delicious smell that came along with it. It was one of his favorites, and he instantly recognized it. One of his neighbors was grilling in his backyard. Too curious for his own good, Natsu followed the scent. His nose told him it was coming from the house to his left, from the backyard that was only separated from his by a tall wooden fence. Tall, but not tall enough to keep Natsu away. He was just able to peek over the top if he stood on his tippy toes.

He wanted to get an idea of who was living next to him, that’s all. Okay, and maybe he wanted to live through them a little as they indulged in one of his all-time favorite summer activities. \

Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck. But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly. “You know, your food is going to cook more evenly and taste a lot better if you close the lid,” Natsu suggested, bursting out in laughter when the guy jumped and almost dropped his tongs. “Idiot!” He whirled around and glared at Natsu, waving the tongs in the air as he stomped closer. Damn! This guy was actually pretty cute when he was mad.

"I almost burned myself. What were you thinking?!"

"That you weren't doing those ribs the justice they deserve," Natsu retorted, frustration rising within him once he managed to tear his eyes away from his half-naked neighbor and focus back on the grill. All that delicious aroma-filled smoke that would've added so much flavor to that gorgeous meat was getting away!

It was a fucking crime.

"Pay attention to what you were doing, you jackass! You gotta flip them over!"

The guy quickly returned to his grill to tend to his ribs, cursing as he fumbled with the tongs while trying to keep a safe distance between the searing heat of the barbecue and his own bare ribs.

"Man, you really suck at this," Natsu couldn't resist pointing out.

"Oh, and I suppose _you _could do better?"

In all honesty, Natsu was a terrible cook. He lacked the ability to multitask in the kitchen, always made an enormous mess, and often combined ingredients that his friends insisted should never be combined.

However, cooking and grilling were two completely different things to him. His dad had taught him how to cook meat on an open fire or a makeshift grill during camping trips since he was little, and he had it down to a fine art by now.

"You're damn right I can," he scoffed, taking the question as a challenge and being kind enough to climb over the fence and invite himself to his neighbor's backyard so he could show him how it was done.

"What are you doing?!"

"Saving your meat, of course! Move over."

Too stunned by what was happening, the guy didn't protest when Natsu snatched away the tongs. He just watched with his mouth open as Natsu flipped the ribs and set the grate to a higher level, making sure they'd cook slower. And much to Natsu’s amusement, it wasn't just the grill he was staring at.

Satisfied with his intervention, Natsu closed the lid and stepped back. "There, that should do it!" he grinned, putting the tongs down on a plate on the nearby table so he could hold out his hand in greeting. "I'm Natsu, by the way. I just moved here last Wednesday."

"... Gray," his neighbor replied, frowning warily but still accepting Natsu's hand and shaking it briefly. "Do you always stick your nose into other people's business like that?"

“Just wait, you’ll be thanking me soon enough.” Natsu said, amused by his neighbor's grumpy tone. “Anyway, you should be fine as long as you leave the lid closed for about an hour.”

“An hour?” Gray complained, “I thought grilling was supposed to be faster.”

“I mean, do you want fast, or do you want good?” Natsu drawled suggestively. He wasn’t sure if it was the beautiful weather or just the high he felt from having had a hot guy so obviously checking him out because normally he wasn’t much of a flirt, but he felt the urge to test the waters. “Cause I could show you both.”

Gray surprised him by laughing heartily at his innuendo. “There is seriously nothing subtle about you, is there?”

“Nope.” Natsu agreed and laughed along. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ll leave you to your grilling, gotta go set up my pool.”

He climbed the fence to get back into his yard, hearing Gray yell behind him. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Just use the gate next time.”

“But then, how could I show you my best asset?” Natsu retorted once he was safely over, chuckling as Gray muttered something he couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t too worried, though. After all Gray had said next time.

0-0

Gray looked back at the grill, already tempted to open the lid and check on the ribs. What was he supposed to do for an hour? He’d mowed the grass earlier, and he didn’t feel comfortable staying inside while the grill was going.

The sun felt overly hot on his skin and he found shelter under a tree in his backyard. Playing on his phone had netted him ten minutes of entertainment and two group conversations he wasn’t all that interested in.

Maybe Natsu did know what he was talking about because the smell of the ribs cooking was making his mouth water in ravenous anticipation. Thinking about his new neighbor brought a smile to his face, especially since he heard odd noises coming from the other side of the fence. Didn’t he say something about a pool?

With all this time to kill, maybe he should go return the favor and see what he was up to.

With that in mind, Gray walked over to the fence and peered over it, unable to hold back a snort when he saw Natsu sitting on the ground and puffing air into a pink flamingo-shaped pool.

"Wow, I guess you really are full of hot air."

Natsu looked up at him, flashing that grin Gray was quickly developing a weak spot for. "So you think I'm hot?"

Yes, he sure as hell did, but he wasn’t about to give Natsu the satisfaction of saying so. At least... not yet.

“I think you’re having an awfully hard time blowing, which is… disappointing.”

"Huh. Never had any complaints before." Natsu shrugged, returning his attention to blowing air into the flamingo.

“Why don’t you let me show you how it’s done?” Gray said, feeling confident.

God knows he’d blown up a ton of these things for his brother’s kid. He’d quickly learned there was a little trick to it. You had to squeeze the valve as you blew into it or the air wouldn’t get in properly. Clearly, his hot dumbass of a neighbor didn't get that.

“You want to show me how well you blow?” Natsu tilted his head, looking amused by Gray’s suggestion. “How can I say no to that?”

Gray let himself into Natsu’s backyard, using the gate that connected their properties, like a normal person, and grabbed the pool away from Natsu. Using his trick, he quickly filled both rings of the pool.

“Color me impressed.” Natsu whistled in appreciation once Gray set the pool down on the grass. He filled it with water from the hose, which he oh so charmingly put between his legs, giggling to himself as he swung it around.

How the guy could go from flirting to acting like a five-year-old within the blink of an eye was beyond Gray, but he had to admit that it was oddly endearing.

Natsu jumped in with both feet as soon as the pool was filled, watching with glee as water sloshed out onto the grass from his efforts. He sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him, and immediately propped his arms around the pool’s rim.

“That feels so much better!” Natsu moaned happily.

Now that Natsu was inside it, Gray couldn't help but notice that the pool could fit two people, albeit a little snugly considering their size. And though normally he wouldn't be caught dead in one of these things- especially a pink flamingo one- it was a very hot day, and Natsu’s yard was a lot shadier than his.

"You want in?" Natsu asked, his lips stretching into a mischievous smile.

Gray’s eyes were drawn to the slightly pointy canines, finding them incredibly sexy, and he immediately wondered what kissing that mouth would feel like as Natsu patted the empty spot next to him invitingly.

What had gotten into him? He’d just met the guy, knew next to nothing about him, yet here he was acting like a hormone driven teenager. It wasn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t deny the chemistry that sizzled between them, so palpable he could almost touch it.

Besides, what was wrong with having a little fun? It was summer, and he had been in a bit of a dry spell for months.

That thought decided him.

“I suppose I could join you for a bit.”

He had just stepped one foot inside the pool when, to his surprise, Natsu stopped him. “Hang on a minute. I didn’t say you could come in. I only asked if you wanted to.”

“If you want in-” Natsu winked at him. “It’s gonna cost ya.”

“Cost me?” Gray sputtered in protest. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. I will be more than happy to share my pool with you on this incredibly hot day, but only if you share some of those ribs with me.”

Gray had already been planning on doing that, but it was infinitely more fun to make Natsu work for it.

“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, which only netted him greasy fingers from the sunblock he’d slathered on earlier. “It seems to me like you’re getting the better end of the deal here. This is just a kiddie pool after all.”

“Alright, you drive a hard bargain, but I can respect that. How about this then? I’ll throw in some of my world famous special sauce.”

“World famous?” Gray scoffed, “It’s probably just something you picked up at the grocery store, but… okay, I’ll bite.”

“You promise?” Natsu gave him a cheeky smirk, one that ignited a need in Gray to get in that damn pool right the hell now and show him what he intended to do.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Gray said. “Just don’t complain if it ends up being more than you bargained for.”

Gray was so determined to get in there that he completely forgot he was already partly in the pool, and tripped over the edge when he tried to step in. He caught himself with his hands but still ended up splashing Natsu, not to mention had the wind yanked out of his sails.

He looked up to see the damage. The water had darkened Natsu’s pink hair and flattened it against his face, softening his features and somehow making the bastard look even more attractive. Gray watched in rapt fascination as a drop of water traveled from Natsu’s cheek, joining others on its way down his neck and over his chest until rejoining the rest of the water at waist level.

“You’re right,” Natsu laughed loudly, slicking his hair back and away from his face. “That was definitely more than I bargained for. Nice entrance, by the way.”

Gray was utterly mortified, and he scrambled to sit down, desperately trying to come up with a witty comeback, but before he could say a word, Natsu had already splashed him.

“There you go. No need to make that face. It’s a pool. We were going to get wet, eventually.” Natsu shrugged, his expression gradually changing to distaste as he looked at the water.

“Dude, what did you use for sunblock, SPF lard?”

“I burn easily!” Gray protested, smoothing out the bits of sunblock he could see on his skin.

“Yeah? Then maybe you should actually get it on all of your skin. Turn around.”

“It’s hard to reach back there! Besides, you just want an excuse to get your hands on me,” he argued, but did as he was told anyway, turning his back to Natsu.

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Are you complaining?”

Gray pouted but remained silent.

“That’s what I thought.”

It was hard to miss the smug tone in his voice.

Natsu’s hands spread the globs of lotion evenly across his back, occasionally stopping to knead on one of his muscles and then concentrating on his shoulders. Gray closed his eyes, biting his lip so as not to let on how much he was enjoying it. If this was what he got in exchange for some barbecued ribs, he'd love to know what other types of food Natsu liked.

“There you go.” Natsu said, giving his shoulders one last squeeze. “You can turn around now. It should be safe for you to walk in daylight again.”

Gray turned just in time to see Natsu lean back into his previous position.

“Are you implying I'm some sort of vampire? Cause I’m not the one with the pointy teeth.”

“No, but you are the one who offered to bite me.”

“True.” Gray laughed, and not wanting to lose the mood, he made his move, adjusting from a sitting position to a half straddle. He leaned in, close enough that he could feel the slight puff of Natsu’s breaths on his face as he murmured, “I can still make that happen.”

“You talk too much.” Natsu said just as quietly, peering into his eyes for a split second before closing his eyes and bridging the distance between them.

Gray hadn’t expected Natsu’s body to feel so warm against his, especially considering they were both wet from the pool water, and he instinctively pulled him closer. As arousing as the kiss was, and Natsu sucking on his tongue was definitely doing things to him, he realized he had no urge to push for more.

That should have been his first warning.

But he wasn’t really thinking about anything. His world had narrowed down to sensations. The torrid heat of Natsu’s mouth, the sharp sting of teeth nibbling on his lips, and the tingling pleasure of his hair being tugged, coupled with the sounds they were both making. Needy moans that would have embarrassed him if Natsu hadn’t sounded the same.

Gray liked it all a little too much. Already, the thought of separating filled him with a sense of dread. And perhaps that should have been his second warning.

He was busy running his hands up and down Natsu’s back when he felt him let go of his hair. His hands trailed down to his chest, but no lower, and he pulled away, leaving Gray to chase after him. Confused and more than a little disappointed, Gray opened his eyes. Natsu sat perfectly still, his eyes slightly widening as he sniffed the air. “THE RIBS!!!” Oh crap! He’d forgotten all about the ribs!

“Go open the lid,” Natsu urged, scrambling to get up and out of the pool. “I’ll be there in a few minutes with the sauce.”

Gray watched Natsu enter his house and then hurried over to his yard. The food smelled even better than before and when he opened the lid and poked the ribs with the tongs; he saw they were indeed done, the meat tender and ready to fall off the bone. Rather than stand around waiting awkwardly, he grabbed two beers from his fridge along with plates, napkins and utensils to bring outside.

He opened the sliding door that led to his backyard and found Natsu brushing sauce onto the ribs from an unmarked blue bottle. There was a content smile on his face as he worked away, and Gray felt a flutter in his stomach at the sight.

Shit!

He’d never been one for one-night stands, so why had he thought he’d just be able to go along this time? Because Natsu was hot and seemed willing?

Gray wanted to know more about him, but he wasn’t sure if Natsu felt the same way or if this was just a game he liked to play. What would happen if he played along to its inevitable conclusion? Would that be the end of it? The two of them- probably awkwardly- moving on as just neighbors who happened to have hooked up?

Was it wrong of him to want more?

Natsu looked up then, waving at him and gesturing him over. His smile widened when he noticed the beer bottles Gray was holding.

“Ooh, beer wasn’t part of the deal! I must have kissed you real good!” Natsu teased, accepting the bottle and easing some of the uncertainty Gray had felt about whether things would turn awkward after their make-out session in the pool.

“You’ll notice this is only domestic beer, so I wouldn’t get too full of myself if I were you.” Gray retorted, still playing along.

“Meh, beer is beer, and it goes great with ribs.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

The back and forth was nice, but Gray was itching to ask what was really on his mind.

Can I keep you? Or will you run off after the next pretty face that strikes your fancy?

The lid of the barbecue closed again, and Natsu walked over. “They should be ready in about five more minutes.”

He clinked bottles with him and took a swig. Gray followed suit and decided to just go for it. He’d rather know what to expect than hope for something that wasn’t meant to be.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he blurted out, sounding a bit more eager than he would have liked.

“Sure, shoot.”

Natsu gave no sign he knew what was coming, or at least that’s what his relaxed posture seemed to broadcast.

“Do you do this kind of thing often?”

“Moving? God, no, I hate it with a passion. Might as well bury me here cause I’m never doing it again.”

“No,” Gray frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Natsu mock sighed, “I’m just trying to think of an answer that won’t go to your head.”

“What?” Gray didn’t know what to make of that answer. Was he trying to find a way to let him down gently?

“No, I don’t do this type of thing often.” Natsu admitted, meeting Gray’s eyes and holding his gaze. “Look, you’re hot and turned out to be fun to mess with, so I figured there was no harm in seeing where that led. But I’m not expecting anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Gray wanted to ask if that meant that he’d like to date, but to his chagrin, all that came out of his mouth was, “You think I’m hot?”

“See?” Natsu said, sounding amused. “What’d I tell you? Right to your head!”

He put his beer bottle down on the table and traded it in for the tongs and the plates before hurrying back to the grill to check on their food. Satisfied, he turned it off and heaped a large serving of ribs onto each plate.

Gray followed him to the table, only then noticing the sliced watermelon Natsu must have brought with him from his house. He bit into one to buy himself some time to organize his thoughts.

Next to him, Natsu had already begun to dig in, messily devouring the ribs, stopping only long enough to take a sip from his beer. Gray shrugged and did the same. It wasn’t like his table manners were anything to write home about, either. The moment the meat from the ribs touched his tongue, his taste buds were assaulted with flavor. Sweet, salty, spicy… all blending together in perfect harmony. It was by far the best ribs Gray had ever tasted. He could hardly believe they’d come off his grill. He glanced at Natsu admiringly. Not that he noticed, focused as he was on his plate.

“So, what other things can you make?”

Natsu looked up at his question. There was a glob of sauce at the corner of his mouth, driving Gray all sorts of crazy with the urge to kiss it off him, but he held strong.

For now.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this is it. I can’t cook worth a damn.”

“That’s too bad.” Gray tried but failed to suppress a smile. “Guess I’ll just have to show you all the best places to eat around here, then. You busy tomorrow night?”

Natsu shook his head, breaking into a smile so blinding it wiped every single thought out of Gray’s head. Save one.

"Nope, I'm all yours," Natsu answered after what looked like a brief moment of contemplation.

Gray sure as hell liked the sound of that.

“There’s just one thing…”

Natsu tilted his head and scrunched up his nose in silent question, which was just perfect.

“You’ve got a little something there,” Gray said, leaning in and licking the sauce off before claiming Natsu’s lips hungrily.

The kiss tasted like sauce and beer, but most of all, it tasted like more. And more was definitely bound to follow soon, tomorrow night, and many more days after.

Gray could feel it.

#fairy tail #gratsu #gratsuweek2k21 #natray #gray x natsu #natsu x gray #Gratsu Week 2021 #fics #other #prompt: impress #prompt: smile #prompt: smokey #humor #flirty

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aliendes · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction to Making you Beg (NSFW) 18+

GIFS are not mine!

BTS Reaction to making you beg

From this ask: a reaction of the boys being into begging? (as in making you beg) ty!

A/N: oof, this was fun. Thanks anon!

Warnings: unprotected sex (stob it), fingering, nipple play (wow a first for me?), blowjobs, daddy kink, cum eating, harddom!joon oof, spanking, degradation kind of, sir kink, creampie, lots of cum, squirting. Got a little carried away here lol

Word count: 2.6k ~

Seokjin ascended on your breast again, tongue lightly teasing your hardened nipple for what felt like the millionth tonight, swirling his wet muscle along your smooth skin. It felt amazing, don’t get you wrong, but you wanted more, so much more.

“Jin, please,” you whine, feeling him pop off your breast.

“What’s that, darling?” he smirks up at you, hand coming up to twist at your other nipple. He truly loves your breasts, and he really can’t get enough of them, but he absolutely loves making you beg for him, it’s one of his biggest turn ons.

“Please, Jin, I need more,” you whine, looking down at his smirking face between your breasts while his hands massage at them.

“Mmm, since you asked so nicely,” he whispers, sinking lower down your body, placing light kisses on the skin of your tummy until he reaches your pubic bone. “Is this what you want?” He punctuates his question with a quick peck to your clit, not hard enough to stimulate you, just enough to tease. You let out a low moan, halfway between a whine and a groan as he continues to tease you slit by peppering kisses everywhere but where you need him.

“Jin!” you yelp as his tongue darts out to lick a long stripe up your center, “O-oh, Jin, please!”

“Mmm, I love when you beg for me, darling,” he moans, the vibration sending shockwaves straight to your core, “let me hear you.”

You yell out a string of curses as Jin starts to eat your pussy like a man starved, and he’ll have you begging for him all night.

“Open,” Yoongi whispers, standing above you, “tell me what you want.”

The two of you are in a closet backstage right now, trying to indulge in the few minutes you have together before the show starts. Yoongi is already in his concert clothes and the stylists would kill you both if you ruined his outfit, so you enticed Yoongi into cumming on your face.

“Please, daddy,” you moan quietly, not wanting to alert the others of your activities, “please give me your cum.”

Yoongi lets out a long, raspy moan at the sight of you, on your knees begging for his cum. He picks up the pace, stroking his cock a little quicker now, as you stick your tongue out to lick at his leaking tip. “Fuck, baby girl,” he whines as your tongue wraps around the head of his dick, licking up all the precum that has gathered there, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Please, daddy, please cum for me,” you whisper in the sweetest voice you can muster before taking his length in your hot mouth for a one quick suck before popping off again and looking up at him through your long lashes, “please cum on my face, want it so bad.”

“Ugh, baby,” he stutters as his hand works his shaft faster before giving it one long tug and aiming for your open mouth, “open up, baby girl, fuck that’s it, baby.”

He’s a moaning mess above you as he strokes himself to completion, hot ropes of cum landing on your tongue and cheeks. He never takes his eyes off you as you swallow down what’s on your tongue and lick around your lips to gather any that didn’t reach your mouth. When you’ve sufficiently cleaned yourself up, he reaches out his thumb, picking up the last glob of cum on your cheekbone, and feeds it to you. You happily oblige, sucking it off his digit, making him moan again, before he tucks himself carefully back into his trousers.

“Thank you, daddy,” you chirp, standing up and smoothing your clothes out.

“God, you’re a fucking minx. You’re gonna kill me one day.”

Hoseok drags his two fingers slowly up and down your dripping core, never pushing them inside, where you need him most. He loves to see you fall apart for him, wants to have you begging for him, before he gives it to you.

“Please, Hobi, please I need your fingers,” you whine, arching your back off the hotel mattress. You just flew out to see your boyfriend for the weekend at one of their shows and he couldn’t wait to get you alone, so the two of you decided to skip dinner. Hoseok said he’d rather have his dessert first anyways. “Please!”

“Oh, princess,” he soothes, his other hand coming up your naked torso to play with your hardened peaks, “we’ll get there, don’t worry. Let me have my fun, I haven’t seen you in weeks. I need to worship this body.”

You moan at his words, glowing under his praise as you squirm. His fingers are slowly playing with your pussy, scissoring your lips open and then traveling back up to circle your clit, before repeating all over again. “Such a pretty pink pussy, you want my fingers, princess?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, unable to control your hips from bucking up into Hoseok’s hand, in search of anything they’ll give you, “p-please, Hobi. Need it. Haven’t touched myself in so long.”

“Yeah? Been waiting for me? God, you’re so sexy. Tell me again how much you want me.”

“Want you so bad Hobi, p-please fuck m-me!” your voice is high pitched as you whine for him to give you more, give you anything.

He twists one of your nipples between his skilled fingers while his other hand massages your labia for a moment, “Mmm, I missed hearing you beg for me.” Without warning he plunges two of his long fingers into your warm center, instantly arching up and touching all the right spots inside of you.

“H-Hobi! O-oh God! Gonna c-cum!” you scream out as his lips descend onto your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth. You’ve been so deprived of pleasure these past few weeks it doesn’t take much to push you over the edge and have you cumming all over your boyfriend’s face. After helping you ride out your high, Hoseok pulls away slowly, careful not to overstimulate you, and props himself up over your body, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow kiss.

“God, you’re so hot. Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Another slap of skin hitting skin resounds throughout the room as Namjoon’s large hand smacks your ass cheek for the nth time tonight. “Beg for it,” he growls from behind you, hand coming down to slap against your cheeks again, “beg for this dick, like the cock slut you are.”

You’re sobbing into the pillows of your king sized bed as he slaps you again, teasing your weeping slit with the head of his massive cock from behind. He has you on all fours, begging for him to fuck you, all the while he teases your entrance with his fingers and cock. “P-please s-sir, please,” you cry out as he slaps you again, “n-need your cock!”

“Mm, yeah, gonna take me in that tight little pussy of yours?”

“Y-yes sir! P-please sir! Need you to f-fill me up!” You beg him, leaning your forehead down on the plush pillows, pushing back slightly to rub your core against his cock. Immediately his hand comes down again, harder than before, a bruising slap as he pulls his dick away from you.

“Ah-ah, good girls wait,” he brings his dick back to your entrance, pushing just barely inside you, the burn of his tip stretching you out so deliciously, before he’s pulling back out, making you curse. He does this again, and again, slowly pushing into you, before removing himself completely. He has you a sobbing mess, mascara surely running all over your white pillowcases. “Beg for it, slut!”

“S-sir please, p-please fuck me, n-need your cock s-so bad sir!” Your brain is starting to get fuzzy as you begin to slip.

“That’s a good girl,” he moans, pulling your hips up with his strong arms, “my good girl.” You moan at the praise as he enters you again, stilling inside you once his mushroom tip is seated within your velvety walls. “Gonna fuck you stupid,” he growls, pushing his cock all the way inside you, bumping your cervix and making you cry out, “you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes sir! Ah!” You’re squealing as he starts fucking into you, no cares for the neighbors with how loud you’re being. He doesn’t give you even a moment to relax as he pistons his cock in and out of you, making you cum three times around his length that night before he’s satisfied.

You’re sitting on your knees, completely nude, hands in your lap just like Jimin likes when he enters the bedroom. You smile up at him as he approaches you, already naked from the waist down. When he reaches you, he rubs a hand along your jaw, tilting your face up to look at him.

“Such an obedient kitten,” he praises, stroking his hardening cock in his other hand, “so pretty and waiting for me.” He releases your jaw, and walks around you, surveying your naked body. “You gonna suck my cock for me? Help me relax a little, hmm?”

“Yes, please,” you moan as he comes into view again, cock at full attention, bobbing up and down with each step he takes, “just want to please you.”

He nods, coming around to stand directly in front of you, hand still languidly stroking himself. Your mouth waters as his thumb collects the bead of precum that’s formed on his slit. “Tell me what you want, kitten.”

“Want to make you feel good, want to suck your thick cock,” he lets out a wanton moan at your words. He’s always had a slight praise kink, but he also loved to watch you fall apart for him, to beg for him to fuck you. “Please, can I?”

“Since you’re asking so nicely, kitten,” he moans as he brings his weeping tip to your mouth, letting it slip past your moist lips, “such a good girl.”

You dive right in, keeping your hands in your lap like you know he likes, sucking his length all the way into your mouth until you’re gagging around it. He’s a mess above you, head thrown back as he lets out a string of curses. You bob your head up and down, taking in as much of his cock as you can before swallowing around him. “Fuck!” he curses, pulling out abruptly from your mouth, “I’m not gonna last, baby.” He grips the base of his dick as he walks around you to the bed, sitting on the edge before patting his thigh. “Get over here and ride me.”

Taehyung has been experimenting recently with controlling your orgasms. You have to say that he’s been doing a pretty great job at learning your body and your cues when it comes to sex, and he’s become a little bit of an expert on what makes you cum.

Right now he is trying to experiment with edging, bringing you right to the edge of your high, before bringing you back down. He’s three fingers deep in your sopping pussy, scissoring you open slowly, while his other hand plays with your clit. “Are you close, baby?”

“Mmm, Tae! P-please, s’close!” you moan loudly, unable to control your volume after how long he’s been toying with you.

He jiggles his hand inside you, bumping against your sweet spot a couple times before twisting his digits as he fucks in and out of you. “That’s it, beg for it,” his voice is breathy, almost not there, like he’s trying to hold back.

“P-please, let me cum! Make me c-cum Tae!” you don’t care anymore, you’ll beg all he wants, you really just want to cum. It feels like he’s been playing with you all night and the fire in your belly is burning.

“I want you to squirt all over my hand, baby,” he moans when he feels you clench at his words, “yeah, you like that? Squirt all over me babe, c’mon.”

You scream, louder than you expected, as he starts shaking his hand up and down, rubbing violently against your g-spot, over and over again until you can’t take it anymore and you squeeze his fingers as hard as your muscles allow. It’s like a wave of electricity hits you, starting at your core and vibrating through your entire body. You completely lose yourself in the pleasure for a minute, back arching and twisting as you release all over Tae. Clear liquid gushes around his fingers as he keeps them lodged in your core, relishing in the way you clench around them. He can feel every part of you, so soft and supple around him, and he fucking loves it.

When you finally come down, Tae pulls away from your dripping pussy so he can lean over your spent body. You whine at the feeling of his digits rubbing against your over sensitive walls as you look up at his lust blown eyes, wide with wonder. “Think you can do it again?”

“What do you want, doll?” Jungkook asks as he pistons his cock in and out of you, his voice coming out stuttered as he tries to keep his breathing even.

“Want your cum, Kookie, please!” your head is bumping the headboard of the bed with every thrust of his hips, he’s fucking into you so hard. “P-please, Kook!” You can’t keep your voice steady as he picks up his pace even more at your words.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans, bending down to kiss you once quickly, “you can’t say shit like that, you’re gonna make me cum.”

You moan at the thought, squeezing around him. “I’m serious, K-Kook. I’m on the pill, p-please, fill me up!” You whine, nearly laughing at the shocked look on his face. His hips stutter for a moment before he slows down completely to look into your eyes.

“You’re serious?” his sweaty hair is falling around his face, making him look younger than he is, and you think his expression is adorable. You nod quickly, making a wide grin spread across his handsome features. “I can cum inside you?” He sounds like you just gifted him the most precious present. You giggle at his antics, but it slowly turns into a wanton moan as he starts fucking back into you. “Beg for it, doll.” His voice is low and gravely again, his angling upwards to hit your sweet spot he knows you love.

“P-please, Kook. P-please fill me up with your cum!”

“Fuck, baby,” he throws his head back, eyes screwing shut as his thrusts start to get sloppier, “gonna fill this pussy up. Make you mine, all mine. F-fuck, I’m cumming!”

Jungkook stills inside you as he cums. You moan loudly at the feeling of his warm cum filling you up and then seeping out of you with his shallow thrusts. When you’ve milked him completely, he looks down to where the two of you are connected, pulling his cock out slightly, before pushing it back in, lost in the way his white cum drips out of you, a mixture of both of your releases covering his member. “Shit,” he whispers, the sight too much for him as he shoves his cock deep inside you again. You feel him twitch one last time as he cums again, a smaller amount this time, but still just as pleasurable for you and you feel the warmth seep into you again. “Holy shit,” he whispers, leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, “I’ve never done that before.”

“What, cum inside someone, or cum twice?” You smirk, leaning up to place a quick kiss to his lips.

“Both. You’re fucking amazing, baby, I love you.”

“Love you, too, Kook.”

#bts x reader #ot7 smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #bts smut #bts reactions #cypherwritersnet

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sketchguk · 5 years ago

Text

lover to lean on; pjm

➳ pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader

➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 20k

➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

➳ warnings: explicit language, pining, unrequited love 🤔, accidental voyeurism, unhealthy eating/sleeping habits, praise kink, body worship, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjobs, penetration, fluffy sex

➳ a/n: oops, I uploaded this later than I expected because the word count really got me. anyways, this fic is inspired by the song call me by keshi x rainlord. go give it a listen!

Wake up and smell the roses.

That would be a great philosophy for life if you didn’t have to wake up to the sound of sex at 2 in the goddamn morning.

Perhaps it’s your fault for not checking on the thickness of the drywall prior to moving in, but it wasn’t exactly the first concern that came to mind when touring the flat. Now, it’s more of a personal problem than anything: you being bitter about not having sex while your neighbor and his girlfriend are going at it like rabbits 5 feet away from you. It’s not a very valid complaint to bring up to your landlord. He’d probably tell you to suck it up and get laid.

And he’s right.

Besides, it’s not so bad most days. You hardly even notice the sound of running water through the rusty pipelines every morning or the whizzing of the ancient radiator on cold nights. In fact, you welcome it. It’s become part of the rustic building’s old-school, pre-historic charm.

That, you can get behind.

But one thing is for sure. You’re never going to learn to appreciate the strangled garble of a morning blowjob in the steamy showers or the banging of the bedpost against the paper thin walls when you’re in desperate need of some beauty sleep, well deep in a state of REM.

It’s anything but charming.

The 3 inch thick divider between you and your not-so-considerate neighbor does absolutely nothing to drown out the soft moans and hard grunts. You can hear them loud and clear through the dead of night as if they’re right beside you.

“My god,” you sigh, rolling around your bed restlessly. Your hand blindly palms at the sheets in search of the pillow that rests beside you, placing it over your face and sandwiching yourself between the cushions. If you can’t kill your neighbor, you might as well suffocate yourself first to avoid incrimination, shamefully persecuted for third degree murder.

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, but it’s stifled against the buffer. The banging stops almost immediately.

“Shit,” you hear from the other side.

Did he come? Is it over?

You pray, hold your breath, and lie still as if you’re the one caught red-handed. But you’re not a voyeur. At least not on purpose.

It isn’t your fault for being a light sleeper because the only thing to blame is the flimsy partition your landlord dare considers a wall. If you could have it any other way, you would. This is far from ideal granted that you didn’t even ask for any of this, but it’s far too late to get a refund.

Lately, you’ve been spending your nights muting out vulgar dirty talk, the occasional squelches, and the obscene skin slapping on skin. Over time, you’ve come to know your neighbor on a much more intimate level than you would have liked despite never seeing him around. Like the fact that he thrives off of edge play and praise kinks. Yeah, it’s probably for the best that his identity is kept a secret otherwise you wouldn’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again with the knowledge that you have stowed away in the crevasses of your brainー knowledge you would prefer to forget. You don’t even know his name, but you’re long past the point of being acquainted with one another, so it would pretty be awkward to ask for it now. All you know is that he’s stuck in his own bubble, too blinded by love and lust to even consider his poor neighbor.

Most nights, you even make the effort to stumble through your cluttered, moonlit studio apartment in search of your cheap headphones that usually dangle precariously over the edge of your desk. You’ve made a mental note to invest in some earplugs and a more effective set of headphones too.

Truly, you’re not the type to invade one’s privacy. You have nothing to be sorry about because you respect your neighbor, his girlfriend, and their sexy time. If anything, they should be the ones apologizing for keeping you awake for three consecutive nights. No less on a Tuesday.

But perhaps the act is already done and you can let bygones be bygones. Maybe he’s already come, and as unfortunate as that may be for his girlfriend, the chances are he's low on stamina tonight. The vivace metronomic thuds against your shared wall would suggest he was going pretty hard at it too. Not that it’s any of your business. You’re happy that your neighbor is so in love, and that he can have sex all day, all night and fall into the comfort of his lover’s arms, unlike you. You’re not bitter.

Not at all.

You don’t mean to get invested in his relationship, but it’s just that tonight, he finished rather early as opposed to the hour it usually takes him to climaxー foreplay and edge play and all. You don’t keep track of the time per se. That’d be a little creepy, but it’s hard not to do so when you’re losing out on a precious hour of sleep each night. Especially when you’re stuck in your own overactive imagination, wondering how good his stroke game is and what type of lingerie he’s intoー

“Sorry!”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then the realization hits you momentarily.

He’s talking to you.

They must have heard you groaning through the stupid, thin walls, and therefore, you’re responsible for this very awkward exchange.

Your grip on the pillow loosens as you lift it over your head.

“It’s okay!” Your voice cracks with a heightened tone, “Just make sure you use protection!” The cringe settles into the pit of your stomach as soon as you respond. You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally facepalm yourself. You should have left it alone, but your cursed mouth moves way faster than your thoughts.

The couple whispers to one another, but it’s hushed and hurried. Faint and hard to decipher. Angry, even. The wall must be really selective on what it chooses to mute out which is absolutely perfect when you actually want to know what’s happening on the other side.

However, moments after, you can still hear the rustle of sheets and the patter of footstepsー two pairs. Even the harsh close of the door and the soft turning of the deadbolt, a resounding click that could be heard if you were to listen close enough.

Once again, there’s a shuffle of feet that skid across the hardwoodー one pair. A few creaks echo from the aged floorboards. And then there’s a squeak from the bed slat, a heavy mass pressing on the mattress.

You sit in silence with eyes wide open as you trap air into your lungs in fear of breathing out. Correction, in fear of your neighbor making comments on your rude interruption. If you could pretend that you’re asleep, maybe the problem will disappear into the night.

But it doesn’t because it never works that way.

Moonlight filters through the pane glass windows, right between the cracks of your curtain. It illuminates your face and keeps you awake longer than you need to be. You manage to let out the breath you’ve been holding when something else breaks the silence.

You can hear it faintly. The soft hum of an unfamiliar tune before the soft outbreak of vocals. The song is bitter, but the voice is sweet.

Your neighbor has gotten into the habit of singing whether it be at dawn or dusk, yet you can never complain given his velvety voice. Sometimes it’s accompanied by the strum of an acoustic guitar or the tap of an electronic keyboard. But one thing that never changes is his love for the same old bubble gum pop music that’s rinsed and repeated on the radio. Nothing but love on the brain. Mushy lyrics that bear no meaning to you, and frankly, to anyone who’s painfully single and/or heartbroken.

You would have expected nothing less from this man though. His taste in music is a given. Most days, you can physically feel his warmth and kindness based on the dulcet timbre of his voice. Although you’ll never care to admit it to him, it helps you fall asleep on nights when you’re drained from work. They’re comforting songs that warm your heart, especially because he’s singing such sincere lyrics about his girlfriend.

His love for her is pure, and it’s disgustingly cute.

No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you’re happy for the lovely couple while internally cringing during their late night endeavors, you’re wondering if you’re subconsciously longing for a relationship just like theirs.

But you’d be crazy not to dream about that kind of love story. One in which the guy cooks a meal for you at the end of every night, served alongside a hot cup of peppermint tea to help you sleep better. In which he runs a bath for you, flower petals, candles, soap suds, and the whole shebang, only to hop right in behind you. Someone to keep you company while giving you a back massage, working on the hard-to-reach knots that line your shoulder blade after a hard work day. Of course at his own volition, never having to be asked to do so.

Perhaps you’re more invested in your neighbor’s picture perfect relationship than you thought, knowing all these little, intimate details no one else should know. But once again, the thin wall is to blame. You’re not an eavesdropper. You’re just a hopelessly hopeless romantic who needs to wake up and smell the damn roses.

Because apparently, not every relationship is as perfect as it seems.

“Everything okay?” You don’t know why you open your mouth, but you do, and you can’t take it back. He’s long since stopped singing, but the residual silence is louder than the gentle voice that once filled the space.

He sighs deeply. The frustration is unmistakable, and you regret ever saying anything.

“Yeah… Just trouble in paradise.” He chuckles dryly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it.

The room is quiet again. You debate with yourself, wondering if you should hash it out with him or go to fucking bed knowing that you have a 7 am shift tomorrow.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The kindness of your heart outweighs all else, but you cross your fingers and secretly hope that his answer is no just so you can finally get some shut-eye.

“Uhm… I wouldn’t want to bother you.” His voice wavers. He sounds tired, but maybe it’s the exhaustion from navigating the rocky waters of a relationship. You’ve been there before.

Everyone’s been there before.

Your eyes are closed, and just when you think you can go back to bed, your mind and heart betray you.

“I wouldn’t be bothered,” you tell him, “I’m already awake too.”

His chest rumbles with a true chuckle this time. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m probably gonna invest in some ear plugs tomorrow,” you quip, waving it off.

“You really don’t have to,” he deadpans. There’s a pregnant pause, and you’re left confused. He continues with a shaky breath, “I’m not sure we’ll be back together after this.”

Now you’re even more confused. Were they not just ravaging one another moments ago?

“Valentine's Day is coming up next Friday…” you muse. “You could still win her back, you know?”

The radiator whirs in the background. It’s silent.

“Do you love her?” You query, thumbing the pilled edges of your blanket.

“That’s a loaded question.”

Now it’s your turn to stay silent.

“I think I do,” he starts. His voice is rough. “Love her— I mean.” He falters in uncertainty. “Sorry, I’ve never admitted it to myself before.”

“That’s okay.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but the situation is totally out of your hands. You don’t even know the full picture, yet it somehow feels like you’re on the other side of the breakup even though you’re just sitting in the audience, watching, or rather hearing, the drama unfold.

Your fingers interlock with one another, resting over your chest as you lie flat on your back. The heavy weight of your heart sinks lower into your stomach. Maybe love isn’t real, or maybe it’s not meant for people like you and him. Or is it just some misconstrued concept jumbled up in your brain? Some romanticized notion you’ve only ever dreamed about or seen in movies and read in fanfiction?

You gulp, pondering over how things could possibly go wrong in their seemingly perfect relationship. Well, there are millions of reasons, but maybe you’ve only ever heard the good times roll. Days when they’re frolicking in a meadow of sunshine and nights when they’re singing and dancing and laughing, head over heels in love, and everything is just peachy perfect. Maybe the bad and the dirty have yet to expose itself to you, still hidden behind an extra layer of stucco drywall and eggshell paint coatings. No matter how many times you bitch about them, the innermost part of you is still rooting for the couple you’ve had the displeasure of listening to have sex every night. But it’s always worth it, or so you think, for the sake of them being in a good place. To be undoubtedly quote unquote in love—

“Have you ever been in love?” It surprises you that he’s the one asking instead of the other way around.

You stare blankly at the ceiling with a racing heart. Biting your lip, you speculate whether or not you should reveal such intimate details about your life to a total stranger.

“Nope,” you shake your head. He can’t see you, but you hope that your response is convincing enough.

“Would you want to?”

You can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, what kind of question is that?”

“You’re right, it was stupid.” He chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you warn him, “You don’t have to.”

“Sorr—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll personally come over and flick you on the forehead,” you say, reprimanding him.

His laughter is even sweeter than his voice. “Harsh. But nice? I guess?”

That’s the perfect description for someone who works in the service industry, which unfortunately, you do.

“It’s for your own good,” you suggest, nodding your head in self indulgent pleasure. Kind of like how avoiding love is for your own good.

The silence quickly settles in, as does the existential dread. Your eyes shift around to the empty apartment before you, and you soon realize that you’re painfully alone.

The radiator goes off again and the clock ticks perpetually. The moment escapes you.

His voice fills up the room. “Can I ask how you’re doing?”

The corner of your lips curl up in a fond smile. You exhale a deep sigh, one of contemplation. “I’m okay… Just... learning how to deal with unrequited love.”

“Harsh,” he echoes back.

“Yeah.” You curl up on your side, sighing and reaching for a pillow to spoon.

“Want to talk about it?”

You gnaw on your lip. It’s a bad habit to have. “There’s not much to talk about. It’s just some guy who always walks in at work. We make small talk, flirt a little bit, and then he leaves until the next day.” A highlight reel flashes before you, and you tug on your blanket, nuzzling into the warm fabric that offers you some semblance of comfort against the outside world as you dig your nose into the soft linen.

“How do you know he doesn’t like you?”

You shrug to yourself. “It’s just a feeling.”

You think the conversation is over at this point. Moments go by until your ears perk up at the faint sound of his voice. “You should ask him out.”

Your neighbor surely seems to enjoy making a fool out of you. It’s a nice thought to have though. To think that you have the confidence to ask a guy out. The guy you’re crushing on, no less.

You satiate your neighbor anyways just to entertain the idea a little longer and give him a little push towards his own love story. “Only if you make amends with your girlfriend though.”

“Girlfriend? Oh— no, she’s not my girlfriend,” he says in defense.

You’re perplexed. “Wh-? She’s not?”

“No... uh, just friends with benefits,” he confesses with a cough.

Flashbacks start to go off in your head as you try to connect the dots like some mathematical formula. Is love actually an illusion? Maybe love knows no labels, but a small part of you still wants to believe that they’re wholeheartedly in love and on the verge of marriage or something. But that delusion instantaneously bursts into dust and ashes, confirmed by none other.

“Hey, I’m kind of tired, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I’ll make it right with her so long you talk to the guy.” He lets out a huff. “Don’t let him miss out on a good thing because of the what ifs.”

Comfort washes over you at the sound of his advice. In a way, he’s right. Maybe it’s time that you put yourself out there in spite of the possibilities. Even if it’s utterly terrifying.

“Goodnight,” you mumble back, wrapping your arms securely around the pillow.

He hears you loud and clear, “Goodnight. Thanks for the talk.”

He knocks out soon after that, but it’s hard for you to sleep when you’ve got nothing but love on the brain.

Waking up is hell, especially when you’re running on nothing but 0 hours of sleep and a single cup of black coffee. The only thing that makes the fatigue worth it is the peaceful lull at sunrise and the absence of your noisy neighbor’s daily blowjob. It’s as if some higher power read your mind and decided that you’re worth the divine intervention just for that one fleeting moment of jubilation.

But just like the law of gravity, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and your contract with the universe calls for some cosmic karma. It’s like you’re being punished because you can never seem to catch a break.

Work is unusually hectic, but with Valentine’s Day around the corner, it’s expected. If Black Friday is the worst nightmare for every retail worker, one can imagine a florist’s week leading up to Single’s Awareness Day, or much less commonly referred to as “A Shallow, Capitalistic Attempt to Buy Affection Day.”

Despite owning a flower shop, you still stand firmly against Valentine’s Day and all that it represents. Maybe you’re spiteful because you’re pitifully single and surrounded by lovey dovey mush at every single corner. But as of right now, it has more to do with the extra workload that lies at your feet.

Not only do you have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to open shop and prepare for the deliveries, but you also have to cut and process flowers, organize dozens of overnight orders, and arrange bouquets for the day’s purchases, all before 9am. The to-do list is endless, and not to mention, the number of calls you’ve picked up in the last hour alone has already backed you up on a number of orders. It’s stressful and incredibly time consuming to say the least.

By 10am, you’re ready to call it quits, but you constantly remind yourself that this job is your only source of income, and therefore, you have to barrel through with a bright and shining customer service smile on your face.

At this point, you really wish you did smother yourself with your pillow last night.

But the only thing that keeps your sanity in tact after the morning rush is the chance to make arrangements for the front display. It’s therapeutic to pick and choose foliage, sprucing them into beautiful pieces of art for passersby to enjoy. You’re grateful for the scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath which is remedial to your burgeoning headache. Even the sight of your favorite carnation is enough to ease the pounding pain against your skull.

However, making arrangements isn’t all sunshine and flowers despite popular belief. The worst part about it is the heavy lifting. It’s labor intensive to pick up large plants like the full sized leatherleaf fern in the back room, which is now carefully lodged into a concoction of gardening soil, compost, mulch, and active charcoal. But if nobody else is going to do it, you’re going to have to do it alone.

Lifting the hefty plant isn’t difficult to begin with, but it progressively becomes taxing when you have to carry it to the front of the store. As you emerge from the back door, the bell of the entrance chimes, signifying a customer’s presence.

You can hear him before you can even see him.

“Good morning!”

You nearly jolt at the sound of his chipper voice. Of course Jimin had to walk in at the peak moment of you struggling, looking like a disheveled mess with soil accumulated in your hair like a burrowed nest. You just hope and pray that it’s not smeared across your forehead like Simba.

Out of pure embarrassment, you hold the pot higher to hide your burning cheeks behind the plant despite your arms giving out. Would all of your problems disappear if you act like you’re not there? Once again, of course not, because he spots you in an instant, and you’re just not fated to have the good things in life.

He calls out your name before stopping to place his things down at the table and rushing over to you, “Here, let me help you with that.”

You have an ironclad grip on that ceramic pot, holding on to it as if it’s life or death. “No, it’s okay, I got it,” you say out of pure, frantic determination.

“Don’t be silly, let me.” He reaches for the bottom of the earthenware. His hand grazes over yours before you can pull away, shifting the responsibility onto him.

You offer him a grateful smile that extends your eyes, and he sends one back your way.

“Where do you want it?” He asks. You can’t even get a word in before he turns on his heels and makes space for you through the narrow aisle.

Leading the way, you show him the spot you’ve marked for the fern to hopefully reside for the next 24 hours. “Here’s good,” you tell him, pointing to the empty tile.

Jimin bends down and gently places the plant into its new home. Then he reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out a packet of tissues before gravitating towards the spray bottle.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I could do it myself,” you whine with a slight pout.

He grips on your right shoulder, and you’re locked in place. “I know, but I want to help,” he says with the utmost care, “And you can ask me for help whenever you need it, you know?” Jimin smiles at you, and his eyes lower into crescent moon shapes, the corners slightly creasing. Before you know it, there’s a cool sensation on your forehead. The tissue in his hand is thoroughly saturated and now damp against your skin. You recoil on contact and reach for Jimin’s wrist, ready to yell at him for the lack of warning.

“Hey!”

“Stay still, you have soil on you,” he alerts with sharp eyes.

You let go of his wrist and give in to his kind gesture, murmuring out a “fine”.

While he concentrates on cleaning you up, you can’t help but look up and lock your eyes on his. You swear you could spontaneously combust and astral project from the intensity of his stare. His close proximity makes you heat up, so you’re forced to avert your eyes elsewhere out of pure intimidation. Your line of sight meets his lips, and you’re stuck in place, staring at them. They’re so pink and plush, and his tongue even pokes out a little like a sleepy kitten with slack jaw. Most of all, they’re right there in front of you, and if you could just lean in a little more, you’d be this closeー

“All clean!” He says with cheer, tapping your shoulder.

He turns around in search of the dustbin, and you shake yourself out of your own daydream before he can catch sight of you.

You laugh it off and offer him a toothy smile, “If you really want to help, you could have gotten me a cup of coffee.”

“You’re making demands now, huh?” He asks.

“It’s more like a suggestion than anything,” you teasingly yell from the back room, grabbing the remaining flowers for the display. Meanwhile, Jimin lingers behind in the main room, admiring the freshly cut flowers laid out on the counter ready to be made into floral arrangements.

You manage to recompose yourself from that one moment of weakness by taking a glance over at the cute doodles of artwork that line your office wall. They’re little bits of happiness that keep you calm and remind you that there’s light in your life, and he’s standing in the other room waiting for you to pop a very important question.

Upon grabbing the necessary items, you make your way back into the store. You stop immediately in your tracks, nearly colliding into a solid figure at the sharp turn of the doorway. Your heart almost stops, but you shudder away before you could tip yourself over.

Jimin stands in front of you with his hand extended out, clenching onto a steaming, white paper cup.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me and coffee now,” he laughs, reaching out once again, “Only one of us bites.”

“That’s for me?” You ask incredulously.

He nods his head, “Yeah, of course, silly.”

You take the drink from his hands, and before you can thank him, he chimes in. “It’s just how you like it. Black and full of caffeine.”

You press your lips up against the cup, taking a sip and humming in satisfaction at the drops of heaven. “Thanks, but why? And how’d you know my coffee order? Don’t get me wrong, this is really nice, but…”

“I saw how dead you looked yesterday,” he justifies cutting you off before you can ramble on. Honest, but harsh.

You put the cup back on the counter and continue with your task at hand, and he trails behind you.

“Thanks, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” you banter with all the sarcasm you can muster, pulling at the flower stems despite them already being placed exactly where you want them.

“Girls like it when guys pay attention to the little details, don’t they?” He asks with a gleam in his irises.

You look up at him briefly before averting his eyes and wiping clean the leaves on a near fiddle leaf tree, spraying food soil at its roots.

“Love it,” you gulp wryly.

Jimin takes note of how seemingly busy you are, so he walks around the shop, examining the new inventory of flowers. After making your round through the store, watering all the plants that need to be watered, you return to the disembodied zinnia on the counter, waiting to be arranged.

The silence is refreshing until it isn’t.

“Is the coffee good?” He queries.

“Huh?” You stop what you’re doing to casually glance his way. His back is turned to you, but he seems overly invested in the rose display.

“The coffee,” he repeats, back still turned.

You look at the untouched cup at the edge of the table and smile to yourself. You didn’t notice it before, but there’s a red doodle that contrasts against the white paper cup, no doubt customized by Jimin himself. It’s hard to pick out what it is exactly, but you’d recognize the flowers of God any day. The ruffled petals and thin, straight stem are simply unmistakable.

“Oh, yeah. It’s good,” you answer politely.

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?” He asks curiously as if he’s playing a game of 21 questions. It’s a question you’ve answered numerous times before, but facts like these can easily slip through someone’s mind.

“Easy, carnations,” you respond without any hesitation, pointing at the display in the right corner of the store when he turns around to look at you. He makes his way to the stand, eyeing the flowers.

“They’re pretty,” he comments, pulling out one of the bouquets to examine as if he didn’t already know.

You hum, and maybe the exhaustion is evident in your voice and your oddly scarce exchange of pleasantries.

Jimin carries on with the small talk anyways. “You’ve been sleeping okay?”

You snip away at the hard, green stems, tossing them into the trash beside you. Shrugging, you mindlessly answer. “Yeah, as much as a florist can during Valentine’s week.” You snicker with good spirit.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest well,” he scolds you all in good faith, eyes now scanning the small assortment of cards. You hum in affirmation.

If anything, he should be telling that to your noisy neighbor who refuses to let you get a wink of sleep.

A creak rings through the air as Jimin rotates the card stand, thumbing through the variety. “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day by the way?”

You can feel your hands clam up as they stop fiddling with the lemon leaves. Your heartbeat picks up, and you’re left winded by the question. You hide behind the hesitation, nervous as to where this may lead. How could you possibly play it cool when your crush asks you whether or not you’re busy on arguably the most romantic holiday of the year?

Play it cool because remember, you loathe Valentine’s Day.

Your hands fumble as you pick up the lemon leaves again, snipping at the branches nonchalantly. “Uh, no, not really, you?” you gulp. Your eyes are distracted, too fixed on the greenery.

But you look up the moment Jimin approaches the counter with flowers in one hand and a card in another.

“Oh, who are these for?” you feign innocence in your voice as you reach for the brown kraft paper and the roll of red ribbon.

Jimin scratches the back of his neck, hesitating. “My girlfriend,” he mumbles, but it’s loud and clear, audible enough for you to apprehend like an echo in you ear.

“I don’t have much planned yet, but we’re probably going to grab dinner on Friday,” he shrugs with hands burrowed in his pockets. He shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, eyes focused on the gray specks of the ceramic tiles beneath him. “Something casual. I’m not really huge on the whole Valentine’s Day thing.”

It seems like every man in your life paints you like a giant fool destined for humiliation. Of course the hopelessly hopeless romantic within you deluded yourself into believing that some Prince Charming would visit your flower shop in anticipation of seeing you. Of course the flowers that he buys everyday has to go somewhere, you just never expected that each and every morning at the crack of dawn, the flowers you carefully hand-pick and wrap with unconditional love would be sent off to his girlfriend.

Of course you’re a huge idiot who isn’t destined for love.

It almost hurts to plaster the tight lipped smile on your face when your heart is prickled with thorns like the roses in your hands.

You lick your lips and painfully gulp the spit down your dry throat before you open your mouth again.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

You pause. “You can’t give these to your girlfriend”

His eyebrows furrow and his hands run through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“They’re white roses.”

“So? She likes white flowers.” He doesn’t seem to get the point.

You almost chuckle in his face, and you would have if your heart didn’t hurt so damn much. So you refrain. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that white flowers are meant for funerals?”

His cheeks are dusted with a pink blush. He shakes his head no. “Uh, what do you suggest I give her then?”

You sigh, looking at the hopeless man in front of you. “Do you love her?” Not even a second goes by before you ramble, not very eager to hear the answer. “You could uh- give her that fern you helped me carry earlier.” You walk back to the front display, keeping a safe distance to hide your woe, extending your arms out like a game show host revealing what’s hidden behind door #1. (Hint: it’s your heart).

“Call it your love fern?” you shrug, laughing it off.

“I think a bouquet is fine.” Jimin staggers behind you, checking out the other flower displays, opting for door #2. “How about the carnations you mentioned?” He pulls out a bouquet of variegated carnations painted with pink and red tips. “These are nice, don’t you think?” He looks at you curiously with doe eyes in await of your approval.

Your mouth opens to interject, ready to digress into another lesson on the history of variegated carnations, but you bite your tongue back.

Jimin spots your reluctance, but quickly puts it to rest. “Look, I don’t think she really cares about the meaning behind the flowers. You said these are your favorite, and you’re the expert right?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice. “Mhmm.” Even your hum cracks. “But uh, maybe the deep red ones would be more appropriate?” You cock your head to the side and quirk your eyebrow.

“It’s fine, I swear” he reassures you, placing the bouquet on the counter before putting the white roses back in its stand.

Your feet refuse to move as if they’re cemented to the ground, but Jimin stands there in front of you with rosy eyes, awaiting for you to wrap up the object of his affection in a pretty red bow. So how could you refuse?

You walk past the carnation display on the way to the counter, and pick up another bouquet. Pink and red variegated. “Here, these are a little more fresh. The buds are tighter, so in a few days, you’ll see them nice and big.” You smile, closed lipped. “Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

Jimin’s jaw loosens and his lips part. He knits his brow in a frown. “Uh, these aren’t actually meant for Valentine’s Day,” he says, running his hand through his perfectly imperfect raven hair. “She’s kind of mad at me right now,” he gives a mirthless chuckle while playing with his hands, “so I’m hoping I can make it up to her with this.”

Ah, your favorite flowers are reduced to nothing but a gift of pity.

“She’d be crazy not to accept your apology,” you say in a soft voice, gritting your teeth behind your tense jaw, eyes fixated on the little nursling in your hold. With a soft hand, you unravel the kraft paper and delicately wrap it around the bouquet. The very one you picked up this morning and arranged the hour prior, wondering if you’ll be able to send it off to a loving home.

Now you know for a fact that it’ll be in good hands.

“Do you think she’d like it?” Jimin chirps in.

It feels like your heart is on the threshold of bleeding out as he sends another prickle to the soft organ. Your concentration doesn’t even falter as you snip the ribbon.

“I know she will.”

You tie the fabric into the prettiest bow you can muster and slide the gift of love across the glass counter. Jimin looks down at the beautifully wrapped flowers with an ear to ear smile on his face. “Thank you so much for the help, I really appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job,” you remind him with a counterfeit smile, scanning the barcode at the back of the card. It’s a really cute card too. Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me then I remember I put up with you. So we’re even ❤️

You hate yourself for the fond smile you almost crack, masked behind the pained one you send his way.

Jimin passes you a $20 bill and grabs his merchandise from the table.

“She’s really lucky to have you,” you lament honestly with glistening eyes as he walks out the front door.

He doesn’t catch a word you say, but he manages to shout back a “thank you!” and a “see you tomorrow!” before speeding out, setting off the bell at the top of the door without ever looking back at your dejected figured.

You’re left alone to finish the rest of the work day, surrounded by none other than the sickly, sweet scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath, all while taking in the putrid sight of variegated carnations.

They say that you are your worst enemy, and they are 110% correct on the matter. You don’t know why you would think that you’d have a good day on the basis of your neighbor having a crummy one. It’s not like there’s some kind of transfer of energy. It’s been proven to you time and time again that divine intervention and karmic justice just aren’t real, and apparently, neither is science. Otherwise, by that logic, you’d have a superb day.

You would have slept through last night and woken up to a pretty pink sunrise painted across the sky— nothing but peace. To the chirping of birds in the distance and to the passing of cars on an empty street. You would have had enough time to prepare a proper breakfast— pancakes, eggs, bacon, and maybe even a nice cup of hot chocolate. Not a measly cup of black coffee to keep you awake for the rest of the busy day. You would have had a nice chat with Jimin at the flower shop about the capitalistic corruption of Valentine’s Day while he’d try to convince you otherwise. He’d prove you wrong, and you would have walked home with a blooming garden in your heart.

But science is bullshit and the transfer of energy is a complete lie— photosynthesis being the only exception. The only thing you got out of today was a huge migraine and a withering blossom in your chest.

So just when you think that the day could not get any worse, it absolutely does.

You can probably blame the poor mindset you boxed yourself in— having a cynical outlook on love and life because of the dreaded upcoming holiday. Maybe it was because your crush just stomped all over your garden and plucked the flowers to give to some other girl. Or, you can put the blame on past you, the big freaking idiot who previously stripped off her bed sheets at 6:30 in the morning in hopes of being productive by doing weeks of piled up laundry. At this point, all you want to do is curl up in a warm bed, too exhausted by the trials and tribulations of life, but you can’t even give yourself the satisfaction of that because you thought you were some kind of changed woman who could manage her stupid laundry.

Newsflash, you’re not.

The naked mattress in the corner of your apartment mocks you, so grudgingly, you take your laundry basket down to the laundry room for your most hated chore. With heavy steps, you trudge through the cold, cement basement. It’s dark and dingy down there. A little scary too, given the flickering lightbulb at the end of the hallway. Nevertheless, you march through the doors and into the rumbling alcove.

What you find in there is startling, yet you can’t say that you’re surprised seeing that this occurrence is far from rare. You almost consider walking back upstairs and knocking on your floormate’s door, asking him if he’d be willing to do your laundry in exchange for $5 just so you don’t have to sit there, listening to some couple make out in the back corner.

Apparently, everyone in the world is foolishly in love except for you.

You crank up the volume a little louder so your cheap headphones can drown out the sound of them locking lips with one another, but the poor quality does absolutely nothing for your abused ears. The boisterous public display of affection is deafening over the sound of your “Wallowing in Self Pity” playlist.

You’re only capable of catching a brief glance in their direction before gagging and veering off. She’s sitting atop of the washing machine as he stands between her parted legs. They’re so lost in their own world that they don’t even notice your presence.

Out of respect for yourself and the horny couple, you choose to occupy a washing machine at the opposite corner of the laundry room. But perhaps you can save yourself the irritation as well as the $5 in your wallet because you can hear their hushed whispers. They’ve separated themselves long enough for the guy to convince her to move to a more private location. Although she still leeches herself onto his neck, he’s attentive enough to know that they aren’t alone. He picks her up and drags her out of the laundry room with her legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to part from him as if holding his hand simply isn’t enough.

You roll your eyes, thankful for the quietude and the money you’ve saved yourself, but as you sit alone in the drafty basement, doing the chore you hate the most, you can’t help but think how much better it would be to do it with someone else at your side.

Somehow you’re convinced that crossing paths with Jeongguk in the hallway is fated after thinking about him moments prior. Because it’s very uncommon for that boy to leave his apartment, cooping up all day long with his video games, only to catch a breath of fresh air for his nightly gym sessions. When you see him locking up his apartment door, you offer him $5 anyways just out of the kindness of your heart. He could probably use the money more than you anyways.

Although you didn’t have any intention of doing a good deed today, karma still finds a way to punish you. As always, it’s bullshit.

Upon entering your empty apartment, the space is already filled with the sonorous sounds of orchestral music. Violins, violas, cellos, flutes, oboes, and harps all performing in perfect harmony. It’s played through the walls, coming from none other than the speakers of your beloved neighbor. You wouldn’t mind the soothing classical melodies to cure your migraine so long it’s accompanied by white noise. But your neighbor’s laughter rings above the music as you can hear him count “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3” in a triple metre.

You know that he’s not alone because there’s also another voice laughing alongside him. The same one you’ve grown accustomed to over the months. Her high pitched squeals are unmistakable as they greatly resemble other sounds you’ve heard come from her mouth on many unfortunate nights. So you can safely assume that your neighbor and his not-girlfriend made up with one another already—

“Look at me, not at your feet!”

“I don’t know where to put them!”

“You’re stepping on my toes!”

“Sorry!”

“Oh yeah, you’ll be sorry!”

It’s hard to picture what’s happening behind the wall when you don’t have faces to match with the voices. But you don’t really need it when their bed slat creaks beneath their weight and their headboard slams against your shared wall. Not when her yelps erupt as a result of the tickle fest they’re currently immersed in. The sounds are vivid enough for you to know much more than you need to know. It almost feels like you’re intruding on an intimate moment that’s not meant for your eyes, let alone your ears.

Meanwhile, as you struggle to tuck the fitted sheets beneath the four corners of your mattress, you wonder whether it’s worth it to leave the apartment again after such a hard day. Of course for the sole purpose of avoiding a home made porn video being filmed in the process.

Maybe it’s not too late, and you can still catch up to Jeongguk. You could head to the gym and snatch back the $5 you generously handed him because the more you think about it, the more you believe that someone owes you for your miserable time spent in this apartment complex. But you can’t take your anger out on the poor boy from down the hall when he doesn’t deserve it.

The sanctuary of your bed calls your name like a siren, so instead, you do what you’re forced to always do— plug in your cheap headphones, blare out some music, and move on with your day.

And it works for the most part.

You’re able to successfully put on your bed sheets after struggling to play a big game of tug of war with your mattress. Despite the internal push and pull, you also will yourself to do adult things like tidying up the studio, making the space somewhat habitable for humans. By 9pm, you can finally sit down and enjoy a nice, hot meal. However, you’re forced to keep your headphones on because your neighbor’s not-girlfriend decided that she couldn’t go a single day without her not-boyfriend’s dick in her mouth.

You swear you’re going to ask him tonight why he hasn’t made it official because it’s clear as day that they’re in love with one another. You know that you definitely would be if someone offered you oral every single day. Unfortunately, nobody’s offering. Thus, you’re forced to live vicariously.

So as midnight approaches, and the moon reaches its apex, you settle into bed with a book in hand, ready to suffer through the night. It’s difficult to concentrate on the text when your music is blasting, but you suppose it’s better to listen to lo-fi hip hop beats as opposed to the scream of “daddy” over and over and over…

Although you applaud her for her shamelessness, you would still prefer if she could keep to herself.

Thankfully, these moments are only temporary.

With your eyes squeezed shut, you let out a lethargic yawn. Looking over at your nightstand, you spot your ticking alarm clock. It’s nearing 1 in the morning, and you decide that you’re exhausted. Well, you’ve decided that long ago, but going to bed before midnight is admitting defeat against your own body. Nevertheless, no matter how tired you are, you know in the back of your mind that there’s no way you could have dozed off with your neighbors going on a Netflix binge with speakers fully blaring audio from The Office. It’s as if they don’t know what headphones are.

But after “one more episode” and a disgustingly long makeout session, you can hear the shuffle of feet across the floor boards and the turning of the lock.

It’s nearly 2 am, and the radiator hisses. It’s quiet.

But then that’s when you hear it like clockwork. The delicate hum before the pleasant tune. Tonight, it’s not a song you’re familiar with. Something about the universe moving and happiness that’s meant to be. Mentions of penicillium and a calico cat? There’s lots of talk about letting someone love you, and that’s when it really hits you in the gut. You’re not so sure about the song, but as always, it sounds pretty. It’s not typical to call a guy’s voice beautiful, but it is what it is. It’s serene, and it’s the promise of tomorrow. It’s something you wish that would never stop.

But of course all good things come to an end.

There’s a purposeful knock against the wall which startles you. “Hey, I know you’re up. How’d your day go?” Your neighbor asks, breaking the silence and dragging your attention towards his voice once again.

You tug your headphones off and walk to the other side of the apartment to lay your book down on the desk, gracefully avoiding anything in your wake because your apartment is finally clean.

“You know, sometimes I wish you would catch me on my good days so I wouldn’t have to tell you such sad stories.” A wary smile surfaces your lips.

“Why, what happened today?” He asks with concern laced in every syllable. “Did you take my advice?”

You climb back into bed, pulling your covers over your torso. Sometimes you feel bad about how many silent complaints you have about your neighbor when he’s actually a really nice guy. He just lacks the proper etiquette knowing that the walls are paper thin.

“IIIIIII tried to.” You drag out the vowel, hesitant to recall the embarrassing story.

“Yeah, and how’d it go?”

“He doesn’t like me back,” you say plainly after a moment’s reflection.

Your neighbor scoffs. “He’s an idiot then.”

You try to fight back the smile because as untrue as it is, Jimin is anything but an idiot. But it’s comforting to know that someone has your back, defending you in all your honor.

This time, you genuinely chuckle. “It’s not that.... He uh, actually has a girlfriend.” It hurts to admit it out loud. “And I’m sure she’s lovely if he likes her that much.”

“Like I said, he’s an idiot for losing out on the best thing in his life.”

It’s impossible for you to fight back this bashful smile because it makes your heart flutter. This may be the first time you’ve felt good about yourself this whole day.

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that though—”

He interrupts you, “Come on, don’t say that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’ve never even met me, and you don’t even know what I look like.” You roll your eyes, but a chuckle unintentionally falls from your lips.

“It’s not about what’s on the outside, okay? I already know you’re beautiful because that’s what you are on the inside.”

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” You flip over on your bed and dig your face into the pillow, flustered by his kind words. There’s absolutely no way people this nice exist in this world. “I could be a troll or a vampire or something for all you know.”

“Vampires are kinda hot. Haven’t you seen Twilight?” He banters. “And I’m sure this guy isn’t even all that great. Like, tell me something you hate about him.”

Your hands cover your mouth, stifling a laugh. “I’m not gonna hate on him because he doesn’t like me back. It’s just the reality of it. Besides, he’s perfect.” You roll your eyes, annoyed by how flawless Jimin is in your eyes.

Your neighbor prods at you. “I reaaallly doubt that. There has to be something. Not even a pet peeve? Maybe he’s chronically late to everything? Sings out loud in a quiet place? Has a super annoying laugh?”

“Yes, yes, and no.” You flip your pillow over to the cold side and settle in to lie in a more comfortable position, slipping your hand beneath the cushion. “I can excuse the lateness,” you lick your chapped lips. “He also sings like an angel, and his laugh is really endearing. He does this thing where he laughs with his whole body, and he falls over every time. I like it because I know he’s at his happiest then,” you remember zealously.

“Damn, I guess I’m just projecting my own flaws now, huh?” You can hear him snort from laughter, rolling his neck and cracking the joints in his body, and then the click of his knuckles, 10 of them, one after another.

“Ugh,” you scrunch your nose, “Don’t do that. He does it too, and I guess that’s the only thing he does that really gets to me.”

Your neighbor cracks another joint somewhere on his body just to annoy you, and you cringe. “See, now we’re talking.”

“I was gonna tell you that you sing well too and that I like your laugh, but maybe I’ll have to reconsider,” you taunt. “But still, you shouldn’t put yourself down for the things that show off your happiness.”

The bed creaks from the other side. He must have switched positions for that to happen. “Thanks,” he offers. His voice is muffled, face most likely pressed up against his own pillow. “How about you tell me about the things you like about him?”

“What? Are you trying to wound me?” You ask, slightly hurt.

He scoffs, “No, I’m trying to prove a point here. So, tell me.” He implores like this is some kind of couple’s therapy session. Apparently, without your other half.

As moonlight filters through your curtains and the cars whiz by on the empty street below you, you consider all the things you love and appreciate about Jimin.

“I love how selfless he is. He’s caring and attentive... He’ll know when I’m tired and he’ll offer me coffee. He also scolds me for sleeping late and he lifts my burdens for me, even when I don’t ask him to.” You close your eyes in retrospect of Jimin and all the good things in life that he embodies. “It’s not even the things that he does for me that make me like him.”

Your neighbor hums, letting you continue.

“I guess it’s the principle that’s important.” You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, pulling on the edges to give yourself some comfort. “There are people in this world who aren’t… the nicest? I guess. And… he’s one of the purest people I know. It’s like he goes the extra mile to make sure I’m happy… and healthy.” You take a deep sigh before your mind wanders to the darker parts of your brain. “But I also know he treats everyone else like that too. Because he’s that nice. So... I guess I should have seen it coming that I wasn’t so special anyways,” you recall with tears welling up in the brim of your eyes and a knot tightening in your throat.

“Don’t say that, you’re one of a kind,” he assures you sternly, “What’s his name? I’ll go beat him up right now.”

You give a bitter laugh, wiping away at your eyes with the back of your hands.

“My point is that there are other guys out there who are just as caring. And they should make you feel special because you are, and it’s what you deserve. So if the next guy who comes along doesn’t treat you that way, I will beat his ass, okay?” He says in the most nonthreatening voice ever.

You chortle, “Okay, yeah, sure.” You’re not totally convinced of that.

“You’re probably right, I don’t want to fight and embarrass myself after promising you that,” he giggles.

“I appreciate the sentiment though.” Earnestly, you do. You don’t know many guys who are this nice, Jimin being the exception. “How ‘bout you though? It sounds like you made up with your not-girlfriend? I hope that wasn’t you in the laundry room earlier,” you tease, deflecting the attention away from you with a raised voice.

He gladly takes the bait. “Oh shit, that was you? I’m so sorry.” He rolls around the bed in a fit of sweet laughter, and the slat creaks. “And yeah, we did,” he breathes out with a shallow huff after regaining composure. He sounds nonchalant about it.

“You don’t sound very happy?”

“No, I am,” he deadpans.

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Can you tell me what it is that you like about her?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately like you’d expect, but he’s dwelling on the answer.

“I love how kind hearted she is,” he thinks out loud. “She’s a natural nurturer.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and you can’t help but reciprocate because of how pure that is.

“Like... she’s always so bright, and…” he stops. “I just don’t know how to explain it. You’d have to meet her to know what I mean.”

“Yeah you should invite me over so I can meet her.” You both chuckle knowing that you should meet one another before meeting his fuck buddy.

“I think you’d like her actually. She has this beautiful soul… I- I don’t even know. She just sees the best in everyone. I know that she probably has her own struggles, but I don’t think she’ll ever let anyone know about them,” he mulls over, going on a tangent.

“Why’s that?” You curl up on your side, hugging your pillow like you do during every conversation with him. It’s as if he’s recalling a bedtime story for you. You let out another yawn, and although you’re on the verge of falling asleep, you stay up a little longer just to hear him talk.

“I’m not so sure why… I guess I love her and hate her for this...” He reflects.

You hum, acknowledging him while urging him to continue his train of thought.

“I don’t know... but she’s the type to suffer in silence for the sake of seeing other people around her smile. And… I don’t think she’ll ever admit when she’s hurt or when she needs help. She puts others before herself. Like, she’s so hellbent on putting on a happy face so that others can be happy too.”

You nod to yourself, understanding what he means with every word.

“And It’s not like she fakes her happiness or anything,” he continues as if clarification is needed. “She’s just… such a joy to be around. She makes everyone feel welcomed… and comfortable… And when she’s really happy, like genuinely happy, it feels like everything is right in the world.”

You can tell he has a big, doting smile on his face. One simply cannot talk about a love like this and not smile.

“I only wish that she’d be vulnerable with me so I can make her world a little brighter too.”

“That’s really sweet, and also, I lowkey feel attacked right now,” you let out a dry chuckle.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But I think that’s why you two would get along well.”

“Set up a date, and I’ll come over,” you joke with raised brows.

“Hmm… I’ll have to think about it,” he teases. “Oh, but uhm... if we’re still on the conversation of what I like about her, physically, I love her smile. I swear to God I stopped in my tracks the first time I saw her… and it still happens every time.”

“That’s cute,” you smile fondly.

“When she looks at me, I think the whole world stops for a second because I can actually feel myself get vertigo,” he giggles innocently. “And she’s also got this super adorable snort-laugh that never fails to bring out the best in me. God, it’s beyond cute, you don’t even know.”

“It sounds like you’re in love,” you suggest, curling up tighter into a ball, squeezing at your pillow. “I don’t see why you haven’t made it official yet.”

The pause is filled by the whirring of the radiator and the ticking of the clock.

“Yeah… I don’t know either.”

Waking up, you find out that going to bed with a broken heart is a little easier than going to bed with a hopeful one. Perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion that puts you to rest, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less fatigued. All your efforts are put into your work, and in a way, tending to flowers has served as a distraction from the wilting ones that reside in your chest.

When in reality, you should find a way to revive those instead.

But as Jimin stands before you, you can’t resist the shriveled petals that land in the pit of your stomach like cherry blossoms in the midst of spring. You really don’t know how you manage to bear discourse about Valentine’s Day when he’s unknowingly sitting there with wide eyes, listening to you talk about unreciprocated love that’s so obviously directed towards him.

“You mean to tell me that you read romance novels and watch rom-coms, but you hate the most romantic holiday of the year?”

“Exactly,” you nod as if it’s indisputable.

He gives you a questioning look with a crease on his forehead and lips pressed together in a straight line. “Make it make sense,” he challenges.

You finish chewing on the forkful of salad you popped into your mouth before answering. “Can I rant about it?”

Jimin gives you the go ahead and you continue, “I don’t think you understand how much of a die-hard hopeless romantic I am.”

“Actually, I think I do,” he scoffs and raises his shoulders confidently with eyes closed as if it’s a matter of fact. “That doesn’t prove your point though,” he counters.

You put your hand up, motioning him to stop interrupting, “Let me finish.”

Jimin shrugs and grins from across the counter, allowing you to proceed.

“When I love something, I put my heart and soul into it. I believe in passion, chivalry, and true love.” He hums in agreement as you count down each item with your fingers as if it’s an unofficial list of all the things that encompass a hopeless romantic. “And for me, Valentine’s Day is a poor excuse to spend money and show off all the things you’ve received from your significant other.”

“That’s valid,” Jimin nods, agreeing while munching on his fries.

“Like, why spoil someone on this particular day? What happens during the other 364 days?” You spew.

Jimin mouths “365,” correcting you on the technicalities of a leap year.

You click your tongue, moving on to the point. “Are they not cherished for the rest of the year? I would hope that my boyfriend makes me feel special for more than a single night.” Your forehead creases, too livid at this point to even realize how sadly single you sound.

You’re too busy ranting, accidentally speaking over Jimin to hear him reassure you that you are special. “Also there’s just so much pressure to make the night special, as if they have to plan something, otherwise they’re not the ‘perfect couple’ or the ‘perfect man.’” You emphasize with air quotes.

“I felt that one,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You see my point now?” You acknowledge him sullenly. There’s a tug on your heartstrings at the mention of his girlfriend, but you drive your point forward in hopes of changing the direction of topics. You don’t even want to think about whether or not he’s made plans with his girlfriend yet.

“And what’s the deal with chocolates?” You yell, completely frustrated, throwing your arms up. “They’re totally overpriced. And cards? Cheesy and terrible. My Instagram feed? Flooded with PDA, and it's a big stab at singles like me.” You enunciate angrily, driving your fork harshly into your salad once again.

He laughs and nearly falls off the stool he’s sat on top of before swiftly catching himself. You snicker at his unadulterated cuteness.

“How ‘bout flowers?” He questions with ketchup lingering on the corner of his mouth.

Picking up a napkin from the edge of the counter, you mindlessly reach across to wipe at his lips, still in the process of ranting. “Don’t get me started on flowers,” you shake your head, folding up the napkin on the table. Jimin smiles at you as your eyes train on the fork that digs through your salad, stabbing into the poor vegetables. “Florists overcharge for them, and I hate it because I didn’t get into this business for the purpose of cheating people out of their money.” At this point, you’re rolling your eyes, seething at the thought of Valentine’s Day.

“Why’d you get into the business then?” He asks, silently offering his fries to you, the ones you’ve been eyeing ever since he revealed his lunch.

“Because I love flowers,” you say plain as day, reaching to grab a fry. “Because they make me happy, and when I send them off to someone, I know it’ll make their day a little brighter too.”

You wave the fry around in the air before sticking it in your mouth. Capping off your empty bowl of salad, you don’t seem to notice how Jimin looks at you and the understated beauty you exude.

“It’s cheesy, I know! You don’t have to look at me like I’m crazy,” you whine, briefly looking up at him with round eyes, turning around to toss your garbage.

Jimin flashes you a big, toothy smile, “No, you’re not crazy. You’re just... exactly what I thought you were.” His voice is low, almost as if he’s thinking to himself. As if they’re words you’re not meant to hear.

“Thanks? I think,” you giggle, unsure what he means. “Are you saying I’m predictable?” You inquire.

“I meant refreshing.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes form as he grins. “I’m just trying to figure out why you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day.”

“First of all, I don’t need a date,” you say in defense, teasingly offended.

“I know that, and you know what I mean. But you deserve to be treated like you’re speー”

“Second of all, I do have one.”

“Oh. You do?” He asks, creasing his brows and biting his plush lips.

“Yeah, with myself,” you jest with a smile, elbows resting on the counter with hands cupping your face.

Jimin’s chest deflates with an exhale, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding. “What, are you gonna watch The Notebook until you cry?” He pokes at your shoulder like a tease.

“I’m not that predictable,” you eye him with a gleam in your iris, fully knowing that it is the case. “But maybe,” you affirm with a sly smirk, “after I close up the shop at midnight though.”

“Knew it,” he scoffs. “But why are you closing so late? You should go home early so you can cry and watch The Notebook.”

“Mmm.” You hum, standing up from your stool and turning to hide the downturn of your lips. Running a rag underneath the faucet, you turn to wipe down the counter free of any crumbs. Jimin lifts his elbow up as you glide the cloth across the glass until it’s squeaky clean. “Let’s not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day, and I run a flower shop, Jimin. People are going to come by for a bouquet until the last second.” You exasperate, shaking your head in disapproval of all the last minute shoppers.

“You can’t get anyone else to lock up?” He suggests.

“They’ll hate me forever if I force them to work until midnight,” you reason, “Besides, it’s not like they’re single, so it’s fine. I can do it myself.”

“I really think you should be resting though. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, right?” He asks with concern in his intonation.

“I can take care of myself, I promise. I’m gonna treat myself after work anyways.” You do a little dance that consists of shimmying your shoulders and bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet.

He smiles at you endearingly with wide eyes, “I don’t think crying to The Notebook is a form of treating yourself.” He repeats as if the joke will never die.

You shake your head and click your tongue exclaiming, “If you must know, I’m gonna bake cookies.”

“Are you gonna share with me?” He pleads.

Your tongue pokes at your inner cheek as if you’re thinking about it. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might eat them all in one night.” Your lips purse in a taunt.

His mouth forms a pout, and you’re forced to give in to him and his bright puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, but only because you asked so nicely, I guess I can make some extras,” you groan, pressing your lips together straight like an arrow. You nudge his shoulder with your own despite the squeeze at your heart and the softening of your eyes, “For you and your girlfriend.”

It’s not like you had to mention it. But it’s been on your mind since yesterday, and you’re sure that the only way to fix a broken heart is to learn to accept it. Even if it means plucking out the thorns that are lodged in your heart until it feels numb. Empty and devoid of life.

“Girlfrie- oh, right, right. That’d be nice,” he sputters out, body stiffening, “Butー”

“Maybe I can bake them Thursday night?” You offer. “So you can pick them up on Friday if you buy flowers for her?” Your eyes blink in a failed attempt to wink.

Jimin stifles a laugh at your pitiful endeavor. It’s really pathetic how hard you try, pretending that you’re not hurt right in front of the guy who stormed into your garden.

But you suppose flowers can’t grow without a little bit of downpour.

He licks his lips, and his smile falters. “Riiight, but it’s okay, you should enjoy your cookies on Friday night because I’m not sure I’ll be around to buy flowers that day anyways.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, perplexed, head cocked to the side.

“Uh, don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, brushing it off before taking a look at his watch. “I have to head back to work though, my break is almost ending.” You watch him carefully with narrowing eyes as he collects his belongings, scrambling to head out the door. With the exit half opened, he turns around to bid you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

The bell chimes and he’s out of sight.

You can’t even process his words because you’re too busy staring at the exit trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Adulthood is just an endless cycle of sleeping and working, but it seems like you’re lacking in the former activity seeing that all you do is work. In the final stretch of Valentine’s Day, with a few more days to go, you’re just about ready to crash and burn.

Upon entering your quiet apartment tonight, you fail to do anything productive. You nose dive into bed and curl up into a cocoon at the strike of 10 pm. Somehow, you don’t even care enough to tug off your jeans or remove your smudged makeup. You’re ready to accept the consequences of bad skin and a stained pillowcase because the only thing that matters is that you knock out the moment your head hits the soft linen. There’s no time to replay the events of today or plan for tomorrow when your eyelids weigh you down into a deep slumber.

There’s not a single thing that can spur you. Not even the shining of the moonlight over your profile or the rhythmic whizzing of cars on the empty street beneath you. Even when there’s a police siren ringing in the distance or a rumble from a descending airplane in the atmosphere above you, you don’t bat an eye. You can’t even hear the hum of the rusty pipelines when your neighbor hops into the shower at the breach of dawn. Even the whirring radiator and the ticking clock blurs into nothing but white noise.

They’re all there to keep you company as you lie down in a bed of withered roses. To offer you comfort in your barren Renaissance garden.

You can’t seem to put your finger on it, but you wake up feeling like it’s the best night of rest you’ve gotten in the last week despite it being a short lived slumber. It’s definitely the most consistent night of sleep you’ve had in a while. And even though you went to bed without dinner, it didn’t hinder your sleep whatsoever. It only means that you can eat a full breakfast to power through the day.

And powering through is what you do best.

Apparently, the world is up against you because you can’t remember the last time you even got to sit down. You’re constantly on your feet, attending to customers and fulfilling orders. There’s no time to breathe even when you’re literally enclosed in a greenhouse. There’s always something to do, and stopping to take a break means slowing down the process. It’s not an option you want to take.

At the end of each day, you’re wobbling back home with sore muscles and blurred vision. Your ability to function is beyond your own imagination. Your definition of “functioning” has diminished to standing on your own two feet although that still bears a challenge for you.

The sustenance in your body is nearly nonexistent, especially because you’ve been neglecting your self-care. Typically, you don’t think about eating on the job. It’s honestly not on your mind because there are only two things that occupy your brain space: (1) Work and (2) Jimin.

Somehow, Jimin takes better care of you than you do yourself. And without him around, you’re a walking corpse. He’s always providing you with lunch and snacks, leaving you sticky notes with reminders to hydrate yourself. You didn’t realize that you needed him this much to remind you of the simple tasks like drinking or eating or… smiling.

Sometimes he draws cute flowers or scribbles plant puns on the post-it notes, sticking them onto obscure places that are hard for you to find. Your favorite one being the time he wrote “I love it when you call me big poppy.”

He claims that the notes are designed to make you laugh, even for the few that are not very funny. They definitely do brighten your day, especially when you have the ephemeral chance to glance at them hanging up above your desk in the back office. Smiling at the itty-bitty illustrations has become second nature to you. When you’re going through a rough day, aka everyday, and you’re in need of a breather, you wander into the back room to pace around, only to come face to face with a kaleidoscope of doodled butterflies spanned across a string of rainbow post it notes.

He once drew a sunflower and said something cheesy about how your laughter is the embodiment of sunshine— how it would be a crime against the flora population if you were to go a day without laughter.

It was corny and far from being right, but it was so perfectly Jimin.

When he does stupid shit like that, it makes you feel like the biggest lovesick idiot in the world. In your naive past, you thought that the smiles he sent your way were ones reserved for you and only you. You were convinced that the shameless flirting was a silent mechanism used to express his inclination towards you. You assumed that the daily visits to your flower shop were formidable attempts to get to know you better. A little part of you hoped that the songs he shared with you equated to sharing a piece of his heart.

You absolutely were sharing. You just didn’t realize that you’d be sharing with someone else.

So when Jimin consigns adorable puns that melt your heart, and he stops by with a cup of coffee, just know that they’re acts of friendship. When he spends his lunch breaks at the flower shop and sings songs that remind him of you, he’s coming from a place of kindness, not attraction.

It is true that Jimin’s your sunshine, but it’s also a fundamental principle to botanists that too much of something is bad enough, and too much of nothing is just as tough. And deceiving yourself into believing that he was all that you needed had scorched up all the flowers in your garden.

The drought he put you in didn’t prepare you enough for the brewing storm.

It pains you to say that you need him more than he needs you because even if he isn’t romantically interested in you, you would have hoped that he’d stick around as a friend. His waning presence leads you to believe that he’s simply not interested.

Maybe you were too invested in what could have been between the two of you, you failed to see what was right there in plain sight.

Somehow, you still wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. And it’s pathetic granted you’re incredibly busy with work and your own crippling health. Yet thoughts of him still pop up throughout the day more than you would like. No matter how much you want to forget about your infatuation, you simply can’t will him away because of how often his beautiful face flashes before your eyes. You want to push him to the back of your mind, but whether you’re in need of a breather during your hectic schedule, admiring his stupid puns and butterfly mosaics, or you’re in need of some company in your eerily quiet apartment, doing laundry or having a meal all to yourself, you still can’t get the sound of his sweet laughter out of your head.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but you manage to close up shop long before midnight. It’s a blessing and a curse because you are absolutely wiped out. Not only are you mentally checked out, but ironically, your flower shop is destitute of flowers, completely sold out from the holiday. As you clean up the barren space, you can’t help but feel as if a big weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The stress of Valentine’s Day is over, and you can finally go home, lie in bed with a tray of cookies, and enjoy the beauty that is Ryan Gosling.

You even consider closing the store all of tomorrow because you need the day off to recharge. So as you print out and paste your notice on the glass door, you’re dumbfounded to come across a sliver of paper that’s already attached on the other side. Opening up the door and letting in a gust of cold air breeze by you, you remove the sticky note that’s been unknowingly attached to your entrance.

Not a daisy goes by that I don’t think of you.

The smile that tugs on your lips grapples against the ache in your heart. Quickly, the fond smile melts into one of hurt and disappointment. Your left hand balls into a tight fist, marring crescent moon shapes into your palms. Meanwhile, your right hand delicately fiddles with the tiny square between your fingers, debating whether or not you should crumple up the paper and toss it away to be long forgotten. You’ve never been so confused about your feelings until Park Jimin came into your life, but you tuck the little daisy doodle into the pocket of your coat with a sigh.

With every passing year, Valentine’s Day becomes a little more bearable than the previous. Tonight feels like any other night, but better. You’ve come to accept that if there isn’t someone who can make you feel special, you might as well do it yourself.

Making a meal for you that doesn’t consist of ramen or 5 minute rice while dimming the lights and sparking up some candles is undeniably part of the healing process. And that’s what tonight mainly consists of. It’s all about love and self-care.

With your laptop perched on top of your dinner table and your Netflix queue lined up, you mindlessly mix at your wet and dry ingredients with a wooden spoon. Nothing has made you feel more at ease than the comfort of watching your favorite movie on repeat and the sweet taste of raw cookie dough on your tongue. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life that can put a smile on your face.

As you wait for your cookies to bake, you settle into bed with your legs crossed and back pressed against the headboard. Laughter from the speakers of your laptop fill the space, and you can’t help but laugh along with the characters, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of your apartment complex. The rumble of your laughter subsides, and the movie rolls on from scene to scene.

Your ears perk up like Pavlov’s dog when the oven goes off. You turn your head so quickly you nearly get whiplash, but it’s all worth it for the love of chocolate chip cookies. The aroma of sugar is enough to will yourself out of bed and conveniently press pause on Ryan Gosling’s charming face.

Pulling on your oven mitts to retrieve the hot platter, your body begins to sway around to the sudden echo of music. The soft guitar strums reverberate through the walls and against the vacant space of your studio. Your body stops moving to the acoustics when you realize where the noise is coming from. Looking up, your eyes bore into the eggshell walls as if you can see through it. But you soon space out, focusing on the vibrations of the nylon strings instead.

The song fades out and the quietude breaks you out of your reverie. You blink in confusion, trying to remember the last time you heard from your neighbor. Although you haven’t spent much time in your apartment in the past week, you miss the late night chats with him. Lately, you’ve been knocking out as soon as your head hits the pillow for some much needed rest. You haven’t heard his voice in forever, and especially not his angelic singing voice. Even tonight he refrains from singing in place of just practicing his guitar.

It’s a bit out of the ordinary.

His side of the wall is surprisingly quiet tonight. You would have expected him to be out and about with his girlfriend, but at this point of the night, they would have been jumping at each other's bones. Yet the gentle patter of footsteps and the lack of banging would suggest that he’s flying solo tonight.

Despite your curiosity, you’re not sure whether or not you’d want to bring it up in case it reopens some wounds. You think it’s best to leave it alone for the time being until he’s ready to come to you instead.

So as you proceed with bingeing your movies, there’s something in the back of your mind that still distracts you. It’s literally a crime that you’ve sat through 2 hours of The Notebook, yet you haven’t shed a single tear because you’re not even focused on the film in front of you. Rather, you’re thinking long and hard about the last time you heard your neighbor laugh in sincerity.

You really couldn’t care any less about the end credits that roll in front of you. Rather, with your chin propped up in the palm of your hands, you listen intently to what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It’s bizarrely quiet, aside from the sad symphony of string instruments that ring in the background of the ending credits.

When your screen turns black, you shut off your laptop and stow it away, knowing in your heart that you’re no longer in the mood for a romantic movie marathon. You make your way into your kitchen and reach for the cookies that have cooled off by now. But somehow, it feels wrong to sit here in enjoyment of your own company. Yet at the same time, this batch of cookies was the only thing you were looking forward to all week.

Nothing seems to satisfy you.

The only desire that creeps upon you is the desire to spend the night with someone else by your side. Frankly, it’s stupid because you know that you don’t need a man, and even the whole world knows that you don’t need one. Especially not on Valentine’s Day because you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate February 14th with every fibre of your being.

However, the idea of having a friend at your side doesn’t seem so bad at this point.

You transfer all the cookies from the tray onto a smaller plate, arranging the delectable morsels into a presentable fashion.

With your slippers on, you make your way out of your apartment, letting the door close softly behind you. Standing in front of your neighbor’s abode, you nervously shift your weight on the heels of your feet. Midnight is approaching, and you wouldn’t want to disrupt his night like this, but it just feels right to knock on his door and offer your company. Just to check up on him because perhaps he’s in need of some companionship just like you. And who wouldn’t want some chocolate chip cookies? Baked with 80% sugar and 100% love.

Mustering up all the courage in your body, your hand comes up in a tight fist, knocking at the wooden door. You wait a moment, but to your dismay, there’s no evidence of movement on the other side of the partition. You would have heard his footsteps by now, and perhaps the turning of the deadbolt, but it’s dead silent.

Perhaps he didn’t hear you, so you knock a little harder this time.

Nothing.

As you stand outside, lost in naivety, you wonder whether you should try to make a fool of yourself and knock again. It’s been a good 5 minutes of you debating between speaking up to get his attention or giving up and retreating to your studio in embarrassment. Then you mentally facepalm yourself remembering that it’s incredibly rude of you to drop by without any kind of warning.

But still, you had his best interests in mind.

You think that the third time’s the charm, so in a last attempt, you knock with full force.

“Uhh, hey!” Your voice shakes and cracks. Blame it on the nerves. “I made some cookies, and I thought I’d share some!” You semi-yell in hopes of catching his attention.

“One second!” Oh, thank God. You can hear the bed frame creak on the other side and the skid of footsteps across the floor boards.

Your heartbeat weirdly picks up because of the fact that this is quite literally the first time you’ve come face to face with your neighbor. The late night chats with him have always made you feel comfortable, but there’s a certain nuance to meeting him that shakes your nerves.

You brace yourself as you hear the lock turn, eyes casting down towards the plate in front of you.

“I didn’t know that today’d be the day we meet like thiー” He says as the door swings open.

You look up expecting to greet him with a smile, but the one you had prepared falters from your lips.

“What’re youー”

“Y- You liveー”

You stutter over one another, lost in confusion. Staring into the very familiar set of brown eyes in front of you, you’re confounded by your new discovery.

Jimin stands before you, running his hand through his black locks as he opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you through.

“Hey, neighbor?” He sounds disoriented, untrusting of his voice.

You’re stood frozen at the foot of the entrance, unsure as to how you could possibly process all of this.

“I heard you made cookies?” He asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Here, come in.” He gently tugs on your sleeve, coddling you because of the state of shock you’re in.

You nod your head, barely cognizant of what’s being said. But your feet still shuffle through the entryway, and you slide off your slippers at the front door.

“This is so crazy,” he says, taking the plate of cookies off your hands. You’re both surprised that you have yet to drop them. He places the plate onto his coffee table, and his back is turned to you as you stand to the side, playing with the sleeves of your sweater.

How much weirder can this situation possibly get?

“You mean to tell me that we’ve been neighbors all this time and we didn’t even know?” You ask, sucking your lips inward, cocking your head to the side. Your words are a jumbled mess, but Jimin has become a master at deciphering your incoherent words through the thin walls many nights in a row.

“I’m just as surprised as you! I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots?” He exclaims in dismay, patting the seat beside him on the couch as an invitation to you.

Your brain feels as if it’s lost all of its cells because you have so many questions, yet you can’t seem to articulate them. As you sit down, you close your eyes and rub at your temples, praying that you’d wake up from this odd dream.

“There’s no way I could have connected the dots,” you sputter in collection of your thoughts, completely exasperated. “I just don’t understand.”

You fiddle with your fingers, and Jimin takes your hand in his. His touch is soft, and as much as you want to pull away, you give into him because there’s no way you’d ever deny him, especially not when he looks at you with those big round eyes.

“I have so many questions,” you admit, rubbing at your eyelids.

“Shoot.”

“Uhm,” your head shakes wildly. “I don’t even know where to begin?” Your eyes widen, shocked by how nonchalant he’s acting. As if he didn’t just lead you on and ghost you days on end, pretending that everything’s okay now.

“Take your time,” he chuckles reassuringly, offering you a calming smile.

“Uhm… How are you? I guess? Th- that’s kind of the first thing I wanted to ask you before… I- you know.”

Your heart gallops because he’s looking at you, biting his lip. And you, you are completely weak for the man who holds all of your affection in the palm of his hands, yet you can’t handle his smoldering stare, so you avert your eyes elsewhere. This is downright cruel and unusual punishment.

You continue, “Because I haven’t spoken to you much lately, you know?”

“You wanted to check up on me?”

You blink away, eyes now focused on the vase of wilting flowers on the coffee table. Pink and red variegated carnations. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself and regulate your breath. Your body stiffens and your shoulders tense. Even your jaw tightens, but you manage to nod your head.

“I’ve been better,” he admits sullenly.

Your hand lets go of his, pulling back to seek comfort at your side. It just doesn’t feel right to hold his hand so intimately when he’s made a mess of your head and your heart. You just can’t do it to yourself, and you can’t do it to him or his girlfriend. Especially not when his heart belongs to her.

You open your mouth as if you have another question to ask, but none of them are coherent enough to utter. There’s plenty of noise ringing in your head, but it’s all nonsense.

Jimin gently rests his hand on the ball of your knee, almost like a graze, but his touch is hot, and you brush him off with the recoil of your leg.

His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. His hands retract to his lap, respecting your wishes. He gulps, and noticeably the lump in his throat goes down in a swallow.

“Hey, it’s just me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.” He displays his palms out to you as a peace offering. A symbol of vulnerability. The tension in the air is palpable, but you still manage to keep your guard down in front of him.

Because this is Jimin. The guy you’ve come to know and unfortunately love. But it’s just that you’ve never seen Jimin like this.

“Yeah and that’s kind of the problem,” you breathe out. Your brows knit into a frown, and he looks at you in bewilderment, with wide eyes, parted lips, and stress tousled hair. “I- I don’t know if you’re Jimin the mysterious neighbor who’s been nothing but nice to me, or Jimin the guy from the flower shop who pretty much made it loud and clear he doesn’t want to see me,” you scoff.

“B- butー What do you mean? We’re the same person.” His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head subtly trying to convince you. He fiddles with his fingers, cracking his knuckles out of bad habit. Shifting his body so his knees are pointed towards yours, nearly in contact, he refrains from the much needed skinship. The heat radiating from his body is something you’re familiar with, and although it once brought you comfort, you can only feel resentment.

“Of course I want to see you? Iー I?” He’s a stuttering mess, shaking his head from side to side as if you’ve got it all wrong, but you interject because you have so much to say, yet you haven’t expressed yourself to your liking just yet.

“I don’t know about that!” Your hands clench up at your sides until your knuckles turn sharp. “Because neighbor Jimin is telling me he has a fuck buddy he thinks he’s in love with, and flower shop Jimin has a girlfriend he doesn’t want to talk about. So what is it? I’m hearing a lot about mixed feelings for this one person, and… if you’re involved with someone, I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” you spit out more harshly than expected, inching further and further away to the edge of the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. You gulp down a thick glob of spit in hopes of washing down the acidic sting in your throat, but it’s like bile just sits there on your tongue.

“Let me explain, okay?” He begs of you.

You sit there in sullen silence, staring at the carnations in your peripherals, ready to have him break your heart all over again. You nod, but you don’t even bother turning to face him, unsure whether or not you’d be able to hear him talk about how he’s in some complicated relationship with someone else.

“Please, look at me?” he pleads with a sniffle, “I need to know if you’re okay.” His voice cracks, and you finally look his way. You’re far from okay, but seeing him with glossy eyes, you also know that he isn’t either.

He licks his lips, and his hand comes up in desperate need of tucking the stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face. But he decides against it in fear of rejection, and he rests his hand on the ball of his knee instead. Your line of sight falls to his shaking leg. You hesitantly reach across to close your hand softly around his in comfort. His movement stops instantly as he lets out a huff.

Licking your lips, your eyes gaze towards your hands, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d slot into one another so perfectlyー

“_____?” Your eyes shift to lock with his and there are tears that brim at his corners, but they’re kept at bay, refusing to fall.

“I-” He exhales.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, and you don’t know if it’s more for yourself or for him, but it gives him the strength to continue on.

“Look, that girl and I? We weren’t in a relationship. I promise you. I told you that we were friends with benefits because that’s what we were.” He insists, hoping the message gets across to you, but your heart drops lower into your stomach at his admission. You don’t even want to picture him with some other girl, yet you know way more about their relationship than you would have ever wanted.

Hell, you were even convinced that they were in love. A highlight reel of the last few months spent in your apartment flashes before your eyes, and your grip on his hand loosens. You think back to the days when Jimin was just some faceless guy, dancing around with his supposed girlfriend, having pillow fights, running warm baths, making out beneath the stars, and fucking around with her like they were in love.

But he continues in hopes that you’d understand his point of view. “It was easier to tell you the truth because you didn’t know who I was, and you wouldn’t have judged me for it. So I was an idiot, and at the flower shop, I told you she was my girlfriend because it would have been easier to explain this complicated mess.” A single tear cascades down his cheek, and he wipes it away with the crook of his elbow.

“I mean, she wanted it to be serious, but there was just something pulling me back. And do you know what that was?”

You shake your head no and pull away, unsure how much more of this you can take.

He looks you dead in the eyes, but you can’t even look at him for another second because the wilting carnations are sitting there, mocking you.

“_____, you asked me the other day what I liked about her, and I was wracking my brain trying to come up with an answer... It wasn’t easy because you were the only person I thought about.”

A sudden tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, unbelieving, but you compel yourself to look back at his visage, checking for any tells of a lie. He doesn’t even falter.

“She and I? We fought so much because she was convinced I had feelings for someone else. And you know?” He shakes his head, “…It’s true. I couldn’t think about the things I liked about her, but then when I thought of you. My god, it was just so much easier to talk about the things I loved about you because you’re the one I like. I didn’t know how to express that, okay? The songs that I wrote? The ones you hear me sing day and night? Fuck…” He rubs at his eyes, and they’re evidently red from all the tears welled up. “They’re all about you, and you didn’t even know,” he sobs out. The first drop of tears came out steadily, but as you examine his face in total shock, the tears begin to cascade down his face.

You wrap your arms around his neck, now understanding where he’s coming from. It’s all a little more clear to you, and there’s no need to continue on if he’s in hysteria like this. His arms instinctively squeeze around your waist, holding on tight, too afraid that he’d lose you if he were to let go.

“I didn’t have my feelings sorted out because I was comfortable with where I was, but it’s not like it made me happy,” he confesses. You hush him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his slumped back. Sitting in silence, you can only hear the sound of your breathing falling into sync with his. Occasionally, the radiator would go off and a car would drive by on the street beneath you.

You tell him that it’s all okay and that all is forgiven, but he still continues in justification of himself. “And I was convinced that you’d think I was a horrible person for liking someone else when I’ve got a complicated relationship going on, okay? Because that’s how I felt about myself, and I swear we broke it off, but I was too embarrassed to come to you because I didn’t know how to explain the mess I got myself into. It’s all my fault, and I’m so so so sorry, you have no idea.”

He’s wracked with sobs, but you hum, listening intently to his every word. They’re coherent enough for you to realize that you’ve both made mistakes because of a huge misunderstanding.

The Jimin that you know and love is right here in your arms, and there’s nothing you can do but forgive and forget.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he cries out with a hiccup. “I promise you that you’re the only person I care about.”

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, hoping that he calms down because there’s really nothing to apologize for. “What did I say? You don’t have to be sorry, okay?” You remind him.

He lets out a breathy exhale, “I messed up,” he hiccups, “I don’t deserve this. You.”

Your hands rest on his shoulder, gently pulling back from him, but he clings on tighter to your waist. Looking down at the sweet man beneath you, you smile to yourself.

“Jimin,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You shake your head, and a soft chuckle vibrates through your chest. Still, you keep him in your embrace because although it may seem like Jimin is the one in need of a hug, you need it just as much as he does.

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, tickling the skin at your sternum.

“I think I caught feelings for you the first time we met. Do you remember that?” He hums as you reminisce on the memory. “It was some random Sunday, and you walked in looking for a bouquet for your mom, but you realized you didn’t have enough cash on youー”

Jimin laughs beneath you, and it’s the way that he laughs that makes you realize you need that in your life. A cheshire grin spreads across your lips, and that’s when you know you can’t go a single day without hearing his laugh again.

“You didn’t have enough cash, so you pulled out a post it note and scribbled an IOU.” You can barely get the sentence out without chuckling to yourself. Jimin has stopped sobbing at this point, being reduced to a few sniffles here and there. You deem it as the right moment to pull back from his embrace so you can look him in the eyes.

“You drew a little daisy for me and that’s when I knew you were really something else.”

You cup his cheeks, and a grin tugs on his lips, matching the one on your face. His eyes shine in the dim light, just like how the sun radiates in the day time. A single tear trickles down his plush cheeks, and you wipe it away with the pad of your thumb.

“Look, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, and I have to admit that it hurt me when you said you had a girlfriend, but it really hurt me when you left without saying anything.”

His eyes cast downwards as if he’s ashamed, but you place your hand beneath his chin, bringing his attention back up.

“Know that I’d never judge you for the decisions you make and for the relationships you have, okay? And I don’t think you’re horribleー”

“You don’t?” He cuts you off with his big pleading eyes.

“No, far from it,” you beam, “I still think you’re the most selfless person I know.”

Jimin’s face drops at your confession, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not special, because to me, you’re the most extraordinary person in this world.”

He cups your face, noticing that your eyes are starting to well. Drops of tears roll down your face, and Jimin’s quick to dry them away, pressing his lips against your cheeks to collect the drops of salt water. As you smile, another stream of tears pour from your ducts. Soft pecks are trailed against your skin, and you think you’ve successfully washed away all the pain.

You can feel the flowers in your heart slowly starting to bloom in preparation for spring.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, opening up your eyes. He’s merely a few inches away from you, stuck in a daze.

His eyes can’t decide whether they want to look at the gleam in your irises or at the curvature of your lips, flickering between the two.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Your whimper is hardly loud enough for your own ears, but he hears you loud and clear.

His hands rest at the sides of your neck as his thumbs run over your cheeks, grazing over the flesh of your lips. “Can I show you how special you are to me?”

You nod your head, and Jimin is overcome with the urge to kiss you, inching closer with puckered lips. They’re soft against your own, plush and pillowy. You melt into his touch as if he’s the light of your life. You think you could cry again from the sheer amount of euphoria built up in your little heart. Having him in your arms is all you could ever ask for.

He pulls back slightly in need of a breath, and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap, with knees settled on either side of his taut thighs.

“Missed you,” you whimper against the column of his neck, nosing at the sensitive skin.

Jimin’s breath hitches as he bites back a moan, “Missed you more.”

“Not possible,” you trail gentle kisses against his collarbones, pulling back on the cotton of his t-shirt to expose more of his neck.

His hands rest on your outer thighs thighs, squeezing tight on the muscles. You reach behind you to grab at his forearms, urging him to move his hands higher onto your body. He takes the hint immediately and experimentally squeezes at your ass. Your lips part from his neck, and Jimin takes the opportunity to latch his mouth back onto yours.

His lips are gentle in contrast to the firm grip he has on you. But with your weight resting on top of him, core pressed up against his crotch, you can feel how hard he is beneath you. In need of some release, you start to move your hips back and forth, grinding over his hard on.

Jimin gives you a lingering kiss on your lips, pulling back with a harsh groan. You offer a teasing smile, and he leans forward. He supports your weight at the bottom of your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. You nearly yelp when he stands, holding you up in his arms.

“I got you,” he reassures, pressing his lips firmly against yours, walking towards his unmade bed space. He lays you down gently on top of the messy covers, climbing between your legs. You whine upon the release of his lips, but his mouth leaves hot kisses down the column of your throat, causing you to gasp.

“Is it okay if we take this off?” He asks, thumbing at the hem of your sweater.

You nod sitting up, and he tugs the material off for you, tossing it to the edge of the bed. Upon sight of your bare chest, he molds into you, lips suctioning around your pebbled nipple. His other hand massages at your unattended breast, squeezing at the supple flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” he hums against your body.

You’re easily affected by his words as your back arches and your legs hook around his torso. Canting your hips upward, you signal to Jimin with a whine that you’re desperate for his touch.

“There’s no need to rush, baby, we have the whole night,” he warns you, leaving a kiss between the valley of your breasts.

You cry out in frustration, but it soon subsides when he satiates your needs. You relax when his hand lowers into your sweatpants, cupping at your heat. His middle finger traces at your entrance, running it up and down your panty clad slit. Your hips lurch once again, but Jimin presses your hips down, flush against the mattress.

As his tongue circles around your sensitive nipple, his fingers decide to dip into your underwear. The obscene sound of your juices squelching can be heard when he presses his finger into your tight hole. Inserting a finger in, you can feel your walls stretch around him. A cry falls from your lips as he begins to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb.

Jimin inserts another finger, and your cunt feels so hot with the amount of friction. Pumping two fingers in and out, there’s a pleasurable burn that ripples throughout your body. Beads of sweat form on your hairline, and you wipe them away with the back of your hand. You can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“Tell me how it feels, okay?” He asks, switching over to your other breast.

“You feel so good,” you mewl. He hums against your nipple in affirmation, biting lightly at the perky bud.

“Jimin?” You call out for him.

He parts from your chest to look into your eyes, fingers still pumping in and out of you with flexing biceps.

“I think it’d feel better if you’d fuck me,” you admit, no filter needed.

“Shit,” he groans, slowing down the pace. “I want to eat you out first though.”

He retracts his hand, and you feel empty without him inside. Your sweatpants and panties are tugged off in one swift motion, casted to the side along with your sweatshirt. Looking up with stars in your eyes, you can see that Jimin is still fully dressed. You open your mouth to tell him about your wishes, but he must have read your mind because he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it with no regard.

Beneath his clothing, he reveals to you his robust body. You’re dripping with lust, and it must be so obvious from the way you stare at his abdominals. Everything about him is so well-built, and you curse the talented dancer in front of you.

“Like what you see?” He teases, winking at you as he descends down your body.

“Love it,” you moan.

His breath is hot against your wet pussy. With juices dripping down your ass, you ruin the linen sheets beneath you. His fingers play with your core, spreading your swollen lips to reveal your flower, admiring how pretty your cunt is.

Sitting up with elbows propped, you look down in frustration between your bent legs to see Jimin licking his lips, staring at your heat like he’s ready to devour you. He kisses at the long, dark lines of stretch marks that reside on your inner thighs before his tongue presses softly against your wet clit, kitten licking at the bud. Reaching out, your hand balls around the white comforter to anchor yourself down. As you spread your legs wider, Jimin’s hands hook around your limbs to rest at your thighs. He presses them down, restricting your movement.

His tongue laps at your heat with no mercy, licking a stripe up your sex and tracing letters onto your clit, sending your nerves aflame. Your breaths are shallow as you pant, melding yourself to the mattress. He flicks his tongue, prodding it against your hole and delving in and out. He massages your tight walls as it clenches around his tongue.

There’s a knot in your stomach that forms embarrassingly fast, but you can’t help it when his plush lips give your cunt so much attention, sucking harshly on your clitoris. He looks over at your features, taking notice of your reactions, licking over and over the parts that make you squirm the most.

Your face scrunches in pleasure, nearly toppling over the edge. But you’re not ready to come. Not yet at least. Not without having Jimin’s hard cock inside of you.

Jimin is relentless against your pussy, but he doesn’t even let up when you call his name out. Your grip around the comforter loosens in favor of digging your fingers into Jimin’s luscious black locks.

“Jimiiiin,” you whine, tugging lightly at his roots. “I need you, please, please,” you beg.

He leaves a kiss at your bud, and you shudder in response. Jimin climbs up your body, and you shiver at the loss of contact.

“You need me, huh?” He teases, “You want to come?” You nod your head ardently when he presses his red, swollen lips against yours. He grapples with your mouth in a bruising, passionate kiss. With clicking teeth and suckling tongues, you can taste yourself off of his plush lips, completely drenched in your arousal.

Trailing your hand down Jimin’s sturdy body, you can’t resist running your hands over his perfectly sculpted abs. But on your descent, you pull on the strings of his heather gray sweatpants, loosening the elastic around his waist.

Your palm slides beneath the band, tucking beneath his boxer briefs. His eyebrows scrunch, and he gasps against your mouth when you wrap your hand around his hot, veiny cock, stroking at his erection. His cheeks flush as you swipe your thumb over the head, collecting beads of precum on your fingers.

He shudders at your touch. “Oh my God, I might die if you keep doing that,” he nearly cries.

You smile against the skin of his neck, sucking at his pulse point. Meanwhile, Jimin reaches over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom. He nearly falls off the bed, losing balance on his knee when you stroke his cock a little faster.

As Jimin sits up, trying to open up the packaging, you careen forward to pull off his sweats. You can hardly pull it down below his thick ass given the position he’s sitting in. But it’s enough for you to pull his dick out and wrap your hand around his girth in all its glory.

While waiting for Jimin to take out the condom, you decide to tease him like he deserves. Switching positions, you lie down on your stomach in front of him. With a glob of saliva built up in your mouth, you spit onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the shaft and onto his balls. You glide your hand up and down to spread the saliva, making sure he’s nice and wet. His balls tighten the moment you suckle your lips around his slit.

You look up at Jimin with wide eyes in hope of some praise.

His eyes stare into yours, but he quickly throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m not gonna last, please, I know your mouth is like heaven, but I want to be inside you,” he rambles.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and rests his hand beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. His lips meet your forehead in a sweet kiss before you lie back down on the bed, spreading your legs wide open as an invitation.

Jimin ungracefully pulls off his pants down the rest of his legs. He pumps his thick cock in his hands before sliding on the condom and lining himself up at your entrance. You groan, reaching out for his wrists as he glides his length up and down your folds, making sure you're nice and wet for him, fully prepped.

The callous on his thumb is rough against your clit as he rubs down on it, easing the discomfort of penetration. Your velvety walls stretch around his member as he sinks into you inch by inch.

You’re gasping for air as he sheaths himself inside you, but you remain calm because Jimin peppers kisses all across your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned.

“Mhmm,” you hum, “Might need a second.”

His nose nudges at your cheek, “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Moments go by until you’re comfortable with the stretch. You don’t know how Jimin has so much patience with you when you can literally feel his dick twitch inside your pussy, impossibly harder than he was moments prior. But like the angel he is, he still waits for your go-ahead.

“Jimin, you can move,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and offering a butterfly kiss.

His mouth finds his way to yours, and he kisses you with so much fervor. You’re too distracted by the kiss to notice him slide out of you.

But your lips part slightly, letting out a gasp when he drives his dick back into you, setting a moderate pace. Your hands reach for the skin of his back, latching your nails onto the smooth surface. The slap of skin on skin is obscene as his hips meet yours, pumping himself inside of you. The delicious burn has you digging your nails into his shoulder blades, scratching at his taut muscles.

You weren’t wrong to say that you can’t go another day without hearing Jimin’s laughter, but at the time, you were not privileged enough to hear his moans against the shell of your ear. That is the one thing you don’t want to ever live without, too spoiled by the sensual man above you.

Jimin fucks into you deeply, changing his angle as he shifts his weight onto his knees. His calculated thrusts to your g-spot sends you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes focus on your pussy, watching his dick disappear inside of you like an addiction. With a firm grasp on your hips, he lifts you higher to help you reach your orgasm.

“Jimin, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, gripping your walls tightly around his length.

“I know, baby, you can come.” He lowers himself onto his elbows so he can come face to face with you. His hands reach down between your bodies, and he rubs harsh figure eights on your swollen clit. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning his name like a vice.

Jimin rides out your high, pumping into your tight hole until your legs nearly give out. He doesn’t dare pull away, continuing to circle your clit until you’ve nearly reached your limits. Your walls pulse around his cock, squeezing around his shaft until he’s nearly at his edge. His hair is matted to his forehead, slicked by sweat. You brush away the loose strands with the tips of your fingers.

“Are you close?” You breathe out, hush and quiet, cupping his jaw with the palm of your hands.

“Mhmm,” he gulps, rutting into you, pumping your cum in and out as it sheaths his shaft.

His pace falters as he approaches his orgasm, hips stuttering against yours. Jimin nearly collapses on top of you as he spills himself into the condom, moaning into the cusp of your ear. His chest presses up against yours as he attempts to catch his breath.

You trace soothing circles onto his back as he basks in the afterglow of post orgasmic sex.

His breathing soon evens out, and it’s comfortably quiet, that is with the exception of the radiator hissing in the corner of the studio.

“Wow.” He kisses your temple before pulling out, letting the remains of your cum flow out of you. He rolls over onto his back, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“So on a scale of 1-10, how special would you say you feel right about now?” A smug smirk tugs on his lips, and you playfully smack his pecks.

“Does this answer your question?” You ask, peppering 10 kisses onto his lips.

“Mmm, no, I didn’t quite hear your answer” he says, leaning in for another kiss, “Tell me one more time?”

And as Jimin kisses you goodnight, you know in your heart that the heartache and the loss of $5 are all worth it in the end if it means you get to wake up and smell the roses with Jimin at your bedside.

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kintatsujo · 3 years ago

Text

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part TWENTY-NINE

Previous post is here!!!

This is another mostly-prose-with-illustrations post and most of the wrap posts are going to be the same because there’s a lot to cover.

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Dinravi stabs Nightmare Demise and sends lightning through the blade. As Nightmare Demise fades he suddenly grins, teeth all sharp:

[Image Description: Nightmare Demise is laying on his back, grinning as smoke hisses around him. “Maybe NEXT TIME, Little Prince,” he says. Dinravi frowns down at him. “In DEMISE’S Nightmares, perhaps,” he says. End ID.]

(Note: I did not expect Dinravi to say that.)

Link manages that second blow, and Fierce Deity stumbles back, still smiling the same as before.

[Image Description: Fierce Deity puts his hand to his chest and closes his eyes, black blood trickling thick from one side of his smile. He fades away. Link, who’s gained a bruised cheek and a cut lip since we’ve last seen, stares at him in some confusion and mixed emotion. End ID.]

At last, together, all three Triforce bearers turn their power on the God's Nightmare in the center of the room along with Eltani and Ghirahim, and with Hylia's Light Queen Zelda closes the tear in reality.

Zelda rushes to the sacristy to check on her daughter. Astramorus is coming through the door to the tunnels as she makes it there, the pendant with the Moon Pearl over his shoulder, the book of spells under his arm, looking exhausted, and they stop to stare at one another for half a breath.

"... Where is Serenumbra?" Zelda asks him.

Astramorus's face twists and then he holds up a limp creature, some sort of snake with a skull for a face that is definitely not a snake's skull.

"We scuffled," he says, as if that explains everything. "He's alive and I'm GOING to change him back, but your Majesty I'm not a young man, this seemed like an easier way to get him back up here."

[Image Description: Astramorus, looking very done and with the Moon Pearl over his shoulder and the magic book under his arm, presents with his other hand a snake with a human skull that appears to be attempting to constrict his arm. The snake is labeled “Snakenumbra.” End ID.]

Queen Zelda stares at him with the schooled expression of someone who has made a career of not laughing at the wrong moment.

"We'll discuss this when we get to your sentencing for attacking Prince Dinravi," she says, and Astramorus shrugs.

"I think you know I didn't go after him because of that," he answers.

[Image Description: Link sits on one of the stone beds in the Sanctuary and leans back on his hands. Ghirahim settles down next to him. Link side eyes him.

"You look terrible," he says.

"Thanks for noticing," Ghirahim answers with a tired smile. "You look WORSE."

Dinravi, off panel, sends a "Leave him alone, Ghirahim," in their direction. End ID.]

"No I've decided that I like this one," Ghirahim shoots back. "We fought a hinox and an eldritch nightmare together and I think he might be a little crazy." He grins at Link, teeth all sharp. "I learned my lesson with the first of you," he says, "The spirit of the hero does something funny to your heads, it's entertaining when it's not frustrating."

Link stares at him and then rubs the mark on his hand. "I thought this was some kind of mistake, actually," he admits.

Ghirahim gives him a flat look as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "I threw your father off a roof and you were ready to kill me, I could see it in your face," he says. "You epitomize your predecessor's foolishness."

Link is absolutely not sure how to take that.

Astramorus thumbs through the book of magic and finds the counter to the spell Serenumbra used to put the princesses to sleep, waking them.

"Well now, Dove," Queen Zelda says, "you're safe now," and Princess Zelda, who'd been holding it together so well, falls into her mother's arms.

Princess Hilda stares at them silently for a moment before saying "I'm so deeply sorry for the trouble Lord Serenumbra has caused."

Princess Zelda pulls away and asserts, "She had no idea, Mother."

Queen Zelda gives Hilda a rueful smile. "You know, I have another arm if you need it."

Hilda is taller than Queen Zelda (she's quite a tall girl) but that doesn't matter; she buries her face in the older woman's neck and begins to sob.

"There now, that's better," Queen Zelda says.

[Image Description: Hilda is folded over Zelda Sr and sobbing into her hands on Zelda’s shoulder, while Zelda Jr is leaning into Zelda Sr’s other shoulder and crying more quietly, giving Hilda a tired and fond look. Queen Zelda has her arms wrapped around both girls and is making a serious thoughtful face, thinking: “So how do I explain to my husband that I’m adopting the ruler of a neighboring country this time.” End ID.]

Then, at Hilda's insistence, they restore the proper shapes of the Scarred Woman and the Burly Man.

"On the love of Hylia, your highness," the Scarred Woman promises Hilda, "I'll never take another order not from your kind lips."

Queen Zelda purses hers. "I think being turned into.... That. Was more than enough punishment for the part you two played in this mess," she decides. "As for Serenumbra himself-"

Serenumbra's shape is being restored by Astramorus as she says this and he barely waits for a human tongue to open his mouth. "Princess Hilda," he says, smiling paternally, "I was only acting in what I saw as your best interests-"

"Shut up," Hilda cuts him off. She looks like she's ready to cry again. "Your Majesty, do as you please with him, I never want to see him again."

"I helped raise you-" Serenumbra starts, and it's Astramorus who cuts him off this time:

"Don't make me hit you with this book again, Seren," he says.

"I think his fate is my right, at this point." This is Eltani. "He would have had my son either murdered or seduced by a demon to spread bloodshed across Hyrule."

"Well, he's only a little more than half demon now," Serenumbra starts to say.

"What." Ghirahim says.

"I pulled some human emotion into him to make him more manageable," Serenumbra continues as if he hadn't spoken. "There was plenty around the castle, Hilda's a very nice girl."

Hilda gets up and leaves while Ghirahim leans directly into Serenumbra's face and starts screaming at him.

[Image Description: Ghirahim saying his fuckin piece. He has one hand braced on the wall behind Serenumbra, who is flinching back, while Ghirahim holds his other hand- shape shifted into claws- in a position ready to grab and tear. Ghirahim is absolutely screaming, although some of the dialogue is cut off. End ID.]

The dialogue isn’t in the image description because I’m going to share the entire thing including cut-off parts here: “You awful disgusting little man daring to toy with the magnificent Ghirahim even THINKING to tamper with MY PERSON I should cut you to pieces and leave you with your heart still beating in the sun for the lizalfos in the desert to find and we’d see whose problem I was THEN I swear on my last master’s ashes if it wasn’t for my prince you’d already be gutted on the floor for this but you’re not worthy of bleeding on the same carpet that’s touched his feet and that you dared to assume that your disgusting machinations would even work on him proves what a pathetic fool you really are-”

Eventually Dinravi pulls him gently away. "I knew there was something wrong," Ghirahim mutters, then says, "Eltani tell your son to let me kill him I'll never backtalk you again."

"Tempting, even if I don't believe that," Eltani admits. "Zelda?"

Queen Zelda shrugs. "He's all yours, dear."

Finally, finally Serenumbra's smug face drops. "Well, at least my dear old friend will be keeping me company on the gallows," he says nastily, looking at Astramorus.

Astramorus seems unmoved; Link on the other hand is immediately worried, looking to Queen Zelda and Eltani, who both look a bit thoughtful.

Eltani says, "Well, no, he's certainly exiled from Gerudo City, but I think I'm willing to go with the idea that he was acting under duress."

"Seren didn't actually tell me to-" Astramorus starts to say, but she holds up a hand.

"Even now you're calling him a fond nickname," she says sadly. Astramorus looks surprised to have this pointed out.

"I'm willing to acknowledge the help he's been since the incident," Zelda says. "But we'll discuss it back in Hyrule. Lord Astramorus has only done good here in Lorule, it's unfair to sentence him here, especially on the heels of the battle he helped win."

"I think that's fair," Eltani agrees, and with that I'm wrapping the post because holy wow it got long lol

#my art #loz au #loz au: the courage of running away #au august #almost there

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anncanta · 3 years ago

Text

Ouroboros

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Mature

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @khyruma @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges

Read on AO3

Or read below

Reflections of flame splashed across the walls in golden arabesques.

A naked man, covered in blood and slime, bent over to Agatha and stared at her.

‘One. It doesn't take much. One of them is enough for me to get inside,’ he said in an insinuating tone, holding up a long finger with a pointed nail.

‘You have it,’ Agatha said before she could grasp the meaning of her words.

Dracula raised an eyebrow.

‘I'll go with you if you leave them alone,’ she added, suppressing the panic that flared in her chest.

Squinting, Dracula tilted his head.

‘Leave them?’

Agatha nodded silently.

He stepped to the right, stopped, looking at the still-standing nuns with stakes in trembling hands.

‘So many possibilities... So many different tastes,’ he drawled slowly. ‘Why do you think you are worth all of them?’

Oh, she didn't think so. That's why she offered herself, Lord. Agatha thought feverishly.

‘All these women... have renounced earthly pleasures. They renounced desires, occupations, everything that makes up an ordinary life. What kind of memories will you get from them?’ Seeing the doubt on Dracula's face, she said quickly. ‘Stories of hard work, fasting, and prayer?’

Dracula ran a finger over his lips in thought.

‘The Mother Superior has a bad heart,’ Agatha continued, avoiding looking back. ‘Do you want to try aching pain and bitter herbal infusions?’

He was silent, and this gave Agatha confidence.

‘I saw a lot, learned a lot while traveling in my youth. I read many books and met different people. I know three languages, and... and in the end, if you eat me, you will learn something!’ She concluded angrily.

A completely boyish smile blossomed on Dracula's face.

Taking a step back to Agatha, he held out a blood-smeared hand.

Without giving herself time to be frightened and change her mind, Agatha put her hand in it. Very slowly, Dracula moved, dragging her along, until the gates of the monastery were behind her.

‘Agatha Van Helsing,’ Dracula said, looking into her eyes. ‘I'll make you last.’

With these words, he turned around and, still holding her hand in his, moved forward. After walking a few meters, he frowned and turned around.

‘You have a hungry vampire in your cell on the third floor. And with him is a wounded woman. If you want to save one of them, choose – whom and take care of it.’

***

It was cold in the castle.

Agatha did not remember when she was so cold. There were cold nights in the monastery; in especially harsh winters, the Mother Superior canceled evening services, because the floor and walls in the chapel were covered with frost. ‘The Lord will forgive me for such heresy,’ she said, ‘but He will not forgive me if, out of ostentatious obstinacy, I allow my neighbors to catch a cold and die.’ Many sisters condemned her. Agatha just smiled.

Finding herself in Dracula's castle, she reluctantly admitted to herself that she had never known anything about the cold before.

Agatha froze on the stairs, chattered her teeth in the room, shook in the corridors. She was chilly in the hall, shivering at the table in the main hall. And she considered it a blessing since there was a burning fireplace in the main hall.

The cold ate her food, making its way under the skin, forcing her to ruffle and walk from corner to corner. In motion, she slightly warmed up. Tired, she sat down to take a breath – and it all started all over again.

It seemed, Dracula did not notice her discomfort. Or rather, not that he noticed her. As far as Agatha could understand from their conversations (the conversations were a little distracting from the cold, so she tremendously appreciated them), he was preparing to move to England and was completely carried away by his daily affairs. When Agatha could not stand it and complained that because of the cold air in the room she could not sleep, he invited her to close the windows for the night, and the next evening he brought a sheepskin blanket. But the sheepskin stank so terribly that it overcame even the fear of dying of a cold.

With this something needs to be done, wandering half asleep at night along the corridor, thought Agatha. She herself did not know where she was going, but it was unbearable to stay in her room. It would be better if he killed her right away, she mused wearily. Anything is better than such torment.

The question of why Dracula still did not touch her worried her most of all – after the cold. When they got to the castle, Agatha waited for a hideous scene, perhaps right in the lobby or in the main hall, and honestly prepared herself to die with dignity.

After closing the large wooden door behind them, Dracula pointed to Agatha in the direction of the stairs, briefly explained how to get to the guest room, and turned around and left. And she remained – confused, tired and frightened – more than she was ready to admit to herself.

Agatha quickened her pace as she passed the grim portrait on the right wall.

Dracula was not distinguished by restraint and self-control. She could be convinced of this in the monastery. It seemed a miracle that he had not eaten her on the first evening, but it could be attributed to his own tiredness and satiety with the impressions of the cruel game. But couldn't he later...

She turned a corner and, rounding an antique cupboard, moved on until she stopped in front of a large black barrier. Agatha almost swore – wandering half asleep, it seems, she came to the bedroom of Dracula himself.

‘Do you go out at night, Sister Agatha?’

She looked up.

‘What do you want me to do? I still can't sleep. In my room…’

Dracula gave her a thoughtful look and pushed open the massive door.

‘You can sleep with me,’ he shrugged. ‘I have a blanket too.’

‘Sheepskin?’ Agatha asked resignedly.

‘A wool blanket,’ Dracula replied. He entered the room, leaving the door ajar.

Agatha stood on the threshold for a while and hesitantly stepped inside.

The room was spacious with a high ceiling. The fireplace was off, but a thick woolen blanket covered the large bed with a massive canopy. A door ajar in the far corner led into another room – perhaps a parlor or a library.

‘Aren't you sleeping in a stone sarcophagus?’ Agatha asked, looking at Dracula, who was sitting on the bed.

‘Only when I get tired of society,’ he smiled. ‘No,’ he continued in response to the look of impatient displeasure on her face. ‘I don't need the sarcophagus for sleep. This is an ancient tomb with a substrate from the Transylvanian soil. I sleep in it when I want to heal my wounds. The day before Jonathan found me there, I ran into peasants in the woods.’

‘I hope they beat you properly,’ Agatha said sincerely, going up to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sinking into it. And she shuddered – the leather upholstery was cold as ice. Only pride prevented Agatha from jumping up immediately.

Dracula, watching her from his seat, said nothing. He kicked off his shoes, climbed into bed, and threw back the covers to his right.

‘Well, are you going?’

The chair creaked under Agatha, who was leaning back.

‘Are you seriously offering me?..

‘I offer you a blanket,’ interrupted Dracula. ‘The only warm wool blanket in this room,’ he reminded indifferently. ‘I am ready to share with you a cozy bed,’ Dracula paused. ‘Or did you expect me to give it up to you and sleep in an armchair?’

Agatha, who had expected exactly that, remained silent with dignity.

‘If you don’t want to, stay where you are,’ Dracula shrugged his shoulders and pulled the blanket higher. ‘You will get warm from the candle on the table. Good night, Sister Agatha.’ He turned away and closed the bed curtain.

Agatha sat in confusion for a while. Her first impulse was to immediately get up and leave. But that would have strengthened Dracula's confidence in the victory of his irrepressible ego, so she just straightened angrily and lifted her nose.

It didn't last long, however.

How did anyone manage to survive in this castle, she thought irritably, getting out of the chair and stretching her arms and legs, numb from sitting in the same position and cold. Not surprisingly, the only inhabitant here is a vampire.

She cautiously walked forward as quietly as she could, approached the curtain of the bed, and pushed it back.

Dracula looked peacefully asleep and did not seem to hear her maneuvers.

For a moment Agatha gazed suspiciously at the impassive beautiful face, and then, having made up her mind and as if diving into the water, threw back the blanket and ducked under it.

The warmth that seized her almost immediately stunned Agatha. She had not felt the usual, physical warmth for so long. She missed it for so long and so desperately. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to completely immerse herself in it.

At first, the man's hands dropped on her shoulders do not distract her at all. Agatha lies there, enjoying the warmth and comfort, the long-awaited opportunity to let go of the tension, and the soft embrace of someone seems like a casual dream. Until...

‘Why are you warm?’ Agatha asks, opening her eyes.

She lies straight without moving. Escape still will not work.

‘What's so strange about that?’ Dracula's voice with a quiet breath – fleeting, unnecessary – slides down her cheek.

‘The books say that vampires…’

‘You read too much,’ he grins. ‘I am the same... in general, a living organism, like any other. Like a human being. Agatha, think,’ Dracula added impatiently, grabbing her with his left hand tighter, ‘I need food.’

‘Everything that eats gives off heat,’ Agatha murmured thoughtfully.

Dracula grunted approvingly. Again, his breath bit her lightly – now at the top of her neck.

‘If you're going to eat now…’ she began hoarsely.

‘Now I'm going to sleep,’ Dracula interrupted her. He moved, pulling her closer to him, literally surrounding her.

He was warm and large. Dangerous and predatory, Agatha reminded herself. The fear that accompanied her all this time in the castle again doused her with an icy wave – and retreated.

‘Why?’ Agatha asked Dracula, not knowing what.

‘Because I'm a vile, unpredictable monster,’ Dracula purred. ‘Sleep, Agatha,’ he said and buried his nose in her neck.

Asleep, she realized, dumbfounded.

For a couple of minutes Agatha lay, listening to the silence and rare breathing of Dracula, until, warming up and finally exhausted, she also fell asleep.

***

Agatha woke up contented and refreshed. Stretching slowly, she got up and turned on the other side. And then she froze in fright. She sat down sharply and looked around.

She was in her room, lying in bed. Turning her head, Agatha frowned. She clearly remembered that she had fallen asleep in the Count's bedroom. Did she dream about it, or what?

No, she was not dreaming, thought Agatha, absentmindedly running her hand over the wool blanket in which she had wrapped herself so greedily the day before. Again she glanced across the room and stared at the fireplace.

The fireplace was lit and the wood crackled softly in it.

Agatha rubbed her face wearily with her hands. What a stupid game? Climbing out of bed, she went to the fireplace. A uniform heat emanated from the scarlet flame.

Everything that had happened to her over these weeks collapsed on Agatha at once, and she realized that she could not go on.

...

‘Why are you torturing me?’

Standing with his back to the entrance to the great hall, Dracula turned around.

‘Good morning, Agatha,’ he said politely.

Agatha ignored the greeting.

‘Why haven't you eaten me yet?’ standing in the doorway, she asked.

Dracula looked at her attentively and silently.

‘I did not expect nobility from you. But how dare you torture me?’

‘Agatha, are you frozen over again? I must admit, when I brought you here, I didn’t take into account…’

She must have looked so miserable that he did not go on.

‘Come here.’

Now they were separated by a little less than a step. Looking up, Agatha said quietly:

‘You'd better tore me to pieces. It would be better if you grabbed my throat there, at the monastery. But to live day after day in this cold…’

‘In your room…’

Shaking her head, Agatha wiped away a tear with her hand.

‘Living day after day, waiting to be bitten... It's too much even for me. Too much even for you.’

There was a silence.

‘It's easy to sacrifice yourself in a passionate impulse,’ Agatha said wearily. ‘While you are at your peak, and fear does not torment but intoxicates. But when the fog clears and you stay... However,’ she smiled sadly and bitterly. ‘You promised to make me last.’

He looked at her for a while, squinting.

‘What did Jonathan tell you?’

Agatha grimaced.

‘That you came to him at night... He fell asleep, he dreamed of Mina... And then it turned out that it was you.’ Agatha hesitated. ‘You were then…’

‘I was old then.’

‘I do not think that something would have changed if you were young.’

Dracula laughed.

‘Who knows.’

He brushed aside the hair from her left shoulder and asked:

‘What exactly scares you?’

‘Why do you need this?’

‘As far as I could figure out, there are two types of visions of victims – what a person desperately wants, and what he or she is afraid of.’

‘Jonathan missed his fiancée,’ Agatha said.

‘And his feelings brought to life a fantasy of a night of love. If you see what you want,’ Dracula smiled, ‘the image of myself with an aspen stake in my chest awaits me. I'll get over it. But I don't want to be part of your nightmares.’

‘Does it spoil the taste?’

Instead of answering, he ran his finger along her nose, from nasal bridge to the tip.

‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ he said cheerfully and bent down to her neck.

Her vision was clouded with fog, Agatha felt cold, then hot, then everything began to spin...

Opening her eyes, she found that she was lying on a huge bed, naked, and Dracula, completely naked, hung over her.

For a couple of long moments, Agatha just silently looked into his eyes.

‘Sorry, I didn’t understand,’ Dracula said. ‘Is it a wish or a nightmare?’

#dracula 2020 #bbc dracula #count dracula #agatha van helsing #dragatha

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years ago

Text

Hot and Bothered, CH. 2

Contents: Bondage, cock warming, slight choking, edging, orgasm denial, slight degradation, cream pie, dirty talk, dom/sub relationship, poly

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2

---080---

Five minutes after Dabi was out of sight, you tried to ease the tension in your lower belly. Squirming made matters worse without outright disobeying Dabi’s orders. The shower in the next room turned on. Behind you, Hawks barely made a peep. You could feel him inside, twitching like he ached to move. He was buried so deep inside that if you moved just a little, you swore you’d come only from that. It was a snug fit made all the more unbearable when you considered how horny you were.

The sound of the shower going was the only thing to distract you. Keigo, who was usually a loudmouth and pervert, was oddly silent. Your hand reaches up to your breasts and tweaks your nipples in search of some relief. Dabi never said you couldn’t touch yourself, just couldn’t move from your position.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Asked Keigo.

“What do you think? I’m trying to find some relief.”

You touched anywhere that wasn’t your sensitive clit, though the temptation was there.

“You’re asking him to see you like this and punishing you again,” said Keigo.

“It’s your fault. It—It’s your fault that I’m like this.”

The shower still ran. Dabi must have left the door open. If you weren’t careful, you’d be in a world of trouble.

“You…it’s all your fault, you know. And you can do something about it. You’re strong enough to break those damn ropes. You could break out and fuck me. You already broke house rules once today!”

“No need to lose your venom on me, babe.”

After all, touching yourself stopped providing any sort of relief or distraction. You had to contend with sitting on Keigo’s cock without moving until Dabi decided to be merciful. He showed up once you’d become delirious. Seeing him stepping out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his hips had you drooling.

“Had enough yet?” Dabi chuckled at the sight of you, ogling him and trying not to move too much.

“Please, please, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please let me fuck Keigo. I need it so bad.” You hated how you sounded when you whined like that, but it was a surefire way to turn Dabi’s sadist mode on.

His dark brow shot up like you said something weird. Dabi wore a feral grin as he sauntered towards the bed, letting his footsteps linger. The anticipation was killing you. He sat at the end of the bed, grinning the Cheshire Cat.

“Oh, you’re not fucking Keigo tonight. Not until I say so.” Dabi chucked the towel off and threw it across the room, not caring where it landed. “Now, come here, little girl.”

You tried not to look at Dabi’s erection that he somehow managed to hide under the towel. Pulling Keigo out wasn’t painful, per se. As you crawled away from him, you had to go slow or end up hurting yourself from his cock being inside for so long and without friction. The man was still hard as a rock and was most likely sporting the bluest of balls you’d seen on him or any man. You couldn’t help but moan as you pulled him out, crying out at the absence of him. With shaky arms, you crawled over to the end of the bed where Dabi sat.

He cupped your chin in his hand as he examined your face. You hated and loved how his turquoise eyes stared at you. It was like being a butterfly, and your wings are pinned with needles. Dabi had a way of making sure you knew your place without laying a hand on you or saying a word. Something about his gaze was domineering did something to you that turned you into a pile of submissive goo.

Staring into his eyes, you felt his thumb brush against your lower lip. Without breaking eye contact, you took his thumb into your mouth. Without prompt, you started sucking. Dabi added more fingers to pump into your mouth until you drooled all over your chin. With his other hand, he fisted your hair and pulled your face towards him. His tongue swiped across your lips, and you moaned as he entered. He did the same process with his tongue as he did with his fingers, pulling in an out, simulating the act you most desperately wanted to happen to your cunt.

“Please,” you whined once he gave you enough breathing space. “I need it.” Dabi gave you a wet kiss against the side of your neck. Your arms shook. How much longer was he going to let kneel like that?

“You know what I want to hear next then. So, say it.”

Your lips quivered as the words tumbled out. “P-please, Sir. I need you to fuck me.”

Dabi gave you a smack on your ass. “Good girl. Turn around so I can see that pretty cunt of yours.”

Maneuvering around Keigo’s legs, you turned around so that you faced away from Dabi. Your arms gave out as soon as he stuck a finger inside you.

“Fucking wet. Are you sure you didn’t fuck him without my permission?” He swatted your ass again. This time he left a red handprint.

“Y-yes, Sir. I swear I didn’t…”

“Such a good girl.” Dabi drilled you with his fingers, adding one for every swat.

You had four fingers stuffed inside before you were on the verge of coming. Dabi pulled them out roughly and nearly sent you spiraling downwards. You gripped the sheets when you felt something more significant than Dabi’s fingers poking your entrance. You felt Dabi’s thick head brushing your clit back and forth as he lathered himself with your gushing juices. With the help of that natural lubrication, he slid inside your cunt’s velvet walls. Dabi pumped once, twice before he was fully sheathed and bottomed out.

“Keep your eyes on him while I fuck you, princess,” Dabi growled as he started thrusting.

You lifted your head to see Keigo staring back at you. His yellow eyes never left yours even as Dabi pushed and pulled on you. Dabi’s hands bruised your hips as he dragged you against him over and over again. The piercings on his cock rubbed the wet inner walls of your cunt. Your (e/c) eyes should have rolled into the back of your skull had it not been for the fact that he told you to keep looking at Keigo while he fucked you. Obedience was crucial for getting thoroughly fucked by this man, and you sure as hell weren’t about to pass it up.

“So wet…so tight,” Dabi’s hand smacked your cheek. “Ain’t that right, Keigo? You just couldn’t resist this perfect, tight cunt, could you?”

Without blinking, Keigo stared you directly in the eyes. Sweat dribbled down the side of his face. His teeth bullied his bottom lip that was already red. “Yeah,…she’s fucking perfect.”

Hearing Keigo say that while Dabi fucked you from behind, set it off. You groaned with your hands fisting the sheets. You felt hot liquid seep down your legs. You convulsed around Dabi, who was moaning yet didn’t come.

Instead, you were picked off the bed and made to lean your back against Dabi’s chest. His scars and staples rubbed vicious marks across your skin as he bounced you on his cock. One hand still gripped your hip while the other journeyed to your breast. His hands had long, slender fingers made perfect for groping your tits and bruising your nipples. Dabi suckled on your neck a few times on either side to make sure you were covered in his marks.

“Don’t stop looking at him. I didn’t say you could stop even after you come.”

Poor Keigo. His cock was almost purple. He looked like he was going to burst. He shifted on the bed as he continued to watch your cunt being pummeled by someone other than him. Dabi forced you down again on his cock, never letting you take a break.

“Filthy slut,” Dabi drove into you harder than before. He was chasing that high, only being rough with you gave him. “You like being watched, huh? Like him watching getting pounded into?”

His hand pinched your breasts until they nearly matched your neck in purplish marks. Dabi tweaked your nipple to the same rhythm of his cock pounding your insides. You felt his hands move around again when his thrusting became erratic. You could feel him twitch inside of you, which marked the beginning of the end. You were getting close too. His nails scratched your leg while Dabi had the crook of his elbow shoved against your throat. He moved faster as he pressed you as close to him as possible.

The combination of his nails, the choking, and the wild drilling had you spiraling again. Your screams of pleasure were sure to displease your neighbors. Again. Dabi finished not long after you. You shuddered violently as his cum filled you to the brim and slipped out of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head this time. Dabi quickly pulled out and untied Keigo.

You were exhausted by the time you realized that you were back in Dabi’s arms. Your arms were pulled behind your back, and he held your legs open with his. Keigo crawled over to you. He got between your legs. You shuddered and tried to get away, but Dabi held you tight. Keigo’s tongue lapped at the fluids, yours and Dabi’s, on your inner thighs. You screamed for mercy, but none would be given to you. Keigo looked up from his spot between your legs, tongue lulling out towards your sensitive bud. You shook your head, which served no purpose other than egging him on.

Keigo licked your overworked clit. He sucked on it and gave kisses to your thighs.

“Can I please?” He begged Dabi. “I can’t take it anymore.”

You knew Keigo could beg, but never knew he could sound pathetic. His cock dripped with pre-cum and was about to explode if he didn’t get any.

“Give me a kiss first,” Dabi demanded.

Keigo reached past your head and kissed Dabi full on the mouth. Their tongues brushed and battled against each other even as Keigo’s hands wander to your chest. His fingers were nowhere near as long as Dabi’s, but they were thick. He rolled your nipples in his palms while he had his tongue stuck down Dabi’s throat. Dabi suddenly pulled back, leaving Keigo gasping for air.

“Well?” Said Dabi. “You want to fuck her or not?”

Keigo didn’t answer with words. He responded to the question by starting to plow you instead. Keigo wrapped your legs around his waist while Dabi kept your arms pinned at your back.

“What do you say, princess, for letting Keigo fuck you silly?”

“T-Thank you, Sir!”

Keigo didn’t last long. All of his pent up desires allowed him to last half as long as Dabi. When he did come, he pulled out at the last second to finish on your chest and stomach. He had enough energy left to stuff you with his fingers and play with your clit. You were so sensitive and throbbing that you couldn’t hold back either. Keigo sensed your impending you climax and kissed you, muffling your cries. Dots danced in front of your vision. Keigo pulled out entirely.

The boys stretched you out with your head pillowed under their arms. You were a panting, shivering, dizzy mess between them.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” Keigo whispered in your ear.

“I should let you two break the rules more often," said Dabi in your other ear.

---080---

#my hero academia #mha fanfiction #mha smut #smut #reader fic #dabi #dabi x reader #hawks #keigo takami #keigo #hawks x reader #dabi x reader x hawks #hotwings #poly #minors begone

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silence-burns · 4 years ago

Text

Please Hate Me //part 46

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

Mornings, contrary to popular belief, could actually be quite enjoyable, especially if experienced around noon.

There were few things better than the comforts and warmth of one's bed, and a loved one's body pressed close, resting peacefully within reach. Even the sunlight didn't bother Loki much. He'd grown used to the dim rays of the winter sun doing their best against the low-hanging clouds. It would snow again, as it did the past couple of days.

The apartment had windows overlooking a wild patch of a garden tucked in between the buildings, forgotten or ignored by the residents. It wasn't much, but a few gnarled trees managed to take roots and grow unattended, to the delight of all kinds of birds from the neighborhood. Once the snow melted, it would be easier to judge if there was any potential to work on that place, but for now, both of you just watched over it, occasionally feeding whatever animals fancied some corn on that day.

The few snowmen Peter had worked on showed both his progress and the unquestionable lack of skills. Loki wasn't sure if it was possible for a snowman to lean to the side any further without falling, but he was certain the boy would ease his doubts next time he paid a visit.

Thankfully, chances of that happening anytime soon were low enough for Loki to feel safe, at least until classes end. A small mercy, but one that he'd take gladly.

Loki turned to the side and buried his face in your neck. The soft fabric of the covers slipped off your sleeping form, daring him with a display of skin marked by his ministrations from last night. Or maybe the night before that. It was hard to discern between the days lately. They blurred together because of the amount of work to focus on. The apartment was in a good condition overall, but in dire need of redesigning. The tiresome work was made easier once Loki realized how easily his magic could bend the walls and the space contained within them.

Still, he deserved to rest, and he intended to continue doing so when he heard the last thing he wanted.

Knocking.

It couldn't be Peter, who'd either walk in or stick himself to the window after half a minute of not answering. Loki looked over his shoulder. The window behind him was still boy-free.

That meant whoever decided to make the gravest mistake of their lives could be a neighbor. Neighbors were supposed to be friendly, or at least neutral toward new residents, as you'd explained a few days ago. It wouldn't be anything strange if one of them decided to pay a little visit to say hi. None did so far, but if any dared, Loki would make sure it was their last.

Unfortunately, there was another possibility that came solely from the fact of an opening business, advertising it on the aforementioned door and allowing the, also aforementioned, boy to spread the business cards all over the city.

It could be a client.

It wouldn't be such a bad thing overall, but it was at the very bottom of the things Loki wanted to deal with instead of sleeping. If it was up to him, he'd just cancel the sound with a quick spell and ignore it further, but he couldn't forget your joy when your first client visited a few days ago. The sense of purpose it gave you and the way it made you smile were still vivid in Loki's memory. Even if the first client was a first-grader missing a tooth.

Still, you made him a promise and even put him into the schedule, promising to resolve his problem...today, actually.

Loki sighed and braced himself mentally for the walk downstairs. If the kid showed up to check how it went, he'd be in for a surprise. Loki pushed himself off the mattress, pulling the covers over your shoulder to keep you warm.

He didn't bother himself with looking for a coherent set of clothing among the things scattered on the floor and furniture. Lately, he'd spent most of his free time in a wonderfully green robe you gave him as a gift anyway, and he didn't feel like breaking his new routine. Walking down the stairs, Loki did his best to keep his eyes open enough to see the steps. A child or not, someone would be getting a lecture about the importance of beauty sleep…

Loki opened the door, reminding himself that however strange it might sound, murder was not always the answer to every problem.

Loki frowned. He closed the door. He opened it again.

"Haven't I murdered you already?" he asked.

Agent Coulson put on a smile he must've practiced in front of a mirror a hundred times. "It would seem so."

The old lady living next door looked them over and decided she didn't need to leave her apartment as much as she had thought. The locks clicked one by one when she turned on her heels and closed them firmly.

Loki debated following in her steps when Coulson said something that made even Loki freeze.

"I paid you a visit because the Avengers and SHIELD need your help."

Loki blinked before erupting into laughter - waves and waves of it that he just couldn't stop. His body shook with the bizarre words of a long dead human he had almost forgotten about already. For a moment, he considered what the neighbors must be thinking if they'd been eavesdropping, but it was of secondary importance. What really mattered was that his mood changed so quickly Loki hadn't even noticed.

"I'm glad you're taking my visit well," Coulson smiled tightly, waiting patiently for Loki to calm down.

"Oh, don't worry. Killing you the second time will do wonders to my mood for the whole week," a dagger slipped into Loki's hand.

"Who are we killing today?"

Both men froze hearing you. You walked down the stairs with a blanket pulled tightly over your shoulders. Good manners dedicated you cover your yawning mouth, but your hands bunched in the thick fabric of the blanket reminded you of what was truly important in one's life, especially before noon. Or coffee.

"I thought we agreed on a no killing rule in the mornings? It complicates the whole day."

"To be fair, I've killed this man before."

"And now he's come for a refund?" You turned to Coulson. "I'm sorry, agent. We aren't open yet. Can you come back in the afternoon?"

"Don't worry about it," the agent said. "I've come for a completely different matter. As I've already begun explaining to your…"

"Love of my life," you helped him.

"...I came here asking for your help. Both of you. I would be delighted if we could talk about this like civilized people."

"What a wonderful idea, my dear corpse. Come in."

"Could you please put down your gun first?"

"I don't have a-"

"Please. I just want to talk."

Coulson's polite smile was as unnerving as you remembered it from the few rather brief encounters you'd had in the past.

"Fine," you growled, pushing the blanket to the side and dropping a gun onto the coffee table.

Loki had his eyes on the agent when he walked further into the room. Loki and you were still not sure whether it should be an office or just a living room, so for now it stayed somewhere in between. Coulson didn't mention the state of disarray, but he didn't sit on the couch.

"So what's all the fuss about?" you asked.

"An object was stolen from a SHIELD safe house two nights ago. Despite our greatest efforts, we have been unable to find it. We are well aware of the set of skills the two of you possess," Coulson gave Loki a sharp look, "and are keen on paying you generously for your help."

"No," Loki shrugged. "We listened, now you can go bother someone else."

The agent sighed. He didn't seem particularly surprised, though.

"How generously?" you asked carefully. You shushed Loki before he started complaining. "You must realize we're living quite comfortably already and there's not much that we need."

"Name your price then." Coulson's smile didn't waver, and it was clear he was open to negotiations. The case must be dire, then. And if whatever had been stolen came from the depths of SHIELD's super secret base, it must not only be worth a fortune, but also highly dangerous and possibly not quite from this world.

Loki's elbow kept on jabbing your ribs in desperate hope of getting your attention, but you were too deep in your schemes already.

"We don’t have much interest in money," you leaned back on the couch, fixing the blanket absentmindedly, "but since both of us already have ties with your organization, why not go into that direction? We'd love to have the kind of… support you can offer."

The smile on your face was sweet enough to make Loki's teeth rot, but he kept quiet. He had no idea what was on your mind, but he was keen on finding out. He looked at the agent.

"I'm afraid SHIELD is not the right kind of agency to clean up after you mess something up," Coulson said.

"I'm pretty sure you guys are perfect when it comes to disappearing people and wiping away their messes as if they never were. Last time I saw you work, you were quite efficient."

There was definitely a history between the two of you. Loki kept his smile to himself as he watched the agent's shoulders shift. Whatever the story was, it clearly involved a part the agent was not the happiest about.

"Could you reconsider?" he asked at last.

"We named our price."

"This artifact is of the utmost importance. Surely you understand what the stakes are?"

"This is a private business, darling," you gestured around. "If you wanted the heroes, especially those working pro bono, I'm afraid you climbed the wrong tower. But since you came to us, and I'm sure that’s not because you miss our lovely faces, you must've already considered that option, didn't you?"

Coulson sighed. "You've got yourself a deal."

The grin on your face was nothing short of wolfish. "How lovely. Now, what did you lose?"

The box Coulson took out of the pocket of his suit was neither big nor pretty. If anything, the thin wood looked worn, and the edges were rounded from time and touch. Still, it was enough to make Loki tense next to you, and not touch it when the agent set it on the table.

"It used to hold a pin, and the pin used to have a gem of unknown origin. Now there's neither, and we want them back."

You exchanged looks with Loki.

"We'll contact you when we find anything out," you promised.

You wondered how desperate Coulson must've been if he didn't even argue before leaving the not-office. In the silence that fell upon the room, your attention turned to the box. No ornaments and not even a lock. If such an important pin had been put inside of it, why was the box not secured more?

"What do you think?" you laid back into Loki's side.

"Are we actually doing this? I'm not the right person to talk about trust issues, but I'm pretty sure I've already killed that guy."

"Did you sense anything off about him?"

"Not really. But when it comes to this little box…" Loki's hand hovered above it, but he didn't touch the wood. "I probably shouldn't be surprised to find mice residue, but I'm quite puzzled about that disgusting tang of necromancy."

"Do you think the pin had been used for some dark rituals?" you wiggled your eyebrows.

"I'm afraid we'll only find that out if we can figure out where the pin went."

"What are we waiting for then?”

A few hours passed without any further interference, but as all good things, that time had to pass at last. The rather casual afternoon at your apartment had been interrupted by a certain boy who had secured himself a spare set of keys beforehand, and now used them to enter.

Peter froze midstep.

"Close the door. It takes way too long to reignite all these candles," you said from the living room turned office turned ritual site.

The thick black candles were laid out around a circle drawn with chalk, and strange symbols painted with what Peter could only hope was actually paint. Very, very red paint. The same type of paint covering Loki's bare skin in twisting, overflowing sigils. With his eyes closed, and head upturned, he chanted quietly in a language of wind and shadows.

"Cookie?" you offered from the couch, where you laid sprawled.

The bag was almost empty, but the cookies turned out to be great anyway. Peter sat at the very edge of the couch, observing the god and his ritual.

"Is that...normal?"

"Yeah, chill. We got a job from a dead man walking who told us to find a stolen alien artifact, so we're doing our very best," you yawned. "Meaning, he is working and I'm supporting him wholeheartedly."

"I'd have better support from the chicken I told you I needed," Loki murmured between breaths.

"Where the fuck was I supposed to find you a living chicken in the middle of New York?"

Peter took another cookie. "Does that mean you won't be able to find that thing?"

You waved your hand dismissively as Loki focused back on chanting. "It'll be fine, he's already done that once with perfect results and no chickens violated."

"What were you looking for?"

"The remote."

Peter nodded. Chewing on the last cookie, he fished his homework out of his backpack and laid it out on the table, next to a gun. He had a spider-patrol planned for the evening, but had to finish schoolwork first. With Ned sure to ramble about his newest set tomorrow, Peter had no chance of finishing it before the classes started in the morning.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson imagine #loki series #marvel loki #loki fanfic

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wreckofawriter · 4 years ago

Text

Colorful Fish

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: a bit angst, deals with religious trauma and abortions

A/n: Ok so I strated this a while ago when @coffee--writes gave me a song to write a fic about, the song hinted at helping a girl who had very religious parents andgot pregnant so here is this fic.

Important notice: This deals with religious trauma and some hard-core Catholic beliefs, if that makes you uncomfortable don't read it. Also if you are anti-choice first get tf off my blog, second this deals with abortion it will probably make you uncomfy

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Pain was something everyone lived with. It was scrapes on your knees and cuts in your fingers. It was priced for ears and breakups. Pain kept us alive, it kept us breathing. It told us to eat, to not touch this, or be careful around that.

That's why the numbness was so terrifying.

You wanted to cry but the just tears wouldn't come so your eyes were dry, lids heavy. You didn't feel the ache in your back from the position you had pulled yourself into, the hard tile of the bathroom wall going unnoticed.

You felt like you had been thrust into some sort of thick fog. Your movements were slow and heavy, the rising and falling of your chest happening in half speed.

Your fingers shook as you fumbled with your phone, you typed in your password twice, both times your phone vibrated telling you to try again. You dropped it to the floor where it landed too loudly.

Suddenly you felt sick again, your stomach churning, throwing a fit as you pushed yourself forward, one hand gathering your hair to keep it from your face as the other clutched the cool porcine of the toilet.

You vomited twice, heaving for breaths before letting your head fall back to the wall again.

You stretched to reach the handle flushing the tainted water. You tried your phone again finally opening it on the fourth try and found the desired contact at the top of your recents. You pressed call holding the device to your ear.

A gravelly voice picked up on the third ring.

"Princess do you have any idea what time it is?" Sirius asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his spare hand.

You tried to speak your head feeling far away.

Sirius paused another moment, "Baby are you okay?"

"I'm pregnant." your voice was hollow.

The line dropped, nothing but silence responding.

Sirius felt his heart fall into his stomach "I'm sorry, what?"

You sighed, your mouth still thick with bile, "I'm pregnant." you repeated.

It was quiet for a while, the small sounds of Sirius's breaths the only thing telling you he hadn't hung up.

"Well what do you want to do?" he finally asked, bewilderment stinging his tone.

You paused squeezing your eyes shut, teeth gritted, "I don't fucking know." you finally responded, "I just threw up like four times and I'm exhausted. All I want to do right now is sleep."

"Then do that." Sirius replied, "Do you want me to come over?"

You shook your head, "No, my mom already hates you enough she would throw a fit if she found you in my bed."

Sirius licked his lips hand running through his hair "Okay, I'll talk to you in a few hours. Sleep well."

"Bye Siri," you mumbled.

"I love you princess."

"Love you too."

He was gone with a click.

You pulled yourself to your feet by the edge of your sink, pushed open the door slowly, and padded to your bedroom. You fell asleep only minutes after your head hit the pillow.

You had never had too much of a problem growing up Catholic. The sure church was boring and prayers could be a pain but it hadn't had that much of an effect on your life until you grew older.

Your first boyfriend had shown you the ugly colors your mother painted your religion with.

At fifteen you were sat down and told you would be going to hell if you did anything more than kiss the young boy you were with.

At sixteen you were told not to be friends with that girl because she was a queer and not that boy because he never went to church.

By seventeen you lived in fear of your mother and her God. Your respect for both deteriorating as you realized that God wasn’t nearly as kind as everyone else seemed to believe he was. Crosses started to look like knives as you struggled to figure out what the hell you were supposed to be.

When you met Sirius- a long-haired pagan with a pentagram tattooed on his ankle everything changed. He made things easy, he told you to believe what you wanted to, not what you were told. So you did.

But that didn’t change the whispers of your neighbors and the hatred in your mother’s eyes when Sirius picked you up.

Your mother had begged you to break things off with Sirius more times than you could count on one hand. It was one of the few things you didn’t let her convince you to do. Her words were sweet but the aftertaste was always bitter.

So instead she ignored his existence, pretending you were single as she shoved your neighbor’s son's down your throat. You learned to live with it just as she learned to turn a blind eye to the roar of your boyfriend’s motorcycle.

Out of all the ways you expected to wake a shrill scream was not one. Your heart launched and you popped upwards just as your mother slammed your door open. Its knob hit your wall so hard she would find chipped paint behind it later that night.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” You asked in a mild panic half expecting Micheal Myers to come crashing in after her.

But no one followed and instead, she stared at you in a way you had never seen before, her eyes narrowed her mouth in a tight scowl that reminded you of cracked leather, “You little slut.” she hissed.

Your eyes widened, “Mom?”

“You whore!” She shrieked and you flinched, knees coming to your chest, “I always knew you would embarrass our family like this.”

Your vision blurred, “What are you talking about?”

The pregnancy test hit you in the cheek hard enough to sting and your stomach churned.

“Get out.” your mother snarled.

“Mom, I swear I never meant for you to find out.” You whimpered.

She stiffened, “So you were just gonna kill the baby then?”

You weren’t sure how to respond.

“I will not have any sluts in my house let alone murders.” She heaved, “Call your satanist boyfriend and get out of my house.” With that, she turned on her heels and slammed your door shut behind her.

Sirius woke to the sound of his phone ringing again, he groaned, his eyes opening slowly as he tried to process the bright world around him. His phone was on its last ring when he finally picked up.

“Hey y/n/n what's-” He stopped as a broken sob met him.

You spoke no actual words, only nonsense cut by sniffles and whimpers.

Sirius was shocked awake already out of bed, phone pressed to his ear by his shoulder. “Baby, I need you to calm down.” He spoke slowly, “What’s going on, where are you?”

“I-I,” another sob, “She kicked me out Siri.” you cried.

“What? Who? Your mom?” He asked, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on.

You nodded only realizing he couldn’t hear you a couple of seconds after, “Yeah, She-” You hiccuped, “She found the pregnancy test a-and,” You broke into sobs again.

Sirius stopped in his tracks. Right. You’re pregnant, “I'll be there in ten minutes okay?”

You nodded again, “Okay.”

“Do you want me to stay on the line?” Sirius asked as he attempted to put jeans on with one hand.

“No, it's not safe to dive on the phone.” You croaked, “I gotta pack anyway.”

“Okay, I love you y/n.”

“Love you too.”

The line clicked and Sirius swore throwing his phone onto his unmade bed just go pick it up again and call Remus.

His friend picked up after two rings, “Jeez Sirius did someone die? You’re never up this early.”

Sirius wished he found that funny, “Y/n’s pregnant.”

Silence greeted him back, “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” He sighed, “Her bitch mother found out and kicked her out too.”

A pause, “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Look I’ve gotta go pick her up but I’m gonna call you back later okay?”

”Got it.”

When the tears finally died the numbness came back like the effects of some sort of drug. You packed in silence shoving everything you could fit into a backpack you had from a trip you took in the 10th grade and a duffle bag, which still smelled like your field hockey socks.

The doorbell didn’t even ring, instead, you heard a shriek followed by heavy footsteps. Sirius entered your room and slammed your door on your mother who was chasing him down the hall.

Neither of you spoke as he drew you into a hug, your chin on his shoulder watching the door which never opened.

“You packed?” He asked and you nodded gesturing at the bags on your bed.

As you exited your room your mother just glared at you. You hung your head, tears landing on your sneakers.

Sirius felt his anger grow hot, it was never easy to tame and it roared loud in his ears. He stopped just inside the house watching as you descend the porch before turning to your mother who stared at him from the living room.

He scowled at her sneer, “Go fuck yourself, you bitch.” he spat, middle finger in the air.

You pretend nothing happened as you climbed onto his motorcycle tightening your backpack straps and whipping your tears.

You found yourself over Sirius’s toilet vomiting as you sobbed. He could do nothing but hold your hair away from your face and rub circles on your back, his own vision clouded by tears. You passed out not but twenty minutes later, crying yourself to sleep on his chest. After about an hour of watching you sleep, Sirius heard a knock on the door. He got up carefully, you didn’t even stir.

He opened the door to see Remus, his hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket. Sirius welcomed him in and he sat at the coffee table as Sirius got them each a beer.

“Is y/n here?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping,” Sirius responded.

Remus nodded, taking note of the red tinge around his friend’s eyes, “Do you guys have any idea what you’re going to do?”

Sirius shook his head, “We haven’t even talked about it yet, when she got here she started throwing up and then passed out.”

Remus waited a moment, “Do you want to keep it?”

Sirius wasn’t surprised by the question, he had been asking himself the same for hours now, “I don’t fucking know, I mean, we’re nineteen, we haven’t even talked about marriage yet, let alone kids.” His thoughts swirled, “And I haven’t even spoken to my parents since I was sixteen and now her mom practically disowned her I mean,” He sighed, “I just don’t know.”

“Whatever you guys decide you know James, Lily, and I will be here for you,” Remus said patting Sirius on the shoulder.

He nodded, “I just can’t believe her mother kicked her out. I mean she’s her only daughter ya know and I just- I knew they hated me but I never thought she would do this to her.”

“Parents do terrible things Pads, you should know that.” Remus sighed.

“Yeah, but you should have seen the way her mother looked at her. It was like she had committed some unforgivable crime or something, it was like she actually hated her.”

“It’s cuz she does.” You murmured dully from the hallway.

Sirius froze and Remus shifted uncomfortably.

You gave them both a battered smile, “It’s fine, it’s not like I don’t know.”

“Y/n I-,”

“Really, it’s fine Sirius.” You said taking a seat beside him, “I’m over it.” That was a blatant lie.

The three of you talked about meaningless things for a while, the distraction feeling like a breath of fresh air amongst the garbage you had been shoved into. You ordered Chinese takeout offering for Remus to stay for dinner but he explained he had classes in the morning and should probably be studying.

The easy atmosphere only lasted for a bit after he left and by the time dinner had arrived you felt like crying again.

Finally, Sirius brought it up, “So what do you want to do?” he spoke solemnly.

You paused a shuddering sigh leaving your lips, “We can’t have a kid Sirius.”

“If you wanted to we could make it work.” Sirius countered.

“We can’t have one Siri.” You repeated.

“Listen y/n I could make it work, I would propose and-”

You scoffed.

Sirius furrowed his brows, “What?”

“Nothing.”

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t slept even 5 hours the night before or maybe it was because he was stressed but for some reason that hurt, his thoughts spiraling, “You wouldn’t marry me?”

You looked confused, “What? I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.” He glared at you.

“What are you talking about Sirius?” You asked.

“I’m talking about the idea of me proposing to you being so laughable.” He snapped.

Your face contorted in anger, “First of all I didn’t laugh at you, second it’s ridiculous because we are NINETEEN!”

More hurt, his thoughts went darker, “So you are admitting you wouldn’t marry me?”

“Right now I wouldn’t.” you respond.

Your words stung, “Why not?”

“I just told you!” You yelled, “We’re too young!”

Sirius paused, you were right, you were too young, “You’re right I’m sorry.” he sighed, “I’m just kind of tired right now.”

“I know Siri,” You mumbled, “I am too.”

Silence fell as you both found yourself trying to pull together a piece of your sanity. The clock ticked and the wind shuddered the windows in their frames.

“I don’t want a kid Sirius.” You sighed, “I know you don’t either.”

He didn’t protest, you were right yet again.

“I’m going to go to the clinic tomorrow.” You spoke, “It’s definitely the best option.”

“What about your mom.” Sirius asked, “You know she would never forgive you.”

There was another moment of quiet, “I think I’m okay with that.” you spoke and you were telling the truth.

A strange sense of relief filled you as you sat in the clinic's parking lot, you were finally putting this behind you, your life could go somewhat back to normal. Except for the fact that you were going back to your house in two days when you knew your mom was gone to clean out your room of course. It felt good to be out of that house, the eggshells you were so used to walking on being replaced by Sirius hardwood floors and patterned rugs. Something about all of this felt right, like you had taken that leap and instead of hitting the harsh rock you expected, you hit warm water filled with colorful fish.

Your mother didn’t try to contact you for years, sometimes you forget she even existed. You kept yourself busy, finally deciding on a major for college and helping Lily and James with a wedding and then a child.

Living with Sirius was like a dream, sometimes when you got up early you would just watch him sleep, his hair always hanging in front of his eyes as he took slowed, heavy breaths. You taught him how to properly cook food, something he had been incapable of doing for far too long. You were truly happy for the first time in a while.

When you were twenty-two Sirius got on one knee and you could not have said yes faster. You were ready then.

Three weeks before the wedding you got a call from your mother. You damn near dropped the phone when you heard her voice. Part of you expected an apology the other part knew she was far too stubborn. And she was, you didn’t even listen to her lecture on how you were marrying a nobody, instead, you hung up and blocked the number.

You had the wedding in late spring, just before the flowers began to wilt and turn to leaves, Remus got himself ordained and you sealed it all with a kiss under a cherry tree. You and Sirius were okay with having no relatives at your wedding because while no blood of yours was in the audience your true family was and that was all that mattered.

Taglist:

@songforhema @wangmangagavroche @evyiione @atomicpunkrock @fairywriter-oracle @moon-zodiac @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings-deacti @coldlilheart @susceptible-but-siriusexual @inglorious-imagines

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Masterlist

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #sirius black x reader #harry potter x reader #marauders imagines #marauders au #hp marauders #harry potter marauders #sirius black imagines #sirius black x oc #sirius black #marauders imagine #marauders era #religous trauma

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pixxiesdust · 4 years ago

Text

Carrying Atlas • Dabi

Summary • Dabi has shouldered a heavy burden for years and years, with no one to carry it with him. When he stumbles into his neighbor’s apartment in the middle of the night, you give him kind words and treat him with gentle hands. It’s only a few grains of sand out of the world he has to bear, but you’ve helped to carry more than anyone else ever has.

Pairing • Dabi x Reader

Word Count • 8.7k

Tags and Warnings • Blood and injuries, suturing wounds, fluff, slightly suggestive comments, swearing.

Note • This is my first time writing for Dabi, and is my third entry for @bnhabookclub’s hero camp bingo event! The prompt is girl next door. I have absolutely no medical experience, and everything I write about suturing a wound is from WikiHow. Thank you to @sugacookiies and @savagetrickster for betaing, and a huge thank you to @prismaroyal for betaing and for helping me since the beginning! Also shout out to @wesparklebitch who I love very, very much, for coming up with a wonderful title that I unfortunately didn’t end up using, I’m sorry!!

–

The pressure Dabi is putting on his stomach wound isn’t enough to stop it from bleeding profusely, and thick, red blood seeps through his coat and fingers. There’s another injury on his shoulder: a knife wound from a small-fry villain who dared to stab him.

He normally wouldn’t have gotten so severely hurt from a group of no-name villains, but they had ambushed him in a small alley. One managed to get a blade into his shoulder before he could react, and another had retractable claws that swiped across his abdomen before Dabi fried them all to a crisp.

So that’s why he stumbles down this narrow, musty-smelling corridor to get to his small, overpriced apartment.

Darkness hovers at the edges of his vision, waiting to pounce, but Dabi refuses to succumb to it until he’s in his apartment and has patched up his wounds. A throb of pain emanates from his stomach wound, and he grimaces. Maybe he’ll have to cauterize it if his vision gets any worse.

He reaches a door in the hallway, and falls against it, his uninjured shoulder pressing into the wood. One bloody, calloused hand reaches for the doorknob, smearing red over the tarnished brass.

Dabi twists.

It doesn’t open.

He tries again, knowing for certain that he didn’t lock his apartment door behind him this morning—because one, who the hell would try and rob such a run-down place like this; and two, if anyone did try to rob him, he’d hunt them down and dispose of them in less than twenty-four hours.

So he twists the doorknob again, hard, and when the door still doesn’t open, he starts to heat up his hand in preparation to burn the door down.

But then–

–the door swings open, and Dabi falls through, colliding with another body that lets out a soft squeak of surprise.

–

You’re jolted out of sleep at three o’clock in the morning by a bang against your apartment door. It’s loud enough for you to hear it even though you’re in your bedroom. But then again, the apartment isn’t very big, and the walls aren’t very soundproof.

You groan and roll over in bed, and are about to try and fall back asleep, when the doorknob rattles too.

Fear shoots through your veins at the thought of someone trying to break in. You just knew it wasn’t a good idea to buy an apartment in such a sketchy part of the city—even though you didn’t have enough money to afford a better place.

The doorknob is shaken again, so you leap out of bed, running as quietly as you can for the kitchen. You pick up the closest thing that you can swing at the intruder, a pan off the stove, and hurry to the door as the doorknob rattles for the third time.

You breathe in deeply.

Then you unlock the door, twist the knob, and pull it open toward you.

You can’t even lift up the pan to swing it before a body falls through the doorway and knocks into you. The pan flies from your grasp, clattering across the apartment floor. A squeak escapes your lips before you stumble backward, and the body hits you with enough force to knock you onto your knees, which collide against the wooden boards with a sharp crack.

The body groans, and you shove it off of you, scrambling out from underneath it. It lands hard on the ground and hisses, “Fuck!”

The voice is raspy and deep, one that would have sent shivers down your spine if you had heard it in any other situation. But you’re more focused on the wetness that coats your hands after you shoved the body aside, and your eyes widen in horror as you realize that they’re sticky and stained with a dark liquid.

Though the lights are off and you can barely see any color, you know there are very few substances that feel like this and fill the air with a sharp, metallic smell.

It’s blood.

Which means the person who woke you up in the middle of the night is badly injured, and likely needs help.

You get to your feet and rush toward the light switch, flicking it on with the back of your wrist, so you don’t get blood all over it.

The lightbulbs flicker once—the electricity in this apartment isn’t stellar either—and turn on, dim light shining on the body on the ground.

There’s metal embedded in the man’s skin, seeming to prevent the patches of scars from cracking and peeling away from smooth, unblemished parts. He wears an odd, dark blue coat with a collar that is high around his neck.

But the main thing you focus on is the dark splotches on his coat that seem to grow bigger right before your eyes. There’s one spot on his shoulder and another on his stomach, though his hands are pressed against it in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

You grimace, and your lips pull together in a thin line, but you kneel down beside the man who blinks his eyes hard as if he tries to clear his vision.

“The hell are you doing in my apartment?” he manages to force out.

It’s your turn to blink. “This is my apartment, thank you very much. Number 302.”

His eyes roll back in his head, and he shuts them for a long moment, breathing deeply. “Three. Oh. One,” he says, then pushes himself to sit up.

You hover over him worriedly, hands fluttering in the air since you’re unsure where you can touch without hurting him even more. “So you’re my neighbor?” you ask, finally deciding on resting a hand on his lower back to keep him up.

He only grunts in response. Placing his blood-covered hands on the wooden floorboards, he pushes himself onto his feet and sways unsteadily.

You rise with him, holding onto his uninjured arm with another hand on his back. He takes a step toward your front door, and your eyes widen.

“Wait, wait, wait! Where do you think you’re going?”

He looks at you with brilliant blue eyes that narrow into slits. “To my apartment,” he answers.

You move in front of him, preventing him from taking another step forward. “And what do you expect to do when you get there, huh? Fall over and bleed out over your apartment floor?”

The man exhales sharply and steps forward, disregarding that it makes him push closer against you. “Fuck off, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You sputter for a moment, and he takes the opportunity to move even closer toward your door. Finally, you find the words you want to say, and stand in front of your doorway, stretching your arms across the frame. “You’re not going anywhere. Do you think I can just let my neighbor, who has probably lost half his blood, go into his apartment on his own and expect that he’ll be alright?”

“Yes,” your neighbor says.

You ignore him. “If you die, the police are going to come and investigate, and you know who the first suspect will be? Me! Because you decided to barge in here and wipe your bloody hands all over the place! So you’re going to turn around, sit down on the table, and let me patch you up.”

He stops moving forward and glowers at you. If he isn’t so terribly injured, the look would make you step to the side and allow him to take care of it all on his own. But he is hurt, and he’s unsteady on his feet, so it’s very unlikely that he can do anything to you.

It seems like he won’t let you patch him up without a fight, though. Because he pushes his face in front of yours, and hisses, “Do you realize that I’m dangerous, doll? I could kill you where you stand.”

The threat makes your muscles tense, and a smirk spreads across his face when he thinks you’ll give in. But then you straighten up, and say, “In this condition? Not likely.”

Then you jab a finger at his shoulder wound, hiding a grimace when more blood coats your finger. Triumph lights your eyes as he flinches slightly and pulls back, moving away from your door.

You motion to poke him again in his wound, and he shuffles another step backward. It’s nearly a game of sheepherding now. You threaten to jab at his injuries, and he moves further into your apartment, spitting half-hearted curses in your direction.

“Sit.” You gesture at the small wooden table that rests in front of your living room couch.

He raises an eyebrow.

“If you sit on the couch, I’ll never get the blood out of it. I don’t have the money to buy another one, so you get to sit on the table.”

“Fun,” he says drily, but sits down anyway. He hits the wood heavily, and lets out a groan as the impact seems to aggravate his wounds even more.

You nod at him once, then hurry toward your bathroom, tossing a “Stay there!” over your shoulder.

–

Dabi rolls his eyes as you hurry away. “As if I can go anywhere,” he mutters, wincing as he presses down even harder on his stomach wound.

He can’t believe that you just let him into your apartment, even though he threatened you for trying to get him to stay here. He also can’t believe that you literally poked at his wounds until he gave up and let you treat him. Why you were so persistent about it, he has no idea.

Maybe you’re one of those corrupt hero-types that wants to help him, so he’ll have to owe you a favor. You did say that you wouldn’t be able to afford a new couch if his blood got in it. A sneer stretches across his face. If you really are one of those types, then he’s more than happy to burn you to a crisp as soon as you finish treating him.

Dabi eyes your couch. There’s one simple way for him to find out.

–

Turning on the sink with the back of your wrist, you scrub your hands with soap until all of your neighbor’s blood is washed away. Then you open up the single cabinet under your sink, and pull out the red box shoved in the back corner.

Armed with the first aid kit, you return to your small living room. You stop short when you don’t see him on the table in front of your couch.

Then a hand rises up from the couch, and fingers wiggle at you. “I’m here, doll,” your neighbor drawls.

“You just had to go where I asked you not to, huh?” You walk around the couch so you can see him lying across the furniture, and let out a resigned sigh. “I suppose it is more comfortable than the table.”

Placing the first aid kit on the part of the table that doesn’t have his blood on it, you pop open the lid to display all kinds of simple medical equipment. “Let’s get started. Stomach wound first, that seems to be the worst one.”

Your hands hover over the different disinfectants, gauze pads, and bandages. Then you look at your neighbor with large eyes. “Do you think you’ll need stitches?”

“Why?” he asks, “You squeamish?”

Your lips pull into a thin line. “No. It’s been a while, that’s all.”

He scoffs out a laugh as you pull out a clean cloth, spread it on the table, and start placing the necessary tools on it. “I’m in great hands, then.”

“Yes, you are,” you say, more to boost your confidence than to reassure him. “I didn’t sew up my coworker’s cut on our school’s camping field trip for nothing. It didn’t even leave any scars!”

“Scars clearly aren’t an issue.” His voice is scathing, tone harsh.

You look at him over your shoulder. You blink once, then twice. “Oh. Oh! I didn’t mean to insult you or anything, um, not that there isn’t any problem with scars; in fact, you look really good-” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head. “Let’s just sew you up before you lose any more blood.”

You pick up the needle holder from the table, opening and closing the scissor-like tool once before using it to pull out the sterile needle and thread from its package. The tissue forceps—basically tweezers to hold onto his skin as you work—go in your other hand. After a second of getting used to the tools, you set them back down on the cloth.

You turn around to face him, then pause when you take in the odd expression on his face. “You okay?” you ask nervously. “Are you squeamish?”

His eyes move off yours, and he stares up at the ceiling. “Not at all. Just didn’t know you think that I look ‘really good,’” he mocks.

You duck your head in embarrassment for a moment, but lift it back up as you move to his side. “Here’s a tip: don’t insult the person about to poke you with a needle. Lift up your coat and shirt, please. Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

As usual, he does as you ask, but he shoots another retort, intent on making you flustered. “I normally require dinner before I take my shirt off, but I’ll make an exception for you, doll.”

The comment does make you a bit flustered, but you try to hide it by raising an eyebrow. “Again, I’m the one with the needle.”

You fall silent when you get a good look at his wound. It’s more like four separate slashes that cut into his well-defined stomach, and each slash oozes blood. Only two seem deep enough to warrant stitches. You look at Dabi. “Animal quirk or something?”

“More like retractable claws.”

“Well, it does seem like you got out of the way quickly to avoid the claws cutting deep enough to hit an organ. I’ll rinse out the wounds with water—it’s going to hurt—and stitch up two of them. The other two will be fine with pads and bandages. Do you want something for the pain?”

“You think I can’t handle a bit of heat? I can deal with it.”

Your expression softens the slightest bit at his words, though you try to pull in the sympathy so you won’t offend him. It sounds like he’s had to bear pain all on his own for a very long time.

Even though you just met him, your chest aches at the thought of that.

“I’m not saying that you can’t handle it. But you don’t have to.” You turn back to the first aid kit and pull out a foil sheet of pain medication, popping out two tablets as the instructions say to.

“Take these.” Grabbing onto your neighbor’s hand that is closest to you, you pause, and your eyes widen when you flip it over, so his palm faces up.

It’s coated in blood.

There’s no way you’re putting the pills on that hand, and you’re sure his other hand will be just as dirty, so you move over to his head. When you slip your free hand under his head to prop him up, his blue eyes study you, expression unreadable.

You hold one of the tablets in your thumb and forefinger and put it to his lips. He leans forward slightly to take it into his mouth, the skin of his lips brushing against your fingertips.

Your heart beats just a little faster, but your hand is steady as you hold the other pill between your fingers. This time, his tongue flicks out to pick it up from your fingers, and it also touches lightly across your skin.

A shiver runs down your spine. He smirks.

You get to your feet and brush your hands down your pants. “Right. I’m going to- to get some water to clean your wound with.”

You scrub your hands clean in your kitchen sink, grab a bowl from a cabinet, wash it out with copious amounts of soap, and fill it up with water. Carrying the bowl back to the living room, you set it down at the table and look at your neighbor again.

“Before I begin,” you say, “Can I get your name? It’s a bit of a mouthful calling you ‘my neighbor’ every time I try to refer to you.”

He chuckles. “You’re thinking about me a lot, doll?”

You pout and turn your back on him, pulling out another clean cloth from the first aid kit. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just thought it would make things a bit easier.”

He sighs and shifts a little as you turn back around with the cloth and the bowl of water. “Call me Dabi.”

The corners of your lips turn up in a smile. “Okay, Dabi,” you say, savoring the way his name feels as it rolls off your tongue. “I’ll clean out your wounds now, then I’ll start stitching it up. The pain meds should be kicking in, but let me know if we need to pause for a bit, okay?”

“You’re too soft.” The words are an insult, but Dabi can’t seem to make his tone harsh enough for the words to sound like one. “I’ll be fine.”

With his confirmation, you nod and pull out a pair of blue, rubber gloves from the first aid kit. As soon as the elastic snaps them tight around your wrist, you start working to clean up Dabi’s wounds.

–

Your temple throbs with pain, and your eyes ache from staring at little stitches, but you’re finally done with closing Dabi’s wounds. White bandages wrap around his stomach, keeping cloth pads on the two claw slashes that didn’t need stitches. You had cleaned up the knife wound in his shoulder too, though now the dirtiest part of him are his hands and clothes.

“You can’t get your stitches wet just yet, but do you want to use my bathroom and wipe yourself down? I can try and see if I have anything you can wear if you want to get out of your bloody clothes.”

You put one hand on your wooden table and use it to push yourself to your feet, groaning when your knees pop from the strain of kneeling down for so long. It’s past five o’clock in the morning, which means you’ve been tending to Dabi for over two hours. You’ve barely had any sleep, and you still need to go to work tomorrow—today, actually—at the middle school.

But even though Dabi’s wounds are stitched and have mostly stopped bleeding, you still need to make sure that he’s okay and doesn’t pull them open again.

“Pass on the clothes, but I’ll use your bathroom.”

He starts to push himself off the couch, and you slip his uninjured arm over your shoulders, leading him down the short hall to your bathroom. Leaving him there, you open up the closet in the hallway and pull out an unused towel before returning to the bathroom.

“Here,” you say, flipping down the toilet lid and placing the towel on it. “You can wet this and wipe the blood off as best you can.”

Dabi nods, then starts taking off his jacket. You’re about to turn away, but notice the way he’s more careful about moving his injured shoulder. You hesitate for a second, then reach out to grab onto the jacket, and help him slip it off.

Blue eyes trace your form that is reflected in the mirror, but you don’t notice Dabi’s gaze.

When the jacket is off, you hold it up and study it. There’s a lot of blood, and some of it is ripped, but you probably can throw it in the washing machine for a bit and get some of the blood out.

His shirt, though, is an entirely different matter. The cloth near his abdomen is in tatters from the claws that sliced him and is soaked in blood. There’s a hole at the shoulder where the knife went through. “I don’t think you’ll be able to save your shirt,” you muse.

Dabi says nothing. He only gives you a look, then glances down at his shirt, as if he’s demanding you to help him take it off too.

It’s just a shirt. It’s just skin. Nothing more. You try to hide your nerves when you nod and bend to place his coat on the ground. As you straighten back up, you look into his eyes, which seem to glint with smug amusement. Maybe you aren’t hiding your awkwardness very well at all.

“Okay. Um, could you sit on the toilet? It would be easier for me to get your shirt off.”

He does as you ask, but smirks and throws out a comment that makes your face feel hot. “Since you’re the one taking off my clothes, I think it’s about two dinners that you owe me now.”

You roll your eyes and grab onto the hem of his shirt, averting your eyes from the skin that it reveals as you lift it up. You lightly touch his uninjured arm, and he raises it up, allowing you to get his arm through the sleeve and over his head, before you finally work the rest of the shirt down his wounded arm.

“There,” you say, and straighten up with the shirt in your hands.

You make the mistake of looking at him.

He’s muscles and scars and metal piercings, a story of pain and betrayal embedded into his skin. He’s beauty and anguish, strength and despair, shoulders heavy with the weight of the world, and no one is there to bear it with him.

Your heart aches.

“What?” he sneers, voice harsh and eyes scorching. “Not pretty enough for you?”

You blink in surprise, then clench your hands tightly around his ruined shirt as you softly say, “No. Too pretty.”

Then you scoop up his jacket from the ground, turn on your heels, and flee the bathroom, feeling the burning gaze on your retreating back.

You miss Dabi’s slackened jaw and curious eyes. His shoulders relax just a little. You’ve taken a bit of weight off him, and though it’s maybe only a few grains of sand out of the entire world he has to carry, it’s a significant difference to him—because you’re the only one that has ever done that for him.

–

You’ve washed Dabi’s blood off your hands, thrown his coat into the washing machine, and tossed his shirt into the trash can. There’s still blood on the couch and table in the living room, on your door, and the floor of the entryway. You haven’t cleaned up the first aid kit either, but your eyelids are heavy, and you need a break.

Dabi is still washing up in the bathroom, so you knock on the door twice before you start speaking. “I threw your coat into the washing machine, and it’ll take a bit of time to get cleaned, so I’m going to my room, and I’ll take a quick nap. Wake me up if you need anything, though, you won’t be a bother! I’ll need to get back up to finish cleaning everything anyways.”

You only hear a grunt of acknowledgement through the wood, but that’s enough for you.

So you go into your bedroom, change into a fresh set of clothes, and collapse onto your bed. You barely have the energy to set an alarm on your phone for half an hour from now before your head hits the pillow, and you slip off into sleep.

It doesn’t bother you at all that there’s a stranger in your apartment.

–

The shrill ringing of your alarm is what wakes you, and you groan. You stretch an arm out toward your phone and jab at the screen until the alarm stops ringing.

There’s an ache in your body that comes from a lack of sleep, and your eyelids are heavy. But you need to get up to get Dabi’s coat out of your washing machine, and–

–it’s six-thirty in the morning, so you’ve definitely been asleep for longer than half an hour, your apartment is completely silent, and you’re going to be late for work.

You throw the blankets off you and leap out of bed, wincing as joints crack and pop. You quickly change into clothes that are appropriate for a science teacher at a local middle school. Swiping your phone off the nightstand by your bed, you tuck it into your back pocket and hurry out into your apartment, intent on letting Dabi know that you have to leave.

But your apartment is empty.

The living room is spotless; the first aid kit is gone from the table, and no blood is there either, though there are some faint stains on your couch where Dabi had laid down. The wooden floorboards by your door are completely clean too.

It’s as if you dreamed up the whole encounter that happened earlier this morning, but your knees still hurt from kneeling down for so long, and as you hurry into your kitchen, a pile of cash rests on top of a white scrap of paper right on your kitchen counter.

Your eyes grow wide at the stack of bills, but you are more focused on the note beneath them. Pulling it out, your eyes trace over the somehow elegantly scrawled words.

Doll,

The cash is for your couch. I could have had a much shittier neighbor, but you aren’t half bad. Your stitches aren’t bad either for “it’s been a while.” Don’t go around letting other strange men into your house in the middle of the night. If you need anything, I’m just next door.

Your neighbor

If your heart pounds a little faster and your fingers tremble the slightest bit at the way he signed off on the letter, you don’t acknowledge it. You just place the letter back on the counter and turn to the fridge, popping a piece of bread into the toaster.

There’s not enough time to make a full breakfast and lunch, but a slice of toast and some fruit can tide you over until your lunch break, where you’ll be able to go to a fast food place near the school to grab something to eat.

When the toaster lets out a ding, you pick up the toast, not flinching at the heat that warms your fingers. Your quirk has a bit of use after all—heat tolerance on your hands being the main benefit.

Picking out fruit from the bowl on your counter, you hurry to your doorway and sling your work bag over your shoulder. After stuffing your feet into your shoes, you pull open the door and leave your apartment, taking one last look at the spotless entryway.

Although you only had four hours of sleep at the most, a warm feeling fills your chest as you walk down the hallway and pass apartment 301.

–

It seems like this first incident causes you to interact with Dabi pretty regularly around the apartment building.

When you go to work after tending to Dabi in the middle of the night, you order an extra meal at the restaurant you get lunch at. You return home after work and drop the boxed meal in front of his door, leaving a note that says, one out of two meals I owe you for stripping you.

Your face was hot the entire time you were writing it.

Later that evening, you find a couple bills slipped under your door—the exact cost for the lunch you had bought Dabi. There’s a note, too, and it reads, I said you owe me two dinners, doll, not lunch. I’ll be waiting.

–

About a week later, you manage to cook something up after work. With the meal hot, you knock on your neighbor’s door, fiddling with your fingers until he opens it. You extend your offer for dinner by using his stitches as an excuse—you’ll check and remove them after eating. He chuckles, steps out into the hallway, and shuts his door behind him.

Dinner goes well. Although you’re the one talking most of the time, Dabi’s eyes are always on you, and he occasionally interjects with a dry and witty comment that makes you laugh.

When you finish eating, he compliments your cooking by saying, “If I knew you could make food like this, doll, I wouldn’t have asked for only two meals.” He gives you a sly look, blue eyes glinting as his fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, lifting it just a bit to show a sliver of skin. “If I strip for you again, will you add on another dinner to the tab?”

Flustered, you stand up from the dining table, grab your empty plate, and punch his uninjured shoulder as you walk past him to the kitchen. “Try it, and you won’t get any food from me at all.”

His laugh is low and raspy, and the sound of genuine amusement fills your chest with warmth and sends tingles down your spine.

You turn on the water at the sink to start washing your plate, but a large hand grabs it out of your hands, and Dabi nudges you to the side with his hip.

“I’ll wash, you go and get ready to take these stitches out. They itch like hell,” he complains. But you know that he hasn’t scratched them at all since you knocked on his door this evening, so it’s more likely that he feels the need to wash things up for you—even though he’d never admit it.

You nod anyway, and retreat from the kitchen. Grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink, you stop by your bedroom and pick up a thick envelope from the drawer in your nightstand.

Removing the stitches goes by quickly, and you keep Dabi distracted by telling him about the middle schoolers that you teach.

“They’re a handful,” you say, “just like someone I’ve gotten to know. But they’re worth the time and energy.” You pull out the last bit of thread and look Dabi in the eyes. “You’re worth it.”

He holds your gaze for what seems like hours, but is only a couple of seconds. Then he blinks and looks away. “I don’t deserve it.” His voice is flat and lifeless, as if he states an irrefutable fact.

You wonder what had happened in his life for him to believe this to be true. You set down the tweezers you were using and take off your gloves, tossing them onto the wooden table.

In one smooth movement, you swing one leg over the lower half of Dabi’s body, and push that knee into the cushions of your couch. Leaning over him, you cup a hand on his cheek. He lets you tilt his head so his eyes look into yours, and his eyes widen just a bit when he sees the wet sheen in your own.

“You deserve the world, Dabi. You deserve happiness, companionship, love. I’d give you all that I could.” Your eyes turn hard and angry, and Dabi is enchanted by the transformation. “And I’d burn anyone that told you otherwise.”

He nearly laughs at your choice of words. His lips twitch, and you catch sight of the movement, then seem to come to your senses all at once. You scramble off him, making Dabi grunt when your knee knocks into his thigh as you nearly throw yourself to the ground.

“Sorry, sorry!” you repeatedly say, not looking at him while you clean up the first aid kit and throw the little scraps of thread away.

Dabi lets his expression soften when your back is to him, and he rubs a hand down his face. “Fuck,” he whispers.

“Doll,” he says, loud enough so you should be able to hear. But you keep apologizing as you rush around your apartment, putting things away.

When you finally get back into the living room, Dabi calls you by your nickname again. “Doll!”

You startle and look at him with wide eyes.

He lets a smirk form on his face. “Don’t stress so much about it, yeah? But now you’ve taken off my clothes and have gotten to sit on my lap. I think I should get another dinner for that, don’t you?”

That comment gets you to roll your eyes. “Damn,” you say. “At this rate, I’ll never be free from debt.”

Dabi turns serious. He sits up on the sofa and stretches an arm out to you. When you take it, he draws you close and motions for you to take a seat.

Once you settle down, he says, “If you don’t want to do any of this with me, I’m not forcing you to. Just say the word, got it?”

You nod to show him that you understand what he’s saying, but your voice is light and playful when you respond. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. If the price of being in your company is a dinner or two, I’ll take it.”

Dabi can’t quite figure out what to say, but you don’t give him a chance when you reach to the table and pick up the thick envelope you had gotten from your room. You push it into his hand. He curls his fingers around it and looks at you, asking a question with his eyes.

“It’s the money you left behind. I don’t need to get a new couch; I got the blood out of this one just fine. But even if I did need to get a new one, I wouldn’t use your money to pay for it. Keep it and do something good with it, okay?”

His breath catches in his throat. How the hell did he mislabel you so badly the first time he met you? Looking down at the cushion below him, Dabi doesn’t notice any blood stains. But the fabric of the couch is a little fuzzier. His lips thin at the thought of you spending hours scrubbing the blood out of it, all because he decided to test and see what your intentions truly were toward him.

“Okay, doll,” he says, voice thick. “Okay.”

Since you won’t accept his cash, he’ll just have to figure out more creative ways to pay you back.

–

When Dabi thought about repaying you in creative ways, he never meant for this to happen. In fact, this only puts him more in your debt.

The pressure Dabi is putting on the wound isn’t enough to stop blood from seeping out from between his fingers. It just flows, and flows, and flows, draining life with every drop that is lost. There’s a crimson trail leading from the elevator down the entire apartment hallway, and Dabi once again finds himself scrabbling at the door of an apartment.

But the apartment isn’t his own.

Neither is the blood.

–

Dabi says that it happened because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time—although you insist that you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

You’re on your way home from school, and are getting close to your house, when you hear angry yelling from an alleyway. You normally would just take quicker steps and hurry away from there, but a familiar drawl freezes you in place.

“Dabi?” His name leaves your lips in a soft whisper. What was he doing here? Was he in trouble? The other voices sound harsh and threatening, and there are so many of them. Your blood grows cold at the thought of villains trying to harm him.

You know Dabi is dangerous, that he’s a force to be reckoned with. He told you himself the first time you met by threatening to kill you without any hesitation in his voice. He can take care of himself.

But what if–

You know you’d never be able to live with yourself if he got hurt, and you didn’t do anything to help him when you could. So you peek around the corner of the alley, eyes widening when you catch sight of a dozen people in a semicircle, surrounding Dabi, who has his back against one of the walls.

His posture is relaxed, and he doesn’t seem worried at all.

But some of these villains are visibly armed—with dangerous mutation quirks, or with various weapons probably obtained through unlawful means.

Your own quirk will never let you fight all of them, even if Dabi took on half or more. However, you can create enough of a distraction for both of you to run away.

Even though your heartbeat echoes in your ears, a fast tempo that betrays your nerves, you straighten up and take a deep breath. You force a smile on your face, then walk around the corner with light, bouncy steps, and let out a squeal of delight.

“Heyy, Hot Stuff! You’ve been keeping me waiting; what happened to our date?” You make your voice flirty, dripping with sweetness, despite all the villains’ eyes snapping to you. Since you have their attention, you dip your head in a small nod, greeting them as if nothing is wrong. “Hello gentlemen, I hope you don’t mind if I steal my boyfriend, we’re supposed to watch a movie!”

They’re all too dumbfounded to stop you from skipping around them and moving to Dabi’s side, hugging his arm. His eyes are wide, and if this is any other situation, you would laugh.

“Doll,” he hisses, “What the hell–”

“C’mon, let’s go!” You cut him off and tug on his arm, forcing him to take a couple steps with you toward the entrance of the alley.

Then one of the villains steps in front of you, large and looming. “Fuck off, you meddlesome shit. You’re not wanted here.”

You pout. “But my date–”

“You think I give a fuck about your date?” he roars, the sound echoing off the walls of the alley. “You’re really stupid if you can’t tell that your boyfriend and I have some business to deal with.”

Dabi bristles in anger, and you can tell that he’s about to say something inflammatory, so you squeeze his arm tightly in warning.

“Aww, are you sure you won’t let us go?” You let go of Dabi’s arm and step toward the villain. Raising your hands, you wave them slightly, so the villain’s eyes focus on them. “Then, I’m afraid I’ll have to make you.”

You activate your quirk, clapping your hands together with a loud smack. Sparks of orange and gold shoot out of your hands at the impact, blinding the villain and searing his skin at the same time.

The villain curses and stumbles back, but you don’t let him off that easily. You kick your leg out, your foot aiming for a particular spot of the male anatomy. It makes contact, and a triumphant smirk forms on your face at the howl that leaves the villain’s throat.

With the villain out of the way, you reach back and grab onto Dabi’s hand, pulling him out of the alleyway. Other villains try to chase after you, but Dabi waves a hand, and a wall of bright blue fire covers the entrance of the alley.

Since the rest of the villains are trapped, you and Dabi aren’t in any rush to hurry home.

“Hot Stuff?” Dabi asks, unable to hide the amusement and amazement in his voice. He can’t believe that you pulled that off, and can’t believe you even tried it at all.

“It’s because of your body temperature. You’re always like a heater, you know? And I know you have a- a fire related quirk too… Dabi? I- I don’t– It hurts–” A sharp cry leaves your lips, and you stumble as you put your weight on your left leg, blinding pain shooting up from your thigh.

Dabi’s eyes immediately snap to yours, and his blood goes cold when he takes in the agony on your face. His eyes move further down. Blood leaks out from a huge gash on your outer thigh, soaking and staining your clothes. It’s so much for such a short amount of time, and fear seeps into his bones.

Your breaths sound more like harsh gasps, and you clutch tightly to his arm. “Dabi,” you whimper.

He scans the street. There’s a serrated dagger not too far from the both of you, dark red coating the blade. He recalls one of the villains in the group that surrounded him in the alley—even though he would have burned them all if it wasn’t for your showing up—that had multiple knives strapped to his body.

Dabi’s body heats in anger. Smoke wafts from his hands. If you weren’t so badly injured, if he didn’t have to help you get home to take care of your wound, he would have stormed back to the alley and destroyed them all.

But you’re losing strength with every second, so Dabi moves your arm to rest on his shoulders, and slides his own arm around the back of your waist. He pushes one hand on top of your own, forcing you to keep pressure on your thigh.

“C’mon, doll, you’ll be alright. Stay strong for me, yeah? We’ll get you home.”

–

“Doll, keep your eyes open for me, okay? You gotta tell me how to put you back together and make you alright, got it?” Dabi forces your key into the lock, twisting as hard as he can to unlock it.

As soon as the doorknob turns, he’s pushing the door wide open and helps you into your apartment.

Your place is as familiar to him as his own apartment is now—he’s basically here a couple hours every day or two, just spending time with you at dinner, or looking over your shoulder as you grade your students’ papers. So he leads you straight to the living room, and eases you onto the couch.

His chest aches when you moan in pain.

“Stay here, doll. Stay awake, and keep pushing down on that wound, okay? I know it hurts, but I need you to do this for me. You won’t let me down, right?” Dabi lets the words spill from his mouth as he moves around your apartment, gathering the first aid kit from your bathroom and getting a bowl of clean water from your kitchen.

You just groan and press your head into the cushions of your couch, as if it can help you escape from the burning pain flaring out from your thigh.

Dabi takes out the foil sheet of pain medication, pops two of them out, and presses the pills against your lips until you open your mouth and swallow the pills.

Your vision is blurry, and you can’t keep your eyes open for long, but Dabi’s figure disappears from your sight. A worried cry leaves your lips.

“I’ll wash my hands, and I’ll be right back, okay? Keep that pressure on your leg, doll, you’re doing great.” Dabi doesn’t know how his voice sounds unaffected, when his heart is fluttering with nerves, with fear, and when his hands tremble as tap water runs over them.

It’s his fault. It’s all his fault.

But the blame he feels will do nothing to stop your bleeding, so he gets his hands clean and strides back into the living room.

The gloves go on his hands, elastic snapping against scarred skin. He pulls out the needle holder and uses it to take the sterile needle and thread out of its packaging, and places them onto a clean towel. He removes tissue forceps and a pair of large scissors out of the kit too, and grabs another clean towel before turning around to you.

Your eyes are shut, and your breathing is shallow, but you flinch when he touches your shoulder with the back of his wrist.

��Hey, doll, I need you to talk me through the steps, okay? I can’t have you falling asleep on me.” Dabi does know what to do—and he’s not looking forward to it—but he doesn’t know what would happen if you drifted off into sleep while losing so much blood.

“I’ll need to cut your pants to see what we have to work with. Don’t move as I do this. We- I don’t want you getting hurt any worse.”

With the large scissors, he starts cutting at the cloth of your pants, from the waistband down, until he can peel away the fabric to reveal a deep cut on your thigh.

“Fuck,” he hisses. Though it’s only one cut, Dabi thinks it’s worse than the scratches he received on his abdomen. And it probably hurts you more than his own did—a serrated knife that tore through you was worse than sharp claws could ever be.

You crack open your eyes again, taking in the distraught expression on Dabi’s face. You want to comfort him, so even though your voice sounds more like a croak, you say, “Looks like you owe me dinner now, for taking off my pants.”

“Anytime, anywhere, doll. You name it. Just let me stitch you up, alright?”

You let out a quiet “mhm,” and Dabi takes it as a sign that you’re ready. He takes one last look at your face and gets started on cleaning up your wound.

–

Dabi is done with the stitches, and you’re completely passed out on the couch, exhausted and still in pain. He’s still on adrenaline; he never felt that much fear for someone before. He hasn’t cared so much in years.

If he hadn’t been able to save you–

–then all of Japan would cower in fear under the oppression of his flames.

No hero would be able to stop his rampage. He’d wipe the filth off the face of the Earth, and–

You groan and shift, tilting your head toward the wooden table, where Dabi is sitting, and slowly crack open your eyes. He looks murderous about something, but there’s also some sadness in his eyes. Your heart aches for him, even overpowering the throb of your thigh.

“Dabi?” you call his name softly, reaching out a hand to touch his knee.

His anger immediately vanishes. “Hey, doll.”

“Are you okay?”

He moves his hand to rest on top of yours, fingers hot against your skin. “I should be the one to ask that—I’m not the one that got a huge ass gash across my thigh. But yes, I’m fine.”

A small smile forms on your face. “I know you didn’t get injured, Dabi. But how are you feeling? You looked upset just now, and I think you’re feeling guilty, but none of it was your fault.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry.” Though he says he’s angry, his voice is cold and level. “You threw yourself into a dangerous situation to try and help me. I would have been fine on my own. Then you got hurt because I couldn’t put up the wall of fire in time to stop that piece of shit from throwing that knife.”

His hands clench into fists on his lap, and smoke rises from the gaps between his fingers. You pull your hand out from under his fist and curl your fingers on top of his. The smoke stops.

“And you were bleeding, doll, and it was too much too fast. I should have–”

“Dabi,” you say, “as soon as I saw you in that alleyway, there was no way I could have continued on by myself. I know you can handle yourself, but there was the possibility of you getting hurt, and I would not stand for it.

The pads of your fingertips brush over his knuckles in a gentle caress. “You would have done the same for me, I know you would. So please don’t be upset, okay? You saved me. You did exactly what you needed to do, and you saved me. I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He picks up your hand in his and brings it up, so resting his forehead on it. Weight seems to slip off his shoulders, his guilt easing. You know it won’t be gone completely—it wouldn’t be gone for you had your roles been switched—but at least it has lessened.

“I was thinking,” Dabi says, his voice raspy as his warm breaths brush across the skin of your arm, “that I’d be willing to burn the whole world down if I lost you.”

“Ah,” you say in response, but you don’t address it further. You tug on his hand, grabbing his attention, and motion to the couch. “Come sit. I want- I want to be close to you.”

A smirk tilts up his lips. “How could I refuse that, doll?”

He does as you command, helping you sit up, so your back is against his chest, but your legs are still stretched out on the couch. He’s careful to avoid moving your injured leg, so you barely feel any pain at all. Dabi’s arms wrap around you, a warm weight of comfort, telling you that you’re safe and you are home.

When you finish settling down, you speak again. “Remember what I told you when I removed your stitches? You deserve the world, Dabi, and I’d burn anyone who told you otherwise.”

“Ah,” he says, repeating your response to him. His chest is tight and warm, and he knows it’s not because of his quirk.

“That’s a cute sentiment, doll, but are you sure you can burn anyone with those tiny sparks of yours?”

You pout, and poke him in the side. He flinches, and you laugh. “They’re not that tiny, they’d at least scorch someone’s skin.”

“Yeah, right, it’s more like they’ll warm you up a bit in the winter.”

“Dabi! No more dinner for you!”

“Oh, but you forget that it’s my turn now. I’m the one who got you out of your pants.”

You look down at yourself—at your bare legs—and let out a squeak, grabbing one of the pillows on the couch to cover up your legs. “What the heck!”

He laughs at your embarrassment. When he calms, he raises one of his hands to brush against your cheek, his touch seeming to burn a trail of warmth down the side of your face. You look at him curiously, your eyes meeting the heated blue of his own.

“I’m glad you’re okay, doll.”

“I’m glad you’re okay too.”

He leans toward you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face gets even closer, and you shut your eyes. Warmth presses against your forehead for a moment, then leaves as quickly as it appears.

It takes you a second to realize what it is, but your eyes fly open, and you take in Dabi’s smirk, as well as the slight vulnerability in his eyes.

So you tug on his shirt until he moves his head back toward yours, and you press your lips against his cheek. Metal staples are slightly cool under your mouth, and his scars are rougher than his skin, but you don’t care.

You let your lips linger longer than Dabi’s did, and slowly pull back, affection gleaming in your eyes.

He stares at you, and you hold his gaze, not hiding the emotions that well up within you. You haven’t even known him for two weeks—certainly not enough time to fall in love, but you feel something between you.

You want to explore it further.

“So,” you say, tilting your head slightly. “Dinner?”

Dabi smiles at you. “As I said, anytime, anywhere, doll. If it’s with you, I don’t care about the rest.”

–

Tag List • @dragonhrte @knifeewifee @ererokii

#boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnhabookclub #my writing #my writing: fic #type: anime #anime: boku no hero academia #ch: dabi #type: fanfic #fanfic: reader insert #fanfic: cannon verse

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shhhhyoursister · 3 years ago

Text

photographer!au

hey yall this is the first of the unfinished aus im going to be uploading, im leaving in all my notes and unedited bits so you can see the process and everything!!! i hope you all enjoy!!!!!!!!!

Matteo felt a bit like a ghost at times, with the way he slowly paced the hallways of his home. It wouldn’t be too out of character for him to have become a ghost without even realizing it, especially being alone in an old, large, dismally lit house for as long as he had been. He was sure the air was swimming with spirits, could tell from the shadows that would quietly slip from room to room, slithering along the walls with nothing really there to cast them.

When he was a kid, he was terrified of his house. Understandably, considering the constant creaking and tapping and thudding that came from the basement, the attic, even the walls in Matteo’s own room. His parents would always tell him “Houses just make sounds, Matteo, you have to get over it,” and eventually he did (figure out how to end)

(start new paragraph) around the time he started realizing how much of a ghost he was, amongst his family and even his friends. Quiet, woeful, longing for some kind of life to live. He could sympathize with them, and his fear vanished.

(rearrange) It still made him laugh, though. His house looked haunted, from the outside and the inside, and the fact that it was surrounded on almost all sides with dense, thick, dark woods didn’t help. Matteo was still sometimes horrified by the noises he heard coming from outside, never knowing quite what was out there. At least his father had updated all the locks before he left.

Another ghost, but one that managed to escape.

The more Matteo thought about it, everyone in his house was a ghost in some way. His father left, leaving almost no trace except for the money that went into the house and Matteo’s bank account, keeping the place safe and livable for a young adult who had never lived on his own before. His mother was also gone, but her departure was much more like something out of an actual scary story. He didn’t like to think about it.

Matteo filled the silence of the empty house with music. He had begged (guilted) his father into buying him a set of bluetooth speakers that were always playing something, usually quieter stuff or instrumentals when he was feeling it. It helped make the house feel more alive, make Matteo feel more alive and connected to the world, and honestly helped hide the noises that would come from any direction with no warning.

He knew that he could also feel more connected to the word if he ever went out into it, but it had been a few months. Sometimes Jonas or Hanna would come over, but people didn’t tend to stay long. He could get why, but it didn’t make him feel better about it. He couldn’t control where he lived, his family was making sure of that. Something about the house being in their family since it was built, it was an important piece of their history, whatever. Matteo was just waiting for some distant cousin of his to call him and say they’re moving in; he was pretty sure he had heard whispers of it happening soon.

The only times he really saw people, besides the couple times a month his friends would dare to enter the house, was when he went out to buy food or weed, the only essentials he had been restocking. He couldn’t remember the last time he got a new shirt, or pair of shoes. He sometimes worried that he had forgotten how to communicate outside of simple small talk and asking for an ounce, with how little he saw people. He didn’t even know if the people physically closest to him could be considered neighbors, as the amount of miles his property took up was too much for him to think about. He sure as hell never saw them around.

Which was why it was so strange when Matteo saw him for the first time.

He wasn’t as scared as he should’ve been to see a dark figure creeping around his property. He was mostly confused, as he lived far enough from any real towns that he had to actually learn how to drive, and had an old pickup truck parked outside to prove it. He looked out the other windows, and didn’t see any cars or anything else outside. It was dark out, and especially dark with the trees around him, and he didn’t even have any lights on his house besides the small lamp next to the couch and his TV. He had been watching something when he noticed the person.

He started wondering if it even was a person. There were tons of wild animals that could have come out of the woods, sniffing around his property looking for scraps. He had seen bears behind his house before, and there was no reason to assume that the thing outside was a person.

Until, as Matteo watched from the window, there was a bright flash from where the figure was standing. Matteo jumped back, yanked the curtain closed, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no clue what the flash was but it confirmed that there was definitely a person behind his house.

The person was still far away, right at the edge of the woods, and Matteo didn’t feel like he was in any imminent danger. He slid the curtain open the tiniest bit, just enough so he could peek an eye out, and saw another flash. After that second flash the figure stood still for a moment, and then bent down, and stood up, lifting what looked like a bike up off the ground. The person mounted the bike, and rode away quickly. Matteo watched the bike disappear in the direction he knew the road was, and he let out a breath.

It might have just been a weird neighbor who got turned around on a nightly bike ride, even though he had been warned since he was a baby to not go outside his house without some kind of light to scare away potential animals. Or maybe it was someone from some organization in his area, making sure the properties were being taken care of. Matteo thought of a million excuses, all of them seeming rational enough to not panic. He triple checked his locks before going to bed, and everything looked good, so he made sure his phone was fully charged and he pulled an old baseball bat out of a closet just in case. Better safe than sorry.

He was still thinking about it the next morning, as he stood at the door leading out the back of his house, steaming a mug of coffee clutched in both hands. No matter the season it was always freezing in the mornings where he lived, and to compensate he was wearing his purple jacket over a sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, two pairs of sweatpants, and a pair of fuzzy rainbow socks over a more boring white pair. The socks had been a gift from Abdi his first birthday after coming out to them, and he had rolled his eyes in the moment but they quickly became his favorite things to slip on in the morning.

He took a sip of the coffee as he stared over the grass leading to the woods, feeling warmth spread all the way to the tips of his fingers. He leaned back against the doorframe, took another sip and then dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept great the night before, still too full of adrenaline from the person on the bike to even close his eyes. He shivered a little, remembering the previous night, and looked out again, at the spot where he had first noticed the figure.

He was about to turn away, go back inside to text Jonas about the whole thing and joke about it to make himself feel less nervous, but his eyes caught on something. Something flat and dark, lying in the grass, he couldn’t quite make it out but it looked like a book. He stared at it for a good few minutes, and then placed his coffee cup down and wrapped his arms around himself, shoved his feet in the boots he kept by the door, and started walking towards the woods.

There was a wet chill in the air, and he could see his breath as it shakily left his lips. His heart was pounding again, his hands shaking a little where they were clutching his sides, but he strode on, his eyes fixed on the book. He reached the spot, and stood some feet away, glancing around as if the person was going to come running out and snatch the book out from under him. He didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear anything besides the usual morning song of the birds around him, and the rustling trees, and he bent down as quick as he could and grabbed the book.

It was cold, was what he noticed at first, so much so that he almost dropped it right away. He wrapped his hand in his sleeve and looked at it, his second observation being that it seemed to be a journal or something, with no title on the cover or the side, the front and back a dark, brown leather. He tucked it under his arm and quickly shuffled back inside, closing the door behind him and putting the book next to his coffee so he could reabsorb some warmth. Once he could feel his hands again, he looked at the book, and felt a chill go through him that wasn’t from the cold.

Great, he thought to himself, his breathing picking up as he did so, the mysterious dark figure creeping around your backyard in the dark totally isn’t going to be mad that you took their journal. They totally aren’t going to come get it back and they totally aren’t going to have a weapon and they totally aren’t going to kill you when they see that the only person here is a scrawny gay baby who hasn’t even talked to another person in two weeks.

Not the most helpful path for his mind to take. His eyes were still fixed on the book, his brain spitting out thousands of awful things that could be inside it, and he quickly walked over and flipped the cover open. And he titled his head.

The first thing he saw wasn’t words like he was expecting, but what looked like a drawing stuck onto what Matteo thought was a photograph. The background was a dark tree, the black leaves clear and crisp against the background, and the sketch on top was of a bird. It was cool, even if it belonged to someone who was going to come kill Matteo to get it back.

[He flipped the next page, and saw a drawing of a boy in what looked like a dress, with his fist up, and an angry face. He flipped to the next one and saw some sketches of a few different random faces, probably not random to whoever owned the book. He kept looking through the pages, eventually grabbing the book and turning page after page as he started his usual ghostly path around the house. (change to more generic creepy sketches/photographs of houses and Matteo realizes that that’s probably why he was taking pics but he keeps flipping and sees some more personal sketches and some of people)

He must have flipped through hundreds of sketches, photographs stuck onto paper, and combinations of the two, which he knew there was a word for but he couldn’t think of it no matter how hard he tried. When he got to the last page, a little disappointed to be nearing the end, he saw one blank page. The page right before it had a fox, with writing at the bottom that Matteo didn’t read before his attention was caught by the only completely white page in the book.]

He shook his head, dropping the book back onto the table in his kitchen, deciding to forget about it until he ate something and called Jonas to whine to him about it.

He walked to his fridge and pulled it open, frowning when he noticed how empty it was. He sighed as he realized that he needed to go shopping, and looked in all the drawers, only finding a few random pieces of fruit, some tupperwares of old leftovers that he needed to throw out, and some beer. He really needed to go shopping. He pulled the freezer open and smiled when he saw a carton of ice cream he had forgotten he had bought. He wasn’t below eating ice cream for breakfast.

He pulled it out and set it on the counter, and heard a sudden thud thud thud on the wall closest to him. He jumped, but rolled his eyes, and said out loud, “I’m sorry Helena, but I don’t have anything else!”

There was another thud and then quiet, and then a weird scraping sound that got quieter and farther away. He didn’t have names for all of the ghosts in his house, but there were a few prominent ones. He had made up a story about Helena, an old cook who died in a tragic onion slicing incident, who was going to spend the rest of her days scolding anyone in the house for inadequately feeding themselves. He would hear thud anytime he reached for candy over fruit, or pizza over vegetables, or made another pot of spaghetti instead of learning how to make anything else, or closed the fridge without taking anything out. Helena was the loudest by far.

He happily ate his ice cream, and then called Jonas. Jonas not only sounded worried, but a little annoyed at Matteo’s lack of worry about the whole situation.

“Bro, you saw someone creeping around near your house in the middle of the night, found a fucking journal in the same place the next morning, and decided to take it?” Jonas asked, his voice getting higher and higher as he spoke, “do you want to get killed?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone died in this house,” Matteo joked back, making a ghostly wooing noise into the phone, but Jonas didn’t seem to find the humor in the situation.

“Do you want me to come stay for a few days?”

Matteo snorted, “You? Staying over at my house? Jonas, you can barely spend five minutes here without pissing yourself.”

“It’s not my fault that my best friend lives in a fucking haunted house, but I’ll come stay if you if you need me too. I honestly might do it anyway.” Jonas said, and Matteo rolled his eyes.

“Dude, I’m fine. Weirder things have happened here.” He didn’t know how true that was, but he was hoping it would just further deter Jonas from wanting to come by. He didn’t want to spend a week with Jonas jumping at every tiny noise, insulting the ghosts that Matteo considered his friends. That might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn’t fun to have people in your home who were so obviously uncomfortable.

“Well, call me the second anything else happens,” Jonas said, and then said, “no, call the police first, and then call me. Promise?”

“I’m not going to call the police, dude.”

“Matteo,” Jonas said, suddenly serious in a way that made Matteo shut up, the smile slipping from his face, “I already worry about you so fucking much being out there alone, can you at least promise me that you’ll be smart about this?”

Matteo bit his lip, feeling guilty. He didn’t know Jonas worried about him so much. He sighed out, “Okay, okay, if I see anything I’ll call the police, and then you, and anyone else you think I should.”

“Probably Amira too, but don’t tell her about this because she’ll come there and kill you before that other person even has the chance.”

Matteo laughed, and heard Jonas chuckle on the other end. He did really appreciate that his friends cared about him, but he kind of wished they would show it in ways that didn’t involve him getting scolded.

“I’m definitely not going to tell her,” Matteo laughed again, and then got quiet and his own kind of serious and said, “and thanks, dude. I’m sorry I’m scaring you, but I promise I’ll be safe and if I’m not someone will know.”

“Okay, good,” Jonas sounded relieved, “and I will come visit soon, okay? I miss you, man.”

Matteo smiled. They ended the conversation, Jonas relieved that Matteo wasn’t just going to let fate take its course with things. He went back to his fridge after, started looking through the cupboards too, and made a list of everything he needed. He got himself dressed and ready to go out, and hopped in his car and started the engine.

And it didn’t start. He turned the key again, and again, and finally on the fifth try the pickup roared to life. His car was a piece of shit but it usually got him from point A to point B, so he couldn’t complain. He also didn’t have the money for a new one at all, and was planning on selling it whenever he moved to the city. He hated driving.

He made his trip out as quick as possible, feeling strange with all of the eyes of the other store patrons on him. Nobody was actually looking at him but he was so unused to being around people, especially as many as were crowded into the aisles. He grabbed everything he needed and had paid and was back in his car in under twenty minutes, a new record. He blasted music as he made the drive back to his house, and brought the groceries in and shoved them in the fridge with little thought.

He lazed around for the rest of the day until he realized he should probably start making food, and he eyed the fresh produce he had bought, trying to remember the last time he had ingested a vegetable, and he grabbed a bag of spinach and a few other things to make some nutrition-packed eggs to make up for his ice cream breakfast. There was a quiet bang on the wall next to the fridge, Helena’s usual way of giving her approval for Matteo’s food choices.

The sky had darkened as he was cooking, and he was standing in the middle of his kitchen eating the eggs out of the pan with the spatula, because why not, when he saw movement out the window. He paused with the last forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth as he tried to focus his eyes in the almost pitch black outside, and they suddenly caught on what he could only assume was the same person as the night before, standing in the exact spot Matteo had found the book, standing perfectly still.

He held his breath. The figure didn’t move for a while, at least not that Matteo could see, and he put the pan down on the counter, his hands shaking hard as he grabbed at his pocket for his phone. He had just dialed Jonas’ number, not wanting to jump to the police quite yet, when the person suddenly whipped around, grabbed their bike, and rode away, much faster than the night before. Matteo lost track of what direction the person was going in, and his eyes widened as he started panicking that that direction was towards his house.

He dropped his phone, probably the dumbest thing he could have done in the situation, and stood there hyperventilating until he caught the briefest glimpse of what had to be the figure on the bike, once again following the path back to the road. It didn’t completely calm Matteo’s nerves because the person knew that the book was gone, knew that the only house for miles around was Matteo’s and the speed that the person had left at was a little concerning. Not enough for Matteo to call Jonas, but he spent another night wide awake, eyes wide open, on the couch because for some reason it felt safer. He passed out from pure tiredness just as the sun started to creep up over the trees.

And then nothing, for a few days. Matteo found himself constantly glancing towards the windows, sure he was going to see someone right outside brandishing a weapon and demanding entry, the book, and Matteo’s life. He didn’t know why he was so sure that the person was going to kill him for taking it, but it just seemed like the kind of thing that would happen to him. He’d just become an actual ghost and haunt whatever random family member they shoved in the place to keep it in the family.

No, nothing happened until a few days later. Matteo had even started feeling less tense, his eyes darting to the window less, less convinced that he had even needed to be worried in the first place. It wasn’t the first time he had seen someone in the woods near his house, even though all of those times had been during the day and he had at least one parent in the house. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

Until he was making himself breakfast one morning. He hadn’t wanted to hear it from Helena so he was making eggs again, with peppers instead of spinach for some variety, and he heard a bamg that didn’t sound like one of his usual visitors. He froze, but didn’t hear anything else so he continued sliding his spatula around the pan. He gasped when there was another sudden bang, and few more, and what sounded like something pounding on his door until there was a crack, and even though he wasn’t in the room he could tell by the sound that his door had been forced open.

He turned the stove off, and then again, froze completely in place. His eyes were darting around the room, eyeing the knife on the counter and the thick wooden rolling pin that was leaning out of the sink. He had options to protect himself, if only he could fucking move. He heard footsteps, heavy ones, loud ones, and he snapped into action. He grabbed the rolling pin and strode out of the room, filled with enough adrenaline to be convinced that he could take whoever had just broken into his house.

It didn’t take long for him to find the intruder. He was facing away from Matteo, and when Matteo spotted him he stopped moving. He didn’t see any weapons in the person’s hand, could only really see a large black jacket, black backpack, black pants, black shoes, and the back of a head of curly, dark hair.

Matteo shifted his weight and felt his blood run cold when the floor under him creaked. The person whipped around, and yelled out a terrified, “What the fuck?”

They stared at each other in a shocked silence. The guy in front of him didn’t seem too scary, or like he had come to kill Matteo for stealing his book. He looked scared himself, his bright brown eyes still wide, his lips parted.

“I thought-” the guy stuttered out, shaking his head in shock, “I thought this place was abandoned.”

Matteo tilted his head, wondering if he really was a fucking ghost, or maybe his house was abandoned and he was just considered abandoned along with it. He took a breath when the guy tilted his head back, and then quickly said, “Well, nobody told me that.”

He didn’t know why he was trying to joke around with the person who had just broken into his house. Remembering that fact he felt his breathing speed up a bit, his hands clenching tighter around the rolling pin, and he must have moved it enough to be noticed, because the guy quickly raised his arms, with his palms out as if Matteo had told him to put his hands up and drop any weapons.

“I promise, I really thought this place was abandoned,” he said quickly, stuttering over his words, “I’m a photographer, I take pictures of abandoned places. I promise I didn’t know anyone lived here. Please don’t call the police, this isn’t the first time I’ve accidentally broken in somewhere and they don’t like me very much.”

Matteo furrowed his brows. He noticed the strap around the other’s neck, leading down to a very fancy looking camera gently resting against his chest. His story seemed to check out, so it would have made sense for Matteo to kick the guy out with some stern words, and go to the store and buy the strongest locks on the market.

He didn’t of course, because he’s Matteo, but what he did do was drop the rolling pin to his side and ask, “What’s your name?”

The guy smiled at him, and Matteo couldn’t help but notice that it was a really great smile, and said, “I’m David, and I’m really sorry I kicked your door in. I’ll pay to replace it, and to get you new locks because the ones you have definitely aren’t doing their job.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Matteo snorted, and at the expectant look from David said, “I’m Matteo. And this place is haunted, so it’s good you weren’t trying to break in. Well, trying to break in to do something bad.”

David’s eyes lit up, and he asked, his smile growing, “Haunted?”

“Yep.” Matteo replied, popping the p, smiling when from behind him he heard what sounded like a doorknob being shaken, and then a door creaking and a thud, and said, “that one’s Timmy. He died from shock after walking in on his parents having sex.”

David laughed, his grin growing bigger until his eyes were almost shut from it, and Matteo had to tell himself that it was not the time to start ogling. Just because a boy with the prettiest smile Matteo had ever seen and the nicest laugh he had ever heard was in front of him didn’t mean he had to fall for him. Especially considering the guy had broken into his house.

David started looking around, his eyes only staying on each feature of the house for a second before moving on, and Matteo got so lost in watching his calculating gaze that he jumped when he suddenly said, “This place is amazing, when was it built?”

“Um, I don’t really know,” Matteo said, trying to think back in his memory because he was sure someone told him at some point, “a long ass time ago.”

David laughed again. Matteo’s stomach fluttered at it and he quickly turned around, running his hand over the top of some cabinet that was probably hundreds of years older than him.

“If you want,” he started, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Jonas yelling at him not to, “you can still take pictures here. If you want it to look authentic you might have to move my Switch and the flatscreen but I’m sure we can work something out.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to intrude, I’ve already done that enough.” David replied, shaking his head, though his eyes were still roving around the room, his fingers twitching towards the camera around his neck.

Matteo shrugged, “You wouldn’t be intruding. I don’t really do much, as long as you don’t steal my shit or look through my stuff I don’t really care.”

It was dumb as fuck for him to offer a complete stranger free range of his home, his home in the middle of nowhere, a complete stranger who again, had broken into his house, but it didn’t seem like he needed to be scared of David. He seemed nice, and was way too apologetic about the situation to have any ulterior motives. Matteo hoped, at least. And what did he really care if a cute boy came around a few times to take pictures of his house?

“Are you sure? I can pay you a bit, or have my sister bake you something in return. Is there anything you want?”

Matteo smirked, and said, “Just knock next time and you’re good.”

David smiled back, held a hand out, and said, “You’ve got a deal.”

Matteo grabbed his hand, but quickly pulled away when the second their skin touched, he felt a shock. He looked at his hand, and then back at David who was doing the same, and said, “Might have to cancel that arrangement if you have superpowers.”

“Well, you live in a haunted house, how do I know you aren’t a ghost? Maybe I shouldn’t be accepting offers from ghouls anyway.” David quipped, the corners of his mouth turning up.

“A little late for that, we did shake on it.” Matteo replied, smiling at the back and forth. He hadn’t had such smooth conversation with someone who wasn’t a close friend in years. He kept trying to remind himself that David was there in his house because he broke in, kept trying to stare at the scratches on his boots from kicking the door in, but his eyes were always drawn back up to David’s face.

“Good point,” David said with a grin, and then he looked towards the door, and continued, “I should probably go, I’m sure you’re busy.”

Matteo looked down at himself, at his sweatpants and shirt that had a stain on it, and his rainbow fuzzy socks because of course he was wearing those, and said, “Yeah, lots of important business to take care of.”

“Like buying new locks? And making sure I didn’t break your door? And making sure you get the receipt for everything so I can pay you back?”

“Yep.” Matteo said, popping the p again, blushing when David smiled at him.

“I’ll let you get to that,” he said, and then his face dropped and he said, “and again, I’m so sorry about all of this. I can’t believe I broke into your house and you’re being kind to me.”

“Maybe I just want someone else here for the ghosts to focus on,” he said, and grinned when there was a bang from somewhere behind him, “It can get a little tiring.”

David looked thrilled, and started heading towards the door, calling out on his way, “I can’t wait!”

Matteo watched him walk out the door with a wink thrown over his shoulder, and walked over to the nearest wall, pressed his back against it, and slid down until his ass hit the floor. He dropped his head into his hands, and muttered to himself, “What the fuck just happened?”

There was a quiet knock on the wall a couple of inches away from his head, and he didn’t know who it was from but he appreciated it nonetheless.

***

Matteo made the executive decision to tell absolutely nobody that the first thing he did when someone broke into his house was invite him back. He knew that Jonas would be in a car on his way over in a second just to yell at Matteo in person, and he was sure Amira would learn how to teleport so she could get there first to kick his ass. He figured it was better to keep them in the dark until David turned out to actually be a murderer or something.

He did realize, about an hour after the entire situation happened while waiting for an employee at the hardware store he went to to get him the strongest locks they sold, that he and David hadn’t actually arranged a time for him to come. He didn’t have his number either obviously. And with these new locks he won’t even be able to break in if you don’t answer the door, Matteo thought to himself, laughing just as the employee walked back over. He shot Matteo a strange look as he handed the locks over, and Matteo bought them and left as quickly as he could.

It didn’t really matter too much because a few days later, just as Matteo was twisting the end of a joint he had just rolled, there was a knock on the door. He paused, knowing immediately that it was David because nobody ever came to visit him. He tucked the joint behind his ear and got up, shaking the nerves out of his hands as he walked to the door. He didn’t want to admit how much of his nerves were purely because David was attractive.

He pulled the door open and felt all the air rush out of him. David was standing there with a huge grin on his face, wearing a simple tee shirt and shorts, the camera around his neck and a bag strapped to his back. He tilted his head when Matteo didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” he said finally, stepping back and inviting David in with a slight bow and sweep of his arm, “enter if you dare.”

David took in a dramatic breath and closed his eyes as he stepped over the threshold, and then opened them again, darting around in faux fear at the surroundings. Matteo rolled his own, and crossed his arms over his chest, not really knowing what to say.

Thankfully David seemed to want to get right into working, and he stepped further into the house, his eyes darting around again with actual interest as he studied the foyer of the house. “Can we start in the kitchen?”

Matteo nodded and led him that way, hoping that he had cleaned up from cooking breakfast that morning. He was pleased to see no pots or pans out on the counters, and nothing in the sink, either. David looked around, smiling at the older features and furniture and stepped forward to look closer at the cabinets. He ran his hand over the wood, and then stepped back again, raised the camera to his face, and pressed his finger down. There was a click, the sound of the shutter going off, and then David pulled the camera away from his eye and started clicking through the buttons on it. He turned, took a picture of the open space of the kitchen, and then checked that one too.

#this was a weird but fun one that is not my usual vibe but god did i love this whole idea #davenzi #i guess????#enjoy friends i spent so much time on this

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kirah69 · 4 years ago

Text

Better Than New

Nogitsune/Stiles + pre-Steter + pre...

Summary: The nogitsune gave her a new body, but it wasn't like her old body. He had given her a parting gift.

Warnings: trans mtf character (Stiles), nogitsune, some angst, happy/open ending, Peter provides.

Words: 3510

[AO3 link]

The bandages kept piling up on the floor, damp with saliva. There was silence save for Stiles gasps and retching. When the end of the bandage fell to the floor, for a second or even less it felt like it was all over at last. An instant of relief until black smoke billowed from the bandages and something inside began to move. Everyone went on alert. What else could happen now?

A head began to emerge, pale skin with deep dark circles and long black hair. It was like seeing the girl from The Ring coming out of the television. Several weapons were pointed at her, everyone's attention focused on the stranger. Her brown eyes looked up, tearful and terrified, tired, pleading and confused. Someone recognized her and called her name. The wariness turned to worry and confusion. They stopped retreating and approached her. They helped her out of the bandages, asking all once if she was okay, what had happened, what was going on, in an almost unrecognizable cacophony.

When they remembered the other Stiles and looked around them, he was gone. Lydia too. Chaos broke out again. They all ran after the nogitsune and his new hostage, and only Melissa was left looking after her. Stiles couldn't move, she was exhausted both physically and mentally. Her body felt so strange and her mind felt half empty. She didn't know how she felt at that moment about anything, she didn't even have the energy to think about it.

“Honey.” Melissa put down the glass of milk that Stiles just drank on the nightstand. She twisted her hands in her lap as if she was gathering the courage for something. “What has... happened?” she asked in a whisper.

Stiles turned her head toward the wall. She didn't know what to answer, she still hadn't assimilated it. Melissa didn't ask any more.

As soon as she could get up, Stiles went home and locked herself in her room. She couldn't do anything now. They knew how to kill the nogitsune, and Stiles wouldn't be of any help to them, much less in the state she was in. She didn't even dare to look at herself in the mirror, maybe out of fear that it was just a dream or maybe that it was real. She covered herself with a thick sweatshirt and tied her hair in a ponytail with one of the threads she used for the crime board, tucking the end inside the sweatshirt.

Noah barely noticed in the darkness of the room when he visited to check on her. It was hard to notice the changes in the barely ten seconds he was there before going back to work. They still had a demon to catch.

When Stiles got a message saying they were done with the nogitsune, it wasn't relief that she felt, but she did allow herself to finally worry about what had happened to her. She pulled on the hood of her sweatshirt and headed to the loft in her jeep. She almost had an accident because she couldn't stop looking at herself in the rearview mirror. Her heart was beating so hard it was almost pounding in her ears, and she couldn't keep her hands still on the wheel. She was going to show it to someone, she was going to talk to someone about it for the first time, although she didn't know with whom. She wasn't sure who would be in the loft, although she could imagine it.

Stiles jumped out of the jeep as soon as she parked because she was afraid that if she thought about it, she would regret it and go home. Her body vibrated as she took the elevator up. (She had thought about going up the stairs, but she would have no air left when she got there.) She nervously adjusted her hood for a moment in front of the loft door. When she opened it, the only one there was Peter. He was the only one she really needed to see, so it was no problem.

“Stiles, what a surprise to see you here. I thought you'd be celebrating with your friends.” Peter barely looked up from his tablet for a second and went on with whatever he was doing.

“I don't think there's anything to celebrate,” she muttered, though the wolf could hear her perfectly. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you.”

That seemed to pique his interest.

“About what?” he asked, lowering the tablet.

Stiles took off her hood. She kept her gaze on the ground. At first, she didn't hear anything and then there was movement on the couch.

“I admit I thought my imagination had played a trick on me, but it was real,” he commented with curiosity in his voice.

Stiles shrugged. Yes, it was real, what could she say?

“Why?”

Stiles looked up. The wolf was in front of her, looking her up and down with interest. She was ready to answer, she expected that question from Peter, but his gaze made her nervous.

“A gift. He said it was a gift for having used my body. Not that it makes up for it, but I admit he's been very considerate,” she commented almost to herself.

“I suppose then you're not looking for a way to undo it.”

She was so grateful that he didn't say the obvious, she could almost cry.

“No, I just want to make sure there'll be no side effects and that... it'll be permanent.”

She was so afraid that it was not permanent, that she would blink and it would disappear, that she didn't dare to enjoy it. She was living a dream, not even in her wildest fantasies had she imagined such a thing, and she was terrified.

“I'm pretty sure it's permanent, and from what you say, it doesn't sound like it's a trap. Although I can't be sure of that, he's a nogitsune after all.”

“It's not a trap, I know that,” she answered confidently.

“You know?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I do know. He was in my mind and I was in his. He knows me as well as I know him. It wasn't a lie, I'm just afraid that now that they've killed him, his magic or whatever created this will disappear,” she explained, unable to control that edge of panic in her voice.

“We can investigate it. It'll be difficult to find anything specific about the nogitsune, though. But I think his magic is powerful enough to make it permanent,” Peter assured her with conviction. “Besides, he's not quite dead either, he's just trapped again.”

This time it was Stiles who looked at him in surprise.

“Trapped? They said...” She breathed a sigh of relief for the first time and most of the tension in her body melted away. Her shoulders relaxed and her legs nearly gave out. She dropped onto the couch and threw her head back. “I know I shouldn't be happy, but... it's...”

“You don't have to give any explanation about how you feel. Only you were there. Only you, and the nogitsune, know what happened in your head. You have the right to feel how you feel.”

Stiles raised her head somewhat surprised and didn't expect the soft smile on his face or the intense way he was looking at her.

“What?” she asked when Peter didn't stop looking at her, almost as if he wanted to pounce on her.

“Those clothes are pretty... terrible for a brand-new body. You should get something more appropriate.”

“Hey! These are my usual clothes!” she exclaimed a little offended.

“I know,” he replied almost as if it hurt.

Stiles blushed and twisted the hem of the sweatshirt in her hands.

“Um... You're... you're the only one who knows. I was hiding it until... well, until I knew it was permanent,” she explained a little nervously.

“All the more reason, this way you can make the big reveal looking your best. Or like this if that's what you prefer, but you can choose.”

“I-I don't have money for-.”

“My treat. Let's go.”

Peter grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. When he just walked away without stopping, Stiles got up in a hurry and ran after him. It was a bit strange having Peter riding shotgun in his car (she wondered how he used to move around the town, she had never seen his car, if he had one), although it was not the first time she had a Hale in her jeep.

The wolf glanced at her as she passed the Beacon Hills mall exit and continued into the neighboring town, but he said nothing. She was not yet ready to meet someone she knew with her new look. She hadn't even thought of an excuse for her sudden change, there was no treatment that would achieve such a radical change in such a short time.

Stiles stopped the car near the entrance to the mall. It was a weekday, so luckily there weren't too many people. She had no time to hesitate because Peter immediately got out of the car and headed for the doors. She used the wolf almost as a shield as they advanced, and Peter led her to the most expensive store in the entire mall. Just looking at the prices made her feel dizzy and somewhat uncomfortable, she shouldn't be in a place like that.

“We could go to...”

“It's my money, and I plan to spend it well,” he replied, almost reading her mind. “Now take your time, I'm in no rush. If you want advice, I'll be in the sitting area.”

Stiles had thought that he would stay by her side telling her what would fit her best, what was most appropriate, what matched and all that, but it made her feel good that Peter stayed in the sitting area and let her choose her own clothes.

After choosing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, Stiles thought she had finished the purchase, but Peter motioned for her to continue without even taking his eyes off his cell phone. After trying on several sizes to find hers, she ended up with three pants and five T-shirts, all of which were not very different from her usual clothes, but fitted to her new body (she liked her style and that wasn't going to change). She wanted to buy a skirt or a dress, but there she was completely lost.

“Do you need help?” Peter appeared behind her suddenly, and Stiles jumped.

“I'm going to put a bell on you,” she murmured. She was holding two dresses in her hands, but she couldn't make up her mind, she didn't even know if she liked either of them. “I have no idea about dresses, I've never... I didn't dare to...”

Peter took both dresses and put them back on the rack. He circled the racks a few times and came back with a dress that left her speechless. The body was black with a V-neck and a diagonal cut at the hip, with four white buttons on the left. The sleeves from elbow to wrist, a patch on the chest and the two-layered ruffled skirt were made of a white, red and black plaid fabric. It had enough plaid to fit her style and not too much to put Peter off. It was modern, casual, discreet (maybe in the future she would try something flashier, but not at the moment), she loved it. She looked at the label and it was just her size, which was surprising because she hadn't told him.

She went into the dressing room and when she came out, Peter was sitting there, like in one of those movie scenes where women tried on dress after dress and came out to show it off like it was a runway (they made it look super fun, but it was exhausting to try on clothes). Peter looked at her with an expression that made her blush. His eyes almost seemed to glow.

“Beautiful...” he murmured.

The blush on her cheeks became brighter, and she hurried back to the dressing room. Had Peter looked at her like this before? Was it because of her new body? Or did she realize it now because she was more aware of her body? Stiles would have to ask him directly if she wanted to find out, but she was not yet ready for the answer.

The total price was too much, but Peter didn't even blink, and Stiles didn't bother to say anything because the wolf wouldn't listen.

“Um, the entrance is on the other side,” she informed him as Peter headed in the opposite direction.

“Hairdresser first. That hair shouldn't be in a ponytail.”

Stiles frowned and touched her head wondering what he meant.

When the hairdresser asked her what she wanted, Stiles went blank.

“Just fix it,” Peter replied instead and turned to Stiles. “You'll have time to do whatever you want, but at least it has to be fixed. That guy doesn't know anything about haircuts.” He was talking about the nogitsune.

Stiles smiled and nodded.

The stylist offered to do her eyebrows and do some makeup, and Stiles agreed. Maybe she shouldn't say it herself, but the result looked pretty good. The hair with more volume still with her somewhat disheveled style, the eyeliner and some gloss on the lips. She looked at herself in the mirror and liked what she saw. For the first time she really liked herself.

This time she saw the wolf approaching in the mirror. Peter placed a hand on her back and looked at her reflection approvingly.

“You won't need the bite to become the most popular girl in the school,” he whispered almost in her ear.

This time she not only felt it but saw the blush blossom on her cheeks in the mirror. She snorted and turned around, she didn't want to keep seeing that silly expression she made with Peter around.

“I'm not unpopular because of my looks, I'm unpopular because of my personality, and that hasn't changed.”

Peter shrugged.

“Their loss.”

Stiles didn't know exactly what was that alleged loss, but she appreciated the encouragement.

She drove back to the loft and really meant to leave Peter there and go home, but she couldn't. She didn't know if her father would be there, she couldn't see him yet. What could she tell him? How was she going to explain this to him? What would he think of her? What would the others think? How was she going to tell them? What if they thought it was just a curse? What if they wanted to “help” her undo it?

“Stiles,” Peter called out to her, and it might not be the first time. Stiles lifted her head and stopped holding the wheel as if her life depended on it. “Do you want to go up?”

Stiles nodded. The wolf must have smelled her panic. She would be stinking at that time.

She took a deep breath and when his breathing returned to a more or less normal rhythm, she got out of the jeep. Peter took the bags (it was not an area to leave anything in the car) and accompanied her. When Stiles opened the loft door, the wolf dropped the bags and pulled out his claws, but before he could stop her, before the growl even left his lips, Stiles lunged at the figure in the middle of the loft that resembled her old appearance.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him with all her might. She was so happy that she couldn't hold back and began to cry. Her legs were shaking and Kuro held her as his lips pressed against her hair.

“Shh, I'm here, Mi-chan,” he whispered, stroking her back.

“I thought they'd killed you and then that you were trapped again,” she murmured against his shoulder without letting go of him.

“Please, they were very foolish to think that they could just trap me in a wooden box after absorbing so much magic. They really only know how to underestimate others.”

He lifted Stiles' face with one hand and gave her a tender kiss. Stiles sighed and smiled.

“I'm glad you're back. Oh.” Stiles remembered then that they weren't alone (as they were always in her mind). Peter was looking at them with his mouth parted and a shocked expression. It sure had to be weird if it had managed to surprise the wolf. “Um, Peter, this is Kuro, the nogitsune, and... well... he's not as bad as you think. There are many things that you guys don't know and many lies that Noshiko told you.”

She was doing it unconsciously, but she had placed herself between Kuro and Peter in a protective gesture. He didn't expect Peter to attack without further ado, without questions and without thinking. Others could, but not him. Still, she had already lost Kuro once and was afraid it would happen again.

Peter put his claws away and relaxed, at least on the surface. He approached with slow steps, trying not to look threatening, more for Stiles than for Kuro.

“Given Stiles' reaction, I'll say I'm glad to see you again in better circumstances,” he told Kuro with a polite smile.

“The smart boy. You have chosen well,” he told Stiles, nuzzling his cheek.

“Uh, I-I haven't...” she stammered nervously. She wasn't sure what he meant, but Kuro knew her mind better than anyone and more than once they had talked about Peter. She just hoped Kuro didn't say anything he shouldn't.

“Why are you wearing these clothes? Now you have boobs, I thought you'd want to show them off.”

“I don't want to show-. Ugh, we just came from buying clothes to... show off my new body.” It was useless to argue with someone who had been in her mind, much less Kuro.

“Great! Put it on, I want to see you,” he said almost like an excited child.

Stiles looked at him with narrowed eyes and a frown. She turned towards him a little without removing the arm that he still had around her shoulders.

“I can't just go around looking like this, people know me as a boy, they won't understand that now I'm suddenly a girl. There's no treatment that will achieve this overnight,” it sounded kind of desperate, and she felt like that. She still couldn't think of anything to explain this.

“Oh yeah, sometimes I forget,” Kuro muttered.

“What?” Stiles asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Human ignorance. But don't worry.” He pulled her close with his arm and gave her a long kiss. Stiles could feel the magic flow through her body. That feeling was no longer alien to her. “Done,” Kuro said with a satisfied smile when he pulled away.

“What did you do?” Stiles asked confused. She looked at her body, but she didn't see anything different, nor did she feel different.

“No one is going to question that you're a girl, for them you always have been a girl,” he answered with complete confidence. Stiles looked at Peter, but Peter shook his head. “It doesn't work with him, I figured you wouldn't mind. I can change it if you want?”

“No, no, it's fine.” She didn't care if it was Peter, he had reacted much better than she would expect from anyone.

“Then come on, it's about time for you to be yourself,” he told her.

Kuro shoved her toward the bags that were still on the floor and approached the wolf faster than Peter could react. He tried to control himself, but couldn't help the tension in his body when Kuro put an arm around his shoulders.

“And why don't you cook dinner for us in the meantime, little wolf?” Kuro asked or almost ordered him with his face very close to his, his breath brushing against his lips.

He looked like Stiles, like the old Stiles, but he didn't smell like her, he didn't speak like her, he didn't feel like her. It wasn't difficult in his mind to tell apart this Stiles from the real one.

“Kuro!” Stiles scolded him when he was about to kiss Peter.

Kuro grinned with sharp teeth without pulling away from the wolf.

“Of course, it'll be my pleasure,” replied the wolf.

It was Peter who gave him a kiss and left without letting him react. Stiles gaped looking behind the wolf and Kuro threw himself on her back, wrapping his arms around her.

“We're going to have so much fun, Mi-chan,” he whispered in her ear.

Maybe, at least Peter seemed willing.

* END? *

Ok, I may continue this fanfic, but that'd be after the one I'm working on. But I don't promise anything. Even so, I accept ideas for a future new chapter.

For the @transbingo : Coming out

#Steter #teen wolf #void stiles #stiles stilinski #peter hale #nogitsune #void #yaoi #slash #english fanfic #void/stiles #trans #trans character #shopping #fanfic #fanfiction #trans bingo

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seagreen-meets-grey · 4 years ago

Text

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 18

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

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- Part 3 -

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Hiccup was roused from his sleep by something warm and wet darting over his face. It tickled and he felt a sneeze rising from the depths of his skull. With his eyes still closed, he scratched his nose, hand colliding with something thick – with very bad breath.

Grumbling, he buried his face into his pillow when that warm and wet sensation dragged all over his cheek again, a strangely familiar smell reaching his nose. Bewildered, he blinked one eye open, coming face to face with a panting dog. It was so close, he went cross-eyed when he properly looked at it, taking in the long tongue lolling out of its snout and reaching out to greet him again.

“Ew!” From one second to the other, he was wide awake, lifting his hands to shield his face from any incoming dog slobber. He was vaguely aware of the body stirring behind him, not yet awakened by the worst alarm clock in the world.

“Hookfang! Come over here, now!”

Hiccup propped himself up on one elbow, the cool air of his bedroom caressing his skin as the blanket exposed his torso. Snotlout was standing in the door to his bedroom, stomping his foot on the ground and yelling for his dog. For once, the canine listened to him, trotting back to its owner with a wagging tail.

“What in the name of hell are you doing here?!” Hiccup whisper-shouted, mindful of the still sleeping person in the room, but it was already too late. The leg slung over his moved first, then an arm appeared from under the covers, a hand pushing hair out of a sleepy face. She blinked and lifted her head, half-opened eyes following the noise to its source.

“What the–” Fully awake now as well, she pressed the blanket to her chest, lifting it so it covered as much of her body as possible.

A giant smirk broke out over Snotlout’s face as he leaned against the doorframe and cat-called. “Well, good morning, there. I assumed that was yours.” He pointed at a piece of underwear lying to his feet. Hookfang took that as an invitation to sniff at it. “Hiccup, my man, I had no idea you had it in you!”

Usually, Hiccup tolerated his friend’s antics, but right now, he was seriously annoyed. “Beat it, Snotlout!”

Snotlout winced, not used to that tone from him. “Jeez, okay. I just need my jacket.”

“Bathroom, on the drying rack.” Snotlout left to retrieve it. “How did you even get in here?” Hiccup shouted after him.

“I still got your spare keys,” it came from the other room.

“Well, leave them here!” With a sigh, he flopped back down on the pillow and didn’t bother to look up when Snotlout stuck his head in the room again.

“Got it. I told you I need my jacket today.”

“Whatever, man. I forgot. Now please leave.”

Snotlout showed no intention to do that. “So, I figure Astrid found you, huh?” He snickered. “She came for you?”

Hiccup was just about to grab a book from his nightstand to throw at him, but Astrid was faster. Her pillow flew through the room with deadly accuracy and Hookfang let out a playful bark when it hit his owner with a loud thud.

“Get the fuck out before I come over there, rip your balls off and shove them up your ass!”

With a visible gulp, Snotlout half-heartedly tossed the pillow in the direction of the bed. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, but no retort came out. Finally, he turned around, whistling for his dog. “Hookfang, heel! Hookfang!” The dog followed him, tail wagging. “See ya!”

Astrid growled loudly enough for him to hear it. They heard the sound of keys landing on a table, followed by a closing door. Then it was quiet.

Hiccup exhaled and looked over at Astrid, breaking out into a grin the moment their eyes locked. “Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I love you.”

She pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I think you did. But just to be safe, say it again.”

“Well then, I love you.” He shifted his position so he lay facing her. She copied him and shuffled closer until they were almost nose to nose, his arm curling around her waist under the covers. His skin prickled where it met hers, a sensation so invigorating, he forgot all about their unwanted guest just now.

“Say that again, I think I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh, I see. You want me to shout it?”

She smirked. “Only if you do it from the rooftops.”

“Gladly.” And he wasn’t even joking. All he had to do first was put on some clothes, at least underwear and a shirt. He made attempts to get up, but she slung an arm around him, pulling him closer.

“No, you stay.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned in and he enjoyed the magical moment of anticipation right before their lips touched. He was alive and his heart was burning like a wildfire. She hummed into the kiss and her hand found his under the blankets, squeezing it as if to remind him, remind herself that this was real.

He released a happy sigh after she’d pulled back just enough to look at him. A small weight landed on the blanket at their feet, jumping on and balancing up their legs. Toothless unceremoniously sat down between their chest, nudging himself into the tight space and inevitably forcing the two humans apart if they didn’t want to inhale cat fur.

“Thanks, bud,” Hiccup complained with a roll of his eyes. “Where have you been hiding when your best friend Hookfang was here?”

Astrid shook her head good-naturedly. “You’re an adorable little mood kill, Toothless. Are you craving attention?” She began to scratch his cat under the chin, evoking a contented purr.

“I suddenly feel sidelined.”

She gazed at him through her eyelashes and winked lightly. “Have I not given you enough attention last night?”

Despite his efforts to appear sulky, he blushed. “I for my part quite like it when you give me attention.”

With a grin, she reached out with her other hand and scratched him behind the ear. “There.”

“Ha ha,” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her touch, nonetheless. “But I’m not going to purr. That’s where I draw the line.”

“That’s okay, babe.”

He wanted to cheer. Astrid Hofferson had just called him babe. He was allowed to call her babe now, too. She was his girlfriend. The cry of joy was dying to leave his lungs, but he contained himself. Not because he wanted to be considerate of Astrid or the cat – she looked about as happy as he felt and Toothless had just unceremoniously wedged himself between them, he would deserve to be startled by a loud shout – but because he wasn’t very keen on dealing with his neighbor. Mr. Mildowicz liked it quiet and had been hammering against the wall last night, some time near the end of round two, and yelled threats to call the police. He was a very jolly fellow. Hiccup and his friends had dubbed him Mildew, after his absolutely pleasant personality and general hairstyle.

Turning his cry of joy into a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks, he watched his girlfriend play with his cat. He never wanted to leave this bed. Besides, four hours of sleep wasn’t enough for a Monday. With a wide yawn, he reached over and lazily stroked Toothless’ fur.

“I have to go to work.” A glance at his clock told him he had about five more minutes before his alarm.

Astrid grumbled, not just because the cat had abandoned her, climbing on top of the dresser, cleaning its fur. “Can’t you just call in sick?” She shuffled closer, laying a hand on his chest and her head on his shoulder. A bit of hair fell into her face and he tenderly wiped her bangs out of her eyes.

“Think of it this way. If I go to work, I will earn money, which I will use to buy you nice food.”

“I could just buy my own food,” she countered.

“True. But I want to buy you nice food.”

“Just steal it, then.” Her voice was only a mumble.

“Okay, overruled. I don’t have any more solid arguments.”

For a while, he listened to her soft breathing, treasuring the sight of her dozing on his chest. Her hair smelled of roses, with a note of vanilla. But when the jarring sound of his alarm clock tore through the moment, it was hard to ignore the incessant beeping for longer than five seconds.

He stretched his arm over his hand to reach the clock and turn off the alarm, his movement forcing Astrid to readjust her position, her head rolling off of him. Immediately, he missed the warm weight on his chest.

“I really need to go,” he said apologetically. She made a sound that sounded like a poor, whimpering dog in the form of a beautiful human girl, tugging at his heartstrings. But he had to stay strong. For… for what, exactly? He momentarily lost all sense of rationality when he looked into her big blue eyes, conveying the regret he was feeling. “Okay, you convinced me. I’ll quit my job.”

He was just about to make himself comfortable under the covers again when she grabbed his blanket and flung it off the bed, exposing him to the crisp air of the room. He made a noise of complaint, but she started shoving at him, trying to roll him towards the edge of his mattress.

“Nu-uh, you’re not quitting your job just to loaf around all day. Up with you!”

It was when she started tickling him that he gave in, jumping away from her evil fingers to sit on the edge of the bed. With a groan, he stretched his arms and upper body before getting to his feet and picking out clothes from his wardrobe. After a minute of silence, he glanced back to find Astrid watching his bare backside with an approving gleam in her eyes. It made him blush.

“Enjoying the view, bed loaf?”

She gave a long affirmative hum. Phantom sensations from the previous night ghosted over and under his skin like a low-voltage electric current. It really was too bad that he had to go to work.

“You can stay as long as you want, by the way,” he offered, voice muffled from the t-shirt he was pulling over his head. “Make yourself at home, take a shower if you like, use whatever products I have, loot my kitchen, for all I care.” He almost stumbled while slipping into his jeans. “I just got my second set of keys back, take them if you want to get fresh bread rolls or, err…” He rubbed his neck, glancing to the side. “You don’t have to. If you want to go home, you can just leave, of course…”

“Thanks,” she said, saving him from an oncoming ramble. “I think I’ll sleep another round.” She wrapped herself in the blankets like a burrito, burying her face in the cushions with one arm under the pillow. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to crawl back into bed to cuddle that adorable burrito. And maybe he’d nibble at some of it… “Hiccup, stop staring. Go earn yourself that money so you can buy me nice food.”

He shook himself out of his daydream, leaving to the bathroom to wash his face and comb the bed out of his bed hair. Pushing the drying rack out of the way, he stood in front of the mirror above the basin, meeting a face happier than it had been in a very long time. Brushing his teeth, he recalled the moment when he’d heard his name over the sound of the pouring rain, when a flustered and determined Astrid had shaken his world into place.

Cold and drenched, they had arrived at his place, and while he’d gone to get dry clothes for the both of them, she’d made a pot of nice, hot cocoa. They had sat on his couch to talk about everything, about them, about their relationship, about Astrid and Eret. The image of her cozy amidst his couch pillows, mug of cocoa between cold hands, wet hair tousled over his t-shirt, a pair of his sweatpants rolled up over her ankles because it was too long for her legs, eyes shining in the light of his living room lamp – it was forever engraved in his memories. Just like the moment she had blushed and confessed all the fantasies she’d had about the two of them, and exhaustion had become a foreign concept.

Now, facing a full new workday, he had to pay the price for not going to bed for actual sleep sooner. But it was a price he was more than willing to pay.

When he returned from the bathroom and stuck his head into the bedroom, if only to catch a glimpse of the love of his life lounging in his bed as if it were her own, she blew him an air-kiss. Grinning, he pretended to catch it at the last second before it flew away, and took it with him into the kitchen where he ate some cereal and prepared himself a coffee to go, whistling a carefree tune. He recognized it as one of the songs they had danced to the day before.

Rain was splattering against the windows once again. It seemed like the unusually hot days of May were over. In a way, the cooler air and cloudier sky felt like a relief after the early summer temperatures of the past weeks. Or maybe Hiccup was just in too good a mood to care.

His umbrella had dried overnight in a corner by the door. He collected his things, grabbed the umbrella, and threw on the jacket he should have taken with him the day before, then he hurried back to Astrid for a goodbye kiss. Getting lost in the taste of her lips and the warm fluttering in his stomach, he had to force himself to step away and leave the apartment. As soon as the door closed behind him, he already missed her terribly. He felt like a teenager in love for the first time, impatiently awaiting the end of school so he could go see her again.

Today, no traffic jam could put a damper on his mood, no slow-driving grandpa in front of him, not even the broken elevator in the office building. With a spring in his step and an energy level way too high for a Monday morning (and after climbing several stories of stairs, winded, with labored breathing), he arrived in his shared office.

Fishlegs was already sitting in front of his computer, head resting on his hand, wearily scrolling through emails. He perked up, though, when Hiccup entered, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“Good morning! Snotlout just texted. I’m supposed to ask you if you… uh, if you used protection? I don’t know if he was talking about what I think he was talking about.”

Hiccup threw his jacket onto a desk in the corner and left his umbrella to dry in the other, resisting the urge to facepalm. “One day, I am going to punch him. Hard. I’ll knock out at least two more teeth.” He sat in his chair and began to try and sort through the chaos he’d left on his desk before the weekend.

“I think you’d do a lot of people a favor if you did that,” Fishlegs commented with a chuckle. “Myself included. Now, what kind of protection was he talking about?”

A small, cheery smirk replaced the exasperated frown on Hiccup’s face. “Remember when you thought this whole Astrid thing was going to blow up in my face?”

“…Yes?”

“Well, guess who was with me last night.”

Fishlegs’ eyes widened. “So he did mean that kind of protection? But… She’s married!”

“Not for long, don’t worry!” He rolled his eyes. “Jeez, give us some credit here.”

“Sorry. I know you’d never… But you were so involved in the whole mess, I was worried for a moment.”

“Well, there is nothing to worry about. Her husband knows. They talked about it. Before she came looking for me.” When his friend visibly relaxed, Hiccup made himself comfortable at his desk, sipping at the rest of his now cold coffee. “You want to know everything, don’t you? I can practically see the question marks and exclamation points floating in your space.”

Fishlegs rolled his chair sideways so there was no computer standing between them anymore. He leaned forward and placed his arms on the desk, eagerly waiting for Hiccup to speak. “Yes. Tell me everything!”

_______________

Astrid blinked her eyes open, the haze of slumber clouding her orientation for a moment. She was sprawled all over the bed, her bare legs tangled in the sheets. Burying her nose in the pillow, she closed her eyes against the daylight until she was fully awake. This second round of sleep had done wonders.

For a while, she enjoyed the feeling of soft linen on her skin, reminding her of the events of last night. In reality, they had put all her previous fantasies to shame. Her nerves still felt raw from the amount of electricity that had used her entire body as an electric lead at every skin-on-skin sensation.

Stretching profusely, she crawled out of bed, shuffling through the apartment, collecting random pieces of clothing from the ground. Her jeans, shirt and jacket were hanging from the drying rack, the jeans still damp. She maneuvered the rack into the hallway and stepped into the shower. There was an almost empty bottle of shampoo and two different shower gels. She picked the one she hadn’t seen her husb– her ex use before.

Once she had towel-dried herself, she slipped back into Hiccup’s sweatpants and t-shirt. Then she took her time making coffee and rifling through his CD collection, spotting several of her own favorite records on the shelf. She found carrots and kohlrabi in his fridge and, humming and dancing to the music on the spot, cut the vegetables into sticks and dipped them in the rest of his cream cheese.

Snacks and coffee on the couch table, she spent an hour scratching Toothless and simply lazing about. Mouth full of carrot, she answered Eret’s curious texts about the success of her mission and talked him through his nerves about his own date that night. It felt so good, so natural, lounging in her boyfriend’s clothes on his couch, texting her best friend about boys.

She didn’t know how to stop smiling. It was only the beginning of the honeymoon phase of a new relationship, she knew that, but at the same time, she felt like it had always been this way. She felt at home.

Since she was already in this fantastic mood, she recorded a long voice message about the whole story to Ruffnut, expecting a lengthy, very detail-oriented talk as soon as her friend got back to her. Said details being mostly sex-related. Maybe she should fix her up with Snotlout some time. She texted Hiccup about it, receiving an affirming answer almost immediately, followed by the pro tip that he and her better not be in the same room as them when they met.

Briefly considering showing up at his workplace during his lunch break, she instead decided to tackle one other thing off her list first. After cleaning the little mess she’d made in the kitchen, she grabbed her remaining clothes and hesitated at the door. He’d offered her the extra set of keys. Would it be weird if she already had access to his place after only one night of dating? On paper, it might seem so, but her gut said otherwise. So she took the keys and left the apartment.

On a whim, she turned back, quickly scribbling a note on a piece of paper that she planted on the small kitchen table, and added a little kiss face. She could have just texted him that she would see him later, but who didn’t like to come home to a hand-written note from a loved one?

Once in her car, she turned up the music and sang along to every upbeat song she could find in her playlist. Only when she parked in front of her parents’ house did she lower the volume, tapping her steering wheel to the beat while she waited for the current shower to pass. When it slowed to a trickle, she collected her damp clothes from the passenger seat and got out of the car.

A little nervous, she entered the house and immediately disappeared to the laundry room where she put her dirty clothes in the machine and her damp shoes underneath the radiator. She was still wearing Hiccup’s clothes, but she didn’t want to change into any of hers. Not yet. They smelled of him.

As she left the room, she met her father in the hallway. He raised his eyebrows at the bunched-up pants and the large shirt. “Hello. You look like you just fell out of bed.”

“I’ve been up at least two hours, dad. And these aren’t mine.” She pointed at the clothes, awaiting her dad’s reaction. He wrinkled his forehead and inspected her closer. Now he realized that Eret’s clothes were bigger and Ruffnut wasn’t even in the country at the moment. And when his brows slowly knit together, he probably remembered her mother mentioning a boyfriend last night. And then…

“Where exactly have you been last night?”

“With my boyfriend.” She stood tall, meeting her dad’s eyes with confidence. She would not convey any notion of guilt or secrecy, because there was no reason to, finally, not anymore.

The surprise and bewilderment on his face was almost comical. “Your what now?”

“My boyfriend. As of last night. The one I’ve been looking for when I came by.”

“You mean when you made me spill my wine on the good, new carpet?”

A sheepish expression scurried over her face. “Sorry.”

“Anyway…” He scratched his beard. “Do I need to lie the next time I see Eret?”

She frowned. “I’m not having an affair, dad! And even if I did, I wouldn’t just tell you like this. I’d swear you to secrecy and threaten you with an axe or a sword or a machine gun, if you will, before I gave you any details.”

He snorted. “Spoken like a true Hofferson.”

“I am one, after all.”

Her dad nodded proudly, then raised his hands. “Before I reach any more false conclusions, let’s say we sit down tonight and you tell me what’s going on, alright? Just one thing really quick before I go back to work – do I need to be angry at Eret?” His expression changed to that of a father ready to drop everything and go punish the guy who had made his daughter miserable. And in that true Hofferson fashion, it made her want to protect Eret from certain death.

“No, no, no, there’s no need to beat anyone up here. Nobody did anything wrong.”

“Alright… Would have been a shame, anyway. He’s a valuable member of our family, after all.”

Astrid realized it would probably need a lot of convincing for her father to actually get used to the changes that would come their way. But she knew he would never try to object to her life decisions.

“Don’t worry, dad, your monthly night of beer and card games is not in jeopardy. I’ll explain everything later. Now, where is mom? Is she home yet for lunch?”

She followed him to the front door where he picked up his bag and keys, preparing to leave for work again. “She should be back any minute.” He gave her a parting nod. “We’ll talk later. I’ll be home at six.”

“Okay.” She was already looking forward to the end of their conversation that night so she could drive back to Hiccup’s place. “Bye, dad.”

Not five minutes after he’d left, her mother’s car pulled into the driveway. Astrid leaned against the kitchen counter and fiddled with a pencil while she waited for her to come in.

“Ah, Astrid, perfect,” her mom said when she walked past the kitchen and spotted her daughter. “Help me with lunch, will you. Then there’s more time to eat.”

“And talk,” Astrid mumbled while she pushed herself away from the counter and took the bag of groceries Wilma handed her.

“What’s that?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Lunch first, Astrid. The line at the store was extra long today and there was this idiot customer at work…”

While her mom ranted about her day, Astrid followed the instructions she gave her in-between complaints about people she had to deal with at work. Half an hour later, they sat at the table, loading spaghetti and freshly made Bolognese sauce onto their plates, with a salad on the side.

“Now what was it you wanted to talk about?” Wilma took a bite of lettuce. “I suppose you’re not going to tell me what was going on yesterday?”

“Actually, I am.” Astrid toyed with the long end of a noodle hanging from her fork.

“You are.”

“Yes.” She laid down her fork and met her mother’s eyes. “You were… You were right. There’s been a lot going on and… I didn’t want to talk about it; I hadn’t even allowed myself to acknowledge most of the issues I’ve been dealing with. And, well…” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Wilma gestured at Astrid’s plate. “Please eat it before it goes cold.” When Astrid picked up her fork again, she continued, “I’m not mad, dear. I just hate to see you struggle when I can’t do anything to make it better. I’m your mother, I’ll always worry.” She huffed a laugh. “I just told my grownup daughter to eat her food.”

“I know, mom. But I’m ready to talk now.”

“Well, it’s about time. Is everything alright with you and Eret?”

A weak smile played on Astrid’s lips as she chewed on a piece of meatball. “It wasn’t, but now it is. It’s a long story and I will tell you everything tonight when dad’s home. Just know that he and I…” She trailed of, staring at her half-eaten food. This was the hardest part. She was still not quite over her fear of failure, especially in front of her mother.

But there was no need to be afraid, she told herself firmly. If she had learned anything, it was that the world wasn’t split in two factions, black and white, winning and failing. Her marriage hadn’t worked out, but she had gained a friend back and collected experience, and she was in a new relationship, one that made her happier after one day than she’d ever been in said marriage. Plus, her mother had just made a point that she was on Astrid’s side. She looked back up. “We’re getting divorced.”

To her surprise, Wilma reached out and laid her hand over Astrid’s, the skin around her eyes crinkling. “I’m so proud of you.”

“What? For getting a divorce?”

“For doing what’s good for yourself.”

“Oh… Thanks, mom.” She’d anticipated a completely different reaction and had to wrap her head around this positive response.

“So what’s with you and Hiccup?” Her mom didn’t hesitate to get right to the next point, not missing out on anything.

Astrid’s smile widened despite herself, and under her mother’s sincerely curious gaze, she gave up on restricting it. She promptly received a knowing look which she ignored, concentrating on the rest of her spaghetti. “I know, I know. You told me and I wouldn’t listen.”

When she didn’t continue, her mother sighed. “Do I have to worm every word out of you?”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Yes, fine, we’re dating now. I liked him the whole time, surprise!” Wilma scraped the last pieces of carrot from her salad plate and shot her a disapproving glance, but before she could open her mouth, Astrid cut her to the chase, forgoing the sarcasm this time. “I like him a lot.” After a short pause of consideration, she added, “A very big lot. As in… As in, I love him. And he feels the same.”

Her mother hummed. “I could tell. If anything, the baking powder was a dead giveaway.”

Astrid pushed her hair out of her face, a light blush dusting her cheeks, like a teenager talking about her first crush. She didn’t say it out loud, but she would eat all the raw baking powder in the world for him. And her and Hiccup knowing about each other’s favorite colors right off the bat had been just as much of a sign, probably – if one believed in signs, that was.

“I’m happy for you, dear. And if you could clean the table, that would be great. I have to got back to work.” She got up and paused, looking her daughter in the eyes. “I am happy. Because you are. Everything else you will figure out. And if you need any help, even if just a few comforting words, please talk to me this time.”

“I will.” Mother and daughter shared a look that communicated more than words ever could. Then Wilma collected her things and was out the door while Astrid loaded the dishwasher. Her belly was full, her heart was swollen and any weight atop her shoulders had dissipated into nothing in the past twenty-four hours.

She couldn’t wait to go back.

#httyd #hiccstrid #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #when lightning strikes #modern au #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around #maja writes #ff #fanfic #how to train your dragon

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