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shelbystales · 8 months

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Ceramic Lessons - Part Four

Cillian Murphy X Reader - Masterlist

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3

Summary: after much insistence from his sister, Cillian attends a ceramics class with her. To his surprise, he feels a connection to the teacher, you. Will this connection go any further or will it be smashed like a bad ceramic project?

Warning: Fluff

A/N: a small reminder that this has nothing to do with his real life.

English is my second language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar mistake

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Cillian had woken up and was finishing up Lukas' things for school while the kid was having his breakfast: eggs and toast with warm milk.

When Cillian returned to the living room, Sile was seated at the dining table next to Lukas, engaged in conversation with him. She had slept over. Lukas was laughing as he wiped his dirty hand on the white shirt of his school uniform.

"Use the napkin to clean your hands, buddy," Cillian said, placing Lukas' backpack on the table and sliding closer to him a napkin, which Lukas grabbed in a handful.

"Hey, you. Came home late last night, huh? Didn’t see you come in" Sile teased, raising an eyebrow at her brother. "I don't even need to ask if you had fun," she chuckled while Cillian smiled, slightly embarrassed.

"You had fun without me?" Lukas asked, and Cillian furrowed his brows, smiling at his son.

"Do you really think that's possible? You're my funniest buddy," he said, ruffling Lukas' hair, earning a proud smile from the young boy.

Cillian headed to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee he started to prepare earlier, with Sile following closely behind.

"Spill it," she demanded, crossing her arms.

Cillian opened the overhead cabinet and grabbed two coffee cups, one for himself and another for his nosy sister.

"He gave you a hard time yesterday?" he asked as he poured coffee into the cups.

"No, you know the kid is an angel. Took a while to fall asleep, but then I added a bit of whiskey to his tea, and it knocked him out," she joked, making Cillian squint at her as he handed her the cup. "Now tell meeee," she pleaded, tapping her foot on the ground, making him chuckle.

"You're quite annoying," he said, leaning against the kitchen counter, perfectly positioned to watch his son eating and playing with his toy dinosaur.

"And you're unbearable. Now that we've exchanged pleasantries, spill the tea," she said in a playful tone.

"It was good," he smiled, looking at her.

"Just that? Where did you take her? Did you kiss? Are you going out again? My god, can't you tell a proper gossip?" She laughed.

"I took her to a newly opened vegetarian restaurant, the one Pad said was interesting. And If he found a vegetarian restaurant interesting, I assumed it would be good," he grinned, and she nodded, agreeing with his logic. Pad is a very carnivorous guy.. "It was good, yes, we did kiss, and no, we haven't made any other plans yet. I'll text her later," he explained.

Sile had an enormous smile and a gleam in her eyes that a child would have upon receiving a pile of presents.

"Ah, that's exciting," she said, giving her brother a playful shove. "You can thank me by buying me an expensive gift for my birthday this year," she said, making him roll his eyes and leave the kitchen.

"Ready to go, champ?" Cillian said, looking at his wristwatch. "Need a ride?" he asked his sister.

"No, I'll take an Uber to work," Sile replied.

She was without a car because her husband was traveling with the vehicle, so she was managing with rideshares and Ubers.

Cillian nodded, and they all left the house together. He waited for his sister's Uber to arrive before getting into his car and driving to Lukas' school, which wasn't far from his house.

After dropping Lukas off at school, he took out his phone and sent you a message.

"Hey, I've been thinking about you.

Had a great time last night.

Maybe we can see each other again sometime this week?"

When you read his message, you smiled. Your phone was on your countertop, but you couldn't reply. You were in the middle of your first class of the day, and your hands were covered in clay.

After an hour or so, you finally replied:

“I would like that. Want to go to the beach? They look incredible this time of the year.”

Not long after, he replied:

“Sounds fun. When are you free?”

“Well, the only day I don’t have classes in the afternoon is Wednesday,” you texted back.

“Wednesday it is! Pick you up at 16:00?”

“Yep! That works.”

You noticed you were smiling as you put your phone down. You liked the idea that he didn’t ask if you wanted a ride, he just offered it as a part of the package.

The anticipation continued to fill your thoughts. You found yourself checking your phone more often than usual, eagerly awaiting his messages. You wanted to but it was hard to not anxiously think about your date with him in the next few days. You looked forward to it, loving the idea of having him again.

Each time he texted, you felt a rush of excitement, appreciating the little conversations and the effort he put into staying in touch. During the following days he texted you a few times, one time to settle the beach you were going to go, one time to ask if you ate cheese and another time to say he had thought about you after one of the members of his project wore a cow’s shirt with writing “Cows are friends, not food”.

You weren’t far behind. You made efforts to continue in touch as well, sending him pics of your ceramic projects and telling him funny moments during your classes. The lines of communication between you were becoming more fluid and comfortable.

The days leading up to your beach day felt like a countdown, each passing moment bringing you closer to another chance to spend time with him.

As you stood in front of your closet, you deliberated over what to wear. You wanted to strike the right balance between looking casual and put-together. Your choice landed on a flowy white sundress adorned with a delicate floral pattern. The lightweight fabric would keep you comfortable in the warm weather, and you complemented the look with stylish sunglasses, and an eco-friendly tote bag slung over your shoulder. Inside the tote bag, you packed a bottle of wine, sunscreen, some snacks, and a picnic blanket, fully prepared for a day at the beach.

After you got ready, you waited for him in front of your building. Happily, you didn't have to wait long, as he arrived right after. He stepped out of his car, looking effortlessly stylish in a light blue button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of well-fitted khaki shorts and a beautiful pair of raybans. His brown leather sandals completed the look, giving off a relaxed vibe.

As he walked to you he slid his sunglasses to rest on top of his head, revealing his gorgeous blue eyes to you.

With a friendly smile, he greeted you. "Hi, beautiful. Ready?" he asked, holding the car door open for you just like before.

You nodded, excitement and a hint of nervousness bubbling up. "Definitely," you replied, offering a smile as you kissed him on the cheek before sliding into the passenger seat.

The drive to the beach was a pleasant one. The sunroof was open, allowing the warm breeze to tousle your hair as you chatted. The coastal road stretched out ahead, offering glimpses of the sparkling ocean to your right. The view was mesmerizing with the waves crashing against the shore

During the drive, you exchanged stories about your days, and you delved into a lengthy discussion about the popular TV show "Succession," which you were currently obsessed with. You shared your thoughts on the characters, plot twists, and speculated about what might happen next in the series. The conversation just naturally flowing between you both.

As you talked and laughed together, the beach grew closer.

He parked the car, and you both got out, the sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean filling the air around you. He opened the trunk to reveal a picnic basket he had prepared away earlier.

"Oh, looks like you came prepared," you giggled, noticing the sizable basket.

He smiled back. "I guess you can say I’m trying to impress a girl, you know… She’s pretty special."

You smiled at him, your heart warming at his words. He surely did make you feel special.

He held his hand out to you, and you interwined your fingers as you walked towards the beach, scanning for a quiet spot to settle. The beach was relatively empty, which was one of the main reasons you had chosen it.

Between two gently swaying palm trees, you discovered a perfect and secluded spot away from the gaze of the beach crowd. Cillian efficiently unfurled a vibrant picnic blanket on the soft sand, placing yours on top of it for added comfort and protection from the fine grains. The two of you settled down comfortably, facing the vast expanse of the ocean that stretched out in front of you.

He smoothly retrieved a pair of small glasses from his picnic basket, holding them out to you. "Wine?" he asked, his voice carrying a touch of playful anticipation as he handed you one.

"Absolutely!" You responded with a warm smile, your fingers wrapping around the delicate glass as you accepted it from him. "I also brought a bottle," you added

"Perfect," he grinned, his fingers deftly uncorking the bottle. As he opened it, his blue shirt hugged his form, and you couldn't help but admire the way his biceps flexed against the fabric, igniting an undeniable attraction.

With the glasses now filled, he set the bottle aside and picked up his own glass. Raising it in a silent toast, he met your gaze, a glint of excitement in his eyes. You clinked your glass against his, the delicate sound resonating through the quiet beach.

He opened the picnic basket, to place the bottle back in the basket and started to reveal an array of delicious treats. There were a variety of cheeses, some type of fruits, a small container of hummus, some crackers, and some nuts. The spread looked amazing, and you couldn't help but be impressed.

“My brother gave me some suggestions to pair well with the wine,” he chuckled.

“I’m impressed, Cillian” you smiled, taking the snack you bought from your bag glad you went with sweeter choices, you took out the mini chocolate muffins and vanilla cookies.

“I think we have a proper meal, here” he smiled and you nodded

"Absolutely. Is your brother a sommelier?" you asked curiously, taking a sip from your glass as your eyes locked onto his.

He chuckled. "No, he's not. But he could be," he replied with a smile. "He actually went to culinary school. Knows a thing or two about flavors."

"That's interesting. Is he a chef then?" you inquired, your gaze fixed on him as you continued your conversation.

"No, not really. He's a lawyer," he explained, causing you to furrow your brow in surprise.

"What?" you exclaimed, feeling a bit taken aback.

"Yeah," he laughed, "he decided to switch career paths, hoping for a more secure income in the future. But he still dreams of opening a restaurant someday. But I guess you can say he’s the family chef"

"Oh, That makes sense," you nodded and let your gaze sweep over the stunning view in front of you. The beach stretched out as far as the eye could see, the golden sand meeting the sparkling blue waves under the clear sky “It’s beautiful here”.

"It sure is," he agreed, his eyes fixed on you. You felt a warmth spread through you as you met his gaze. The sunglasses shielded his eyes, but you could still sense his attention on you.

He moved on the picnic blanket, moving closer and sitting beside you. His shoulder brushed against yours as you both faced the vast expanse of the ocean. With the sun still shining brightly, you both opted for sunglasses to protect your eyes.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in close. The feeling of his warmth against your side was comforting, and you sighed contentedly. Together, you sat there, taking in the breathtaking view and enjoying the tranquility of the moment.

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing background melody, the salty breeze tousling your hair.

You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling the fresh ocean air, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. Having him by your side made the experience even more special.

As you opened your eyes again, you stole a glance at him. His profile against the backdrop of the ocean was a sight to behold—strong, yet gentle. The hint of a smile played on his lips, and his relaxed posture exuded a sense of calm.

"I'm really glad we came here," you said softly, breaking the comfort silence between you.

"Me too," he replied, his gaze never leaving the horizon.

You took off your glasses and looked at him with a caring smile. "Hey, let me see your eyes," you requested, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek as you rested your arm weight on his shoulder.

"Why?" he chuckled, his curiosity piqued.

"I like the sight of them," you replied with a grin, your touch gentle against his skin.

Still smiling, he complied and removed his sunglasses. His mesmerizing blue eyes met yours, a warmth and intensity in his gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

“There they are,” your smile widened, and you couldn't help but be captivated by his eyes. "You're very handsome, you know that?" you asked, your words filled with genuine admiration.

His cheeks tinged with a soft blush, his gaze momentarily shifting to the horizon. His reaction surprised you, revealing a shy side you hadn't seen before. It was endearing.

He moved his tongue inside his mouth, moistening his lips as he gathered his thoughts, his gaze returning to meet yours.

"Did I make you blush?" you asked, a playful smirk in your tone.

"You sure did," he admitted, his eyes holding a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

"I thought you'd be used to compliments," you remarked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

He shrugged casually, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "Well, I’m. Sort of." he chuckled “but it feels different coming from you”

“How so?” you frowned friendly gazing him

He shrugged again, a hint of sheepishness in his expression. "I don't know, it just feels... more meaningful, I guess."

Your heart fluttered at his response, touched by the sincerity in his words. A warm smile spread across your face as you leaned in, closing the distance between you. Your lips met his in a soft, sweet kiss. Slowly tasting his lips, the wine adding a acidity to the experience. The kiss deepened naturally as you both slowly enjoyed the soft and warm feeling of each other's lips.

The connection you shared was undeniable, a blend of attraction, genuine interest, and the desire to get to know each other better making everything so exciting… You almost felt like a teenage girl.

As the kiss deepened, a spark of desire ignited between you as the passion grew, your lips moving against his with a fervor that mirrored the feelings building within you.

His hand caressed your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a tender gesture. Your heart raced, the chemistry between you intensifying with each passing second.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to pull away, your foreheads resting against each other as you caught your breath. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and you couldn't help but smile in response.

With the passion of the kiss still lingering in the air, he left a few gentle pecks on your lips, his hands cupped your cheeks, his touch warm and reassuring, as he inched closer, his lips brushing against yours once again. After a series of sweet, lingering kisses, he finally pulled away, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. You couldn't help but smile in response, your fingers brushing against his as you shared a comfortable silence.

He shifted his attention, his fingers reaching for the small container of hummus. "Wanna try the hummus? I made it myself," he offered, a playful grin on his lips as he scooped up some hummus and placed it on a cracker for you.

"Hmm, I do!" you replied enthusiastically, glad for the change in direction. As you bit into the cracker, the creamy hummus spread across your taste buds, and you couldn't help but let out a satisfied hum. "This is delicious! Are you sure your brother is the family chef?" you praised, your eyes dancing with appreciation.

He chuckled, his gaze warm as he watched you enjoy the food. "I try my best. I’t’s actually his recipe" he replied modestly, a sense of pride evident in his expression.

“Ooh, okay. I like it” you said smiling and you both continued on talking, snacking and watching the view.

The sun finally began to set, casting a warm and vibrant display of colors across the sky. The fading light illuminated his features, making him look even more alluring. You couldn't help but notice how good he looked under the sunset light.

"Tell me about your family," he said, taking a sip from his now-refilled glass of wine.

"Sure, my parents live here in Dublin. They're still married after almost 50 years," you chuckled.

"Impressive," he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah... they're very religious. Don't believe in divorce, but they believe in therapy," you smiled, a hint of humor in your tone. "I guess that's the secret."

"It would make sense if it was," he agreed, his eyes showing a genuine interest in learning more about you.

"Yeah, I have a sister as well, but she lives in France now. She moved a few months ago to work as a clothing designer. We keep in touch often, I’m planning on visiting her soon" you continued, your expression becoming more thoughtful. "I guess you can say I'm pretty close to my parents, to my family. My mom, especially. She knows everything about my life."

“Everything?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah, my mom even knows about you," you replied with a playful smile, noticing his gaze turning admiring as he looked at you. "It wasn't always like that, though," you continued, your tone growing more serious. "I was a difficult teenager, very rebellious, and often angry. We grew closer after the difficult events with my ex," you revealed, your eyes holding a mixture of vulnerability as you played with the picnic blanket fabric under your body.

"Rebellious? I could never have guessed that," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Yeah, it might be hard to believe now, but I had my moments," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess back then I was lost… and we all go through phases, right?"

He smiled back, a playful glint in his eyes. "I suppose so. I'm not looking forward to that with Lukas," he admitted, making you chuckle.

"I'm sure you'll handle it well with your caring attitude," you said, sipping your wine and making him smile. "How about you? I know you have two siblings."

"I actually have three: Páidi, Sile, and Orla," he told you.

"Oh, Tell me more about them," you prompted, genuinely interested in getting to know his family better.

Cillian chuckled, clearly comfortable talking about them. "Sure, let's see. Páidi, my oldest brother, he's the responsible one but also quite a fun company. In a way he is always looking out for us, making sure things are in order, he's a lawyer after all. He definitely has that logical, analytical mind but he can also be a trickster." he chuckled "And Sile,she is the youngest, and you know she is a bundle of energy. She's outgoing, fun-loving, and has this infectious enthusiasm. She can be a pain too" he smiled, you nodded knowing exactly what he was talking about "And then there's Orla, she’s younger than Pad and my older sister. She's the quiet one, more reserved and introspective. Orla is an artist, a painter to be exact. She's got this incredible depth to her, always observing." Cillian's affection for his siblings was evident in the way he spoke about them "We're all pretty close, despite our differences”

"So you all get along well?" you asked preparing hummus cracker

He leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Yeah, we do. We have our moments, of course, but overall we're pretty close. After our parents died we started to put some effort into staying close. We supported each other through that hard time”

“I’m so sorry about your parents! Is it recent?” you asked concern on your voice

“Sort of. Dad died a year and a half ago. Mom died four years ago. She had cancer and he had heart problems, physically and emotionally. He never got over mom’s death, he was quite depressed afterwards” He explained

You nodded sympathetically as he shared about his parents' passing. "It must be really tough to lose someone you've been so close to," you said softly, feeling a pang of sadness for his loss. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you and your siblings."

He sighed, his gaze distant for a moment. "Yeah, it was. But we leaned on each other, and it helped us get through it. And now, we try to keep their memory alive by staying connected."

"That's a beautiful way to honor them," you replied with a sincere smile

The topic shifted naturally into your likes and dislikes, as you both shared more about your interests, preferences, and even some quirky habits. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourselves laughing and discovering common interests and tastes.s

As the sun continued its descent, the casting a warm and mesmerizing array of colors across the sky, slowly turning darker. You both fell into a comfortable silence, too busy admiring the view.

"It's so beautiful," you whispered, your eyes fixed on the still breathtaking sunset.

"Yeah," he murmured in agreement, his gaze on the horizon as well. His hand found yours on the blanket, and his fingers interlocked with yours as you both watched the end of the sunset.

As the last traces of sunlight vanished from the sky, the air grew cooler, and you shivered slightly against the breeze. Cillian, sensing your discomfort, gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close against his warm body. It was a comforting embrace, effectively shielding you from the encroaching chill.

"It's getting chilly," he murmured softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Are you cold?"

You nodded, a contented smile curving your lips. "Yeah, but I'm much warmer now. Thanks."

He responded by planting a tender kiss on the top of your head, his chin settling there momentarily.

"We should probably start heading back, though," he suggested gently, he suggested softly, his voice a gentle murmur against your hair

You nodded, your fingers tightening around his shirt. "Yeah, you're right."

Reluctantly, you both began to gather your belongings, folding the picnic blanket and placing the items back in the basket. As you stood up, he kept his arm around you, providing a shield against the evening chill.

As you reached the car, he opened the trunk and carefully stored the picnic basket. As you prepared to get into the car, he turned to you with a warm, satisfied smile.

"Today was fun," he declared, his eyes lighting up.

"Well, you certainly make for great company," you replied, a smile gracing your lips as you leaned in closer, your hands resting gently on his chest as his arms held you close.

Closing the distance, he brushed his lips against yours in a lingering, sweet kiss. "So are you," he whispered against your lips.

With a last wistful glance at the tranquil beach, you both got into the car. The engine purred to life, and the journey back began. The drive was quieter this time, both of you lost in your individual thoughts.

Upon parking in front of your building, he turned to you, his gaze soft and affectionate.

"Here we are," he murmured softly, his eyes tracing the contours of your face.

A thought crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but ask, "Want to come in?" you smiled.

He grinned, a hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I would love to, but I don’t have anyone to watch Lukas today. I have to pick him up at my brother's place in a few minutes," he explained looking at his wristwatch.

You masked your disappointment with a nod. "Oh, I understand."

"But..." he continued with a hopeful glint in his eyes, "we could cook dinner at my place. This weekend, Lukas will be staying with his mom."

A genuine smile returned to your face. "That sounds like a great plan."

You unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned in to share a slow and gentle kiss, taking your time on exploring his lips. No real desire for it to end.

"Goodnight, Cillian," you whispered, pulling away and opening the car door.

"Goodnight, y/n," he replied, his voice soft and an small smile on his lips

With a final smile, you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you. He watched you as you got in the building, only leaving when you were safe inside.

As you got home, you showered feeling happy at how things were going. Cillian was a sweet and gentle man. If you guys keep this up, you were sure it wouldn’t take long for him to become important to you.

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dramioneasks · 3 years

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HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionWriters (Part 4)

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Famous Shakespeare Lines, February 2021:

Short Life For A Daffodil by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione and Draco have a wild daughter who likes to pull up daffodils and frustrate her parents, but the duo wouldn't be without their children.

Friends Dont by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - "You don’t choose who you fall for!” “No, because I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here now would I?” Hermione mourns the loss of a relationship.

The Malfoy Mistress by ThebeMoon - M, one-shot - Unable to bear the sight of Bellatrix carving into Hermione Granger at Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy whisks his hated former schoolmate to safety. He should have known better.

Rules of Engagement by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Lucius just had to be difficult about the idea of Draco and Hermione getting married. Will Draco and Hermione allow him to throw his weight around, or will they bring him to heel?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Popular 90's TV Shows, March 2021:

The Death of Theo Nott by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “Hermione.” Her head whipped up to see the broken expression in Draco’s eyes. “He wouldn’t kill himself.”

The Night of the Rats by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - What happens when a prank war goes too far?

Perfect Harmony by Talonwillow (TalonWillow) - T, one-shot -Professor Slughorn's star Potions pupil Hermione was tired of being the ugly duckling, so she created a potion that would transform her into a beautiful swan. Everyone seemed to like the shiny new version of her... Well, except for herself and maybe one other. Would Draco Malfoy convince her that what everyone else was seeing was what he saw every day, and would Hermione finally be able to live in Perfect Harmony?

Dramione Go Star Trekking by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Riker has made a pass at Hermione and she doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

Bloody Colonials by Maira - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger has had a long week, and the last thing she wants to do is leave the comfort of her home. But when her best friend asks for her help in dealing with a possible cursed object, what can she do but help? Brownies, Potion-making robe etiquette, and a cursed Nigerian mask all add up to a typical night at Hogwarts. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

The Latest Teenage Drama by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Teenagers. Gotta love em. Teenage dramas? Not so much. Draco and Hermione navigate the perils of unwanted teenage behaviour - 90s family sitcom style.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Around the World, April 2021:

The Assignment by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco, Aurors, have been sent to Cape Town on a top secret assignment - to track down a former Death Eater.

Finding Them by KrysKrossZee - T, WIP - After not finding her parents in Austrailia, Hermione enlists Draco's help and the two make their way to Vancouver when they have a new lead.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Language of Flowers, May 2021:

Spilled Ink by Maira - M, one-shot - It's nearly Christmas, and things aren't great. Draco Malfoy is still on house arrest due to the Wizengamot being a bag of dicks. Hermione Granger is out of the country on a job, which means he won't see her for a few weeks. And to top it all off, Hermione has sent Draco a plant. A green, spiky plant, for no reason that he can fathom. Oh, and a spelled journal that he's now supposed to write in. Because nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan. Written for the DFW Deal or No Deal Challenge!

Forever by Art3misiA - M, one-shot - Though they may be gone, our memories of them remain forever.

The Little Things by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When Hermione buys Draco a cup of coffee and leaves it on his desk, it throws Draco through a loop and he wonders what he should get her in exchange.

The Climbing Vine by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - After receiving some startling news, Draco runs out of the house. He receives some advice from a surprising source.

Changing of the Seasons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - Hermione & Draco find a local park and two unlikely faces to greet them.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Draco's Birthday Soundtrack, June 2021:

Straight to the Heart by AdAsttra - T, one-shot - Draco's ready to tell Hermione how he feels, but Cupid has other ideas.

Stick Around by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione doesn't know why Draco is the only one who makes her feel safe, but she is glad that she is able to get some reprieve from her brain.

Wild and Wired by Maira - M, one-shot - Need your lovin' here beside me, Need it close enough to guide me, I've been hopin' you would find me, You're the biggest part of me. - Hermione was expecting a fun night out with her boyfriend and her friends. She was not expecting ice cubes, sick ponies, and a serenade beautiful enough to melt her heart. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

Let's Get Serious (Please, for the Love of Merlin!) by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Draco wants to get serious, but Hermione isn't so sure. Will their opposing views make or break them?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Magical Monsters, July 2021:

There's A Zouwu In My Basement by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When a creature has broken into the Malfoy Manor dungeon, Draco has to call for help.

Miseria by crochetaway - T, one-shot - Hermione tames a Dementor.

Aegis by Maira - M, one-shot - Their world is in ruins, and their only protection against creatures wanting to kill them is about to fall. They make a plan to trek across the country to Hogwarts, where others have gathered to make a new home within the castle. There, they will be safe. One problem - before they go, there's a queen to kill. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal Challenge.

Fear & Desire by myladymay - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy wants to change his life. He returns to Hogwarts for Eighth Year and finds himself confronted with both his biggest fear and greatest desire, all wrapped up in a Gryffindor tie.

Innocent Monsters by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - Draco Malfoy thought he had reasonable expectations for his mandatory Eighth Year at Hogwarts, where he would be confined to the grounds as part of his probation. Isolation, hatred, and passing his NEWTs were really all he had in mind. What he wasn't anticipating: 1) Having a small firstie latch onto him like a bloody koala 2) Said firstie adopting an erkling as if they didn’t feed on children. To protect his little nuisance, he’ll have to seek help from uncomfortable places, including the Swottiest Witch of Her Age. Joy of all joys.

Transformed by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Draco and Charlie have a dragon to catch, and time is running out. Meanwhile, Hermione is missing, adding to Draco's woes.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos, August 2021:

Three's a crowd, four's trouble by AnnaRitaLi - M, WIP - p>My sister is right. My life did change that evening. I just don't think Rosalind meant for me to steal her boyfriend, or I don't think I stole him, Draco, not precisely. You cannot steal something that doesn't want to be whisked away. That's my experience, at least, and I've stolen quite a few things over the years. So I can say this with confidence. You can't lose something you never had. But you’ll have to read it in the book, dear. While the Crown doesn’t wish for me to speak out in public, I have been silent for too long. You see, There were three of us in this marriage. And people, the press, have assumed many things over the years about Draco and me. So this book, as you’ll see, it’s my attempt to set the record straight. Yes, there were three of us in this marriage, but there were also much more going on than that. -- This is the story the Crown never wanted to get out. In other words, I bring you the x-rated version of the book ‘Diana - her true story - in her own words’.’ It’s the Dramione as Charles & Diana AU you didn't know you needed.

The Marquess and the Kitchen Girl by Art3misiA - E, 8 chapters - Draco Malfoy is the son of the most powerful Duke in Wiltshire. One day, he will be the ruler of a large duchy. Hermione Granger lives happily with her parents - that is, until tragedy strikes. Two children will become friends, and gradually discover a forbidden love that seems as if it might one day defy the odds. Alas, this is a tale of doomed lovers.

In Her Arms by KrysKrossZee - M, one-shot - Draco's worked his way up through Voldemort's ranks but it would seem that all of his work has been for nothing when Dolohov captures a new prisoner.

The Happiness I Seek by Maira - M, one-shot - To those without a soulmate, the world is devoid of colour. They say that if you are lucky enough to meet your soulmate, everything changes. The world is brighter, food is richer, and you find a love you never knew you needed. Draco Malfoy has never been lucky. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

darling! by itscometothis - M, one-shot - When Draco and Hermione are invited to help demonstrate a path forward for Wizarding Britain and its reconciliation, neither really feel like they can refuse - Hermione for moral reasons and Draco for practical ones (read: Azkaban sounds bad). But they have very different ideas on how to play up this fake relationship. Written for DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos - Kermit and Ms. Piggy. It's as ridiculous as you expect.

A Thousand Ships by floorcoaster - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to reach out and take it.

Quiet My Demons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - “Unhappy, darling?” He murmured, his cigar placed on its resting dish, dashed out - a little puff of smoke rising into the air between them before disappearing. “Yes, completely.”

I Love Draco by crochetaway - G, one-shot - A few slice of life scenes with Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius ala I Love Lucy style!

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Final Word, September 2021:

Crime & Punishment by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - TRIAL TRANSCRIPT OF DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY IS FORMALLY CHARGED WITH THE FOLLOWING: CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT MURDER AIDING AND ABETTING A MURDER USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: IMPERIUS (2 COUNTS) USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: CRUCIATUS (47 COUNTS) PARTICIPATING IN A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION -- I don’t regret hoping. I thought I might, at the beginning, do you remember? But I don’t. I regret nothing about you, my love. Eternally yours, Draco -- A story of hope, punishment, and the nature of justice told in trial transcripts, visits in an interrogation room, and letters.

Boats Against the Current by AlannaTCooper - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy is trying to escape his past by running as far away as he can. But the past - and his nightmares - keep pulling him backwards.

By His Side by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione is lonely but there's at least one person who can break through her loneliness.

Trying To Live by IzzieStellar - T, one-shot - After her husband dies, Hermione can’t seem to remember how to live and her friends vow to help her.

In the Dead of Night by AdAsttra - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco are some of the last people to leave Hogwarts under the veil of a cold, dark night.

This fest is ongoing.

#dramionefanfictionwriters #Fests/Exchanges/Challenges #dramione

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fleetingpieces · 3 years

Text

My One in a Million CH 7

Y’all, this chapter got so out of hand and it’s so lOnG (or at least longer than any other chapter I posted) Thank you so so much @inloveoknutzy @knittingdreams @heyitssmiller and @donttouchmycarrots !! You all helped with this chapter in different ways and I appreciate you all so much❤️❤️

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @cheekeebabe (i can’t seem to find your tumblr :( ) @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge

CW: mentions of past animal abuse, emergency clinic, mention of needles

Masterlist

Ao3

Chapter 7 - Rough night

“Go home, son.”

Remus lifted his head from where it’d been buried in his hands for who knows how long and looked at the doctor smiling sadly at him.

It was well past any reasonable time, he’d probably been sitting there for hours, but Remus couldn't bring himself to move from his spot in the waiting room.

He didn't want to go.

He couldn't stand the idea of going back home alone, of Cocoa not being there with him. He felt as if he wasn't really there at the clinic, his mind was miles away in a deserted, foggy forest, where a furry little puppy was chained to a tree, barely keeping his eyes open, his ribs protruding like a black skeleton. How could he just go?

The feel of Cocoa’s body trembling with spasms in his arms as he’d carried him to the car was still fresh in his mind; how he’d whined pitifully from the back seat while Remus sped through the city until he reached the emergency clinic, how both their hearts had been beating a thousand miles per minute when he picked him up again and burst through the front doors.

The fear clutching at his heart had made him numb to anything else going on around him, to the way he’d practically screamed at the poor guy at the reception desk until someone came to help him. And even though he knew it was exactly what he’d come here for, parting from Cocoa and watching as they took him away had almost broken Remus all over again.

He would give anything to feel that heartbeat under his palm right then.

A hand settled heavily on his shoulder, grounding him back into his body. Remus didn't want to listen to those words again. Go. It sounded a lot like he was abandoning him.

"You need to rest. And Cocoa needs to stay in observation, but I promise we will take good care of him. You can come back tomorrow afternoon, he’ll probably be ready to go home by then."

Resigned, Remus nodded. He knew he couldn't stay and that Cocoa was in good hands, but that did nothing to quell his guilt.

He thanked the doctor, who squeezed his shoulder once, and walked numbly out the building.

The next half hour was a blur. Remus had no idea how he got back to his apartment building, he only had vague memories of getting back into his car and driving through the mostly empty streets.

All he knew was that he was now there, standing in front of his door, staring at the pattern in the wood without really seeing it, picturing the empty flat that was awaiting for him on the other side instead. Remus counted to ten and sighed. He figured it wouldn’t get easier any time soon, so he fished in his pocket for his keys.

Only to realise he didn’t have them.

He stared at his empty pocket as he replayed in his head how he’d dropped the keys to the floor when he’d gotten home earlier that day, and in his haste to get Cocoa checked, he hadn’t grabbed anything other than the car keys.

“Fucking fuck, just...fuck!” he slammed his fist against the door once, like that was going to solve anything.

Suddenly he felt exhausted. He’d been through way too many emotions in just one day and all he wanted to do was lie in bed, but he couldn’t do that ‘cause he was fucking locked out. Remus let his back hit the wall and slid down to the floor, hiding his head in his knees. Despite everything, part of him was kinda glad that he didn’t have to go in when he knew there would be no one there expecting him.

He’d left him at the clinic. Alone. Probably inside a tiny cage, with no one there to comfort him and those horrible intravenous lines piercing his skin. Remus knew first hand how uncomfortable those were.

His eyes burned as tears started prickling behind his eyelids and dampened the fabric of his shorts. It was his fault. Two years ago he’d promised he would take care of Cocoa, make sure he was happy, and look how that turned out.

“Remus?”

Oh, fuck. Remus tightened his grip on his knees as he heard fast footsteps approaching.

“Remus, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

The rustle of a bag thumping against the floor close by was the only warning he got before he felt someone kneeling next to him, but Remus refused to look up. What the hell was he doing out at this time? Remus was not sure he could deal with this right now. Not with the tornado that was Sirius Black.

He could feel the other man shuffling about, most likely not sure what to do, until he finally said softly, “Remus, please look at me?”

There was such a plea in his voice, and a level of concern he hadn’t expected. Remus knew he couldn’t stay this way forever, so he reluctantly raised his head, doing his best to dry his face on his clothes as he did. He just hoped his eyes didn't look as bloodshot as they felt.

Sirius' eyebrows were furrowed, worry written all over his face as he knelt there, his hands half-raised like he wanted to touch Remus but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

Remus stared into silver eyes, trying his damn best to school his features into a mask of impassiveness. “I...I forgot my keys.”

“Ok…” Sirius eyed him wearily. “Do you have any spares?”

“Leo does, but I can’t ask him to bring them now,” Remus shrugged.

“So what, you were just going to sit here all night?”

Remus didn’t reply. He just shrugged again, his gaze glazing over and drifting to the wall in front of him. He wasn’t sure he had many options, and his brain wasn’t cooperating to come up with a solution. Maybe he could force the door open. But then he would have to pay for the damages, and he might not be able to close the door again and leave it broken for the night.

A sigh brought him out from his unhelpful thoughts. “Why don’t you come to my place?”

“What?” his eyes snapped back to Sirius, who quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You can’t possibly spend the night here Remus. For one, it’s freezing cold and you’re only in your gym clothes. And for another, I won’t allow it.”

It did seem like a very reasonable option, but then Remus noticed just how close Sirius was from him, his warmth radiating from his body and warming Remus’ numb fingers. Suddenly, all he could think of was how he’d almost kissed this man just a couple of hours ago. What if Sirius was only asking because of that? Was he purposely trying to get Remus alone?

“Ah, thank you, but I can go to my Mum’s or...or I could sleep in my car.”

“Remus don’t be stupid. It’s the middle of the night. Your Mum lives far away and she’s probably sleeping right now, and seriously? What the hell are you thinking? Sleeping in your car? No fucking way, that’s dangerous, and I have Netflix, ice cream, and a perfectly good guest room just three feet away.”

Remus hesitated. Even if he felt more comfortable knowing there was a guest room available, he still wasn’t sure he could face Sirius and whatever had happened in that pool. Wouldn’t it be awkward?

But Sirius did have a point, he couldn’t go back home. And though he was reluctant to admit it, he didn’t want to be alone right now and Sirius’ voice was strangely calming.

“Are you sure?” Remus asked, biting his lip.

“Of course.” Sirius smiled and got up, picking up the bag that he’d dropped on the floor. It was from the shop down the corner, full of snacks and a pack of cigarettes as far as Remus could tell. He offered Remus a hand and helped him get up, then led the way to his flat without another word.

Remus followed numbly, using what was left of his strength to lift his feet enough not to drag them over the floor. Once inside, he glanced idly around, noticing a few more details now that there were no people partying everywhere. There was a weird mix of decor going on: some of the stuff was tastefully modern (and very expensive), while other things were the kind of trinkets you would most likely find at a thrift store or in a street market. A Queen flag hung from the same wall as a street sign that had clearly been stolen, right next to a huge telescope that looked out the window.

“Make yourself at home,” Sirius said over his shoulder as he went over to the kitchen.

Doors closing and the sound of ceramic clinking came from the place Sirius had disappeared to. Remus moved in autopilot to sit at the couch and glanced down at his hands. His brain felt like mush, his mind going completely blank while he waited.

He didn’t move an inch until Sirius came back a few minutes later, holding a steaming cup of tea that he offered Remus. It took him a couple of seconds to figure out how to move his arm again, and when he did, it was trembling so badly that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold the cup without spilling tea everywhere. He hoped Sirius wouldn’t notice, but by the way he frowned, he had no such luck.

Indeed, Sirius placed the mug on the coffee table before Remus could get a hold of it and sat down in front of him. He then reached slowly to clasp Remus’ hand in both of his.

“Jesus fuck Remus, you’re fucking freezing. Just how long were you sitting out there?” he asked in a reproachful tone.

Remus simply shrugged. He had no idea, and besides, he was too focused on Sirius’ big hands around his. He knew he probably shouldn’t, that the other man probably didn’t even mean it in that way, but he took comfort in that small touch, in how gently Sirius held him. It was as if he was scared Remus would break, or disappear in a cloud of smoke. He vaguely wondered if Sirius realised how long it’d been since Remus was touched like this.

When he spoke next, Sirius’ voice was softer. “Ok, this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to forget about that cup of tea, go take a hot shower and change into warmer clothes. Warming your fingertips and digestive tract is pointless if the rest of you is still freezing. And after that, we’ll get you sorted for the night. D’accord?”

A steaming shower sounded like bliss right then, especially now that Remus was painfully aware of how cold his shaking body was. Just accept it, he told himself, but all that came out of him was “I don’t have clothes to change into.”

His voice sounded dull even to his own ears, but Sirius kindly ignored it and waved a dismissive hand.

“I’ll lend you some. Now come on,” his tone didn’t leave room for arguing.

Remus was finding it harder and harder to look at his face, so he let his head drop. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Remus.”

Slowly, warm fingers extended towards him, touching lightly below his chin to make him look up. Sirius’ face was a wonderful mix of fierce and caring as he stared at him intently.

“You are not a bother. Ok? Not now, not ever.”

Remus’ throat closed up, and he didn’t trust his voice to sound steady, so he just nodded quickly. Sirius smiled reassuringly and brushed his fingers in a feather-like caress, and Remus found himself jutting his chin forward to prolong the touch, but, much too soon, Sirius let go and got up.

He guided Remus through a hall and into a spacious bathroom that had both a big bathtub and a shower cubicle. Sirius went straight to open the hot tap so the water would warm up, and then he reached into the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a soft looking white towel, which he placed on the counter. He turned to look at Remus.

“Toiletries are just in that corner, use whatever you need. I’ll just go get some clean clothes for you and be right back.” He smiled again and left.

With nothing else to do, Remus let his eyes wander around the room that was slowly filling with hot steam from the shower, until he looked on top of the sink and was startled at his own reflection in the mirror.

Damn, he was a fucking mess. His clothes were rumpled, his hair ruffled and dishevelled from all the times he’d raked a hand through it, and his eyes were red, puffy and a little bit dead.

“Here you go.” Sirius walked back in, carrying a pile of neatly folded clothes which he put next to the towel. “Call me if you need anything, d’accord? Take your time.”

Remus nodded and thanked him, not quite able to meet his eye. Sirius closed the door behind him and Remus took off his clothes and stepped in the shower. He hadn’t realised how taught his muscles were until the jet of hot water hit his back and he relaxed under the pressure. It was very soothing, standing there for a while, slowly working his body to loosen up, while thinking of everything that had happened that day and trying to calm down.

By the time he finished, he hadn’t succeeded completely, but felt a lot better all the same. He snagged the towel, draping it across himself, and went through the pile of clothes that Sirius had left for him, a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

The feeling extended to his cheeks when he picked up a small square of black fabric, only to realise it was a pair of Sirius’ underwear.

Oh God, was he really going to wear his neighbour’s underwear? His hot neighbour’s underwear? His hot neighbour whom he very much had wanted to pin against the pool tiles and kiss senseless?

He bristled and looked up at the ceiling. Well, it’s not like the air between them could get any more awkward, could it?

***

Sirius started tugging at his bottom lip for the ninth time since he’d sat at the sofa. Remus had been in the shower for a really long time and he was starting to get worried. He still felt slightly thrown off-kilter by the way he’d found the man sitting by the door, curled in a ball and hugging his legs as if his life depended on it.

And the despair in those amber eyes when he’d finally looked up at him… How the fuck was he supposed to ignore that? He never wanted to see that look in Remus’ eyes ever again.

He was just about to go over and knock on the door when he heard some shuffling, and his head perked up to see Remus walking into the room and stop by the archway awkwardly. Sirius tried to ignore how cute Remus looked in his sweats and hoodie that were two sizes too big for him. His wet curls were flopping over his forehead adorably, but damn, it was certainly not the time to be smitten by the man.

Remus was clutching his own clothes against his chest in a protective stance, like that could shield him from...Sirius had no idea what.

And that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? This man was so open one minute and incredibly guarded the next; Sirius could tell he was desperately trying to protect himself from something. But he just didn’t know why.

He mustered up a smile, trying to make Remus feel more at ease, and approached him. “Hey there,” he eyed Remus’ face discreetly. He looked better, but still seemed to be a bit off and he held the bundle tighter when Sirius got close. “I can show you where the guestroom is if you want to lie down, and then I’ll make you another tea. I’m afraid I drank the other one while I waited. Both cold and warmed up tea should be a crime,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood. Anything to get Remus to drop some of his walls.

The corner of Remus’ mouth quirked up slightly, and, given the circumstances, Sirius took that as a success.

"Actually, I… I don't think I can sleep right now," Remus said, rubbing at the side of his neck.

"That's ok," Sirius reassured. "Do you want me to stay up with you? We can play games or watch a movie. Or would you rather I leave you alone?"

And then Remus had that look again, that seemed as though he was drowning, and Sirius prepared himself to be shut out without knowing why. But then again, Remus never seemed to do what he expected him to.

"I wouldn't mind some company, if that's ok," he said, before he hurried to add, "but don't feel like you have to."

Sirius smiled brightly at him. "My work schedule is fucked up anyway, so don't worry about it. Why don't you go sit on the couch? I'll get us something to drink."

While Remus nodded and sat down, Sirius went back into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. He was actually meant to be editing his last recording, even more now that he had more of a reason to do it.

He’d received Remus’ merch a few days ago, and had made a video using it for the sole purpose of imagining Remus’ face when he saw it on Padfoot’s channel. Usually, Marlene was in charge of doing the editing, but he’d asked her to let him do this one himself. He knew it was stupid, but even if Remus wouldn’t know, he wanted it to be something personal.

The eagerness to finish them tonight was almost consuming him; he was sure they would lift Remus’ spirits. But he couldn’t leave him alone right now.

The water boiled, Sirius filled two mugs with a nice aromatic tea, and, after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and walked back into the living room.

Keeping a safe distance between them, he sat on the couch next to Remus, who raised an eyebrow when Sirius placed the bottle at the table. He simply shrugged in response.

"I thought you might want some."

Remus narrowed his eyes and held his cup in both hands, but after taking two sips he seemed to think better of it and reached over to pour himself a healthy dose. He sighed when he drank next and stared ahead, his eyes getting that faraway look again. Sirius wasn’t sure he wanted to know where exactly Remus was at that moment.

He’d been wondering for a while as to what could have gotten Remus in this state. The man was usually so composed, except for those few moments Sirius had gotten a glimpse of, when he could practically see him closing up. He hated that feeling, hated not knowing how to help him or avoid those reactions.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked after a moment.

“About what?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow even though Remus was not looking at him. “You don’t seriously think I believed for a second that you were crying in the hallway because you forgot your keys, do you?”

Remus flinched but still kept his head down, avoiding his gaze, and a horrible thought occurred to him.

“I...I don’t want to assume anything,” he started, feeling a weight drop in his stomach, “but if this has anything to do with… you know, with what happened earlier then I…” he fumbled for the right words as he gestured vaguely with his hands, and finally Remus looked back with a confused expression on his face. He frowned for a second and then realisation dawned on him and he hurried to shake his head.

“No, no that’s not it. I...Something else happened and I had to leave my flat in a hurry. It’s...it’s not about that.”

His face turned to a lovely shade of pink, and Sirius had the sudden urge to cup those cheeks in his palms and feel the soft skin beneath them. He balled his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching out.

“Ok,” Sirius said, relieved but still worried. Remus seemed uncomfortable, and though Sirius had a million questions he was dying to ask, he knew it was not the time. Instead, he added some whiskey to his own tea. “Well, I’m here for you, in whichever way you need.”

Silence stretched between them, and it didn’t seem like Remus wanted to talk, so Sirius found a silly movie that could take Remus’ mind off things and they sat in companionable silence. They sipped from their spiked teas while the movie rolled, and when those were finished they moved on to straight whiskey.

He could tell Remus kept stealing glances at him, and even opened his mouth a couple times, but ended up closing it back in the end. He gave him the time he needed and waited.

“Sirius,” Remus called after a while. When Sirius glanced at him from his spot by the armrest, he found soft eyes, warm like melted caramel, trained on him. “Thank you.”

His voice was earnest and loaded with emotions that Sirius couldn’t figure out, but it sent a flutter through his stomach. He smiled fondly at this gorgeous, unpredictable man that had stumbled in his life at such a dark time. “Anytime, Rem.”

Remus' face turned almost pleading, and it was becoming physically impossible for Sirius not to get closer and pull him into his arms. Not when he was clearly upset about something and possibly a bit drunk.

No, he didn't want to do it like this.

He raked his brain for a safe topic and said the first thing that came to mind. "So, you said your classes were going well?"

Remus blinked a few times and then made a vague gesture with a hand, almost knocking the bottle in the process.

Well, he was definitely a bit drunk.

"It's great. Everyone is very nice and welcoming. And it's amazing that I got to know Lily and Natalie. Although Nat can be a bit hard to deal with," he said, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. In fact, he seemed rather fond of both girls.

Remus stretched forward to grab the bottle again, his mug tilting precariously on his leg. Sirius wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to keep drinking, so he snatched it right from his fingertips and placed both mugs on the table.

“Hey!” Remus protested.

“You're clearly ahead of me, I’m just catching up,” Sirius smiled mischievously as he gulped down, the warm liquid burning his throat, and laughed when Remus scowled at him. “Tu es mignon,” he said before he could stop himself.

Fuck. Maybe he should cut back on the alcohol too.

But Remus didn’t comment on it, just stared at Sirius with those big eyes that somehow were so much like his pet’s. And suddenly something clicked in his head.

“Oh crap. Will Cocoa be ok?” he asked Remus, who just stared. “Y’know, with you being locked out and all.” Remus continued to stare, his hand flinching the only indication that he’d heard him. Sirius raised an eyebrow and watched, alarmed, as tears started welling in Remus’ eyes. He fumbled around, flustered, wanting to hug Remus but not sure if Remus would want him to. “Ok, merde, don’t worry. Maybe I can climb over to your balcony? But I don’t think I can get in unless you left the window open…”

Remus sniffed. “My dog…”

“Fuck, wait here. Maybe I can open the door anyway, I’ll just go-” he was already stumbling out of his seat, but stopped when he felt Remus pulling at his sleeve.

“He’s not there.”

“Not there? What do you mean?”

“He-” Remus sniffed again and his breath hitched, “he’s at the clinic.”

Sirius sat down slowly, his heart beating fast. “What are you talking about?”

“I… I got back home and he… he’d found some of my chocolate, I don’t even know where he got it from.” Remus paused to take a shaky breath. Sirius could just imagine the moment, and Remus’ worry, and his heart ached for him. For both of them. “He was all… trembling and stuff. I took him to the emergency clinic straight away.”

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked as gently as he could.

“I think so. They gave him something to absorb the toxins, but he had to stay in observation just in case.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

Remus’ tears started falling harder; great, heaving sobs shaking his body. He was a wreck, eyes swollen, wet tracks down his red cheeks, and Sirius couldn’t help it anymore. He took Remus’ hand, who held on as though that was the only thing keeping him together.

“But I left him alone at the hospital! When I found him chained to that tree, I promised I would take care of him, that I wouldn’t abandon him just like his old owners had. Just like I was ditched too. And I just left him there!”

Sirius started at that. What did he mean ‘he was ditched’? Every new detail about Remus’ past that came to light felt like having his vision go clearer and darker at the same time. Some questions were answered, but a lot more appeared that were worse than the ones before. He didn’t understand why Remus’ mum or Leo hadn’t been at the hospital with him, or exactly why he’d been stuck in bed in the first place. But he knew it was still hard on Remus. He could only imagine what leaving Cocoa at the clinic would have done to him.

“It’s my fault he ate the chocolate in the first place…”

“Oh no, we’re not going to do that. This is not your fault.”

“But he almost died,” he said, with his head bowed in shame.

Sirius scooted closer and held Remus’ tighter, while he used his free hand to wipe the other man’s tears with his thumb, first on one cheek and then the other. He pressed his palm against Remus’ cheek and locked eyes with him.

"Remus, the way you reacted is probably what saved his life. That dog loves you, anyone can tell, and I know you would never do anything that would hurt him. Cocoa is going to be fine."

Remus’ breath hitched again as he leant into the touch.

"How do you know?" he asked helplessly.

Sirius smiled softly at him. "’Cause he's a fighter just like you are."

It was small, but slowly, an actual, genuine smile spread across Remus’ face, looking at Sirius as if he was seeing him for the first time, and Sirius felt his world stop.

It didn’t feel like the sun was rising after the longest night. It was more like coming up for air after being underwater without even knowing it. It was melting every barrier he’d ever built. It was wishing he could see that smile every day, because if Remus smiled like that, then everything was a little bit better.

Before he could get his mind riled up about how deeply enthralled by the man he was and the panicking that would ensue, Remus yawned.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Stretching his arms over his head, Sirius stood up and turned the TV off. Remus tried to follow but stumbled over his feet and would have crashed over the table if Sirius hadn't caught him in time, draping a hand around his middle.

"Oops," Remus chuckled, and Sirius inwardly winced at how adorable he was.

He put an arm under his shoulders and helped him to his room, not bothering to turn on the light. He opened the bed covers for him, and guided him down; Remus’ eyes were halfway closed even when he was still sitting, and Sirius had to force himself to turn around and leave, but just as he did, long fingers slid into his hand, holding on to him.

“Don’t go,” Remus whispered, his eyes now on Sirius’.

What was he meant to do about that? They were both drunk, Remus had been through a lot, and he didn’t want it to look like he was taking advantage of his state.

“It’s ok, I’ll be in the room next door if you need anything,” he assured him. He tried to get Remus to lie down, but he held on to his hand and didn’t let go.

“I can play you some rain sounds?” he offered, a bit desperate, not quite thinking straight as the alcohol was making him a bit dizzy. Or maybe that was just the effect Remus had on him.

“No, you,” Remus pouted, tugging at his arm.

Sirius wanted to. He really, really wanted to lie down with him, tuck him close and hold on for dear life. But it didn’t feel right, Remus might not want the same thing if the circumstances were different.

“Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

The conflict in his mind dimmed and he sighed, defeated, ‘cause there was no way Sirius could say no to that.

Please, don’t regret this tomorrow.

He nodded, and Remus smiled and let Sirius tuck him into bed with the blankets up to his chin. Sirius removed his shoes and went to the other side of the bed, lying on his side on top of the covers.

Remus turned on his side as well, and then they were face to face with just a few inches between them. It was dark, but not dark enough that Sirius couldn’t see Remus’ face, his soft curls, the freckles over the bridge of his nose, those beautiful honey eyes, the curve of his lips...

How the fuck was he supposed to sleep with him right there?

It would be impossible. All he could think about was how only a few hours earlier they’d also been this close to each other, how their breaths had entwined, driving him mad. He’d been so sure that Remus was about to kiss him. And he’d wanted him to, fuck, he wanted it so badly. The need to be closer was becoming unbearable.

But maybe it was all just wishful thinking, considering the way Remus had ran from him.

He hadn’t realised he was still staring at Remus’ lips until they moved, just barely, to whisper almost inaudibly.

"Goodnight, Sirius."

When he looked up, Remus’ eyes were already closed, and a few seconds later the sound of slow, even breathing filled the room.

Sirius watched him sleep for a while; his face finally relaxed and more open than it’d been all night. Stretching slightly forward, he tilted his chin up to press a soft kiss on Remus’ forehead.

"Goodnight, Re."

#wolfstar fic #my one in a million #My writing #fanfic #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #wolfstar

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Home Bound (Part 3)

Summary: Dean has finally moved out with Sam to Lawrence and is beginning to move on for himself when a chance coincidence changes everything for him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy the final part!

______

Two Months Later

“Hey,” I said, popping into the kitchen in Lawrence to see Sam and Eileen both eating greasy breakfasts. “Hangover?”

Eileen nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, Sam giving me a careful look. We’d only moved out the week before and he was still watching my every move carefully.

“A bit. We got plenty of bacon left over,” said Sam.

“Nah. I’m gonna run into town and get some coffee, see if I can find out if any garages or construction crews are hiring,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours. Want me to pick up anything?” I asked. They shook their heads and I grabbed my keys from the front table. Sam stood up as I put on my jacket and I watched him from down the hall. “Yeah?”

“There’s a garage over on Henderson. Small place. They got an opening,” he said.

“I’ll check it out,” I said. “I’ll be back by lunch.”

Ten minutes later I was parked on a side street and walking along main, hands in my black winter coat Samson had shipped back to me. Sammy had been right on that front. Back when the leviathans were trouncing around with our faces on, his parents had shown him that was the Winchester boy apparently. He said his sister was doing good and he was planning to come out soon to get to know her again. They talked most days and she was staying with her parents, not too terribly far away. He had a sneaking suspicion that she’d snapped and killed the man that took her but the evidence pointed to a home intruder that had hit her on the head and that’s what was causing the memory loss.

I told him I’d look into it if he wanted but at the moment he was simply happy to have her safe again. And that I was keeping the coat.

At least I’d convinced him to let me buy him a drink when he did come out for a visit.

I tugged up my collar as a light snow filtered down on the March day and spotted the coffee shop that apparently had the best pie in town. God, I hadn’t had pie in months and I was so looking forward to bringing some home.

It was around nine so the morning rush was gone when I stepped inside, the little bell going off. A few people were eating pastries and sipping on drinks at the tables but there was no line and I walked right up to the counter, taking a look to find something called cinnamon death pie on the menu. Well that was definitely on the list.

“What can I get you?” asked the girl in the baseball cap, her back to me as she wiped up some spilled coffee from the back counter. The voice sounded so familiar and I stared at her, looking her over. She stood and turned around with a smile, my eyes wide. “Coffee? Baked good? It’s all fresh.”

“Y/N?” I said and she smiled again.

“That’s what my name tag says. Wow, you are really attractive,” she said. I kept staring and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was...what can I get you?”

“Dean. It’s Dean,” I said. She grabbed an empty cup and jotted down my name at the top, glancing at me. She looked happy and warm and she had no idea who I was. “Um. Black coffee. I’ll take a blueberry and cinnamon death pie to go too.”

“Full pies each?” she asked, marking off the cup.

“Yeah,” I said with a thick swallow.

“The death pie is the bomb. It’s so good on cold wet days like today,” she said. She put in the order and I watched her get my coffee together. Someone brought out two boxed pies in a bag and set it on the front counter. She brought back the coffee and hummed. “Alright. That’ll be fifteen dollars even.”

“Thanks,” I said, handing out the money. I stuffed a fifty in the tip jar and her jaw practically dropped.

“Sir, that’s too much.”

“Take it. Go to school. Buy a house. Go on vacation. Just...be happy,” I said. I grabbed my things and left, ducking out the front door. I skirted around to the alley and leaned against the brick. “Fuck.”

“Dean,” she said. She was standing there in her waist apron and a t shirt, getting soaked and goosebumps covering her arms.

“Just take the tip,” I said, trying to head down the alley when she caught up and grabbed my arm.

“Before...I thought you knew who I was. You know, the Whiltiston girl that was kidnapped,” she said.

“What?” I said.

“I know. But...you ever just meet someone and you just have a connection? Some part of you just knows that’s the one? I know I sound nuts but the way you looked at me back there...maybe you understand what I mean,” she said.

Shit. Fucking shit. Exactly what I wanted was right in front me. When I’d finally, finally, just started to have a glimmer of not feeling like crap all the time. My first day out and of course she’s there all happy with a real family and having no idea all the horrible things she’d been through. I’d have to push her away and fast.

“Lady. You’re nuts,” I said. She frowned and bit the inside of her cheek like she did when she was upset and didn’t want anyone to know.

“I know it sounds crazy but you sounded like you knew me or something. I don’t know. I just want to talk to you for five minutes. Please. I don’t remember a lot of stuff so well. I do but there’s all these gaps. It’s like I know you. I don’t but I do. Do you understand?”

Her shirt was soaked through now and she was shaking a bit. I’d have to be mean if I wanted her gone, wanted her to forget the fuck about me.

“No,” I said, stepping up and getting right in her face. “I think you’re crazy. I don’t blame you for whatever it was that you went through but that’s not how the real world is. You’re delusional and you need serious help.”

Her eyes watered a bit and she swallowed.

“I am not crazy. I have head trauma but I am sane. I don’t even show signs of PTSD that’s how little I remember of whatever was done to me. You’re just a cruel person who wants everyone else to be as miserable as you are.”

“Fuck you,” I said. She glared at me and I knew I’d made a mistake. She was still upset but now she was pissed and for Y/N that meant no backing down. “Listen. I-”

She grabbed my collar and kissed me. Hard. After a split second it softened and she moved away, staring at me. I blinked and then she was pounding her fist against my chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! You were just gonna leave me here!” she said, hitting me a few times before she was kissing me again. She slid her hand down and rested her head against me, taking deep breaths. “Dean Winchester I could kick your ass right now.”

“You remember?” I asked. She nodded and looked at me. I squeezed her way too tight, hearing the gasp of air escape her as I picked her up. I set her down after a moment, shaking my head at her.

“How…” I said and she smiled.

“You know my evil parents? Apparently the witch that gave them those powers or taught them at least...she put a little curse on them. If they used their powers to harm a child and that child died before them, they’d die not too long after. A few months was all. When my old piece of shit father croaked, I came back very confused. We know that witch, De. Red head. Queen of Hell. We might be friends with her and she always was leery of people hurting kids I guess so Ro had my back I guess. I think she did magic so I wouldn’t say anything on accident to the cops.”

“So you’re okay?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m livid with you for nearly walking away from me but I’ll get over it,” she said. She shivered and I set the bag and coffee down on the ground, taking off my jacket and tugging it over her. “I like your coat.”

“Your brother gave it to me.”

“You know Sunny?” you asked. I cocked my head and she smiled. “Samson? We call him Sunny cause son.”

“Yeah. He picked me up when I woke up in the middle of Colorado. We never did quite figure out why I came back or why there.”

“It’s not a coincidence my brother was the one who happened to find you,” she said.

“No, I don’t think so either.”

“When did you come back?”

“January 8th, about midnight. I had a dislocated shoulder.”

“I dislocated my shoulder that night. I slipped on some ice when I was coming home from a late dinner with my parents. You know it took the fake dad two months to die after I had. January 8th was two months exactly after I came back.”

“You think I came back because you did?”

“I don’t know. Apparently I can still tell you’re my person even with no memories. It’s sounding more likely. We can always ask Rowenna.”

“Yes, dearie,” she said, suddenly beside us both. Y/N jumped into my side and I wrapped my arms around her. “Sorry. If I’d known...I’m a different witch now. You’re both fine. You could have called though Winchester and I would have cleared this up. Also, that smells delicious and I’m taking it.”

She bent down and took the pies before disappearing, Y/N starting to giggle.

“She took my pie!” I said.

“She did kind of bring us both back,” said Y/N. “Come on. I’ll get you some more.”

She grabbed my hand and walked me back inside, ducking behind the counter in the back. Ten minutes later she walked out with three pie boxes, her coat on and mine tucked under her arm.

“I told them I’m not feeling well,” she said, handing me the coat. I put it on and took the bag in one hand, using the other to take her hand. We walked down the street aways until we got back to Baby and she slid in the passenger seat. “There’s forks in the bag too.”

“Come here,” I said as I sat down behind the wheel, setting the bag in the back for the moment. I moved over and pulled her into my lap, brushing off a bit of melting snow from her cheek. “Don’t go away again.”

“You were ready to walk away not ten minutes ago.”

“Because I thought you’d be better off not knowing about everything you’d been through,” I said. She smiled, that soft little smile that always made me feel better.

“Some parts were bad. But it wasn’t all terrible. Some parts were really, really good,” she said. She kissed my cheek and bumped her nose to mine. “I’ll take it all if it means I get to love you again. I don’t want to ever forget that I love you, Dean.”

“Me either,” I said, holding onto her tight. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do now but you’re not going anywhere.”

“Good,” she said. She was quiet, tucking her face in my neck and I smiled for the first time in months. She was happy and safe and mine again. “Want to drive to the park and eat pie in the backseat like we used to on rainy days?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. That sounds like the best day ever. I’m so happy you came home to me.”

“Me too, Dean. Me too.”

________

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #spn reader isnert #supernatural reader insert #dean x #spn fanfic #superantural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean series

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ladyanaconda · 3 years

Text

Helluva Dad Vol. 1: Murder Family

"Dad, dad, dad! Wake up, dad!"

Striker grunted as he covered his head with his pillow, but it was no use as the intruder hopped on his bed. "Kiddo, unless there's a wild animal or a homeless drunk inside the house, go away and let me sleep."

"Daaad, you promised that you'd take me along to the living world this time!"

Striker took a peek at the clock on his bedside table. "Not at 5:36 AM, boy. Couldn't you wait until I'm actually awake?"

"What am I supposed to do 'till then?"

"I don't know, use your imagination."

"But dad-" Out of patience, Striker bared his teeth at his son, tail rattling. Jake raised his hands defensively. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving."

Once the door closed shut, Striker went back to sleep… For about thirty seconds, that is, until the door slammed open and Jake jumped into his bed again, screaming in fright and knocking the air out of his father.

"What the fuck, Jake?!" Striker all but shrieked.

"There's a spider in the living room!"

"... What?"

"Spider!"

"And why didn't you squash it?!"

"It's a big spider!"

Striker's eye twitched. With an irritated grunt, he got off the bed, rolled up a porno magazine on his bedside drawer, and stomped his way towards the living room, Jake trailing closely behind.

"I can't believe it, A son of mine is afraid of a tiny, insignificant…" Striker trailed off and stopped in the doorway. A hog-sized hellantula was tearing the couch apart with big, sharp mandibles. "Boy, go get the rifle."

Once the issue with the spider was taken care of, Striker found himself unable to go back to sleep after the fiasco, so he went to the kitchen and poured himself a big cup of black coffee before making breakfast. Thankfully, Blitzo wasn't inside his fridge this time around, though he made a mental note to go get some more groceries.

As he served the fried eggs and wild hog bacon, Jake walked into the kitchen. He was covered in sweat like he had spent an hour lifting five-ton weights. "Dad, wouldn't it have been easier if we cut up the spider's carcass and take it out piece by piece?" he whined.

"And make a bigger mess I'll have to clean up? No, thank you." Striker placed one of the plates in front of his son. Jake frowned.

"Puaj. Tomato."

"Stop complaining and eat, boy. It's good for you."

They are in silence for the first few minutes. Striker would subtly glance in Jake's direction every now and then, smirking internally at the boy's expressions while he begrudgingly ate his vegetables.

"So, ready for today?" he asked casually.

Jake's expression brightened. "How's the living world like? Is it cool? Does it look anything like hell?"

"You could say so. The only difference is that there are humans living there instead of demons."

"Humans? What are those?"

"Well, you've seen the clients at I.M.P, right? They used to be humans during their lifetime. When they died, they came to Hell and became Sinner demons because they did bad things in life. However, some of them have..." Striker toyed with his bacon as he thought of a proper word. "...pending business with someone in the living world. Our job is to finish that business in the client's stead.

"So… The people who go to I.M.P. are dead humans who want to fuck up someone who fucked them up in the living world?"

Striker snapped his fingers. "Bingo. You're getting the hang of it, kid."

"Hey, dad, think I could use the-?"

"No."

"Hey, you didn't let me finish!"

"Sorry, kiddo. I thought you were going to ask if you could use the blessing-tipped rifle." Striker replied, his eyes reflecting off the knife he was using to butter his toast.

Jake laughed nervously. "Speaking of which-"

"No."

"Come on, dad! When will you let me use those?"

"When you're ready, not a second sooner."

"And when will I be ready?"

Striker dropped his fork to place a hand on Jake's shoulder. "We'll both know. Until then, finish your breakfast."

*HB*

"Moxxie, stop shaking. You're gonna shoot our only hellhound!"

"Wow, I feel so loved here."

Striker watched, uninterested, as Moxxie pointed the crossbow with shaking arms at a photo depicting a human family. "If this were real, he'd already been dead."

"You're not helping, Striker," Millie growled before focusing back on Moxxie. "Just take a deep breath, and let it out."

"But it's a family. Under what circumstances would we ever need to kill a human family?"

"Who knows? Maybe if that's what the client wants." Striker said matter-of-factly as he polished his pistol.

Moxxie wasn't convinced. "Maybe like a shitty dad, or a mob family. That's understandable. But to eradicate an entire innocent-seemingly in this instance-upper middle-class family bloodline?"

Loona frowned. "Hey!" You don't know they're innocent! This kid probably sets dogs on fire, maybe this girl gets off bullying Australian kids online, and this guy…"

"That guy definitely watches," Jake added grimly.

"Couldn't have said it better, little guy." Loona shared a fist bump with the impling.

"Exactly! Humans are full of secret nasties. It's why so many of them end up here."

"But-"

Striker had enough. "Allow me, Mildred." he stomped his way to Moxxie and picked him up by the throat. "Look, wimp, guilty and innocent aren't our business. We're assassins, not charity workers. Killing a target," he swiftly aimed his pistol at the photo and fired a clean shot at the woman's face, leaving a hole in its wake. His point made clear, Striker locked gazes with Moxxie, hissing. "Now pick a bloody target before I throw you out the window."

Moxxie fell to the ground with a loud thud. Millie handed him the crossbow again; he aimed the tip of the arrow at the father's face, trying to imagine it was Striker.

"I just think it's a bit excessive and we could be a bit more selective, is all."

Blitzo slammed the door open at that precise moment, startling Moxxie into firing the arrow. It bounced all around the room, hitting the computer, making a second hole on the photograph, and striking the bottom of the eel tank. Moxie jumped into Millie's arms while Striker quickly picked Jake up from the eel tank when he noticed it wobbling.

"Daad, I nearly had it!"

Blitzo caught the arrow just before it struck the client's skull. "...our newest client!"

The eel tank fell and shattered, spilling its contents all over the floor. The eels burst into electricity, setting the entirety of the room on fire.

Striker frowned at Jake, who was stunned into silence. "To think that could have been you."

"Damn it, Moxxie! I just bought those eels!"

They were forced to evacuate the building as the firefighters arrived and did their job. Striker was sure that this little incident didn't leave a good impression on the client, but surprisingly she didn't cancel. Guess she really wanted that person 86'd.

"Way to go, jughead," Jake told Moxxie sarcastically as they watched the firefighters carry the eels into their truck.

"Shut up, you little brat," Moxxie murmured.

Millie frowned at him. "Mox, don't talk to Jake like that!"

"He started it!" Striker rolled his eyes. Moxxie is 'supposed to be the adult who shouldn't stomp down to a child's level.

Wait a minute. "Did anyone save the fancy book?"

"You mean our only ticket to the other side?" Luna slipped out the blue, fancy-looking tome from her clothing without bothering to look up from her hellphone. "Yeah, got it."

"And that's why you're my favorite, Loonie!"

"I thought my dad was your favorite." Jake pointed out.

"Who says I can't have two favorite people? Your dad's my favorite employee and Loonie here's my favorite adopted daughter. You get a tweat now!"

Millie drew the chalk pentagram on the nearby wall. The lines glowed an eerie red color as the circle expanded and the area inside transformed into a forest. The portal was open.

"Cool! Can I draw it the next time?"

"Maybe. Let's get this over with."

Striker would never admit it out loud, but he found these trips to the living world… relaxing. The air smelled cleaner, like trees and nature instead of sulfur, ash, and lava-like Wrath. Its landscapes were more varied, prettier, and calm, at least compared to Hell's ecosystems. This place was particularly breathtaking; a wide lake surrounded by forest and mountains with the sun setting, giving the sky reddish colors that reminded Striker of Bombproof's mane.

Jake seemed to be having similar thoughts. The impling was looking all over the place, eyes wide. "Whoah…"

"Hey, hey, hold your horses!" Striker picked his son up by the shirt before he could dart into the woods. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I wanna look around, dad! This place is so neat!"

"It's your first time on the surface, right? Don't worry, Jakey!" Blitzo pulled Jake into a hug. "Just stick close to uncle Blitz and everything will be fine!"

"Sides, you and I got a very important job! We're going to keep an eye on... Well, the house, just in case something goes wrong!"

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Millie, I might be a kid but I'm not stupid."

"Oh, I know you aren't, Jakey." Millie chirped, ruffling the boy's hair.

Blitzo, Striker, and Moxxie silently moved closer to the house and leaned against the wall. The former two peeked through the window. It seemed like a normal-looking household with a mom, dad, and two kids. The target was coming out of the kitchen, platter in both hands.

"That's gotta be her." Blitzo chuckled darkly. "Ready to do your cowboy thing, Striker?"

As he was about to point his rifle, Striker glanced sideways to Moxxie. The cowboy sneered. "Actually, Blitz, this one's far too easy. We should let Moxxie have her."

Moxxie blinked. "Me?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, I don't see another Moxxie around here, do you?"

"He's right, Mox. This one's simple enough for you to handle."

Moxxie's face fell after peering into the house. "It's just a happy mother who just got out of the hospital."

"You snooze, you lose, Mox."

Striker readied his rifle, taking a few steps back to aim. He set his eyes on the blonde human female, licking his lips in anticipation. "I've got you, bitch."

"Wait, are we actually killing a family?" Moxxie asked.

"No, don't be a puss. We're just killing a mother." Striker positioned the rifle as it clicked.

"Yeah, we're ruining a family," Blitzo added cheerily.

"B-But… hold on, hold on. Let's just think about it."

He was pulling the trigger when the rifle was suddenly pushed upwards. The movement made the bullet miss its target by a few inches, hitting a mirror instead.

"Why, you-!" Striker grabbed Moxxie's throat, hissing and rattling his tail.

"What the fuck was that, Moxxie?!" Blitzo snapped. Moxxie seemed to go into a panic attack of sorts, prompting Striker to release him.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, tears in his eyes. "They just seemed so wholesome and happy, I panicked!"

Striker rubbed his temple, murmuring under his breath while Blitzo facepalmed. "Get the fuck over it, you baby dick-!"

PAM!

Striker roared in pain as a bullet blasted through the wall, hitting him in the arm. He gripped the wound as blood scurried out of the wound. Fuck, and on his aiming arm!

"New hole! Scatter!"

"Dad!"

Jake's voice brought Striker out of his daze. The last thing he saw before something struck his head was Millie picking his son up and fleeing the scene. Everything went black afterward.

…

As consciousness returned, Striker felt as if he had been trampled over by a stampede. His head hurt like hell and his wounded arm was no better. He tried to move but found himself unable to. Something was binding his hands behind his torso.

"Striker! Wake up, partner!"

"Wha…? Moxxie?" As his eyes got adjusted to the darkness, Striker realized he was tied up in a bizarre chair, hands tightly bound behind his back. Moxxie was in a similar dilemma on the chair to his right. "What the fuck?!"

"Thank satan you're awake! We're in deep shit!"

"You think?" Striker hissed. "Moxxie, I swear, if those bloody humans don't kill you, I will!"

"Hey, you can't blame me for us getting caught!"

"Oh, really? None of this would be happening if I had hit the target and been done with it! God damn it, Moxxie, I had a clean shot and you made me miss!"

"H-How can you kill a mother and leave orphaned children when you have a kid yourself?!"

"Because that's what we were paid for, for Satan's sake!"

They could have continued to argue if it weren't for the two presences in the room. As they looked around, they saw the two kids from before. He might have confused the little shits with implings if they had horns and red skin; their glowing red eyes and devious sharp grins would make the sadistic smirks of the Princes of Hell look like nervous smiles.

Moxxie chuckled nervously. "Well hello there, little ones. Aren't you cute?"

The children spoke simultaneously in a low, almost inhuman voice. "It's nice to have new critters to play with."

If he didn't know any better, Striker might have thought they were in the Cannibal Colony back in Hell. The entire room was adorned with human heads, limbs, and even organs. The 'food' on the table consisted of a roasted fully-grown man with livers and kidneys as side dishes.

"Moxxie, when we're out of this ordeal, I'm going to fucking pummel you." Striker hissed.

They struggled against the ropes, but the kids had made a surprisingly good job with those knots. They were good enough to impress even Striker himself, and he was an ace when it came to tying up knots. Sadly, there was little he could do with an injured arm and Moxxie's wimpy little arms were hopeless. Striker growled. If only he could reach his knife…

A light outside the window caught his eye. Then a second appeared, then a third, fourth, as if someone was lighting up torches. Striker paled.

"Jake!"

"Millie!"

Both imps shared a concerned glance. The girl pulled out a serrated knife on Moxxie; to Striker's surprise, the wimp pushed the chair backward and fell on top of her. He took advantage of the distraction, using his tail to pull his knife out of his boot and expertly slice through the ropes. Once free, Striker sent the boy flying against the wall with a kick. Moxxie, too, had managed to free himself with the girl's own knife.

Striker tipped his hat with his good arm. "Not bad, wimp."

"Can you move?"

"I'm not limp, it's just a scratch." Striker wrapped his red bandanna around the wound and pulled out his pistol. "Now let's blow a hole through that bitch's skull."

*HB*

Jake had never been so frightened in his entire life. Well, maybe that time when he nearly got eaten by a serpent, but it was different. At least his father had been there to save him. But this time it was him who got hurt and there was nothing Jake could do to help. He tried to save Millie when she got K.O.'d, but he stood no chance against a fully-grown human and was knocked out as well. When he regained consciousness, he found himself tied to a stake in-between Millie and Blitzo.

"Striker had that fucking shot. Goddammit, Moxxie."

The crazy woman was cackling evilly as she held up a torch. "Satan! We return your filthy creatures back to the pits of Hell! May the root of evil remain honored as we continue thy work!"

The torch landed a few feet away from the logs, setting them aflame. The fire rose up around them as Martha laughed maniacally… until she realized they weren't screeching in agony. Blitzo snorted.

"Yeah, that's not exactly how it works, lady. Sorry, your fire doesn't actually hurt us, but I mean I could fake it if that'll get your dick hard."

Jake blinked. "She's a dude?"

"Grown-up stuff, kiddo. You should ask your daddy about it."

"Well, I'll just shoot you in your smart ass mouth!" Jake gulped as Martha pulled out a rifle on them.

"That would be more effective."

"Blitzo!"

Jake closed his eyes shut, whimpering as he heard the familiar click on the rifle. There were two gunshots, but he heard no screams from Blitzo, Millie, or his own throat, and no searing pain. Jake opened an eye warily. There were two smoking holes in the sockets where Martha's eyes once were. Her body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

A few steps back were none other than Moxxie and dad, both holding their pistols.

"Moxxie! Striker!"

"Dad!"

"You're not getting your god damn paycheck for this one, Moxxie!"

As Moxxie untied the ropes, Jake jumped right into his father's embrace, wrapping his arms around his neck. Meanwhile, Moxxie and Millie hugged and nuzzled each other affectionately.

"I'm sorry, sir. I compromised our objective and put us in harm's way. It won't happen again. I promise."

"Apology accepted." Blitzo pulled Moxxie into a hug, but Striker noticed he was whispering something threatening (apparently), judging by Moxxie's expression.

He waited until Blitzo let go to punch Moxxie with such force that he fell to the ground.

"What the fuck, Striker?!"

"I keep my promises, Mox."

*HB*

Striker wasn't very fond of parties. Frankly, he just wanted to go home, fall to his bed, and sleep, but Jake begged him to stay a little longer to eat cake. After what the boy just went through, he didn't have the heart to say no, so he conceded. Besides, the look on Moxxie's face was fun to look at. He had no idea what put the wimp in such a mood, but he had the feeling it had to do with what remained of the target's bloodline.

"You sure you can ride back home with that arm? I wouldn't like to lose my best shooting asset!" Blitzo protested as he climbed onto Bombproof's saddle, Jake seated in front of him.

"Big deal, it's just a scratch. Nothin' to worry about, Blitz." Striker grabbed the reins with his good arm, the injured one resting on a sling.

Bombproof moved at a slow pace, so it'd take them longer than usual to get home. Millie had once suggested that he and Jake move to Imp City; there was a vacant apartment in the building she and Moxxie lived in and she'd be thrilled at the idea of being neighbors (Moxxie, of course, didn't share the sentiment). Striker regretfully declined the offer (to Moxxie's relief). He was a country person at heart and would rather stay in Wrath. Besides, he wanted his son to experience the ups and downs of rural life.

A loud yawn made him look down. "Tired?"

"No, just resting my eyes," Jake said simply, but the exhaustion in his voice said otherwise. Striker chuckled.

"How about you 'rest yer eyes' for a while, then? I'll wake you up when we get home."

"Really, dad, I'm not tired…" Jake trailed off as he leaned back against his father, resting his chest against his chest.

Striker smiled a bit as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Surely not, kiddo. Surely not."

#helluva boss #helluva boss au #helluva dad #helluva boss striker #helluva striker #helluva fanfiction #helluva moxxie #helluva jake #helluva blitzo #helluva millie #helluva loona #one-shot #helluva boss fanfiction

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soullessmocha · 3 years

Text

eyes wide open.

{ david the lost boys x reader }

rating: pg-13

word count: 1922

summary: the reader finds themselves in this picture perfect morning. yet with one simple phrase they questions their whole reality. what is really happening with them?

warnings: afab!reader, mind manipulation, false reality, picture perfect family, death, slight gore, pure sadness, soft!david, sad!david, afab reader, some sad sad shit, not proofread bc i wrote this so late at night.

a/n: i had major inspiration to write something for david. i have been watching a lot of wandavision. this show really inspired the plot and the general story of this fic. i hope you do enjoy! i broke my own heart writing this. and no there are no wandavision spoilers in this.

A yelp leaves your lips as two tiny humans graze past you causing you to jolt almost spilling your scalding coffee. “Boys! No running in the kitchen!” You yell to the rambunctious twins as they run around giggling as they chase each other before making their way into the living room. A sigh leaves your lips in relief before the tired smile turns into a warm loving smile as a hand is placed on your waist and a stubbled kiss is placed on your neck. “Good morning,” you greet your husband after putting a hand on the back of his head to which he chuckles. David slowly makes his way to the front of you. “Good morning, I see you didn’t spill your coffee this time.” David’s sly comment causes you to roll your eyes as you set yourself at the kitchen island where a breakfast was waiting for you. “Yes, luckily. You know we need to take Marko and Bruce out more. Get all of that energy out. I don’t know where they get it from.” You state before taking a sip of your warm coffee, the warmth causes you to shiver with satisfaction. An airy laugh bursts through the kitchen, “Ah yes, to be young again.” David teases once again before leaning himself on the kitchen island admiring you from afar with his striking bright eyes . These moments of sweetness weren’t rare but it was rare for you to catch him admiring you and giving you the soft look that reminded you of how much he truly loves you.

A soft smile creeps its way to your lips and you flop your head to the side, feeling the rollers in your hair to catch your head from going any further on your shoulder. “You can say that again.” Another sip of the sweet coffee trails over your tongue and you hear him sight as he also grabs his coffee. “I miss it. Sleeping all day, partying all night…” David trails off as he fills his mouth with coffee, his face being partially blocked by the family portrait mug. You blink at the statement. Why did that strike a cord in your chest? Why did it feel like you’ve heard that before? It was as if your consciousness did a full turn about. You blink a few more times and you can see David notice your sudden distraught state. Subconsciously you look down at your ring finger where two dainty gold rings lay, one with a perfect circle diamond and the other a simple band, symbolizing your marriage to the man of your dreams. Yet you don’t remember anything about the wedding. Why couldn’t you remember your own wedding? Also you couldn’t remember moving into the house. You couldn’t remember giving birth to your own sons.

“Darling?” David asks as he carefully sets down his mug, his expression feigning concern. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” He questions putting a hand on your back and rubbing low slow circles. Almost as if he was trying to ground you and bring you back to this reality. You shake your head, “What you just said-” you start but David only chuckles, “What? Being young again? I mean I’m sorry babe but we aren’t as young as we used to be.” You shake your head and stand pushing his hand away. “No, the other thing,” you start and look around the house carefully, looking at the family portraits from when the boys were newborns to the most recent Halloween photo that was framed perfectly adjacent to the fridge before focusing on your husband, “sleeping all day. Partying all night.” Then suddenly you hear his voice echo in your head and it hits you like a truck. “Never grow old… Never die.” Your words leave your lips in whispers. Suddenly your breathing picks up and your head starts to spin. Your chest heaves with each breath as anxiety and fear starts to fill your senses.

“What are you talking about, honey?” David asks with a seemingly worried and confused expression as he approaches you slowly. “Babe, you need to calm down. Take deep breaths, you’re starting to worry the boys.” he notes as the twins stand at the entrance of the open concept kitchen from the living room.

“No, no, no, don’t tell me to calm down David!” Your voice raises as you put a hand out to signal for him to keep his distance. The boys looked worried as well, almost as if you were scaring them. Were they even your kids? Are they a part of you? “Mom? Are you okay?” Marko, a little blonde boy asks you with wide eyes while his darker haired counterpart hid quietly behind him. “Go play outside sweetie, please.” You choke out as the boys hesitantly leave the kitchen hand in hand. David sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose starting to give up but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction. As the boys leave you point towards them with a shaking hand. You didn’t notice your whole body was trembling as memories flush to your mind overwhelming you. “David, wha- why- why can’t I remember anything?”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t start this. It’s too early in the morning for this.” David complains as he rests a hand on his hip of his neat chinos and white pristine button up shirt. He was dress as if he was ready for his 9-5 office job. Then the memories started to clash before your eyes. The bleached mullet, the gloves, the black trench coat. Yet here he was in front of you wearing a neat button up shirt with slacks and a brown belt. His hair was short and moving freely, no longer constricted by gel. “The boys? You can’t- I mean I can’t- We can’t do that!” You say in a loud tone and David tenses, his eyes slowly getting darker with each word you talk. “I don’t remember us getting married David! I don’t remember the birth of our boys! What are you doing? What is this David?” Your stance starts to get defensive as you keep your distance. David didn’t budge or say a thing. “David what the hell is going on?!” You yell, finally snapping. David blinks at your state, surprised as he looks at your long hair in distressed curlers, your robe hanging off your shoulder and your body trembling in fear and confusion.

“Y/N…” David starts trying to hold onto your hands but you rip them away on instinct. You know he had the ability to play mind tricks but this was on a different level. There are faint memories of you talking about wanting a family and kids before you made your choice. You chose to be with him forever, you chose to sacrifice all of those things to be with him. Why was he doing this? Your brows furrow in hurt and disbelief. “What are you doing to me?” You choke out as tears brim your eyes blurring the fine line between the realities you were in. You could see half of him with the striking bright blond hair and donned all in black. Yet the other half was a natural blonde, with clean shave and neat clothes on. “Y/N, I can’t let you go like this.” David whispers, he was now cornering you. Yet you didn’t feel in danger, you felt concerned but not threatened by his nature. “Please, don’t do this right now.” Was he begging you to stop? David never did that. Not the David you knew. That David always got his way and did everything he could. He would never resort to requesting for someone to stop doing something.

“Don’t do what right now? David, what is happening to me?” You ask and this time you close the gap between the two of you. Your hands cupping his cheeks as you search grey-speckled blue eyes. “What do you mean you can’t let me go like this?” You questions again holding his face searching for answers in his deadpan expression. David only sighs and shakes his head, not knowing what to say or do. “Please David, I don’t want to be in a lie anymore…” You beg in a hushed tone pressing your forehead against his and holding him close. As you held his warm body it soon turned cool, no longer as if there was any body heat radiating off of him. Then you were numb. Your eyes were shut close as you felt his forehead touch yours but they slowly opened when he pulled away. It revealed a house you weren’t too familiar with. There was pressure in your chest as if the whole world was crashing down on it. David was kneeling in front of you. The only thing keeping you two apart was the large steak driven into a part in your chest inches away from your heart.

A soft whimper leaves your lips as they tremble in the crushing weight of the reality. He was doing this to send you off one last time. To give you the lasting memory of the thing he thought you deserved the most. A normal life. “Shhh,” he hushes you and pets your head trying to calm you. You were wet and sticky with an oozing dark liquid. You were cold. Yet you were still awake. “I didn’t want to send you off like this,” David starts his eyes boring into yours in almost a hypnotic way. You could see his eyes gloss over, he too was in pain. You could only shake your head for it was too hard to talk with all the pressure. Your hand grasps his and presses it against your cheek. It was his bare hand, something so rare to hold and feel. Even the action of kissing his palm made your body tense and seize from the pain. “Thank you,” you whisper into his palm holding it close. David gives a sigh of defeat and brings his forehead close to yours once again, pressing them together in unison. One hand held your face while the other held your waist. How badly he wanted to close the gap between the two of you.

Suddenly with the blink of an eye you were back in the reality you now know as false. David pulls away from you and the boys come to his side. Your two beautiful boys wrap their arms around you. Tears fall from your eyes and trail off your cheek. You hiccup from a quiet sob as you hold them close. Kissing both of their foreheads you pull away gently. You look at David and approach him wrapping your arms around his neck. You press a loving kiss to his lips. Your grip on him was deadly. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips. David can only smirk and press another chaste kiss and hug you once more. He admired your scent one last time before he knew it was time. “I love you too,” he replies before pressing his forehead into yours. Then your world faded to black, nothingness, stillness, almost deafening.

David pulls away from your lifeless body that was slumped against the wall. A single tear falls from his eye and he is quick to wipe it away. “I will see you again soon,” he whispers into the air before stepping back where his boys were waiting for him. All of their faces distraught with sadness and fear for their brother.

#soulless writes #the lost boys #david the lost boys #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys fanfiction #why do i do this shit #imma go cry bye #david x reader #david the lost boys x reader

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reddrobins · 4 years

Text

damians happiness [d.wayne]

Older! Damian Wayne x Reader

Summary: The batboys begin to notice a shift in Damians behavior. Being the detectives they are, they decide to find out what could possibly could be bringing the demon child happiness.

“I’m worried.” was all Dick said when he made his way into the large kitchen.

Tim picked his head up from his computer, a look of confusion plastered on his face, “About?” The teen asked.

Dick leaned against the far countertop, looking at his younger brother. “Damian.”

Though Tim and Damians relationship had never been peachy, some part of him still cared for Damian, so he continued, “Is he okay?”

“Yes.” Dick said, waving his hands, “That's why I’m worried! He’s not his angsty self anymore, Tim!” Then he dropped his voice to a whisper, “I saw him smiling yesterday.”

Tim spit out his coffee. Damian? Smiling? “What? How? When? Does Bruce know?”

Dick passed his brother a paper towel and then shrugged, “I don’t know why or how or whatever, All I know is that somethings up.”

While wiping the spill, Tim bit his lip in contemplation, “Should we ask him? Like just in case he’s being mind controlled or under some toxin or something?”

The older son nodded, “Look, normally I wouldn’t spy on any of you, but this is worrying. I'm just thinking, maybe tomorrow we hang out with him. Forge it as some brotherly time and just see how he acts. A little recon mission.”

“Should we get Jason in on this?”

Dick shook his head, “No can do. Said he was on a mission with Roy and the gang.”

“Bruce?” Tim then suggested.

“Not yet. We’ll tell him if things get bad, don't want to bring too much attention to operation Annie.”

Tim quirked an eyebrow, “Operation Annie?”

Dick shrugged, “Yeah, you know, like orphan Annie. She's like always singing about how tomorrow will be happy and stuff.” At the look on Tims face, Dick rolled his eyes, “Whatever, I don't normally come up with mission names… Leave me alone idiot.”

Tim grinned and having nothing better to do the next day, agreed to his brother's plot.

“I’m telling you, beloved, that a single bad mark isn't going to stop you from getting into Metropolis University.” Damian said into the phone, “Plus, if it just so happens to halt your admission, tell them you're dating Bruce Wayne's son.”

You laughed on the other side of the phone, “Dames, I am not using you as a way to get into college. That's just wrong.”

The teen vigilante shrugged, “They would be imbeciles to not let you admit anyway. It would be their loss.” Then, “And my love, why do you even want to go to Metropolis? Its so far away…”

“Aw,” You teased, “Will a certain boy miss me?”

Damian scoffed, “Obviously. The days are long and boring without my beloved.”

Blushing, you asked him, “Enough about me. What are your plans after this semester?”

Damian thought about what graduation meant for him. Full time as Robin. Was the only thing to come to his head. Of course though, he couldn't just say that to you. He hadn't mentioned that part of his life yet.

“Most likely boring business meetings.” The wayne teen said glumly, “Of course if you were to come work for my father…” He trailed off.

“Damian, I told you. I would love to but I already have my heart set on the Daily Planet.”

The stupid Daily Planet. That had been your dream since your eleventh grade journalism class. Damian didn't know why you had settled on somewhere as far as Metropolis, He thought the Gotham Gazette was just as commendable.

“I know, I will just miss you my love.”

You laughed at his neediness, “Dami, I will still talk to you daily. We have phones you know.”

“I know, it's just not-” A knock sounded at his door, “One minute (Y/N), someone is calling for me.”

Damian got off his bed and walked towards his grand door. Opening it, there stood Dick and Tim, suspicious smiles on their faces.

“Dames!” Dick said, grinning at his brother.

This caused Damians suspicion to grow, “Grayson.” He said formally, “What's the occasion?”

“Nothing special,” The man spoke, “Can’t a brother just want to spend time with his own?”

No, Damian wanted to say.

“What about you Drake, is it brother time as well?”

Tim shrugged, “I mean if Dick says so.”

“Damian, should I go?” Your voice rang out in a quiet whisper from the phone.

The addressed teen put a finger up, signalling his brothers to silence and then brought the phone up to his ear. “I’m sorry bel- (Y/N), our conversation will have to be continued later.”

Nodding in understanding, you said, “Of course, no worries Damian. Love you, have a good day.”

He hung up before he said it back, not wanting to clue his brothers in on his new secret lover. Before he could stop himself, a small lovestruck smile made its way to his face.

Too late.

“Who was that?” Dick asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

The youngest child rolled his eyes, smile dropping, “No one of your concern. Just a schoolmate needing help with work. Now,” Damian acknowledged the two at the door, “Can we get this brothers day over with please.”

The day started off just as Damian had suspected, boring.

Dick had suggested the three of them go get ice cream and take a walk around Gotham Park.

Damian had already yawned a multitude of times, wanting nothing more than to go back to the manor and talk to you.

“So,” Tim spoke, “This is nice, I feel like we never do this.”

Dick nodded in agreement. Though, Damian not so much.

“Yes Drake, I love being dragged from my room to walk around a people infested grounds area. Certainly this is how I wished to spend my day.”

At that, Tim looked over at Dick, scrunching his nose. So much for Damian being happy, His eyes seemed to say. Dick just shrugged in response, maybe he did just imagine his brother's happiness.

Just about as he was going to speak, Damian's phone rang and the youngest teen excused himself.

“(Y/N)? Is something wrong?”

As your conversation continued, Tim and Dick had one of their own.

“It's that girl again.” Tim said. Dick nodded, “Look at him, he's smiling.”

The two turned to watch Damian, who was now smiling into his phone, kicking the dirt beneath him absentmindedly.

“She's the one that’s doing it to him. She's making him happy.” Tim deduced.

The eldest son rubbed his chin, pondering, then, “Tim. I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” The teen mentioned, moaned, he knew that look. It was the classic, ‘Grayson is up to something stupid’ look.

“You’re a genius with computers.” He spoke, Tim nodded along, “Tonight, we get a hold of Damians phone. You trace the call back to whomever (Y/N) is and tomorrow, we invite her to the manor!”

Dick, being the optimist he was, thought his plan was foolproof, Tim couldn't help but disagree.

“Two things, Dickie-bird, First, how the hell are we going to get his phone?” Tim asked, And secondly, this sounds like a horrible idea. I can't help but see this fall apart in like a million ways.”

Before Dick could disagree with his brother, Damian returned. “I apologize for that. What have I missed?”

Tim was going to fill him in, but Dick interrupted, “Who was that Damian?”

The teen mentioned glared at his older brother, “None of your business, Grayson…” Then, “But if you have to know, it was my classmate again. They had another question on the homework.”

Tim passed him a smug look, “You two seem to be awfully close or just classmates” He teased.

“Tt.” Damian gave, “At least I have game, Drake. Why don't you go back and talk with your minecraft girlfriend?” Dick laughed as Damian smirked while Tims face brightened to a cherry red colour.

That night, you had received an odd text before heading to bed.

Hi, is this (Y/N)?

Was all it read. With hesitance, you responded:

Yes, and this is?

The next text was much more cheerful.

hi! My name is Dick. I’m Damian's older brother. The little man's phone broke so he’s asking me to message you. Tomorrow, he was asking, if you’d like to come over for Lunch? Here's the address: 1007 Mountain Drive, Gotham

You stared at your phone. Damian was inviting you to his house? Though this invite didn't really seem like a Damian move, you accepted.

Sure. Is 12 a good time to swing by?

Dick responded with a quick ‘perfect’ before saying goodnight.

Turning off your phone, you rolled over and went to bed. All the while dreaming about what tomorrow would bring.

“Done.”

Tim looked up from his computer, making eye contact with Dick. “Done with what?” He questioned.

“I texted the mysterious (Y/N) and invited her to lunch.”

The younger brother's eyes went wide. “How,” He questioned, “How did you get Damians phone?”

Dick smirked, waving his own phone, “I didn't! It was genius, I just did a quick search on the batcomputer and her info popped up. So I texted her.”

“If Bruce finds out, you're dead.” Tim then shrugged, “I have to hand it to you DIck, that was pretty smart.”

Flashing a glimmering smile he spoke, “What can I say? I’m not all looks, Timothy. I have some brains in here.” He tapped his head.

Twelve o’clock had arrived much sooner than expected.

After being dropped off by a taxi, you stared up at the big house. You had always imagined Damians house to be large, but this?

Shaking your thoughts away, you gingerly made your way up the stairs and to the front door.

Do you knock? Ring the doorbell maybe? Your thoughts were rampant, not wanting to make a bad impression.

Before you could even lay a finger upon the button, the wide doors swung open, revealing a tall man with sparking blue eyes and a disarming smile.

Dick Grayson. You knew from the tabloids.

“Um, Hello?” Your greeting came out more like a question, leaving Dick to chuckle.

“Hi!” He said excitedly, “I’m so happy you could make it… I mean Damians happy you could make it. He planned this after all!”

You eyed the older man, suspicious at his wavering tone of voice, but dismissed the distrust. “Yeah… me too.”

Silence took over the conversation as you stood waiting to come inside. Dick finally caught on, “Oh, my bad. Want to come in?”

Nodding, he led you inside. You almost fainted while looking at the sheer greatness of the manor.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor!” Dick said, proudly,”I know its a lot to take in at first, but you'll get used to it.”

No I will not. You thought.

“This way to the dining room, if you'd like to take a seat. Alfreds just finishing up lunch.”

So many questions swarmed in your head, Who’s Alfred, Why is their house so big, Where is Damian?

You nodded along, following Dick into the grand dining hall. You didn't know they made tables this long.

Before Dick went to check on lunch, he said, “You can sit anywhere… I'd suggest the last seat on the right, that way you'll be next to Dames.” His tone suggested teasing and you had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes.

Be polite, you scolded yourself.

Taking a seat, you patiently waited for someone else to come into the room. When the door opened your heart picked up, hoping it was your loving boyfriend.

Alas, it seemed to be another raven haired and ocean eyed man. He seemed to pause when he saw you, confusion masked on his face. “Um, Hello?” He said, gripping his mug tighter towards him.

“Uh, hi?” You said, questioning tone once again.

You watched as the gears turned in his head until a lightbulb went off and he nodded to himself, “You must be (Y/N), right?”

“Yup.” Then, “You are?”

“Tim Drake. Damian's older brother.” How many brothers did Damian have? “The midget will be down soon. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Midget? Damian was like what? 5’11? Taller than you that is.

Tim left and you were left by your lonesome again. That was until Dick bursts back into the room, a tray of sandwiches in his hand. “It's fine Alfred,” He called into the kitchen, “Don't worry, I got it.”

He then turned to you, “Butlers am I right?”

Not knowing how to respond because you never had one, you nodded along.

“Does PB and J work for you? I know it's Damians favourite and I assumed it would just be yours too, seeing how close you are.”

Your cheeks flared at his words, did they all know you were dating? You thought it was a secret?

“Yes, works with me.” You said with a shaky laugh.

While you and Dick awkwardly made small talk, a bigger commotion was going on upstairs.

“Drake!” Damian pounded on his brother's door. “Drake open this up right now!”

Following Damians commands, Tim walked to his bedroom door, cracking it open, “Yes, Damian?”

The taller though younger brother pushed the door open all the way, stomping into the room. “Why is (Y/N) here?” He hissed.

Tim quirked a brow, folding his arms, “How do you know?”

“Tt,” Damian gave, “I’m not deaf, you imbecile. I heard the car pull up. Who invited her?”

Now, don't get it wrong, Damian was totally ecstatic to see you somewhere other than school, but he was not okay with his whole family being here.

“Me and Dick.” Tim said bluntly.

Damian's glare hardened, “When? Why did you think it was a good idea, you backstabbing al'abalah!”

Tim put his hands up in defence, “Listen. We saw how happy she made you and we just thought it'd be a nice treat to see her in person.”

Damian agreed, it was a nice sentiment, however, why here? “That doesn't excuse you both for betraying my trust. I wanted to keep my relationship private for a reason, Drake.”

His older brother smirked, “Relationship, huh? Thought she was just a classmate.” He teased.

The youngest Wayned groaned and stormed out of the room, racing down the steps.

Your laugh echoed throughout the dining hall. Damian stood in front of the door, smiling with butterflies in his stomach and palms sweaty. He couldn’t believe you were actually at his house.

Opening the door, he heard Dick say something stupid causing your laugh to erupt once more.

Upon opening your eyes, you caught Damians, the two of you staring at each other. Dick smirked and pushed his chair out from under him, “Well,” he started, “Guess this is my cue, have fun you two.”

At that, the man walked out of the dining room, not before giving Damian a wink.

The youngest Wayne rolled his eyes at his brother, then turned back to you.

“(Y/N).” was all he could muster.

“Damian.” You replied.

The teen raced over towards you, immediately grasping your hands and pulling you up from your seat, engrossing you into a hug. “You’re really here.” he whispered into the embrace.

You pulled away, smiling, “I am, my love.” You whispered back.

Damian let go of your hands and took the seat across from you, “I apologize for the odd circumstances of course, this was not how I wished to introduce you to my family.”

Nodding in understanding, you dismissed his apology with a wave, “Damian, it doesn't bother me at all. I quite like your brothers.”

Groaning, Damian spoke, “Can't say the same, beloved. They did plot against me, after all.”

Smirking, you reached across the table, playing with his fingertips, “If they hadn’t, we wouldn't have seen each other today. Maybe you should be thanking them.”

Damian soothed the back of your hand with his thumb, “I would’ve found a way to see you. I can’t stand to live a day without seeing you.”

At his flirtatious words you blushed, “Damian Wayne, you are the only one for me.”

It was his turn to blush, “Same for you beloved.”

You pulled your hand away, lifting the silver cover from your lunch tray, “Good. Now, time for sandwiches or?”

Damian pondered for a moment then, “I have a better idea.”

The two of you sat on a big red blanket, settled down in the front yard of the Manor. While you munched on your freshly made pb and j, Damian sat with Titus in his lap, stroking his fur.

You couldn't help but admire the view, he looked like a prince. Strong jawline, bright green eyes and soft well kept hair, and it was all yours.

You sighed lovingly causing Damian to look over, “Enjoying the view?,” He teased.

Playfully, you rolled your eyes, bringing your arm up to ‘hit’ him.

He caught it, turning your play punch into a handhold.

Brining your grip towards his mouth, he kissed your palm, leaning against the warmth of your hand.

Enjoying the calm and serene moment, the both of you stayed in this position for quite some time, too in love to notice the car pull up.

Inside the Manor, Dick and Tim stood by the large front window, looking out at the scene on the lawn.

“Something wrong boys?”

The two brothers jumped at the voice behind them. There stood Bruce, dressed in business attire, briefcase still in hand as he had just got home from WE.

Tim was the first to speak up, “Yeah actually. Damians smiling.”

Bruce gave his signature bat-smirk at his son, “And that's a problem?” Yes, though it was odd, Bruce found comfort knowing that something in this word could make his angsty teen of a son happy.

Tim looked up at Dick for help, He quickly jumped in, “Of course not Bruce, it's just… odd? We’ve spent years trying to get him to laugh, to smile, anything and then suddenly, he's enjoying himself?”

Bruce could've sworn for the kids he considered intelligent, they sure had no grasp on relationships, platonic or otherwise. The tall man made his way in front of the two, looking out on the lawn.

A smile crept onto his stoic face as he saw Damian, curled up against you, laughing at something you had said. “He’s in love.” Was all Bruce said.

He walked away from the windows, only stopping when he realised his sons were still spying on the couple. “That's enough,” He said, waving them away from the window, “I’m sure you’ve both intervened already, leave the boy be.”

Though Tim and Dick still yearned to watch their little brother fall further and further for you, they listened to their father and backed away from the tall window, closing the curtains.

“They’re gone.” Was all Damian said to you.

Picking your head up from his lap, you furrowed your brows, “Huh?”

“My Brothers,” He explained, “They were spying on us. Though, they are gone now.”

“Oh.” You responded, laying back down.

Damian went to play with your hair, “It is just us now, beloved.”

You hummed in response, loving the feeling of his head massage. Comfortable silence took over the conversation until you felt Damians hand stop.

You looked up at him, confusion on your face, “Something wrong, Dami?”

The teen shook his head, “No, I was just thinking.”

“About?” You pushed.

“Kissing you.” He said bluntly.

Face turning red, you gave out another ‘Oh.’ You sat up once more, turning your body to face him.

“Can I?”

Instead of using your words this time, you lightly placed your hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close, sealing your lips together.

Little did the two of you know, up in the second story study stood Bruce, smiling down at his son from the window.

#damian wayne #older!damian wayne #older!damian wayne x reader #older! damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader #batman imagine #batman x reader #batfamily #batfamily imagine #batman

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lost-andfound · 3 years

Text

CARRY ON (How Supernatural Should Have Ended)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041390

INT. VAMP NEST BARN. NIGHT.

A VAMPIRE has just impaled DEAN on a nail. It is suggested that he is about to die. There are two flickering light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The barn looks uncannily similar to the barn in which Dean and CASTIEL first met.

Dean chokes, blood pooling from his mouth. His eyes are glassy and fighting to stay open. SAM’s eyes are filled with tears--he can’t believe it.

DEAN (coughing, trying to speak through the pain) I thought— dammit, man, I thought this was our chance. A chance at a real life.

SAM (truly, genuinely, painfully) I’m sorry.

Sam’s hand hovers around the wound, as if trying to cure it. Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t want to die, but he’s past the point of no return.

DEAN (gently) Sammy— everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve lost— I’m glad it was with you.

SAM (starting to panic) No, Dean, no—

DEAN (breathing slower, but doing his best to look his brother in the eyes) I didn’t wanna die. I didn’t. Promise me you know that.

Sam nods. He can’t speak. He wishes— he prays— but no one comes. Dean’s head goes slack in Sam’s hand. His eyes are empty. He’s dead. The camera PANS slowly to Sam’s stunned face.

SAM Dean. (He waits for an answer, but none comes.) Dean, please.

Behind, there is a flutter of wings. The light bulbs blow out, glass shattering on the ground. Sam freezes, hoping against all odds—

CASTIEL (firmly, as if with all the power of Heaven on his side) No one dies today.

Without further ado, he grasps Dean’s body and pulls him off the nail. Sam winces at the sound, but Castiel does not flinch. He grips Dean by the shoulder and puts his hand over the wound. An unearthly blue light— the light of angelic Grace— flows from his hands, shines from his eyes. It is not the healing we’ve seen before— this power seems to come from the deepest part of Cas himself.

A beat. Sam stares, tense, hoping. Cas steps back, and Dean gasps.

SAM (with deep relief) Thank God.

DEAN (exhausted, yet still wise-cracking) That asshole ain’t to thank for this one, Sammy.

He sways, and Sam rushes to hold him up. Dean looks at Cas, who is, as usual, unreadable.

CAS Hello, Dean.

DEAN (softer) Cas. Jesus, you’re— you’re here.

CAS (with a slight smile, hardly believing it himself) Jack. He came for me.

Dean’s smile falters. He glances at Sam— they both feel guilty for leaving Cas behind. Castiel catches this look, and is about to speak, but winces. A curl of blue Grace floats from his mouth, winding into the air and vanishing like smoke.

SAM (concerned) Cas— are you okay?

Cas stumbles, falling to brace himself on the wall. Both Sam and Dean reach out to grab his arms on either side.

CAS (looking between them, suddenly weak) I think— I think I’m falling again.

BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT TWO

ACT THREE

INT. BUNKER - KITCHEN - MORNING

With a WIDE SHOT, we see that Dean is making eggs this time, with less spirit than the last morning. He slices peppers and onions with precision, but we can tell that he is worried, his brow furrowing as he sprinkles them in the pan.

Sam sits at the table, flipping through a huge, ancient tome. A stack of books rests next to him, waiting to be studied. Cas is not at the table, a noted absence.

Dean flips the omelet off the pan and onto a plate, setting it in front of Sam, who barely looks up.

DEAN (demanding) So?

SAM (looking up apologetically) I don’t know. I think it’s something to do with The Empty— sapping his grace, somehow. Saving you probably took a lot of mojo.

DEAN (muttering sarcastically, as usual) Great.

INT. CASTIEL’S ROOM

Castiel sleeps, his face serene. Morning light spills in through the window, the drapes gently fluttering. It’s a beautiful scene, almost like a painting. The song “THANK YOU” by Led Zeppelin begins to PLAY. PAN TO Dean in the doorway, awkwardly holding a plate of eggs and mug of black coffee. Dean’s face is softer than we’ve seen it in a long time. He hesitates, not wanting to disturb his friend.

CAS (sleepily) Dean?

The music fades, but remains in the background of the scene.

DEAN (gruffly) Mornin’, sunshine.

Dean moves to sit on the bed, a respectful distance away from Castiel. He sets the plate and mug on the bedside table. Castiel shifts into a sitting position. Dean looks at Cas, and we think he is about to speak— he thinks he is about to speak— but he remains silent. Cas merely looks back at him, at the face he thought he’d never see again. The awkwardness is mostly on Dean’s side, which is not a surprise. Castiel seems content to merely look.

DEAN (eventually) So, are you… human now? For real this time?

CAS (eyes flickering briefly) Yes. I believe so.

DEAN (gearing himself up to be angry, to find a solution) Okay. Well— we’ll fix it. Find some spare grace, find a spell to restore your grace, whatever. We always do.

CAS (sighing) Dean—

DEAN (a little heat to his voice) Dammit, Cas, let us help you. You saved my skin at the cost of your own for the hundredth time and— and I won’t let you do that. Not again. No one dies this time, remember?

CAS Dean, you’re not gonna find anything. Not this time. And I’m— (he pauses, smiling slightly. He looks calm, at peace.) I’m happy. And I can say that now, without fear. I can feel. That’s all I’ve wanted, for so long.

There is a pause. Dean swipes a hand over his face and shifts closer on the bed. There is so much left unsaid, between these two, and it hangs heavy in the air.

Dean (voice ragged) Cas. What you said. Before the Empty took you.

CAS (steadily, without hesitation) I meant it.

DEAN I’ve wanted to say it back. For so long, Cas. But I— I didn’t think— I mean, you were an angel, and there was Lisa, then Purgatory, and the Mark, and Chuck, and everything against us— it was never right, and I never thought you felt— (he breaks off, swallowing.) I never thought you could. Love me, I mean.

Cas says nothing, but laces his fingers with Dean’s. Dean looks down, stunned, then back up at Castiel’s face.

CAS But I do. Against all odds, I do.

Dean kisses him. “Thank You” by Led Zeppelin resumes. Cas pulls him in, closer. It is a beautiful, tender kiss, a movie kiss. After a moment, they break apart, still holding hands.

DEAN (slightly embarrassed, yet as unguarded as we’ve ever seen him) I love you too, Cas. I always have— you’re family.

CAS (softly, as if this moment is one he could break) So what now?

DEAN (his voice opening, finally, into hope) The rest of our lives, man. Everything that comes after.

PAN OUT, as they move into a tight, intimate hug. They’re family. The camera moves from them to the window. The curtains. The soft light outside.

INT. BUNKER - KITCHEN

Sam sits at the table, hands in his hair, still poring over the books. His plate is empty— Dean is a good cook. He is unaware of the conversation his brothers are having inside Castiel’s room. There is a CRASH. Sam sits instantly alert— there are those killer instincts. He grabs a gun and creeps slowly towards the entrance, where he finds… EILEEN. She stands at the entrance, confused, looking around. Sam keeps the gun trained on her, grief and rage and confusion flitting across his face.

EILEEN Sam?

SAM (speaking with certainty) You’re not her. You can’t be her. No one ever really comes back, no one that I— that I—

EILEEN Sam, it’s me. I promise.

She pulls out a silver knife, slashes it on her arm. She lets Sam pour some holy water on her hand. She goes through every test, staring at Sam’s face, willing him to believe her.

SAM (disbelieving) Holy crap. It’s you. It’s really you.

EILEEN (smiling) Duh.

Sam sweeps her into his arms, as if he’ll never let her go. She holds onto him just as tightly. In the same moment, they both realize how lucky they are to be here, together.

“CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON” begins to PLAY.

CUT TO MONTAGE:

Dean hunting with Charlie and Cas, watching their backs as they move through a dark tunnel.

Sam and Eileen sharing a beer as they watch a movie, the lights flickering on their faces.

Dean throwing popcorn and Monopoly pieces at Sam, chasing him around the living room as Sam raises his arms in protest.

Cas and Dean washing dishes together, bumping shoulders and hands, smiling.

Eileen holding a newborn child as Dean, Sam, and Cas all crowd around her— someone takes a picture.

PAN UP from that picture on a table to an older Sam, reading in the study while his son reads next to him, a picture of his father.

Cas playing catch in the yard with Claire, who is clearly indulging him. His brow furrows as he drops the ball again and again, Dean laughing from the porch.

An older Dean finally perfecting his pie recipe, passing the plate around the dinner table, looking pleased with himself. Contented.

Sam’s son goes off to college, and Dean takes a breath, and claps a hand on his shoulder. Smiles proudly at him.

Finally, Dean in a hospital bed, surrounded by his family. He grasps Sam’s hand, looks at Cas like he’s trying to memorize his face. They are all old. They are all satisfied with their lives. Dean smiles, closes his eyes.

BLACKOUT. Heart monitor FLATLINES.

ACT FOUR

EXT. BOBBY’S FARM - PORCH. LATE SUMMER.

The field is golden and beautiful, yet as ragged as Dean remembers it. BOBBY SINGER sits on his rocking chair, beer in hand. Dean walks up to the porch. He takes his time— he has all the time in the world, after all.

BOBBY (fondly) Took you long enough, boy.

DEAN (looking around, smiling slightly) Had a life to live.

Bobby grunts, motions for Dean to sit down next to him. He hands him a beer from the cooler.

DEAN Thought you’d be able to magic yourself one of those from thin air, up here. Service not working lately?

BOBBY More authentic this way. (pause) Heaven’s better now, actually. You saw the old version— it’s not like that up here anymore.

DEAN How’s that?

BOBBY That kid of yours: Jack. He made it so you’re not just trapped in old memories— you can go anywhere, see anyone. (another pause— he knows how much this means to Dean) Anyone.

DEAN (swallowing— this is difficult, painful) Even—

BOBBY (more gently) They’re just up the road. (He takes a sip of his beer.) You have a lot to talk out. Bad memories to work through. But you can do it, with time. Work it all out.

DEAN I hope so, Bobby. I think so.

Pause. Something catches Dean’s eye. PAN OUT to the road— to the IMPALA, shiny as the day she came off the line.

DEAN (reverently) They brought my Baby.

BOBBY (looking at him like a father looks at his son) Go. They’ll wait.

Dean smiles, as big as we’ve ever seen, like a kid on Christmas. Driving down an empty highway, with nothing to do, nowhere to go. His favorite.

Dean turns on the car, smiles nostalgically, and flips on the radio. “HEY JUDE” by The Beatles begins to PLAY.

As the song plays, Dean sees people standing by the road— old friends, old lovers, old rivals, old members of his family. There is CHARLIE, waving frantically, a grinning KEVIN by her side. There are JO and ELLEN and ASH in the Roadhouse, bickering among themselves. There are MARY and JOHN, young lovers again, looking at each other with hope in their eyes. There is PAMELA, there is JODY, LISA, JESS, countless others they’ve loved and lost. JACK even blips in to wave hello.

And then, as the song concludes, Dean pulls to a stop. At the end of the road is Cas, and Sam standing behind him, waiting. They stand on a bridge that stretches over a river. The sun is just beginning to set. Dean gets out of the car, closing Baby gently.

DEAN Miss me?

SAM (rolling his eyes fondly) Shut up.

DEAN (brief confusion) So? Where’s everyone else?

SAM They’ll be here soon.

CAS They have some more living to do.

Dean nods, and turns to gaze out over the bridge. Cas slips a hand into his, and they stand together, looking at the sunset, breaking gold and crimson rays over the water, finally calm, finally peaceful.

BLACKOUT.

CARRY ON WAYWARD SON begins to PLAY again as the credits roll.

THE END.

#supernatural #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #Sam Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #carry on #IT'S FUCK THE CW FOREVER #mine #writing #script #supernatural finale

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lovelyirony · 4 years

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for the made up fic title game what about... 'dice la canción que algún te llevarás mi tristeza (entre miles de colores)' which translates to 'the song says that someday you'll take away my sadness (in between a million colours)' 🥤

Tony knows that everyone thinks that soulmates fix everything. He’s seen all the movies of hopeful young women looking at the elegant, painted-on-script on their arms, starry looks pasted on as they sing some bullshit song about waiting for their true love.

He’s read books about a man finding the love of his life in a diner, and how much love they both have for each other. It’s hailed as a literary classic and it’s his classmate’s (Timothy’s) favorite book.

Movies and books. Some of the best tools for hiding realities.

Here’s another thing that Tony has seen, read into: his parents’ relationship.

Mama has the words wrapped up her leg, calling her gorgeous and wonderful.

It’s a lie, of course. No one thinks their words lie, but Tony sees it in the way that her stance always shifts to put pressure on her right leg, the one without the words.

How even in the summer, she’ll wear long skirts to cover the words, how she carefully skirts around how the “love of her life” is doing in interviews.

Howard wears long-sleeved shirts, flirts with other women and says that words don’t matter in the face of love.

The oldest trick in the book, and they fall for it every time.

But Howard was right about one thing: words don’t matter.

Tony has his right across his chest, in a script that’s half-print, half-cursive:

I swear to god, get out of my way or so help me god I’ll kill you.

Really nice words. Wow. Tony feels so infinitely loved and cherished.

His mother flinches when she sees his words, flinches at how cruel his soulmate must be.

Oh, he looks like his father alright...but he’s just like his mother.

Maria may not have the same words, never in the same tone, but her life turned out as if it was that.

Wives were an inconvenience to many businessmen, and she was no different. She had known that a week after their honeymoon, Howard’s eyes curious and roaming.

The kind of curious that she had fallen for, and then quickly realized that curiosity was a dangerous thing for him. Was a dangerous thing for her too.

But she played the role of adoring wife, and sometimes they were together alone and it wasn’t-it wasn’t too bad. He would smile and she would remember the good times with fondness, and then she would bitterly remember that her soulmate thought she wasn’t enough.

Tony sees her thoughts. Mama has never been particularly good at hiding her feelings from her son.

After all, he learned all her tells. Has quite a few of them himself.

But soulmates don’t matter, not to him, and not when he has college to go to. Finally escaping from Howard’s thumb, finally on his own. He got an apartment all to himself, he’s going to learn how to cook and not burn shit, and things will be great.

No time for thinking about soulmates when you’re busy thinking about if you really need to get more than three pans, and maybe you do? Not sure.

His neighbors are quiet. They don’t really interact much. They saw him move in, blinked, and Tony waved. Nothing else to say.

He still hasn’t met the guy who lives on his left. Tony’s heard crashes and brief cursing streaks, and maybe one glass that got dropped, but that’s it. All he knows is chaotic sounds and maybe that his name starts with a “J.”

It’s just the beginning of October when Tony is juggling his groceries with his hands (refusing to make more than one trip) when someone comes pounding into the hallway, and Tony can’t see over the chip bag he has.

I swear to god, get out of my way, or so help me god I’ll kill you, comes the phrase.

Tony blinks.

“Not if I kill you first, you son of a bitch.”

The guy gasps.

“Wait, so this isn’t a serious situation where my soulmate is shitty?”

“You said something shitty first!”

The guy looks back, and there is a rather murderous looking frat boy out for blood.

Tony takes one look at the situation, decides that he’s not going to make this guy fend for himself against a rage-filled boy in dock-shoes and too much hair gel, and pulls him into his apartment.

The boy goes flying onto the couch, Tony spills a bag of apples, and the frat bro is yelling at the door and pounding on it.

“What did you even do?”

“I kind of maybe took his bed and threw it out a window because he was being shitty at a party I went to.”

“On a scale of one to seven, how shitty?”

“One to seven? Who are you, who the fuck uses that scale?”

“Me! I use it! Now rate it.”

“Um, like a six?”

“Hm, that is pretty bad.”

There’s a thump at the door.

Oh, the frat boy is trying to break his door down.

Tony goes over.

“You’re opening the door?”

“Just...have faith in me.”

“Not to be like that, dude, but I just met you like two minutes ago and even though we’re soulmates that doesn’t mean I just blindly put everything I have into you.”

Tony grins. That sounded...perfect.

“Oh believe me sugar, same thing goes for you. But I have knowledge on my side.”

The door swings open, and in charges the frat boy, seriously not thinking that the door would open. He runs into the couch, flips himself over, and he’s on the ground.

Tony leans over him.

“I have a security deposit on this place that I’d rather keep, you know that? I also just bought ice cream, and it’s going to become soup if you keep bothering us. Now go or I’m going to call security.”

“And what the fuck are they gonna do?” The frat boy spits. He’s trying to get up, but cannot. What a shame.

Tony leans in closer.

“I want you to really look at my face. I’m sure you saw it on the cover of Time as part of the article ‘America’s Most Influential Family’. There’s a lot I could do.”

His eyes widen, and he scrambles out, near-about running into the wall.

His soulmate breathes out.

“Oh man, thank you.”

“No problem. Always using my status to make things go away, it’s fun.”

“So like...you said you were America’s most influential what, son?”

“In a sense. Probably not. But sometimes people know me.”

“Am I supposed to know you?”

“Only if you really wanna work at Stark Industries and need a good word put in.”

“Oh, I’m going to the military. Air Force.”

“They got lucky with a guy as nice as you. I’m sure they’ll be proud of all the frat boys you run from.”

“I’m Jim,” he says, holding out his hand for a shake.

“Not calling you that,” Tony says, shaking his hand. “That is too close to an old man, and you look far from an old man.”

"That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Well, I should hope so. I don’t flirt with old men, I flirt with attractive people.”

“You know, you still haven’t told me your name.”

“Give me a minute.”

Tony puts his ice cream in the freezer, coming back.

“My name is Tony. What’s your last name?”

“Rhodes, are you gonna use it for weird reasons?”

“Nickname reasons. I’m thinking Rocky Rhodes.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Not if you want to eat at the best restaurant you’ve ever been to.”

“If you call me Rocky Rhodes, no promises.”

“Hmph, fine. What about...Rhodey?”

“I can always change it later.”

Tony smirks.

“Hm, maybe I’ll let you. But I think it’s a good nickname.”

They both are silent for a moment.

“You have any more ice cream?” Rhodey asks. “I’d, um, I’d like to get to know you. And I’ll pay for ice cream later.”

Tony should’ve said no. He’s seen all the failure with his parents, he’s heard all the horror stories, read the words on his skin enough times in the mirror to know that everything could mean nothing and that nothing could mean everything.

But he smiles.

“I’ll keep a running tab.”

It doesn’t end up like Howard and Maria, no matter how many times Tony thinks it will, wonders if he acts like it, if it will all descend into madness and he’ll be right.

Rhodey is patient and he calls Tony out on his bullshit. They both smile at each other over cups of coffee, evening argument forgotten.

When Rhodey has to go overseas, he always gets ragged on by his peers because he buys the cheesiest souvenirs. He never tells them who it’s for, and it’s not until Tony adds the absolutely terrible rendition of the Statue of Liberty onto his personal key-chain for his car that they connect the dots and stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

Tony makes him the most decadent of meals when he’s back, giving neck massages and draping blankets that are so soft they don’t feel real over them at night.

They come together and it’s like the ways that the actors and actresses smile giddily up at their counterpart, how the authors describe two coming together. Except it’s better.

Because Rhodey leaves the coffee filter in the machine and forgets to take it out, and Tony nearly always remembers to take it out before it’s a day later and the kitchen smells like old coffee.

It’s the way that Tony is only a control-freak about the thermostat, and keeps it at seventy-five always.

“You’re such an old man.”

“You’re just a weird guy who likes it to be sixty-seven! Who does that?”

Rhodey grins, kissing his man on the forehead.

“Me. But I’ll keep it seventy-five. For now.”

Tony settles back into the couch, pushing his legs over Rhodey’s. He smiles up at him, and it’s...it’s the best feeling Rhodey could hope for.

#lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #anyways i love the ocncept of soulmates and how badly tony doesn't get it !#rhodey #tony stark #iron man #war machine #soulmate au #also YEAH of course they fall in love bc rhodey pissed someone off #i think it's classique

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ms-maj · 4 years

Text

For @theheavycrown on her birthday. Sarah, thank you for all the laughter, support and friendship and for being an all around awesome human being. xoxo

It’s not that he doesn’t like mornings, he does, it’s just that Jughead Jones has come to learn that few good things happen before nine a.m. Yet here he sits at seven, a fine layer of silt covering his beloved Honda, his leather jacket, his helmet (next time he’ll make sure the route he takes avoids as many of those dirt roads as humanly possible; he really wishes he’d stuffed his backpack in the saddlebag instead of wearing it on his back.) The goggles he’s pulled down rest under his chin as he slides his helmet off, his hair feeling heavy and hot in the already building humidity. The helmet clanks against the steel frame as it hangs from the handlebars, dust kicking off in a little cloud as it sways.

He sighs, peeling the filthy eyewear off his head and wipes the lens across his dirty jeans before hanging them on the opposite handlebar. This is not his scene. Well, it’s not not his scene, Jughead is pretty well known as the patron saint of all things forgotten and bygone, so the flea market isn’t too out of turn but taking time off his life to pursue nothing but leisure? Not so much. So when he heard tell of the best collection of antique cast iron this side of the Mississippi he knew he’d be remiss if his cross-country culinary trek didn’t at least find him some new pieces to add to his ever-growing collection. The one that personally threatened to take over another corner of his small house, and the one he’s building a culinary empire on. He exhales forcefully, lifting his coffee from the holder, thankful he opted for the tall, solid cupholder as it somehow managed to save his necessary caffeine from the horrors of the open country road.

Finish below or on AO3

Sipping on his "coffee" he watches as the vendors turn into the old yet still operating drive-in, the name Sunset peeling off the ancient sign. This weekend’s fare, Jaws and Jurassic Park, piecemeal spelled out in crumbling letters on the old marquee. Truck after truck, some with trailers and others just loaded to the brim, turn in a steady stream and supposedly have been doing so for the last hour. There’s a strange excitement that simmers just under the surface, it’s as if he knows he’s going to find exactly what he wants today, maybe even if it’s not at all what he’s been looking for.

Jughead likes to think he’s lived. In his—some glorious and others very much not—thirty-four years on this earth he’s eaten, what he thinks, is the finest food on every continent. He’s trained under classic French chefs in Michelin starred restaurants and with street vendors from Thailand to Peru. His own restaurant, a quaint throwback bistro in the heart of upstate New York is the culmination of those years and years and years of hard work. His passions, he’s come to find, cannot be confined, nor defined, simply by the walls of a kitchen. They’re in the pages of his acclaimed cookbooks and the mystery series he’s been stringing together since high school that he was sure would never amount to anything.

But it did, and here he is. The very definition of latchkey, Jughead Jones grew up the poor son of a couple of addicts and con artists. The ones he hasn’t seen since he got his high school diploma. The moment that piece of paper was in his hands, he loaded his rucksack onto his rusted out Kawasaki and never looked back.

He’s lived in trailers and dorms, in cramped studios and lavish flats, and once, in the projection booth of a drive-in theater. Very much like the one he assumes is in the middle of this one. He sighs, leaning back against his bike, forgetting the heat from the muffler until it starts burning beneath the heavy denim of his jeans.

“Shit,” he mumbles as he shifts uncomfortably away, dislodging his near burnt calf but manages to spill the bitter, gas-station coffee he’d been absently cradling down the front of his white t-shirt. The next expletive out of his mouth is not so quiet. “Fuck me!”

The cup drops to the ground as he wipes at the seeping stain barehanded. “I might have a tissue,” he hears. Instantly he stops the futile attempt to clean himself, looking up when the laughter reaches his ears. “Though I can’t imagine it would be much help.”

The corner of his lip pulls up despite this recent bout of bad luck. She’s in a bold, floral print sundress with the kind of soft hem that dances with the breeze as it blows across the nearly empty lot. The sunhat is floppy, almost too big over the cascade of soft waves that hit her shoulders, she smiles, warm and amused before she takes her lower lip between her teeth, eyes darting from his to the growing spot of wet fabric sticking to his chest.

“I would say I’m well prepared,” he gestures back toward his bike with its ample enclosed storage, and his dust-covered backpack draped over the rear seat. “But apparently I wasn’t thinking this morning. This is also my last clean shirt, so, really batting a thousand today.”

Pink tongue peeking between her teeth as she laughs her eyes narrow as her head dips to the side. “Hmm,” she runs that tongue over her lower lip, looking at him with hooded eyes before seemingly catching herself; clearing her throat she starts again. ”I just pulled my car out of storage, I might have something in the trunk if you want me to take a look?” She half turns to follow where she’s absentmindedly pointing, and he sees the very moment her left foot doesn’t seem to get the memo. If he waits another second she’ll be in the dirt and without even consciously thinking about it, his arms wrap around her waist and keep her from toppling.

She lets out a shaky breath, fingers digging into the leather that encases his bicep. “Sorry, I, uh,” her head darts from side to side before she rights herself and extricates herself from his grip. “I wish I could say I wasn’t normally this klutzy but that would be a lie.” She sweeps the dirt and imaginary wrinkles from her dress and adjusts the hat that now sits just askew on her head.

“Glad I could be of assistance,” he drawls, watching as pink colors her cheeks. “So, a shirt? Maybe?”

Nodding, she turns (with a skosh more grace than before) and walks to the end of the makeshift aisle. “Right this way.”

“You’re not trying to lure me behind an abandoned building so that you can murder me, right?” He thinks it sounds playful, flirtatious even, though both things are patently out of his wheelhouse, but he can’t help but wonder why this gorgeous woman even stopped and looked in his direction.

“Oh, no, see this building might be abandoned, but these grounds aren’t going to be for too much longer. And I have a feeling you might be a screamer.”

Choking a little on his own spit, he slows, swallows, and drags his eyes back up to find hers looking back over her shoulder. She winks, then stops between the fins of some powder blue oddity Jughead has never seen the likes of before.

“I don’t usually find myself at a loss for words but you seem to have found my weakness.”

“And what is that exactly?” She questions as he moves next to her, almost too close, he can feel her breath shuddering against his skin as she places an oddly shaped key into the opening on the trunk.

“Klutzy green-eyed blondes,” he can tell he’s caught her off guard when she gasps as the latch lets go on the trunk lock.

“Okay then,” she’s smiling back at him, that lip caught between her teeth again when he realizes he’s already mapping out their future and he doesn’t even know her name.

“Jughead. Jones.” he supplies, voice cracking like he’s all of sixteen again. He wasn’t nervous, not before this simple moment in which he provides his chosen name and she either laughs or…

Her dainty hand hangs between them. “Pleasure to meet you Jughead, I’m Betty Cooper."

His large, calloused hand engulfs hers, happy to find the spark he thought he felt before was very real, and much, much more than a spark.

Their clasped hands hang between them, neither too eager to drop. Betty finally pulls away with another one of those flustered head shakes, before she starts to rummage through the cavernous trunk. It’s fairly empty, save for whatever Betty is looking for, and it's clearly all the way in the back.

“Okay, but really, you can’t tell me that you haven’t thought, you know hypothetically of course, about how many bodies you could actually fit in this trunk,” he’s taken a step back to get the full picture, which is mostly just Betty stretching the entirety of her gorgeous frame into the depths of the unknown to find him a shirt, but his writers’ mind can’t help but wonder.

She stops her scavenging and with a triumphant grunt, she’s righting herself, the strap of a black duffle bag between her fingers. “Aha! And honestly, who hasn’t seen an old car and thought about the sheer amount of fuckery one could get away with simply based on interior cargo space.”

He knows he’s staring, gaping really, but he can’t seem to help himself. Betty shrugs, unphased, and goes to open the bag. She rummages around for a few seconds then pulls out a Johnny Cash t-shirt.

“I know it’s a little wrinkled but it doesn’t seem to smell,” she pulls the aforementioned garment from her face and hands it to him.

“Even if it did it—anything is an improvement over,” he waves his hand over his sticky shirt and worries she can tell his heart straight-up skips a beat when she laughs.

Jughead takes off his leather jacket, passes it wordlessly to Betty who tries to clean it as best she can with a small rag from her car. He slips his arms inside of his soiled shirt and pushes it up around his shoulders, sliding it off as he pulls on the clean one. When he looks back at Betty she looks a little perplexed.

“What?”

“Just wondering what prompted the middle-school locker room style shirt change. If my seeing you topless would’ve been too much for your delicate sensibilities than perhaps I’ve misjudged—”

“That is quite enough out of you,” he points a menacing finger in her direction but is laughed down. His glare breaks quickly and the smile that takes over almost hurts. Has he been that out of practice with even smiling that the muscles in his face don’t know what to do about it? It’s a definite possibility. It just seems to come so naturally around Betty that he doesn’t want to question, and subsequently, jinx it.

“Oh yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?" Eyebrow raised, she leans closer, arm outstretched with his coat.

He reaches to grab it but he misses the jacket altogether and brushes his fingers against hers. "Sounds like you'd love to find out, " it's from who winks this time. Betty's grip falters and the leather falls into his hand. Words form on his tongue but before he can get them out a shrill ring cuts through the ambiance of the morning.

The trunk is slammed close; the moment is gone. “Shit, it’s a client, and a big one so I have to take this. I, um, I’ll see you in there? Hopefully?” He knows the disappointment is etched on his face, but he tamps it down and nods in her direction. Her smile back is enthusiastic, she looks sanguine; before he turns around he hears, what he assumes, is a happy lilt as she greets whoever is on the line.

He stuffs the jacket and his soiled shirt into one of the saddlebags, slides on his trusty (and dusty) grey beanie, grabs a few canvas tote bags, and heads into the flea market. There’s a moment he thinks he hears her voice but when he turns he's met with the endless drone of tires as the lot begins to fill.

It seems silly—feels silly—to be missing someone after such a short time. Not only just since you’ve seen them but also because you’ve only exchanged a handful of words in the entire five minutes that you’ve known one another.

There’s a small line at the gate. As he waits to pay his admission, he runs a hand over the back of his neck and tugs at the edge of his hat, trying to keep this weird, swirly sensation inside instead of letting it bubble out lest he ends up skipping through the lanes.

He lets out a mirthless laugh, the kind he finds usually echo throughout his empty home only this time it's met with the hustle and bustle of the early-bird crowd. There's no time to dwell, no reason to wait; just the time (and patience) to find himself that thirteen-inch Spider skillet, and maybe a new Dutch oven...or two.

Or, he remembers after he's grabbed new forty-fives for the jukebox, old carnival prints for Toni, a snake ashtray for Sweet Pea that he knows Val will hate but it's so ugly he can't help himself, that while he may be able to mail himself whatever he can't carry across the states...he still has to get it there in the first place.

It's why he talks himself out of the awful Rocky poster. It's not for him, of course, but rest assured it would be most appreciated by Archie and Reggie. Jughead can actually picture exactly where in their apartment where they'd hang it. Their housewarming present would have to wait until the next flea market.

He hasn't even made it to the small cluster of more upscale dealers before he's at the snack stand, walking away with a blue icee and cotton candy like the grown man he is. While enjoying his treats he's only half paying attention to the stalls and tables that line each of drive-in’s aisles, surely missing out on some choice vintage toys and housewares that he has no use (or room) for.

Mostly, his mind wanders as he weaves through the ever-growing throng. He’s been looking for a floppy sun hat but, unfortunately, many, many people seem to be concerned about the adverse effects of UV rays. Not that that in and of itself is not unfortunate, it’s just not helping him at the moment. If he couldn’t look down and see the physical evidence of their interaction, he’d believe he hallucinated the whole thing. The universe doesn’t just drop his idyllic dream girl into his path, well, it absolutely would allow him to see her once and then never again. But he doesn’t want that…

He wants to know what it feels like to have her legs wrapped around his waist, on the bike, in their bed. He wants to see her tangled in their bedsheets or sitting at the counter as he feeds her his latest culinary creation. Not that he’s ever been one to live inside the delusions, his upbringing has forced his ‘manifest your own destiny’ lifestyle to never rely on the dreams, just use them as touchstones for achieving said ruminations. But these, the daydreams are so vivid, so real that he almost walks right past the intended object of his affection.

And it’s only the melodious cant of saccharine condescension that brings him back to the moment.

“I realize that I’m here later than we discussed, but that shouldn’t affect the price we agreed upon, right?”

Betty’s arms were crossed over her chest, head cocked to the side, the sunhat effectively obscuring her beautiful face, which by her tone, Jughead assumes is sporting a proper scowl.

“It shouldn’t, no,” the vendor starts. He stands a good foot and a half taller than Betty, broad-chested and fully bearded, he runs a calloused hand over the gray whiskers. “It’s just that this is a highly collectible item—”

“Which you are being more than fairly compensated for! You acquired it for me, I don’t understand why you’re being so obstinate now.”

“C’mon Betty Boop, you know exactly why. You’re looking so pretty today, go on a date with me and I’ll throw in that Griswold trivet I’ve seen you eyeing up,” Jughead sees the man's hands come down on the table as he leans closer to Betty. He watches her body swell with a deep inhalation that releases as her hands hit the table to mimic his pose.

“Not if you were the last man on Earth, Andrew. Just sell me the damn dutch oven and I’ll be on my merry little way.”

The vendor sucks air through his teeth so loudly it whistles. “Doesn’t sound like I’m getting anything out of this…”

Jughead is practically standing over Betty’s shoulder now, the tension and frustration rolling off her like waves. “Andrew, I swear to all the gods in existence, if you don’t take the agreed price and put my dutch oven in this fancy bag here I’m calling your Gran.”

Jughead isn’t sure he’s ever seen anyone deflate so quickly. The man grunts holds out his hand and in it, Betty presses a neat stack of cash. The large, lidded pot makes its way to the table and from his vantage point can tell it’s a Wapak and in pristine condition.

“Nice looking piece of cookware you got there,” he says loudly behind her. She startles straight, turns slowly, and greets him with the brightest smile he thinks he’s ever seen.

“Jughead!” Her arms are around his neck and face pressed against the planes of his chest before he can blink. She seems to realize herself and is out of his arms and standing in front of him within the second it takes to realize how much he misses her warmth.

“What, did you think you could get rid of me that easily? I still have your shirt,” his hands rest on her waist, he hasn’t dropped them, and she hasn’t moved further away so he’s going to assume it’s not unwelcome.

She hums.”Well, it looks much better on you than in did crumpled up in my trunk

“Everything okay here?”

“We’re just peachy, right Andrew?” Betty questions, turning away from him and out of his grasp. She grabs the bag he’s placed on the table and with a most unrefined grunt, hoists it over her shoulder.

“We’re good, Coop. Just try to be on time from now on, it’s not very,” he pauses. Jughead can feel the man’s eyes slide from Betty to him, looking him up and down with a displeased expression. “Professional.”

“Oh, Andrew. Green is not your color. If you weren’t the only person in the tri-state area who could get me this stuff then I would never give you my business, ever again. But since I clearly work for sadists who love forcing me to interact with you, we’re at an impasse,” she shifts the bag on her shoulder and continues. “However, you make any more assumptions about my professionalism or personal life, then they’re going to have to find a new liaison.”

Andrew groans. “Don’t be like that, Betty! You know it all comes from the heart,” he crosses a hand to his and pats, and then he’s reaching under the table. “Here’s that trivet you had your eye on.”

Jughead moves up next to her and takes the trivet before it reaches her hand. “Is this a 1739? I’ve only been able to find pictures of these!”

He holds the metal piece reverently between his hands, long fingers tracing the intricate lace pattern, running over the feet, brushing against the logo that was stamped into the bottom some seventy years ago. “You know Griswold?” Betty’s tone is more than just surprised, there’s a slight breathlessness he can’t quite place as he places the trivet into her hands.

“Oh, uh,” his head shakes a little with the chuckle. “Yeah, cast iron is pretty much why I’m even here. My best friend told me that if I was looking for something special, this would be the place to find it.” Suddenly feeling very shy, he rubs nervously at the back of his neck.

“Interesting,” Betty’s eyes narrow and fix on him, but it doesn’t make him feel as uncomfortable as he thought it would. Maybe it’s because an hour ago he was flirting like a lovesick teenager and he’s merely happy to be the object of her attention. He hears her bag hit the ground with a heavy thud. “If you’re looking for something in particular, this is your guy. I wasn’t being hyperbolic when I said he had the best. And if he doesn’t have it on-site, he’s usually able to procure it in a very short time.”

Andrew smiles at her praise and nods along. “Yeah, man, if you’re a friend of Betty’s you must be in the know. What tickles your fancy?”

Not really sure how to process, or address, any of what the man in front of him has just said, he locks eyes with Betty and lets out a sharp breath. She’s got the kind of smile that they used to write poetry about and he knows he’s done for. He’s smiling himself now and with a quick turn of his head he’s looking at Andrew again. “What do you know about Spiders?”

They’ve managed to walk the rest of the flea market, Betty picking up a few random items along with the (many) client requests. He learns she owns a small but successful antique shop in western Mass but she's rarely there. Mostly, she travels and he wonders what she's running from. She says it's to procure the things people want versus the things she thinks they would want to buy. It's not about the money, although it seems to pay well, she insists it's the history, the adventure, the joy it brings when she tracks down a vase-like what was on Grandma's table or an album that your grandfather taught you to dance to. She talks about antiques like he talks sous vide, the process, the art, how when it all comes together...life is magic.

"I can’t believe he’s going to find me a thirteen Spider! Do you have any idea how rare…oh, well, I suppose you do being an antique dealer and all that,” he bumps his shoulder (the one not carrying her stupidly heavy dutch oven) against hers, her head ducks in response but he can see the rosy hue on her cheeks.

“If you’ve known each other for so long why all the shit for being late? And if I’m what made you late I apologize—”

“No, Jughead! Not even a little,” she grabs his shoulder and pulls him to stop beside her. “Andrew was just being a dick because that’s who he is as a person. Yes, I was late to meet him but that was because I was having a little car trouble this morning.”

“What, the marvel of modern engineering you’re tooling around in is finicky? Who’d have thunk?” He holds out his (second) icee, offering Betty the last sip but she politely declines. He shrugs as best he can and finishes the cold red syrup in a quick gulp. The sun is blazing, scorching them from on high before he knows it. Jughead feels the sweat beading on his brow, threatening to drip down his face in the most unbecoming of ways. He's thankful they're heading back toward their respective vehicles. It's not that he wants this day to end, in fact, he's kind of hoping he can repeat it forever, but he really would like to get out of the sun.

She smacks his arm playfully. “Don’t talk about Edie that way!”

“Edie? She’s even got an old ladies' name, Betts,” they finally reach said car and Jughead heaves the bags from his shoulder and drops them in the dirt.

Betty sighs as the lock clicks, trunk springing open. "She's an Edsel. You're not wrong about her being an old lady but trust me when it comes to classic cars Edsels are…"

Jughead scoffs. "I might have a proclivity for two-wheeled machines but I do know a thing or two about the four-wheeled varieties as well. The Ford Edsel, only produced between 1958 and 1960, was an ode to Henry's wife but was too modern and impractical to gain popularity. What?"

Jughead Jones knows a thing or two about food, and how people look when they're truly enjoying something. At this moment he'll tell you he feels like braised short ribs or a perfectly cooked steak or a decadent slice of dacquoise, with the way Betty is looking at him.

She swallows, audibly. "No one knows Edsels. No one knows they exist let alone know actual details about their launch, and subsequent failure."

"Hmm, sounds to me you just haven't been meeting the right people," he hoists her heavy bags off the ground and puts them in the trunk.

Betty's hand reaches for the lid and lingers for a moment before she gently closes it. "You might be onto something, Jones.”

He steps forward, careful not to invade her space too badly but unable to resist the urge to be closer. “Do you maybe want to grab a bite to eat?”

The diner is nice, albeit the interior leaves a little something to be desired. It’s cliche in the way you want a retro establishment to be; walls lined in old adverts, gas and oil cans on shelves, kitschy to a fault. They're tucked in the corner, in a red, squeaky vinyl booth and had to cross a very large expanse of cheap, sticky linoleum. He just hopes the food makes up for the fact he had to peel his feet up with every step. That’s not a sound one wants to hear in the place where they’re going to eat.

He explains as much to Betty, how atmosphere can change and engage perception, how the menu is designed to make you want the items that make them the most money, and not necessarily the ones that they cook well. After their food comes and he samples the fare he raves about the milkshakes but is unimpressed with everything else.

“This is farmland, Betty. I passed not two, but three farms coming back. And at least one of them had Angus! Why are we being served frozen burgers?”

Betty eats a fry and pretends to look thoughtful.“I guess it never crossed my mind, Jug. You certainly have strong feelings about food.”

“Yeah, and that’s about the only thing,” he leans back in the booth and lays his arm across the back. “It might align very closely with what I do for a living.”

“You’re a chef,” Betty says matter-of-factly. “That explains your love of cast iron cookware and,” she vaguely gestures around the room. “How you know so much about the business. Still doesn’t answer how you know about Edsels.”

Jughead chuckles in response. “Misspent youth” When she shoots him a questioning look he sighs. "There may be some less than savory characters in my past. I wasn't one of them per se but I could have been described as gang adjacent."

Nodding, Betty takes a sip of the cold confection in front of her. She starts to speak and pauses like she's rolling something around before she says it. Next, she's looking at him as though a lightbulb has gone off. "Wait, wait, you're not a chef you're the chef! The author," Betty’s eyes narrow ever so slightly before going wide, her mouth gapes a bit before she produces words. "You're Forsythe."

How the fuck? "How the fuck?"

"My client from earlier was looking for a dutch oven for her partner's friend, a chef, whose niche is cast iron cookware. This same friend has also authored a series of cookbooks and a youth mystery."

“And what about any of that makes you say my name is Forsythe?” His voice comes out lower than he expects, a harsh timbre colors his words. "And it was not a youth mystery. It sounds like some Tracy True or Baxter Brothers nonsense when you say it like that."

“You are. Holy shit! And they set this up! Oh, those sneaky, brilliant, beautiful women,” Betty buries her face in her hands and groans.

“Would you please fill me in because I am feeling ten ways of lost and, if I’m being honest, a little creeped out.”

Betty looks up, soft eyes, and smiling. “Oh, Jug. Apparently, our friends have finally gotten sick of our wallowing.”

“What friends? Who has friends?”

She rolls her eyes. “It would seem we do. You see, Cheryl is my cousin and Veronica is my best friend from high school."

"Wait, Cheryl, as in Blossom? And Veronica Lodge?"

Betty nods in affirmation. "They were oil and water through most of our formative years and then after their first year at Sarah Lawrence, well, they came back together. Fast forward two years and enter Toni Topaz, who I'm assuming is the missing link here, yeah?"

"Toni would be one of the three people on this planet I consider family, " he's leaning across the table, elbows making divots in the surface when suddenly he has his own lightbulb moment. "Elizabeth? The itinerant eccentric antiquarian?"

“Wow, is that a Cheryl or Veronica description?" She rubs the bridge of her nose, head shaking as she takes it in. "Doesn't matter, but with a title like that, it's no wonder that you were never around when I was. Oh, and surprise! It would appear your pseudo-sister and her girlfriends are giving you a dutch oven for your next birthday. Congrats.”

Jughead is trying to process, though it feels an awful lot like failing. Until suddenly, it all makes sense. “She's the one who told me I needed to stop here and check out the cast iron. Insisted there was something I needed, something she was certain I would find."

"Well, " Betty looks up at him from under the thick veil of her lashes. "Was she wrong?"

For years he’s traveled from place to place; running from anything and everything. Even when he decided to put down roots it was relatively far from even the best of his friends. No one could just ‘drop by’, it’s not like he’d have been home anyway. He’s buried his loneliness in new recipes; it’s scratched into the margins of his favorite books, in the words poured from his own hand. He looks at the woman sitting across from him, strawberry milkshake in front of her, glowing under the harsh neon lights that contrast so glaringly will all her soft edges.

The realization comes easily. He doesn’t have to think about anything more than ‘do I take this risk’ and he’s never been one to say no to risks before.

He drops his arm, reaching across the table, and before it can rest on the Formica Betty slots her fingers between his. “She has never been more right in her life, but please don’t tell her that."

Betty’s laughter peals through the restaurant. He smiles despite himself. For the first time that he can recall, something good came before nine am. As a matter of fact, when her thumb traces the back of his hand, he’ll even go as far as to say it's something great.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #there's some fluff #and lots of cheese #and I'm not sorry #it's for Sarah #can't blame me

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agustdmono · 4 years

Text

NEIGHBORS; jhs Oneshot (M)

Pairing(s): Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: A new family arrived in your neighborhood. You were determined to befriend their one and only son. You definitely weren’t ready for what the boy had in store for you.

Word Count: 9.6K+

Genre(s): ONESHOT! Mature (18+), Smut, bts AU (Boy Next Door Hoseok)

Caution(s): Slight dom!Reader, Slight dom!Hoseok, swearing, dry humping, lots of foreplay, oral (Y/N receives), oral (Hoseok receives), fingering, choking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Author’s Note: We’re back _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

You were distraught.

Nothing in the world could ever replace your love for your ex-neighbor: Grandma Margaret. She wasn’t related to you in any way, but you still called her grandma. You’ll miss the cookies that she bakes exactly at 1:23 PM or the smiles she gives you whenever she sits on her front porch. For your twentieth birthday, she gave you her old vinyl player and you cried. Literally.

“Y/N, dear, I’m just a few houses down,” Margaret chuckled.

“I know, but neighbors are special,” you sniffled, placing your hand on your chest to add a dramatic effect.

She rolled her eyes at your actions, but you knew she was amused. It didn’t take very long for you to get along with her. She had a similar personality to yours―basically an older version of you.

“I’m still your neighbor, hon,” she spoke before taking a small sip from her tea.

“No! The point is, you ain’t next to me.”

The two of you sat on the chairs in the gazebo at the front of your house, casually conversing about what’s been going on. She informed you that your new neighbors should be coming in today and you whined, earning a small smack from her cane. Honestly, you’ll even miss getting whacked by her cane.

“Come walk me back. Enjoy my company while you can .”

Of course, you complied. You got up as you held out your arm for her to grab. Both of you managed to climb down the stairs before a moving truck drove past your house and parked on the vacant house’s driveway. You ignored the sound of doors slamming because you were too focused on bringing Margaret home, but for some reason, she wasn’t budging.

“You should welcome your new neighbors, Y/N.”

You looked at her with pleading eyes, hinting that you really don’t want to meet new people just yet. You still had to leave time to mope about not seeing her as much as you want to. She threateningly raised her cane; which caused you to raise your hands in defeat. You jogged towards the opened cargo and saw two men lifting a couch out of the vehicle. Not wanting to distract them, you waited until they placed the heavy object down at the bottom of the ramp.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N! Your neighbor on the right-hand side,” you greeted, trying to seem as cheery as possible.

You looked over at Margaret, who was eyeing you and gave her the thumbs up. You’re only doing this for her in all honesty. It’s not like you’re going to experience a whole ‘boy next door’ type of thing. Those things only exist in movies. Right?

“Ah! Hi there! I’m Jung Junsu and this is my son, Hoseok,” the older looking male draped his arms over Hoseok, who had trouble making eye contact with you.

He was shy, but it didn’t bother you at all. In fact, it made you more curious about the male. Once he finally lifted his head up to look at you, he flashed you a shy yet bright smile. You swore that your heart fell out of your chest. He’s a good looking guy and you weren’t prepared for this moment since you were currently wearing your favorite Kookie slippers.

“Jung Hoseok. Hope we can be friends,” he spoke, slightly bowing his head.

“The feeling is mutual,” you beamed. “Do you guys need help? I just need to walk Granny back to her home; so, I’ll be able to lend a hand right after.”

“Actually, we’d appreciate that. My wife needs a hand with the kitchen utensils.”

“No problem. I’ll be back soon.”

You quickly ran back to Margaret, who was fiddling with her cane. You told her what had happened and she was pleased. She mentioned Hoseok and you couldn’t stop babbling about how cute he was and how his smile nearly blinded you. Both of you finally reached her new home, giving her a long hug before you left to help your new neighbors.

“And here’s when Hoseok dressed himself up for the first time,” Mrs. Jung smiled fondly as she pointed at the young boy in the photo album.

You almost cooed at the photo. He was wearing blue jeans and a bright yellow shirt with mixed-match shoes. You could see how proud he must have felt by the way he was posing in the photo.

“Oh! Let me show you when he took a bath and he-”

“Mom! I think she’s seen enough,” Hoseok snatched the photo book before she could lay her hands on it.

The pink tint on his cheeks was evident and you let out a soft chuckle. His mom rolled her eyes but spared him the embarrassment for the day.

“Just come after your classes and I’ll show it to you, Y/N,” she winked as she got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen, but she halted in her steps. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You looked at the clock and jumped from your seat. You were so immersed in helping their family that you completely lost track of time. It was already a couple of minutes past seven. The skies were dark and the stars were coming out. Is your mom gonna lecture your ass? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yeah.

“I’m sorry, maybe next time? My mom is gonna kill me for not being home the whole day without letting her know,” you couldn’t help but bow since you knew it was an appropriate way to show how apologetic you were.

“Of course! You’re welcomed here anytime, Y/N,” she turned back towards you and gave you a hug; which you reciprocated. “You were a big help today, you must let us thank you someday.”

You almost wanted to cry at how welcoming and friendly the family was. They’ll never replace Grandma Margaret, but you definitely don’t mind them. You quickly bidded goodbye to Junsu before leaving their house. Hoseok, being the gentleman, walked you to the door. You slipped on your slippers and without thought, you hugged him goodbye. He froze on the spot, unclear of what to do; so he patted your back. You weren’t offended at the gesture. In fact, you found it amusing at how unsure he seemed.

“I’ll be seeing you around, neighbor,” you smiled, before making your way towards your house.

Once you reached your door, you turned back to make sure he headed back inside. Much to your surprise, he was standing by the van with his arms crossed over his chest. He wanted to make sure you reached your doorstep safely. Your eyes locked with one another and he shyly waved at you before he jogged back to his door. You heard his door slam and that was your cue to head in.

What a nice fucking guy.

Just after one meeting, you were already swooned by Jung Hoseok.

School.

You dreaded school.

Just the word school, made you want to throw yourself off a cliff, but that’s not the point. The real question is whether Hoseok is attending your school or not. A small part of you hoped he would be.

Okay, maybe a big part of you hoped.

Just to be clear, you don’t have feelings for the male. You’re simply curious and you wanted to know more about him. You already set a goal for yourself: befriend Jung Hoseok. It doesn’t seem impossible since you’ve already earned the trust of his family. You just needed him to trust you.

You followed your morning ritual: brushed your teeth, washed your face, and combing your hair. Of course, you had to check the weather for today. That’s crucial because you didn’t want to make the same mistake again when you wore a sweater in ninety-degree weather. You unlocked your phone and tapped on the weather app.

“Sunny,” you read out loud.

You were hoping to wear one of your hoodies, but the weather has spoken. You grabbed some jean shorts from your closet and threw on a shirt. The boys at your school didn’t really catch your eye; so, there wasn’t really anybody to impress. Before you head to the kitchen, you wanted a small amount of sunlight to light up your room. You walked towards the curtains and pushed them apart a tiny bit.

“There ya g―Shit!”

You jumped at the sight of Mr. Jung on the other side of the window. Thankfully, he was just talking to his wife. Nothing more than that. You recollected yourself, finally walking out of the room.

It’s only in the movies. Hoseok’s room wouldn’t be the one adjacent to yours. What did you expect?

“Spill. Hot neighbor or not?”

You looked at your best friend with confusion. She literally appeared out of nowhere and sat in the seat next to you while you were just trying to enjoy your snack before the professor walks in.

“What are yo―oh, you mean the Jung’s?”

“Judging by the last name, I’ll take that as a yes,” F/N concluded as she nodded her head.

“He’s cute,” you continued. “I wouldn’t say hot.”

“Just wait.”

Sometimes you questioned her intuition, but you decided to let it go. Hoseok is cute. He is literal sunshine. He has a smile that makes you want to coo at him, not devour his mouth. You decided that he was adorable, not hot. Nothing more, nothing less.

“How’s the progress with your boy, Min Yoongi?” You smirked.

“It’s getting…somewhere?”

“And?”

“We’re getting coffee during our two-hour break in between class,” she explained as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Bro. Just ask him out already.”

“Patience is a virtue, Y/N.”

You scoffed at her comment. The professor finally arrived and you were already falling asleep thirty minutes into the session. You looked over at your best friend, who was watching a movie on her laptop. She looked at you and winked before focusing back on her screen. Instead of doing the same, you decided to leave class to go for a stroll.

The campus was practically empty. You enjoyed the peace and quiet for once. Sometimes the place was loud and bustling with fellow students, but not this time. Placing your earphones into your ears, you continued to walk down the concrete path. Your eyes were too focused on the ground and you didn’t notice somebody walking right into your lane. You two bumped shoulders and you turned to see who it was.

Hoseok.

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t see whe—oh, hello.”

“Hey there, neighbor. You lost?” You asked cooly.

“How did yo—“

“You’re the only person I’ve seen on campus right now. Meaning, everyone’s in class and you’re not.”

“What about you?” He asked, beet red.

“Taking a leisurely stroll, thank you very much.”

He grunted at your answer, but he seemed conflicted. You couldn’t let a lonely person roam aimlessly around campus.

“What’s the room number?” You questioned.

“Oh, um, H-208.”

“Come, come, I shall take you there!”

You began to walk towards the room and he hurriedly followed behind you. The silence between you two was steadily increasing the awkward tension.

“What class is this?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Dance,” he answered right away.

This piqued your interest. A boy who dances? Oh man, that’s like wishing on a shooting star: rare as fuck.

“That’s really cool, not a lot of guys do that nowadays.”

“I’m really passionate about it. I enjoy hip-hop the most.”

The two of you easily conversed with one another. You guys would jump from topic to topic and there was a lack of silence. You were relieved at how quickly he opened up to you. Mentally, you pat yourself on the back. Sadly, the conversation had to come to an end as the two of you reached the entrance of his class.

“Here’s your stop.”

“Thanks a lot, I owe you one.”

“Ahh, it’s no big deal,” you shrugged. “I gotta head back to class now. I’ve been gone for thirty minutes already.”

You turned your heels and began heading back towards your class. You heard a voice, so you turned back around to see who it was.

“Y-You’re fun to talk to and thanks for keeping me company,” he smiled before pushing the door open.

Thump.

“Well, shit.”

“And I said, you need some sugar for your coffee? Because I’m what you need,” your best friend explained.

“You have balls.”

“I’m deter—oh wow, he got some looks.”

You looked to see who your best friend was talking about.

It was Hoseok, leaning against the building while his attention was on his phone. Your best friend wasn’t wrong. You’re surprised that you didn’t notice his black button-up rolled halfway up his forearm or his black skinny jeans that showed off his muscular legs. How could you have missed the important part of his being?

His long wavy hair that fits him so damn perfectly.

Hot damn.

“Hot damn is right.”

“Oh fuck, I said that out loud?”

“Loud and clear,” F/N laughed. “You said he was cute. Now I call bullshit.”

“How’d you know that’s Hoseok?”

“I didn’t, but now I do~!”

You wanted to smack your damn forehead. The two of you kept bickering, but mostly her making fun of your crush for Hoseok.

Wait.

No, it’s definitely not a crush. He’s just a good looking guy who has a heart of gold. You were too busy trying to convince yourself that you don’t like Hoseok to the point where you didn’t notice him walking towards you two. F/N had to smack you out of your thoughts and you were ready to smack her back until you finally noticed him. You immediately put your fist down and smiled at him.

“Y/N! I was waiting for you,” he beamed.

“He was fucking waiting for you,” F/N whispered in your ear; which resulted in your hand colliding with her arm.

“Oh? What for?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I thought we should walk home together. It would be nice to have someone to talk to,” he offered.

“Take her, please,” F/N pushed you towards him. “I love you, text me when you get home.”

With that, she ran away at the speed of light. Curse her and her running skills. You looked at him while he looked right back at you. How did you not notice his deep brown eyes or his jawline that could slice an iron bar? Okay, exaggerating, but it really seems like it’s possible. Especially for him. Don’t you just hate when friends point out something that you’ve been missing this whole time?

“Ready when you are,” he spoke up.

You nodded and led the way.

“You should come over for dinner later,” he suggested.

Both of you were standing by your front door. His suggestion nearly threw you off, but you definitely weren’t against the idea because you’d be stupid for rejecting free food. Specifically, Korean food.

“Maybe! I gotta ask my mom first,” you answered back.

You swore you saw his smile faltered for a second, but you decided to brush it off and not question it. He watched as you unlocked the door to your house. You couldn’t help but feel nervous. Your heart was beating fast and you didn’t know why. You finally managed to get the door open, so you turned towards him and waved before heading inside.

“W-Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s exchange numbers, so um, you can text me if you decide to join us.”

You blinked once, then you blink twice because you had to process what he just told you. He wanted your number and you weren’t sure about how to handle that. If you get his number, then you can text him anytime you want. Unless he only texts for dinner purposes only. Once again, you tried not to think too much about it. It’s not like you were excited or anything. It’s just a number.

“Yeah, sure,” you said cooly, trying to hide your excitement.

He handed you his phone and you did the same. You both typed in your phone numbers and gave back the devices. You would hug him to bid him goodbye, but after your best friend pointed out how handsome he was, you hesitated. Your heart was doing flips in your chest, but you’re sure it’s not because you have a crush on him. It’s only because he’s a good looking man. Right?

“Make sure to text me,” he spoke up as he pulled you into a hug.

“Y-Yeah, of course.”

He pulled away and headed back to his house. You finally stepped inside your house and ran to your room. Tossing your backpack aside, you sat at your desk and contemplated whether you should join the Jung’s for dinner or not. The sunlight was blinding your eye, so you got up to shut the blinds. Just as you were about to do so, you saw a figure through the other window.

You expected to see the older male on the other side, but you actually saw Hoseok. Not that you had in issue with that. You thought of waving at Hoseok, but that would be creepy because it would look like you were watching him this whole time. Technically, you’re doing that right now. Just as you were about to shut the blinds, you swore you only blinked for a second and his shirt disappeared from his body.

Oh my- fuck.

Your mouth hung open at the sight. The man got a body. He’s so toned that you could just cry. It was pretty clear that God was biased and Hoseok was his favorite, so he gave him the good shit. You weren’t complaining though because you’re satisfied with being his friend.

But do you truly just want to be friends?

The sound of your phone vibrating snapped you out of your thoughts. You picked up the device to check who it was, but it was an unknown number. That piqued your curiosity. Unlocking your phone, you immediately hit the text app and opened the message.

(1) New message

Sunshine

Hello

You

Did you put yourself as Sunshine?

Sunshine

Yes…

But will you be joining us for dinner?

You

Will the moon and planets be there??

Sunshine

They’re busy

You’re invited to eat with the Jung family

You

I accept, Sunshine

Sunshine

You squealed when he sent that smiley face. That’s so fucking cute. Hoseok’s bright smile was the only thing you could imagine now. You realized you didn’t even ask your mom, but you knew she’d understand. When it came to good looking men, she’s the best wing women out there. In reality, she was sick and tired of your single ass life. What a supportive woman.

Without thought, you grabbed the nearest shirt and changed out of your current one. No one cares about the bottoms, so you just kept on the same shorts that you wore to school earlier. You left the room to inform your mom about your plans. Closing the blinds completely slipped your mind.

You’ve been standing in front of the door for a solid ten minutes now. You didn’t really understand why you became nervous all of a sudden. Literally, a couple of days ago you were fine and comfortable with the family, yet here you are at their doorstep, refusing to push the doorbell. The parents were friendly. The atmosphere was great. They were great. You’re just overthinking. It couldn’t be Hoseok making you feel this way because you’ve only known him for a while. It’s not like you saw him shirtless or anything.

You counted to five and forced yourself to push the button. The sound of the bell echoed through your ears. You waited a couple of seconds and the door flew open, revealing a disheveled Hoseok. Since when did messy hair and heavy breathing look so good on a man?

“Hello, please come in.”

You thanked him and let yourself in. The house was more organized and lively compared to scattered boxes and unbuilt furniture. He led you to the dining room and you saw his parents together in the kitchen chatting.

“Finally! It’s so nice to see you again,” Mrs. Jung beamed.

“Hope you’ve been well,” Mr. Jung nodded.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you smiled.

The four of you gathered in the dining room and sat. Each of them talked about their day. You were fond of the close bond the family shared. Not saying you don’t share that with your family, but it’s nice to see families go through the same thing.

“What do you think of Hoseok, Y/N?” his mother asked.

You nearly choked on your food and ended up having a coughing fit. That question nearly killed you.

“O-Oh, uh, your son is great,” you finally spoke. “Quite the gentleman.”

“Mom, what the he-”

“Barbara’s daughter is single,” she interrupted. “You can thank me later.”

You felt your stomach churn. You could even say that you felt sick.

“I think you two would be a cute couple,” she finished. “Y/N is too good for you anyways.”

This time you nearly fell off your chair. You appreciate the compliment, but never in your life did you think she would ever say that. If anything, you thought Hoseok was too good for you.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you spoke.

“Oh stop, it true. It’s rare to find a girl who helps a family moving in.”

“Well―”

“And you showed Hoseok around the school,” Junsu mentioned.

Wait. If they knew about that, then that means Hoseok talks about you to his parents. You felt some pride swell up in your chest, but he was probably just being nice. Remember, you totally don’t have a crush on your neighbor. Man, your life is a literal movie.

“I think your son is great in his own ways.”

Now all eyes were on you. You felt your face heat up, but you just had to get that off your chest. It wasn’t a lie, you really did think he’s an amazing guy, despite only knowing him for a short period. Thankfully, you weren’t the only one who was red. Hoseok was a tomato.

“You guys shou―”

“And I think Y/N wants to go home! Isn’t that right?” Hoseok explained as he jumped from his seat.

“Y-Yeah, it’s getting late,” you said as you got up from your seat.

You quickly placed your dirty dish into the sink and hugged his parents goodbye before rushing out of the dining room. What the fuck is going on? What the hell just happened?

Once the two of you were alone by the front door, you let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he apologized.

“It’s not a problem. Honestly, my mom is always trying to set me up too.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it was you,” he mumbled.

You didn’t quite catch that, but he’s been through enough for the day. He opened the door for you and you both stepped outside. The stars were out and the moon was a lot brighter today. You were so immersed with the sight. He looked over at you and saw the eyes reflect in your eyes.

Snap.

Ever since your dinner with The Jung’s, you became a lot closer to Hoseok. He would walk with you to and from school, joined you for lunch with your best friend and Yoongi, and he would even come in for dinner. To say that your mom loved him was an understatement. When he wasn’t around, she would call him son-in-law.

You learned many things about the male. He’s a talented artist in many places. Photography, dance, drawing, and more. You were envious of his talent. The little things he did for you would bring a smile to your face. He would send you a good morning text or give you a hug whenever you two depart ways.

Remember how you said you wouldn’t catch feelings?

Too fucking late.

You were in too deep and it was starting to put you in an emotional rollercoaster. Having crushes are fun, but tiring. You have something to look forward to, but when they don’t do something you expect, you can’t help but feel a little sad. Although your friendship with Hoseok was blooming, so was his popularity.

Ever since he won his first dance competition―which he gave you backstage passes―his name spread like wildfire. Nearly every single person knew the name Jung Hoseok. You had to fight off a lot of girls just to be able to meet with him after your classes.

There was a day where you felt sad because you were thinking about Hoseok leaving you for new people. He noticed your saddened mood, so he pulled you off to the side and looked you in the eyes.

No matter who I’m with or where I am, you’ll always be the first person I think of

Ever since he said those words to you, he couldn’t stay off your mind. At this point, it was driving you crazy. Your heart was hurting for Hoseok and you chose to suffer through it.

“Dude, you look lovesick,” F/N blurted out.

You were literally just minding your own business.

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna call Hos-”

“Don’t you dare,” you threatened; which earned a sigh from your best friend.

“You look miserable,” Yoongi spoke.

The two of you didn’t notice him coming until he sat down next to F/N and said those words. She squealed in excitement and clung onto his arms while resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, not helping, fucking love birds,” you muttered.

“Then do something about it instead of moping around.”

You were about to fight Yoongi, but someone sat next to you; which startled you a bit.

“Do something about what?” Hoseok questioned.

“N-Nothing,” you breathed. “Ah look at the time! Gotta go!”

You got up from your seat and left the area. You couldn’t be around Hoseok because your feelings were becoming unbearable. Just being near him was torture. You wish you could kiss his soft lips and be encased by his strong arms, but sadly, this is reality and you needed to get out of your fantasy land.

(1) New message

Sunshine

Did you go home without me??

You

I wasn’t feeling well, sorry.

Sunshine

Feel better (:

You

Thanks.

It was only four o’clock and you didn’t know what to do. Usually, you were still with Hoseok around this time and it felt odd that you were home early. Even your mom questioned why you were back already, but you only grunted in response before shutting the door of your room. You decided to stare at the ceiling until you drifted off into sleep.

You woke up. You look out your window and saw how dark it was outside. Sadly, you didn’t have any notifications on your phone, specifically none from Hoseok, but you didn’t blame him. You did respond to him monotonously and straight out sounded uninterested. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to text you.

Despite taking a nap, you still felt tired. Maybe it was your emotions weighing you down. Honestly, you didn’t really have the motivation for anything; which sucked ass. You couldn’t help but feel like Hoseok deserved an explanation for your recent actions. Could you even bring yourself to send him a text?

Frustrated, you got up from your comfy bed and went into the kitchen to drink some water. You couldn’t help but wonder what Hoseok was up to right now.

Now's not the time to think about him, Y/N.

You let out a sigh and wished that your feelings would fade. You could literally have a normal and happy friendship with him, but your heart says otherwise. Self-blame won’t get you anywhere though. Maybe if you just outright tell him, you could get over this stupid phase. You prepared yourself for the worse.

So, here you are, sitting on your bed at nine 9:34 PM, conjuring up ideas of how to approach the situation.

(1) New message

You

Hey, look out your window real quick

Sunshine

Your heart was beating uncontrollably as you held up the sign that said: I like you a lot. You hid your face behind the white cardboard, desperately trying to hide your embarrassment. A bunch of scenarios played through your head, but you only focused on a specific one: rejection. At one point you felt like you couldn’t breathe because all these emotions were overwhelming, but it is what it is. On the bright side, you got something off your chest. It won’t be eating you up as bad anymore.

You looked passed your board to see if he was still looking at you, but he wasn’t standing by his window anymore. You placed the board on your desk and jogged back to your window. To get a better glimpse, you pulled up the blinds and slid your window open. You poked your head out. Much to your disappointment, he wasn’t there at all. In fact, it made you a little angry. It felt like he ignored you.

You were about to shut your window until something grabbed your hand. Fight mode kicked in real fast, so you readied your fist.

“W-wait!” the person panicked. “I-it’s me, Hoseok!”

You lowered your fist down but yanked your hand away from his. You couldn’t risk falling any deeper than you are right now. Hoseok saddened a little at your action, but he wanted to get straight to the point.

“If you’re here to reject me, I would’ve been fine with a text,” you mumbled. “I appreciate that you came all this way to-”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he interrupted. “C-Can I come in?”

You looked at him with conflict. Is he trying to rub salt on the wound? You moved aside to let him climb through your window. Your arms were crossed above your chest because you were on guard. You refuse to let your heart take any more hits. He stood by your window, fiddling with his fingers as if he was struggling to find the right words. Silence filled the room.

“Well?” You asked, breaking the tension.

He looked at you straight in the eye and stood up straight.

“W-Well, I don’t really know how to say this…”

“As I said if it’s re-��

“No! P-Please, give me a moment.”

You saw how desperate he seemed, so you walked over to your bed and patted the space next to you. You felt bad for being cold, so you want to try to help him feel as comfortable as possible. He hesitated but ended up plopping beside you with his whole body facing you. You waited until he was ready. Sometimes you forget that confessions can be troubling for both parties.

“When I first met you, you offered to help my family,” he spoke up. “You didn’t know who we were, yet you still offered.”

Honestly, you didn’t know where he was trying to go with this, but you didn’t interrupt him. You listened intently.

“To be honest, I was shocked by your kindness. You also helped me at school, let me join your friend group, and kept me company whenever we went home.”

“Oh, well, I guess I’m just a nice person.”

“No, you’re more than that,” he butted in. “You think about others without a second thought. At one point, I admired you.”

Now you were blushing. Your mouth was agape because you didn’t think he viewed you in the light. Either way, you didn’t want hopes to shoot through the roof, so you kept your expectations low.

“And well…” he paused; which left you on edge. “The admiration turned into something more.”

“Damn, I knew it,” you sighed.

“Y-You do?”

“Yeah, you want to be best friends. Is this what it’s like to be friend-zoned?”

“No!”

He was getting frustrated and you were flat out confused. You thought you pieced

everything together. Okay, no more jumping to conclusions. You kept your mouth shut and waited for him to formulate his words.

“I admire you,” he continued. “You make me want to be a better person for you.”

Thump.

“I-I wanted to be there for you and when you were sad that one time, you said you were scared I would leave you, something broke inside of me. I wanted to protect you.”

Thump.

“This whole time, I thought was fine with just being your friend, but I was wrong. I’m really selfish.”

Thump. Thump.

“Eventually, I found myself wanting more. I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Wha-”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

“No fucking way, you lyin’,” you were in complete disbelief.

This all sounds too good to be true.

“I’m being serious,” he said sternly.

You didn’t know how to respond. You prepared yourself for rejection, but instead, you get the complete opposite. He never broke eye contact with you, but you could see that he was getting nervous again. You weren’t responding and he began to worry.

“I know you feel the same way, Y/N,” he whispered, smiling.

Now you’re getting flustered. You can’t run away in your own house. Hoseok felt confident. You both shared the same feelings and nothing can stop you two now. Nothing could go wrong at this point.

“Yeah, so?” you huffed. “You want a kiss as a reward or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” he smirked.

Curse you and your fucking mouth. Putting you in places that you don’t want to be in. Well, you don’t mind kissing him though. It’s not like you’ve always wanted to anyways. He turned his body towards you, so you scooted closer to him and made eye contact with him before looking down at his lips. Since when were they so…pink?

“I’m waiting.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, but it helped get rid of some of that nervous feeling that welled up in your stomach. Thankfully, his eyes were closed. It would’ve been so awkward if they were staring right at you. He was bouncing in his spot because you could feel the bed shake a bit. You didn’t want to keep the male waiting, so you inched closer and closer. His looks were a bit intimidating up close.

“You can’t back out now,” you warned.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he answered back.

Here goes nothing.

You cupped his face and stared right at his lips. You found it cute that he leaned into your hand a little. He wanted to cherish you as much as you wanted to cherish him. Despite all the stalling you’ve been doing, he was enjoying every single second. All that mattered to him was that you’re there. This isn’t a dream, but it’s reality.

Bringing your face closer to his, you felt his breath hit your lips. He could feel your presence close to his own; which caused his heart rate to increase dramatically. If only you knew how much you meant to him and how badly he’s always wanted for this moment to happen. You both drove each other crazy.

The softness of his lips touched your own. At first, you held your breath in for a second, but you manage to relax into it. What you thought would be a simple peck, turned into open-mouth kisses. As the kisses became more intense, you moved your hands from his face to the back of his neck. He wanted you to be as close as possible, so he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer. The kisses you two shared proved how desperately both of you wanted this by the way you held each other.

Just as the two of you were about to pull away from each other, he bit the bottom of your lip and sucked it lightly. He looked at you with lust in his eyes. It was almost scary. But in a sexy way. You could almost feel how much he wanted you, but you wanted to settle down everything between the two of you.

“So…” you trailed off. “What are we now then?”

“Let me ask you out properly before we become official.”

“It doesn’t have to be special.”

“I want it to memorable.”

You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks. Hoseok was determined to make you feel special and he was willing to do as much as he can to prove how much you mean to him. No one has ever bothered to put that much effort into you, let alone being unofficial. Your body moved on its own, and you found yourself embracing him in your arms.

The weather was sunny, you felt great, and everything was real. Yesterday wasn’t a dream and you realized that the moment you pinched yourself after waking up. Hoseok also sent you a good morning text with hearts surrounding the message. For once, you were having a good morning. The smell of breakfast made your day even better considering how you napped through dinner last night. The table was laid with piles of food and your mouth was watering.

“What’s with the smile on your face?” Your mom asked. “It’s unusual.”

“Don’t wof-ry abou- et,” you struggled to say with waffles stuffed in your mouth.

“It has to do with Hoseok, huh?” she was eyeing you now.

“Look at the time! Gotta get to class, bye!”

Never have you ran so fast out of your house. The news between you and Hoseok needed to wait because technically, you two aren’t official. Yet. The thought about you two being together, gave you butterflies in your stomach. Right as you locked the front door of your house, Hoseok was already standing in front of your house with coffee in both his hands. He was smiling right at you and you felt the world get brighter.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he beamed. “I got you a little gift.”

“O-Oh! Thank you,” you smiled as you happily took the beverage from his hand.

Walking to school was enjoyable with Hoseok holding your hand and coffee in the other hand. As soon as you got to school, people kept staring, but you were unbothered because all that mattered was that you had him. He was smiling through the stares, but his eyes were mostly on you.

He walked you to your first class and his lips touched your cheek. You waved to him as he headed to his own class. As you sat in your seat, you were ambushed by your best friend once again.

“Bitch! I saw that!” she exclaimed while pointing her index finger at you. She didn’t even bother to sit at her desk. Instead, she stood right in front of you, waiting for an explanation.

“Saw what?”

“Ah! Don’t play dumb,” she countered. “Give me the deets.”

As much as you love your best friend, she can be loud at times because now a majority of the class was looking at you two. You gestured her to lean in closer, so she did. Instead of telling her, you grabbed her ear and told her that you’ll tell her after class. Once you let go, she eyed you while taking her seat next to you. You noticed how her leg was shaking; which you knew meant she was excited.

“So you’re telling me that you pulled a Taylor Swift and it worked?” F/N asked bewilderedly.

You laughed at your best friend's reaction.

“That’s all I gotta say.”

“Honestly, say no more,” she nodded approvingly.

Dinner was amazing and you still couldn’t believe that Hoseok set it up all by himself, despite your mom wanting to help. The smile on your face wouldn’t go away. You wish you could live this moment forever, but you were grateful that you got to experience it. Hoseok felt accomplished the moment your eyes lit up. He knew that he wanted to make you happy from this moment on.

He led you to your room, ready to watch something on youtube. He already brought extra clothes for himself to get comfortable in. Without a warning, he took off his shirt and you could see the defined lines of his abs. You didn’t realize you were staring until he waved his hand in front of you. Embarrassed, you grabbed a t-shirt, some pajama shorts, and ran to the bathroom without making any eye contact with him. The last thing you heard was him chuckling.

After regaining your posture and successfully changing into comfy clothes, you managed to exit the bathroom with ease. Hoseok was already settled in your bed with his back against the bed frame with his attention on his phone. Who could have known a guy could look so good in a plain white tee and sweats. You hopped on your bed and snuggled into your blankets before taking your laptop and putting on some music. You tried to stay cool despite there being a hot man next to you on your bed. It was pretty exciting.

“I wanna show you a video,” Hoseok spoke up.

You looked up from your phone and leaned closer to him. Instead of playing the video, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled your closer. The heat traveled up to your cheeks and you looked up at him.

“Sorry, it was the only way I could pull you closer to me,” he smiled.

Well fuck.

As he unlocked his phone, you noticed his wallpaper. The person on his phone looked familiar and he saw you staring at his screen.

“When did you take this?” You asked.

“Remembered the first time you came over for dinner? You were looking at the stars and I couldn’t help myself. I had to capture the moment where heaven couldn’t match your beauty.”

He finally played a video of an idol group dancing, but your thoughts were racing through your head. You tried to calm your heart by taking a deep breath; instead, you got a whiff of his cologne. Oh, boy did that shit smell amazing. Without realizing it, your face was practically buried in his chest.

“It’s Kalvin Clein,” he spoke up as he soothingly rubbed your back.

“You can’t call me out like that,” you mumbled.

“As your boyfriend, yeah I can,” he chuckled.

There were butterflies in your stomach. He can’t just say that term so casually. Your heart and soul wasn’t ready for that. You ended up snuggling closer to him and placing your legs on top of his. Now you could see the screen of his phone more clearly, but this time, someone else was having trouble focusing on the video. His body stiffened, but you paid no attention to the subtle action. Hoseok never showed any interest in certain things. Especially the explicit ones. Then again, you both never tried anything.

We’ve never even had sex.

“W-We can if you want.”

“Did I say that out―oh my god,” you wheezed.

You’re totally not embarrassed at all. Blame your hormones. Speaking your mind has been putting you in deep shit.

“I-I mean we can, but I understand if you do-”

“I do, I really do…” he paused. “I was just going at your pace.”

This man is so fucking considerate that it hurts your soul, but that’s not the only thing that’s hurting. Your need for him is more painful.

“That’s hot.”

“What?”

“Fuck it.”

You grabbed his phone out of his hand and gently put it on the nightstand. As much as you love being in his arms, you sat up and straddled him. Honestly, you had nothing to lose at this point. You two were officially already and it’s too late to back out now.

He looked at you with wide eyes, still comprehending what just happened. You didn’t wait for him to make a move, so you began to grind down on his cock. His eyes rolled back as he hissed through his teeth. You felt his hands wrap around your hips eagerly, encouraging you to slowly pace yourself back and forth. They gripped tighter as you continued to rub your womanhood onto his member. You could tell that he was holding back his moans in the back of his throat by the way his breathing was unsteady.

“Let me hear you,” Y/N whispered.

You dipped your face into the crane of his neck and kissed him sweetly.

Hoseok looked at the way you rode him, causing his head to throw back with excitement. Finally, he let himself go and let out his stifled moans.

“Keep going,” he sighed, eyes still closed from the undeniable pleasure.

With his size growing in his gray sweatpants, your center became damper alongside him. You two were in sync as the sounds escaped both of your mouths; which then led your hands to trail down his torso, taking the hem of his white t-shirt and tugging it up. Instinctively, Hoseok took your sign and took off his top to toss it onto the floor. You let out a hum of amusement. Before, you had only gotten a chance to see it, but now you had your hands roaming all over his toned body.

“Your turn,” he spoke, mimicking your last action.

You smirked, eyeing the way his fingers fiddled with the bottom of your shirt. But just as you were about to take initiative, he began peeling your own piece of clothing and tossed to the floor as well. You could hear him swearing to himself. Letting out a soft moan, you took your index finger to drag his eyes to yours. He showcased a lovely; yet, lazy smile. With his hair nearly covering his eyes though, you pouted. You wanted to see his gaze meet yours, and that’s exactly what you did. Your fingers pushed his long bangs back, only urging you to kiss him once again.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hoseok murmured against your lips.

All you could do was smile in return. You were flattered above anyone else at that moment. Your riding had increased, but his strong hands stopped you for a few seconds. He didn’t have to say much as that point, but you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Knowing he heard you, he also chuckled. All you could think was, goddamn.

It only took a second for Hoseok to flip both of you over. Now that he was on top, he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, then trailing a handful of wet kisses down your neck, between your breasts, and stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. Your moans were constant; even though you had some moments when you wanted to stop yourself from becoming so vulnerable. His doe-like eyes peered up at you, catching each other’s attention while his lips were still pressed against your sensitive skin.

You could feel the corners of his lips lifting up with a smile. He was satisfied with his doing, and you wanted to let him know he was doing everything right. When you felt the beds of his fingertips curling around the elastic, you threw your head back in preparation for what was about to come. When you could feel the cold air of the room hitting the rest of your bare body, you inhaled sharply. Your feet gradually slide up towards yourself naturally, knowing you had to brace yourself. As soon as Hoseok’s hot breath hit your wet center, you felt the shivers running throughout your entire body. His warm hands wrapped themselves around your thighs.

“Please,” you whined, squirming under his control.

“So eager for my tongue baby girl,” he mumbled.

Just as you were about to respond back, you could feel the wetness of his own mouth touch your clit, causing your head to dig back into the pillow. You swore under your breath and bucked your hips towards him. Trying not to lose yourself, your hand reached down for his and gripped it tightly. As his tongue ran up and down between your folds, your toes began to curl. The wears were unstoppable and clearly neither way he. Even when you can't stop your own hips from moving his mouth didn’t pull away at any second. You could feel the intense bubble in your stomach almost bursting.

“Hoseok,” you moaned.

There was nothing like the way you said the name that turned him on even more. Just as he thought he was going to spare you, he took away one of his hands. You gulped. When you felt his two digits pushing into your tight pussy, you bit the bottom of your lips as hard as you could in order not to make any loud noises. As much as you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs with the amount of pleasure he provided you, there were still boundaries. You had to keep in mind that you were still in your room and a house that was shared with more than one person. But when Hoseok started pumping his fingers in and out of you, he was making it too difficult for you. By the way, you seemed to struggle beneath him, he moaned against your clit. The vibrations sent chills down your spine from the additional euphoric feeling.

“I’m so close,” Y/N whispered with desperation. “Keep going.”

Of course, Hoseok would follow your orders. If he had this reaction out of you, he didn’t want it to stop. It was a reward to already have you to call his very own, but having you finish due to his ability would be a great addition. Just then, he thought to push his index and middle finger deeper inside of you, curling the tips of them every time he entered you. Now that the butterflies were set free in your stomach, your hands reached for the top of his head, not wanting this moment to end.

“I-I’m c-coming,” you stuttered, feeling your pussy clenching around his fingers.

After your release of sweet pleasure, you were panting heavily. You felt like you ran a whole marathon. His fingers and tongue felt amazing, yet you felt incomplete. You wanted his cock badly. No, scratch that, you needed his cock. He did so much for you and you wanted to repay him. It took you a lot of effort to sit up. You motioned him to lie down on his back and he followed your order.

Once he settled on his back, you didn’t hesitate to smash your lips together. Your tongues battled for dominance, but you wanted to get straight to pleasuring your man. As much as you love his mouth on yours, you pulled away and grabbed his wrist. His fingers were still coated with your juices, but you didn’t care. Without thought, you brought your mouth to his fingers. You began running your tongue in between the two digits while eyeing him seductively. Eventually, you sucked on his fingers and rolled your eyes back to give him a little show.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

You smiled at his comment and gave him a quick peck before lowering your head towards his aching bulge. Your hands rubbed his clothed cock and you could hear his breath hitch. Then you traced your fingers around the waistband of both his sweatpants and boxers, quickly pulling them down. His dick sprung up, hitting his stomach. You wrapped your hand his thickness and slowly pumped his girth. He let out a moan as you began to pick up the pace. You finally brought your lips to the tip of his cock. You guided your tongue around him, allowing you to coat his member. Finally, you took his entire size into your mouth and his hands immediately tugged on your locks.

You bobbed your head back and forth at a steady pace. Looking up, you saw him biting down on his lower lip. You wanted to hear him. You wanted him to say your name. Without warning, you brought his cock to the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

Just hearing him say that encouraged you to go faster. You grabbed his hips to steady your pace. Suddenly, you felt a harsh tug on your hair, causing you to pull away from him. You looked at him with confusion.

“Keep that up and I would’ve came in your mouth…” he paused. “But I want to come inside you.”

You felt your pussy moisten at his words. This man was driving you crazy.

“I’m on birth control.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he smirked.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you down on your back. Before you knew it, he was back on top of you. Refusing you to do any more work.

“You did enough for me, baby,” he spoke as he sucked on your neck.

His easily slipped a finger inside you, causing you to mewl.

“And you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

He pulled his finger out and positioned himself in between your legs. The tip of his cock was right at your entrance, but he wanted to tease you a bit. You watched as he grabbed his hard length and slowly rubbed it against your folds. You could hear the wetness of your pussy as he would insert the tip and take it out. It was fucking torture.

“Hoseok, baby, please.”

“Please what?”

“Your cock, i-inside me…” you stuttered, “Please!”

You begging for him was music to his ears. He hummed in satisfaction. Finally, he inserted his whole member inside you and it was pure bliss. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper, causing you to cover your mouth to muffle your screams. He brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed it in a circular motion. You arched your back, taking in all the pleasure he’s giving you. Another bubble was forming at the pit of your stomach and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Hoseok could tell you were on the verge of coming, so he picked up the pace. He was going harder while rubbing your clit at the same time as you were closing in on another orgasm. He felt you clench around him, but that didn’t slow down his rhythm.

“Oh fuck!”

You finally reached your limit and came all over his still hardened cock.

“Hands and knees. Now,” he demanded.

He wasn’t going to let you recover. He positioned himself perfectly at your entrance and slammed himself in you, nearly knocking you off your hands. His balls kept hitting your pussy and you knew he wasn’t holding back. As he continued to thrust himself in you, you felt a hard smack on your ass. You moaned at his gesture, earning a hard pull on your hair. Your neck was bending back as he brought his lips to your ear. His teeth were softly gnawing on the shell of your ear. You were enjoying this too much, clearly, he was too.

“Right there, oh shit,” you moaned.

He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you into him. His pace fastened while your moans filled the room. At this point, you knew that both of you could be heard, but you had no fucks left to give. The only thing you could focus on was how close you two were and the immense amounts of pleasure you’ve both given and received. You could tell that you were getting weaker when your head began to slowly fall into the pillow, but Hoseok wasn’t going to have that. Seeing the way he had you, it was the perfect time to give you no choice. When he had one hand secure on your hip, the other reach around to cup your throat. He had no idea how much you enjoyed the retrain, but when he took a quick glance at your eyes, he knew. Your eyes rolled back, hair messy and mouth open wide, he had you locked. Just how he inched you back, your back was nearly touching his torso. Your posture was in that exact position where you could feel every inch of him inside of you. Again, you could feel yourself coming undone once more. He was just too immersed in his actions that his pace was steady and focused. The slapping of his hips against your ass, both of your heavy breaths intertwining with one another, and the sweat dripping down both of your bodies had a great effect on the great event.

“Fuck- I’m gonna-” he uttered.

“Come inside of me babe,” she interrupted.

His breathing suddenly became unsteady and his thrusts also started to feel messy and slow. With every last pumped inside of you, he paused for a second. With one last hard push, he let out a grunt and satisfied sigh.

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief.

As the two of you collected yourselves, your bodies plopped on the bed beside each other. Even though your breaths were still loud and heavy, you both managed to shoot each other a smile. You helped each other clean up and got ready for bed. You both exchanged a couple of words to each other before drifting off into a deep slumber.

You woke up to a peaceful sleeping Hoseok. His breath was steady with one arm was slung over your waist. In the end, you ended up being with the boy next door. You felt him move a bit before he finally opened his eyes. He looked at you and warmly grinned.

“Hey there, neighbor.”

#kwritersworldnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts fanfic #hoseok smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts au #jung hoseok #bts #bts scenarios #bts smut oneshot #hoseok smut oneshot #bts smut #smut

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windscattered · 3 years

Text

Previously

Delano wanted to vomit. He had a son. From that one night with Lieselotte, he had a son. He had been so careful with everyone else, but the one time…

“Where’s Fang,” Delano finally ground out, voice scratching his throat like sandpaper.

Lieselotte looked confused. “Fang?”

“My dog. If you went to my apartment to bring my shit here, you brought my dog here too, right?”

Adriano raised his eyebrows and looked at Lieselotte, who was looking uncomfortable. “Oh, that beast… Is it so important to you that you have to have it here?”

Delano stared at her in disbelief. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing irreversible,” Lieselotte said hastily, her palms up. “It- she is just at an animal shelter.”

“You took her to a shelter? Without asking me?” Delano’s expression must have been scary, because Adriano’s eyes widened and Lieselotte looked downright alarmed.

“It’s- like I said, nothing irreversible! If she’s that important to you, I can have her brought here.”

“Then do that,” Delano said, struggling to keep his voice even. “She’s my friend. I need her.”

“Alright, sheesh,” Lieselotte said. “I need to make some phone calls. Make yourself at home, in the meantime, sweetie. Excuse me…” She left deeper into the house, leaving Adriano and Delano by themselves.

As soon as she was gone, Delano’s shoulders dropped and he rubbed his eyes with his good hand. God fucking damn. Fang, all alone, in a strange place…

Adriano cleared his throat, gaining Delano’s attention. “Are you… hungry?” he asked carefully.

After those bombshells? The last thing Delano wanted to do was to eat. With his son, no less. “Sure, whatever,” Delano said out loud, not sure why he had agreed.

Adriano nodded and walked back into the kitchen, followed by Delano. Delano made a beeline to the dining table and sat down with a heavy sigh.

“What breed is she?” Adriano asked as he busied himself at the fridge. “Fang, I mean.”

Delano rested his head on his hand. “Pitbull.”

“Oh?” Adriano brought some sandwich ingredients to the dining table. “No wonder mom took her to the shelter. She’s gonna hate having her here.” He grinned.

“She’s not rowdy or anything,” Delano said tiredly.

“Still,” Adriano said, still grinning. “She doesn’t like big dogs.”

Delano wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He was already taking space here, and with Fang, he’d be taking even more.

“I always wanted a dog,” Adriano said, starting to assemble a sandwich. “She always said that I’d be allowed a small dog.”

Delano finally looked up at him. “What breed did you want?”

Adriano shrugged. “I don’t know. Not a pomeranian or a chihuahua though. Like, maybe a medium size dog, but that was too big for her too.”

Delano nodded slowly. “Nothing wrong with small breeds, though,” he said.

“Of course, yeah,” Adriano said. “But the breeds mom allowed me were so… frou frou.”

“I get it,” Delano said, starting to awkwardly assemble his own sandwich with one hand.

“She’s so anal about the potential of dog hair on the furniture,” Adriano said with a frown. “Our couches are leather. Hair doesn’t stick to leather!” He sighed. “Uh, do you want me to make one for you?” he asked after he saw Delano struggle with butter.

“Please,” Delano said, passing the butterknife over to Adriano.

Adriano started to assemble Delano’s sandwich as a silence fell between them. Adriano drew a breath, as if to say something, but Lieselotte appeared into the kitchen.

“There you are,” she said, making Delano stiffen immediately. “My boys, already getting along.” She walked behind Delano and smoothed her hands on his shoulders. Delano’s throat closed up. “We’ll have Fang back first thing tomorrow.”

Adriano set a plate with a sandwich on it in front of Delano. Delano nodded a thanks to him, although he couldn’t eat. Not when Lieselotte’s hands were on him.

“We’ll need a doghouse for the yard,” Lieselotte mused, running her hands on Delano’s shoulders. “And a chain for her.”

“Is she allowed to be indoors?” Adriano asked, looking disappointed.

Lieselotte was quiet for a moment. Her hands moved to stroke Delano’s hair. Delano forced himself to not shudder. “If she behaves, doesn’t run around and ruin the floors and won’t do her business inside.”

“She knows how to behave,” Delano said, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “She’s housetrained.”

“That’s good,” Lieselotte chirped. “We just might get along after all.” She was quiet for a moment. “Oh, were you two eating? Are you hungry? I could cook up something.”

Delano swallowed involuntarily. “N-no thanks, the sandwich is enough,” he ground out.

Lieselotte hummed. “Alright. We can have a proper dinner later. All together as a family. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Delano stared at the untouched sandwich in front of him. Nice… Sure.

***

“Do I have a room here?” Delano asked Lieselotte.

For a second Lieselotte looked surprised. “Oh, yes, a room! Of course!”

She lead him to a guest bedroom. “You can sleep here,” she said. “But, you know, you can also join me-”

“This room is fine,” Delano interrupted. “Thank you.”

Lieselotte looked disappointed, but said nothing. “Alright.”

Delano disappeared into the room and closed the door before Lieselotte could invite herself in. The room was… bare. As one might expect. There was a bed, a desk, a chair and a closet and some kind of painting on the wall, but that was about it. Delano didn’t mind. This was already more stuff than he had at his apartment.

There was a knock at the door and Lieselotte stepped in, carrying a big black trash bag. “Sorry about barging in again,” she said. “I just thought you might want to have your clothes here.” She walked to the bed and dropped the bag on it. “Here you go, honey. You should check that everything is in there, just in case.”

“Thanks,” Delano said. He started digging into the bag awkwardly with one hand.

Lieselotte watched him with a hand on her cheek. “Maybe I should help you.”

“Please,” Delano said. Even though he wanted nothing more than Lieselotte to leave him alone.

“Just sit back and relax,” Lieselotte said, letting her hand run down Delano’s back. “I’ll unpack your clothes, honey.”

Delano fought back a shudder and looked around the room. He now realized that the only place to lay down here was the bed. He’d be sleeping in a strange place, without Fang, on a bed. Delano swallowed. His throat felt tight.

“Good grief,” Lieselotte sighed, holding up a t-shirt with a small hole on it. “We need to get you some new clothes.”

Delano hummed as he sat down on the chair at the desk. His stomach twisted as he thought what kind of clothes she’d buy for him. Would she let him choose or would she choose for him, marking him as hers?

As Lieselotte unpacked the garbage bag, it finally sunk in that she really had stuffed all of Delano’s clothes in it. For a split-second, Delano was confused as to why, but then he remembered what Lieselotte had said back at the hospital. The exact word she had used was “move in”, right? Was he here permanently? The thought made Delano’s chest constrict in a nauseating way. He really was trapped here. Like a circus animal.

***

Somehow, Delano managed to sleep during the night. Not through the whole night, though. He slept in short bursts, each interrupted by a nightmare. He was, for once in his life, glad that morning came.

At six in the morning, Delano gave up on sleeping and slinked downstairs to the kitchen. He wondered if he could stomach food. Ever since he came to this house, he’s been inexplicably nauseous. He had to wonder if he was coming down with something.

Even though he still felt slightly sick, his stomach growled, making him remember that he hadn’t eaten since the sandwich Adriano had made him yesterday. He would have breakfast.

Delano got some eggs, cheese and ham from the fridge and brought them to the stove. The stove top gave him a pause. It was… so clean. Delano could see his face on it. Could he really cook on this? He’d drop something on it and make it dirty, he was sure.

After some hesitation, Delano grabbed a pan and turned the stove on. If he spilled something, he’d wipe it off. Simple. Delano cooked himself a thick omelette.

When the omelette was done, Delano started looking for a coffee machine. He did find one, but he was stumped as to how it worked. With some poking, Delano figured out how it worked and made himself a cup of coffee.

Delano sat down at the table and ate. The coffee was delicious. He’s never had coffee like it. Is this what rich people drank? Every day? Damn.

After eating, Delano put his dishes away, cleaned the stove and stepped out of the kitchen. Now that everyone was asleep, this could be the perfect chance to explore the house.

Delano’s bare feet padded softly on the floor as he walked around in the silent house. During his exploration, he found the bathroom with a bathtub and a shower and some kind of weird room with elevated wooden seats (was that real wood? Damn, so fancy!) and some kind of device topped with decorative rocks in the corner. He found a living room and another room with comfortable couches and a fireplace, what looked like an office and the laundry room and some kind of storage area. Every single room was neatly organized and almost clinically clean. It made Delano wonder why a stray dog like him was even here.

Exploring and mapping the house now done, Delano returned to the living room. Something in there had caught his attention. One of the walls was completely made of glass. Behind the window and glass door, a yard opened. A real yard. With grass.

Delano let himself out to see it closer. Immediately behind the glass doors was a small deck, made from… was that real wood? It either felt like real wood or very convincing imitation wood. Delano hadn’t known that wood had a texture to it. He knelt down and felt it with his hand, the small ridges and the lines and the knots. So luxurious. Just for this area that you walk on. Mindblowing.

Of course there was some furniture on the deck too. A big umbrella, now closed, leant against the wall in a corner. Some of those soft chairs that you can lay back until they’re horizontal. A table and a grill.

But, behind the deck. The grass. Delano moved to the edge of the deck and paused. Didn’t he need shoes to walk on grass? He’d have to get them from the other side of the house though… Fuck it, he’d wipe his feet before he went back in.

Delano stepped onto the grass. It… wasn’t as soft as Delano had assumed. Grass leaves weren’t as soft as lettuce? Huh. Delano dug his toes deeper into it. It was slightly wet… Oh, was this morning dew? It was so clean! The morning dew Delano was used to in the lower levels was usually brown at best and sludge at worst. But this dew? You could drink this!

Delano walked on the grass, feeling his feet get wetter with each step. Fang would love this yard. There was enough space for her to run back and forth comfortably. Delano stepped from under the roofed area and the sky opened above him again.

Delano was struck breathless. The sky! It was orange! How? Wasn’t it supposed to be blue? No, wait. Sunrises and sunsets got different colours. That’s right. Such a shame the yard was opening to… whatever this direction was. Not the one the sun rose from. Maybe Delano would see the sunset, though…

He ended up standing in the grass, staring up at the sky until it turned from orange to yellow to blue.

...Wait, he had to call his work. His day job, at the casino. And let them know he was on sick leave with a broken arm again.

Delano went back inside.

***

“Lucky Lady’s Casino, Jack Gonzales.”

“Hey, boss, it’s Delano,” Delano said.

“Sup, man,” Jack said. “Is your arm better?”

Delano paused. “How did you know about that?”

“Your girlfriend called me and let me know. She sent me the doctor’s note too.”

Delano’s blood froze. “She’s not my-”

“Whatever, man. Just hurry up and heal so you can get back to work,” Jack interrupted.

Delano deflated. “Okay.”

“Was that all?”

“Yeah,” Delano heard himself say. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be back.”

“Awesome. See you then.” Jack hung up without a bye.

Delano ended the call with a sinking feeling. The walls around him felt suffocating.

***

While waiting for Adriano and Lieselotte to wake up and Fang to arrive, Delano found that he really didn’t have anything to do. What did Delano even do with his life besides work?

Absently, Delano dug around the things that were brought from his apartment. He didn’t have much, but everything was here. Except Fang’s stuff, of course. Delano could only hope that Fang’s bed, leash, toys and bowls would come back with her.

… God, he missed her so fucking much. The second she got here wouldn’t be a goddamn second too soon.

Delano found the textbooks for his evening classes and started doing his homework, for a lack of anything else to do. He would have difficulties filling all the time he’d be trapped in this house…

After some time, there was a knock at the door. Lieselotte stepped in. “Delano?”

“Yeah?” Delano replied, standing up from the chair.

“I just got a call from the shelter,” Lieselotte said. “They’ve just sent someone to bring Fang here. They should arrive in around 45 minutes.”

Thank fucking god. “Okay. Good to know.”

Lieselotte gave him a look. “How long have you been awake?” she asked.

“What time is it?” Delano replied, grabbing his phone from his desk. Seven thirty. “Hour and a half.”

Lieselotte’s eyebrows rose. “You’re a morning person, huh,” she mused.

Delano shrugged. He wasn’t much of a “sleeping person” to begin with.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Lieselotte asked.

“Yeah,” Delano said.

An expression flickered on Lieselotte’s face, but it disappeared quickly. “Good,” she said. “Good to hear.” She tilted her head. “What have you been doing for the time you were awake?”

“I checked out the yard,” Delano said. “Then I’ve been doing homework.”

Lieselotte looked surprised. “Homework?” she asked, stepping further into the room, curiously looking to the desk.

“Uh, yeah, I-” Delano fell silent. How could he explain to Lieselotte that he missed a lot of education in his teens when it was her fault? “I… I’m taking some evening classes.”

Lieselotte beamed. “Really? That’s great! What kind of classes are you taking?”

Delano brushed hair behind his ear, suddenly flustered. “Y-yeah, it’s nothing special. Just some math.”

“Oh? Are you good at math?” Lieselotte asked, stepping to the desk to take one of Delano’s books. She leafed through it. As she browsed through the book, her smile shrank as she saw that it was just high school level math.

Delano looked away from her. He couldn’t bear seeing the realization sink in.

Delano heard Lieselotte draw a breath. But before she could say anything, the doorbell rang downstairs, as if to save him.

“That must be the shelter people,” Lieselotte said, sounding cheerful again.

Delano’s chest felt warm. Fang. Finally.

The two made their way downstairs. Lieselotte made a beeline to the door, closely followed by Delano. As Lieselotte was just about to open the door, the doorbell rang again.

“Oh, sorry!” the person behind the door laughed. “I got impatient.”

“It’s fine,” Lieselotte laughed. “Thank you for-”

Delano stepped behind her, craning his neck to see if Fang was with the person. He could hear Fang’s nails click on the ground and her whine as she caught his scent.

Fang.

Delano fell to his knees as soon as he saw her straining against the leash the shelter worker had her in.

Fang.

She whined louder and barked, ecstatic to see Delano again. She strained against the leash so much that she rose up to her hind legs.

“You’re happy to be home, huh?” the shelter worker chuckled. “Can I let her go?”

“Of course,” Lieselotte said.

The shelter worker detached the leash from Fang’s collar and Fang leaped and ran to Delano and crashed into him.

Fang!

Delano hugged her close as she squirmed and whined, licking his face.

“It’s okay now,” Delano murmured. “It’s okay, baby, I got you now.” He was only vaguely aware of Lieselotte and the shelter worker talking to each other.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Lieselotte asked, closing the front door. “We’re back together again.” As if she ever was included in the “us” that was Delano and Fang.

“Yeah,” Delano said, still hugging Fang.

“We got her… uh. Dog stuff too,” Lieselotte said, lifting a small plastic bag. “You should check that everything is in there.”

After rooting through the plastic bag (with Fang’s help, of course), he confirmed that everything was in it. Fang’s bed, leash, her toys… And her bowls. Thank god. After confirming to Lieselotte that everything was in order, Delano took Fang to the yard.

As Delano had expected, Fang loved it. She rubbed her face on the grass and started rolling on it like she’s never experienced grass before. Delano watched her run around like a madman, filled with zest for life.

Delano heard the door open and close behind him. He turned to see Adriano step outside. “Is that Fang?” he asked, looking at Fang.

“Yup,” Delano said. “Fang!” Delano whistled, gaining Fang’s attention. He clapped his thigh and Fang trotted over, tail wagging rapidly.

“Fang, this is Adriano.”

Adriano knelt down to her, petting her head. Fang sniffed at his hand and licked it.

“She’s perfect,” Adriano said as he petted her. His voice broke a little.

Delano chuckled as Fang flopped over for belly rubs. “I’m glad you think so too.” He passed on a squeaky ball to Adriano.

As soon as Fang saw it, she flipped back to her paws, settling with her elbows on the ground. With a smile, Adriano threw the ball, and Fang bounced after it. She brought it back to Adriano, who then threw it again.

Adriano and Fang played fetch until she was so exhausted that she laid at Adriano’s feet, panting with her tongue out.

“I haven’t seen her run like that in a while,” Delano said with a grin.

“How does she regularly get exercise?” Adriano asked.

“On walks on the lower levels,” Delano replied, smile shrinking. “Sometimes I sneak to a dog park on the upper mid-level.”

Adriano hummed, smooshing Fang’s ears. He was quiet for a moment. “How much has mom…” He fell silent again. “What should I call you?”

Delano’s eyebrows rose, before they lowered back down in a frown. Being called “dad”... No. No thanks. “Just my name should be good,” he said.

Adriano nodded, relaxing a little. “Yeah, he said. I can do that.”

Delano frowned. “You don’t want to call me dad?” On one hand, it was a relief to him…

Adriano frowned down at the grass. “I- I don’t know how to say this,” he said.

Delano waited for him to find his words.

Finally, Adriano turned to face him. “Delano, I’m not your child. Mom adopted me when I was five.”

#drabble #ic: delano

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fifteenleads · 3 years

Text

A YOI x Chrono Trigger AU fic from Ye Olde 2018-ish Era. Go figure.

I can’t even remember what the hell I titled this before. Welp.

Chapter One: “That’s a Nice Band-Aid, Darling.”

They say that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and that a hero's adventure begins with a cliché-ass wake-up call - something like, "Good morning, Crono!," perhaps. How that even made it on to TV Tropes, Yuuri would never understand. But it is on TV Tropes, and he is in bed reading it.

He's glad his mother doesn't wake him up that way, at least. But then again, he's always up before five a.m. anyway. Sadly, the daily deliveries won't take care of themselves.

Yuuri glances at the time on his tablet. 4:59. Someone will come knocking in three, two, one --

"Yuuri! Get up!" Mari's voice is accompanied by three sharp raps on the door. "Go with dad to the plaza and help him set up!"

This is the part where the hero typically groans at being woken up before grudgingly getting themselves out of bed, but Yuuri Katsuki does not groan. He shouts back that he'll be down in a minute while looking for that darned sock that has gone missing now, of all times. Phichit would surely laugh hard at seeing his best friend hopping frantically on one foot while wearing a poodle-patterned sock. It'll probably go viral on Instagram, too, but that's pretty much a given already. Someone has to part the boy from his gadgets long-term after the Millenial Fair is over.

The minute is up, so Yuuri gives up and gets another sock from the drawer. It is patterned with the face of a silver-haired man surrounded by snowflakes. He has no idea how that found its way into his pile of clothing, but for now, mismatched socks are better than being late.

Yuuri makes his way downstairs and greets his mother, who is busy in the kitchen. Hiroko sends him off with an allowance of fifty kin and packed lunch for him and his father. He ignores Mari's snickering as she musses his hair while glancing at his feet.

The ride to the plaza is pretty short. It is already bustling with people even at such an early hour, all the sellers trying to outdo each other in showing off their wares. Yuuri chuckles as his father joins in the fray, calling out to everyone about the best katsudon in town. Everyone is excited for Hasetsu Kingdom's first Millenial Fair, and with it, the hopes for a thousand years more of peace and prosperity to come.

Toshiya leads the way to their assigned spot, a quaint little corner by the northern area of the square. The tent had already been set up the day before, so all that's left to do is to arrange the food and drinks before the first customers come in. Yuuri passively observes the hustle and bustle around them. Much energy is palpable in the air, and the excited hubbub only grows louder as the sun rises. Some stalls have weapons and armor, others exotic trinkets and accessories. He even spots a merchant selling animals. Phichit would probably want to pick up a new hamster on the way home later.

His eyes wander to the secluded area beyond the main square. Yuuri hoped Phichit's solo exhibit would be a success this time, too. His friend loved tinkering with machines since he was little, and it brought him and his family great fortune as he won scientific contests left and right. His magnum opus, a two-machine teleporter, had impressed the university professors and the panel of judges alike, earning him the highest thesis grade and the first prize for the National Physics Summit.

Yuuri's hand stills when his father calls his name. He had been adding portions of garnish to the newly-cut fried pork cutlets. He instinctively opens his mouth to apologize, but Toshiya immediately pats his back and pushes a one hundred-kin note into his hand. "I'll take care of the stall. You go have fun." He winks at his son mischievously, and Yuuri pushes down the growing blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Th-Thanks, dad," he mumbles, bowing slightly before making his way to the northernmost part of the square. Phichit would probably be busy right now, but he would never refuse breakfast and morning coffee. It had been their time-honored tradition as college roommates, after all.

Yuuri stops by a mobile café and orders two tall hazelnut lattés and a baguette loaf. He is turning to leave with breakfast in hand when he bumps into the next person in line, spilling hot coffee over his white shirt. The other person, too, recoils in pain, reflexively putting a slender finger into his mouth to nurse it.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so, so sorry!" Yuuri exclaims, setting aside the food and drink and beginning to fuss over the man. He searches his bag for the small bottle of salve he always brings with him, and proceeds to apply a small amount over the man's injured finger, covering it with a band-aid afterwards.

The other man chuckles as he lets Yuuri take care of him. "It's quite all right," he assures airily, waving the bandaged hand with a smile. "I was also too close to you in line, as well." His blue eyes crinkle beautifully as he smiles, and Yuuri fights yet another blush from coloring his face. "I love this band-aid, though!" the man comments. "Where did you get it?"

"F-From the kids' section of the pharmacy," Yuuri admits, embarrassed. He just had to use that one by mistake instead of the flesh-tones ones, did he? Why now, of all times? "The poodle-patterned ones were part of a limited edition series."

"Nice!" the man exclaims in delight, scrutinizing the design closely. "Thank you so much for giving me this one. I love it!" He winks at Yuuri and places a light kiss over his own bandaged finger.

Yuuri wishes the ground would swallow him whole right this instant.

"U-Um, I think I'll get going now," he excuses himself, retrieving the coffee and bread from the counter. "My friend is waiting uphill. I'm so sorry again." Yuuri quickly nods his head and goes on his way, but the other man takes a long stride and ends up beside him, taking the baguette loaf out of his arms.

"It's okay, I'll help you," he offers happily as they ascend the stone steps. "I'm alone today, anyway." The man cradles the food with his left arm and extends his right hand out to Yuuri. "I'm Binktop, by the way. What's your name?"

For an instant, Yuuri is tempted to laugh out loud. The funny name hardly matches the man's regal appearance at all. He must be a foreigner, like the many others who have come to Hasetsu Kingom to join in the festivities. As a citizen of Hasetsu, therefore, he is to show this man the utmost respect and hospitality he deserves, funny names or not.

He shakes Binktop's hand, the cool skin sending small shivers down his spine. "I'm Yuuri. It's nice to meet you, Binktop."

"A pleasure." Binktop returns the handshake with a smile, and they continue going up the stairs. "So, Yuuri, are you also alone here today?"

"Our family actually has a food stall down at the main square, but my dad told me to enjoy myself today," Yuuri explains. "I'm on my way to see my friend, actually. He's an inventor."

Binktop's eyes widen and sparkle in delight, and he accidentally climbs two steps at once. "Wow! He must be really smart!"

"He is," Yuuri nods fondly in agreement. "Phichit has a solo exhibit today. This project won him first place at the National Physics Summit last month."

"That's amazing!" Binktop gushes in admiration, his silver bangs parting to reveal twinkling blue eyes. "I can't wait to meet him!" Yuuri smiles back proudly in response.

They reach the top of the stairs in a minute. The miniature square is cluttered with various machine parts and wires of different lengths and calibers. The two main pods have already been set in their positions, though not yet fully-assembled as Yuuri remembers them. It's definitely like Phichit to cram at the last minute.

The soft whirring noise dies down as the two approach the left pod, and a brown-skinned young man in a bandanna and overalls comes out to greet them. "Yuuri! You're here!"

Yuuri shrugs good-naturedly and hands Phichit the cup of coffee. "I'd love to hug you, but you're covered in oil and soot right now." He smiles widely at his best friend. "Good luck with your exhibit today!"

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much! You don't know how much I need it!" Phichit downs the coffee in an instant, breathing rapidly through his mouth afterwards to cool his tongue. "I heard the prince is coming with the royal delegation to watch my demonstration! I am so nervous!"

This time, Yuuri pats Phichit's shoulder encouragingly, not minding his hand blackening with soot afterwards. "You'll do well, Phichit! You've done this before; you can do it again."

"Good luck, Phichit!" Binktop adds, sending a friendly wink and a thumbs-up of his own. Phichit is surprised at the additional voice, and notices the other man for the first time. His nervous expression immediately changes to one of teasing, instantly directed at his friend. "Yuuri!" he whispers loudly. "Who's the hot guy?!"

"H-He's not - I mean -" Yuuri splutters, coughing into his hand to stop himself. He doesn't even bother hiding his obviously-reddened cheeks anymore; nothing ever escapes Phichit's notice, anyway. Tonight's phone call is going to be a long one.

When Yuuri has composed himself, he turns to Binktop. "Phichit, this is Binktop. I ran into him in the square today. Binktop, this is my friend, Phichit."

"Hi there!" Phichit merrily extends a hand to Binktop. "Phichit Chulanont, at your service!"

"Binktop," he introduces himself, shaking Phichit's hand. "Yuuri here has told me a lot about you."

"Hahaha, good things, I hope!" Phichit laughs, before shooting Yuuri an expectant glare. Yuuri grins back before taking another sip of coffee.

Phichit shows them around the workplace, pointing out the different parts of the invention and which part goes where. His black eyes shine brightly as he rambles in tech jargon while explaining the principle behind the teleporter. Binktop nods excitedly while asking questions, while Yuuri merely watches them interact. Despite his "nerdy glasses," as Phichit had christened them, he is not really into scientific stuff, having taken up a sports major in university.

"Sure thing! I was about to give this thing a test run, anyway." Phichit beckons Yuuri to come over. "Yuuri! Could you kindly step on the left pod? Binktop wants a demonstration."

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest, but knows better than to interrupt his friend when he is in scientist-mode. He may have also wanted to impress Binktop with his bravery, but he doesn't know it yet. Huffing, he finishes the rest of his coffee in one gulp and does as he is told.

Phichit flips the switch, and Yuuri almost loses his footing as he feels himself being sucked away into a vacuum space. Black, wavy lines fill his vision for a moment before everything around him returns to normal. He steps off the right pod and flashes the peace sign at Phichit and Binktop from across the square.

Binktop immediately makes a beeline for Yuuri and embraces him tightly, while Phichit pumps his fist in joy. "Wow, amazing!" he exclaims as he cups Yuuri's face. "You actually teleported!"

"That's how it's supposed to work," Yuuri answers matter-of-factly, but even he has an undeniably huge smile on his face. Phichit's exhibit is surely going to be a massive hit amongst the fair-goers.

"Can I give it a try, too?" Binktop asks Phichit excitedly, still not letting go of Yuuri. "It looks like so much fun!"

"Of course, Binktop!" Phichit laughs, gesturing at the left pod. "Anything for Yuuri's friend!"

Binktop lets out a whoop and disentangles himself from Yuuri. He lightly steps onto the left pod and runs a hand throuh his silver hair. "Watch me, Yuuri!" He sends a playful wink in Yuuri's direction before nodding at Phichit.

"All right, let's do this!" Phichit flips the switch again. Nothing happens at first, so he turns the machine off and on while observing the monitors. Worry begins to creep into his expression as he starts fiddling with the controls, but still, nothing happens.

A gasp from the left pod directs their attention to Binktop, whose pendant is glowing brightly from inside his shirt. It seems to be resonating with the core machine of the teleporter, from which ominous sparks begin to fly out. Phichit shouts at Binktop to get off the pod immediately, but Binktop hears it too late.

A large wormhole, unlike the one Yuuri had seen briefly while he teleported, opens up in the space behind Binktop and appears to be sucking him in. Trying his best to hold his ground, Binktop cries out for help as he extends his hand. In a panic, Yuuri runs up to the left pod and tries to grab him, but his whole body disappears in a flash of light, and the wormhole closes in an instant. Yuuri is left alone on the pod, Binktop's golden pendant in his hand.

Phichit is the first to regain his voice after a few minutes. "What the hell... This wasn't supposed to happen..." Yuuri turns to his friend, who is kneeling by the controllers in shock. Long tracks of tears have washed away the layers of soot on his face.

He runs down to embrace Phichit, who is now trembling in his friend's arms. "Yuuri, I'm so sorry! I really didn't mean for this to happen!"

Yuuri runs his hands over his friend's back, ignoring his own swimming vision and the violent hammering of his own heart in his chest. Now is not the time to deal with an impending anxiety attack - not when Phichit needs his help.

"Phichit. Look at me," he instructs calmly. "Breathe with me."

Together, they go through the motions, inhaling and exhaling deeply in unison. Most of the time, it was Phichit who did this for Yuuri when they were still in college together. It always helped calm Yuuri down after an attack, and Yuuri is more than glad to return the favor now. They cannot afford to be too calm, however - they still have to find out where the hell Binktop went.

Some day this is turning out to be. Yuuri swears never to get up before five a.m. ever again.

Phichit looks up at him and nods determinedly. Yuuri lets go of his friend as he begins to go over his notes. "Either the telepod malfunctioned, or something else did it," he thinks aloud to the clearing at large. "I'm suspecting your friend's pendant had an unusual reaction with the core interface, causing a ripple in the space-time fabric or something."

Yuuri gapes at Phichit incredulously. "You mean, like, time travel?!"

"I don't know yet." Phichit bites his lower lip in deep thought. "That wormhole could have led anywhere. It's too dangerous to try anything at this point."

"We have to bring Binktop back, Phichit! There's no time!"

"I know that!" Phichit snaps, rubbing a blackened hand on his temple at the sudden outburst. "It's not as easy as it seems. We have to find out how to open that wormhole, for starters. There must be something about that pendant."

Yuuri lifts the pendant in his hand against the daylight. It is a small, round, golden medallion with intricate rose patterns bordering its circumference, hanging from a simple chain. The pendant also seems to be pretty old but well-maintained. He briefly wonders where Binktop must have gotten such a valuable trinket and how much it must have cost, but pushes these thoughts out of his mind.

A tiny spark jumps out of the medallion, causing Yuuri to drop the pendant onto the left pod in surprise. Immediately, it causes another reaction, violent gusts of wind forming around them as the wormhole opens once more.

"Well," Phichit laughs brokenly, "that was easy enough!" With a hand shielding his face, he struggles to walk against the wind's direction and tries to pick up the pendant off the ground.

Yuuri has other ideas, however. He uses his stronger body to his advantage and overtakes Phichit in a second, picking up the pendant and wearing it around his neck.

"Yuuri! What are you doing?!" Phichit shouts in alarm. "Get off the pod now!"

To be honest, he has no idea what he is doing, either. His body is already protesting his sudden decision, his heart rate going up, his breathing more rapid, and his hands slippery with sweat. But above all, Yuuri feels that it's the right decision. It's more reckless than heroic, by all means, but nevertheless the right one, just the same.

"I'll bring Binktop back!" he shouts at his friend. "I'll get us back home, I promise!"

Again with the stupid promises, but Phichit seems to finally support his decision. He nods determinedly and hands Yuuri a long, steel wrench. "It's my favorite one! Bring it back safely, okay?"

"Thanks, Phichit! I will." Yuuri waves the wrench nervously as he steps into the closing wormhole.

"Be careful, Yuuri!" Phichit shouts after him. "I'll try to follow you as soon as I figure things out!"

A chuckle escapes Yuuri's lips. It's just like his friend to jump at the call. If anyone is more suited to be the hero of this story, it would definitely be Phichit, and Yuuri, as the dutiful friend, would support him all the way. Funny how things have turned out the other way around this time.

For now, he, Yuuri Katsuki, will be the hero of this story, and he swears on his life to bring Binktop back.

Yuuri raises a thumbs-up to the fading image of his friend, not caring if he doesn't see it. He lets the distortion fill his senses completely until the black nothingness consumes him and claims his consciousness.

#yuri!!! on ice #chrono trigger #alternate universe #fantasy #fanfic

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