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luna-andra · 2 months

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The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 5: Apologies

Summary: Ghost has to make up for lost time somehow, and figure out what the hell is going on in his backwater village

Author's Note: Already working on chapter 6, this story is starting to ramp up!

Content warning: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+ only, fluff, mentions of mental health

If this is the first time you're seeing this, Chapter 1 is here. You can find the rest on my masterlist!

Word count: 5.8k

Johnny only caught the tail end of their conversation. Andra sounded pissed. Oh yeah, she really gave the door something to fear with how hard it slammed. Johnny turned to Simon’s direction, “What happened?”

His glare could cut a man. “Nothing.”

Johnny went to open his mouth but said nothing. He came back to the front for something work related, and he really didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever went down between the two.

He knows Simon has been reclusive the past several days. Or has it been a few weeks now? Either way, this was feeling like one of his inevitable episodes. The kind that makes him shut everyone out, starting with the people less close to him. Johnny gauged it that way, and he knew if it came down to Simon shunning him out, then it’s getting bad.

Johnny put down the tablet on the countertop beside Simon’s arm. “Thomas completed the diagnostics on the red sedan, call ‘em for me will ya’?”

A comprehensive grunt was all the acknowledgement Johnny was going to get out of Simon right now. He pivoted on his foot and headed straight back into the garage. A minute later, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Thank you for helping me out these past few months.

Johnny’s lips fell into a thin line on his face. Does this message have anything to do with what went down in the lobby? He didn’t like how finite her words sounded, like she was bidding the both of them farewell out of her life.

Andra took a while to respond back to Johnny, giving him time to focus on the brake pad change he needed to finish up. He wiped his hands clean before picking up his phone.

Sort of.

Okay, yes.

I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep in contact with me now that everything is gonna go back to the way it was.

Johnny sighed, shaking his head softly as his fingers flew across the screen. You’re OUR friend now, you’re not getting rid of us that easily, lass. He made sure to put ‘our’ in big letters.

This would pass. Johnny knew that, Simon would come around once he’s had his fill of solitude, but Andra didn’t see it that way. Understandably so, she had every right to be upset. She’s given Simon a level of grace and patience that would only come from a caregiver. Johnny has noticed the way she would shake her head and sigh after reading the short, one-worded messages she would get from Simon, and to be frank, Johnny couldn’t excuse his best friend’s behavior any longer.

He could feel a pair of glaring eyes burning into the back of his neck from his supervisor, so Johnny shoved the phone back into his pocket and returned to work.

Simon was being a real prick.

-----

It was Andra’s first Sunday morning with her truck. After she picked it up from the shop, she drove it around for a few hours, having to blow off the irritation she felt after that interaction with Ghost.

It was running, alright. She made it drive out to a neighboring village and then back home. Even when she came home, the spurn of Ghost treating her that way kept nagging at her like a mosquito bite on the back of her neck. It shouldn’t have bothered her for days on end, but it did.

But today was Sunday, and Andra was determined to start the week off on a better note. Fixed truck, crop rotation was only a few weeks away from a new season, she had much to look forward to. Along with an empty seat at the stand.

She thought until a familiar truck drove up her driveway.

Andra finished tethering her trailer to her truck and went out to meet Johnny at the front. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Johnny shut the door and hit the lock button on the key fob, setting off the short chirp of the horn. “What does it look like? You didn’t think I was gonna stop comin’ just because you got your truck back, did you?” He clicked his teeth and shook his head with faux disappointment and a smirk. “Besides, I like havin’ more money in my pocket from not goin’ out to the pub to drink it away, our Sunday mornings have been keepin’ me sober.”

She couldn’t help the smile escaping her. “That’s good to hear. I’m almost done loading everything, just help me with the table and chairs.”

“You got it.”

Autumn never fails to bring the gloomy overcast for majority of the season. And with the temperatures dropping enough, it allowed for Ghost to wear a light hoodie to keep the misty sprinkles of rain off of him. He tried to ignore the out-of-place energy that worked hard to veil over him. It was one thing to wear the mask in the shop, or when he was at least around Johnny, but going to the farmer’s market made him feel severely out of place.

He took one more second before grabbing the paper-wrapped parcel and left his truck, then followed the sporadic groups of people heading towards the vending stalls.

To think he had driven past this parking lot several times on Sundays and never thought to shop here. Ghost didn’t even like doing his own grocery shopping, that’s why he spends so much money on grocery deliveries. And purchasing anything else felt like a waste on him, unless it was ammunition and new guns.

As he neared the rows and rows of stalls, the chatter of customers and sellers became coherent. If people were looking at him, he paid no attention to the curious and apprehensive eyes. He was looking for Andra, gripping the now faintly damp parcel a little tighter. After wandering through the second row, Ghost spotted the forest green truck chockfull of crates of vegetables, parked in reverse and the tailgate open to the little figure with chestnut brown hair, loosely curled.

Her hair has grown.

That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for a while, Ghost sniped at himself.

He rounded the corner and strode closer to her stall, customers in his path giving him a wide berth, and caught sight of her lost in concentration as she packaged a customer’s brown paper bag. Her warm smile of farewell did something to his stomach. It was his turn to approach her.

Andra lifted her head long enough to see him, and her face relaxed from the smile she had. “Hi, stranger.”

Whatever he had prepared to tell her, it went off like a land mine and left him with nothing. There was a passive-aggressive tone in her voice, not that he blamed her. He basically cut her off with nothing to justify as to why. Guess this was part of seeking forgiveness.

“Surprised to see you here.” She kept prepping more brown bags as she waited for his response. “Or were you looking for Johnny?”

“No, he’s probably trying to slip out of his date’s bed.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “So you knew about his date with the girl from the chip shop, too? Glad to know he didn’t get the cutoff I did.”

His eyes looked down at her moving hands. “I deserved that.”

Andra stopped concentrating on the bags and rested a hand on her hip the way a fed-up mother would. “You deserve a lot of things, Ghost, but I don’t have it in me to be cruel.” Her eyes caught a glimpse of what Ghost was clutching to before she looked back down. “Found something you like at one of the vendors?”

“Actually,” his hand placed the wrapped parcel onto the table and slid it towards Andra. “It’s for you.”

Andra's expression shifted to curiosity. “Is it some kind of peace offering?” She picked up the rectangular parcel, probably knew what it already was given the shape and the weight of it.

“You could say that.” Ghost watched with apprehension as she meticulously peeled back the wrapping, sliding out what she discovered was a hardback cover of the next book in the series she was reading.

Her eyebrows relaxed; a softness overwhelmed her eyes. “You got your hands on a hardback?” she tilted the book to see the pages. “With the sprayed edge?” Her fingers traced the pattern of sigils and swirls decorating the pages. “This is a special edition…” Andra looked back up to him, her expression had his insides tangling. “I haven’t even seen one of these.”

Ghost didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they stayed by his side clenching and relaxing over and over. “The cranky, old stager that runs Raven & Crow helped me get my hands on it.” He wasn’t going to bring up how much of a pain in the ass the geezer was for him, nor was he going to bring up how the old man knew immediately who he was trying to get this for. He told Ghost a lovely young woman was coming in frequently looking for the sequel, but by the time she showed up, the one or two copies he ordered were gone. The payoff was well worth it.

Andra held the book to her chest like a schoolgirl clutching a textbook, tapping her index finger on its back. “I’ll have to think on your apology.” Ghost was about to nod when she gave him a smirk. “Okay I forgive you.”

His shoulders fell and he let out a gentle laugh. “That’s wonderful to hear.” There was a couple of people behind him that formed a line, agitated with how long they have been waiting. “I’ll let you get back to your business –“

“I have an hour here left,” Andra spoke up before he could move. “If you want, I have another chair that you can pull up. That’s if you don’t have anything else to do…”

Ghost stepped aside to let customers walk up. “I was going to find things to keep myself busy. I’ll help you bag, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be as useful as Johnny.”

Andra laughed hard at that. “You give him way too much credit.”

It had been years, more like decades by now, since Ghost had done any sort of grocery bagging. It brought him back to his first part-time job at the corner convenience store he had during his last few years of secondary school. The money always found its way into his mom’s wallet or purse when she wasn’t looking since she never accepted it from him directly. It was unfortunate when his dad got a hold of it, using it for booze and drugs instead of the water and heat bills. It was even more unfortunate when the old man ended up with a bloody nose for leaving them cold.

Ghost enjoyed watching Andra work in her element. This was her expertise, and everyone delighted in her energy. It even had Ghost grinning beneath his mask. There were a few patrons that gave Ghost double take looks as if they wanted to say something but didn’t.

He found himself scanning the faces of her patrons and passersby that took a glance at stalls here and there. Old faces, young faces, faces of children, faces shrouded by umbrellas or hooded jackets. And a face that he swore he’s seen more than once, coming around again and again in the time he decided to sit down with Andra beneath the canopy. The person’s behavior and body language made him tense.

Andra’s patient explanation about difference between the various species of squash and tomatoes pulled him away from the man that caught Ghost staring him down.

“The B grade-lookin’ veggies go in that crate,” Andra pointed behind her. “I take them for myself, or in this case I’m gonna take them to the ranch for the breeder’s animals.” There was excitement in her voice. “I’m gonna visit my new goats.”

His eyes went back to the spot the man last was, only to find someone else in his place buying from another vendor.

“I remember you saying something about them.” Ghost recalled, suddenly feeling shame since it was on the day she was picking up her truck. “Are you taking them home?”

Andra shook her head. “No, they have a few more weeks with their mama.”

Ghost looked at her with mild surprise. “There’s multiple?”

“Just two, they’re twins.” Andra said goodbye to the last customer for the day and started to pack up. “Would you like to come with me to meet them? Since it sounds like you have time in that busy schedule of yours.”

Ghost didn’t miss the nibble Andra took at her lower lip. “I can fit some time in.” He quipped back.

-----

The book looked like it belonged on her shelves. Andra grinned to herself as she angled it just the right way to stand out, giving the book its own moment of fame amongst her collection. A really smooth apology gift, in her opinion. Andra was simply happy that Ghost came back around.

Even though Ghost didn’t explain his sudden absence, Andra had a feeling that this was one of those times Johnny had warned her about. She just wasn’t prepared for how much it would impact her. At least he seems to be doing good; the bags underneath his eyes weren’t as dark as the last time she saw him.

Andra locked up the house with a happy Sammy in tow, letting her roam free off of a leash. She was bringing Sammy along to meet the new goats, part of the process of making sure the animals weren’t going to be a threat to each other and getting used to each other’s scents.

Ghost had transferred the crate of B-grade veggies to the bed of his truck on his own accord. Andra was about to ask when he started, “You mind if we take my truck?” He scratched the back of his masked head sheepishly. “I only ask because I got more leg room in mine…”

Andra held back a giggle as she approached the passenger door. “Not at all, as long as you’re okay with Sammy in the back.” He gave her a nod of the head, leading Sammy to the back of the opened tailgate and shutting it once she hopped up. “I’ll punch in the address in your Maps.” She slid in for what started to feel like an all-too familiar truck, and realized she didn’t have to adjust the seat like she’s done before. Andra tried hiding the grimace from the blossoming thought of another woman being in his truck.

She realized how ridiculous that was when he easily passed an open phone to her. Not even to his navigation app, but the home screen with the default earth background still on it. Before opening the navigator, she opened the camera and angled the phone to catch a shot of her and Ghost on the screen. “Hey.”

Ghost glanced in confusion, and blinked after he heard the sound of the fake camera shutter. He shook his head with a soft laugh and started the truck. “I trust you with my phone for the first time and you’re over there snappin’ pictures.”

Andra’s fingers tapped against the screen as she typed in the address. The navigator started and Andra placed the phone on the dock Ghost had set up on the dashboard. “Who told you it was a good idea to do that?”

Ghost shifted the truck’s gear to drive and made a U-turn to drive towards the shared road, the navigator chiming away its directions. The ETA displayed a twenty-minute drive, and Andra comfortably filled the silence with conversation.

He missed how magnetic her energy is, making his guilt come back with a vengeance. But listening to her talk about how business is going, how the truck has been running better than it was before, and how she was preparing for the winter season made all of that melt away.

If Andra wasn’t holding it against him, he needed to put it to rest.

“And what about you?” Andra turned to Ghost. “Anything interesting with you?”

Her sudden pivot to him threw him off. “No, just work.”

She sat up in her seat, her eyes still fixated on him. “Just work? You don’t have any hobbies, or places you like to go to mull things over?”

Ghost just shook his head. He didn’t really know what to say. Okay, that was a lie, but he didn’t want to go in depth with how he got too close to her, how her jasmine and vanilla scent wouldn’t leave him, the same way her scent was now filling the cabin of his truck once more. He didn’t want to explain how feeling her silky skin took days, weeks, to leave the calloused pads of his hands, and how it took all of his will to pull away from her.

Andra continued. “Or how about a night out at one of the pubs to find yourself a pretty lady to share the company with only to regret it in the morning?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not Johnny. And what about you?” He challenged. “Found a lad to take you out on the town?”

She laughed at that. “No, there’s no one coming to pick me up and bringing me back before eleven.”

Ghost’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little too hard. So, who’s black sedan was driving down the road then? His motion sensors had alerted him of a car he’s never seen before a few times throughout the time span they weren’t in contact with one another. He thought about looking up the license plate a few times, but let it go out of respect for Andra’s privacy.

That hesitation went right out the window with this new development brought to him.

Andra shifted in her seat, relaxing further into the drive. “I guess we’re alike in some ways.”

“How do you reckon?”

“Too busy focused with work to let anyone else into our lives.” There was a tone of sadness in her voice she was trying to hide. “But I have a feeling you’ve grown too comfortable with being alone.”

Ghost felt like she was peering into him, and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

Andra took a second to speak again. “Did you distance yourself from me because of…” she couldn’t finish her question, but she didn’t have to for Ghost to know what she was alluding to.

Every muscle in his body tensed, and his mouth went dry.

“Your destination is on the right.”

The navigator interrupted the tension between the two of them. Ghost turned into the gravel road, passing underneath the wrought iron gate that displayed Blue Crescent Ranch.

Ghost parked a distance away from the other vehicle on the property and killed the engine. Andra looked straight ahead as she murmured, “You don’t have to answer that, sorry I brought it up.” Before she could open the passenger door, Ghost reached across her and stopped her, his hand gripping hers.

Andra’s head twisted to face him, her honey eyes wide with question. Fuck, that look did things to him. “It wasn’t your fault.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie; he wouldn’t blame her for his self-destructive tendencies. “I needed some time alone.”

Her eyes darted back and forth, looking into his eyes as if she was trying to delve deeper into a place she shouldn’t be. But she nodded. “Okay.” That single word was charged with so much trust and understanding, it twisted his heart.

Ghost removed his hand from hers, pulling himself back from the extreme close proximity he had put them in. “Let’s go meet your goats.”

A smile returned to her lovely face. “Okay.”

Andra couldn’t say enough good things about Jasmine. She had met her at the farmer’s market – shocker – a few years ago and stayed in touch with her here and there after she had bought the chickens off of her. In truth, Andra wanted to be close friends with her, but both of their jobs kept them busy enough to not have any time to catch up very often.

Such was her life about all of the cool and wonderful people that have come and gone in the past years.

-----

A gorgeous, umber, brown-skinned Jasmine strolled out from her lovely cottage home to meet her guests, sporting fitted blue jeans and a long-sleeve plaid shirt and boots, her dark kinky hair wisping in the gentle breeze. Her jade green eyes crinkled with her smile as she went in for a warm hug, and Andra accepted her graciously, taking in her scent of orange and bergamot on her hair. “So good to see you again,” Jasmine greeted, her accent just as rich as Ghost’s.

She pulled away and acknowledged Sammy’s bubbly presence, giving her a good rub down and cooing praises. After the happy canine had her fill, she found Ghost lingering behind Andra like her shadow.

Before Jasmine could ask, Andra reached out to Ghost, summoning him to her side. “Jasmine, this is my neighbor, Simon, but we call him Ghost.” Something about saying Ghost’s first name made her stomach flip, and by judging his body language, it must have done something to him, too.

Jasmine extended her hand out politely, and Ghost shook. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Jasmine turned to Andra and waved for the two of them to follow her, walking on a path that led them to the acres of rolling, green fields. “Ready to meet your kids?”

Andra beamed a wide smile. “I’ve been thinking about them all week! How did mama do during labor?”

“She did so good!” Jasmine turned to Andra once she walked beside her. “I had those kids delivered in the middle of the night. She started contractions early in the day, I had everything prepped for a week now.”

Andra crooned an ‘aww’, the smile on her face growing brighter. Talk of the goats made the conversation in the truck fade away, and it felt like Ghost was putting it on the back burner as well as he started asking Jasmine about her ranch.

Jasmine had inherited Blue Crescent Ranch from her family and cared for her aging father while running everything. It was massive, and from the look of it she had several employees to help her take care of all of the animals. Goats, sheep, cows, horses, alpacas, and some emus.

They arrived at a cowshed that was housing the mother goat and her kids. “I am letting them bond before they go out and meet the rest of the goats, so that means Sammy is going to meet them before the rest of the flock.”

Ghost stood at the entrance of the cowshed. “I’ll let you have the first moments with ‘em.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.

Andra nodded and handed him her phone for him to hold on to, then kept following Jasmine to the back stall. Jasmine’s voice was low, “So, your ‘neighbor’?”

Her cheeks warmed at the insinuation. “Yes, my neighbor.”

“And when did you start talking to your neighbor who happens to wear a mask?” Jasmine’s eyebrow shot up.

Andra looked over her shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot and found Ghost occupied on a phone call. “We met in the summer, he found me off the side of the road after my truck died on me, and fate had it that he’s a mechanic and he helped me get it fixed.”

“Right,” Jasmine nodded as if she’s processing this information, “And why the mask?”

Andra leaned against the wooden post she stopped beside. “He’s ex-military, I don’t really know why.”

“Have you ever seen his face?”

Boy, she was getting the full interview right now, and it had been so long since she thought about what she felt about his decision to hide behind a mask. It was unsettling for the very first time they met, but when Johnny treated it with just as much normality as if it were a N-95 mask, Andra never pushed the subject with Ghost.

“No.” Andra answered, trepidation apparent in Jasmine’s eyes as if what Andra was saying was completely insane. It probably was. “But I respect it.”

Jasmine blinked. “So I have no description to go by but a man in a skull mask if you ever go missing.”

Andra nudged her. “He’s nice. He’s never given me a reason to feel in danger and I’m friends with his best friend who served in the forces with him.”

“I think I’ll stop asking questions while I’m ahead.” Jasmine started walking again, and Andra followed. “Here they are.”

Andra squealed as she saw the two little black baby goats nursing on their sleep-deprived mother, little tails wagging faster than Sammy’s ever could. Sammy’s nose pressed against the bars of the enclosure, sniffling curiously.

They were adorable. Both of them were jet black, one of them had a tuff of white on the end of its tail.

“Both of them are boys,” Jasmine began to open the stall while Andra commanded Sammy to stay, “Did you want to come in?”

Andra was so ready to meet them. She had to gain the trust from mama first before she could get close to the kids, and it took a minute before mama allowed them to hop onto her lap. She sat on the clean bed of hay with the babies, giggling in immense joy as they sniffed and licked her.

Ghost met up with them after attending to his phone call to find Andra snuggling the baby goats. She caught his silhouette in her peripheral and looked up with a wide smile. “Aren’t they precious?”

Andra swore he was smiling beneath that balaclava. “You got names for them yet?”

Her focus returned to the wily kids competing for her attention, thankfully she had two hands to pet both of them. “Oh yeah, I got names for them already.” Andra picked up the jet black kid to showcase him to Ghost. “This one will be Phantom,” then she picked up the other in the same fashion, “And this one is Shadow.”

Did his eye twitch? It made her mischievous grin harder to hold back. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You had things to say about me naming my chicken Ted, so I figured I’d take a page out of your playbook.”

Jasmine was holding back her laughter and turned away.

Andra was too consumed by the copious amounts of affection the animals were giving her to realize what Ghost was doing until it was too late. “Andra.”

Her head shot up at the sound of Ghost saying her name to find him holding up a phone in a similar angle that she had done not too long ago, crouching down to make sure he had her in the frame. “Say payback.”

Ghost took the photo, and her mouth went slack in surprise. “Is that my phone!?”

Sammy trotted happily up the steps of the front porch and sat with a windshield-wiper tail on full blast, patiently waiting for Andra to open the front door. The energetic dog darted inside seconds after Andra swung the door open and left it open behind her. The two of them lingered on the front porch, Andra leaning against the threshold and Ghost standing close with his hands fisted in his jacket pockets.

“Thank you for coming along with me.” Andra started. “It was good seeing you again.”

“It was a pleasure.” Ghost looked out to the gray skies, the sprinkle of rain continuing its descent like it had been the whole morning. “I hope I didn’t make your friend uncomfortable.” He turned back to Andra to gauge her reaction.

“Oh no, she’s really lovely.” Andra’s lips turned up into a grin. “She’s just looking out for me.”

Ghost nodded. “I get why she was asking if you knew what I look like underneath the,” he pointed a finger to his masked face.

Now it was Andra’s turn to look away, nibbling at her lower lip from learning that he still heard what they said. “I just told her that... I respect it, and I honestly don’t mind.” His eyes were intense when she looked back at him, and her insides turned hot. “Is that weird?”

He let out an amused huff. “Completely bizarre.”

Andra shifted her weight onto her other foot, standing straight now and looking up to meet his gaze. “I respect your choice to remain hidden.” Her hands began to feel warm and clammy. “I had made the assumption in my mind that you pretty much wore it through your time in service, and – I don’t know...”

Andra struggled to manifest the thoughts into words even though this was something she has thought of before, but Ghost waited patiently, giving her his full attention to what she had to say. “Maybe it’s a physical metaphor of not being able to put that all behind you. As if the shadows have returned.”

Ghost looked extremely uncomfortable from her deduction. “The shadows haven’t returned, they just never left.” It sounded like he was struggling to keep his voice from faltering, and instead his response came out gruff.

Andra’s heart dropped to her stomach. His shadows were comparatively darker than hers, but they both had shadows all the same. She recognized that conviction in his words, believing so firmly that he’s still damaged and haunted by things that won’t stay buried. Her eyes softened once her gaze returned to his. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re gonna disappear on me again.”

The pleading in her gaze pierced him in the chest. “I’ll do better.”

Her face turned up with a glimmer of faith. “I’ll accept that.”

“I’ll do you one better.” Ghost removed his hands from his pockets, palming his phone in one. “If you’re not doing anything Saturday morning, I would like to take you somewhere.”

Andra held herself back from looking too eager. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Doesn’t have to be a date. Just a little morning excursion if weather permits.”

Ghost really was trying, and it swelled something fierce in her heart. “Then I accept this invitation for our not-date.”

“I’ll see you Saturday morning, then.” Ghost left her front porch and hurried off to his truck to avoid getting rained on. Andra watched his truck drive back down the gravel path and make the left turn onto their shared road.

Her phone started to buzz in her pocket, Jasmine was calling to finish the conversation they had started. “Hey, no I’m free I just said bye to Ghost – oh my God, you’re impossible.”

-----

Ghost booted up his laptop after receiving Laswell’s brief message letting him know she sent over any information she could dig up with the license plate number he had given her. He had called her when they were at the Blue Crescent Ranch and while Andra was fawning over her goats. Shadow and Phantom... that woman. Ghost muttered a curse to himself after looking over the registration documents.

It was a dead end.

The license plates were registered under a 65-year-old woman, and the make and model of the vehicle did not match the black sedan that were sporting the plates.

Ghost sighed and leaned back in the chair, staring at the screen as he pulled off his balaclava. This new development put his defenses on high alert. There shouldn’t have been any reason for a person driving with stolen plates to be coming down their road as frequently as this one has been. Shouldn’t have stolen plates at all. A one-time occurrence wouldn’t be enough for him to look into it, but after reviewing every motion sensor alert, this car had traveled down the road and back a total of seven times since July. A week after Andra had gotten her truck from the shop.

It was now September.

Ghost detested himself for feeling some kind of relief when Andra first had told him she wasn’t seeing anyone. He still felt that way, but the distress of this unknown person superseded that. He also remembered that Andra didn’t have any form of security on her property.

He would have to rectify that. She would most likely agree with him that it would be rational to set up at least a few cameras around the outside of her house, and maybe he could convince her to set one up near her mailbox as well. There were a couple of spare cameras he had in storage from when he first set up his own security system back when he moved in.

Johnny, much to his chagrin, had helped him set up the cameras. He had set up his own at his flat, but it seemed like he only checks his doorbell camera every time he gets packages delivered as of late. He wasn’t as concerned about being hunted down the way Ghost was; the 141 had faked his death a year before they had actually completed their contract. It seemed like no matter how many times Ghost had faked his death, it felt like someone out there still knew that he would never stay dead.

Christ... Ghost rubbed his burning eyes and closed the laptop. What was he doing? He recalled what Price told him the day they were on their flight back home. Let Simon have a life now. It was clear what he meant; put away the mask, live a civilian life, find a nice woman, or man, to warm his bed.

Ghost wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of living, he managed to sabotage any connection that wasn’t Johnny, Price, or Gaz. He was certain Andra would have told Ghost to jog off after the cold shoulder he had given her.

Until she hadn’t.

And then she had to go and showcase how much she just might understand his issues. Her metaphors of shadows made his knees feel like they were ready to give out. It was like he was out in an open field with no cover, and she had him in her sights of a scope. Vulnerable.

Ghost picked up his phone sitting beside the closed laptop and found himself looking at the photo she had taken in the truck. He saw her cheery smile on the screen, reaching up all the way to her eyes. With his unexpecting glance in her direction in the background. There was an iridescence about her eyes, it had him looking for what felt like several minutes. He didn’t want to think about what those eyes looked like the day she left the auto shop.

A message from Andra startled his train of thought. What’s the dress code for our morning rendezvous?

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he responded. Wear sensible shoes for walking.

----------

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31 notes · View notes

hazbincalifornia · 1 year

Note

the mammon kid au?

-Blitzo gets a matching outfit with Mammon at one point. He's genuinely excited about it, at least until he's dragged to a photoshoot that makes him stand for way too long without food that he's used to getting every half hour or so- by the end, his head is spinning and he's starting to get dizzy.

-He starts wearing a coat similar to his current one just to try and keep in some of his body heat without hauling a blanket around.

-Mammon calls him 'my little imp' a lot, which was a lot more endearing the first month or two before it started sounding very condescending.

-Mammon can get gropey, especially at his stomach. Blitzo doesn't get why it makes his skin crawl sometimes, this is what he wants, right?

-Once Blitzo escapes after the kid is born, Barbie and Fizz rotate holding them when Blitzo needs to sleep. They luckily will eat pretty much anything as long as it's blended with milk, so feeding isn't too much of an issue, but they still leech heat and energy for the first six months or so. Frankly, if this is how bad they are now with outside food as part of the mix, they have no idea how Blitzo made it when providing everything himself, considering being caretaker for a few hours is exhausting with the energy drain, much less six months.

-Stolas ends up eventually sheltering Blitzo and the baby, but he doesn't tell Stella. They're in an underground bunker that's normally only used for extra security during Exterminations.

#dubcon #mammon kid au #helluva mpreg #daddy blitzo #asks #anonymous

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

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Requested By Anon "King" -- Cooking au, enemies to lovers, inspiration from Hell's Kitchen

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

AU: Chef (Lisa & Reader are chefs)

Word Count: ~ 5,904

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering / Rivalry, Fluff, Suggestive Scene

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Helllloooo, peeps! I hope all of you are taking care of yourselves and having great days / nights, wherever you are :) Special thanks to this anon for being so sweet in their request -- I love cooking shows, too, so this was a fun one to write. Thank you for requesting! You're welcome in my inbox anytime ❤ Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Three sirloins, dying on the pass!" You shout out to your fellow chefs, shaking your head in disapproval. Service has been running fairly smoothly tonight, but a recent influx of celebrities coming from a nearby award show is slowing things to a halt.

You give attention to the pans in front of you, stirring each of them in the pattern you've set and keeping a steady rhythm. Consistency is key, and you're one of the only chefs who hasn't lost focus yet.

The other? Lisa Manoban.

"Side dishes heading to the pass," she announces, setting the pans down for your head chef to plate and approve of. He does so without a second thought, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

The cocky smirk on Lisa's lips soon falters, though, when he gives her a warning. "You were almost too late, Manoban. Speed things up. Y/N is keeping the pace set, and you need to follow suit."

Checkmate.

"Yes, chef," she nods, though you can tell she's annoyed. You snicker quietly, and thankfully the sounds of the kitchen conceal your little noise. If your manager were to hear you you'd surely get reprimanded, and Lisa doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing that.

She returns to her station across from you, briefly meeting your gaze as a competitive fire flashes in her eyes, ignited by the comment from your higher-up.

This is the routine that the two of you have settled into ever since you were hired five months ago. Both of you had applied for the same position, and you quickly worked your way up to where you are now. Every time you were promoted, she was never far behind. The tense nature of your relationship (if you'd even call it that) is rooted in who can put out the best tasting dishes and receive the most recognition and praise for their work. It's childish, but you'd be lying to say that part of you doesn't enjoy it.

Especially when you win.

Tonight is shaping up to be one of those nights, and your confidence builds with every compliment you receive. You don't let it go to your head, though; if anything, you use it as a reason to push yourself harder.

Lisa isn't discouraged in the slightest, and she produces some of her best work right alongside yours.

"Chef, table 15 has requested for the cooks who prepared their dishes to come out to their table. They want to thank them properly," the server informs your manager, cocking his head to the side to motion towards them.

After recognizing them as a pair of world-renowned fashion designers, he decides to sacrifice some of his best cooks' time on the line and grant their wishes.

"What dishes did they have?"

"Both ordered the sirloin and asparagus with potato purée, sir."

Your head shoots up at that, excited by the confirmation of what you had been hoping for. Your senior nods to the server, turning around at the pass to look at you.

"Y/N, Lisa; head out to greet our guests, please."

"Right away, sir."

"On it, chef."

Both of you inform your assistants of the time left on your respective components before following after the waiter. Lisa not-so-subtly elbows you in an attempt to walk in front of you, but you step on her foot to prevent her from doing so.

Pushing and shoving each other like schoolgirls until you're in line of sight of the customers, you follow the waiter up to their table. He leaves shortly after dropping you off.

"Good evening, ladies," you greet with a smile, watching as their faces light up.

Lisa steps forward and extends a hand to one of them, making a crimson blush rush to her cheeks. A new feeling blossoms in your chest at their interaction, and you don't know how to take it. Deciding to just move on, you ask about their meals.

"I hope dinner was everything you wanted it to be."

"Oh, absolutely. The sirloin was cooked perfectly. Which one of you is responsible for it?"

A proud smile forms on your lips at that, and you bow your head lightly. "Me, miss. I'm glad you enjoyed."

"I'll have to come back more often, then. Cute and skilled? Count me in." She smirks at you, eyes taking in the sight of you in your uniform as she shamelessly flirts. You blush under her gaze, but hide it with a smug smile of your own.

"We'd be lucky to have you back anytime."

You shoot a glance at the other girl as well, making sure to keep her feeling included. Lisa's eye roll goes unnoticed by you, as does the dejected look that threatens to show on her beautiful face.

"My favorite part was the side dishes. The sirloin was great, but that purée was delicious. And don't even get me started on the risotto from earlier," the other woman gushes, praising Lisa's work for the night. The Thai girl perks up at that, her confidence on its way to being fully restored.

"Ah, you're too kind." She attempts to sound humble, but you know the truth; she lives for this sort of thing. The rush of cooking and serving up dish after tasty dish is thrilling, but nothing compares to getting compliments from the customers.

"I'm just stating facts..." she leans forward in her chair, obviously eyeing Lisa's chest as she reads her name off of her chef coat, "...Lisa."

"Oh, yeah? How about I whip you up another batch, then? Any side you want." Your rival offers, a bruisingly sexy smile on her face as she gazes down at the woman. It isn't new for either of you to flirt with the customers and schmooze your way into their hearts (and wallets), but something in the way Lisa admires the diner makes you jealous.

Her eyes scan over the menu as if she's looking through the options again, but she turns back to bite her lip and toy with Lisa some more. "Are you on the menu?"

She chuckles at the line, clearly not expecting that; she should've, though; it's one of the most overused pick-ups that you've ever heard.

"I can be--"

Just as Lisa goes to lean closer to her, the waiter comes back. For some reason unknown to you, you release a breath of relief, thankful for the interruption.

"I hate to break this up, but our chefs are needed back in the kitchen." He informs, linking his arms behind his back respectfully.

"Ah, that's too bad. Maybe we'll stick around until service is over." Lisa's fan says, looking to her friend with a shrug of her shoulders in a silent request for her opinion.

"Maybe, if that's alright with you."

Your customer looks up at you with hopeful eyes, though she attempts to hide it to some degree; she's not as brazen as her counterpart.

"Of course, darling," you decide to play into it. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I do recommend getting some dessert, though; pass the time a little faster. I'll be making the sweetened soufflé, if you're interested."

"Sounds delicious; I'm sold." She smiles at you, looking you up and down one last time.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies." You nod, bidding both of them farewell as you turn to follow after the waiter. Lisa does the same, and you can feel her hot on your trail shortly after.

"Back to your stations, both of you," your executive chef says upon your arrival, as if you had other intentions.

"Yes, chef," both of you respond, heading back without a second thought.

After pushing out a few more main dishes, you're instructed to rotate positions as the desert course kicks off. Other chefs will handle the remaining entrées now and allow you the opportunity to take over with the sweets.

Once you've buttered and coated the soufflé dish with granulated sugar, you combine the appropriate ingredients in the bowl that rests on the countertop in front of you, making sure to keep an eye on the milk as it heats up on the stovetop. Once both tasks are completed, you stir some of the milk into the batter you made, tempering the mixture. After you're satisfied with the consistency of it, you add the rest of it back to the pot on the stove and carefully whisk the ingredients together.

As that mellows out, you beat the egg whites required for the dish and add in the different extracts that the recipe calls for. Before long, you've folded both components in with one another and the dessert is ready to be baked.

"Nice work, Y/N. Keep it up." Your head chef encourages, making pride swell in your chest again.

You continue on with that steady pace, and all of your soufflés come out as tasty as ever, receiving plenty of praise from your happy customers. Lisa works just as hard, though, and her toffee puddings are a major hit with the diners.

Two hours later, dinner service is finally over.

Lisa finishes cleaning up her station as she sneaks a glance over to you, feeling her heart beat a little faster at the way you push your hair out of your face. A few drops of condensation tumble their way down the bottle of water that you're drinking from, clearly exhausted and hot after working so hard for so long, and she bites her lip. You're too attractive for your own good, and Lisa reprimands herself for admiring you in such a way.

You're practically enemies, after all; constantly striving for better positions and more attention, it's a never-ending battle of who can come out on top. She loves the game, if she's honest; keeping you on your toes is one of her favorite pastimes, and the banter is always a plus.

Especially when it gets heated.

She loves the way your brow twitches and your lips press together when you're forced to bite your tongue and keep the bickering to a minimum. You're too mature to play into her games most of the time -- not wanting to piss your head chef off -- but sometimes she gets you to break and fire off another reply, not caring what he'll say.

She loves it. Nothing will ever compare to getting you riled up like that.

"How's my girlfriend doing out there?" Lisa asks the server with a smile, tilting her head forward to motion to the dining room.

"They're the only ones still here. I have to hand it to them; they're dedicated." He chuckles, clapping Lisa on the back as he passes her. "They've been talking about both of you all night." He concludes, looking between the two of you before retreating to the break room to change.

Lisa laughs at that, and you curse yourself under your breath for enjoying the sound.

"Come on, let's go see them before they storm the kitchen," she plays, winking at you as she pushes the swinging door open.

At The Table, A Few Minutes Later

"I saved you a bite," your customer says, smiling at you as she reaches for a spoon that hasn't been used yet. Her friend catches the uncertain look in your eye, and she decides to ease your fears.

"Don't worry, she didn't slobber all over it. She cut that piece out before she started eating earlier."

You nod, thankful for the clarification. The woman turns back to Lisa, satisfied with her good deed for the day, and the two begin flirting again.

After the woman in front of you scoops the tasty dessert up, she holds the spoon out in front of your lips. A knowing smile spreads across your cheeks, and you open your mouth for her to feed you.

She's cute, you must say. Her auburn hair falls across her shoulders in perfect waves, complementing the velvety color of her leather jacket wonderfully. A pattern of freckles runs across the bridge of her nose, and a single, deep-set dimple presses into the soft skin of her right cheek.

The sound of her laughter carries out across the room as you attempt to take the whole piece in one bite -- she offered way too much at once for a single bite, but you never back down from a challenge.

Lisa subconsciously grips the tablecloth a little tighter when she sees her put a finger to your lips, preventing the food from spilling out and making a mess everywhere. You giggle and chew it up, eventually managing to swallow it without getting choked. Your fingers wrap around the customer's wrist, gently pulling her hand away from your lips as you rub her tender skin.

The woman in front of Lisa sighs, clearly wanting attention.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" She shakes her head, willing her envy to go away so she can flirt some more.

"I was asking if you have plans tonight. You're probably tired from working, so I figured I could treat you to some R&R." Her tone drops lower than normal, and a suggestive look shines in her eyes as she gives Lisa another once-over.

"Hmm, sounds like just what the doctor ordered," she leans in a bit closer, egging the girl on. They don't call Lisa a playgirl for nothing.

"Your place or mine?" She whispers into her ear, sounding desperate to get the chef alone.

"M-"

Lisa's response is abruptly cut off by the sound of a muffled noise of surprise from you, and she looks across the table again to find the other customer's lips pressed against yours. Your shoulders relax after a second as you return the gesture, but you eventually pull away to put some distance between the two of you.

Fuming, now too jealous to think straight, Lisa unceremoniously stands from her seat and steps around the table to you. The fact that she was just a few minutes away from taking her customer home and doing much more than kissing is lost on her -- seeing you in such a position with the other woman sparked something in her.

"If you'll excuse us, my colleague and I have to get going." She announces to the women, gripping your arm to pull you up from your chair. Her hold is firm, and the way her fingertips dig into your forearm sends a chill down your spine.

"Don't wait up." She adds, dragging you behind herself as she slams the kitchen door open. She's much more bold now that the head chef has left for the night -- clearly she pays little mind to being loud or rough.

"What the hell, Lisa?" You bite back, attempting to shake free of her grip.

She only tightens it, saying, "Quiet, L/N."

After stepping out into the deserted hallway and ensuring that the coast is clear, Lisa opens the door to one of the utility closets and pushes you inside. You stumble a bit, feeling the unforgiving edge of one of the metal racks dig into your back as you collide with it.

"What is your problem?" You hiss, spurred on by the stinging sensation radiating across your back.

"You," she says, turning around to lock the door behind herself. Your brows furrow, but she's quick to explain.

"Out there kissing that customer, letting her put her hands all over you… it's pathetic."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Pathetic? Look at yourself, for Christ's sake; two minutes later and you would've been screwing that girl in the back of an Uber."

She tuts at you, stalking closer. "Don't go telling lies now, Y/N/N. You know I would've taken her home on my motorcycle and then got her in bed."

You groan at her cockiness; it exudes from her in waves, irking you to no end. Sometimes you wonder if she was made to annoy you.

"Whatever, Lisa. I'm leaving," you shoulder check her on the way to the door, but she's quick to react. Before you can move to unlock it, she has your back up against the door and her hands on your hips, keeping you pinned there. Her lips are on yours in a flash, urgently working against them in a show of how eager she is for you.

You worked her up out there more than you realized, and she couldn't take it anymore.

You mumble against her mouth in shock, taking a second to decide what to do with your hands. Should you push her away, or pull her impossibly closer? The choice is made for you when she parts your legs with her thigh, sliding it between them and pulling your hips forward so that you brush against it.

A groan slips out of your mouth at the new sensation, though it's muffled against her lips. She smirks, letting go of your hips to reach around behind you and untie the apron that's secured around your waist. She praises you as you rut against her leg again, sliding her tongue across your bottom lip to ask for entrance as the material falls to the floor with a quiet noise of impact.

Her fingertips undo the buttons of your top with haste, and she helps you slide it off your arms. It remains pooled at your waist, still tucked into your pants.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," she whispers against your lips before pecking them one more time, leaving a trail of kisses down your jawline and towards your collarbone.

Asking for consent is sexy as hell; especially coming from the goddess in front of you.

You curtly nod, bringing your hands up to her back. Your nails drag along the material of her uniform, encouraging her.

"Not so vocal now, are we?" Lisa teases, tilting your head back to grant herself more access to the sensitive skin of your neck.

"I can walk out this door right now, you know?" You say more than ask, the syllables mixing with moans as she leaves yet another darkening love bite on you.

"We both know that isn't true," she chuckles lowly, making you weak in the knees. You'll be damned to let go of your pride, though.

Gathering up all of the self control you possess, you shove her away and pull your shirt back over your arms, beginning to redo the buttons. You suppress the smirk begging to make itself visible when you notice the smug expression on her face fall. Smoothing the material out, you run a hand through your hair and readjust it before unlocking and opening the door.

The second your left foot makes it through the threshold, she's wrapping her arms around you and tugging you back in. A wave of relief washes over you at that -- you were praying she'd do exactly what she did. You hadn't imagined yourself making it down the hall, and you're not sure if you would've had the self restraint to do so.

"How the hell are you so stubborn?" She asks, letting you take over now. You drag over one of the folding chairs you spotted earlier, commanding her to sit in it with a mere glance.

"Letting you win isn't an option, Lis. Somebody has to wipe that stupid grin off your face and put you in your place; it might as well be me."

"How selfless," she holds her hand over her heart, face shining with mock proudness. "I'm touched."

"Shut up already," you laugh, straddling her waist as you sit on her lap. Her hands instinctively go to your thighs, running up and down them to get you going. She can feel your warmth through the material of your pants, and the feeling is intoxicating.

You cup her jaw and pull her closer, kissing her at a slower pace now. This one isn't as rough; it holds a whole different type of sensuality, and the occasional roll of her hips lets you know it's doing something to her, too.

"I've wanted this for so long," she says in between kisses, gently undoing the fasteners on your jeans.

"Really?"

"Really." She confirms, untucking your shirt now and running her hands up your back. The cold air of the room slides under the material, ghosting over your newly exposed skin to make goosebumps appear.

"I'm surprised I held out this long," she admits, remembering all of the times she's had to stop herself from making her feelings known.

You kiss her again before leaning back on her thighs and taking your coat and shirt off, left only in your bra. The lacey material begs to be touched, and Lisa traces the intricate patterns with her fingertips after receiving a nod from you.

"Jesus," you moan, feeling her other hand palm your ass as she keeps you steady on her lap.

"So beautiful," she sighs, admiring the way your cheeks have gotten flushed and how your chest rises and falls at a quicker pace now. Her hand guides the movements of your hips, and she can feel her own arousal spread to her thighs at the sight of you.

"Who's capable of doing this to you? Making you such a needy mess?" She asks, clearly wanting an ego boost, and she squeezes your breast a little harder when you take longer than she likes to answer.

"Y-you, Lisa."

"That's right, baby." She kisses you again, a silent action of approval. Your movements stutter as she moves her hand to the inside of your thigh, slipping past the material of your open jeans.

"Stop teasing already," you huff, resting your forehead against hers as you reach down to lead her hand closer to where you need her most.

"Fine, but under one condition," she quickly caves in, sliding the thin material of your panties to the side in order to appease you.

"Shit," you both say at the same time. In any other circumstance, you probably would've laughed at something like that, but now the atmosphere is entirely different.

Your slick coats her fingers, and she moans at the feeling of what she's done to you.

"What's your condition?" You husk out, pressing your hand to the door behind her to give yourself better leverage to rock against her.

"Come home with me after. I don't want to stop anytime soon." She kisses your jaw as she waits on your answer, feeling her warm breath fan out across your already heated skin.

"Deal. Now come here."

She meets you halfway, angling her head up to capture your lips in a searing kiss as she increases the intensity of her ministrations. The sound of the chair's legs squeaking against the floor with every combined roll of your bodies makes you smile, and soon the room is filled with filthy noises of pleasure from the both of you.

The Next Morning

The sound of your phone ringing abruptly pulls you from your dream, making you blindly reach for it. Not daring to expose your eyes to the harsh morning sunlight that's pushing its way past the curtains, you stretch your arm out until your fingers brush against the smooth surface of your screen.

You shield your eyes as you check the caller ID, only to nearly have a heart attack when you read it.

"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry for making you wait so long." You apologize, cringing at the fact that you almost missed a call from your manager. It was probably only one or two rings away from going unanswered.

"That's alright, Y/N," he says, sounding generous. He must be having a good day. "I'm calling to ask if you can come in. I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

Your heart drops at that, irrationally thinking he must've somehow caught you and Lisa at the restaurant last night without you knowing, but you try to remain calm.

"O-of course, sir. I'll be there in 30 minutes." You respond, already throwing the cover off yourself and moving to stand.

"Thank you, Y/N. See you soon."

He ends the call, and you try to decipher his tone. It was level and calm, holding no quality to tell you if he was angry or happy. You sigh, hoping it's nothing bad.

You stand up and stretch the remaining tension from your body, attempting to work out the kinks Lisa made in your muscles during your tiring night together. It was everything you'd ever hoped for, and your inability to walk properly is a testament to that.

You find a note waiting for you on the countertop in her bathroom, complete with a lipstick stain kissed onto it. You smile, picking it up.

Morning, beautiful

I had to leave early to take care of some business, but there's some toast waiting for you in the kitchen. It's all I had time to make.

Help yourself to anything else you want in there.

Xoxo, Lis

In an attempt to rid yourself of the annoyingly giddy feeling warming your heart, you take your clothes -- more specifically, the pajamas that Lisa gifted you -- off and step into the shower. The steam doesn't take long to fill the room, fogging up every surface in sight.

You look down at yourself, watching as suds trek their random paths down to your legs, and you see just how many marks Lisa really left. Your inner thighs are covered, as are your hips, neck, and abdomen, all painted in beautiful shades and designs. She was an animal, and you lived for every second of it.

Now that you think of it, though, you'll have to dedicate a good chunk of time to covering them up with makeup before you go to the restaurant. You vow to kill her if she makes you late.

At The Restaurant

Releasing one last, steadying breath, you knock on the door to your boss's office.

"Come in," he says, sounding pleasant.

When you walk in and find Lisa sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, you do a double take at her. She sports the same confused expression, but you hide your surprise and shut the door behind yourself before sitting in the seat beside her.

"Right," he starts, linking his fingers together authoritatively as he nods. "Now that you're both here, I'd like to discuss the latest promotion available."

Is he really going to make one of you watch while he hands the position to the other? That'll be torture -- especially if you lose. Having Lisa win like that would surely only make her teasing worse.

"You know we need strong leadership here, and I see those qualities in both of you. I'm willing to offer you both the position of sous chef, if you can agree to work together and continue keeping your standards high. If you get too busy bickering with one another, I'll be forced to choose. You're both talented, so don't make me do that."

Lisa looks over at you, and you smile, completely taken aback. To say you're surprised is an understatement.

"Thank you, sir." You say, snapping back to reality as you extend a hand for him to shake.

He smiles back, looking proudly between the two of you.

"You're welcome."

He shakes your hand before giving the same treatment to Lisa, making her look like an excited teenager with the way her cheeks pull back in a wide grin. After talking a bit longer and working out a few specifics, the two of you leave, allowing him to attend a phone conference in peace.

"Eee!" Lisa squeals the second you're out the door, picking you up in her arms to spin you around. You laugh at her sudden outburst, happy to have another sweet moment like this and break the tension that always seems to be swirling around the two of you.

"I'm gonna kick your ass during service tonight," she says, smirking evilly as she sets you back down.

"You wish. I'll wipe the floor with you."

"Oo, kinky. I think that's the only thing we didn't try last night," she teases, tapping her chin as if she's actually thinking about it, causing you to roll your eyes and blush.

"Shut up, Manoban. I'm sore as hell today, and I still haven't forgiven you yet."

"Aww, does my girl need some TLC? I can help you with that, you know."

You try not to think too far into the titles she's been giving you, but that one stands out for some reason. She likely doesn't mean anything deeper by it, but it doesn't stop you from pretending.

You're tired of the knowing look she's sending you, so you decide to do something about it.

Sneaking a glance around the two of you, you push her against the hallway wall and kiss her. You thread your fingers through her hair, pulling on the strands to give yourself more access to her mouth, just as you did last night. She enjoyed it then, and you're hoping she likes it just as much right now. Clearly, your plan works; as you pull away from her, you're rewarded with a view of her dilated pupils, blown wide as her arousal comes back without warning.

"That's cruel," she pouts, knowing full well you have no intention of finishing what you started.

"Think of it as retribution." You cheerily nod, ignoring the heat pooling in your stomach at the way she's eyeing you.

"See you tonight!" You blow her a kiss before walking away, hearing her frustrated sigh bounce off the walls.

Dinner Service

"Risotto to the pass, please!" You shout, practically begging for the line cook that you're now overseeing to do his job properly.

"I'm a minute out, chef."

You shake your head, but choose to ignore his incompetence for the time being. You're keeping things running smoothly, but they can easily be stalled by people like him.

You focus on plating the entrées of another table while you wait for him to finish, and Lisa slides over the side dish that you need to add. "Thank you," you say, totally in the zone.

"Welcome," she responds, equally as focused as you. It's definitely a quality that you admire about her; she's playful and fun, but she's serious in the kitchen. You'd clash and this whole arrangement would fail if she were any other way.

"Risotto approaching, chef."

"Finally," you clap, ready to approve of it and send it out. Thankfully it's cooked well, and the line chef is saved from your wrath -- at least for now.

"Service!"

Two waiters step forward following your call, and they load the large trays into their arms before heading to the dining room.

You get back to work on the next set of orders, reading the new tickets off to your cooks and listening for their confirmation of hearing you.

"Try this, Y/N. I think it's missing something." Lisa says, grabbing a plastic spoon to allow you to taste test the soup waiting to be sent out. She brings the utensil up to your lips and throws it away once you gather up the liquid.

"Basil. Tell Amanda it needs basil."

Lisa nods, listening to you for once without question. She barks the orders out to the young chef, and the girl fires off a couple apologies as she brings the missing ingredient over.

"Thank you, Amanda. Get back to work, I know you can do it," you encourage her, not wanting to crush her spirits too badly in the first week of her job. She's a newbie, and you remember being in her shoes once.

Pierre, your host and main waiter, approaches the side of the pass that borders the dining room. You raise an eyebrow at his sudden presence, wordlessly asking what he needs as you stir some pasta in the pot in front of you, twisting it around your tongs to plate it.

"We have a guest requesting to see Lisa."

Confusion flashes across your face for a moment, but then it sinks in. Your eyes land on the woman from last night, finding her standing near the front door with her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. She waves to Lisa in greeting, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something out of line.

You can feel Lisa's gaze trail over to you, but you don't look up.

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute." She orders Pierre, quickly thanking him as he heads off to do as she asked.

She wants to say something to you, but she doesn't know exactly what. Her feelings are still jumbled from last night, and she's not too entirely certain on where you stand with one another.

You subconsciously hold your breath as she approaches the girl, getting pulled in for a tight hug as if she's known her for years. Was that the "business" she had to take care of this morning? Who knows.

They continue their conversation for a few minutes, and you distract yourself by focusing on pumping more food out.

"Good job, team. Keep it up," you praise them, happy to see everyone working well together. They thank you for the encouragement, and promise to keep their momentum going.

A few minutes later, as things begin to get a little hectic, you sneak a glance up at Lisa. She locks eyes with you, as if on cue.

You can see her trying to politely leave, but the woman puts a hand on her forearm, stepping forward to flirtily whisper something in her ear. She eventually manages to get her to back away, and she points at the door. The customer glares at you over Lisa's shoulder, leaving you confused but delighted. Seeing her unhappy is a treat in and of itself.

As Lisa turns around and starts to walk back to the kitchen, you quickly jump back into action, narrowly avoiding getting caught staring. Lisa has a sneaking suspicion that that's exactly what you were doing, but she doesn't speak on it as she rounds the corner of the pass.

"Well?" You nonchalantly ask, glancing at her in your peripheral. Your hands arrange a new set of plates on the tray between you, and her fingers brush against yours as she adds a side salad to it.

"She wanted to finish what she started last night." She informs, pausing before she finishes telling you what happened in order to build suspense and torture you some more.

"I said no, of course," she assures you, smiling when she notices you sigh in relief. "I've got my eye on someone else now."

"Yeah?" You ask, turning to look at her with a soft smile. Her change in demeanor makes your heart flutter.

"Yeah. Amanda's looking pretty good, isn't she?"

"Hey!" You shout, a little too loud for your own good, making Lisa laugh. You apologize to the guests and staff before punching Lisa in the arm, ready to get revenge later.

"Kidding, babe. You think I'd let you go after last night?" She cocks her head to the side, sounding genuinely confused that you could think such a thing. "Not a chance," she smiles, leaning to the side to kiss your cheek and bump your hip with her own.

Who would've thought you could end up here with her?

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fratboykate · 2 years

Note

What's my the dummy's major in Frat Boy AU? Does Yelena have to hire her a tutor to help her with her homework? Or does she tutor her herself and it turns into the beginning of a bad porn? 😏

Columbia University. New York City. Present Day.

Yelena is a biochemistry major. She eventually wants to work with Melina developing biotech to Help Save The World. She's not a total nerd. She has SOME friends and a minor semblance of a social life but she also has her priorities very clear. Undergrad at Columbia. Masters at MIT. PhD at Harvard. Then, revolutionize humanity and the way it interacts with technology. Maybe help meld the the two together forever. Her mother has made plenty of strides in that area. She's sure the two of them coming together would be unstoppable. Friends and parties sound fun and she's not opposed to them but she can do that later. When she's checked all the other shit she wants to do off her list. She's dated people and she ends up at parties every once in a while because it's not like she actively resists it, but she doesn't go out of her way to look for it either.

Kate is almost the opposite. It's almost as if she's going to have the weight of the world on her shoulders later when all of her family's responsibilities fall on her. She won't have time to have a life anymore so she has to live now if she wants to live at all. She's trying to get it all out of her system while she can so it's a nonstop party train. Girls and boys are constantly rotating out of her bed. She's INFAMOUS for doing dumb shit like destroying the campus belltower just because of a drunk dare. Nothing you can't get Beer Pong Bishop to not agree to if she has a few drinks in her. Keg Kate is the most reckless version of Kate and she's reckless to begin with. She's still somehow managed to be the captain of the varsity Archery team. The archery house is, for all intents and purposes, a Frat House. Not only that but she's also on the varsity fencing team.

So....obviously they go to Columbia but Yelena never made too much of Kate being there because 1) Ivys are full of legacies that are there because mommy and daddy made a donation big enough to justify the admission. She's surrounded by idiots. She knows. She also knows 2) sports play a massive role in admissions and Kate is AMAZING at sports. She was like "Rich and Jock. She doesn't have to have that much in the head department. It can make sense." BUT THEN after MONTHS of knowing Kate, Yelena finds out that Kate is in this super competitive special concentration within Columbia's Business school. Only 45 students get accepted into the Business Management special program out of all the Business majors each year. It's like ELITE shit and you have to fight to get in. And when Yelena finds out she's like "??????????????????? MA'AM??????? ALL YOU DO IS PARTY AND PRACTICE?" And Kate pulls an Elle Woods: "Keeping up with the uber competitive Columbia Business Management Program in my sleep? What, like it's hard?" And Yelena's underwear is ruined forever and ever lol.

#the special concentration at columbia is true lol #like...what kind of business nerds are y'all #BUT FRATBOY WOULD DO IT WHILE HUNGOVER #SHE WOULD #not a care in the world #doesn't give a fuck #just to keep her family off her back #kyfbau #anonymous #answers #kyfbaup

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bobohu4eva · 3 years

Text

Pink Lace - Preview/Chapter 1

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Master list

“Looking good tonight Candy.”

You rolled your eyes, frowning.

“Thanks Dave.”

Having your manager check you out every time you clocked in was one of the less fun parts of your job.

You didn’t clock in to make any kind of hourly pay, and your real name was definitely not Candy. As a dancer at a gentleman's club you made your money on a pole and in private lap dance rooms, but it’s whatever pays the bills, and as a college student being able to make over a thousand dollars a week working just two nights was worth it.

After checking in, you went back to the dressing room to check your makeup and outfit one last time and grab your money bag before heading back out to get your night started.

Saturday nights used to not be your favorite, but they had been for a few months now because of one customer. The first night you met him, his friends had dragged him in after getting dumped to cheer him up. When you sat down with the nine of them you already knew it would be a good night, judging by the *quite* expensive VIP booth they’d bought.

Your first impression of him wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, having met plenty of relatively good looking guys while working at the club and being quite used to groups like them doing birthdays or bachelor parties.

They were a fun group, and you found yourself actually having fun as they bought you rounds of drinks and perched you on their newly single friends lap.

That night his friends bought him a private room with you, and he’d been back to see you again every Saturday night since.

Baekhyun always arrived pretty early in the evening so you sat yourself down at the bar and made yourself look busy while you waited for him to show up. Tonight you were wearing a matching lace lingerie set along with a new pair of clear heels, and your hair straight down your back. With your nails done and your favorite perfume on to top it all off, you felt sexy as hell. On weeknights you didn’t try as hard, but on days he would be there you always made sure to put in a little extra effort to look as nice as possible. You told yourself it was just because he payed you so much, so you wanted to look your best. But you’d have been lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you wanted to impress him. Baekhyun, especially compared to other customers, was quite attractive. Having him fawn over you and compliment you always made you feel good.

You feel a tap on your shoulder followed by a “hey” and turn around to see Baekhyun grinning back at you.

“Hi Baekhyun” you smile back, getting up and giving him a small hug.

“Hi Candy.”

Standing in 8 inch stripper heels you’re slightly taller than Baekhyun, and you find his usual glasses + hoodie + cargo pants combo endearing. Despite being somewhere around 30 and therefore significantly older than you, you can’t help but find him cute, adorable even.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, already knowing your answer.

“Of course, you know what I like” you say, giving him smirk and running one perfectly manicured hand over his shoulder, and down his toned chest.

The whole time you touched him his eyes were fixated on yours, looking at you with an intensity you weren’t used to, something you’d noticed was unique to him compared to the other men you met there.

“Your outfit tonight it.. um..” he says, eyes now looking you up and down, almost drooling. “ I like it.”

It was the same thing every time he’d come see you. He’d buy two beers, one for him and one for you, and shorty after pay you $800 for an hour together in a private dance room. For any other guy it would be $1000, but he didn’t need to know that.

You made your way up the stairs towards the area of the club with the private dance rooms hand in hand, leading him behind you to give him the best view.

“Do you want me to dance for you today or do you just wanna talk?” You asked as you entered the room and took your top off, standing in front of him as he sat down on the couch. Usually you would dance for him for a few songs and spend the rest of the time sitting on his lap listening to him talk about whatever it might be that week but some days he just wanted your company and nothing more.

“Just for this song, I really like this song.” He said looking up at you with big eyes. So, you got to work doing your usual thing.

Getting into the rhythm of the music, you started swaying your body and slowly leaning towards him.

This time both of your hands find purchase on his chest and you move your body in a wave, giving him the full close up view of your bare chest.

As you lean back up you notice he’s slumped deeper into the couch and biting his lip, already thoroughly turned on.

“Holy shit” he muttered to himself, watching your nearly naked form sway in front of him.

The way he looked at your body was different too. Most men looked at you like nothing more than a piece of meat, something to use for pleasure and nothing more. Not that you minded, as long as you got your money, but the way Baekhyun looked at you as you danced for him was almost like someone observing a piece of art.

You rotated your body until you’re facing away from him, and bent down slowly, the curves of your ass on full display to him, making it jiggle a bit before bending back up and lowering yourself onto his lap.

“God you’re something else, I wish I could touch you.”

You noticed him sit on his hands, because of course he wasn’t actually allowed to touch you, you were only allowed to touch him.

Once you were situated on his lap, you started moving your hips to the music, causing his head to hit the back of the couch.

As usual, you could feel his dick straining against his pants as you rolled your hips over him.

“Fuck” you heard him whisper.

You knew how much he was holding himself back by the way he was sweating and panting. He was one of the few costumers who had never once tried to touch you, not even a little bit. Which you appreciated, but right now you felt yourself almost wanting him to, knowing that his reaction alone would be worth it for you to see.

So against your better judgement, and with the hope of a little extra money, you turn around, knees straddling his right thigh, and put your arms on each of his shoulders. You play with the hair at the base of his neck and whisper in his ear

“If you really want to, you can touch.”

You almost feel bad when you notice his entire body go rigid beneath you, eyes wide at your words.

“Are you serious?”

“I mean nothing too invasive please, but I don’t mind if you want to caress me here and there” you respond with a smile.

“Okay”

You see him swallow as you lowered yourself onto his lap again, this time feeling his hands make contact with the bare skin of your waist.

As you let your hips move with the music, his hands slowly wandered across your waist, hips, and sides. His hands on you were surprisingly warm, soft, and gentle. Under his gaze and in his hands you felt like your body wasn’t just being used for shallow, fleeting pleasure. You felt appreciated.

And this was exactly the problem with Baekhyun.

You knew that you liked him too much, more than you should like one of your customers. You shouldn’t be thinking about how soft and pretty his hands are as they make their way across the skin of your thighs.

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft.”

You smile, now facing him once again as you sit with your knees on either side of his leg. You feel his words in the pit of your stomach and your hands caress his shoulders and chest, only now with his hands gently placed on your hips.

A few body rolls later and the song was over, so you shifted your weight onto one of his legs, sitting down on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and leaning into the couch.

“You’re gonna completely ruin me one day” he breathed out, making you giggle. “Why’d you let me do that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I could tell how much you held back and most guys try to touch me anyway so..”

“They just do it anyway?” His eyes narrowed.

“Yeah well I tell them not to and usually it’s fine after that”

You could sense his discomfort with what you’d just said, looking genuinely agitated.

“Yeah well those guys aren’t worth your time no matter how much they’re paying” he muttered so quietly you almost didn’t hear.

“This is my job Baekhyun, there’s bad customers in every job” you respond timidly.

He turned to look you in the eyes again, this time more intensely due to the proximity of you sitting on his lap.

“Do you like working here?”

“Please don’t ask me that.”

“You know you don’t have to, I can take care of you.”

With the way his eyes bore into yours and he gripped your thigh, you knew he was serious. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted by his words.

Nonetheless you got up from his lap and sat next to him, bodies no longer touching.

“You know that’s not how this works Baekhyun.” You cross your arms over your bare chest, feeling like you needed to hide.

You look down, not wanting to look at him as you continue.

“It’s my job to make you feel good and give you something nice to look at but that’s all it is. My job. I’m sorry.”

He knew you were right. He knew because despite coming to see you every week for a few months now, he knew nothing about you. You wouldn’t tell him any details about your personal life, hell he didn’t even know your real name.

He knew he was stupid to have let himself become so completely fucked over a girl who wouldn’t even tell him her name.

“It’s okay, I understand, I’m sorry if that was too far”

You look at him again, giving him a soft smile.

“How was your week?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

You soon find yourself back on his lap as he starts talking to you about his week, but you couldn’t help feeling guilty. You could tell what Baekhyun felt for you was more than just sexual attraction, and yet he knew nothing about you. He’d asked you general things and you’d told him you were college student, which was true, but you’d lied about which college you attended. He asked about what you were studying and you’d lied about that too, quickly changing the topic back to him and his life.

Every time he tried to get to know the real you, you pushed him away, and you knew he could tell.

It fell silent for a moment, until Baekhyun spoke up.

“This is for touching you” he said as he dug in his pocket before pulling out three hundred dollar bills and putting them in the waistband of your thong.

He didn’t look at you as he gave you the money. It wasn’t until he was done that he grabbed your hand, and gave you another intense look.

“Please, can I please just know your name?” He asked.

With you sitting on his lap, faces close together you saw the desperation in his eyes. He’d spent a decent amount of time with you now and you knew how badly he wanted to know more about you, how much he wanted to be able to get to know the real you.

The way he looked up at you, with that look in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t tell him no.

You sighed.

“Okay. I’m y/n.”

Shorty after your hour together was up, Baekhyun went home and so did you. Counting your money was easy that night; just the eleven hundred dollar bills he’d given you.

As you took your makeup off and got ready to finally sleep you couldn’t help but feel strange about Baekhyun knowing your real name. Despite how nice he smelled, how cute he was, and how kind, generous, and funny, and how you liked spending time with him more than any other customer, that’s still exactly what he was. A customer. Someone who walked into a club looking to pay hot girls in exchange for their attention. But at that point Baekhyun was your friend too. He’d been coming to see you for the whole summer, and you really did enjoy talking to him.

Is it okay for him to actually get to know you? Is it okay for you to want him to?

Next Chapter

A/N: Hello! This felt pretty short which is why it’s kind of a preview/first chapter but please tell me what you think :) and let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for the next chapter!

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo smut #baekhyun fic #exo fic

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XIV

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part XI - - - - Part XII - - - - Part XIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Plo Koon woke to find himself chained in a dark room.

Somewhere behind him he could hear steady dripping; it was uncertain if that was deliberate or not.

He strained to discern anything in the dim light, but the walls of his prison refused to form into anything recognizable.

Cautiously, the trapped Master cast his senses out, only to find them reflected back at odd angles. He decided to wait before attempting to push any further past what his captor wished him to see.

Time passed strangely, but sooner than expected there was the sound of a pressurized airlock opening and, distantly, a raging ocean.

The airlock cycled through its rotation and Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the amorphous shadows looking...decidedly worse for the wear.

Plo ached at the sight. His normally carefully maintained beard was a scraggly mess. His robes hung tattered and bloodied. Of particular concern was how dry he looked, skin cracked and bleeding for want of water. The figure standing before him with a dead-eyed glare resembled less an accomplished Jedi Master and more the wretched husk of one.

“Who are you?” Obi-Wan's shade hissed. The chains around the Kel Dooran tightened.

Well, however he might view himself and others...at least he’s willing to fight to defend what remains? At the bare minimum he’s not acting intentionally self destructive...

“Good Morning, Obi-Wan. I am a Jedi Master and your friend. I have been attempting to reach you through your rather impressive shielding. I must say, you’ve done a remarkable job confining me in this mental construct, its been sometime since anyone has managed to get the best of me in this arena.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Don’t try and flatter me, you barely fought back. You could easily have forced your way anywhere, but for some reason you let me corral you, presumably to try and gain my trust. Now answer my question. Your presence is very much light so I doubt you’re Sidious or...Vader. I could be wrong obviously, but i can’t see either of themselves putting this much effort into that sort of mask...just tell me who you are, and why you’re with them.”

“I am Master Plo Koon, a High Council Member, and I am not unknown to you” he elaborated without hesitation. “I am glad that you can identify that I am a light force user. Can you not sense familiarity within my force presence, even so far within your domain?”

Obi-Wan reared back and the dripping noise in the corner stopped.

“It’s a trick. We might be in my head but that doesn’t mean I’m surrendering any of my thoughts to you,” Obi-Wan snarled. “I felt Plo Koon’s death, he was one of the first...and even if he somehow survived he would never work with the Sith to invade my mind. Never.”

“Obi-Wan. Listen to me. Please. I am not dead. I am not working with the Sith. I was brought in to reach you because no other method was working. You are in the healing halls at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” Plo spoke calmly, but implacably, “We believe you have either experienced a uniquely detailed vision, or a run in with a dark-sider. Whatever has happened, I can feel the lingering impression of unsafety. But here and now, you are not in any immediate physical danger. There must be something I can do to convince you of your present physical location.”

“A uniquely detailed vision, huh? ha!” Obi-Wan replied, gesturing wildly. “Ha! You expect me to believe that what, the last four years of my life were a detailed prophecy? Why?”

“You...believe you have lived years beyond the rest of us. I take it the- what you remember has been dangerous enough to warrant maintaining abnormally tight control over your mental walls, precluding simply reaching out to ascertain the truth yourself.”

“Clearly my control wasn’t enough if you’re in here.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I do apologize for the intrusion, but we’ve already used every other tool at our disposal to reach you. I repeat, is there anything that can be done to convince you that you are, from your perspective, ‘in the past’. You are a High Council member with a grandpadawan. It’s been two years since the start of the clone wars. You recently finished an extended clean up of the Mon Cala sector after your victory.”

Obi-Wan stared at him curiously. “If I set a test and you fail, will you agree to dispense with the pretenses?”

Plo-Koon hesitated. “Perhaps I’m making this deal in bad faith, as I am know I am Plo-Koon, and that everything I have said is the truth... but I swear that if you somehow prove that neither of those things are true and I am secretly working for a sith lord, I will...reveal that.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Best I’m going to get, I suppose.”

The chains holding Plo-Koon loosened. Before he could respond, there was a hurtling rising sensation that he struggled not to fight against. After a disorienting moment, he found himself in his own body, feeling vaguely seasick. Obi-Wan blinked awake, apparently unfazed by the precautionary bonds holding him in place. Master Aerdo’s gaze flicked between them intensely. Plo-Koon held up a clawed hand to forestall any interruption while the two gained their bearings.

Obi-Wan spoke first:

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation”

“...What?” Koon replied, honestly confused.

“Cihynglo was a renowned Kashykian Jedi, her mediations are, well i suppose were considered a quintessential example of High Republic cosmic poetry.”

“I’m familiar with Cihynglo- my master used to speak of her fondly.” Plo Koon said slowly. “Though I can’t say I’m familiar with her Fourth Mediation.”

“Hmm. Yes, well her poetry in the last few decades of her life got increasingly, well, esoteric. While most of her work was widely translated and distributed, she requested that those who wished to read her fourth Meditations do so in person, so as to experience without dilution the full calligraphy and artwork that accompanied her words. She only ever produced two copies. Any guesses where they were kept?”

Obi-Wan’s voice started out in the steady tones of a born lecturer, only to grow bitter towards the end.

“Is one in the temple?” Master Koon asked.

“Yes, one was held in the Master’s wing of the temple archives. The other was housed in a place of honor in The White Forest’s Great Tree of Knowledge. Considering both libraries were reduced to ash in the first month of the Empire, it is quite impossible, even for the Emperor, to find a copy.”

His vague attempt at a smirk quickly fell flat.

“I was privileged enough to be granted time to begin reading it once, but, alas, an emergency situation in the intergalactic war you created meant that I had to run off mid-sonnet. Bring me that book, let me hold it, read it, and I will believe that I somehow unlocked the secret of time-travel while overdosing on Spice.”

Obi-Wan paused, catching his breath. “In the next fifteen minutes, please. Any more than that and you might try tracking down the few surviving Wookie scholars.” Koon flipped open his comm. “Master Nu, I have an urgent request.”

“Nu here, go on,” came the response.

“This may sound strange, but it is crucial that Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation be brought to the healing halls, room seven. Within the next 15 minutes.”

“You do understand you’re talking about a physical book, not a flimsi-stack or a holocron. It’s not meant to leave a climate-controlled room.”

“I promise you, I would not ask if it weren’t life or death. Please Jocasta, I’ll explain later.”

“I’ll be there in 10. It had better be one durned good explanation.”

Obi-Wan looked bemused. ”You’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“I am glad you were able to come up with a test you found meaningful. Remember, you have friends here, regardless of whether you experienced subjective time travel or an incredibly detailed vision.”

They waited a little longer. Obi-Wan critically examined Master Aerdo.

“I’m a Senior Soul Healer” they offered at the non-verbal prompting.

“How interesting.” Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

They sat in awkward silence for another minute.

They were all equally trained in suppressing fidgets, coughs, or other nervous tics, which made the wait that slightest bit more unbearable, each second nearly imperceptible from the one before.

Eventually the sound of heavy boots moving at speed approached.

Master Nu strode in, gently cradling a great burden. The book gleamed large and vital in the light of its stasis wrap. Her eyes widened at they took in Obi-Wan, still cuffed to the bed.

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation, as asked for. I trust you have an excellent explanation for how a book of poetry is a matter of life or death.”

“I’m hoping that it will convince our friend Master Kenobi that I am who I claim to be and we are where I claim we are.” Koon gently pulled the book from her grasp and reverently placed it on Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“Obi-Wan, I’m going to uncuff you now. I trust that you will use your freedom to examine our ‘proof.’ We will physically intercede if you make any attempts at self harm.”

Master Nu gasped. “Then the temple rumors...I don’t understand.”

Obi Wan picked up the book as if he was afraid it might bite him. With an irritated snort, he opened brusquely to the middle, and began carelessly flipping ahead.

Master Nu started forward, offended, but Plo Koon held her back. “Please Master Nu, patience-”

Finally Obi-Wan seemed to reach the page he was looking for and stopped. “..And still the rain fell like blood of the womb” he murmured. “That...I tried to think of how the line ended but I...”

Everyone watched as the book shook in Obi-Wan's grasp. He turned the page, gasping slightly and murmuring as he read. “This is...a little gross, but oddly touching. I certainly would not have come up with it myself...but its so clearly...” They watched his react, eyes darting wildly and brow furrowing in confusion.

Several pages later he dropped the book abruptly.

“This is impossible,” he gasped.

Nu darted forward, carefully snatching it from his lap, "I am endeavoring to practice tolerance, but how is destroying an irreplaceable piece of literature supposed to help anyone?!” she snapped

“I admit I wondered that myself, but when I imagined what harm the Sith could do with some of the archive’s more practical works, I understood your decision to torch the collection” Obi-Wan responded dreamily. “I suppose the more beautific works would likely have been destroyed anyway...”

“Torch the archives? I would never.”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan insisted feverishly. “I found your message when we searching for survivors. There were so many bodies piled at the archive door that I was almost hopeful that they had managed to...but I suppose they held out just long enough for you to complete your task.”

Nu backed away slowly. “That sounds like quite the disturbing vision, Master Kenobi.”

“It wasn’t just a vision, it was my life. It-visions don’t last years!” he said, finally growing hysterical. “I remember everything! That gods-awful mission to Cato Nemodia! Getting takeout food with Anakin! The smell of burning flesh in the creche! Singing to Luke! The last year of the war! All of you! You crying after Dooku’s death,” he added gesturing wildly at the archivist. “It was so awkward! You were embarrassed! You told me that for some stupid reason you had ‘held out hope’ it was all an insane uncover mission, that he wasn’t really- Three years alone in the desert! I remember three years of living on fucking Tatooine, how could that possibly be a vision!”

“I...hadn’t told anyone that,” Nu whispered with a hint of alarm. She glanced at Plo Koon, daring him to comment. “I know its very much unlikely at this point, and by any measure, he’s taken things too far, but he’s gone on such long shadow missions in the past...” she looked away.

“Oh, Jocasta...” Plo sighed.

“Master Kenobi. I cannot explain how you came to have such detailed knowledge of the future,” Aerdo said, drawing focus back to the bewildered Obi-Wan, who had shifted into a defensive crouch on the bed. “But I do know one reasonably sure fire way to establish that this, us, is the present. Open yourself up to the force, please, just let yourself listen to what it has to say.

“I...want to, of course I want to believe- but the idea that I’m here- it’s, if you’re real than you can’t possibly understand, its too good to be true.” Obi-Wan responded brokenly.

“I know things have been clouded of late, but, if nothing else trust in the force to not lie to you.” Plo-Koon urged. “If you keep closing yourself off like this, how can you possibly learn if things are better than you think”

Obi-Wan collapsed from his crouch, knees folding underneath.

“If I am...even if I am in the past... Sideous might be watching...i didn’t- i don’t know the extent of his gaze- even if...” he trailed off.

“If it makes you feel safer, you are of course free to again raise your shields to whatever extent you feel necessary once you have verified your reality.” Aerdo replied smoothly.

Obi-Wan looked warily at the three Jedi in the room.“I...” he started, trying to articulate the swelling hope and fear only to find himself at a loss for words.

Aerdo shot him a reassuring smile, “If you don’t feel ready right now, that’s perfectly understandable. We’re very happy you’re willing to reach out as much as you have already. Would you like to pause this discussion for now so we can find you something to eat? I believe a simple broth is a customary first post-bacta meal, but if you have any special requests I’ll do what I can.”

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands. “I- I need to know, don’t I?” he mumbled. “Force help me...you win.” He took one last, searching look at the faces of his fellow Jedi before closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the force.

He opened a small hole in his mental barricades and tentatively allowed his thoughts to drip out. Tentatively, he trickled over the bank of Plo Koon’s being (expecting a frigid burn) only to find a warm and heartbreakingly familiar pool of tempered kindness.

He ran, slightly faster now, over the other Jedi presences in the room. Having finished his course without encountering any dark undertow, he ebbed back. There was an indistinct impression of something heavy giving way.

Obi-Wan’s Shields Fell Like A Dam Beneath a Tidal Wave -

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #time travel #starwars #star wars fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #fix-it

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whetstonefires · 4 years

Text

in the shadows

hey guess who has two thumbs and just spent 5 hours straight writing another batman AU?

Batman wasn’t a person.

He faked it very well. When the League gathered, the line of his mask against pale skin looked natural and human, a little more perfectly fitted than the Flash’s but not quite as perfect as Green Lantern’s, which was an energy projection and not a real object and thus lay against his face flawlessly, without shift or gap.

His mouth didn’t bend into many expressions and his body language wasn’t voluble, but the emotive gestures that he did make were pretty normal. The rare smile seemed honest. He had a heartbeat, perfectly steady. His shadow (almost) always matched the shape that was blocking the light.

The stories that came out of Gotham, about the Bat—those could be exaggerations, born of terror and manipulated perception. Clark, of all people, knew how much you could convince people to believe things that weren’t real, because they made a better story. Even the scraps of photography and film showing a towering thing of black fog and long fangs could have been some clever trick with projectors.

The fact that Superman couldn’t see through his suit just meant it was well made.

He’d had to pool his observations with Diana and J’onn before he’d been sure he wasn’t imagining things. But Martian Manhunter knew shapeshifting, and said the block against his mind when he tried to touch Batman’s thoughts did not feel quite human. And Superman knew what posing as human looked like. And Wonder Woman knew truth, and its absence.

Batman wasn’t human. Which wasn’t the problem, of course.

The problem was that he was pretending he was. Pretending it rigorously in a situation where there shouldn’t be any need, unless he had something worse to hide. Pretending it in a way that overlaid on a certain inhuman predatory grace began to look very dangerous indeed.

Superman could see both things in him now, watching narrow-eyed through a roof into the room where Batman bent over a child’s bed, cape swirling up larger and darker than he let it get around them. The man and the hungry creature, flipping in and out of focus, neither ever gone but superimposed, like a trick picture that was two things at once.

Knuckles ghosted over the boy’s cheek, claws turned inward, and the child sighed softly, and sunk deeper into sleep. Batman’s heart wasn’t beating, but Clark could monitor the child’s vitals easily from here.

Batman drew his hand back, and tipped his head up—looking back at Superman as though the roof was no more a barrier to his perceptions than to Clark’s. Waited a beat, as if making sure his attention had been noticed, and then passed soundlessly between the other beds to the window, slid it open, and launched himself out through it and up onto the roof.

He didn’t bother to restrain himself to even a plausible approximation of human limits, now. The arm he reached up to the edge of the roof to pivot himself up by was too long, and his shoulder rotated further than it should have been able to, and he landed with impossible soundlessness in a billow of cape that was far, far larger than any cape that only reached to his heels should have managed, and which faded out at the edges into shadow. He knew he was found out.

Superman took the obvious invitation, and sunk down to join him. It was better, sitting like this, facing the same way on the ridgepole of a two-story building. Batman hadn’t hurt that child, that he could tell. There was no need to make this a confrontation.

“I don’t understand why,” he said at last. Out of deference for sleeping children, he kept his voice soft—he would have worried about a human being able to hear it, but now he knew he didn’t have to worry about that with Batman. “Why go to so much trouble to deceive us? We haven’t kept secret what we are. Not from you.”

Alien, alien, user of alien weapon, magical princess…

Batman sighed. He spoke almost as softly as Clark had, and his voice sounded the same as ever, except for the fact that a human voice couldn’t get this quiet without falling into a whisper. “I’m not like you.” He turned.

He’d let some of the details of his human mask fall away—what must have been the exhaustively rendered texture of skin, the flakes of dry skin on chapping lips, a crease at the corner of his mouth that had suggested he scowled or smiled more, outside of his costume. There was no pretense of a jawbone, under the skin, though the jawline externally hadn’t changed. The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

“You’ve visited that kid every day for weeks,” Clark said. “Why?”

Batman stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Batman…”

“You’re confronting me now because you’re worried about my intentions toward Dick. He changed your mind about something. Ergo, you’ve been sitting on this for a while. How long have you known I wasn’t real?”

That was such a bizarre choice of words Clark almost skipped answering the question to chase it down, but he held himself back. This wasn’t a story, and Batman wasn’t even a hostile source so far, if it had been. “Wonder Woman, J’onn and I pooled our observations about four months ago, in April. We were pretty sure by the time we finished comparing notes.” He shrugged. “I suspected something a long time before that, but it’s hard to say when it started to be more than…a feeling.”

“A feeling,” Batman echoed. “Yes, it would start there.”

“So?” Superman prompted. He had liked Batman. He was the last person who could insist that someone hiding the truth of his own nature was reprehensible, though the sting he’d felt about it was an uncomfortable reminder of how much most of his friends would resent him, if they knew the truth. So he’d meant to let it lie, until Batman chose to trust them, or gave them a reason not to trust him. “Why have you been visiting…Dick?”

It wouldn’t be suspicious on its own—well, not very suspicious, all things considered, in context—except that Batman had changed, around the same time. Diana said his presence seemed deeper, Clark thought he seemed to be having trouble staying within the outlines of his human mask. J’onn agreed that he seemed somehow more powerful.

Batman stayed silent a long time. Eighteen heartbeats from the boy below them, slower than those of his peers because he had an athlete’s conditioning already and was more deeply asleep than most of them. At last, the being beside him confessed, “He’s carrying me.”

“What?”

“You noticed I’m stronger now,” Batman said matter-of-factly, in a way that almost managed to cover up emotion. “That’s his doing. I was…fading, when you met me. Not up to capacity. I’m not really meant to exist that way.” He glanced over at Superman again, as though evaluating his reaction, and Clark wondered if he had really needed to do that—if he really only saw out of his eyes. J’onn could make eyes anywhere he wanted some, but he needed them to see. Batman seemed somehow less constrained by biology than that.

“Is it hurting him?”

“No! No. It…shouldn’t.” Batman ghosted a sigh, voiceless, inhuman as the wind. “I don’t know that it’s good for a child to be around me. But I’m not…taking anything from him. I’m not…feeding on him, if that’s what you think.”

It was what Clark had feared. And probably anything that would eat a child would also lie about it, but Batman was his teammate and very nearly his friend. So it was reassuring to have it so firmly denied. He’d come braced for only a little and no lasting damage and he said it was fine.

“Please,” he said. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I suppose I have to.” Batman tipped his head back, to look up at the few stars that smudged themselves visible through the red blanket of light-polluted smog overhead. Clark could make out more of them, even with his ordinary visible-light vision, than a human could have. He wondered what Batman saw. “Will you tell the others for me? Your little conspiracy?”

“Not Green Lantern and Flash?”

“Hal and Barry can figure me out on their own.” That dry sense of humor was the same, even if it was bending amusement onto a mouth that could no longer pass as human.

A breath Clark suspected he didn’t need was drawn. “A different little boy made me up,” Batman said. “Bruce Wayne. You can look the story up in the newspaper archives.

“It was a little over twenty years ago, in Gotham. A mugger shot his parents in front of him.” Another slanted glance, and then he looked away again. He certainly acted like he needed his eyes to see. “It wasn’t more terrible than things that happen to a hundred other people every day, really. But he was the right kind of terrified and angry, in the right place, at the right moment…the police reports all say he tackled the mugger from behind, and got lucky that the man hit his head. But it was me. I took him down.”

He raised his face back toward the smudged stars. “I was such a small thing, then. If that vengeance had been enough—the killer taken in and sentenced, brought to justice—I would have faded away again. Things like me are summoned and dispelled that way all the time. Or he could have taken me back into himself—the danger was past, it wasn’t a chronic part of his existence, so I would have reintegrated, probably, and not hung around rising up to protect him for the rest of his life, and probably disrupting it in the process.”

That amused quirk to the horizontal slash of a mouth, again. “But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He clung. He brooded. He wanted to protect everyone. And I grew.” Bittersweet and fond. “I grew until I really could help. Until anyone could see me, any time I liked. Until I was solid enough to get in half a dozen fights in one night without my blows starting to go right through the enemy.”

There was no way Batman was letting him know these things about how he worked, when he wasn’t holding back, by accident. They were being given.

“Where’s Bruce now?” Clark asked. Knowing it was probably a painful topic, but hoping to hear it was some rule of magic out of a storybook, that only a child had the right kind of belief to sustain a projection of this nature. That Bruce Wayne had grown up and moved on and had a career and a family, and perhaps didn’t remember that Batman was something he’d made.

Batman’s eyes closed, and vanished completely into the black of his head. He’d kept unspooling all the while he’d been talking, Clark realized, and the gouts and folds and flame-like flickers of his cape now sprawled over more than half the roof, leaving a great circle of open space around Superman himself, and a broad open route away from Batman, as though he couldn’t just go straight up if he wanted to get away. The billows of it had now collapsed in on themselves. His voice, when he spoke, was hushed and solemn, but calm. “He didn’t make it to sixteen. He died tackling a gunman who’d been holding up a corner store where he happened to be, buying junk food he wasn’t supposed to have. The cashier fumbled the register key and bent over to pick it up, and the man panicked and started shooting. Bruce saved lives, that night. But he didn’t survive. Because I wasn’t there. I was away protecting other people, like he’d asked me to.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Inadequate as always, but more so, when he’d pushed for this truth and didn’t even understand enough to know how to offer comfort. He reached out to offer a comforting, boundary-respecting brief pat on the shoulder, like he might have when he had less idea what Batman was, and his hand hung still in the air, as the face Batman turned toward him was human again, so abruptly that even to his accelerated visual perceptions it looked like some sort of glitch.

“This is his face,” Batman told him, and the grief that hadn’t been in his voice before was worn on it, in the pull of the mouth and the bend of pain around the blank white eyes. He looked like he might cry. “The way he would have looked. He never…grew this far, but…”

“In memory of him, then,” Superman said, soothing, and was able to deliver the pat on the shoulder and withdraw. It sounded like Batman was in some ways the only surviving part of Bruce Wayne, and as such had every right to his appearance, but he clearly didn’t think of himself that way, and it wasn’t Clark’s place to try to alter his self-concept, or even make comment when he’d only just been introduced to it. “That seems appropriate.”

Batman shrugged. It looked very human, except for the way the cape parts of him reacted. “I knew it best.”

Had he held the memory of his…creator’s face in his head, updating it carefully to how he would have looked with every year or month that passed? That couldn’t be healthy. It also might be unavoidable, considering Batman’s origins.

“You went on protecting Gotham, afterward?”

“What else would I do?”

“And you joined us. When Starro came.” Batman nodded, as though that was only obvious. Clark supposed it was—when you were a supernatural entity created to protect human beings, why would you not answer a call to band together with other superpowered beings to save the world? “Why did you pretend?” he asked. “To be…”

“Human?” Batman asked. He snorted in derision, either at Clark’s inability to choose a word or his own deceit. “It wasn’t the first time. I talk to the police like this, sometimes. Witnesses. It reassures people, to be talking to a…person.”

That was the same reason J’onn made himself look more human, even in blatant green—it wasn’t entirely unlike why Clark kept his own life as Clark, why Superman didn’t wear a mask. “But why…” He’d gone to such lengths, to maintain the façade. Human jaw and teeth, sculpted solid to catch X-ray vision behind flesh he’d carefully made permeable to it, when even now with the image of Bruce Wayne’s face restored he wasn’t bothering. Consistent physical proportions. Always running close against the edge of normal human limits, of strength and speed and length of jump—not hanging back, but not throwing himself onto the front line either, contributing as much with tactics and analysis as actual combat. “Why try so hard to convince us?”

Batman shrugged. “I wasn’t holding back that much. I told you. I was fading. I was never meant to last. Once it turned out the team wasn’t a one-time thing, I still didn’t want to go through the whole…process of revelation.”

“But you’re doing it now.” Clark found he was grinding his teeth, because he was putting together a picture he didn’t like. “Because. Now you’re expecting to survive.” Batman had been dying. He hadn’t thought it was worth the stress of being honest with them, because he hadn’t expected to exist long enough for their relationships to matter.

Superman glanced down through the roof at the sleeping children, and one child in particular.

“I wasn’t there in time to save his parents, either,” Batman said, and Clark knew that feeling—all this power and yet you could still arrive too late, and be too little. But Batman was defined by that feeling, founded upon it almost, so it probably struck him deeper. “But I was there afterward. I protected him from the followup attacks, meant to stop him testifying about the sabotage he’d witnessed.

“And he clung to me, whenever I came…I do try to comfort them, especially when it’s children, but usually they’re at least a little bit afraid. He wasn’t. And he didn’t have anyone else to cling to. They wouldn’t let his parents’ friends in to see him more than once, and then they left town. And then, after I came to tell him that Zucco and his men were taken care of for good, when I left I felt the distance opening…I realized I was…his, now.”

There was a strange, wondering ache in the way he said it that made it easy for Clark to repress his own discomfort with the idea of anyone belonging to anyone else, and of something that looked like a grown man asserting an intimate personal bond with an unrelated child. Batman was supposed to belong to a child, it was how he’d been made, and he’d expected to die by inches in the absence of the one who’d made him, and now he suddenly wasn’t. This little orphan was the most precious thing in his world, that was plain, and to Clark at least it was equally plain that he felt a deep guilt at replacing the boy who had been his world before.

He wondered, suddenly, if Batman had ever been this honest with anyone in his existence. Had he been this open even with his Bruce, or had his need to protect led him to put on a front, and conceal every uncertainty?

The pale smudge of Batman’s face was still and remote, and his voice was nearly calm, but the darkness of his cape had spilled out over the whole roof now, and it was gently writhing. The route out for Superman, opposite Batman’s main body, had shrunk to the merest footpath. Was that there out of instinct, or a more conscious courtesy?

“You don’t have to leave that,” Superman said quietly, flipping his thumb toward the corridor of open shingle and beam. “I know you aren’t trying to trap me, and it won’t anyway.”

The path snapped shut almost instantaneously, and a little of the strain in the atmosphere faded—Batman had been holding himself back from encircling him completely only with continuous effort. Why? Did he naturally expand to fill the available space? Or was expanding in the form of the cape an expression of emotion that was uncomfortable to suppress, in the same way it was hard to sit still when you felt anxious, or hold your tongue when you got mad?

His teammate’s whole torso was turned away, now, and this too was easy to read—shame at his own inhumanity. In front of Clark, of all people. But then, Clark made it look easy, didn’t he? It even was easy for him, when it came to things like looking like he fit in.

J’onn should have been the one to come. But it disconcerted him not to be able to pick up anything Batman did not intentionally share—Clark didn’t think he’d learned to read human body language yet, beyond the most obvious things—and Batman had been known to use fire.

“It didn’t seem wise to seem to be trying to threaten you,” Batman said flatly, into the night.

“Thank you,” said Superman, because while he didn’t mind at this point, it would definitely have made him uncomfortable earlier, before Batman had made himself so vulnerable. “Could you, do you think?”

A sidelong look. “You’re less invulnerable to magic,” Batman said. “Probably.”

Something to keep in mind. The Flash was the only teammate he had now that he was reasonably sure he could take three falls out of three. Maybe they could start practicing against each other, if they could find somewhere they could risk making a mess on that scale. Sparring—he and Diana had tried it out, gingerly. If Batman wanted to stretch out his re-expanding powers in a secure environment…

“Do you have any plans, going forward?” Now that he had a future to plan for.

“I have someone who helps me,” Batman replied. “Bruce’s guardian, after his parents died. He wanted to leave Gotham, after…but he stayed. To try to help the city, in Bruce’s memory. And to keep an eye on me.” The amusement this time was bitter. “We don’t really get along. He thinks Bruce died because of me—that I made him feel invulnerable, and then didn’t protect him. He’s projecting. But I suppose that’s what I’m for.”

Clark made a face; he didn’t like the idea of people being for purposes. Even people who’d been made. This wasn’t the time to argue about it. “But he helps you?”

“He helps.” Batman glanced down, toward Dick’s bed, as though once again he could see through the roof. “I’m trying to get him to agree to take Dick in. He did a good job with Bruce, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Will that be the best for Dick?” Clark asked, as neutrally as he could manage. He could tell Batman’s intentions were good, but he didn’t know if putting a child entirely within the influence of a supernatural being that had latched onto him, without an external line of support, was a good idea. On the other hand, putting him in the care of an adult who would know he wasn’t delusional could only help. And Clark could be the outside support, if necessary—not that he wasn’t under Batman’s influence himself, but he wasn’t within his circle of it the way this Alfred seemed to be, resentment or not. The resentment might be the most dangerous part.

What part of this train of thought Batman sensed, he couldn’t tell, as his comrade only retorted, “It can’t be worse than here!”

A group home with four beds to a room certainly wasn’t the best environment, but surely he couldn’t be here much longer. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“He doesn’t get much privacy. He agreed to meet with Alfred last time he ducked into a closet while I was there, so now Alfred’s the focus of the plan.” Batman sighed again. “He’s so brave,” he said fondly. “It worries me. I wish he were somewhere safe.”

The wild impulse rose to offer to step in, to take the role of legal guardian if this Alfred wouldn’t. Clark sat on it. He didn’t want a child, he wasn’t equipped to care for a child, CPS would be able to see that perfectly well in a single reporter in his 20s living in a one-bedroom apartment in a somewhat run-down building. He didn’t even live in the same state, and child placement was handled on a state-by-state basis so even petitioning for custody would be horrifically involved, never mind obtaining it. Also, he had a secret identity to protect.

He couldn’t always help. The hardest lesson in life, and one he had to keep relearning.

“So your plans are…to get Dick into a safe home environment.”

“And keep him alive,” Batman affirmed. Quick, and firm, and almost not obvious about what a vital goal this was to him. Keeping this child alive, the way he’d failed to keep the one before.

“Of course.” Clark nodded. If everything he’d been told was true—and he thought it was, it felt true—then there was no need for the League to intervene. Gotham was probably safer than it had ever been. “Can I meet him, sometime?” Partly to do his part as an outside support network. Partly because he was curious, to meet this child who’d been able to reach his hand into Batman’s chest and close his fingers around his heart.

Batman glanced over, and then seemed to relax. Even the endless piles of his cape seemed suddenly to behave more like ordinary fabric. “I passed, then?”

“What?” Oh. Of course he’d known. Clark had hardly been sneaky. “Yes.”

“Not that I know what you were planning to do if I hadn’t.”

Clark didn’t know either, other than get Dick away of he seemed to need it.

“All of this is off the record, of course,” Batman added. It was a testament to how distracted Superman was by Batman’s problems that it took a long second for him to realize the potential implications of that choice of words, and read in Batman’s posture and the way his cape had developed hooks of tension in some of its folds that they were entirely intentional.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“You attended a press event in Gotham two years ago. You still feel like you, no matter how you dress.”

“Well.” Superman tried to shake the sudden tension out of his shoulders. Batman was a good detective and data analyst, that hadn’t changed with the rest of it. He’d certainly tracked down the name of the gentleman from the Planet. “I guess that’s fair. And of course it’s off the record. I won’t even tell J’onn and Diana anything but the basics without your permission.”

“Oh.” Batman clearly hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“You have a right to your privacy.” Clark thought back over his own approach to the whole situation and said, with a gentleness born somewhat of guilt, “You are a person, after all.”

“I’m really not,” Batman said, corner of his mouth ticking up just slightly to underline the easy irony in his voice. But the great spread of cape had fallen into easier, more geometric wrinkles, and Clark was beginning to learn to trust that over what he said with his borrowed face. Though he could almost definitely lie with the cape part of himself, too, if he needed to.

“Don’t…” His tongue flickered across the back of his teeth; be brave, Kent. “Don’t talk about my friend that way, huh?”

#hoc est meum #my fic #batman #imaginary friend batman #world's finest #somewhat to my surprise #protective batman #inhuman batman #superman #people talking on roofs

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

This is pro hero AU. Everyone is aged up and in my mind like all 23/24

Event Masterlist

Kirishima x fem reader, best friends to lovers, smoke sesh

Summary: monthly get together with your hero friends from high school, but you’re most excited to see the man you’ve been crushing on since graduation. Friends to lovers with happy tears bc weed makes me want to cry with joy sometimes and I know that Kirishima would be so sweet if his love was reciprocated.

Warning:! It’s a little suggestive at the end!! Kiri gets a boner!! Weed makes people horknee

You put your car in park outside of Kaminari’s apartment, excited to see your friends after a long hard month. Nerves are twisting around in your belly, anxiety from being able to finally see the man you were secretly in love with.

Since the end of high school you’ve all been amazing friends, bonding in your last year over smoking weed and having a tradition that stuck even now.

Once a month you’d smoke together and have a sleepover in someone’s room(but now apartment), always rotating rooms/person who brings the weed. This month you were in charge of the drugs and Kaminari was in charge of hosting.

You knock a few times on the door and several voices yell ‘come in’ making you think of high school and bringing a smile to your face.

“Hey guys!” You say when you walk inside

“Y/n!” Kaminari yells

“Y/n’s here!” Sero says and hops from the couch to come hug you

“Who’s here?!” Shinsou shouts somewhere deeper in the apartment

“Y/n Is!” Mina says excitedly as she gets up from the couch with Hagakure who both run to hug you after Sero lets go.

“Hey y/n” Shinsou says with a head nod as he exits the kitchen

Bakugou grumbles a hello from his place on the floor, back against the couch as he plays a switch game “can we finally get this show on the road then? I’ve been stressed all damn day and looking forward to this stupid shit” you walk over to him and ruffle his hair, he had new undercut and it looked nice.

“Good to see you too Kacchan” you say and he rolls his eyes gently pushes your hand away even tho his cheeks were a little dusted in pink. Oh how you loved to tease him.

“Is Kirishima here?” You ask, hoping your voice sounds calm cool and casual

You hear some things falling down in the kitchen and the sounds of scrambling before your favorite redhead comes into the living room

“I’m right here!” He says with an embarrassed laugh before he envelops you into a big hug, pulling you to his large chest as he holds you tight. You laugh and wrap your arms around him as much as you can, burying your face in his chest and hoping when you pulled away your cheeks wouldn’t be too warm.

“Glad you could make it” he says when he lets you go and you smile “me too” you say softly, your eyes sparkling

(Not pictured, the rest of the room staring like “I swear to god if they don’t get together soon...” and bakugous envious eyes)

You reach in your bag and pull out the black glass jar you use to keep your weed in. Your thumb brushes over the golden sunshine that was on the side of the jar and you smile, remembering when Kirishima gave it to you. You pull off the rubber lid and pull out a few joints you already had made, the smell of strong weed escaping the jar and filling the space around you.

You sit on the floor beside Bakugou and Kirishima sits on your other side, legs out in front of him and one arm behind him as he leaned subtly toward you. Sero sat next to Kiri, Kaminari next, then Shinsou, Hagakure, and Mina to round out the circle all lounging on the couch.

You hand the first one to Bakugou and he snatches it, placing it in his lips as you smile, holding out a lighter and he leans forward keeping eye contact as the end lights, sending your heart into a frenzy with his smirk. He knew how hot it was and abused his power, it’s why you could never fall for him.

He takes a long inhale and holds it “that’s nice” he croaks with eyebrows raised and a smile, holding in the smoke for another moment before letting it out. He takes another hit before passing it to you, Mina sliding open the window behind the couch.

You take in a lung full of the acrid smoke and hum, your eyes closing as you hold it for a moment then let it out with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah” you say and take another hit, passing it to Kirishima who winks with a shy smile when the joint leaves your fingers.

Him on the other hand. He was handsome and adorable but he didn’t abuse it. He was a good man and what mattered most to him was helping people and being a good hero, how could you not fall in love with his kind eyes and heart? Or the way his jaw tensed when he swallowed or the way his high smile looked, the way he texts you periodically through the weeks to make sure you’re doing okay, or the way he...

you pull your gaze away from Kirishima’s profile with a shake of the head and warm embarrassed cheeks. You were feeling just a little bit high and we’re staring and zoned in to just how much you adore Kirishima and how much joy you feel when you’re around him. get it together y/n.

You make eye contact with Bakugou and he raises his eyebrows with an accusatory look and crosses his arms. You laugh softly and cover your cheeks with your hands, looking away and pretending nothing just happened. Bakugou scowls but eventually gives in to the relaxed state the weed gives him, accepting that you wanted Kiri and not him and that it was okay.

After the joint makes its way around you pull out your puff puff pass card game and shuffle them before placing them in the middle of the group, the three on the couch sinking to the floor so they could reach as the joint finds Hagakure

“Kacchan.” You say “First hit equals first card”

he rolls his eyes before leaning up and snatching the card and reading it out loud “name all the cereal brand mascots” he reads and then flicks the card back down, it spins as it flies across the circle and he chuckles when it hits Kaminari.

“Uhhh” he says as he sits up straighter, taking the joint from Hagakure and pulling a hit as he thinks “tony the tiger” he says with smoke as he exhales and takes another quick hit, handing the joint to you and you tap the ash into the top of an empty soda can as he continues.

“The leprechaun fucker. Snap crackle pop. Toucan Sam. Trix are for kids bunny.” He continues to name them all easily and you are staring at him in shock for a moment before laughing

“nice one Kacchan” you say as you take a card yourself.

You take a nice long hit with a smirk as you hold up your card that says “puff” and Kirishima laughs, taking the joint from your fingers as he leans for a card “lucky lucky y/n” he says and then looks at his card, reading as he takes a drag. “Go in a circle naming colors until someone messes up”

he chuckles and starts off by saying “blue” the game ends when Bakugou says “Skobeloff” and you laugh so hard against Kirishima’s shoulder you can’t think of any more colors.

But what you can think of is how your stomach flutters and your skin is on fire under Kirishima’s large hand resting on your back, holding you close as you both laugh together.

The game goes on for an hour and a half until all the cards are gone and everyone is just high and chill, someone is playing soft music through Alexa and all the windows and balcony doors are opened, cool night air coming up as you talk and eat snacks that were brought out earlier.

“Come with me” Kirishima says and hooks his pinky into yours when your conversation with Mina ended.

“Lead the way” you say with warm cheeks and hooded eyes as he guides you to the empty balcony.

“It’s such a nice night don’t the bugs sound beautiful?” You sigh as you lean on the railing, looking up at the moon, the bugs in the park below seeming to sing to you.

“I’ve missed you so much” he admits with a shy laugh and when you turn to look at him his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are on the floor as he scratches behind his head.

“You have?” You ask, unable to hide the happiness and smile in your voice and he looks up as you walk slowly up to him.

“So much” he says with a shaky laugh

you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you pull him close.

“Oh Eijiro” you say breathless into his ear, your heartbeat racing and body feeling like you’re spinning as his arms hold you tighter to him “I’ve missed you too” you admit and he sighs in sweet relief as his shoulders relax.

“I don’t want to go a month without seeing you again. You’re more to me than just a high school friend or pro hero college. Through school and now when we work together I just, I couldn’t help but catch feelings for you. Your wonderful personality and your kindness shines through every part of you and you are such a beautiful person inside and out”

He’s saying all this as he hugs you, less flustered without having to see your face and your heart is soaring. You feel your eyes well up in happy tears and you pull back, cupping his cheeks in your hands as he looks down at you with worry in your eyes.

“Y/n what's wrong?” He says and you laugh with a smile as he wipes your tears

“Eijiro,I’m sorry.” you say with a smile wiping your cheeks “Ive been in love with you since graduation and I guess it’s just overwhelming with the drugs” you say and laugh softly, your eyes burn from your makeup as you get it together.

he feels his own eyes well up with tears and he looks up with furrowed brows and eyes screwed shut trying to stop them

“Really?” He asks and his voice cracks a little

you take his hand, leading him to the couch on the balcony, sitting him down and sitting in his lap, straddling his legs and running your fingers through his hair. He sighs softly in relief, your fingers sending extra tingles down his spine with every pass through his hair.

“I love the way you treat the community like they’re your friends and family” you say and kiss his cheek “I love how you always remember the little things about me, things I never even realized I mentioned. Like when you brought me lemon iced tea” you kiss his nose and he chuckles softly, his cheeks turning pink and his eyes looking into yours as a few happy tears escape his eyes

“I love when you laugh, your nose twitches just a little bit and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen” you kiss between his eyebrows

“I love so many things about you, Eijiro. I’d love to spend as much time as it take telling you every one of them” you cup his cheek and kiss away his tears

“I love you so much” he whispers, his voice cracking again from the tears and he chuckles at it

You lean down and brush your nose against his, his eyes fluttering closed as he sighs happily “Eijiro can I kiss you?” You whisper and he nods excitedly as he cups your cheek and connects your lips.

His lips were soft, softer than you originally thought they’d be. His other hand rested in your hip and squeezes lightly as he bit your bottom lip between his sharp teeth.

You gasp softly then laugh when your body floods with tingles from his action.

Your tongue licks at his as he deepens the kiss, his hold on your hip tightening and your hands burying in his hair.

Your lips tingle in the most amazing way, your head was light and you felt like your whole world was spinning and falling through space as your tongues and lips moved in tandem.

You aren’t entirely sure how long you’ve been kissing him, your sense of passing time fucked with how high you felt, but when you leaned back you sucked in a big gasp of air with a smile and a breathless chuckle.

Your thumb runs over his bottom lip as you gaze down at him, his lips were swollen and you’re sure your lips match. Your chin felt like you got a burn from his stubble but you didn’t care.

“We should go back in before they come looking and find us sticking out tongues down each other’s throats” you say and he chuckles, his fingers carding through your hair and his hand on your hip had at some point moved to be on your back, his thumb up under your shirt with his thumb rubbing across your skin slowly as he held you pressed to his chest.

“I don’t want to” he says quietly with a chuckle

“Come on love, don’t tell me you haven’t been missing some down time with Kacchan” you say, his face brightening as you remind him about his other best friend.

“Okay maybe I want to a little bit but .. uhh” he looks away embarrassed, his cheeks flushing “I need a moment or two” he says, voice rising a few octaves at the end, hoping you understand what he’s saying.

You look at him for a beat before you feel something pressed to your thigh “Oh!” You say, your heart hitching and cheeks immediately warming “okay” you say and lean forward, kissing his cheek before getting off his lap carefully and sitting beside him on the couch.

You lace your fingers together and lay your head on his shoulder as you look up at the stars “it really is a wonderful night” he says as the cool night air blows.

You give his hand a little squeeze and sigh softly with a smile “yeah. The best one had in a while”

#kirishima fluff #ejiro kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #bnha kirishima #tw drugs #tw suggestive

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always-against-the-grain · 3 years

Text

farewell

Summary: You meet someone from Negan’s life. Continuation of thirds

Pairing: AU Negan x reader ((female, named Eddie) and others)

Tags: AU Negan, Negan smut, Negan x reader, rough-ish smut

A/N: no proof read. we die like men. also hella long

Your farewell party was towards its end. Only a few of your friends and family members remained.

You were hanging out by the bonfire sipping on your seltzer.

You glanced over at Negan who was congregating with other adults. He was preoccupied with his phone. He typed a messaged and slide it back into his front pocket before saying goodbye to your dad.

“Hey, Klaus, I’m gonna head out” he said giving him a hand shake and half a hug

“We’ll see you” your dad said

“Bye Frankie, thank you” he gently shook your moms hand with both hands

“Anytime” your mom said gracefully

Negan then approached you across the yard, “Eddie. Good luck out there”

He gave you a very appropriate hug, contradicted by what he whispered in your ear, “Come for your gift later. Back door is unlocked”

You had to have a another piece of him before you left for another semester.

—————————

Once the party died down and your folks slipped into bed, you hopped the fence to Negan’s yard.

You came through the back door. Trying to be quiet, knowing the night hours amplified every sound.

After you slid the glass door shut you turned to face the room and noticed a woman standing in his kitchen fixing a drink.

You locked eyes with her. Your heart dropped to your belly.

“I- uh- I’m sorr-“ you began explaining, stepping backwards, your arm blindly searching behind for the door handle.

“Relax Eddie. Negan said you’d be stopping by” her voice surprisingly calming.

She walked around the corner of the island, two glasses in hand. Your heart pumped harder with every click of her heels. You couldn’t help but notice how her navy blue pant suit hugged her lower half perfectly. Her white blouse teasingly revealing her chest.

As the distance closed between you you admired her facial features. Sharp jaw, crisp eyebrows, and an average nose on warm ivory skin.

You watch her full long lips move in slow motion “Whisky or wine?”

“Uh- Whiskey” you said softly after the words registered.

“Good, cause I’m Italian” she laughed and handed you your drink.

I can’t be sober right now you advised yourself, and immediately took a swig, keeping a stoic expression as the alcohol burned your throat.

“Whoa! Didn’t even flinch!” she commented.

“Comn lets have a seat” she said as a gentle hand pushed you towards the living room couch.

You sat anxiously. Elbows on your knees, sweaty palms clutching your glass tumbler.

She sat more comfortably, leaned back, her outside leg crossed over her other, and torso rotated to face you.

Before she started any conversation you blurted out, “who are you?”

“You probably should have asked the sooner. Stranger danger, y’know” she joked.

“But who you do you think I am?” She asked curiously. Taking a sip of her wine.

“Uh, I think you’re the main lady, and I’m a home wrecker and I shouldn’t be here” you took another gulp of your drink, trying to dilute your fear.

“Well, I am the other lady-“

Oh god. You immediately brought the drink back to your mouth, but her hand tapped yours, keeping you from drinking too quickly.

“But I know who you are. And you’re not a home wrecker. Negan is my partner and I’m his, and we’re open”

Relief washed over you.

“You know you could’ve have led with that. Not this ‘I am the main lady’ shit” you mocked her, your defenses quickly falling with the new information.

“I know, but you just seemed fun to play with” she giggled.

“I’m Diana”

“So, Diana, Negan has told you about me huh” you were a bit embarassed. Not knowing what negan shared exactly.

Did he tell her you just had sex or did he provide details? Did he tell her how he fucked you in your bathroom with company right outside? Or how he held you down and came on your face?

“Yes. He has”

There was a short streak of silence before you spoke again, “How do you do that?”

She finished her sip, softly smacking her tongue on the roof of her mouth to savor her wine, before clarifying your question, “Do what hon?”

“Be with other people?” You sought guidance on your own relationship

“Well for one, we trust and respect each other. And we’re honest. So it’s not cheating.”

“When one of us sleeps with someone else we tell each other, get tested. And teach other new tricks” She smiled mischievously before taking another sip of her wine.

“But it’s not for everyone” she added when she saw your not so eager expression

You nodded, really listening to what she had to say.

“So how’d you meet?” You asked leaning back.

“I’ve known Negan for years actually. But we didn’t start a relationship until a year and some months ago.”

“I’m a physical therapist and I was working with one of his athletes after ACL reconstruction. And he stopped by well into her rehab program - with her parents of course - to clarify what she could and couldn’t do during practice. So I met negan then, that was about 8 years go”

“I’ve worked with a couple other of his athletes since then. He joins an appointment once in a while to check in on restrictions”

“But the first time we dated was after we ran into each other at a bar. He had just lost his wife and I was fresh off a divorce. We were there for eachother, emotionally... physically.”

“Though we didn’t last the first time. We were on and off again for like a year. We couldn’t stay loyal. We eventually found our way back, when we realized we couldn’t stay loyal to other people either.” She laughed.

“And here we are. Together, happy, understood.”

You nodded, getting a bigger picture of the situation.

“Where is Negan by the way?” You looked over the couch thinking he was hiding somewhere

“He went out to get some wine” she swirled her empty glass before setting it on the table

“Told him to re-stock before I got here. But he didn’t listen. Tells me he was a little busy.”

You knew that comment was a shot at you

Before you could respond you both heard the open and looked over the back of the couch to see negan walk in with a brown bag.

“Hey Eddie! You’re here!” He said excitedly un-phased by his girlfriend sitting next to you.

He walked over to you both

“Hey Dee” greeting her with a soft kiss

It looked so natural.

“Got your favorite,” he gestured at the wrapped bottle, lifting it slightly.

Negan walked into his kitchen and began prepping his glass.

“I’ll get you a refill” Diana tapped your thigh as she stood up and walked with both glasses to Negan.

You heard a quiet conversation between them and thought it best to leave.

“Hey, so I’m gonna head out” you stood up, “nice meeting you,” you gestured awkwardly.

“What! Eddie no, you gotta open your gift first” Negan said while pouring wine into the the two glasses.

“Ah, thanks negan, I’m sure it can wait—“

“Eddie.” Diana interjected.

She walked toward to you, until she was mere inches away. She was shorter than Negan but taller than you. Even without the heels you were sure she’d still have 3-4 inches on you.

“Are you sure you wanna leave?” She lightly put her hands on your hips.

You looked toward Negan. He just casually took a sip of his wine. Then It clicked.

She was your gift.

Your silence was enough for her. She slowly leaned in, giving you an opportunity to pull away.

Your soft lips met hers.

God it felt different. You wouldn’t say better than Negan or other men, but something about kissing this beautiful, grown woman was quenching something you didn’t know you were thirsty for.

Your alcohol infused tongues exchanges flavors but it didn’t stop you from continuing.

Diana pulled away. Too soon for your liking.

“Can I take this off?” She toyed with zipper of your hoodie.

You were completely underdressed but you didn’t expect an encounter with a professional woman. You expected a quick, hard farewell fuck.

You swallowed audibly.

“Yes,” your voice cracked slightly.

You weren’t wearing a bra. Your breasts immediately shifted outside your clothing as your zipper opened up. Her hands dragged up along your ribs, her touch trigged goosebumps causing your nipples to perk up.

“I like these,” she said kissing you again as her fingers pinched your pierced buds. Harder than you expected, not painful, but her force caused your mouth fall open breaking the contact with your lips.

She laughed, proud but not surprised that she was making you act like this. She brought her lips back to continue kissing you.

With your eyes closed, tongue busy, your hands reached to untuck her blouse. Her hands stopped their mannerisms on your nipples and gripped your wrists and pushed them away

“Nuh-uh” she rejected your actions.

Her hands till wrapped around your wrists, she walked you backwards to the couch you were just sitting on. Diana went down to her knees. She leaned to kiss your navel, simultaneously undoing your jean button. She kissed up your abdomen, between your breast. As more of her body made contact with you, your hips began grinding up.

She took a nipple into her mouth. Sucking on it before lightly biting it.

“Ahh” you moaned as she hooked her teeth on your horizontal jewelry and pulled up - how negan had done the first time.

They definitely exchanged notes. She switched to the other nipple and did the same.

“Take these off” she gripped the hem of your pants.

You lifted your hips of the couch and she helped pull them through your legs. Exposing your wet pussy to her.

“Look at that” she brought her fingers to your womanhood and spread your juices.

You looked down the middle of your chest, Diana between your legs.

Without warning Diana sucked on you clit. Swirling her toungue around it at the same time.

“Oh god!” You whined “fuck!”

She started softly and quickly increased her suction causing you to squirm. Diana swooped her hands under your knees to pin your lower half open to her. Her force spreading your legs was comfortable, enough to limit your movements but not stretching you to your limits as most men would do.

She stopped completely. Pissing you off a little.

“You wanna come?” She asked, already knowing your answer

You nodded.

She returned her mouth to your center. Sticking her tongue out, her eyes locked on yours. She barely flicked your nerve bundle with just the tip.

“Ughhh” escaped you wantonly, your pelvis pushing towards her mouth.

She flicked it little more roughly every subsequent time until she had your whole clit back between her lips. Her tongue working harder than before.

“Mmmhhh!” You groaned intensely. Biting some of the fabric of your hoodie that you were still wearing.

“Oh god- Oh god” you moaned louder and squirmed harder.

Diana’s had to force you down more. “Ugh! Fu- fu- I’m gon—“

“Motheerfuckker!” Both hands pulled downward on the open waistband of your hoodie while your back extended - so much thought it was gonna snap

You rode out your orgasm, instinctively grinding your pussy on Diana’s mouth.

Your eyes closed as your chest continued to rise and fall heavily. Diana gave one of your inner thigh light pecks before releasing your knees from her grasp. She came up to your lips, her hands using the back of the couch as leverage, then you tasted yourself on her tongue.

“You’re beautiful Eddie” she whispered to you.

“Does she always come that hard?” She asked Negan, who you had forgotten was in the room.

“Hardest I’ve seen her” Negan said.

“Though, she’s always sensitive afterwards, which you know I like” he smiled

Diana looked at your eyes, and unexpectedly brought her soft fingers back down to your clit.

You automatically crossed your legs and tried to flip over under Diane.

Both Negan and Diana giggled. You followed suit, really having enjoyed your present.

“That’s cute Eddie” Diana commented on your reaction, sucking on your neck before getting up to walk over to Negan.

Negan handed her a second glass of wine and your whiskey glass.

Diana passed the drink on to you. You took a small swig and set it down on the table and reached for your pants on the floor.

Negan and Diane began kissing each other passionately, not minding your taste between them.

The smacking of their tongues and lips echoed softly.

You pulled your jeans up your thighs with your hoodie remaining unzipped.

Diana noticed you prepared to exit and stopped her kiss with Negan, and tilted her head towards you.

Negan turned to you, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You had a blank stare as your hands froze with your hoodie zipped halfway.

“We’re not done with you sweetheart” Diana added

“She means, there’s more to your present” Negan smiled

“Grab your drink” Diana said as she walked over and pulled on the strings of your hoodie, leading you towards the stairs.

You finished your whiskey as you walked up the stairs, before entering the familiar room.

Diana grabbed the empty glass from you hand and set it on Negan’s dresser along with her half full glass.

Diana led you the bed, “sit.”

she began undressing you from your two garments until you laid completely naked under her. She kissed you and rubbed her clothed body against yours.

Your hands were on her hips encouraging her movements. You attempted to untuck her blouse ignoring your failed attempt downstairs. She didn’t restrict you this time. You pulled her shirt from her waist band and unbuckled her thin belt. Diana stopped her actions to unbotton her blouse and tossed it to the side before resuming to kiss you.

“Dirty girls” you heard Negan enter the room. You could swear you felt your pussy release more fluids at the sound of his voice.

You propped yourself on your elbows and witnessed Negan remove his black shirt and kick off his boots. Diana hopped off you to remove her pants, leaving her in a lacey, beige bra and underwear set.

Negan stepped to kiss Diane, and unclipped her bra. He gripped her breast and eventually her ass and pushed her front against his.

“Mmhhh” Negan groaned when Diana broke the kiss and sucked on his neck down his chest, while a free hand rubbed him through his black Levi’s.

It turned you on, and you did something you never thought you would do.

You brought your hand to your womanhood and began touching yourself, feeing how wet your really were.

“Enjoying the view?” Negan commented.

Embarrassment coursed through your blood, and you removed your hand.

“Don’t stop” Negan said, “keep playing with yourself darling.”

“Let go” Diana added, kissing down Negan’s abdomen

You brought your hand back to pleasure yourself. Circling your clit with alternating pressure.

Negan unbuckled his belt, and let his member free, pulling his pants to mid-glute.

Diana sensually sucked the head of his cock, Negan tossed his head back. She dragged her tongue from the underside of his base back to the tip. Eventually, taking him entirely into her mouth.

“Agh!” Negan reacted to the deep throat, “that’s it baby. Fuck!”

The sounds of gargling and slobber coming from her pleasuring him brought you closer to the edge. You began rubbing her clit faster, building up release.

Negan caught you getting close.

“Don’t come Eddie.” He said in between breathes, “wait for us”

You were so close but figured that what they would give you would bring more pleasure than what you could give yourself. You willed yourself to stop.

Diana popped off Negan’s dick and came to kneel next to your torso, head opposite of yours. Negan removed his pants and dragged you closer to edge of the mattress.

His long middle finger pushed easily into your wet entrance

“Mmhhh” escaped you.

He pumped his digit in and out while Diana rubbed your clit.

Negan removed his finger and brought his member to your center.He dragged it through your folds, teasing you. Your eyes alternating between Negan’s facial expressions and his cock.

“Fuck” you dropped your head back, desperate to feel him inside you.

“You’re right, Negs, not very patient” Diana laughed, lightly smacking your clit a few times, causing you to jolt in spontaneous directions.

“That’s what makes her fun” Negan explained, continuing to tease you with his manhood.

“Cause she’ll eventually-” one more drag of cock against you...

“Give in!” He pushed himself entirely into you.

“Ughhhh!” you moaned

Negan stilled inside you, you walls beating against him. He leaned down to kiss you, his hips making zero movements.

With his mouth still on yours he pulled out halfway and gave you one hard and fast pump, causing you jaw to open and break the kiss

“What did I tell you about punching above your weight class?” He said rhetorically

“And tonight, there’s two of us” He laughed

He stood back up and began pushing in and out of you at a moderate pace. Diana continued to rubbed your nerve bundle.

“Harder, please” you asked

“Patience” Diana reminded you

“Oh, shell learn patient after this” Negan warned.

He picked up the pace and your release was closer than ever. Especially with Diana working your clit perfectly.

“She’s close” Negan announced.

Diana brought her lips to yours. Negan fucked your harder and faster, you could feel his balls push against you, and the slapping sounds confirmed it.

Your moans were captured by Diana’s mouth.

“She’s gonna come” Negan said through his gritted teeth.

“Fuck!” You yelled into Diana’s kiss, you felt yourself come undone.

You tried to pull your lips away but Diana held you head in place to continue kissing you.

Negan slowed down his pace slightly after your orgasm but didn’t stop. Neither did Diana’s hand.

“Oh god! Fuck! Fuck! Ne— ple—“ You werent able to escape her kiss.

You tried to remove Diana’s hand from your pussy but she pinned it down. So you tried to pushed away from Negan further up the bed, but he pulled your hips closer to his.

You tightly closed your eyes, a few more seconds went by and you felt a second release. You heard gushing sounds matching Negan’s thrusts and felt your thighs becoming wet.

Negan slowed down and remained inside you, as your lower body twitched and squirmed.

“I knew wed get her to squirt” Negan said before celebrating with a kiss from Diana.

“You okay Eddie?” Negan asked still slowly pumping himself into you.

You nodded, your face covered by your crossed forearms.

“Good”

He flipped your over, legs hanging off the edge, and he picked up the pace once more.

You tried to use the sheets to get gain some distance between your sensitive pussy and negans thick cock.

“No, you don’t” he pulled you back.

You felt wetness over your puckered hole, followed by a finger. Your glutes contracted involuntary.

“Relax” Diana tried to soothe you, “relax for me”

Negan slowed down. You a deep breathe in between thrusts and we’re able to relax a bit more.

Diana inserted one of her fingers in your anus and wiggled it inside you, Negan picked up speed again.

“Oh, already?” Negan exclaimed.

“I know you’re there honey” Negan knowing your were close, “Let us have it!”

“Oh fuckkkk” another orgasm hitting you Followed by a small release of extra fluids.

Negan leaned over your back and sucked on your shoulder and neck before congratulating you “Good job baby, you just might be able to go the rounds”

“Aghhh” you moaned into the bed as he pushed slowly and deeper a few more times.

Negan pulled entirely out of you, your walls pulsating every so often recovering from your intense orgasms.

“Aghhh” you let out softly as you felt Diana’s finger exit your picked hole.

Negan stepped into his bathroom to dry off a bit.

During this intermission, you brought your legs onto the bed, to lay on your side, facing Diana.

You reached between your tighs to inspect your wetness. Maybe it was all in your head.

“Was that your first time?” Diana asked

“Um, yeah...”

“I’m sor—“ you were caught of guard when she brought your fingers into her mouth to suck on them.

You were mesmerized by her actions

She finished, chuckled, and smiled at you, “What were you sorry for?”

“Um, the—“ You stuttered pointing at the wet stains on the comforter “-the sheets”

“Don’t be sorry. I expect messes from dirty girls” Negan said returning.

“And you’re a dirty girl” he spanked you ass and firmly rubbed it after.

Diana positioned you face up and straddled you. She leaned to kiss you as Negan gripped Diana’s hips and entered her.

He pushed inside her more delicately than he’d ever done with you. You saw Diana’s eye lids flutter with pleasure at her lovers intrusion.

“Ah, Fuck” she moaned into your neck.

Negan fucked Diana on top you. He alternated speed, building up her climax while holding back his own.

While pumping into her, Diana whispered to you, “Touch me”

Frozen by her request you did nothing.

“Touch me” she repeated, reaching for one of your hands that rested on the outside of her thighs.

She brought your hand to her center. You hesitantly began rubbing her.

“That’s it Eddie” she encouraged you “just like that”

Your fingers occasionally bumped into Negan’s dick that was entering and exiting Diana.

Negan leaned over and whispered to Diana, “I need to come now”

Diana turned her neck over to give him a kiss of approval.

Negan snaked his hand in Diana’s hair and pulled harshly, followed by a playful yelp from Diana.

Negan began jackmhammering into her, making growling sounds that never left his throat.

“Ughh” both moaned, coming at the same time, on top of you.

Negan let go of Diana’s hair, and her body weight rested on you. Negan continued to slowly pumping himself in Diana as he softened.

He eventually exited her and flopped himself on the bed next you and Diana, catching his breath.

As Diana reached between her legs, you felt Negan’s cum drip from Diana’s pussy onto yours.

Diana collected some of Negan’s release on her fingers and brought them to your mouth.

You opened and sucked on them. Not breaking eye contact.

“Do you like the taste of me and my boyfriend?”

You nodded, her fingers still in your mouth.

Diana slid off you, to sandwich you between herself and Negan.

“So when are you back from school?” Diana asked.

“Christmas” you said through a yawn.

“We’ll have to get you another presents then”

Your stomach fluttered at her words as the three of you drifted to sleep, limbs stacked upon each other.

#negan #negan x oc #negan x reader #negan smut #Negan's thirst squad

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extraintrovertedalien · 3 years

Text

You got a name?

‘You seem like an interesting individual with good music taste for blasting RAIN by Ben Platt in the middle of the night’

AU August

Day/Prompt: Day 1 - Coffee shop

Ship: Pre-prinxiety, platonic royality

Word count: 1244

Cw: swearing / food mention

@tsshipmonth2020

Virgil has been working on this particular coffee shop for three years now and never has been assigned to the night shift. Unfortunately, with the loss of a few of their employees due to a new coffee shop opening that happens to be near where they all live, he had to be moved to the night shift. It didn’t matter if the other shop was nearer and that he has to prepare for a lot of caffeine to intake.

When he first got to this job as a barista three years ago, it took him a long time to adjust to the other employees, the regular customers, the route to the shop, and the environment. He isn’t going to do that again if not necessary.

He already knew a few of the employees in the night shift cuz’ he was always the last one at the shop and they always met at the end of the day to inform them if there were any deliveries or important memos(and sometimes gossip about the regulars).

~*~*~

It was Virgil’s first day on the night shift and he is currently on an empty bus, listening to one of his playlists. He wanted to get some rest earlier to prevent intaking much more caffeine than he needed. He liked to pretend that he did get some rest and, not ended up endlessly scrolling and indecisively changing the appearance of his Tumblr blog.

When he arrived, he saw his co-worker, Janus, cleaning up the counter and preparing his stuff to end his shift. There was a small exchange between the two before Virgil fully settled in behind the counter, waiting for his other co-workers to come in. Eventually, Patton came in causing the bell on the door to ring, catching Virgil’s attention. “Good evening, Virgil!” Patton cheered as he skipped to the back, passing Virgil, to drop his stuff.

The two conversed for a while, with a customer or two coming in every once in a while. After an hour or so, Patton excused himself to sort out the delivery the shop received earlier. He also informed Virgil that if a person named Roman comes in, just tell him that Patton is at the back and just let him through. Virgil was worried they were letting random people inside, but Patton had been on the night shift for as long as he was on the day shift so, he just nodded at Patton’s request.

After a few customers, Virgil decides to make himself a drink. While his back was facing the shop’s entrance, he heard the bell by the door, signaling that a person had entered the shop. “I’ll be with you in a sec,” Virgil stated, still not facing the person.

~*~*~

Roman has been friends with Patton ever since they were in kindergarten and even though he wouldn't exactly trust the man with his life, seeing that he'd drop anything to pet a cat, he's still the friend that Roman had since the start and he wouldn't have it any other way.

As Roman entered the shop with his earphones blasting some Ben Platt tunes, he’s frantically searching for something in his messenger bag. He looked up when he realized no one had greeted him when he entered. Usually, Patton would happily greet him with a pun or already handing him his drink. Now, he sees a barista with purple hair with their back facing him.

"Ahh, you're new I presume," he continued to look inside his bag as he walked to the counter. "Well, my order is kinda complicated so, you're gonna have to write this down," he warns as the barista walks over to him. "Okay, SO... a skim milk latte, with 2 extra shots of espresso... affogato style... make two of those shots without caffeine... add only 4 squirts of fat-free vanilla... steamed at 180 degrees... add caramel on top... no whip... and don't fill the cup all the way…" he notices the barista just standing in front of him. He stops what he was doing and fully looks up to see the other doing something on the monitor in front of him. "W-why aren't you writing this down?" Roman inquires as he marvels and gawks at the gorgeous human being in front of him. Eyeing him from head to... how far his eyeballs can reach with a countertop in between the two.

"What size?" the barista asks, keeping their eyes on the monitor. "Uhh… the big one. Do- do you need me to repeat everythi-" He was cut off, "Ventihalfcafquadextrahotwithroomskinnycaramelmachiatto? You got a name?" Roman doesn't know how to react. He's in between confused, impressed, and somewhat offended. The barista was now looking at him, waiting for his answer. Roman looks over to the other's name tag that says 'Virgil'; when he looks back at Virgil, realizes that he still hasn't answered. "That…" he trailed off.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "That sure is… a question... that has an answer," Roman continued, stammering. Virgil rested his chin on his palm, his elbow on the counter. He flashed the customer an amused grin, "Take your time, man. I got all night long," Roman’s face went red but eventually did tell the barista his name after apologizing. “Ahh. So you’re Roman,” Virgil acknowledged as he wrote the name on the cup. “Patton’s in the back. Let yourself in,”

~*~*~

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a hot new barista coming in today?!” Roman whisper-yelled to his friend as he closed the door behind him. “Who? Virgil? He’s been working on this shop for as long as I have. This is his first time in the night shift, though,” Patton explained as he took the box of their new blender out of the larger box and handed it to Roman. “Can you give this to him and ask him to set it up on the counter? We’ve been waiting for that blender for months,” Patton politely asked with a smile. “Sure thing, Pat,”

“Hey. Patton asked me to give this to you and he asked if you could set it up,” Roman stated as he handed the box over to Virgil. Virgil finished the drink he was working on when he recognized the box and snatched the box from Roman’s hands and exclaimed, “Oh! Thank fuck! We’ve been waiting for this for months!” He placed it on the counter and excitedly took out the blender from the box. Roman snickered at the other’s antics, amused. “Oh! That’s your drink right there,” Virgil pointed to the drink he left on the counter. Roman thanked him and flashed him a smile as he heads back to his friend.

“What’cha got there, Roman?” Patton began. “Uhm? My usual drink?” Roman replied, confused. “No, silly. There’s something written on the side,” Patton giggled. Roman rotated the drink in his hands and sees small scribbled untidy handwriting. ‘You seem like an interesting individual with good music taste for blasting RAIN by Ben Platt in the middle of the night’ followed by a phone number. Roman blushed at the note.

He could hear the bell by the door ring followed by talking, muffled by the walls:

“What’s up, bitches!”

“Sup’ asshole. Where the fuck have you been? Is that- Is that a drink from the traitors?”

“Don’t worry, babe. It tastes like shit. I was gonna throw- Is that a new blender?!”

“Fuck yeah it is!”

‘This is going to be interesting,’ Roman smiled.

I honestly don't know how to write when it isn't prinxiety so for the entire(ish) month will be mostly prinxiety. But, if you want me to write a different ship with the prompt on a specific day on AU August, send me an ask! I can at least give it a try😅

#TSSAUgust #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #prinxiety #pre-prinxiety #platonic royality #royality #ts prinxiety #em writes #food mention #tw food

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naruwoe · 2 years

Text

Sunshine of Mine

au: in which Shisui is the son of Minato, and he’s also Naruto’s half brother.

ao3

companion fic with shisui and his mother

It’s raining when he arrives.

The window is unlocked, but sticks when Shisui tries to open it. He has to tug it a few times, until it finally opens with a whine. His body aches, the empty spot where his eye once was hurts the worst.

But he has to keep pushing.

He steps softly onto the hardwood floor. The living area is sparsely decorated, dishes piling up in the sink, a garbage bag abandoned at the door. Something tightens in his chest, the thought of who exactly was living here hurts.

He takes all of two steps when the bedroom door is thrown open. Uzumaki Naruto stands quaking in his pajamas, sloppily holding a kunai in front of him as if that would protect him.

Shisui’s little brother looks nothing like him.

“Hey,” Shisui says softly, taking a knee. Water drips down his face. His empty eye stings. Shisui relaxes his posture, shoulders slumping as he raises his hands slowly. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Naruto slowly lets the kunai fall, and his bright blue eyes meet Shisui’s dark ones. They look nothing alike. Shisui has his mother’s dark brown curls, dark Uchiha eyes. Naruto is a perfect blend of both his parents, the soft features of Kushina and Minato’s wild blond hair.

Naruto’s brows furrow. “Who’re you?” He asks, head tilting to one side.

Shisui’s known. For a few months, but he's known the truth about his real father. Why some of the other clansmen looked down on him when he was very small. Why he and his fa- step-father never got along.

Earlier that day he was ready to die. Then he remembered he had someone who needed him.

“I’m Shisui.” He smiles despite the pain, and his knees whine as he moves to sit rather than kneel. “And I’m-”

“You’re hurt!” Naruto cries, feet loudly slapping against the hardwood. Suddenly there’s a little boy in his face, expression pinched together in worry. “I didn’t notice b’fore ‘cause it’s so dark in here! I thought you was cryin’ but that didn’t make sense, and it’s somethin’ else isn’t it! Wait right there I-I-I’ll be right back, okay!”

Quick as a whip, Naruto turns on his heel, running towards the bathroom. Shisui barely counts to thirty when Naruto comes stumbling back, the metal first aid kit far too big in his small arms. His brother trips on the hem of his pajama bottoms, but Shisui catches him in record time. It aggravates his aching body, but the bright smile he gets from Naruto is the only balm he needs.

“Do you want any help?” Naruto asks softly from where he sat at the table.

“It’s alright, it’s too big a job for you I think.” Shisui says, wrapping the bandage around his head. The socket is padded with gauze and taped down, and he can only hope an infection won’t set in in the meantime.

“So,” Naruto tilts his head. “You’re Shunsui?”

“Shisui.”

“Shisui!” He grins, and despite the pain, Shisui smiles back. It’s silent between them, as Shisui finishes bandaging himself up. He places everything back in the kit, and closes it softly.

“So…” Naruto hums, stretching his arms out over the table. “Why’re you in my house? N-not that ‘m complainin’! I never ever get visitors, other that Jiji, so I dunno if ‘m a super great hoster, but I got um… water! If you’re thirsty an’, an’, an’ I can make you somethin’ to eat if you’re hungry or-”

“Naruto.”

The boy's mouth snaps shut.

Shisui’s wasted too much time. Naruto’s anbu rotation should be waking soon, and he knows, deep down, that Danzo must be watching him.

He smiles softly, in an effort to help calm the boys nerves.

“What do you know about your parents?” Naruto’s shoulders slump. Shisui can almost see Naruto’s good mood leaving him in a rush.

“Wha’s there t’ know?” He shrugs. “They’re dead. Or they didn’t want me. Who cares.”

They’ve failed him. Each and every one of them has failed Shisui’s baby brother. Him included. He moves from the chair, taking short steps before finally kneeling in front of him. Shisui didn’t get to know Minato. He’s not sure if the man would have loved him, or pushed him away.

But his father was also a hero, who wanted to protect his baby son til his last breath, so who’s to say he wouldn't have protected Shisui too.

Shisui takes a deep breath in. The law he’s about to break would have the Hokage have his head, but he’s already a dead man walking.

“Our father was a good man who loved you, very very much.” Shisui’s large hands take Naruto’s much smaller ones. “And I think, he’d want me to look after you, if you’d let me.”

Naruto blinks at him, mouth opening and closing. “Our-”

“My real father,” Shisui cuts in. “My birth father was your father as well. I didn’t get to know him very well, but from what I knew of him, he was a good man.” He squeezes Naruto’s hands in his. He fights back the tears that threaten to come.

“Won’t you forgive your big brother for being away so long? I… I’m here now. If you’ll let me.”

Naruto’s lower lip trembles, and suddenly he has an armful of a sobbing child. The way Naruto clings to him is all the answer he needs.

#naruto #shisui uchiha #naruto uzumaki #naruto fic #my fic

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thatsamericano · 3 years

Text

To Be a Gardener in Love with a Prince

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano, Prussia cameo. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 2440

Summary: Savino makes a flower delivery in the middle of the night as he usually does, but this time Alfred wakes up.

A/N: For @aphrarepairweek2021 Day 2, “Royalty.” Inspired by this popular text post, which screams Romerica to me.

Savino checked to make sure that the small bouquet of thornless roses he’d prepared earlier were securely strapped to his chest as he approached the castle entrance. Gilbert, the palace guard, raised a single pale eyebrow him.

“Again, Savi? What is this, the third time this week?”

Savino scowled at him. “Shut up.”

Gilbert laughed and got in position to lift him up towards the first foothold on the stone wall. “You know, it might be easier to just tell Prince Alfred how you feel. That way you wouldn’t have to climb into his bedroom every night just to leave him flowers.”

Savino grunted and stretched up to place his hand over a balcony ledge. “If I wanted your advice, I would’ve fucking asked.”

Gilbert turned back to watch the area outside the castle. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Savino frowned to himself as he leveraged himself up onto the balcony. Gilbert’s comparison was strangely apt. They weren’t from feuding families, but he had about as much chance with Prince Alfred as Romeo and Juliet had of ending up together. Alfred was the eldest prince, born with more wealth and power than most people could even contemplate. Savino was just the guy who’d been hired to tend to the plants in the castle’s garden.

Alfred was pretty strange, as far as royalty went. Savino had been kicked around a lot in his life, and most people from the upper class wouldn’t bother to speak to him, because they thought a title and inherited wealth made them better than a mere commoner like Savino, especially one who got soil under their fingernails each day from toiling in a garden. But Alfred wasn’t like that. They’d met one day while Alfred was guiding his horse back to the stables, and Savino had bowed and called him “Your Royal Highness,” as he had been trained to his entire life. Alfred had chuckled, told Savino he could stand, and that he was more comfortable being called “Alfred,” and that he didn’t think he was better than anyone else just because he was a prince. The entire encounter was bizarre as hell, especially when Alfred shook his hand and asked who Savino was like they were equals.

The next day, he came back, just to chat and get to know the new gardener better. Alfred asked him questions about the seaside town he’d been born in, his life, and his family, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything Savino had to say. Alfred kept visiting, and he talked about himself too, but not in a pompous or arrogant way. Usually it was funny anecdotes about his younger brother, his parents, or the boring meetings he had to attend. Occasionally, he’d complain about how he kept getting offers of marriages on behalf of princesses from other countries. Alfred didn’t want to marry some girl he’d met only once or twice simply because it would create an advantageous political alliance.

“Who would you wanna marry?” Savino had asked him once.

Alfred frowned thoughtfully. “I dunno. Someone who likes me, and I like her. Someone I can talk to for hours on end without getting bored, the way I can talk to you. Someone who makes me feel excited when I wake up, because I know I’ll get to see them that day.”

“You want to marry for love, then,” Savino concluded.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

It was at that point Savino realized that, against all his preconceived notions, Alfred had become one of his closest friends at the castle. A few months after that, he came to the painful realization that he’d fallen in love with a goddamn prince. It didn’t have anything to do with some silly fantasy about rising above his current station. He just loved Alfred, for his carefree smile, windswept blond hair, the way he’d take an extra pastry from the kitchen to make sure Savino got to eat lunch in the afternoons, and all those times he got down on his hands and knees to pull weeds out of a flowerbed with Savino just because he “looked like he could use a little help.” He loved Alfred’s tight hugs, his hilariously accurate impression of the king, the glee in Alfred’s voice when he called out for “Vinny,” the nickname he’d given Savino only a couple weeks after they’d first met, and the fact that Alfred had been so happy he’d bounced on his feet after Savino started calling him Fredo.

If Alfred had been a knight or a stable boy, Savino would have tried to figure out if he could be interested in men romantically. And then, if it seemed like a real possibility, he would have done something about his feelings. As it was, Alfred was so far out of his league that all Savino could do was pick a few flowers and leave him anonymous bouquets while he was sleeping. A confession of any kind was completely out of the realm of possibility.

After reaching that first balcony, Savino had to do a bit more careful climbing to reach the highest window, which led into the prince’s bedroom. Every time he delivered flowers to Alfred, Savino wished he could get into the castle like a normal person instead of risking life and limb. Unfortunately, Gilbert was the only guard Savino trusted not to run to the king and alert him about an intruder “harassing” his oldest son. If he was accused of trying to harm a member of the royal family, Savino could be sentenced to death, and Alfred’s protestations might not be enough to save him.

Savino wiggled through the open window, grateful that Alfred habitually left his window up in the warm summer evenings as he slept. Savino couldn’t have delivered his flowers if Alfred hadn’t been quite so trusting.

The room was dark, and he only had a bit of moonlight to guide him. But after so many clandestine visits, Savino was familiar with the layout of Alfred’s bedroom, and he was confident that he could tiptoe across the plush, carpeted floor, locate the empty vase on the third shelf of Alfred’s bookcase, leave his roses, and then retreat without Alfred having any clue he was ever here.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t counting on a footstool to be placed directly in the shadow cast by Alfred’s enormous four-poster bed. Savino stubbed his toe on the damn footstool, and hissed instead of screeching out a curse like he normally would have at the unexpected, sharp pain.

The bedcovers rustled as Alfred slowly began to wake up. “What’s going on? Who’s there?”

Savino clenched his jaw and silently prayed Alfred wouldn’t see him. If he just stayed perfectly still and didn’t breathe too loudly, maybe Fredo would assume he’d been dreaming and go back to sleep. Then Savino could get the fuck out of here with some shred of dignity left.

Too late. Alfred shifted up into a sitting position and reached over to the side table for his glasses. He put them on and squinted through the darkness. “Vinny?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Savino coughed and tried to deepen his voice. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Just go back to sleep.”

“It is you!” Alfred grinned, shoved the covers back, and bounded towards him with a remarkable amount of energy for someone who’d just woken up only a few seconds ago. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night? Did you need to talk to me about something?”

“I… uh…” Savino couldn’t figure out what to say, and he couldn’t figure out where to look. His best friend, who he was hopelessly in love with, was wondering why Savino had snuck into his room long past midnight. If he looked up, he would see Alfredo’s goofy, oblivious smile and his hair that was mussed adorably from being rubbed across his pillow while he slept. If he cast his gaze eye level or lower, he would be looking at the prince’s goddamn silk pajamas. Anything he saw would be too intimate or too much.

Alfred stepped even closer and tilted his head down. “Dude, are those… roses? Why would you have roses strapped to your chest?”

Savino squeezed his eyes shut and hoped Alfred couldn’t see how close he was to bursting into tears. “I can explain, Fredo, I swear.”

Alfred gasped. “Oh my God! You’re the one who’s been leaving flowers in my room! I can’t believe this!”

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my place, and I had no right to—"

Savino couldn’t even stutter out a full apology, because the next thing he knew, Alfred was hugging him and giggling in his ear. Not only hugging him and giggling, but picking Savino up and spinning him around in the air.

After several rotations, he finally set a baffled, dizzy Savino back down on his feet. Alfred shifted back a little to beam down at him, but kept his hands lightly resting on Savino’s waist for reasons Savino couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was trying to apologize,” Savino said slowly, to emphasize the words. “For breaking into your private bedroom. For giving you gifts that are a little strange for friends to give each other, no matter how close they are.” Maybe Alfred had missed the romantic subtext of everything he’d done? It was the only explanation Savino could think of for why he was reacting like this.

Alfred shook his head, still smiling. “Vinny, dude, you don’t have to apologize for that. The next time you want to come into my room, you can just ask. I don’t want you breaking your neck trying to climb a wall or something.”

“But what about the, um…”

“The flowers? I had no idea it was you. I mean, you are the gardener here, so it makes sense, but when Mattie brought it up to me, I was like nah, no way. Vinny’s way too cute and charming to go for someone like me. He could have anyone he wanted.”

Savino’s head was spinning, and his heart was pounding, but not from anxiety this time. “You’ve told your brother about me?”

“Heck, I’ve told everyone about you. I’m pretty sure they’re sick of hearing me talk about you so much. But the only people I’ve told everything to are Mattie and my manservant, Tolys. The rest of them would try to tell me I shouldn’t be in love with you, either because you’re a gardener or because you’re not a girl. I’d rather not have to hear their stupid opinions about you, because they don’t know shit.”

“You… you love me?” It sounded fake when Savino said it out loud, but he was only repeating what Fredo had just told him.

Alfred frowned, suddenly looking worried and insecure. “Was I not supposed to say that? I didn’t misread everything, did I? Were those just friendship flowers?”

Savino shook his head, crying and laughing at the same time. “Tesoro, there’s no such thing.”

“Oh, good. Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

Savino answered him by planting his hands on Alfred’s shoulders and leaning up to kiss him. Alfred smiled into the kiss and tightened his grip on Alfred’s shoulders. The roses were crushed in between them, but for the moment he had more important things to focus on.

By the time Savino broke the kiss, they were both grinning stupidly at each other. “Wow, we should’ve done that a long time ago,” Alfred said.

Savino laughed. “It would’ve been easier than climbing into your room to leave flowers all those times.”

Alfred reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m not sure how, but I’m gonna figure out a way to be with you. Before we met, I’d resigned to marrying some random princess for political reasons. The best I could’ve hoped was learning how to like her eventually. But now I know what it’s like to be happy, to be with you, and I’m too selfish to give that up. I won’t.”

Savino swallowed a lump in his throat. “Even if it meant you’d have to give up everything else in your life?”

“Even then.” He brushed a featherlight kiss over Savino’s temple. “You’re worth it, sweetheart.”

Savino’s logical side told him he shouldn’t believe Alfred, because he was making ridiculous promises no one in his position would actually keep. But the way he was treating him so softly and the way he’d called him sweetheart made Savino believe him. He smiled as he pulled back and walked over to Alfred’s bookcase. He unwrapped the roses from their makeshift wrapping and arranged them in Alfred’s empty vase.

“The flowers I got you are horribly squished, by the way.”

“Well, that’s okay. I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else.”

That sentiment was so adorably, earnestly Alfred that Savino couldn’t help himself. As soon as he walked back to Alfred, he kissed him again, and Alfred eagerly reciprocated.

“I guess this is goodbye, for now. I need to sneak back out before another guard comes on duty.”

Alfred tipped his forehead against his, and they swayed back and forth in a slow mimicry of a dance. “I’ll help you sneak in tomorrow. If you come by earlier, you’ll get to stay for longer.”

He’d love that. He loved Alfredo, and it was complicated, but no longer hopeless. He backed up towards the open window, and Alfred walked with him. “I love you, Fredo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too. Will you be safe getting down?”

“I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”

Alfred peered out the window as Savino climbed out the window and very carefully descended down the castle wall. He was still standing by the window by the time Savino had made it to the ground, and he only left after Savino waved to indicate that he had made it down safely.

Gilbert smirked at Savino as he was walking past him. “Another successful flower delivery?”

Savino shrugged. “The flowers were a little squished, but I don’t think Alfredo will mind.” I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else. Savino grinned at the memory of what Alfred had said. He probably wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for at least a week.

Gilbert’s chortling followed Savino as he walked down the well-worn path between his own small house and the castle where Alfred and his family slept. His smile stayed with him even longer, until he was drifting off to sleep in his own bed.

#hetalia #romerica #aphrarepairweek #aphrarepairweek2021 #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #hws prussia #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post

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mihidecet · 4 years

Text

SBi d&d AU: Tubbo

Aka: Tibi’s MCYT WritingTober, day 20!

From @the-only-gamer-gost ‘s list of prompts, another entry for “Fanmade AU” ahahah And as requested by a super cool anon: “ i'd love to see more of tommy's backstory in the d&d au! especially if we can meet tubbo?” :D

Ask and you shall receive! You can also find Tubbo’s reference sheet made by the wonderful @whatimevendoinhere here! Also, @rigatonipastaroni made a super sweet comic about the reunion, waaay before the chapter was even posted!!

There is nothing quite as sad as a bard with a broken guitar.

It happens during a fight, a sadly-not-that-unusual spar with a rogue elemental that had decided to mess with a village just because they had been bored.

Absolutely unrelatable. Tommy's patron had commented, the absolute hypocrite.

Still, the overall business had been quite straightforward: get to the outskirts, find the bad guy, kick their ass, profit.

Nothing they hadn't done before.

And like everything they expected to go smoothly, things went wrong.

Tommy would say that thankfully nobody had gotten hurt, and everyone was perfectly fine, and they'd gotten a particularly big reward for something that standard.

Wilbur would say, instead, that his guitar had been irreparably damaged, its neck snapped in half and body ripped apart, shards laying on the ground like blood, a gruesome heart-wrenching sight that would haunt him until the end of times.

Tommy's patron had warned him that his second-degree cousin was a bit dramatic, but maybe it was just standard bard behaviour.

To be fair, the guitar was mostly gone.

Wilbur had picked up as many pieces as he could and stuffed them in its case, but no amount of mending cantrips had been able to fix it. Phil had tried, but he didn't know how guitars worked and it was hard to discriminate where each shard needed to be placed in order to mold it all back together, like a freakishly hard jigsaw puzzle.

And Wilbur had been extremely proud of his guitar, as apparently it had been a gift and a memento of his grandiose adventures. Sentimental values and such.

Not that Tommy could say anything about it, not after the friendship bracelet incident.

For about a week, every time they stopped by a town, they looked for a carpenter first, a musical expert second, and an arcane expert third.

They never managed to fix it. The thing was, it happened to be a weirdly specific and skill-needing task, so nobody they found was either confident enough or prepared enough to do it.

So they moved on, and the bard's lament continued.

It gets to the point where one night, the innkeeper approaches their table during one of Will's performances - the tiefling had insisted in keeping the tradition of offering his musical entertainment in each tavern they resided in, now with just his voice and sometimes his flute, but being unable to have music as he sang and vice versa was truly different.

That night, Wilbur is singing a ballad so sad and tear-jerking that the innkeeper actually approaches them and asks if everything is alright.

"Oh- oh, yes, my apologies, everything is alright. -" Phil instantly responds, looking quite awkward "- It's just that his guitar broke, and we haven't been able to find anyone to fix it. It was of great personal importance."

The innkeeper nods understandingly, an expression of deep empathetic sadness on their face, before their eyes light up.

"You know, I might just have what you need. You guys are lucky, the Fixer Upper just arrived a week ago! If he doesn't know how to fix it, nobody will."

After obtaining a brief explanation of where to find this infamous "Fixer Upper", who apparently works for free and will probably ask for food, shelter or protection as he moves to the next town over, the innkeeper leaves them be, assuring them that it'll be the solution to all their problems.

Phil finds himself, despite the overall skepticism, feeling a bit of hope. If nothing, at least he might be able to convince Wilbur to buy a new one - make new memories.

Even Wilbur is less enthusiastic than usual when they tell him, but after all they've been redirected to plenty of miracle workers that turned out to be unable to do anything.

The only thing that feels a bit off, is how Tommy's patron keeps giggling in his head - the way he does when he knows something Tommy doesn't. It's a bother, but Tommy's too tired to try and investigate.

The "Fixer Upper" is staying in a farm just outside the village, apparently sleeping in the barn.

He comes to the village every couple of months, apparently used to circling back around the same couple of dozen of places, constantly travelling from one to the other and helping out whoever needs something fixed. The innkeeper that recommended him apparently had him fix their son's prosthetic leg, which has been working better than ever.

The fact that he never asks for compensation is what keeps them all on the defensive: nobody does anything for anyone without coin on the line, so Wilbur is already somewhat expecting to find yet another old relative making deals with young children.

Yes, he is still a bit bothered by the fact that his second degree cousin spends half of his time inside Tommy's head.

No, he's not going to bring it up.

Approaching the barn, an increasing cacophony of sounds greets them, and Wilbur starts looking less and less convinced and more and more like he wants to leave - not to blame him, the noises are definitely not reassuring.

They enter the barn, where one side is perfectly fine and the other has a bunch of mechanical and metallic parts strewn on the ground.

At this point, Techno has a hand on Wilbur's arm, either to instill some confidence in him or to keep him from running away with the shattered guitar.

Then all of them stop, frozen in their tracks, as something completely out of the ordinary appears from behind a wooden wall - that is quite an extraordinary feat, considering the peculiar array of people they are.

There's a huge block of metal, vaguely rectangular shaped and painted black and yellow, floating towards them. It has what looks like the spinny part of a windmill rotating at embarrassingly high speed over it, and the noise it makes vaguely resembles that of a low hum, or maybe a buzz.

Two large semi-transparent circles - its … eyes? - emit a soft light that shines against Phil's palm as it bumps against him, the elf cooing with an adoring expression.

"Hello dear, you're not one of nature's children but you are alive, aren't you?"

Even Tommy, who has no idea how magic or nature works - he made a pact with a demon for a reason, alright? - can see that it's an impressive display of craftsmanship.

Wilbur is looking quite confused on Phil's right, but he's no longer needing Techno to keep him from bailing on the whole thing. And to be honest, if somebody's able to make … this, maybe they'll be able to fix his guitar.

"AH- Visitors! Sorry, I hadn't heard you coming in-" a short figure stumbles in sight from behind a pile of apparently garbage.

The short man, who appears to be human, had wild brown hair, somewhat darker in certain spots where black oil seems to have gotten stuck. There seems to be oil and soot all over his clothes and hands, where bandages cover his fingers.

On his head reside a pair of goggles - multiple lenses of different thicknesses and colours appended to its sides - and he's holding a wrench as if they'd interrupted his work, which would explain the worrying noises.

The mechanic has a bright welcoming smile on his face when he appears, which immediately falters the moment he sees the infamous mercenary group, expression turning to fear. Which is understandable, given their fame of being quick, efficient and rather costly, unless they're working for the good of all.

Then it turns to shock, when Tommy takes a tentative step forward from behind Phil's back. Which is less understandable.

"Tubbo?" Tommy's voice calls, almost breathless. The boy takes off his goggles and blinks. The wrench he was holding clutters to the ground.

"Holy shit, Toms."

The warlock lets out a strangled yelp, then blinks out of existence in a puff of bright red smoke, reappearing right in front of the other boy and picking him up in a bone crushing hug as he laughs - more joyous than Wilbur's ever heard him - and the two of them fall to the ground.

When Tubbo is still a teenager, he loses his best friend to the prejudice and scorn of their hometown.

All they need to see are the buddying horns on his forehead, the flames licking at his fingertips, the reddening skin around his eyes, and they banish him.

They come for him, in the middle of the night, and find nobody but his parents in his home, because Tommy has always been smarter than he let on.

Half a day earlier, Tommy had said his goodbyes to the last few people that deserved to know where he was going; never once asking for his parents' forgiveness for something he always knew he was going to do - Tubbo had never seen his best friend more sure of anything, even at the worst moments, when the ritual was about to begin, or the few first weeks when he had to use all his coins to buy salve for burns.

And so Tubbo was left alone, left behind.

It lasted for one day.

Tubbo had never been particularly gifted in the craft his parents had tried to teach him - glass blowing was definitely not his forte, his hands too strong, his grip too tight - and he'd never shown any latent arcane power. Books on the arcane were long, boring and complex, the glyphs all looking the same and mixing with each other on the page.

But that didn't mean anything to him: he was going to do great things, with or without magic, and he was going to find his best friend again.

Fate wanted to keep them apart? Tubbo was going to stare Fate in the face and laugh.

If the glyphs and arcane chants of the mages weren't going to cooperate, he was going to force his hands into the fabric of the arcane plane and pull magic out by himself.

And again, why stick to prayers and dealings with other entities when he could just make it himself?

To be fair, it does take him a lot more time than the couple of weeks of research and half-and-hour-deal that was Tommy's experience. But Tubbo's always been a quick learner.

The day he finishes his big project, he leaves his home, ready for adventure.

He has a map of the coast, enough coin to pay for emergencies and a backpack full of the tools he needs to offer his assistance to whomever will need it.

His marked path will bring him around the same towns. Tommy is bound to pass by at least one of them during his travels.

Tubbo's going to be alright.

Tommy's eyes are absolutely not, under no circumstances, shining as he tries to squeeze the life out of his best friend.

Tubbo is just laughing, which is quite rude in Tommy's personal opinion, he should be struggling to breathe due to his impressive strength.

"Look at you! You made it!" The mechanic cheers, squeezing tighter - which, ouch, when did he become strong, it must have been all the working with metal, this is the worst possible outcome. Tommy lets him go for a moment, leaning back to splutter and wave wildly at the mechanical bee still intent on bumping its head against Phil's hand. By the Nine Hells, Tubbo made a living bee with the attitude of a puppy out of metal.

"I made it?! You made bees!" Tommy protests, feeling a swell of pride for how far his best friend has come. On a completely unrelated note, there must be light shining insistently in his eyes.

"I know! Aren't they cute! Ah! Let me introduce you to them!" Tubbo exclaims, hurrying to stand up - nearly elbowing Tommy in the gut - and grabbing his hand so that he can drag Tommy towards the bee from earlier.

Then he stops in his tracks - which makes Tommy slam into his back and get oil stains on his favourite shirt - as he realises there are three other people in the room, all staring at them with varying degrees of amusement.

"So, what just happened?" Wilbur asks, looking quite shell shocked.

#mcyt writingtober #sbi dnd au #now sbi&co #dnd au #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #ph1lza #tubbo

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bangtann-bangdamn · 3 years

Text

Summary: Yoongi has a shot at playing professional basketball, but an accident on-court throws his future in the air and you have no idea how to comfort him.

Pairing: Yoongi x gender-neutral reader

Genre: Sports AU/Basketball AU, College AU, angst

Prompt: Character A gets emotional easily. Character B does not. A catches B crying alone and realizes that they never learned how to comfort B since they were usually the one getting comforted.

Word Count: 1.3k

Today was the day. Today, the basketball scouts were coming to watch Yoongi’s game. You knew he was going to be scouted. How could he not when he was voted MVP for almost every single game he had played since joining the team (and those few times he hadn’t been was when he was off recovering from a shoulder injury that he still wouldn’t talk about).

But if you were to look at the pair of you, you would have never thought that this was Yoongi’s day. You were practically flying with how much you were bouncing on your tip-toes. You were radiating pure happiness, tears glistening in the corner of your eyes as you thought about how amazing it would be for Yoongi to go pro.

“Would you calm down,” Yoongi drawled from beside you. You were stood beside the player’s bench. You weren’t on the team. You weren’t even close to being on the team. But the coach had long since stopped trying to get you to leave, realising you were actually a lot calmer on the bench than in the crowd (you had a tendency to get a little over-excited).

“It’s not a big deal.” Yoongi finished tying his laces.

“Not a big deal,” You screeched, turning to him with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe he was downplaying this. “This is a massive deal, Yoongi! They’re going to see how amazing you are and they’re going to sign you. This time tomorrow, you’re going to be pro.”

Yoongi didn’t reply. Instead, he rolled his right shoulder before standing and moved onto his stretches.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be best friend with a professional basketball player!” you clapped your hands together, thoughts clouded by seeing Yoongi dressed in the infamous blue, white, and yellow of the Thunders.

“Who’s a professional player?” Dong-min asked as he placed his water bottle down on the bench.

“Yoongi. Today’s his day.”

Dong-min frowned. “Wait, I thought you weren’t playing today?”

Yoongi glanced at you before glaring at Dong-min. “No, coach advised that I shouldn’t play. But my shoulder’s fine.” Yoongi stood from the bench and moved onto his leg warm-ups.

“Wait, your shoulder’s been hurting?” You frowned, all your previous excitement dying upon your lips. You scanned Yoongi to see if he really was still injured, but all you saw was his usual impassiveness as he stared cooly down at you. It had been six months since he was injured, two since he’d been allowed to train again.

“I’m fine,” He said sternly.

“Yoongi,” You began but were quickly cut off by the sound of the coach’s whistle.

Yoongi glanced back at you and said, “Yn, I’m fine.” He moved to join his team, leaving you to wonder if he really was fine.

The roar of the crowd was addictive. The moment the players hit the court, the crowd were buzzing with anticipation. You couldn’t help but push your concern aside as you lost yourself in the moment. Besides, it helped that, despite Dong-min’s concern, Yoongi was playing his usual game. There were no awkward movement, no hesitation in his throws. You wouldn’t have known he was injured unless you had seen him in his sling.

Yoongi was a pro, passing to his team and executing excellent plays like they were second nature. As the game crept towards the end of the first half, Yoongi’s team was in the lead. Still, he didn’t lose his cool. He nodded his head to his beaming teammates, not once letting the scoreboard relax him.

The ball was tossed to Yoongi, who immediately started to dribble it down the court. There were only thirty seconds on the clock and Yoongi had more than enough time to steal one more point. You rose from the bench in anticipation, hands clasped to your mouth as you could barely breathe.

That’s when it happened.

The other team’s defence went to steal the ball but instead barrelled into Yoongi’s right shoulder with enough force to make you wince. Yoongi went down as the ref’s whistle blew to stop the game. The stadium went quiet as the team rushed over to make sure Yoongi was okay. You were frozen. The sounds he was releasing reminded you of a wounded animal. You had never heard such pain coming from him and you didn’t know what to do. Yoongi was strong. When you rushed to hospital after his accident, he hadn’t made a peep. Even when the doctors reset his shoulder, he hadn’t screamed.

All you could do was watch as the medics carried him off on a stretcher.

“You can go after him, you know?” Dong-min said quietly as the team regrouped by the bench, spirits low. You could tear the couch eating out the ref, calling the other teams player reckless.

“Is it bad?” You asked quietly, pleading with your eyes of Dong-min to say no. It felt like this was all your fault. You were so excited to see him play, but if one knock was all it took for Yoongi to be in that much pain…

Dong-min shrugged. “He wasn’t supposed to be playing at all,” he confessed.

“What?” You turned on your heel, outraged that Yoongi had kept that from you. You had been best friends for years, you told each other everything. Had he kept his pain from you?

You jogged lightly through the team’s locker rooms, stopping as the medic stepped out of the physician’s room. The medic shook his head at you.

“Who let the damn kid play? He should have been benched.”

“Is he okay?”

“His rotator cuff is torn, what do you think?” The medic moved past you, grumbling about stubborn players not listening to their doctors.

You hesitated at the door. If his rotator cuff was torn, that meant Yoongi was not only was in a great deal of pain, he was going to need surgery to fix it.

“Oh, Yoongi,” You sighed, closing your eyes. You knew his accident was more serious than he let on, but you wanted to believe him when he told you he was okay. Now you couldn’t help but feel like you could have prevented this. If you had made him take you along to doctors appointments, you could have made him follow his treatment. You could have prevented him from playing until his shoulder was fully healed.

You jumped as a large crash sounded from within the room. You rushed to open the door to find Yoongi heaving in the middle of the room, his right arm in a sling and the doctor’s table on its side.

“Yoongi?” You quietly called, approaching him slowly to give him enough time to tell you to stop. You’d never seen him this worked up. This was the guy who rarely showed emotion, who never let things work him up. The most you had ever seen out of him was the time Seoul had the largest snowfall in recorded history and you’d gone sledging. He’d laughed so hard he couldn’t stand.

But this was different.

“Yoongi?” You called again, reaching out to touch his non-injured shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he spat, but you could hear the pain in his voice. You could hear everything you hadn’t been willing to admit since he was hurt.

“It’s okay if you’re not, Yoongi.” You moved slightly to see his face, only to find his silent tears running down his cheeks. His red-rimmed eyes stared at you as if he couldn’t really see you.

In that moment, the best friend you knew and loved was gone.

He shuddered as he tried to catch his breath, his body collapsing in on itself. You barely moved in time to stop him from landing heavily on his knees as you cradled his body to you, making sure not to touch his injured shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair as he buried his head in your neck.

You didn’t know how to comfort him. You knew telling him things were going to get better wouldn’t work. Because this was it. If he’d torn his rotator cuff, no team were going to be willing to sign him. His basketball career was over before it had even started.

And nothing in the world was going to fix that.

So all you could do was hold him, quietly absorbing his pain.

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