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httpiastri · 5 months ago

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PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER THREE (MELBOURNE & IMOLA)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: more heartbreak but that's probs it

author's note: hello again !!! i've been meaning to post this for several days now but never found the strength to proofread it all. decided to fit melbourne and imola both into one chapter because they were kinda short on their own, and they are about a lot of similar stuff so i think it made sense. hope you enjoy, thank you for all love on this <33 monaco chapter is like maybe halfway done so it shouldn't take too long !! (& i like that one more hehe)

series masterlist

MELBOURNE

"ollie, put on your sunglasses," dino tells his friend, doing the same with his own reflective sunglasses before flipping his cap around. "let's look tough and cool."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the boys in front of you. ollie does as he's told, both of them crossing their arms over their chests as they lean their shoulders against each others. "is that really the pose you're going for?" you ask, and you're instantly met with a string of protests from the impatient swedish man, making you raise your hands in defense. "as you wish..."

you lean back slightly to fit the whole wall behind them into the frame, all works of graffiti apparently important to include, according to your friend. you're glad that you were quick to press the button to take the picture since, of course, they can't keep the pose for more than a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.

you may be complaining a lot about having been dragged around melbourne the entire day, taking photos of your friends, and being forced to socialize. but really, you're thankful for this opportunity to take your mind off everything that's been going on. during your entire break since jeddah, you've been mourning your feature race and dwelling on everything about paul. it's easy to get stuck in your head, to only remember the bad things. and in those times, you're glad to have people around you to pull you out of the darkness.

melbourne will be different. that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got out of the car in jeddah. you got your first f3 win here last season, and despite how it's still a fairly new track to you, you have a lot of confidence driving around it. you have faith in your car, and you know you have the skills to perform well. you just need to actually score some points again to keep up in the championship.

"can you two losers stop laughing already?" you huff, slipping your phone into your pocket. "i'm starving, and i refuse to have dinner in the f2 hospitality before the race weekend has even started."

"blah blah blah, you're just picky," dino says as he strolls up to you, one of his hands coming up to mess up your hair. you shoot him a glare. "whatever, let's get going. i'm really hungry myself, actually."

you rake a hand through your hair to fix the chaos he caused, before hurrying to keep up with the long-legged boys who've already started walking away. as you squeeze in between them, ollie reaches for your hand, fingers slipping between yours. you let out a content sigh; not only because you're finally getting some food, nor because of the way ollie squeezes your hand.

like this, it's like you don't seem to have a single care about anything in the world. like you've just flown across the world to hang out with your best friend and your boyfriend, to just have fun and relax in the sun.

dino and ollie pick up on the change in your mood, too; it's hard not to. though you haven't spent any time with them during the break, with the trio split up between england and italy, your slump has been so palpable that they could tell even from so far away. so seeing you this lighthearted and happy makes them satisfied, too.

the calm before the storm, as they say.

"and you said i was the picky one?" you ask as dino sits down at your table in the hospitality, nothing but some plain pasta and some kind of meat pie on his plate.

"you're not much better now, are you?" he asks back, glancing down at your empty plate and then up at your face again. the little baguette you've already eaten was not nearly enough to fuel you for the upcoming qualifying session.

you sigh. "i miss the fish and chips we had yesterday..."

"that was definitely not a part of our diet plan."

a scoff passes your lips and you shake your head. "maybe it wasn't the best possible food for my performance," you start, looking over your shoulder at the long buffet table. "but at least it was edible. my muscles may not have grown, but my heart sure did. isn't that important, too?"

dino chuckles as he chews down some pasta, shrugging his shoulders. "speaking of your heart," he says before taking a long sip from his water bottle. "i was surprised to see how lovey-dovey you and ollie were yesterday."

you raise an eyebrow at him. "aren't we always like that?"

"yeah you are, that's the thing."

you pause for a long moment. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

a sliver of regret makes its way onto his face, so slight you almost don't pick up on it. "well..." he tries his best to play it cool, even pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications, but you see right through him. "i may have heard something, but it doesn't mat-"

you can't stop yourself from cutting him off. "tell me. now."

now it's dino's time to let out a sigh, pulling a hand through his hair. "i heard that you and ollie were having problems. but clearly, that's not the case."

"and who told you that?"

"well, here's the thing, i-" dino's voice cracks just like it always does when he's nervous or when he's lying. he takes a second to clear his throat, and you intervene.

"it was paul, wasn't it?" you ask, and he doesn't answer. the fact that he doesn't immediately deny it, along with his blank expression, gives it away. "that idiot! oh my god..." dino is just about to speak up again, to explain himself or make up an excuse, but you give him no space. "why are you listening to him and not me? why would you not ask me if it's true before assuming something? is he really more reliable when it comes to my relationship?"

"y/n, you know i'm stuck between you three. you're all my best friends, and..." he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. "how should i know who to trust and who to talk to? i can't even mention him around you."

when his words kick in, your expression softens from the infuriated frown you were earlier displaying. you understand what he means; it must be hard for him to be in the middle of this ongoing cold war. "i get it, i get it," you finally say with a dismissive hand gesture. "just... tell me the details. tell me exactly what he said."

to be fair, the things paul had said to dino weren't as bad as you had expected. it had just been a tiny comment, something along the lines of how paul wasn't sure if you and ollie were still as comfortable around each other since you weren't spotted with him in the paddock in bahrain.

a full-on lie, but not the worst thing to ever happen.

though, what dino then tells you about, is the fact that paul wasn't the only one he heard about it from. kimi had confided in him, too; just like gabriel and dennis.

kimi's story had been pretty much the same as what paul told dino, but dennis said that he had heard that you and ollie had broken up already. and according to gabriel, paul has been telling people that you and ollie are only dating for publicity.

what a joke.

the weight of the rumors sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them break you. and despite how much you loathe the thought of even looking at him, your body is bubbling with the need to confront him. this can't go on.

how are you supposed to not think about paul and ollie all day, every day after that?

when you know your ex-boyfriend has been spreading fake rumors about you, how are you supposed to look at his stupid smile when he's walking through the paddock and not punch him in the face?

you manage to restrain yourself, with some help from pepe subtly grabbing your arm to hold you back whenever he notices that paul is near. the negative thing is that it means you don't get an outlet for your emotions.

you have yet to find any positives to it.

you were always told to not mix your driving with romance. now, you understand why. you're so distracted that pretty much everything gets messed up your entire weekend. you aren't able to prepare well for your sessions, so you end up with a weak 15:th position in the qualifying, along with one dnf in the sprint, in what's probably one of the fastest cars on the grid this weekend.

not even the feature works out for you. after a lucky start with five positions gained, you were finally fighting for points again. though, stalling in the pit is apparently not the most optimal thing to do when looking to climb the ranks, which was something you learned the hard way.

the worst of it all is the fact that of course paul ended up with yet another podium. where's the karma in that?

just when you've gotten out of your car and made your way back to the paddock, you spot him. he's on his way to the podium from the cooldown room, climbing a staircase and loudly chatting with zane maloney about the race.

this time, you can't hold back. he ruined your race; he deserves your anger.

"you're a complete idiot, you know that, right?"

your voice startles zane, who looks at you with a guilty expression for a moment until he takes in paul's reaction, realizing that he's not the one you're mat at. "yeah?" the estonian chuckles.

"yeah, you are!" the volume and intensity of your voice rise by the second as you make your way to the foot of the staircase. "where did you find the audacity to run around spreading false rumors about me and my boyfriend?!"

zane slowly steps away, not wanting to get caught in this crossfire, and ascends the steps towards the podium. paul's amused expression doesn't change at all. "what false rumors?"

you gawk at him, completely dumbfounded by his entire way of acting. "that we're having issues."

"well, you are."

"we are not!"

"come on," he starts shaking his head as you take a quick couple of steps up the staircase. "it's easy to see that you're not happy with him."

it doesn't take long for you to reach the landing he's standing on, and for the first time ever, you find yourself hating how tall he is. the way he looks down at you only furthers your aggravation – it's like you're smaller, like you matter less, like you aren't as strong. "and how would you know that i'm not happy?"

he sighs, as if he's completely uninterested in this entire conversation. like your anger doesn't affect him the slightest. "because i know you." he shrugs. "you don't smile like you used to. ollie isn't right for you."

"oh, but you were?!" you scoff, not believing your ears. "you're so conceited, holy shit! you just ruined my weekend, you ruined both of my races, just- leave me and ollie alone!"

when you turn around to descend the stairs again, you notice the crowd that's started to form below you. great. you haven't exactly been subtle, and you wouldn't be surprised if your yells could be heard all the way back to the campos garage. the sight should scare you – any other day, you would've been so embarrassed you'd want to melt through the floor. but right now, you're too full on anger to care.

"maybe you would be driving better if you were still with me."

paul's voice stops you just as you're about to walk down the first step. you slowly turn back to him, mouth gaping wide and eyes blown up.

"something about being with him is clearly bothering you. you weren't like this when you were with me." you're at a loss for words, which he notices and takes advantage of. "you're prioritizing him over your own racing. you did it in bahrain, you did it again in jeddah. it's not good for you."

"maybe what's not good for me is you, have you ever thought about that?" you walk up to him, a finger pressed up to his chest as you stare up at him. "maybe the reason i'm distracted because you won't leave me alone! you keep on spreading these stupid rumors about me and-" you have to pause for a moment to force down the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. "i can't take it! just back the fuck off!"

you feel like you could explode any second – if that isn't what you just did – and the fact that paul still looks like he doesn't give one single fuck about this makes you want to give him that beating he so deserves. but you hear pepe's voice in the back of your head, reminding you of how the fia wouldn't appreciate having a driver on the grid who gets into fistfights, and so you back off. with one last shake of your head, you turn again, storming down the stairs.

the sea of people at the end of the staircase splits open for you and you hurry away, not taking any time to see if you notice anyone you know in the crowd. you hear a familiar voice call out for you, one you can't quite identify, but you continue running towards your truck.

paul is an idiot – there's no denying in that fact.

but why was there more passion in these two minutes of fighting him than you've had in your entire relationship with ollie?

he can't be right, you decide. you really are in love with ollie, but not in a way that makes you compromise your racing. it's a great relationship, no matter how different it is from the one you had with paul. he may not believe it, but you will make it work.

he can't be right. you won't let him.

ollie heard about the fight between you and paul just minutes later. of course, there are people around the paddock who loves to run around and gossip – and how could they not tell the story of this huge fight to the man who was the topic of it?

in hindsight, he should've come to you instantly. he thought that the wise thing would be to give you space, to give you a few moments to breathe before he came in with all kinds of questions.

but then, when you finally come out of the campos truck over an hour later and make your way over to where he is waiting for you, he can't say anything. he sees the redness of your eyes and hears your heavy sighs loud and clear, and he knows you won't want to talk. he's too late; the wound may still be far from healed, but he still doesn't want to rip off the bandaid you've so carefully applied on yourself.

all he can do is wrap his arms around you, let you rest against his chest and kiss the top of your head, hoping to bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

next time, he will be quicker. he will be there for you right when you need it.

ollie sleeps soundlessly next to you when you pull out your journal from the bedside table. he hasn't had the most flawless weekend either, but at least he scored his first points of the season, which is a great start.

you usually can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about paul. any other day, you're jane austen and nicholas sparks both in one body. but today, there's only one thing that comes out of you.

paul aron is an asshole.

after a few seconds of just staring at your blank journal, another sentence comes to you; one you just can't bring yourself to write down.

but what if he's right?

maybe what you have with ollie isn't true love.

but maybe it's enough.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername not the best weekend race-wise, but alright off the track. we will come back stronger, thank you to the team for all of the hard work :)

show all 54 comments

user keep pushing y/n!! don't let this weekend affect you ❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user .....what is pepe doing in the last slide?

→ yourusername wish i knew 🤷‍♀️ he sure looked silly doing it, that's all i know

→ user ollie and dino then?

→ yourusername 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user pretty embarrassing weekend tbh

→ user send your hate somewhere else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user did anyone else hear those rumors... about her and paul....

→ user omg what rumors

→ user check your dms 😘

IMOLA

melbourne was not a good weekend in any possible way, and having it be the last weekend before a long break? not exactly what you had hoped for.

in times like these, you do the one thing you're better at than anyone; distracting yourself.

hours upon hours in the red bull simulator, mornings and evenings at the gym, rewatching old f1 and f2 races all night. anything to get your mind off your love life. pepe is a lifesaver too, since he's good at picking up on the little hints about your current mood and he understands which of your buttons not to push when you're like this.

though ollie understands why you're behaving the way you are after melbourne, he still doesn't enjoy the fact that you're much less open and harder to get hold of. there's a long period of time where you don't answer his texts as often as you usually do, where you cut your face time calls short for random reasons, and where he just can't get through to you. and it hurts him so much more since he's several hours away in italy, not able to properly talk to you about it.

that's why he was overjoyed when you arrived in imola a few days earlier than you needed, just so the two of you could spend some time alone before the weekend started.

it's currently wednesday night, and you just need to swing by your hotel room before heading out for dinner. "i'm to be really quick," you say as the light on the door blinks green and you enter, shuffling over to your suitcase. "i just need to find my purse..."

ollie strolls around for a few moments, almost as if inspecting the room, before just standing to watch the sun set over the city through your balcony door. eventually, you hear his voice from behind you. "what's this?"

when you turn around, you find him staring down into your open duffle bag on the floor – and on top of all your clothes lies your journal.

shit.

"it's... nothing."

he chuckles. "it's clearly not nothing. it looks like it's been used quite a lot," he says, eyes moving over to you. "is it a novel? a calendar?"

you turn back to your suitcase, pretending like it's no big deal, that you're just much more interested in finding your purse. "well, something like that."

"something like what?" ollie frowns, bending down a little to take a closer look at the outside.

"found it!" you reach for your handbag, pulling it out and holding it up in the air as you step away from the suitcase. "we can go now."

"why aren't you telling me? is it secret?"

ollie is stubborn; it's one of the things you like about him, one of the things that makes him the person he is. without his determination, he would've never made it to f2 nor the ferrari driver academy – and he wouldn't be your boyfriend. so, you aren't surprised that he's not letting go of your journal.

he can clearly tell it's a big deal for you, despite the fact that you try to hide it, and he can't help but feel a bit of worry creep into him when you don't answer him instantly. he regrets pushing you for an answer, but he's also immensely curious – and he's a bit tired of you still keeping secrets from him, despite the fact that he would never tell you that.

after a few more moments of silence, he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. and with the way he's looking at you, there's no way you can hold back from telling him.

you tell him about when you first bought it, that rainy day back home in cambridge and that little bookshop near your elementary school. you tell him about how it just called for you, begged for you to buy it, how the dark blue color felt like it was chosen just to attract attention from your eyes and your eyes only.

and you tell him about your therapist and the amount of time you've spent trying to work out all of your issues. you tell him about how when she suggested that you find an outlet for your emotions that's more easily accessible during race weekends, your mind instantly wandered to the little journal you'd bought but found no use for yet.

but you make sure to leave out all of the details, only filling him in on the major issues. you don't tell him about just how bad your performance anxiety gets, or about how close you've been to just quitting racing when your imposter syndrome thoughts cloud your mind. you can't let him know too much, get too close.

you try to brush it off as something casual, like it's no big deal; but you also make sure to tell him how extremely secret it is and about the many ways you would kill him by if you found out he'd read in it. your tone is one of levity, of course – but in reality, you weren't really kidding.

paul knew about the journal, too, and you knew how much he longed to know more than the color of the wrapping. you'd often find him with pleading eyes as he watched you write, tiny pout on his lips and a joking comment along the lines of "you're not cursing me out in that, are you?".

but despite how curious he was, paul never overstepped his boundaries. he would never – and you trust that ollie won't, either. he's far too good for that, too kindhearted and empathetic to go against your wishes. especially with how fragile and vulnerable you look to him in this moment.

he makes sure to listen to every word that leaves your mouth, nodding understandingly and letting you finish pouring your heart out before he speaks up.

"you know, you could also use me if you want to,” he starts, a gentle hand coming up to caress your cheek. "to talk to, i mean. or rant, or anything. if you think being vocal about it instead of writing could work."

of course he would try to find a way to help you out. to him, it's a win-win situation – if venting to him works for you, then that's great, but it would also mean that he could maybe finally work himself past that wall you've built up around yourself. if you start telling him about your feelings for your own sake, maybe he can finally get to know you better and get closer to you.

but that's the thing. opening up means being vulnerable, letting your guard down. you do trust him, you really do; so why can't you just do it?

ollie smiles at the little nod you give him – it's not a promise, but it's a good start. you've started talking to him, and he thinks that maybe the momentum will keep you going.

you realize that he's still holding your hand when he gives it a soft squeeze, standing up from the bed. "enough of that now," he says, trying to ignore the slightly somber expression taking over your features. "let's go to that restaurant, hm?"

you intertwine your fingers with his and rise next to him, slinging your purse over your shoulder with another nod. "let's go."

seven missed calls.

that's the sight you're met by when you scan over your phone notifications after your post-qualifying debrief with the team. you don't even need to check who they're from; you knew your dad would be dissatisfied with your results from the second you stepped out of your car halfway through the session.

before today, you hadn't spun out in a qualifying session since your karting days – but apparently, there's a first time for everything. another qualifying outside of the top ten means that yet again, you will be starting in the lower ranks in both races. missing out on the reverse grid always sucks, but it sucks a little extra when you know you could've, and should've, performed better. with pepe's third-place finish, you know your campos car was good enough to end up in the top of the timings. if only you'd kept the car on the track, maybe you could've proved something.

proven that you're capable, proven that you belong here. proven that you actually can handle the pressure.

if you know your dad right, he's definitely not calling to give you his condolences or cheer you up. it's not exactly his style. chances are, he's not just going to criticize your performance, but also compare it to a certain someone else's.

ollie managed to snatch that second place for the starting grid on sunday, which is something you should only be happy about. but as much as you adore your boyfriend and wish him all of the joy in the world, it's upsetting that he needed to perform so well this weekend. it's like the fuel to your dad's "you should've gone to ferrari"-fire he wanted so badly.

pepe knows that look on your face by now; he's been a first-hand witness to your fights with your father too many times to count by now. his hand on your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze after he's watched you flip your phone upside down on the table with a sigh before slumping further into your seat.

"did someone die in here or what?" sebastian's voice spreads through the room when he walks into it and catches a glimpse of you. the air is so thick with tension that he fears he will choke on it if he doesn't try to lighten the mood a bit.

"nothing except my weekend, i guess," you mumble back, not giving into his attempt that easily. what's he so happy for, anyway? his result of qualifying 25th isn't exactly something to celebrate, either.

"hey, cheer up," sebastian says. "we'll have an overtaking party this weekend!"

when you stay quiet, pepe says something quick in spanish to sebastian who just nods, eyes flickering between you two. you let out a groan – it's ironic, really, since you're a driver for a spanish team, but you hate it when people speak spanish around you since you can't understand it. especially when you know they're talking about you but not with you.

pepe apologizes instantly, but the smile on his lips never falters. not even your behavior is enough to stop him from beaming over his own qualifying results. for the first time in a while, he is actually happy after a session – and he won't let you ruin it.

"okay, come on. i have the perfect plan to save this night," pepe starts. your phone buzzes on the table with what you assume is another angry message, and you're just about to open it when he interjects. "and that starts with giving me your phone."

"that seems pretty suspicious…" you say, though you understand immediately why he does it. pepe knows you far too well already.

you reluctantly place your phone into the hand he holds out for you. "i promise to let you know if ollie or anyone on the team texts you. but i think you need to stay away from this for a while." he nods toward sebastian, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "could you run out to get some kind of candy? anything that could work as poker chips is good enough."

"and i suppose that means my deck of cards is needed, too?" you ask, not able to hold back from smiling anymore at your friend's silly attempt to cheer you up.

"you bet."

call it childish, but your poker session really did serve its purpose. it ended up being the first time you've been able to properly relax and just have fun in months. it didn’t matter that none of you three got a lot of sleep – just getting to enjoy the moment was good enough.

however, the next day, it was all back to square one again.

the sprint race was indeed an overtaking party, as sebastian had suggested – but six overtakes from p20 is still not enough for any points, not even when about five drivers crash in the first lap. despite all that, you still had some hope for the feature; even more laps to work your way up the ranks and the possibility of having a good strategy were the only two thoughts on your mind.

but yet again, you left the race having scored exactly no points. and to your biggest annoyance, the winner was the one person you prayed would not get the win. one pretty much no one had expected.

just like spa last year in f3, paul was insanely lucky with his choice of strategy. with a perfectly timed late pit stop when the safety car came out, he came out in the front of the field on his new option tires. pretty much the entire field behind him had opted for the opposite strategy, which meant he soared away at the safety car restart and took the win quite easily.

at least, now the championship can't possibly get any worse, can it?

celebrations are always due when paul wins, and this weekend is no exception. you honestly wanted nothing more than to stay back in your hotel room and forget about the weekend even happening. but after some combined begging from ollie, pepe and jak, all saying something about how "you're no fun anymore" and "it's been so long since you partied with us", you finally gave in.

"and i promise, you won't be left alone for even a second," ollie whispers into your ear as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the door to the club of the night. "i'll be right here, and all of your other friends. okay?"

your answer comes in the form of a hum and a quick nod as the loud music floods all of your senses the second you step into the club. your boyfriend gives you a squeeze, just about to speak up again, when he spots pepe waving at you both from a table a few meters ahead.

"you actually made it!" he exclaims when you join him, reaching over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to his side again. "and you look great. i was scared you'd show up wearing your race suit or pyjamas just as a form of protest."

"trust me, i wanted to," you tell him with a shrug. "but someone stopped me. said it wasn’t appropriate."

"what, i was just supposed to let you make a fool of yourself?" ollie scoffs from next to you. "isn't that why i'm your boyfriend? making sure you don't embarrass yourself in public?"

"of course, what else?" you say back without missing a beat, giving him a pat on the top of his head. you then turn to greet dennis, zak and gabriel, who are also standing by the table. the discussion around the table easily falls into a race debrief, before morphing into a debate about the f1 race of the night. but it doesn't take long until the group is split up, with pepe and gabriel deciding to go for a round of dancing on the dance floor, and dennis and zak both running off toward the bathrooms.

you have to confirm to ollie about five times that you indeed will be alright standing alone for a few moments as he walks the twenty meters away to the bar to get you both a drink before he actually goes away. the way he's treating you feels somewhat strange; like you're some kind of fragile glass sculpture, like even the slightest hint of turbulence will make you break.

but then again, maybe you've earned it. your recent months definitely haven't been making you any stronger, that's for sure.

you don't really mind it at first; the slight tipsiness you already feel from the shots dennis had ordered for the table and the throbbing bass from the random house song playing on the dance floor doing a good job at drowning out your thoughts. except, that's only until something out on the dance floor catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

paul has been gone all evening, busy celebrating his win probably, and your heart flutters momentarily at the sight of him out there. but when you turn your head towards him to take him in fully, your heart drops instead.

he's with someone. and not just anyone – a girl.

a girl who's got her arms draped around his neck, while his hands hold her hips close to him.

the smiles on their lips can be spotted from miles away, and you can hear the sweet sound of paul's laughter ringing in your ears when you see her lean in to whisper something in his ear.

who is she? what's she doing with her arms around him? why is she-

your thoughts all go silent when paul places a hand underneath her jaw, leans down, and gently presses his lips to hers. it's like the entire world goes silent; like everything else is just a blur of blinking lights, but the spotlight is on the couple on the dance floor. your eyes can't help but follow their lips, their hands caressing each other's bodies...

goosebumps spread across your skin in an instant and an eerie feeling passes through your body. you finally manage to pull your gaze off paul and the girl – who is she, anyway? – and you turn away, making a beeline to the restroom. thankfully, a woman exits through the door just as you arrive, and you're quick to lock yourself in.

once you're inside and pressing your back up against the wall, it's like everything that's been building up in you is let loose. the walls are broken down, and every thought and emotion you have comes crashing down onto you. rivers of tears are flowing down your cheeks before you can react, and you slide down the wall, knees coming up to your chest as your hands come up to cover your face.

there's this strong, heartbreaking feeling spreading through your chest. is it jealousy? is it disappointment? regret?

what you do know is that this aching feeling in your heart is stronger than ever.

is this how paul feels when he sees me with ollie?

it can't be, you think – it just can't. paul can't be in this much pain...

does this mean that you still love him? does this mean you still aren't over him?

you know you should be over him already. you've tried so hard, put so much energy into your relationship with ollie. and yet, you still feel like this.

it's not fair. not to you, and especially not to ollie. he cares about you, respects you, supports you – hell, he's probably out there right now looking for you and wanting to make sure you're okay. he really likes you, and he thinks you like him too. but here you are, crying about another man.

when you're all out of tears, you use your last piece of strength to push yourself up from the floor, standing up and leaning over the sink. wearing non-waterproof is both a blessing and a curse; the trails down your cheeks are straight out of a nightmare, but they're also easy to wash off with a little water and some paper towels. the redness in your eyes isn't as easy to erase, unfortunately, but it'll have to do. you hope to be able to blame it on being tired, or having too much to drink.

you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom and making your way towards the crowd on the dance floor again. the music is just as loud as it was before, and the crowd is just as sweaty and chaotic as a packed summer festival. thankfully, you don't see paul anywhere, but you find ollie quite easily. he's standing by a high table with gabriel and dennis when you approach, eyes lighting up when he spots you.

"there you are!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "i've been looking for you–" ollie cuts himself off, his eyebrows furrowing a little. his voice lowers a few notches. "what's wrong?"

he noticed. in hindsight, how could he not? he's always been extremely attentive. "it's nothing, i..." you start, looking down at your feet. "i'm just exhausted from the day."

but he isn't stupid. he knows, he understands. even if he doesn't know who or what caused it, it's easy for him to tell that you've been crying. he nods, arm dropping from your shoulders to hold you around your back. "okay," he says, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze. "let's leave."

you look up at him again. the last thing you want is for him to have to cut his night short just for you. "no, i can go alone-"

"i don't mind. we came together, so we're leaving together." and before you can interject again, he's already said his goodbyes to the boys and pulled you along through the crowd.

the cab ride back to the hotel is mostly silent. you play the "exhausted" card, while ollie plays the "naive boyfriend" card. but just because you're both quiet doesn't mean your heads aren't absolutely buzzing. your mind is racing with the memory of paul's lips on that girl, kissing her and holding her like he used to kiss and hold you. but your thoughts are also clouded by the guilt you feel for being this much of a mess, and making yourself so unavailable to ollie.

ollie, on the other hand, isn't exactly rolling his thumbs, either. it takes his everything not to push you into telling him what's wrong; he wishes you would tell him because you want to, not because he's pressuring you. he's so worried about you, but at the same time, he hates the fact that you won't confide in him.

what's he doing wrong? why don't you trust him?

ollie is fast asleep next to you in your hotel bed when you pull out your dark blue journal from the bedside table.

the journal is not a secret from him anymore per se, but you still waited until this moment. the guilt of writing about another man when ollie is the one in bed with you is too big to face with his brown eyes looking up at you, so you'd rather do it like this.

yet another round of the championship, yet another bad weekend. no points, bad results as always – and that's not even the worst part.

paul was with another girl. someone i've never seen before. but he was acting like they were attached by the hip. like they've known each other forever. like i wasn't even there.

he must've known i would see. and yet, he had no issues kissing her like his life depended on it.

is it only this painful to see paul because we haven't spoken in weeks?

or is it going to be like this forever?

and just like in melbourne, there's one more thought that springs to your mind that you just can't find in yourself to write down.

i wish it were me.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a weekend to forget, focusing on monaco instead. thanks for your support. ❤️ #foreversenna

show all 47 comments

user you did the best you could 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user honestly what is she doing?

→ user bad results over and over even though the car is on fire, what even

→ user awkward

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user are she and ollie even a couple anymore?

→ user just because she doesn't post him, they've broken up? 🤨

→ user no no it's just because i've heard things... 😶

→ user omg pls tell me

→ user she'll delete the comment probably 🤪 but lemme dm you

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mynameismckenziemae · 9 months ago

Text

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 9

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC

Summary: Jake has a surprise for you on the last day in California.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, p in v, pussy slapping, light dom/sub, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

The next 2 days are spent tying up loose ends and spending time with the squad who’d welcomed you with open arms.

It was your final full day in California and you’d spent the afternoon at the beach with Bradley, Natasha, and Bob, with the others planning on heading over in a bit with food and more drinks.

You notice storm clouds in the distance, so you lean back into Jake’s chest. “I think it’ll miss us, but I think it’s time.”

“Okay, where are you thinking?” Jake asks, reaching for your bag holding the small water-biodegradable flower-shaped urn with some of your mom’s ashes.

“There,” you say, nodding to the empty pier over the water.

“I’ll give you a minute alone first?”

“Perfect,” you smile, pressing a kiss to his lips before you rise.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Tears are rolling down your face as you stand at the edge of the pier, reading the letter you wrote the day before.

Hey Mom,

I’m here in California. I can see why you had it in mind when you were pregnant with me; it’s beautiful. I’m so glad you broke down where you did though.

I still can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been when you found out about me. You were so brave and always so strong. I’m in love with Jake (which you and everyone else apparently knew). I wish you were here to see how happy he makes me. I’m sorry we didn’t figure it out until after you were gone. I miss you.

“You okay?” Jake murmurs as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“I am,” you sigh. “Just miss her.”

“Me too.”

He holds as you take a deep breath and drop the flower over the calm water, a stark contrast to the storm still in the distance. You both watch it for a few minutes before he releases you and takes a step back.

“Turn around, Charlie.”

The tears don’t stop and your heart begins to pound as you face him.

He’s down on one knee, holding a beautiful diamond ring.

“Yes!” You cry, wrapping your arms around his neck with a happy sob before he even has the chance to ask.

“I had a whole speech planned but I can’t remember any of it,” he chuckles as he places the ring on your finger, barely audible over the cheers and whistles from the squad.

“It doesn’t matter, my answer would still be yes. I love you, Jake. Always have, always will.”

“Charlie, look,” he whispers, nodding over your shoulder.

You smile through your tears as you see a stunning, vibrant rainbow over the water.

Love you too, Mom

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“I promise I’d call my mama if she said yes. We’ll be back in a few,” Jake calls to the group as he pulls you towards his truck.

“If I said yes? Did you really think I’d say no?” You laugh.

He just smiles as he opens the back door of the cab and lifts you inside. He parked in the shade and left the windows cracked so the truck isn’t stifling as you get inside.

“Oh gosh, she’s gonna be so-“ you start to say but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“We’ll call her after, I need you first,” he murmurs against your lips, fumbling with the button to your shorts.

“You want to…here?” You ask as he dips his fingers into your bikini bottoms. “Yeah, okay…here’s good,” you agree when he finds your clit.

“So wet for me already,” he groans as he nudges your swim top with his nose to suck your nipple into his mouth.

“Have you seen yourself without a shirt? Been like this all day,” you pant, hands untying his shorts.

“And you didn’t tell me? Naughty, naughty girl.”

You shudder at his words. A moan is ripped from your throat when he bites down on your nipple the same time his fingers stop their circling to place a light slap to your clit.

“I…I mean, you make-fuck!” You stutter, crying out when he slaps your clit again. “Now Jake, I need you now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he growls against your breast before he lays you on the bench seat. You push your shorts off while he does the same to his before he climbs over you.

He runs the head of his cock through your slit, gathering your arousal before he pushes in with a satisfied groan.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks you into the seat, pulling gasps from you with each thrust.

“Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you as my wife,” he grunts, reaching down between your bodies. “I’m gonna make you a mama…we’re gonna try out every kinky idea in that dirty mind of yours…” He slaps your clit, inhaling sharply as you clench around him. “We’ll definitely be exploring that more too. You like that?”

You whimper as you nod, on the knife’s edge of your orgasm.

“Or is it when I call you a naughty girl?” He pants, resting his head on your shoulder as his hips continue to pump into yours.

“Answer me,” he growls, biting your shoulder. He slaps your clit once more when you hesitate and that’s all it takes to push you over the edge with a muffled cry.

Unable to hold back from the sting of your nails in his back and the rhythmic tightening of your pussy, he cums too with a deep groan of his own.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“I think there are some napkins in here,” Jake says, rifling through the center console a few minutes later after you’ve both caught your breath.

You whimper as he cleans between your legs, clit still puffy and sensitive. “Later, sweetheart,” he promises.

He fixes your hair when you sit up and you look each other over before heading back to the group near the water, roasting hotdogs over the fire.

“What’d your ma say? She pretty excited?” Bradley asks his eyes on the fire.

He looks up when neither of you replies, and laughs when he sees your ruffled appearance and the way you’re looking at each other with wide eyes.

“You guys were totally fucking!”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Thankfully your embarrassment is short-lived when Natasha brings up the times she’s caught nearly all of the other guys in the act.

The rest of the night is full of laughter and reminiscing. Your eyes fill with tears as he says his goodbyes. You know he’ll see them again but you can’t help but feel guilty that he’ll be leaving some good friends.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks, putting his arm around your shoulder on the walk back to his truck when he hears you sniff.

“I feel bad that you’re leaving some of your best friends for me.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll still see ‘em. We’ll visit, they’ll visit. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them ended up transferring to Kingsville too. I’m not leaving California just for you either. Sure, you’re the big reason; I want to start a family and be closer to ours. But I’m also done with the deployments, the combat, the ejections, and nearly dying. I’m ready to teach the next gen.”

“Okay. Just don’t resent me, okay?”

“Never.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“So when do you want to tie the knot?” You ask much later when your appetites for each other are finally sated with your head on his bare chest.

“As soon as possible. You can order a dress online, I’ll wear my dress blues or a tux and we can get married at church and have the reception in Ma and Dad’s yard by the garden,” Jake jokes, fingers playing in your hair.

“That actually sounds perfect,” you smile.

“Really?”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, Jake. I’d be happy to stop at the courthouse tomorrow but I can’t imagine Ruth would forgive us if she’s not present. How mad was she when you told her about the proposal?”

“The only reason she didn’t drag me to the woodshed was because I told her about your plan to spread Lisa’s ashes. I hope you didn’t find that morbid, I just wanted you to feel like she was a part of it too.”

“Not at all, Jake. It was perfect.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: it’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me (I want Jake to call me naughty and spank/slap/choke/humiliate me). Fuck.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #jake seresin x ofc #jake hangman seresin x ofc

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animeomegas · 1 year ago

Note

NOOOOO MY BABIES

You can't do this to me man! I need them to be happy! (in reference to the kind stranger story)

Seriously though, good work!

-Ghost Anon

Hehe, just for you Ghost anon, I'll add a second part ;D

...

Naruto and Sakura had fallen asleep about an hour ago, apparently such a pitiful sight that the mednin had allowed them all to stay past the end of visiting hours. Or maybe the nurses were just so shocked to see Kakashi willingly in the hospital that they just forgot to kick him out.

He was staring out the window now, just watching the cycle of Konoha lighting up in the evenings, only to slowly darken again as the night crawled in. He wondered briefly at which part of Konoha Sasuke was currently sulking in. He debated going after him but-

"-shi," a weak voice followed by a weak cough startled him. He turned around instinctively, almost going to his weapons pouch out of habit.

You were awake.

Kakashi forgot how to move.

"Water," you croaked, unable to move under the weight of two genin snoozing on your already weakened body.

"Water," Kakashi repeated, hurrying to pour a cup from the jug on the nightstand. His hands were shaking and it took more concentration than it should have for him to refrain from spilling it everywhere. "Here."

He helped you sip the water, gently supporting your head up as his mind reeled. The mednin had said that gaining consciousness would be a great sign of recovery. Through the crashing relief clouding his brain, he then belatedly remembered to press the call button.

You smiled at him and, before the nurses began filling the room, gently nudged Sakura and Naruto awake.

"Mmm, five more minutes," Naruto grumbled, snuggling closer.

"No, Naruto, you need to wake up now, the nurses have to check on me," your voice was weak, but the amusement and affection was still blatantly understandable.

Sakura shot up, eyes swollen and hair wild.

"You're awake!" she said, wrapping her arms around your neck.

That seemed to be enough to wake up Naruto, who shot up, wiping the drool off his chin as he did.

"YOU'RE AWAKE!" he yelled, crashing into you and eliciting two 'oofs' from you and Sakura.

Tears and sniffling started up again, but this time Kakashi didn't find them to be nearly as uncomfortable. On one hand, because these were happy tears, and on the other, because you were there to deal with them.

"Where's Sasuke?" you asked, looking around like he might suddenly pop out of the bathroom or from under the bed.

"Teme left a few hours ago," Naruto grumbled, nuzzling into your neck with abandon.

"I think... it was too much for him. Hospitals trigger bad memories for him," Kakashi said slowly, automatically looking up at you for approval. He was rewarded with a smile that told him he had likely understood the situation correctly.

"Can you two go and find him for me?" you asked, nudging Sakura and Naruto. "I need to have the nurses check up on me now. And Kakashi, can you see if you can find anywhere still open to grab us all some food?"

Kakashi hesitated and he could see Naruto and Sakura doing the same; none of them wanted to leave you alone after what had happened. You only smiled and rolled your eyes.

"I'll be fine, but I want some privacy for my medical exams, okay, so scram, all of you. The faster you complete your tasks, the faster I'll let you back in."

That was all the encouragement Sakura and Naruto needed. They both leapt off the bed, falling a little as they went, and shot out the door, already bickering about who was going to find Sasuke first.

After they were gone, Kakashi sent you a one fingered salute, pulled open the window, and slipped out into the night, remembering to close it behind him in case you got cold. He had a feeling that convenience store food was going to be the only thing he would be able to get so late, but he really, truly didn't mind, because they'd all be eating it together.

As a team.

As a family.

#kind stranger #hcs #a/b/o #omegaverse #headcanons #kakashi #sakura #naruto #sasuke #alpha!reader #gn reader

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cceanvvaves · 1 year ago

Text

try it; h.mm

(moved to isanggayfrog) warnings: a bit suggestive at the end in an unserious way

Momo's hands were wrapped around your smaller own with her arm pressing into your side. Your eyes roamed around the mall, looking for items that might catch your eye and were affordable enough for the pitiful amount of money in your wallet.

You don't know what Momo and you are. You'd say friends, best friends even, since that was what you two were throughout the duration of your school days. But she left you confused. You shared a somewhat intimate skin ship, like neck and shoulder kisses or her hand on your thigh whenever you felt anxious.

That's normal among friends, right?

Anyway, she dragged you here saying she needed to buy something, promising that she would pay for dinner. Well, you're not saying no to free food.

"Hey, how about there?" She pointed to a pasta and pizza restaurant on the sign. Apparently, you were 2 floors too low. "Sure. Escalator?" She shook her head. "Nah, it's too far. The elevator's just there."

"But- The time we spend waiting is probably the time we spend looking for the escalators," you complained, not wanting to stay in an enclosed space with strangers. What if it stops moving in the middle?!

"Don't be a baby, you can hold my hand," Momo teased. "I already am," you muttered. She brought her hand up to ruffle your hair, messing it up. You shot her a dirty look, to which she responded with a smile.

She pressed the 'up' button, and to your surprise it arrived almost immediately. There was a guy and a girl inside already though, and you assumed they were a couple based on their matching shirts. You stepped in, standing on the opposite corner from the couple.

To your dismay, the two started kissing. You fidgeted uncomfortably while Momo banged her head against the wall softly. Not because you were disgusted by kissing, it's just because they looked like they were eating each other's faces. Aren't they worried about that CCTV camera always on the left corner?! Damn, the security guards are getting a live show.

They seemed to be going to a floor higher than you, because the elevator didn't stop until yours. When you finally arrived at our floor, you practically ran out, only slowing down a bit so as to not seem rude. "Whew," Momo said, "I'm free." You snickered, pushing her inside the restaurant and reminding her to pay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You flopped down to my bed, waiting for Momo to finish showering. "Ughh," you groaned, "I'm so full." You heard a chuckle, raising your head to look at the source of sound. Momo stood in front of you in all her glory, black hair still wet, hair plastered to her face and wearing nothing but sweatpants and a sports bra, exposing her fit figure.

Your face turned red, causing you to roll over and hide your face in the sheets. "Go put on a shirt," you mumbled into the pillow, your voice coming out muffled. You heard Momo laugh again. "What? Don't you like the view?"

"Shut up," you grumbled, standing up with your eyes screwed shut and feeling around blindly for your towel. You felt it being shoved into your hands and a pair of soft lips brush against your temple. "Here. You'll fall over like that." You finally opened your eyes, sneakily grabbed one of Momo's bigger shirts, and rushed into the bathroom.

Once you finished, you walked back into the bedroom and found the television on. "What's happening?" you asked, automatically taking your place beside your roommate. She moved so that you sat between her legs instead, your head resting against her shoulder. "Movie night, remember?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Halfway through the movie, you felt bored. You examined your nails instead, until you felt hands wrapping around your waist. You let Momo cuddle you, enjoying the warmth radiating from her body. She placed her cheek against yours, before placing a quick kiss you were used to, but still didn't fail to make you blush. But she had something else to surprise you with.

"Y/n, what are we?" she said without hesitation, making you widen your eyes and hastily turn to look at her. "Why are you asking me that?" Momo shrugged. "I was just curious."

"I don't know, what do you think we are?"

She shrugged again. "I, um.. wanted to try something." You raised an eyebrow. "Try what?" This time, she was the one who looked nervous. "Do the thing that that couple was doing in the elevator."

You turned a full circle to face her by now. "What, you mean... kiss?"

"Well, yeah."

You didn't answer for a moment. Of course, You've always wondered what her lips would feel on yours, so you suppose you should take my chance now to feed your curiosity. "Okay."

Momo scooted closer and leaned forward, putting her lips on yours. You didn't have much experience, but she guided you, and damn, she was a good kisser.

It started slow and sweet, since you were trying it for the first time and she wanted to make sure you were comfortable, always pausing to ask if you were fine.

The moment she kissed you for the second time though, the atmosphere changed.

You got the hang of it, shifting a bit into a more comfortable position, now finding yourself on her lap. Her grip on your waist tightened when you wrapped your arms around her neck, feeling her smile against your lips. You tilted your head to fit perfectly, feeling Momo's nose tickle your cheek. She pulled away only to press kisses along your neck. Sure, you've done this before, but this was different. A soft sigh escaped your lips, telling her that you were enjoying it. You played with her hair, gasping blissfully when you felt her hum against your skin.

"Wait," you breathed. She obliged immediately, moving away to hold eye contact with you. "I'm pretty sure that couple didn't go that far."

"Do you want to..?" Momo smirked. Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. "I only agreed because you asked what we were. Do you know now?"

"I mean, I'd say girlfriends, if you agree."

"Are you asking me out?"

"Obviously."

"Say, how about we eat out tomorrow?"

"WHAT?!"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT YOU NASTY-"

#twice #gn!reader #female!reader #hirai momo #momo x reader #twice imagines

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nin-twst · 6 months ago

Text

Yu and the Three Mers - Part 2

Part 2 - Jade - Returning to the Mostro Lounge, Yu prepares a meal for the Octavinelle trio with Jade's help.

A/N: alksdhfjaklsdfj this was supposed to be done by the 20th but finals got to me,,,,, i gotta go speedrun azul's part if i wanna finish by the end of may see ya soon 🫡

have fun <33

When they got back to the Mostro Lounge, only Jade was there to witness her unfortunate, exhausted state as she got tossed around by Floyd. Apparently she was “the perfect size for tossing”— whatever that meant.

At least she wasn’t being squeezed?

Jade simply watched on as he cleaned glasses behind the bar, her work that she had left earlier in a neat pile next to him. If she was in any other mood, she would have been worried about whatever information Jade stole from it— which should be none, considering it was not in a language he shouldn’t understand— but she just swam with Floyd and was being swung around like a ragdoll. Yu was way too tired to care about the potential consequences.

“I’m hungry and tired now,” Floyd complained, flopping down in one of the booths.

Yu, who had been left lying on the floor after a failed catch, groaned as she sat up, rubbing the areas that hit the floor. “If you let me go earlier the food would have been done by now.”

“But then who am I supposed to play with?”

“It’s food or play. I can’t do both at the same time.”

A soft chuckle interrupted their argument before they even began. Jade smiled from his spot behind the bar, away from the chaos. “Oh, my. The prefect is cooking for us tonight?”

She waved her hand in his brother’s general direction. “Floyd wouldn’t shut up. Can I borrow the kitchen and some ingredients?”

“Fu fu, of course. I happened to acquire some new ingredients just the other day. Perhaps you can put them to use.”

New ingredients? Ah. She remembered that he had left a couple of days ago for a club trip, whatever that meant. If it was something fresh from the mountains, she might be able to make something decent for the fish mafia.

<🦈>-~*~-<🍄>-~*~-<🦐>-~*~-<🐙>

That… was a lot of mushrooms.

Yu scanned the table full of fungi, her eyebrows scrunching in concern. While she was grateful for the fresh ingredients…

“Do you have…” she poked at one of the mushroom caps that was about to fall off of the table. “…any other ingredients?”

“Why of course,” Jade hummed, a smile on his face. “Just let me know what else you need.”

Yu slowly blinked, looking between Jade and the pile of mushrooms. “…Right.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, she started picking out suitable ingredients for the dish she had in mind. Button, King Oyster, Portobello… Even Shiitakes? Wow. What kind of mountains exist behind the school? She might bite the bullet and go on a trip with Jade to see what else she could find back there. If there was such a wide variety of mushrooms, what other plants could she find? It would definitely save her some work.

As she continued to gather the appropriate mushrooms, she listed other ingredients she needed out loud, Jade going to retrieve them after she had finished listing everything. Stuffed mushrooms would probably be the best bet with what she had available. While she wasn’t entirely sure about the Octavinelle trio’s preference of food, she couldn’t let these precious finds go to waste. At least she had plenty of mushroom caps to experiment with.

By the time Jade had come back with the requested ingredients, Yu had started washing and cutting the mushrooms, choosing a mixture of portobellos and creminis to create her appetizers. A couple of shiitakes were put to the side just in case. She internally grimaced. Hopefully she could pull this off.

Damn, there really were a lot of mushrooms…

<🦈>-~*~-<🍄>-~*~-<🦐>-~*~-<🐙>

With Jade as her handy sous chef, the meal was finished in no time. The starting appetizer of stuffed mushrooms was pretty easy, but the main entreé was where things took a turn. Not necessarily for the worst, but it could have definitely gone better.

Cooking, to Yu, was an art. (There was a reason why she was so bad at baking…) As such, it shouldn’t be a surprise that she followed recipes very… liberally.

“Flip it,” Yu commented, eyes on her cutting board and clearly not towards the meat frying on the pan Jade had been assigned.

“It hasn’t been five minutes yet,” he hummed, still following her command.

“Yeah, yeah. I meant five-ish minutes.”

“Ish? How much is ‘ish’? What window of time does it represent?”

Yu shrugged, washing her hands to move on to the next step. “I dunno. It’s just a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah.” She washed the rice and put it in the rice cooker. How much rice could three merpeople and a human eat? “Flip it one more time.”

The meat sizzled as it was flipped. “Did you not already complete this side?”

“Sure, I guess- Oh, wait. Take it out now and start the next one.”

She felt the questions burning on the tip of his tongue, but instead the kitchen was filled with sizzles from the new slab of meat placed on the pan.

“Shall we switch tasks then?” Jade watched the pan intensely, seemingly trying to figure out what the “feeling” was. “It seems your abilities outperform mine in this matter.”

“Nah.” Gathered in front of her were ingredients for the sauce, a big bowl in the center of the mess. “This one’s even worse. Just flip when I say flip.”

Instead of arguing, he just chuckled and complied with her command. “Of course, head chef.”

<🦈>-~*~-<🍄>-~*~-<🦐>-~*~-<🐙>

“...I smell mushrooms.” Floyd draped his body over Yu’s shoulders as she attempted to set the table.

Yu rolled her eyes, setting down the last plate on the table as Jade prepared some drinks for the night. “I’m not going to waste your brother’s efforts. These can get really expensive, you know.”

He whined, leaning more of his body weight onto her. “Nooo… Why’d ya hafta make food with those things?! Now there’s nothing to eat!”

“Is something wrong with the food?” Azul had entered the room at that moment, moving closer to the table to inspect the food.

“Oh, you know how dramatic my brother can get.” Jade appeared with drinks in hand. “It’s about time we start dining, shall we?”

Azul went to his seat, still squinting in suspicion. While he knew of Floyd and his eccentric personality, there was only one time where their thoughts aligned on the opposite side of Jade’s. Yu had to wonder how many mushrooms Jade had forced them to eat to have such a visceral reaction to the ingredient. While she knows how strong they can get, mushrooms weren’t that bad. It’s an opinion of personal preference, yet the two mers looked as if poison was set on their plate. During her small taste tests, the ingredients didn’t seem that different from her world’s, so it shouldn’t be a problem with taste. Maybe they just had too many at once?

“I am quite excited to see what the prefect’s cooking skills are like,” Jade eyed the plate in front of him with glistening curiosity. “Shall we dig in?”

Yu shrugged. “Don’t set your expectations too high. I’m sure you guys have had better food.”

With that, the two of them dug in. Floyd and Jade poked their food cautiously, separating anything that was clearly a mushroom from the rest of the dish.

Floyd pouted. “There are mushrooms…”

Yu rolled her eyes. “Just eat. I’m not sure what Jade has made you guys eat, but it’s not bad. Promise.”

“Do you have…” Azul grimaced as he pushed away the stuffed mushroom as far as he could. “…anything else prepared?”

Oh my fucking god, these children- Yu shook her head to clear her thoughts. Stay positive, Yu. Positive thoughts only…

“Look,” Yu took another bite before continuing. “If you can at least eat one of the mushroom dishes, I’ll go make something else without mushrooms. I don’t want to waste food if it can be avoided, okay?”

Floyd sunk further into his chair, aggressively stabbing the stuffed mushroom on his plate. “You better keep your promise, Shrimpy-”

He shoved it into his mouth, seemingly wanting to swallow it whole before he paused. His jaw started moving up and down, and the food was soon down his throat.

Azul stared at him in anticipation, as if he just used Floyd as a poison tester. “Are you okay?”

In lieu of answering, the eel sat up, shoveling food in his mouth. Azul only looked on in horror. Was it some sort of mind-controlling poison? Should he really go through with this deal? If it was strong enough to affect Floyd, maybe it can help him get past the first bite…

Steeling himself, the octopus shut his eyes and mirrored Floyd’s previous actions, taking a little more effort to stuff the whole thing into his mouth.

His eyes snapped open in surprise as the flavor exploded in his mouth. It was…

“Good,” Azul went back to his plate, finally starting to eat his food. “This is delicious?”

“Why is it a question?” Yu muttered under her breath. “I wouldn’t make things people won’t eat.”

Dinner ended swiftly after the complainers started digging in. With how fast their plates were cleared, Yu wondered if they were somehow starving themselves. They worked at a restaurant, so that probably wasn’t it.

Damn teenagers and their fast metabolism.

What she wouldn’t give to be one again.

Oh wait.

Azul cleared his throat, gently wiping his mouth. “Thank you for the meal, Prefect.”

Yu only snorted at his attempt to appear composed after the whole mushroom debacle. “Yeah, yeah. I can’t imagine what kind of mushrooms Jade fed you for you guys to act like that.”

Floyd flopped on her lap. “It must be the Shrimpy’s magic! They can make anything yummy!”

She just patted his head, refraining from making any unnecessary comments. She was 99% sure it was because Jade just stuffed mushrooms down their throats, but she wasn’t going to say anything without solid evidence. She wondered what other land ingredients they weren’t utilizing correctly…

Hm. Not her problem.

“Shrimpy~~!” A sudden finger poking her cheek brought her back to reality. “Hello? You in there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m…” Her eyes landed on the clock, finally noticing how late it was. “Uh oh.”

Shit. Ace was totally going to make her pay double for babysitting Grim overnight. There’s no way she could go pick him up from Heartslabyul now.

“Oh my,” Jade wiped his mouth as he gently set down his utensils. “It has gotten quite late.”

‘Eh? Shrimpy can stay here then!”

“Absolutely not,” Yu stated firmly. “I don’t have the funds for that. I’ll go back to Ramshackle-”

“Nonsense,�� Jade smiled, his eyes giving off a mischievous glint she usually sees on Floyd. “You have made us a meal; it’s only fair to provide accommodations for the night in return.”

With that, the twins turned to Azul, who only blinked at the sudden attention.

Azul just sighed. “Fine. I suppose you make a good point.”

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #my writing #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #kinda an abrupt ending but meh

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thehaemanthus · 1 year ago

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tangled cable car wires (3/3)

It’s still July 23 where I’m at!

Delighted to present the final chapter of this fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle, organized by @azrielshadowssing. Had so much fun doing this event, and learned that I can write passable smut on demand if needed (though I think the readers will be the final judge of that).

Thank you to @thelovelymadone and @bennylavasbuns for setting me up for success with your previous chapters! I hope this last chapter is a happy, sweet, sexy, and most of all funny ending because I can’t hear someone is six foot five inches without shaking my fist at the sky at the inconvenience of living next to such a height

Enjoy!

Elain was soaking wet, exhausted, out 50 bucks because she stupidly hopped into a taxi to escape her nemesis, and, oh yeah, really fucking horny.

She dumped her things just inside the door to her apartment, stripping her clothing there too before hustling to the washing machine. The wet pile of clothes landed on top with a splat.

Getting settled at home kept her mind off of other things. Elain had planned to get some take out, watch a movie or two, light a scented candle and maybe even take a bath. Now she had to start a load of laundry, dry off her work bag and pray nothing was too damaged, take a shower, then make her own dinner.

Not a very auspicious start to her coveted staycation, but maybe she could still fit in the bath. And relax. Relaxation only. No errant thoughts about an inconvenient tall, tanned, red-headed menace who apparently liked her—

Nope! No thoughts about his hands on her ass or the way he had felt between her legs. Strictly off limits.

Maybe she would pen in an appointment with her vibrator after a bubble bath. Orgasms were relaxing, right?

Elain eyed her phone, suspiciously silent after texting her sisters. They had nothing productive to say about her momentary lapse in judgment. Elain had needed to tell someone, feeling like it was a secret burning her throat. The cab driver hadn’t been an option, but maybe telling Feyre that her son’s godfather nearly fucked her in an elevator wasn’t the smartest thing.

But what else was she meant to do?

Dressed in a large t-shirt and leggings, Elain twisted her hair up into a bun and wandered into the kitchen. The whirls and hums of the washer filled the apartment, punctuated by the sound of the storm outside. Rain fell steadily, accompanied by the rumble of thunder.

A perusal of her pantry revealed very little. The fridge, even less. Elain had planned to go shopping the next day, spending the morning at the farmer’s market getting all sorts of fresh produce to experiment with. She had a list of recipes to try during her vacation, part of a plan to decide what to cultivate in her own garden.

Oh, everything was going absolutely wrong, and it was all Lucien’s fault! As always!

The loud shriek from her apartment’s buzzer made her jump. No one ever used it. If it was a friend, they sent a text. If it was a delivery, it was left downstairs.

Elain tiptoed to the intercom, pressing the button to speak. “Hello?”

“It’s me.” An awkward cough. Elain suddenly felt very warm. “Um, Lucien.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can you let me up?”

“Why are you here? How do you know where I live?”

“Elain, I can barely understand you through this thing.” That was true. The system seemed to have been installed when the apartment was built and left alone after that. “Let me up. I have food.”

Oh. In that case. Elain pressed the button to buzz him in for a few seconds. She stood by the door, wondering whether she should open it or wait for his knock. Then she remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra under her shirt and she dashed to her bedroom in search of a sweater.

Lucien’s polite but firm knock came when she was stumbling down the hall, shoving her head through the neck hole. “Just a second!” Elain rightened herself, smoothing down her hair and straightening the sweater before opening the door.

“Hi,” Lucien held up a paper bag with a familiar logo. “I got your favorite.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know what my favorite is?”

“I called in a favor with Feyre,” he said. “Cacio e pepe, bruschetta, butternut squash ravioli, and the house salad?”

Elain crossed her arms. “I don’t like cacio e pepe.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But it wasn’t her favorite!

“Yeah, well, I do. Let me in?” Lucien raised an eyebrow.

She was tempted. However. “How did you find out where I live? What HR rules did you violate?”

“Elain, I hardly have to violate HR rules when Feyre is one of my best friends,” Lucien sighed. “Now, please, let me in.”

She could grab the food and lock him out. It would serve him right. But she had a feeling in the tussle for the bag, he would win or the food would become a casualty.

Elain stepped aside. “Fine. Kitchen is over there.”

She snuck glances at Lucien as he unpacked the bag and she took out dishes and silverware. His long hair was damp from the rain, but he looked much the same as he had before they parted ways earlier that evening.

“Did you go home at all?”

“No,” Lucien shrugged, taking a seat and helping himself to the food. “I’m starving.”

Elain’s stomach grumbled. Sharing a table with Lucien wasn’t super appealing, but she was hungry too. Reluctantly, she sat across from him at her tiny round four-seater and served herself. It was quiet except for the sound of their eating and the occasional request to pass a dish or a napkin.

She waited for Lucien to say something. He was the one who came over, he must have a reason. If all he wanted was to pick up where they left off, he would’ve spoken before he started dishing out the food.

“Eat, Elain,” he said without looking up.

She scowled. “I am.” Asshole.

“You’re spending more time glaring at me than chewing,” he said. “And you’re going to need energy for what I have planned.”

Elain sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“I want you,” he admitted. His fiery gaze made her squirm. “I also want you happy and able to keep up so—” He waved his fork at her then shoveled more pasta into his mouth.

“I didn’t realize this was a quid pro quo,” she seethed. “Food for sex?”

Lucien flinched a bit, coughing as he choked down his food. “Food for talking. Which I think will lead to sex.”

“Cocky.”

“Elain, your thighs were wrapped about me like two hours ago,” he pointed out. “I want you. You want me. I’m going to feed you, clear the air between us, and then do what I should have done years ago.”

“Which is?”

“Show you how much I care about you.”

Elain sniffed, stabbing her salad. “I see no reason why we can’t eat and talk.”

Despite herself, she was curious. Lucien had been a real menace. He had to be a true idiot not to realize how his actions back then bothered her. Maybe he thought they had a friendly rivalry now, but Elain’s real dislike of him wasn’t just going to go away.

“I told you I liked you,” he started. “And I was stupid about the way I went about it. I must still be a little stupid, because I didn’t realize what I was doing was bothering you that much. All this time, I thought I was making you better, Elain. I wouldn’t give critique to any other colleague that way, but we have a history. You never told me to stop.”

She opened her mouth to argue then had to abruptly shut it. Was he right?

Maybe. Every criticism, every suggestion did actually make her work better. Even if Lucien wasn’t right all the time, he made her think and defend her decisions. He needled her, sure, but she gave it right back.

A mature adult would have told him to stop, would have said she didn’t appreciate his comments or even gone to a supervisor. She didn’t, was never even tempted to.

Elain frowned, taking a bite of her ravioli so she could stall. Finally, she said, “This is how you normally charm people? You bicker with them?”

“No, that seems to be a you-thing.” Lucien leaned back in his chair with a chuckle, rolling his sleeves up. And damn her if those forearms didn’t make her a little hot. If he noticed, Lucien didn’t say anything. “I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. And I’m here with dinner and dessert to say that I still like you, Elain. A lot.”

“Dessert?” she asked, as if that was the most important part of the conversation. He brought out a container of tiramisu. Elain hummed in approval, but didn’t say anything else.

What now? An obscenely tall man sat across from her, finishing the dinner he brought her for the chance to confess that he’d like to get in her pants. Okay, and he probably wanted to…what? Date her?

Elain mopped up the remnants of the sage browned butter sauce with a piece of bread, plate clean. “You busy on Saturday?”

“Uh, no,” Lucien said.

“I was planning to see a movie by myself, but I supposed you can tag along.” Elain stood, clearing the dishes from the table. “I’ll buy the tickets, you buy us ice cream after.”

She didn’t think Lucien was that stunned, though she didn’t hear an answer from him as she started loading her dishwasher. Instead, she heard the sound of the fridge opening and closing. Then two very large, very warm hands were on her hips. Elain’s damp hands froze in midair.

“I’d love to see a movie with you Saturday.” His breath stirred the top of her head. Damn, he was too tall. “I’ll take you out for dinner too, someplace where we don’t have to do the dishes.” Lucien’s nose trailed down her neck. “But what about now, Elain?”

“I didn’t get dessert,” she said breathlessly.

“I put it in the fridge.” He kissed her neck and she nearly melted. “Midnight snack. If you aren’t too worn out.”

Elain could never back down from a challenge Lucien put in front of her. She spun, using his body for balance as she popped onto her tiptoes. He leaned down, meeting her halfway in a passionate kiss. Their first encounter had been savage and angry, but this one was just desperate.

Lucien’s hands wandered to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Elain squeaked into his mouth and retaliated with a nip. His hands traveled a little further down, and this time she didn’t hesitate in gripping his shoulders and jumping.

Face to face with him, Elain grinned. “I could get used to this view.”

“I hope you do.” It was the typical smug answer she would expect from him, but without the mean edge.

Lucien’s little smile was so sexy she had to kiss him again. Her hands combed through his silky hair, enjoying the handfuls that slipped through her fingers. Lucien groaned, stumbling a bit before he placed her on the counter. Once again she was a little shorter than him, but he quickly fixed that by bending to kiss from her jaw down her neck.

“How do you always smell like fucking flowers?” he groaned.

Elain wiggled on the counter, grabbing her sweater and t-shirt and pulling them off at once. Lucien helped her tug the material over her head and the bundle got tossed on the floor.

“Fuck.” Lucien wasted no time in cupping her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples as he watched her reactions. “I’ve fucking dreamt about your tits.”

Elain laughed breathlessly, head tilted back and heart pounding as each caress sent electricity between her thighs. “You have not.” She kicked him. Gently.

“I’ll tell you all about it.” He practically buried his face in her chest, murmuring against her flesh between kisses. “You can decide what we reenact.”

Any thought of joking flew out the window when he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, teeth gently biting down. Elain cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he lifted his head, teeth scraping against her sensitive skin. She dragged his mouth back to hers, opening his mouth to hers. Lucien’s hands went back to her breasts, unable to leave them unattended for even a moment.

“Shirt off,” she gasped, hands clumsily pulling at the material where it was tucked into his pants. Together they wrestled the shirt off, then Elain attacked his belt. Her efforts were thwarted when Lucien tugged her closer, ass nearly hanging off the edge of the counter. Again, she felt his cock against her core, hot and big and all for her.

Lucien lifted her again, walking out of the kitchen. “Bedroom?”

“That way,” Elain pointed while she took her turn in kissing his jaw, eager to taste every inch of that bronze skin. She traced the edge of his ear with her tongue and he nearly ran them into the door frame.

Abruptly, Elain felt herself fall. She landed with a bounce on her bed, staring up at the giant rubbing his cock through his pants as he gazed at her.

“Come here,” she held out her hands.

Lucien took off his pants and boxers, and Elain sat up like a spring. She was never really one to call dicks pretty or anything, but his was too enticing to ignore. One hand gripped the base as her tongue darted out, licking a broad stripe up the underside.

“Fuck!” Lucien cursed. His hand landed on the back of her head, before he snatched it away. “Elain, later.”

“Now.” She glared up at him then resumed her work. She warmed up by licking him, then took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue. She took Lucien’s hand and put it back on her head, but though it stayed there it was frozen. Lucien’s cock was so thick her mouth burned with the stretch. His cursing and babbled praise punctuated the roaring in her ears.

“Enough, enough, Elain.” Now his hand fisted her hair, tugging to get her off. She released him with a pop and a pout. “Shit, I already know I’m going to embarrass myself and come too soon, you don’t have to make it harder for me.”

“I think you’re plenty hard.” She didn’t get the chance to laugh at her stupid joke before Lucien pushed her back on the bed, kissing her thoroughly. She shivered and moaned at the feeling of so much hot body on hers, the way his muscles rubbed against her soft curves.

Lucien impatiently kissed down her body, dedicating just a bit more time for her breasts. He nibbled on the skin above her waistband before Elain squirmed and started to peel off her leggings herself. They joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

He kneeled on the floor, pulling Elain to the edge of the bed by her hips. Her gasp of surprise turned into a cry of delight when Lucien licked her pussy, no teasing or agonizing build up.

She never understood the true meaning of eating out until that moment. Lucien devoured her, hands digging into her skin to keep her hips down, to keep her cunt accessible to his mouth. She couldn’t close her legs, couldn’t wiggle away from the assault.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “I — oh.”

His response was a groan. That was fine. Why use his tongue for words when it could keep circling her clit, flicking as his lips coaxed every drop of pleasure from her body?

Elain gripped his auburn hair, shivering at the way it brushed against her thighs. Lucien grunted at a particularly rough tug, but he didn’t tell her to stop. She arched against the bed, cries getting louder until Lucien reached up, tweaked her nipple, and she broke.

Practically sobbing through the aftershocks, Elain’s grip on Lucien’s hair loosened as he brought her down with slow licks. With one final shudder, Elain nudged his side with her foot. He rose, wiping his smirking mouth with the back of his hand. The sight made her core clench again.

Elain rolled on the bed, stretching to open the drawer of her nightstand. Behind her she felt Lucien climbing on the bed. He kissed her shoulder. Then he swatted her ass.

“Hey!” Elain abandoned her search for a condom to glare.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking very sorry at all. “Too tempting to resist.”

While he kneaded her ass, Elain rooted through junk until she found condoms. Together, they wasted no time in rolling it on Lucien.

“This okay?” he asked when he found himself hovering over her.

Elain wiggled a bit on her back, smiling as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Perfect.”

He leaned down to kiss her sweetly. “Tell me if I need to go slow or anything.”

“You’re going too slow right now,” she grumbled, pulling his body towards her. “I’m ready.”

Lucien’s eyes on her were intense, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away as he lined himself up and slowly pushed into her. Elain’s eyes fluttered and her breath got caught in her throat. She was entranced by the hard line of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together as he slowly rolled his hips and penetrated deeper and deeper. The stretch was exquisite.

When Elain thought he had no more to give, Lucien proved her wrong. She made a choked sound, throwing her head back.

“Elain?” he grunted.

“Keep going.” She bucked her hips. One of his giant hands held onto her thigh, the other arm supporting his weight as he completed a few more gentle thrusts—and then she knew she had taken all of him.

Elain moaned. “Holy shit.”

“That good, huh?” Lucien’s voice was strained as he moved steadily, head falling.

She didn’t give the smug asshole a verbal answer, choosing instead to grab his face and place a sloppy kiss on his lips. Elain purposefully flexed her inner muscles around him to jerk Lucien out of his controlled movements. It worked. With a groan, his hips snapped against her, rhythm slowly increasing.

“Elain.” He lowered his body more, at her urging. “Fuck, Elain, you…”

She could only respond with her cries of pleasure, arms and legs holding him closer.

With a growl, Lucien reared up. Elain whined, but he ignored her as he knelt and hauled her back on his cock. Her back arched, heels digging into the mattress. In this position he could fuck her with more power. She gripped his wrists where his hands were clamped on her waist, needing something to grip. Lucien’s gaze jumped from where they were joined to where her breasts bounced wildly.

Elain bucked. “Lucien…I need…”

He brought his thumb to her mouth. She sucked, nipping his salty skin before he pulled it out. Lucien rubbed his thumb against her lips, smearing her spit. He looked entranced for a moment before he brought his thumb down to her clit. A few circles, then Elain was flying apart.

She screamed, flying with pleasure until her body went limp. Lucien kept a steady pace until she began to come down, then he moved faster and faster. Head thrown back, biceps flexed with the effort it took to keep her on his cock, Lucien thrust deep one more time before coming with a cry. His hips jerked in a few more powerful thrusts before he released his grip on her.

Elain was undone. Her chest heaved and she was sure she was an unattractive splotchy red. Her tug on Lucien was weak, but he leaned over her without much coaxing. The kisses they shared were sweet and sated, unhurried.

“Lemme get rid of this,” Lucien murmured. Elain hummed, pressing one more kiss to his lips before pulling back. They cleaned up quickly, falling back into back wordlessly.

Well, mostly wordlessly. “Let me know when you want that tiramisu,” Lucien murmured against the back of her head.

Elain giggled. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“I can’t convince you to go for round two?” He brushed aside the hair on her neck, brushing his lips from the sensitive skin there down to her shoulder.

“‘M tired,” she sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“Bright and early then,” he said. “Some of us don’t have vacation.”

“Sucks for you.”

He chucked. Elain was almost asleep when he spoke again.

“Elain…”

“What?” she grumbled.

“I don’t want to leave you but…”

That woke her up. Elain rolled onto her back, swiping her hair out of her face. “But?”

“But I do have to work tomorrow and…” He looked very sheepish. “Elain, I don’t fit on your bed.”

She sat up, ready to berate him for being stupid. But the words died in her mouth. Unless he curled up, his feet did hang off the bed. He could perhaps sleep diagonally and fit on her bed, but not when she was in it.

“Never mind,” Lucien said. “I’ll be fine for one night.” He kissed her cheek and lay back down. Elain got up. “Elain?”

“Get dressed.” She pulled a tshirt and then found a backpack, stuffing it with a change of clothes. “You can have your bed and your round two if you make me breakfast in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He looked much too sexy splayed in her bed, bedsheet just covering his hips but leaving plenty of muscled body for her to peruse.

Oh yeah. She could go for a round two.

“Hurry up.” She bent and threw his pants at him. “And don’t forget my tiramisu.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elucien #acotar writing circle

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absentcaryatid · 2 years ago

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Yeosang's Sleepover

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

Yeosang gets the wrong idea when the reader suggests a night together.

1.2K words, Content note: gender neutral reader, fluff and humor, food mention, embarrassment, suggestive only

“You know, I'd love to have a sleepover with you sometime.” The way Yeosang blushed at your innocent suggestion should have been a tip-off. You had been friends for years but not to the point of overnighting at either of your apartments, and it had always been separate hotel rooms on the vacations you had taken together.

Apparently thrilled with the idea, Yeosang suggested his place later in the week, including an offer to make something for dinner. Given his track record in the kitchen, that either meant an overcooked egg you'd kindly be declining, or he'd be arm-twisting his roommate Wooyoung into making something for him.

Agreeing to the date, you tactfully expressed a desire for takeout chicken, which made Yeosang's eyes light up.

“Good point, I should save up my energy for more important activity.”

Looking back, those words of his should have been another clue to where his mind had gone.

The rest of the week passed swiftly, and in no time at all, the fateful day arrived. You had gathered everything you needed into two large tote bags and made your way across the city by bus. Warmly welcomed at Yeosang's door, you noticed he was already dressed for the evening in a fluffy robe that felt comforting to touch as you were enveloped by his standard greeting of a secure hug. Separating all too soon for your liking, you then slipped off your shoes and began to unpack, beginning with a large teddy bear.

“I did not remember if you have a DVD player, but I brought some of my favorite movies just in case, and a board game, and this giant bag of popcorn. We are going to have a great time keeping each other up all night!”

“Up all night, I hope so.” Pulling you into the room, he announced, “You are funny. You don't have to make tonight sound so tame. My neighbors aren't nosy. Now, let's see what you have on under your coat.”

His fingers worked the buttons eagerly until coming to a grinding halt as cozy flannel nightwear came into view. The pastel blue and cheerful yellow ducks of your new pajama set did not elicit the compliments you had been hoping for.

“Oh, no,” Yeosang slowly enunciated. It was at that moment his robe fell open, revealing silk pajama pants and no shirt. He rapidly turned away as he retied the sash. “You really did mean sleepover, nothing more. Wooyoung had convinced me you were into me, and my mind ran away with wishful thinking. This is mortifying.”

Your mind slowly worked through his meaning. Ever since meeting in college, you had been in perfect sync with Yeosang. Your sense of humor matched his, and you could listen to his voice for hours whenever he learned something new and wanted to share everything about it. While intellectually you could recognize your friend was handsome to an extent that left strangers tripping over their feet as he passed, that had always been a joke between you, and never something you gave much thought to.

Shared laughter had gotten you through many situations together, but you worked hard not to react with anything but comforting words this time. Far shyer than yourself, you would not hurt Yeosang's feelings for the world. “Yeah, we were not on the same page. Sleepover just meant slumber party, though I guess adults don't tend to do that so I can understand how you got the wrong idea. It is an incredibly flattering offer though, one I had never considered before, but will keep in mind.”

He met your gentle let down with grateful eyes. Moving quickly past the awkwardness, you followed your nose into the kitchen and began to rave about the scent. Looking back to your friend with a meaningful glance toward his bedroom, you commented, “I'll unpack the chicken and side dishes if you want to put a shirt on.”

Once again his chest was bare due to a sloppy knot in haste. Yeosang glanced down and blanched. “Yes, I'd feel much less exposed.” He then scurried off to change his attempted sultry look to a more casual one suitable for a chaste evening between friends.

The night went much more smoothly after that. All forgiven, there was nothing uncomfortable about the way you held each other for support during the scary parts of a film Yeosang picked as the last entertainment before sleep. Crashing in his bed at dawn, you snuggled with your teddy as Yeosang went to Wooyoung’s room since the instigator of the romantic plot had tactfully made plans to be elsewhere that night.

The morning brought waffles, cooked by yourself, and a return of Yeosang's usual humor. By now he could laugh about the misunderstanding and flaunted this morning's sleeveless t-shirt visible through the open robe he pulled down at the shoulder.

Patting his arm muscles approvingly, you complimented Yeosang on his physique as Wooyoung arrived home.

“I hope I'm not interrupting something,” the newcomer teased, walking into the kitchen.

Yeosang's voice was icy in response. “There is nothing to interrupt. I should have listened to my gut instead of making a fool of myself last night thanks to your asinine advice.”

“That's my cue to head on out.” You kissed Yeosang's cheek, something new to your friendship, and picked up your bags waiting at the door. As you let yourself out, some very detailed threats of bodily harm were being conveyed to Wooyoung by his roommate. You were glad not to stick around should even some of them come to pass. Wooyoung was scrappy, but he had nothing on Yeosang's recently developed strength.

The next time you saw Yeosang, there were fading bite marks on his shoulder. Nodding to the injury, you asked, “Wooyoung chomped you?”

“It was self-defense on his part. We did end up wrestling a little after you left, and I may have gotten carried away. Guess I was still smarting from misreading our situation as romantic.”

You put a hand on his noticeably developed thigh in reassurance as you sat side by side with your lunches in the park. “Water under the bridge. In fact, I had a great time with you that night and I'd like to do it again at my place this weekend.”

Yeosang noticeably brightened as he slurped up the last of your shared iced coffee. “I'd like that. I can promise I'll be dressed appropriately for a friendly sleepover.”

When the weekend arrived, this time around it was Yeosang at your door in a festive set of dinosaur pajamas and the familiar plush robe you snuggled into in greeting. Impressed at his uncharacteristic sense of adventure to ride public transit in something so silly, he admitted Wooyoung had dropped him off as part of his penance for bad advice.

“Wooyoung just gave an opinion, it was all on you for surprising me like that.”

Yeosang nodded. “You are right, but he does feel bad for leading me amiss. He still swears his rate of recognizing potential couples had never failed him before.”

“Maybe you should go easy on Wooyoung. I will say your expression of interest in me romantically was sudden. And yet, given the week to think about it, I realized if you want to see if there can be more between us, I'd like to give that a try.”

As you closed the door behind Yeosang, you took advantage of the privacy to let your robe fall open. Perhaps it was the welcome news of newfound romantic interest that made Yeosang's eyes pop out. However, it could have been something else that had him reeling.

“You aren't wearing your ducky pajamas under there!”

Yeosang Masterlist

General Masterlist

#ATEEZ #ATEEZ Fanfic #Kpop Fanfic #Kpop Fluff #ATEEZ Fluff #diverseinsertknet #gender neutral reader #Kang Yeosang #Yeosang #ATEEZ Yeosang #Yeosang x Reader #Yeosang x You #no pronouns used for reader

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nodominion · 2 years ago

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The Air Fryer

Completely inspired by this post by @desertfangs, Rose freaks out about her immortality and food tech.

_____

The device seemed to mock her. Its very presence at Trinity was a steady reminder of her own immortality. Rose was now removed from humans, had been so for years, and yet this was the first thing that made her realize the choice she had made. Apparently it wasn’t new, but it was new to her here, in this place where she and Viktor were turned. Rose often enjoyed studying Trinity for little differences, seeing what had changed and what was new in Armand’s domain. Viktor and she often flitted in and out of Trinity on their way to and from California and France. Seth and Fareed enjoyed their compound and stayed there most of the time, which meant long trips broken up in segments to go and visit them. Rose never minded, she enjoyed planning new cities and towns to visit on the way. It was one of her goals to visit every state, and then every Canadian province, and then every Central American country, and then every European country. South America was a little out of the way between the castle and the main lab, but once their stamina was better with age she wanted to tackle those countries as well.

But Trinity was easy for them to stop into. They were always welcome, or they hadn’t been turned away yet, and sometimes they were able to meet up with others who were also staying here for short times. Antoine seemed to split his time between the castle and Trinity, and Louis typically spent a few months of the year in New York. One time she and Viktor had the brownstones all to themselves, everyone else at the castle. Rose didn’t expect that to happen again, as at the very least Armand, Sybelle, and Benji were almost always here. Daniel most of the time too, but he’d told them once he liked to travel as well.

Rose opened the door, sniffing warily inside. There was a neutral scent, clean, most likely the tray was shoved into a dishwasher. Though which vampire remembered to take it out and put it back here was not something she knew. Benji had roped Viktor into a series of competitions, and while it had been entertaining to watch for some time, there was only so much bravado she could handle in one night. Sybelle was playing, and though Rose often took that opportunity to sit with her, this contraption called to her.

As she went to plug it in, an elder heartbeat echoed behind her. She turns to face Armand, sighing.

“Tell me you’ve all used this thing before, and that I don’t need to find an instruction booklet that was most likely tossed to figure out how to use it.”

Armand said nothing, though his expression bordered on complete confusion. Rose was allowed in the Trinity kitchens whenever she wished. There was almost always a supply of blood, as well as some errant human food. Sybelle always had a bowl of citrus fruits on hand, though she destroyed them with her nails before they ever rotted. Rose hadn’t taken out any blood or food to attempt to cook, not her usual methodology when she tried to make blood foods. Armand knew that about her, and he stepped close to her, though did not touch her.

“If you require assistance, you are aware you only need to ask.”

“I know. I know! I…I just…this thing was invented after I was turned. You know? I don’t know what to do with it. It seems simple enough, and I can read so I do understand what the dials say and the buttons and the…I mean they’re all touch screen but you get it. Right?”

Before he could reply, Rose keeps at it, her voice raising in pitch, sounding more frenetic with each word.

“It’s just that this is new! It can apparently, supposedly, make food that is crispy without having to fry it in oil. How does it do that? I mean, I know how, logically, I looked it up, but it doesn’t make any sense! How can hot, circulated air turn a piece of breaded chicken into a delicious chicken strip!? It doesn’t make sense. And I never got to experience it and…and…how many more things are they going to come out with that we won’t get to experience because we’re dead?!”

She shivers, dropping down to sit on the hardwood floor, her knees curled to her chest, her thoughts far too wild to make sense of. Though she doesn’t notice, Armand looks away from her, as if cataloging how many times Lestat’s fledglings came to him to have their breakdowns.

He joins her on the floor, petting her hair gently, as if to calm a frightened mare.

“You and Viktor will be ten years in the blood this summer, yes? May I suggest you visit here when that date occurs. If these feelings arise at that time, you will be in a safe place. The place you both cast aside mortality for something more. That choice came with consequences, ones you were aware of. The world moves on without us in it. We are removed from their pettiness, and at times, their innovation. Humans are nothing if not resourceful.”

“But we…us…we’re stuck. We’re tied to when we were turned and…I didn’t expect to feel so disconnected, not yet. I still know how to use my phone and my laptop and things have evolved in technology but they haven’t changed in this way. Not like…that thing. It’s foreign to me! It’s like an alien brought it down and all the humans understand it and I can’t!”

“Times are different now than they were when most of us were turned. How many changes do you think Marius witnessed within ten years of his turning? Not the amount you have, simply because of the interconnectivity of the world now. He would not have been aware of Chinese inventions or Indian monuments or what peoples were living on the land we currently sit on. You are. My Sybelle and Benji have felt this as well, though it fades faster in them. Benji is committed not to let human inventions bypass his radar, and Sybelle is aware that music is always music, no matter the time.”

“No, you’re right, Armand, of course you are! I’m sorry. You’ve always been so good to us whenever we drop by and here I am taking advantage of your hospitality.”

“Nonsense. You need to mourn for experiences you shall never have. But you have blood. You can find any mortal and drink from them and understand their life in a clarity that they never will. Stalk a restaurant one night. Dine on the staff and the clientele. Shall we go hunting tonight?”

“No, I’m not…well we can always drink but I fed tonight. I wouldn’t enjoy it as much as I would after sunset.”

“Tomorrow then. Would you want company for this outing?”

“No, thanks. I…this is gonna sound really disrespectful, but can I destroy it? Like, smash it with a hammer? I’ll buy you back a better one, promise.”

“You’re asking my permission to cause damage? Rose de Lioncourt, you may be Lestat’s through and through, but don’t discredit the effect Louis has had on you.”

Finally feeling somewhat relieved of her mental anguish, Rose giggles, standing and helping him up. She pulls him into a hug, one he doesn’t initially respond to, but when he mentally senses she is only wanting to show her appreciation Armand pats her back warmly.

Armand carries the air fryer to the garden on ground level, not wanting debris to fly from a higher floor. There is no need for safety gear as Rose takes a rock from the landscaping, pounding into the metal and glass, hardly blinking as it all shatters before her. She knew her strength, but it was so often used on humans that she was surprised by how quickly the device practically disintegrated. She is diligent, not wanting to be a messy house guest, cleaning it up herself, though Armand stays to supervise. When all that’s left of her planned tantrum is a garbage bag she sits on the grass, looking up to the sky.

“I don’t regret the choice I made. I know it must’ve seemed like it. But I wouldn’t trade this life to be a human again. You are right, they are petty and cruel and not worth our time. Not most of them, anyway. Do you think everyone in the tribe was destined to be turned?”

“What is destiny? Do you believe in such a thing?”

“No, I guess I don’t. Thank you, Armand. You’ve been a good friend tonight. One I needed.”

He joins her, looking up at the same spot she is.

“Your thanks is not needed. Simply live. You are not dead. Death has not taken you from this world.”

“It sure tried to. I’ll try.”

Rose rests her head against Armand’s shoulder, grateful for him and his friendship.

#armand #rose de lioncourt #the vampire chronicles #ficlet #this is where my brain goes instead of writing other drafts #fun fact: did you know tumblr upped the queue limit from 300 to 1000!#i only learned this last week and apparently they'd done that sometime last year

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switchhummel · 2 years ago

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Date Night (11/25)

WHO: @switchhummel & @archer-clarington

WHEN: November 25, 2022 - evening time.

WHERE: Looking at the world from afar.

WHAT: An unique kind of date

Kurt made a count of the things he had put inside the trunk of the car, a black 1967 Mustang Shelby, which was parked just outside the main gates that led into the academy campus. Food, checked. Extra blankets, checked. Ice box with one bottle of sparkling cyder, plus a couple of lemon sprite sodas cans. A basket with two chicken grilled sandwiches, a small bowl of green salad to share, and another with grapes and strawberries in it. Everything was accounted for. Finally, a somewhat large black box rested on the side of the trunk, and he patted it as if it was a pet before closing the trunk shut.

Dressed in black jeans, a blue navy shirt with a neckerchief around his neck, he leaned back against the hood of the car, and waited for Archer to arrive. From the start, he knew it would be a very different, very special kind of date.

Archer had no idea what to expect from this date with Kurt. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been the one to plan the date. Even when his girlfriends in college had picked a date activity, he'd been the one to actually organize all of it. Having that effort put in for him felt kind of nice. Not knowing what exactly Kurt had in mind had made it difficult to get dressed, but he did know it was casual. He ended up in jeans and a solid burgundy button-down shirt, along with a pair of classic black Converse. The dessert he'd bought for them was in a box inside a paper bag, dangling from one hand.

He stopped short when he saw Kurt waiting for him, and he gave a long, low whistle. "Well, hot damn, Sir," he said, giving both Kurt and the car a once over. "Look at you!"

The moment he saw Archer coming down the path that led to the main gate Kurt felt his stomach doing a soft flip, as it always did whenever he saw him, but he stayed calm and smiled brightly at him when he finally came outside, apparently approving with his choice of a ride for the night.

"Why, thank you, Archer! I'm glad you like it- That you like us both!" he said with a chuckle and patted the hood of the car. "Before you ask, no. It's not mine. I wish. But, what d'you know? There is an actual car rental in this town, and they were nice enough to get it for me. It's been my favorite car since I can remember." He walked to him and leaned in to kiss him softly on one cheek. "Look at you too, by the way. But of course, you knew that." He looked down at the paper bag in his hand. "So? What's the surprise you got me for dessert?"

Archer cocked his head to the side. He'd seen the car rental place in town, but he hadn't ever thought about requesting a classic car like this. That part of the car rental place really surprised him, considering the town they were in, and it was something he'd have to keep in mind for the future. He didn't know a ton about cars, not nearly as much as Kurt did, but he did know that this was one fancy-ass vehicle. "That's awesome," he said before returning the kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Can't wait to give you a ride--I mean, give it a ride." He winked, then took a step back and waggled a finger at him. "Nope. Dessert's a surprise. You have to wait until after our meal or you'll spoil your dinner."

Kurt grinned when Archer that not so casual response, then he gently bopped the man's nose with his fingertip. "You know you can have both- whenever you want." He mocked an offended gasp at the wiggling finger, then pouted, maybe his best out on pout ever. "You are a meanie man" he said, then made a quick move to try to snatch the bag from Archer, but the other man was too quick for it. "So, is this one of those 'if you eat all your green, you can have dessert?" he said, then winked at him, before waving a hand towards the car. "Let's go then! You don't need me to open the door for you, do you?" He giggled, then turned around and walked to the pilot's door, his tight jeans clinging to the curves of his ass as he swayed his hips.

Archer chuckled at Kurt's insistence on finding out what his surprise dessert was immediately rather than waiting patiently to have it after they ate. "Nah, this is one of those 'you're cute when you're impatient' things." He winked before heading over to the passenger door and sliding in. "Damn, this is fucking nice." He looked over at Kurt as he joined him. "So where are you taking me?"

Kurt quirked a brow. "No wonder you love seeing me impatient then. Good move, Clarington." He was giddy and happy Archer liked his favorite choice of a car, thinking now they would have yet another topic of conversation whenever they were hanging out, him nestling comfortably in the warm embrace of his strong arms, whenever they weren't fucking the life out of one another, of course. He turned the engine on, the car coming alive underneath them, and he pushed the pedal down a couple of times before he looked at him and grinned. "Now who's being impatient?" he said with a playful tone, then started driving, soon taking the street that would lead them out of town, and to the main highway."

Archer shrugged and leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs forward and making himself comfortable. "I sort of thought you'd be impatient to tell me all about the date you have planned for me, considering how impatient you are to know about dessert," he teased. "But something tells me you're going to make me wait just to get back at me."

The cool air of the early evening entered full through the big open windows, and it felt nice to feel the air on his face like that. "You know how I am about dessert, so it shouldn't surprise you that I really want to know." He looked at him and smiled. "I just want everything to be perfect, and if I spoil it now, it won't be." Soon enough the reached the previous exit before actually reaching the limits of town, and they drove down a much less crowded road, then a short drive up the hill, until they stopped. "We're here" he said, and he turned the engine off and got out of the car, and after Archer joined him, he waved a hand in a sort of dramatic, introductory way. "Well? What you think?" he said, as he pointed at the small lights in the distance where the town was, now looked at from the top of that hill.

Archer cocked an eyebrow as Kurt drove them into a much more remote area of town--and considering how rural Lima was already, that was saying a lot. He followed Kurt's lead and got out of the car, smiling as he looked over at the small town, appearing even smaller from their current height and distance. "I never thought I'd say that Lima looked pretty," he said, stepping over to Kurt and wrapping an arm around his waist as they both looked at the town. "But I guess there's a first time for everything."

Kurt was happy to hear Archer liked the spot they were at, and in the same way Kurt liked it as well. When he put his arm around his waist he did the same thing in return, leaning his head so it rested perfectly on Archer's shoulder. "It's a thing of wonder. Such a simple town- but like most things, it gets better when you look at from afar, then all the bad things go away." He looked up at him, smiling as he leaned and kissed him gently on the lips. "Are you hungry...? I brought some food for us..." he said, pulling back from his lips just a little.

Archer glanced over at Kurt briefly, and as he turned back toward the city, he frowned at the way Kurt described the view. It was rather maudlin to think about having to make all the bad things go away. He was glad that they were getting to enjoy some time together up here without any of those bad things, so he smiled as they pulled back from the soft kiss. "I'm always hungry," he teased. "Let's dig in."

Kurt bumped his nose against Archer's. "I know that! Thus me, coming prepared. Come on!" He took his hand and led him around the car, so he could pop the trunk open, by pressing a button underneath it. He pulled the two bags, one with food, the other with beverage, and gave those two to Archer. "You take that one, I'll get everything else" he said, grabbing the blanket and the black case he had brought alone, with what he hoped would be another pleasant surprise for Archer that evening. He spread the blanket on top of the hood and they both climbed on top of it. "I brought chicken salad sandwiches and chips. And I know you don't drink alcohol, so I got a bottle of sparkling cyder for us to share. Did I do good?" he asked, in an almost hopeful tone. He just wanted everything to be perfect.

Archer took the bags Kurt handed to him, and he breathed in deeply. "Mm, whatever's in here smells delicious," he said as Kurt got them all set up on the hood of the car. He joined him once it was ready and began to open up the bags to get their meal out. "Sparkling cider? How fancy," he teased before sobering a little. "Really, though, it's awesome. You did very good, Kurt."

Kurt did a little bow with his head. "As everything that I make, darling" he said, making sure Archer had his sandwich and a good portion of chips. "I figured our first official date deserved better than some orange soda" he said with a shrug, then smiled shyly. "I'm glad you like it, Archer:" He looked at him briefly before looking up at the sky, the night clear and calm. "Have you ever been into looking at the stars at night?" he said, taking a quick glance at the black bag that has remained still closed.

Archer took a big bite out of his sandwich and moaned to show his appreciation for the flavors that spread over his tongue. It was probably too big of a bite, and he had to make an exaggerated chewing motion to show that he was going to respond but couldn't do so until he'd swallowed everything down. Once he had, he sipped at his cider to wash it all down. "This is so good," he said, resolving to behave himself and take smaller bites from here on out. He leaned back and looked up at the stars. "The stars are fun. I took an astronomy class one semester in college."

Kurt chuckled and waited until Archer had downed the big bite he had taken at his sandwich, taking that time to take a bite of his own, and he was glad the other liked his choice of food for their date. "I'm sure I'll enjoy the dessert you brought just as well. But I guess I must be patient." He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before taking a sip of cyder, then shifted on his seat to look at him. "You did? That's amazing!" he said, an honest tone of excitement in his voice, because of this new thing he got to learn about the other. "I can't say I have, but..." He reached out and pulled the black bag closer to him. "A couple of years after my mom died, I got the chicken pox, and because I had to stay in my room, isolated, my dad got me this to keep me entertained, since he couldn't come into my room without getting infected himself. A telescope." He patted the bag. "Wanna take a look at a couple of stars?"

"You're adorable when your patience is running thin," Archer teased before popping a chip in his mouth. There was something to be said for good, simple food. As Kurt grew excited, though, Archer noted to himself just how much more adorable the enthusiasm was than the impatience. He watched curiously as the other man showed him a black case. "I was one of the lucky ones," he explained. "Everyone wanted to take astronomy for their science gen ed. It was fun. That's an awesome gift from your dad, and even more awesome that you still have it after all these years. Hell yeah I want to take a look!"

Kurt nodded. "It must be so fun having an actual good excuse to take on astronomy, other than having to be stranded in your bedroom." He chuckled, then his face lit up when Archer agreed to do some star gazing with him. "You do! Excellent! Hang on- let me make some space here..." he said, already moving the other bags to a spot where they wouldn't be in the way, and he quickly put together the small tripod and placed the telescope in it, not a big one in any way, but enough to allow a good view up. "Okay, so... we lean back-" he said, both of them now laying on the windshield of the car, and he pulled the lens of the telescope closer. "... and see what we can get!" He looked at him and smiled, then looked into the lens, trying to find a good spot. "There! Take a look!" He leaned back and moved the lens closer to him.

Archer chewed on his sandwich--in much smaller bites this time--as Kurt got the telescope set up for him. He leaned back on the windshield alongside him and waited for his turn to look through the small lens. "Thanks," he said, giving Kurt a smile as he leaned over and looked through it. "There's a pretty bright one right up there. I think it might be a planet, it's not really sparkling like a star. What do you think?"

It never failed to make Kurt's heart race to beat just a tiny bit faster whenever they were laying close like that, especially when he got to look into the man's eyes, which he liked a lot, up and close. He did his best to push the blush away and smiled shyly at him, before looking back up, at where he was supposed to be looking at that moment. "The night is clear enough. It could very well be a planet. Let me just try something-" he said, then leaned a little closer so he could barely shift the focus on the lens, their faces ending up a lot closer then. "There. I think that's better? How's it look?" He looked at him and smiled. "What do you see now?"

Archer let Kurt adjust things on the telescope to help clear up the picture they were seeing. It had always been wild to him that a little thing like this could make the stars appear so much bigger, as if they weren't hundreds or even thousands of lightyears away. He hummed as he looked through the lens again. "Definitely a planet," he agreed before looking nearby. "Oh, and I think that's Orion's belt."

Kurt chuckled and nodded. "That's definitely my guess. A planet." He blinked when Archer said that last part, and he leaned in so he could have a look himself. "Wow... How about that? It's a clear night indeed." He leaned back on the windshield and sighed. "So many stars... You know- When I spent all that time in my room, I remember every night I named every star I saw. But now I can't remember a single one. Well, just one." He turned his head a bit to look at him. "My mom's name. Elizabeth."

"Probably Jupiter or Saturn," Archer commented. He kept looking through the telescope for a little bit before passing it back to Kurt to take a look. "It's kind of strange how we all somehow managed to agree on the names for all of the different stars, when there's so much we can't agree on down here on Earth. I like that you picked out your own names as a kid, though. Which one's Elizabeth?"

Kurt looked back into the lens when Archer passed the telescope back to him. "You mean humanity in general, or just the two of us?" He looked at him and wiggled his eyebrows at him before he chuckled and looked back into the lens. "I get what you're saying. It'd be so much more easier if people would agree in the simplest things. And then, most of the things the people in power don't agree on, they end up screwing us over." He leaned back and nodded. "I'm self efficient. Of course I did" he said, poking his tongue out at him, then fixed the lens a little and let him have a look. "That one at the center. The brightest one. That's my mom" he said, like it was a simple fact.

"In general," Archer replied. "Like, there's people down here fighting the system and trying to mess with all of our lives, but we're all cool with calling a particular group of stars Orion." He sighed. He could complain more, but that's not what tonight was about. He looked through the telescope and smiled when he saw the star Kurt was pointing out. "She's beautiful," he said, leaning back to look at Kurt's face.

Kurt looked at him fondly, then placed his hand on his knee. "I know that, if given the chance, you'd be the first one fighting the system. In fact, you'd make the perfect General for it." He sighed. "I suppose the people with the power and knowledge find the simplest things that much more challenging." He shrugged, then looked up, at the spot where he had told Archer to look, and he looked back at him. "She is. Just like she was. Like I remember her. Beautiful." He shifted on his spot, and leaned his head on Archer's shoulder. "What about your mom? How's she like?"

Archer pulled a face and looked over at Kurt. "Me, fight the system?" he scoffed. "Yeah, no, I'm good. Shit's in place for a reason." He shrugged and let Kurt settle on him, Archer's head coming to rest on top of the Switch's. "I'm glad. You should show me photos or videos of her sometime, if you want. My mom... She's beautiful, too." And okay with everything the Colonel did to him and his brothers over the years, but that wasn't what Kurt was asking.

Kurt chuckled and nodded. "I know. Without an order there'll be chaos. But you cannot say there are things that could actually be better" he said, then leaned back carefully, not to knock the telescope off its base, and sighed softly when he felt the soft weight of Archer's head on top of his own. "I have photos. In fact, I own an actual photo album, remember those? I'll be happy to show them to you sometime." He looked up at him and giggled, then shrugged. "My dad kept the old home movies we had when I left, so I suppose that was a fair trade in the end." His fingertips played absentmindedly with the small wrinkles on his shirt. "Do you have pictures of your mom too?"

Archer shrugged, trying not to jostle Kurt too much in the process. "There's some shit that sucks, sure," he said. "Like the gap year if your claim partner dies needs to be like two or three years instead of one. But the system was designed this way for a reason." He chuckled. "Yeah, you'll have to show me your actual photo album. There's places that'll take VHS tapes and make them digital. You should totally do that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping through to his mom's Facebook profile. They weren't friends anymore, but she still had a public profile photo. He opened it up then turned his phone to Kurt. "That's her."

Kurt frowned, then buried his face on Archer's chest, like it would protect him somehow. "That must so awful. Your claim dying...?" he said, a noticeable hint of fear in his voice, so he was glad Archer diverted the conversation to something brighter. "That's a good idea! I'll look up for places where he could do that back home, and then he could send it to me. We could watch them on my laptop one night." He turned his head a little when Archer showed him his phone. "You're right. She is beautiful" he said with a fond smile, then looked back at him. "You have her eyes."

Archer brought a hand up and patted Kurt's head where it had come to rest on his chest. "Mm," he agreed. "That happens sometimes, but it's not something you have to worry about, okay?" It wasn't that it was impossible that it would happen to either of them in the future, but neither of them was at a point in their lives where it would be worth the worry for now. "I'm sure it won't be too hard for him to find a place to do that. Probably even Best Buy or something. You'll have to let me know when you have them." He shifted to put his phone back in his pocket. "Thanks," he said simply, not sure he wanted to think about her more than he already was.

Kurt looked up and nodded, already calm by the gentle pat on his head. "I suppose you're right. That doesn't make it an any less awful thing though." He chuckled and shook his head. "If you knew my dad, you'd realize he needs specific instructions on how to do things the right way." He nodded, suddenly excited about the idea of a future home movies date for them. "I will, and I'll have the popcorn ready, as long as you don't make any comments on chubby faced me, hmm?" He looked at him pointedly and chuckled, then when his answer about Kurt saying he had the same beautiful eyes his mom had was so cut and dry, he didn't comment on it any further. By now, Kurt could read, could see the wat Archer's body language shifted like the wind, when a subject needed to be dropped.

For a couple of seconds they laid there in silence, his finger playing with the buttons of his shirt while he looked at some random spot in the distance. "So..." he said all the sudden, then looked at him. "Just how long are you going to keep me waiting to see what you got for dessert?" he said with a serious look, then he smiled shyly. "Or are you going to make me beg for it, hmm?"

Archer pushed past the talk about gap years and instead focused on happier topics. He chuckled at Kurt's description of his dad. "Well, lucky for him, he's got you to lead him. And honestly, as long as you get him to take the tapes to the shop, they'll be able to do the rest from there." He chuckled again. "I bet your chubby cheeks were adorable." He shifted and took a sip of his cider before glancing back toward the inside of the car where the dessert was waiting for them. He turned back to Kurt, grinning mischievously. "Well, I was going to get up to get it for us, but now that you've mentioned begging... I think that's definitely what I need to hear."

Kurt chuckled and shook his head. "I suppose that's true. As long as he doesn't get lost on his way to the shop, it should be fine." He scoffed. "Chubby cheeks and pear hips. You can imagine what a hoot that was to have growing up at a school where I was the only gay boy who was out. Although my hips are still round by now, so thank god I didn't grow out of those-" He looked at him and grinned. "Especially when you've become such an expert in leaving marks on them, hmm?"

He bit his lip down and chuckled when Archer looked at him like that, in a way which never failed to make him feel weak. "Do you really that'd be wise?" he said, a teasing tone in his voice, then sat up and shifted on his spot so he would climb on top of the man's lap. "Out of the two of us, you're the one still wearing the lock, so maybe I'd like to be the one to hear you beg..." he said, pushing his body weight on his locked groin, then he leaned in and put his hands on both sides of Archer's head, his lips now hovering over his. "But just for curious sake, what would exactly take for me to get dessert, sir?"

Archer definitely enjoyed the picture Kurt was painting of himself in Archer's head. "Kids are cruel no matter what you look like," he said, though honestly, he hadn't experienced much bullying himself when he was a kid. "You're not doing much to plead your case for me to think you were anything but adorable, though. And I do love those hips."

He cocked an eyebrow as Kurt climbed on top of him, and he let his hands come to rest on the other man's hips, holding him in place. "You don't have a key to this lock," he said, staring Kurt down from inches away. "No chance you're going to get me to beg if I don't stand a chance of being released." He kissed him quickly, just a peck, but then he leaned back to put just a little distance between them. "Make me know just how badly you want to taste me-- taste my dessert, I mean."

Kurt held onto Archer's hands on his hips, his lips hovering over the other's as he slowly rolled his ass on top of him, feeling the hard metallic shape poking his cheeks. "That doesn't mean I don't get to have some fun with it" he said with a playful chuckle, a small glint of wickedness in his eye. "Hmm... That's quite the shame, because you begging must be the hottest sound in the world right now." He giggled at the quick peck, then he sat up straight and batted his eyelashes at him, a small pout pursing his lips together. "I do want to taste it, and you... so bad. Maybe you'll let me eat it off you bare skin, and then after I'm done, I could give a tongue bath, so you are left all clean, and also hot and bothered. " He bit his lip down, his hips now slowly thrusting back and forth on top of his lap. "Please, sir... Please, let me have dessert. Haven't I been a good boy for you-?" He pouted again.

Archer's eyebrow lifted up again when Kurt purposely teased him. He clenched his jaw against the frustrated moan that threatened to make its way out of his throat, his desire to fuck Kurt senseless not tampered all that much by the cage he was locked into. "Better luck next time, Sir," he whispered into his ear before leaning back to listen to the way Kurt would beg for him. "I'd argue you've been very naughty," he said, looking pointedly down to where Kurt was rocking against him. "But I think you deserve some dessert anyhow. Go ahead and get it out of the car."

Kurt pouted again, this time with frustration with thinking of all the things he wanted to do to Archer and not being able to do them all, even if there were things they could do if they wanted to. A shiver went up his spine at the whispered words in his ear, then bit his lip down. "I suppose. Oh, but you better bet your ass I'm going to milk that next time out of you in a way you will never forget, baby." He gasped. "What?? ME? I object! I'm nothing but a sweet angel... A sweet, very horny angel..." he said, a grin spreading on his face as he felt the metallic lock slide between his legs. When Archer said he could get his dessert he giggled, then with a swift, agile move he was off Archer, and the car as well, and he went quickly to the passenger's seat and grabbed the bag, soon returning to where he was and climbed on the hood again. "Gimme gimme" he said as he handed the bag to him.

Archer gave Kurt a hard look that said, You and I both know you're bullshitting about being an angel. He took the bag from him when it was handed over, and he purposely took his time pulling the New York style cheesecake out of the bag, wanting to tease Kurt by making him wait as long as possible. There were some paper plates and utensils, too, and he got it all out and ready for them to enjoy together. It was a frozen cheesecake from the grocery store that he'd baked earlier, but that at least ensured that it was edible, which wouldn't have been the case if he'd tried to make it himself. "So?" he asked as he handed a slice over to Kurt. "What do you think?"

Kurt looked back at Archer in a I dare you to say otherwise way, although they both now they were teasing each other, right before he went to get the dessert, or rather, the bag which contained it. After he gave him the bag, he literally bounced on his butt with anticipation, especially when he noticed he was taking his sweet time for it, then he gasped when he saw him pulling that brand of cheesecake out. "No way! Where did you get this?" he said with an honest surprised look on his face, then didn't waste another second before taking a bite. "Hmm... mygawdd... swogwood" he mumbled, his mouth still full with it, then chuckled and waited until he swallowed his bite and wiped his mouth before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you. I can't remember the last time I ate one of these!"

Archer kept his eyes on Kurt as he took the first taste of the cheesecake, clearly happy with Archer's decision for dessert. He served himself up a slice as well and began to eat it, smiling as he chewed. "So... I'm guessing I did a good job with dessert?" he teased. With his own fork, he cut off a piece of his slice and held it out in front of Kurt's mouth for him to eat. "I know how much you like cheesecake."

Kurt still had his mouth full when Archer asked that, so he simply raised his fork and waved it, as if he was saying 'excellent', but after he swallowed he nodded and smiled at him. "You did perfect, baby-" He blushed a bit at the casual way in which the cute name rolled off his tongue for the other man, although now he wasn't sure how he would take it now that it was out. He cheeks flushed even harder when he saw the offered slice, then leaned in and slowly wrapped his lips around it, carefully pulling it off the fork, while he kept his eyes on Archer. "I suppose I babbled about it enough for you to pick on that one, huh?" he said and giggled.

Archer had long ago learned to just roll with it when someone called him a pet name he wasn't particularly fond of. If it made the person saying it happy, then he could handle it, too. It had started off with one of his girlfriends in high school calling him 'sweetheart,' but now it went with most pet names. "You're cute when you blush," he pointed out with a smug grin, before taking another bite for himself. "And cute when you babble. It was kind of hard to miss."

Kurt blushed a bit, then quickly swiped his mouth clean. "Stop it. You're doing that on purpose!" he said with a chuckle, then grabbed his own slice and moved forward, so he could sit in between Archer's legs, his back against the man's chest, while they kept on eating their dessert. "Would it be terribly of me to say I don't know how to actually make one from scratch? I mean, I have always bought it, whenever the urge called." He chuckled, then looked at him. "Do you like our date so far?"

"Doing what on purpose?" Archer asked, making his eyes go wide and feigning innocence. He held his plate up as Kurt settled in against his chest, only taking another forkful of cheesecake when the other man was comfortably against him. "Nah. I don't know how to cook most of the things I eat. Nothing wrong with ordering out." He shrugged at his own lack of kitchen skills. "It's definitely nice to spend sometime with you away from everything for a bit. Are you having a good time too?"

"Deliberately trying to make me blush!" Kurt said with a giggle, just as he settled against the warmth of Archer's chest, the steady beating of his heart drumming gently on his back. "I suppose you're right. It's just ironic. Because I love to cook, so you would think I know how to make it!" He shrugged. "I can always find a way to learn too. Maybe one day soon, I'll treat you to my own homemade cheesecake, how's that?" He looked back at him, and smiled when their eyes met for a moment, always loving that much gentler side of Archer, one that not everyone got to see. "A perfect one" he said honestly, then leaned up a bit and kissed him on the cheek, before going back to eat his cheesecake.

"That sounds perfect," Archer said, smiling as Kurt kissed him. "I'd actually been about to suggest the same thing. You should practice making your own cheesecake and let me be a taste tester. Give you feedback, make sure you're getting it right." He cut off another bite of his slice and held it up to Kurt's lips on his fork. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

END SCENE.

#archer-clarington #p:archer #p:date night #para

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marauderundercover · 2 years ago

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Hanging by a Thread (3)

Throughout dinner, Tim tries his hardest not to stare at the Manor’s newest residence, but it was hard. Especially with her sitting right between Bruce and Damian. Pursing his lips, Tim wracks his brain in an attempt to remember any of the confidential information he’d glanced at before blowing up Ra’s bases a couple years ago. Nothing was coming to mind. In his defense though, he was more focused on bringing Bruce home and less focused on the possibility that Bruce and Talia had another kid together. And one younger than Damian. Subtly glancing at his younger brother, Tim frowns. Neither Damian nor the new girl had made any attempt at conversation with the other the entire time. But if she was younger, surely they knew each other?

“So, Marinette, Alfred tells me that your parents own a bakery in Paris?” Bruce says suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Tim’s eyes narrow. Did Bruce not see it? Glancing over at Jason, Tim raises an eyebrow. The older man shrugs, visibly fighting off a scowl. The girl, Marinette, nods slowly.

“Um, yes. It’s why they didn’t leave Paris, too.” She says, frowning down at her plate. Tim frowns.

“Is something wrong in Paris?” He asks. Marinette’s eyes widen slightly, scanning the room until she spots Alfred. He gives her a small smile.

“I didn’t share the details your grandmother gave me with anyone other than Master Bruce, Miss Marinette. It is your choice if you wish to talk about it.” Alfred says, his tone gentle, but a clear warning in his eyes. Tim fights the urge to scowl. He’d just look at the info in the Cave later if he had to. He wouldn’t interrogate a kid. Well, he would but not in front of Alfred-

“There’s uh, a villain? In Paris now.” Marinette says softly. Everyone’s attention snaps to her.

“Just one?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised. Marinette’s eyes narrow and her gaze turns cold.

“Oui, but we’re not Gotham. We don’t have experienced heroes. We have two people who showed up right after the villain. Two people who obviously have no idea what they’re doing, by the way.” She huffs out, glaring at her plate.

“Has no one called the Justice League?” Damian presses. Marinette looks up at him and scowls.

“We did. The first day that Hawkmoth was there, almost everyone in Paris called, but no one came. No one. And once we figured out what Hawkmoth does, the Mayor ordered that no one else call the League.” She says, stabbing at her food instead of eating it.

“Marinette,” Dick says softly. She glances up and Tim’s slightly taken aback to see her eyes were bright with tears. “You don’t have to talk about this.” He adds. She frowns, her shoulders slumping as she closes in on herself.

“But that’s the whole point of me being here. So I can talk about things and be frustrated and upset without getting turned into a villain.” Marinette says.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jason asks, voicing what everyone was thinking. Marinette blinks.

“Hawkmoth controls people with negative emotions.” She says flatly. “That’s why my parents sent me away. It’s why the Mayor doesn’t want the League coming in. Any negative emotion: sadness, anger, frustration, anything. It can be used against you.” Tim frowns, a million possible plans running through his brain as he tries to think of a solution.

“And yet, your parents thought they should stay. Do they think they can resist this, Hawkmoth?” Damian asks, and Tim purses his lips to keep himself from saying anything. Damian’s questions were valid, but if the look on Marinette’s face was anything to go on, he was obviously pressing the wrong buttons.

“They said they just needed to protect me. Apparently when they- when they took me in,” She pauses, her gaze growing distant as she sets down her fork. “Apparently, they promised my birth mother that they would protect me and keep me safe. This was them keeping their promise.” Tim makes eye contact with Jason across the table, tilting his head towards Bruce (who was still obviously suddenly oblivious). Jason nods, and Tim feels his shoulders relax slightly. If anyone could push Bruce’s buttons enough to make the man admit that this was clearly his daughter, it was Jason.

---

“So Marinette is obviously your kid, right?” Jason says bluntly, arms crossed as he stands next to the Batcomputer. Bruce glances over at him and frowns.

“I didn’t even adopt her, Jason. She’s here as Alfred’s guest.” He says. Jason blinks.

“Are you seriously telling me you don’t see the similarities?” He asks. Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“Similarities between?”

“You, Dami, and Marinette.” Dick says, applying his mask glue as he walks over. “You can’t honestly tell me that all those glances at Marinette during dinner were just because you’re worried about her villain situation.” He adds. Jason narrows his eyes.

“B, were you gaslighting me?” He asks. Bruce rolls his eyes.

“I was not gaslighting you, Jason. I just- well-” He tries, but Alfred cuts him off.

“He was instructed not to do a DNA test on Miss Marinette without her explicit consent. She is my guest here, and will be respected as such.” He says, his tone firm. “Her grandmother is one of my dearest friends. She told me that Marinette was not aware that she was adopted until shortly before she came here. If she decides she wants to find her birth parents, then I will allow a DNA test. Otherwise, leave her hair on her head.” Jason’s shoulders slump. He may be a reformed crime lord, but even he wouldn’t go against a direct order from Alfred. Even if he wouldn’t let them do a DNA test on Marinette, there was no doubt in Jason’s mind that the kid was related to Bruce.

“Are you saying that you believe that girl upstairs is my sister?” Damian asks, suddenly appearing, arms crossed.

“You can’t honestly tell me that you don’t see the similarities, Damian.” Tim sighs. Damian scowls.

“There are no similarities. You are simply seeing things.” He says, sticking his chin up. Jason snorts.

“Kid, I would literally eat my boot if that girl isn’t related to Bruce.” He says, holding his hands up in surrender when Alfred opens his mouth. “I didn’t say I was gonna do a test or anything. Just that if it happens at some point, I’m not gonna be surprised at the results.” Alfred quirks an eyebrow, but leaves, probably to check on Marinette before she goes to sleep.

“Do you really see the similarities too?” Bruce asks quietly, looking intently at Jason and Dick. Jason nods immediately.

“DNA test your first instinct when ya met her?” He asks quietly. Bruce nods.

“Alfred forbade it right away.” He says with a frown. Dick frowns, looking thoughtful.

“You may not like it Bruce, but why don’t you just call Talia?” He suggests quietly, stealing a glance at the Demon Spawn who was beating the shit out of a practice dummy. “It’s about time for her to make a trip to stalk Damian at school anyway.” Jason nods at Dick.

“He has a point. You know she makes a point of checking in every couple of months. Just expedite the process.” Jason says with a shrug. Bruce purses his lips, but nods slowly. Silently, Jason hoped that Marinette wasn’t Talia’s kid. Just because he knew it would upset Bruce, and probably Damian. And once Marinette found out, she’d probably be upset too. Especially since Talia kept Damian til he was eight, and she obviously didn’t keep her. Jason drags his hand over his face and sighs. Things just got complicated.

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junisfics · 4 years ago

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All This Time — Armin Arlert (1)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: After Armin receives a disturbingly vague message from his best friend, he shows up to her house only to find her drunk and needy

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Sexual Fantasies

You met Armin in your freshman year of high school. You had gone to separate middle schools, but those two schools fed into your then high school and you became classmates. You shared a band class together, Armin played clarinet and you played the piano. The entire band was split between two periods, you and Armin’s seventh period consisted of woodwinds while the other period held brass… percussion was split evenly between the two periods.

That was the first game of chance.

The second one was after-school practice sessions with Mr. Steunberg. Apparently, Armin was struggling with sight-reading just as much as you were, so you were paired together for practice lessons on Mondays. And every Monday for the second semester of freshman year, you and Armin played your instruments in that little sound booth while your music teacher corrected you from outside.

Eventually, the twenty minutes between the end of school and the beginning of lessons was being shared between the two of you rather than each of you hiding off down some hallway. You had decided to come down the band hall early, conveniently at the same time Armin had as well.

It started with one of you asking if the other had a certain teacher, followed by asking if they had completed the night’s assignment for that class. Over time, the floor distance between you two closed and you’d sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor just outside the booth, knee to knee, sharing snacks before Mr. Steunberg made his way from his History class and down to the band hall. You’d work on homework together and laugh over the squeaking mistakes from the neighboring booths.

Just around the time when you and Armin began to grow comfortable with each other, your organized lessons had stopped and your blooming friendship had been put on pause. Neither of you missed it too much, you barely knew each other, but you still smiled at each other in the halls and occasionally talked before your shared class if there was time, but there really wasn’t.

It was like that for a while; little waves, sentence-long conversations, awkward silences followed by equally as awkward good-byes. It was months before you ever talked the same way you had in that little hallway.

It wasn’t like you craved his presence. Christ, you would completely forget about him if you didn’t see him every day in class. But when he came up to you at the end of the day one day while you were sitting on the piano bench, waiting for the final bell to ring, you couldn’t help but smile.

You still remember the shirt he was wearing, how he pushed those thin-rimmed glasses he still wore up his nose as he talked with you, “Can you help me with sight-reading? I don’t wanna tell my mom I need lessons again and I’m embarrassed to ask anyone else.”

Of course, you had said yes to him, you wouldn’t be pulling your phone out in the middle of the night in the peak of summer to text him while you’re shit-faced to text him if you hadn’t.

Your practicing together turned into practicing and doing homework together, which turned into getting off track and watching YouTube videos together. Then came the hanging out outside of homework and lessons; goofing off at either of your neighborhood parks, walking down the road to get fast-food, running around in a grocery store because there was nothing else to do in the suburbs.

There wasn’t an exact moment where you agreed that you were best friends, it just happened. You were always there for him whenever he got pushed around by the baseball boys, when his parents got divorced and his grandfather moved in, when he got his acceptance letter to the college of his choice; and he was there for you for your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak, he was there when your dog was lost for five days… he being the one that found her, and when you got your acceptance letter, he was the one sitting next to you with open arms.

There were moments when you found yourselves distancing; when you got into little arguments. But at the end of the day, the love that each of you had for each other was stronger than anything. You always came back to him, and he to you.

No matter how many times you broke his heart by flirting with him just to hook up with some random guy at a party the same day, told him that he was your ‘best friend’, talking about how he was ‘like a brother’ to you, he couldn't leave you and he couldn’t stop loving you.

Armin would do anything for you and you would do anything for Armin. This is why when he got your messages in the dead of the night, he was over to your apartment before he could even text back.

‘armin’ ‘come over’ ‘help’ ‘need help’

Every second between the moment he got your messages until he reached your door, he was mortified. His heart was pounding out of his chest, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering while swerving around corners recklessly, eyes flitting over your parking lot to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

He almost tripped on the curb of the sidewalk while running up to your building. He was whipping open doors and frantically pressing elevator buttons as his keys still jangled in his hands, he didn’t even think to shove them into his pockets. His eyes bore into the red, electric lettering at the frame of the elevator, watching the numbers increase with his hand pressing against the metal doors like it’ll somehow make it go faster.

Once he reaches your door, he knocks frantically, jolts of pain shooting through his knuckles as he does so.

And you’re right at the door waiting for him. You tug it open the second you hear him outside of it, a giant smile of relief on your face.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here! I was going to pass out from waiting so long,” You giggle, grabbing ahold of his forearm that was still outstretched from knocking and pulling him inside.

It took him a moment to realize that you’re alright, that you’re standing right there in front of him, unharmed and unscathed, with his sweatshirt pulled over you, the one he gave you before leaving for university. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you grab at his arms to bring him forward, stumbling back over your own feet in the process which just sends you into another fit of giggles.

You had a slight sheen of sweat over your face and neck, not a lot, just enough so when your head turned to look behind you the kitchen lights bounced against the gloss on your skin. You didn’t have pants on as well, just these light grey boy-short panties that completely exposed the length of your legs.

It wasn’t like Armin hasn’t seen you in a swimsuit before. Many times your parents had taken you on trips to a lake where you would go tubing and swimming for hours on end until you were both drained of all your energy. But seeing you in, presumably, nothing but his sweatshirt and panties that bared your thighs and bottom curves of your ass had him far more flabbergasted than a swimsuit ever could.

“You’re — you’re okay?” He asks, voice still wavering with concern as you continue to drag him towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not!” You sound serious, “I need help… with making my dessert.” Your faux serious tone falls apart and you’re choking back another wave of laughter.

Armin watches you incredulously but intently as you slide your hands down his forearms until both of your hands meet his own, giving them a squeeze before spinning around and gripping the kitchen island’s counter.

You have an array of stainless steel bowls crowded beside each other while a mixture of dry baking goods sits unstirred in one of the bowls. You shuffle through the measuring cups and spoons before picking up a large wooden spoon and holding it up to Armin, presenting it to him, like you’ve found a block of gold.

When you turn away from him, he looks over the state of the kitchen. Sugar and flour remnants cover the countertops, series of baking instruments litter them as well, and on the kitchen table is a bottle of vodka.

And then it hits him; you’re playful nature, unpredictability, clumsiness, and intimacy.

“Are you drunk?” He asks you. He isn’t disappointed, or angry, just slightly taken aback.

You bring your head up from the bowl and tilt your head side to side like you were thinking over his question, “A little.”

It was much more than ‘a little’. Before you had even started drinking you were in a playful mood. You had just gotten the offer for a summer job for lifeguarding at the apartment complex’s pool and you thought to celebrate by binging your favorite television show and having a few shots. Then, a few shots turned to many and you were dancing around your living room while having the time of your life before you had settled on making yourself some food. ‘Another celebration’ you had convinced yourself.

But the measuring and the mixing were too hard and who else was there to call other than your best friend?

“Oh my god.” Armin smiles, shaking his head at you and making his way towards you as you continue to mix at god-knows-what you’ve put into that bowl, “You need actual food, not whatever you’re making here.”

You let go of the spoon, letting out a little huff of frustration at his words, scrunching your nose real cutely as you turn towards him. You take the front of his tee-shirt in your hands, gently fiddling with the fabric as you pout.

“I want dessert, Armin.” You whine, bringing your head forward to rest your cheek on his chest. Your chest was pressing against his torso, bare legs knocking against his own.

“’Tomorrow-You’ is going to thank me for not letting you have dessert.” He awkwardly brings one of his hands to your back, patting it a few times before letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades.

“Please?” You whisper, tilting your head up until he can feel your tiny breaths against his chin. Armin hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat begins to pick up in his chest at your close proximity.

“No… No, I’ll — I’ll make you toast or something, how does that sound?” He suggests, snaking his hands between the two of you to gently nudge you off him.

But the space between the two of you is quickly closed when your slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, “Don’t want toast.” You murmur, standing up on the tips of your toes to get in his eye-line. Your nose was only a breath away from his.

Armin carefully takes your wrists in his hands, taking your arms off him as he stammers out, “Well, you’re going to have toast.”

You let out another noise of frustration as you pull yourself away from him, your hands balling into fists at your sides while he pulls open your fridge for the loaf of bread on the top shelf. You watch him with your head tilted in fascination like you’ve never seen bread before, admiring the way his hair falls into his eyes as his pretty hands unwrap the plastic sleeve of the loaf then tug the toaster away from the counter backsplash.

He truly was so beautiful. You always contained your attraction towards him so well, but now your restraint was slipping.

You prance over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back as he slides two slices of bread from the loaf. His skin is so warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves his arms, his abdominal muscles twitching as well in reaction to your fingertips skimming over them.

God, he’s so fucking nervous.

Why is he so nervous?

Because you’re all over him in just panties and his shirt when he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. You’re being so touchy, so intimate with him, he’s afraid he might explode.

“Go sit down. Can’t — can’t help you if you’re in my way.” He says. Oh but he could help you, he could help you even if you were hanging on him like a spider monkey, he’s just afraid you’ll realize your effect on him if you do so.

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re so cute.” You nuzzle your head under his left arm until you and slip your whole body under it and stand ever so slightly in front of him, wedged between his torso and the countertop.

Your hands play with the hem of his shirt as you look up to him, your eyes glossy, and your pupils were blown. Armin tries his best to keep himself subtly distanced from you, but it’s no use. Every time he inches away, you’re just back on him.

You’re sliding your hands up his chest, fingers tracing over his jaw and cheekbones as you cling to his side. He can feel your hips knocking against his, your thighs rubbing against his as you shift around to try and get closer. Your fingers follow along the curves of his neck, tracing down his throat then skimming over his collarbones.

“Sit here then. Sit on the counter.” Armin grabs ahold of your torso and pushes you against the counter, the edge of it rutting into the small of your back. You grab ahold of his biceps and let out a flirty little giggle at what his actions could be insinuating.

Your fingers press into the plush muscle of his arms as he strains to lift you, your heels grappling at the cabinets below you to try and aid him. His waist ends up slipped between your knees when you’re finally seated, and you can feel your body flush hot with arousal.

You were already sweating from the exertion you had put forward before he had arrived, but the added closeness with Armin was just driving you crazy.

“Now sit, and stay.” Armin places his hands in front of you to enforce his directions.

You giggle a few times, smiling at the fact that he’s treating you like a dog, “Woof.”

Armin slips his waist out from your knees to come to your left slide, plucking the now toasted bread from the toaster and setting it on a napkin. He pulls open the drawer to his right for a butter knife, then snatches the butter from the island and brings it to your toast.

His hands shake as he pulls the glass top of the butter dish, they shake as he dips the knife into the butter, and continues to shake as he spreads the butter over the first piece of toast. He can feel your thigh brushing against his hip as you swing your legs.

You begin to breathe heavier, the heat of exhaustion and heat of arousal begin to grow overwhelming. You fan your face a few times, pushing your hair off your neck, before grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over your head.

“What — what are you doing?” Armin stammers, taking a tiny step away from you.

You absentmindedly fold the sweatshirt before setting it aside to fan your face again, “It’s so hot… I think it’s you, Armin.”

You can see his face flush red this time, his ears as well, turning his cheeks and nose a pretty pink shade that doesn’t help your problem.

Armin tries to ignore you, he really does, but it’s so difficult because now you’re in this skimpy little tank top with spaghetti straps. And the straps are slipping off your shoulders and Jesus fucking christ you’re not wearing a bra. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting over your scantily clad figure, drinking in the way your thighs squish against the counter, the curve of your ass as it’s pressed to the granite, the way your nipples tease the thin fabric of your skin.

“Have I ever told you that? That you’re so fine?” You giggle, running a finger down his bicep as he finishes buttering your toast. You’re so grateful that he’s got that stupid white tee shirt on, the one that keeps your gaze lingering over the lean muscle in his chest and back.

“Um, n — no. Toast is done, hop down.” He refuses to make eye contact because if he does, he’s scared he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you.

“Help.” You pout, reaching out your hands and grabbing for his shoulders.

Armin listens to your plea, setting the toast back down and grabbing ahold of your waist to slide you off the counter. But instead of bringing your feet to the floor, you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck. You have to tilt your head down to look into his eyes, only to see his pupils blown and lashes fluttering as he blinks. He doesn’t push you off him. Instead, he uses his left hand to snatch the food off the counter while his right hand comes to brace your lower back.

He’s afraid he’s going to have a heart attack now; feeling your thighs wrapped around him, your cunt hovering just right over his growing cock, your back arching your chest so close to his face that he swears if he looked down he would get a perfect view of your tits, your parted lips all glossy, breath fanning over the bridge of his nose as you run your fingers over the curves of his pretty pink lips.

Fuck. He was definitely getting off to this later.

You’re giggling all the while, and to an extent, you know exactly the effect you have on him. It’s cute, the way he stumbles around your house and trying to keep his footing as he brings you to your bedroom.

“C’mon, Armin. At least take me on a date first,” You tease as he kneels down to bring your backside to the foot of the bed. Once your legs release his waist, he stands again.

“I’m — I’m not trying — we’re not —” He stutters, bringing his hands forward again like he’s scared you’ll pounce on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. Armin wants nothing more in the entire world than to have you beneath him, to have his cock sheathed inside you, to have you moan out his name as you cum around his cock…

But he couldn’t let it happen like this.

You were drunk, so so drunk. And you probably didn’t even know what you were saying.

“We can if you want to.” You speak softly, your knees knocking together as you settle into your seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap as if you got all shy all of a sudden.

And when you look up to him through your lashes, brows furrowed slightly in a pout, Armin almost caves. But he catches himself just as fast, shoving your toast in front of you like it’s a shield.

Your eyes shift down to the food that’s presented before you, and your pout turns into a cute little smile as you daintily take it from his hands. You let the napkin rest in your left palm as you hold the food in your right, immediately taking a little bite out of it.

“You want some water?” Armin asks, still standing in front of you.

You give him a nod without looking up, taking another bite out of the toast while he fills up the cup that he knew rested beside your bathroom sink. As he stands in front of the mirror he takes a moment to breathe in and out deeply as the water fills the cup.

You were going to be the death of him.

“You know, I mean it when I say you’re attractive,” He hears you say, still sitting all obediently on your bed and waiting for him to return, “Everyone’s like, ‘oh Armin got so hot!’, but I always thought you were cute… you just got so — nnghh — in the past year.”

He returns with your glass of water, holding it out to you as you finish chewing. You take it from him gently, holding it in both your hands, careful not to drop it, as you take little sips.

He knew you were being irrational, but he truly hopes you mean what you say.

When you finish drinking, you pat your hand against the mattress as you set your cup to the floor. You want him close again, want the warmth he radiates both physically and spiritually. Armin listens to your ask and sits beside you carefully, running his hands over his thighs as you pull your legs up on the mattress and cross them under you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You ask, voice getting tiny again.

That was real… that question… he’s so sure of it. You were always insecure about your looks when you had no reason to be, but he had no idea that you cared what he thought about you.

“I — um… I — I don’t think my — my opinion matt —” He tries to get it to come out sounding right, but the moment he opens his mouth he already knows he’s failed terribly.

“Do… do you not think I’m pretty?” He can hear the feeling of betrayal in your voice, you turn your head away from him.

“No! No, y/n, I think you’re really pretty —”

You grab ahold of his shirt collar and tug him towards you as you let your back fall to the mattress. His torso comes over you and his hand shoots out beside your head to keep him from falling atop you. He can’t even bring himself to pull off of you, because your noses are touching and he can feel your knees knocking against the left side of his waist.

“I — you’re — God, y/n you’re so pretty. Don’t ever think I don’t think that.” He breathes, trying so hard to your lips from touching, for his own sake.

Your mouth splits into a smile and a little laugh escapes your lips. Your free hand grabs ahold of his shirt as well, assuring both you and him that he isn’t going anywhere. You look down to his lips, slightly parted as he pants heavily to keep his composure.

“No, but you don’t understand,” You keep your eyes on his lips, fighting the desire to kiss him, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Armin’s breath gets caught in his throat because you had spoken that in a borderline whimper. Your bottom lip had been taken between your teeth after you finished speaking, and he swears he could see your back arch slightly.

It was completely visible now, how much you needed him. You were holding onto him for dear life, your thighs were squeezing together and your arched back had your stomach brushing against his. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, irises filled with lust and hunger.

Armin’s so grateful that your legs are to his side and now wrapped around his waist again because he would not have been able to stop himself from grinding down against you… it would have been completely involuntary.

“And — and don’t tell anyone this but sometimes… sometimes I get off to you,” You bring your voice to a whisper as you reveal your secret, lifting your head to move closer to him. He can feel your lips brush against his as you speak, “Actually... like all the time.”

Armin lets out an audible exhale, his jaw slacking at your revelation, he has to shut his eyes again.

“Do you get off to me too?” You ask. And you speak like you didn’t just reveal that to him, bringing your head back down to the mattress and smiling.

Of course he does. Of course he does.

Junior year of high school you offered to be his first kiss, just for fun, ‘cause you were friends, right? And you wanted to help him get it over with.

But every night since then, Armin has gotten off to you; laid back in his bed with his cock in his fist, and whispering your name as he cums.

“I — we’re best friends — y/n, I —”

“Best friends don’t wanna fuck each other, Armin.” You say, your voice losing all its playfulness and growing serious like you had suddenly become sober.

You stare into his pretty blue eyes for a moment, letting your own flit between the two of his. You were watching for any change in his expression, any look of disgust or repulsion, but you don’t find any. He just keeps that same incredulous, lust-filled look on his face.

He looks over you as well. Your eyes were still so droopy and hazy, your lips parted like you’re manually breathing. You were so drunk that it almost hurt him. You weren’t going to remember a single thing in the morning, and the two of you would be back to square one because Armin would never be able to repeat to you what you said to him or admit his searing desire for you.

Armin can feel your grip on his shirt tighten once more, and instead of lifting your head to him, you pull him down to you.

“I need you,” You whisper, voice shaking with arousal, “Fuck me... please.”

Armin swallows hard, his arms beginning to shake under his weight. He was going to fucking explode. He needed a break, just a moment, anything so he can catch his breath and regain some of his composure.

Christ, he was so fucking hard. If you were sober, he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to rip off both of your clothes and push his cock inside you.

“I can’t — you’re drunk,” He murmurs, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. You can hear the fact that he truly wanted to do what you begged him for.

“No, Armin, I want it. I need it. I mean it, I swear.” You plead, your hands pawing at his shirt like he was attempting to get away from you and you wanted him to stay. But Armin was set put, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move even if he wanted.

“I need your cock.”

“Not — not now. You need to sleep this off. You’re… you’re not yourself right now,” He takes his eyes off yours, closing them once more and squeezing them shut.

“I’ve — I’ve always wanted you though. Always, I promise.” You continue, hoping that somehow you’ll convince him.

It was true. You wish he could understand how true it was. All the guys you had gotten with after-parties, after football games… they were all just replacements, they were fill-ins for him. You would pretend that it was him that was filling you up, gripping your hips and whispering dirty things against your ear. And for seconds at a time, it would work and you would convince yourself that Armin was right there with you.

And every time you would see him helping another girl with school work, see them flirting with him and getting touchy with him, playing with his glasses or drawing shapes on his hands with a pen… this disgusting feeling would churn around in your stomach and bubble up into your throat. And although Armin was oblivious to their flirting, it still hurt so fucking bad.

“I’ve always wanted you too… just — just not like this. Just sleep it off, okay? And — and then we’ll talk.” His left hand wraps around your waist while his right switches to brace beside your head. He grabs ahold of your torso and shimmies you up the bed until your head meets the pillow.

He sits back on his calves, his left arm sliding out from under you while his right hand brushes your messy hair out of your face before petting your head.

“And, and you’ll fuck me in the morning?” You ask, completely genuine.

Armin swallows hard again, pulling himself away from you and helping you slide your body under your sheets, “If — if you still want me to.”

You look up to him with your eyes full of admiration as he smoothes the sheets over your body, “I’ll always want you to.”

It comes out sounding much more intimate than it actually is to say that ‘you’ll always want Armin to fuck you’. And Armin lets his eyes meet yours again, matching the love that’s filled them.

He smiles to hide the doubt he has inside his chest. In the morning, you’ll either regret every word and ghost him or you’ll forget everything you’ve admitted. Both options made Armin’s heart hurt, but he decides that you leaving him would be the worst of the two. He wouldn’t know what to do if you’d never talk to him again. So for now, he truly hopes you forget.

Armin pulls his hands away from you, shuffling his knees on the bed to get off of it. But before he can bring his feet to the ground, you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Stay, please.” You ask, your eyes struggling to stay open. He wonders if you even know that you’re talking.

He listens to you anyway, bringing his hand down to the mattress as he slips himself under the sheets and next to you. And if he wasn’t sure about staying before, he sure was now because you were so warm and so soft as you shimmied back against him. You take his arm and sling it over your waist, letting his palm splay out over your stomach. You can feel every rise of his chest against your back.

You were going to doze off so easily, he was so warm, he was so comforting. You could feel sleep beginning to creep up on you quickly. But before you let it take over, you slide your hand back and between your bodies to grab the source of the hard thing poking into your ass.

“You’re so hard,” You giggle.

Armin chokes on his breath again and grabs your wrist to pull your hand off his dick, “Stop. Go — go to bed.”

You listen this time, retracting your hand to slip it over his that rests on your stomach, interlacing your fingers as you succumb to your exhaustion.

#armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin smut #armin x reader smut #armin x reader #all this time #2k

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onyxbird · 2 years ago

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There's No Such Thing as a Free Lunch (But Sometimes It's My Treat)

Summary: It was clearly labeled as his, and it probably wasn't poison. …Eh, Martin had better things to do than worry about the provenance of free food.

Someone has started leaving packed lunches for Martin, and he's not sure who or why. The food is certainly good, though. Five times the mysterious lunches appear, and one time he actually talks to his benefactor. (Lethal Weapon (2016), AO3 link for fic)

1. Monday

When the first brown paper bag appeared on Martin's desk, he was a little puzzled. Still, they'd been running flat-out on this case since 9 am, so unless it was literally a bomb or a severed hand or something, he really did not have the energy to care.

It was a sandwich.

Two sandwiches, actually, and a little bag of dried apricots.

He stared blankly at the ziploc bag in his hand for a long moment. He picked up the paper bag again to check for any indication of who it belonged to: “Martin.”

…The bag definitely hadn't been there when he stopped at his desk this morning, so it wasn't that he'd dissociated so hard over the weekend that he'd grocery shopped and packed a lunch without remembering. Besides, that wasn't his handwriting.

“Finally decided to upgrade from vending machine fare?” Cahill's voice sounded amused, but she wore a decidedly pleased smile. Hmm. She was surprised, so this wasn't some weirdly direct new therapy strategy, then. She didn't need to know he had no idea what was going on.

He considered the sandwich again as Cahill walked on.

It was clearly labeled as his, and it probably wasn't poison. …Eh, he had better things to do than worry about the provenance of free food.

The sandwiches were peanut butter and jelly, and Martin did not die.

2. Tuesday

Another bag was sitting on his desk when he arrived the next morning.

It contained almonds, grapes, a container of cheese, pepperoni, and crackers, and a brownie.

Martin glanced around the room, but no one seemed to be paying any attention. His name was clearly written on this one, too.

He ate the brownie and saved the rest for lunch.

3. Wednesday

He was vaguely disappointed when there was no bag on his desk the next morning.

Tracking down leads for the latest case took the entire morning and more. By the time they made it back to the station, it was almost 2 pm, and Roger had been moaning about how hungry he was for over an hour.

There was still no bag on his desk.

He wasn't really even sure why he was so disappointed. The lunch-bag fairy was apparently a two-day only deal, but that was better than he had any reason to expect.

He grabbed a few items from the vending machine, as per usual, and tried to forget about yesterday's brownie.

…

The station was nearly deserted when he ducked into the breakroom one last time before leaving, but Martin wasn't quite the last hold-out plugging away at the case—Scorsese was sitting at the table, his head propped on one hand and an energy-drink can in the other, looking like a zombie.

He frowned blearily as Martin plugged his coins into the vending machine and tried to decide between cheese puffs and M&Ms. Or both. This was his dinner, after all.

“…Did you forget you left your lunch in the fridge?”

Martin's nearly-made decision evaporated from his brain. “Huh?”

“Your lunch,” said Scorsese. “It's still in the fridge.”

The fact that Martin hadn't brought a lunch was on the tip of his tongue, but…

He opened the fridge. Sure enough, a brown bag labeled “Martin” sat on the middle shelf. A peek inside revealed another two sandwiches and bag of carrot sticks.

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problem,” said Scorsese. He chugged the remainder of his energy drink.

Martin headed towards the door.

“Your money's still in the vending machine,” noted Scorsese.

Martin flashed him a crooked smile. “Right.” He punched the buttons for the M&Ms, and snagged them out of the dispenser. “Guess I'd better get out of here before I forget where I left my head.”

Scorsese snorted. “Yeah. Me, too.”

4. Thursday

There was, again, no bag on Martin's desk the next morning, but there was one in the fridge.

He delved into it eagerly while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

Turkey sandwiches today, with tomato, avocado, and plenty of mustard. More carrot sticks, and a lemon bar.

The case sucked, but a bad day with a lemon bar was certainly an improvement over a bad day without one.

5. Friday

The bag was on his desk again, and the first thing he pulled out was a thermos.

Martin pondered it with some concern. All of the wrappings previously had been disposable.

He supposed if the lunch-bag fairy was able to access his desk to leave lunches, they must also be able to get in and retrieve stuff (which, in hindsight, he probably should have reported to Avery by now), but… was he intended to wash it? And when did they come? It was almost the weekend.

He set the thermos down and continued his exploration. Crackers, some cherry tomatoes, another lemon bar, and a note.

“Since my husband is clearly not going to remember to ask you: Please come join me for coffee [a note scribbled in the margin added 'and coffee cake'] tomorrow (Saturday) morning. Recently got a 'Texas chili' recipe that I'd like to pick your brain about. Anytime after 9am is fine. –Trish (P.S. Bring the thermos with you.)”

+1 Saturday

Martin sheepishly knocked on the Murtaughs' door at 9 am, thermos in hand. Trish welcomed him in with a smile, reclaiming the thermos and pointing him to a seat. Roger and the teens were out for the day, she explained.

It took Martin no more than halfway through his first, generous slice of rich cinnamon coffee cake to dissect all the ways in which the purported “Texas” chili recipe was anything but. (“Barely even qualifies as 'chili,'” he grumbled, eliciting a snort of laughter from Trish.)

It took a few more bites to finally dredge up the will to broach the other topic on his mind. His eyes stayed on the surface of the coffee in his mug, as if it were likely to do something dangerous if left unsupervised. “So you're the one who's been leaving lunch for me all week?”

There was a pause.

“Well, I sent it in with Roger. …What did he say when he gave it to you?”

Martin hesitated.

“Martin.” Trish's face brooked no argument.

“Well… he didn't exactly say anything. I just found it on my desk. Or in the fridge.”

Trish dropped her face into her hand. “I swear I am going to kill that man someday.” She pointed a finger at Martin. “That is a figure of speech, and not an admission of guilt.”

By the time Martin left in mid-afternoon, he'd been drafted as a prep cook to assist with multiple batches of meals to stock the freezer, fueled by helping to polish off several of the remaining lemon bars.

He also had another coffee date with Trish scheduled for the next week.

As price for a week's worth of lunches went, he was definitely coming out ahead.

#martin riggs #trish murtaugh #lethal weapon (2016)#because martin riggs desperately needs to eat better.#onyxbird fanfic

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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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PART 5. THE INHERENT EROTICISM OF BUTTONING SOMEONE’S CLOTHES

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. sexual tension !! and umm sexual frustration ;p, not explicit but prob rated 16+, just read the title of this chapter BAHAHA

A/N. sorry this is coming a little later than planned ! :( but i hope the dressing room scene can make up for it u.u tysm for reading and for all the feedback! enjoy :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

What were you supposed to wear to a shopping date? you asked yourself. Not that today was a date or anything. Though maybe you sort of wished it were…

The Naruhata Charity Gala was in a little over a week and Shouto would be coming over to pick you up in less than one hour and you still sat in your room with nothing but a towel on feeling more and more hopeless.

It was a strange dilemma. He met you in your work apron wearing an unflattering work shirt and work pants. And when you met up over the weekend previously, you never paid too much mind on what you would wear. In fact, you were positive he wouldn’t even care how you looked. So why was it such a big deal to you now?

Probably because of your recent admission of your growing feelings towards him, you thought crossly.

In your defense, it wasn’t like it was your fault! Right? Seeing someone everyday… Wanting to see someone everyday… Texting regularly about the most random things, having the most banal objects you saw throughout the day remind you of something Shouto did or said… With all those occurrences it would’ve been practically impossible to not start crushing on him!

Time passed as you stared at your ceiling blankly. If you kept this up, he was bound to show up in your house and find you half-naked. (Now that you mentioned it, that didn’t sound like the worst idea. But it wasn’t something you’d randomly spring upon someone.)

“Get up, Y/N!” you scolded yourself, rolling off your bed and heading towards your closet.

In the end, you ended up settling for another variation of your usual go-to outfit and called it a day. It happened to be perfect timing since, by the time you finished getting ready, you got a new message on your phone.

Shouto: Parked in front of your place

Shouto: Sorry I’m a little early. You can take your time getting ready :)

Y/N: it’s okay i’m ready now!!

After hitting send, you put your shoes on, gathering your belongings you wanted to bring with you, and headed out the door. Excited to hang out with Shouto again, you walked with a skip in your step down the path until you reached his car.

“Hi!” You waved through his half-opened, tinted window. To no one’s surprise, his car was a sleek black color with dark, tinted windows, and gold details along the sides. If it didn’t look so oddly sexy you would’ve laughed at how cutely dorky he was for matching his car with his credit card. “This is one hot car.”

He turned his head to the side when you entered the passenger’s seat. “Should I turn the AC higher?”

“Huh— Oh!” You stifled a giggle when you processed the pun he made. “You’re funny, Shouto.”

He only looked a little confused. “Thank you.”

The interior of his car was no less—for lack of better term—sexy than the outside. Leather seats, a large screen for the radio and carplay, and the dashboard and side doors lit up a nice blue color.

“Pretty!” you complimented, poking at the colorful light.

“Want to pick a color?”

Your eyes widened. “It can change colors?!”

Shouto nodded.

“Can it be pink?” you asked intently.

“Light pink or hot pink?”

“Light.”

He swiftly obliged and with a hit of a touchscreen button, the interior lighting changed from blue to pastel pink.

“Green!”

It turned green.

“Orange!”

Cue the orange.

“Purple?”

Purple.

Once you were thoroughly satisfied with Shouto showing you the whole color selection (you were almost embarrassed to admit it kept you entertained for a good ten minutes), you settled on a bright turquoise that reminded you of the color of his left eye.

“Ooh, this color! My favorite,” you said simply, giving him a wide smile.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he developed a sudden interest in adjusting his rearview mirror. “Hm.”

Shouto drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking how your week was outside of work and what type of outfit you wanted to wear so he could have a better idea on where to take you.

“Did you eat?” he suddenly asked when he hit the next stoplight, one hand holding the wheel and the other resting comfortably on the gear shift.

His hands looked nice and slender and soft to the touch. Pretty hands, you thought but shook yourself out of it because you could go down a rabbit hole of examining his hands and going into detail about them.

You remembered the single, measly granola bar you had due to your rush getting ready. “I didn’t really eat yet, no. Did you?”

He shook his head and pulled into a food plaza with lots of stores to choose from. The two of you agreed on a noodle restaurant that apparently had some of the best cold soba (once you learned it was his favorite food, you wanted to be able to have some with him and today was the perfect opportunity to do just that) and promptly headed to the location.

In the shop, a waiter sat the two of you down at a dimly lit booth with the perfect amount of ambience that if someone were to casually look over, they might even mistake this outing as a date.

You grinned at the thought.

“Excited for the soba?” asked Shouto, examining the smile on your face thoughtfully.

That’s not why you were smiling, but it was close enough. “Mhm. And the udon. You can never go wrong with noodles!”

Yes, you got both udon and soba. But in your defense, where else would the fun in life be if not in sugary sweets and carbs?

As the two of you waited for your main dishes, you ate some fish cakes and edamame while talking about the ways in which capitalism could be dismantled. Rather sexy of him, if you did say so yourself.

Before you knew it, you were done with your meal and headed back into his car to go fancy-people shopping. On the remainder of the ride, you asked yourself what color you should pick that would match well with both you and Shouto. After all, nothing said a cute couple who totally liked each other going on a totally real date to a gala like color-coordinated outfits, right?

He parked in front of a street of buildings with a dark glass reaching from ceiling to floor with security guards at the door. Just standing near it made you feel fancy.

“This is a place my sister told me she liked,” he said, leading you to the store front with his hand on the small of your back to guide you. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking.”

You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the warmth you felt both on your back and your stomach from the fuzzy feelings that spread.

“Hello, welcome!” the both of you were greeted as you walked through the doors. The interior of the store was lined with designer dresses, some long, some short, and all incredibly stunning. There were only a few other patrons in the store, but all of them looked so elegant as they tried on their dresses. “It’s so lovely to see you again Mr. Todoroki.”

Shouto nodded subtly. “Hello. This is Y/N, my date to the gala who’ll need your assistance today.”

“Hi!” you chimed in at his cue. “Nice to meet you.”

The worker smiled and made her way over to you. “And you as well. I’m Masuda and I’ll do my best to make sure you leave the store satisfied with your purchase! Did you have a particular style or perhaps color in mind?”

“Umm,” you said sheepishly, looking around the wide variety of clothings and unsure where to start. “I’m not too sure. It’s my first time going to one of these things so maybe something comfortable, but also still...fancy?” You scratched the back of your neck. “Does that even exist?”

“Of course— Just have to find something that feels comfortable to you.” She told you to hold on one moment as she disappear into the rows of fabric.

As Masuda collected some starter dresses for you to try on, a customer walked by with bags of clothes in her hands, her gaze lingering on Shouto, though neither of you paid her much mind.

“In this setting, you look almost fit to be a sugar daddy,” you said jokingly, looking around in awe at the sophisticated yet lavish dresses. “You take all your sugar babies here?”

“Only the ones I really like,” he teased back. His voice was deadpan but there was the telltale hints of a smirk on his face to let you know he was only messing with you.

The door chimed to signal that a customer left and by then Masuda had returned with bundles of fabric draped on her arm. She led you away in a hurry and you hesitantly looked back at Shouto who followed in a safe distance. Seeing your moment of panic, he gave you an encouraging smile that somehow was enough to ease a significant fraction of your nerves. This may be new and confusing territory, but at least he was here to help you through it.

Masuda set a dressing room up for you—it was one of those rooms in the middle of the store with curtains that reached the ceiling and mirrors all around—and placed a bunch of outfits she thought would suit your taste. It reminded you of when a bride would go wedding dress shopping with their family. When you had enough outfits for the first round, she told Shouto to sit down on a leather seat in front of your dressing room while he waited for you to try the different dresses on.

In a way, it felt oddly intimate: Shouto sitting just a few feet in front of you as you undressed, only separated by the veil of a curtain. Would he offer to help button the back of your dress up, fingers brushing against your bare skin? The thought made you feel almost hot inside as you changed out of your street clothes and into the first dress.

Unfortunately for you, this dress had no such difficult buttons to reach.

“How’s it look?” you asked shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.

The dress was pretty and didn’t feel uncomfortable to walk in, but there wasn’t any sort of attachment you felt towards it. In other words, it was simply...meh.

Shouto looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you. He smiled. “You look amazing as always.”

“You think so?” You spun around and curtseyed jokingly and he chuckled. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one.”

“We’ll be here until you find the right one you want, then. Take your time, Y/N.”

His voice was normally on the deeper side, but it sounded even more sensual and gravelly at this very moment. You felt goosebumps on your arms and it wasn’t just because of the sleeveless dress you currently had on.

“T-Thanks, Shouto,” you murmured, turning around and walking back into the changing room to hide the look on your face. You didn’t even know what kind of look you had on your face, but you knew it was one that might give too much away.

It wasn’t fair that he had to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful and handsome and rich… Most guys you met barely fit into one of those criteria, let alone all five. (Sure, the last two weren’t necessary in your opinion, but you couldn’t deny they were a nice bonus.) It was too bad you had no clue how he felt about you.

There were moments where he felt flirty and teasing, like maybe he viewed you in a more-than-friends way. But other times he was so polite and proper and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just being nice because that’s simply the sort of person he was to everyone.

While you were trying to sort through all your thoughts, you completely forgot to change into a new dress the whole time you were in here.

You saw a shadow at the floor of the curtain before a voice said, “Y/N? Are you okay in there?”

Jumping at the sound, you scurried to put the next dress on, a blue one with almost translucent fabric and a delicate neckline. Judging from the proximity of Shouto’s voice and the shadow of his shoes, he was right next to you as you changed.

“I’m okay!” you managed, hoping you didn’t sound as wobbly as you felt. You held the dress closed at the back, fumbling with the fastens. “I just, ah, needed help buttoning this one up.”

A light ruffle on the curtain then a pause. “Should I...come in and help?”

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to actually offer to button it up like you fantasized earlier. You fully thought he might called the worker to aide you just so he wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable. (Not that he would’ve. At all.)

“I apologize,” he said somewhat tensely after you didn’t respond. “That was indecent of me—”

“No, no!” you said profusely, poking your head out of the curtain while holding the fabric at the front of your dress to your chest. You tilted your chin to meet his gaze with a determined one of your own. “I’d love your help, Shouto.”

With a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, he nodded and entered your dressing room. “This dress is a nice color on you.” His voice was loud against the silence.

Shouto ran his hand down the length of your spine and then up to unfold the column of buttons on your dress that curved inwards at your movement, his knuckles grazing against your skin like lightning striking water. You jolted at the sudden feeling but he didn’t remove his touch when he felt it.

“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Was just getting the buttons out.”

“N-No worries!”

His fingers began working on the bottom-most button at your lower back as he applied a steady pressure on the base of your spine to control the motion. Shouto slowly began his way up, fingertips cold to the touch. But you knew that wasn’t the only reason you felt yourself shiver. As he fastened the dainty buttons with immense concentration (much more concentration than was actually needed to fasten buttons, you were sure), you felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of your neck. You almost couldn’t keep yourself from arching your back in a mixture of anticipation and delight at his constant touch.

When he finished the last button, Shouto let one hand rest on your hip, grasping the fabric between his fingertips to examine its silken texture. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped back and bumped into his chest, but he was already there to steady you.

With his arm on your waist and your back leaning against his chest, you made eye contact through the mirror in front of you. You weren’t sure if the pounding you felt was from your heart or his or a combination of both.

There was something almost erotic about holding each others’ gaze in the mirror after Shouto just helped you dress, the two of you still not letting the other go despite the task being complete.

“The dress… You look gorgeous,” he said, not taking his eyes off you for one moment.

You nodded slowly. It did look amazing on you. And it was breathable and soft. (Plus, Shouto liked it, which made you happier than you’d care to admit.) “The only downside would be I need help getting into it.”

“We could get ready together so it’s no issue.”

“I’d...also need help getting out of it.”

You held your breath as his eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly in a way that made you curve your back before you remembered you were flush against Shouto and he could feel even the most subtle of movements coming from your body. But by the time you stopped yourself, it was too late. He already felt it and you wanted more.

His voice was hoarse. “I could help you with that too.”

Instead of beginning to unbutton the dress like part of you thought he would, he surprised you by spinning you around to face him, your shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass of the mirror and your palms lingering on the muscles of his warm chest. The contrast of the cold glass and Shouto’s body heat left a shiver down your spine.

“And how do you plan to help take off my dress when you can’t even see the buttons?” you said challengingly, a smirk on your face despite knowing full well your body was showcasing just how affected you were by this situation. By Shouto.

He tilted his head to the side in response to your daring tone, hands swiftly finding their way to your back and unbuttoning the top five buttons. It wasn’t enough to completely expose your breasts, but it was enough to loosen the fabric at the neckline in a way that made you gasp.

“Seems doable to me,” he commented.

You tugged him down slightly by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t quite believe you. Maybe you should prove it.”

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he cupped your jaw and leaned in closer. You inched forward, eager to meet his lips. But before they could touch, a knock came from the wall next to the curtain, causing the two of you to freeze in your spots, bodies pressed against each other in an intimate flush.

“Hello, Y/N?” said Masuda cheerfully, blissfully ignorant about what was about to happen in a public dressing room in the middle of the store. “How are the dresses coming along? Did you like any?”

“Ah, actually…” you trailed off, exchanging frustrated but amused glances with Shouto. “I think we’ll take this one.”

a/n: so...mirror sex/sex in a dressing room as a bonus chapter? u.u why yes of course. i’m one step ahead; did u even have to ask? LMAO and hm i wonder if y/n’s fEeLiNGs~ are reciprocated skfkfkdg ALSO THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO KISSING BUT DIDN’T I CRY hopefully the wait will be worth it ;3

what to expect in the next part:

GALA TIMEEEE

yes y/n finally gets the fancy candy they so desired

we get to see shouto’s sexy penthouse

shouto says eat the rich >:c

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years ago

Text

Day 131.2 Tease (Part 2)

(you can start with part 1 if you'd like.)

It's not forever. Harry reminded himself as he sat in his fourth meeting today with a board of people he barely recognized. His eyes searched for Draco who was across the room, his head bowed as he spoke in hushed tones to a witch in a hideous magenta robe.

It's not forever he repeated as he listened to the arsehole leading the presentation about all of the ways that the war had helped the economy boom.

It's not forever he thought again as the board congratulated themselves on a war well won when not a single one of them was there.

He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to replace every person he'd lost with one of these arseholes instead.

His gaze met Draco's across the room and he wondered if the other man could see how this was killing him.

"Mr. Potter," the wanker who'd been running the meeting, Sebastian if Harry remembered correctly, said, "You've been awfully quiet," he added jovially and the room chuckled with him. Harry forced a smile. "What are your thoughts?"

"Thank you for the invitation to speak," he said courteously. "Yes, I agree," he lied, "It's really something that we've had such a boom in the economy." He paused as the people around the room congratulated each other again. "There are several things that I would personally love to see some of the excess get funneled into."

"Oh-" Sebastian started but Harry continued over him.

"The number of children orphaned during the war doubled," Harry said bluntly. "Our orphanages don't have enough room to hold them and they're being put in muggle orphanages or into muggle homes. Many muggles aren't equipped to handle a wizarding child."

"Mr. Potter-"

"Excuse me," he said. "If I could just have another moment of your time." He cleared his throat, "I would like to see better processes in place for how these children are placed. An extra set of interviews, even." There were murmurs around the room but Harry plowed on.

(Read more below the cut)

"The number of people who are now affected by lyncathropy has nearly quadrupled but our funding has remained the same for that department in St. Mungo's-"

"Yes, but-"

"And," Harry continued, "The potion typically used for treatment is really expensive. With all of the prejudices against lycanthropes, it's difficult for many of them to find gainful employment, they can't-"

"Mr. Potter," Sebastian interrupted more forcibly, "I don't really think this is the appropriate time or place."

"Then where and when is?" Harry snapped. His eyes found Draco once more and watched as the other man lifted his chin and inhaled slowly, deeply. And Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, looking down at his hands, "I apologize, I don't mean to be rude," he said even though it was a complete lie. "I must be feeling a bit peckish. Congratulations on your success," he managed.

"Yes, thank you," the other man said amidst a third round of congratulatory murmurs. "I think we're all a bit hungry," he chuckled. "Let's end early," he suggested.

Everyone was quick to pack up and leave, several people stopping to congratulate him but not a single one of them saying anything about orphans, or werewolves, or any of the other things that Harry hadn't managed to say.

Draco was talking to a wizard, patting him on the back and Harry pretended to be digging around for something important in his bag until that wizard left the room, leaving only him and Draco.

Their eyes caught and held, Draco looked at him helplessly and Harry broke. "I can't," he whispered.

"Not here," Draco said, voice soft and achingly tender.

He nodded and told himself that it didn't hurt when Draco simply walked past him and out the door. After another moment, where he let the emotions swirling inside of him rage, he took a fortifying breath and tamped everything back down.

Harry made his way out of the room, down the hall, and through the atrium; he was stopped every several feet by people wanting to talk to him, to have their minute in the limelight. When he'd started working with the ministry, he'd imagined that he'd be able to do anything he wanted because of these frequent meetings but none of them wanted to actually help. It was a game to them.

When he finally made it to the apparation point he barely had the energy to lift his wand and apparate home.

"Don't sit," Draco called when Harry's feet touched the floor.

He whined, "I'm exhausted."

"I know," Draco called back, "But we both know that rest isn't what is going to help you."

Harry wanted to argue, wanted to lash out. Godric, he was itching for a fight, desperate for an outlet. It's how he and Draco had gotten together in the first place, after the war and the trials. Fighting had turned into fucking which had turned into making love and now Harry could hardly imagine not loving Draco.

"I know," Draco repeated as he came into the living room where Harry was still standing in the middle of the floor. "Here," he said, holding out a pair of muggle jeans, a plain black tshirt, flip flops, and a pair of sunglasses. "Get changed."

Harry looked at him then, the other man was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a blue polo, blue sunglasses perched in his hair.

"What are we doing?" he asked even as he stripped out of his robes and the clothes he'd been wearing underneath.

"We're having a taste of someday," Draco said.

Harry paused buttoning his jeans and grabbed Draco's shirt, pulling him in and kissing him fiercely, pouring all of his frustration and desperation into the kiss.

"I know," Draco whispered, pressing his forehead against Harry's. "I know, love."

He swallowed and took a step back so he could finish zipping up his jeans and pull his tshirt on over his head.

"Ready?" Draco asked after he'd stuffed his feet back into his sandals.

Harry nodded eagerly and accepted Draco's arm.

When they blinked back into existence, they were on a bare, sunny stretch of beach by the ocean. "Give me your glasses," Draco said, holding out a hand.

"But I need them to see," Harry protested.

Draco rolled his eyes, but the fond curve of his mouth gave him away, "These," he said, holding out the sunglasses he'd brought down with Harry's clothes, "Are prescription sunglasses."

"You're brilliant," Harry breathed, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Sorry," he said, pulling back quickly remembering that they were still in public, even if the beach seemed deserted.

"Hey," Draco whispered, cupping Harry's cheek and drawing their lips together softly, sweetly, "This is someday, remember?" he murmured, lips brushing tantalizingly over Harry's before he leaned in and closed the distance once more.

Harry grasped his shirt in his hands and kissed him back for a long moment.

When he pulled back, Draco was smiling, warm and open and real, and a bubble of light expanded in Harry's chest. "Give me your glasses," he said again, holding out a hand.

He pulled them off his face and handed them over, accepting the sunglasses and watching as Draco carefully folded them and put them in a case. "Come on," he said as he shoved the case into a bag and held out a hand to Harry.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, reveling in the feel of Draco's hand in his, fingers entwined as they set off down the beach.

Draco smiled, "Right after the war," he said, "When I was trying to get my head on straight, I wanted to understand muggle culture."

"Oh?" Harry asked, greedily gobbling up every word out of Draco's mouth. They didn't talk much about the time just after the war.

He nodded, "You weren't there seventh year but what we were taught in Muggle Studies by the Carrows," Draco shook his head, "well, it doesn't bear repeating. And I wanted to know what they'd lied about; I wanted to see it for myself."

Harry squeezed his hand encouragingly.

"The new professor at Hogwarts who's teaching Muggle Studies now gave me port keys to different places that would let me experience muggle life."

"You did that by yourself?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed, "I know, it's outrageous to think about now, isn't it?"

"Sorry-"

He squeezed his hand and waved him off, "Don't be. It was crazy but I needed to see it, you know? The poor bloke I tried to pay the first time I had muggle food," he laughed again. "Oh Salazar, his face."

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled this much, the muscles in his face actually hurt from disuse.

"Anyway," Draco continued, "This was one of my favorite places. I'd been taught that muggles were stupid and lazy, but this," he said as they walked around the corner and a boardwalk came into view. "It was magic," he said simply.

The scent of fried food wafted down the beach toward them and the sound of children's laughter reached his ears. "I've never been to the boardwalk," he said.

"You'll love it," Draco assured, tugging his hand.

Harry tugged back, pulling Draco around so he could kiss him. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," Draco replied softly, bumping his nose against Harry's.

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

The afternoon stretched into evening, the sun burning red and gold, and setting the ocean on fire. Harry leaned against the railing and watched the sun setting as he stole bits of the funnel cake that Draco had purchased. "They're never going to listen," he said.

"Sorry?" Draco asked through a mouthful of food and Harry loved him all the more.

"I love you," he said simply, distracted.

Draco grinned at him, "I love you, too," he replied. "What did you say before that, though?"

"That they're never going to listen."

The other man frowned, "We don't have to talk about this now," he said. "We're in someday," he added.

"But I want to actually, you know," he said, gesturing vaguely, "get here someday."

"Politics take time," Draco said gently, in the way he had a thousand times.

And Harry recognized it was a product of his upbringing, that Draco had been raised from a very young age to measure every word that left his mouth, to look at a room and size up the people in it to know who was the most important, to make connections and build on them, to calculate every move he made. It's why seeing him here with powdered sugar at the corner of his mouth made Harry feel like he could fly; because Draco could be free when it was just them. And Harry knew from experience that he'd slip back into the role he played without hesitation or difficulty. He'd make a great politician.

But not Harry.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm done with that."

"Harry-"

"I'm running for Minister of Magic," he said.

Draco gaped at him and Harry stored that mental image away for a rainy day. "I'm sorry. What?" Draco asked.

"It's the only way that I'm going to be able to get anything done," he said. "I'm sick of the games."

"But the games are what you'll need to get elected," Draco said.

He laughed, "Nope. I'm pretty sure I've found what all that fame will be useful for. I don't need the support of the idiots who work for the Ministry, I just need the support of regular people. And I'm pretty sure I've earned that. Then once I'm in office I can fire all of them and put in people who actually give a shit."

Draco stared at him for another moment, "Are you sure about this?"

He shrugged and looked out over the water, "As sure as I am of anything."

"Anything?" Draco asked, bumping him with his shoulder.

The corner of his mouth curved up, "You excluded, of course."

"Of course," Draco echoed. "Fuck, Harry," he breathed, "You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

He shook his head, "I think about where Teddy could have ended up if not for Adromeda and I can't sleep," he said. "I think of the way Remus was treated. And of the way the trials went after the first war, the way yours would have gone if I hadn't shown up." He rubbed his fist against the railing, "Every day I walk into the Ministry and I see that fucking fountain where wizards are stepping on other magical creatures, and I just," he shrugged, "I can't."

Draco shifted so he was behind Harry and wrapped his arms around his waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder. "I know," he said softly.

"Will you help me?" Harry asked.

Draco started nodding before he'd even finished the question. "Always, love."

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

part 1 | part 3

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #part 2 #angst but less so than yesterday #happy ending #they're in love #a taste of someday #i don't know how this happened to this poor prompt #this is really not the direction i'd planned to head in when i started writing yesterday #oof.#drarry drabbles #drarry #drarry ficlets #drarry fics

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hockeyforthefirsttime · 3 years ago

Text

The Art of Not Falling in Love- Roope Hintz

AN: This is a piece that is very self indulgent BUT it has a plot despite being like 80% smut. I am thinking of making more parts if people like this

Word count: 5k

TW: like its smut.. so like what do you expect. (Wrap it before you tap it) spanking light dom!Roope female reader

You could never quite understand how you got into this situation. You’d sworn to never fall in love ever. The pain of watching the gruesome divorce of your parents, the way your friends seemed to find “the one” left and right, only to be heartbroken, was simply too much. So you decided to simply don’t fall in love ever.

And you’d kept that promise to yourself, ever since 15. Sure a few crushes came up now and then, but you never acted on them, and you made sure no one knew about the feeling. The only person in your life that knew about this promise to yourself was your best friend Jamie.

The first person you’d met in Dallas when you’d first moved there. You had been a freshman in college and he had been, ironically so, the first person to hit on you in Dallas, and you hadn’t even officially gotten there yet. It happened on the plane ride. He was seated beside you and you couldn’t for the life of you remember the pick up line he used. You just know it was bad, cause you remember laughing at it and the way he tried to manage his long limbs into the airplane seat. It had gone uphill from there on, and you were glad he didn’t get offended by you laughing at him.

Now, however, you were sitting in the stands of the American Airlines Center, watching him and his team scramble across the ice in a turnover, passing the puck up the ice. Roope Hintz picks it up and flicks it into the goal, just over the left shoulder of the Blackhawks goalie, making the Stars take the lead with three minutes left in the third period. The stands erupt in wild cheers and the team celebrates on ice. You jump with the rest of the crowd, and clap enthusiastically. Knowing that it’s gonna be an insufferable team to meet afterwards. After all, athletes tend to be after winning a game like this.

The buzzer goes off and the Dallas Stars have officially ended their losing streak. The crowd is going wild, jumping up and down, making the stands shake just a little. Thats when you decide to sneak out of the stands and find your way to the outside of the locker room, where Jamie had promised he would meet you.

You have been around a few times, and sure enough you find your way. Jamie had made sure to let the security staff know that you would be around after the game. There is a soccer ball laying around so you pick it up and start bouncing it on your jeans clad thigh, then dropping it down onto your foot and up again, alway in control. You lose yourself to the ball, concentrating on keeping it in the air, so much so that you don’t notice the door slamming open until the boom of it makes you drop the ball.

“Jesus fuck.”

You whisper as you look up to find the source of the noise. What you find shouldn’t surprise you, but seeing a shirtless Roope Hintz standing there with a frown on his face, makes heat rush up your neck regardless.

“Who are you?”

He looks suspiciously at you, taking in the skinny jeans and the absence of a jersey. As well as the forgotten soccer ball.

“Sorry, just here for Oleksiak.”

You try to shrug it off, looking for the ball again. His eyes squint suspiciously at you, but his head tilts backwards as he calls for Jamie. He comes bounding out of the locker room, shirtless, but fresh out of the shower. He’s in the middle of zipping up his game day slacks, and the smile already on his lips gets wider.

“You could have waited with the others you know?”

Jamie says cheekily to you. The heat to your face returns, but not in full force. You look at his tall stature and the smaller man beside him. And for some reason, the blonde star of the night is the one to make you look away. You shoot daggers at Jamie instead.

“You know, you could have told me where they were, so I didn’t have to stand here like some other crazed fan.”

Roope slowly turns around and walks away, closing the door with one last curious look directed at you.

“Oh come on, we all know you’re crazy for me.”

Finally you can feel yourself relax a little, with a sigh you take a step closer to him.

“Yeah, crazy for you to leave me alone.”

He wraps you up in his arms and lifts you up in the air, laughing as you gasp at the surprise of being lifted up.

“Congrats by the way, you played well today.”

You say to him, as he lets you back down on the ground again.

“Thank you Sparks.”

“Now go get dressed completely, I suppose you want to celebrate tonight?”

His signature, tooth lacking smile is on full display as he slings an arm around your shoulders. Jamie looks at you with a mischievous look.

“We really want to celebrate this, and besides, we really need to get you laid.”

You wrench your way out of his grip and scowl at him, pushing him in the direction of the door to the locker room.

“Get dressed you idiot.”

You say with a flat voice, trying to remain serious, and failing when you see Jamie wink at you last minute. You immediately go back to juggling the soccer ball, as the door slams shut.

A couple of girls are walking towards you, and you suspect they’re here looking for their boyfriends or husbands. That’s until you see the flustered cheeks and whispers of “I can’t believe we made it all the way here.” and the agreements that follow.

Their eyes land on you and your soccer ball, and their expressions instantly sour. You try to shrug it off, but when the whispering starts again, you look up from the ball. You start getting suspicious when one of the three girls flicks her long, perfectly curled, brunette hair over her shoulder and opens her immaculately painted lips to say something.

“You shouldn’t be here you know.”

The confidence in her voice almost has you fooled for someone who belongs there. Almost. You’ve never seen her close to any of them ever, even if you had managed to stay out of the public eye yourself. Something about this trio didn’t feel right. You stop juggling the ball and drop it to your foot, catching it without bounce and then placing your foot on top of it.

“Why not?”

You ask out of curiosity of what the answer would be.

“Well, it’s reserved for the wags, you know, so you don’t belong here.”

You tilt your head and raise a brow, questioningly.

“Isn’t that what the owner's box is for? you know with reserved seats, food and really comfortable sitting options?”

A blush seems to rise through her make- up and you restrain yourself a little, you really don’t want to make her an enemy. Just in case.

“Yeah.. I just need to see my man before we head home.”

She stutters out, looking at her two friends who nod encouragingly at her.

“Okay, just remind me who it is again?”

You play dumb, knowing that the media is about to get out of the room in a minute.

“Jamie ofcourse.”

And her voice is so confident as she says it, you let a smile show before chuckling. They really thought they could fool anyone with that. Just in that moment, the door opens and cameras and notepads or tape recorders start filing out of the door.

You walk over to the door, holding it open for the stream of reporters and crew. Then you duck a head in and yell for Jamie.

“Oleksiak, your girlfriend is here…”

It isn’t intentional all the way, but it comes out in a sing- song voice.

The entirety of the team turns to face you. Briefly you meet the eyes of Roope, who’s still shirtless. Just as Jamie passes you by with a confused look, you tap his now clothed arm to make him bend down just a little.

“Ehh, so someone somehow got past security, apparently you’re her boyfriend.”

You say to him, loud enough for the closest teammates to hear.

“Jesus Christ, not again.”

Jamie mutters. Stephen Johns is closest and has his phone in seconds calling someone. You let a glance out the door and see the girls huddled together, suddenly looking unsure. Jamie takes a look over your shoulder and sighs.

“Guess I should distract them until security gets here, just stay here.”

You roll your eyes, but stay put. Then suddenly you realise where you are, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry guys, didn’t mean to intrude, just thought you should know about the girls outside.”

You say, trying to not look too closely at anyone. You can feel the heat rising up your neck.

“‘S alright, not everyday we get to know a girl from Jamie's side.”

Tyler Seguin says from his seat by his gear.

“Oh I know, he has a hard time finding decent ones.”

You say it absentmindedly, but the entire team seems to crack up at that. You feel a little bad, but you also know it as true and it's already said, so you can’t take it back.

“Seems like he did alright with you.”

Roope says as he pulls his button up over his arms and starts pushing the buttons through the holes.

“Ahh, a common mistake. Not a girlfriend and not sleeping with him either.”

His brows raise and a cheeky smile forms on his face. But he doesn’t say anything else. You feel off, of sorts. He doesn’t irk you like the girls did. And it was kind of scaring you. It’s the feeling you get when you start being intrigued, and you don ‘t need that now.

-------

You’re sitting at the bar, alone, not that you mind it, because the girl who finally got Jamie had been ogling him all night and talking too loud, and it was a relief when you saw them walk out the door. He had asked multiple times if it was okay for him to leave, so much so that you almost drove the uber back to her place yourself.

Staring down at the drink in your hand, you realised you were too sober and too far behind on studying (not really) to be sitting here, in a place you didn’t want to be. So you got up, turned around and immediately crashed into a hard chest. Looking up, you find a wild head of blonde curls and a heavenly cologne. Roope Hintz.

“Can I help you you mr. Star?”

You said ask as he leans closer, if that was even possible, without touching you. He at least has the decency to chuckle and look a little bashful as you address him that way.

“You sure you’re not even a little infatuated with Oleksiak?”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back onto the bar and cross your ankles.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

You give him a flirty smile, just for the hell of it. Roope steps forward so his feet are planted on either side of yours, not touching this time either, and leans an arm beside you, making him come impossibly close to you.

“What if I am?”

He asks, and his eyes are roaming all over your face, ignited with a desire you haven’t seen in far too long. It makes a heat pool in your stomach, and a little in your cheeks. Just purely out of the close proximity.

“Then you’re gonna be sorely disappointed.”

You try to sound casual, but Roope leans a little closer.

“And why is that?”

You can tell he is curious, and your judgement is compromised from the closeness of him. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

“I’m a one time offer, an-”

Roope doesn’t even let you finish your sentence, before he has your hand in his. Just as you touch it feels like a wave of something indescribable washes over you. You’d never felt anything like it.

“I can do that. Come along now, we haven’t got all night.”

Roope drags you away from the bar and you scramble to keep up the first few steps. When you catch up, he laces his fingers through yours, and heads out the door. It’s cold out, and since you haven’t really been outside today, all you have is the sweater you came to the rink in. You hadn’t been dressed for a club at all, but he didn’t seem to mind. You wrap your arms around yourself, to try to preserve some of the heat from the inside. Roope has a keen eye and steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“One time offer, remember?”

“Oh yeah, that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice, or no?”

And as he pulls you closer to him, you can feel in your bones (and your lower back) that he isn’t nearly as nice as he’s pretending to be. And you catch yourself thinking that you can’t wait to see what this turns into.

“Just, doubting what you define as nice, that’s all.”

At that Roope, let out a little chuckle, before leaning down a little and placing small kisses on your exposed neck. He works his way up to your ear.

“I can be very nice, it all depends on you though.”

With a final kiss to your cheek, he steps away from your heated face, and looks at the uber that’s now in front of you, double checking that it’s the right one. How in the hell had you missed the car pulling up to the curb? Roope opened the door to the back seat and let you enter first. Then he entered shortly after you, told the lady driving the car his address and turned to face you.

“Didn’t think you were that shy, sweetheat.”

He gestured to the entire middle seat between the two of you. You just shake your head, with a coy smile on your lips.

“Just been a while.”

You say quietly, not wanting the driver to hear. Regardless, she looks at you, very discreetly, through the rearview mirror. You give her a reassuring smile trying to convey that you feel safe and that you’re okay. She gives you a wink in return.

“I’ll make it worth your time.”

Roope leads you into an elevator and punches one of the higher numbers, all the while his eyes are roaming you, mentally undressing you. Most definitely wondering what he would find underneath the sweater and jeans. You are absolutely feeling a little shy with the way he looks at you. However, at the same time you’re looking at him, wondering what he is going to do, if he will be soft or hard in demeanor, if he’s gonna be rough or boring, but somehow something in his eyes tells you, it’s gonna be anything but boring.

The elevator stops, and he steps closer, taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and leading the way out of the elevator. Just two doors down he pulls some keys out of his back pocket and steadily unlocks the door, no fumbling. You take it as a good sign even if you already knew that he wasn’t even close to being drunk. The lock clicks in place and the door slides open, revealing a dark hallway. Roope steps in first and flicks on the light. It’s neat, considering what you had been expecting. The door shuts behind you, and you hear the lock clicking.

Toeing off your shoes you turn and find Roope already staring at you. His eyes are considerably darker. He drops the jacket he had been wearing to the floor and beckons you with a finger to follow him, all silent and a little domineering, half a smile on his lips. You see the light flicker on in the hallway as you follow him down to the left and then the first door on the right hand side it’s the only open door, but it’s not fully lit inside. Carefully you step inside, when nothing happens, you take one more step in and the room is suddenly full of tension.

The light here is turned on low, and Roope is standing in front of you taking slow steps towards you. Determined to stand your ground you remain unmoving, but your eyes roam him, and he seems to notice. With a smirk he takes a hand behind his neck and promptly yanks the shirt off of his upper body. You feel your jaw dropping just a little as you scan him over.

“Look at me in the eyes babe.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you remain in your spot steadily holding his gaze. He takes a step closer, and then another, until he’s standing mere inches from you. A devious smile is playing on his lips, when one of his hands lands on your waist. His thumb rubs circles on your hip, just underneath the emerald sweater of yours.

“Are you sure about this?”

He asks, taking his other hand up and caressing your cheek. You nod your head yes.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words for me.”

The hand that’s on your cheek is suddenly forcing your face upwards to meet his eyes.

“I’m sure about this.”

You whisper, again meeting his eyes. Just as the sentence leaves your mouth, he immediately goes to kiss you, but you pull back just slightly, just to tease, and maybe test him a little. He sees the mischievous glint in your eyes, and his smile widens.

“Oh you wanna play like that, huh?”

Roope’s hands slip from your body, before meeting again behind your thighs, lifting you up into his arms. You stare down into his darkened eyes, and lean into him. He lets you kiss him for a couple of seconds, before he deepens it. You let him, not really feeling like fighting him. His lips move from yours and down your neck, as he walks towards the bed, you can feel him leaving a few hickies before dropping you onto the bed.

“Off with the sweater, kaunis.”

You look up at him, while crossing your arms and gripping the bottom of the sweater, letting him take in all of you as the green top comes off. Underneath is a simple black bra and you can see his pupils dilate at the sight of you.

“That one I’m gonna take off myself.”

He leans over you, until you’ve laid down flat on the bed. He’s hovering over you, resting on his forearms, yet his hips have already settled between your legs. You can feel him there hard and heavy. His breath playing across your collarbones, makes you feel the anticipation building in your entire body.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before he starts leaving open mouth kisses down the valley of your breasts, he shifts his weight so he is leaning more on one arm and slides the other underneath your back, and makes quick work of unfastening your bra. The tension leaves the straps and you let them fall off. Then with his teeth he bites the middle of the bra, lifting it off your body and chucking it away with his free hand.

“Upea.”

You don’t question his words, honestly feeling a little more turned on as he speaks to you in a language you don’t understand. With a wink he kisses each of your tits a few times, before moving further down.

“Still good?”

He asks, and you feel your heart ache a little at it, and immediately shove the feeling aside.

“Yes, so good.”

You say, all out of breath as his fingers pop open the button, and slowly pull down the zipper of your jeans. In a swift motion he has his fingers in what you assume is the belt loops and has pulled down your jeans along with the black underwear you had been wearing. Instinctively you try to close your legs, but two calloused hands on either of your knees stops that motion.

“I’ve got you.”

Roope says as he leans into your right thigh and starts leaving kisses again. Closer and closer to your core, and when he finally is there, he switches to the other tigh, repeating the process. Your hands, which have been clenching the sheets, finally go to his long hair, tugging a little. Roope lets out a little groan and you swear you can feel it in your entire body.

“Aww, look how wet you are, all for me?”

He asks in a husky voice.

“All for you, all for you.”

Roope seems to revel in the admittance rolling off your tongue, before he lets himself have a taste. At least that’s what you think is happening. You feel his hot breath fan over your core, and he is painfully close, you lift your hips just slightly to meet his mouth, just as he pulls away.

“My bed, my rules. Now, you’re gonna have to ask really nicely to cum, before I let you. Got it?”

You’re so lost in desperation for his mouth that you can only nod. You both hear and feel the sigh escaping him, before he lands a little smack on the inside of your thigh. It causes you to let out a strangled moan and clench around nothing.

“Didn’t I tell you? Words.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll ask to cum.”

And then he’s all over you. The pent up feeling you have in your body only seems to grow as he spends his time licking and lapping at your folds. With his arms around your thighs and eyes firmly set on yours, your body's working overtime trying to feel everything. You feel your grip on his hair tighten as his mouth finds you clit and a finger easily slides inside you.

“Fuuuck, feels so good.”

You draw out the vocals as he hums against you. Your breathing went uneven a long time ago, but now you’re struggling to control anything that comes out of your mouth. Especially as the second finger enters you and he makes a “come here” motion with his fingers, finally finding that one particular spot. It nearly sends you over the edge.

“Ah ah, ask first.”

Your brain feels like mush as he continues his assault on your pussy.

“Please may I cum?”

Roope hums against you, before leaning away a little.

“No, I want you to beg.”

He goes back in, feeling the way your body is wound so tightly you don’t know where to turn, not being able to think clearly.

“Please, I’ll be so good, just please please let me cum.”

Again Roope hums.

“Okay, only if you’re a good girl though.”

He says looking up at you, with that smirk of his, before he dives back in. You can feel the tension in your body tightening, and when his tongue does a particularly intense stroke over your clit you can’t hold it anymore. Your legs clamp around his head and you let out a drawn out moan of pleasure as he lets you ride out the high on his face.

When you can’t take it anymore, you gently guide his face away from your core. Roope has this cocky grin on his face and you can’t help but like it being directed at you. You pull him up towards you and kiss him deeply, not really caring if you can taste yourself on his lips. Finally he lets your hands wander over the planes of his upper body, feeling the muscles tense and flex as your fingers trace every ridge of his body. He seems to really like kissing you, but he does notice that your hands go lower and lift his hips up a little to make room so you can pop the button of his jeans. As soon as the zipper is down, your hand traces the waistband of his boxers.

“You gonna play with me like this all night, rakas?”

He asks with a playful tone of voice.

“Maybe.”

You tease, pulling on the waistband of the boxers, before releasing it, making it snap against his skin. He leans away from you completely, getting up so he’s on his knees, but otherwise full height. Your legs are caught between his, so you can only sit up as far. Not that you mind though, with the way he towers over you, giving you perfect access to the bulge that’s now in your direct line of vision. Without really meaning to your jaw goes slack. His pointer finger is under your chin, making you look up at him.

“Eyes up here, yeah?”

You nod innocently at him, making him groan at the sight of you.

“Good girl. Now let’s see if we can put that mouth of yours to good use.”

You blush at his words and the smirk on his lips. Regardless, you start peeling the boxers and jeans down his legs. Slowly. Since this is going to be a one time thing, you think, you’re gonna savour this moment. His skin is hot beneath your fingers, but not as hot as your cheeks the moment his cock springs free of it’s confinement. You’re definitely not complaining about any aspect of it.

Without a second thought you put your lips around the angry red tip, letting your tongue explore every inch of his dick. Roope seems to like what you’re doing, judging by the groaning and panting above you. One of his hands is in your hair, doing a makeshift ponytail as you continue to suck him off. Suddenly, he all but pulls you off his cock, which now seems even more red than it was before. With strings of saliva hanging from your mouth, connected to his dick. Roope lets out a groan that makes your inside tingle before he slides back off the bed.

“I’m going to ruin you so good, rakas.”

He kicks off his jeans and boxers before he is over you again. You look him in the eyes nodding, before spreading your legs, letting him settle between them. He cages you in with his arms, and for some reason, even with his dark gaze upon you, you feel safe. And when he grabs your arms, pinning them beside your head you let out a content sigh. Not only because you’re completely letting go, but because you can feel his cock brushing against your stomach. The anticipation is almost killing you.

Roope, kisses up and down your neck, whispering dirty somethings in your ear, because they aren’t nothing. They are all his fantasies, of what he has come up with that he wants to do with you. As well as to you. Most of all though, you think he just enjoys watching you squirm in need of him. When he lets go of your right hand, it traces your throat.

“Now, put my cock inside yourself.”

It’s a demand, and you follow through, out of desperation to feel him inside. You wrap your hand around his dick, carefully tugging at him, running your thumb over the tip, teasing. With a little smile on your lips. Roope is quick to kiss it away, delving into you, with a passion you’ve never felt before. “Inside, now. Or this teasing of yours is gonna have some serious consequences.”

He mumbles against your lips, so you do as told, guiding him to your entrance. You both let out content sighs as he finally sinks into you. He is going slow at first. Letting you adjust to having him inside you.

“Look so good for me like this.”

You can only nod as he starts moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts. He finds a pace and as soon as you start clenching around him, when he hits that part of you. His pace picks up. The hand that’s still holding onto yours, they are now intertwined in each other. His other hand is caressing your hip. You’re pretty much just a blubbering mess of his name and curses as he hits all the right parts.

With a final kiss to your lips, he leans up a bit, so his thighs are resting on his calves creating a steep angle, so you almost slip off him. Almost. He pulls you closer by the hips, making you yelp out, before your legs are planted on either side of him, giving yourself a little more leverage as he hits deep inside of you. The moan that escapes you is genuine, and you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. At that you feel a sharp sting on your thigh again.

“Eyes on me.”

In the fog of pleasure all you manage to get out is a weak. “Yes, sir.”

Opening your eyes, you see Roope straining a little as well. His cheeks are tinted and his breathing is really uneven. But his eyes are blown with pleasure, and as you guide his hand to your lower stomach where you can vaguely feel him moving in and out of you. It looks like a new fire has been ignited inside him.

His hand slips from yours as he lets it go to rub at your clit again. The pleasure almost becomes too much, and your eyes roll a little at the feeling.

“May I please cum, sir?”

You manage to moan out, barely remembering his demand from before.

“Hold it for like three seconds, I’m gonna count you down.”

So you look him in the eyes and let him blow out your back for a few more thrusts, and then he starts counting down.

“3”

His rhythm changes as he slows down and goes harder, deeper.

“2”

He moans as you clench around him.

“1, cum for me.”

And you do. It starts in your stomach, and like a warm tide it washes over your entire body. Roope fucks you through it, before he finally pulls out and with a loud groan he is jerking himself off, letting go in hot spurts all over your torso. He finishes and stares down at his personal masterpiece. With your rapidly raising stomach and chest covered in his cum, you can tell by the smirk on his lips. He’s satisfied.

“I’ll be right back.”

Roope says with a wink, and you just nod. Because even though you just had the best sex to date, you were trying to gather your thoughts. On how to get home. You don’t see where he goes, but you hear water running from a sink. When he’s back from the bathroom, you assume, he has a wet washcloth in hand and is wearing a fresh pair of boxers. Gently he wipes his cum from your chest and stomach, and a little in between your legs.

And you’re almost completely ruined by how gentle he is. But you have a promise to keep, and you’re not planning on betraying yourself. He leaves again to toss the cloth into the hamper. When he comes back, you have gathered your underwear and bra, and are standing on the floor on slightly shaky legs.

“You’re leaving?”

And that was really the first sign.

“Yeah, one time offer. Remember?”

You answer, looking for your jeans. Roope sweeps them off of the floor and hands them to you.

“Yeah, right.”

You get dressed in silence, and when your last sock is on. You straighten up.

“I’ll just find the way out myself.”

It’s meant to be casual, but Roope immediately refuses.

“No no, I’ll walk you out.”

And he does, following close behind you. You’ve just gotten your shoes on, when your phone pings. It’s a notification from uber that your ride is here. You’ve put your hand on the door knob and opened the door, when Roope, who was leaning against the wall, pulls you back and kisses you deeply.

“Next time you need an orgasm, give me a call.”

He says with a wink.

In the car back to your apartment, you can feel it. You’re not gonna get rid of Roope after what just went down in his bedroom. The worst part of it is that you’re not sure you want it to be a one time thing. Fuck.

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