#he skates around and my brain is the half pipe
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Bomb Rush Cyberfunk: Story Headcanons, Faux
Major story spoilers under the cut.
Faux has undiagnosed schizophrenia, but I'll be talking about his anxiety as a result of the psychosis he experiences, specifically.
Despite how suspicious others seem to be of him, I personally can't see him always being as cruel as we see him at the end of the game. He definitely knows how to sweet talk people and get them to trust him, but he never had any grand plans to kill all writers. At worst, he felt no remorse in letting other writers pay for his crimes. His charisma played a part in convincing his father to keep his record clean, but he gradually grew to regret and detest this. Faux was always aware of how others would treat him if they knew his father was a cop. Too aware, in fact. It weighed him down and pulled at him and caused him to see many of his relationships as strained for the fact that he couldn't let anyone know of his background.
Regardless if he was doing it to himself or not, Faux was haunted by thoughts of his peers discovering his roots. Of the community he thrived in plotting to overthrow and abandon him, and he tormented himself by not reaching out to his two closest friends: DJ Cyber and Felix.
Felix, of course, discovered Faux’s roots anyway. He did not tell Faux about this.
He still saw the Big 3 as comforting, though. Cyber and Felix were, naturally, the furthest you can be from the police, so it gave him a rare peace of mind whenever they were together.
It didn't last forever. The day Felix announced that he would be going solo for All City was the day that Faux broke. All of his fears, to him, were true. Felix abandoned them. He abandoned him. Surely, it was all because of what Faux had done, and he would go on to plot the end of Faux’s career as a writer. To Faux, that was surely what it meant.
Perhaps Faux was in love with Felix. Perhaps, he was in love with both of them. Whatever it was, it only made Felix’s choice hurt more, and Faux’s mental state worse.
Faux’s downward spiral was kept entirely to himself. He practically disappeared off the face of the earth once Felix went solo for All City. That was until Felix finally got into contact with him again and asked Faux to help him throw up some graffiti one night, assuming that it would be casual and low stress for both of them.
I still don't believe that Felix’s death was plotted intricately beforehand. The combination of Solace being present, everyone's opinion on Faux, and how him and Felix were so close to the building Cyber and Prince were located– all of this just leads me to believe that the murder was an impulsive decision, spawned through everything that had been on Faux’s mind. A psychotic episode. He just couldn't take it anymore, and reacted in the worst possible way he could have because he simply didn't know what else to do. And he had to live with that. Or, at least until Cyber presumably killed him that night at the police station.
But Faux did not die. He was captured, and made to be the test subject against his will for the unseeable future. Time scraped by him while he was hooked up to Algo– painful and unrelenting, where he could do nothing but sit as a pathetic human head and think about everything that had led him to his situation. Whatever shreds he had left of a coherent mental state soon rotted away as he began to lose his mind.
His operation to kill all writers was also not planned. Initially, at least. Throughout the first half of Red’s journey, Faux merely provided misinformation in order to get more writers arrested and injured. He was also, at the time, still trying to retrieve his body. Reports of a “stolen body” began circulating because he really did want his full self back.
By the time the BRC challenges DOT EXE in Millennium Mall, Faux is set on killing any writers who get in his way, and he establishes control over the police force using the same technology that they had used to flay his mind for information. Faux is, to his credit, dastardly cunning when he wants to be, but it just so turned out that this time it was to every writer’s detriment. Through this control, he could call in as many officers and mecha as he pleased, and it even extended to him being able to contact Devil Theory for a deal, in which he would unceremoniously double-cross them once he got what he wanted.
Faux has Berlage killed and begins modifying himself, finally making his escape from the bureau’s basement inside the mecha tank we see him piloting after Futurism is defeated. In Mataan, he's determined to kill all writers, regardless if they've crossed him or not.
About Rietveld; I initially gave Faux the benefit of the doubt that he spared her, but given how far gone he is at that point it's more fair to say that Rietveld is just incredibly skilled at self defence and managed to escape him alive.
Despite all of his plotting and bloodlust, when confronting the writers in Mataan, a single thread of composure holds Faux back. That is until he attempts to kill Felix and gets sprayed in the face with paint. It's no holds barred at that point. Faux is both out of his mind and intoxicated with spray paint fumes, and it leads him to scrap whatever humanity he had left– transforming into a horrifying beast of metal and wires. He becomes the monster that he thought everyone saw him as.
It's clear that he still intended to return to a human form after wiping out all writers, though, because he kept Solace alive.
Faux fights and screams until his final moments and spends his last line still trying to communicate how he feels.
But nothing changes.
#can you tell that I'm itching to write stuff on this game but I have literally no fic ideas#the entire faux think piece#he skates around and my brain is the half pipe#bomb rush#bomb rush cyberfunk#brc faux#bomb rush cyberfunk spoilers#headcanons#cyfaux#faulix
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congratulations on 2k mads <33
4 the sleepover can i ask for dolled up 4 any one of these pics ?
ALSO HELP I WAS TRYNNA SEND AN ASK BUT ACCIDENTALLY UNFOLLOWED U T^T
HAHA ITS OKAY!! i’m gonna combine these asks because they are pretty similar but i’m gonna change some things so hopefully you still enjoy :)
slight cw! an anxiety attack if you squint.
BASED ON THIS PICTURE
everyone knew that y/n liked vinnie.
everyone but vinnie.
it was any time now where he’d find out.
she didn’t do a good job hiding the fact and was practically a super fan of his behind closed doors. she met vinnie through her brother max, who became one of vinnie’s closest friends, and since her and max were so close, she’d often join them on hangouts.
hence why the three of them were in paris.
the two boys had left y/n at the airbnb to go do god knows what, leaving the girl to study and finish up her schoolwork. she didn’t want to keep the boys from having fun so she insisted that they go on without her.
but two hours went by and she became lonely.
grabbing her bag, she called an uber to take her to the skate park, where she assumed the boys would be. putting her phone down on the bathroom counter, she quickly fixed up her hair before going to wait outside for her ride. how was she supposed to know that they were actually in the streets of paris taking pictures and posing with cigarettes? she wasn’t omniscient and sure as hell couldn’t read minds.
once she got to the skate park, she walked around aimlessly, her black shoes carrying her feet across the entire park, looking for them.
she saw the silhouette of two boys, one seated while the other one was skating on the half pipe.
“hey!” she waved, squinting to try and make out their faces. the boy seating looked up from his phone while the other one came to a complete stop.
wrong people.
“oh, sorry! my bad, i uh, thought you were someone else.” she awkwardly apologized, letting out a dry laugh and walking off, thinking over what to do in her head.
where the hell could they be?
she felt the back pocket of her ripped jeans, feeling for her imaginary phone. she pulled out her bag, looking through the contents as she assumed she just put it in her bag and forgot.
then she realized that she left her phone on the sink of the airbnb.
fuck.
she panned over, checking to see if the two boys were looking at her, but saw that they weren’t. pacing back and forth, she tried to take deep breaths and keep calm.
curse vinnie for being so damn heady. two hours without him and she already longed for his presence.
“hey, um. i’m sorry, could i borrow a phone? i need to make a call.” she chirped, raising a hand up and bringing attention to herself. she hoped that they spoke english.
the brunette boy stayed seated while the edgier blonde one, stopped his board and walked towards her, holding out a phone for her to use.
“thank you.”
she quickly dialed vinnie’s number.
she couldn’t remember max’s, despite being his sister, and yet she knew vinnie’s like the back of her hand. all those nights that she read those familiar digits and just wishing that she could have the courage to call him.
she silently prayed that he’d pick up, but he didn’t.
“your call has been forwarded to an aut—“
“fuck.” she huffed, realizing that he wouldn’t answer since it wasn’t a number he recognized. the blonde boy snapped the phone out of her hands, clearly annoyed as he walked away.
what the fuck do i do now?
“hey, wait!” she watched the two guys walk faster before the skated out of her view.
“fuck.”
she didn’t know what to do and her brain was so fried from studying that she didn’t have the power to move. she remembered the boys talking about going to the skate park and hoped that they hadn’t gone yet.
maybe if i just wait here, they will come..
i’ll just wait for a few minutes.
dropping to the side of a half pipe, she clutched her purse to her chest and sat cris-cross, her eyes closing ever so slightly from the fatigue before the sleepiness consumed her.
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
max and vinnie arrived an hour later at the airbnb, throwing their stuff on the counter and beginning to raid whatever food they could find in the fridge.
“y/n, we’re back!” vinnie heard max call out as he went to town on the leftovers he found, hungrier than ever.
“she’s not here.”
“huh?” vinnie asked, his chewing paused and his body gone still.
“she isn’t here and her phone is here.”
“shit.” vinnie sighed, trying his best to conceal the panic that was rising into his body. “well where do you think she’d be?!”
he looked at max before the two of them realized.
“i’ll get her.”
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
there she was, her hair sprawled out against the ground and her graphic tee shirt tucked into her jeans. her mouth was left open slightly and small snores left her body.
she’s sleeping.
the boy felt bad yet was amused by her state. being unconscious in the middle of a foreign country is not the safest thing for a girl like her to do.
“y/n?” he whispered, leaning down so his necklace swung. “hey.”
she woke up to the soft shaking on her shoulders, opening her eyes and feeling the hard surface beneath her, pressed against her cheek.
“vinnie?”
“yeah, i’m here. you really need to be supervised at all time you know?” he smiled. her eyes were half open and she was fading in and out of sleepiness.
“i’m tired.”
“yeah, me too y/n. let’s go.” he held onto her hand, lifting her up so she was standing. the girl wasn’t ready for his next move as he swiftly picked her up and carried her bridal style back to the car. his small grunts and footsteps were music to her ears in that moment.
peeling open her eyes, she looked up at him. “so pretty,” she murmured. her eyes danced over his appearance and the boy tried to hide his blush. before he could reply, the girl was knocked out in his arms.
now vinnie knew.
COME JOIN THE SLUMBER PARTY!
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pathetic - suna rintarou
an // been slowly working on this one for awhile now, @undermattsun has given me skate rat brain rot sooo here we are they’re a dark content blog so please proceed with caution and dni if you’re a minor
wc // 1.5k unedited cause i suck, sorry
tw // smut, alcohol and drug use, reader doesn’t cum cause suna is a meanie ;(( but obviously all characters are aged up.
PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT (like, comment or rb) IF YOU ARE A MINOR i’m really not comfortable with it at all so please go read my fluff instead
It was pitiful really, the way you cling onto every word he spat at you, jumped at every opportunity to see him even if he spent the whole time hardly acknowledging you. He did acknowledge you when others tried to chat you up, you were stuck in a loop. You were almost giddy now, when you went to parties with him and someone got a little too handsy, you enjoyed the glint in his usually bored eyes, you must mean something to him right? That glint and the fact that he kept you around was enough for you to keep hoping.
So maybe you got a little overzealous tonight agreeing to this particular party; well, party is a generous term, it was just Suna’s group with a few plus ones hanging out in one of their basements.
You did have a bit of an alternative motive, which was pretty pitiful. But what else can you do? You just couldn’t kick your Suna addiction and he really didn’t seem to look twice at you until you had another guy trying to get in your pants.
So you had no choice but to flirt up a storm with one of his friends right?
-
The basement was half lit and smelled like old smoke and years of built up must. It didn’t seem familiar, or maybe you had been here and couldn’t remember the night, nevertheless you made your way further into the basement. There were a few small groups, some with faces you’ve seen before and some not. It wasn’t hard to find the half hooded eyes you were looking for.
He looked in your direction for a split second, nodding ever so slightly at your presence before bringing his attention back to lighting the small pipe in his hands.
How he always managed to make your heart race and stomach ache in anticipation with only a half assed nod, you would never understand. Your normally quick witted demeanour felt worlds away when you were near Suna. You headed to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink.
As you neared the kitchen, which was only a deep freeze, mini fridge and a few cabinets overhanging the mismatched countertops that were heavily cluttered with empty and full bottles and cans of alcohol alike. There were only two other people in the room, you recognized them to be the ‘infamous’ Miya twins.
They were in a heated discussion about...something. You really couldn’t hear anything to provide any proper context, which admittedly was probably for the best. The blonde-Atsumu right?- was more upset looking than his counterpart but they were equally loud.
Before you knew it there was an empty can being launched across the room, narrowly missing your head as you duck down.
“Oi! Next time look where you’re throwing!” You mumble an ‘asshole’ as you reach for the closest bottle of booze with the intention of mixing a drink.
Atsumu was quick to forget his argument and sauntered over to you, standing on the over side of the island countertop.
“Aw ’m sorry doll, how about I make ya a drink to make up for it?” He sported a lopsided smirk as he rested his head on his palm, leaning closer to you in the process.
You smirked back “depends on the drink I guess”
“How about I make it and you tell me how much of an amazing bartender I make?”
A ‘tch’ could be heard beside you, you jumped for a second not realizing the gray haired brother had made his way beside you.
“Shut it ‘Samu!” The blonde roared as he started pouring the drink.
“Didn’t even say anything ya idiot” his voice was low and rich. He side eyed you for a moment, you could practically feel his gaze rack up your body.
A cup sliding towards you snapped your attention away from Osamu.
Rum and coke, you conclude as the drink hits your taste buds, a very strong one at that. You thank Atsumu for the cup and try to bid the twins farewell.
“Ah come on don’t run away just yet, pretty lady” the quieter brother mused, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer. His body heat radiated towards you as he rests his hand on your waist.
“I have to go back to my...friend though” the hesitation made Osamu raise an eyebrow. ‘...friend’ as the only title you could come up with though, you only rolled your eyes as an answer.
“y/n.”
Speak of the devil. You spin around at the familiar monotone voice. Suna looked less than pleased, and definitely not sober, eyes burning a hole on the hand resting on your waist. You wiggled away from the younger twin and took ahold of Suna’s lazily outstretched hand.
“Till next time pretty boys! And thanks for the drink.” You wave them off as the raven haired male pulled you back to the grimy couch he was seated at earlier. You didn’t miss the eye roll he gave at your nickname for the twins. He slumped down on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, his hands on your thighs and hip. He loved being able to hold and claim you in front of everyone, he was rarely this clingy when it was just the two of you.
You chatted a bit with his friends who were also plopped down near the couch, it was hard to focus as you finished off your drink, you mental cursed yourself for not eating most of the day and letting the liquor go straight to your head. Your face felt warm and your thoughts felt more distant. All you think about were Suna’s hands that crept higher on your thigh and the one that made its way under the hoodie you had stolen from him a week back.
“Let’s get outta here.” He muttered out.
You turn back to look at him and say “I just got here Suna.” You protested lightly.
“I think you’ve socialized enough, we’re going.”
He pushed you off and you fumbled the landing a little, feeling the buzz hit your head harder than before now that you’ve stood up. He gripped the fabric of your sleeve and led the way.
It was dark out now, maybe you were there longer than you thought… Suna was still harshly tugging you towards his piece of shit car, you often told him that he’d end up on the side of the road one of these days and he just replied that if you didn’t like it you could walk.
“Think you’re cute huh? Chatting up the dumbass twins, stealing my clothes too” he pushed you against the side of the car, trapping you in between his arms. He had his same bored expression as his hand slipped back under the hoodie and pawed at your chest.
“Mm just trying to get your attention” you slur out with a low moan at the feeling of his hands on your skin.
“That desperate for some dick? Pathetic.” You lazily nod, too embarrassed for words but more than happy that you succeed in getting his attention. He lifted your legs, making you wrap them around his hips. Slowly he grinds against you, desperate you pulled him into a sloppy kiss. A breathy groan left your lips feeling him grow harder against you. Suna was never one for much foreplay however, he was quick to lower your bottoms and shift your panties out of the way.
“Wait Rin someone could see” you realized quickly as he shifted to get his erection free. He gave no warning as he slowly bottomed out in you. He laughed quietly “what don’t want anyone to see you so disparate for a scubbag like me to fuck you? I could call your pretty boys out. I’m sure they’d love to see you like this, practically crying because you can’t handle a little bit of cockwarming.”.
He was right, you were a mess. You tried to move your hips needing friction, his body was unmoving though. “Rin please” you whine out “just make it quick…” you bury your face in his neck, at least if someone came out they wouldn’t be able to see your face.
“As you wish” he muttered before finally moving his hips, his thrusts were fast and unrelentingly. You hung off of him trying your best not to moan, he just fit inside of you so well and his consistent rhythm was more than enough to start the coil building in your core.
He hissed when you clenched around his cock. He pulled your head away from him, hand holding your hair tightly. He couldn’t get enough of your fucked out face, spurting out strings of uneven moans.
You tried to match his pace but gave in as his thrust became more unpredictable and rough, you whimpered realizing he was close. Reaching down to rub your clit you huffed as his hand left your hair to grab your hand and pin it against the car.
You whined out his name, he only ignored you as his face began to scrunch and let out a silent moan as he came inside of you. You huffed once more and let your head fall into his heaving chest.
“Asshole.”
#pspsps I love your stuff miki#don’t want to expose myself but uhhh sorry about the three days of havoc#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#haikyu#haikyu!!#haikyuu smut#suna rintarou#suna x reader#suna rintaro x reader#suna smut#skate rat hq#skate rat suna#tw drinking#tw drug use#first time writing smut oops
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Every Drop of Grace
Endverse destiel
Rating: on the border between M and E (I’m over cautious, probably most people would say M)
About 3k
“Do you ever wish we could have something...normal?” Dean’s voice falls into the quiet night, a stone falling into a once-still pond.
Cas can’t hold back his snort. “Dean. You grew up hunting monsters. I’m a fallen angel. There was never going to be anything ‘normal’ about either of us.” Dean huffs in response, burying his face deeper into the hollow of Cas’s neck. “It also doesn’t help that our relationship–if that’s what you want to call it–began after the end of the world.”
“The world didn’t end,” Dean protests weakly. “It’s still here. It’s just…”
“Right,” Cas says, giving in to the urge to roll his eyes–it helps that Dean is behind him and can’t actually see his eyes. “The world is still here. We even have this tiny bit that’s almost safe.”
Dean doesn’t argue, though Cas can feel how much he wants to. Cas idly wonders if Dean ever argued a monster to death, but he doesn’t voice the thought. He doesn’t want Dean to leave. He smirks into the darkness, though. He can absolutely imagine a cocky, 13 year old version of Dean facing down a werewolf. “You’re doing it wrong!” shouts the smaller, higher-voiced Dean. “You need to lull me into complacency, then strike. No wonder you’ve been caught by a kid.
Cas chuckles softly at the made up–but completely plausible–memory. At Dean’s questioning hum, Cas skips his imaginings and brings the conversation back to where they started. “Considering the chaos all around us, I’d say what we have is amazing, Dean.” Having you at all is amazing, he does not say.
Dean smiles against Cas’s skin.
There is much Cas misses about being an angel–healing, flying, super-strength, not being so damned fragile–but on the opposite side, there are so many things that make the Fall worthwhile. He’d touched Dean when he was still an angel, and it had been nice enough. Better than nice even; there’d been something special about touching Dean from the first time he’d held the hunter’s broken soul in hell. But in this his human senses are far superior. The touch of Dean’s lips on the soft skin between Cas’s shoulder blades makes his heart race, his breathing quicken. Dean laughs, not more than a soft breath, and Cas’s stomach flips at the heat across his skin. He’s getting hard, just from a few small sensations.
Yes, the Fall was worthwhile. Even if they’re doomed, he wouldn’t trade this for all the Grace ever created.
Dean goes on, most likely unaware of Cas’s growing arousal. Cas focuses on Dean’s voice and on keeping his own breathing as even as possible, and soon he’s nearly as lost in Dean’s memories as Dean himself.
“I always tried to find fun stuff for Sammy, growing up.” Dean’s voice catches a little on his brother’s name, but he pushes through. “Most of the things I did pissed Dad off, but I didn’t let him stop me. The kid had to have something good in his horror of a childhood. Little things: a bag of marshmallows to roast over a campfire, a Monopoly game we could play in motel rooms, a baseball cap I knew he wanted. I found a pair of roller skates in his size once; I think he was about eleven. Man, that was a mess. Dumb kid took off like he knew just what he was doing and two yards later fell flat on his face. Dad put four stitches over his left eye and lectured him the whole time about what if that rock hit your eye instead of your forehead, blah blah blah. Sammy took it like a champ, didn’t flinch once, and as soon as Dad was gone Sammy put the skates right back on and took off again. And that time he didn’t fall. Well, he did, but not right away, and not so he needed stitches.”
Cas can tell Dean is working up to something, even if it all just seems like rambling. Dean is a roadmap, and sometimes Cas can follow. “A few months before I turned 16 I stole Dad’s car for a couple hours and took Sammy to a drive-in. You ever…?” Dean answers his own question before Cas has the chance to even shake his head. “Nah, you weren’t much of a movie-goer back in your halo days. At a drive-in you sit in your car to watch a movie–outside, at night. You park by a little speaker that pipes the sound right to you, and the screen is gigantic, big as...well, I don’t even know, it’s been too long, but trust me, it’s big. You look out the front of the car and all you see is the movie. You’ve got the sound filling up the car and the movie filling up your eyes and it’s like you and whoever you’re sitting with are in your own little world, whatever make-believe world the actors and all the rest made for you to live in. For a few hours, anyway.”
Dean’s voice is rough, almost raw. “That’s what we have, Cas. A few hours in a bubble full of make-believe, until the bubble pops and it’s the end of the world again.”
Cas wants to scream, to deny every word, to tell Dean it isn’t make-believe, it isn’t, and he wants to spend every minute from now until they fall to dust proving it, but instead he hears his traitorous mouth whisper, “I know.”
“It’s okay,” Dean says, and Cas isn’t sure which of them Dean is trying to comfort. “It’s okay. The pretending, the bubble–it’s enough.”
It isn’t. Cas wants it all, wants every bit of Dean. His smiles and his glares, his laughs and his curses, his happy chatter and his incoherent tears. He wants to be fucked into the mattress and then hold Dean in his arms until the sun comes up, to have Dean stay all night instead of slinking away in the darkness.
It isn’t enough. The coffee’s been gone for awhile, but he wants to make Dean tea in the mornings, good strong tea to bring a little of the sparkle back to his green eyes. He wants to go with him on foraging runs, venturing out of their little corner of the world to find supplies to last them just a little bit longer. He wants to have Dean’s back, to protect him, to keep him safe. He doesn’t have his mojo anymore, but he still has his blade, and he’s had millenia of practice to hone his skills.
Cas doesn’t want only darkness, grasping and clutching at each other when the rest of the world sleeps. He wants to give Dean every kind of pleasure, and maybe a little bit of peace. As a fallen angel, Cas doesn’t think he gets to go to heaven, but he doesn’t mind. He has here, he has now.
So this little bubble of half-truths and fairy tales…
It’s not enough.
Cas’s eyes begin to sting. “Fuck.” The word is mostly air, barely a sound at all, but of course Dean hears. Because Dean can see through Cas’s pretences too. That’s how these things work.
“Cas?”
“It’s nothing,” Cas says, but Dean sees through that too, maneuvering them both so they’re face to face on the narrow bed. Cas closes his eyes, willing the tears to stop before they can properly begin. He hates to cry, hates to have his feelings fly so far out of his control that they stream down his face in the form of wet, salty tears.
“It’s nothing,” he says again, when he trusts that his voice won’t give him away. Then, grasping at the first thought that passes through his head, he says, “I just don’t like when the bubble pops.”
The lines around Dean’s eyes soften. He presses a kiss to Cas’s forehead and says, “We’ve still got a few hours. I’m not going anywhere.” His yet is unspoken but Cas hears it anyway.
Dean’s got one hand holding the side of Cas’s face, fingers threaded into his hair, the other resting lightly on his hip. Their legs are tangled together, and when Dean moves in to kiss Cas again their hips move together and Cas can’t take it anymore. There is so much skin, it feels like skin for miles, but also like he can feel every individual cell, every molecule of Dean’s breath, every miniscule drop of sweat…
“Dean,” Cas groans, because it’s too much, his brain is going to overload. It doesn’t matter that they had sex not long ago–Cas needs more, needs to be closer. “Dean.” It’s almost a prayer. “Please.”
And Dean is there, even before he calls, pushing him onto his back. Dean kisses Cas, hungry, and Cas is happy–eager–to be devoured. He’s got his arms wrapped around Dean, clawing at his back, trying to pull them closer together. There’s a part of his brain screaming that Dean thinks this is all pretend, so maybe if Cas can get them close enough together, if he can somehow press the truth into Dean’s skin, then maybe Dean will understand.
But then Dean thrusts his cock (hard, so hard, and all for him) against Cas’s, and he stops thinking and just feels.
Cas throws his head back and Dean nips at his throat; Cas hisses and claws at Dean’s back again. There’s a growl coming from deep in Dean’s chest, but Cas can feel the smile against his skin. They both like the small shocks of pain–reminders of life.
Holding himself up on one forearm, Dean reaches between them, wrapping his strong, calloused fingers around both their cocks. A moan escapes Cas’s lips, and Dean chuckles softly. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” He’s looking deep into Cas’s eyes, and not for the first time Cas suspects he sees a bit of faerie in the emerald depths; enchanting, beautiful, tricksome, and dangerous. He knows there’s nothing to the thought; he knit Dean back together molecule by molecule, saw every strand of his DNA.
Dean twists his hand in a particularly skillful way and Cas is pulled back to the present. Their first time. Yes, Cas remembers. How could he forget?
“Summer sun,” Cas manages, in between gasping breaths. “Your freckles…”
“My freckles?” Dean laughs. “That’s what you remember?”
“I might be only human now, Dean Winchester, but I remember–” He gasps as Dean’s palm brushes against a particularly sensitive spot– “I remember every second of that afternoon with perfect–” Another shuddering gasp– “Perfect clarity.”
Dean’s hand stutters to a stop, and when Cas sees the look in Dean’s eyes something in his stomach twists. Don’t be too real don’t be too real shouts a voice inside his head, clearly battling with the part of him that wants Dean to know everything.
I’m a mess, he thinks.
To Dean he says in a low, broken voice, “I was leaning against the trunk of a tree, looking up at the sun shining through the leaves. It occurred to me that I’d never spent any time looking at trees, or leaves, or much of anything at all while I was an angel. I did what I was told. Didn’t even take time to look around and enjoy the view.”
Dean’s hand starts to move again. For a moment Cas’s eyelids flutter closed, his eyes rolling upwards in pure pleasure, but then he continues, concentrating on speaking slowly and carefully and without breaking. He almost succeeds.
“I hadn’t been human long. A month? Five weeks? Not long enough to get used to human senses. So when you walked up and the sun shone down on your face, your freckles standing out against your pale skin… And then you put your hand–” The memory of Dean’s hand reaching out is too much and he has to stop to breathe, to gain control, because he doesn’t want to come yet. The story isn’t over. “You put your hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Hey Cas.’”
That had been it. Just a touch, some freckles, and his name on Dean’s lips.
“There was something in your eyes,” Dean says, taking over the narrative. “I hadn’t meant to kiss you. But you looked...kissable. Blue eyes wide and…” He gives his head a quick shake. “I don’t know what it was. But as soon as our lips touched I knew it was the right thing to do. Knew I shouldn’t have waited so long to do it.” At this Cas raises his head up just enough to slot their lips together. It’s an electric current, sharp and warm, just like it always is.
It’s home.
“And then you pushed me up against my cabin wall.”
They’re both breathing heavy now, each of them close to their release but trying to hold on.
“It was the closest wall I could find,” Dean says, a little defensive, a little embarrassed. “And it was a little more hidden than the tree we started out against.”
If Cas had the breath to spare he’d laugh. He lets out a puff of air instead, and Dean’s eyes light up in response. “Yeah,” Cas says, teasing. “Sun shining down on us, completely visible from three sides, only blocked by the cabin. Couldn’t be bothered to–”
Dean stops him with a kiss. Cas doesn’t mind. Cas’s mind is full of lips and skin and hands and sparks and pleasure that is building and building and threatening to heave him overboard–
Cas is on the edge, barely hanging on, when Dean stops.
The stillness is both total and false. Neither of them moves, almost as if they are frozen in time, and there is no breath of wind coming through the open window, no branches scratching at the roof. But there are two hearts pounding, two men gasping for breath, and the whispers of a thousand words not being said.
Cas refuses to be the first one to speak. He knows if he opens his mouth, he’ll never stop.
It feels like an eternity has passed–though it’s probably only been ten or fifteen seconds, Cas’s sense of time has been skewed since his Fall–when Dean breaks the silence.
“What do you want, Cas?”
“Everything.”
Cas tells the truth, the real truth, before he can think, and for a moment he wishes he could somehow call the word back, erase it from history, go back to their bubble of make-believe. Dean would probably let him brush it off. He could call it sex induced lunacy. It’s probably even true.
But no. No. He’s fucking tired of pretend, of half-truths, of bedtime stories. This isn’t enough. He means it, he wants everything.
Dean is looking into his eyes, searching for something. Cas can’t read his expression, he’s guarding his thoughts too closely.
It hurts, having Dean hide from him. They’re naked and in each other’s arms, and Dean’s…
Well, really they’re both hiding. They’ve been hiding from the beginning.
Shit.
There’s a burning behind Cas’s eyes again, but this time he can’t blink the tears away. When the first tear rolls down Cas’s face Dean pulls back, a fraction of an inch, in surprise. His thumb wipes away the tear.
“Cas?”
“It’s not enough,” Cas says. “I can’t do this anymore, Dean. I meant what I said, I want everything. All of it. I want to spend the night with you and wake up with you in the morning. I want to kiss you in the daytime, with the sun on your freckles. Are you ashamed of me? The camp screwup, the broken angel? Because people talk, Dean. Everyone knows you come here, and they know what we do, and they don’t care. The world is falling apart. There are bigger things to worry about. There are bigger things for us, too, but right now all that matters is I can’t hide anymore. I love you, Dean. I think...no. I know I always have. And I don’t want to waste another second hiding in the dark.”
And Dean just looks at him. Once upon a time Cas put Dean together, molecule by molecule. Saw every bit of him. That’s how Cas feels now. Examined. Seen.
Known.
It should be horrifying, but it’s Dean, so Cas just looks back, waiting. He doesn’t even wipe away the tears that keep falling despite his best efforts to blink the damned things back.
The silence goes on so long Cas is sure Dean is going to get up and walk away. It’s okay, he tells himself. I want more, I want everything, but to love...that will never end. It will hurt, but I’ll still love him. No matter–
And then Dean is kissing him. It’s not heated, or frantic; it’s a soft, gentle kiss and makes Cas feel wrapped in love. They both smile, their foreheads pressed together. “Wish you’d said something sooner, Cas.”
“Didn’t want to push you away.”
Dean pulls back a little. “That’s...well, yeah, that’s…”
Smile widening, Cas says, “We’ll work it out.”
In what Cas supposes is an answer, Dean kisses him. A bit more playful this time, he even bites at Cas’s lower lip. Cas can’t hold back his moan. The feel of teeth rasping against his skin…it’s almost too much.
And then Dean’s hand starts moving again, tugging and twisting at their dicks. Cas is almost startled, he’d been so caught up in his confession of– but now isn’t the time, he’s groaning into Dean’s mouth and he thinks there might be words but his brain isn’t quite connected to the rest of his body at the moment. All he knows is good and Dean and so much love and skin and when Dean murmurs Cas’s name it’s too much for him and he spills his seed between them. Dean chases after, a punched out sound falling from his lips.
They lie together, still, their come sticky and drying between them. Somewhere far off in the camp a door clatters shut.
“I wish–” Dean starts.
“I know,” Cas interrupts. But it’s not the time to dwell on what might have been.
Dean shifts them into a more comfortable position. “Okay.”
“We should–”
“No.” This time it’s Dean interrupting. “Not yet. We can clean up in a few minutes. Right now I just want to hold you.”
Tucking his face against Dean’s chest, Cas murmurs, “I can’t say no to that.”
Dean somehow pulls Cas closer, and Cas’s skin sings. Worth every feather, he thinks. Every drop of Grace.
**
For @bend-me-shape-me ‘s Dean/Cas summer prompts!
Week 2 (drive-in cinema) and week 3 (I can still recall our last summer)
I hit week 3 kinda sideways…but it works!
#lirael writes#deancassummerprompts21#endverse destiel#love confessions#angst with a happy ending#this makes me happy
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Bubble Wrapped - Part 13
Word Count: 3,876
POV: Reader
Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist
Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning, Pens, Jackets, Canes, Islanders
Notes: Well, here we are onto another part of Bubble Wrapped. When we last left this story, our Reader had an encounter with Svech, who then proceeded to profess his love. Our reader didn’t quite see Svech in that light but there might be someone else that she does. So I’m hoping the wrap this story up in a couple more parts. I’m not sure what happened here but this is soft smut in my world. As always feedback is greatly appreciated and wanted…hahaha! Luv ya all!! Happy Reading to all!
Wracking your brain you tried to come up with alternate solutions on where you and Mat could have dinner and maybe a little fun afterward. There was always the option of shutting down one of the nightclubs and having a private party for just the two of you, but then staff would be milling around cooking and getting things ready for the players to use those rooms during the day. Your suite was the ideal option, but with your current roommates, it was scratched off the list easily.
It was then that an idea struck you. Your suite connected to the pool, which always shut down early in the evening. It wouldn’t be hard to shut it down, say around seven in the evening for a late dinner with Mat, and with it being on the rooftop there would be no chance for anyone to see anything that happened after that dinner. “I think I have an alternate plan,” you told Mat who had already decided dinner was off the table so to speak. “That is if you’re still interested.”
One side of his face turned up into what could only be called a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I’m definitely interested.”
“Then meet me up by the pool say seven-thirty tomorrow night?”
There was a note of disappointment in Mat’s face and it had you questioning if you said or had done something wrong. “Yeah, seven-thirty sounds great. Just wish I was the one planning the date for you.”
Oh, well if that was his concern, that was nothing. “I’ll let you plan the next one. You know when you move into the hotel.”
“Deal,” he told you, his eyebrows picking up with excitement and you had to wonder what he had planned for the future. “I hate to do this but I kind of have to get going. I have to get ready for the game soon, or I’d stay and chat.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll meet you tomorrow night.” Mat told you, a huge grin on his face, but then you were pretty sure that yours reflected the same. He was just about to turn and walk away when he stopped, his voice dropping low. “So, am I supposed to bring a suit or…?”
The innuendo hung in the air for only a moment, before you chuckled softly. “Consider it optional,” you told him with a little wink, and then before he could be the one to walk away you did. Leaving Mat to wonder what tomorrow night would hold for the both of you.
The rest of the afternoon went rather swimmingly, or maybe it was just because you had thoughts about your upcoming date with Mat on the brain. You worked most of the day downstairs, calling to check on Svech every so often only to find that he was sleeping. By the time you got back to the suite, the boys were all down in the living room playing video games. At least it was better than them puncturing your ceilings with hockey sticks. There was a slight awkwardness between you, Joel, and Andrei, but then you sort of expected that, considering Svech kept looking at you like a lovesick schoolboy. You could only hope that Joel didn’t realize what had happened while he and Dougie had been at practice.
Before you knew it, everyone retired for the evening. You half expected there to be a knock at your door shortly after you retired, and you laid there for quite some time waiting for it. It never came though. Maybe it was because they were sharing a room, or maybe it was because they both realized that something had happened between you with both of them; you couldn’t really be sure. At any rate, you were glad when they all finally left for the arena, so you could get ready for your date with Mat. Even Svech put on his suit and tie and headed over, as he was hobbling around much better the next day.
Throwing on a cute pale pink sundress, you headed up to the pool area to setup. Being the hotel manager did have its perks, and one of them included knowing where the most secluded spot was on the rooftop deck. You made sure that it would be closed off to all the players, but there was still an off chance that someone could wander up, and you didn’t want to be in the wide open for just anyone to see if they decided to peer through the hallway by the elevators. You rearranged a couple potted plants for cover as well, before setting up the table.
Right before Mat arrived you went down to your suite and brought up the meal that you had the chef prepare, so that everything was perfect for when he came. You weren’t sure why you were going to all the extra trouble, but there was just something about Mat that made you go that extra mile.
You were shocked to see him standing at the door, dress in a button-down shirt and dress pants. Most of the men had adopted the relaxed casual attire the NHL deemed appropriate for the bubble, and you just assumed that he probably hadn’t brought anything with him. “Hi,” he breathed out when you opened the door to let him in, only to lock it again. “These are for you.” He handed over a small bouquet of pink and white roses to you. “It’s the best I could do.”
“They’re beautiful.” It was so simplistic and sweet compared to the extravagant gifts Tyler had given you. “How did you get them?”
“You’re not the only one with connections,” he said with a little wink and you had to wonder if Carly had anything to do with this.
“Thank you, they’re lovely.” Going up on your toes you kissed him on the cheek, which only made you lightheaded as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of him mixed with his cologne.
“You look beautiful by the way,” he told you. Before you could pull away, his hand went to the small of your back urging you to stay tucked into this side.
“Thank you.” Just being close to him again, sent a jolt of lust through your body, and you knew if you didn’t get him over to the table soon, that you’d be having him for dinner. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” You skated your hand down his arm so that you could entwine your fingers with his and lead him over to the spot you had set up for the two of you.
The table, while not anything special, was set up for just the two of you. A bottle of champagne sat chilling beside it, while the soft glow of candles lit up the secluded alcove you’d chosen. “Wow, you really went to a lot of trouble.”
“It was nothing really.” It struck you then that this was the first real date that you’d had since this whole pandemic started. I mean sure you’d had a few hookups, maybe more than a few, since you were in the bubble and maybe something even before it, but this was like actual couple stuff. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I kind of just went with a little bit of everything.” A bout of nervousness hit for some unknown reason and suddenly you were shaking as you uncovered the dishes you had ordered. Apparently, hookups were easier to deal with than an actual date was.
“Hey, look at me,” Mat gently whispered as he covered his hand with yours, and you looked up into the deep fathoming pools of his eyes. “I’m nervous too if it helps.” The side of his lips lifted up into the cutest smile you ever saw. “Just breathe.” You did, taking a nice deep calming breath and feeling so much better. “Ok, yeah…” Mat said and you looked at him in question. “Maybe not so deep next time.” His cheeks were stained red as he’d just admitted to staring at your breasts, and you had to laugh at how you were both acting like two high school kids instead of grown adults.
It was time to take the situation in hand. Stepping closer to Mat, you whispered, “I think we’d both feel better if we got this out of the way first.” You slid your hands up behind his neck and drew his mouth down to yours. You were only in control of the kiss for a moment, before Mat’s tongue swept across your lips, begging you for entrance, which you gave, of course. His tongue mingled with yours, tasting you and drinking you in, as his hands slid around your waist pulling you close to his body. You melted into him and all the nerves from moments ago just seemed to disappear along with the rest of the world.
Mat pulled away first, yet still chased your lips, before breathless saying, “That was exactly what I needed.”
With one final peck, you stepped back, albeit reluctantly. “Ok, back to dinner then.”
Conversation over dinner flowed easily after that, so much so that you completely forgot the awkwardness that took place when Mat first got there. Mat spoke about hockey and his family, while you deftly avoided telling him anything about yours, not wanting to go down that rabbit hole. Instead, you told him about all the crazy mishaps that had taken place since this bubble had started, omitting all your sexcapades.
“They really broke a pipe with a hockey stick?” Mat roared with laughter at your telling him why the three Canes were staying with you.
“I know. I couldn’t believe it either.”
“You certainly have your hands full here.” Mat took your hand in his then, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “Though I’m glad you made time for this tonight.”
“Me too.” You were honestly having one of the best nights you’d had since the bubble started. With his free hand, the one not still linked with yours, Mat grabbed his phone. Apparently, he didn’t feel the same way as you did if he was going to make a call.
The thought no sooner came to your mind that he wasn’t enjoying himself when you heard a soft melody playing from his mobile. “Dance with me?” You simply nodded your head, and he drew the two of you to your feet.
He easily wrapped you up within his arms, as yours went around his neck; the two of you swaying to the music, bodies pressed intimately as you danced under the stars. Mat’s eyes stared into yours, so warm and loving, and you found yourself getting lost in them. Slowly, his lips drifted down to yours, capturing them in a kiss that stole your breath away. This time you gave him entrance immediately, as your tongues danced to a melody all of their own.
Your fingers slipped through his locks at the nape of his neck, and he moaned against your mouth. The kiss becoming even more heated, his hands roaming over your ass to press you closer to him. Mat twirled you both until you felt the back of your knees bump up against one of the oversized cabana chairs. He lowered you down onto it; his body followings yours as he continued to ravage you with his kisses.
Mat’s mouth was everywhere, on your lips, trailing down your neck and across your collarbone, until he suddenly stopped. He pulled back to look at you, lust in his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”
It was sweet of him to ask considering what had already transpired between the two of you a week or so ago. “Please don’t stop,” you begged him, wanting to feel his mouth on you again. A wicked grin spread on his face before he was back to devouring you again. His one hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh while his other eased the strap of your dress off your shoulder. Not to be outdone, you deftly undid the buttons of his shirt before pulling its tail out of his pants. His body was amazing. You drank it in that day at the arena, admiring his abs as sweat glistened off of them, but now you let your hand leisurely play with the well-developed muscles there.
When your nails raked across his six-pack to roam down to his belt, he sucked in a breath, before stilling your hands. “Not yet, babe. There’s something I’ve been dying to do first.” He gently pushed you so that your back fully lay on the cushions. Slipping your arms out of your dress straps, he slowly lowered the garment so that he could feast upon your breasts. It was no surprise that you weren’t wearing a bra as the sundress's thin spaghetti straps didn’t allow for it. Mat took one taut nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it before tugging on it with his teeth. Your back arched up into him as you gasp out with pleasure.
You were so enthralled with his mouth, you didn’t feel his hand glide up your inner thigh until it reached your core. His hand cupped your sex and you knew he could feel the moisture that he’d created through the thin material of your panties. He spread your legs easily before sinking down on his knees in front of you. He pulled your body closer to the edge of the cabana seat, before pushing your dress around your waist. “Lift up for me.” You did as commanded and the next thing you knew he slid your panties off and into his pants pocket. He trailed hot kisses up your inner thighs making you squirm with delight. Your chest rose and fell in anticipation of where his mouth would soon be, and you could feel him grinning as he kissed your heated skin.
His fingers spread you wide before you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your core. “Mmm,” he moaned out, or was that you, you couldn’t tell. “Fuck your wet,” and this time you knew they were Mat’s words, which brought more moisture pooling at your center. His mouth went to work then, flicking across your clit, then darting inside your pussy. It was a full-on assault to bring you pleasure, and you treasured every second of it. One strong arm, held your hips down as your body started to move on its own accord. “You taste so good,” he panted then sucked on your clit. “I knew you would. This is all I could think about for the last week.” His fingers joined the play of his lips, thrusting first one and then another inside you.
“Don’t stop,” you moaned, as your hands threaded into his dark locks keeping his mouth in place as you drew closer to the edge of ecstasy. Maybe it was your words or the fact that Mat could feel you start to flutter on his lips, but his mouth didn’t let up on your clit as his fingers made that perfect come-hither motion that drove you to the brink of insanity. You came with a loud moan, as your body shook from the intense sensations.
Mat worked you through the orgasm, slowly ceasing his movements as you came back to reality. “Damn your beautiful when you cum.”
His lips glistened with your juices on him and you found yourself reaching for him. He came willingly. His body looming over yours. “Then I think you should make me cum again. Only this time I want you inside me.” Mat didn’t have to be told twice. His mouth came down on yours, where you tasted your essence on his lips, as he kicked his pants off. Taking himself in hand, he guided his cock to your wet and waiting pussy. The chords in his neck strained as he slowly entered you, as you could see the amount of effort it took him to hold back instead of just plunging in deep and hard. Little did he know that that would’ve satisfied you as well, but there would be other times for him to do that, at least you hoped there would.
His lips only left yours once he was buried deep inside you, and then it was only to suck in a deep breath. “Fuck,” he hissed out. “You feel so good.” Slowly, almost painstakingly so, he started to thrust in and out of you. One hand held your hip steady, while the other toyed with your breast, flicking and pinching your nipple. You moaned at the sensation relishing the feel of him inside you. “So beautiful.”
His lips found yours again, stoking an even greater hunger within you. “Harder, Mat. Harder.” He picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you. Moans from both you and Mat mingled in the night air, as a cool summer breeze caressed your heated skin. You felt your body clench as Mat hit you in just the right spot.
“That’s it cum for me, beautiful.” You broke apart, shattering once again as your second orgasm of the night hit you. He gave you but a moment to recover before flipping over on your stomach. Grabbing a pillow, he propped it under your stomach then drew you up on your knees. His cock slammed back into your dripping pussy. Both hands gripping your hips, he pounded into you at a feverish pace. When you finally recovered, you levered yourself up on your elbows, pushing back against him when his thrusts slowed. “Fuck baby,” he grunted out as you fucked yourself on his cock. He gathered your hair in his hands, pulling you gently back towards him as he lowered himself down to nip at your neck. You hoped there wouldn’t be marks there in the morning.
You weren’t sure what pushed Mat over the edge, but the next thing you knew he grabbed both hips and pistoned his cock in and out of you. “Oh,” he groaned, and you felt yourself start to quiver. You didn’t think that you’d cum like this, without any stimulation to your clit, but you could feel a third orgasm start to build. “God, yes, baby.” Mat thrusts hammered into you and then you were spiraling once again. Mat followed you, with a loud moan, as his hands bit into your hips. Your elbows gave out and you both collapsed on the lounge chair. “That was…”
“Fucking amazing,” you finished for him.
“Yes, yes it was.” He moved to his side, bringing your body with him. Bodies sticky from sex and sweat, you laid there letting the summer air cool your body. Mat swept back a lock of hair that had fallen across your face. “So beautiful.” His words were but a whisper, a caress almost and you shivered, not from the night breeze but the look in his eyes. They held so much emotion in them. Happiness, lust, longing, and something else you dare not say for you weren’t sure if you were ready for that, were all there.
It was too much, and so you closed your eyes before saying, “Care to take a little dip?”
“I thought he just did.” You both laughed lightly at his cute little pun. “But why not.”
You got up, leaving Mat still lounging on the oversized chair, and shimmied your dress off your body finally. Looking over your shoulder, you gave Mat a wink before walking to the edge of the pool and diving in. When you surfaced from the water, Mat was still in the same position, just lazily watching you. “Are you coming?”
“Oh, I think we’ll both be doing that in a few minutes.”
True to his words, Mat had you cuming as you both found release under the water. It was sometime later, that you were both dressed again, the night getting late and Mat had to get back to Royal York and his team. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he told you holding you within his arms, his hands running up and down your back.
“I wish you didn’t either.” You kissed for what had to be the millionth time that night.
“Well, hopefully, you’ll be seeing more of me here soon.” He dropped kisses to your lips, nose, and forehead, before adding. “Until then…Do you think we could do this again?” You went to answer, but Mat continued. “Maybe on a more exclusive level?”
It was the last thing you thought he’d ask. You didn’t really see him as the monogamous type, so his question took you off guard. “I think you’ve been in the bubble too long.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s only opened my eyes to things that I want.” He took a small strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear; he seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. The gesture was both endearing and seductive at the same time.
“I think you drank too much champagne.” It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of a relationship with Mat. In fact, it was kind of appealing. Of all the men you’d been with since this whole thing started, there were three that came to mind that you’d actually consider being with, and Mat was one of them. You just didn’t know where your feelings stood with the other two.
His grip on your hips tightened and he nudged you closer. “The only thing I’m drunk on ... is you.” He punctuated his words with an intoxicating kiss. “But you don’t have to answer me now. You can let me know when I move in here.”
“You’re incorrigible.” You couldn’t help but kiss him again, for he was just too irresistible.
“I’ve gotta go,” Mat finally said, after what seemed like an endless goodbye kiss.
“I’ll go down to the lobby with you. I should check and make sure everything is fine, before heading to bed.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone.” You hadn’t realized he was the jealous type, but you could see a little bit of the green monster there in his eyes.
“Just making sure none of your roommates will be visiting.” You rolled your eyes at him, though in the back of your mind you wondered what he had heard to make him think something was going on between you and any of the guys.
“They won’t be.” You kissed him one last time before heading downstairs. The lobby was quiet as you said your goodbyes, but then you heard the doors open as the Canes came filtering back in from their game. You’d forgotten all about them playing tonight. From the look on their faces, it hadn’t gone well.
“Looks like I’ll be moving in sooner than I thought,” Mat whispered in your ear as Svech and Joel walked past. Both of them took in your appearance, as well as Mat’s hand at the small of your back. “Guess I’ll be getting an answer to that question soon as well.”
You were going to have to examine your feelings faster than you anticipated, and you weren’t quite sure you were ready to give up all the fun, just yet.
.
#bubble wrapped the series#nhl smut#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#hockey smut#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#Mat barzal#mat barzal smut#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal imagines#mathew barzal#Mathew Barzal smut#mathew barzal imagine
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Drabble Request → Still Hot
Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Fem!Reader
Tags: 700+ words, AU, Fluff, Humor, Slice Of Life, Married/Parents, Kissing Booboos, Minhyuk is a cool dad but at what cost, Drabble Request.
Prompt: No.43 Taking care of the other when sick or injured. Requested Anonymously.
A/N: This was requested on my old blog (Jinyoungsir)
“What on earth were you thinking, Minhyuk?”
Your husband winced as you began cleaning the wound on his chin, dabbing the alcohol-soaked cotton ball against his raw skin. You had just come home about ten minutes earlier and he was just...sitting there, moping on the couch, covered in scrapes and bruises much to your confusion.
After a brief moment of shock and the mumbled words ‘Skate Park’ registered in your brain you let out a long sigh and ushered him into the bathroom to get him cleaned up and hear his story.
“I didn’t think it would be that hard! I used to skate when I was younger, remember?” He replied, offering up his skinned forearms for disinfecting as well.
You blew the hair out of your eyes and huffed a tiny laugh, “Of course I remember,” You chuckle, “You were the hottest guy at the skatepark.”
Minhyuk scoffed and spun you in his arms quickly, pulling you back against his chest and tucking his head over your shoulder, “I’m still the hottest, baby.”
You turned your head to peck his cheek, “The only difference is that you were sixteen back then,” You chided playfully, “You’re thirty now, honey.”
Minhyuk poked his tongue into his cheek and nodded with a slight grin, “Touche, my dear.”
“So what happened?” You ask again, disentangling yourself from his arms, soaking another cotton ball to clean the wound on his left knee.
“Your son thought I was ‘too old’ drop into the half-pipe,” He spat mockingly, hissing when you poked at a bruise on his thigh and stopping to glare at you.
“And...were you too old?” You raised your brows, now applying ointment to the wounds and bandaging what needed bandages.
“Yes,” He mumbled under his breath, sighing in defeat.
“There...we...go,” You stepped back to examine your poor husband once more, a pitiful look on his face, “Still pretty hot to me,” You shrugged and a tiny smile tugged at his lips reluctantly.
“My ego hurts a little more than my body,” He says, pulling you in with two hands on your hips until you were between his legs once more.
“Oh?” You quirk a brow as you link your arms around his neck, “Will this make it better?” You ask teasingly before leaning forward and kissing him, nipping at his bottom lip to draw him out of his sour mood.
Just then the bathroom door creaked open and your nine-year-old son offered a brief look of disgust at your embrace as was typical for his age. You released Minhyuk and opened your arms up for a hug and your son immediately fell into them like the momma’s boy he was. “Hi, mom,” His voice was muffled in your hold.
“Hey, babe,” You let him step back, “Heard you had an interesting day with dad?”
Minhyuk visibly shuttered but his mouth dropped open as he listened to your son speak. “Yeah, it was awesome! We went to the skate park and he helped me practice my kickflip and I’m getting so much better with his help!” He shouted excitedly before mellowing out pretty quickly, “I did feel really bad that you got hurt, dad. I didn’t mean to tease you, I just wanted to see if you could do it since you were so good at everything else. You looked so cool!”
Minhyuk stood up from the counter and wrapped an arm around the boy, a brilliant smile on his face. “That’s ok, kiddo. I loved hanging out with you today,” He ruffled his hair and your son laughed, eliciting a smile of your own, “Next time I’ll teach you something really cool, but like...on the ground.”
Your son nodded excitedly and ran off to play a round of video games before dinner, leaving you both alone once more. “He said I looked cool,” Minhyuk almost whispered, a faint smile upon his lips.
“So was all the pain worth it?” You chuckle, reaching for his hand.
“If I say yes, will you still nurse me tonight?” He wiggled his brows and you rolled your eyes, swatting his arm absentmindedly and he hissed once more.
Your eyes went wide realizing what you did but you couldn’t help laughing as you tugged him closer, “Yes, okay, I’m sorry. I promise to nurse you after that.”
MX M.List | Main M.List
→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms WITHOUT PERMISSION! All stories are copyrighted, Bubblebeom, 2020. ©️
#monsta x#lee minhyuk#monsta x minhyuk#monsta x fanfic#monsta x drabbles#monsta x au#monsta x oneshot#monsta x dad au#lee minhyuk au#lee minhyuk fanfic#lee minhyuk fluff#kpop dad au#kpop fanfic#lana writes
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Cheer For You |Renga|
Okay I had to start with the suggestion for Gold Rush and Renga by @transparentadvice because I’ve had this song on my own personal Renga playlist since the very beginning so it seemed like the right place to start!
All of these TSwift inspired ficlets will also be up on Ao3 and instagram if that’s anyone’s cup of tea over Tumblr. And please, feel free to continue suggesting them to me! I plan to use them for warm ups/on days when I don’t have a lot of time to write/a break between other fics I’m working on! Otherwise, please enjoy where my brain goes when I listen to Gold Rush and think of Renga <3
--
I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush
I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush
I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch
Everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
The first time Reki had taken Langa to S, everyone had stared at him, whispered about him, pointed him out.
Back then, it had been because he was a rookie who taped his feet to a skateboard and somehow won against Shadow. Back then it was because he was a newcomer, he was interesting and unusual. Back then, when they talked about him, they called him Rookie, they didn’t know anything about him— but they wanted to.
Now when Reki and Langa go to S, everyone greets Snow, claps him on the shoulder, asks him how he’s been. They say his name like they own it, like some part of Langa is theirs to lay claim to. When they go to S, it’s no longer Reki and Langa, it’s Snow and that redhead. Reki sees it, too, the way people completely gloss over his existence, the way they cut in between him and Langa for their chance to talk to Snow. Langa has become a celebrity at S, a coveted desire. Everyone wants to get to know him, to talk to him, to call him theirs. The girls fawn over him, batting their eyelashes and reaching out to touch him on the arm.
It makes Reki sick.
Because none of these people actually know Langa. This person they think they know, this version of Langa that has been made up entirely in their minds is not who Langa really is, and Reki is the only one who knows that. Reki is the only one who has put bandaids on Langa’s scraped up hands, the only one who was there the first time Langa nailed an ollie and his face lit up so brightly, Reki couldn’t even see the sun anymore. Reki was the one who was there for every milestone, every injury, even that near death experience before Langa had learned how to stop.
If anyone had a right to lay claim to Langa, it was Reki.
He wouldn’t, of course. Because Langa was his own person and nobody could actually claim him but also because they were best friends and Langa didn’t think of him that way. Langa had no problem thanking the people at S, or pausing to talk to them when they wanted some his time. He answered their questions in the same blasé way that he did most things, as if he didn’t realize exactly how much the other people were getting out of this.
And Reki— well, Reki just stepped aside, made room for these strangers and shoved his hands in his pockets while he waited for the conversations to end. Sometimes he wandered away to get a drink, or to hit the half pipe and try to work off some restless energy. But the more well known Langa became, the harder it became for Reki to get rid of that negative energy and the less he found that he wanted to touch his board at all.
Eventually he settled for just continuing on, just leaving Langa to his long line of adoring fans. He kept his board tucked under his arm as he crossed the rocky threshold, refusing to look over his shoulder at Langa and the girls who were currently pressing into his sides. He refused to acknowledge the sick feeling swirling in his stomach, refused to consider why there was pressure building behind his eyes. It’s not like it mattered, it’s not like this was any different than any other time they had come here. At some point, Reki just had to get used to it.
At some point, he had to recognize that Langa wasn’t just his best friend anymore, wasn’t just the person he—
At some point, Reki had to recognize that other people felt the same way for Langa. Worse than that, eventually Langa was going to return those feelings for one of those people. One of those pretty girls who were consistent and determined would surely find their way past the gates of his heart and suddenly they’d get to see all the sides of him that had been reserved for Reki only.
Just the thought alone makes Reki want to do something reckless.
He tells himself it’s because he wants everyone else to look at him the way they look at Langa, because he wants everyone else to see that he has talents, too. Deep in the darkest corners of his heart, he knows it’s because he wants Langa to stop looking at other people. He wants Langa to look at him again instead.
And really, he shouldn’t be surprised that everything in his life revolves around Langa like that. Everywhere they go, everything seems to revolve around Langa. From the new kid at school to the hot transfer student, from the rookie at S to the god of the track— Langa was at the center of everything in Reki’s life. And he was at the center of Reki’s heart, too, no matter how terrible of a situation that actually was.
Reki throws his board down at the starting line. He’s not up against anybody, there’s no official beefs running tonight. The track is simply open to everyone and Reki figures he can make do with that. He’d love to be running a beef instead, to have something else taking up that space in his mind that was currently occupied with thoughts of Langa leaving him behind, thoughts of Langa suddenly forgetting who he is and starting to simply think of him as that redhead, too. He knows Langa would never do it, but the mind is a fickle mistress and she likes to play games with Reki anyways.
With one push, Reki’s off. He plants his feet on the board and crouches low to get as much speed behind him as he can. Maybe he can outrun his daunting thoughts if he goes fast enough. It’s not likely to work, but there’s only one way to find out. Faces he pass blur as he goes by and whatever people are shouting at him has no meaning. He can’t make out their words and he doesn’t even try to, suspecting that he doesn’t want to hear what they have to say anyways.
The first corner comes into view and Reki’s going too fast. He knows he’s going too fast, knows that he won’t be able to make this without some serious luck— or a serious injury.
Cheering suddenly erupts around Reki and he hears the sound of a second set of wheels on the ground a moment before the sharpest part of the corner hits. Reki has no time to look, no time to pay attention to what’s going on as he shift his weight and tries his hardest to keep in contact with his board at all time. He turns, leans, his hand slides against the gravel on the ground to try and keep him upright— he’s almost there, he can see the straight away just ahead of him, can feel his board starting to level out under his feet. The board wobbles underneath him, his arm shakes as he leans onto his hand. He can feel his foot slipping towards the edge of the board and he's not sure he's going to make it. Each second feels like the board is getting further out from underneath him and his speed is still too much. He just needs to hold on, just keep his grip or else he's going to go tumbling and there was no good outcome if that happened. Just a little bit more, just the tiniest bit—
He made it. The ground is flat beneath him and Reki is able to slide his foot back to the center of his board, pulling it closer to him again so he can try and go back upright. Reki straightens himself up on his board, breathing a sigh of relief as he tries to find his balance again. Another round of applause breaks out and Reki’s just about to wonder what it’s possibly for when he hears that second set of wheels again and a hand closes around his wrist.
Really, Reki doesn’t have to look to know that it’s Langa, but he does anyways. He looks because he’s always loved the way Langa looks when he’s skating the S track, the wind blowing the longer edges of his hair back, his eyes bright with pure enjoyment. He loves watching the determination on Langa's face, the natural way he moves on his board. There's something so intoxicating about it, Reki would gladly watch it every single night if he could. This time, though, there’s a frown pulling at the corner of Langa’s mouth as he tugs on Reki’s arm and starts to slow them both to a stop.
Reki doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want to let go of this feeling he has. Reki doesn't want to give his insecurities a chance to catch back up to him. But he does, running off the edge of the track and hopping off his board, taking a few stumbling steps as he does. “What?”
“That was reckless.” Langa says immediately, and he’s right up in front of Reki again, that frown deep. “You took that corner way too fast.”
“I’m fine.” Reki holds his arms out to either side as if to demonstrate his point. “Nothing to worry about.”
What he doesn't say is that Langa must've taken that corner nearly as fast to have caught up with Reki the way he did. What he doesn't say is that Langa shouldn't doubt his skills because the truth is that he doubts his own skills and he understands why Langa would, too.
“Reki.” Langa's expression is stern and entirely unamused. His cheeks are flushed a pale pink and it's not the usual color they turn when he's been racing. It's the color they turn in the rare instance that he's frustrated with something and in this case, it appears that he's frustrated with Reki.
With a sigh, Reki concedes Langa’s point, hoping to just get back on his board, to get away from this moment. “Okay, it was a bit fast. But I really am fine so it’s not a big deal.”
There’s a certain slant to Langa’s eyebrows that Reki can’t quite decipher and the fact that he’s not completely sure what Langa is going to say next makes him feel like his blood is freezing in his veins, Are they already shifting this far apart?
“You don’t need their approval,” Langa says and for Reki, it seems to come completely out of left field. Mostly because Reki had thought he'd been doing a better job hiding his thoughts, covering the way he was feeling.
He'd been trying his hardest to keep a straight face all these weeks, to act like nothing bothered him. Because there was no reason for Reki to put that burden on Langa, no reason for him to make Langa feel bad for things that were out of his control. What good could possibly come from Langa knowing that his popularity felt like needles under Reki's skin, stabbing away at his heart? Reki already knew the answer: nothing good could come from that.
“That’s not why I was doing it.” Reki answers, and it’s absolutely the truth. Even if he has no intention of elaborating on it any further, no intention of telling Langa that ultimately, what everyone else thinks of him doesn’t matter as long as Langa keeps looking at him. “Besides, you do reckless things all the time, you have no room to talk.”
Langa pauses for a second and then reaches out to grab Reki’s wrist again. “I was worried you’d get hurt.”
“I get hurt all the time.” Reki tries to dismiss immediately. He means it as something lighthearted to dispel the steadily growing tension but there’s enough truth to the statement that it catches in his throat as he says it and makes Langa’s frown deepen.
“If you get hurt, I can’t skate with you.”
The words strum a chord on Reki’s heart and he tries not to let it show. He swallows around the lump that’s quickly forming in his throat and tries to make his voice sound steadier than he feels. “So? You have plenty of other people to skate with. Everyone here would kill to skate against you.”
Reki feels the exact moment that Langa’s grip on his wrist tightens and he has a brief flash of panic that Langa is going to let him go, going to agree with what he’d just said and drop the issue. Langa doesn’t. Instead, he slides his hand down further, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin right at the inside of Reki’s wrist, before he has his hand wrapped around Reki’s, squeezing it tightly.
“I don’t want to skate with them,” Langa says earnestly and there’s so much raw truth in his words, Reki is almost knocked off his feet. “I want to skate with you. It only matters if it’s you.”
“They cheer for you.” Reki stares down at their connected hands, the dam of emotions dangerously close to crumbling. He can already feel some of it beginning to leak.
“So?” Langa tugs on Reki’s hand so he stumbles a tiny step forwards. They’re almost chest to chest now, so close that Reki can practically feel Langa breathing. “I only cheer for you.”
That gets Reki to whip his head up, to search Langa’s blue eyes for some hidden meaning, for some way to explain that as anything other than the admission that it sounds like. He finds nothing,
“Langa—“
“Reki.” Langa’s hand shifts again so that his fingers are threaded between Reki’s and Reki finds that he’s holding his breath. “I don’t care what everyone else says or how wrong they are about your talent. It’s only fun if it’s with you.”
Reki huffs out a nervous laugh, glancing away from Langa’s eyes. “That almost sounds like a confession.”
“It is.”
The world slows to a stop around Reki as he slowly turns back to look up at Langa. Langa, who has always been by his side. Langa, who looks after him when he gets injured. Langa, who always finds his way back to Reki, no matter how many times the crowd tries to come between them. Langa, who has never left Reki behind, never picked anyone or anything over Reki.
The dawning realization is like the break of sun on a new day, casting light and chasing out shadows. All of the bitterness Reki had felt when he’d seen those girls flirting with Langa is gone, all of the insecurities he had about Langa wanting someone else have completely dissipated as he looks into Langa’s unsure expression and realizes that Langa has just bared his heart to Reki and is waiting for a response.
“I don’t care about what anyone else says, even though they’re right about your talent.” Reki replies slowly and he finally gets to watch as Langa’s frown turns into the barest hint of an exasperated smile. “It’s only fun if it’s with you.”
Langa leans the tiniest bit closer. “Is that a confession?”
“It is.” Reki breathes, finally holding Langa’s hand back, using that point of contact to drag Langa down into a kiss right there on the side of S where everyone could see.
He gets to feel the moment Langa’s exasperated smile turns into a full-fledged grin against his lips, gets to feel Langa huff out a quiet laugh as his other hand finds it’s way to Reki’s hoodie and drags him the last bit forward. And just like that, everything Reki has been worried about is completely gone, kissed away by Langa.
Everyone may want to know what it’s like to love Langa and be loved in return, but only Reki gets to.
#gold rush#inspired by Taylor swift lyrics#renga#sk8#sk8 the infinity#sk8 fic#ficlet challenge#even though this is 2.6k#and absolutely not a ficlet#I don't know how to write short things rip#hurt/comfort
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Tim Drake x Reader - Envy
The first time he realises it's more than a stupid crush is mid-summer, sweat across the back of his neck, ice in his drink. Bruce has had a tough few weeks, and he's learning to surround himself with the people he cares about in times like these: besides, the weather is gorgeous, a rarity for Gotham, and so Bruce throws an extended family barbecue. 'Family' has always been a little tough to define, for Tim and for many others who share the Wayne name. Some - Dick, Jason, Damian, Cass - feel as though they could be his blood siblings, like they share more than a name and a vigilante identity and a proclivity for violence. Duke, Kon, and Jon have somehow become his annoying cousins who say, let me play the games on your phone, Tim, I know you get the unreleased ones, don't lie, but he loves them all the same.
It's when he sees you talking to Steph, the distant ex who he now considers one of his closest friends, that the depth of his feelings really hits him. You're in a swimsuit - he shouldn't stare, he shouldn't, it's summer and it's hot and it's perfectly normal for you to want to enjoy the pool while you're at the manor - with a cocktail in hand, golden sun catching in your hair, a warm smile lighting up your features, eyes crinkled up at the corners with laughter. Maybe Steph is telling an anecdote about the family; perhaps you're just enjoying this perfect day.
A giggle spills from your lips, shiny with the cherry-flavoured lip balm he knows you use, right as your gaze wanders across the pool and meets Tim's own. Although he's quick to react, transforming his face into a friendly smile and giving you a small wave, he has to fight back a blush from the shame of almost being caught staring. He isn't a creep. He isn't.
"Tim!", you exclaim, as he crosses around the pool and makes his way over to you and Steph. "I didn't know you could even come out in the sun! I hope you're wearing sunscreen."
Steph smirks. "You're all... milky. How long has it been since you left your computer screen?'
Tim feels your eyes drag down over his body, probably only because Steph's just pointed out how pale he is, but he's in a swimsuit too and he can feel your gaze burning hot on every inch of exposed skin. He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. "Funny, both of you. Duke attacked me with a bottle of SPF twenty minutes ago."
You and Steph dissolve into another fit of laughter: clearly the image of his assault is amusing to you. Tim would pretend to be more annoyed than he really is, maybe play it up a little to make you both feel bad, but he knows that you're only in a good mood. Why wouldn't you be? This is the first day you've had fully to yourself in weeks - he makes a point to stay updated on your activities, but he's not a creep, it's normal to take an interest - between your schoolwork and your internship. The hard work has paid off, though, and you've just graduated at the top of your class with a path straight into a major company. He can cut you some slack for now.
"Do either of you two know where I can find Damian?", Steph pipes up suddenly after a sip of her own drink. "I've gotta talk to him."
Tim exaggerates a disgusted tremble, which only earns him a playful slap from Steph and another little giggle from you. "Poor you. He's probably walking the dogs on the other side of the garden, or something - antisocial little shit."
"Damian, antisocial? I haven't heard from you in almost three weeks, Timothy Drake! You hypocrite!", Steph cries. Three weeks? He could've sworn it was only a week ago, at most; he FaceTimed her for a catch up, and she was talking about her crush on Kon's dad, and he'd explained he'd been busy because he'd been helping you write your thesis - but, wait, it hadn't even been the final section, so it must have been longer ago than he thought, because you submitted your final draft five days ago - shit.
Tim sighs. "Sorry, Steph. Actually, sorry to both of you. I... lost track of time, I guess?"
"I'll let you off this time, Drake-", Steph narrows her eyes at him, and tips back the last of her cocktail. "But you better repay me by having another drink ready for me when I come back."
She grins widely, and heads off to find Damian: God knows why she wants to talk to him when he's being so antisocial, but she's always had a way of drawing the young boy out of his shell. Tim chuckles under his breath, and turns to smile sheepishly at you.
"And you? What do I have to do to make you forgive me?", he offers. He's half-teasing, but there's a part of him that feels guilty. It's selfish. He knows it is; he's the one who finds himself wanting to spend so much time with you, not the other way around, and he sees you more than enough. You probably haven't even realised it's been four days since you last spoke to him.
You swirl the last dregs of your drinks thoughtfully, smiling at him - God, your smile is perfect, so soft and warm and kind - and then reach out to pat him on the shoulder. "I think I'm the one who owes you, you know."
Your touch lingers for just a fraction of a second and Tim is forced to suppress a shiver. "Meaning?'
"You've spent most of your free time for months helping me with schoolwork, Timmy! There's no way I would've been able to - actually, no, I would have managed fine without help - but you made it so much easier. I wish I could do more to thank you."
Tim waves away your gratitude with a small smile. "You've done plenty - besides, I enjoyed helping you."
"Why?", you grin, and the previous playfulness you'd exhibited with Steph is beginning to spark back up in your eyes. "Because my area of study interests you so much? Or is it just because I'm your favourite person?'
There are a million ways he could play this. This stupid, summer crush has been eating at him for weeks now, and Tim knows all too well that he's bad with emotions. He has no idea which course of action he should choose: flirt, or tease, or act aloof? Dick would dazzle you with a charming grin and a compliment - Jason would make a ridiculous, suggestive joke that somehow would be flirty instead of creepy - Damian (and Tim feels indescribable shame at the fact that his younger brother would be better at this than him) would brush the teasing off in a way that only drew you in.
"...Spending time with you isn't the worst thing in the world.", Tim settles on, and he mentally kicks himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. God, he isn't a creep, but he's stupid. So stupid. Almost as stupid as he is for developing a crush in the first place.
By some saving grace, your smile only widens. "So I am your favourite person?'
He needs another drink.
"You're in danger of losing that title.", he shrugs, and begins to head for the drinks table that Alfred so thoughtfully set up - you follow without question. "But, well, I wouldn't have spent all that time with you if, you know, I didn't like you. It was actually... kind of fun."
You fix yourself your own cocktail at the same time as him. It must be your favourite, since it's the same as the last one you were drinking, and Tim has to remind himself again that he's not a creep as he wonders how it would feel to kiss the taste of sweet alcohol off your lips. It's just a crush. He's going to get over it.
"Aww - I knew you loved me! Seriously, though - I did really enjoy spending that time with you. Even if you did spend half of it vibrating from caffeine overload, and the other half shouting at me for drinking caffeine myself.", you say.
He shrugs. "It's bad for you." Hypocrisy normally gets to Tim, but he can excuse the bad habit for himself. He can't help but worry about you.
The words that spill from your fruit-stained lips in response - teasing, as always, no more than that, stop it - and the glint in your eye and the little quirk of your mouth upwards; something about it just feels different and it makes his stomach lurch. "You're a bad influence, Timmy. I like it."
Fuck. He sips at his drink, too much vodka for his liking and too little ice, but oh well: he's got bigger things to worry about, like hiding how thickly he swallows. Like pretending he doesn't notice the faint sheen of sweat coating your collarbones, and the dip of your throat, spreading across your shoulders and down, down, dipping to your stomach - he pretends he doesn't notice. It's hot. You're warm. And a bit of sweat shouldn't get to him as much as it does.
"Every person here is a bad influence. You asked me for help, anyway. I'm starting to regret doing it.". That's a blatant lie and you both know it, but Tim doesn't know quite how to react other than with sarcasm. He feels like he's dancing with you every time he speaks to you, skating on paper-thin ice but loving the thrill - don't be so fucking dramatic, it's just a crush, stop it.
You roll your eyes and place your glass down onto the table. "I'm sorry. You're a fantastic influence, and you've made the last few months far more bearable. Thank you. I mean it."
And then you bring one hand to his shoulder, a feather-light touch that still sends him practically careening into ecstasy, and before Tim quite realises what's happening, you're pressing a friendly kiss to his left cheek.
You pull back with a smile. "I'll stop giving you shit for today, but only because I'm so grateful."
You just fucking kissed him. You were barely an inch away from his lips, close enough that he could almost smell your drink on your lips, and it was only a friendly gesture and he knows you do it with everyone and he knows it doesn't mean anything, to you, at least - but, to Tim, you've just punched right through his chest and grabbed his heart and squeezed, tight, snatched the breath right from his lungs and all rational thought from his brain; he wants, so badly, to lean forward and kiss you for real this time. He would, if he had the courage. He would, if he knew you felt the same way.
This is more than a stupid, summer crush.
Tim wants you to kiss him again. He wants to take your hand and parade you around the barbecue on his arm. He would lick the sweat off your fucking collarbones, if you would only let him. Maybe he is a creep. He doesn't care anymore.
Another sip of his drink. He's so fucked.
You don't notice the way his jaw tenses, or the way his breathing quickens; why would you? You're not looking for any kind of reaction, because, for you, it was just a kiss on the cheek, nothing more, nothing worthy of a revelation of his feelings.
"Oh, Tim - look, Kon's coming over!", you nudge him with your elbow, drink back in hand. Tim's too shellshocked to do anything other than follow your gaze, right over to where Kon's walking over to the two of you. He must have been in the pool with Jon and Dick, because his hair is wet and rivulets of water are running down his chest - Tim doesn't think he'll ever really get used to his best friend being so absolutely ripped. He hates it.
Kon fixes you with a beaming grin. "Hey, guys! What's with all the drinking? I though barbecues were for having fun and eating, not an alcohol club."
Tim forces a smirk: Kon will see right through him if he isn't careful, figure out what’s going on. The smile on your face, though, is wide and genuine, almost as big as Kon's.
"Says Aquaman over here.", you giggle. Kon shakes his head, flicking water at you, and you squeal and dash behind Tim.
Droplets of pool water land on Tim's face, filling his nose with the scent of chlorine instead of the scent of your drink, and he mourns the loss. "Careful, Kon. Chlorine can burn our skin right off. You wouldn't want to hurt us, right?"
The other male's eyes widen comically, and he mouths a seriously at Tim, concern evident in his gaze. Having a half-alien best friend has its drawbacks, but it's worth it for the tricks Tim gets to play.
You peek over Tim's shoulder and, upon determining that the coast is clear, step out and pout at him. "Don't tease - Kon, don't listen. He's stringing you along."
Tim scowls at you. "Fuck - you couldn't have played along for a few minutes? Seriously?"
Kon lets out a hearty chuckle, and out of nowhere he reaches his hand out towards you - for a moment, Tim just stares at it, wondering why his best friend is offering his hand to you. Then, you take it, that soft smile on your face, and Kon's pulling you into his chest and you're squeezing his hand and he's kissing you gently on the forehead.
"I knew I could rely on you.", Kon smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. The penny begins to drop for Tim, but it's as if it's in slow motion - he sees the grand reveal coming, but he it doesn't quite sink in just yet.
You turn back to face Tim, keeping your fingers interlaced with Kon's so his arm wraps around your body and settles on your waist, pressing you into his side. "I - uh, sorry, Tim. Kon's still... getting the hang of how much PDA is acceptable."
Oh. Tim should have seen this coming. He should have noticed the signs; they all spring up in his mind now, the way Kon only ever seemed to blush around you, and the way Tim's noticed you checking Kon out during training a few times (he'd not thought much of it, you'd be blind not to), and the way both of you have been so suspiciously quiet about your love lives lately - maybe to protect his feelings, to make him feel like he's not the odd-one-out of the group, to avoid excluding him.
"It's fine,", he lies. "But, well - PDA? I didn't realise you two were... close like that."
Why is he torturing himself by asking for details?
You offer him an apologetic look. "I know you've been really busy, lately - you know, with work, and stuff. I thought it would be best to hold off on telling you about anything going on until you had less on your plate."
You don't say it with pity, like you know that he's been harbouring feelings for you: no, it's just friendly concern, knowing that he would want to know about your new crush and help you navigate it, because Tim is shit with his own feelings but he's got a penchant for helping others with their own.
"Thanks for being considerate. I wouldn't have minded helping you, you know.", Tim says. Another lie. It would have absolutely fucking killed him to help you, but at least he would have seen this coming. At least he could have prepared.
Kon squeezes you into his side, and then releases you so he can pour himself a drink. His bright blue eyes, kind and piercing, prompt Tim to speak again. "And, Kon - come on, buddy. Why didn't you say anything to me?"
Kon chuckles warmly. "I guess I didn't really realise what I was feeling, you know? I mean, I knew that it was different, but I didn't exactly know what it meant... or how to explain it."
Another piece of the puzzle falls into place. There's a domino effect in Tim's mind and right now he hates how intelligent he is, wishes he could turn it off for a second if only so that he would stop making deductions about this relationship that's sprung up right under his nose.
"You made the first move, then?", he asks, directed at you, and he can feel his smile starting to slip. There are beads of water on your waist in the wake of Kon's touch.
You let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh - Kon returns to your side, not touching you this time, but still standing in a way that makes it seem as though he's protecting you. "You could put it that way. I mean, nothing's official yet - no one even knows other than you and Steph and Jon, we're still figuring it out. We don't wanna make a big deal, you know?'
Tim doesn't know. He nods anyway. "I'm happy for you both."
The smile on his lips - vodka, ice, fruit - falters just a little too much and he knows Kon notices it. Bright blue eyes soften in worry, his mouth moves to ask if Tim's alright, but Tim just glances back at you; small smile on your lips, golden sun in your hair, happy.
"I'll have to go make sure that Bruce and Jason aren't in danger of blowing us all up in a gas explosion. I'll catch up with you two after.", Tim says, just before Kon can get any words out. He gestures aimlessly in the direction of the barbecue, and you and Kon nod in unison - together, a couple - and Tim throws back the last of his drink before he leaves.
He should be happy for you - he is, in a way, glad that Kon's found someone he can be vulnerable with and you've found someone who makes you happy. He should have been more convincing - he doesn't want either of you to worry. He should have seen this coming. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should never have let himself start feeling anything for you in the first place.
Maybe, Tim thinks as he heads into the cool air of the manor and slips into a quiet room, closing the door behind him - maybe, if you hadn't have kissed him on the cheek, it would've been easier. He could've kept telling himself that this was just a stupid, summer crush, and it would've went away by the time the first snow fell in Gotham, and if worst came to worst he could've called Steph and distracted himself for a few nights. The thought of that, of touching anyone else, makes him feel sick now.
Tim runs his hands through his hair and tugs desperately at the ends. He has no idea how he's meant to come back out to the barbecue, watch Kon kiss the taste of sweet alcohol off your lips, think about Kon's hands on your body - he can't do this. He can't.
#dc#dcmultiverse#dc heroes#tim drake#tim drake x reader#timothy drake#Timothy Drake x reader#kon el#kon el kent#conner kent#kon el x reader#conner kent x reader#red robin#red robin x reader#superboy#superboy x reader#angst#batman#batfam
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Leftovers - Part Two - Nandor the Relentless x Reader - WWDITS Fanfic
Part One: MASTERLIST
Summary: Nandor decides you keep you around...for feeding purposes. You bond a little with Nadja. Guillermo is kind of freaking you out.
Warnings: Female, short, roller derby playing reader, Vampiric blood drinking!, pet humans?, power dynamic, vampire/human relationship
A/N: Thank you sooo much to those who have commented on this fic! It really brightens my day!
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“Awake, mortal!” Nandor stands by the open coffin waving a shopping bag in one hand. “I’ve brought you Lunch-bulls.”
---
“No, I do not usually keep humans around for feeding purposes but…” Nandor strolls down a grocery aisle with the camera crew trailing behind. He stops in front of a refrigerated display of Lunchables, “this one is quite tasty. And I’ve learned a thing or two about caring for mortals thanks to Guillermo. For example, I now understand that you have to feed them.”
---
You wake to find Nandor standing over you with a wide grin on his stupid, handsome face. It takes a long moment for your brain to catch up with your surroundings. And when you do you’re too exhausted and sick to worry about the fact that you’re in a vampire’s lair and you’ve just spent the night sleeping inside a coffin. You try to sit up and the room immediately starts spinning.
“Oh, fucking--,” Nandor curses as you collapse back into the coffin. He looks up and eyes the camera, “I may have been a little over-enthusiastic with the feedings. In my defense I was planning on killing her, so…”
He puts his arm behind your back and helps you sit up against the edge of the coffin. You watch as he rummages inside the reusable shopping tote. What, exactly, does he plan on doing to you? After coming to terms with the fact that you’ve been abducted by an actual vampire you kind of expected to be dead by now. Not that you’re complaining, but…
“Ah-ha! Here, mortal. This colorful sports beverage will replenish your...electrolytes,” Nandor says, reading off the label as he hands you a bottle of Gatorade.
You grab it, frantically twisting the cap with trembling hands, but you feel like every ounce of strength has been sapped from your body. You growl in frustration, tapping the bottle on the rim of the coffin and trying again.
Finally, you sigh and give it back to the vampire, “Can you open it for me?”
Nandor glances to the camera with an arched brow and easily pops the cap off before handing it back to you. You down the entire bottle and eat two Lunchables while Nandor watches with a nauseated expression.
“Better?” he asks when you’ve finished. He reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear and you flinch away from the touch. His eyes are focused on the crook of your neck and the bite mark that still throbs with pain.
“Uh, yeah...thanks,” you murmur, cautiously sitting back a bit to put more space between you. “What are you--um--what’re you planning to do with me, Nandor?”
He looks thoughtful for a moment but before he can answer there’s a sudden bellowing from downstairs.
“House meeting! House meeting, I say! In the library!”
Nandor’s brows draw together in consternation and he hisses, “What the fuck! He can’t call a house meeting. I call the house meetings!”
---
“Now, I’ve called you all here tonight to gloat,” Laszlo explains, standing between the two couches and addressing the room. “As some of us are aware, Mr. Hygiene himself has taken to storing half-drunk virgins in his crypt. It’s totally unacceptable and furthermore, Nandor, hurtful that you wouldn’t invite us to partake.”
You’re seated beside Nandor, holding yourself perfectly still as you eye the unfamiliar vampires in the room. Guillermo stands silently by the door. The woman, Nadja, is staring at you with her mouth open in a leer, practically salivating.
“Yes, Nandor, let me try a bite of your scrumptious mortal,” she says, reaching out to you with her hands clawed in longing.
You scoot closer to Nandor, shrinking into his side and clinging to the fabric of his cape. The devil you know… He gives you a pat on the head and smiles reassuringly.
“Don’t worry, human. No one but me will be drinking your blood,” he raises his voice for the others, “Is that clear? This is my human. You’re to leave her alone. Including you, Colin Robinson.”
The Dilbert-looking guy speaks up, “Keeping humans as familiars is a time-honored tradition. But this situation seems to be without precedent. Sure, in the medieval period there was the practice of keeping human thralls but is that really--”
“SHUT UP!” the other vampires shout at him.
Guillermo steps forward with a half bow and his voice is thready as he asks, “Master? Are you unhappy with my service? I can do better, I can--”
“No, Guillermo. You’re a perfect--” Nandor curls his lip and tilts his head from side to side as he considers his wording, “--ly adequate familiar. I’m keeping this human for food. She has a distinct flavor and I don’t want to eat her all up right away…”
You draw away from Nandor with a horrified look on your face. The events of the last two days come crashing down on you all at once, wrenching a sob from your throat and mortifying tears from your eyes.
“Now, look what you’ve done, all of you!” Nandor scolds, putting his arm around your shoulders in an approximation of comfort. “You’ve made my human sad!”
“I’m not food!” you cry, squirming away with an accusing glare.
Laszlo points his manicured finger in Nandor’s face, “You see, I could have warned you about this, Nandor. They get very weepy when you keep them around too long.”
“There, there,” Nandor says, haltingly. He frowns in discomfort and looks around the room for support.
Nadja steps in, taking a seat on your other side and patting your knee.
“Don’t cry, little human. You may be food but you’re very good food. Nandor doesn’t want to kill you,” she looks up to find Nandor looking at her with his brows raised in a “well, maybe…” expression. Nadja rolls her eyes. “He just wants to keep you for a nice little snack every now and then. It’s not all bad, little one. You’ll get to live here with us. Vampires can be very useful benefactors. Just ask Gizmo…”
“The rent is $1,200 a month,” Guillermo pipes in sullenly.
“Pssk,” Nandor shushes his Familiar and turns back to you. “You won’t have to pay rent, my human. And you can still play your rollerskate battles…”
“Battles?” Nadja perks up. “Is she a warrior like my poor Gregor?”
“Hey!” Laszlo bursts out. “I’ve heard enough about that damn--”
“I play roller derby...it’s a sport,” you explain, perking up for the first time since you found yourself in this strange situation. “I’m in an all-girl intramural league. It’s just for fun…”
Nandor, sensing the change in your mood, jumps in, “Do not be so modest, mortal. I saw you brawling on your roller skates during your practice. You are a fearsome thing to behold! Why else would I choose you?”
Guillermo is quietly fuming in the corner as his master showers praise on the newcomer, but you don’t know what to think. Why are you even considering this? Maybe it’s because deep down you know there’s really no choice. Why not make the best of things?
“Well...fine. But you have to promise you’re not going to end up killing me!” you insist, catching Nandor’s eyes with an intense look of your own. “And you can’t keep feeding off me every day. I won’t have enough strength to live let alone play roller derby. Once a week, tops.”
Laszlo chuckles, “She’s got spirit! I’ll give her that.”
Nandor’s lips twitch and you’re not altogether sure you can trust him but he agrees, “Very well, my tasty mortal. Once per week. Killing is...off the table. For now. We’ll see--don’t pull your luck!”
“Push your luck,” Guillermo mutters darkly and the narrow-eyed look he’s casting your way is actually the most alarming thing in this room full of apex predators.
The meeting wraps up as dawn approaches. Nadja draws your hand into the crook of her elbow and walks you out of the library.
“Tell me more about these roller battles,” she says. “What manner of weaponry do you use?”
---
Not knowing what else to do with yourself you follow Guillermo and Nandor into the crypt. The Familiar helps his master into the coffin and goes about the room, snuffing candles and checking that the curtains are secure against the approaching sun.
“Come, my mortal,” Nandor says, opening his arms and beckoning you into the coffin. From across the room you hear Guillermo’s squeak of outrage.
“You...want me to sleep in the coffin? With you?” you ask somewhat stupidly. But how are you supposed to respond?
“Unless you would prefer the cell…” Nandor remarks sarcastically. “We have just the one bed that Guillermo uses…”
You glance apologetically at Guillermo but he turns away with a huff. What does he possibly get from this arrangement, you wonder?
“Fine,” you sigh. “But...I’ll need a bedroom of my own, Nandor.”
“Yes, yes, very well. Now come. I’m tired.”
You climb awkwardly up into the coffin, stepping carefully around the vampire’s long legs and settling down beside him. It is surprisingly roomy. Custom-made, you assume.
Nandor wraps an arm around you, tucking you firmly into his side. You feel yourself heat with embarrassment at the casual intimacy. Snuggling with a vampire inside his coffin. Nandor sniffs and...purrs? He leans forward to bury his nose into your hair.
“Delightful human,” he murmurs. “I’m very glad I decided not to kill you right away. What a waste that would have been.”
“Goodnight, master,” Guillermo’s soft voice interrupts and you look up to see him standing--menacingly?--over the coffin with a hand on the lid. “Sweet dreams.”
“Yes, night-night, Guillermo,” Nandor replies and the lid drops closed.
Thank god you’re not claustrophobic. You’re nervous enough as it is. In a dark, enclosed space with a murderous creature of the night. Nandor shifts beside you and hugs you closer, almost like a teddy bear.
“Goodnight my delicious mortal,” he whispers and you feel cool, soft lips press a kiss onto your forehead. A shiver runs through you at the touch and your stomach stirs with the faintest of butterflies. You bury your face into his chest and breathe. How can a dead man smell so nice?
“Night, Nandor,” you yawn and somehow, unfathomably, you fall into a soft, gentle sleep in the arms of a killer.
---
A/N: What is my brain?
Also:
Tags:
@festering-queen
Hi, I’m taking a liberty here but let me know if you don’t actually want to be tagged: @glitterportrait @imaginethesons
#nandor the relentless#nandor x reader#nandor the relentless x reader#nandor the relentless imagine#nandor imagine#wwdits#wwdits fanfic#what we do in the shadows#kayvan novak#vampire x human#chelsfic
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Here's an expanded scene idea for soulmate Julix.
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In this world you get your soulmate mark when you both "prove" yourself through an action, task, or promise. For many this can be as simple as a well thought out gift to someone you might care about, to a promise to be best friends forever becoming a sign of so much more. There really was no limit to the stories you'd hear of how marks could appear as everyone had their own way of expressing themselves.
Of course for Kim, he found that his prefered proof of love to be in challanges and dares. In his own words "what could be a better sign of love than to throw your whole self into a situation so ridiculous or embarrassing that it'll prove there's nothing you wouldn't do for someone."
Alix, on the other hand, felt that it was a little crazy to just challange random people to dares, or more often, have people give HIM the dares, but given that's how he discovered his bonds with both Ondine and Max, she couldn't really say it'd never work. Maybe that's why on what should have been a relatively stress-free day at the skate park, she was now having to deal with yet another of Kim's "Dare-athons" where he tried to get anyone and everyone to play the biggest games of dare and dare most people had ever seen.
They've been going at it for a while, and while there was a decent sized crowd enjoying the fun, most had already taken a turn a two, Alix herself even joining in if anyone tried directly challanging her. The only one who hadn't, or at the very least the only one Alix bothered noticing, was the tranquil goth teen sitting in the shade of a large black umbrella. Alix would never admit it to anyone, but she never help but notice the one girl most thought faded into the background. It might be the historian in her blood, but she couldn't shake the thought that girls like Juleka were the reason people carved statues.
Shaking herself free of those thoughts, she was glad the heat and sweat would hide the blush speeding across her face. Unfortunately it seemed she didn't free herself from her daydreams quick enough and the ever opertunistic Kim followed her line of sight right to Juleka. She could recognize that look in his eye that oh so perfectly matched the accompanied shit eating grin and like hell was she going to let the big lug, best friend or not, try and drag the goth into his shenanigans. So, she did the only thing she could think of, and beat him to the punch.
When she rushed over to the goth on her board, her only thought was to stop Kim, so she really wasn't prepared for what to do when was actually face to face with the girl. A face that was now looking at her own, crimson irises full of curiosity and Alix could only imagine was amusement.
"what's got you in a hurry to reach my little patch of shade, speedster?" Juleka asked her and it took Alix a moment to remeber how to speak.
"O-oh um , you've probably been watching the dares, and we'll... it looks like Kim noticed you haven't really tried yourself so I thought I'd probably ask you an easy one so Kim drag you into anything insane." Alix replied.
"Sounds like you really are a hero come to rescue me" Juleka chuckled at the shy and awkward energy coming from the normally bold girl. "So what does my rescuer recomend?"
Alix's brain short circuted for a moment as she scrambled for something she ask the goth to try, when the answer came to her the moment she looked down.
"Well... We are in a skate park, how about I teach you the basics on my board?" Alix said.
"Sure, could be fun" Juleka reached out her hand and Alix couldn't help the little jolt she felt touching Juleka's had as she pulled her up.
They spent the better part of an hour together like that. Alix flowed back into her natural rythym as she taught juleka the basics. Alix secretly prided herself on only slightly blushing everytime the two touched. When it felt like Juleka had all the basics down she surprised Alix with a challange of her own.
"it's only fair" Juleka replied to Alix's curiosity. "how about this, since you've been such a good teacher, let's test your lessons out. If I manage to land a trick all on my own, you answer one question of mine."
"What's the question?" Alix couldn't help but ask.
"there's no fun if I just tell you. Besides, there's something I want to test first."
Deeply curious but otherwise seeing now real problem with it Alix accepted the challange. Juleka began slow and steady, putting extra emphasis into the lessons Alix taught her. But then Juleka turned around and with a wink she began to speed up. The wind made her hair flow like a river of obsidian sand and like a gust Juleka flew twoards the ramps and half pipes and to the complete and utter shock to Alix, Juleka began to SHRED. Like a goddess of wheels juleka tore through the park and landed incredible stunts at every opportunity. Alix was stunned as she watched poetry in motion from the girl who would seldom utter a word. She lost track of time as she watched juleka up until the moment she returned.
"What was that?!" Alix shouted in disbelief and excitement.
"You've met Luka right? Bro had a massive skater phase and I learned how to skateboard to spend time with him" Juleka replied.
"that was amazing, but if you already knew how to skate then why didn't you say anything when I was teaching you?"
"couldn't resist the chance to spend some time with you, besides it was a good excuse for you to accept my challange" Juleka took Alix's hand in her own placed a small kiss on the back of it. From there a small glow appeared on the back of both of their hands and an image appeared, a large black unbrela and skateboard made of its shade. Alix couldn't breath as she looked up and saw the gorgeous smile on Juleka's face just radiating pure joy. "I think now is a good time to ask that question."
"O-oh and what's that?" Alix managed to ask as her heart beat like a drum.
"Would you like to go on a date with me?"
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Ok so im not sure how good this came out as I think juelka came out a little ooc and there might be some typos from writing this late and on my phone but i hope you enjoy it.
--
THIS IS SO SICK IM SCREAMING I LOVE IT SO MUCH
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Pull Through Part 4
Please make sure you read the trigger warnings in part 1- there is mention of drug use in this chapter❤️
Becca was sat in the passenger seat of Alex's car, feet up on the dash, drumming her fingers in time with the radio. Reggie and Luke were play fighting in the backseat, forcing Alex to lean over every now and again to separate them so he didn't crash. "I'll drop Bex off first and then we'll head to Reg's, alright?" Silence from the backseat, followed by a sly "Alex?" from Luke, made Becca raise her eyebrows, and she turned to face the boys in the back. "Let's take her. It's not fair to leave her out, she rocked it tonight." Becca frowned and looked to her brother, who's knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel strong enough she feared it might break.
"She's 15. No." Becca brought a knee up to her chest and smirked as Reggie piped up. "She's 16 tomorrow." Luke nodded frantically, and leant through the gap. "Cmon Alex, just this once." Alex closed his eyes and groaned, slamming his head against his seat. "Fine, but if anything happens I'm killing you both." Becca looked to Luke questioningly, but he winked again, and disappeared into the back, celebrating with Reggie rather loudly. Alex looked at her, clearly in distress, and turned left, back towards Reggie's. "Don't say a word to mom or dad, okay?" Becca snorted and sat up, excited to see what the boys were referring to. "Who do you take me for?" Reggie laughed, and leaned through the gap to crank up the music, forcing Alex and Becca to listen to him and Luke duet American Idiot from the backseat, until Becca joined in, nodding her head in time with the music and miming the guitar part. Luke watched her, a soft smile resting on his face. Reggie watched Luke watching her, and hoped for possibly the 47th time that night alone, that they'd cut the shit and speak to each other.
They pulled up to Reggie's, and piled out of the car, carrying guitars and amps into the studio, Luke grabbing an amp from Becca after watching her nearly drop it 4 times. "Here, you're going to hurt yourself." She rolled her eyes but smiled gratefully, dropping onto the couch beside him when they'd finished. "So what now?" Luke glanced up at Alex, reaching a hand out. "We celebrate the same way after every gig. It's tradition." Becca nodded and watched as her brother reached into his bag, looking less than happy, and slightly ashamed. Her eyes grew as a small bag was produced, watching as her normally well behaved older brother held out a lighter too, rubbing his forehead as he caught Becca's stare. "It's only after gigs, Bex, I swear." Luke snorted and took the lighter and the bag, reaching under a cushion on the sofa and pulling rolling paper out of nowhere. "For him, anyway." Becca was totally lost for words. Her friends from skating smoked often, and she'd tried it a few times, but not so much lately. She was too scared her dad would smell it on her clothes. Her eyes followed Luke's fingers as they deftly rolled up one, two, three joints, holding them up for Alex and Reggie. "Uh, a whole one's probably too much for you. You can share Alex's?" Becca looked up at Alex, to find him frowning, holding the joint away from her protectively. "Or not." Luke slid up the couch so their legs touched, and reached for the lighter sat on the table. She was utterly entranced, watching as he placed the joint in between his lips and lit it, taking a deep breath, inhaling and holding it for a moment, before breathing out. "No, Luke. I said she could be here but I don't want her-" He was cut off as Luke held it out for her with a defiant look, groaning and shaking his head as he took a toke of his own joint. Becca reached for it, her hand trembling slightly. "Here." He held it to her lips, nodding that she should inhale. She did, grimacing slightly as the bitter taste of tobacco hit the back of her throat, combined with the familiar woody taste. Her eyes met Luke's, who's hand still held the joint at her lips. She breathed in again, like she'd seen him do, and held his gaze, until she felt slightly dizzy, breathing out. His eyes darkened, watching the drug cloud over her eyes, her pupils dilating and her face relaxing in bliss. Yet again, Luke couldn't tear his eyes away from her, as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the fuzzy feeling in her brain. "Feels good, right?" Luke's voice sounded like honey in her ear, and the sensation of his breath on her skin drove Becca insane. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, glancing at him and licking her lips lightly. Her eyes followed his hands, as he took another toke, his eyes fluttering shut as the drugs entered his system. Becca watched as he sat back on the couch, not moving from her side. The other boys were in silent bliss, Reggie splayed out on the floor with his head resting on the arm of Alex's chair. Becca locked eyes with Luke as he held the joint to her lips again, the coarse skin of his thumb bumping against her jawline gently. Becca leaned into his touch subconsciously, smiling lightly as he moved his hand away reluctantly, to take another drag. "Yo stop with the soft porn you two, it's weird." Becca turned to face Reggie, who's eyes were already rimmed red, and who clearly lost his filter when high. Alex was trying to look horrified, but obviously the weed had clouded his brain slightly, keeping him from reacting too harshly, choosing to point an accusing finger towards him instead. "No sex jokes, Reg." Reggie pointed to the clock on the wall with a heavy arm, and smiled up at Alex. "She's 16 now, we can do what we want." Luke turned to face the clock, his tolerance clearly higher than that of the boys, who were halfway through their own joints. His and Becca's was nearly finished, with him taking three puffs to her one. Sure enough, it was just after midnight, and she was 16. "Happy birthday Bex." He turned to look at her, his green eyes wide and glittering, mirroring the smile she flashed him as she stood up, and stretched like a cat. Luke's eyes grew dark as her top rode up, and her bare stomach was exposed, and he mentally kicked himself, not for the first time that night, for the direction of his thoughts. He tried to blame it on the drugs, and told himself it would be gone in the morning, but something deep inside of him knew that was bullshit. Alex rose from his chair and strolled towards Becca, pulling her into a bear hug, and kissing her hair. "Happy birthday sis. Love you." Becca smiled into his chest and hugged him around his waist, squeezing tightly. He eventually released her, giving her a gentle push towards where Reggie had staggered to his feet. He pulled her into him, swaying her back and forth with a dreamy smile. "Happy birthday Bexy. We love you. You're awesome. You should join the band. Alex, can she join the band? She should join the band." Becca laughed and raised her eyebrows at him, leading him to the couch and giving him a shove until he landed next to Luke. Luke grimaced slightly and took Reggie's face in his hands, slapping his cheeks gently to try and sober him up. Alex laughed softly and collapsed back into his chair with a groan, his eyes fluttering shut. Becca was pretty sure he was asleep, and sent a glance over to Luke, who was gently resting Reggie's head against the back of the couch. She watched as he stood up and strolled over to the dart board, pulling the darts out and taking a few steps back. He threw a few half-heartedly, most of his focus on the girl in the corner, watching out the corner of his eye as she pushed the garage door open, letting it swing shut behind her. Alex was definitely asleep, and Reggie was out for the count, so Luke dropped the darts and padded towards the door, joining her in the darkness of the garden.
"Hey you." He elbowed her gently, looking over her face, tilted back to look at the stars. "Hey." They stood in comfortable silence, shoulder to shoulder, his hands tucked in his pockets, for a few minutes, until Becca's voice broke through the silence. "Does it always feel like that?" Luke turned towards her. "What, the weed?" She tilted her head back down and turned to him, her eyes round. "On stage. Does it always feel like that?" Luke snorted and bit his lip. He knew exactly what she was referring to. "For you? Yeah. It will. It's like that for me too." She raised her eyebrows at him, and he smiled, his entire face lighting up as he spoke about the thing he loved most. "The way it flows through you. You become the music; it sets every inch of you on fire." He looked straight into her eyes, and placed his fingers on the bare skin of her arm, the featherlight touch causing goosebumps to spread across her skin. She looked down at his hand, and then back up to his eyes. "You feel alive. You're free, and you're magic. You're breathtaking." His eyes widened as he said the last words, and he dropped his hand. "Like, on stage I mean. You forget how to breathe, because the music is so, powerful." Becca laughed quietly and nodded. "Yeah. Like that." They fell into a silence again, and Becca dropped her eyes towards their feet, kicking the toe of Luke's vans gently. "It was amazing. I've never done that on stage before; but now I never want to stop." Luke couldn't help himself, and grinned, shrugging. "You're welcome." A swift punch in the arm reminded him who he was talking to, and he winced, once again turning to look at the stars. "Why haven't you? Done it before I mean." Becca sighed and shrugged, walking over to the stairs and taking a seat, elbows resting on her knees. "I'm not that kind of person. People don't want to see me on stage- I'm Becca, I'm quiet, bad at math and I sit in the back of class. My music is just a hobby." She sounded dejected, and unsure, and it sent Luke over the edge. He walked towards her and knelt down, looking her directly in the eye. "I saw you play tonight. That's no hobby. You are your music, it's a part of you. It's in your soul. I don't think I've ever seen you looking more alive than I have tonight, up on that stage, with a mic in your hand. You belong up there." Luke's eyes never left hers, desperate and full of earnest. Becca could feel his passion burning through them, and it made her smile. "You really think so?" He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, smirking down at her. "I know so. You should play with us again- Reggie's right. You're awesome." Becca felt her cheeks heat up, and looked at her feet, her hand still resting in Luke's. "I'll think about it." Another comfortable silence fell between them, their hands intertwined as they looked at the stars. "What time is it?" Luke checked his watch, and his eyes widened. "It's like 3am. You have school, don't you?" Becca groaned and let go of Luke's hand, falling onto the steps. "We all have school, I'm not letting you guys skip. Besides, Alex has like one more chance before he gets suspended. I don't even want to know what you're at." Luke bit his lip, knowing she was right. The three of them had been warned multiple times now, that anymore absences and they'd not be allowed back. "We better get some sleep then- you take the couch." Becca laughed and jumped to her feet, raking a hand through her curls. "Dude, it's your couch. I can't do that to you." They walked back into the garage, smirking at Alex and Reggie's sprawled out forms. Becca sighed and grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa, tossing it over Alex, and putting a cushion under Reggie's head. "How are you still awake? Normally that stuff knocks people off their feet." Becca looked at the floor and smiled sheepishly. "First timers, yeh." Luke raised his eyebrows at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You had me fooled." Becca shrugged and walked through to the back, returning with a hoodie and a few more blankets. Luke took one and spread it out on the floor, scratching his head and desperately trying not to show his distaste at the idea of sleeping on the floor. "Luke. Stop being dumb, the couch is massive. Come here." He looked up to where Becca was curled up on one side of the couch, her shoes kicked off beside the coffee table. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything though, I'm fine-" He made eye contact with her and decided not to argue, slipping his shoes off and jumping onto the other end of the couch. He rested his head on the arm, the familiar dip worn into the cushions from the countless naps he took there, and felt himself nod off almost instantly. But he was stirred by Becca's shuffling around, and he sighed, knowing he'd regret where this was going. "Bex. Come here." She looked up at him in surprise, but obliged, pulling her blanket with her. They lay side by side, their hands bumping in between them occasionally. "Happy birthday Bex." She smiled into the darkness, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing tightly. "Night, Luke."
#jatpimagines#julieandthephantoms#julieandthephantomscast#julie and the himbos#julieandthephantomssmut#julie and the phantoms#luke patterson imagine#lukepatterson#jatpluke#lukepattersonfanfiction#luke patterson x reader#jatpimagine#jatpcast#jatpsmut#jatp julie#jatp
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Best Day Of Our Lives
A Jemma wedding fic featuring a Kitty reunion, married with children Kierartina, and Haline being cute together. It can also be found here on AO3 :)
Also, a thank you to Kaitlin, @ineedadrinkorsleep, for allowing me to use her list of Kierartina baby names, you’re amazing!
Tagging @katie33333 @tessagraycarstairs @zafirafox4636 @fairchild-squad @lily-chen-deserves-better @ineedadrinkorsleep @older-brother-kit because I have a tag list now!
Julian straightened the collar of the suit. It was bright in shade, a thing of fire and gold. It was the kind of fire so bright it almost seemed to hold no color at all, leaving the shimmering runes custom to shadowhunter weddings to almost compete with the brightness of it. It was blinding, and Julian could admire the craftsmanship of the suit, tailored to near perfection. Julian could care less about the flashiness of the suit though. It wouldn’t matter whether he were wearing jeans, or even were covered in paint splatters. What mattered was that he was getting married to his best friend, Emma Carstairs.
For the longest time, he was sure he wouldn’t have this opportunity. He had thought he had sealed his fate on that day in Idris. The day after the Dark War, when he had asked the person he loved to be his parabatai. He was prepared to live a life of unrequited love, but by some stroke of luck, he was getting married to her. The bond had been broken, and they could be together. He could be happy.
A pang went through him as he thought back to those days, back when Livvy was still with them. She would've been wild with excitement to be there, to have planned it to perfection. Julian was almost surprised that the pain hadn’t dwindled over time, but there was still an ache as he thought of her. The feeling of loss never truly fades. He had enough space in his heart to love Emma, while still hurting from the loss of his sister.
Julian tugged at the bottom of the jacket once more.
“You look lovely, Jules.” He turned to spot his sister, Helen Penhallow Blackthorn, his suggenes, leaning against the doorframe, a bright smile on her face. She herself was dressed in a flowing gown barely brushing against the top of the floor. “We should probably get going though, you wouldn’t want to be late to your own wedding.”
~^*^~
Kit Herondale should have known better. It was bound to happen really, he was definitely pushing his luck after about the second or third wedding he’d been to, but he hadn’t expected it to be so sudden. It had all started earlier that year, when virtually every friend of Jem and Tessa’s had collectively decided to destroy Kit’s life, a simple one of sneaking Mina extra cookies and avoiding his problems, by forcing him to face all his problems at their weddings. And currently, he was faced with the person he was avoiding most.
Kit had somehow managed to skate by during most of the weddings though. Simon and Isabelle’s was first, Kit having managed to stay as close to the crowd as possible, and silently slipping away after the main portion of the ceremony to reduce his chances of getting involved in a rather awkward discussion. Only a few months had passed before Clary and Jace got married as well, Kit glimpsing a head of dark hair before bolting as soon as he could, claiming that he had to take care of Mina. In fact, what was doing was hiding in the library, pouring his heart out to his little sister.
“You’d think after 3 years my heart would stop beating so rapidly that I became concerned about my own health, but no,” Kit glanced at Mina, who was currently laughing at him, eyes half shut from joy.
She let out another giggle.
“How dare you find joy in my pain?” he said, dramatically laying a hand on his head and leaning back against the bookshelf, though the smile illuminating his face revealed his true intentions. “How can I go on now, betrayed by my own sister?”
Kit smiled at the thought.
Kieran, Mark, and Cristina’s wedding had been somewhat more challenging, him having been caught behind a huge oak tree by none other than Livvy Blackthorn, but he had somehow managed to convince her to tell no one, i.e. her twin brother, a.k.a. the person Kit was trying so desperately to avoid.
“Please, Livvy, don’t tell him I’m here,” Kit was pleading now, already on his knees, gazing up at the ghost above him.
Livvy rolled her eyes. “Fine, but only because I want you to do this on your terms. Remember though, my ship must be canon!”
“Your what?!-”
And that finally brought them up to this wedding, Emma and Julian’s to be more specific. Having been related to, however distant that relation may be, the bride had seemingly got the Herondale/Gray/Carstairs family (or as Kit liked to call it, the Herongraystairs family) a one way ticket to the wedding, and consequently, Kit facing the person he was dreading to meet again.
It had been going relatively well, he’d thought, the ceremony about to begin, and Kit quietly tucked into a corner. That was until Mina dragged him towards the table piled high with drinks, having spotted Max Lightwood-Bane, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Tavvy Blackthorn, Gianna Blackthorn-Rosales, and Nico Blackthorn-Rosales (Cristina, Mark, and Kieran had Gianna and Nico a year before being married, and Mina instantly fell for them, claiming that they were her “best fwends”) playing near there, and Kit had thought maybe a drink or two wouldn’t hurt. He was severely wrong of course as Kit had failed to notice one head of dark hair standing not far from that very table.
Kit blamed Mina’s doe eyes, and his ability to fall for them instantly.
After his first drink, a voice had made Kit turn, causing him to end up where he was currently, nearly on the floor.
“Hello. I’d like to talk to you.”
~*^*~
Julian was bubbling with joy, a smile brightening his face as he was led to a platform, Helen by his side. He stopped at the top of the steps, turning to give Helen an appreciative nod and a smile. Julian took a sharp inhale as Emma walked around the corner, Cristina lending her off to the stage. All thoughts left him. She was breathtaking, wrapped in a gold silk gown that hugged her waist before flaring down to the ground. A sheer overlay on the silk skirt caught the brightness of the witchlight, complimenting the gold in her hair.
But it wasn’t only gold, was it? It was a beautiful mix of cadmium yellows, naples yellows, golds, yellow ochres.
She was beautiful, and Julian couldn’t help but think that he was the luckiest person in the world. As Emma reached the platform, she leaned in, a grin plastered on her face.
“I know, I look stunning.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder in a playful manner.
Julian shot back a nod. “It is your wedding, I’d expect no less.”
And with that, the ceremony began, Brother Enoch reciting a few words, before steles appeared in their hand. It passed by in a blur, and before Julian knew it, they were kissing. Time seemed to still, Julian thought he heard a crash somewhere in the crowd, a flash of blond hair blurring by the table, but he paid no attention to it. The room melted away, it was as though they, Emma and Julian, were the only two people in the room. It was perfect.
~*^*~
“HOLY-” Kit choked on his drink. He had forgotten how graceful shadowhunters were, how easily they could move without alerting anyone surrounding them. Unfortunately, that shadowhunter grace had apparently skipped a generation because Kit found himself clutching at the table for support, having nearly fallen from shock.
“Are you alright?” It was none other than Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, his arm outstretched. He was looking at him, and at that moment, all rational thought left him. He said something roughly equivalent to an audible keysmash before clearing his throat.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” Kit brushed himself off, standing up as though nothing had happened. If you pretend to be confident, it won’t be long until you begin to feel confident as well. For the first time since the wedding fiasco began, he actually looked at Ty. He was taller now, Kit was surprised to see, though he supposed he shouldn’t have. Three years did a lot to change someone, he supposed, but those eyes were the same. A beautiful yet deadly storm churning above a sea. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
Kit leaned against the table once more, this time a bit more suave and cool, and less panicky than the first.
“Why are you avoiding me?” It was a simple question, clear as day. Kit choked up a bit. “And why did you leave?”
All of a sudden, he was fifteen again, doing anything he could for Ty, the beautiful shadowhunter that had held a knife to his throat. The nephilim he would have done anything for. Years of suppressing his emotions didn’t prepare Kit for this moment, he doubted anything could have. Ty looked calm enough, but his hands were frantically twisting and unknotting a ball of pipe cleaners. He was nervous, Kit knew it, and so Kit blurted it out. He never could have told Ty a lie, even if he wanted to. Even after three years.
“Because I was hurt, and I was running away from what had happened,” Kit took a deep breath, as Ty nodded, understanding it. Kit, suspecting he was going to turn away, proceeded to continue talking, hoping to get a laugh, a smile, anything out of Ty. “Tessa thinks it was the Herondale dramatics though.”
Kit didn’t add the second part of what she said, “Running away from the person you love ‘for their own good’ is alarmingly common among Herondales,” but Ty let out a laugh, bright and brilliant, so it was a win in Kit’s book.
It was an amazing laugh, low and lovely, beautiful to hear.
“Tessa knows Herondales well.”
“She does.”
The silence stretched on for a moment, though it was a comfortable one. A silence in which both parties simply enjoyed the presence of the other.
The soft piano finally registered in Kit’s mind. A crazy idea formed in his head, one his fifteen year old self would banish to the darkest corners of his brain.
“May I have this dance?”
Turned out he wasn’t the only one to have that idea, Kit thought as he accepted Ty’s hand. An impish grin spread across Kit’s face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
~*^*~
Soft music began playing from the piano in the corner, Jace Herondale shooting a wink at Helen as she rolled her eyes at his antics. A smile rested upon her face, as Helen looked at her brother and Emma, both beaming joy, foreheads together as they swayed to the music. It was so genuine, and beautiful, she couldn’t stop grinning even if she wanted to. She’d already missed so much of her family’s life, exiled on Wrangel Island, that she was glad to be here, sharing this moment with them.
And how lovely it was, gold decorations pinned to the walls, tables lined with dishes and drinks. Kieran, Mark, and Cristina were on the sides, cooing at their third child, Emelia, an adorable baby girl born only a few months ago. Helen spotted Ty dancing with Kit by the drink table, both blissfully unaware of the children bouncing about close to them. Dru was at the center of the ballroom with Jaime Rosales, gown flaring as she was spun.
Aline leaned into her, resting her head upon Helen’s shoulder. She was stunning, in a wine red gown with glittering gold accents, dark hair brushing against her back. Helen couldn’t stop but think about how lucky she was, to have someone so beautiful, so wonderful.
“Young love, it’s beautiful isn’t it?”
Her wife was most certainly correct, and Helen agreed wholeheartedly.
“It really is.”
#tsc#the dark artifices#the wicked powers#tda fanfic#fanfic#twp fanfic#julian blackthorn#helen blackthorn#livvy blackthorn#emma carstairs#cristina mendoza rosales#kieran kingson#mark blackthorn#kierartina babies#aline penhallow#kit herondale#ty blackthorn#kierarktina#jemma#julian x emma#kitty#kit x ty#haline#helen x aline#og post
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Title: Collar
Relationship: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Rating: Mature
Summary: Komaeda and Hinata decide to go through some of their old possessions. Hinata has a burning curiosity.
Trigger Warnings: PTSD, Flashbacks, Triggers
[Ao3 Link]
‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊
"Oh! I… I didn't realise I even kept this."
Komaeda mused to himself as he reached into the cardboard box in front of him, struggling to pull out the object he was so intrigued by. He jiggled it slightly, shifting it out from beneath the things weighing it down, before finally yanking it out with a triumphant grin.
They had been encouraged by Kirigiri to sort through some of their things as a form of 'spring cleaning.' Hanamura had experienced a panic attack upon finding a familiar electric knife which led to the remnants realising just how much stuff they still owned from their despair days. So Togami, the good one, took charge and paired them up to go through their things together.
Hinata knew all he owned was his reserve course suit and the barrette he had taken from Nanami. They were what he had awoken with, after all, since he had brought nothing else to the island. So he was just here to help Komaeda sort out his things.
Hinata returned the smile before gazing down, curious as to what had gotten Komaeda so intrigued. The other boy's fingers were now wrapped around a heavy steel collar. From the front, a long metal chain dangled, dragging across the wooden floor noisily as he brought it closer to examine.
"That's from your time in Towa city, right?" Hinata watched him closely, anxious that Komaeda may be set off by the object.
A small sound escaped him, an involuntary noise that was rather croaky and high pitched. It only further deepened Hinata's fears, the seconds feeling as though they had been dragging on forever since Komaeda last spoke.
Cautiously reaching out, Hinata gently placed his hand on the small of the boy's back. "H-hey…it's alright…"
It was an understandable reaction, one that didn't surprise Hinata in the slightest. Komaeda was still rather prone to despair spirals even after all these years of being isolated on Jabberwock. But that's why they were doing this, why Hinata was here; to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself when something brought back memories of the atrocities they'd committed and horrors they'd lived through.
Komaeda made the noise again, and again. And before he knew it, he was giggling. It was a happy giggle, not like the ones that cracked through the depths of his soul and spewed from his mouth like toxins during a breakdown. The light-hearted and wholesome sound left Hinata finding himself confused, but pleased Komaeda seemed okay.
"I'm sorry, it's just…I really let myself wear just whatever huh? Despair does awful things to people." A bright smile had stretched across Komaeda's face, one of genuine warmth. He wiped at the tears in his eyes, seemingly unaware that Hinata was currently skating right off the side of his emotional half-pipe.
You literally sawed off your own hand but you're more upset about how you wore a collar…?
Deciding to keep that thought private, Hinata asked something else instead. "So uh... was it more of an edgy thing or a kinky thing?"
Komaeda's head snapped around to playfully glare at Hinata. "It wasn't kinky! Do you really think so lowly of me, Hinata-kun? Even in throes of despair I could never be so depraved as to force my sexual desires onto those around me, especially not the Warriors of Hope." He paused, a couple of breathless laughs escaping his lips. "I couldn't have done something like that, they would have bullied me for it in an instant. Children are merciless…"
"No no, you know I don't think of you like that, Komaeda." A small chuckle left Hinata as he thread his fingers through the front of his hair. "They were really awful kids, huh?"
"Victims of circumstance."
"I mean, they did kill thousands of people."
"So did you!"
"Yeah but I--!" Hinata sighed loudly in defeat as he realized the worthlessness of arguing about such a thing. "No...You're right."
Seeming pleased with his victory, Komaeda smirked cheekily as he set the collar down on the floor beside him. With that over with, he returned to rummaging through the box.
Hinata, however, didn't seem to be able to let it go. His eyes were still fixated on the shiny metal, poring over every detail and slight scratch. "Does it…hurt to wear?"
"Hmmm," As Komaeda spoke he continued sorting through his items, not stopping to look up at the other. "Not really, but if you have children yanking at the chain all day it's likely to cut into your skin a little."
"I see…" Even as Hinata gave a gentle nod of acceptance, he didn't seem to be able to peel his eyes away.
Something about that collar intrigued him, something he couldn't put into words. Perhaps it was purely just because of how odd the garment truly was. It weighed on his mind with a strange familiarity he couldn't place, one that he could only guess was due to his merge with Kamukura. A past memory?
"Do you want to try it on?"
The offer was enough to snap Hinata from his daze, heat rising in his cheeks as he shook his head wildly. "N-no…that's weird…"
Komaeda picked up the collar again, the metal making a soft tink against his fibreglass fingers. He unclasped the collar, allowing it to bend into its two halves before holding it out towards Hinata's neck. "I'll help you put it on."
Swallowing hard, Hinata stared at the metal nervously. Looking at it made him feel strange. Fuzzy, almost as though a static was settling over his brain. Was he getting…close to remembering something? Or was he… turned on by it? After all, a human on a collar and leash was unnatural, yet a popular fetish. And Komaeda was someone he was sexually attracted to...
He could sit and ponder the possibilities for hours, but it would be an unproductive use of time. Hinata expelled all the thoughts swirling around in his head, instead focusing on the situation right now. This strange feeling intrigued him, despite the fact it made him anxious as hell for no discernable reason.
As per usual, Hinata's curiosity outweighed his anxiety. "O-okay…"
With a small smile, Komaeda shuffled a little closer. He pressed the cool metal to the front of Hinata's neck, watching as the chain pooled in his lap. He then closed the collar before doing up the clasp with a loud click.
Hinata seized, every muscle in his body suddenly tensing with an intense sensation of panic. The kind of panic that made you think "This is it, I'm going to die."
The world seemed to fall out from beneath him, quickly being replaced by a vibrant green room, filled with the noisy hum of electronic equipment running and observational monitors beeping.
Strange men in white coats were looking down at him, faces going unrecognised.
"N-no…"
This will be the final part of the procedure. Are you ready, "Hinata-kun?"
"N-no!! Don't touch me!"
He furiously attempted to swat away the arm reaching for him, but he couldn't. After all, they'd strapped down any part of his body that was capable of movement. His left cheek itched immensely from the electrode stuck to his skin.
"It's okay, Hinata-kun." The procedure will be mostly painless, it's likely you won't remember a thing. This the final stage, after this you will be released and reborn as the Ultimate Hope.
I'm barely hanging on as is. I-If you take away any more I'm going to die. I'm going to forget who I am…
I don't want to forget her!
Hinata desperately tried to grab at the restraint around his neck. He could feel his knuckles against his skin as his fingers gripped onto the metal, but he knew his arms had been restrained.
It didn't make sense. None of this is making sense. What is going on?
Somebody pulled his hands away, probably angry at his lack of cooperation. Fingers dug sharply into his chin and lips, forcing his mouth open as they pressed hard against his teeth.
Why were they doing this? This wasn't part of the plan.
He let out a loud noise of discomfort, struggling to shake himself free of whatever held him. But before Hinata could push free of their grip, something hard was forced into his mouth.
Huh?
His mouth was suddenly so...cold. Ice cold. Stinging and burning into his tongue. He thrashed and whined, attempting to remove the object from his mouth, but instead his jaw was forced shut.
"Hinata-kun!!"
Who is that? The voice sounded too young to be one of the surgeons.
"It's not real! Whatever's going on right now is just an illusion!"
He could almost laugh. He must be in denial, hoping that this nightmare wasn't turning out exactly the way it was meant to. After all, it was him who wanted this
so
so
badly.
"The Kamukura project ended a long time ago! You're safe now, Hinata-kun!"
The… Kamukura project?
Ah, that's right. I've already become Kamukura Izuru. I've been Kamukura Izuru. There's no reason for this to be happening.
Then that means…
This isn't reality.
Click. The soft sound of the collar's clasp being undone was what finally pulled Hinata back.
He could feel the ice melting against his tongue. The restraint had been removed from around his neck, yet the sensation of pressure and cool touch of the metal still lingered.
He should… try to open his eyes.
Cracking one open, Hinata found himself surprised by the flood of bright warm sunlight. The sharp contrast between that and the harsh neon green of the neuroscience institute surprised him.
It was almost as if the warmth of the world was welcoming him with open arms.
He could hear seagulls, the rhythmic thud of the washing machine, the sound of metal chain clattering against the wood floor and heavy breathing.
Ah, that was his own breathing.
A mess of fluffy, white hair was above him, knelt down and leaning over him with a look of panic on his face. It was a familiar scene, one that reminded him of the time when he woke up on the beach within the simulation.
"Komae-dah…"
The boy moved the instant he heard his own name, practically throwing himself at Hinata in a tight hug and pulling him upright off the floor. As Komaeda pressed his chest as close to Hinata's as possible, he whispered apologies quickly and harshly, fast enough to barely sound like coherent words.
"I'msosorryI'msosorryI'msosorry!!"
Despite his best efforts to speak, Hinata's voice was barely above a whisper. "I-it's alright…not your fault…"
He was still shaking and his hands were grossly clammy from all the sweat. He wiped them on the back of Komaeda's shirt and hugged the boy in return.
"I-I should have known…" Komaeda mumbled, squeezing tighter.
Hinata wasn't sure of what to say to reassure him, he really didn't want Komaeda to fall into one of his deprecation spirals, not right now. His head was pounding and he could still feel the electrodes attached to various places on his head and chest.
"Ko-maeda...I think I'm still…"
Komaeda leapt out of his arms, shuffling back a little before grabbing Hinata's right hand. "Ah sorry, I was…scared. But please don't worry about me right now Hinata-kun. Focus on getting yourself back down."
After nodding in response, Hinata took a deep breath and glanced around the room. He idly scratched at his left cheek as he took note of the objects around him.
Bed. Bookshelf. Messy stack of books. More fucking books. There's a gas mask under the- breathe. There is no gas mask under the bed. It doesn't matter. There's a coffee table. A desk that we added more recently.
Hinata swiveled around on his butt
The obnoxiously see-through bathroom. The toilet, bath, shower, towels. I think…I think I'm okay.
He let out a long sigh, relaxing his body enough to let himself fall back and lay down on the floor. Letting go of his hand, Komaeda continued to watch him cautiously. "Are you okay, Hinata-kun?"
He nodded. Still feeling a little uncomfortable with using his words, he opted to idly suck at the ice cube, reveling in the cool water dribbling down his throat.
Komaeda simply laid down next to him, wearing a gentle smile on that pale face. "We can stay here as long as you like, this was my last box of stuff anyway. If you wanna talk about it, you can. If you don't, that's fine too."
"I…" Despite the ice cube in his mouth, Hinata's throat felt unbearably dry and tight. "You were right. In your assumption…"
"Ah, so it was about the Kamukura project then." A soft sigh escaped Komaeda, one of dismay rather than frustration. "I couldn't think of anything else that would cause that kind of reaction. And I don't believe Kamukura did much during his time as a remnant."
Nodding again, Hinata found himself bringing his fingers to his neck. The skin was irritated, sore. He could still feel the collar sitting heavy on his Adam's apple, slowly crushing his esophagus…
"Hinata-kun."
Right. He took a deep gulp of air, having not realised until that moment he'd even been holding his breath. He was so grateful for Komaeda's attentiveness to detail that seemed to continue to save him time and time again.
"Do you like the weather here on Jabberwock Island?" The question came completely unprompted, out of the blue.
Hinata recognised this from one of their therapy sessions with Naegi, where he helped them learn methods on how to cope with these kinds of incidents. A subtle reminder of where the person was wrapped in a question designed to distract oneself. It seemed Komaeda had finally bitten back his curiosity in order to prioritise Hinata's fragile mental state.
"It's a lot like Japan's weather during the summer. Humid. I've never liked humid weather, it makes me sweat too much." He decided it best to answer the question, actually giving it a solid amount of thought. "Though it can be really nice when it rains and there's a humid heat, the atmosphere feels so strange."
Komaeda found himself smiling a little as he analysed Hinata's reaction. "Ah, I can understand that. The tropical thunderstorms we get here are quite interesting."
"It'd be nicer if they didn't trigger Saionji's panic attacks." Finding his mood suddenly souring again, Hinata muttered to himself.
"Trauma has unusual effects on people." Komaeda let out another one of those dry laughs, the kind he did when remembering something less than pleasant. "You and I both know this well."
There was a moment of silence in the room as Hinata blinked a few times, attempting to fully process the words as they were spoken.
"Yeah… I uh, I shouldn't have said that. It's not her fault, after all."
"You're allowed to have these kinds of feelings, you know? You're allowed to be angry that these things happened to us." Speaking in a tone of full yet agonisingly painful sincerity, Komaeda gently placed his right hand over the stump on his arm. "You're only human. You've always been human. It's better for you to express these emotions, especially after what just happened."
"I know… I just…" Gesturing vaguely, Hinata trailed off for a moment, unable to find the right words to describe his thoughts. "I just feel bad about everything that's happened. I'm kind of responsible for all of this. There's so many things that I wish I could change, wish I could have… done differently, I guess."
The other boy paused for a moment before speaking again, an expression unreadable to even Hinata painted onto his delicate features. "Hinata-kun…may I touch you?"
Hinata nodded in consent, and Komaeda wiggled himself closer. He wrapped an arm around Hinata's waist, humming softly as he snuggled up against the other.
"In all honesty, I just wish… I wish I didn't stop you at Hope's Peak. I should have let you shoot her. We wouldn't be in this stupid fucking mess if I just let you." Hinata's rage surged suddenly and he dug his fingers tightly into the fabric of Komaeda’s loose green jacket.
The anger within him eased as he clung to the other. Taking a moment before he groaned and buried his face in the other's chest, reciprocating the hug Komaeda had graciously offered him.
Once Hinata had noticeably cooled down, Komaeda spoke up again. "I don't think I was ever capable of killing her, even if you hadn't stopped me. My luck never planned for me to have an easy ride."
"Still, if I hadn't helped her at all-"
"Nothing would be different." The sudden stern tone made Hinata flinch. "You played less of a role in the whole thing than you care to admit, Hinata-kun."
Ah, he wasn't wrong.
All he had been used for was to manipulate the Reserve Course and put pressure on the faculty. She had other means of doing it and his denial to get involved would have just brought Enoshima more despair.
Hinata sighed loudly, moving his face up to Komaeda's neck and nestling his face into his untamed ivory hair.
"You're right…I'm sorry."
"It's fine, we all feel that way sometimes." Komaeda whispered, looping his other arm around Hinata.
As compelled as Hinata felt to object, he decided to accept it. Enoshima would have found other pawns to play her sick game with. They were lucky enough to just be alive.
They laid there in comfortable silence for a short while, basking in the warm rays of sunshine streaming through the window. All that could be heard was the sound of one another breathing and the ocean waves rolling into shore.
Fingers were threaded into the back of Hinata's hair, stroking through the strands soothingly as he succumbed to Komaeda's familiar touch and allowed himself to calm down. The gentle hold put him more at ease, pulled him back into reality, back into a world where everything was okay. Where there were no doctors here to hurt him, no anti-social scientists ready to break into his head, no creepy girls giggling as they tried to bludgeon him with a baseball bat.
It seemed as though Hinata's breathing had begun to slow down, his grip loosening as he was no longer desperately attempting to ground himself against Komaeda. It seemed he had calmed down enough to maybe talk about it, so Komaeda decided to pop the question.
"So, it was the collar that triggered it? Or a coincidentally timed flashback?"
"The collar. They used something similar to strap me down when they imbued me with my talents." As Hinata began to speak, his voice took on a dull and logical tone. "I believe any kind of restraint would likely elicit a similar reaction."
It wasn't unusual for Hinata to speak differently when recalling the operation or any of the events during the Hope Cultivation Project. It was as if he were trying to distance himself from the memories, to put up an emotionless front in order to make it hurt less. But at the end of the day it was more likely that he just saw things from an impersonal perspective.
Kamukura was always like that.
He never truly believed himself to be a part of society, a person of talent, a human. He was simply an outcast. Everything that he did or that had happened to him were just things that took place, nothing more, nothing less. Whoever's hands it were that dealt these actions meant little to him. The fact Hinata still tended to do this was likely just another side effect of the merge. Komaeda was just grateful that the tone of Kamukura's voice didn't frighten him anymore.
Before Komaeda's thoughts could spiral too much further into the contemplation of Hinata's actions, he spoke again.
"I'll keep that in mind. We'll make sure to add it to your profile's information, okay? That way this shouldn't happen again."
"Flashbacks are an inevitable part of having PTSD." Hinata mumbled the words into Komaeda's neck, seeming deflated.
"I know, but figuring out what triggers them helps." He ruffled Hinata's hair in an attempt to comfort him. "Once everyone knew not to use a hand saw around me, my stress went down immensely! I'm still so grateful everyone would do something like that just to ensure the comfort of somebody as worthless as me!"
There was another grumble from Hinata, who seemed unamused by Komaeda's comments. "You're not supposed to say stuff like that about yourself anymore…"
"And thus proves therapy isn't a perfect science either. At least it improves things bit by bit with time, like your triggers will." Knowing Hinata wouldn't be able to object to the argument, Komaeda found himself smirking a little.
He was right.
Hinata sighed loudly and snuggled closer into Komaeda's arms, groaning softly all the while.
"I know you think it's your job to protect all of us, Hinata, but having these issues doesn't make you weak. You're an Ultimate!" Upon seeing the other wince, Komaeda chuckled softly before directing his reassurance down a different path. "You do so much for our class, and we all love you dearly. Everyone wants to help you the best they can, Hinata-kun."
"Hm… do you think they would want to help me out with how cold my mouth is now?" Hinata squeezed the other boy tightly, keeping him firm in his grip.
"I can think of at least one who might-- Ah! Hinata-kun!!"
A cold tongue laved across the skin of Komaeda's neck, causing him to yelp and squirm. He attempted to push Hinata away, but was unsuccessful when the other boy suddenly rolled on top of him, straddling and pinning him in place. Leaning in close, Hinata eyed Komaeda's lips.
"May I?"
There was a soft huff of defeat from the boy beneath him, followed by a breathless laugh and that ever familiar smile.
"Of course."
Hinata pressed a light kiss to Komaeda's lips, causing the other boy to grin even wider as his cheeks flushed pink. "I love you."
"I love you too."
There was a moment of peace, perhaps the first true peace the two had felt all morning. Hinata felt hyper-aware of everything in the silence; the now lack of gentle thudding and swishing from the washing machine, which must have finished without them noticing. Dust particles danced in the golden rays of sunlight that always seemed to cut through any curtains they hung up. The gentle grey of Komaeda's eyes as they glistened slightly with tears after being the victim of a tickle assault, the slight red flush of his cheeks, the way his messy hair looked so nice with his bangs pinned back in order to keep the hair from his face and show off more of his forehead.
A warm sensation bubbled in Hinata's chest as he leaned his weight further onto Komaeda, allowing himself to relax with a soft sigh as he nuzzled further into the other boy. It felt as though he could fall asleep right there, completely calm in this perfect little world of theirs. Of course it couldn't last forever, but even so, it felt as though things were gonna be okay.
As long as Hinata and Komaeda were together, things would turn out okay.
It was no surprise that Komaeda was thinking the same thing, staring into those gorgeous mismatched eyes of his. There were scars on Hinata's face, scars that would continue to serve as painful reminders to both him and everyone around him. But Komaeda loved those scars, he loved every part of Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru. No matter how many times they disagreed, fought, or got hurt, they always found solace in one another.
Komaeda had to pause to piece his train of thought back together. "Now, how about you get off me and let's pack everything back away, okay?"
With a gentle nod, Hinata shifted off the other's torso. Despite his mixed feelings on the loss of comforting heat and weight from Hinata's body, Komaeda sat himself up before rising to his feet and extending his hand towards the other. Hinata took another moment to recollect himself, before taking his hand and carefully rising to his feet.
Together they packed away all those memories, memories that would haunt them for a lifetime.
Your Handbook has been updated!
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Overwatch goes roller skating and Lúcio falls on his ass- a ficlet
(Overwatch as in everyone who is in Overwatch after the Rio mission in Overwatch 2, so Lúcio is actually included.)
—-
Lúcio hummed the notes to a song that’s been stuck in his head while he tied the laces to his roller blades. The general morale of the team had been pretty low as of late; and Mei had been the one to suggest them all going out and doing something to take their minds off of the constant stress they all felt. Everyone had agreed to it wholeheartedly (except Genji, who was indifferent. But he was always indifferent except for when he talks with Angela), eyebrows perking up at the suggestion. But when everyone had realized that they hadn’t actually thought about what to do, that’s when Lúcio came in.
“Roller skating..?” Angela said cautiously. Lúcio could tell her mind had instantly begun to think out any possible scenario that resulted in injury. Lena, Mei, and Brigitte, on the other hand, were all for it.
“Oh, I haven’t been roller skating in ages,” said Lena, already getting excited at the thought, “not since I went with Emily on her birthday a few years ago!”
At the sight of the younger members getting pumped up, Reinhardt sighed and gave Winston the “I suppose we don’t have a choice” look. Reinhardt had never been roller skating.
So here they all were now, tying up their skates (or blades, in Lúcio’s case) in a little skating rink that they had rented out for the evening, and chattering amongst themselves. Personally, Lúcio was pumped. He hadn’t skated on anything other than his wall-riders in so long, and he had decided not to wear those because he didn’t want them to tear up the floor of the rink. He just needed to remind himself that he can’t wallride in standard roller blades. That would be embarrassing.
Finished with his laces, Lúcio stood and stretched.
“Yo, everyone ready?!” He called to the team. It was strange to see everyone wearing casual clothing, most of them wearing jeans or leggings with a t-shirt, though Genji still wore his hoodie and sweatpants. At least he was actually wearing clothing. Lena pumped her fist in the air and cheered, while he got confirmation from the rest of them that they all were, in fact, ready. It was time to go into the rink.
Lena was a natural, whooping and laughing as she blinked past everyone on the rink. Angela had advised against Lena blinking while in skates, but she did it anyways. Angela was calmly skating close to the wall, in a deep conversation with Genji. Genji hadn’t been roller skating since before his... misfortune with his brother, so every once in a while he would slip and Angela would laugh as Genji tried to recover his balance. Brigitte had her hair in a messy bun and was skating with Reinhardt, attempting to keep him steady as he wobbled around on his skates and grasped at the walls. Lúcio was still astonished that the rink even had skates in Reinhardt’s size. Winston and Echo had decided not to join, seeing as neither of them had human feet. But they watched and laughed, enjoying the sight of their teammates and friends finally having fun for a change. Lúcio grinned to himself. It was a hit!
Lúcio glided across the rink with ease, his loose dreads flowing behind him. This was the best he’s felt in a while, and look, everyone else was happy too! Because of him! Lúcio sped up and took a sharp turn around the rink, receiving a playful cheer from Mei. He zipped past Reinhardt, who then muttered something in German about children these days. Lúcio began to skate even faster still, letting years and years of practice, and his good mood, take over. He raced Lena, he high-five’d Genji as he blew by, and he turned the music in his wireless headphones up. He’d forgotten how much fun skating really was when he wasn’t doing it out of necessity. He jumped, he spun, he skated on one foot, everything done without a second thought. Winston and Echo cheered him on, shouting every time he pulled a trick. This was so much fun. Lúcio began to remember a cool trick he’d done the other day out on the field, and set his eyes on one of the rink’s walls. Just a simple bounce off and a flip, he thought to himself, this’ll look SO dope. He let his hand rest lightly on the wall as he skated at a dangerously high speed, and jumped, letting his blades connect to the wall and-
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
“OH SHIT-”
Lúcio was not wearing wallriders.
Lúcio shouted as he felt his tailbone explode into a world of pain, and he did a full backwards somersault before coming to a stop on his back. He groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing his head and watching as the team skated up to him. Well, most of the team. Reinhardt bad been left on the other side of the rink, on his knees and laughing so hard tears had formed in his eyes.
Angela knelt by his side and helped Lúcio stand back up, and he barely suppressed a yelp as he felt another spike of pain up his tailbone. Angela looked Lúcio dead in the eyes.
“Of all the people I thought would be injured tonight,” she said slowly, trying her best to suppress laughter for Lúcio’s sake, “I absolutely did not think it was going to be you.”
“THE SKATER FELL!” Reinhardt howled from across the room. “HE SKATES EVERY DAY! AND HE FELL! RIGHT ON HIS ASS!”
Lúcio’s face flushed, making the small freckles on his cheeks appear more pronounced as he let out a breathy, embarrassed laugh.
“I- I thought I had my wallriders! I thought I could just hop up on the wall!” He tried to say as more and more members of the team began to succumb to their laughter.
“A-are you-” Mei paused to let out a giggle, “Are you all right?”
“RIGHT ON HIS ASS!” Reinhardt yelled on the other side of the rink. His face was completely red now, and tears were streaming down his cheeks.
“I’m fine,” Lúcio said. He was totally not fine. This was the most humiliating moment of his life. “Definitely fine.”
Angela seemed to notice his distress and chuckled, putting her recently chopped hair behind her ear.
“It’s all right Lúcio,” she said. “It happens to all of us.”
Lúcio cocks his head in confusion.
“What, you all just randomly fall on your asses?” This receives another uproar of laughter.
Lena shakes her head, giggling, and pipes up.
“No, mate! She means we all slip up sometimes when our brains are on autopilot.” Everyone nods. “One time I was jus’ walking to the kitchen and I thought I saw a figure behind me! Without even thinking, I whipped out my pistols. Turns out I’d left bullet holes in Emily’s chair.”
“Yeah!” Brigitte said, “I was playing catch with Genji this one time, and his mind totally blanked out, and instead of catching the ball, he sliced it in half!”
Lúcio laughed in surprise. He looked to Genji, who nodded in confirmation, the only evidence of him actually laughing was his shoulders shaking a little. Mei placed her hands on Lúcio’s shoulder.
“See, you don’t need to be embarrassed! We’re not going to view you any differently.” She said, smiling sweetly as she pushed her glasses up her nose.
“Yeah, mate!” Said Lena. She leaned in to whisper in Lúcio’s ear. “Although, Rein might make fun of you for the rest of your life.”
“Great, I can’t wait for that.” Said Lúcio sarcastically. He was feeling a lot better. It was nice to know that he hadn’t just completely ruined his chance of being viewed as a respectable member of Overwatch, and he was glad to know that even the most graceful of teammates slip up.
Overwatch changed out of their skates and went back home, everyone in good spirits. Lúcio’s ass hurt for a solid week.
—-
Hello, and thank you to anyone who decided to read! I’m relatively new to writing, so if you notice anything that I should change, feel free to comment! Thanks again for reading!!!
#lucio correia dos santos#Overwatch#overwatch mercy#overwatch meme#overwatch fanfic#overwatch lúcio#overwatch lucio#genji shimada#genji overwatch#angela ziegler#fanfic#fan fiction#crack fic#brigitte lindholm#overwatch brigitte#reinhardt#winston#overwatch winston#echo overwatch#tracer#lena oxton#gency#overwatch 2#hanzo shimada
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From Upon the Golden Thrones
Episode 33: Kindness and Comfort
The grand hall fell quiet as the tragic news hung in the air. They still couldn’t quite wrap their brains around it. It didn’t make any sense. There was no way Eilonwy could be dead.
Edmund stared dumbfounded at the tabletop, trying to make sense of it all. A distinct sadness had lodged itself in the pit of his chest. Though their first interaction was bizarre, and she was without a doubt unrefined and crude, the just king had come to consider her a very dear friend. They shared a bond he couldn’t find in anyone else, a shared experience at the hands of the White Witch. She seemed to understand his struggles like no one else, but now she was gone and something hollow had formed inside of him.
“This is ridiculous, Peter, that makes absolutely no sense” Susan piped up. Lucy could see the pain in his eyes at her accusation. “How do you know she’s dead?”
The magnificent sucked in a sharp breath and gripped the edge of the table. He didn’t want to go through the whole story, but he knew he needed to. They needed to know. He forced himself to explain everything: Bone, Rosalie, the tavern, and that night when he received the fateful news. His voice cracked the closer he came to that moment, his entire body shaky and sick. And when he was finished, he gazed upon his brother and sisters like a shy little child, awaiting their response.
Edmund was the first to speak. “I just can’t understand any of this” he said, brows furrowed. “This just doesn’t sound right.”
“What do you mean?” Lucy asked.
“Well, Eilonwy was always so tough” Edmund explained. “I doubt a little wolf attack would hurt her enough to kill her.”
“Edmund!” Susan said sharply. She shot him a dark glare, silently insisting he not discount the apparent truth of someone’s death. As much as she hated to believe it herself, she believed Peter fully and did not think it appropriate to debate facts, especially at such a sensitive time. Her bark shook Edmund, and he instantly recoiled, though not completely willingly. He just couldn’t shake the fact that none of this sounded quite right.
Lucy skated to her brother’s side and rested a gentle hand upon his shoulder. “Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.
Peter shook his head. “No, just…I just think I need to be left alone for a while” he replied quietly. “I need some time to myself.” The other three nodded in understanding as they watched Peter dismiss himself. Lucy’s heart truly broke for him. It almost physically pained her to see him this way.
Before he disappeared, however, Susan jolted up from her seat and called after him, “What about Ginevra?”
Peter glared back at her over his shoulder. “What about her?”
“She’s been awaiting your response” Susan explained. “You should at least tell her what’s happened.”
The magnificent scrunched up his face, almost as if he was offended, and waved his sister off. “I don’t care. You can tell her I’m dead.”
“Peter!” Lucy exclaimed, but by then he was already out of sight.
Susan sighed, slumping her shoulders ever so slightly and rubbing her forearm. There was a long silence before she finally said, “I suppose I ought to go write her myself, to explain all that’s happened.” And with that, she slowly retreated back to her own chambers.
She struggled to find the proper way to convey the circumstances as she sat her desk, quill in hand. It was an hour and a half before she finally came up with something halfway decent. Something that explained the situation while still maintaining some sense of Peter’s privacy, as well as requesting she give him some distance amid reassurances that she was still welcome to stay in correspondence. After all, Ginevra cared very deeply for the High King and deserved to know of his current state. When she was finally satisfied with what she had written, Susan signed and sealed the page and then trotted down the hall to the aviary so Hermes could send it off right away.
Meanwhile, Edmund and Lucy wandered the halls together like two children skipping class. For a while, they walked in silence but Edmund could hardly stand his sister’s sour face. It wasn’t like her to be so down. “Alright, Lu, what’s on your mind?” he asked.
“It’s just…I hate seeing Peter so depressed. I want to help, but I don’t know how!” she explained. He had to admit, the feeling was mutual. There was nothing either of them could do to bring Eilonwy back to life, so instead it only seemed fair they do something nice for the one suffering the most. Lucy took her brother’s hands in hers and looked upon him with utmost seriousness, asking “Edmund, can you please help me think of something absolutely brilliant? We’ll do it together, you and I, the perfect way to show Peter we care.” A small smile tugged at the corner of Edmund’s mouth as he nodded in agreement.
A few days had passed when Peter awoke to a strange smell wafting from underneath his door. He rubbed his eyes as he forced himself out of bed, not bothering to put on slippers or even a shirt, and slowly creaked the door open. Sitting at his doorstep was a decorated basket tied up with ribbon and filled with sweet presents. He lifted it up and carried it inside, surveying the contents. Wrapped in a cloth were five homemade muffins courtesy of Edmund and Lucy (who apologized in a note that there were six, but they smelled so good she couldn’t help but take one for herself). Beside it was a bottle of wine with a tag around the neck indicating it was from Susan. A bouquet of gorse and sweet chestnut wrapped with twine was from Nefyn, who insisted they were healing flowers meant to help despair and anguish, apparently. And then there was the letter.
Peter picked that up first, both intrigued and confused. It was stamped shut with the signature wax seal of Brenn. He opened it to find a short message from Ginevra.
Dearest Peter,
My heart aches for you, darling. Susan told me everything. I am deeply, terribly, dreadfully sorry for your loss. I know how much Eilonwy meant to you, and that you had always hoped someday to find her. I know nothing I say will ever heal your pain, but I hope it is of some reassurance that I will always be here for you. If you need absolutely anything, darling, do not hesitate to ask. I would swim the Great Eastern Sea for you if you asked me to, darling!
My heart is with you at this terrible time. Please take care of yourself.
Love,
Ginevra
Included was another tiny ribbon kite, this one gray and pale blue as if to connote grieving. He turned it over in his hand, and the tiniest smile touched his lips. Of course nothing would ever take away the pain of Eilonwy’s death, but in that moment he was incredibly grateful to have such kind and caring friends and family. He sunk down in his desk chair, folding the letter back up and placing the ribbon kite back in the basket. A heaviness began to break up like congestion inside of his chest and as he clenched that little scrap of Eilonwy’s cloak in his hand, he dropped his head down and began to silently cry.
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kick your pretty feet up on my dash
Part 1 | Part 2
-
Two days after the Instagram account opens, Sidney unofficially gets put on naming duty.
The strawberry shortcake biscuit is named The Taylor.
The cream cheese-stuffed banana muffins, crusted with dark chocolate ganache, is The Fleury.
The slice of warm spiced peach cobbler (available for just two weeks), topped with a generous portion of thick, whipped cream and vanilla ice cream, is The Deidre.
He shares the account password with her, but she seems more interested in digging up her mom’s old recipes from an ancient box filled with yellowed index cards than photographing.
“I’ll leave that up to you,” she says, then passes him a card titled, ‘Cherry Layer Chocolate Cake.’ “I think I’ll make this for the holidays. What do you think?”
Deidre makes just one and a half cakes for a trial run (the other half, which had come out lopsided, is sitting in the back of Sidney’s fridge). It’s another instant hit.
Sidney watches a couple, two teenagers who are making it pretty painfully obvious that they’re on their first date, split a slice in a corner seat. She’s chasing the cherry around the plate with her fork, and he watching her like she hung the literal moon. He laughs a little too hard at her jokes, his eyes crinkling like Geno’s when he’s chirping Sidney. But with the way she’s beaming, it’s clear that she doesn’t mind at all.
He’s not jealous—or, at least, he doesn’t think he’s jealous. Having hockey and having a boyfriend have always been mutually exclusive. But now, with no obligations to the NHL, he’s supposedly free to do everything that he’s wanted to. He doesn’t dwell too long on it though, because the last thing he needs is to have an existential spiral in Deidre’s store over whether or not he’s missed his his golden hour to be happy the exact minute the Penguins drafted him all those years ago.
He finishes lettering the card for the cherry chocolate cake and slides ‘The Jack’ neatly into its proper holder.
-
Geno calls him on Thursday nights now, like clockwork. He’s grateful for the routineness of it, especially when he knows how much Geno lives on spontaneity. It’s always the same—updates on how the team is doing (good, the weather over in Pittsburgh (not so good), another dumb prank the rookies are trying to pull (hilarious, but slightly unoriginal with the shaving cream), even though it’ll never be as good as the ones Flower used to plan.
“How are you?” Geno asks one night, while Sidney is puttering around the kitchen to figure out what he wants to make for dinner. “Your tomatoes grow?”
“I think those are a goner,” Sidney grimaces. The entire plant had shriveled up weeks ago, despite Sidney faithfully watering them. “Guess I’ll just have to stick with the storebought ones.”
Geno is silent for a bit. Then, “Is quiet in locker room without you.”
Sidney pauses. “I doubt that’s true.” There’s plenty of rookies every year, eager to prove themselves on the ice and to establish themselves as a personality on the team. Besides, Sidney has never been the life of the party—that’s always been Geno himself.
“No, is quieter.” Geno sounds like he’s swallowing a yawn. “Different without you.”
Sidney’s heart flounders, and he has to blink a couple of times before his throat unclogs. “Maybe you should get to sleep. It’s pretty late over there.”
“No, I’m not tired,” Geno mumbles, sounding very drowsy. Sidney can almost picture Geno, hair-mussed and sleepy eyes about to close as he curls up on his mattress. “Want to keep talking.”
“I know you have practice tomorrow, G,” Sidney says. “You have the C now, you can’t get there two hours late anymore.”
“I’m never late,” Geno huffs. “You too early.”
“Get some rest,” Sidney says gently. “I’ll still be here next week, same as usual.”
“Maybe I call tomorrow.’
“I won’t go anywhere.”
“Wish you still here, Sid,” he murmurs. “Miss you so bad, some days.”
Sidney doesn’t miss a beat. ���I miss you, too,” he whispers, because any louder and he knows his voice will crack. “I’ll be here tomorrow. And the day after, if you still want to call.”
“Okay,” Geno says. “Okay.”
-
Sidney’s restocking the brioche rolls when Deidre’s voice casually pipes up from the coffee machine, “You have a secret admirer, you know.”
“I know. It’s Samantha. PTA President,” Sidney says, trying to not sound exasperated. He only knows her name and title because she must’ve giggled it at him as a greeting every single time she’s marched in. “She asked me what the main ingredient was in the banana muffins and I told her banana like, three times.”
“She just likes to hear you say banana. And no, it’s not Sam.” Deidre makes a come hither motion with her hands and slides a napkin towards Sidney. “Yesterday afternoon, there was a young man, maybe around his 30s, who stopped by for a latte and he asked where you were.”
“Oh.” There’s something he can’t name fluttering in his stomach. The words on the napkin scrawled out, Jeremy, and a string of numbers. “What did you say?”
“I told him, ‘He’s a cute one, isn’t he? He’s the store eye candy, bringing in all the sales.’”
“Dee, you didn’t.”
“I did, and he went full red. It was adorable. And I told him that you pop in in the mornings and in the afternoon to help with opening and closing.” She leans forward, grinning. “I’m just saying, think about it.”
He thinks about it.
At night, he tells Geno, “I think I have a secret admirer. Or a stalker.”
Geno’s voice suddenly becomes infinitely more awake. “Have what? Someone stand outside your house? I read about this before, you need call police.”
“No, it was at the bakery. I got his number on a napkin. Well, the owner gave me his name on a napkin, so I don’t really know what he looks like. He could be 100. People in this town are usually…around that age range.”
Geno still sounds perplexed. “So say no.”
“What?”
“Say sorry, only go on dates with girls. But thank you.”
Sidney’s brain feels like it’s stuttering to a pause. “Geno, what the fuck?”
“What?”
“I don’t ‘only go on dates with girls.’ I—” Well, to be quite fair, he hasn’t gone on any dates at all. “You know this.”
It takes a full ten seconds for Geno to crackled back to life on the line again. His voice is hesitant. “You only bring girls to events. Like Halloween, or—”
“They’re my friends, I’ve told you. I’m not going to bring a guy in front of you guys,” he exclaims, then reigns in his voice. His heart is beating like a jackhammer boring straight through. “Hey, listen, I have a pretty early day tomorrow, I’ll talk to you next week, okay?”
“Sid, wait—”
He hangs up and puts his phone face down on the nightstand. It’s not his proudest moment.
-
I’m sorry(((, the text reads. The timestamp indicates that the message had been sent at 2 AM. You should go on a date with secret guy. Maybe he’s secret Ryan Reynolds.
Geno’s texts are never longer than five words, usually cryptic versions of a yes or no, accompanied by eyeless smilies. Sidney wonders if he’d been painstakingly worrying over each word since Sidney hastily ended the conversation.
I don’t think he’s Ryan Reynolds, Sidney sends back. Besides, no one in this town knows hockey. That’s gonna be a problem.
Geno’s reply is instantaneous, as if he’d been waiting.
Picky)))))
More messages follow in quick succession, before Sidney can even start typing.
But always best for u. Deserve the best only.
He laces up his shoes and heads to Dee’s.
-
It snows a little mid-December.
He helps Deidre with the decorations, hanging up tinsel and little snowflake cutouts on the window. She has a box of Christmas lights stored away in a dusty box from the attic, which definitely looks like they haven’t been disturbed since the 80s, but the one of the bulbs dies with a sad fizz the moment Sidney plugs it in. So they have to make do with the other nonflammable options.
The store looks nice. ‘Well-loved’ is a better word for it, with its mismatched decorations and ancient garlands. He snaps a photo of the mini tree on the counter for Instagram before he goes to help Deidre frost the rest of the ornament-shaped sugar cookies.
There’s commotion on the streets from all the tourists and families coming back for the holidays. He thinks about flying to Nova Scotia for the holidays, but then he realizes that none of Deidre’s children will be coming to Cardwell Point.
“They’re busy,” she shrugs indifferently, but she turns her back to Sidney as she busies herself with rearranging the shelfs. “It’s alright. That’s what Skype is for, right? Besides, I have to watch the store.”
He thinks about Geno, who’s probably headed to Florida soon to escape the onslaught of winter chill that he absolutely abhors, no matter how much he loves the city. He could Skype Geno, or Facetime him. Except Geno would always have the angle wrong, and Sidney’s sure he’d just get an on-brand mugshot of Geno’s nostril from the bottom up for the whole conversation.
He did ask Sidney if he wanted to go to Florida, except the way he had asked had felt like a given tagged with a question mark at the end (Florida w me this year?). Nonetheless, Sidney had been tempted.
But he also wonders if he’d feel even more homesick when Geno is physically standing in front of him again, all tall and loud and too big, too much, too many years of his unrequited love staring at him and making Sidney think that he has a chance. He doesn’t want to go to Florida to watch Geno pick up strangers at a club.
“I’m not going anywhere, either,” he tells her.
She looks over, finally, pursing her lips like she’s trying to hold back her smile.
@DeesBakeryandCafe
Season’s greetings and a happy New Year to our wonderful customers and families here in Cardwell Point. Hope everyone is spending time with their loved ones this holiday season.
-
Winter refuses to go. The clouds hang over the streets stubbornly, and each days trudges on like it’s dragging its feet.
He misses skating.
He misses Geno. Especially as it gets closer to February and teenagers and adults alike start coming to the shop in twos, their gloved hands clasped together as they squeeze through Dee’s tiny corridor when it’s really much easier to be in a single-file line.
He’s not jealous. He is not.
But he is lonely. And really fucking cold.
He serves up at least thirty slices of The Jack, which is apparently the most popular item these days thanks to Instagram. Deidre switches up the decoration, so the cherry-glazed design in the middle forms a big, gaudy heart. The Internet completely eats up. Sidney doesn’t understand it.
“It’s like a Titanic reference, right?” a customer asks, as he picks up the cake for his wife. “Like, an ‘I’ll never let you go,’ kind of thing. Jack and Rose?”
“Sure,” Sidney says. It’s really for his first childhood crush, but he can work with the Titanic.
The moment Deidre fills her last custom order of The Jack (and there had been plenty of those, for anniversaries to birthdays to just becauses), she tells Sidney that she’s figured out how to make her mother’s cheesecake.
“Finally worked out how to stop the goddamn filling from clotting,” she says, cutting him a slice. The cake has a brownie bottom, and the inside is perfectly creamy and smooth and dotted with dark chocolate chips. “What do you think?”
“I’m biased,” Sidney says, trying to not scarf down the whole thing like an animal. “I love cheesecakes. This one is my favorite so far.”
“Good,” she tells him. “You can name this one, then.”
His fork stops mid-air. “Weren’t you going to call it ‘The Lily’?”
She pats his arm affectionately, not unlike the day she did when Sidney told her why he ended up at Cardwell Point. “I figured she wouldn’t mind. This can be our second February special. God, I’m sick of The Jack.”
The next week, Sidney carefully slides The Geno in its display cabinet.
(Deidre doesn’t ask about the peculiar name. She never does, and Sidney is grateful.)
After over a decade in the NHL, he’s well aware of what he can and can’t have. But lately he’s been feeling selfish. He snaps a photo of the cheesecake and sends it to Deidre.
It’s a good photo.
-
“I got invited to a neighborhood potluck yesterday,” Sidney mumbles into the receiver, when Flower asks him how retirement is treating him. “I don’t know what to bring. Maybe I’ll bring something from the bakery.”
“Do you officially work at the bakery or are you just there because the owner is blackmailing you? Does she know who you are?”
“I just help out when I can. And no, I told you, it’s not a hockey town. They do have competitive knitting here. It’s a thing.” Sidney doesn’t have much to do these days, aside from working out and catching up on reading, which means that he does end up doing most of the latter in the café. Maybe he should take up competitive knitting. “I started an Instagram for her shop. We just hit 200 followers.”
“You know how to do that?” Flower asks, because he’s a little shit. “I’m kidding, I know you’re not actually a senior citizen.”
Sidney rolls his eyes. “I haven’t checked it in a while though. I let Deidre handle the posting now. It’s her shop, anyways.”
“What’s the handle?”
He tells him. Flower is quiet for a bit as he searches through the page. “Pretty cool, eh?”
“Yeah,” Flower says, his voice slightly off. “Yeah, it’s—it’s good. Looks like the real deal.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course it’s the real deal.”
Flower makes a noncommittal noise. “Nothing. Cheesecake looks good. Does Geno know?”
“No,” Sidney says. “I mentioned the bakery once or twice. He didn’t ask. Not, uh—not after I told him about Jeremy.”
“Secret napkin man?” Flower remembers. “You didn’t go on that date?”
“No, I didn’t go on a date with ‘secret napkin man,’” he mimics. “I don’t think he’d care.”
“I think he’d care.” Flower always sounds so sure when he wants to be serious, and it’s one of the things Sidney missed most when he left for Vegas—there’d been a metaphorical hollow within the team for a good few months following his departure, and that void never quite got replaced no matter what.
“Maybe.”
Sidney can only hope. But he’s a little too old for hoping these days.
-
Foot traffic is slower when they hit March, but Deidre promises that it’ll pick up when Cardwell Point’s 11th Annual Theater Festival starts in the middle of the month, because that’s apparently the other big thing aside from the 4th of July Carnival Bash. Sidney has just packed up another dozen of red velvet cupcakes for Samantha the PTA Queen when the front bell jingles.
“Hello? I’m look for—”
Sidney heart leaps to his throat.
“Sid,” Geno says softly. He looks like the wind knocked him in (it probably had), mismatched Frakenshirts and all. “Hi, Sid.”
Samantha may as well not have even walked into the store at all.
“How are—“ He must be imagining things. But Geno takes another step, until he’s right in front of the counter and Sidney can reach out and touch just how real he is. He hasn’t changed much--still the same eyes, the same nose and lips, and maybe his hair is a bit thinner but he still makes Sidney’s chest feel too small and too big all at once. “Where did you—how are you here?”
“Fly,” Geno says sheepishly. “Wanted to see you.”
“What about—”
“No games until Friday.” He’s staring at Sidney like he’s looking his fill and he can’t get enough. “I—I see your post, and I just—buy ticket.”
“What post?”
Geno pulls out his phone and flips through it until he lands at a familiar Instagram account. He passes it over to Sidney, his hands warm as it brushes against Sidney’s fingers.
@DeesBakeryCafe
‘I love you’ tastes a lot like our chocolate chip cheesecake, The Geno.
“Oh,” Sidney breathes. “Oh.”
#retirement fic#sidgeno#okay!!! getting closer to the final part#probably wont be any posting during the weekday because need to do Real Job things#but hope you guys enjoy#wish i knew graphic so i can like...make a graphic header
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