#thanks a billion for the prompt i had so much fun
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helloooo I am here for mermay prompts! 👀
how about "lost" for Geraskier (bonus points if Geralt is the mer) 💜💜
ALEX YESSSSS, look, this was finished two days ago, and then it was finished again yesterday, and now again this morning. Did I add 1k to the story just to add a kiss? Maybe.
Please enjoy <3
Send me a pairing and a word and I will make you some words? ❤️
On Ao3 here
Bardic inspiration be damned, Jaskier decides, slipping once again on the pebbled ground as he climbs the rocky coast line of Skellige.
He had wanted to see the whales, but did not listen to the advice given by the locals to go to one of the cliffs beyond the village. No, Jaskier really thought it would be better to experience it up close and all that.
He didn’t even see a fucking whale.
Maybe whale watching is done better from up high, but Jaskier had seen this perfect spot down by the rocks and now he is full of sweaty regrets.
Because he can’t find the path he took to get down here and the high tide is sweeping in, making his path treacherous and slippery.
Swearing profusely, Jaskier manages to at least get above the waterline. His shoes are wet, as are his breeches to the knee, but at least his leather satchel is fine.
Good thing he didn’t bring the lute.
Jaskier settles down to wait it out. It’s a fine day after all, even if the sun is slowly setting, and the sea is as calm as it can be around here.
Despite being so frustrated with himself, Jaskier finds himself relaxing. The sun shimmers on the surface of the sea, and gulls cry above, accompanied by the lapping of waves.
There are some rock formations further out, some of them almost shaped like giant, crooked pillars.
This view is why he was drawn to Skellige after all, so far away from his homelands. The stone he sits on is hard, yes, but warmed from sitting in the sun all day.
Out of the corner of his eye, to the left, Jaskier notices movement.
When he turns his head, there is nothing there.
Strange.
He knows Skellige is not the safest of places. The coast is riddled with harpies and sirens, the latter especially dangerous this close to the water.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Then he spots something again, but this time straight ahead. It is directly in the bright reflection, so Jaskier has to squint but isn’t that… it looks like…?
The back of a whale!
Jaskier scrambles up to his feet, trying to shield his eyes to get a better look. Yes, that really is a whale out there! A big one, looks like, and far out!
He can only see the top of it, and the strange huffing sound travels across the surface when it blows water high, high up into the air.
The droplets are glistening like diamonds, like rain on a sunny day, as they fall back down.
The whale stays there for another minute or two, breathing deeply, and then the surface ripples as she dives.
Her tail comes up, rivulets of water falling down her fin, and then gives a giant splash as she pushes herself further down.
Jaskier realizes his mouth is hanging open.
He truly didn’t expect to see one, and not this close to the shore. Alright, it was not that close to the shore, but still visible to the naked eye, and he is thrilled.
He scans the surface once more, hungry for another sighting, but once the water has calmed there is nothing else.
Immediately, Jaskier starts going through his satchel to bring out the precious paper and pencil to write this down. When he finds it, he plops back down on the rock, legs crossed, and everything else forgotten.
The words come easily, filling the page with poetry and observation.
So lost in it, he doesn’t even notice he isn’t alone anymore until there is a soft splash right in front of him.
Jaskier startles, a long black line scratching across the page.
He could swear there is the upper half of a face sticking up out of the water, just a few feet away from him.
Pale skin, yellow eyes, even paler hair slicked back over what seems to be a surprisingly human-shaped head.
Jaskier’s heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. Is this a siren? No, he would be dead by now, wouldn’t he?
Is it a dead person? No, the eyes are watching him very intently, blinking slowly, so it couldn’t be. It could be a drowner, though, but aren't they blue?
When nothing happens, Jaskier forces himself to relax his posture. His entire body is fighting him, that knee-jerk fight or flight response trying to decide which is best to do, but Jaskier decides on neither.
“Hello?” he ventures, and the eyes look back at him. “Who might you be?”
There is no response, which, fair, nose and mouth both seem to be submerged. But the being comes just a little bit closer, and Jaskier fights to keep his breathing even.
Just to be safe, Jaskier puts his papers to the side, pinned in place by the satchel. It wouldn’t do for them to become wet, even if this is where he meets his end. Maybe the skalds can sing about him, were they to find his notes. The bard who got too close, or whatever.
Fear is great inspiration, it would seem.
With a soft sound, the top of a head becomes an entire head, a neck, shoulders, and arms. Pale, glistening, well muscled, and surprisingly human looking, were it not for the gills on his neck, the long fins along the outside of the under arms, and smatterings of scales.
The white hair is longer than he thought, slightly curly now that it is out of the water, and sticking to the sides of the person’s face.
Jaskier blinks hard, taking it all in.
“Are you a mer?” Jaskier asks breathlessly, as the person pulls themself up on a rock. The lower half of the body is still hidden, but he can see hints of scales on their sides and down over the hips. Pale grey, like pale silver, he thinks.
The person, who looks very much like a man, tilts his head, and seems to scent the air.
“Afraid?” The person asks, his voice raspy and low. Yeah, it absolutely sounds like a he, but Jaskier is not very well versed in Mer anatomy.
“You surprised me,” Jaskier says carefully. “I thought I was alone.”
“You are never alone in the sea,” the mer says between sharp teeth.
As if that wasn’t a terrifying statement.
But the Mer speaks the language of Skellige, and Jaskier desperately wants to know more.
“Who are you?” Jaskier asks. “Do you live here?”
“This is my territory,” the Mer says, straightening up a little, revealing just a hint of a powerful tail below the surface. “Mine to keep.”
Jaskier smiles at the little display, finding it a little endearing despite the hint of aggression. Like a hissy kitten, trying out its claws.
“Then I am your guest. Forgive me, but I am lost, and I can’t find my way back.”
The mer watches, expression giving nothing away. Then again, expressions just might be different for Mer, Jaskier muses.
“Forgive? Do you need forgiveness for being lost?”
“Maybe not, but for imposing on your territory. I did not know it was yours. I only wanted to see a whale.”
The mer looks over his shoulder when Jaskier motions with his hand out to the open sea. His profile in the fading light is stunning, and Jaskier feels like he is in some kind of fairy tale.
“And did you see her?” The Mer turns back towards Jaskier.
“I did. She was beautiful.”
The Mer seems satisfied with this answer, and does an odd little hum. It rumbles along his sides, and Jaskier notices another set of thin fins along his ribs. He also notices scars, some new and some old.
“You may call me Geralt,” The Mer suddenly decides, pulling Jaskier out of a daydream where he considers what else is out there.
“Geralt,” Jaskier repeats. Not what he expected a Mer to be named, but again, who is he to tell? “You may call me Jaskier.”
“Jaskier.” Geralt says it like he is tasting the name, and with a slight lisp. “Is this land your territory?”
“I am but a guest here as well. I am a wanderer.” Jaskier smiles again, and Geralt’s eyes dip down to it, as if he doesn’t understand.
“So no territory?” Geralt asks, seemingly confused about the prospect.
“None. Well, none but this one.” And Jaskier pats his satchel. “It holds my treasures, and the stories I collect.”
“How does one collect stories?” Geralt asks, sinking into the water again and swimming closer, eyes all the while trained on Jaskier.
He stops when he is about an arm’s length away from the rock where Jaskier is sitting, making Jaskier’s adrenaline run again.
“Afraid?” Geralt asks again with a frown, tilting his head back as if he is smelling the air. Huh.
“A little,” Jaskier admits, seeing no point in lying. “I have never met your kind before, and I don’t know if you would wish to drown me.”
“If I had wanted that, you’d already be dead,” Geralt says with a cold expression, probably meant as a reassurance, but it doesn’t feel like one.
The Mer props himself up on a rock hidden under water and Jaskier now sees the tail, sleek, strong and silver.
“I collect stories by writing them down, and sometimes singing them,” Jaskier explains, deciding he does not want to remain on the subject of drowning while stuck where he is. “Would you like to hear one?”
When Geralt nods his assent, Jaskier thinks about the skellige songs he knows. Most are bawdy tavern songs, to be honest, but he recalls a ballad of the Maid and the Moon.
He sings it with the lapping of the waves and the cry of gulls, slapping his hand to the rock to keep the beat. It sounds better with a drum, but it will do.
Geralt keeps watching him, keeps doing that weird blink of his. Jaskier starts another one, one of war and fire. And then another one about returning home, which aches just a little.
When the songs are done, Geralt doesn’t say anything, just dives beneath the waves.
The sun is getting really low, and Jaskier is a bit worried he will have to stay here all eve. He isn’t wearing much more than his white tunic and a thin pair of trousers, courtesy of the Skelligan summer heat, but the temperature is dropping along with the setting sun.
Geralt returns with less of a splash than Jaskier expects.
His hair sticks to his forehead, and this close Jaskier notices a scar over his left eye. It looks old, and deep, and Jaskier can’t help but wonder if Geralt’s skin would be cool to the touch, if he were to reach out.
With some strain, Geralt reaches up to the rock where Jaskier is sitting, and Jaskier shifts to accept what Geralt is offering. Their fingers touch, and Jaskier learns that no, Geralt is not cold. The ring that he is handed, however, is.
“Does this one have a story too?” the Mer asks, and Jaskier is immediately flattered for being trusted with Geralt’s treasure.
“I’m sure it does, but it seems it is not mine to tell. Is it yours?”
Jaskier attempts to give the ring back, but Geralt sinks further into the water, shaking his head.
“I do not know it. The ring is yours to keep, Jaskier, as a thanks for sharing your collection of stories with me.”
Jaskier senses this is goodbye, as the Mer swims backwards, back out towards the deep. Despite their short time together, the thought of parting stings. It feels unlikely they will meet again.
“Come back again, Jaskier the wanderer. It was good to have you as a guest. Your path to land is clear.”
Jaskier blinks in surprise, and then frowns at this statement. When he turns to look towards the rocks around and behind him, he realizes that the tide has pulled back enough for him to climb up towards the safety of land. When Jaskier looks back, Geralt is gone.
The waves lap against the stones as if nothing happened. Before the sun can disappear beyond the horizon, Jaskier gathers his things and carefully makes his way up.
When he’s ascended to safety, he turns once more, looking out over the ocean. The sky is a myriad of colors, birds a dark outline against its splendor, but not a hint of his new friend is to be seen.
-----
The day after brings a storm and Jaskier is unable to go back to the shore for another two days. It’s strange, but Jaskier feels an itch under his skin, he wants to go back, learn more, see Geralt again.
On the third day the sky clears, the clouds finally finishing with their weeping and the wind its howling.
Jaskier is better prepared this time. He sits down on the same rock as before, and he sings while he waits.
Geralt finds him again on that rock, this time swimming close without any hesitation.
“Lost again?” Geralt asks. There is a new set of gashes on his arm, looking like claw marks, too big to be anything Jaskier would ever want to meet.
“No. Looking for a friend.” Jaskier smiles. “If you will have me as a guest once more.”
Geralt smiles back at him then, stiff though it may be, but Jaskier sees it as the gift it is anyway.
“It would be my honor.”
------
Since Jaskier came to Skellige, he has seen at least three whales, climbed a number of beautiful and treacherous mountain passes, and tasted alcohol strong enough to give women chest hair. He has made friends with skalds and fishermen and errand boys and lords, and his time is coming to a close.
He will miss it. Them. This sharp country and its inhabitants, the living myths found hidden everywhere.
There is one he will miss a lot, Jaskier thinks, as he makes the now familiar climb down the rocky shore.
Saying goodbye is a part of being a wanderer, but it doesn’t make it any easier. His mother always liked to remind him, a goodbye is not a farewell, but still, Jaskier doesn’t have much hope for that.
Geralt is already there waiting for him, and Jaskier plops down on a rock further down so he can dip his feet into the water.
The Mer had expressed great interest in the concept of shoes, struggling with understanding their function. That first time Jaskier had joined him for a swim, Geralt had made one of his unreadable faces when Jaskier took off everything but his underclothes before getting in.
Technically the cove not a safe place to swim as the currents are strong and had threatened to pull Jaskier under more than once, but Geralt was always there to catch him.
Now, Geralt is sunbathing, propped up in a way to let his bare chest soak up as much sunlight as possible, his tail lazily moving side to side in the shallow water.
He is achingly beautiful, and Jaskier is suddenly struck by melancholy.
Jaskier doesn’t say anything when he sits, only removes his shoes and socks to dip his toes in water that doesn’t get warm, even in summer.
The Mer opens his eyes, gazing directly at him, eyes as bright as rays of sunlight.
“Sad?” Geralt asks in that direct way of his.
“Yes,” Jaskier admits, splashing his feet and scaring off the shrimp that were brave enough to approach him.
Geralt sits up enough to lean back on his elbow and watches Jaskier intently.
“Why?”
“I am leaving soon, my friend. A ship arrives within the week to take me home. To my territory.”
Geralt opens and closes his mouth, then looks out over the sea.
“Hm,” he says, confirming that he understood but doesn’t know how to reply.
Were Geralt a human, Jaskier would have asked him to come with, but he is not. Geralt’s territory is here, his life is here, and even with a boat, the travel across the seas is dangerous.
He will not ask it.
They sit in silence for a long while, Jaskier humming under his breath when a story, this story, starts to take form.
When it is time to leave, Geralt swims close, gently taking hold around Jaskier’s calves to stay afloat.
“You have been a good friend,” Geralt says, deep in thought.
“As have you,” Jaskier says, aching with the sadness of parting, of leaving Geralt behind.
To soothe himself, he reaches out a hand and cups Geralt’s cheek. Something he has not done before, something he did not think welcome, but Geralt leans into it.
“I will miss you,” Jaskier says quietly, and the Mer looks up at him through thick lashes.
Then he pushes himself out of the water, heaving himself up on the rock and leaning over Jaskier, into his personal space.
There is water everywhere, soaking Jaskier’s breeches and shirt, but Geralt has leaned forward, and Jaskier meets him halfway.
The kiss tastes like salt and sunlight. Geralt is careful not to hurt him, his teeth hidden behind gentle lips.
“I will miss you, too,” Geralt murmurs against his lips, and then he sinks back down into the water and is gone.
----
Lettenhove in spring is beautiful. The trees are full of buds ready to bloom any day now, bumblebees waking up and doing their confused dance around the flowers in the courtyard.
It is now late enough in the year that summer threatens to overtake the land, waking a wanderer from his slumber.
Jaskier makes his way down past the docks, to the rocky parts where the river meets the ocean.
It’s a habit he can’t shake, and he dips his feet in the cold water, just like he did last summer. He sits there for a good long while, thinking of a kiss and a ring.
There is a ripple in the water to his left, and for a moment, Jaskier thinks he only imagines the familiar face peeking up just over the surface.
But their eyes lock, and half a face becomes a full head and shoulders, as Geralt swims closer.
It is impossible, or, well, improbable. Jaskier feels a giant smile form on his lips and something heavy that’s been on his heart finally lifts.
“Are you lost, wanderer?” he asks, when Geralt swims ever closer, reaching for Jaskier’s calf to hold himself steady.
“No, I'm here to see a friend.” Geralt returns the smile tentatively. “I crossed the sea to find you.”
“Then you are welcome as my guest, friend,” Jaskier says warmly, reaching down to touch Geralt’s cheek, just like the last time they saw each other.
And just like last time, when Jaskier leans forward and down to meet him, their kiss tastes like salt and sunlight.
#mermay#the witcher#geraskier#mer!geralt#geralt x jaskier#skellige#whales#getting together#fluff#this gave me fairy tale vibes ngl#dapanda writes#thanks a billion for the prompt i had so much fun#singing#kissing#friends to lovers
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Physical intimacy prompt “literally sharing a sweater” with Jamie? Like ur wearing a sweater and he’s all like “I’m chilly” and worms his way into ur sweater 🥹 thank u in advance i love ur writing so much
This was so fun, I hope you enjoy and thank you!!
Jamie had a few little quirks that made him ten times more lovely to you. His shoes and clothes were always organized by color. He had an extensive skincare display to go with his extensive skincare routine. There were certain foods that were reserved for before and after matches. One of his little quirks that you didn’t find quite as adorable was the fact that his house was always freezing cold.
It didn’t matter if it was 100 degrees or 0, his house felt like a frozen tundra. With the lack of air conditioning in England, you always wondered how his house managed to be so cold all the time, but you’d just assumed there was some sort of magical reason for it.
Whatever the reason, though, you always needed to keep a stock of sweaters and sweatshirts at his house, even in the middle of summer. At least you always had an excuse to buy more soft, oversized outerwear.
Today, even though it was the middle of July, you’d spent the day curled up in a large sweater, under a pile of blankets on Jamie’s couch. You’d started keeping some books at his place, and he had every streaming service imaginable, so even though Jamie was at training, you had plenty to keep you entertained while you waited for him to return so you could spend your evening together, just like you did most nights.
“Is this how you’ve been all day?” Jamie asks after he returns home to see you in the very same position you were in when he left early that morning.
“I read outside for a while,” you respond, pushing the blanket back to reveal your shorts as you pull the hem of your sweater to reveal a tank top. You’ve learned that it’s best just to layer, so you can be comfortable inside and outside when you’re at Jamie’s house.
He just smiles at you as he flops on top of you, not even bothering to bring his bag upstairs or make himself a snack.
“It’s fucking freezing in here,” he says, pushing his hands under your sweater to rest on your warm stomach.
“Oh, I’ve never noticed,” you reply with a voice dripping in sarcasm. You’d brought up your disdain with the temperature of his house no less than a billion times, but he always just dismissed you with a laugh and a “I’ve never noticed.”
Now, though, it was your turn to laugh as Jamie attempts to work his way deeper and deeper under your sweater, starting by pushing his arms the rest of the way inside the fabric before he tries to wiggle his head in too.
“Jamie, you’re gonna stretch it out,” you laugh, even though you know the sweater was big enough to fit you and Jamie and probably one other person.
“No, ‘m not,” he responds with a laugh of his own as he pushes his head through the neck hole, successfully wearing the sweater with you.
Jamie’s laugh was nothing short of infectious, and the two of you spend the rest of the night giggling together as you cuddled up in the same sweater.
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt fic#jamie tartt fluff#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfiction#500 follower extravaganza!!
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Ok… so here me out…
The main cast x royal reader.
Omg yes I love this idea!! I imagine the Devildom is smaller than the human world in terms of sheer numbers (think millions vs billions) so the demons kind of assume you’re more widely known/a bigger deal than you actually are.
I had a lot of fun working with this prompt (especially for Diavolo, there's just something about the idea of him connecting with someone else who is royalty that charms me)
Main cast x royal!reader (gender neutral, referred to as ‘you’) !!
Lucifer - He employs a pretty decent amount of respect towards you, though won’t hesitate to make it known that you shouldn’t expect to have the same luxuries in the Devildom that you did back in the human world. He may ask the occasional polite question regarding it all, but won’t go out of his way to question you. He acts with a mild distaste if you try to pull rank or do anything that normally wouldn’t be acceptable within polite society - he won’t hesitate to scold you or remind you of how he thinks royalty ‘should’ act.
Mammon - He mostly cares about the money, jewels, and your previous lavish lifestyle. He’ll ask a million questions, but all of them somehow circle back to those three things. He takes it upon himself to become a ‘butler’ of sorts, but in reality that’s just him making up excuses to give others orders that he’s come up with and demand things that he wants under the guise of it being for you. He does think it’s pretty cool though, and secretly sort of looks up to you because of it. He may also kick up quite a fuss if anyone dares to look down on you in any way.
Leviathan - Totally freaks out upon finding out. Kind of trips up over himself a lot and uses a bunch of weird (and a lot of irrelevant or out of date) titles for you, bows and natters away at you until he catches himself and gets super flustered. His self deprecation is kind of bumped up a notch thanks to this - he’s always saying things about how he’s not worthy of being in your presence and so on. You’ll also get compared to just about every royal fictional character he knows whenever you so much as breathe.
Satan - He’s kind of weird about the idea at first, almost to the point of being outright rude to you - he’s unsure of how to act and covers that up with his usual surly demeanour. It takes some time and work to break his hard outer shell, but once he’s got it through his thick skull that you’re not at all as bad as he assumed you’d be, his interest is piqued. He has lots of questions about the inner workings of royalty in the human world, and wants to know all about the intricacies of your family and their various dealings.
Asmodeus - He thinks it’s a super attractive quality in a person, and is immediately all over you, asking all sorts of questions about what kind of luxuries you experienced back home, how strict the rules were, that kind of thing. He’s just fascinated to know about the lavish life you must’ve lived back home, and also really wants to hear about any deep family gossip. His outfit and accessory choices when he’s shopping for you will also be tailored especially with your status in mind.
Beelzebub - It’s all pretty much the same to him, really. His only real interest might be in what kinds of food you got to eat, the big meals you must’ve had, being royalty and all. He doesn’t treat you any differently than he would if you weren’t royalty, he’s a pretty straightforward demon for the most part.
Belphegor - He’s a little apprehensive of it at first - he expects you to be stuck up, full of yourself and not willing to listen to others (much like a certain someone else he knows), so he keeps his distance at first. It’s a pleasant surprise for him to realise that you’re far more down-to-earth than he expected. He’s pretty quiet and shy around you at first, but as time goes on he seems to open up and may even ask you questions about your rank and lifestyle.
Diavolo - He feels a special kind of connection with you from day one - he takes solace in the fact that you must’ve been through a lot of the same struggles he has and seeks to have you as one of his best friends/confidants. Though the vast population difference between the human realm and the Devildom isn’t quite something he understands, he kind of assumes that just because you’re royalty, you must have control over a large swath of the human world, with millions of subjects under your immediate command. Regardless of that, he’s really interested to hear about every detail in which your status differs from his, and will often try to pull you aside for a conversation about it - his curiosity is insatiable.
Barbatos - He defers to you in a way that’s almost comparable to how he treats Diavolo (though of course he gets priority). He’s polite almost to the point of infuriating, always waiting on you and trying to anticipate your needs before you’ve even recognised them in the first place. He fusses and preens and may sometimes even pass light judgements on things that you wear, say or do, ‘wondering’ aloud at whether certain actions would be seen as proper for human royalty, since they’re not for demons. It comes across as passive-aggressive, but he is one hundred percent sincere about it.
Simeon - He’s sort of nonchalant about your royal status - not in a rude way, but it tends to be an aspect of you that he might playfully poke fun at every now and then. It’s a point of mild interest to him, and for the sake of knowledge he’ll ask you occasional questions about things he’s curious about, and may even ask if he might be allowed to visit you some time. Though, he may get a little snippy if he thinks that someone isn’t showing you the appropriate amount of respect.
Luke - He’s not entirely sure how he should be acting around you, and thus tends to subconsciously mimic the actions of those he looks up to. It’s almost funny, watching him cycle through the behaviours of Simeon, Lucifer, Solomon, Barbatos and Beelzebub (sometimes all in one conversation), trying to get a grasp on how best to approach and speak to you. He’ll just keep doing this until you address it with him directly. When reassured (multiple times) that he’s free to act however he likes around you, he’s closer to his normal self, with his usual sense of wonderment and excitement, asking you lots of questions to try and understand you better.
Solomon - Somehow, he knows more about your family, lineage, alliances and inner political workings than you do. It’s almost uncanny, the amount of information he seemingly just has on hand about you, and it can be very off putting when someone asks you an innocent question about an ancestor of yours, only for Solomon to come swooping in with all the answers they’re looking for and then some. He doesn’t often directly ask you any questions, unless there’s a specific gap in his knowledge that he hasn’t been able to fill, so the questions he does ask get almost freakishly specific.
Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!
#my writing#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me writing#om!#om! barbatos#om! satan#om! asmodeus#om! diavolo#om! lucifer#om! solomon#om! luke#om! leviathan#om! simeon#om! beelzebub#om! belphegor#barbatos#barbatos x reader#lucifer#lucifer x reader#obey me fluff#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#solomon x reader#simeon x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphegor x reader#luke x reader#mammon x reader#royal!reader
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Just One Kiss (PaTB/Brinky Fic)
Hello everyone!! It's kinda been a little while since you've heard from me but I'm back here with a little warmup I did so I could get myself ready to work on other things!! I honestly wasn't feeling too good about this one but I still wanna post it for all of you!! Thanks to @therealhayyhay for the confidence boost and the prompt this fic was based on! I hope you enjoy!!
Plot: All Pinky wants is kiss from Brain. Just one before they execute the plan. But Brain is focused on his work and doesn’t want to be disturbed. So, Pinky will have to get a kiss the hard way.
Pinky paced rapidly around the cage, the boredom and anticipation starting to affect his usually cheery mood. While instances like this weren’t unusual, for some reason, this time, he could barely sit still for a single second. All he could think about was the fun couple-y things he could be doing right now with his bestest and sweetest boyfriend in the world. Oh, how he wanted to kiss him and hold him tight, never letting go. The thought alone made him feel dizzy.
But Brain had been working on this plan for surely many hours! And he still wasn’t finished!
He was beginning to believe Brain would never complete his blueprint, especially since he hadn’t moved his oversized pencil in a few minutes. All he was doing was staring at the paper, eyes scanning the writing on it repeatedly. The only other motions from his face were the slight turning of his head from side to side and the occasional way his lips upturned into a slight scowl. He looked so focused.
And it was driving Pinky crazy.
The small shifts of his body made the lanky mouse antsy; he tried standing still to watch but he fidgeted in his spot instead. Every time Pinky noticed Brain’s mouth lift, he felt a sensational feeling in his stomach very much akin to butterflies. He bit his lower lip in an attempt to prevent his romantic thoughts from spilling out. That bite forced him to let out a light squeak, barely silencing him.
He really wanted a kiss from Brain. Right now. It only had to be one! He’d do anything to satisfy the ticklies in his tummy!
Taking in a deep breath, Pinky strolled a little bit closer to where Brain was seated, being able to make out the sketches on the paper. He hovered over his partner with slight curiosity and eagerness, hoping with all his heart that he’d agree to just one little smooch. He placed his paws on Brain’s shoulders, taking note of how his boyfriend stopped moving and how he seemed to relax. “Narf! Oh Brain! Are you almost done with your plan-thingy? It’s been hours and hours! I’m getting tired and you’re not doing anything!”
Brain took his eyes off his blueprints and glanced and Pinky, slightly groaning. He placed the oversized pencil on the ground before responding. “Pinky, it’s only been twenty minutes since I began. If you’re so bored, then you can go read a magazine or watch T.V. But I’m working on tonight’s plan, and I don’t want to be disturbed by your inane comments or temper tantrums.” He returned his focus to the paper in front of him without saying anything else.
It had only been twenty minutes? Egad, it felt like a million-billion hours!
Pinky was slightly relieved that it hadn’t been too long, but he still felt those lovey-dovey-magical-fluttery feelings swirling inside. He needed a kiss, so he could respect Brain’s wishes and not bother him for much longer. Then he’d go do something else. He promised Brain that.
“But Brain, I just wanted to ask for a…mhmmm…” His hold on Brain shifted from his shoulders to the sides of his face. Yet he kept on stuttering. Those words he wanted to say wouldn’t come out, though he was really trying.
Brain looked at him again, a quizzical expression shown prominently on his face. “Ask for what exactly, Pinky?”
“Can I just have one little kiss before I go? Zort. Please, Brainy?”
Whew! He’d said it. That wasn’t so hard!
Pinky felt a blush creeping onto his face, a sheepish smile forming rapidly. Asking for kisses wasn’t exactly the simplest task. It was always a guess with what Brain would say about kissing during a plan. Sometimes it was a yes, sometimes it was a no. That’s just how it worked. But he really wanted it to be yes this time.
However, the previous excitement faded away a little when Brain’s face contorted into a sharp frown, his eyebrows turned downward.
“Pinky, not now. I’m working on my plan still and I need to concentrate. You know the rules for world domination plans. I can’t have any distractions, even ones from you. We can do that after tonight.” Brain moved from Pinky and turned around, back facing his companion as he returned to his musings.
His ears drooped and his heart sank like the Titanic. After tonight was such a long time to wait for a kiss! He couldn’t not think about kisses until that point. He needed Brain’s love now! He’d been so patient already!
Without a moment’s hesitation, Pinky wrapped his arms around his lover and held him firmly, whimpering and whining. “Please, Brain? I only want one before the you do the plan. Just one! Is that too much to ask for? We’re boyfriends! We’re supposed to do that! Please?”
A growl was elicited from Brain. He removed Pinky’s paws from him and stood up, an annoyed expression on his face, despite the slight reddish glow on his cheeks. “No, Pinky! Affection and kissing can wait until later. Plans come first! Now, go and leave me be! You’ve already distracted me enough.”
The taller mouse backed off from Brain, giving the shorter mouse enough room to settle back down in front of his blueprints as he went back to pondering some more. While Pinky felt a little bad about making his bestest friend so angry with his pleas, he knew that Brain probably wanted kisses as much as he did.
Suddenly, a rezvelation popped into his head, causing him to perk up.
Brain was playing tough to get! Like in those movies with the teens and the popular kids trying to go after the athlete boys! He was so smart!
Pinky grinned at this, fondly snickering at the fact that Brain might have been attempting to flirt with him. But he couldn’t get away without a fight! Pinky needed a kiss from him. But Brain wasn’t playing fair. Pinky supposed that it was his turn to give it a try.
If Brain wanted to play a game, he would happily join in. It was a competition to see who could last the longest without kissing the other! What fun! Brain was already doing such a remarkable job! But it was time for Pinky to even the score!
Sighing contently with his happiness restored and a newfound confidence present, Pinky sauntered back over to Brain, adjusting his posture to appear more seductive and sultrier. He stuck out a hip, placed one paw on his shoulder, and moved the other one to cup Brain’s cheek. He chuckled quietly before starting his round in the game. Before he began, he made sure to change his voice a little so that Brain would notice.
“Hello, Brain. Fancy meeting you here at this hour. Poit!”
The megalomaniac grumbled, clear irritation lingering in his body language. “Pinky if you ask for an insipid kiss one more time, I swear I shall…”
Before he could finish, Pinky used his paw to turn Brain’s head to look at him, where he batted his eyelashes fervently and pursed out his lips in a pout.
He nearly dropped his suave composure when he saw Brain’s face change from displeasure into a flustered stare, his face turning a light red and eyes widening. Brain was doing a fine job of holding his ground! But he couldn’t lose the challenge! He wanted Brain to be the one to kiss him!
“Like what you see huh?” Pinky moved his body around, tail swishing. Carefully and slowly, he moved his paw from his hip to Brain’s shoulder, kneeling as he pulled himself closer to his boyfriend. “I’d say I’m quite a catch if I do say so meself. Which I just did.”
Brain swallowed heavily, his blush darkening in shade. He tried to regain his words, but they invaded him; he was practically tongue-tied. “Pinky…t-this i-is highly inappropriate for…the current…”
Pinky pressed a finger to Brain’s mouth, preventing him from saying anything further. “Shhh, no more talking. You’ll only ruin this for yourself. Troz. Your big words will only keep you from me longer.” He kept his tone low as he began toying with Brain’s ear, biting back a laugh when it twitched in response.
“A big, handsome, strong mouse such as you deserves all the love in the world. And I wanna give it to you. In more ways than one. Just let me have you, babe. I care about you, and I want you to be so very happy. I’ll make you happy, trust me, Brain.” He was nailing this. Brain was basically gasping for air, and he was as red as a tomato! Pinky stroked the fur on Brain’s chest, humming in approval at the soft moan Brain made in reply.
“W-what are you d-do-”
“Hush, hush, honey,” Pinky briefly moved a paw so his fingers could trace along the curvature of Brain’s face. When he touched Brain’s nose, the megalomaniac froze. “Let me do the talking for you. Your face is marvelous and absolutely gorgeous. Your eyes shine like the night sky. Well, more like a pretty sunrise but it’s not too far off. Someone could get lost in them if they stared too long. I know I have.”
“Y-you…h-have?”
His grasp on Brain increased as he advanced closer so their faces could be at level. “I’ve gotten lost many times in your eyes, Brain. They make me feel so special. And your nose is so perfect and round. What more could you want? Zort.”
As he continued to trace his fingers the fur on Brain chest, Pinky took his other paw and rested it on Brain’s cheek, using his thumb to rub it. “Are you a marshmallow, Brainy? Hard on the outside but melty and gooey and soft on the inside? It sure seems that way. I bet I can make that soft side come out and stay. If I try hard enough.”
Pinky nearly kissed Brain after he’d said that, especially after the whine Brain made, so high and stunned. He needed to keep going though, he needed the kiss.
Before returning his attention to his face, Pinky buried his face into Brain’s shoulder, lightly nipping at his collarbone. A small bite didn’t count as breaking rules according to Pinky. It wasn’t a kiss so he thought it would work enough! Brain made a quiet yelp after the nip, nearly causing Pinky to lose again.
But he would not give up.
Brain tried speaking up, but he could only muster a funny sound. Pinky took this is a sign to move onto something new, so he placed one paw on Brain’s while moving the other to tease Brain’s lips.
This would surely make Brain kiss him!
“Your lips are like clouds Brain. Has anyone ever told you that? They’re stunning and warm and gentle, like pillows almost. I would definitely like to put my lips against yours for a long time. Poit! It would be a magical experience for me. And hopefully for you too.” Pinky kept his hand lightly gliding across Brain’s lips for a while until he moved his paws back to Brain’s chest.
Brain was finally able to speak after Pinky’s touch left his face. “P-Pinky…what…did I s-say about a-asking f-for…kisses.”
“I know what you said, Brain. You said I couldn’t ask you about a kiss right now.” Pinky inched closer to his partner, sliding his fingers along Brain’s spine as their chests made contact. He could hear Brain’s breath hitch and his heartbeat was erratic, which caused him to smirk a little at what he’d done. “But you never said that I couldn’t do this stuff. The kind words, the touching, the teeny bites. I didn’t hear you say no to those. Narf! I know you love them.” He traced a finger under Brain’s chin and nuzzled his nose against Brain’s.
Brain shuddered, sweat forming on his forehead so quickly it was somewhat startling. “I-I guess…y-you make a… valid point.” He gave in a little, moving his paws to hold Pinky by the waist.
Oh, he was winning the game! Brain wasn’t playing tough! In fact, Pinky didn’t know what Brain was playing anymore, but he liked where it was going.
Pinky purred, moving both hands to rest on Brain’s cheeks again. He continued to keep his face close to Brain, feeling his partner’s quick breaths against his fur. “You’re so beautiful, darling. You sparkle like one of those pretty flowers. You smell like one too. Poit! If only you’d realize how special and important you are. But I can help with that.”
“Pinky…” Brain muttered, though his voice waivered as soon as he started. He unknowingly tugged the other mouse closer to him, their noses touching again.
Oooh Brain was about to break! Just a few more attempts to woo and the game would be over!
Pinky rested his forehead against Brain’s. He smiled a little before speaking in a flirty whisper. “I love you, Brain. I hope you know that. I love you more than life itself. I wanna hold you and squeeze you forever and ev-”
He was cut short when he felt a pair of lips crash into his own abruptly, leaving him in shock. The kiss was aggressive and needy, yet it still felt tender. Pinky sighed and moaned softly, reciprocating Brain’s affections with ease. He felt Brain’s paws travel from his waist to his chest as he deepened the kiss. It was utter bliss and a welcomed finish to Pinky’s intense seduction.
Brain pulled out to breathe, his face a pleasant crimson shade. Pinky was breathless, though he was also excited because he had finally gotten a kiss out of his grumpy bestest boyfriend. He gazed lovingly at Brain, who was smiling quite a bit.
“Was that enough to please you, my dear?” Brain spoke quietly, grabbing Pinky by the shoulders and holding him.
Pinky began to giggle, returning to his normal high-pitched voice. “Oh, it was amazing, Brain! I’m sooo happy! Poit!” He quickly kissed Brain’s cheek before adjusting his posture. “You can go back to working on your plan now. I promised I’d leave you alone after I got a kiss.”
He was prepared to get up and leave when his arms got firmly grasped. He was surprised when he saw Brain restraining him from moving, holding him in place. “Uhm, Brain? What are you doing?
The pink-eyed mouse looked super lovestuck. “I did say that before, yes. But I might have been mistaken in my priorities. I believe that you are certainly more important than the plan. So, uh…”
“What is it, Brain?”
Brain inhaled sharply. “So, I think we can hold off tonight’s escapade for a… few hours. It wouldn’t hurt me that much.”
Pinky gasped. “Naaaarf! Egad! Do you mean that you want to kiss some more? Not just because I asked?”
He nodded. “I believe that it will be an effective way for me to replenish my energy and also so I may spend some quality time with you. You only asked for one kiss, but I don’t want to give just one. You don’t deserve that. You are far too alluring currently, Pinky.”
“Braaaaain!” Pinky squealed, his face turning red as he pulled his boyfriend close. “You are just the sweetest and nicest and lovingest mouse alive! Troz! I would love more kisses. I always love that!”
“I’m glad you love me, Pinky. Even though you’re an imbecile, I suppose you are in fact my imbecile.” Brain pulled Pinky to him, and their noses became squished together. He held Pinky’s paws in his, intertwining their fingers. “And by Ptolemy’s sake, I am madly in love with you.”
Pinky swooned. “I’m madly in love with you too,” he murmured delicately so that only Brain would hear him.
Before either one could say anything more, Pinky and Brain’s lips met again for a longer and far more passionate kiss. Pinky felt all fluttery as he felt Brain’s body press against his. Pinky also melted inside when Brain was the one to produce a gentle noise. When they parted for a quick breath, Pinky wasted no time in placing his mouth against Brain’s again.
As they kissed and kissed, Pinky felt victorious. Mainly because he was getting kisses from his sweet and lovey-dovey Brain, but also because he’d won the game. Brain had kissed first! But he supposed that the feeling of a win came second to the real prize: having Brain truly love him so much. While Pinky knew that Brain was sometimes a tough and rough cookie, he also knew that Brain would always love him no matter what happened.
He was positive that Brain realized how much he loved him too.
Ao3 link:
#pinky and the brain#animaniacs#patb#brinky#gay mice#i wrote this on five hours of sleep and at 10:00 pm at night#im mostly pleased with this because the original draft was complete crap#hope you guys like the fic!!
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11, 35, 49, 52, 59, 63 and 74 of the fic writer prompt
okay so firsty sorry that this is ten billion years late....
11. Link your three favorite fics right now
Genuinely have not been reading fic recently so have three long-time faves instead!
Concordia - Ccainao3
Obviously this fic is genius, its so perfect, everyone loves it BUT I don't think it gets the recognition it deserves for having the best summary of perhaps all time:
He’d had hope, after those talks, that when the sting of Olympic loss had faded he and Auguste would be able to salvage something of their old friendship. This doesn’t seem likely now. Sorry I gave you a concussion when I checked you is one thing; sorry I beat you out for the gold medal and then had your little brother wear it while I fucked him is another.
DREAMY SIGH!!!! Also Auguste is so damaged <3 fic writer cocaine ao3 and i are on the same wavelength when it comes to grievous head injuries <3
like a solar flare in the rising sun - Lazulisong
This fic is like a little pearl, a perfect morsel, an absolute dream of a scene. Damen, helpless. The sense of character and place and tension is so well done - it's short and it doesn't need to be longer because it's so gorgeous the way it is.
stars in secret influence - crimson_adder
I am a big believer that a wip need not be 'finished' to be 'good' and this fic is PERFECT.
Anastasia AU that is SO funny, so clever, so well put together - and, rubbing my greedy little hands together, a perfectly executed amnesia fic. brain trauma!!!! However funny you think this is, it is funnier.
35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?
HMM! I guess that they have a motivation - they are a villain because they're acting towards a goal that is at odds with the protagonist? Sometimes the motivation is to be dick and the goal is to make the protag feel awful, though. It doesn't have to be complicated.
Oh and also just because someone is a monster doesn't mean you can't have fun with it! I LUV the segment in Sunblind chapter 21 when Auguste is in the bad-end dream, and his Uncle is like 'hey :) want me to be your anointed heir?' and auguste genuinely doesn't get it. that was funny to me, a simpleton.
49. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?
NO which is good because i am the most oversensitive person alive!
52. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?
I am trying to reply to every comment I get this year! it was a new year's resolution. I used not to but that was mostly a combo of being shy and having weird feelings about artificially inflating my comment count because I was a little fool. I'm trying to reply to everyone because I LOVE getting comments, it IS the only thing that motivates me, and i want to thank people <3 i luv everyone who comments on my fics hugely and unreasonably
also, another resolution this year was to leave a comment on every fic I finish, which everyone should do! I'm a hardliner, sorry.
59. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?
yes actually! thought i would take it to my grave and then lockdown happened. now i update said friends when i hit a significant milestone. sometimes they ask me if 'that big thing you're writing' is finished yet and i have to say no, shamefaced.
63. Something you hate to see in smut.
okay so I already said d*ddy k*nk but incest or worse, untagged incest vibes. also i really don't like exhibitionism when the people being exhibitioned to aren't enthusiastically involved.
74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?
asides, so many asides. random segues into character backgrounds - not so much much tangents as parabolas because I do think they tie into the main plot but... sometimes I honestly come up with a random snippet of character history and then have to write a fic around it because I like it so much. This is one that currently doesn't have a fic attached, but will eventually fit into the Brexit storyline* -
Laurent has a surprising passion for offal; no one can pin down if it’s because he’s French or if it’s some sort of animal rights thing about honouring each part of the creature.
If pressed Auguste will say it’s stubbornness, because Mama had tricked Laurent into thinking that pâté was ‘special jam’ when he was a truculent child. The meaty origins of this treat were revealed only when Laurent was caught feeding it to his pony Daisy (thereafter renamed Cannibal by all and sundry), and Laurent had decided to double down on his passion for it, possibly to cover up the fact that he had been feeding Cannibal-neé-Daisy regular jam for the past three years.
That’s why her teeth are so bad! Mama had exclaimed. All those vets bills, Papá had said mournfully, stroking his moustache.
oh lol i actually had to come back to this and add another tell which is of course: character has intensely real but not prophetic dream and/or character succumbs to a fugue state and/or character keeps going to sleep at strange times. you know when you think something is a universal experience and then people are like 'girl no what's wrong with you?' anyway. hashtag narcolepsy rep or w/e
AND 55 which you sent me in a different ask lmao: Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?
my secret second favourite character to write is a tie between Jokaste and Nicaise. Nicaise is self explanatory, because he is So Fun to write. I have a fic here from his POV! Please read it (jeb 'please clap' voice).
Jokaste is the darling of my heart. You can tell this because she has shown up in 0.01% of my stuff on Ao3 which is how I show my affection. She is however in like. All of my WiPs. Looking at my google drive nd of the 4 things I am actively (cough cough) working on now she has a prominent role in 3 of them. No one asked for this! But I am so intrigued by her. Her canon characterisation is literally just that line from blades of glory when will ferrel goes "nobody knows what it means! but its provocative!"
here is a snip from one of said wips:
Jokaste, as if feeling the weight of his annoyance, rolled her head around to look at him. “You should try dermarolling,” she said, apropos of nothing, because she was awful. “What? You need to start stimulating collagen production. You’re looking a bit -” she made a dismissive gesture around the cheek area “- sunken.”
Laurent communicated with his eyes that he would always loathe her.
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purpose | jasonette
word count: 1.3k
summary: marinette smiled sadly at him, the pads of her thumb wiping each tear away. "it wasn't by choice, darling. i never wanted to leave you. i had no choice."
a/n: i did it. i didn't think i would but i did!! i had loads of fun writing this month. thank you so much for reading my (sub-par) work, and for supporting me. love you lots!
ao3 | wattpad | series masterlist | masterlist | prompts
part 1
If Jason had been a little more sound of mind, he would have stopped for a second to consider the fact that maybe things weren't as they seemed, but the pure, unadulterated joy and happiness he felt at the thought of seeing Marinette again outweighed any remaining sense of his cautiousness.
His slow descent into an unstable state of mind had been rapid after Marinette died—recklessly fighting with the criminals, not caring if he got killed; spending infinite days and nights looking for ways to bring Marinette back, often looking for solace at the bottom of a bottle of beer—Jason's lifestyle hadn't been healthy for a long time.
Obviously, his family had tried—and failed—to provide him with comfort, comfort that he refused to accept because of course there was a way to bring Marinette back, don't be stupid.
And now here it was. The precious, invaluable lace glove in front of him fluttered delicately in the dry breeze of the barren village Jason was in. Beads of sweat were just visible on his forehead and Jason's exhaustion was palpable, having not eaten for days, but none of it mattered as he followed the magic-induced glove into what he hoped—and knew—was his salvation.
Leading him into a dense, far cooler forest, Jason was jogging now, trying to keep up with the tiny glove that was flying faster and faster now. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were probably getting closer to Jason's goal.
His heart pounding loudly in his ears, Jason nearly dropped off the face of the planet when the lace glove came to an abrupt stop at the very edge of a jagged cliff. Bits of rock crumbled beneath Jason's boots, falling into the unnatural inky blackness below his feet.
Jason backed away from the edge slightly, still sane enough to value his existence to some extent. "What the hell?" he murmured, sounding a lot less surprised than he actually was. Why had the glove brought him here? Where was Marinette?
Suddenly, the sky seemed a lot darker than it was a few minutes ago, clouds gathering across the setting sun and blocking its rays. It was like Jason was in some alternate world, where things were a lot more depressing than in his world.
He stepped backwards when he saw fog begin to rise from the depths of the never-ending fall beneath his feet. What the hell was happening? Was he hallucinating or something?
If he strained his ears hard enough, Jason could hear millions—billions—of whispers, hissing all around him, words that he wasn't able to identify. Vaguely, Jason wondered whether he had finally cracked—was this his limit?
In his surprise and slight panic at the sudden change in his surroundings, it took Jason more than a few seconds to realise that the glove that had guided him here was beginning to glow, brighter and brighter, until it was a shining ball of light in the darkness that was choking Jason.
Walking to it like a moth to a flame, in a trance, Jason felt his breathing come a little quicker as he forced himself not to panic. He was here for one reason and one reason only—Marinette, his wife, the light of his life.
"Jason."
He jumped as he heard his voice being hissed out from somewhere, heart pounding out of his chest as the familiar dulcet tones of the love of his life ran over him.
"Marinette?" he asked shakily, his voice cracking. "Are you here? Where are you?"
There was no answer, only the rustling of the leaves in the suddenly chilly breeze sweeping through.
"Jason," Marinette's voice said again, haunting him. "Ma cherie."
Jason whirled around, tears filling his eyes as he looked for his wife, frantically searching for her through the dense vegetation. "Marinette, please, I don't—"
A sudden bright light engulfed the side of Jason's vision, blinding him for a few seconds before he was able to regain his sight.
Sight blurry with tears, it took Jason a few dumbfounded moments to realise that there was a figure standing in front of him—one that he had been longing for months.
"Jason," Marinette said, giving him that same soft smile Jason always craved. "You found me."
"I found you," he breathed, a single, lone tear trailing down his cheek as he walked to Marinette, putting a hand on her cheek gently. "You're here."
Marinette frowned at that slightly, eyes darkening. "I'm not. I'm dead Jason, and it is imperative you understand that."
Jason stumbled back as if she had slapped him. "What? How are you here then? Am I imagining you—"
"Non, my love, you are not insane," Marinette said immediately, rushing up to him, that familiar concern in her eyes. "I am just not corporeal."
"You're a ghost," Jason looked at his dead-not-dead wife with wonder in his eyes, eyes that were still unclear because of the tears. "How long—how long can you stay?"
"Not long," Marinette said, stepping closer. "I'll be see-through in the next few seconds, and in a few minutes, I'll be gone. We don't have much time."
"Why?" Jason whispered tears that were long overdue finally breaking over his cheeks. "Why did you leave me?"
Marinette smiled sadly at him, the pads of her thumb wiping each tear away. "It wasn't by choice, darling. I never wanted to leave you. I had no choice."
Jason only sobbed, tears falling hard and fast now.
"But you need to listen to me now," Marinette said, looking behind her as if someone was urging her. "You need to live Jason. You can't spend the rest of your life mourning me."
Jason looked at her with his bloodshot eyes. "But I don't want to live without you," he said, sounding much like the lost boy Marinette had met years ago. "I want you."
"But I am not the only person in your life," Marinette said gently, moving to cup his cheeks until her hands went right through him. "Merde. Jason, there are others in your life. Your brothers, your sister, your father—you have a family. One that loves you more than anything."
Jason sniffed as unbidden, memories of Dick, Tim and Damian came flying back at him. His heart clenched as he tried to remember the last time he had spoken to them—months ago. "I didn't mean to—" he said feebly, looking at Marinette for all the answers to his problems. "I just wanted you."
"And now you have me," Marinette said gently. "But now you need to let go, ma cherie. You have your entire life to live. I can't be the end of that, and you know it."
Deep down, Jason did know it. He knew his life wasn't tied to Marinette's, he knew he had so much to live for, he just... didn't want to let go.
Marinette was becoming more and more transparent as the moments went by, and she was forcing the words out of herself faster and faster now. "Jason, you need to find a new purpose in life. Go back to your family, find someone else, just live your life."
"I—" Jason wasn't able to even get a word out before Marinette was talking again.
"I can't stay anymore," she said, barely visible now, but her voice as clear as ever. "I love you, always and forever, ma cherie."
And then she was gone.
Abruptly, the scene changed, clouds disappearing and the rays of the setting sun hitting Jason once more. Jason open and closed his mouth as he finally settled on whispering, "I love you too."
Behind him, the lace glove that led him here, that led him to his salvation, fluttered to the leafy ground below, lying down, white material a little worse for the wear, but still there.
#jasonette july 2022#jasonette#jason x marinette#marinette x jason#jason todd#marinette dupain cheng#maribat#mlb x dc#dc x mlb#angst#the tiniest bit of comfort
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Hey, everyone!
I've been both looking forward to and dreading this post, ngl. But now that the holidays are over and I'm looking at the new year, I've decided to slow down. 👇
What does that mean?
Mostly it just means that I'm not going to be participating in every event that catches my eye; not writing every idea that comes to mind. There's also a flipside to that, though! It means I'm going to be taking the time to finish "Take Me Away", "Check Me Out", and to work on "A Kingdom to Fall". I have another writing project that I'm looking forward to sharing with you, as well.
It also means I'll more than likely open my askbox for prompts and suggestions now and again. It's something I've thought about a lot this year, but I haven't really had the time to commit to doing anything like that. And, honestly, I didn't think anyone would be interested. But I want to continue my involvement in the fandom, and continue to utilize my tumblr for little things like writing prompts and headcanon questions and "get-to-know-me"s.
It also means that I get to make a dent in my "marked for later" rec list on AO3 (if you have a fic you think I should read, send it my way!). I've had a growing list of fics this last year and I'd really like to make sure I have the time to enjoy some of them!
The only reason I've been dreading this is because... Well, it means that I'm promising to commit to the projects I have going and the one that I'm about to start. 😅 But, reminder to myself and all of you, that just because those are my focuses and I'm slowing down, does NOT mean that I'm not going to write other nonsense. Because I don't think I'd function if I couldn't have other ideas going. It just means I'm hoping to have fewer stories put out in one year.
In any case, if you made it this far in my rambling -- I appreciate you guys so much! Like, you've made this experience so amazing and fun. And this decision has a lot to do with everyone who has interacted on my tumblr or on my stories this year.
So thank you a billion! Happy (early) new year! Let's have some fun, yeah?
#my shit#announcement#hetalia#new year#i just want to get the quality of my writing back up#and have a little more fun and interaction on tumblr#but if norfin week ends up being a thing that is one event that i am 100% going to participate in#that decision has already been made way in advance lol#anyway#i have rambled enough#many many many thanks#i am very much looking forward to the new year!
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Kinktober Day 18- Clothes On
I had way too much fun with this. Like. You'll see.
A billion and a half thanks to @starsandskies for her kinktober prompts.
Kinktober Day 18 - Clothes On
The van was rather quiet as you and the crew your friend Rusty put together for this hiest. Everything was planned perfectly. Down to the minute. And thanks to some prep work. All you had to do is get in, crack the safe and quickly unload what was inside and then get the fuck out of there. The team had several contingency plans put in place, just in case any of the dominos failed to fall and hopefully no one would lose a drop of blood or have to shoot a single kill shot to get the obstacles out of the way. No one was supposed to get hurt. That was the biggest part. No one gets hurt, no one notices until all of you are out of Dodge and never there to be suspicious. Your alibis were airtight. All everyone needed to do was their jobs and play their parts.
All you needed to do was to crack the safe. You had your borescope and two sets of drills depending on if any of them decided to break. And you had practiced going by touch for months. But what made this safe special and the fact that you flew in all the way from India just to be here- was becasue the safe had belonged to a Shah from Rajistan at the turn of the century. The safe alone was worth millions. But the safe itself was also fucking huge and intricate and all the numbers on the dials were in punjabi. Which was your native tongue. And while the safe itself had been confiscated from India during English occupation, it had been bought, sold and traded on the black market ever since.
But for you? To go from humble lock smithing back in your parent's shop. The chance to tackle something larger than most could ever think or fathom. was something you couldn't pass up before your cut was ever mentioned.
“How you feeling, Newbie?” Cable asked as he looked over at you and saw you biting down on your thumb nail.
“I’m fine.” You insisted as you pulled your hand away from your face to shove your hands into your pockets to keep yourself from showing any other signs of nervousness.
“Freaked out. Insecure. Neurotic. And Emotional.” Cable reminded you since that was the common definition in this particular group.
“No. Not freaked out because I’ve done my homework and even if they change safes at the last minute, I’ll be ready to crack anything they have. I’m not insecure, because you can’t find a safe cracker better than me this side of the Ganges. I’m not neurotic, just nervous, which is a natural response considering the stakes. So I’m not emotional, at least not the way you’re implying. I’m determined to remain just as mechanical as my tools.” You defied as you turned your head to give him a meaningful but determined and defiant look from his criticism.
For this entire job Cable got on every nerve you had. He was the foolhardy schmoozy charmer. The guy with a silver tongue who could talk himself out of anything and everything. The fact that he was conventionally attractive only made him more infuriating to work with, because he knew exactly how good he looked and used that to his advantage. And he seemed he relied solely on his looks and charms to get anything and everything he wanted.
You hated that type of guy. No honor. No ethics, no moral compass. Although the fact that you were working with him to pull off a heist didn't give you much of a moral highground either. But this was a special job that needed a specialist and you were that specialist and Rusty and everyone in Rusty's team except for Cable- felt that you were worth the investment to bring all the way here stateside.
And the fact that you were new to this world of high stakes thieving, practically gave everyone else the permission to just haze you rather relentlessly for being the newbie. But usually after you proved just how good your skills were, that teasing usually stopped from everyone except Cable who seemed to be out to find and then press every button you had until you were ready to clamp him down to a table and saw his tongue off just to get him to shut up.
But all Cable did was grin that bastardly smug grin back.
“Well I’ll guess we’ll see at 7:37.” He replied as you rolled your eyes and glared out of the window because the last thing you needed was to get into another argument with him and throw you off by getting you so riled up you couldn’t see or think straight.
“Ok. We’re here.” Rusty said as he parked the van before Mork got his computers out to catch all the feeds from the cameras and sensors in the building and the surrounding blocks to make sure that not even the van that you were all in showed up on anything.
“And we’re ghost.” Mork announced.
“Ok. Let’s go.” Rusty insisted before he got out and handed the keys to Mindy, Mork’s twin who would be their getaway driver before everyone piled out and you heaved your heavy tools that were hidden in your bag and retightened the straps to make sure the pack would not leave your back.
You all managed to cross the street and then slipped in through the back entrance just as the caterers had pulled away to get the second round of hors devours and other parts to feed the guests for the banquet and you used the break in between other people getting ready for the art showing in the gallery above you as you quickly got to the basement as Cable used his passkeys to get you all through the various layers of security to get you to the basement and even a whole two minutes ahead of schedule.
But to your horror. There was no safe. The front of it was overlaid with gold. It was the size of a small room. It was literally impossible to miss.
“Shit.” All of you said at the same time when you got to where the safe was supposed to be only to find that it wasn’t there in the first place.
“Mork, find me where the safe is.” Rusty said into his earpiece to Mork still back in the van.
“What are you talking about?” Mork asked.
“Do you see what I’m seeing Mork? There’s no fucking safe in here.” Rusty said as he got his phone out to show that the area where the safe was supposed to be sitting should be right there. But it wasn’t.
“That thing weighs two tons, it’s not like they can just fork lift it out of here.” Cable griped as everyone fanned out to find the safe but it was nowhere to be seen.
"What if it's part of the display upstairs?" You asked.
"There's only one place they would be able to put it upstairs and it would be incredibly inconveinient." Rusty answered.
“Guys, the safe is in the service elevator, it’s being put into the safe room of the tower.” Mork finally answered as he looked through the cameras in the whole building.
“Shit.” All of you whispered. Because of all the ways this could go wrong and of all the contingency plans you had in place, this was not one of them.
“Ok. Is there a second service elevator we can use?” Rusty asked.
“Yes, but it’s on the opposite end of the building. You’re gonna have to run and book it. I’ll try to make sure you keep sole access of it but there’s two guards trying to get off at the lobby but I’ll override them and get them to the basement, you’re gonna have to dart them..” Mork answered.
All of you ran for the service elevator. Cable put his hands on your shoulders and moved you while Rusty did the same with Madeline to to stand on either side of the elevator while he and Rusty got their dart guns out and pulled masks over their faces and shot the two unsuspecting guards who were inside and pulled their radios off of them before they stripped their clothes off and used the clothes to change into guard uniforms before they stashed their clothes into their bags that had their other changes of clothes just in case they had to walk out of here as guests to the art show.
“Ok. I’m gonna slow down their elevator that has our payload so that it doesn’t reach the 37th floor before you can get there.” Mork instructed as the group got primed for movement as Mork figured out the logistics on the fly.
“Ok. I’m stopping your elevator between the 36th and 35th floors. You’re gonna have to drop down and get the job done while in the elevator. Do not kill the guards, get them B151’ed. Amari, you’re gonna have to work in close quarters and you’ll just have to crack it by touch. Because the guards will still need to deliver the safe to the destination. Once the guards are out though. I’ll move the elevator up to the 37th floor to give you more room to fully open it up to get our stuff out of it and then you’ll have to dart them with 5HE to get them back up again, but you’re gonna have to either walk out the front door with it cause you’ll get caught going out the back. But to the guards, it’ll feel like they just got hammered and passed out and woke up again. But you can not leave anything behind.” Mork suggested as Rusty and Cable got their magazines that had those specialized darts that gave the effect that whoever was shot, was instantly drunk and hammered to the point they would go black out drunk and pass out while getting the other magazines that were filled with 5HE which had the same effect as a Five Hour Energy shot ready as well.
Once the service elevator raced to the 36th floor you and the others ran as fast as you could to the elevator which was just then coming to a stop and you used your strength to pull open the elevator doors for Rusty and Cable to slide under you and onto the top of the elevator and quickly move the tiles just enough to shoot the darts into the four guards surrounding all four corners of the huge safe that took up most of the room in the elevator.
“Thanks, you’re a beast Amari.” Rusty praised as he slid under you.
“Yup. Practically She Hulk.” Cable agreed as you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his remark.
“Ok Mork, we’ll slip into the elevator but Amari can’t slip through here. You got to let her in.” Rusty instructed before he and Cable slid into the elevator as you let the doors finally closed as the two men got on top of the safe and then slid down on the sides, using the walls of the elevator to allow them through while Rusty and Cable drenched little bottles of whiskey onto the guards and got some into their mouths so that if they were found, it would appear they were drunk.
“Jesus this is a tight squeeze.” Cable griped on the other side of the elevator before Mork brought it up to the 36th floor where the doors opened and the two guards stationed at the front practically fell out of it, completely passed out.
You used that time to crack all your knuckles and wrists and neck and put your tools down next to you and got your special pencil you used to find the contact points in the safe and put a specialized stethoscope to the metal to better hear the internal gears as your special pill that you used to help you hyperfocus had already kicked in.
All while Cable and Rusty and the rest of the crew stood protectively around you to keep on the lookout to make sure no one else would come to the scene and discover you as you closed your eyes and slowly turned the dial to feel for any false contact points that were all the rage when this safe was first hand crafted, with what was now considered antique but was for the time, practically the cutting edge of sophistication and technology.
Cable and the others occasionally looked over their shoulders at you to see you standing there, with one hand on the dial, and one hand on the stethoscope with the special pencil in your mouth before you found the first one and opened your eyes to find the number and wrote that down on the safe itself and then began to look for the second one before you blew out another breath when you found that one and then focused on the third all the way to the seventh and when you finally got it, you heard and felt the click.
You had done it. You had cracked that safe through touch alone and opened the safe- surprisingly, right on time.
“Way to go Amari.” Everyone quietly cheered as they quickly got their loot bags and filled them with the contents of the safe while you quickly wiped off the residue of the special sewing pencil you used to find the right combination.
“How do you feel Amari?” Rusty asked as he handed you your bag of the heaviest of the loot which was gold bricks, but because you were the largest but strongest member of the group, you could easily carry them in the backpack over your chest as you strapped it in with the one for your back as well.
“Fine.” You beamed proudly which got Rusty to laugh and even Cable to snort a laugh too even though he was the one still unloading things on the other side of the vault door.
“Clear?” You asked as you noticed the time.
“Almost…oh. Uh, guys?” Cable asked once he found that the safe had false sides and false bottoms but once he pulled on them, it revealed why that safe weighed as much as it did. The sides were not solid steel or iron. The sides were lined with bricks of gold and platinum with rows of jewels loose jewels at the top.
“Oh Holy Fucking Shit.” You all gasped when you saw it before greed got the better of all of you as you were stashing as much as all of you could physically drag out of there before you got it all and put the insides of the safe back together, then reclosed it and pushed the guards back into the elevator before Rusty and Cable re-darted them with 5HE only to quickly go back in and take the darts themselves out of the guard’s skin before the elevator went up a whole floor.
“Shit, how in the ever loving fuck are we going to get all of this out of here?” Madeline asked as she gestured to all the extra bags of gold and platinum bricks.
“Mail carts!” You blurted out before Mork did a quick search as Madeline and Rusty immediately rushed to the service elevators to bring as many mail carts back to where there was a sea of bags of loot in front of the elevator before you went to the nearest office and took off your bags and came back to pick them up, four at a time, one on each shoulder and one in each hand to bring them into the room.
“What are you doing?” Cable asked since he volunteered to stay behind with you to guard the loot.
“Hiding our loot. You’re still dressed as a guard. Go make sure there are other guards at the other elevators to keep the guests down in the lobby. But just in case a nosy guard decides to patrol we’ll look less suspicious with a jet’s worth of luggage just hanging out at our feet.” You answered in a grunt as you managed to haul it all into the office in several trips while Cable immediately started helping you just in the nick of time to shut you into the office while another guard had done just as you predicted.
“What are you doing here?” Cable was questioned by another armed guard.
“The boss is transporting special cargo in this service elevator. I was put on it to make sure it made it to its destination right above us and that nobody interrupted its ascent.” Cable answered.
“Then why aren’t you at the next level up then?” The guard asked.
“Just thought I’d make sure no one made it stop at any floor below it or above it. Apparently it’s worth something to the boss cause it’s going to level 38. And ain’t Level 38 where the boss keeps his special shit?” Cable asked as the other guard narrowed his eyes at Cable.
“Fine, then you and me are gonna take a walk to level 38 and see what’s up.” The first one said as Cable walked confidently with him back to the regular elevators to then back around to the service elevator to see the guys groggily getting up from where they were laying out between the elevator and the floor as the doors were trying to close and then open when they sensed their bodies there.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The first guard yelled at the other four guards.
“Shit, you guys smell like a bar, you guys been drinking?” Cable asked them accusingly.
“Nah, nah, we…we…” The guards tried to deny it and slurred their speech as they tried to get up as the first guard came around and sniffed them and their breath only to find the scent of alcohol on them.
“You stupid, lazy sons of bitches…” The first guard began to chew them out and cuss them out as the barked orders at them to get up and get their shit together and get that safe moved to the saferoom as the guard himself used his handprint to get the vault moved in there.
“I should get your asses canned for this. This is so fucking unprofessional. Today of all days you guys show up hammered?! When you’re moving the boss’ safe? Do you guys have a death wish?” He continued to reprimand them before they were too drunk to realize that the safe now weighed far less now than it had before they set it in the room and got out of there with their special dollies since the safe had been put down onto a special steel frame so they could manually move it without a crane.
“Well, it seems you got this under control, I’m gonna go back to my usual post.” Cable excused himself to let the first guard continue to cuss the shit out of those other guards as he quickly ran to the original service elevator only to be met with it being crammed full of mail carts.
“Everything ok?” Rusty asked anxiously.
“Yeah, just minor detour, but we’re good, Amari is in an office with the loot, I had to play guard and help the four we darted get the safe moved into the safe room. They’re getting their asses handed to them by their superiors right about now. Which means we gotta hurry.” Cable insisted as he grabbed one cart with one hand and one with the other and led the way back to the office that you and the loot were hiding out in since you had already changed into your- leaving as a guest- outfit.
“Oh thank the heavens.” You breathed in relief before you helped load up all the loot onto the carts before you raced back to the elevator as Cable and Rusty quickly got undressed from the guard uniform and got the guards redressed. And got off at the floor above the first lobby as they moved the mail carts back to the back service elevator so they could get all of this loaded out of the back just in time for Mindy to pull the van into position.
“Guys, there’s not enough room for all of this and us in the van.” Mindy realized as she helped you load the loot from the mail carts to the van.
“Then Rusty and I will enter the party as drunk guests. And Amari, you and Cable will just have to do the same.” Madeline suggested as you wanted to start whining and complaining because you didn’t want to pretend to be with Cable. Anybody but him. But you didn’t have time to argue.
“Don’t worry, I’ll dart you with 151 so it’ll look like you’re drunk, you won’t have to remember a thing.” Rusty said as he hastily got into a nice suit and tie ensemble and his dart gun as Madeline and Rusty were doing the same.
“I don’t think so. It would take all three of you to haul me out of here. I’m 275lbs of dead weight remember?” You reminded Cable as Madeline and Rusty were already making their way to the lobby as Madeline didn’t have to get darted to pretend she was already drunk and horny.
“You won’t feel a thing.” Cable insisted as he pulled his gun but you had had enough of him and his bullshit and way faster than Cable could comprehend you had gotten the gun and pointed it at him.
“No, you won’t feel a thing.” You insisted before you darted him and he fell to his knees as he tried to pull it out but you slapped his hand away to make sure all of it got into him.
“Fuck, how, how did you…you’re too big to be that fast.” Cable started to slur as you got his arm and pulled him up beside you to carry him to the elevator that had returned for you.
“I know exactly how big I am. I know exactly how strong I am and I know way more than I let on. How do you think I got the nickname the Punjabi Tsunami huh?” You asked him.
“The pajama nummy, yummy…” Cable slurred as a wide smile spread on his face.
“See.. that’s the thing about you, you’re a newbie, but damn you have skills. Like, if you, you’re…you’re just plain amazing and beautiful and strong and tough and I know I’ve given you loads of bullshit for it, because it’s just what we do to newbies. But you give it right back and I love that you don’t take shit from nobody.” Cable praised as he hung on you and before you knew it, he was getting handsy and very touchy feely as you tried to brush his hands off but then the bastard just moved his hands to your face and started making out with you.
You should not have kissed back, that was your first mistake.
Your second, pinning him to the wall of the elevator. Just to kiss him some more because his kisses were too damn good for even you to resist.
“Fuck me Amari.” Cable begged as you could feel how hard he was even in this drunken state as his touches grew desperate and needy and wanting as he pulled you flush with himself while his own body curved around your own voluptious one.
“No.” You managed to say but then he had to go planting his face into the crux of your neck and shoulder again before he just planted his face into your cleavage and motorboated your tits which got you to laugh because no man had done that to you before and it was hilarious actually.
“God you have the best tits in the world. All big and round and soft and squishy and I want them to smother me.” Cable admitted just as the doors opened to reveal a lobby full of people who looked into it and onto you in surprise before you remembered yourself and tried to put him on your side as you walked him through the lobby, around all the art.
“See? That’s the problem with rich people they spend their money on stupid shit, like this isn’t art! It’s shit! I could make this by just shitting an extra large dump on the sidewalk.” Cable said as he pointed to one of the pieces in question as you flushed crimson and began to apologize for the sake of your “date’s” state of drunkenness to the other guests.
“Sorry, he’s a lightweight. Just two glasses of champagne and he’s wasted.” You tried to excuse to the other guests while pulling Cable’s hands back to keep him from touching any of the art. And you even had to out right slap his hands away like he was a toddler, with a sharp ‘no- no touch’ while you did so too. All while you walked him out of there as you damned this goddamn lobby being the size of the fucking international airport with how big and long it was for you to walk him from the elevators to the door.
“But you’re so mean to me Amari, you just see me as an asshole. I mean, I am, I am an asshole. And you see me, you see the real me. You see through this cool tough guy smooth talker, smooth operator man. And that’s what freaks me out because when you look at me, my pretty, pretty face don’t mean shit because you see who I am underneath it. And I don’t fault you for hating what you’ve found and I’ve tried to get better but you deserve the whole Disney Princess, Prince Charming Babe. But with you, like, you deserve better than even that you know? Like I know your food is too spicy for a white guy like me. Hell, your plain stuff is too spicy for me, like it’s the best food I’ve ever eaten but it burns my tongue off." Cable rambled on.
"And I know your culture is beautiful and rich with tradition and your traditional clothes are so beautiful and I watch all these punjabi bride shorts on YouTube and, all of them are just…so, so beautiful. Just like you Amari. Just like you. But just because you’re not skinny, you get shit on by others and that ain’t right. You are a very big, very strong, very beautiful woman and when I get out of here, I want to take you around the world and fuck you in every hotel room from here to pajama yamma yummy in my tummy.” Cable continued to carry on.
You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry or die of embarrassment or what as you finally was able to get him out of that fucking freakishly huge lobby filled with art.
You got a taxi to take you to a hotel and then a second to take you from the hotel, where Cable thought he was about to get lucky with you and wanted to fuck you right there on the steps before you could even get the chance to get a room. But you were not going to be taking that much advantage of him in that moment. So you got a second taxi to the hide out.
But both rides had the drivers probably seeing way more than they should as you used the “privacy” give into his drunken attempts and kiss him and let him continue to make out with you and grope you and if had not been for being in the back of a taxi and being fully clothed, he would have fucked you into oblivion for the way he was dry humping you while just murmuring ‘pajama jammy yummy in my tummy’ the whole time between kisses and lavishing your neck and exposed chest with kisses and licks and suckles before you finally got there and paid the taxi driver and got him inside the hideout.
“Someone please dart him with 5HE.” You begged the others who had already come back and were still in the process of dividing the loot that wasn’t promised to the buyer evenly among everyone.
“Oh, but Cable is so sweet when he’s drunk. It’s the only time he’s honest and bares his soul practically.” Madeline laughed before she got Rusty’s gun and darted Cable after you had dumped him rather unceremoniously onto the couch.
“Yeah, no he gets all touchy feely, kissy too.” You admitted as you could already tell all the hickeys he gave you were already blooming on your skin while you slinked away to get changed again.
“Really?” Madeline and Mindy asked in astonishment.
“Yeah, obviously.” You answered as you gestured to your neck and chest as their eyebrows nearly shot up into their hairline.
“Like, was it at least good?” Mindy asked.
“He’s drunk off his ass, and sprouting nonsense. But I had to sell the cover we were a couple to get us both out of there.” You tried to excuse before you shut the door to get redressed in something much more modest before you reappeared from the bathroom.
“So what’s the take?” You asked as you noticed that your bag that was designated for your take and your loot was practically overflowing.
“Well, as long as we can sell the bricks either very slowly or cash them in right now- you’re looking at 87.5 million dollars.” Mork answered.
“Split six…” You began.
“No that’s each. 87.5 million each.” Madeline corrected before your own eyes bugged out.
“Where’s my..where’s my pajama yamma, yummy, yummy in my tummy?” Cable said as he got off the couch and staggered over to you before he wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on your shoulder before he closed his eyes but smiled happily to be close to you again as you froze and flushed again as he seemed to sway to unheard music like he was dancing with you.
“Wow. He’s…he really does like you. Explains why he’s been so attentive to you.” Mindy grinned rather knowingly at her twin brother who was wearing a similar scheming smile.
“Nothing happened. He’s drunk. He’ll snap out of it when the last dart wears off and the second kicks in.” You insisted.
“Yeah, sure.” Everyone else practically giggled and zipped up their stuff and began to pack their stuff up to leave the place that had been the base for the last few months.
“Alright, well this should set us all up for a good long while. Everyone, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Amari, you were a genius and you got us and all of this out of there safe and sound and cracked that safe with just your magic touch, you’re the best. And who knows how long it will take before anyone finds out that they’re missing anything. Remember, only call in the case of an emergency.” Rusty reminded everyone before he and Madeline got their own sets of loot and the actual bag of goods that was promised to their buyer and put into a car that was waiting for them while Mindy and Mork loaded up the van with their own stuff and drove away leaving just you and Cable alone there before you walked Cable back over the couch.
“No, don’t leave me, You can’t leave me Yummy.” Cable protested.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m packing your shit into your car and I’m packing my shit in mine and then by the time I’m done, we’re getting the hell out of here.” You reassured him before you couldn’t help yourself before you kissed him sweetly.
“But quit being an asshole to me.” You added once you pulled away to see the dreamy smile on Cable’s face.
“No, no more asshole, only yummy in my tummy.” Cable insisted as he rolled and got comfortable which got you to roll your eyes but you couldn't fight the smile that bloomed on your face either.
You got his stuff put into his car and your stuff put into yours before you drove his car to a nearby hotel and got a room for the two of you to share because he was going to probably need to sleep this off.
Then you got an uber back and got him loaded into your car, having to carry him bridal style after you made sure that the space was cleaned and scrubbed down to the point it didn’t look any different than when you found it and that nothing was left behind that could ever leave a trace anyone in the team was ever here before you drove your car back to the hotel and into the room where Cable fell and then stretched out on the bed while you went down and got his overnight bag from his car and your own from yours.
Because what needed to happen was after tonight, you would hopefully never see each other again. You had a flight back to India in the next couple of days that you could not miss. Although how you were going to be getting all of this back home was going to be quite the struggle.
Even though those kisses, even drunken ones were pretty amazing. And if he really did like you as much as his drunken self admitted, maybe you could work that out. But that would have to be something for another time. Because now, you needed to call in dinner and eat and try to get him to eat something and both of you needed to get some sleep. For tomorrow would be a new day. And one filled with all kinds of possibilities.
#Kinktober#Kinktober 2022#Kinktober Day 18#starsandskieskinktober#Yeah#my hand slipped and I just had way too much fun with this one#I was not expecting to have this much fun. But I ate this shit up like it was Krispy Creme doughnuts.
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French Class [2]
A/N: I hope you all enjoy this part! I’m excited to put out more parts soon!
genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, oral (f receiving), car sex, dirty talk, college!au, nerd!reader, fuckboy!bias
words: 4.4 k
✽series masterlist✽
taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez
“And then he asked me if I would wear his tie around my neck while he- Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you there?” Your roommate, Chohee, waved her hand in front of your face from across the table. You had occupied the seats in the back of the Chinese restaurant, in a niche where you were mostly hidden from other customers. Turns out, for all the spicy stories she had in store – as always – that had been a great idea.
“I swear your thoughts have been all over the place lately. Are you sure you have nothing to talk about?” She twirled a strand of her dyed pink hair around her fingers while she mustered you suspiciously.
“I’m sorry, I zoned out. It’s nothing, I’m just tired. I’ve been studying day and night. Looks like you’re the only one with the stories today. Just start again from the part where he got the whipped cream from the fridge,” you said.
“We went over that part five minutes ago! Have you paid any attention?” Chohee shook her head with a grin. Then she began her bedroom-adventure story from the beginning, because she knew as well as you, she loved talking about it.
Truth was, you had one hell of a story to tell. And no, you had not been paying attention. Not because you were tired. Not because you had studying on your mind. But because one hundred percent of your focus was currently directed at the boy only a few tables from yours. You only saw the back of his head, but there was no doubt about his identity. The mop of hair was unmistakable. Plus, he was in his famous black leather jacket. There was no mistaking this piece of clothing. It was decorated with white splatters of acrylic paint and had his name written messily across the top of his back. You could just about make out the tips of the letters as he leaned back comfortably, legs spread on his chair, chatting to his friend.
Chohee had no idea about the grip the person behind her had on you. She was your closest friend, and yet you hadn’t broken the news to her: You were hooking up (and not just once) with the so-called “hottest guy on campus”. AT least those had been her words when she had first told you about him. Lately you had to admit, you were starting to agree. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep secrets from her. In fact, on many occasions you had almost crumbled and told her the full story. Had she not been such a chatterbox, and did she not love gossiping as much as she did, you swore she would already know about your little arrangement with him.
She was aware of this much: You and him were casual friends. Study buddies, one would say. You had subtly passed over the little details of your friendship. How grocery store visits sometimes turned into visits to his dorm because of a simple text of his, or how you had sneaked out on more than one occasion in the middle of the night because he had told you his dormmates weren’t home. It wasn’t weird to Chohee that you brushed over the particularities of your “one-night-stands” when you returned in the mornings. You had never been as big on sharing as she was.
Maybe you wanted to keep things to yourself out of fear what people would say, too. You couldn’t care less whether people knew you were sleeping around. But everyone knew him, or so it seemed. Girls wanted him. Boys wanted to be him. All you desired was his friendship and some fun. You had no interest in being known on campus or having people you’ve never met giving you the side-eye over having sex with an oh-so-special boy. One day you would tell Chohee all about it. You weren’t technically lying. Just not sharing the entire story.
“Remember how I said H/N was the hottest guy ever?” Chohee suddenly said. The sound of his name made your head snap back to reality.
“Oh, now you’re listening, I see. All it takes is for me to mention your new bestie,” she teased. “You shouldn’t get too attached to him. I have a feeling that girls are interchangeable to him, either way. Anyway, I’ve decided I find his friend Korain much more attractive, since I’ve been hooking up with him.”
Would it be weird to correct her? To promise her, when you had more time and weren’t so distracted, you would lay the truth on her? He isn’t like that at all, you wanted to say. Yes, he liked female attention. But that didn’t make him a bad guy. Would it sound crazed to explain how he knew how you took your coffee, and how he sent you pictures of your favorite animals before your exams to take some of the nerves away? Or how he reported that it took him exactly 1,012 steps to get to your dorm from his place? Multiple times you had tried to count the distance yourself, but you never seemed to have enough focus to make it. Something always caught you off guard. You had doubted his credibility, but he swore he wasn’t bluffing.
Speaking of his friend Korain – who was at this very Chinese restaurant with H/N – he was suddenly making eye contact with you. Before you could slide lower into your seat like a frightened animal, he had grinned at you. Oh no. Prompted by his friend’s smile in your direction, H/N now turned his head. You were thankful Chohee was still deep in her explanation on why she had changed her opinions on the two very boys only a few tables away. If only she knew.
H/N’s eyes caught yours and a smirk plastered on his face. You assumed the tiny smile you sent him would do, but no. The two young men had collected their things and were getting ready to leave. The exit was the opposite direction, and yet H/N took the long way there. His stride was that of a model as he approached your table.
“Y/N,” he said, voice sweet like sugar candy and his smile charming like famous artwork. “You wanna hang at the library later?”
Chohee was now eyeing him as if she was your bodyguard and he was an obsessed fan who had crossed into your personal space. All you could think of was how you wanted him as your dessert. Now. But you had an exam coming up in a few days. So, his invitation fit just right.
“I’ll be there.” You smiled politely. He gave you a raised eyebrow, but then nodded, said goodbye, spun around and followed his friend out of the restaurant. When you looked at Chohee, she was already giving you eyes that asked a billion questions at once. Fantastic. Now you’d have to explain that “hang at the library” was not some sort of codeword for sex, but you had – against all odds – convinced the local prince of fuckboys that studying wasn’t such an atrocious idea after all. But fate saved you before you could begin your clarification.
“Oh no! Where has the time gone? I have to get to my afternoon lecture!” Chohee exclaimed, quickly gathering her purse and jacket. “My professor will curse me if I’m late again!”
And with that, she scrambled up from the table. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy just because I have to go! I demand a good story when I get home!”
You knew she was just being dramatic, and should you decide to keep everything to yourself for another month, she wouldn’t be mad. And yet, the urge to tell her crept up on you as you watched her hurry out of the door while waving one last time. Your morning classes had been the only appointment in your calendar for the day. So, with nothing else to do, you fished for your phone to message him for a time to meet at the library.
~
“What were you being so weird for earlier?” he asked as he plopped down on the wooden chair across from you. His books slammed on the table, and you flinched a little. Boys.
“Thanks for reminding me why I chose to sit in the group project area today. Could you be any louder in a library?” you said. “And thank god we’re the only ones here.”
“Thanks for reminding me that you’re still great at avoiding questions,” he returned.
“I just didn’t want my friend to ask questions.”
“So you talked to me like a five year old would respond to their kindergarten teacher? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? The guy with the reputation?”
“No, I’m not. Wait? What? And what kind of reputation would that be, if I may ask? The you-only-sleep-with-a-girl-once-reputation?”
“You should know the nastiest rumors mostly prove to be false. I was thinking of something more delightful. Like a gives-the-best-head-on-campus-kind of reputation.”
You snorted. “And who is going to do the research to prove that?”
“Why don’t you look around and report back to me?” he smirked.
“No thanks. I’m already hooking up with a guy who’s more than a handful.”
He faked taking offence in your words with a theatrical gasp. “Is that so? The girl I’m hooking up with isn’t much better. Always asks to hang at the library like she doesn’t beg me to fuck her the second we get out of there.”
“Let me remind you that you were the one who suggested this place today,” you said. “I was ready to jump into your bed and you had to stall time like this.”
“Are you for real? What are we still doing here, then?” he asked, and you tilted your head with a suggestive grin that mirrored his.
15 minutes later:
“Who the fuck stores five umbrellas in their car?” You kicked another one off the backseat you were lying on. Your bra was exposed beneath your shirt which he had pushed up on your chest and was now attacking the exposed skin with hungry kisses.
“That’s what you get for not getting it on in the library,” he muttered against your skin without looking up.
“We’d be asking to get suspended from there by doing that,” you said. “And I cherish my library very much.”
He only made a snickering noise and shook his head before he went to take off his shirt – and promptly hit his head on the car roof. “Ow! This sucks. I can barely move.”
“That’s what you get for not waiting until we’re at your place,” you teased him with his own words. But judging by the prominent bulge in his pants, you supposed you didn’t want him driving anywhere. Not with naughty things on his mind, and with you next to him to only make him hornier. Your eyes fell on the dark purple spots on his abdomen, and you grinned.
“Wow. Someone must have worked hard to make that stomach even prettier,” you said.
“Yeah, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He bent down to your ear and his husky tone sent cold shivers up your spine. Of course, you knew. You were the one who bit and sucked the hickeys into his skin two days ago, after all. His hands palming your boobs through your bra drew out a desperate sigh from you.
“Let’s play a game. What do you say?” he asked.
“What kind of game would that be?” Your interest was roused. He was lost in thought for a moment, hands slowly running up and down your exposed legs. Luckily, you had opted for a skirt today. All he’d had to do was to push it up to your belly and get rid of your underwear after your short but very steamy make-out session on the backseat. The cool air on your exposed core was only magnifying your impatience.
“Whoever comes first, loses.” You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his idea, and he eyed you with indignation. “You don’t like it?”
“Everyone knows women take longer to orgasm than men do,” you said. “Are you trying to dig your own grave or what?”
“That’s why I’ll have a head start,” he announced. His hands circled the skin close to your core, creeping up your thighs slowly.
“And what’s the prize for winning?”
“The loser owes the winner a favor.”
“Too vague. I don’t trust you with that.”
“I don’t trust you, she says as she waits for me to fuck her in my car,” he mocked.
“I don’t trust your crazy ideas,” you clarified. “What about this? The winner pays for the loser’s next meal when we eat together.”
“Deal.” He slid his fingers over your pussy, and you crumbled into a whining mess within seconds. No matter how much your head denied it, he really was the best. He caught your clit between his digits and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment.
“Shit, you only turn me on more if you’re going to moan like that.” He lowered his head and spit on your center, and the laughter that had been bubbling in your throat died in an instant. His fingers rubbed your nub fast and spread his saliva – without doubt his attempt at tipping you closer to the edge before he had even begun to fuck you.
“Too bad you find me so hot,” you said, and let out a purposely dramatic whimper, followed by his name in your best fake-porn-voice. His smile had something wholesome, as if he was admiring his friend making silly jokes, but also a glint of playfulness. You knew had been a mask when he bit his lip and exhaled slowly. With ease, he slid his middle finger into you. As he curled it against your sweet spot, he bent down to suck on your clit and your back arched at the sudden pleasure.
“Too bad you’re going to lose,” he said, and then continued his antics. Had he continued this way for another few minutes, his words wouldn’t have been so far from the truth. But you had other plans.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” you asked. “That’s enough of your head start.”
“I only just tasted you. Why would it be called a head start, if you’re going to stop me two minutes into giving you head?” he asked and you would’ve slapped his shoulder, had he been close enough. Instead, you closed your eyes for a few seconds. He was the competitive one here, and you didn’t mind enjoying yourself for now. Sighing in temporary defeat, your head fell back onto the seat. The sun was shining its last rays through the car window. They caught in his curled eyelashes and on his skin, coloring him golden.
“That’s a good girl,” he said, arm snaking around your thigh. He held on to you, but it wasn’t as if you could have moved away from him. Your head was right by the car door. His lips around your clit paired with his finger steadily rubbing against your sweet spot inside of you made you feel like floating. His free hand touched your leg gently, caressing your skin as if he wasn’t also simultaneously pushing you to the urge to yell out his name in pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, as if you needed to do so to keep him in place. But something in the back of your mind still had a desire for winning. Trying to collect the last bits of your dwindling sanity, you hatched a plan. Good on you – you knew just what rode him into madness.
“I- I need you to fuck me, please,” you begged, making sure to add an extra layer of tragedy to your voice. “Please, I want it so bad.”
He looked up at you, a dark glint in his eyes. Of course, he did. All was going according to plan. It wasn’t like you had known him all your life, but you were perfectly aware of one thing. He could never resist your dirty talking and begging.
“Please?” you bat your eyelashes ever so longingly at him.
“Is that so?” He was now straightening up. His black pupils were dilated, and he was looking at you with the expectation of a loyal puppy waiting for his treat. You grabbed the front hem of his pants and pulled him towards you. In a moment, you had unzipped the material for him.
“I want you to fuck me like you did the first time we met. At the party,” you said. “Do you ever think about it, too?”
“Fuck, of course I do,” he said. Faster than you could register, he was ripping a condom wrapper and sliding it onto his free length. His cock stood angry and hard against his stomach. Perhaps your dramatic words weren’t so far-fetched. You couldn’t wait for him.
“Then do it, please,” you said. “Right now, this pussy is all yours. Use it the way it should be used.”
He muttered a swear under his breath and you knew he was in the palm of your hand. His hot breath fanned your neck as he bent over you, cock aligned with your exposed core. For a moment his length slid through your wetness, and he groaned at the warmth that was about to engulf him.
“I’m so fucking wet,” you moaned. “And all for you.”
You would have been lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the exaggerated show you were putting on for him as much as he did. Although, you weren’t sure whether you were allowed to call it exaggeration, at all. Your walls clenched around nothing as the tip of his cock touched your juices and he eyed you like he could’ve eaten you up right then and there.
When he finally entered you, he instantly sighed. His eyes were shut tightly as he dealt with the impact of feeling you around his shaft. A small spark of triumph went through you. That was, until he pushed your legs up and snapped his hips against yours. A sharp, sudden burst of pleasure shot through you and the coil in your stomach tightened all at once. You suspected your plan was backfiring slightly. Your words not only appealed to him and his famished mind and body. They also got to your head, and there you were, barely able to contain yourself under a load of blind hunger.
“You want me to fuck you senseless, huh?” he asked. His words went straight to your core. Nonetheless, you had a goal to work towards and you weren’t set on giving up.
“Yes, oh my god,” you whimpered. “That’s all I’m asking for. Please, I know you can. You always fuck me so well.”
In response, he rammed his body into yours so abruptly, you gave off a noise of surprise and pleasure at the same time. He bent his upper body over yours to support himself. His hands lay flat on the seat on both sides of your head. His thrusts made your legs shake now and then, when his cock hit that one spot inside of you. It was causing you to see entire galaxies on the inside of your eyelids. When you blinked up at him, the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. Darkness had always suit him better than the golden sunset, either way. The muscles in his arms flexed and his eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment you called victory yours. But you couldn’t be sure for longer than a moment.
Because from one second to another he straightened up and slowed his thrusts. The gradualness had something equally as striking. He dragged his cock through your scarlet walls and his fingers found your clit. You drew out a ragged breath and cursed him for regaining the upper hand. Yet, you quickly abandoned the thought of defeat. When you allowed yourself to feel the pleasure, every last thought vanished at last. You moaned and whimpered helplessly. Without overthinking, you wrapped your hand around his wrist. He shot you a confused smirk.
“Too much, baby?” he said. “Think you won’t be able to handle it? A shame. It would really be too bad if you lost. You were doing so well up to now.”
You swallowed, hard. His patronizing voice tugged at your nerves and yet you loved when he spoke to you this way during sex. And he was aware of it – hence his knowing grin.
“Don’t stop moving,” you asked him to keep up his thrusts. “It’s not fair, otherwise.”
“Oh no. I would never dare break the rules,” he said.
He did as you said, and it only made things more mind-consuming for you. You were again reminded of the small tornado raging in the pit of your belly, threatening to consume you all over. It was only a matter of time. But what he could do, you could do better.
“Do you like fucking me in my skirt?” you taunted him, blinking ever so sweetly. Your eyes were dripping honey as you put on your most innocent gaze. “Am I pretty like this?”
“You’re the prettiest,” he muttered, biting his lip as if he was stopping a thousand moans from spilling out. “So. Fucking. Hot.”
“If I wear this skirt to class tomorrow, and you see me in the halls, will you think of this moment?” you asked. His fingers on your clit were shaky and moving unevenly. You might have been digging your own grave along with his. You didn’t care. Too many lectures you had wasted, barely able to concentrate because of the boy on top of you.
“Definitely. You weren’t wearing that earlier, at the restaurant,” he said. You wondered how many people had ever seen him this way – utterly breathless, all his cool vaporizing at once.
“Good observation,” you said, but you were struggling with your words as much as he was unable to keep calm. What was meant to sound lazy and seductive had morphed into a whimper and small sighs. “I wasn’t. I- I put it on just for you.”
He cursed again and abandoned all his remaining self-control. His grip on you was iron-tight and you clenched your fists. Oh, how you wished you could have buried your head into a pillow, or better even, the crook of a neck. Instead, you moaned his name almost soundlessly and searched for his dark eyes.
“Say my name again,” he demanded, like it was his last request on earth. So, you obeyed, only because you would have done anything for him right now, if it meant that he would keep fucking you that way.
“Oh my- my god,” you moaned. “Please don’t stop, fuck-“
“You look so hot right now, baby,” he groaned. “Shit- I could come just looking at you.”
“Then do it,” you said. Challengingly, you both smirked at each other. It lasted only the blink of an eye. You felt your insides twist before you could have prevented it. And all of a sudden, you crashed. Your intense orgasm erupted, and it took you several seconds to realize it, but then you heard it. His high-pitched moans, quiet and curse-stricken, could only mean one thing. You weren’t the only one, and therefore not the first to reach your high. A content smile spread on your face as his messy thrusts went on for a short while and you bathed in the remaining moments of bliss.
Silence set in as you both kept still to catch your breaths. You worried he would pin the loss on you, nonetheless, and inwardly braced yourself for his accusations. But to your surprise, he only laughed and collapsed on top of you. His breath tickled your neck slightly.
“We’ll be splitting the bill, I suppose?” he said. He straightened up to look you in the eyes playfully.
“Looks like it,” you said. You guessed his fighting spirit had been appeased and his energy had been spent on better things than arguing with you. You never minded it.
~
“Did you have a nice study session? Does the library lady assume you’re homeless and actually living there, yet?” Chohee teased as you entered your shared kitchen. She was typing on her phone but looked up when you only laughed.
“Is that a hickey?” she asked, and you knew you were done for. “What exactly is it you were studying? H/N’s body?”
“I guess I should tell you. Sooner or later, you’ll know,” you relented.
“Tell me what? Oh my god. Are you guys dating? Are you dating H/N?”
“No! You know I have no time for a boyfriend,” you said. “But…we’ve been hooking up.”
“Damn girl,” she said. “What do you have on him that he keeps coming back?”
“Excuse me? Am I really that boring of a company?”
“No. You’re the best company I could ever ask for, obviously,” she said, smiling at you. “But you remember his reputation. He sleeps with the same girl only once.”
“It’s just a stupid rumor,” you said. “Besides, we’re not just hooking up. He’s my friend. You already knew that.”
“Friend, huh?” Chohee asked. “Alright. So, you’re telling me he can hang out with you without trying to get it on?”
“He can, actually. And let me tell you, he’s cool. And pretty funny, too,” you said. She raised her eyebrows at you. “We’ve set some rules. We hook up, but also hang out as friends. Neither is allowed to be upset when the other turns down sex. We can both hook up with anyone else, still. No jealousy, no attachments. Just a good time.”
“Alright,” Chohee nodded. “If you’re so close, do you think you could introduce me to some of his friends sometime?”
You laughed, nodding. Chohee and H/N had quite some things in common, you realized then. Maybe that’s why you liked the two of them so much.
“Let’s see how long that lasts, then. Don’t wrap him too tightly around your finger, or he might trip and fall,” she winked. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow. Whatever she might have been insinuating – you had zero plans of making it reality. (Yet.)
#optional bias#optional bias smut#optional bias scenarios#optional bias imagines#kpop smut#kpop imagines#bts smut#nct smut#exo smut#txt smut#ateez smut#day6 smut#n.flying smut#the rose smut#stray kids smut#sf9 smut#seventeen smut#btob smut#pentagon smut#the boyz smut#ikon smut#astro smut#monsta x smut#cravity smut#got7 smut#enhypen smut
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Washing Machine Heart
Day 22, Story #2 is by @rosequartzstarswrites
Title: Washing Machine Heart
Author/Artist: rosequartzstars - @rosequartzstarswrites (Because of Tumblr settings, this is posting from my main blog, but it’s me!)
Pairing: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (and background Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger)
Prompt: 5+1
Rating: T (only for some strong language and non-explicit insinuations)
Trigger Warning(s) (if any): none apply!
“I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” huffed Hermione, struggling to keep up the brisk pace Ron was marking on the sidewalk.
“You never believed you’d have to, did you?” Ron said gleefully, seemingly unaware of just how hard his long-legged strides were to keep up with.
“You never told me you were that good at chess!”
“No, more like you never thought anyone could be better than you at anything!”
Despite only having been friends, close friends, with them for a semester, Harry had already become accustomed to the constant bickering between Ron and Hermione, to the point even of endearment. Coming from the Dursleys’, arguments and rebukes were something he was used to, but the undertone of friendship with which Ron and Hermione faced off was a welcome change (and a very entertaining one). Still, he tended to side quietly with Ron, and this particular time was no exception: part of him was delighted at the prospect of seeing Hermione get a tattoo.
This had all started from a ridiculous bet, born of boredom in the lounge of their dorm building. Ron had eyed the communal chessboard, battered and chipped from years of usage, and challenged Hermione to a match.
Hermione had scoffed: “Only if you want to lose, Ron.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Ron had said, exchanging a look with Harry as a sly smile crept onto his lips.
“I’m completely certain.”
“Certain enough to bet?” Ron had prodded her.
The competitiveness that, before becoming friends, was all Harry had known of Hermione had flared up in her eyes. “I’m listening.”
“When you lose—”
“If I lose, and I won't—”
“When you lose,” Ron had reiterated, “you have to get a tattoo of my choosing.”
Hermione had smirked. “Game on.”
In Hermione’s defense, Harry thought, she hadn’t ever considered she might lose. There really was no way of expecting how good Ron had turned out to be at chess, especially since —Harry thought— Hermione had based her certainty on how abysmal his grades were, against her own straight A’s, in their proofs-based mathematics class, which relied entirely on strength of reasoning. But, as it turned out, Ron was actually a master logician, if only somewhat lazy at his math classes, and this he had proved by absolutely obliterating Hermione with the fastest checkmate Harry had ever borne witness to.
And that is how they had come to find themselves out on the streets of their little college town that night, wrapped in their scarves and their winter coats to battle the first of the December chill, walking to a tattoo parlor Ron knew in the area so Hermione could be forever reminded of her loss by a tattoo Ron would choose. And if Harry knew Ron well, and knew how much he relished teasing Hermione, the reminder would be a strong one.
“I didn’t even want a tattoo,” Hermione was mumbling, more to herself than at either of them. “I never wanted one— did you know that you might not be eligible to donate blood if you have a tattoo? I mean, not that it’s impossible, but it’s a factor against you, like your weight and your age. And my family has a history of needing transfusions— oh, God, what if my grandfather needs a donation, like, tomorrow? The three-month period of eligibility won’t have elapsed, and my father can’t donate, and– and–” She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, God, have I killed my grandfather?”
“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said, throwing a fraternal arm around her shoulders and squeezing her half in an attempt to get her walking again. “You’re halfway across the country from home. You wouldn’t be able to fly out on such short notice anyway.”
Harry had to stifle a laugh at how Hermione gaped at Ron then, a billion other dire possibilities to worry about racing through her head now. Ron, however, was less successful at keeping down a chuckle. “I’m kidding, Hermione. Besides, a tattoo will make you look badass.”
“I don’t want to look badass!” Hermione squeaked shrilly. “I’ve never been remotely interested in looking badass!”
“Well, interested or not,” Ron said as they came up to a dark brick building with a neon sign reading LOVEGOOD’S flickering above the door, “it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, because we’re here.”
Hermione let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a whine as she looked up at the storefront that, to her, was synonymous not only with her doom but apparently that of her grandfather.
“Ron, please?” she said meekly.
Ron, however, looked gleeful and would not be deterred. “A bet’s a bet,” he declared, grabbing her wrist and beginning to march her up the three or so stairs that led up to the door of the tattoo parlor from the sidewalk. Harry lingered behind for an instant, watching the backs of his two friends as they waddled up the stairs, smiling as he listened to Ron debate whether he would make Hermione get a skull or a sailor’s “Mom” arrow-pierced heart, and Hermione pleading shrilly with him not to do either of those things. Watching them, Harry’s smile widened. He was lucky to have them as friends, that much he knew, despite the short time he’d spent knowing them. Why he hadn’t found them his freshman year was beyond him— but now, now that he had these wacky outings and constant bickering to enjoy, he felt overwhelmingly lucky that they had found him.
“Harry, are you coming in or what?” Ron beckoned him. He had stopped on the topmost step and was still gripping Hermione, whose face was a mask of pure, crystallized terror.
“Absolutely,” Harry said, hurrying up the steps with a little hop. “This I’ve got to see.”
Ron pushed open the door to the parlor with a little too much gusto, and Hermione cringed at the metallic sound of the chimes above the door as they tinkled with the announcement of their entrance. The front of the shop, sealing off the rest with a counter that had seen better days, was empty, the backroom separated by a beaded curtain.
“Hellooo?” Ron called into the backroom, marching right up to the counter. “Is anybody here? We bring a very eager customer!”
Hermione began to protest, but just as she did, an employee came out of the backroom to stand behind the counter. Catching a glimpse of her, Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest: she was stunning. She was tall and slender, her toned arms visible through the ripped-off sleeves of her vintage Hole tee, with a curtain of straight orange hair pulled back into a long high ponytail. Her bright brown eyes glimmered atop a button-like nose that matched her small, round mouth perfectly, the pale fine face finished by a spattering of freckles. Even before she had spoken a single word, Harry felt the confidence coming off of her in waves, simply by how she propped her elbows up on the counter and eyed their party somewhat playfully. He was frozen to his place with the sight of her, hoping his jaw hadn’t dropped as low as it had felt in the wake of his awe.
Upon seeing her, however, Ron had had exactly the opposite reaction. “Ginny?” he said incredulously.
“What are you doing here?” the woman —Ginny— said without any greeting, returning Ron’s frown.
“I thought you weren’t working today!”
“I’m covering a shift for Demelza, she had a gyn appointment today.”
“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have come in,” grumbled Ron. The tips of his ears were beginning to pink, a sign Harry had learned to recognize as a hint of extreme emotion in his friend.
“Well, you’re here now, so… what can I do for you?” Ginny said. “I mean, you can’t possibly be the one getting inked, Ron. You’re too much of a wimp.”
“Shut up, or I’m telling mom you got your helix pierced. That’ll make for a fun Christmas greeting when we’re back home, I’ll wager.”
Then the similarity became apparent to Harry: the freckles, the aggressive red of their hair, the same glint in their eyes… Ginny was Ron’s sister. Somehow, he didn’t know whether that was something he should feel good or bad about.
“Tattletale,” Ginny said, swatting at him. “And it’s called an industrial piercing. Not that you’d know.” Only then did she seem to remark on the rest of the party.
“Harry Potter,” she said, and Harry gulped as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest and leaned back, surveying him. “Come to get a sixth tattoo?”
“A sixth— how do you know?” Harry said, befuddled. Out of all the opening lines he would’ve expected her to use, this had not been one of them.
“You can credit the rumor mill at school,” Ginny shrugged, still eyeing him with interest. “You’re a topic of interest. Or at least among the soccer teams.”
“Oh, am I?”
“Romilda swore you had a griffin tattooed on your chest, but I told her I’d heard it was a dragon. Much more macho, I thought.”
“Thanks,” Harry said dully. What else was he supposed to say?
“Don’t mention it,” Ginny gave him a conspiratorial wink. “And if I were you, I’d find out who on the boys’ team has been giving you the eye in the shower enough to count your tats. I bet it’s Ron.”
“It’s not!” Ron said angrily, the red from his ears bleeding out onto his cheeks.
“I bet it is,” Ginny mouthed to Harry, giving him another wink. “But it’s not you?”
“Pardon?” said Harry, for whom the ‘it-is-it’s-not’ exchange had grown somewhat confusing.
“For the tattoo?” Ginny said, and Harry felt like an idiot. “It’s not you who’s getting it?”
“No, ah, actually— it’s Hermione,” Harry was knocked back into his senses as he gestured toward Hermione, who had stood, utterly baffled, throughout that whole exchange.
“Hermione Granger?” Ginny said, and Harry was almost glad when she turned her gaze away from him and toward Hermione. “As in, Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger?”
“The one and only,” Ron declared proudly, happy to be back off a topic that bothered him (teasing Ron) and back on a topic that delighted him (teasing Hermione).
“I wouldn’t have chalked you up to the tattoo type,” Ginny said.
“Oh, she’s not,” Ron said, his face lighting up as if Christmas had come early.
Ginny’s eyes darted between the dismal face of Hermione and the cheerful face of Ron, her eyebrows rising as she took it in. “Okay, I’m not going to ask about whatever this is. What am I doing on you?”
“I’m designing it,” Ron said brightly. And if Harry had thought that Hermione’s face couldn’t get more desolated, he’d been wrong.
“Christ, Hermione, what has he got on you?” Ginny said, already opening a drawer on the counter to pull out a sketchpad and a pen.
“I’m such an idiot,” Hermione grumbled.
Ron pored over the sketchpad, shielding the paper from Hermione’s eyes as he sketched. When he was done, he handed it to Ginny with a quick flick of the wrist that, much to Hermione’s dismay, ensured she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of what was on it. Ginny looked over whatever it was Ron had drawn and then looked up at her brother with a frown.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, then,” Ginny shrugged. She lifted the counter to open a gap through which Hermione could walk. “Follow me.”
Looking like a lamb led to the slaughter, Hermione looked up to heaven as if making one last, futile plea before scrunching up her nose and following Ginny through the beaded curtain to the backroom. Because yes, she hated the idea of getting a tattoo, but she hated the idea of letting Ron hold one over her even more.
Ron watched her leave delightedly, relishing in the jangle the beaded curtain made as it swallowed Ginny and Hermione into the backroom. “This is going to be good,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Oh, this is going to be so good.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Harry blurted out all of a sudden. He startled himself as much as Ron when he said it, though he was glad he’d been able to pare down the question from what was actually swirling around in his head: Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister that looked like THAT?
Ron looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. It never came up.”
“You told me about every other one of your five brothers, but not the sister.”
“Nope.”
“Not the sister that seems to be about our age.”
“Nope.”
“Not the sister that seems to be about our age and plays soccer.“ And is hot.
"Nope.” Ron paused and frowned. “She’s a year below us, anyway.”
“Oh, then that explains it,” Harry said sarcastically.
“It seemed like more of a second-semester-of-friendship revelation.”
“I see.”
Harry held the silence between them for a few moments more before he allowed the next question out. “She plays soccer?”
“One more of the long line of Weasleys that get athletic scholarships to Hogwarts College. Except for Percy— no, he was a disgrace, he got in on an academic grant.”
“The family disappointment, truly.”
Harry wanted to ask more about Ginny, but he held his tongue. His friendship with Ron was the most precious thing his sophomore year of college had yielded him, and he didn’t want to jeopardize it by prying further or making it seem like he had the hots for his sister. Even though he did. He suffocated that small voice at the back of his mind: he hadn’t even spoken properly to Ginny, just stood there like an idiot and let her quip freely about his tattoos— which, mind him, apparently were fodder for locker talk back at Hogwarts.
The buzz of the needle in the backroom as it started up brought Harry out of his thoughts, just in time to see a shit-eating grin appear on Ron’s face.
“I wish I could see her face right now,” he said gleefully, and Harry let himself stop thinking about Ginny to join Ron in picturing what Hermione Granger must look like seated in a tattoo parlor chair.
“It really wasn’t so bad,” admitted Hermione as they exited the tattoo parlor and went down the little steps back onto the sidewalk.
Despite his pretensions of malice, Ron’s nobility (which had never been in question, even despite his teasing) had shone through and yielded a considerably modest tattoo: a small, capital “R” in his own handwriting. Hermione, who had almost cried with relief after Ginny showed her the design, had chosen to get it on her left thigh, on the side and at the very top, right under her hipbone.
“Why did you get it there?” Harry asked as they resumed their brisk walk back to campus.
“It’s not a place you usually show. That means if a sleeve shifts or an interviewer sees, I don’t know, my ankle or something, they won’t notice it.”
“As if a tiny ‘R’ would disqualify anyone from a job, let alone you,” snorted Ron.
“Professionalism is a virtue, Ronald,” Hermione huffed, though her cheeks had gone red. “Besides, since that part of me is always covered, I’ll save myself from having to explain the story behind it to anyone that spots it.”
“Yeah, except the bloke that eventually undresses you and sees you in your panties. Try explaining what that 'R’ means to him,” said Ron. But Harry suspected Hermione wouldn’t have to: from how Ron’s eyes had widened and his gaze had lingered when Hermione had pulled down the side of her jeans ever so slightly to show them the finished product, exposing a sliver of her underwear, Harry could almost wager that Ron would be the bloke in question.
They walked in animated chatter for the rest of the way, the tattoo forgotten until Ron made a quip about Hermione now having crossed the gateway to joining a biker gang and Hermione going positively beet-red in the face with outrage. Then Harry, his hands in his pockets, simply smirked to himself and resigned himself to their bickering for the rest of the walk, knowing he was no longer needed in their exchange. Instead, he let his mind drift to Ginny. She hadn’t really spoken to him again, merely ducking out from the beaded curtain backroom and instructing Hermione on how to take care of her tattoo, saying only a general goodbye to the three of them as they exited the shop. There had been nothing in Ginny’s manner to suggest that she might be thinking of him as strongly, as irremediably, as he was of her, and yet there he was.
The main quad was mostly deserted, except for a few scattered groups of late-night library frequenters or sneaking couples, as the three of them crossed it to get to their dorm. Ron and Hermione didn’t stop arguing as they climbed the four flights up to their floor (the elevator, as usual, was broken), and only broke it off because Hermione reached her room before the boys reached theirs, slipping inside it and shutting the door before Ron had a chance to get the last word in.
“Well, that went well,” Ron shrugged as he and Harry kept walking down the hall to their room.
“You actually got her to get a tattoo,” Harry said with some admiration as they reached their door.
Ron grinned as he swiped the key card. “I may drive her crazy, but if anyone was going to get her to do something like that, it was going to be me.”
Ron pushed the door open and let them into their dorm room. He closed the door and, without taking off his coat, immediately flopped onto his bed— or, well, what could be seen of the bed under mountains of dirty or otherwise discarded clothes. Away from his mother’s chore-mongering for the first time, Ron had let himself go wild and go to the other extreme, but even Harry had to admit that the army of socks draped over the foot of his bed was beginning to smell a little stale.
“So,” Ron said, propping his head up, “no parties tonight?”
“Well, it’s a Wednesday,” Harry said.
“So what? There’s no party spirit around here?”
“Ron, it’s the last Wednesday before final exams. People are studying.”
“I wasn’t aware I was rooming with Hermione,” Ron grumbled. Harry had to admit she might have gotten to him a little. However, Ron’s irritation was short-lived, a grin appearing on his face again. “Wait, but we’re not people. We’re not studying.”
Harry surveyed the room and, despite his desire to throw in the towel for the night and have fun with Ron, felt a pang of dismay at just how much grosser it would be if they caved and did that (last time they had, they’d had a Pringle-eating contest, with devastating results for their sheets, which still had some crumbs). “No, Ron. We’re doing laundry.”
Ron groaned. “Jeez, now I’m rooming with my mother.”
“Okay, fine, you don’t have to do the laundry. I’ll do it for the both of us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go hang out with Dean and Seamus or whatever, see if you can get Hermione to do her second wild-card act of the day and make her stop studying to hang out with the guys.”
“Now I’m a man with a mission,” Ron said, perking up in delight at the prospect of teasing Hermione, or even seeing her once more that night.
“Just shove your clothes in the laundry bag before you go, won’t you? I don’t want to touch your nasty briefs more than I have to.”
Ron obliged, tossing all the clothes on and around his bed into his orange laundry bag and pulling the drawstring to close it. “I’ll update you on the Hermione thing,” he said cheerfully, hurrying out of the room and down the hall to the left to the room they’d left Hermione in.
Harry laughed to himself, wondering how long it was going to take Ron to realize why exactly he always seemed so eager to do anything Hermione-related, as he too threw his dirty clothes into a checkered drawstring laundry bag. Then, he hoisted one sack over each of his shoulders and opened the door using his ankle and leg to let himself out, his hands full with the laundry bags. He stifled a smirk as he passed Hermione’s room and heard the familiar bubbling sound of she and Ron rowing. If Harry knew her at all, he knew however much she might argue she’d be out of that room in an hour tops.
He groaned as he looked down the stairs, and rued the day he had been placed in the dorm with the shittiest elevator on campus. Resigning himself, he began to walk slowly down the poorly-lit stairs to the basement, where the laundry room was. However inconvenient this descent was, Harry was at least comforted with the knowledge that the laundry room would not be crowded, which would be the greater inconvenience once the elevator was fixed.
The basement was even dimmer, the white lights flickering and buzzing with electricity as Harry walked to the laundry room almost at the end of the hall. Sure enough, the laundry room was deserted, oddly quiet with none of the familiar hum and rattle of the machines as they worked. Harry knelt in front of a washing machine and began unloading the contents of the laundry bags into it, cramming them in so they’d fit because he sure as hell wasn’t shelling out quarters for two washers. When he’d made it all fit (which had involved the use of force to jam the door shut), he went to the shelf that held the communal detergent and poured it into the soap compartment. With that done, he dug out eight quarters from his pocket and inserted them into the washer’s slot, pressing the “Start Cycle” button when he heard the clink that let him know his quarters had been accepted. The washer rumbled slowly to life, jets of water trickling out as it began to spin in one direction and then the other, and it was a couple minutes before it was spinning at a hearty pace.
Rising from his crouch (he had always liked to watch the washing machine as it booted up to wash in earnest), Harry took the laundry bags and turned to head back upstairs, already thinking of what he might do to pass the time in the hour he had before he had to switch the clothes to the dryer.
He was so caught up in thinking of this that he didn’t see the person entering the laundry room at the same time as he was exiting, which ended in an awkward clash between them.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurted.
“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry too— Harry?”
Only then did Harry realize who he had bumped into, and only because she kept standing there did he believe it. “Ginny?”
She still wore her Hole shirt, but had discarded the ripped jeans, combat boots, and round-the-waist flannel he’d seen at the tattoo parlor. Instead, she wore frayed gray sweatpants and flip-flops, her hair pulled up from the long ponytail into a messy bun. She, however, somehow still managed to look almost unbearably beautiful. What’s happening to me?
“What are you doing here?” he asked, the only thing he could think of right that second. Spotting the laundry basket she was cradling, he added: “No laundry in your dorm?”
“No, yeah, there is one, but it’s always too crowded, it being a freshman dorm and all.” Harry nodded: his first year, he too had done entirely more laundry than he had to, and was thankful by the quarters he saved just by realizing he could wear a pair of pants more than once before they were dirty. “So I use the one here. Much quieter. I know Ron’s ID and password—”
“You do?”
“He gave it to me once so I could pick up his books from the library. And my memory’s great.” She gave him a half smile and looked beyond him at the laundry room. “Doing laundry?”
“No, I just like the ambience down here. The shitty lighting and bleach smell are really my style,” said Harry. Ginny laughed, and Harry felt a rush of pride at what was probably the first witty thing he’d ever said to her. “Need a hand?”
“I’d appreciate one, sure,” Ginny said, again smiling at him. Harry moved so she could walk into the laundry room, and watched her pick one of the washing machines that lined the wall. When she’d settled on one, he crouched down next to her and help her lob the clothes into the maw of the machine.
“Tattoo parlor let out early?” he asked as they placed the clothes inside.
“More like you guys came in really late. You were my last customers— I just cleaned up and closed after you left.”
“And you work there?”
“Sure beats a regular work-study, doesn’t it?” Ginny grinned. She tossed in a Tide pod that was left at the bottom of the basket, closed the door to the machine, and rose to find the quarters needed to activate it. “Oh, shoot, I left my wallet in my other pants—”
“I got you,” said Harry, digging for eight more quarters in his pocket. For once, he was glad of his bad habit of carrying an excess of loose change in his jeans, something Hermione already got on to him about (sometimes, like when she’d gifted him a money purse, not too subtly).
“Thanks,” Ginny said, picking the laundry basket up from the ground.
Harry listened for the telling clink and then pressed the button. The washing machine whirred to a start, but for once, Harry didn’t feel compelled to watch it boot up: instead, he turned to Ginny. “So how did you come to work there?”
“At the tat shop?” Ginny asked, hopping to sit on the top of the washer where her clothes were spinning. “My friend Luna’s dad, Xenophilius—”
“Gesundheit.”
“Shut up,” Ginny said, but the hint of a laugh was (to Harry’s satisfaction) visible on her lips again. “Anyway, Xenophilius owns the place. He set up in a college town because he knows college is the first time kids are truly free to make rash, impulse decisions.”
“Like getting a tattoo?”
“Exactly. And besides, all the college students love his New Age bullshit, they think it’s very 70s, so his shop is always full. He got a big boost after he started placing crystals in the shop windows.”
“He’s in with the kids, then?”
“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be mortified. But he’s great, really. A little eccentric, but great. He knows me from when Luna and I took an art class together in 10th grade, and he’s always complimented my art, so he helped me get my tattoo artist license as soon as I turned 18 and hired me.”
“Is Luna the girl with the shaggy blond hair and the weird glasses?”
“That’s her. Though I’m surprised you didn’t know her by her bottlecap necklaces. That’s usually what people comment on.”
“Does she work there too?”
“Yeah, though not as an inker, she’s useless with a needle. She designs a big chunk of the tattoos, though, both original designs and commissions or requests.”
“That’s awesome,” Harry said. He realized that was the first time through the whole conversation that he had stopped. He’d never hesitated on what to say next: conversation with Ginny had flowed easily, naturally, and he hadn’t had to think too hard to keep it going. Still, he was a little disappointed that it had stopped. Ginny, however, seemed to share in this, because rather than say goodbye and take her leave, she opened up a new topic.
“So how long have you and Ron been friends?”
“Er– since the start of this school year, actually.”
“Really? You’d think from how he talks about you, he’d known you forever.” Harry felt a flush of happiness at hearing that Ron talked about him.
“Well, I got him for a roommate this year, and we just clicked. Then it turned out we had a lot of the same classes. And we’re both on the soccer team, so it just got better from there.”
“It seems strange that you never crossed paths your freshman year.”
Harry shrugged. “I mean, freshman year is weird for everyone. I certainly felt like I was just bouncing from one place to another. I still hang out with a lot of the guys from last year, but my friends have changed. It makes sense— the first year, everyone is trying to meet as many people as possible, as if it’s a race, but by sophomore year you know more of what you want and what you’re looking for. In a way, I’m glad I met Ron now that I’m in a more stable place, now that I know my way around the college and have a better grip on things. I have a feeling he’s a friend I’m gonna keep.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sticking around the Weasleys,” Ginny said, and Harry felt a tingle run up his spine. Was she… flirting with him? “And Hermione?”
“Oh, Hermione’s great, Ron and I would be dead by now if not for her— I don’t know how I got through a full year without her.”
“But she’s very different from you guys, isn’t she?”
“Well— on the surface, sure, but not in the things that matter. The fact that she went through with the tattoo tonight when she could’ve kicked up a fuss and bailed out tells you all you need to know.”
“So what I’m hearing is that Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger is as much of a bonehead as my brother at heart?”
“Stubborn, is the word I’d use. And only when Ron’s involved, actually.”
Ginny smirked. “Idiots. They haven’t even realized it.”
Harry knew exactly what she meant. “You think it too?”
“Oh, I’d bet on it. Ten bucks says they’re together by the end of the year.”
“Hey, did our visit by the parlor today teach you nothing about bets? They can be dangerous.”
“But I’m betting against you, aren’t I?” The way she said you made Harry’s heart skip a beat. “Fine, not ten bucks. But I’ll bet you a load of laundry, how’s that?”
“Deal,” said Harry, taking Ginny’s extended hand to shake it. The touch of her palm, with its long, slender fingers, sent warmth coursing down from his hand and the length of his arm. They let go and dropped hands, and perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Harry thought he detected a certain reluctance in Ginny as they did.
Harry leaned against the washer, his propped elbow almost brushing up against her thigh. “How about you? How’s your first year going so far?”
Ginny winced. “As well as you’d expect, I suppose. Lots of people still behave like it’s an extension of high school, and I’m very much over that. But as things go, I’m having a blast. Being on the soccer team certainly helps.”
“Congratulations on that scholarship, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Ginny said, her wide smile revealing a row of perfect, square white teeth. “You’re on a scholarship too, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. My aunt and uncle would’ve never paid a single cent for me to go to college, so it was the only way. But I’m sure they were glad to be rid of me anyway.”
“They sound like lovely people,” Ginny said sarcastically.
“I should introduce them to this Xenophilius sometime. My uncle Vernon would have a stroke just walking into that shop.”
“Well, if you ever swing by, you have an insider contact,” Ginny offered, and Harry loved the implication of something, even something as simple as an 'insider contact’, between just the two of them. “I’d be happy to arrange a meeting, especially for such esteemed patrons.”
“I might take you up on that, if I ever planned on seeing them again,” Harry said. The words came out a bit more harshly than he’d expected, and the second silence in their talk set in, brought on by the darker implications of his family situation. Desperate to break it, Harry cleared his throat and geared up to talk again: “So, do you have any tattoos?”
He was relieved to see the smile, that coy, almost lopsided smile, appear on Ginny’s face again. “Actually, no, not a single one.”
“Do you think you’d ever get one?”
Ginny thought for a second. “I might, if something meaningful enough came around. And only if I was 200% sure. But really, I feel like one tattoo would lead to another, and then I’d never stop and run out of room on my skin. So it’s more of a containment mechanism, really.”
Harry smirked. “Hm. Interesting.”
Ginny broke out onto a full grin as she watched him. “What?” she asked, but when Harry’s smirk only deepened, she shoved him playfully, her touch on his shoulders eliciting the same warm sensation as the handshake. “What, Potter, tell me! Why is it interesting?”
“I mean, since you work at a tattoo shop, and you’re wearing a Hole t-shirt, I just thought you might be the type—”
“The Hole tee? Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna gatekeep it, like you’re the type of guy who’d be like 'name three songs'—”
“No, not at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t know a lot of music by Hole. I really only know who they are because of that one Fall Out Boy song Courtney Love was featured in—”
Ginny winced. “Not Fall Out Boy, please.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Fall Out Boy?”
“Harry—”
“I know they get a lot of shit, but really, their first albums are pretty good—”
“Harry, you’ve gotta stop right here, or you’re going to make me stop finding you so attractive.”
And just like that, there it was, out in the open. Harry felt stun: he felt his mouth open to offer a witty retort, but no words came out. Because the girlish grin had evaporated from Ginny’s face and turned into a different, more mature look, her eyes smoldering slightly and her mouth slightly pouted.
“What about you?” she asked, her words slower, as if she was choosing each one individually. “If the soccer team gossip is true, I know you have five tattoos.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice having dropped as well. “Yeah, there were a few tat shops around my neighborhood where the rules were pretty lax.”
“What are they?” Ginny asked.
“The tattoos? Well, the first ones I ever got were my mom and dad’s birth and death dates, on my wrist,” Harry said, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to display two small lines of numbers, in plain black ink, on his forearm.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ginny said softly.
“Don’t be, I was really small when it happened. But I still wanted to pay them homage. Anyway, I’ll not bore you with my family history right now.”
“But tell me sometime?”
Harry was ecstatic at the implication that Ginny wanted to spend even more time with him. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “Yeah, I will.” He moved on to the second tattoo, shifting the other sleeve up a bit to show Ginny a small black paw print in the center of his wrist. “This was my third one. My godfather was the only person my aunt and uncle would let me see while I was growing up, and even then only because he threatened them. And he had this huge, black shaggy dog, I think it was a Newfoundland, that looked almost like a bear, named Padfoot. I loved that dog, and every time I think of the happiest moments growing up, Padfoot’s in a lot of them. So when he died when I was sixteen, I got this to remember him by. It seems like a tribute to my godfather, too, so I like it doubly.”
He didn’t need encouragement from Ginny to keep going. He raised his left leg and propped it up on the washing machine by where Ginny’s legs hung, rolling his sock down a bit to show a green, line-art tuft of grass snaking above his ankle. “I got this when I got the soccer scholarship to come here. I wanted something to commemorate soccer, seeing as it’s not only, y'know, my passion, but also what got me out of that damn house for good. But I thought something like a soccer ball or a net or even the pitch outline would be too cheesy, so I got a bit of grass, y'know, as in the field…”
“Tasteful,” Ginny nodded her approval, and Harry felt newfound appreciation for that tattoo. “That’s three down, Potter.”
“I’m getting there.” Harry brought his leg down from the washer and turned his back to Ginny, taking his hand up to the nape of his neck and using it to shift the hair there upward to reveal the back of his neck where it turned into his back. “Can you see it?”
“The little lightning bolt?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the story of that?”
“That was my second one. To be honest, I was a little ink-happy after my first one, so a couple of weeks after I got it I went back and got this.”
“But why a lightning bolt?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, turning back around to face her. “I guess it was just cool.”
“Oh, very,” Ginny said, and the edge in her voice let him know she was teasing him. “That leaves us with one, then. The emblematic chest tattoo.” Again, the playfulness disappeared from her face and was replaced by that strange look, the one Harry couldn’t really decipher but really, really liked. “Tell me, then, Harry— is Romilda Vane right?”
It was only because of the suggestiveness in Ginny’s voice and the permanence of that look on her face that Harry did what he did next. His movements slow, he pulled his shirt off over his head, setting it on the washing machine right by where Ginny sat. He heard Ginny draw in a breath and it hitch in her throat as she saw him, her eyes moving over his bare skin to spot the ink blot that had brought this all on. Curled above his right pec was a small, S-shaped dragon, colored in red and gold.
“I win,” Ginny said, her voice still husky, as she extended her left hand to touch the dragon with her fingertips.
“Are you going to tell Romilda?” Harry said, his own right hand settling lightly on Ginny’s thigh.
“No, actually,” Ginny said, her palm now coming down flat on Harry’s chest. Her other hand had also drifted to him, and she had placed it on Harry’s left side, right below his ribcage, as if to hold the side of his torso. “I think I’d rather keep this moment to myself.”
And then she was leaning in and kissing him, touching her lips to his first with tentative softness that turned into a stronger, more determined fire as the kiss deepened. With both of Ginny’s hands on Harry, and one of Harry’s on Ginny’s thigh and the other supporting the weight of the kiss against the solidity of the washer, they leaned into one another. Harry’s mouth sought out Ginny’s eagerly, overcome by the fiery feeling pooling in his stomach and rising up to his throat through his chest, by the fact that everything he’d thought about on their walk back from Lovegood’s was coming true much sooner (and much better) than he’d expected. He felt Ginny’s tongue nudge at his lips and opened his mouth to let her in, engulfing more of her lips with his as he did so. Ginny kissed passionately, her tongue meeting Harry’s even as her teeth dug lightly into Harry’s lower lip, making him kiss her more deeply. With her this close, he was invaded by the flowery smell of her hair, by the soft feel of her skin, by the low humming sound she made as she kissed him. And everything was coming together, making the fire in his chest grow, and it was a good kind of burn, better than whiskey, better than anything—
The loud ding of the washer as it announced it had concluded its cycle startled them, and they pulled back from the kiss looking a little dazed, that one upbeat chime having been all they needed to bring them reluctantly back into the real world. Still Ginny didn’t take her hands off Harry, and Harry felt less than inclined to move his from her leg.
“I should, uh, switch to the dryer,” he said, the only thing that popped into his mind there.
Ginny tightened her hold around his middle and moved her hand from his chest, wrapping it around his upper back to draw him closer. “Oh, let it wait,” she said, and then she was kissing him again, and Harry was finding that the dryer could wait for hell to freeze for all he cared.
The sleepy sound of the chimes above the door didn’t even make Ginny raise her gaze from her stats study guide, which she’d pulled out to make the best of the not-too-busy lull at Lovegood’s. “We’re almost closed,” she announced to whoever had come in.
“You can’t make room for one last customer?” a familiar voice said, and only then did Ginny perk up immediately.
“Harry!” she said brightly, shutting the stats book as it became all-but-forgotten. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to add one more tattoo to the five I’ve already got,” said Harry. “Think you can give me my sixth?”
Ginny didn’t even need to say yes, just opened up the lift-up counter door and disappeared through the beaded curtain. “Flip the door sign to 'closed’ before you come through, will you?”
Harry obliged and flipped the sign before following Ginny to the backroom. He sat patiently on the tattoo chair as Ginny milled about, getting the supplies ready.
“Y'know, you never did tell me the story behind your dragon tattoo,” Ginny commented as she went through the sterilization procedure for the needles. “Seeing as we were, um, otherwise occupied…”
The memory of the kiss flooded through Harry with the same fire that he’d held in his chest ever since, the flame growing to engulf his whole body just hearing Ginny mention it. “Should I tell you now?”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“I got it as a tribute to my old headmaster back home, Albus Dumbledore. Funny old man, and incredibly cryptic, but he’s the one that first gave me the idea of applying for the scholarship and helped me get all my grades and papers in order so I could make it here. We were very close, and he had this saying that he used to tell me whenever I ended up in his office for getting into trouble— 'never tickle a sleeping dragon’, he’d say.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Harry laughed briefly and shrugged. “Hell if I know. But it was his catchphrase. So after I graduated, I wanted to get something to commemorate him, so I got the dragon from his favorite saying. He came with me and got it too.”
Ginny turned to him and eyed him quizzically. “Your headmaster got the tattoo along with you?”
“I told you he was a funny old man.”
Ginny pulled a pair of black latex gloves over her hands and rolled a wheeled office chair over to Harry, the needle in hand. “So by what I’m hearing, you only ever get tattoos of things that are extremely meaningful to you, right?”
“That’s right,” said Harry.
“So, Mr. Meaning, what’ll it be this time?”
Harry smiled. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it slightly upward, just enough to uncover his lower trunk. He pointed to a spot on the left side of his torso, right under his ribcage— right where Ginny’s hand had been, where her touch had been burned into his skin. “Right here,” he said. “I’d like a little washing machine.”
#chudleycanonficfest2021#HP fest#hp canon pairings#canon fest platonic#canon fest romantic#submission#hinny#harry x ginny#side romione
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jily childhood friends running into each other years later?
Ta-dah! Thank you for the prompt! Now I have to write shorter things, or I’ll never get another done. XD
She knew that hair.
It was a glimpse—a fleeting hint of familiar dark chaotic strands protruding above the multitude of milling heads inside the crowded hotel lobby. Lily stopped where she stood, certain—certain…but that was foolish, surely? It was hair. Billions of people had hair. Even distinctive hair like that. And what would he be doing here, what were the chances…She darted left, slipping through other conference attendees, following the bobbing head of black. Her fingers toyed absently with the lanyard around her neck. Her feet kept moving. She was closing in. But—shit—he was turning into the next doorway. She’d lose him—
“Potter!” she shouted.
The bobbing black head stopped in the doorway threshold. He turned.
Something pulled inside Lily’s chest.
God, it was.
His mouth—an older mouth; familiar features spread across a matured frame, sharper and wider—formed her name. A question. His head tilted.
She squirmed around the last huddled group of conference-goers blocking her path. A middle-aged skeletal bloke shot her an annoyed look as she prodded past him. A server carrying a tray of canapés swerved around her. She wished the tray had been alcohol. She might need it. She wasn’t sure.
James Potter had grown up to be tall. Cresting six feet, easily. His limbs were long, his chest wide, but his hair—that hair—hadn’t changed a bit. Neither had his smile: bright, crooked, with the same infectious delight he’d managed so easily at eleven, now captured just the same in a man of twenty-four.
Twenty-four. They were twenty-four now. She hadn’t seen him in thirteen years.
“Lily Evans,” he said, audibly this time, and the smile grew brighter. “Shit.”
“Shit,” Lily repeated, laughing. Now that there was nowhere to go, no further crowds to weave through, no mop of dark hair to stalk, she was not quite sure what to do. She hadn’t thought past the part of just confirming it was him. Somehow, magically, him. Strange, strange, strange. Now they were standing before each other and—
And he was good-looking.
Had been, back then, at eleven. But that was eleven, and those things didn’t often last. Features shifted. Bodies changed. Conventions came and went at whim. Who could keep up?
James Potter could, apparently.
Not that that was the point. She hadn’t chased him down because he was fit. She could only see his head, for Christ’s sake. She hadn’t known. Not about the height, about the posh specs and the twinkling hazel eyes, about the tanned, sculpted forearms revealed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down. It wasn’t—
He eyed her, eyeing him. “Do we…hug…or…?”
She snorted. “I don’t know.”
“Reckon I ruined it by asking.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not as natural now.”
“Yes, quite ruined.”
“Ah, well. Will do better next time. Meet again in another…what’s it been? A decade or so?”
“Thirteen years, by my count.”
“Thirteen? Bloody hell, I can’t wait another thirteen years. I’ll be dead. Let’s just—”
And then somehow he was hugging her, and Lily was laughing again, and her fingers were digging into his back as she clutched him to her.
He had a nice back, James Potter did.
A nice smell, too.
The first boy she’d ever kissed remembered to shower. Lovely.
In the past ten seconds, she’d grown greedy and impetuous. As he pulled away, she darted up on her toes and dropped a hasty kiss to his cheek. Stolen, like a criminal. She was in a hotel lobby filled with barristers, and not a single one could convict her, so stealthy was she.
His fingers trailed down her arm as their bodies detangled. Her skin burned along the path.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, stepping back. She really, really needed to step back. “I mean, it’s good to see you—strange to see you, really, but—you’re a barrister?”
It didn’t fit the James Potter in her head. The boy who’d grown up alongside her, had lived in the sprawling, noble house at the top of the hill, running wild with the lot of them in Cokesworth, until he wasn’t. That boy had certainly had the cleverness and confidence to pull off law, but not the patience or deference to its structures and politics. He would’ve collapsed under the piles of paperwork. He would have crowed agony at the rules, the formalities, the bureaucracy. Had that swotty boarding school his parents’ packed him off to changed him so very much?
James pulled a face. “Fuck me, no. I’m running the catering for the conference. My mum—”
“—owned a restaurant,” Lily recalled, somehow delighted not to have pegged him wrong. She closed her eyes wistfully. “God, that’s right. When you moved, we were all bereft. I think I still smell that eggplant appetizer of hers in my dreams.”
“The caponata?” His grin turned sneaky. “She still has it on the menu.”
“Where?”
“Casa. SoHo.”
Lily had heard of it. To think, James Potter, her childhood friend and mild fixation, just a few tube stops away, for who knew how long. “So you’re in London?”
“Since university,” he confirmed. Then his head tilted, and the sneaky smile turned coy. “So you’re a barrister? In London?”
“Yes.” She waved her conference lanyard like a white flag, surrender. “Wildly disappointed?”
“No. It fits.” Humour weaved through his voice—deeper and cooler now, all grown up. “No one could ever win an argument with you. And I tried. It was fun.”
He’d been a menace. He’d taken such delight from getting a rise out of her. But even as children, talking with him had been addicting. There were so few who could match wits with her, even fewer who didn’t take it personally, who dusted themselves off after a rousing debate and stuck out their hand, a shake of respect for the good time. James Potter had been like that. It’s why she’d cornered him behind a tree in the park where they all used to play, just before his parents had packed up house and he’d left for boarding school. With his back against the tree bark, she’d pressed her lips against his and waited to see what he did with it.
He’d cupped her chin with both of his hands and pressed his lips harder against hers.
It was closed-mouths, mere seconds. A first for both of them.
But to this day, Lily’s knees still went weak when someone held her face.
Silly. Stupid. She talked about work to make the memory go away.
“A bit less fun now. It’s mostly forms and deadlines and”—she waved her hand around the room—“swotty, deadly dull networking conferences. I’m just out of school. I hardly do anything yet.”
“But you’re good at it,” James stated, definitive.
She didn’t bother to hide her preen. Was wary by how much pleasure she took out of his automatic confidence in her. “Yes. I’m very good at it.”
They stared at each other, grinning.
He had a girlfriend. Lily was certain of it. There was no way this man did not have a significant other. Or maybe there was a very good reason, because she knew absolutely nothing about him. She hadn’t seen him in thirteen years. Entire lives were lived in thirteen years. Who knew what kind of person he was now? He could cut a dashing figure, hold a conversation, but maybe he also cut up bodies in his flat for fun. Maybe he bit his toenails. Maybe he liked The Big Bang Theory. Maybe he drank milk straight from the carton and then put it back in the fridge.
“You didn’t grow up ugly, James Potter,” she said.
“I looked you up on Instagram a few times,” he replied immediately. “You never post pictures of yourself. But I like your cat.”
“His name is Bosley.”
“I know.”
Lily squinted at him. “What else do you know?”
Hazel eyes gleamed. “Interesting question.”
James Potter’s hands were much larger now. If he worked with his mum in her restaurant, they were probably rough—calloused from use, nicked with cuts and crevasses from an absent knife or oil burned too hot. Eleven-year-old James’s hands had been cool and soft. This James’s hands wouldn’t be.
Lily quelled a shiver.
“You—”
“James?” A server appeared out of the doorway behind him, looking frazzled. “They left behind a case of champagne. I don’t know how. The quiche is running low, and Darnell is feeling ill. What—”
“Send Darnell home. I’ll—” He let out a dissatisfied hum, glancing at Lily, then back at the server. His lips pulled into a frown. He swept a hand through his hair. “Sorry—”
Lily waved him off, though her spirits sank. “No, don’t be silly. Work calls. Feed the hungry. Go.”
He hesitated, his eyes skimming her. “Will you—we’re just catering the event tonight. Swotty and deadly dull, yeah? So you’ll probably skive as soon as you can.”
“No.” She didn’t have any reason to say it so firmly, so quickly. That was just the way it came out. “Work calls for me too. I’ll be here.”
“Yeah?” The frown righted slowly.
She couldn’t believe how ridiculous she was being. Maybe how ridiculous they were both being. She could be a serial killer, for all he knew. Did he not care for the health and safety of his own pretty little head?
Her plan had been to duck out of this conference opening mixer as soon as was physically possible. They were unbearable. That shouldn’t change.
“Yeah,” she said instead.
She was eleven years old, heart fluttering behind a tree. She was an idiot.
“Good.” His body turned, but he was still looking at her. He nodded and repeated, “Good.”
Lily lifted her hand. “Thanks for the hug. See you in thirteen years?”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
She watched his back as he turned through the doorway, stared at the familiar mop of hair until it disappeared around the next corner.
She pivoted on her heels slowly, feeling silly and prickly.
In her pocket, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and absently glanced at the screen.
She laughed.
James Potter had requested to follow her on Instagram. And he sent her a message.
You didn’t grow up ugly either, Lily Evans, it read.
She was twenty-four years old, heart fluttering in the middle of a hotel.
She shook her head, and pressed ACCEPT.
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Life of bee Party
Jasonette July prompt 13: bee
Jasonette July
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Marinette already could tell this would be a bad idea. She wasn’t really in the mood for a party at all and definitely not a costume party. But she was dragged along without consideration to her protests. Her friends told her she just needed to have a good time. As if that would make everything in her life magically better. Things were not going well for her and she just wanted to mope about it. She ended up working in the mail room at the lowest level of a billion dollar corporation instead of doing anything else she had ever dreamed of.
Her friends worked there with her but they were mostly secretaries on the various floors. None of them were very high up either but they all shared a love of nice clothes. Jill worked at the coffee shop in the building so they all interacted a lot during the day. Coffee breaks were all taken together and sometimes Marinette would deliver coffees on her mail runs. It worked out pretty well.
They had gone to the party as a group. It was something in between the wild college parties she had seen and the grown up parties she had always expected she would be attending by this age. There was food and someone mixing drinks to go along with the selection of beers rather than only a keg and counters filled with forgotten red cups. Not even everyone at the party was dressed up making Marinette feel silly in her bee costume that was made from not enough cheap fabric. The other girls already had several costumes to choose from but Connie was the same size as her and offered her bee costume.
Not actually an offer. They insisted she come and insisted that she dress up also. They stood outside the door while she had put on the costume and Sylvie had hidden her clothes so she had to wear it. Usually she would not be so grumpy about things but she had tried again to apply at a fashion school. She just got her rejection in the mail today. She didn’t even tell anyone she had applied for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to have to see the pity in their eyes or hear how it would be okay because she was up for a promotion soon. She downed the rest of her drink and turned to find another. She had lost all of her friends to the party and she chose to mope in the kitchen rather than meeting more drunk people.
“Hey Honey,” a voice said near her.
She glanced over at the man and rolled her eyes. He was picking on her costume when he had only bothered to put on a mask around his eyes. It was somehow both worse than not dressing up and worse than picking a costume to wear. He knew to dress up but he hadn’t even made an attempt. He just put on a cheap mask. She smiled as she took the drink from the bartender and walked away from him. He picked up a new beer and followed her.
“Would you bee interested in a dance?” he asked.
“No thank you,” Marinette said simply.
He didn’t follow this time so she found a place to sit away from the others and keep an eye out for her friends. She really wished she had chosen to meet them here. She could have left by now. But she left her purse at Connie’s and planned to take a cab with Sylvie because they lived in the same complex. She pulled out her phone and played a game for a while. Connie stopped by after a bit and made her dance. She wasn’t into it enough so they took shots and tried again. Marinette danced until she was breathing hard and it was actually helping her mood. The others had joined them and they were causing a bit of a scene but none of them cared. They just wanted to have a good time.
Marinette went back to the kitchen to get them all some waters and she ran into the same man on her way back. He grinned when he saw her headed his way. She wished she could get there without passing the annoying man. He even approached her and took the waters from her leaving her with only the one for her. He motioned for her to lead the way. Her friends did not seem put out to see her return with another. Actually they all seemed to know him from work. Sylvie even turned to wink at her behind his back and give her a thumbs up. He looked over at Sylvie and then smirked as if he knew exactly what happened. Jill slyly asked him if he was planning to ask anyone to dance.
“I did ask someone to dance but she wasn’t interested. I’ve seen her around the office before but I don’t think she has even noticed me even though I find her beewitching.”
Her friends all looked at her in shock, but she pretended not to notice. She sipped her drink and watched the crowd. They went through the process of introductions and he talked to her friends for a few minutes while they all tried to flirt with him. Marinette wasn’t sure if they were actually flirting with him or trying to convince her she wanted to flirt with him but she was not in the mood right now. He excused himself after a few minutes without bothering Marinette any further.
She didn’t see him for a couple hours after that. Many of the people had left the party or found places to chill and sober up before they went home. She went back to the kitchen. She was long over the desire for drinking. She was hungry and the offered foods were long gone. She poked through the cupboards and didn't find much but the fridge had eggs and cheese.
She didn't know whose house it was but she hadn't brought and money so she hoped they wouldn't mind her taking some eggs to keep her stomach settled. She looked around for a good pan and spatula. She mixed the eggs and heated butter in the pan before adding the egg. Carefully she cooked the egg continually moving the sides in to let the egg run down to the hot pan. When it was all cooked on the bottom she loosened it from the sides of the pan before swirling it around and flicking her wrist to make the whole thing flip at once.
"Very nicely done," said Jason.
She jumped in surprise and turned to him. He turned away from her flushed face and opened a cabinet while she added cheese and turned off the burner.
"Did you guess the right cupboard on the first try or have you been here before?"
"I live here. So I already knew."
He handed her a plate and she tipped the omelet out of the pan.
"Oh, I may have stolen your food a bit."
"I'm not worried about a couple eggs. I was trying to think of a way to convince you to make me one without seeming helpless. Omelets are my downfall."
"It takes some practice. My Nonna taught me. I could make another but it's also probably more than I need. Would you want half?"
"That works great." He paused for a moment while the food was divided before adding. "You aren't having a good time."
"It's not because of the party. I was already feeling down and I feel silly in this outfit."
"I probably have some clothes you could wear and I would do anything I could think of to cheer you up."
"How do you know me from work if I don't see you? I thought I knew everyone."
"It's my job to see everything. You are just the most fun to notice."
Marinette wasn't sure how to respond to that. But he moved along in the conversation. He picked up their empty plates and had her follow him.
"I'm pretty sure I've got a couple things that were left here by my brother's girlfriend. Should be close enough to fit you."
"I would really like that. I think our driver might be out for the night. She fell asleep."
Jason had her follow him and he checked a couple spots until he comes up with clothes he thought would fit her. Marinette went off to change but he showed up again after. He offered her a water and they sat on an unoccupied couch.
"Are you still feeling a buzz?" Jason asked.
"You think you're funny."
Marinette lifted her foot nudged his leg but she lifted her cup to hide her smile.
"You seem in a better mood. I hope that means good things for me."
"I'm not sure. You seem awfully fond of puns. Maybe you just like to hear me groan."
"I would never use a pun again just to see your smile."
Marinette leaned close to him.
"What would you do for a kiss?"
"Anything."
He leaned down towards her until their lips met.
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@jasonette-july-event | @theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @adrestar | @zynna
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What Ethan & Pooja AU is this? #OpenHeartAU
Selcouth (Ethan x f!MC)
Summary: Set in Book 2, Pooja gets the recognition she deserves for solving Naveen Banerji's case.
Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet, marvelous🤎
A/N: Thank you so much @beastlyinstrument for the visual prompt❤ I had fun thinking up and writing this piece.
A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)
Word Count: around 3.2K (I am sorry!)
Rating: General
Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff
Warnings: 1 Curse Word (again 😆)
Prompts: Late Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge July challenge day 4: celebration
There was stark silence surrounding him as he scribbled out points from the morning meeting of the Diagnostics Team along with some of his own observations from the patient charts. The days have been nothing out of the blue since his return from the Cholera-ridden district of Amazons.
The steam from the warm coffee filled the entire office with its sweet aroma. With winters in their full force, there was a mystic chill all around the city and the warmth the coffee gave was extremely welcomed.
It took him 30 minutes to the tee to complete his morning paperwork. And as he arranged the white sheets in a clean stack, a slow groan escapes him. He had been so engrossed in work, that he had completely missed the fact that he had emptied his coffee cup.
Ethan looks up from his desk to the windows giving an enchanting view of the brumal grounds. Snowflakes, basking in the distant sun's glory, shining like iridescent jewels, fell slowly, silently to meet their origin.
It's too serene of a day to waste indoors.
The thought caught him somewhat by surprise, even if it was his encephalon producing it.
He had spent long years of his life away from focusing on diminutive happenings like the weather or the warmth of his favourite Vienna on a frosty day.
To appreciate the beauty of falling of the snowflakes today, was a slightly unusual change. He couldn't help but wonder as to what would have caused it.
He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Like a response to his unuttered query, the notification bell of his phone brought him out of his reverie and displayed her name with the joy of a student who had solved a difficult problem with ease on the first try. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an email of her completed reports.
And yet, he was unable to control the breakout of butterflies in his stomach.
The feeling was orphic, and yet irenic.
As his heels tapped on the white floors, supposedly conducting an intriguing conversation with them, a faint intermix of voices reached him and stopped him in his tracks.
"You're wearing all black." It wasn't a question, but a fact that Alexandra's voice enunciated.
"Are you surprised?" A concordant voice questioned. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, it was one of his favourite euphonies.
"No. Impressed."
"I lost a bet to Bryce, and this is what I get in return." There is a pause. "It's a nice change though."
He can feel the smile that emerges out on her face at the end and feels his lips curl up, like a magnetic connection. He was caught off guard as he stood there thinking of the sweet nothings and sweet everythings of his reminiscences with her.
"Good Morning Dr Ramsey!"
It took him all his power to straighten himself, and to put on the stoic façade before responding,
"Good Morning Dr Walton."
Alexandra didn't initiate a conversation, just like he had expected. Bidding goodbye to her companion, she strode off her way.
Now, it was just him and her, standing in the middle of nowhere, eyes locked in intense focus, tied together with a string they find themselves unable to break.
She looked striking like she always did.
In every hue, every ensemble, at every hour, she knew how to induce that unnamed feeling in his heart.
All she had to do was to look at him the way she did, and his idiotic heart would skip a beat, and an ambrosial emotion would follow.
And what does one do when emotions go out of control?
Self Preservation.
Giving her a brisk nod, he dropped his gaze, hurrying away past her, not having the courage to look at the hurt caused.
Idiotic.
That's the only word he could use to describe his actions.
He could think of a trillion excuses, travel through a hundred bends on the roads of justification, but nothing would be enough to balance out the pain he was giving her. Not even his playlist of curses that he played in his mind every day to remind himself what he truly was.
An asshole.
As soon as his steps took him to the outdoors, the crisp cold winds blew through his hair, and he cherished the moment.
The apricity hugged him, and the scene that met his eyes, the world draped with a veil of phosphorescing snow, generated a euphoria he was unfamiliar with. As a minuscule flakelet fell on his outstretched hand, he realized that no one needs to spend a billion dollars to get happiness.
It is hidden amidst mundane things, and the only thing one has to do is to keep foraging for it.
Happiness can be made, it can be found. But can it be bought?
Never.
------------------
It was unusually calm at Derry's in the morning hours.
Not that he was complaining, of course.
In comfortable, long sips, he lets the caffeine overtake the tiredness and the heartache coursing through his body. The glare of the screen and ping of his cellular broke the aura of comfort that had spread out through the coffee shop. He wants to shut it off and throw it in a corner away from his sight, but decides against it.
It's a text from Naveen.
Skipping is not an option for today night!
A groan escapes him, the annoyance of another meet and greet taking away all the calm. He tried to convince him, but all efforts went futile. He plays the discussion all over again to find any loophole he can to escape the torture.
Flashback:
It's after hours and the wing of the hospital where Naveen's office was situated bore a silence. The amicable old man sat in his chair, leaning back as the younger one stood, with his back at him. It was obvious they had been arguing, but it seemed more like amusement for the old mentor and annoyance for the young protégé.
"There is no need-"
"Ethan, you have been repeating the same words for fifteen minutes now." Naveen chuckles.
"I very well know that there is no need for anything, dear friend. I just want a little bit of happiness and merriment in the hard times."
"I am not stopping you from doing that, Naveen, you know that. But what is the need of the celebration being about me?"
"Because you are a reason I am alive today." The man gives a melancholy smile, vision blurred as the near-death experience of the past year come sailing in front of him.
"This celebration is about you and Dr Sharma. Without the two of you, I would not have been here."
Ethan's features are clouded by the pain of losing his mentor, who has been like a father to him, and inspiration. His frown softens, annoyance long lost, as he comes as takes a seat and places his hand on his.
"Fine. I will do this. But only for you, okay?"
Naveen's lips curl up in a grateful, happy smile as if wordlessly conveying his thanks. As Ethan stands up and proceeds to leave, he cannot stop himself from laying out his observation,
"For her too."
And Ethan knew. He knew exactly whom this was about. And as much as he wanted to deny the assumption, he couldn't help but accept the truth in it. Of course, he was doing it for Naveen. But he was doing it for her too. She deserved it so much more than him. If she hadn't been there, the seat occupied by his mentor today would have been...
Flashback ends
As his eyes skim through the crisp pages of the medical journal absent-mindedly, he thinks of her again. The permanent occupant of his daydreams, who would still manage to come back, no matter how many resets he carried out.
He thinks of her attire from the hour before, hair in a neat long braid, dressed in a meticulously embroidered Indian attire. And then of the celebration at dusk, where she will finally receive the recognition she deserves.
All the doubts regarding her promotion to the Diagnostics Team would be washed away.
He remembers what she had told him a few days after he had heard those nasty rumours,
"I have proved myself and I know what's true. I don't need to show anyone else the testament of my abilities. As long as I am fair and just, their words can do no harm to me."
His admiration for her had increased phenomenally when she spoke those words to him.
His pride, his faith had not been misplaced when he picked her for the difficult voyage named Edenbrook.
He has never felt so proud of any other intern as much as he does of her.
His heart sings to him, his choice was correct. He doesn't let it elaborate itself, because one wrong move from his side would be more than enough to ruin this unpolished gem before she even gets a chance to shine.
Yes, he did tell her that some things are worth any risk, she is worth any risk, back in Miami. The reminiscences of the day still played on the screen of his mind in sepia, they lulled him to sleep.
But the risk to harm her fragile career before it even blossoms?
It wasn't just a risk, it was like a crime for him.
One which he refused to commit.
---------------------
As dusk falls and winter blues colour the land of snow in multichromatic hues, hiding any bit of orange from the setting sun, Pooja Sharma hums along with her favourite songs as she dresses up for the special evening.
No matter how much she wants to curl up in the folds of the soft Cashmere, she has to be in attendance. It's a strict order from her grand mentor and impossible for her to go past.
It's all black day, she reminds herself when picking the outfit. And she doesn't forget to leave a thank you note for Lekh as she finds the perfect one.
And now, as she stands, trying to complete the arduous job of creating a perfect eyeliner wing, a certain someone's reminiscences trouble her pained heart.
No matter how much she scolds it for its stupidity, trying to explain the futility of the hope of getting together, it never heeds, just continues to trouble her with the baritone of his that enchants her mind, the cologne that overpowers all her senses.
As she looks at the reflection in the speculum, she cannot help but imagine his reaction.
Will she even get a reaction?
Maybe just a nod, or a look.
No words.
She has convinced herself with it. It took some time, some stops, some pulls of an invisible harness, but she has convinced herself.
She's stopped hoping, soothing herself with whatever they shared, memories that felt like they belong to a bygone era, and a promise of treasuring them, just in case he ever decided to come back.
---------------------
In the vespertine hours, the diamond dust made the sun devoid city look like a fairytale. Any other time, he would have just worried about the sharp chill, probably cursing the snow.
Being so observant of the places he is a regular visitor at, it was a new experience for him.
Strange, even.
It's something that will take some time to get used to.
The interiors are warm. Minimally decorated, as he had requested. Not wanting to create a fuss, he bee-lines to the corner of the room, where the only occupant was emptiness. He decided to cherish the moments of solace before the bother of the vivacious crowd began, wanting to start a colloquy.
On instinct, he looks around, not being able to comprehend the reason why his heart leaps to his throat. And then a pang of disappointment overlaps that sudden nervousness.
The absence of one person, the feeling so profound.
It's magical.
Dangerous, but still, magical.
A mute scold follows. No matter how hard he tries, strives towards that unannounced aim of reset, his stupid heart and its childishness always ruin his plans.
The call of his name makes him turn around.
Naveen stands, jolly smile fixed in place, eyes sparkling with joy and...
Gratitude.
They chat, topics ranging from Diagnostic team cases to complaints of coffee. His orbs casually drift towards the entryway, in hope of seeing his dearest.
And as the astrologers say, the stars align, the universe comes into play, and the shimmer of black in the lambent atmosphere makes his heart skip a beat. He feels a smile emerging and hastily hides it with a scowl.
If he had to, he would have sworn that he looked like a clown.
Her ambers gaze around in a lucid, tender manner, in strike contrast to his a while ago.
There is a lack of haste, of worry, of unease.
Her very presence fills the air with tranquility and without his consent, his soul basks in it. After what felt like an eternity, their gazes meet.
Melt into each other like the wax of two candles.
Become inseparable.
She smiles, it's faint.
It seems more of a formality than a wish. The momentary cheer is replaced by a somber, melancholic expression. Her orbs drift away, gaze turns away as if to hide whatever was to come from him.
And he knows.
He's the reason.
Silence is suffocating, but right now, the chaos is even more constricting to him.
Everyone chatters, mingles, smiles.
Everyone except her.
She stands too still, flashing a half-hearted smile and half-hearted gaze here and there, as she is surrounded by the rest of her friends, preventing him from getting a better look.
As conflict rises in his interior, a to go or not to debate, the gulps of scotch become more frequent, the frown gets tighter and guilt gets heavier. Before he can drown down into the never-ending cascade of crippling self-hatred, there is a call of his name.
Naveen.
---------------------
Claps and whoots surround her, along with a cheer. She becomes the recipient of numerous bear hugs, and compliments as Naveen elaborates on her contribution to his recovery. It feels like a reel of situations played from her sweven. It took a pinch for her to realize that it wasn't.
A mic tap follows, it's Ethan's turn to speak. She freezes upon hearing her name getting repeated again. There is an uncanny depth to it, she notices. An indication that it conceals so much more than is visible. Not just pride, not just intoxicating happiness.
Gratitude, raw and pure gratitude.
And something else (or maybe not?)
Her focus all over the place, she missed a lot of the address. What stayed carved in golden words was a single sentence, unremarkably remarkable.
"It's not me, it's her. I lost all hope, but she was the one who fought till the very end, never giving up, even if she had thousands of storms to navigate through."
"There can be only one recipient of the applause today, and it's Dr Sharma."
Two contrasting emotions put her in a dilemma. Whether to let the water drops she held strongly to herself or to let the heartfelt joy induce the grin that would shine brighter than the stars the twinkle along with the forlorn moon?
Unable to decide, she let the cracks in her stoic mask deepen, let the faint upturn of lips become visible to the world. Every applaud fell short, in a haze, as the mere words spoken mere moments before played in a loop like a soft harmony.
The 360-degree turn of the evening gave her the most unexpected and the most precious memories.
The change of the blithe chilly eve to heartwarming dusk.
Rare, mysterious and yet, magnificent.
Selcouth.
---------------------
Ethan Ramsey, for the past decade of his extremely brilliant career, has never displayed even a minuscule amount of emotions. Never. The mask of stoicism fixed so perfectly, that no power could ever induce a crack in it.
No one could.
Until one day, an intern waltzed into his life like an unforeseen plot twist and induced changes no one ever could.
The mask has cracked, even if to a small degree, letting the minuscule details of a transformation out. Sometimes it could be as evident as a smile, or a genuine compliment to an intern. In other instances, it would be just the absence of the forehead frown (which had become a permanent resident at a point).
And now, the beloved plot twist of his novel stood before him, her eyes expertly decorated with kohl. She was quieter than usual, engaging in casual conversation, but prevented going into depths of it.
Their gazes never meet, only slide past each other.
He missed looking into the amber of hers, trying to figure out her thoughts like someone engaged with a very complex puzzle that ends up in a phenomenal picture.
He missed listening to her sweet whispers, mumbles which made him smile more than he had for the past decade.
He missed her.
The universe is always planning a conspiracy to make destiny true. And it's definitely an action of its, that his hand extends towards her, wordlessly.
She gazes at it, gazes at him, thinks for a while.
And finally, slips her hand, bejeweled with that bracelet she wore in Miami. He still remembers it placed on his heart, which beat at an erratic rhythm.
Which beats at an erratic rhythm now.
Looking at the Bostonian sky, only drapes of translucent mist could be seen all around. No twinkles, even the moonbeams were struggling to reach them. The silence is comfortable, only interrupted by the sips of steaming hot coffee.
Her eyes are fixed above, in a search for the hidden celestial elements. His focus stayed on the snowflakes resting on his jacket.
He leans back, places a hand down.
There is a lack of warmth.
Soon enough, another hand joins him.
The cold is gone.
And so is his search of moonbeams.
Her touch felt like light, his own moonbeam. So soft, so warm, so dear. Something he could keep etched on his skin forever.
She was his moon.
And for her, those summery blue orbs held depths of the ocean, the faint, soft wrinkles that languid years leave behind as a mark of their passing like map lines of some unknown lands.
He was her world.
In every universe, through trials and tribulations, through pain and smiles, they were destined to find their way to each other. No one powerful enough to keep them apart.
Not even they themselves.
It was a cosmic state of comfort they found themselves in. His hand in hers, their fingers interwoven, the reflex etched in his mind with an everlasting ink.
He has never believed in soulmates, but as he as leans back, eyes closed, hair fluttering along with the icy-cold breeze, having her by his side, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was anything less than destiny.
That even after so many trials of forgetting her, he would always come back to her, searching for the serenity he only finds in her presence.
The feeling is rare, confusing, maybe terrifying.
But right now, he basks in the warmth that it provides, all worries and all woes are hidden in a wooden box, discarded away from his sight. And unbeknownst to even him, he waits for the day he can kiss her the way he wants to, no ties, no binds holding them away.
Yes, he waits for the day.
PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎
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Party Favors P.P
Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: When trying to convince Peter to go to a party with you, a few secrets are revealed about a certain web-slinger’s crush, with your dad hanging onto every word. Total fluff here, guys!
Using the prompt: “come on, I can’t go to the party alone!”
Warnings: Nothing terrible, a swear word or two, I think. Just a lot of Flustered!Peter….. Oh, and Liz Allen being a prominent wing woman. Some suggestiveness as well. Sprinkles of angst but ends in fluff
Posted: April 30, 2021
Word Count: 3.2k
Here is my Masterlist in case you wanna read some more work of mine. Also, my requests are open :)
“Pleaseee”, you pleaded, begging your best friend, “pretty please?” Peter Parker, the neighbour hood’s protector, Spiderman, an Avenger and your best friend stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed while he indignantly shook his head.
“Nope. Now way Y/N”
“C’mon, Pete. Just one time? Please, please, please?”
Peter sighed, raising his chocolate brown eyes to meet your Y/E/C eyes. “Is it necessary? Like life and death?”
“Yes! It is! Well, it saves lives and prevents death. And I need your help with this.”
Peter pursed his lips, looking a whole lot like a family member of yours you recently spoke to. “What’s in it for me?”
“Well, for starters, payback… Like the time I had to tell the press that ‘intern’ Peter Parker was doing a brilliant job working for my dad.”
“Yeah, I guess. But could you blame me? Y/N Stark saying to the world that I do a great job working as an intern was a sure way to make Flash shut up.”
“Ah, I get it. You’re just using me for my name!” you said, clasping a hand to your chest, faking hurt. Pretending to wipe off a tear, you whispered sorrowfully, “Another one bites the dust…”
“Uh-huh. And we are sure the amazing Y/N Stark didn’t have fun winding up Flash the next day at school when you strolled in and gave me an Intern Of The Month award in front of him?”
You laughed, remembering the moment fondly. “That was one of your better plans…”
Then you snapped out of your memories, smiling slightly. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to make me reminisce about cute stories and get out of this deal. It’s happening.”, you said, gesturing to the two of you.
Peter groaned, falling back on your chair. “Dang it. I thought that would distract you for a while. But seriously? Do you want me to get killed?”
You rolled your eyes playfully, walking over to him. “Nobody is going to kill you! The party is at Liz’s house, and you’re Spiderman! Nobody can kill you.” For some reason, Peter face flushed pink when you mentioned Liz’s name.
But then he retorted. “Well, I’m not worried about our classmates. Or my enemies. I’m worried about… Mr Stark.” Peter said this almost worriedly, looking around, eyes locking onto his suit, which he grabbed, throwing it up into his attic.
Doubling over in laughter at his expression, you shakily walked over to your bed, jumping on it. “Why- why would you be afraid of my dad?!”
“Well, he specifically said you aren’t allowed to go to parties, but you want me to go with you to one of the biggest parties of the year.”
“Okay, well… that’s the reason you are coming with me. My dad said, and I quote. If one, just one, smart person attends that party, then you are allowed to go. And that’s where you come in. You are the ‘smart person!”
Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, obviously relieved. “Uh, I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
“Oh, I know. But we are Starks. We never mean what we say.”, you say, backhandedly. “So, are you in?”
“Y/N, you know I love you, but…”
“Peter. I’m so sorry I have to do this, but… I’m going to have to use the best friend card.”
Peter gasped, looking at you in shock. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, come on, I can’t go to the party alone!” you exclaim, jumping on the bed.
“Why can’t you go alone?”
“Why don’t you like parties?” you shoot back, turning to look at him, admiring the small clusters of freckles that adorn his face.
“I-I like parties. Just not Liz Allen’s parties.”
“Oh really?” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows, “that’s not what I heard when you and Ned went to her party in Freshmen year.”
“That… was different.”
Smiling victoriously, you let out a giggle. “Sure it wassss” He turned bright red again, turning away from you. You felt a pang in your heart, wondering why he was acting strange. “Wait, Peter, do you still like her?” You asked this, feeling your stomach sink down.
He flipped around so quickly; you. were sure he could’ve broken something. “No, NO, not at all.”
You squinted, trying to figure out what was wrong, but gave it up, vowing to figure it out later. “Alright, so will you come with me to the party?”
Peter looked at me, breaking into a grin. “Of course, I shall accompany you to the party, m’lady.”
“Well, thank you so much, my good man.”, you said in a horrible British accent. He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling as he glowed in the evening light. And as the two of you laughed, falling back into the bed, you wondered if you should tell Peter that you liked him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Soon, the day of the party arrived, and you honestly couldn’t wait for it. You bought a short dark blue dress, pairing it with some golden accessories and a pair of sneakers. Slipping them on, you headed into the driveway, making sure no one was around before activating your suit, flying off the ground and to Peter’s house. As you arrived, you knocked on the door, shifting from side to side, worried if you had worn too much for a casual party, but you were pleasantly surprised to see Peter dressed up nicely, dark blue jeans and a white shirt, a comfy sweater hanging off his shoulders.
“Woah,” Peter said, looking at you with adoration in his eyes, “you look amazing Y/N!”
You blushed, looking down. “Thanks, Pete, you look great as well.” Peter became red at your comment, not saying anything but holding his arm out to you instead. Looping your elbow through his, you went down to the car where May was going to take you to Liz’s house.
Arriving there, the music was blaring loud, the clinks of glass bottles in the air, while about 50 students and friends stood around the vast house, chatting and drinking.
“Hey guys!” Liz greeted, smiling warmly at us. “Come on in. We have drinks and snacks at the pool, DJ in the living room and a game of truth or dare upstairs.”
“Let’s do truth or dare”, you said, looking at Peter to see if it was alright. He nodded, letting Liz lead the way. Walking upstairs, we came into a guest bedroom, where about ten,eople were sitting in a circle, looking totally wasted.
“Is there alcohol?”, you asked, worried.
Liz laughed. “No no, they just all gotta act drunk. Gave them the dare.”
“Ah alright.” Peter said, glancing at me. Going over, you sat down, seated between Flash and Peter.
“Heyy Penis Parker. Hey there Stark.” He said, spitting out Peter’s fun nickname, but said yours flirtatiously. Almost glaring at him, you muttered back.
“Hello, Flash. What horrible thing are you doing on this evening?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just wondering why you walked in with Penis Parker here and not someone who can actually handle you. And your wealth and fame.”
Scoffing, you turn towards Peter, whose face is almost red with fury. You could see him clenching his fists, which he rarely does. You knew he was minutes away from punching Flash, but you didn’t want to make a whole scene, so you did something you never would have thought to do.
You grabbed Peter’s hand and kissed the back of it, leaning into him. You felt him tense behind you, breathing heavily. “Well Flash, who else would I come with if not the guy I have a crush on? Only seems fair rather than someone who makes a fool out of your best friend.”
Flash’s eyes went wide, looking between Peter and you, but then he cackled. Yeah, you said cackled. It’s what it sounds like. He doubled over, hitting his knee. “No way. I love this. Y/N Stark making Peter Parker, an intern of her multi-billion dollar father, and pretending to date him! There is no way in hell Penis Parker could get someone like you.” Flash said this maliciously, glaring at Peter.
You felt Peter lose his crip on you, taking in a sharp intake of air. “He’s right”, Peter whispered softly into your ear, his voice shaky and choked.
“Peter no!”, but it was too late. He stood up, walking out of the room at lightning speed. You glared at Flash but didn’t wait around, instead of running to find Peter. You ran to the stairs, where you saw him ask MJ where Liz was. Confused why he might want to talk to Liz, you walked down the stairs, staying out of his sights for the moment. You followed him as he walked into Liz’s room, leaving the door ajar. Tiptoeing to stand outside the room, you leaned against the wall, trying to make out what Peter was saying to Liz.
Peter’s POV
I ran down the stairs, quickly asking MJ where Liz was. I could hear someone’s heartbeat loud and clear, but I just assumed that it was my own. Ugh, I hate Flash. But it’s not like he was wrong. Y/N wouldn’t ever like me. She was just being a good friend by sticking up for me to a guy I should’ve beaten up long ago. I could feel my teeth grit together as I walked to Liz’s bedroom, knocking.
“Hey Peter, what’s wrong?”
I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand. Explaining to her what happened, she sat me down on the bed, rubbing my back. I could see the fury in her eyes when I told her about Flash.
“I have half a mind to go out and kick him out of my house.”
“It’s fine. But how do I tell her?”
Liz thought for a moment, and then lowered her voice down a bit, quickly glancing over to the door. Scruching my eyebrows, I wondered why she was now whispering but went along with it.
“Why don’t you pretend I’m Y/N. Tell her how you feel. Trust me, she will say yes.”
“Uh okay”, I said, not having too much of a problem, since I had this infront of the mirror dozens of times. “Hey-y. I just wanted to tell you something. I really really like you!”
“Louder”, Liz said, looking at me then at the door.
“Um, I really like you. Well, not just like. I literally love you. I love the way that you are sweet and charming, but also hard and firm. You look like a goddess, whether you are working out or going out in the city. Whenever you come over next to me, my senses go crazy because I am just so in love with you. I know you probably don’t think of me this way, but I had to get it off my chest.”
I finished rambling, when I saw Liz’s wide eyes. “Why? Was that too much?” I was worried, standing up quick.
Liz saw my expression, shaking her head hard. “No no, you’re good. But you gotta come with me right now. I-um know a way to get you and Y/N to like each other by the end of today”
Grabbing my hand, she pulled me up, pulling me quickly through the crowd, into a small closet at the end of the hall. “Okay, wait here”, she said, running off. I stood there, bouncing from side to side, wondering what Liz was doing. But I got my answer quite quickly when she ran back, basically pulling Y/N. “Come here!”, she said, pushing her to me.
“Okay, guys. I hope you two don’t hate me but this has to be done”, was all Liz said before she threw open the door behind us, pushing us both in with shocking strength and closing us in darkness. I reached to open the door but found it locked.
Y/N’s POV
Peter looked at the door, then glanced back at me. “It’s locked”, he said simply, scratching his neck, something he did when he was nervous.
“No shit sherlock. But did you forget, you are Spiderman? Just break it.”
He shook his head, mumbling something about not wanting to break Liz’s stuff. You rolled your eyes, sighing. You rummaged through your pocket, finding a small hairpin. Pushing him aside, you jammed it in, nudging it around until you heard a little click.
“There, it’s now open”, you said sarcastically, leaning back.
“Woah, I’ve never seen you do that!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t usually break open locks, do I?”
Peter picked up on your attitude, leaning back as well, sitting on the floor, making me look at him expectantly.
“Why don’t you just go back to your girlfriend?” you said bitterly, turning away from Peter. He scrunched his eyebrows, confused.
“What girlfriend?” he asked, trying to make space in the small closet.
“Liz. I heard you telling her how much you loved her earlier. An entire freaking speech if I remember correctly.”
He looked confused until his eyes lit up in recognition. “Wait-you thought, what- me and Liz, huh?”
“Yeah, aren’t you and Liz together? Or did she turn you down?”
Peter chuckled, eyes softening as he looked at me. “I don’t love Liz. I don’t even like her. What you heard earlier was Liz helping me out. Practising if you might.”
“Who was Liz pretending to be?”, you asked, disappointed.
“Well, she is smart, kind, badass and absolutely ethereal. She has such a strong spirit and is great at bringing people up. I have loved her for three years. Which, ironically, is how much time we have been best friends. By the way, her dad’s also Tony Stark”, Peter says this, coming closer to you, one hand coming up to hold your cheek gingerly. Searching in your eyes for confirmation, he leaned closer slowly, giving you enough time if you wanted to move away, but you didn’t, instead of moving up the last few inches and making your lips collide with his.
Time stopped as you pressed your lips together, hand finding its way to his curls, roughly holding on to them, while Peter held your waist, not wanting to let you go. You could’ve kissed Peter forever, but the need for oxygen became too much.
Pulling away from Peter, you rested your forehead on his, smiling contently. “I love you”, Peter whispered, cupping your face lightly, holding you at arm’s length.
Giving a small laugh at his nervousness, you kissed him softly, feeling him relax against you. “I love you too, Peter Parker.”
Peter grinned back at me with his signature smile, but the moment ended when we heard a loud bang from outside. “What the hell?” you exclaimed, running to the door; Peter following your footsteps. You could see Peter from the corner of your eye pull his shirt back slightly, revealing a pair of web-shooters he had underneath. Pushing a hand inside your pocket, you could feel the silver ring you carried with you. Slipping it on, you held your thumb over it, waiting for the moment to activate your suit. But when you and Peter burst outside, hands up to fight, you saw your dad, pacing the area, right now talking to a very scared looking Flash.
“Where is my daughter? You have one minute until I blast you off the face of this planet. And trust me when I say it, because bitch please, I’ve been to space.”
Covering your mouth with your hand to stifle your laughter, you walked closer, coming up behind your dad. “I think I might know where your daughter is”, you say in a solemn voice.
Tony whirled around quickly, looking you up and down. Pulling me into a hug for a second, he let go as soon as he did, holding you at arm’s length. “Why the heck are you at this party?!” he asked firmly.
“Well, dear father, you did say that at least one smart person had to be at this party, and that’s why,” you moved out of your dad’s grip, pushing Peter forward, “he is here.”
Peter came forward awkwardly, waving at Tony. “Hey, Mr Stark. How are you and Ms Potts?”
Tony nodded at Peter, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “We’re fine, Underoos. How are you and my daughter? You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”
Peter spluttered, mumbling at your dad. “N-n,o of course not Mr Stark. I-I respect and lo-love your daughter very much. We just kissed for a bit- and I mean, it felt terrific- wait, that’s not why I’m with her. I’m not wi-with her for her beauty. I mean-she i-is beautiful, but I don’t want that. Wait-uh-”
Giggling at what Peter was saying, you threaded your fingers through his own, squeezing them to give him some strength and to tell him to shut up before he said anything else. Tony sighed, giving an ‘I’m too old for this shit’ face.
“Okay, thank you for telling me about your love life, kiddo, but I’d rather not hear it. Both of you, meet me in the car. We can stay at the compound today, and I’ll tell Happy to text May.”
Tony turned around, walking to the car, while you and Peter stood there in shock. “Do you think he’ll let us sleep in the same room?” you asked Peter, nudging him playfully.
“NO”, your dad shouted from across the street, turning to look back at Peter, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ sign. Peter visibly gulped from beside you, making you chuckle.
“Hey! Peter, Y/N!” Liz called out, running from inside the house. “I saw your dad. Are you heading home?”
Nodding defeatedly, you confirmed it. She smiled lightly before telling us to wait here, running back in. In a minute, she ran back out, a small bag in each hand. “Here, a small return gift.”
“Aw, thanks, Liz!” Peter said, smiling at her.
She smirked. “You’ll like it even better when you find out what I put in yours, Peter. For a fact, both of you can use it.” She winked at us, making me worried.
“Wait, you what did you-”
“Face masks. Get your mind out of the gutter Y/N”, Liz said, laughing. Peter scoffed from beside me, laughing as well.
“Anyway, gotta go, Liz. See you at school.” Hugging the girl goodbye, you and Peter made your way to the car.
“That was nice of Liz”, Peter commented, looking up at the stars.
“Yeah, but I got my party favour”, you said simply, putting your hand in Peter’s, pulling him down to give him one sweet kiss under the night sky.
“HEY HEY HEY, NO KISSING INFRONT OF ME!” Tony yelled from the car.
“Wait, how did Mr Stark know we're together?”
“YOUR SUIT OBVIOUSLY!”, Tony yelled, getting the car upfront.
Peter groaned, banging his head against the window. “I knew it!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thanks for reading this, guys! Hope you enjoyed this small fic. I loved writing it, plus it’s one of my longest ones, so expect more one-shots like this. See you till the next one!
#peter parker x reader imagine#peter parker fluff#peter parker x bestfriend reader#peter parker#confessions#tony stark#stark reader#avenger reader#smut#peter parker fluff#angst#peter parker smut#angst with a Happy ending#may#liz allen
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Chuck Fic Rec List: Updated
So my fic rec post was in my notifs again the other day, and I noticed a while back that the formatting on the post has gotten all messed up and it’s also had like three reblog additions to it anyway meaning there are three versions out there lol. so, I wanted to do another list of chuck fic recs! I’ll keep the other one up still, so I’m not gonna repeat every fic here, just some I really recommend. I’m also adding the fic summaries, which I didn’t on the old post, and some more of my own opinions so, buckle up for a long post!
Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles | Steampunk.Chuckster
1896. A world powered by steam, where humans and machines coexist, and airships are the fashionable mode of transport. The US Empire's deepest and darkest secrets arrive at Chuck Bartowski's doorstep. Have they fallen into the wrong hands? Or will the inventor prove his mettle, even while he's forced to hide from the very people he's protecting? AU, ongoing chronicle, Charah.
A genuinely incredible AU story, with an entire crafted world and universe, so detailed it frequently blows my mind. There is heart and family and infuriatingly brilliant slow-burn, plus a buttload of danger and super fun historical/steampunk action. Oh how I LOVE it.
Chuck vs the Charade | somedeepmystery
When computer nerd Chuck Bartowski returns home to an empty apartment and a dead girlfriend he finds himself embroiled in a deadly game of espionage and deceit. Everyone around him is playing a part to get what they want and when he starts falling for the new woman in his life, he can't help but wonder if he can trust her or if she's the one he should fear the most.
An action and twist-filled AU based on the movie Charade, which is just such a brilliant fic concept I absolutely adored it from the start.
Two Sides of the Same Coin | dettiot
When you're a spy, there's all kinds of occupational hazards when you work with another spy. For Sarah Walker, though, one mission becomes a life-changing experience. Because working with Charles Carmichael leads to protecting Chuck Bartowski.
The first time I read this fic my mind was just blown to its genius. Such a brilliant interpretation of what the Intersect and its concepts set up in the show could be, and ooooof the Chuck/Sarah interactions, my HEART. Related to it, its companion piece:
A Flip of the Coin | dettiot
What made Charles Carmichael agree to become Chuck Bartowski? Well, to start, it wasn't as much of a change as you'd think. A companion to the early chapters of Two Sides of the Same Coin from Carmichael's perspective.
Chuck vs The Butterfly Effect | n7agentbartowski
Chuck Bartowski is a normal guy who just hit rock bottom. No girlfriend, no career and no super computer stuck inside his head. It isn't until Chuck meets a gorgeous stranger on the beach that he begins to think his life is about to change for the better. An AU Chuck fic without the Intersect. "Change one thing and it changes everything."
I said it on the OG post, but this story has one of my top 5 Chuck/Sarah fic meetings. So funny, so... very Chuck. The story is a little angsty overall, but a great read.
Chuck vs the Rogue Spy | Crumby
When a rogue spy from Chuck Bartowski's past shows up to help him during his first solo mission, Chuck hopes that he'll finally find out what happened to Sarah Walker. Post-S2 AU.
There’s a lot of Season 3 fix-it fics out there, which I don’t usually read bc I actually love season 3 lol, but this one’s a good one! A twisty deviation from canon, but still feels really true to character.
Chuck Versus the Nerds Rewrite | Steampunk.Chuckster and David Carner
What happens when two nerds talk endless hours about their favorite TV show? A new take on the show you know, but with the flair, twists, and turns you've come to expect from Steampunk . Chuckster and david . carner. Somewhat canon. Charah.
As the summary says, a different take on the show, which honestly makes a couple changes I would too, but also adds a bunch of fun twists and plots that make it totally new and fresh. Seeing Chuck and Sarah’s thoughts in the more canon sections is just delicious, too.
The Trapped Assassin | SarahsSupplyCloset
After a mission goes awry, the CIA's most lethal assassin is ordered to take vacation while her superiors figure out what to do with her. But when she meets a disarming tourist, their immediate connection only adds to her disillusionment with the agency and her career. Will he be enough for her to finally take the plunge and leave the only life she's ever known? Charah AU
A warning for the very justified M rating if you don’t like that sort of thing, but this is definitely a plot-heavy fic, too. A really neat Sarah-heavy AU, with a whole lotta Chuck/Sarah fancy French vacationy goodness.
Chuck vs the Second Chance | malamoo
AU from mid-season 2 and onwards. Chuck and Sarah part ways only to be reunited years later. COMPLETE.
Literal, crying-at-my-screen angst. Not even a super happy ending. But a brilliantly written, part-reflective/flashback fic, exploring what would’ve happened if Chuck and Sarah’s relationship really was an assignment all along-- and the aftermath. It’s heartbreaking. But if you want a little heartbreak, this is your fic.
Ready at Your Hand | dettiot
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a Catholic plot against the queen comes to the attention of spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham. To protect Elizabeth, he develops an unusual plan: hide the passing of intelligence between two agents by a false romance. When Lady Sarah Walker and Chuck Carmichael meet, though, their pretend flirtation becomes much more.
I love Chuck fic for the very reason that it’s inspired such adventurous and totally unique AUs. Here’s some Elizabethan fake-dating Chuck and Sarah! They have to be so Proper, it’s like that hand moment from Pride and Prejudice but Elizabethan and times a billion. The pining!!
Sarah Versus Getting Married | Steampunk.Chuckster
Sarah Walker is getting married. Canon. Charah.
I’d recommend all of SC’s fics if I had the room, and I’m already recommending a ton sksks but most of my fic recs are AUs, and this one isn’t! It’s canon, and covers some of in the gap in 4x24, with Sarah just before the wedding itself. Super sweet, heart-tugging, brilliant.
A Chuckmas Carol | Mikki13
A new twist to Dickens' beloved "A Christmas Carol". When Sarah begins to shut out the world around her, three spirits come to show her the error of her ways. Season 3 AU.
Another Season 3 AU, this one written pre-series so it definitely doesn’t fit to canon, but it’s still wonderfully rich in character depth and angst and it also made me cry. Plus, festive!
Chuck Versus Thin Ice | Steampunk.Chuckster
On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another. Charah AU.
Do you like curling? Or the Winter Olympics? It doesn’t really matter because somehow this fic made me extremely invested in both of those things, as well as Chuck and Sarah and them being INSUFFERABLE. Catch me now knowing a ton about curling thanks to this fic.
Walker’s Eleven | Moonlight Pilot
Not the same plot as the movie. Sarah Walker never got out of the con game or became a spy, and now she's on her final con. What happens when true love and betrayal get added to the mix? Twists, turns, and Jeffster!
Con!Sarah always interests me, and this fic is full of her. Lotta con plot, lotta Chuck and Sarah.
The Detective and the Tech Guy | thecharleses
Sarah Walker is a Pinkerton detective. Chuck Bartowski is an electronics genius. They wouldn't have met except for a case of mistaken identity and murder. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man film series. Formerly co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot, now ONLY Steampunk . Chuckster.
Everyone in this fic is so damn cool. There are so many martinis. But also great heart and family and like, standing up for who you love, and later also Chuck with Baby Clara content which frankly the show robbed us of. Also, PI!Sarah!!!
Gravity | Poetic4U
AU. Sarah makes a decision that altered her life forever.
This is just a one-shot, which many of these stories are not, so a good one if you don’t fancy a big read! Just because it’s short, though, doesn’t mean it’s lacking; a really awesome what-if AU, and heavy on the Chuck and Sarah.
A Yuletie Tale | Steampunk.Chuckster
Sarah Walker was dumped the day before Christmas Eve, and her Plus One at her work’s annual Christmas Eve Soiree is now officially a Plus Zero. Her best friend Ellie Bartowski has a solution to her problem, and Sarah finds she isn’t quite as sure about it as Ellie is. AU Christmas Charah.
I’m particularly in love with this fic because, instead of beginning with a meet-cute, it involves Chuck and Sarah already two years into a friendship-- Sarah is Ellie’s best friend. And she’s been crushing harrrd on Ellie’s brother. Also Chuck is in a tux. It’s pretty.
Set, Spike, Dive! | Frea O’Scanlin
Chuck never expected to even make it to the Olympics. Everything is working against him: he's too tall for a diver, too inexperienced for a medal, too much of a wildcard to really make his mark. But an unexpected meeting at the airport, some intriguing new friends, and a whirlwind romance on the sand just might set up London 2012 as the time of Chuck Bartowski's life.
A London 2012 AU, because why not. This is just a fun Olympic-y ride!
OTP (One True Pairing) Prompts | David Carner
A series of Prompts I found online about different times and places in Chuck and Sarah's life. Mostly AU, mostly one-shots. I assume mostly fluff, but I might get deep. I doubt it, it's me. Charah...ALWAYS (It says complete, but if an idea strikes me...)
If you’re not so into long stories, this fic is perfect. Individual set-ups and stories, all Chuck and Sarah, and all super cute. You could dip in and out and just pick a scenario you enjoy.
Chuck vs The Frontier | ninjaVanish
AU: Chuck was enjoying a simple life as a 19th century watchmaker until an encounter with a beautiful Secret Service agent thrust him into a world of intrigue and adventure he never wanted. But then, with Agent Walker around, it can't be all bad, can it?
This fic gets props for being historically-set but still including the Intersect. Again, a historical AU, so the pining!! the need to be Proper!!! But besides all that, there’s a lot of action fun as well.
Chuck Versus The Crosswalk: Remastered | WvonB
Will a last minute mission help our two favorite characters finally get together? This is the remastered version of my first story.
The original version of this fic is on my first list; this is the updated version! It’s not a complete AU, instead a story that diverges from canon, so if you’re more into canon characters and setting than a new AU scenario, this is a great fic for that.
Little Girls, Paper Wreaths, and Choc Chip Cookies | DanaPAH
Very AU: Sarah Walker is a single mother whose Christmas spirit needs a boost after a tough divorce. She isn't quite ready to go looking for romance, but her little daughter's affection for their new neighbor may lure it right to her doorstep, anyway.
An incredibly sweet AU one-shot where Chuck and Sarah are new neighbours, and Sarah has a super cute little girl. So much sweetness and love and hope. I love this fic so much it literally led me to write my own neighbour-kid-AU, so, not to toot my own horn but I’ll link it here anyway.
May Your Walls Know Joy | halfachance
Looking for a fresh start after some tough times, Sarah and her three-year-old daughter move to LA. When they meet a sweet curly-haired nerd who lives next door, though, Sarah realizes they might just find more happiness than they'd ever imagined, if only her past doesn't catch up to her first. AU.
It’s what the summary says; if you wanna read, feel free!
Chuck vs the Sound of Music | quistie64
AU. Chuck, nerd extraordinaire, is a man with seven children and Sarah must protect them all from Fulcrum's evil designs. Warning: there will be singing.
I mean. Not much mystery as to the concept with that title and summary lol, but this is a super fun, soft ride with a lotta sweetness, and yes, singing.
Just Two People | David Carner
Meet Sarah Walker PhD, Psychologist, specializing in personality traits. Meet Chuck Bartowski, man who has left THE electronic company of 2020. When Burton Consultants tries to figure out what is wrong with the morale of Orion Industries, what happens when a guy named Chuck meets a woman named Sarah. I'll give you a hint, it's me writing.
David’s done something pretty special with this fic. It’s Chuck and Sarah centric, but very much an ensemble piece, too, with a lot of Team Bartowski and other familiar faces throughout.
Chuck Versus the Con Game | Steampunk.Chuckster
AU. Chuck and Sarah are partners in the con game. It's an existence wrought with danger and violence. Every day could be their last. Every mission could be the end of the line.
This is where I freak out SC and declare this fic the reason I ever got hooked on Chuck fic and then wrote Chuck fic, and the reason I still love it today but. that is true lol. Just so. so good. It’s also written with the chapters out of chronological order, which is super fun from a reading perspective. But con!Sarah AND con!Chuck?? Best. The kind of fic you will be thinking about for days (if not, y’know, years).
As you can tell by the repeats, I highly recommend just about anything by Steampunk.Chuckster, dettiot, or David Carner, but there are a TON of amazing Chuck fics and authors out there. I’ve never known a writing community so wildly creative-- there are so many unique AUs and canon explorations and story concepts that this show has manifested, and it’s all so much fun.
Most of the Chuck fic community is still over on FFN rather than AO3, so if any of these whet your appetite, feel free to have a browse there for more stories. I’m sure you’ll find something great. Personally, all the incredible writing there has also led me to write a buttload; I’m at halfachance on FFN, so if you see any of my stuff or wanna chat fic, feel free to message me there or here.
Happy reading, folks!
#chuck#fic rec#chuck fic#nbcchuck#praying if i edit this to add to it or i reblog it to add to it all the links stay and the line breaks don't disappear sksks#the old one still looks okay on desktop but it's messed up on the app and on mobile and it's just all generally messy#so i've been wanting to make this for aaages lol yay to finally doing something! woo!
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Kaceeyyyy, I turned 21 today and am *sightly* tipsy after my quarantine solo party. I'm keep imagining Lambert trying to take care of a lightweight S.O. and it's 😂 Would you be up to a drabble or headcanon? no pressure tho bc I know you're busy and haven't been able to write as much. (Also sorry if this prompt makes you uncomfortable or anything as well) Either way I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BLOG AND YOU'RE MY FAVORITEST WITCHER WRITER ACROSS ALL 7 SEAS!!! NETFLIX SHOULD HIRE YOU BC YOU'D DO OUR PUPPIES PROUD!
A/N: Oh babe!! You are too sweet!! Seeing you say that really made my day! I hope you like this and HAPPY BIRTHDAY FELLOW 2000s BABY also I think I may have accidentally started writing drunk!Geralt as Thor sometime through this so..... I apologize if this seems out of character for Geralt....
***
“HA! I WIN!” You declared, laughing as you stood up and reached across the table to take the small pile of coin from Geralt.
“I don’t think that-think that was very fair of you, Y/N.” The White Wolf’s words slurred as he looked down into his tankard to see how much liquor he had left. “Think you cheated.”
“How did I cheat?” You furrowed your brows, still pulling the pile of coin to your side of the table.
“Because I can’t even…. I can’t even see what cards I’ve got.” He shook his head, setting the remaining gwent cards in his hand down onto the table. “I can’t read the cards right now.”
You broke out into laughter again, throwing your head back.
Geralt reached over for the bottle of White Gull at the end of the table, but his depth perception wasn’t the greatest. He ended up knocking the bottle off into the floor. It shattered into a billion pieces, sending the witcher into a fit of laughter himself.
The door to the library opened and Eskel and Lambert stepped in. They stayed there for a moment, surveying the scene. There were numerous bottles spread on the tables throughout the library. The table you sat at with Geralt was covered in Gwent cards and coin. You were hunched over on the bench, laughing rather loudly while Geralt had his head thrown back while he laughed.
“I hope Y/N didn’t drink even half of the bottles in here.” Eskel thought out loud, picking up one of the empty bottles.
“They wouldn’t be conscious if they had.” Lambert shook his head. “Can’t drink for shit.”
“Lamb- hick -bert!” You exclaimed his name, breaking it up with a hiccup. Your face lit up at the sight of the young witcher. You quickly stood up from your seat and tried to get to him, but you moved too fast and the room spun. You giggled, reaching out to steady yourself on his arm but he was too far away.
“Easy there, bug.” Lambert moved to your side before you could stumble or fall.
You grabbed ahold of his arms, leaning into him without any care in the world. Luckily, he was sturdy and strong enough to hold your weight.
“Did you have fun while I was gone?” Lambert put his hands on to your hips to steady you.
“Yes! Of course!” You turned your head to look at Geralt. He was starting to stand up from the bench but the toe of his boot got caught on the bench and he went flying to the floor. You barked out a laugh, jumping up and down as you pointed at him. “Geralt! Geralt of Rivia! Has finally met his match!”
“Ha, ha!” Geralt laughed, turning over onto his side. “No bench can defeat me.”
“I believe it, big guy.” Eskel offer his hand to his brother.
“How much did you drink, bug?” Lambert asked you.
“All of it!”
“You barely had half a bottle of Gull!” Geralt pointed at you accusingly. “That’s where you cheated! You got me drunk! Got me drunk and-and you played Gwent with me! Stole all my coin!”
“Good job, bug.” Lambert praised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You hummed, leaning into his touch. Your skin was warm and tingly, and where he kissed you seemed especially tingly.
You didn’t realize you were leaning awkwardly into him until you lost your balance and practically fell into him.
“Easy there, bug.” He kept his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you to bed. Eskel, can you get dumbass over there to his room?”
“I think I can manage.” Eskel nodded.
“Tomorrow, I want a rematch!” Geralt told you.
You opened your mouth to say something back but all that came out was a rather loud burp. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth. Your widened eyes found Lambert, who looked rather impressed.
“Oh gods. That wasn’t very mannerly of me.”
“Don’t worry, bug. I’ve heard you make worse sounds. Come on.” He patted your side and began to guide you in the direction of the door.
Just as the two of you left the library, you gasped.
“Wait! My coin!” You stopped him, turning quickly to run back to the table.
“Easy! Easy! You’re going to trip and break your neck.” Lambert stopped you from getting very far. “I’ll go get it. You stay right here.”
You nodded and watched him slip back into the library.
You waited there for what felt like way too long. You decided to head to bed without him. He’d be able to just meet you there, right?
So you started down the hallway, giggling when you accidentally tripped because you were dragging your feet a little too much or when you bumped into the wall.
“Bug?” Lambert’s voice echoed from down the hall.
You started running as best as you could through the hall, using the wall as a guide since you couldn’t see very well.
“Bug, I can hear you. Where the hell are you going?”
“I’m racin’ you to bed!”
“Well, you’re going the wrong way.”
You tried to stop but you couldn’t get your feet to slow down in time. You ended up running straight into a wall. You yelped as you fell back on your ass, holding your nose.
“Lambert!”
He sighed as he approached you, shaking his head. His eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting in the hallway, therefore giving him the ability to see you.
“Lambert! I-I broke my nose!”
“You didn’t break your nose, bug.” He knelt down beside you and reached down to pull your hands away from your face. “You’re just bleeding a little.”
“How do you know? You didn’t even look!”
“I didn’t hear the crunch of bones breaking.”
You gagged at the thought.
“Come on, bug. You need to get to bed. Sleep off the alcohol in your system.” Lambert stood up, looking down at you.
“Carry me, love!” You held your arms open for him. “My legs broke!”
He rolled his eyes, running a hand over his face.
“You’re lucky I like you.” He scooped you up into his arms and began to trek to his room.
“You like me?” You looked up at him with furrowed brows. “Do you really?”
Lambert wanted to drop you right there and make you find your own way to bed.
“Bug, we’ve been together for six years. I think it’s safe to say I love you at this point.”
You giggled, reaching up to brush your fingers over his cheek.
“Love you too, handsome.”
He turned his head and pretended to bite at your fingertips, making you giggle and laugh even more.
When you arrived at his room, he tossed you down onto the bed. You broke out into laughter, rolling onto your side.
Lambert pulled off your boots and put them on the floor by the bed.
“I’ll be right back, bug.” He disappeared for a few moments to retrieve a damp cloth to wipe your nose with. He was gentle as he wiped the blood from your nose.
You thanked him, watching him as he tossed the cloth towards the door.
“You wanna change your clothes, bug? Or you wanna just sleep in that?”
“I want you to get your ass up here and cuddle me, mister!” You pointed to the pillow by your head, trying to keep your tone serious but failing miserably. You covered your mouth with your hand and giggled.
“Don’t get that attitude with me, bug.” Lambert kicked off his own boots and got into bed. “I’ll kick your ass.”
“I’d like to see you try.” You challenged, scooting closer to him. You forced your knee between his thighs, which made him yelp and jump.
“The hell are you doin’, bug!”
“Tryin’ to get comfy, Lambert!” You whined, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.
“Be careful where your shoving your body parts.” He grumbled.
You slipped your arms around him and held him tightly. He buried his nose in your hair and closed his eyes.
“Night, bug.”
You burped and giggled.
“Good night, Lambert.”
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