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carry-on-my-wayward-gays · 2 years

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THIS has been driving me insane /pos

Like. Satan below you cannot just drop that on me.

Fucking. Yeah Jimmy knows Tango was excited to see him again. There were tears shed in that tunnel and horns blown and they were so overjoyed and borderline overwhelmed to find each other again.

The smile Tango had when he promised to "ranch it up" soon? And the way Tango's face lit up when Jimmy showed him the ranch? Surely Tango wanted to be Jimmy's rancher again.

But there was something in the way Tango's face fell when confronted with the fact that he hadn't told Jimmy about his arrangements at Gobland. The way Tango stepped away and picked at his cuticles, refusing to meet Jimmy's eyes while he explained what fWhip had promised.

It activated Jimmy's flight response, for whatever reason. He wanted to run and hide away from everyone, but also drop to his knees and beg Tango to stay. Maybe apologize for ever thinking to build the ranch. He'd clutch at the thick fur cloak and tell Tango he'd take the ranch down, to forget about everything that happened, apologize for wasting his time.

But he didn't. He stood in place and made a compromise with Tango. He'd keep his work and home separate, do whatever fWhip wanted and live in Tumble Town, at the ranch.

And Jimmy was fine with it! He was estatic! He couldn't stop thinking about his rancher living with him again. His soulmate, in Tumble Town.

Except Tango hadn't visited since the day he unveiled the ranch.

Jimmy would check in every day, finding no signs of visitors except himself. The place was collecting dust - faster than normal as it was the mesa - but dust nonetheless. Jimmy starts to wonder if maybe he forced Tango to play into his wishes of being soulmates again.

What if Tango had completely moved on from Double Life? He certainly seemed like it. Working for and possibly living with fWhip, completely changing his look, barely associating with Jimmy at all even when he promised - he promised - he would? What if Jimmy was stuck in the past. Stuck missing someone who wanted nothing to do with him anymore, missing the only smidge of a good life he would get with the one person who genuinely loved him.

He was always stuck in the past though. Constantly thinking about where he went wrong or what could've been or what he should've said or shouldn't have said. He just couldn't get with the times. He couldn't grow up and accept life.

Jimmy sobbed. The force of the noise nearly sent him backwards into the sand, though it wouldn't have been that much of a fall.

He was currently sat on his railroad tracks, just in front of the train Scar built. His communicator sat in his hands with Tango's name pulled up, ready to send a whisper to. He was online. Jimmy could easily send the message. But his hands were shaking too much.

Jimmy sniffled and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He sucked in a breath and typed as quick as he could before his body let out another sob.

You whispered to Tango: do you still like me?

He wanted to drop or even throw his comm but he held it tight, waiting for Tango to respond. He didn't expect anything immediate. He was sure Tango was busier than busy right now. He hated bothering him with such a stupid question.

As Jimmy went to wipe his eyes again his comm buzzed in his hands.

Tango whispered to you: that's an odd question to ask out of nowhere

Tango whispered to you: of course I do. is something wrong lovely?

Jimmy hiccupped, sobbing harder. The nickname was too soft, too domestic for him. This was a whole different world. Tango didn't have to call him pet names or even pretend to care anymore. They weren't soulmates anymore.

You whispered to Tango: i'm sorry i'm still stuck on the ranchers. you can live with fwhip if you want to and forget about me

Jimmy gasped in a breath. He's forgotten to breathe. He needed to breathe. He couldn't suffocate now, the death message would show up in chat and Tango would come check on him and he didn't want to see Tango right now.

Tango whispered to you: songbird are you ok?

Tango whispered to you: why would i do that why are you sorry?

Tango whispered to you: talk to me please

Against his better judgement, Jimmy typed back. Maybe it was some stupid child-like hope he had yet to let go of.

You whispered to Tango: it's ok if you moved on from the ranchers you don't have to pretend because of me i'll live

Tango whispered to you: can i come over?

Jimmy hiccupped and shook his head, replying far too quickly for his own comfort.

You whispered to Tango: no

Tango whispered to you: alright

Tango whispered to you: why would you think i moved on?

Jimmy shivered as the sun began to set and the mesa grew terribly cold. Still he didn't move from the tracks.

You whispered to Tango: you haven't visited and you went to live with fwhip we haven't even talked until now

You whispered to Tango: if you don't want to live at the ranch just tell me

Jimmy watched his comm for a while after that. The minutes that passed dragged on for phantom hours. Jimmy felt a panic rise in his chest that maybe Tango was coming over. But Tango wouldn't break that boundary would he? Even when Jimmy had been so clear on it?

His comm rattled against the rails and Jimmy nearly jumped out of his skin.

Tango whispered to you: jim i absolutely do want to live at the ranch and with you

Tango whispered to you: why would you think i wouldn't?

Tango whispered to you: i'm sorry i haven't been over, fwhip gave me a massive project and i totally got caught up in it

Jimmy sniffed and wiped his eyes. The tears were slowing and he was able to breathe without breaking down into sobs.

Tango whispered to you: you're my rancher jimmy

Tango whispered to you: i'm sorry i made you feel like you weren't

Jimmy finally picks himself up and begins the walk back to his home with weak knees and shaky hands. And he hears nothing in the tunnel.

You whispered to Tango: it's ok. sorry for bothering you with my dumb brain

Tango whispered to you: hey don't put yourself down and you don't need to apologize to me

Tango whispered to you: how about we spend a whole day together to make up?

Jimmy shucks off his dirty boots and shrugs off his vest, hanging it on a coat rack. His hat goes along side it.

You whispered to Tango: just the two of us?

Tango whispered to you: just the two of us

Jimmy snakes his belt from under the loops and drops it next to his boots.

You whispered to Tango: ok

Tango whispered to you: thank you

Tango whispered to you: get some sleep buttercup i'll see you soon

You whispered to Tango: goodnight tango

#a fucking CONCEPT AND A HALF #also tango's nicknames for jimmy <3 #i never get to use them outside full on fics not posted here #but i have like a whole hc list of petnames tango calls jimmy #team rancher #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #tango tek #empires smp #empiresshipping #empires x hermitcraft #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #for filtering :) and just in case obvs #rancher duo #rancherduo #shadow's scribing again

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internetgremlin-writes · 2 years

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91&93 for carlos!

91 - "Don't go on that date," "Why?" "You know why," "Say it,"

93 - "Say you want me and I'm yours,"

Right I've made you all wait long enough but it's time to pull the best boy out. I hope you like Spanish, angsty, intense Carlos because I most definitely do <3.

He was sulking.

He knew it was obvious, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. So what if the media made jokes about him and his facial expressions? Right now he felt like a joke anyway.

"Hey," he rolled his eyes at you, which was bad. You were the exception to everything when it came to Carlos, the only person aside from maybe Lando who could pull him back to himself when he got like this. But right now even the sight of you was annoying him. He was sitting in his driver's room, the trophy and the now-empty magnum of champagne at his feet.

"P2 is amazing," you speak gently, tapping his knee as you sit beside him. He thinks this is the first time in his life that your touch hasn't ignited butterflies in his stomach. "In Monaco, too," he didn't care where it was, he was sick of silver.

"Last year, it was good,"

"Don't start," you warned him. He knew he was pushing his luck, you were only there to support him. You shouldn't even be there, your navy and white Alpha Tauri polo clashing against the bright red of his new life. Part of him hated that you never jumped PR teams to stay close to him. But why did you need to? He was nothing more than a colleague you got on well with, you'd worked so well together all those years ago, but it was just a job. A work friend, but the kind you send a Christmas card to.

"It's embarrassing," he couldn't look at you when he spoke. His stomach was twisting and he hated himself for it. Jealousy was an ugly emotion. Anger and bitterness and living in a world of what-ifs were also ugly, and Carlos did his best to constantly avoid them. He liked it when he was the cool guy, the calm guy, the guy who let nothing bother him. The Smooth Operator. He hadn't felt like that in nearly a year.

He managed to look at you then, and his chest tightened along with his stomach. You had those big doe eyes, eyebrows pulled together and mouth drawn down in what he really hoped wasn't pity as he finally saw you. He knew what he looked like, his brown eyes would have that wild look about them and his jaw was set, pushing his lips out into even more of a pout. He sighed, the look on your face making him crack just a fraction.

"I just wanna win," those four words had been haunting him. Since McLaren really, when he finally broke away from Max's shadow of his incredible rookie year. And now it was his second year in Ferrari and sure, he'd had a good share of podiums, and yes this year they were coming in thick and fast and things were looking great. But he just couldn't seem to win. Every time he got close, like today, something happened. He was usually okay with making mistakes, everybody cracks under pressure, and accidents happen. But when it wasn't his fault, like when he lost the lead due to a lapped car, it felt personal.

And then there was Charles, who was that bit better in the new car than him. He couldn't compete with the speed, he couldn't balance the car as well, and he didn't have the urge to beat Max into submission like his teammate did. Everyone at Ferrari had branded him as the less competitive driver since the moment he signed that contract.

Your voice pulled him back down to earth. He'd been zoning out a lot lately.

"I know,"

"Don't say it," he pleaded. Because he was sick of hearing it. Everybody told him 'your time will come', but the only thing he had in response was 'but when?' You patted him on the shoulder, your touch sparking a little bit of warmth when you squeezed.

"I wouldn't dare,"

That made him smile because it reminded him that there was always someone in his corner. Someone who didn't care about his mistakes, who didn't need or want him to prove anything more. Someone who was proud of him for everything he'd achieved, who wasn't still waiting to see what he might do. You knew him, for him. You knew Carlos the way he liked people to know him, the way he let so few people actually know him.

Even your presence in the room was making him feel more like himself. He leant to the side to gently knock your shoulder, before sitting up a little straighter and running a hand through his hair, taking advantage of the sweat still clinging to it to push it out of his eyes. He didn't care how many times he was asked to, he would never cut his hair.

You pulled him into a hug, even though he was still sweaty from the race. Your touch made him melt, your small arms wrapped around his waist felt better than anything else. Carlos allowed himself a second to drop his chin onto the top of his head and inhale your scent. You pulled away first, of course you did. For a second you stayed close, your arms still around his waist as you looked up into his eyes and Carlos felt his breath hitch in his throat because god, it would have made so much sense to kiss you right then. But he didn't, because you didn't want that. You didn't want him like that. You were friends. He had to remind himself every time he saw you.

But it didn't mean he couldn't push his luck. And technically, the party was at least in part for him. Plus, technically, you worked for Red Bull, to which the other two podium holders belonged.

"Are you coming to the after-party tonight?" He tried to sound casual, busying himself with sorting through an already-folded pile of polo shirts as he spoke. You didn't reply, and your silence spoke volumes. Carlos felt his heart sink once more as he turned to you, trying to keep the pain out of his features. He was cool, he was casual, he didn't care if a friend couldn't come to his party. He didn't even really want to be at the party.

You looked strange. Were you uncomfortable? You kept shifting your weight and you wouldn't meet his eye. You looked, and shit his stomach churned because you looked guilty.

"Um, actually I can't make it tonight," oh. Oh. You had plans. That was okay, you were allowed plans. But it didn't feel okay and if Carlos had been sulking before he was all but having an internal tantrum now because he didn't give a shit about the party, not if you weren't going to be there.

"Why?" He was asking you before he could stop himself. He didn't want to intrude, he didn't want to force you to say it but there was a sick voice in the back of his head that just had to know.

"I, um, I'm going on a date,"

A date.

The word hung like a bullet in the air. Carlos' mind was racing, and for once he couldn't find the words in English or Spanish. He nodded, eyes trained on the floor because he couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not without imagining the guy taking you out, and that made him sick. You made an excuse about being expected back with your own team and went to leave. But it didn't feel right. It was too formal, too final. Suddenly, Carlos was stricken by a sickening thought. If you went out with this guy, if you dated him, this would be the last time he saw you like this. He didn't even know if he'd get to see you alone again.

It was sheer selfishness that made him call out to you to stop.

He knew he had those big pleading eyes, and hell, he wasn't above using them. If he had to get on his knees and beg for you in that moment he would have without question.

"Don't go on that date," you were staring at him like he was speaking a foreign language and for a split second, he thought he'd spoken in Spanish. You didn't move, your expression not changing as your crossed your arms and stood in his doorway.

"Why?" Shit. Did you want him to say it? Really? He hadn't expected you to just jump into his arms but he didn't think you'd want to drag a confession out of him.

"You know why," the desperation in his tone made him sick. He'd never been like this with anyone before. But you - you were something else. He was kicking himself that it took you telling him you had plans with someone else to say something. You'd softened your expression, your face morphing back to that sorry look you'd had earlier. Great, so you were pitying him again. You dropped your arms, and the next words from you were barely a whisper. If Carlos wasn't so incredibly tuned into you he would have missed it.

"Say it,"

"I want you," it didn't matter anyway. And you deserved to know. "Every day, all the time. I want you,"

"Oh," it was more a rush of air than a word. But Carlos was on a roll and he didn't care. Why not pour fuel on the fire? He'd ruined the friendship already.

"You want me to say it? Fine. I will. I want you. All you ever have to do is say you want me, and I'm yours," He was panting. You were staring at him like he was a stranger. He could see your mind turning, and as desperate and as frightened as he was he respected it. You hadn't come here for a confession. He waited as your eyes scanned the entire room, and then him, and then your feet.

"I need to go and cancel my date,"

Carlos had never heard words so sweet.

#1.3k prompt night #okay this one was definitely way too long for a ficlet but i am hopelessly in love with him #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #formula one #F1

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nine-of-words · 7 months

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Something Borrowed (Part Six)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 6036

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup

Sorry for the bit of a break, life really conspired to impede my ability to write for a few weeks. But I’m so happy to get back to writing this story! I did end up cutting this part in two because the wordcount had gotten a bit bigger than I’d like. So nothing spicy yet, this part is just pure sweetness.

You wake up in the morning disoriented with a dull, throbbing headache.

You sit up in bed, confused as to the barricade of pillows at your back until memories of the previous night start to come cascading down on you.

The tasting. Trevor. Having to put on a smile and get through it because it's your job.

Unintentionally slamming nearly an entire bottle of champagne like it was the dawn of the new year.

…Carlyle.

Making a sloppy fool of yourself in front of him…

Oh, I've completely blown that wide open for sure. You think to yourself, devastated, staring at the ceiling and considering the doomed nature of your love life. Figures. With the curse… Something was bound to happen sooner or later…

On top of everything else, you barely closed anything down last night, so this morning's going to be a major slog. Might as well get up now and get started…

You groan, sitting up and grabbing your head.

You're thinking of maybe just sinking back down and smothering yourself with a pillow instead, but there are cakes to be baked.

So, you will yourself to get up and start your morning routine. Before your feet even hit the ground, though, you notice some things on your nightstand that wouldn't normally be there; a glass of water and a pair of headache pills.

…He left that out for me?

You check your device for messages, and you're both partially relieved, and partially terrified to find some new ones from Carlyle waiting.

You can deal with a hard day getting your shop caught up with a hangover. You can't deal with any more heartbreak right now.

With a wince, you open the log.

> Good morning

> I hope you're feeling better

> I closed up and turned the lights off

> As well as I could, I'm no baker

> We can reschedule when you're ready

> Let me know if you need anything else, I'll bring it over

Except, you… haven't blown it? Somehow???

…What an absolute sweetheart. Literally the patience of a saint.

The tension in your neck and shoulders releases just a bit.

You type out a message yourself after you've popped the pills in and inelegantly gulped down the entire glass of water to follow them.

And after a few revisions, you've managed a message you think covers everything: you're fine aside from an expected headache, thanking him for his help, then sheepishly offering some times in the next week that could work.

Your relief is short lived, however; as you faintly hear the telltale sound of the shop door bell downstairs.

Dammit- is that an early customer? Or a robber leaving?

Finally fully dressed, you hastily descend the stairs into your still slightly darkened shop.

You do this every early morning, and the darkness doesn't bother you, yet this morning it feels… decidedly spooky down here.

Across your shop, the bell is indeed still jingling.

You're staring directly at the door, through the hazy light starting to filter in from the shop windows from the sun rising. The door hasn't changed position, but the bell itself is certainly moving.

You rub your eyes, assuming your mishap last night is making you see things. But when you reopen them, the bell is still moving, still ringing out in a gentle metallic jingling.

You steel your resolve and slowly, tentatively approach the door.

But wait- Carlyle said he locked the door. So how could…?

Hand trembling, you reach out to test the weight of your hand on the door.

Locked.

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

And just like that, the bell stops.

Silence falls over your empty storefront. You release a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

…Right. Okay. That’s fine.

You should tell Kirby about that. Definitely.

They asked for you to let them know about any peculiar activity when they're not there to see it themselves; it's Saturday, so they won't be coming into the shop today. So, you type out a message reporting the strange occurrence, in what's now a practiced routine between the two of you.

…After you’ve turned on every light in the store.

< hey good morning

< my shop bell's making a racket on its own today

< it doesn’t normally do that, to be clear

Now that your shop is bathed in light and has your full attention, you take a look around to survey the damage.

Though, there isn’t actually any mess to speak of. The back may not be set up exactly how you would’ve closed it down, but it is immaculate.

He did the dishes. He wiped down every surface. He swept under the tables.

He even took the cardboard and trash down! Did he do all of this in a suit…?

Marriage material, your brain concludes on its own, in the way your mother or sister would express their succinct approval for a friend or family member’s new guy. You can’t help but smile as you silently chide yourself. You haven’t even had a successful date, yet.

But the fact that you’re even entertaining the thought, after your last experience…?

Carlyle is really special.

Expecting Kirby will be calling you back soon, you set your device in its stand on speakerphone, and after washing up, begin to weigh out ingredients for the batters to mix for the day. It doesn’t take long into the task for you to receive the callback.

“Sorry, I know it’s still really early-” You say immediately, before they get a chance to speak.

“Don’t be!!” Kirby’s voice cracks a little, still audibly froggy from just waking up. “Are you okay? Do you feel threatened? I’ll come over and beat up the bell if you need me to!!”

“No, no, I wouldn’t ask you to do that on a day off,” You laugh. “It’s stopped now. It was just a bit of a spook.”

“Weird! That does sound suuuuper spooky! And not like the side effects of a curse at all, honestly!! Curses don’t really do a lot of poltergeist activity.”

“I thought much the same.” You reply, absentmindedly laying your hand on your chest, where you’ve been told the curse is seated. “Nothing like this has happened before now.”

“Hmmm. Do you know if your shop has had problems with that in the past? It could be that there is some sort of interference with your curse happening from an outside source, complicating things. Things get janky really fast when multiple sources of magic are involved. It could even be why I’m having such a hard time locating the source of your curse in the first place.”

“The space was supposedly exorcized to code before I rented it, if that means anything…”

“Ugh- But people cut corners all the time! Especially if it’s cheaper! So, it sounds like you’ve given me a lead to look into- that should be an easy enough record to find, hehe!” You can hear the excitement and passion of an expected breakthrough clear in their voice, even over the line. “I’ll let you know on Monday if I managed to dig up anything~”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it! It is literaaaaally my job!” Kirby says in a singsong voice, sounding much more like themselves now that they’re awake. “Now, onto real business! You NEED to tell me how your date went. Immediately!!”

You cringe while telling Kirby about your lapse in judgement, but they seem largely unfazed, instead making sure you’re alright and commiserating on how awful of an experience getting stuck in a situation with your ex is. Overall, they’re much more interested in how Carlyle handled it. You can’t help it- you end up emphatically gushing about him for a few uninterrupted minutes, but again, Kirby seems to eat it right up, a squeal peaking the microphone at least once.

“Oh, that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard! I’m so happy for you!” Their voice bubbles with excitement. “Where do I find one of those for myself?! I was starting to think there’s no good men in the entirety of Windrise City- Or at least I’m not finding any of them- Hah!”

“I don’t think I’m the man to ask,” You laugh. “Every man I’ve had, I’ve landed with baked goods…”

“Haha, well not all of us are lucky enough to have innate baking skill bred into us. Did he finally like something?”

“No…”

“Ugh. Well, don’t give up! I’m invested now!!”

“Hah, no way I’m giving up when I’m this close to figuring it out. I was going to make something quick yesterday but then things happened. I still need to figure out something to make.”

You continue chatting for longer than you mean to, but decide to let yourself bask in the feeling of having a positive, supportive friendship again. It’s not like the shop opens for another few hours, anyway.

Eventually you hang up, instead shifting your idle thoughts to what to bake Carlyle next… And even though you’ve ended the call, something Kirby said has inadvertently given you a stroke of inspiration- specifically, the comment about having baking skills bred into you.

You definitely do, and now is a perfect occasion to use that fact.

After a quick glance at the clock, you dial home.

“Oh, now isn’t someone up early this mornin’?” Your sister Emer’s voice is clear and bold on the other end of the line, not even bothering with a greeting.

“I’m up early every morning,” You laugh. “You would know.”

“Right.” There’s a bit of noise on the other side. ”Yeah it’s him- Da wants to know how your starter’s doin’.”

“It’s doing what a starter does- Sitting on the counter. I wouldn’t let it die. It was a pain enough to smuggle through customs.”

“Oh no. He said he let it die, Da. What a blasted shame.” She says with a deadpan tone, followed by muffled noises of your father’s displeasure on the other end, and she can’t hold back her laughter.

“Uncalled for.”

“Hahah- So you usually call in the evenin’. What’s the occasion? Need somethin’?”

You sigh. You’ve accepted a long time ago that there’s no avoiding being read like a book when it comes to her.

“I need Ma’s cardamom bun recipe.”

Specifically, her family’s heirloom kardemummabullar recipe she brought with her when she moved to the Queen’s Isle from Linnea, long before either of you were even born. She tends to keep the recipe locked up tight- She’s always been quite superstitious, and she credits them with winning over your father, and consequently, both you and Emer existing.

Hers use mixed spice, rather than just the cardamom and orange zest alone. You’re planning to modify it further, and really highlight the star anise flavor from the mixed spice. You had considered cinnamon rolls early into this process, but had initially written them off as too sweet. But adapting these to tick all of the boxes that you need them to wouldn’t be all that difficult.

“Ooooooh, and what are you in need of that for? You found yourself a new fella?”

You hadn’t mentioned Carlyle to her yet, and definitely not to your parents. It’s not that you haven’t wanted to, though- you’ve just been hesitant to mention it too early, after what happened last time.

“...Yeah.” You sigh. “I think so.”

You recount everything you just told Kirby minutes ago, not losing even a bit of your excitement, despite it being the second time. You fill Emer in on not just the things he did to clean up the shop, but also give her a crash course on how kind and supportive he’s been so far in general.

“Marriage material.” Emer hums summarily. Even with how little she actually says, you can hear the undertones of joy and relief there.

“Yeah, I know. I know!” You say, flustered. You can feel the grin spreading on your face, and the blood rushing to your cheeks, hearing your own thoughts from earlier echoed back to you from the source.

It’s definitely a distinction that Trevor had never gotten awarded, despite the amount of time you’d been together. You used to wonder why, but the farther you get from that relationship, the more you’re starting to understand exactly why.

“So, are you going to give me those numbers now, or am I going to have to get on an airship for them?”

“Yeah, keep your knickers on, I have to find her- Oh. Here she is. Ma, can you fetch me the recipe card for the cardamom buns from your cedar box?... Your son…” She scoffs. “Yeah, he’s got a new fella. Why else would he want the recipe for these?”

You groan. If your hands weren’t gloved and partially coated in the wet batter you’re filling into cake tins right now, you’d be holding your head in them in despair.

“I dunno, Ma. I just found out too… I dunno! Doesn’t tell us anything. Not a scrap of information… Sounds leagues better than the last one though… I’m sure he’ll call back later and tell you everything, Ma, but if I hand you the phone now you’ll be on the line until close-”

Somehow, you survive the emotional gauntlet of listening to the women in your family talk about you like you aren’t there, and a notification for the image of the recipe card finally comes through.

“Ma says to make it count.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up, feeling a pleasant warmth in your chest and trying to mentally dampen your accent’s attempt to re-emerge before you have to speak to any customers.

By the time you’ve finished the batters and got the first round in the oven, Carlyle’s responded.

> Good. I’m glad you’re feeling better

> How about tonight then? Same time, same place

That's how you end up on the train hours later, heading to the restaurant you were supposed to be going to this time yesterday. You're carrying a pink paper box containing your latest attempt at a baked good Carlyle would like- and you have a strong feeling that this time is going to be the time you're finally victorious. You're transporting a secret weapon.

As it turns out, the address Carlyle gave you is for a fusion fine dining restaurant at the top of an observation tower overlooking the entirety of Windrise City. You step out from the elevator and into a spacious, lavish dining room.

Massive gemstone pillars of varying colors line the walls. A great, sprawling chandelier hangs from the ceiling, studded with an array of gemstones that bathe the floor below in iridescent shards of light.

You’re instructed to take a seat on one of the leather settees lining the walls of the lobby, giving you just enough time to scope out the interior of the dining room while you wait.

There are several sharply dressed gargoyles and harpies peppered in the mix of customers, which given the the demographic of the city and the altitude of the restaurant itself, is not surprising at all.

There is a real, living person playing the piano- just sitting there, playing it as their job, in the middle of the restaurant.

The dress worn by the hostess who greets you probably costs more than a week of what your business brings in, given how many precious stones are attached to the bodice.

This place is swanky.

Are you underdressed? You picked out one of your finest sets of clothes you have for the occasion; your favorite non-work button up, fitted slacks and your nice chukkas. Nothing that you're currently wearing ever so much as sees the inside of your work kitchen, never once coming into contact with a speck of flour or sugar.

And yet, you can't help but feel out of place and small standing in the lobby. Everything in here is just so… shiny, glitzy, and polished.

…You're underdressed.

And you shouldn't have brought your secret weapon in a dessert box- it probably looks so tacky. No one’s said anything, but that doesn’t mean they’re not thinking it. Then again, holding onto it is the only thing keeping you from gnawing your nails down to nubs.

You're still awkwardly fretting in the lobby, sure you stick out like a sore thumb, holding your silly little pink paper box in shame when you finally see a familiar set of shiny pink horns peeking over the heads of the throng of people in the lobby.

The crowd finally thins out, allowing you to visually take in your date approaching from the elevator.

He's handsome as ever, dressed similarly to how he was yesterday, but with a darker suit and a blush pink tie with an intricate filigree pattern you haven’t seen before. He adjusts his cufflinks- which look like they perfectly match his crystalline horns- as he approaches.

You’re so excited to see him, you pretty much hop out of your seat in expectation.

"Good evening." Carlyle walks over to you from the group exiting the elevator. "Sorry, I wanted to beat you here, but you know how the trains in this city are."

Lady of Flame, he's perfect. So charming and smooth and put together and it looks so effortless and you're sure he's not even nervous at all.

"No," You feel like you're lying, even though you know you aren’t. It felt like a hellish eternity- but he doesn't need to know that. "Not very long."

The hostess leads you to a table with a quality view through the tall, panoramic window looking over the city.

The height is almost dizzying- and as you stare out the window, settle into your seat and set down your box, you realize that the restaurant itself must be very slowly rotating, providing a complete view of Windrise City from your seat over time.

People of the winged variety even seem to be landing at designated areas themselves, rather than taking the elevator from the ground. As you're watching the sight, a waiter comes by with a carafe of water, filling your glasses and just as quickly disappearing.

"First date jitters?" Carlyle asks when your eyes focus back on him.

"This place is just so nice, and I… I can't help but feel a little out of my element."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The location, the decor, the vibe- You saw what the hostess was wearing, right?" You start to fiddle with the silverware roll, lowering your voice as a precaution. "She looks like she's rolled about in a baron's bank vault-"

Carlyle barely manages to keep from snorting into his water glass.

"Not that she doesn't seem lovely, mind you, I'm only using that as an example- but," You motion to yourself. "Baker's son. From a farming village? I'd wager that chandelier cost more than my parents' bakery-"

"Ah, I see. Are you uncomfortable?"

"...Maybe."

"Don't be, you belong here as much as anyone else. …But if it's bad, we don't have to stay."

You start to relax marginally, soothed by Carlyle validating you being here.

"No, no, we can stay. It really does seem just lovely. If you're sure it’s alright…I just feel a tick underdressed…"

"You're dressed quite well as far as I'm concerned. Usually I see you in the apron, and while I certainly appreciate the apron look, this is a nice breath of fresh air for me.”

You would feel a bit silly, needing to be given verbal permission to exist in a restaurant, but it's hard to focus on chiding yourself when your brain is flooded with good feelings from the compliment you just received.

Your sense of belonging doesn’t last very long, as the second you open the menu, you’re hit with the worst sticker shock you’ve had, outside of buying kitchen equipment.

"Do you… often come to super fancy places like this to eat?"

You can't help but wonder if you're anywhere near each other in terms of income. …Would that be a problem for him? If he's used to this kind of thing every day…

You know there's a stereotype that lawyers tend to make a lot, and you don't do awfully for yourself with the bakery- wedding cakes aren't cheap, after all- but this place is not really within the scope of your normal budget. You're just as content frequenting the little hole-in-the-wall corner store in your neighborhood.

"Hahah. No, nonono." Carlyle shakes his head, incredulous. "This is definitely a special occasions only sort of place for me."

"Oh, whew…" You let out a long breath, before feeling a smile creep onto your face. "So, you define this as a special occasion?"

"Yes. A first date is a special occasion, as far as I'm concerned. A special occasion for a special person." The fond smile he gives you over the menu in return makes you want to melt. "Plus, you endured something difficult yesterday, and you overcame it. Is that not a reason enough to allow yourself a reward?"

"Ahh- don't remind me-" You hold your temple and wince at the empty wine glass on your side of the table, already deciding you won't be partaking tonight. "Thanks again for taking such bang-up care of me yesterday…"

"Don't mention it. I'd want someone to treat me with care too, if I was going through something of that nature."

"That's really kind of you, you know. I guess it comes with territory of exes, right? Having that experience with that, yourself…"

"...From work…? Yes, I try to treat my clients as carefully as I can, I'm sure it's bled into my personal life, too…" Carlyle replies, seemingly trying to make sense of your comparison out loud to himself.

"No, I mean," Muted terror builds in you by the second, realizing you've waltzed right into a minefield of a topic. "...From your own divorces?"

Carlyle pauses for a moment then laughs, a deep warm one.

"Oh, hahah- I was wondering when that was going to come up. It always does..." He shakes his head, dark eyes crinkling at the edges from his amusement and subtle chagrin. "I've never been married, myself; let alone divorced."

"But your horns…?" You trail off, quietly wondering how both things are true. Kirby wouldn't steer you wrong… "I'm so sorry- is that problematic to assume? I'm probably making a right fool of myself-"

"No, you're not wrong to assume that. That is usually the reason why a gargoyle would wear caps like mine." He motions towards them with an open hand. "But I wear them because my horns were damaged when I was a kid."

"Oooh, that makes sense. That would… definitely rule that out then."

His face twists into the little smirk you’ve grown familiar with, the one when he thinks what he’s about to say is amusing.

"Right? In my professional experience, it's uncommon for grade schoolers to be divorced."

"I wouldn't have guessed." You can't help but laugh. At least he's not offended… "I suppose it's personal preference in your case?"

"Correct. My choice was to wear caps and have people think I'm divorced, or go without and have people assume I'm taken. Mattered much less when I was a child, obviously, but as I got older I decided continuing to wear them would be the best option for me."

"I quite like them." You smile, watching the way the light from the chandelier high above glints off their rosy points.

"I'm glad- Even moreso that you still wanted to date me, thinking I was serially divorced."

"Of course I would. You've gotten a face full of my baggage, so it seems only fair. …Any other notable exes? You've gotten a crash course on my only one…"

"Not a lot of that to speak of, myself. I haven't dated anyone for longer than a year or so… Nothing that ever became serious."

"Oh… Should I be worried about my shelf life, then…?" You laugh, only half joking.

"No, definitely not. Dating before was more a compulsory way to waste time, if anything. I was starting to lose interest in it altogether, if I'm being completely honest. Until I walked into your shop. No one has really ever captured my attention the way that you have."

“That’s… very sweet of you to say.” You feel your heartbeat a little faster, and the blood goes straight to your face, the temptation to hide behind your hands growing by the moment.

“It’s true.” He affirms.

The conversation is temporarily silenced when the waiter shows up to take your order.

In the momentary quiet following, you find yourself taking in the features of his face, eyes languidly tracing one of the erosion lines up, until your gaze settles on his horns.

"How did it happen? … lf you don't mind sharing. I don't want to bring up any bad memories…"

"Mmm. We got new bicycles for our 10th birthday. Someone thought it'd be fun to put a stick in the spokes of my back tire while we were riding at top speed."

You grimace, taking a quick breath of air in through your teeth in sympathy pain.

"Yes, it was as pretty an outcome as you can imagine. Flew right over the handlebars and landed headfirst onto concrete." Carlyle chuckles, almost wistfully despite the gruesome nature of what he's describing. “Luckily, since I’m a gargoyle, I only walked away with busted horns and a few scrapes on my face, and not anything more serious.”

"Oh my- I'm glad there was no lasting damage, at least… Your parents must've been worried sick."

"My mother was absolutely livid with him- she still gets so mad whenever it gets brought up. But in Marcus' defense, he really didn't realize what was going to happen. He felt so bad afterwards…" Carlyle laughs and grins one of his wide, slightly fanged smiles. "…And it was pretty funny."

"It's hard to imagine getting up to that much mischief. The worst my sister and I ever did was ruin batches of bread here and there... Or fall out of the neighbor's tree and twist a shoulder trying to pick apples."

The time until your meals arrive is spent sharing stories about your respective siblings, finding that despite you having an older sister and him having a technically younger brother, they are loveably insufferable in similar ways.

It’s good to know that you can connect about things outside of work, but you feel as if there’s still so much you have to learn about him. It’s an equally daunting and exciting prospect. You want to know him better- to get even closer. It’s something you have been too hurt to let yourself feel about anyone in a long time, and you’re eating it up.

"Um, so…" You cringe a bit at how canned your questions are. But you've spoken with him for months now, why are you agonizing over every bit of conversation in the context of a date? "What do you do for fun outside of work? I feel like I mostly see you in the scope of your job..."

"Ah, right. Like stalking me at the law library?" He smirks.

"Like picking up cupcake orders for your coworkers," You correct, playfully. "The one time you came over socially so far wasn't for the best of reasons so far…"

"Well, I'm a bit of a homebody. So, nothing that exciting, if I'm being honest. Mostly reading, or watching documentaries or-" Carlyle produces his device from his pocket, scrolling for something before showing you the screen. "Marcus told me not to bring this up on the first date because it's, and I quote, 'lame nerd shit'. However… I have a feeling you'll appreciate it."

The picture this time is what looks to be a screenshot of a video game. It has a soft, cute looking style, with what's probably his tiny, chibi avatar- given the resemblance, save for the cat ears and tail- standing posed in celebration with its arms out. What's of even more interest to you is what's towering behind his avatar though: what looks to be a scale model of the Windrise City Courthouse, composed entirely of pixel materials.

"Oh-!" You exclaim, punched in the gut by the cuteness. "Carlyle, this is absolutely precious!"

"You think so?"

"Yes! This must've taken so much time to make- and so much patience." You go on, zooming in on the image to look at the finer details you can see. "All these immaculate little touches! I'm impressed."

"I'm flattered. But you would know much more about the intricacies of making beautiful things with your hands, I think. I've seen your work."

You can't keep the blood rushing to your face, warming your cheeks with affection. Compliments are always good, but something about having your effort and skill recognized is on a whole different level of warm, fuzzy feelings.

You talk more about your respective hobbies outside of work over your meals. Carlyle speaks a bit about not only the cute sandbox game that he showed you, but some of his other favorite games; as well as his favorite documentaries (crime) and his favorite novels (mysteries), both of which are a bit more what you expected from a lawyer. He even manages to get you to talk about specialty loose leaf tea blends and your admittedly embarrassing interest in trashy, guilty pleasure programs.

"Oh, I've almost forgot," You pick up the paper box containing your secret weapon. "Since it's about time for dessert- you should try this."

"Ah." Carlyle says, accepting the box as you hand it to him. "I had a feeling that's what this was."

"It is. And I hate to inform you, but you're in for it this time."

"Oh? Is that right?" Carlyle chuckles, and dexterously unfolds the top of the box, letting the warm, pleasant smell of fresh baked good escape. "It smells amazing."

There's no doubt in your mind; you’ve made something perfect for him this time, you're sure.

Baking the kardemummabullar went off as well as you can hope for a baking project to go. Meticulously mixed, proved, shaped and cut, then braided and twisted over themselves in intricate, love filled little knots, before you finally baked them off. No glaze or icing in sight- only slivered almonds on top to finish, and a sparse dotting of the typical pearl sugar. You even made sure to pick the one that looked the most beautifully appetizing to go into the box and make the journey here with you.

It’s perfect.

You don't even try to conceal the fact you're watching intensely with an expectant smile, waiting on bated breath.

It takes what feels like a lifetime for him to assess it. It's pure torture.

"...This is good." Carlyle laughs through a partial mouthful, so surprised that he momentarily disregards his table manners. "Really good."

"Haha," You gasp out a laugh, releasing the death grip you had on your cloth napkin."You're not just saying that to be nice?"

"No- you know I would tell you if I didn't like it. Light, not too sweet, strong flavor, pleasant texture. It's like you plucked the perfect dessert for me directly out of my mind." Carlyle says, having to pause to let it sink in himself. “It would honestly be somewhat disturbing, if I didn’t know that’s exactly what you’ve been working to accomplish.”

Laughter spills out of your mouth, unstoppable by the hand that reaches up to hold it back. You don't care if you look like a fool to the stuffy old rich winged folk in the tables around you; you're overwhelmed by this pure sense of satisfaction.

You did it.

You beam, surely glowing incandescently, as you watch Carlyle meticulously finish the whole thing. Your hand curls against your chin, trying to downplay just how ecstatic you’re feeling.

Carlyle's hand gently nudges underneath where your other is idling on the tabletop.

You sit there in pleasant silence, hand in hand, just enjoying the moment together. Normally, your eyes would be drawn to savor the beautiful, sprawling panoramic view while you had ample access to it, but you can’t pull your eyes from the handsome specimen in front of you.

It’s almost like the weight you’ve felt on your chest for the last year has completely evaporated.

For the first time in a long time, you feel light. Warm. Like your heart is full to the brim.

You finally stir as that particular arrangement of jazzy piano music transitions into the next. You regrettably pull your hand from underneath the weight of his hand, the smooth stone surface gliding over your skin as you do.

“We should probably stop camping this table, huh…?” You say, but honestly, you would bask in the moment forever if you could.

Your time at the restaurant comes to an end, and when you exit the elevator at ground level, Carlyle, the gentleman he is, offers to walk you home. Despite you living out of the way of his route back, you took him up on the offer- you just wanted to squeeze every last drop of time with him you could out of tonight. And not just because you’re riding the high of finally making a treat he loves.

You're standing in the alley behind your shop, in front of the stairs that lead up directly to your living space from the street.

“I had a great time tonight.” You say, rusty enough at dating that you don’t really know how to navigate this sort of exchange anymore.

“I’m glad. So did I.” Carlyle stands with his hands in his pockets, looking down at you with the most charming, bright smile. “I particularly enjoyed the dessert.”

“So, are you a convert now?” You smile wide and reach out for his hand, which he readily produces. His fingers fit nicely in yours, and you find your eyes lingering on his lips. “Have you been reformed of your sweet-hating ways?”

“I don’t think I’ll become an enthusiastic dessert person any time soon,” He squeezes your hand lightly, careful not to press too hard with his stone digits, but the points of his claws on the back of your hand feel delightful. “But there is something sweet that I’ve acquired a taste for now.”

The heat of desire is building up in you, concentrating in a heat where your dress shirt collar lays on the back of your neck.

Heavens, you just want him to kiss you.

Maybe if you stare at his mouth a little longer? How else can you hint at what you want? Or you could always just… verbally ask him to… But would that be too forward…?

“Would you like a kiss?” Carlyle asks, seemingly effortlessly.

Of course he asks, just like that. It’s so like him- he’s never indicated that he was anything less than respectful of boundaries.

“Yes!” You blurt out, perhaps too emphatic, but it just makes him grin. “Please.”

Then, mercifully, he leans in and kisses you.

You're standing in the relative quiet of a weekend night in the business district, but fireworks might as well be going off behind you.

You expected his lips to be cold against yours, but you’re pleasantly surprised to find them warm- just like his forehead when you pressed your lips to it yesterday. Firmer than an average numan’s, but still soft and full, with the added novelty of being as smooth as polished stone.

His hand cradles your jaw affectionately, the gentle touch making you want to melt.

As soon as you’re sure you’re not dreaming, your free hand grips his shoulder, crumpling the thin fabric of his dress shirt in your desperately clenching fingers, wordlessly begging for more.

"It's getting a bit late." You say when you finally part, forcing the words out before you can second guess yourself. "Carlyle, Would you perhaps… like to come upstairs?"

He looks at you quizzically with a slight tilt of his head, seemingly trying to make sense of your contradictory statements.

"...For coffee, of course."

"Oh." A light of recognition appears in his eyes. "Absolutely. I'd love to.”

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mxm #mlm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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yuzuwakano · 4 months

Text

I Know You (itrin1) Itoshi Rin x Kiyora Jin

"Itoshi Rin is a terrifying figure to the other Blue Lockers, except for Kiyora, who knows him already. Itoshi Rin, itrin1@email .com, 4102 unused store points. A horror buff who came into Jin's work nearly everyday to rent a new movie."

no warnings, this was also posted on AO3! Leave some kudos here!

Kiyora had arrived early, a habit he had accidentally developed thanks to his older brother. Normally he was thankful for it but right now it was a little embarrassing. Sitting in a room staring at a silver eyed teen as he periodically shuffled and organized a set of cards. Something about it was extremely embarrassing. Jin almost audibly sighed when he heard the mechanical whirl of the automatic door- another player.

If the indication of another player relieved him to the point of sighing, realizing who the other player was, was enough to make him suck his breath right back in. He knew this guy. Itoshi Rin, itrin1@email .com, 4102 unused store points. A horror buff who came into Jin's work nearly everyday to rent a new movie.

“Returning this,” Rin had put a DVD case down on the counter, Clockwork Orange. “And renting these,” he set another 2 cases down next to it, Final Destination 1 and 2. Jin started at the cash register, running the return then clocking him for the rent, something he does so often he could probably do it in his sleep. For Rin especially, who comes in so often that Jin doesn't bother asking for his information anymore.

Rin has been coming into the store where Kiyora works for longer than he's actually worked there. A music store that doubles as a DVD rental shop, called AMITY. They sold well, had a solid circle of loyal customers, but those guys only came for the music, everyone only came for music. Kiyora wouldn't be surprised if Rin was the only reason that the owners haven't discontinued their rental service. Rin came in to rent once every other day, at least.

Jin had timed it, he'd watch one movie a day. If the two movies on the counter were anything to go by Rin wouldn't be back tomorrow, but the day after. It was routine for him, there was hardly a day where he wouldn't see rin. Despite that, Jin doesn't know if they've ever actually spoken, or at least if he's ever actually spoken. Does “returning this, renting this” count as a conversation? Probably not. Still despite their lack of words, Jins sure hes typed Rins email into the computer so often he'll remember it for the rest of time. Itd be a good password. Itrin1.

Kiyora had never seen a program like Blue Lock, and judging by how his team's first game was going, it was obvious why. With steaks so high it wasn't surprising that the players would get a bit barbaric. It was apparent to Kiyora at least that they would never make a goal like this. He’d tried to get the ball, but after a teammate “accidentally” elbowed him in the chest to get the ball, he had given up. As much as he wanted to score, he also wanted to live, and considering how quickly his teammates were willing to attempt on his life…it wasnt happening.

“Morons,” Rin's voice came from behind Kiyora, startling him in the process. “I told you to pass to me, you all are seriously pathetic.” Rin looked royally pissed off, running forward and stealing the ball from the group of teenage monkeys with ease. Like a pack of wolves both the opposing team and his own charged and howled after him. In an instant, Rin dodged one, then five, then fifteen players with ease, leaving each one in shock.

Itoshi rin was the highest ranker in their stratum, and it was obvious why, both to Jin and the rest of the players on the field. Standing eye to eye with the stunned goalkeeper, Rin spoke, “Stop wasting my time.'' He turned his body to the rest of the room, and Kiyora could see the violent teal of his eyes from the other side of the field. “You all play at such a low level, its actually sad. If i played that poorly, i would just give up. You obviously have no future here.”

Kiyora was stunned, but for an entirely different reason than the rest of his peers. Of all time he had ‘known’ Rin, he had never came across as outwardly rude as he was now. He had always been relatively polite to Jin, even when he had first started and would mess up often. Rin had always been patient and quiet, a bit of stone wall, sure but so was Jin.

Jin wasn't sure if he could even judge Rin in that aspect, or at all. Jin knew he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine, but he wasn't rude, or at least he tried not to be. Had Rin always been like this? Why was he nice to him? Could the way he treated Jin even be considered as nice?

The shock must've been all over his face, cause walking back to his side of the field, Rin froze. After a few second of shocked eye contact, his cold, blank stare gave way for a mix of shock and guilt. Rin was the first to look away, keeping his head down as he continued to his mark.

Rin made 14 goals against the other team. The rest of the team had made none. Kiyora hadn't managed to get the ball.

Kiyora wasn't usually the kind of person to wallow, but after being violently humbled earlier he felt he had the right. Poking at his veggie stir fry and watching as his shower wet hair drip onto the table, Jin thought about Rin. Since the shock faded away he felt a little dense. Who would've guessed the guy who only got horror movies,and re-rented The Shining every Friday would have been an asshole? And who would've guessed the kid who barely practiced in favor of working and dancing would have sucked compared to 300 of Japan's best youth players?

Clank! Rin dropping his plate on the table scared Jin so bad he might as well have actually fallen out of his chair. If that wasn't enough of a scare, then Rin’s next move of sitting down directly next to him would've been enough to make his skin crawl.

Something about the way Rin moved was incredibly awkward. Like he was hyper-conscious of every blink and movement of his fingers. Still, as he moved he never took his blank stare off his dinner plate. “I used my goals to get my phone back.”

…Okay? What was Jin supposed to say to that? Was that cool? That he was so rude to their team that he made even the opposing team scared to get the ball? Oh my God, Rin! You’re so cool! I wish I was a douche!

“Okay.”

Rin paused for an awkward amount of time, leaving Jin staring at him. “Do you want to watch a movie?” Rin’s eyes stayed locked on his food. Is this Rins way of trying to be friends? Is that what was happening? Admitably, Jins never had many friends. So, if that is what Rin's doing, Jin wouldn't know.

Kiyora didn't have an answer. Well, he did, it was no. Jin did Not want to watch a movie. But he’d be lying if he had said he had never wanted to know more about Rin. This was his chance, and while you shouldn't talk during movies, This could open the door to actually knowing more about Rin.

Jin awkwardly forced himself to calm down, at least visually. Is this how Rin was thinking? Was this how he forced himself to move next to jin? If it was, he hoped he didn't look as awkward as Rin had. “Okay.”

The Shining was, in Kiyoras opinion, overrated. Or at least, not as good as he had imagined it considering how often Rin had rented it from AMITYS. “So,” despite the past 2 and a half hours they had spent together, Rin still wasn't really looking at him. Baby steps. ”What’d you think?”

Kiyora thought the cafeteria was a crummy place to watch a movie. Kiyora thought if he stood up from his chair now his legs might give out due to the irreversible damage the cheap chairs had done to his ass. Kiyora thought that getting to know Rin wasn't worth never dancing or playing soccer again.

“If you have the movie on your phone, why'd you rent it so often?” That was a thought that crossed his mind the moment the movie started. Rin spent $2.25 every week for a movie he already owned? It wasn't even a special edition or super cut or even a VHS. It was the same movie Rin had installed. Why pay for a movie you already have?

For the first time since that morning on the field, Rin looked him in the eyes. Shock. A brief horror. Then, disgust. “Mind your business.” The sudden hissing in Rin's voice startled him. Honestly, more than the movie he had just watched. Jin breathed out a displeased “sorry I asked,” as he collected his tray and left rin alone.

Jin never had many friends, and while he knew this wasn't the way to do it, if Rin was still talking to him like that despite their “history” (if you could even call it that) he probably wasn't worth being friends with. That sucked, sure, but at least he didn't have to wonder what Rin was like anymore.

Dumping his tray with the rest, Jin fought himself for a second before turning around towards Rin. Itrin1 felt like a whole chapter of his life, and if this was how it ended then Jin deserved an ending shot. An end credits scene, an extended cut that The Shining didn't have.

Rin had not moved, still in the chair, back to staring at his now empty plate. He stayed unmoving for a second before slamming his fist on the table, creating a sound so loud that it scared the few people still left in the cafeteria. Rin forcefully stood, his chair flying out behind him. He wasn't much kinder to the tray and if he had grabbed it any more forcefully the plate would have surely gone flying off.

Rin left out the opposite exit, not seeing that Jin had been watching for the entirety of his outburst. Had the question upset him that much? Or was he upset at his own response to the question, realizing he had most definitely fumbled a potential friend. Maybe he realized when he got out of here he probably wouldn't be able to go back to AMITYS.

Either way, he was pissed, and Kiyora was shocked. A simple conclusion ‘I Don't Want To Be Friends With This Guy’ had caused him to potentially traumatize the rest of the cafeterias patrons. Lovely. Jin’s cursing himself for not getting close with such a well tempered individual.

Jin's lone footsteps gave him lots to think about. Rin seemed to be as socially inept as he was, and he was an incredibly good player, he would have benefited from letting Rin fumble his way into a friendship with him. As selfish as that was. Rin didn't deserve that. Probably.

Jin's hair stuck to his face with sweat. He knew it was for nothing, training this hard when you're on a team with someone like Itoshi Rin was futile to say the least. But he didn't have anything else to do, Blue Lock took everything, and Rin cornered him so he couldn't get anything back.

“I went to see you.”

Jin must've jumped a whole foot off the ground. It was almost midnight and the rest of his team was asleep, or so he had thought. . Once again avoiding eye contact, standing in his pajamas, center field was Itoshi Rin.

Jin took a moment to breathe out the sudden jumpscare, “what?”

“You asked why I would rent when I owned the movie. I went to see you.” Rin was obviously uncomfortable and if Jin had learned anything from the past few days, he looked like he was gonna burst.

Jin felt his stomach churn, “why?” There it was. Rins face contorted till it settled on a look of anger and disgust. Jin had to admit, it suited him. “Why do you ask so many questions!?”

“I spent the first 3 months of knowing you asking for your name and email,” Jin turned away, maybe Rin didn't need to explain himself to Jin. “itrin1.”

“You remembered my email?”

“I stopped asking for the reason.” Rin stopped to think, had he seriously not noticed Jin would literally not talk at all during their interactions? “Right…”

“I’m sorry,” Rin cut him off, “for not being…nice... I'm trying.” Jin could think of a million different quips and reactions, but only one made it out of his head. “I can tell.”

They stood in silence for a minute, once again Jin is painfully aware how both he and Rin are bad at conversations. “Do you want to watch a movie?” Jin broke a tight lip smile and started towards Rin, “no. I don't like movies. Let's listen to music.”

Rin looked shocked at his sudden admission but held his tongue as Jin walked past him. Rin was bad at making friends, but even though it took a sudden confession, Jin was getting better.

leave kudos here!

#blue lock #itoshi rin #kiyora jin #kiyora x rin #kiyorin #itoshi rin x kiyora jin #bllk #bllk ship #blue lock ship

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thezolblade · 1 year

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What is Martin into sexually? So far, I got the impression he's not nearly as kinky as Jon, but to be fair Jon is pretty hardcore.

Oh yeah, Martin's not nearly as kinky. There are enough points of overlap for compatibility if they work on it, at least.

Martin likes informal romance as a lead-in to calm his nerves. Cuddling up, having a laugh together, putting on music or TV as background noise and a topic of conversation while they relax. Thanking each other for thoughtful little gifts or home cooked meals, kissing while they're feeling all affectionate, and gradually getting more heated. Slipping hands under clothes to get hot and bothered before undressing, to make that part less awkward. Maintaining lots of skin contact, and being well cushioned by a good bed or sofa. Resting together for a good long while afterwards, and waking up together in the morning.

(He gets self-conscious and worried about anything too formal, like expensive restaurant meals, or events with a posh dress code, or the kind of clubs that are too loud and crowded for him, where everyone else seems to be showing more skin than he wants to, personally. He also feels really awkward about undressing in advance, all in one go, in front of a partner who's watching and judging. He's tried out casual sex, and come to the conclusion that he doesn't like it so rushed or impersonal, since it hits him too hard in the self-worth issues.)

He likes getting to take a break from feeling perpetually guilty and worried, by being told that there's nowhere else he needs to be, and nothing else he should be doing, everything's okay, he's doing great, he can relax now...

So that plays into the whole feelgood domesticity thing. When the atmosphere is set for a lazy day in bed with a boyfriend, it helps him feel like he's okay, and all is well.

He doesn't have as much experience with submissive play, but that can offer a similar appeal. When a partner who's promised to look after him takes the lead, and tells him that he's doing exactly what he's supposed to do, absolutely perfect, he doesn't need to worry about anything except being good, just like this...

Mm, he has a praise kink, and he likes abdicating responsibility when he can trust that it'll go well. He could really enjoy being tied up for gentle sex, and being held and soothed, with a partner stroking his hair. Though he'd probably be too embarrassed to ask for that, even at the best of times.

When he feels restless to prove himself, he'd also enjoy being of service; preparing treats and hand-feeding his partner, or being fed a few bites of a meal that he made for them. Giving a massage, and following it up with sex.

He'd find it very cathartic to hold the sort of scene where he makes a mistake, and gets reassured by a dom that he's still good and lovable, with lots of kissing and "I know you're doing your best". (He'd never think of that as something he could request, so it wouldn't happen unless they stumble into it somehow.)

He'd be up for occasionally doing a silly roleplay to help process his demons - probably not more than once every month or two, if he was following a schedule of his own desires. 'Oh no, a sexy monster has followed me home', or 'my boss is telling me off for being too sexy and distracting', that sort of thing. When he's feeling that adventurous, he wouldn't mind play-acting a struggle or a physical punishment, but only if he didn't actually have to do anything that really hurt.

All in all, he could deeply enjoy a lot of things that Jon would enjoy too. But so long as they have awful issues with trust, consent and communication, that'll get in the way.

#heart of the disaster #tma thoughts #rozzlynn's fanfic

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babblingstacey · 2 years

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And that's it for the Teenage Kick series. This was a lot of fun and I really loved these teens. I may go back to Laia & Jazz to play their college years; I left all the TK sims in positions to go forward - except of Iggy of course since I already did that series.

It feels strange to have a full ending to a series...usually they just sorta peter out.

But I'm excited for something new now.

Some of my thoughts and opinions on HSY below the cut (and mods I used to fix the weirdness).

I enjoyed HSY more than I though I would - I think it will be something to incorporate in every gameplay going forward, even if I don't live in Copperdale (note: I can't tell you how many times I've called it Cooperfield or Cooperdale). Honestly, it's just nice to have something different for the teens, easily the most boring age to me. (now it's kids because I've played all the aspirations so many times).

I didn't have any of the game breaking bugs - never had an issue was saving, etc - but there were many annoyances. Thank goodness for modders.

Sims randomly asking my active Sim - no matter who it is - to be BFFs/Prom Dates. This was so annoying, especially when they barge into houses to ask super inappropriate Sims, like kids. LittleMsSams's new mod really helped, though teens would still randomly barge into the house sometimes. If I saw them in the house, I just used MCCC to get them to leave.

Social Bunny Randomness. I got really annoyed by all the pillow fight or prom posts (that never happened) by my sims. I also hated the mean messages that would pop up from played sims that wouldn't happen or the bugs where my Sims would post messages to themselves. I hope they create more interesting posts - I haven't found a mod for it but I think they exist. I just stopped checking it in game. My teens only had other teens as friends so I didn't have the really inappropriate ones from adults or kids.

Constant playing on phones. Modded that immediately. I don't care if it's real life, it was annoying.

The active school classmates. I have Rex's ChooseYourClassmates mod but I couldn't get it to work. Didn't matter as much when I had all 5 of my teens going together but I tried a couple of times. Maybe I'm just dumb.

Wants/Fears. this didn't bother me as much - until Laia got her side hustle and nearly immediately got the "dead end job" fear. The fear of unfulfilled dreams was annoying - but eventually I could get it to go away when I'd finally get a want I could fulfill for them. But the dead end job was really annoying and I see it getting even more annoying with my usual gameplay. I did download MissHissy's Hopes & Fears mod so I hope that helps.

Other mods I used: Longer Prom (beichen), More BFF (@littlemssam - I actually had that one already TBH), Take Exam fix and Stop Changing Phone Color (@littlemssam again - I had forgotten I had immediately downloaded the phone one so this never has bothered me since the first week). There are probably others but those I feel gave me the best HSY experience.

#TeenageKicksGameplay #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #simblr #LaiaAkbar #FelicityMcGuire #JazzDavis #iggy pancakes #AriPark

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charles-rxwlands · 3 years

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the aftermath of 'i love you.'

this is the sequel to my fic how kaz would react to 'i love you.' which was basically all angst. spoiler alert: this is all angst, too.

pairing: kaz brekker/reader but not exactly (??) cause they've broken up so uh

rating: teen

word count: 1.5k (rounded up)

summary: what happened after you said 'i love you,' to kaz

tags: gender neutral!reader, angst, unhappy ending

warnings: swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, and i think that's it? but pls lmk if anything else is needed

read on ao3

a/n: the writing quality of this really went 📉📈📉 but in my defense i wrote most of this while my brother watched tommy innit videos at full volume so ofc i was distracted.

and fyi muzzen is not an oc, he's one of the minor minor characters in soc!

once again, feedback and reblogs are appreciated! hope you enjoy reading <3

Kaz's pov

He watched you from the other side of the room as you blatantly flirted with Muzzen. He had his glass of kvas (Jesper had begged for the club to order the ravkan mead for weeks) in a death grip. You ran your fingers through your hair, and smiled at something Muzzen had said. He tugged lightly on the collar of your jacket, making you laugh softly. Kaz's heart tightened, jealousy settling in his chest.

You looked happy, even as you conversed with the brainless bodyguard who probably couldn't count up to ten. Kaz hadn't been able to make you happy like that. But you had loved him anyway, and he had 'fucked you over', as you'd put it.

I love you.

You're a coward, Brekker.

Kaz let out something in between a sigh and a frustrated grunt. He drained the rest of his drink in one go, and set the glass down more violently than he'd intended. His scowl deepened, if that were even possible, when he sensex Inej slide into the seat next to him. He waited for her to speak, because he sure as hell wasn't going to initiate the conversation. What was there to say? You and him were over. And it was all his fault.

"Kaz," Inej said. Her tone of voice was gentle - too gentle. He didn't want to be pitied, for fuck's sake.

"What is it, Inej?" he snapped.

"Tell me what happened between you and Y/n."

"Nothing to tell." He shrugged.

Annoyance flickered over her face. "I care about you both, you know," she said. "I don't like seeing you two like this."

He gave her a withering look, if only to disguise the ugly feeling that flared up within him at her words.

Don't care about me.

Don't love me.

You can't.

Kaz bit the inside of his cheek and hung his head. He studiously ignored Inej for a solid minute. At some point, he noticed that you and Muzzen had abandoned your corner table, most likely to go suck each other's faces off. The thought sent jolts of jealousy through his heart.

"For Saint's sake- did she break your heart? Is that it?" she demanded, apparently having had enough of his silence.

He 'tsked' in annoyance, standing up abruptly. He snatched up his cane. "Maybe I broke hers," he muttered before walking off. He didn't want to answer questions today. Or ever.

Inej didn't follow him, and he was thankful for that. He trudged up the stairway, the rickety steps creaking under his weight. Emotions swirled within him, brewing up a storm. It was just a matter of time before he exploded, because as much as he hated to admit it, he was still human. Especially when it came to you.

You had been one of the first people to see his humanity, and the last thing he wanted was to become another monster in your life.

But then again, maybe it was too late.

Suddenly, he bumped into someone. He hissed, flinching backwards. "Watch it-," his next words died on his tongue when he looked up, and came face to face with you. For a few, painfully awkward moments, the two of you held eye contact. Your face was stony, but your e/c eyes betrayed some kind of emotion that Kaz couldn't be bothered to decipher right now.

"Sorry, Brekker," you apologised. Your tone was flat. "C'mon, Muzzen," you gestured for him to follow you back down with a jerk of your head.

His hand twitched at his side as you left, almost as if his body yearned for your presence. Your shoulders nearly touched - missing each other by less than a centimetre. He couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

Letting out another sharp breath, Kaz resumed the walk back to his room. His footsteps grew quicker and more urgent. Your name echoed in his mind, as well as the three words that had haunted him for days now.

Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He slammed the door behind him when he finally reached his quarters. His cane fell to the floor, although his gloves stayed on. He stumbled into the cramped bathroom, bracing two hands against the rusty sink. He twisted the tap open, ignoring the squeak of the old mechanism that would have otherwise annoyed him. A gentle stream of water flowed from the tap head, and he splashed some on his face.

No, he thought stubbornly, I am not going to break down because of Y/n.

The despair that rattled inside of him said otherwise.

f only he had reacted better when you'd told him you loved him. If only he hadn't yelled at you and called you all those horrible things that weren't true about you in the slightest. You weren't selfish at all. You were the exact opposite. You were kind, and thoughtful, and understanding - so, so understanding of him and his endless baggage. And he had- he had ruined it all, because of his own cowardice.

You're a coward, Brekker.

I know, he thought, not for the first time. I'm sorry.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Your pov

"I- I'm sorry, Muzzen, but I think I'm gonna turn in for the night," you said to the bodyguard, smiling sheepishly. "I've got a bit of a headache."

"It's alright," he said, giving a half-hearted smile back. It was clear he didn't believe you. You didn't know if that was because your acting skills weren't as up to par as you thought, or because the bodyguard was smarter than you made him out to be.

You all but ran up the stairs, nearly sagging in relief as the door closed behind you. You suddenly couldn't stand the feeling of the fabric of your coat on your skin and shrugged it off; Kaz had bought it for you, because of course the reminder of him lingered everywhere you went.

Your room wasn't anywhere near big, but it was a good way away from Kaz's, and for the first time, you were grateful for that. You couldn't deal with him at the moment.

Wait, no, that came out wrong. It wasn't him specifically that you couldn't deal with, it was the bad memories (or, rather, memory, as there was one key shitshow that had ruimed everything) that came with him.

Oh, Saints, why, why, why had you told him you loved him? Things had been going so well! And then you- you fucked it up. Yes, you had blatantly blamed this on Kaz the day of the argument, but deep down, you knew you were the one at fault.

Your heart ached every time you thought of him. You missed Kaz. So, so much. It hadn't escaped you how he had been eyeing you and Muzzen earlier in the evening. You could only hope that he was staring out of jealousy, and not devising some foolproof plan to get rid of you.

What would it take for Kaz to forgive you? Or had you fucked things up beyond repair?

"Shit," you whispered, leaning your head against the wall. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. "Shit." You didn't know what exactly was 'shit'. Maybe the decision you came to moments later.

I'm going to apologise to him," you said to your empty room. "I will."

With a sniffle, you cracked open your door and slipped back outside. You had left your coat in a pile on the floor, making you vulnerable to the cold that pierced the empty areas of the Crow Club. Your feet carried you to Kaz's room naturally. You barely had to think about where you were going. Instead, you thought of Kaz himself.

Kaz. Your fallen angel, you used to call him in your mind. You couldn't express how sorry you were. You didn't even know what you were sorry for. Loving him? Loving him, and saying it aloud? Loving him, and saying it aloud, because you were so sure he felt the same way?

You had been being selfish. Kaz said so himself. Selfish and stupid. Of course Kaz didn't love you.

At last, you were in front of his door. You raised a fist to knock. Opened your mouth to call out. Except you did none of those. You just stood there, tears welling up in your eyes once again, a familiar pang of sadness in your chest.

He wouldn't want to see you. How could he? This was your fault, wasn't it? It was your selfishness, and your wishful thinking that had gotten you two into this position. You missed him, but you wouldn't go as far as to think he missed you, too. If you attempted to apologise… would it really be for him?

You wouldn't be selfish. Not again.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

You turned around, and walked away.

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theresthesnitch · 3 years

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Dear readers,

While we generally try to let these diary entries speak for themselves, we at the Daily Prophet feel the need to provide a forward for today’s entry. We have not edited or revised this letter in any way. We have chosen, with the consent of Mr. Potter, to publish the entry in full. Please know that no other entry has affected our staff as much as the one below.

Please be kind to yourself and read on if you feel you are prepared to do so.

To Harry Potter: you have our kindest thoughts and deepest sympathies.

G.R. Abbott, Editor

Please turn to page 3 to continue reading.

October 24, 1981

My dearest Harry,

My sweetest darling. My little love. My bundle of endless, boundless energy. I hope I am always able to remember the way your eyes light up when you see me, and the smile that breaks open your face when you laugh. As much as I hate the situation we're in now, I shall forever be grateful for this closeness. It is just you, and me, and your father, and we have so much time to spend together - time that may have otherwise been devoted to silly meaningless things.

I hope that one day you can forgive me. I am not a perfect mother, if such a thing exists, but I have tried to do the best I can by you. And yet, I am burdened by a great deal of guilt for the lot in life that has been assigned to you because of my selfishness. James and I chose to have a baby, in the middle of the war, thinking that you could be our bright spot of happiness. You are, in every way, the best part of my life. However, because I wanted you to make my days happier, I have cursed you.

Sometimes I find myself wishing that James and I had never become pregnant. Not because you are not so incredibly loved my darling, because please do not think that is the case. However, by choosing to give you life, I have placed you at the center of this prophecy that will haunt you for your entire life.

The problem is that even if I had known then what I know now, I still wouldn't have changed a thing. I still would have pushed back against the forces of evil, stood up for those that needed it, and I still would have loved your father. Even to my dying breath I shall still love your father, and I shall still love you. I cannot change the situation we are in now, and I would not change you for anything.

I wish I could save you from this great burden. It is a mother's obligation to protect her child, and I have failed you. If you are truly meant to be the one who stops him then I'm afraid I know what this must mean. I want to be wrong. I hope I am wrong. Yet, fighting a war for the entirety of my adult life has left me disillusioned with the notion of hope. There is no hope here; only tragedy.

So I know what this must mean.

We didn't know, of course, that you would have a destiny when you were only a small thing in my womb. It wasn't until you were nearly born that we even heard about the prophecy. I tried to hold off the labor for just a few more hours so that you were born in August rather than July. But you came exactly when you wanted, exactly when you were meant to.

Sometimes, I still hope that it's not you, but that's a selfish thing, too. If I am hoping that it is not you, then by extension what I'm really doing is hoping that it's Alice's little boy, and how could a mother wish for that destiny on someone else's child. So I cannot hope for that either. There is no hope here.

I suppose I hope that your destiny comes calling quietly. I hope that it is a quiet victory and that nobody knows except that he is gone. And I hope it happens soon so that you can spend the rest of your life happy. I hope that you have the longest, happiest life possible.

I won't even bother hoping for the same for myself. That's not what this means. What it means for me…

It means that our time together is short, yours and mine and your dad’s. It means that you will grow up without us. It means…

It means that we are going to die.

I know that when the time comes, I won't be able to not stand in his way and try to protect you once more. Perhaps if it is your destiny I should just step aside, but I cannot. I cannot. I shall stand in front of you even if it is the last thing I shall ever do. If I can protect you for even a moment longer, it shall all have been worth it.

My darling baby. My life with you has been so beautiful. You are so loved. My biggest regret is that I shall not get to live to see more of it. If there’s some sort of afterlife, know that I shall always be watching you and waiting for you. I will see you again.

Please mind Sirius. I know he is not the same as having your parents, but he does care for you. I hope he reminds you how much I love you so often that the words are carved into your ears and your mind. And please do not believe any of the stories that he tells you, as I guarantee it is either an exaggeration or an outright lie.

Please always remember that I love you. I will love you forever. I will love you until my dying breath. I will love you in the beyond. I will love you until the very, very end.

#the last diary of lily potter #letter to Harry #jilytober #jilytober 2021 #jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fic #sirius black #the daily prophet presents #i know #I'm really sorry #this one hurts a bit #snitchwrites

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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Private Show (Choi Jongho) Rated

Pairing: Choi Jongho × Exotic Dancer! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Slight Fluff, Idol AU.

Summary: Knowing the maknae has been lusting for a certain expensive stripper, Yunho arranges a private dance just for him that includes a little bonus gift.

Word Count: 4.4K+

Warnings: Strip clubs, exhibitionism, voyeurism, pole dancing, masturbation, breast play, lap dance, spanking unprotected sex (always use protection), cum facial.

❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖

Paying no mind to the lovely lady that was currently running her fingers through his hair, Jongho's eyes kept wandering around the bright, neon lighted room, shifting around in his seat at times so that it would be easier to see the stage in front of him. The girl, feeling a bit disappointed to be slighted as such, turned her attention over to his companion, who was more than eager to accept her little dance on his lap. His large hands fought hard to keep them at his sides, knowing fully well the rules of not touching the exotic dancers. But there was certainly no rule about the girls touching the clients and some, like the bubbly and energetic one currently grinding on Yunho's lap, were more than happy to get a little handsy with them. He couldn't help the excited giggle as he tilted his head so she could glide her tongue down the side of his neck, loving every second of the attention he was getting. Noticing that his younger friend was hardly enjoying himself, Yunho sighed before taking out a couple bills from his pocket and holding it out for the young seductress. Wanting to leave him with one last souvenir, the stripper pulled one of the straps of her glittery bra down, allowing the male idol to get a glimpse of her nipple. Biting his lip, Yunho discreetly placed the bundle of cash inside her garment, sighing blissfully as he watched her saunter off to go entertain another man.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself." He pointed out as he looked at Jongho with a curious gaze.

"Maybe because I'm just not into these types of things..?" Jongho shrugged as he reached for the glass that was on the table in front of him.

"Bet you wouldn't be saying that if Y/N was the one performing."

Yunho smirked when Jongho sipped on his drink too harshly, lightly letting out a cough after choking on the alcoholic liquid.

"What?"

Yunho rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Oh come on dude, you practically drool and get hard everytime she's on stage."

Jongho lowered himself in his seat, gaze wandering uncomfortably across the glittery floor underneath him. Chuckling in an endearing tone, Yunho patted Jongho's back affectionately.

"Awww. Does the Ateez' baby have a little crush on the hot stripper?" He teased him.

"What?! N-no..." Jongho furrowed his eyebrows, moving away from Yunho as far as he was able to in their seating booth.

"I mean, I honestly don't blame you. There's a reason she's the most sought after and expensive dancer in this place."

Catching sight of one of the bouncers heading their way, Yunho inwardly smiled to himself as the plan he had devised was about to come into action, the main highlight of why he had dragged Jongho down to the club with him, albeit with very little resistance from the younger male.

"Excuse me sir? Miss Y/N is ready to receive you in the private room."

Widening his eyes at the bouncer's announcement, Jongho whipped his head over at Yunho, who had the biggest and somewhat unnerving grin plastered on his face, almost as if he was taunting the maknae. Jongho especially felt somewhat slighted when his Hyung dared to produce his infamous black card out of his pocket, waving it around in front of the other's unamused face.

"Of fucking course you'd be able to afford a private dance with her." Jongho rolled his eyes, trying to seem as though it didn't bother him that Yunho had actually gone out of his way to book a personal session with the most desired woman in the establishment.

"Black card privilege my friend." Yunho giggled, putting his card safely back in his wallet after making sure to flex it.

"Oh suck it." Jongho grumbled, no longer to hide his annoyance at not being capable of affording exclusive time with a sexy woman who could charge 6 digits an hour solely because she was that gorgeous and lavish to look at.

Slumping an arm over his malcontent friend, Yunho leaned in to finally speak out the crucial part in his devious plan.

"Jongho, I booked the private dance for you kiddo."

With mind unable to believe Yunho's words, Jongho looked at the older male in confusion and almost as if he was in a daze. Chuckling, Yunho cupped his younger member's face and closed his agape lips.

"Don't drool just yet, you haven't even seen her."

Slipping himself out of his seat, Yunho extended his hand out towards Jongho, helping him up before proceeding to lead him out of the main hall and up the stairs. Jongho felt the pounding of his heart resonating in his ears, mouth slightly feeling dry the closer they approached the door of the private room. Gulping as he realized just behind those 2 doors he'd be faced with the very personification of his lustful desires, Jongho's hand slightly trembled as he reached for the doorknob. Snorting softly at the younger member's hesitation, Yunho leaned in and opened the door for him.

"Trust me Jongho, Y/N is actually very nice and will make sure you're comfortable at all times." Yunho assured him whilst simultaneously pushing him inside.

"How the hell do you know that?" Although Jongho's inquiry was more as a mental question towards himself, he was not ready for Yunho's answer.

"It's not the first time I've spent money for a one on one session with her-"

"Uh what?!"

Without getting any further explanation, Jongho watched as Yunho waved him a goodbye and closed the door, the light beeping sound letting him know that it was secured with a lock. Turning around, Jongho looked around and admired the soft pink aesthetic the room had been decorated with. It had a somewhat innocent and angelic vibe to it, which he didn't particularly dislike. In fact, he thought it was rather cute as in his mind he was already picturing a deep red lighting and a bunch of chains rattling across the walls. It was a pleasant contrast.

"I'm glad you seem to like the decor, I was here to make sure every detail would be to your liking."

Whipping his head towards the voice that startled him with their presence, Jongho's breath was caught when he saw none other than Y/N leaning against one of the walls, lips curled up in that mesmerizing smile of hers that never failed to melt him. With slow steps, she approached him, a completely tactic and intentional move so he'd be able to check her out from head to toe, and boy did he make use of it. He licked his lips as he took in her off white costume, consisting of a pearl beaded and lace bra that made sure to push up her soft looking breasts in the most alluring way, matching lace panties that had pearl studded clasps at the hip sides, no doubt intended for fast and hassle free removal. Her legs were accentuated by thigh high white stockings and the criminally high platform heels that helped her figure look elongated and more graceful. Her abdomen was decorated with a diamond belly chain that was fitted around her waist, a tiny pink butterfly pendant dangling in the middle, matching the pendant on the diamond choker that adorned her captivating neck. She had gone a lot more softer than she usually other for on her makeup, blush pink and soft coral main the focal points on the apples of her cheeks and lips, barely any color on her eyes save for the winged eyeliner that helped make her eyes look more enigmatic. Several parts of her body had been brushed with sparkling highlighter, mainly focusing on her shoulders, cheekbones, collarbone and the sides of her arms and thighs. Her hair was even styled differently, soft curled ends piled up into two half ponytails, the rest of her hair let down in similarly styled waves except for the long parted bangs that helped frame her face into having a more cutesy and angelic aura.

"Of course...." Her silky voice brought him out of his trance, making him focus his attention on her words.

"I did have a little help. Your friend told me a few things you seemed to favor." Her soft and semi mischievous giggle made him feel slightly abashed with himself.

Coming up close to him, Y/N took hold of his face, slightly squishing them in an affectionate manner.

"Don't be shy baby. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Leave everything to me."

A soft gasp escaped Jongho's mouth when she playfully pushed him to sit on the cushioned seat behind him, nearly falling off but managing to catch himself before that happened. Strutting over to the pole in the middle of the room, Y/N looked at him and sent him a heart fluttering wink.

As if on cue, the lights dimmed just a bit as a slow and sensual song started to play. Whipping her hair around, Y/N's arm outstretched itself to take a firm hold of the pole. Kicking one leg off the floor and using it as momentum, it stayed outstretched while her other leg bent around the pole as well, helping her to spin around expertly the pole. No matter how many times he'd see her do it, Jongho could never stop himself from whispering a soft 'wow' at how effortlessly and natural she made it seem when he knew very well it took a lot of strength to execute such a move.

Spinning around a few turns, she carefully planted her feet back on the ground. Making sure she was facing Jongho, she kept one arm on the metal bar behind her as her body slowly slid down, back supported on the pole. She made sure to keep her legs parted, hips swaying side to side in rhythm with the music, her free hand caressing her bare inner thigh with a teasing motion. Once down on the floor, she stayed on her knees as she trailed her hands up her torso, cupping her breasts and giving them a hard squeeze. Jongho widened his eyes when he watched her turn her back to him, still on her knees as her hands reached up to unhook her bra. He watched with anticipation as she peeled the straps off her shoulders, taking it off one arm, then the other until it was tossed across the room.

"Oh fuck-" He groaned when he came face to face with her bare chest for the first time since he started going over to the club. Being such a popular dancer, Y/N only fully stripped in settings like this, private room to wealthy paying customers, a privilege he now got to experience thanks to Yunho.

Taking hold of her breasts once more, she kneaded them between her palms, letting out a hiss as she purposefully pinched them to make them as hard as possible. As if the sight couldn't get more erotic, she lifted her hips slightly off the ground and proceeded to roll her hips up into the air, giving Jongho the perfect imagery of how she would look if she was on top of him, dick filling her pussy. After playing with her perky tits enough for his amusement, she got up once more and went back to the pole. Holding onto it, one hand a few inches away from the other, she lifted her body up and kept her legs spread as she spun around in a straddle spin. She made sure to keep a cheeky smile towards the man watching her performance, noticing that his hand began to rub dangerously close to his very obvious hard on.

"Oh sweet boy, don't worry, I won't keep you waiting." She giggled inwardly to herself.

Expertly, she spun herself down, legs further spreading as the eased into a middle split onto the floor. Y/N didn't stay long in that position, quickly bringing her knees together as she used the pole to help her get up off the floor. Circling around to be in front of Jongho once more, she turned around once more and bent down to touch her ankles. Her hands then proceeded to glide up her legs until they reached up to her barely covered ass cheeks. Wanting to play with him more, she playfully gave her ass a rather mild slap and if she had been able to she would have seen the effect it had on Jongho, the idol lightly jolting up from his seat as one of his hands twitched against his lap. Hands coming up to her hips, her fingers quickly snapped open the pearl decorated clasps on her underwear, the garment dropping fast onto the floor just like Jongho's mouth.

"Oh my god.." Was all he could mutter as he gazed at Y/N's bare pussy that was tempting him to go over and eat it up. Y/N did not make it any easier as her fingers once again reached back to spread her folds apart, letting him see just how wet and glistening they were. Feeling aroused and wanting to play with herself a bit, Y/N turned around to face Jongho again as she sat back down with legs spread. Hand reaching in between her thighs, Y/N threw her head back as she rubbed 3 of her fingers against her throbbing clit, spilling out the hottest moans Jongho had ever heard. His eyes stayed trained on her core, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he saw how engorged and swollen her pussy lips were becoming thanks to her fast hand movements. As if the picture couldn't get any better-

"Jongho..." He tensed up when he heard her mutter his name. Opening her eyes, Y/N giggled at his shocked expression.

"Yes babyboy, you're not the only one who's getting turned on." She admitted, her rubbing becoming more intense and her sounds starting to get more high pitched. She could have made herself cum right then and there but she immediately halted her movements when she felt herself get too close to climaxing. She had already made up her mind that if she was going to cum, it was going to be on Jongho's cock, the very cock that she had been craving for quite some time. She vividly remembers the first time she saw him, sitting there in the crowd, eyes locked on her. Unlike the usual and common stares she'd get from other men that only displayed carnal lust and appetite, Jongho's eyes were different. They looked at her with pure adoration, staring at her as if she was an absolute goddess. He looked past her sexy body and dance and peered deep into the art and beauty of it, admiring each and every move she'd make onstage with fascination. Every time she'd perform and he was there, he always had an expression that seemed as if he had just discovered a priceless treasure or gem and Y/N loved the way he looked at her. He made her feel alive again, reminding her of why she loved performing, a love that had almost gone extinct after being viewed as nothing more than an object of entertainment and pleasure by many others. Seeing Jongho stare at her the way he did then, the way he was looking at her now, refueled that passion that had been buried deep inside her, being awakened once more by the man sitting in front of her.

Getting on all hands and knees, Y/N began crawling over to Jongho, the boy noticeably stiffening the closer she approached him. Sitting right in front of him, Y/N didn't hesitate to press her palms on his thick thighs, rubbing them in a gentle massage. She continued a pattern of stroking his thighs, thumbs occasionally pressing down hard. With a mischievous smirk, she hovered a hand above the tent in his pants before pressing it down to start palming him.

"Oh-Oh..." Jongho's breath hitched, thighs clenching at the feeling of her touching his intimate place, a picture he only got to live in his dreams up until that moment.

"You feel so big and thick even under these layers of clothes. Do you mind if I get a closer look?"

Noticing his hesitation and getting an inkling as to why it was, Y/N leaned forward, burying her face in between his legs as she placed her mouth right on top of his clothed bulge. Jongho outright moaned loudly at the contact, hips involuntarily bucking up each time she closed her mouth over his tent, only to open it back up before repeating the ministrations.

"Y/N please....." Jongho whined. Y/N giggled underneath him, the vibrations doing nothing but riling him up further. Giving in, Jongho began to unzip his pants, his hands sudden being pried off as Y/N took over and finished the task of undressing him. She pulled his pants and briefs down to pool around his ankles, face marveling at the sight of his erect cock right in front of her.

"Oh I was right. You are very thick and big."

Getting up, Y/N sat herself on top of Jongho's lap, the man underneath her gasping when she started rolling her hips against his, her wet folds coating his cock with her juices.

"Y/N are...are you sure this is ok?" He finally voiced out the biggest concern he had about all this.

Chuckling, Y/N wrapped her arms around Jongho's neck, leaning in close enough that her lips fanned over his own.

"Honey, it's perfectly fine. The only rules that apply inside these 4 walls are the ones that I set."

Taking hold of his hands, she placed them on her hips before continuing.

"And the number 1 rule is having you touch me as you please."

Jongho hesitantly ran his hands across her sides, still apprehensive about getting himself or her in trouble. Pouting slightly, Y/N began to grind her hips harder down onto his cock, gasping softly each time her clit felt stimulated by his shaft. That tiny action served to have him slide his hands down to cup her ass, squeezing harshly as he himself began bucking his hips upwards, matching the pace that she had set. He kept his eyes trained on the way her breasts bounced each time she moved fiercely on top of him. Releasing his grip on her ass, he placed them on top of her pillowy mounds, giving them tight squeezes that had Y/N shuddering when his thumbs brushed against her nipples, being extremely sensitive in them. After toying around with her sensitive nubs, making sure to flick them every so often, Jongho licked his lips before pressing his face against in between her tits. Opening his mouth, he latched his lips against one of her nipples, giving it harsh suckles, loud and sloppy noises being heard even over the music. Y/N closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his warm mouth on her boobs. Her fingers came up and tangled themselves on the back of his hair, palms unconsciously pressing him into her chest even further, back arching so that he would be able to take more of her soft flesh inside his mouth. Releasing the first nipple with a loud pop and a thin trail of saliva, Jongho knew it wouldn't be fair if her other nipple didn't get payed the same attention the other got. With a groan, his mouth once again enclosed over her nipple, practically devouring it into his warm and wet cavern.

Y/N's hip movements started to become more and more frantic. After having teased Jongho and herself so much before, she was beginning to feel much too hot and bothered, her pussy feeling empty and in desperate need to be filled with a fat and thick cock. Pulling Jongho's face off her chest, she suddenly got off his lap so she could move over towards the ottoman on the other side of the room. Getting on all fours, she presented her ass to Jongho once more, hand reaching in between to play with her reddened clit.

"Jongho please fuck me. Fuck this little hole of mine and use it as you want."

Not wanting to wait to see if it was a dream that he would wake up from or not, Jongho got up from his seat and began walking over to the exotic dancer. His clothes started to form a trail across the floor as he stripped out of every article of clothing he had on, the last garment dropped right as he came up behind her round and firm ass that was just begging to be slapped by one of his palms. Cupping the sides of her ass, Jongho rubbed the tip of his cock against her slickened lips, his precum mixing with hers, some of it even oozing down lightly on the floor. Any other time she would have appreciated how soft and gentle he was being, but right now that was the last thing she needed.

"Jongho don't tease me. Just drill that cock inside me and break me like one of those apples you break." She didn't even care that she accidentally made it known that she knew very well what he was capable of doing. Jongho on the other hand got a smug smile on his face after finding out that she had actually gone out of her way to do research on him.

Y/N had to press her hands against the top part of the couch to keep herself from holding forward after Jongho plunged his cock deep inside her. Not giving her dripping and warm walls time to prepare, Jongho began slamming his hips against her ass, his shaft being squeezed by her wet and clenching walls that made sure he wouldn't be going anywhere. Needy moans and cries of pleasure echoed in that room, most of them coming from the girl that was being impaled to the hilt by a thick cock repeatedly without mercy.

"Yes! Just like that!" She cried out, deep breaths spilling out as she pushed herself further back into Jongho's thrusts.

"You like being fucked like this?" He growled from behind, dropping one hand to slam hard against one of her cheeks that was rippling each time he pushed deep inside her core, the action making her walls contract painfully around Jongho's cock.

"I- yes! Fuck yes baby I do! I love being fucked as if I was nothing more than a glory hole." She shamelessly admitted.

Jongho once again brought his hand up and then dropped it down, giving her beautiful and supple ass a few repeated smacks, the loud cracking of his palm on her skin continuing to sound across the room until her flesh started to turn a pink-reddish hue. After getting his fill of making sure to slap her ass, Jongho cupped the sides of her soft cheeks, fingers digging harshly into her skin as he spread them out as much as they could, admiring the way his cock entered and re-entered her drenched hole.

"Fuck! You feel so good inside me baby, your going to make me cum."

Hearing those words made the male idol drive harder and more forceful thrusts into her body, using the power in his hips as his cock continued to stretch her tight hole. Y/N was losing her mind at how good the pleasure felt, she wouldn't have been suprised if her agape mouth was drooling saliva down her chin at the point. She focused on nothing else except relishing in how deep Jongho's cock was in her. She loved how rough he was being with her, and Jongho could also tell, her long drawn out screaming moans being a big clue that she was taking his hard thrusts very well. Too well. Swear began to mist both of their bodies, dripping down their foreheads and temples as his merciless pace continued. Y/N began to contract violently underneath him, her moans turning into full on wailing.

"Oh fuck! Jongho I'm gonna-"

She was caught off, lips only managing to spat out piercing whimpers of ecstasy as her juices seeped out and onto his length, warmly coating the entirety of his shaft. Y/N couldn't stop clenching around his cock, almost as if her body was purposefully trying to prolong her mind breaking orgasm. Feeling her spill all over him, Jongho's pace became more sloppy, less calculated, a clear indication that his own climax was not too far behind.

Knowing exactly where she wanted his cumshot, Y/N pulled away from Jongho's cock, quickly turning around and getting on her knees as her hand wrapped around his shaft and rapidly jerked him off, eyes looking up at him as she lowered her face even further so his tip would be right above her forehead.

"Oh shit!" Jongho spat out, head thrown back and eyes shut tightly, unable to hold back from cumming after realizing what Y/N had in store.

Within seconds Y/N felt his cum start to shoot out towards her face, tongue poking out to catch some of it. She loved how hot, thick and sticky it was. Her free hand came up to fondle his balls, proving to help in extending his high as much as possible as well making sure that more cum would be pumped out of him so that it could be splashed on Y/N's pretty face. The girl giggled as a second load shot out unexpectedly, drowning her face in cum as she swallowed what had been collected in her tongue. Jongho was panting almost feverishly when his high finally started to rescind, allowing him to calm his heartbeat that was pumping ferociously. Peering down, he let out a shocked exclaim as he saw the stripper's face drenched in his cum, a huge smile on her face that turned even brighter when she felt him get hard again in her hand. Making sure that his boner wouldn't go anywhere, Y/N leaned in and pressed a kiss to his tip, tongue poking out to dip into his slit.

"Your friend paid for 5 hours and we've only used up 2. What do you say we make his money worth while?"

❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @multidreams-and-desires @deja-vux @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny @daniblogs164 @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters @rainteez02

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

Cherry Lane Challenge Day 3 - Crow

A flutter of black, out of the corner of his left eye is what first catches his attention. His hand raises, signaling his party to stop in their tracks. There's some shuffling and a few annoyed huffs which he ignores in favor of taking careful steps towards what caught his eye in the first place.

All is still for a second and then- There. The dry sound of feathers brushing together.

Silently, he steps closer to the source of the sound. When he sees what it is, he relaxes minutely allowing himself another breath. It is but a crow, its left wing dragging over the dewy grass of the clearing. He sees no blood so he assumes it must be broken.

Another careful step takes him even closer to the scared bird, his fingers nearly brushing its feathers, so close-

"Steve, what's the hol- Is that a bird?"

Tommy and the rest of the hunting party burst into the clearing with too loud steps and raised voices, startling the bird into a frantic state once again. It squawks in its fear, broken wing fluttering pitifully as it tries to escape what it assumes to be a predator.

"I almost had it, Tommy!" He turns to his companion, features set into an angry scowl. He may only be seventeen but he was the Crown Prince and they should've listened to his orders! "Why did you break position?"

Instead of answering his question, Tommy walks past him as crouches right by the bird, poking it with a stick and laughing at its resulting squawk. "Can't believe you stopped a hunting party just to save a bird, Stevie. What are you? Snow White?"

Heat rises to the prince's cheeks and he smacks the stick out of Tommy's hands. "Leave it. It's already hurt enough without you making it worse."

Tommy quirks an eyebrow, teeth bared into a nasty smirk. He gives a mock bow that makes Steve's eyes narrow.

"As you wish, milord."

And then, making sure he's got Steve full attention, he gives the injured bird a sharp kick sending it smacking against a tree with a feeble squawk.

The bird struggles to upright itself, collapses, and tries again, before eventually just laying there. Unmoving if not for the minuscule shifts of its diaphragm. All Steve can do is watch, knowing full well that if he so much dares make a move to help it again, Tommy might outright try to crush it under the sole of his boot.

Under the raucous laughter of the soldiers, he follows the hunting party back to the deer trail they were following, the back of his neck red with poorly contained rage. All thoughts of injured crows and helpless birds are stored at the back of his brain where he no longer has to think about them again.

---

So that night, when he walks into his chambers half-drunk on too much ale and a hearty roast, the last thing he expects is to find a girl sitting on his desk chair. Her vermillion hair is cropped short and would help her pass for a man were it not for her curvaceous figure, so distinctly female even under the black robes she wears. On her head, a crooked hat sits adorned with what he thinks are feathers.

As he steps inside, she stands up and he notices her eyes appear yellow behind her spectacles.

"Who are you?" He tries to sound authoritative, like the prince he's supposed to be, but he's too drunk to manage anything more than slurred inquisitiveness.

"Don't you recognize me?" Her lips barely move as she speaks and yet her voice comes out as a shrill squawk, not too different from the frantic sounds of the crow in the forest. It makes him flinch, taking a step back. "Maybe this will help jog your memory."

Under his watchful gaze, he sees her shift into the same crow he saw that morning. His eyes follow the bird as it flies around the room once, before landing on the chair. A blink later, and the girl from before is sitting in the same spot.

No. Not a girl.

A witch.

Because of fucking course the crow had to be a witch. That was just his life.

"Look, I'm sorry for what Tommy did to you earlier today and I truly wished to help you but if I did-"

"But if you did, your companions might've killed me while you watched." She hums, inspecting her sharp nails with clear disinterest. "Those are but excuses and we both know it."

"They are not-!"

The witch clicks her tongue disapprovingly and he finds the words he meant to say dying on his tongue. Fear rises in him, and only then does he consider that the reason she's here and not with Tommy is that he's the one she's planning to hurt.

"It is an excuse, darling." She fixes him with a sharp glare. "You're Steve Harrington, Crown Prince of the kingdom of Hawkmond. They should respect you and yet your own foot soldiers treat you like you're below the sole of their feet."

A feeble protest rises in his throat but she only has but to look, before silence descends upon him again. The worst part? She is absolutely right.

"You're weak-willed. Spineless. A disaster in the making." She huffs, taking the few steps that separate them until they are standing almost nose to nose. "I shall not allow a person like that to ruin what this kingdom could become."

In her yellow eyes, he sees rage flash however briefly, and he wonders what sort of circumstances led a witch to care this much for the outcome of a whole kingdom. It is but a split-second judgment, yet it's all he manages.

For the next thing he knows, pain radiates from every single nerve ending in his body. He falls upon his knees, writhing in agony, and through his anguished screams, he swears he can hear the witch croon in a sticky-sweet voice.

Scion of swords and kings

A curse of feather and blood

Placed upon thee

For thine will is brittle as bone

This shape thou shall keep

Til’ the day thy soul’s to pass

Unless thy lesson is learned

And thee flies with thine own wings

By the next morning, every single person in the Capitol knows Crown Prince Steve Harrington has gone missing. None a single clue left behind to find him.

---

He finds out pretty quickly that the best way to find food in the forest is to follow the wolves.

It's been two months since the night he was cursed, and Steve's come to the conclusion that while sometimes annoying, being a bird wasn't as awful as he first assumed it would be. Flying was nice once he managed to get the hang of it, and messing with the occasional villager while he indulged in the instinctual desire to steal shiny things was something he hadn't expected to enjoy so much.

But he really could do without the feeding.

The first few days he had outright refused to take part of any rotten bit of meal he found, no matter how appetizing it might've seemed to his new instincts.

By day four he had to give in and eat, or he risked worse injuries.

It had been a distasteful ordeal up until he had found the wolf pack during his first full moon as a crow. Night had fallen, and as he made his way through the thick trunks on unsteady talons, he had heard the first howl. For a second, he had almost considered leaving. Retaining this half-human form was still something he struggled with and he wished to enjoy the little time he had before he once again had to return to his feathery prison.

But the call of the wolves ensnared him, and he had to find them.

Except none of them were normal wolves, as he found out once morning came.

From what he has observed in the last month, most members of the pack preferred to stick to their wolf forms as much as they could. Occasionally, one or two of them would venture into the closest town for certain necessities but that was about it.

It was weird.

It was also fascinating.

They didn't seem to mind his prolonged stay, in fact, it almost looked like they welcomed him among their midst without so much as a second thought. He didn't question it, just enjoyed it for the time being although he always made sure he only shifted into his halfling form where the wolves wouldn't find him.

At least, that had been the plan.

But now, staring into the ice-blue eyes of the blonde wolf he had started thinking as his wolf, he realizes that he overlooked one tiny but very important detail.

Wolves tended to have a keen sense of smell.

Well, shit.

Silence pervades the small nook between the trees he had taken as his hiding spot away from the pack, as he simply stares back at the wolf. Waiting for something, maybe a shift, a lunge. Anything.

Except a whole minute passes with nothing happening, and Steve is starting to feel foolish.

"So is this the part where you try and eat me? Or warn me to stay away from the pack?" He chances, hoping for a reaction.

The wolf cocks its head to the side, blue eyes looking almost mocking before there's a ripple and a human is crouching in its place. A very blond, very handsome, human with ice blue eyes. Who's also kind of naked.

Huh.

"The fact that you think nobody knew what you were as soon as you hopped into the clearing that night is telling." At Steve's confused look, the wolf (the man?) chuckles. Guess he was right about the mocking part. "You reek of magic, little bird. Magic and human flesh."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" He snaps, the small feathers that cover his neck fluffing up.

"Common sense?" There's a smirk this time, along with a flash of fangs. "Did your mother not teach you about magical signatures once you came out of the egg?"

"I- ah" He falters, unsure if he should explain that he wasn't born like this but rather turned into this. He runs a talon through the feathers that have replaced his hair before sighing. "I'm a human, actually. Just got cursed to look like this."

The man-wolf hums, giving him an appraising look. "That explains a few things."

Steve scoffs, ready to stand up and leave this guy alone to go bother somebody else when suddenly he feels a heavyweight drop onto his lap. When he looks down, he's met with a pair of ice-blue eyes looking back at him.

He wonders, not for the first time, why he picked this particular wolf to stick close to out of all the others.

"Does the little birdy have a name?" That smirk is back again and it almost makes him blush. Makes him glad that his whole skin is now covered in black fluffy feathers.

"If I tell you, will you stop calling me that?"

"Nope. But I might give you my name too."

It sounds like a fair deal at least. And that way he could stop calling him man-wolf in his head.

"Steve."

"Steve. Hm. Not quite what I expected." It's been so long since the last time someone said his name, it feels weird hearing it now from someone that is not himself. "Mine's Billy, by the way."

"And what did you expect, Billy?" The name feels foreign on his tongue but he figures time will make it easier. After all, it's not like he ever can return to Hawksmond unless whatever conditions the witch placed upon the curse are met.

Billy shrugs, stretching languidly across Steve's lap in all his naked glory. Something that Steve's doing his best to steadfastly ignore. "Some fancy bullshit like Stefano or Guillermino."

He snorts at that, covering his mouth with a clawed talon. "Why would you even think that?"

"You look the part, little birdy."

#CherryLaneChallenge #steve harrington #barbara holland #tommy hagan #billy hargrove #harringrove #fantasy au #i have no idea what this is but enjoy #shotout to my friend who helped me with the curse bit #you're a lifesaver vani <3 #werewolf!billy hargrove #crow!steve harrington

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gremlinbehaviour · 3 years

Text

A Nice Relaxing Bath

After nearly drowning in the aftermath of a dam breaking, Lancelot struggles with being in any kind of water, even a bath. Thankfully, Merlin is there to help him

Inspired by Hell or High Water by @aini-nufire

Also written for mini @mercelotweek day 3: Angst! A second chapter will be added for day 7: fluff

Read on ao3 or below

Lancelot paced back and forth across the room, hands clenching in his hair. In the corner sat a steaming bath, slowly growing cold. Every time he glanced over at it his heart started pounding. He almost called for the servant to come take the tub away again, except for the fact that he'd already done that the past three nights, and he stank. The knights had all had training today, and he'd attended it for the first time since the dam had burst and he'd almost drowned and then died of hypothermia, and he was sweaty all over from the exertion. Wiping himself down with a wet rag wasn't going to cut it today.

Lancelot had strands of hair wrapped around his fingers from where he'd pulled so hard he'd yanked them out, which he brushed off onto the ground before burying his face in his hands and screaming into his palms. Gods above, why was this so hard? He'd fought monsters before, and now he couldn't even take a bath. The mere thought of getting in the water made him feel sick.

"You can do this, you can do this," he told himself out loud as he stripped his shirt off and started slipping down his pants and walked towards the tub. He knew that if he waited any longer he'd psych himself out completely and not be able to get in at all, so he didn't bother unlacing his underclothes and just climbed into the tub with them on.

Instantly his heart started pounding and he felt faint. To avoid passing out he had to sit down, but the closest place to do that was inside the tub and submerging more of his body into the water absolutely didn't help. His breath quickened as he began to panic, the water pressing down against his chest so he couldn't inhale deeply. He could feel his body shutting down and just barely managed to stand up and knock the tub over as he scrambled out before collapsing. The floor was soaked as the bath water spread out over it, eventually reaching the door and seeping out under it. Lancelot couldn't be bothered to care, just laying on the hard stone and trying to breathe.

"Lancelot?" He heard a familiar voice cry out just a second before the door slammed open. The knight struggled to sit up in the hope that Merlin wouldn't see him prone on the floor and freak out even more, which was a serious concern given the look of fear on his face. It softened slightly to just concern when he saw that Lancelot wasn't injured, but he still rushed over and knelt down beside the knight, ignoring the pool of water that soaked his trousers.

"Are you hurt at all?" He asked gently. Lance, who couldn't quite find enough breath to speak, shook his head. "Okay. Why don't I get this water cleaned up and then you can tell me what happened." Lancelot nodded, and with a quick spell, all the water lifted off the floor and poured itself back into the bathtub. With another uttered phrase, both men were blown dry in a swirling gust of warm wind.

"Thanks," Lancelot whispered once he'd managed to regain his breath. "Sorry."

"It's okay, as long as you're okay," Merlin reassured him. The knight hesitated at that, looking pained. "Are you okay?" He added. After a moment, Lancelot shook his head. "Oh. Okay. Can I give you a hug?" He nodded, and the servant scooted forward and pulled him in close, not caring about the contact with his bare skin.

"I can't go in the water," Lancelot tried to explain, murmuring against his chest. "I know I smell bad and my hair is gross, but I can't… I just- I can't stop thinking about the cold and drowning, even though the water here is hot and shallow."

"Would it help you to have company?" Merlin asked. "I could stay with you if you want to take a bath, so nothing bad can happen. After all, I rescued you from the water once, and I can do it again."

"You'll stay?" Lancelot asked, his voice equal parts confused and hopeful. "While I take a bath?"

"Yeah, of course I will, if you want," Merlin agreed. "Probably not tonight, since that water is filthy and I think you should be a little calmer, but I've got a spell that can clean you up without any water if you want, for tonight."

"Um, yes, please. But tomorrow you will come back?"

"Yep. I can come to draw a bath for you after afternoon training."

"Thank you Merlin," Lancelot breathed.

"Of course, Lance, anything for a friend. Fordwin wamm." Lance shivered at the feeling of all the dirt and sweat on his body vanishing, but then surged forward to hug Merlin again. Though he hadn't directly been asked to, the servant decided in that moment to stay the night, and when they were ready to sleep, he started to make up a pallet of blankets on the now dry floor before Lancelot invited him to share the bed.

#post traumatic stress #panic attacks #minimercelotweek2021 #day 3: angst #bbc merlin #merlin #lancelot #platonic mercelot

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mercurysstars · 3 years

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The Shadow Thief (part 4)

Summary: what happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing

A/n: I apologize for the late chapter! :)

"What the fuck." Peter said wide-eyed.

Peter quickly parked the car and unbutton his seatbelt. He opened the door and stepped out in front of the car. The Avengers compound was destroyed, all of the windows were busted through, the doors were broken and even a few walls were missing.

Peter felt as though his stomach was twisted into 10 knots. It was like some sort of sick joke. Could they really be gone? They were the earth's mightiest heroes, right? He clenched his fist, Peter felt tears weld up in his eyes but he never let them fall.

Y/n got out of the car and walked next to him. When she approached him, he didn't say a word, he just stood there and stared. After a few moments of silence, Y/n gave him a little nudge "Let's see if we can find anything inside."

Peter didn't say anything to acknowledge her but he followed her. Y/n stepped through the broken glass door. The electricity was cut so the elevator didn't work. She found the stairs so she began to climb.

The first floor they enter was the laboratories. They were all a wreck, it looked like they all had been scavenged through. Desks were flipped, papers were scattered, glass was everywhere.

Y/n looked over to Peter. His face was blank void of any emotions but she sensed he was still stuck in a state of shock. They needed to leave. She figured by now that who it was attacked them earlier had found where they were and sending another load of soldiers.

"Peter, where is the Avengers weaponry?" She asked. He didn't say anything or point anywhere. Y/n cursed him and herself.

Not knowing what else to do Y/n began to search through the lab to see if she could find anything that could help them. Y/n noticed a random bookshelf along the wall. What were the chances that could be a secret door?

Y/n walked over to the shelf. With all of her knowledge from cliché movies, Y/n began to pull on random books. Every time one didn't work she would throw it backward.

Finally, Y/n pulled on a book about ants. She heard a noise and the bookshelf moved backward. She mentally high-fived herself. Y/n looked over to Peter "Stay there." She told him. She figured he probably wouldn't have moved anyway.

Y/n walked down a flight of stairs and pushed open another door. When she opened the door her jaw nearly fell slack. It was a lab but 100x nicer. It felt like something out of a movie.

There were huge screens and holograms. There were long desks with pieces of different robots on them. Y/n figured this is where Tony and Bruce did their work.

There was a big cabinet labeled spider-boy. She tried to open the cabinet but it was locked. She tried again but ultimately failed. Y/n grabbed one of the screwdrivers off of the table and stuck it in the lock. She balled up her fist at the end and hit her palm against her fist. The lock gave Y/n a shock "Fuck."

The cabinet swung open revealing tons of different equipment. There was a bag at the bottom that Y/n assumed was Peters. She grabbed the bag and began to shove everything that could fit. She grabbed web fluid, web-shooters and she might have even grabbed one of his suits.

Y/n zipped up the bag a knife caught her eye on the other side of the room. She walked over to the knife. It was black with a few gold lines running through the middle. Y/n picked up then knife and a screen popped up.

A video began to play with a shaken up Tony Stark "Anyone who watches this SOS. You are in danger meet—."

The video paused and a voice interrupted "Vehicle approaching. Click to watch surveillance footage."

Y/n clicked on the button a video popped up of several SUVs pulling onto the road leading to the compound. Y/n was confused. Why would this pop-up? She looked at the corner for the date. The footage was live. She swore she felt her heart leap out of her chest.

Y/n tucked the knife in her pocket and booked it up the stairs. Peter was still where she left him and she ran over to him. "We need to go." He stared at the wall

"Peter we need to go like right now." He still didn't make a move.

Y/n decided to say fuck it and take matters into her own hand. If he didn't want to move she would make him. Y/n took a deep breath and slapped Peter as hard as she could. "Get it together."

Peter's hand flew to his cheek and he glared at her "Ow! That hurt." Peter shrieked.

"Good. We need to leave. They already found us again."

"Tony told me about a few safe houses just in case something ever did happen."

"Good enough for me." Y/n took the bag off her bag and shoved it into Peter's hands. What was he good for if not super strength.

They ran down the stairs, sometimes skipping two or three at a time. They ran through the door and to the car. Right as they got 10 feet within the car it exploded and caused them to fly backward.

"Son of a bitch." Y/n exclaimed. Her ears were ringing from the loud noise.

"That was our only ride out." Peter groaned. He was sure they were going to die. He figured he had a good enough run. He was surprised he lasted this long anyway.

"Maybe not."

Peter followed Y/n's line of sight to a motorcycle "Are you crazy?" There was no way in hell he was getting on that. He rather take his chances with the SWAT team.

Y/n gave Peter a look. One that over the few times he's meet her he's grown to know almost too well. She was going to do something risky, stupid, but not necessarily unnecessary.

Y/n gave Peter a wave before she broke into a full sprint toward the bike. She was going to get herself killed. Peter clenched his fists before running after her.

Shots began flying toward them and Y/n hopped on the bike. Peter got on the bag, she quickly started the bike and pulled off before he got the chance to argue.

After 30 minutes of riding in a random direction into the woods, Y/n pulled over. Peter unwrapped his arms from around her waist and got off the bike.

Peter walked over to a tree, bent over, and threw up. Y/n grimaced and quickly looked away. He may be strong but his stomach surely isn't. Of course, she didn't say that she figured he was occupied enough for the moment.

When Peter was done he walked over to Y/n and threw his hands up in the air "What in the actual fuck. You could've gotten us killed."

Y/n had to suppress the urge to laugh. She noticed whenever Peter got mad his face scrunched up and got red. "I just saved your ass. You surely could have stayed back there and tango with the death squad."

"Jesus Y/n. Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?" Peter shouted.

"Well actually no." He had gotten her there "My fight or flight had kicked in and that's good enough for me." She put her hands on her hips.

Peter let out a long sigh. She was crazy. Actually fucking batshit crazy. "We need to get to a safe house, and figure out a plan."

Well isn't he just a bright one? "Well, Mr. Parker be my guest." She pointed to the bike "Unless you're too scared." She challenged.

"I'm not scared." Okay so maybe he was a little scared but he wasn't going to tell Y/n that. He walked over to the motorcycle and swung his leg around. It was just like riding a Bike. Right?

Y/n swung her leg around the back of the bike and sat behind Peter. She wrapped her arms around his waist "How Are We going to get there? Does your Spidey sense show you the path to follow?" She teased.

"It doesn't work like that." He grumbled as he pulled off.

They drove for what felt like hours. Y/n was pretty sure she dozen off a few times from the lack of scenery. Her arms were starting to ache and her but were starting to get sore from driving on the gravel road.

Finally, they pulled in front of a big cabin. It was huge, it looked like a place someone would go to get away for a weekend. The cabin was surrounded by trees and behind it was a lake.

Peter turned off the bike and they both got off. They walk up the stairs to the porch. Peter punched in a few numbers. There was a camera above the door. Peter walked through the door. A voice came through a speaker "Welcome, Peter Parker."

When Y/n tried to walk through the door the voice came through again "Unauthorized personal."

Y/n looked over to Peter. He had a clueless look on his face and he shrugged. Not knowing what else to do Y/n looked at the camera "Y/n Y/l/n."

"Access granted. Welcome, Y/n Y/l/n."

Y/n walked through the door "I wasn't sure that it would work." Peter laughed.

Y/n looked at Peter and narrowed her eyes "We came all the way out here when you weren't even sure if I could get into the damn safe house."

"I took a calculated risk." Peter crossed his arms.

"Oh so when you take a chance it's a calculated risk but when I do it's stupid and reckless."

"Before I take a risk I weigh all my options but when you do it's always spontaneous and mindless."

"Well, my spontaneous decisions saved your ass more times than I can count."

"Can you stop swearing for like 2 seconds?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Peter. Does my fucking swearing bother you?" Y/n seethed.

"I can't with you." Peter sighed pinching the bridge of his nose "I'm going to take a shower there should be some clothes for you in one of the rooms." He walked upstairs and out of view.

Y/n let out a long breath of air. Peter was such a stick in the mud. "Can you stop swearing?" She whispered to herself in a mock voice. God, he really did manage to get on her nerves.

Y/n finally took a chance to look around the cabin. If she could even call it that. It was nicer inside than it looked to be outside. It's looked like a normal modern house with the exception it had the Stark touch.

Y/n walked upstairs and entered one of the random rooms. It had a queen bed and a nightstand. The closet was huge and full of different clothes and shoes. She found a pair of open-fingered gloves. If she had to guess she'd say this was the scarlet witch's room.

Y/n suddenly felt dirty and decide that she needed to take a shower. She grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt she thought could maybe fit. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, she hoped Peter didn't use all of the hot water.

She peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower. She lets the warm water run down her back. It did wonders for her sore muscles. She quickly scrubbed the rest of her body and turned off the shower.

Y/n dried off and got dressed. She stepped back into the room. She saw Wanda's bed. It looked more comfortable than it did before. It was basically calling her name. Y/n decided to say fuck it and hop in the bed. She decided whoever was trying to kill them could wait for tomorrow.

Part 5

Taglist

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel • @libraries-and-coffee

#peter x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter paker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

once upon a december

summary: you had no idea who you were, how you got to where you were, or even your real age. all you knew was that you needed to go to auren, and something there would help you find the family that you always secretly craved. little did you know, you’d find family far before you actually got to auren.

warnings: nothin’. maybe a little swearing possibly? memory loss (lol)

word count: 4.7k

so, not this being my first multi-chaptered fic up here… WOW. there’s absolutely no reason for me to put this out right now other than the fact that i wanted it to leave my drafts. ha!

part one!

You had known the cold your whole life. When you woke up after god knows what happened, you were in the cold snow, face buried in it, clothes wet with it, and so that was what you knew. You laid in the snow for what seemed like forever, and you were lucky that a man was on his horse, selling trinkets that were said to belong to some lost princess of a far off land. The “Land of Always Summer”, everyone in the orphanage liked to call it. He carried you up onto his horse and dumped you right at the orphanage, and you weren’t even conscious enough to move your lips to thank him. But you would never forget his face and the way he tipped his hat, snow flurrying around before hopping up on his horse again and disappearing like he never existed in the first place.

The cold was the first thing you remembered, and the first part of the life that you now knew. Everything else was such a blur that you never even bothered to attempt at remembering what your life used to be, especially not when all of the other kids were around.

Growing up, they all thought you were weird. They had all been dropped off as young children, some even babies in the vicious winter storm. They knew that they couldn’t have done anything that made their parents want to chuck them, because they were too young to do so. But you? For you to have been thrown to the side at fifteen or sixteen years old, you must have been really weird. And to make it worse, you couldn’t even defend yourself. You knew nothing about yourself. Not even your name. But they had that covered for you.

At first, they called you Stacy. It was an old name, a name that was slowly on the rise again. It was easy to remember, and it wasn’t degrading, so you went with it at first. And then, one night, you woke up and shook your head, determined to name yourself, and not have others name you. You would give yourself at least that. Something would be yours, and if it wasn’t going to be memories, then it would be your name. You decided randomly on Y/N, and then that was what you were called from there. For years at the orphanage, that was who you were.

But you were done. It was the day. You had finally come of age, and it was time for you to leave, unless you wanted to be employed there. You surely did not. You were ready to get away from the people that ran the place, and the children that you grew up with and watched grow, except one. You were packing your bag, trying to keep the smile off of your face in order to not make any of the others feel bad.

“Today, isn’t it?” You jumped, even though the voice was one that you easily recognized. It was Lucas, the little boy who had practically become your shadow ever since he was brought to the doorstep as a baby. You were the oldest kid, you were a girl, and he had no mother. You were the one who was in charge of taking care of him because somehow, you knew how to take care of children. And you loved him, you loved him more than you had ever loved anything in your “new” life. He would be the hardest thing to leave, without question.

“Yes, honey.” You stopped packing your small bag so that you could walk up to him and crouch down to his height, his curly hair and sad brown eyes really plucking at your heartstrings. “I’m leaving now.”

“When will you be back?” He asked slowly, his eyes getting a little watery. But he had thick skin, skin so thick, skin that no child should have to wear. He wiped his eyes quickly. “Will you be back at all?”

“I will be, one day.” He was young, and you were hopeful, but you both knew that the chances of you coming back to the mild hell of the orphanage were slim to none.

“I want to leave, too.” He said, his voice tapering off into a whine at the end, his brows scrunching together. “I don’t like it here.”

In every aspect, you thought about taking him with you. But you had nothing to support him with. You were sure that you were going to starve for a while even by yourself, and you couldn’t take the possibility of him being taken in by a good family who could provide for him away because you wanted to keep him close. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. But someone is going to see just how adorable you are and give you everything you want, alright?”

“A good mommy or daddy?”

“Absolutely, my love.” You pulled him into a hug and closed your eyes, and you knew that it would probably be the last time that you were ever going to hug him. You squeezed him twice, drawing out a giggle from his little body. “Because you… what? Finish.”

“Because I deserve it.”

You pulled away and smiled with pride. “That’s right. Because you deserve it.” You patted his head before turning to finish with your bag, and you hoped that you were fast enough so that he didn’t see your watering eyes.

It took him a few more minutes to say anything, but you knew that he was standing there and watching with his wide eyes, curiosity flaring up inside of him like always. “Don’t you have a coat?” He asked quietly. “It’s winter time.”

“Sure, I have a coat,” you lied, your voice a calming hum in the otherwise quiet room.

You didn’t have a coat anymore. You gave him your coat not even three weeks ago, when the heat of the fire wasn’t enough for him to stay warm in the dark of the night. You worked with dull scissors all night and a thick sewing needle that you borrowed without the warden knowing, and you got to work with the needle and made him a nice fur blanket. It was much nicer than any of the ones that any of you and the others had ever been given, and he was convinced that you hired a seamstress to make it for him. You took the compliment.

That was your clue, though. Your singular clue to who you were, and it wasn't even big. You remembered how to do nothing but walk, talk, write, and read in the beginning. You were about as smart as anyone else, and unlike them, you had no hobbies. Until you went to a village and saw a cheap little sewing kit, and it sparked something so faint in your mind that you knew that you would work extra chores just to be able to buy it. You knew it.

You were an absolute goddess with a needle and some fabric, as it turned out. Your hand never wavered, your aim was never off, and no stitch was ever too tight or too loose. Your first stitching was immaculate, and so were your second, and third, and so forth. It wasn’t until Sophia, a girl who had been with you since you had started, suggested that it was a clue to who you once were that you truly considered it to be. From then on, sewing was all you had. You hoped that it would be enough.

“Why don’t you get on to breakfast, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You suggested, turning your head to give him a little smile of encouragement. He shrugged his shoulders and bounded away, leaving you with your own thoughts for a moment.

You knew what you had to do. You had to go to the nearest town and get a job there, wherever you could knit something. You would get fast money there, hopefully, and maybe the money that you got would make you enough to buy a ticket, one to take you to the one place that stuck in your mind like it was pasted. Auren.

Ever since you heard of the land where warmth surrounded you and the sun came down brightly on everything that breathed, you wanted to go. The cold was welcoming in a way, but the Kingdom of Auren was said to be the prettier one between it and Yuran. Yuran was cold and unforgiving, but beautiful if one allowed themselves an open mind. You didn’t want to have to think too much, not about something that should be so plain in front of you. But Auren was far, and it was expensive to get there.

Chore money hardly got you that sewing kit, and it sure as hell wasn’t enough for a horse, or a train ticket.

By the time you got to the breakfast table with your bag around your shoulders, your plate was already made. Lucas was sitting next to it, where he always sat, and he grinned at you the second you walked into the room. The others were all demolishing their breakfast, because it was a good meal today. Bacon and eggs and even pancakes, which were a rarity. A big meal was made every time a person aged out or got adopted, and it was tradition. You almost teared up. It was your big meal, this time.

You sat down in the chair and ruffled Lucas’s hair, putting the napkin on your lap and rearranging your spoon and fork. The sounds of cutlery against dishes was almost as loud as the others chewing, sloppily and without a care in the world as they stole glances at you, even the ones who didn’t particularly care for you.

“Loosen up, would you?” A boy named Julius asked, like he did at every meal. “You always look so… so…”

“You look fancy when you eat.” Sophia explained in a bored tone, nodding towards the way you held your fork and knife. “I don’t know why he feels the need to say it every single time we sit down together, but-”

“Because it’s true, Sophie,” he spat, and you sighed. You wouldn't miss the arguing, that was for sure.

“So, where will you go?” Dalia, a brown skinned girl who had the cutest gap in her teeth and the brightest eyes in the orphanage asked.

“I’m hoping to get a job as a seamstress in the village,” you said somewhat strongly, even though you were nervous. Actually, you were nearly bursting out of your own skin. What if they didn’t take you?

“That will be a good job for you, you’re really good at it.” The entire facility could agree on that. Every time one of them ruined their pants or ripped a shirt so badly that the caretakers just told them to throw it away, they came to you. From the time that you came and up until the day you left, you had made entire wardrobes for them all.

“I hope so, Dal.” You sighed out, giving a nice smile when you put a syrupy piece of pancake in your mouth, not talking until you swallowed again. “Are you guys going to be good?”

“We’re always good, Y/N,” Lucas said with a small eye roll. “You don’t have to worry about us.” You wished that you didn’t.

After everyone was finished eating, the door opened, and in walked the tall and broad shouldered woman who owned the orphanage. You saw all of the other kids sigh and look away, and you did the opposite. You were older, and this woman was mean, but she didn’t scare you. She was bitter, but that was all she was. “You’re leaving.”

“In a few minutes,” you added, and then kept eye contact with her when you put a piece of bacon in your mouth, nearly collapsing at the taste. God, breakfast hadn’t been so good since Susanne left. You felt Lucas tug on your pant leg, his arm reaching under the table.

“Good.” The woman said, and she gave you a once over. “I imagine that you’d want to work at the dress shop in the village, correct?”

“That’s my goal.”

“Hm.” She took a few steps closer. “I heard there’s an opening there, if you want it.” She looked towards the windows. “But you’ll have to make it quick. You’re not the only girl with quick fingers and a needle, you know.”

She wanted you out. You knew that. She never really liked you, and you never cared for her much, either. You came too late for her to get attached to, not even in that oddly placed way that she loved everyone else. “When do you suggest I take my leave?”

“Within the hour,” she answered immediately. “You don’t want to get lost in the dark, you know.” You frowned. It was eight in the morning, there was no way that the sun was going down any time soon. You knew that she just wanted you to leave, and so did everyone else at the table who was older than nine.

“Okay.” You said, not anywhere near to being in the mood to start an argument with her. That’s not how you wanted Lucas to remember you, at all. So, you kissed his forehead, waved goodbye to all of the other kids, and then got up from your chair.

The worst part of leaving was finally approaching, close enough to raise its fist and knock on your door. You had seen it happen millions of times it seemed, and yet, you thought that you would be exempt from it. The children were always ushered back to their rooms once another left, and you were sure that it had everything to deal with not wanting them to see what freedom looked like. The warden didn’t want them to witness what it looked like when an orphan got their own wings.

“Wait!” Lucas shouted, and he nearly yanked your arm out of the socket before shoving a little, wooden toy soldier in your hand, the one that he always played with.

Your heart was warm. It was so warm that you had a hard time forming your next words, your mind so full of adoration for this little boy who had been your living shadow, your source of happiness in a world that had given you none at all, nevermind on a silver platter. You took in a deep breath at seeing one out of two of his favorite toys, the one that he always made you take so that he could play with the other one. The one he was trying to give you had an idle gun with it, and the other had it cocked aimed. Lucas’s one won every time.

You gave him a sad smile. “No, kiddo, you can keep it.”

“I have another one.” He rushed out. “Please, take it. That way we can still play when we’re far away.”

Oh. Oh. If you could have chosen to stay there with him until he grew too old to be there, you would have. You would have a million times over. You knew that he had even the old, bitter woman thinking twice about her decision to throw you out when she made a hmph noise and turned away, her long dress exiting last.

“Alright. I’ll take it, Lucas.” You ruffled his hair again. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” He hugged you tightly, and then you were swarmed by all of the younger kids, who held you all together in the customary send off hug as tears came through your shut eyes.

“I’m going to miss all of you, you know.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you heard back, coming from about twenty different voices that you recognized individually.

“I’ll miss you. Even that posh accent and the way that you eat and sit,” Julius admitted, and you cracked a smile at him.

“I don’t have an accent, but, thank you.” You said, and you reached over and flicked his forehead. “You guys are all amazing, and don’t you ever not think that for a second. You deserve the best, and one day, you’ll get that for yourselves.”

You looked at all of their faces, and saw them watching you. Despite how much some of the older ones didn’t like you sometimes simply because you were older, they listened to you. “You are the best children anyone could ever ask for, and if people don’t see that, they’re dumb.”

“We don’t need parents to feel validated,” Sophie nodded.

“Precisely!” You said, and then you cleared your throat when you saw some of them look at you strangely. “Exactly. Now, you guys remember that, okay?” They nodded their heads, and you pulled your back tighter. “Alright. I’ll miss you.”

You watched them be ushered into their rooms, watching the backs of their heads disappear, even hearing a few sniffles. You clenched your jaw and cleared your throat, shaking your head clear of any worries or trace of sadness, and then you walked up to the door.

No one would accompany you out there. No one was going to be able to tell you which way to go, not metaphorically or even directions wise. There wasn’t going to be anyone like Sophia, who had clued you in on your past so kindly before. No one was going to be beside you, and you were going to miss it, no matter how nagging everyone was.

You took in a deep breath as you felt the chill of the door on your hand, and you wrapped yourself in the blanket that came from your bag. You only regretted for a split second that Lucas had your coat, but then you remembered that he needed it much more than you did. And so, he had it. You opened the door to light snowfall, and immediately once you stepped onto the cold ground, a snowflake fell onto your cheek.

Slowly, you walked up to the rusted gates that were probably once a brilliant silver, and then you looked back at the rundown place before touching the gate, forgetting all about rust. You took in a second deep breath and closed your eyes, because you knew that once you stepped foot outside of the gates of the orphanage, there was no going back.

You were an orphan no longer once you stepped away. You were an adult. You were the caretaker, not the one to be cared for.

You nodded your head to yourself and pushed the door to the gates open, hearing the same sound that you had always heard after breakfast when someone left, but it was much louder up close. You almost jumped at how easy it was to get open, and then you slipped through, shutting it after yourself quickly. You huffed out a breath and saw it fog up in the air, and then you felt tears burn in your eyes.

You were leaving behind the family that you barely even realized that you had. And you would likely never see them again. And this was all because you wanted to find the family that had tossed you aside like yesterday’s newspaper, like you were someone else’s problem.

But it wasn’t really to meet them, you knew. It was so that you could see what you had or hadn’t been missing.

Your feet were moving before you even knew that they were. You looked back and couldn’t even see the orphanage anymore, and you had a strong urge to run in again and say that you regretted leaving, but you couldn’t. So you kept walking.

§§§

You didn’t have a watch, but you knew that it had been hours since you started walking away from the orphanage. Your hands were getting a tingly feeling in them, and your pants were wet with snow. They weren’t nearly enough for you to be protected, and you really regretted not saving up for some real pants instead of a new sewing kit.

You hadn’t passed a single road sign during the entire walk. You expected to see something, maybe even a landmark that the bitter woman would talk about, something that would spark a memory even, but you got nothing. You had absolutely no idea where you were, and you were starting to get scared.

You were definitely in the woods, that was for sure. You were in so deep that turning back was the less intelligent option. You hadn’t heard another voice in hours, or even the sound of horses and carriages. Nothing. Where the hell were you?

Your foot caught a tree root that was hidden by a somewhat thick layer of snow, and you went down hard. You grunted when you hit the ground, and you immediately reached out for the ankle that started throbbing. You hissed when you touched it and then threw your head back, nearly starting to cry from being scared out of your mind and frustrated at the same time.

“Why didn’t they give me a map?” You asked aloud, slamming a hand on the ground before bracing yourself to stand on the very tree that had got the better of you.

You only got three steps before falling over again, the pain in your ankle far too strong for you to go much further. You bit down a cry as you tilted your head up towards the sky, which was getting darker by the minute.

You were going to die out there. After your first night alone. You were about to die.

“Um, miss?” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of another voice, scrambling up even though you felt the pain in your ankle intensify. “You shouldn’t stand on that.”

When you finally turned around, you were met with a man on a gray horse, who looked just as confused as you. Even from the distance you were at, you could tell that he was handsome. His blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark hair that was cut short with just the slightest hint of waviness. He tilted his head sideways at you, like he was trying to see something, and then the weirdest of noises escaped his lips, a strangled gasp that startled you even more. “Ale- who are you?”

You turned your head behind you, thinking that his slightly horrified question couldn’t have been directed towards you. “Do you see something?”

“Who are you?” He repeated, his voice slightly choked yet as sharp as a blade. His horse trotted closer without him even speaking a command. He stopped a few paces in front of you, and you looked up at him directly for the first time and nearly cried. He was huge. And he looked like he could crush you.

“I- wait, who are you?” If there was one thing the orphanage taught you, it was to not talk to men you didn’t know. It was a way to get hurt or murdered. Everyone knew that. Not even men on horses who could pass for rich knights could be trusted.

It took a few moments of mutual staring for him to even think about saying anything. “I’m James,” he answered cautiously, like you were the one to be wary of. “And you are?”

You kept your grimace to yourself. You had two choices; to be friendly with this man and hope that he gave you a bit of shelter for the night without anything in return, or to be rude and possibly save your life, or ruin it all the same. You were leaning towards the first choice.

It took you a moment to clear the cobwebs of thought from your mind and come up with an answer. When you did, it seemed like he was hanging on edge for your response, like it would make a few things in his life miraculously make sense. “I’m Y/N.”

He gave you a look. It was long, curious, and doubting. You thought for a second that he was surely seeing through you, seeing a version of you that you weren’t aware of. He breathed in through his nose, looking you up and down. “How old are you?”

You frowned at the question automatically. “You know, it’s not polite to ask a woman her age.”

You could have sworn that his lips tilted upwards before he schooled his features. “Are you camping?”

“I-” were you to tell him that you were utterly helpless? Was that the smartest thing to tell a man so big and obviously strong? You wouldn’t stand a chance if he decided to be your worst nightmare, not at all. But something in you knew that he wasn’t anything like that. Something knew. “I’m kind of lost.”

“Where are you trying to go?”

“I’m trying to find the village, where there’s an opening for a seamstress.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “You’re a seamstress?”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Have you learned?” He asked, and you looked towards your freezing feet.

You should have expected that question. If not from a stranger in the woods, than from a possible employer. You sighed. “No, I never learned. No one taught me.”

“Then how do you plan on becoming a seamstress?”

You looked up at him for a second, trying to keep your teeth from chattering as you decided to shed your bag and put it on the ground, opening it up to reveal some shirts and pants that you had made on your own. “I made these myself.” He made a noise.

“I thought you said you never learned?”

“I didn’t,” you said softly, the warmth of the clothes feeling good in your hand. “I never did learn, I just did it one day. And it’s been what I do ever since.”

He was still giving you that look, like he was expecting something more, or like you were some type of ghost or hallucination. The staring match took a while, and you were starting to feel the numbness of your ankle wear off. “My friend and I are in need of someone who’s good with a needle.”

That wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear, unless he and his friend owned a sewing shop. Judging by his appearance, it was unlikely that he did. “I should be finding town.”

“The nearest town is about thirty leagues, and there are no openings for seamstresses—or any job really—there.” He said. “I can take you to the nearest town, my pal is waiting there for me.”

You were thinking far too hard for such an easy question. Thirty leagues was too far for you to clear by yourself before nightfall, and if night fell on you, you were as good as dead. You tried to think about it, but you knew your answer. You were done if you didn’t get on that horse. “I… okay. I think I’ll have to take you up on that, James.”

“Do you need help getting on the horse?” He asked, and though you had never even been on a horse before, you shook your head. You weren’t going to let the man grab on your waist and hoist you up. You would fall ten times before that happened, because that was far more embarrassing.

“No, thanks.” You were scared. You had never seen a horse so close before, and they were much bigger than you expected. Horses were for the rich, and that was partly why you were riding with this man. If he was needing someone who could sew and had a horse, he would pay you well for something that you enjoyed. It seemed good, in theory.

You took in a deep breath as you threw yourself up there, expecting fully to slip and land right on your butt, but you didn’t. And he didn’t help you, either. In a movement as fluid as water, you were on the horse, in the exact position that you were supposed to be in. You frowned at yourself, looking down at your legs in muted surprise.

“I’m shocked you made it,” you heard him rumble, and you nodded. “Most people who ride for the first time can’t do that.”

You added that to your memory bank, another clue to the screwed up mystery you were playing around with. You watched your sigh come out of your mouth, your breath coming out in smoke because of the cold. “Guess I’ve ridden before.”

*****

this isn’t what i usually write, but man, was this fun. i hope you guys liked this little part! come back if you want, and you’ll meet steve!! i hope you guys liked it, thank you so much for reading this far, y’all have my heart fr

#marvel fanfic #steve rogers fluff #knight!steve #knight!steve rogers #knight!bucky barnes #knight!sam wilson #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve fluff #royalty au

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lookforthefuture49 · 3 years

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Yo!

I got a fanfiction, finally. I don't expect it to be read much here, but here are the links to fanfiction.net and Ao3 pages for it respectively:

Ao3

Fanfiction.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13947355/1/Universal-Wars-aren-t-fun

Ok now I can paste it.

Enjoy <3

[Note: this story is only to be on Archive of Our Own/Fanfiction.net under the username DoubleKKookie and on Tumblr under the username Retrooutlaw. IF YOU SEE IT ANYWHERE ELSE, PLEASE SHOOT ME A PM! This is also kinda meant for funsies, obviously.]

Note note: half created by AI Dungeon. Yay for Ai Generated fanfiction lol

[Universal wars aren't fun//1//Battlegrounds]

Izuku's hair ruffled in the wind, the view of a crumbling city crossing his vision. It was odd, how one minute the world was peaceful, and the next an inter-dimensional war decided to happen. During this war of many universes, most of his world was ravaged. Izuku figured he would probably be safe, at least for now. His world might be a battleground, but he wasn't in the midst of the fight. He wouldn't hurt people from other worlds just because some of their worst villains wanted to attack other places. In fact, Izuku just wanted an excuse to help these new people, to stop their worlds from being ruined too. His plan was to travel between the worlds.

Except, all he got was a dazed sense of incompleteness as the world around him seemed to flicker. For a moment, it seemed as if he were home again visiting his mother over a break, excited to see what his friends did. He could feel a couple of tears form, but of happiness, of joy. However, just as quickly as this flicker came, it left, and he came to the realization he was just remembering the past, that he was still alone in the forest, and that seemed to worsen his sad state.

Izuku turned and took a few steps. He had to get moving, and he had to get moving now. He didn't quite know where he was going, but he knew it was far from his home. All he knew was that he had to keep moving, and find a new reason to fight. So, Izuku decided to just keep walking. He made his way through the forest, dodging branches and occasional bokoblins.

Bokoblins were odd, as he'd never seen them before the inter-universal war began. They hadn't even kinda existed in his world, but now he felt like he was fending the creatures off every other step. He never attacked them, but it seemed like he was constantly running from them, even if they were obviously weak.

This rural area he'd found himself in looked to be nearly untouched by the war. Still, there was this odd sense of unease, and Izuku felt like he was being watched. Like he was being watched every step of the way.

Fearful of this feeling of a watchful eye burning a hole into his back, he began to speed up, getting to the point of running. Running as far as he could, as fast as he could.

The more he ran, the faster he felt himself becoming. He couldn't tell what time of day it was, but he knew that it had to be night.

He ran for what felt like an eternity before stopping, legs buckling under him

He fell to the ground, trying not to cry out. He stood back up, deciding if he was going to be upset about a stupid war, he was gonna do it where it was safe, so he stumbled away from the wide open area he was in, and eventually found a flat-topped building, which he entered before reaching the roof and staring out at the more rural area he had found himself in. What modern building were there, such as this one, were overrun with vines and ivy.

He sat down on the roof and wrapped his arms around his knees, finally letting everything soak in. This situation was garbage. He'd been left behind by the civilians who escaped, he had no idea where his friends were, and he had no way of contacting any heroes or any of his peers to come to his aid.

Izuku didn't want to think about the possibility that they were all dead, but looking at the modern buildings being overtaken like this one, he couldn't help but think such a thing. If the entire town was this destroyed, how on earth could THEY be ok?

He didn't understand how something so bad could happen. How the world could ever go back to normal after what was happening right now, Izuku didn't know. But, all he could do now was try to help, and help he would. The moment he saw a portal open, it was his door to purpose, to other people, whoever they were.

He didn't care what world he stepped into. He didn't care if he died, he just wanted to make a difference. It was no longer about this world, about him, or any of the pro-heroes he once loved. Now, if it meant death, he'd stop this war. He decided right then and there he'd do it for his friends, for his family, for All Might, and for whoever he met on the other side of the portal he was adamant on finding.

He wouldn't fail. Lifting his arms from his legs, he rested his face against his knees and took a deep breath. He lifted his head up, staring to the sky.

"I promise, I'll save everyone. No matter what."

...

Izuku sat on that roof for several more minutes before deciding to resume his search. He stood up, left the roof, and began to walk again- until he heard something. Multiple people, a fair distance away behind him. Judging from what he was hearing of the conversation, they hadn't noticed him yet, and were rather focused on someone who sounded distressed and wanted to get away from them. He hid behind the building as the group of people came into sight, listening into their conversation closely.

"LET ME GO!" He heard peirce the air, and when he could see the group, he noted the man who yelled it was being dragged by the arms by two other people, and this man also looked.. unexplainably odd. His appearance didn't matter now, though. What was important was the predicament he was in.

"Would you just put me down already!?" He snapped again.

His supposed captors looked even angrier than they had initially.

"Our leader says that's not allowed, bucko." One of the two people holding him said. His voice was gruff and southern.

He had a goatee and his hair was slicked back. The other one was female, model-esque.

She had long, curly blonde hair, calm blue eyes and slick red lipstick, which was weird for someone to be wearing in this kind of situation.

"Our orders are very clear. Boss wants you."

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOUR STUPID BOSS IS BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU-"

The southern-sounding captor pulled a lighter from his pocket, and with it lit, rammed it into the torso of the man. He let out a blood-curdling scream and then didn't say another word afterwards. he, nor his clothes, had caught on fire, oddly enough. The southern guy snarled at the man. Izuku wasn't entirely sure who was good or bad in this situation, but he was irked by the entire scene. The only hard part was deciphering if the one who was captured by these two was good or bad, as saving a villain in the midst of a crazy war would be pretty counter-productive. From the way this man's captors were talking, however, he figured he was either a hero like him, or just in the moral gray trying to stay out of things.

Taking a risk, he stepped out from the shadows...

"Stop!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. They turned to look at him, and their eyes went wide.

He pointed at the man. "You two! Release him right now!"

"What do you think you're doing?" The southern one hissed angrily. "This is none of your business, kid! Go back to where you came from!"

His eyes flicked to the man, who seemed to be either knocked out or unresponsive, as he hadn't even twitched when Izuku shouted in his general direction.

"I don't care! He's being mistreated! I won't stand for it!"

The model (At least, Izuku assumed she was a model) whisper-hissed something at her comrade, who just scowled and shook his head. The two started arguing in hushed voices, as the man they dragged here was now beginning to stir.

When he did open his eyes, fear was clear in them immediately, probably thinking the glare Izuku was directing at his enemies was for him. He calmed after a moment, however. The pair seemed bugged but opted to leave without the man now that they'd been found by someone else. (Maybe that's what they were arguing about) They dropped the man harshly, although he didn't seem to be bothered by this at all. He seemed more bothered by the burn mark just below his chest, which, while small, seemed to be quite painful. It was hard for Izuku to gauge what the man was feeling, though, since he looked dead. Not just figuratively, but quite literally rotten and dead. It was strange, but Izuku decided not to question it, for that wouldn't help either of their situations. He instead walked up to the man, hoping to maybe initiate a conversation.

"Hey, um..." Izuku wasn't really sure what to say to him. He didn't know his name, for one.

The other was that he looked like he'd been through hell and back. He had a multitude of scars, both old and new, on his face and body. They were either dark purple, black, or was a hole, which revealed an empty vessel underneath. In fact, his entire complexion was purple, which struck Izuku as off. Any normal person, quirk or not, definitely was not supposed to be dead and purple.

"Are you alright?" Izuku decided to start with. Simple enough.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." (That comment definitely didn't pan out, but Izuku didn't know his life. Maybe this was normal.) Izuku noted a prominent British accent, one he hadn't noticed while the man was shouting angrily, which was odd, because he probably should have. Taking a closer look at him, the strange man was thin, mangy, and also lacked hair. His pupils were glowing, which also really was strange, and the whites of his eyes were now, instead, pitch black. It was somewhat unsettling, but Izuku tried not to think much of it.

"What was all that about?"

"Frankly, I dunno. One minute everything was normal and I was sitting at home, and the next those two were dragging me along to their 'boss'." He replied.

"I tried to get away, but it wasn't exactly easy. I kinda miss having muscles." He said this in a very nonchalant way, shrugging. Evidently, this man was missing vital body parts, who knows how many, and he was acting like it was completely fine.

"I... see," Izuku said, though he wasn't sure what else to say.

"So, what about you, kid? What's your name?"

"Izuku. Call me Deku, please." He stuck out a hand.

"Michael." The other shook his hand, and Izuku noted that he felt no bones in his hand, like it wasn't solid. It was strange, completely empty. "Uhm, do you know what's been going on lately?"

Michael did not reply immediately. "I dunno, something about some war? It didn't seem to pertain to me until I was dragged into a different world entirely, but feel free to explain."

"All I'm really sure of right now is that there is an Inter-Universal War going on right now, and I want it to end. Mostly because it's left my home a wreck, and I don't want that to happen to anybody else's."

Michael nodded in understanding.

"I can appreciate your feelings on the matter."

...

"How long have you been here?"

"Probably only a little over 2 hours."

Izuku had given Michael the choice to stick with him or go off on his own, and, not knowing what else to do, he agreed. Now they walked aimlessly as Izuku tried to explain a bit about what his world used to be like, and just make small talk. Izuku had decided the moment Michael agreed to tag along that he would not question his purple complexion or the lack of internal structure. It seemed like it might be rude, or bring back bad memories if he said the wrong thing, and he didn't want to cause that.

"I see."

They continued in silence for about an hour, before Michael spoke up again.

"I think I prefer this place over my home, truth be told."

Izuku was a little surprised that he would say something so out of nowhere. "Why?" He asked.

"I could go on for days about the terrible things that happened there." Michael sighed. "I don't particularly like dwelling on the past, so I tried to block it out. But here, it's all right. Even the atmosphere feels less oppressive, even if it's obviously still chaotic here."

Izuku frowned. "That's a pretty deep feeling to come up with so suddenly.

"I've had plenty of time to think, and this is the only conclusion I've come to."

...

The night took a long time to come, and Izuku still could find no portals, nor salvation in another world. He would have to wait another day. The pair sat down, and Izuku found himself falling asleep quite quickly...

It seemed like only seconds had passed when he felt something pulling him back to reality. He opened his eyes, and saw that the sky was beginning to turn pink.

"Get up." Michael whispered.

Izuku squinted, kind of annoyed. "Why?" He whispered back.

"I hear a large group of people coming, and I don't want to risk anything."

"Alright." Izuku nodded.

He stood up, as quietly as he could, and stretched, yawning. He was about to head off when he heard the sounds of many feet marching nearby. They were getting closer every second. He halted said stretching, and opted to climb up a tree. Michael made an attempt to hide, slipping behind a tree, but he was pretty easy to spot if one simply looked a little.

Izuku looked down at the group of men, as they marched by. His only question was why they were marching along together like this, and here of all things. They almost looked like soldiers, marching along with random weapons in hand. They were of varying species, although Izuku did not pay mind to this. When they passed and were far enough, Izuku leaped down and gestured for Michael to follow him as they tailed the group to see where they were going.

"What is this?" He hissed. They were headed towards a large open area. The group marched on, keeping pace, until they were they were the size of ants in distance. Izuku looked out to the open, treeless plains ahead. It took a minute to click in his mind, and he realized as Michael caught up what the plains were.

They were in the midst of a battlefield.

That's a wrap :D

#fanfiction #fnaf #five nights at freddy’s #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick · 3 years

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Summary: Winry sat in the optimal place to study in the school cafe for the entire fall semester. Then spring came, and suddenly some self-entitled twit who dressed like off-brand Gerard Way decided it was his territory. He was so not going to get off easy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.8k words of coffee shop/college AU with a side of enemies to almost-lovers

A/N: It's finals week, I posted this on Ao3 at almost 5am, and if the rest of the sentence didn't make it obvious, I'm writing from unfortunate experience. Not beta-ed or proofread, although I happened to see one thing to fix when I woke up this morning. Feel my raw power. Rawr.

It wasn't that big a deal.

It kind of really was, though.

Every Thursday morning during the fall semester, Winry sat in the same spot at the same school coffee shop. It was the spot sent by the entire patron pantheon of cram papers. Maybe one person didn't need an entire booth, but it was in the corner, and the tops of the bench seats had opaque plastic barriers that just so happened to be perfect for minimizing excess visual chaos. For the most part, there weren't loud conversations, and the jazz music that came through the speakers helped her tune out people ordering coffee. Add to that the fact that she could use campus flex dollars and not her own bank account that was begging for mercy, and it was the perfect spot to get papers done.

But apparently not this spring.

As soon as Winry walked in, she noticed him in the corner. Some emo wannabe guy on his computer. Probably on Reddit complaining about how women didn't appreciate the amazing pics he sent them on Tinder. Or at least, it was a fair guess based on the sour look on his face. Why did this guy of all people have to steal the holy grail spot? Ugh. She was still gonna get her coffee, darn it.

"You know the deal, Sciezska. Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer."

"On it! You paying in flex?"

"Yeah." She scanned her student ID and lowered her voice. "Who's off-brand Gerard Way in the corner?"

"Who's Ger—"

"The punk kid."

"Ohhh. I can try to get his number for you, if you want."

"No, he looks like a total tool! And not the kind I like dealing with!"

"Which means you think he's hot. I didn't think you were into that type, but you're not wrong."

"For the last time, no, Sciezska! He took my spot! And I'm trying very, very hard to keep this to a stage whisper, but if you keep trying to set me up with some random creep, I won't be able to!"

A distinctly male voice grumbled, "I'm not a creep."

"Keep telling that to the girls on Tinder. I'm sure they'll understand eventually."

"Yeah, and I'll bet if you look at your 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign a little more, you'll understand it eventually." He mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Nice Guy?"

"Lay off, it's eight in the morning. I said the only reason I even have a Tinder account is because my roommate stole my phone while I was going to the bathroom."

"Well, if you didn't want it, why didn't you delete it?"

"Eh, I figured if I really got sick of being single one day, it'd already be there."

"Never would have guessed you were single," Winry said dryly.

"Come on, it's way too early to be rubbing that kind of crap in. Who says I'm not fine with being single anyway?"

Sciezska timidly spoke up. "Medium roast with espresso and vanilla creamer?"

Winry thanked her as red jacket boy continued. "'Edward Elric, Bachelor.' Almost sounds as good as 'Edward Elric, Bachelor of Science.'"

"B.S. degree. Sounds about right."

"About time you stopped acting like I'm an idiot!"

Winry snorted. "That's not what I meant."

"Hey!"

"And with that, I'm going to go find some other spot to write my paper."

Edward, as his name apparently was, scoffed and mumbled something that sounded like "good riddance". Maybe the librarians wouldn't get on her case too much for bringing in coffee.

-----

A week later, Winry walked into the cafe, assuming the circumstances of the previous week were an anomaly. They were not.

"Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer," she grumbled and sulked in the direction of the corner seat.

"Hey, don't start with me again, blondie. I've had a whopping four hours of sleep and I can't promise you'll like what comes out of my mouth."

"We're at a coffee shop. Get some coffee. I can't help it if you're too hung over to be polite."

"Now look, genius. I did not stay up until 4 A.M. working on a stupid chem paper for that sadistic pyromaniac excuse for a professor just for some random chick to accuse me of being hung over."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And for your information, coffee doesn't really help me wake up. It just helps me focus on homework." He lifted up his empty cup and gave it a shake.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"ADHD is a weird thing, and yet, here I am."

"Huh, interesting."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up where I left off with the same stupid ten page paper I started last night."

"Oh right. Sure," Winry stammered. "Listen, I'm really sorry I just assumed things about you. It was wrong of me, and I'd like to make it up to you, if that's okay."

Edward eyed her suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well...I could look over your paper once you're done writing it? I've got a paper of my own to write while I'm waiting, and I can sit right across the table here so you don't have to come get me. I won't try to talk to you or anything. Neither of us need that kind of distraction."

"Alright, alright. Get your coffee and sit down. The girl at the counter's been up there waiting for a good minute or two while you've been at confessional over here."

"Wait, she has?" Winry's eyes widened, and Edward laughed at her expense. He was kind of attractive when he wasn't scowling...wait what? She pouted and got up to retrieve her coffee. When Winry returned, she plopped down on the bench opposite Edward and opened her laptop. Peeking out from behind it, she added, "By the way, I'm Winry. I figured you ought to at least know the name of the person who's proofreading your paper."

"Well, Winry, you're the one who volunteered." The corners of his mouth twitched upward. The two worked on their assignments in silence, occasionally speaking up when necessary.

-----

Edward was in the corner again the next week as well.

"Hey, Edward! Mind if I join you for homework again?"

"Normally, I'd say no, but you didn't bother me too much last week, so you might as well." He turned away slightly.

"Great! Have you gotten your coffee yet? I didn't see a cup, and you got something the last two times."

"Eh, I haven't been here long. If you're going up and getting yours, would you mind ordering a caramel macchiato for me?" He asked, sliding his ID across the table.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll be back in a sec."

She returned and slipped his ID back before pulling out her computer. "Do you have anything for me to look over this time?"

"Not this week. But if you have anything you need looked over, I can do that, too."

"Actually, I do, if you wouldn't mind."

"Winry, I just volunteered. Just send the paper to my school email. Mine's 'elricedwa'," he instructed as he proceeded to spell it.

"Medium roast and a caramel macchiato?" Sciezska called out.

"Coming!" Winry replied and turned to Edward. "I just sent it, so you should be able to start while I'm getting our stuff." Eyes glued to his laptop, Edward gave a thumbs up.

Once she returned with their drinks, Winry sat down and wordlessly set Edward's drink next to him.

"Thanks," he muttered distantly. His lips mirrored the words he was reading. Though his lips weren't plump by any stretch of the imagination, they were shapely. His steely concentration made the air leave Winry's lungs. To top it all off, the first rays of sunlight came through the window just right, hitting Edward's hair in a way that made it positively glow.

What was she thinking? Those were only the sorts of things people thought when they had a crush. She'd only had two positive interactions with him, including this one. ...well, maybe it was a crush. She could certainly do worse than someone with a questionable fashion sense. After all, he worked hard, and he got good grades, if the quality of his writing was any indication. Okay, fine. He was also drop dead gorgeous, if you could see past his clothing choices. Yeah, she had a crush.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"...no."

"Figures. I finished reading your paper. It's not bad, I just left a few suggestions for sentence structure. Now I am going to enjoy my caramel macchiato." He took off the lid and breathed in the steam with his eyes closed, nearly drooping into the cup in content. When he opened his eyes slowly, Winry was awestruck by the similarity between the color of his eyes and his drink.

"What?" Edward furrowed his eyebrows.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. At all. Nope."

"Okay." He shrugged. She reopened the document and went through his suggested edits. Gnawing her lip in concentration, she leaned forward a bit to settle in and tackle the editing.

"...hey, uh, Winry?" Edward gulped. "Are you going to drink your coffee?"

"Oh! Yeah, I almost forgot. Thanks, Edward!" she smiled.

"No–no problem. And you can call me Ed, you know. Most people do. Except for that excuse for a professor that calls me pipsqueak. Can you believe he's my advisor? I mean, come on, I'm a grown man. I'm not that short."

Winry made a poor attempt at containing her laughter. "Okay then, Ed. Prove it. Stand up."

"Fine." He slid out of the booth and stood. Winry followed suit and appraised their respective heights.

"Well, I'd hardly call you tall, but you're at least taller than me by a few inches, for whatever that's worth."

Edward grinned as if he had won some sort of prize. "Time for shorties to sit down now!"

"Watch it now. You're not too far from that label yourself, mister."

They both returned to their positions in the booth and worked steadily for the next hour. At the end of that time, Winry closed her laptop. "Ed, are you okay? You seem distracted."

"ADHD. I'm always distracted," he dismissed.

"No, like, are you sick or something? You did get more than four hours of sleep this time, right?"

"No comment." Ed's mouth twitched. He mumbled barely loud enough to hear, "Wouldn't have mattered anyway."

"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well, I can drive you over to the health center."

"N-no. That's not it." He exhaled, then slid a napkin across the table. His hands trembled slightly. "Anyway, here's my number. In case you need me to look over a paper. Or whatever. I've got a class soon."

Winry blushed, but tucked the napkin in her laptop. "Thanks, Ed. See you next week?"

"Yeah. Next week."

-----

Winry: This goes with your major, right?

Edward: Blocked

#fma #fma fanfic #503 day #when i wrote it it was probably still 503 day somewhere #edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #fma sciezska #fma sheska #my writing #my fic #coffee shop au #college au

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