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soyouthinkucanwrite · 3 years

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July 2nd - Daniel Ricciardo

Based on New Year's Day by Taylor Swift and this request by @spikejonzed

Fluffly, mentions of sex, banter, nothing graphic.

BTW, I don't know how I've never paid attention to this song, it's so so beautiful and honest. I've thought about this concept before though: the "Sunday afternoon effect", when all the excitement of the weekend wears off and you're just hanging out with your friends, laughing about silly stuff, or cleaning up the house after the party. The thing is, the friends that stay till then are the ones you wanna hold on to, and the same goes for lovers. I feel kind of bad... well not BAD but you know, must be hard... when you're famous and rich, to recognize the good ones from the beginning before you give yourself too much away and it's too late.

To be honest with you guys, I think Daniel must feel a bit lonely sometimes. We all do, but to think that people are only interested in you for your fame and money must be tough... something you worked so hard, that you keep dedicating your life to, to think that that thing is the reason for your heartbreak, to your loneliness... It's a two-edged sword, isn't it? Anyway, I wrote this little something with Daniel in mind, hope you guys like it. Hope he finds someone to be like this someday. Hell, hope I find someone to be like this someday. I think everyone deserves that.

Daniel woke up in his bed, no shoes, but jeans and party shirt still on. The light coming through the windows, shining directly on his face, threatening to make his headache even worse. He let out a groan and turned to the side. There's someone on his bed with him. Shit. He just remembered. Last night was the first time he was introducing (y/n) to his friends. His birthday "small get together" (or at least that's what it was supposed to be) was the perfect opportunity for testing the waters and giving the "next step" without making too much fuss about it, after all, they've only been going out for a couple months and with his tight schedule it meant a lot of facetime calls and weekends, but almost no weekdays and routine stuff.

Yet, he was absolutely smitten with her, she was fun and easygoing, passionate about her own work and friends, but still caring and interested in him. They had amazing chemistry, mind-blowing even. But Daniel had lived enough to know that hanging out with someone on the weekends and knowing their best side was one thing, living through daily and mundane stuff was a completely different thing. Where this could go was still a mystery to him and he didn't want to raise too many expectations before he was sure. Still, she looked so beautiful sleeping, a true vision. He tried to remember if something had happened last night, but judging by his clothes still on, and hers as well, he guessed not. As if on cue, she smiled, with her eyes still closed.

"Stop being creepy" she said smiling. "I can feel you watching me sleep"

"You're not even asleep anymore" he smiled and she opened her eyes. He was taken back by her eyes staring directly into his.

"Still creepy though" she laughed, getting closer to him. He held her and they stayed like that for a while.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?

"Aren't you hungover, or sick?" he asked again and she laughed.

"Not at all. I have this really weird superpower, you know, I don't get hungover. Ever, actually" she laughed.

"I don't believe you. I have the headache"

"No, it's true. We did drink a lot yesterday, though" she commented.

"Yeah, well, welcome to having Australian friends. No such thing as light drinking with those guys" he laughed but grimaced at the pain in his brain.

"I'll get you something"

"Huh?"

"For the pain" she explained getting up from the bed.

After a while she returned with a pill and a glass of water, passing them to him.

"Thank you, baby" he took the glass, finishing it. "Come back to bed now"

"Your house... like, I'm not even sure if I should tell you to take a look or just pack your essentials and abandon it" she smiled.

"Uhh" he groaned. "I'll call someone later"

"Like a constructor with a wrecking ball?" she laughed.

"It can't be that bad"

"It's bad" she started. "But we can manage it" He looked at her intrigued. "After a shower" she pulled his hand. "Join me?"

"If I ever say no to that question, just put me in an asylum" he said. "I need a kiss though, as motivation" he smirked.

"Noo... I have morning breath"

"What? Me too" he said pulling her down and kissing her anyway. "Uh, no. You're right. Yours is worst" he said laughing while getting up and walking into the bathroom.

"Asshole!" she laughed following him.

They stripped and got into the shower, taking turns in letting the water run through their bodies.

"Come here" Daniel said, putting some body wash in his hands and spreading them over (y/n) body.

"Hum... this feels nice" she said.

"You're so beautiful" he said kissing her shoulder.

"You're so wasted" she laughed lightly.

"Hey! I'm sober. I'm just too tired. Give me a couple hours to recover, and I'll claim my birthday privileges"

"Birthday privileges? It's not even your birthday anymore" she laughed.

"Okay, but first, it's the weekend of, and second, I didn't get any time alone with you yesterday"

"Fair. And what will be your requests, may I ask?" she asked teasingly.

"Humm... you're so creative" he said kissing her. "I'm sure we'll think of something"

They finished the shower after a while, enjoying each other's company and the comfortable silence.

"Did anyone crashed here?" (y/n) asked when they were stepping out of the shower.

"I have no idea" Daniel answered. "I just remembered going to take a nap and waking up this morning. Shit, we didn't... did we?" (y/n) laughed out loud at that.

"Wow! Really, Dan?"

"We did not. I would've remembered"

"Good save. Such a gentleman" she laughed.

"I drank way too much. Sorry. Don't be mad"

"It's fine. I'm messing with you, I don't remember anything either. To be honest, I don't even remember joining you on your 'nap'" she said making air quotes.

"We're the worst hosts" he said getting out of the bathroom and going into the closet to get some clothes.

(y/n)'s heart swelled at the thought of hosting a party with Daniel. There was something so intimate about that statement, so homey.

"You want a shirt?" Daniel asked from the other room, waking her up from her daydream.

"Yeah, sure" she took the shirt, some underwear, and some sweats. Then brushed her wet hair and looked in the mirror. Not a trace of makeup left. She sighed thinking about how falling into a routine with Daniel meant letting the barriers down.

"Alright, snap out of it" she said to herself, getting out of the bathroom and walking outside, to the living room where Daniel was standing rubbing his neck and looking around.

"This is bad" he said when he saw her joining him. There were empty beer bottles and cups all around the living room and balcony, pizza boxes (with half-eaten slices left behind) in the coffee table, party decorations hanging from the ceiling, and the kitchen was even worse, with liquid spilled on the ground and bottles everywhere. There was glitter all over the floor and the couch - someone had brought some of those party poppers, which looked so much fun yesterday, but no so much now. But the best part was the polaroids, left all over the house with the craziest poses.

"Pack your stuff, we're deserting this goddam hellhole" he said and she knew he was joking, he said that about everywhere, but she still shook her head and rolled her eyes, picking a polaroid photo from the ground.

"Everyone had so much fun" she showed it to him. "I loved meeting your friends"

He took the photo from her hand, it was one where (y/n) was sitting on the couch with two of his buddies from Australia, making funny faces while holding cups. He remembered the moment because he was the one who took the photo.

"How's the headache?" she asked him.

"Almost gone"

"Good. So you don't have an excuse. Move your ass, where are the trash bags?" she laughed going into the kitchen.

"Hey! That was very sneak of you" he laughed but followed her anyway.

They spent the next hour collecting bottles, vacuuming glitter, and just cleaning the whole house. Daniel complained the whole time, but in truth, he was very glad to have her there. Sure, he could just ignore the whole mess and hire someone on Monday to clean everything (he probably would still do that anyway, for the heavy cleaning like bathrooms), but it was really nice of her to just stick around, seeming unbothered by the housework. When she finished tying the last trash bag and putting it on the entry hallway she flopped on the couch besides Daniel, who had called it a day some good 10 minutes ago.

"Done?" he asked her.

"I feel like punching you for asking me that" she answered playing annoyed. He lifted his hand in defense.

"What? I did my part!"

"Men" she shook her head. "I'm surprised you haven't complained about being hungry yet"

"Well, I'm starving! Was just waiting to suggest going out, or ordering in"

"Ordering in, please. I don't want to get off this couch any time soon"

Daniel got his phone out to order some food. It was almost noon, so he thought about something like pasta, some carbs would be nice right now. Then he felt (y/n)'s head drop on his shoulder, her hand caressing his arm. It was such a sweet gesture, so understated, he just stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

"What?" she looked at him.

"I'm really glad you're here. Thank you"

"It's nothing" she smiled.

"I don't mean the cleaning. Well, that too. But just, thank you for being you and wanting to hang out with me, you know, after the party"

"I'll always wanna hang out with you, partying or cleaning bottles" she said and leaned in to kiss him. "Happy birthday old man" this made him smile through the kiss.

"Thank you, young lady" he said still smiling. "Let's feed you now, yeah?"

"Please! Let's get some carbs on this house!" she smile.

"Hey, guys!" (y/n) and Daniel looked up to see Luke, one of Daniel's buddies walking out of the guest bedroom.

"Dude! I didn't know you were here" Daniel laughed.

"Yeah, just woke up. Definitely wasn't hiding in the bedroom waiting for the cleaning end to get out" he grinned making (y/n) and Daniel laugh.

"You know what? Just for that, you're going downstairs to pick up the food when it gets here, and taking out the trash!" (y/n) teased him, tossing a pillow from the couch at him.

Daniel just observed while his friend and his girlfriend joked and laughed. He thought about how right now he was enjoying a feeling of contempt that wasn't really natural or much appreciated by professional athletes, but this time felt right to indulge in it. He felt safe like someone's got him, finally. He took (y/n) hand on his and squeezed it three times, he knew this was already a good thing, something to last. She looked at him, she knew exactly what he meant.

#Daniel Ricciardo #Daniel Ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo oneshot

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frankcastleissoft · 3 years

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Lover

Frank Castle x reader

Word Count: 4,431

Warnings: angst, attempted rape, conflict/tension, and fluff (( but that’s not a bad thing :) ))

This new life with Frank was very simple. Not much else to be said about it. You both went to work and came home. Day after day, week after week. Simple.

It had been almost five months since Frank had finished off the last of the people responsible for his late family’s death. You could tell it still hurt though. It stung deep in his core. Like there was a ton of bricks inside of his chest, weighing him down. It hurt you too, to see him like that. Work for him was just a way to let out everything he was holding deep inside of him. He worked at a construction site, tearing down an old building. Sometimes he didn’t come home till dark and that scared you.

You worked at a catering company. You would go to the companies and help cook and keep the food refreshed. Cooking was something you really loved to do, so when you were able to get this job it really helped the situation.

The situation:

Frank was dead. And technically you were too. Not really anyone knew about you, but you had to be dead too. Now you both were living in a small, one room apartment.

You would come home around 5:00pm every day. Frank never beat you home. The last five months had been rough to say the least. Your marriage felt like it was hanging by a thread. You hardly talked and there was always this tension between you two. Some days you wouldn’t see Frank at all. He would come home after you were asleep, take a quick shower, find the plate of dinner in the fridge, then go to bed. You always made him dinner. Without fail. Frank loved your cooking. He was always starving when he got home.

And by the time you woke up in the morning, he’d be gone. It gave you this ache in your heart when you woke up and he wasn’t beside you in the bed that was much too small for the two of you.

So you would get ready for the day, then head out the door for work. It was always the same. Unless on the rare occasion, Frank would be dead asleep next to you, breathing heavily. He slept so hard sometimes it made you worry about how intensely he worked.

Work was long today. It felt like everything was ten times harder than it usually was, so you were looking forward to getting off your feet and sipping some tea, while reading a book. The little things meant the most living like this. The air was cool as you walked along the busy, Brooklyn streets toward home. You pulled your coat collar up against your neck, attempting to warm yourself.

After a few flights of stairs, you pulled your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. You set your things on the table in the middle of the room and put your coat in the wardrobe that was just small enough to fit in the room. You looked around the apartment. The bed was facing you, across from the door and the wardrobe. In the middle a table sat there with two chairs on each side. To the left was a door that led to the smallest bathroom in history. Then a doorway beside the bathroom led to the narrow kitchen. The cabinet space was limited and there was a small oven and only a little bit of counter space. The Fridge seemed to take up the most room. It wasn’t much, but you did your best to make it feel like a home. Flowers on the table— they were dried up and dead now. A rug in the kitchen, a knitted quilt on the bed, and a few books on the nightstands.

You made your tea, then made dinner soon after. Just like always, saving a plate for Frank. You had finished dinner, avoiding the mess, now sitting at the table, reading and indulging in another cup of tea to help you sleep well tonight. Then you heard a key slide into the lock and the door opened. Frank’s heavy boots stepped in, the weight of his feet sounded like he had had a long day too. He placed his metal lunch box on the table, and sat down to take off his shoes.

“Hey,” his deep voice whispered.

“Hey,” you said just as quietly.

He put his shoes by the door, then went to the bathroom to wash his hands. You watched him from where you sat. His dark hair was getting longer and his beard made him look so different. You didn’t mind it though. Your eyes traveled down to his hands. They were so calloused with so many welts and blistered. More proof he worked so hard.

“I wish you wouldn’t work so hard,” you said without even thinking about it.

Frank turned off the water and patted his hands dry. You knew he had heard you, but he pretended not to.

“I’ll heat up your dinner,” you said, setting down your book and heading for the fridge, avoiding eye contact.

As his plate made its way around the microwave, you stared at it intensely, lost in a jungle of thoughts.

You and Frank had met during his massacre in Hell’s Kitchen. One night (or early morning) you were walking home from your dead-end job at a crappy diner, when a strange man came up behind you, sticking a gun against your side. He casually told you under his breath to stay quiet or you were dead. You felt fear spread through your entire body, not one finger left without terror. You continued to walk, the panic making it hard to put one foot in front of the other. But the man helped you out by shoving you along.

“Wha-What do you want?” you managed to crack out.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his voice sounded evil and cold.

Your stomach fell through, your heart pounded even harder. You had hoped he had just wanted your wallet, but now it seemed he wanted more from you.

“Come here,” he growled, shoving you into an alley, no one around to possibly help you.

You let out a cry as he shoved you against the wall, your head felt like it could have split against the brick. You sobbed out little pleases and cries.

“Shut up!” the man yelled in your face.

You finally saw what he looked like and you almost wished you hadn’t. He began to pull off your coat with one hand, the other holding the gun at your stomach. You felt paralyzed. You wanted to fight back, to never let this man take this from you, but you just couldn’t. Once your coat was off, he started on your shirt, a white button down, your diner uniform.

“Oh, hello, Y/N,” he sneered, noticing your name tag. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice echo through your head. You knew it would haunt you if you made it out of this alive.

At that moment, you heard heavy feet scuffing against the sidewalk outside of the alley.

“Please,” you said a little louder, hoping the person would hear you.

“Shut up!” the man yelled again, shoving the barrel of the gun into your stomach harder. And just then, a large man shoved into the man who had half unbuttoned your shirt, knocking him to the ground. You cried harder, relief washing over you. The big man got the gun from the criminal and began beating him with it. Repeatedly and with so much force, you couldn’t help but stare. When his head was much too beat in to be alive, the big man stood up, looking down at his work. You just stood, melting into the brick wall. Both of your breath was rapid and heavy.

“You okay, ma’am?” the big man’s raspy voice echoed in the alley.

You just nodded quickly, almost scared of your hero too. He turned to look at you, his face splattered with blood. This was all too much. You were just coming home from work, looking forward to sleeping for twelve hours. But there was something in his eyes. They were dark, but full of something you couldn’t quite place. Your mind began to fog up and you felt yourself lose control. Then your legs gave out and you began to lose consciousness. You felt strong hands catch you around your waist, then you were out.

It was dark and quiet except for the faint sounds of cars and sirens. You were laying down and staring up at the darkness, a small light illuminated the space around you. When you were fully awake, you shot up, looking around. For a second you thought you had been taken somewhere, kidnapped, but when you saw the man who had saved you, your fear subsided some; but still wary of your safety.

“Hey,” his voice just as gravelly as in the alley. “You’re safe.” He added, noticing your nervous eyes.

“Where are we?” you asked, looking around.

“An old building,” he replied. “You’re safe here.” He assured again.

You took in your surroundings again, lost in your fuzzy brain. Then something struck you, and you looked back at the man sitting on the floor. His face was stained with bruises. Dark ones around his eyes and lighter ones on his cheeks.

“Wait…” you spoke softly. “You’re Frank Castle. You’re The-The Punisher.”

“That’s what they’re calling me.” he said, almost pissed off at the mention of it.

You felt a bit of fear stir up inside of you again, but it quickly settled. He saved you.

“Why did you save me?” you asked.

“I wasn’t going to just keep walking when I heard you were in trouble.” his gruff voice replied.

You gave a slight smile, thinking.

“You’re not like what the news makes you out to be.” you started. “I mean, what you did to that man was pretty… intense, but you saved me. They make it seem like you’ll just kill anyone.”

“I only take out the ones that deserve it.” he said matter of factly.

You grimaced a little at that; you didn’t know how you felt about his morals. But you watched him from where you laid. There was something about him that was comforting. Maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from something that would have stuck with you forever, or maybe it was that he seemed like he genuinely cared about your well being.

“Where’s my coat?” you sat up, feeling a little frantic. It was something that felt so important in the moment that it made you anxious.

“Oh, I- I didn’t get it. I didn’t see it,” Frank said, noticing your frazzled state.

“It’s okay,” you sighed. It was just a coat.

“Can I go home?” you asked, slightly pulling the blanket off of you.

“Yeah,” he stood up, a grunt of pain leaving his lips. “I’ll walk you back.”

At first you were going to decline for some reason, but then you realized that was the stupidest thing you could do. You stood up slowly, your head still fuzzy from the passing out.

“Here. You can use this.” Frank laid a big coat over your shoulders.

“Oh- thank you.” you said, caught off guard. You slipped your arms in the sleeves that were too long for your hands to poke through.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath.

As you walked home there was silence between you. You wanted to talk to him though. This all felt so surreal.

Then a loud noise, probably a motorcycle backfiring, came out of nowhere. You were still shaken up by what had happened maybe an hour before, so this sent fear through your body. You let out a fearful cry and grabbed onto Frank walking beside you.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He said calmly. “It’s nothing.” He held your wrists, taking your hands off of his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I’m so on edge. This isn’t my average night.”

Frank gave you a smile. His smiles were magic, his eyes smiled too.

“This isn’t too unusual for me,” he snickered. “Except for you.”

That made you smile a little wider. There was something about him. Had you known him for twenty seconds, or twenty years?

“Well, this is it.” You said, taking a step up to your apartment building, now more level with Frank’s eyes.

He stood there, stocky frame, both hands in his pockets.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked, a slight smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said quietly, almost blushing at the care in his voice. “Do you want your coat back?” You began pulling your arms out of the sleeves.

“No- you keep it,” he put a hand out in front of you in rejection. “I lost yours, so.”

You smiled again, putting your arms back in all the way. It was quiet for a little while, just standing in front of each other. The city was mild tonight- well, this morning. It had to be 3am by now.

“Thank you.. Frank.” You said his name, really felt the word, nervous what he would think that you used it. Names are weird to say sometimes… when you don’t know the person very well.

He didn’t respond right away, maybe you were overthinking and it hadn’t really been that long.

“—For the coat.” You giggled, holding the front of the coat with one hand like a model.

Frank snickered, shaking his head. “No problem.” He grinned.

The joke hung in the air for a while as an excuse to not leave each other. But then it left and you both stood there in the silence again.

“Good night… uh.” Frank said.

“Y/N,” you replied.

Frank had seen your name tag, but he didn’t want to sound creepy by knowing your name.

“Y/N.” He said back.

The way his voice carried your name gave you this feeling deep in your stomach.

“Good night.” You replied.

He took a step back and you took another step up.

“Be safe.” He said quickly, then turned away, walking back to where you both came from.

The next night, you were walking home from work again. This time with your pepper spray in hand. As you walked, you felt like someone was following you. You became very aware and walked a little quicker. Then you slightly turned your head and caught a glance of the person. You stopped in your tracks. That frame you knew anywhere.

“Are you trying to get pepper sprayed in the face?” You chuckled.

“Not what I was wanting to happen, but worth it just to know you’re taking safety precautions.” You heard a gruff voice say behind you.

You let yourself laugh out loud, turning around to see Frank in a baseball cap and coat. He was grinning from ear to ear too.

It continued like that. He would walk you home every night. “Just for his peace of mind” he would tell you. That made the butterflies in your stomach fly higher. Those butterflies wouldn’t calm down. Even when you were just at home or at work. Frank was all you could think about.

One night you were at the diner, pulling another graveyard shift. You were in the back filling up the salt and pepper shakers. It had been a slow night. The bell sounded, telling you someone had come in.

“One second!” You called, screwing the top back on a salt shaker. Then you went to the front and saw Frank. You both gave each other bright smiles.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, coming out from behind the counter.

“Had the night off, thought I’d pop by.” He shrugged.

“Oh, okay,” you replied, shrugging too, joking like this was a normal thing he did. “Coffee?” You asked, but already started pouring a mug.

“Thank you.” He nodded. “I’ll just wait over here till you get off.” He went over to a corner booth.

“Okay,” you ducked your head, smiling like a fool.

As things progressed in The Kitchen, Frank walked you home less and less. You knew what he was. You knew what he did. It scared you to think about sometimes. There was something so mysterious about him, but there was something rooted so deeply in him that was just simply good. That’s what you saw every time you looked at him. His goodness.

Frank didn’t tell you much about what was going on, he said he didn’t want you getting in the middle of it; you had a couple fights about that. But you knew about Karen and how she was trying to help him. You were thankful for her. That she was helping him in ways you couldn’t.

He told you about his family. You cried. It broke your heart to hear the way he talked about them. His eyes glossy, his voice growing raspier.

Then he got arrested. You were shocked as you watched the news on the tv in the diner.

As the days dragged along, you felt yourself start to think it wasn’t ever going to be what you wanted it to be with Frank. It was hard to come to that conclusion, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop caring about him.

One day, you tracked down Karen Page and told her who you were and you both talked for hours. She told you about how she was investigating his case. You told her what you knew about him, it wasn’t much at all, though.

She told you as much as she could about his case. It was nice to have her, you both got along so well.

You kept up with the trial through the news, it hurt to see the way he was handling it.

Then he broke out of jail. That scared you. You didn’t know what he was doing.

Then all of the shootings happened. Everyone was blaming him, and you didn’t know what to believe. Karen was quick to tell you that it wasn’t him and that he had saved her. Those few days you were a nervous wreck. Karen wasn’t answering your calls and you didn’t know what to do.

Then the next night— or very early morning, you were coming home from work. You dumped your coat (the one that was really Frank’s) and purse on your couch and headed for the fridge; you were starving. Then you heard a sound in the corner of your living room, causing your stomach to flip. You slammed the fridge door in fear. Then a figure stepping forward, into the moonlight coming through the window.

“Frank?” you dropped the apple, tears immediately flooding your eyes. “Wha-What is going on?” Your voice quivered with emotion. You noticed is bruised and bloody face.

“I gotta disappear for a while,” he said slowly.

“Frank,” you said again, running forward, into his arms.

This was the first time you two had had any physical contact like this. His arms wrapped around your waist so tightly, you thought he could break your ribs if he wanted to. Your arms were around his neck, your face in his shoulder. Blood was probably staining your shirt, but you didn’t care.

“Do you mind if I wash up a bit?” He asked after you had parted.

“No, of course,” you led him to the bathroom.

That was the last time you saw him. The news said he was dead. Some explosion. It broke your heart.

A few days after the news, you learned it wasn’t true. The experience in your living room when he showed up was heart stopping. You woke up around 11am after another late shift. You shuffled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“Can I get some of that?” You heard the familiar, gravelly voice say behind you.

You gave him the what-for for scaring you out of your skin. But it ended in tears and gratefulness that he was alive. You had to admit, you had a feeling he was.

He left the next day, saying he had to finish what he had started. You tried to convince him not to, but he was too stubborn.

About a week later, he came back. He told you he had to disappear, go underground. He had changed his name to Pete Castiglione and he said he couldn’t see you anymore since he was technically dead. It stung. It hurt him too, you could see it in his eyes. There was something about his eyes that always had you captivated.

“Frank,” you said quickly as he stood up to leave, after telling you all of this.

He froze.

“What if I came with you?” You knew it sounded crazy, but you felt like Frank was someone you couldn’t live without. You’d known each other maybe a month, but it felt like years. You had a feeling he felt the same way.

He didn’t move, holding his hat with both hands in front of him. You stood up from the couch, turning to face him.

“Tell me you don’t feel like you’ve known me for years, like we were meant to meet.” You said, your face burning with embarrassment as you spoke. “Tell me you want to leave and never see me again. That you could just leave and never look back.” Your voice got caught in your throat.

“Y/N…” Frank whispered, taking a step forward.

“Cause if you tell me that, I’ll let you go. It’ll break my heart, but… I’ll let you go.” You bowed your head, closing your eyes, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. You felt a warm hand grasp your face, so gently. You looked up and was met with those eyes. They were glossy and sad.

“Frank,” You said so quietly.

“I can’t tell you those things, Y/N,” he replied. “I can’t lie to you.”

Your heart sped up as you looked up at him, his thumb grazing your cheek, wiping away fallen tears. You leaned forward, your head resting on his, both of you holding onto the moment with everything you had inside of you.

“I can’t let you go.” You whispered.

“You don’t deserve to live like a dead woman.”

“I’ll be with you.”

“What about your life? Your friends and family?”

“I don’t have any of that.” You told him that your parents were both dead and you didn’t have any other family. And friends were never your strong suit.

“But I—“ Frank continued. “I can’t put you in danger and you deserve so much better than—“

“You deserve to be happy, Frank.” You interrupted. “I know you don’t think you do, but you do.”

He was quiet. Standing there, you in front of him, your hands now intertwined in between you, he was in awe of you. He never thought he would feel like this again about someone. To him, you were perfect in every sense of the word.

“Please, Frank,” You stood on your toes and place a kiss on his cheek. Your lips felt the tear that had run down his lightly bruised face.

“You’re gonna have to start calling me, Pete,” he said, and both of you broke into the biggest smiles.

You jumped up into his arms in the tightest hug. Then you pulled away, looking at his sweet face. You both dove in at the same time with a deep kiss. It was full of so much love you both felt like you could burst into a million pieces.

“You are everything, Frank Castle.”

A few weeks passed and you both decided to get married. It was scary and something that was difficult for Frank, you could tell, and you didn’t blame him. But he loved you, simply and hard, so he knew it was right.

You changed your last name and quit your job and began to live a different life. A life away from the internet and the outside world. It was difficult to have to forget about your old life. More difficult than you thought it was going to be. You moved into a much smaller apartment and left everything of yours behind. You were dead after all, and you can’t take your things with you when you die.

You had contacted Karen before everything. She was the only person Frank trusted and you wanted to make sure she knew that you were both okay. She was so happy for you both.

Now here you were, months later, that honestly felt like years. Frank had distanced himself from you and you had curled in on yourself too. Things were rough. The routine was the same and everything was stuck in a time loop.

Frank had cleared his plate, now taking a shower. You turned on the clock radio for some music while you tackled the messy kitchen. Music was a safe place for you and it was nice to at least have the radio to keep you company. Then a love song came on that you adored. It was one of those songs that you can’t help but sway to. Frank came out of the bathroom soon after it started, but you hardly noticed as you were lost in the tune. You were standing over the sink, washing a plate, swaying to the slow beat. You did notice Frank enter the small, kitchen area, but you were caught off guard when he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You were stiff for a moment, but quickly softened into his embrace. You laid your head back against his shoulder as you both swayed from side to side, lost in the lyrics.

“You’re my, my, my, my… Lover.”

You felt Frank’s warm breath against your neck. It was so comforting. His arms tightened around you and you dropped the plate in the dish water, moving your soapy hands to on top of Frank’s. This was everything.

The song ended, it wasn’t long enough. You turned to face Frank, looking into his eyes. His eyes. You hadn’t looked at them and gotten that feeling in so long.

“Frank,” you said with your breath, your hand grasping his bearded cheeks.

You felt his hands grasp your hips tightly, and you both leaned in, your lips pressing firmly against each other. Things got a little brighter as the night went on.

...

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baecvlt · 3 years

Note

I saw how you liked my headcanons for mastermind souda a while back. If its not too much, could you write a smut about it? I won't pressure you to if you you don't wanna. There's just not a lot of souda smut around.

Yandere Mastermind!Kazuichi Oneshot

a/n: ugh im so looking forward to to this PLSHDHBD also established friendship between him and the reader + I changed that you find out at the reveal of the mastermind. I also added one small element. You can read the headcanons for yourself right here.

warning: rough sex, blood, toys

You all stared in awe for the mastermind finally stood before you and I’ll tell you right now, it was of the least expected. “Oh...my god!—,” Sonia gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s right, princess!,” he said,“The mastermind is none other than me, the ultimate mechanic, Kazuichi Soda!”. He laughed maniacally as we stared in utter shock. “But you!— You killed Gundham!,” she cried, dropping to her knees. Slowly, he approached her, grabbing her tear stained chin. “You see, Miss Nevermind, I never wanted to kill Tanaka. In fact, I wanted him to live more than anything!,” he said, in a voice of fake nobility,“But He had to go...for love!”.

“You don’t love me...ALL YOU’VE DONE IS INCONVENIENCE ME EVER SINCE WE GOT ON THIS ISLAND, SINCE YOU PUT US HERE!—”

“You think I killed for you?! My crush on you was a facade, moron. THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY”

“What?”

“I’d never kill for, let alone fall in love with monarchy trash”

Sonia looked around, returning her glare to him. “But who else?”. He walked away from her. “Tanaka was getting too close to her,” he said, toying with a small device he had been working on since the time you got here. “That’s just sick,” you muttered, softly. Yet, he still heard you.

“I couldn’t let him get any closer to you, my sunshine”

He glared at you, suddenly it clicked. Apparently, it clicked for everyone else too as they were all staring at you. “It can’t be...,” you said,“No, please!—”. He walked up to you, placing his hands on the sides of your face. “I’ve always loved you, sunshine,” he cooed,“My heart bleeds for you”. “Soda, I’ve loved you for so long...why?,” you pondered, but no response. After a while of silence, you began to bargain.

“I-...I’ll do whatever you want, just please let us go..”

He wouldn’t break eye contact with you. “You...You have to come with me,” he told you. You pulled away, instinct told you too. “What the hell are you doing?!,” Fuyuhiko scolded you, much more aggressive than usual,“GO WITH HIM, YOU BITCH!”. That was when the floor beneath him opened, where he fell.

Well, almost fell.

He had grabbed on the leg of the stand, not letting go. Kazuichi approached the hole where Fuyuhiko would inevitably fall to his death. “You shouldn’t have said that,” Kazuichi said, raising his foot. “No!”. He stopped himself from stepping. “Please, don’t,” you begged,“Please!”. He thought about it, sighing. “Fine,” he muttered, extending his hand, which Kuzuryu grabbed. “Never mind”.

He dropped him. He fell.

You stared in more shock. He just murdered one of your friends in front of your very eyes. Sonia began to cry harder as Akane, Hajime, and yourself stared in greater shock. You heard a distant scream grow louder, suddenly, Fuyuhiko sprung up from the ground and Kazuichi was rolling on the floor. Tears left his eyes, crying of laughter. As menacing as it was, it was the happiest you’d seen him. “Grow the fuck up, Kaz!,” you yelled, going to check on Fuyuhiko,“I-I’ll go with you, just promise me you won’t hurt anyone else. Kazuichi grumbled, but agreed. Before you could go, Hajime stopped you. “You don’t have to do this,” he reminded you,“What if he hurts you?”.

“Better than he hurt the rest of you”

You walked away, looking back. “Wait for me,” you told them. “Come on!,” he said, grabbing your hand and running as if he were a child. He took you to a door, leading to a hallway. He took you down to the last door, leading you too a room. There he opened the door, showing you a bed with red sheets. He sat you down, suddenly being awkward. “So,” he began,“Hi!”.

“What do you want from me?”

He began to pace around. “You, I’m afraid,” he muttered,“I always loved you, but I didn’t know how to tell you”. You just stood there, in shock. There was still a heart within him. "I created this game just for you," he confessed,"I just want you, but at what cost? All the lives lost...". He pulled you to him, grabbing you waist. "Kaz.....," you whispered,"I don't know what to say..but I know I've always felt the same, but I never knew you could love me". He smiled.

"I can give you the world, but I need one thing"

"What's that?"

"I need you to give yourself to me"

You swallowed hard, nervous. "I need you to be able to handle me," he explained,"I can give you a better life and you'll be like my queen". Normally, you would say no fast, but you weren't doing that. You loved this boy, he loved you. What more could you want?

"I'm yours"

His eyes lit up,"What?".

"Do as you wish to me"

He snickered, sitting on the bed. "You are to call me master until I'm done with you," he said with a smirk,"Strip for me". You nodded and huffed out an "Okay". He stopped you. "Nuh-uh," he shook his head,"Not 'okay', it's 'Yes...'".

"Yes, master"

"Good girl"

You slowly took off your clothes, your face reddening from how embarrassed you felt being in this position. You now stood there, fully nude. "Jesus, your body is gorgeous," he looked you up and down, adding,"I want to make this more interesting". He walked up to a drawer, pulling out a Black ribbon. He got back to you, holding your hair back to tie it around your eyes. "Perfect. Now, stand here again". You heard him walk away, his footsteps in the direction of the drawer.

Bzzzzzzzzzz..Bzzz...Bzzzzzzz—

A sudden vibrating sound echoed through the room. "Let me walk you," he said, holding your hand. You nodded, walking and then feeling your calves hit the mattress. "Take a seat," he said politely. You nodded once more, sitting down fast. That was your first mistake, landing exactly on a vibrating object. You almost screamed, skin stinging. You could hear him chuckle. "M-Master..," you attempted to speak, biting your thumb. "What's wrong, my sunshine?," he asked in faux-concern. You. could feel how wet you were, playing with your tits a little to stimulate yourself. Kazuichi got up, grabbing your hands. "No touching or I'll have to put them up. Come here". He grabbed your jaw, kissing you. You moaned as he did, becoming weaker. "Ready for the next toy?". You nodded eagerly, already so turned on.

You heard his footsteps walk to the drawer, then come back.

He put something in your hands, feeling around to see what it was. "You know what this is, don't you?". You recognized the silicone and shape, nodding. "Good. Now, I want you to put on a show for me". You blushed twice as hard, sitting further back onto the bed. "Don't be shy," he added,"It's just us. All for me to see". You nodded, parting your mouth open. You began to drool over the toy, sucking it off. After getting it moist, you spread your legs, earning a small gasp from Kazuichi. You teased between your folds, moaning softly. "H-Hey, quit teasing me," he said. You snickered, sitting up and placing the toy between your legs. You sank down on it, making sure Kazuichi could see how deep you took it. You rode it, Kazuichi slowly becoming envious of the toy.

"I'm so filthy, aren't I, Master?"

"Hey..–"

"My pussy is so dirty, Master. Don't you wanna punish me?"

"I-"

"Please, Master. Abuse me, make me yours"

He suddenly pushed you back, pulling the toy out and replacing it with two of his fingers. You screamed a "Yes!" as he thrust them in and out of you and he didn't stop till you were shaking. Not just shaking, your body was convulsing when he pulled out. He forced your legs open, positioning himself between them. Before you could beg him to have mercy on you, he just full on thrust in you. His cock wasn't small either, so pain. You began to moan in between sobs as he slammed into you. "Why are you crying? Do you want me to slow down that bad?," he asked. You didn't want that at all. In fact, you wanted him harder.

"If you insist"

He then began to thrust agonizingly slow into you. You groaned, gripping the sheets. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it?". You shook your head. "K-Master, f-faster, please".

"I don't understand. You'll have to be louder"

"Master...–"

"Beg for it"

You full on threw a fit, begging him. You became frustrated, almost crying more. "Good, good girl," he praised, slamming into you again. He leaned down, biting into your shoulder; hard. You screamed, covering your mouth trying to keep your eyes from rolling back. You felt light headed after the bite. "You're bleeding," he noted, licking the bite and humming afterword. His hand moved to your throat, asphyxiating you.

Just a little bit, though.

"I love you, sunshine"

"I-I love you too, m-master.."

He kissed you, his hand still on your throat, only tighter. He took your breath away, dizziness hitting. "I'm gonna cum," he muttered. You encouraged him to do so, he didn't hold back. It became too much. Then, you were out cold. He was confused, pulling out since you weren't responsive. He took off your blindfold before checking you were okay. "Hey, wake up". He tapped you, then shook you gently. You were still breathing, but just out. "That's not good," he thought aloud. He covered you with a towel, taking you to the bathroom to wash you up. He was nervous while cleaning you up, but he'll never tell you that.

You weren't out for long, regaining consciousness in the tub. "Huh?". He kissed your forehead when you woke up. "What's going on?," you asked him. He laughed nervously. "You may or may not have passed out right after I finished," he said,"You had me worried".

"That's really fucking embarrassing"

"Hey, it's okay"

He kept helping you wash up, letting you wash your areas yourself. Then, he helped you into bed curling up next to you after helping you put on some underwear. "Uhm, what are we gonna do about the others," you asked, He scoffed.

"They can wait. Right now, I want to hold you"

You nodded as his arms wrapped around your waist. He kissed you repeatedly and all over your face, neck. "You're mine now, remember that". You nodded as he whispered,"All mine..".

#kazuichi danganronpa #danganronpa #goodbye despair #sdr2 #sdr2 kazuichi #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda #kazuichi x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda smut #kazuichi souda smut #x reader #fanfic #souda kazuichi #mastermind kazuichi soda #danganronpa mastermind

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tamagochiie · 3 years

Text

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing

w/c: 2.2k

tagging list: @angrylittleriri @chims-kookies @gooseyhouse

a/n: hello! welcome to the second chapter of the series! i’m posting this a little later than expected because wifi is really trying to cock block me from posting :’) i honestly wasn’t expecting people to like or interacting with this fic, so my heart is super warm right now :>

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

happy almost new year! see you all next week!

master list

<< life as we know it | life as he’s known it >>

You wonder what the younger version of you would think if you went back in time and told her she'd be eating at a dining table filled with food that wasn't microwavable, and the air wouldn't be filled by the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other, but instead be filled by the lilting giggles of a little boy; his older brother pressing him to keep it down; and Kenma's casual yet awkward attempt to relate to the two.

She would probably cry.

Your parents' work piled up to the late hours of the evening and spilled into the morning, leaving you in a constant state of dejection. The house would be barren, nothing but the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock to keep you company. But even if your parents were home, it would still be the same; the air cold and unmoving.

Your parents were not warm nor were they emotional, and maybe that's what drew you to Kenma; he was quiet, rarely affectionate, and gave you more than enough room to breathe. Sure, there were the occasional forehead kisses, the head pats, the 'how are you doing' texts, and sometimes if he was brave enough, he’d interlock pinkies with you in public.

But you grew selfish, finding yourself wanting a little more each time you saw him, and you weren't sure if it was okay.

Was it okay to yearn for things?

Was it okay to ask for more?

But Kenma saw through your facade of accepting things as they are and right into your neediness. He was willing to give as long as you asked or even when you were too shy to do so. He even gave you his whole life without sparing a second thought even if the realization that he had done so came much later.

"Here, let me." Kenma slips his hands over yours, taking the plate from within your grasp to wash it in your place. He bumps his hips against yours, causing you to stumble away from the sink.

You mumble a thank you before resorting to wiping down the dishes and setting them on the rack.

You delight in his banter. He asks you about your day, stealing glances between you and the stack of dishes before him while you give him the run down. He listens to you intently, gaze wandering a little longer when he hears an exasperated sigh escape your lips, but you let him know you're just fine.

"What about you?" You ask, tilting your head and playfully moving it in front of Kenma's face, blocking him from the plate he needs to scrub. "How was your day?"

He hums, tiptoeing over you to finish the chore like the diligent little worker he is. "It was another day," You frown at him and his lack of effort to push further. He rolls his eyes, chuckling at your pouty face. "I played another trial game with Eiji—"

"And how'd that go?"

"Oh, he's absolute shit—ow!" Your slap against his arm resounds throughout the apartment, causing Yuki and Eiji's to jerk their attention towards you both. You mold your face into a look of ease, sparing them a warm smile, telling them you saw a fly.

"The hell?! I wasn't finished!" The pudding head seethes. "Sure he was shit, but he was still better than you."

The cocky grin slipping across his lips matching with his lidded eyes has you throwing your hands, erupting a series of ow's. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, the ass you chose." He sneers, handing you the last plate to dry.

He rubs his arm in an attempt to soothe the stinging, glaring at you begrudgingly. It takes you a while to ease back into his trust, but you do, and he picks up where he leaves off as if he wasn't in any pain to begin with.

He tells you about his little trip to the convenience store with Yuki for his strawberry milk, and the foreign, constricting feeling that wouldn't leave his chest until they came back home. How he couldn't let go of Yuki's hand when they were in the store, and if he did, it would send him in a state of sheer panic.

"Must be your mommy instincts kicking in," You joke, and he only rolls his eyes.

He also admits inadvertently turning all your favorite whites into various shades of pinks and blues. As someone as analytical as Kenma, he was challenged by the task of separating the lights from the darks.

You snort, earning a scowl from your boyfriend and a string of explanations to defend his case. But it isn't the mistake that makes you laugh, but rather how far you've come after a month of adjustments and an unfortunate series of events.

The first two weeks were exceptionally trying. No one spoke a word and everyone walked on eggshells. Eiji was still too shy to look at you, his responses down to a bare minimum and quieter than a whisper; Yuki cried almost all the time over every little thing, and the vein in Kenma's neck was threatening to pop every time he did.

It didn't help when you and Kenma would end your nights at each other's throats, bickering till you fell asleep. And when morning came, you'd be greeted by the emptiness from his side of the bed.

And it helped no one when the two of you would avoid each other, never crossing paths or breathing a word the moment you came home until it was too painfully awkward to continue.

Two and half hours charged with petty arguments, things of the past, and all the little things that came in between only to have finally arrived at one conclusion: You weren't parents and you weren't Akihiro-san. You were your own people and it was okay to do things differently.

Even if different meant that Kenma might call the kids by the wrong name or forget the fact he's living with someone else other than you. Even if different meant that you'll be absent-mindedly teaching Yuki a few curses to add to his vocabulary or forgetting to enroll them in school.

The truth is no one from the family was going to return your calls, and you were probably going to spend the rest of your twenties making up bedtime stories and giving pretty bad advice to someone just a few years younger than you.

Which brings you here, wearing your bathing suit as you share your bubble bath with Yuki because he wanted to play with the rubber duckies he whined and moaned at Kenma to buy for him at the store.

Lathering his hair with shampoo, Yuki's head leans against your chest, eyes gleaming beneath the bathroom lights. He beams at you, giggling at the ticklish feeling as you massage his head. He brings attention back to his ducks, making crashing sounds as he splashes them into the water.

"Is that how ducks swim?" You ask, washing away the soap from his hair. "Don't they just kinda...float around?"

He shakes his head before twisting his body to face you. He's got a tough expression plastered on; brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, eyes unwavering.

A very serious boy.

"These are special ducks," He explains, raising one to your face."These are battleship ducks."

Your lips fall to an 'o', still not picking up what he's putting down but you pretend you do.

Is this what kids are into these days?

Yuki goes on to tell you about his special ducks; something about lasers in their eyes, super special flying skills, and...echo location? You ask him if he's sure—if you heard him right, but he's as firm with his stance as he is with the death grip he has on his rubber duckies.

You drain the tub before rinsing yourselves beneath the warm water of the shower. Yuki flips his hair around, air drying himself as he steps out of the tub. You tell him to brush his teeth while he waits for you to finish rinsing.

"Hey, Oba-san," Yuki's call is muffled by the foam of the toothpaste still in his mouth. "Are you and Kenma-san married?"

You nearly fall when you slip off of your bathing suit and into your pajamas. "Ah, no, Yuki. We're not."

"But aren't you in love?" He asks, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, spitting into the sink and washing his mouth.

Your eye twitches and you swallow the lump in your throat before it goes big enough for you to choke and die. "Uhh, people don't always have to marry right away just because they're in love..."

"But Kenma-san said he's been in love with you for four years."

"I—Yeah, well—"

"That's sounds like a really long time, Oba-san." You can't tell if he means to sound condescending. You can't tell if your mom has awakened from the grave and possessed the young boy because she woke up thinking she had a few more things she'd like to pester you with.

"Well, Yuki," You gather the little patience you have left, taking a deep breath as you step out of the tub. The bathroom tile is cold against the soles of your feet, sending a shiver down your spine. Enough to keep you sober for trivial conversation with a six year old boy. "Love—Love kinda looks different for everyone, Yuki."

You choose your words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might confuse him.

You help him into his clothes, his hair leaving wet patches onto his his dinosaur pajamas. He listens to you intently, looking right into your eyes. "There are people marry the moment they meet—or at least after a short while—because they can't help but feel sure?”

And you can’t help but feel flustered at your own explanation, not too sure with your words, “...and other people don't do that. Some relationships move at a faster pace and other's move a bit slower; and Kenma-san and I...we're happy with how things are right now."

He hums, nodding his head as if he understands. "Even though Eiji-san and I are here?"

"Yes, little love." You assure him with the new nickname, booping his nose. "Even though you're both here."

You grab his towel and dry his hair. You pat down the tiny puddles of water on his face and neck, noting to wipe behind his ears.

"But," Yuki mumbles through the material of the towel, swatting your hand away to to catch his breath, "sometimes people don't like different..." Yuki pushes the towel to this side, his glossy eyes meeting yours and your heart cracks. "They didn't like my dad 'cause he was different."

"H-He didn't love someone th-that looked like y-you..." Yuki bites down on his bottom lip, keeping it from quivering and fixating his eyes onto the tiles of the floor to prevent himself from choking on his words. "H-He...He loved someone that look like Kenma-san."

You understand what he means. You know full well. Their father was gay and because of that, your family ostracized him without wasting another breath. As if it was easy as blinking.

You knew what their father had been going through, you had enough time to help, yet you stood idle, doing nothing but add to his loneliness.

You kept all the sunshine Akihiro-san shared with you during your bluest days, even when it had been so obvious he needed it more than you.

But not once did you ever think about returning a sliver of it. And you wonder maybe if you hadn't been so selfish and naive, a silver lining would've been enough to avoid something as painful as this.

Instinctively, you pull him close to you, threading your fingers through his still damp hair. You shush him and press kiss on the crown of his head as his petite figure trembles in your arms. You let him sob into your shirt, his fingers twisting the material in anguish.

And it breaks your heart that a little human like him would not only know the meaning of anguish, but how it feels to have it tear through his heart.

It takes a few moments for Yuki to catch his breath and for you to ease him. He slumps onto you as he regains his strength. You tell him you're sorry because you are and because you don't know what else to say.

You try to use his strawberry milk and his brother as an incentive to keep him from crying again. And after a few minutes it works.

You trail closely behind him when he walks out of the bathroom. He begins to run when he gets closer to Eiji, the pitter patter of his wee little feet carrying in the apartment.

You watch as Yuki thrusts himself forward into the arms of his brother, and Eiji doesn't fail to catch him. The sight before you leaves you gawking in silence, watching Eiji unravel into his big brother form as he lifts Yuki to the ceiling, playfully sniffing his under arms, the crook of his neck, and even his little bum before complimenting him, "Good job, you smell just like flowers."

His giggles float in the air, swarming around the apartment as if he hadn't been crying just a few minutes ago.

And as you watch the scene unfold do you decide to step out of the sidelines, using this warm moment shared between the boys as your driving force to keep the last of your cousin's light safe.

#Kozume Kenma #Kenma x reader #Kenma x y/n #Haikyuu!!#Kenma imagines #Haikyuu Imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kenma headcanons #kenma kozume headcanons #kenma hcs #kenma fluff #kenma angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst

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moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

The Day-Shift:

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Light Harassment, Fighting, Drinking, Sex, Mentions of Blood, Gore, etc. **The italicized portion contains Explicit/18+ Content. If you are a minor, I suggest skipping over that part. Thank you.**

Word Count: 3,730

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon | Request can be seen Here |

Summary: Y/N is a nurse at the hospital Michael is recuperating at, and has been a nuisance ever since the ordeal with the Italians. After a particularly snarky encounter with the young blinder, Y/N warns Thomas of his cousins antics, who later asks her out for a drink to ease both their nerves, ending in a romantic night for the lead member and a possible new relationship to form.

“Will I be discharged soon? The Shelby’s need me back.” Michael asked, the gunshot wound still aching as he spoke.

“No.” Y/N said with an annoyed expression. Inspecting the wound as she put a new bandage over it, Michael wincing as she did so.

“Right, well I guess you’ll have to talk to Thomas then. Good luck Y/N.” Michael said, angrily pulling his shirt back on and leaning against the rough pillows on his hospital bed.

“It’s just our policy Michael. I’d hate to have a patient bleeding out on the floor. I just mopped.” She said, discarding the old bandages.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out aye?” He said, watching her with a frustrated look on his face. His nerves still reeling over the surprise visit from Luca Changretta shoving a gun in his face hours before.

He knew he had to get out, and soon if he wanted to help his mother and to try to mend things with the others, at least to some degree.

Down the hall at the reception desk, Thomas walked in, quickly removing his cap before stopping at the desk.

“Hello Mr. Shelby. Here to see Michael?” Y/N asked, finishing her report.

“Yes. Is he able to have visitors at the moment?” He asked.

“Yes, but I’d tread carefully. He’s a bit cranky today. Wasn’t very pleasant earlier...told me to not let the door hit me on my way out.” She said with a smirk, his blue gaze making her breath catch in her throat.

“Well, I’ll apologize on his behalf since he’s not man enough to. You’re just doing your job, love.” He said, a slight smirk forming on his face.

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby.” She said.

“Call me Tommy.” He said, licking his lips before placing a cigarette in his mouth.

Y/N reached her hand out to stop him, the lighter unable to be flicked with her hand over it.

“No smoking in here, sorry Tommy.” She said, a stickler for the rules, at least when it came to her shifts at the hospital.

“If you say so.” He said, a small sigh escaping his lips before he put the lighter and cigarette back in his coat.

“Good luck, Tommy.” She said, a small smirk on her lips.

He nodded before reluctantly walking to the room, not bothering to knock on the door.

“What’re you doing here Tommy.” Michael stated, still frustrated.

“Just checking on ya. You’ve been giving the nurse a hard time aye?” He said, a cold look in his eyes as he remembered Michael’s wrong-doings before the Italians shot him.

“Just asked her if I could go home, she said no of course. Said she didn’t want a patient bleeding out cuz she just mopped. Stupid really.” He said, sneaking a cigarette from under his pillow.

“You can’t have that right now Michael. At least not until you’re healed more.” He said.

“Oh fuck off Tom. I can do what I want in here. What...did she tell you there’s no smoking?” He asked.

“Aye she did. She’s just following protocol.” He said.

“I don’t care. Just leave me will ya? I can deal with her later.” He said, lighting the cigarette.

Thomas sighed in frustration at the young man, unable to understand why except that he was tired of being cooped up in the small, white room.

“I’ll have your mother come by later. I suggest you show the woman who helped save you some respect.” He said, walking out of the room.

“I told ya. He’s been one hell of a patient aye?” Y/N asked, closing the medical book on her desk.

“Mhmm. Say, have you seen anyone in here besides me today?” He asked.

“No, I started my shift only and hour ago.” She said.

“How long does it go till?” He asked.

“Uhm, ‘round five hours. Won’t be out till at least six if all the patients fucking behave.” She said.

“That’s a new one, I’ve seen ya every day for the two weeks and you’re cussing now. Blinders are rubbing off on ya.” He said.

“I knew that’s what it was. It’s contagious.” She said, chuckling slightly.

“Well how about I pick you up ‘round then aye? I can take you for a drink. I think you’ve earned it after dealing with my fucking cousin of all people.” He said.

“You’re joking...” She said, never thinking Thomas Shelby would ever ask her - a day-shift nurse - out for a drink.

“Am I’m laughing?” He asked, a small smirk on his face.

Y/N looked at the clock nearby, the hands ticking down ever so slowly.

“I’d love to. I’ll be counting down the hours.” She said, grinning.

“Alright. I’ll see you then, miss.” He said.

“Aye Tommy?” She called out before he walked off too far.

“Call me Y/N.” She said.

“Right...I’ll see you later miss Y/N.” He said, making it a point to pull out a cigarette and lighting it just as he walked out the door, leaving Y/N chuckling to herself.

The hours dragged on, Y/N dealing with one rude patient after another. One screaming at her and one getting blood all over her uniform during a grueling emergency surgery.

“Jesus. You’ve been through hell aye?” A voice sounded from the hallway as Y/N neared her desk for the last time that night.

“Oh! Uh...hi Tommy. Fucking startled me ya know.” She said, swiping a strand of hair out of her face as she gathered her things.

“I’m going to get out of all this mess and then I’ll be ready to go. You can wait in the lobby if you’d like.” She said, looking at the gangster leaning against the wall, staring at Michael’s door with an empty expression.

“Alright.” He said, walking out to the old rickety chairs outside the main reception area.

She scurried to the nurses changing room and put on the only clothes she had, a black dress and cardigan with worn, black heels.

She washed the dried blood off her hands and face and hastily applied a small amount of lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara, nothing too extravagant given her circumstances.

With a nervous sigh, she looked in the mirror one last time, wrestling with her hair a bit to make it at least somewhat presentable for wherever he was taking her.

“That wasn’t long. You look great, Y/N.” He said, putting down a random book that was sitting on one of the old side tables.

“Thank you! I uh, didn’t have much to work with back there but it’s better than being covered in blood aye?” She said, wrapping her coat tightly around her as she braced for the cold night air that was sure to slither its way through their bones.

“Aye, I guess that’s true.” He said, thinking about how he’d shown up to numerous places covered in blood, not really taking it into account before.

“So, Tommy Shelby. Where in the world are we going?” She asked, looking at him. The streetlights shooting by as he drove down the many dark streets of Birmingham.

“Well, there’s not many I like going to except for the Garrison. You heard of it?” He asked.

“Yeah, been a couple times with friends. It’s fun...most times.” She said, cringing at past drunk memories.

Thomas looked at her as the smirk spread across her features, her eyes wrinkling with the movement as they continued their drive to the pub.

“Here we are.” He said, getting out and quickly helping her down from the tall, black car. The metal hood shining in the moonlight as the noise from the pub made its way through the streets.

The noise grew as they walked in, the smell of booze filling the air as they made their way to the bar.

“Hiya Mr. Shelby. What can I get for you and the lucky lady?” The bartender asked cheerfully.

“The usual for me. What about you love?” He asked, her mind racing with trying to decide on something.

“I’ll just have what he’s having? And a gin please.” She said.

“You like whiskey?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. Only drink it on bad nights usually. Takes the pain away.” She said.

“Pain of what?” He asked as the bartender sat a whole bottle down along with two shot glasses and her gin.

Tommy nodded at the bartender as she spoke.

“A lot of things. I see a lot of people in bad shape all time. Kind of haunts ya you know? And dealing with patients like your cousin aren’t much better. Pain in my ass really.” She said, chuckling and taking a nervous sip of her gin.

“Aye, that he is. I told him to lay off though. You helped save him after all. It’s the least he could do.” He said, pouring them both a shot.

“So are we splitting the bill or? I don’t mind.” She said.

“Nah, I get the drinks for free. That includes yours.” He said.

“Oh...” she said, taking a swig of her gin again, the clear liquid burning like fire on the way down.

“I make gin.” He said, changing the subject.

“Oh really? Is it good?” She asked.

“Personally I think it is, some people prefer it...not as sweet though. What do you think of it?” He asked.

“Wait, this is yours?” She asked, downing the last of it slowly, trying to form a decent opinion as it burned down her throat.

“Hmm, well...” she said, turning her nose up, jokingly.

“I’m kidding. You should’ve seen your face, love...It’s good though. I don’t think it’s too sweet...It’s just right.” She said, looking up at him as he downed his now third shot.

“You drinking that whole bottle?” She asked.

He shook his head and lit a cigarette, pouring her another after she downed the first one.

“Not unless you help me. Maybe then I’ll make it back to the house.” He said.

“You live ‘round here?” She asked.

“Not anymore. Up at Arrow House.” He said, blowing a puff of smoke away from her.

“Jesus. I don’t want to know what that cost, but I’m sure you and your blinders could afford those things. Is it nice?” She asked, slightly regretting the rapid pace she downed the shots in.

“It’s grand. More so in the sense it’s empty. Lots of rooms with no life in them really. My son Charlie’s there but that’s it besides the nanny and the maids.” He said.

“You have a whole crew then. I’m impressed.” She said.

“Would you like to go there?” He asked.

“Sure. But...” she said, pouring herself a shot of the whiskey.

“Let’s finish this first, can’t let a good thing go to waste aye?” She said, knocking back a shot. Her head slowly turning fuzzy as she hadn’t drank in a few months.

As she put the bottle down, a drunken man came up behind her suddenly, an ugly smile on his face as he grasped at her bum.

She quickly turned around, backing up towards Tommy.

“Get your fucking hands off me you bastard! Go on, go!” She yelled, shoving the already unstable man until he stumbled back. The liquor slowly getting to her as she watched the scene unfold.

Thomas moved her behind him as she watched him unbutton his sleeves, the act causing her to bite her lip curiously as she watched his posture change. The drunken man getting up and slurring his words in a drunken rage as he went to punch him. Tommy blocked the shaky punch and landed one on the mans nose as he stumbled back, blood erupting from the mans nose and also from Tommy’s hands from the sharp impact. The man, with practically more booze than blood in his system came at him again, this time landing a hit to his cheek causing a gash to form. As the brawl ensued, she watched tipsily as a crowd gathered around them both, egging on the blinder who practically owned half of Birmingham at that point.

“You bastard! You broke me nose!” The man yelled, finally noticing the damage done.

“Yeah well you touched my girl so I’d say we’re even. Now go on before I kill ya.” He said in a low voice, his cheek bleeding as he spoke.

“Y-you’ll pay for this. I swear it!” The man said angrily as he pushed his way through the pub and out the door, nearly stumbling as he walked onto the cold cobblestone streets.

“You alright Y/N?” Thomas asked as he turned around, wiping the blood on a towel the bartender already had ready for him.

“I-I’m fine.” She said, going back to the bar and pouring herself another shot, her nerves finally calming down after wanting to beat the man up herself, knowing she could have if only she’d tried harder.

“I think he had concrete for a nose.” He said, she could see the way his skin spilt around his worn knuckles, the blood snaking it’s way down his arm as he clutched the bottle of whiskey.

“Sorry you had to see that.” He said, knocking a shot back and then pulling out another cigarette, a frustrated sigh coming from his lips as the flames from the lighter ignited the thin roll of paper.

“Don’t be sorry. You did a good thing. I’m just mad I couldn’t punch him myself.” She said smirking, trying to lighten the mood as the atmosphere around them returned to normal.

He smirked at that, causing the blood to trickle down his face more as she watched.

“Here. This’ll hurt but it’ll help for now.” She said, turning the bottle neck-down so some it would pour onto the towel. As she leaned in to dab it on his cut cheek, his eyes scanned her face. She was halfway focused due to the alcohol in her system but still more calm than others in the past. He tried not to wince as she applied light pressure, not wanting to hurt him.

“How about we finish this bottle and head out?” He asked.

“Sounds like a plan.” She said, clinking her shot glass with his after setting the bloody towel down.

They both drank until the bottle ran dry, Y/N’s head feeling light and slightly like it was spinning as she made her way to the car. Thomas on the other hand seemed a bit less un-phased, having drunken more in that one week than she had in months.

“Did...did I say thank you? I really should’ve said thank you. That was brave. You just....cracked him right in the nose.” She said drunkenly as she made a punching gesture with her fist.

Thomas chuckled as he drove them to his house, the cool night air slowly sobering them up as they set out for the seemingly long drive to the large manor in the countryside.

“Tommy?” She asked, her eyes landing on him as the moonlight shined through the windows of the car, only his silhouette visible as he spoke.

“Yeah love?”

“Out of all the women...why me? Why’d you decide to go out with a nurse?” She said, laughing at herself slightly. The world slowly not spinning as much as they neared the house.

Thomas was silent for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully since he’d been so reckless with past suitors. He couldn’t stand another heartbreak and so he decided to think a bit more cautiously, for once.

Tommy sighed as he pulled up to the manor, his door creaking as he closed it and helped her out.

“I just happen to like you. You seem...kind. At least when a drunk isn’t trying to put the moves on ya” He said, leading her into the house, the rooms eerily empty as everyone was asleep.

“I see. Well Tommy, if it’s any consolation, I uh may just happen to like you as well. I don’t really care about what they say you know.” She said, fiddling with the buttons on her coat as he helped her take it off.

“And what do they say, Y/N?” He asked, his hand going to hers as he led her around the house quietly.

“They say you’re a drug dealing gangster who kills for fun.” She said smirking.

“They’re only half right, love.” He said, stopping just outside his bedroom.

“How so?” She asked, looking into his eyes in the dimly lit hall.

“I kill for business. Not for fun.” He said, gently caressing her cheek before he brought his lips to hers.

She broke away after a moment, looking at the cut on his cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you, you need stitches you know.” She said, smirking up at him.

He sighed and led her into the grand bedroom, the luxurious bathroom located just near the room as they walked towards it.

Thomas turned on the light, illuminating the space as he rummaged around for alcohol and his small sewing kit, which saved him more often than not.

“I usually do this myself but I’m sure you’re better at this love.” He said, sitting on the counter as she stood between his legs, expertly threading the needle as she inspected it.

“This is going to hurt, I’m just being honest with you.” She said, forgoing her usual bedside manners.

“Can’t be worse than what I’ve done to myself aye? You won’t leave a huge scar like I would.” He said, looking at her as she started her work. The needle stinging as she quickly stitched him up.

“Scar a handsome face like yours? I could never.” She said, with a smirk as she tied off the stitch and clipped it, dabbing a bit of the alcohol on it to clean it once more. Before he could move, she took his hand gently in hers, dabbing the blood off his hand and running the alcohol over his knuckles as he sat there, a hiss of pain escaping his mouth at the unexpected burn.

“That was worse.” He said.

“I know. It’s never fun treating busted knuckles. I’d suggest maybe not punching anyone in the next couple of days...if you can manage.” She said, bandaging them up.

“For you, I’ll try not to. Now...” He trailed off, his eyes roaming over her.

“What?” She asked, looking at him as she caught him staring.

“Where were we?” He asked, his hand gently holding hers as she stood closer.

**Explicit/18+ Content Ahead. Please skip over the italicized portion if you are under 18, thank you!**

“Oh....right...” she said smirking, bringing her lips gently to his as his hands found their way to her hips, pulling her towards him. Their kiss grew heated as more time passed, his hand stinging as he snaked it through her hair, bringing her closer to him as he broke from her lips and sucked light bruises onto her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

Their hands wandered over each other, pulling at what clothing remained between them as Thomas led her to the bed. Her smooth skin feeling like silk under his rough fingertips.

Y/N giggled as he laid her on the bed, kissing his way down her neck and chest until he got to her core. His head resting perfectly between her legs as he devoured her, the feeling indescribable as she clutched the expensive sheets beneath her. Her insides soon turning to a knot as she felt her orgasm coming on, her hands finding their way to his head as she grasped his hair tightly, feeling her hips grinding on him as he brought her over the edge, her moans filling the room as she came undone on his lips. As he lifted his head up, he hovered over her, kissing his way up to her lips as she tasted herself on him. Slowly urging her hand down to take hold of him, already hard and yearning to be inside her.

“You sure?” He asked, a low moan escaping his lips as she pumped him. With a quick nod she aligned him with her entrance, wanting nothing more than to close the gap between them. She gasped lightly at the sensation, the pressure of him filling her up as he began thrusting his hips into her. The familiar feeling washing over her again minutes later, tightening around him as she moaned his name. The dim lighting making it harder to see as they continued, making the sensation all the more heightened as his thrusts quickened, and a low moan came from his lips again.

In a swift movement, he let her get on top, riding him as he watched from under her. Her hands scratching down his chest as her body tensed around him, grinding herself down harder and faster as she came once more. Her scratches leaving slight red streaks down his chest as she came down from her high.

Thomas sat up slightly as she rode him slowly once more, his hips meeting hers as she bounced on his cock. His breathing a bit ragged as he came closer. His thrusts getting slower with every minute. As she came close once more, Thomas let out a moan as he came undone, pulling her closer to him as he did so, her walls clenching around him as she moaned in his ear. Their breathing both leveling out as they lied next to each other, sleep finally invading their bones as they lay tangled in each other’s embrace.

“You don’t want me to leave do you?” She asked after a while, stealing Thomas’ cigarette from his mouth as she took a drag from it.

“I’d quite like it if ya stayed actually. Why? Do you want to?” He asked, watching the smoke escape her lips.

“No, I just thought you’d want me to. Didn’t think you’d want anything more after this.” She said.

“What if I do want something more aye?” He asked.

She smiled and thought for a moment before kissing him.

“Then you’ll have to be more careful Tommy Shelby. Can’t have you being hurt everyday. The hospital is full as it is.” She said.

Thomas chuckled as he looked down at her, her eyes lighting up at his smile.

“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.” He said, kissing her once more before they decided to go to bed for the night, the hope for a new relationship ever so looming on the horizon.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx,

@lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore, @xxbeckybeexx-blog

If you’d like to be added/removed, just send me an ask/message! :)

#katiesanons #katiesrequests #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x female!reader

149 notes · View notes

scabopolis · 3 years

Note

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Hope that I do this properly 🙃

I would adore a XO between Veronica Mars (LoVe) & Once Upon a Time (C/S).

PROMPT: "I’m really competitive and drunk and I just told a rival that my relationship is way better than theirs, but they don’t believe you exist (but I’m too stubborn to admit they’re right)" OR really anything you'd like. Honestly, I'm dying to see Logan and Killian interact/co-swagger.

And / or another installment of "Come Rain or Come Shine" from In Lovers Meeting because I love it with my whole ❤️.

Thank you so much for doing this. You made my day,

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Oh @jjmazzy you bring my heart so much joy! I didn’t feel quite up to the task to do a crossover between OUaT and Veronica Mars so I went straight for a OUaT AU. I hope that’s okay?

This is just a silly little thing that I am realizing only fulfills about 40% of the prompt, but I think it’s cute??

ANYWAY! Enough hemming and hawing xx *** Title: Of Expats and Onion Rings Rating: PG Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Killian Jones/Emma Swan (mentions of Robin/Marian and a smattering of other characters) Additional Tags: Two out of three of my OUaT fics feature Killian as a bartender, silliness and only half a prompt, probably way more fluff than is medically recommended Word Count: 1,500

Every Friday night, Emma Swan sits on the same barstool at the same bar in the same restaurant. This Friday night has her staring into space as she lets the sounds from the kitchen and the bar swirl around her. It’s busier than usual, with almost all the booths and tables filled and the bar area half-occupied. In fact, when she first walked into the bar, she worried there wouldn’t be a seat for her. But the bartender caught her eye and waved her over, a menu and a glass of water waiting for her in her usual seat at the end of the bar.

Said bartender slides her an Old Fashioned, extra maraschino cherries on the toothpick per usual.

She takes a small sip of the drink. “Why is it so busy?”

Killian’s eyes roam about the room and then come back to rest on her. “Some magazine labeled us the best kept secret in Portland, Maine.”

“And in doing so—”

“Assured that we would never be a secret again. Yes.”

“The pitfalls of fame.”

“Burger or chicken sandwich?”

“Burger. Any chance—?”

“Aye, probably a very good chance, but only because Graham is sweet on you.”

Emma feels her cheeks redden. “He’s not sweet on me.”

“Sure he isn’t.”

She watches Killian step away from the bar and into the kitchen to talk to Graham. How Graham can manage to listen to anything given the noise of the dining room and the kitchen she’ll never know. Graham and Killian both look over at her. Graham rolls his eyes but nods, and Emma raises her glass in thanks.

“Okay,” she says to Killian when he’s back at the bar. “He might be a little sweet on me.” She takes a long sip of her cocktail.

Killian’s brow is knit with concentration. “Long day?”

She nods. “I had a run in with Zelena.”

“Ah. The wicked witch of the northeast. What’d she do this time?” The ticket printer next to Killian’s till spits out a long drink order, but he listens even as he mixes drink and pours glasses of wine.

“She got engaged over the weekend and hasn’t shut up about it. And today, she took great pains to ask me, in front of everyone in the faculty lounge, if I’d be okay if she didn’t give me a plus one.”

“Bit rude, isn’t it?”

“Right? But then she kept going on and on asking how long it’d been since I dated someone, and did I know that after 35, forty-five percent of women’s eggs are considered genetically abnormal and her fiancé is a very wealthy furniture manufacturer and she’s certain he has some less attractive less wealthy friends he could introduce me to and on and on and on.”

“Does she truly want you at her wedding?”

“Oh, yes. She said she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She runs her finger along the condensation of her glass. “Which is when I did something very very very stupid.”

“Smacked her?”

Emma snorts. “I wish. No I—” Her explanation is interrupted by the arrival of her burger and the plate of special order onion rings. Onion rings which are technically available only as an add-on to the steak sandwich but that Emma has a 80% success rate of cajoling the kitchen to make her a plate of.

She eats her meal with one eye turned to Killian, waiting for a long enough lull in the drink tickets to finish her story. She’s almost finished her burger when Killian slides another Old Fashioned in front of her.

“What was this very stupid thing you did?” he asks, leaning towards her.

“I told her I was dating someone.”

Killian remains where he is but she notices the clench of his jaw. “Ah,” he says. “I was unaware.” He seems to hear his own words as he says them because he cringes. “Not that there’s a reason you would tell me. I mean, we’re friends, but friends in that way that I get you drinks and —”

Emma rests a hand on Kilian’s to stop the rambling. “I’m not. Dating anyone, that is.”

“Then why—?”

“It just popped out. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or Zelena.”

“So, this fake boyfriend of yours. Just who is he?”

“Well, okay, so this makes sense when you remember it’s Friday, and I knew I’d be coming here.”

“Right,” he says, equal parts cautious and curious.

“I told her my boyfriend was British.”

Killian shakes his head.

ExPats has been her weekly haunt for close to a year now and while not everyone who works there is a British expatriate, with Killian as bar manager, Robin as front of house manager, Graham as chef de cuisine, and Phillip as pastry chef, it kind of feels that way.

“And that he had blue eyes,” she continues.

“Ah, I see,” he says, teasing her. “Are you telling me you’re sweet on Graham too?”

“Not Graham.”

“In that case, Marian is likely going to have a big problem with you trying to date her husband.”

“And, uh,” she clears her throat, “I told Zelena he has dark hair.”

Killian wings an eyebrow. “How dark?”

“Uh, right about your color probably.”

“My color?”

“Probably. I said probably.”

“Interesting.” Emma takes a sip of her drink. There’s a delicious, hazy feeling brought on from the second cocktail washing through her veins. “So, you and I are dating?” he asks.

“Stupid. It was so stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for months now. This might be just the little push I need.”

“What?”

“What did you just say?”

“What now?” he asks in return, the picture of innocence.

“You’ve been trying to ask me out?”

“Not as such, no.”

“Oh.” She sinks back in her seat, disappointed.

“I didn’t want to risk you running scared and not being here every Friday night.”

Emma perks right back up again. “Oh?”

“You already said that, love.”

Emma looked down at her plate, the remnants of the crispy bits from her onion rings on her plate. Something occurs to her then. “Graham doesn’t give these to me because I want them. Does he?”

“Excuse me?”

If she’s not mistaken the tips of his ears have gone a little red. She loves his little elf ears. “He makes these for me because you ask him. Don’t you?”

“I might have told him they bring you an inordinate amount of joy.” He scratches idly at a spot on his arm. “And that it brings me an inordinate amount of joy to see how happy they make you.”

“Did you know my weekly ExPats date used to be on Wednesdays?”

She can see him try to mentally adjust to the change of direction in the conversation. “Really?”

“I only came in a few times, but then one week, I had parent/teacher conferences so I came on Friday. And there you were.” Emma shrugs. “Your Old Fashioned is better than Will’s.” She bites off one of the maraschino cherries from the toothpick. “Your smile is better, too.”

“Emma, darling, are you flirting with me?”

“What? Suddenly it’s a crime to flirt with my boyfriend?”

Killian laughs and it makes her heart hum. She likes the clean line of his throat as he tilts his head back. “Your boyfriend? I don’t suppose you’d want to go out on a date with, then?”

“I’m free on Wednesday.”

“Funny that,” he says. “That happens to be my day off.”

“Is it?”

Emma would be content to sit at this bar all night and let Killian smile at her and make her drinks. It seems like Killian is having similar thoughts, until something seemingly flies out of nowhere to hit him in the back of the head.

Killian reels around to find Robin standing there, arms folded across his chest.

“What’d you throw at me, you git?” Killian asks.

“A dinner roll.” Robin gestures at the drink ticket printer. A ticket printer which has at least 10-tickets waiting to be fulfilled. “Pardon, Emma. Mind if he stops flirting with you long enough to fulfill the drink orders?”

“You’re fired,” Killian says.

“For the last time, mate, you can’t fire me. My name is on the lease right next to yours.”

“Murder it is, then.”

“Make the nice customers their cocktails and then you can murder me.”

Robin walks away, and Emma notices it’s not just her at the bar who finds herself charmed by the whole display between the two men. She thinks she might see a small group of women sneakily taking a cell phone video, giggling as they watch it through.

“Emma, I’m sorry, but I—”

She waves him off. “Do your thing. I’ll be here.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and when she nods, he beams. “Good, because if we’re in a committed relationship I’m probably going to need your phone number.”

“Pour the drinks, you goon.”

#FOR YOU JJMAZZY #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #cs fanfiction #ouat fanfiction #p: emma x killian #never stories

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evil-slytherin-queen · 3 years

Text

His Touch

WARNING: mentions of blood, panic/anxiety attack, mentions of murder/death, mentions of physical/psychological torture, mentions of violence, mentions of not eating enough/lowkey Draco having an ED, self-hatred, mentions of self-harm

a/n I really don’t think this is super graphic or anything but you never know what can trigger you, so pretty please be careful and safe while reading.

Sometimes Draco wonders why he lets him touch him. How he can stand the sight of him. How it doesn't make him want to throw every Unforgivable he could think of at Draco.

He wonders.

But he never asks.

He's too afraid of the answer.

Too afraid of what it could mean.

Too afraid it might make him realize his mistake and make him leave. Make him hate Draco. He doesn't believe he would survive that. Doesn't believe he would want to.

That night he scrubs Draco's hands clean twice. Golden-bronze hands, rough and strong, and impossibly gentle moving Draco's pale shaking ones under the faucet. His look so small in comparison. Weak. Useless. He washes in between Draco's fingers, under his nails, out to his wrists. Let's the water wash away the pain and misery and death from his palms. Till the water runs clear again. Till it is all gone. Except it isn't.

And Draco can still see the blood.

Can see it when he shuts his eyes or if he blinks too quickly. Can feel it under his nails, and between his fingers like it has sunken into his pores. Like it has become a part of him. Draco offhandedly thinks he'd like to rip it out, tear into himself to make it leave his body. It's an absent thought and it would probably horrify him in any other circumstance.

But he won't.

He knows that would only upset him further, would make him cry, and hold Draco close apologizing like it was his fault, even though it wasn't. He always was such a martyr. And even though Draco doesn't care right now he will later. He'll care too much and he'll regret it. So he doesn't.

He's been staring from behind those stupid and awfully crooked spectacles. His eyes too green, too full of concern and trust and-and something Draco won't admit to himself. He's not ready to yet. It's too dangerous to let himself have that right now. If he does he won't be able to do what he has to, what he needs to.

He expects Draco to drop his occlumency shields. But he doesn't. He can't. If Draco lets himself feel this it will kill him. He knows it will.

Draco knows if he lets the barriers between his emotions and what he's just done down he will fall apart. Knows he won't be able to do anything other than shake and sob into solid warm arms and tell the truth. Tell him that he's disgusting and dirty and vile. That he is ruined.

And he can't. He just can't.

Except he has to. They both know he does. And it's dreadful.

"Come on, my darling. My sweet love, my Draco. I need you to come back to me." He whispers it like if he says it any louder it will break him. And maybe it would. Draco knows when he goes blank like this it hurts him. He remembers how his pain hurts Draco in return. He doesn't want to feel that. Can't even bring himself to think his name, that might bring all of his walls crumbling down without his permission.

That would be damaging and if he isn't careful it could rip a hole into his mind and leave him in a not all there sort of limbo. Although there has to be some sort of freedom in delusion and insanity, at least then he wouldn't remember. But then he recalls Longbottom's parents and the way they can't even feed themselves and he decides maybe that isn't the way to go.

Draco shakes his head, face carefully vacant, eyes glazed over as he stares past him. It's too hard to look him in the eye and keep everything perfectly in place.

"No. It will hurt." Draco says it simply, his voice sounds foreign to himself. Draco knows it will sound lifeless and wrong to him. Right now he doesn't care. He watches how the flames flicker in the fireplace behind him, how the Room of Requirement chose an oddly cosey rendition of the Gryffindor common room. If he could feel right now, it might make him laugh. He thinks it might be funny, ironic in some way he can't process currently.

Warm hands touch his neck. They feel hot, like the sun. Draco knows they're not his own. He's perpetually cold now thanks to Aunt Bella's Cruciatus Curse training. And even if he can't look at his hands right now without losing his manufactured calm he knows they're still hanging by his sides, trembling. The hands burn a trail up his neck, brushing calloused thumbs under his jaw, trailing them up and over his cheekbones till they're cupping his face softly.

He can physically feel wetness hitting his cheeks, it makes his mouth twitch down, eyebrows scrunch a little. That shouldn't be happening.

"You're crying." He says the warm hands brush the tears away gingerly. And he can feel the way his eyes watch him, waiting. He expects it to happen soon. Expects Draco to break under the heavy weight of despair.

"I shouldn't be."

"But you are."

Draco shouldn't be able to cry. His shields are slipping and he knows it. He hates it. He doesn't reach a hand up to wipe them away. He lets himself be kissed on the forehead. Let's himself be pulled over towards the fire and cradled into a warm embrace. Draco's tucked against a scorching body on the sofa and a blazing fire just beside them. He should be burning alive but he still feels ice cold.

Deft fingers run through his hair. It doesn't look how it used to, it's taken on a grey pallor and waxy feeling ever since the summer before sixth year. It's the stress, the bad eating habits. It's not his fault he can't keep food down. It's the nightmares, the way Aunt Bella thought it fun to poison his food every so often for giggles. Draco misses how it used to look. All white blonde and shiny. He misses how soft and feathery it used to feel ever since he'd quit slicking it back with those charms his father had insisted he use. He supposes that's what happens when you become a child soldier, a spy. Things don't get to stay nice or pretty or good.

Salazar.

He shouldn't be able to miss that right now.

He's scared. So, so scared. He isn't ready. He'll never be ready. Not for this. Draco tells him so.

"I can't do this."

Draco can feel his gaze on him filled with its usual encouragement and tenderness. He presses a kiss to Draco's hair.

"You can."

"I'll die."

"You won't. I've got you, my darling, my Draco. I'm here, just let go. I'll keep you safe." He speaks it like a promise and the word safe is what does Draco in. It's all he wants. All he's wanted for a long time. Safety.

He can already feel the occlumency shields cracking and he lets them slide away, a violent sob clawing its way out of his throat. It leaves his mouth and makes him feel raw and exposed. It's heart-wrenching and frightening how broken he sounds. And it hurts.

Because now he can feel everything.

Disgust.

Regret.

Self-loathing.

Fear.

Grief.

Guilt.

Shame

Weak.

But mostly he just feels useless and sorry so very sorry.

And he feels like he's suffocating like he's dying. Like he'll never breathe again. Tears flood his vision and it's revolting and it makes him feel sick. And he feels like a monster.

He tries to get away from him, scrambles off of his broad chest, and tries to pull far far away. Draco doesn't deserve to touch someone so good with his hands that have hurt and maimed and-and killed.

But he won't let him, won't let him get more than a few centimetres away. Grabs his wrists to stop him from leaving, till he's stuck straddling him, wrists clutched into hot palms.

"No. You don't run away. You don't run from me, never me. Tell me what happened."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He doesn't recognize his own voice for a moment, it doesn't sound like him. It sounds hysterical and far away and Merlin, everything hurts. He shakes his head violently back and forth. He doesn't want to tell him. He tries to pull his hands out of his grip to rip at his own hair. He doesn't deserve this comfort not after what he just did. He shouldn't have taken down his nicely built walls that kept him perfectly in check. He should have just buried these feelings in with the others. Should've let someone Obliviate him instead of having to deal with it. This feels like dying.

"Draco. Draco! Stop!" He says it forcefully, his hands tightening around his wrists and it breaks him out of his hysteria. Draco freezes, he knows that tone of voice too well. It startles him into silent tears instead of the loud sobbing he had been doing. He doesn't want to hurt him too. And if he hurts himself and carries on like this it will hurt him.

"Harry," He chokes the name out painfully and looks at him through watery eyes, "I'm sorry."

Harry frowns and pulls Draco's hands towards his lips. Draco feels the horror wash over him before Harry gets the chance to finish what he's doing.

"STOP!" He yells the word frantically, Harry halts his movements.

"Please," Draco begs weakly, "Please, they're dirty. I-I hurt, I k-killed a-a child. A help-helpless child. Please don't. Please."

Harry looks at him firmly, fiercely, locks him in with a determined glint in his green eyes. He pulls each of Draco’s hands to his lips, one at a time, and kisses his palms, his fingertips, the back of his hands, his wrists. Each press of his lips makes Draco gasp and cry like he's in pain. Maybe he is, he can't tell anymore. Harry does it with delicate care like he hadn't just washed blood off of them, like they hadn't just done foul, nasty, unforgivable things.

By the time he stops, Draco has his eyes twisted shut painfully. He can't watch as Harry worships hands that have torn people's, children's flesh and blood from their bodies. He can't bear it.

"Look at me, my love."

He doesn't.

"Look at me, Draco."

A plea. his voice bordering on begging. This time he does. Harry should never have to beg someone so monstrous for anything, it's wrong.

Harry's eyes are so beautiful. Draco hasn't seen anything green and living in so long not since the Death Eaters had come to Hogwarts and scorched the surrounding lands. They remind him of the grass in the spring and the leaves on the big oak trees in the summer, of emeralds and pine. They remind him of something soft and comfortable and safe. They remind him of Harry and how much he shouldn't and can't love him right now. Not without having to kill little pieces of himself for hurting someone so good and beautiful and kind with his dirty and foul being.

And there are tears in his eyes again. Draco can feel them as they fall down his cheeks. Bloody fucking hell. A piteous sound comes out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath. He can't.

Harry pulls his inconsequential and fragile-looking hands, a dangerous deception seeing as what they're capable of, down against his chest. The action makes Draco flinch. He puts his large and callous and warm ones over top of them keeping them pressed into his shirt till he can feel Harry's heartbeat. It unconsciously soothes him. And he hates himself a little for relaxing even the slightest after he did something so heinous.

"You are not your actions. You are not what you were forced to do to survive, just as I am not my actions or my failures. You, Draco, are not to blame for the lives you could not save, just as I am not to blame for the death of those who fought to protect me. If I'm not allowed to blame myself for the casualties of a war I never asked for then neither are you. Are we clear, my love?"

His words are calm and soft-spoken but the way his eyes are fixed on Draco makes them so much more intense and concrete. And he isn't wrong. Draco had had the same conversation with him before. But that time he had been the one to hold Harry as he cried over the death of Sirius Black, of Dumbledore, of Cedric Diggory, of Alastor Moody and blamed himself for them all. But it's different. Those were all good people who lost their lives to Death Eaters and Draco, Draco is a Death Eater doing what they do best. Hurt others. End lives. It is not the same.

"It's-but that's different. They-you can't control-"

"It's not. I can't control what others do for me just like you can't control what's done to you," Harry says letting one hand reach up and brush tears from Draco’s cheek, he doesn't flinch this time, "I know Bellatrix and the Carrows force you to watch these things. You wouldn't unless you had to. I know you would stop them if you could. But you can't. Not yet. And I know it hurts every time you have to move their bodies, every time you try to revive them but you can't. I know. And I'm sorry."

And he's right. Draco would kill them and every other nasty Death Eater if he could. He would fight them with everything he had if he could. Throw every dark and dangerous curse that Aunt Bella taught him right back at her and revel in her suffering for what they did. Draco can feel the anger thrum under his skin but it simmers down into anguish again with the way Harry sighs. The way his pretty face smiles at him mournfully.

"I wish you hadn't done this, Draco. I wish you didn't have to watch so many die by their hands. I wish you never had to get this," Harry traces his fingers along the inside of Draco’s left wrist.

It's stained with the Dark Mark and scars from where he's tried to scratch off his own skin. It's shameful, and it makes Draco want to pull away again. He doesn't though. He's more here than he was before. More in his body and less in his mind. Harry's heartbeat always seems to bring him back faster than anything else. It's why they send him to get information and not someone else. And they promised never to run from each other. He isn't going to break that promise now.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispers back, he's stopped crying now. He's ashamed. He always is after he's had an episode like this. He can't help it no matter how delicate and kind and sweetly Harry handles them.

"Draco? My love? Are you all the way back with me?" Harry sounds hopeful, his eyebrows scrunch in question, and it makes Draco's heart clench. He's missed him. He hasn't seen Harry in three weeks. It's been too long. This war has been too long. He hasn't properly looked at him yet. And he is still beautiful, still so painfully open despite who Draco is.

But he looks tired. The bags under his eyes are darker, deeper, and his skin is more sallow. He's paler than he once was, his brown skin no longer looks dusted in gold and sunlight but his hair is the same disaster of dark raven curls. It never changes even when the rest of him does.

Draco carefully pulls his hands from Harry's grasp and slides them up along his body. He traces Harry's broad shoulders, brushes his fingers along his too-defined collar bones. He isn't eating enough either, none of them are. Draco skims them up to Harry's neck and cups his jaw with oddly still hands. He's almost always trembling now. But not with Harry around, never when he's around.

He smoothes out the wrinkles in between Harry's brows with a swipe of his thumb. And places a kiss there too. He hates to see him so exhausted with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He should have noticed sooner.

"Yes. I'm back, Harry, my darling. I'm sorry it took so long tonight."

And in spite of the circumstances, Harry smiles at Draco. He smiles like Draco hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Draco can't help but think that Harry is the one who should be smiled at in that way. He's the one who will save them all as much as Draco hates the very idea of him having to. It should have never been his job in the first place. He was-is only a child.

"S'alright, not your fault. Want to tell me what actually happened? I know you never hurt any of them, I know it's never you. Tell me what they made you watch."

Draco sighs and leans forward till his head rests against Harry's, eyes closed. He strokes his thumbs over Harry's jaw. He needs to shave, Draco can feel the stubble growing in again. It makes him smile faintly, remembering the first time Harry had let Draco shave his face for him. It felt like a lifetime ago when in reality it was a little over a year ago.

He feels Harry's hands trail down to his thighs straddling him and then up to hold his hips. Harry draws circles into his skin with calloused thumbs. It's soothing in a way that Draco still feels he doesn't deserve but he lets him anyway. He's too weak to resist any comfort given to him.

"They said if he liked muggles so much they would show him how vile and primitive they were," His voice shakes as he speaks and he feels sick and dirty all over, "How-how d-dangerous. They-they cut him to pieces, Harry. I couldn't-I couldn't help him."

Tears wet his face, trail down his cheeks in torrents. He opens his eyes to blink them away. It doesn't work. His hands tremble violently and he tries to draw away from Harry. He doesn't want to hurt him on accident, doesn't want to scare him. He knows Harry won't let him go far so he settles for putting his hands over Harry's heart again, leaving their heads bent together. At least this way he won't accidentally scratch his face with his shaking hands.

Harry frowns at the action but doesn't stop him. Instead, he rests his hands over top Draco's again. He strokes the back of his hands. He says nothing as Draco shuts his eyes and learns to breathe again. And when he's finally caught his breath, Harry speaks. His voice is tender and sweet, his eyes no doubt the same.

"Who, Draco?"

"His name is Leonidas Baros. The name's Greek. It means lion strength," Draco laughs wetly through the new wave of tears that cascade down his cheeks, "Not a bad name for a first-year Gryffindor is it?"

"It's a good name," Harry murmurs.

Draco laughs again but it comes out more of a wet sob than anything else. He keeps his eyes closed, it makes talking easier. The feeling of Harry's skin against his own urges him to continue.

"It is. Was." -Draco chokes a little at the thought- "It suited him so well too. Little muggle-born Leo with his loud mouth and his stupid bravery. He reminds-reminded me of you."

Draco gets quiet after that. He gets caught in the memory of this little eleven-year-old boy with dark hair and fierce eyes storming up to him in the corridor in defence of his friends. He hadn't drawn his wand but held up his fists instead and called Draco a bully, an arsehole, a bloody racist bigot. Told him off for being a coward for having something so 'bloody brilliant’ and wasting it on following 'Magical Hitler' and being a 'Nazi'. Leo always was loud and reckless in his acts of defiance and his screaming had caught the attention of the Carrows. They told Draco either he could punish him or they would, so he had grabbed Leo by his robe front and dragged him into the nearest classroom shouting and struggling and cursing the whole way there.

'Listen to me, brat!' Draco had hissed once the door had shut behind them and Leo continued to struggle, 'Listen! I am a bully and a bigot and all those other things, I'm probably even whatever those bloody muggle terms were but you need to listen! I have to make it look like I've punished you. So I'm going to glamour you with all sorts of cuts and bruises and you're going to go out there shivering and shaking and crying if you bloody well must and put on the best-damned show they've ever seen. Do you understand me?'

'My name's Leonidas, not brat. And why should I?' He'd spat back, fury in his eyes, utter revulsion and hatred. It had sent a strange pang of shame and pride through Draco's body. He'd never had the boldness to do anything so blatantly defiant. Then he'd seen the boys tie. It was red and gold and an act of defiance in and of itself. A flash of Harry's face had crossed his mind and he knew he needed to protect the insufferable brat causing such trouble.

'Because if you don't I'm sure they'll be more than happy to find someone less averse to tormenting children. Now, do we have an agreement or would you rather the Carrows play with you and your little friends?'

'Fine. But I don't like you.' He'd growled arms folded over his chest but Draco could see the fear at the mention of the Carrows.

'Oddly enough, I feel the same,' Draco said flatly, an irritated look on his face as he drew up his wand, 'Now, let's make this believable, Leonidas, was it? Scream.'

"Hey, hey, my sweet love, come back to me. Where did you go? What happened?" Harry murmurs kissing the corners of his mouth. Bringing him back to his body and out of his memories.

"Sorry," Draco whispers against his lips, brings his hands up, and strokes the sides of Harry's face to remind himself of where he is, "I'm wasting time. But, he didn't deserve this. None of them did. He deserved better, they all do."

"Yes, they do. As do you. We all deserve better than this war. And you aren't wasting anything, we've got all night."

Harry's hands latch back onto his hips. His fingers pet the soft skin on his midriff making him shiver. He's missed being touched without being hurt. No one else is allowed this close to him without a serious fight. Everyone else is a threat. He hopes when this is all over and it will end, one way or another, that he will be able to allow others near him again.

He misses the closeness of it. That's why he and Harry are sharing the same air right now. It's why he can't bring himself to pull away from where their heads are bent together, lips grazing over each other, breath mingling.

"Still, it's selfish. The others could be in here hiding from-"

Harry cuts him off with a kiss. It's slow and soft and mournful. A lot of what they do now feels that way. It feels as though they're always grieving for the carefree love they never got to have.

"They will be just as safe at Aberforth’s as they would be here. It's not selfish. You need this," -Draco pulls away to give him a look- "No don't look at me like that, Draco."

"You just wanted to see me. Don't lie to me and say that isn't what this is. I miss you too but-"

Harry interrupts him with another kiss. It should be a sin how easily that can make Draco fall quiet. It's an unfair tactic.

"Yes," Harry says, bumping their noses together, "A part of me just wants to be with you for the sake of being with you, but I also know that if you're weighed down by all that you've seen you won't be able to feed us as much information. That is why this is not a waste and it is not selfish. Okay?"

The soft earnestness in his pretty green eyes halts all sorts of arguments from leaving his mouth. Draco sighs and relents.

"All right."

Harry smiles at him easily and Draco melts just a little at the sight. He pecks him on the lips once more before letting his body sink further into Harry's embrace. Till he's lying directly on top of him their legs intertwined and his head and hands resting on Harry's chest.

Draco listens to Harry's steady breathing and the familiar sound of his heartbeat. He hasn't felt this calm in months. He can't wait for this war to be over.

They stay that way for a long while, Harry's hands rubbing soothing lines up and down his back. Until Harry's breathing evens out and Draco can't help but to shift up and gaze at his sleeping lover's face.

He is beautiful in a devastating way. It makes Draco's heart lock up with all sorts of mushy feelings neither of them has time for. He smiles a small fond thing as he brushes an errant curl out of his face.

"I love you, my Harry, my darling."

Draco whispers it like a secret, kissing him on the forehead, and then settles himself back down against his broad chest.

And a small part of Draco still wonders why Harry lets him --the monster, the Death Eater, the coward-- touch him, the sun, the Savior, the brave.

But he never asks because he knows the answer.

Knows that Harry will never leave him.

Knows that they will never run from each other.

Knows that if he ever asks, Harry will frown and get that painfully endearing confused look on his face and answer back with a question of his own.

"Why wouldn't I? I love you, Draco."

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seaweedbrain404 · 3 years

Text

Wolfstar Au!: Hot and Cold (pt 2 of Parties and Morning Regrets)

@icitlali asked if there was a second part and um- yeah i wrote this, there may be more parts to come

pt 1

pt3

read it on ao3

Remus thought inviting Sirius up was the right thing to do which is the only reason he did. He dared to let himself hope but he didn’t really want to see Sirius. Still, Remus had manners and it was so cold outside that his own fingers were turning purple. Leaving Sirius out in the cold and making him probably walk home seemed too mean, even for Remus. Although, he thought Sirius definitely deserved it.

He followed Sirius up to the flat, Lily looked more than surprised when she saw Sirius come in and gave Remus another look. It was one of those looks that Remus didn’t like getting, the we’re-going-to-talk-about-this-later kind of look. He shrugged it off, too preoccupied with his bloody hip.

“Remus, did you really walk all the way here?” Lily crossed her arms over her chest as Remus closed the door behind them.

“Yeah, so what” He replied through gritted teeth. “I’m going for a shower to wash off the smell of stale alcohol”

“You’re going to be the death of me one day, Remus Lupin” Lily’s voice called to his retreating back. “Sirius, how are you?”

Remus heard vague small talk as he navigated his way to his bedroom. The pain in his hip wasn’t unbearable exactly. It was just bad enough for it to consume all his thoughts. All he needed was a warm bath, some painkillers and to limit his movements for the rest of the day. Easy. Unfortunately, the bath would have to wait until later though seeing as it would probably be rude to soak in the tub while having a guest over.

Showering after a night out was always a pleasant experience. He emerged from the shower just a couple minutes later with damp hair, a stolen pair of Lily’s yoga pants and a clean jumper.

“Ah, here’s the idiot who has no regard for his health” Lily smiled as Remus walked into the kitchen. “Are those mine?”

“Maybe, painkillers please?” He walked across the room and leaned his chin on Lily’s shoulder.

Sirius watched the interaction between the two with some hint of longing in his eyes. Remus wasn’t sure why, maybe it was because he had never been so casually touchy with anyone but now him and Lily were even closer than they were in school.

Lily wrapped an arm around his waist, rubbing circles on his hip. “Sirius, there’s a small pill bottle in the cupboard just there-“ she pointed to the right above her head “-would you mind grabbing it please?”

Sirius blinked for a moment, seemingly frozen at the sight of them. Then, he nodded. “Yeah- yeah, I got it”

He passed Lily the retrieved painkillers without looking at them. Lily hummed gratefully in return, easing Remus, who had hid his face in the crook of her neck, off her. He leaned back against the counter and Lily switched the kettle on.

“I promised Mrs Pettigrew from next door that I’d pick up her groceries today” Lily turned to Remus, glancing at Sirius, “and do a bit of cleaning for her since her grandson is out of town, do you think you’ll manage?”

“Yeah” Remus breathed out. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay”

Lily pursed her lips and looked to Sirius again. “Make sure he stays home, yeah?”

Remus made a noise of protest as Sirius nodded, “I doubt he’ll want to listen to me”

“Lily, I can take care of myself”

“Hardly, you’re in a right state after being without me for a few hours” She scolded, “If you strain yourself any more then you’re going to really fuck up your hip”

“I can’t fuck up something that’s already fucked, can I?”

“I mean it, take it easy and don’t be an idiot”

“Alright, fine”

“And I want to talk to you later”

Remus paled a little at that, despite fully seeing it coming. He made a noncommittal sound and Lily, satisfied with herself, left the room to layer up on clothes and help the nice old lady who lived across the hall.

There was a tense moment when she left. The kettle went off and Remus poured himself a cup, then paused. “Tea?”

“Sure”

Sirius seemed more relaxed now that Lily had gone. It was as if he had been on best behavior when she was there and now he didn’t have to be. Remus couldn’t really blame him, Lily could be very scary sometimes and she was always unreasonably overprotective of Remus. In all fairness, he felt the same way towards her.

So Remus poured two cups of tea and then added milk and sugar accordingly. He had assumed that Sirius took his tea the way he did back in school and he was only a little ashamed he still knew what the other man liked in his tea off the top of his head.

“Am I allowed to ask about the accident?” Sirius picked up his cup and took a sip.

“Why do you want to know?” Remus retorted, taking a painkiller.

“Lily wouldn’t tell me… and I’m…. worried” Sirius looked embarrassed to admit it but he did admit it which was good enough for Remus. It showed some sort of growth, some kind of potential.

“Depends on whether you’re going to pity me or not because frankly, I don’t care much for it”

“Jesus, you don’t have to be so snappy”

Remus scowled at him, not saying another word. He didn’t care about being snappy in that particular moment. His hip hurt like hell, he could feel his leg slowly going as well and whenever he told people anything about the accident they all treated him like a fragile porcelain doll.

Sirius cleared his throat before speaking again. “I won’t pity you, if you don’t want me to”

“What do you want to know?” Remus asked, disregarding what Sirius had said.

“What happened?”

“I worked at this publishing place, had a late night so I took a cab home” Remus began, even thinking about that night made his heart race and his eyes sting. “Someone was driving under the influence and hit us- the cab, I mean.. and it was really bad but they put these screws and plates all in my side, shoulder down to my shin”

Remus paused a moment, wiping his eyes on the back of his palm. Sirius made to touch him but he jerked away, a little too fast and hissed in pain. Sirius retreated his hand, looking crestfallen.

“Anyway, I had to quit the job cause it was too far to walk and I refused to get in any type of car or bus or really any type vehicle since then” Remus rushed the end of the story, his hands were shaking and his throat felt tight.

Sirius took a step forward and this time Remus allowed him to. He carefully opened his arms and slowly wrapped them around Remus, giving him more than enough time to move if he didn’t want this.

Remus, however, was just exhausted. He collapsed right into Sirius’ arms which tightened around him. The bad thing was, he was still shaking, his lungs refused to take in air and oh, there was the whole thing about just falling into his ex-boyfriend’s arms. Good thing was, he felt safe.

Then he started crying, his own arms wrapping around Sirius’ waist while his arms were around Remus’ back. He was pretty sure the only reason he still remained standing was Sirius’ strength forged by years of playing rugby. Remus wanted to kick himself, everything about this situation was just so pathetic and he hated it. He hated himself for it.

Sirius, meanwhile, said nothing and just rubbed circles on the taller man’s back. “I’m sorry, I’ve been horrible to you and now you’re literally comforting me, maybe I am the asshole”

“Nah, I kind of deserved it”

“Yeah you did”

“Hey! you’re not supposed to say that”

“But it’s the truth”

“Shut up”

Remus let himself laugh quietly. He was mortified by this display of vulnerability and dearly wished the ground would open and swallow him whole. Then he made a feeble attempt at pushing Sirius away, nearly toppling over himself. He had to grip the counter behind him to stop himself from hitting the floor. Sirius made to catch him but Remus swatted his hand away.

“I think you should go”

“But I promised Li-“

“I’m tired and she’ll be back soon”

Lie. Remus knew that Lily would be gone for at least two more hours, maybe more if Mrs Pettigrew offered biscuits.

“Then I’ll just stay till she comes back, she really worries about you” Sirius shrugged like it was final and Remus didn’t want to talk about it so he slowly hobbled to the living room.

“Do you-“

“No”

Sirius started asking but Remus snapped at him before he could finish his question.

“Sorry” Sirius mumbled, hands up in surrender. Remus could feel eyes on his back as he managed to get to the couch. He switched on the telly, laying on the side of his body that hurt the least.

Remus figured that if Sirius didn’t leave, then maybe he could ignore him to the point of leaving. Unfortunately it didn’t work because this was Sirius so instead of sitting on the chair near the couch or even on the floor, he stood at Remus’ head. Hands were gesturing for Remus to sit up but he ignored them.

“Remus, squish over a minute”

With a groan, he turned onto his back and sat up. Sirius slid into the open space and Remus turned so that his feet were at Sirius’ lap instead of his head. He wasn’t sure how his body would react if Sirius started gently twirling strands of his hair and admiring them as if they were made of gold.

Remus closed his eyes, feeling fingers tracing shapes on his exposed ankles.

Suddenly Sirius spoke. “You and Lily have gotten really close”

His eyes shot open, a little startled by the tone. He wasn’t sure how long he was out but he definitely slept at least twenty minutes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was groggy with sleep, the side of his mouth damp from drool

“It’s weird, I’ve never seen you so much as hug anyone”

Remus wiped the side of his mouth. “People are allowed to change and Lily is my best friend”

“It’s just- you’ve changed so much and I’m struggling to keep up” Sirius’ tone was strange, the most un-Sirius thing Remus had ever experienced him do since they met.

Remus’ eyebrows knit together, a frown now playing on his face. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, y’know… besides, I don’t have to change according to your terms”

“I never said that” Sirius spat.

Remus sat up in response, leaning back on his elbows. “Then why are you constantly bitching about how much I’ve changed?”

“Because you have! It’s like you’re this whole new person and I don’t even know you”

“I haven’t spoken to you since we were 17, that was 6 years ago and you expect me not to change?” Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I went to college, I got in a horrendous car accident Sirius, do you really expect me to be the same person I was when we were teenagers?”

“No- it’s just, I don’t like change”

“Fucking hell Sirius, the world doesn’t care and guess what? that’s constantly changing too”

“Yeah but not as drastically as you! You work in a bakery for Christ’s sake when I know you always wanted to be a writer”

“And I know you vowed to never work for your parents and here you are, doing daddy’s dirty work no doubt”

“Remus”

“What”

“You were never this cruel”

“No, I suppose not”

The two sat in silence, and it took all of Remus’ willpower not to kiss him.

“Can we just be friends or something” Sirius looked sincere enough, good natured enough for Remus to want it.

“Something? Something like wh-“

But Remus never got to finish his sentence because suddenly Sirius’ knees were straddling his hips and they were kissing.

What the fuck!

Remus wanted to scream, he was tired and annoyed and now he didn’t know what to feel. He pushed Sirius away for a second time that day, both their breaths coming in uneven.

“No” Remus breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly.

“No?”

“Yes, no… I can’t… what were you thinking?”

Sirius looked both hurt and surprised but Remus wasn’t concerned about that, he was more confused than anything and also there was the almost unbearable pain in his hip.

“I- well you were being cruel and this is the only way I knew how to shut you up effectively”

Now it was Remus’ turn to look hurt, he pushed Sirius again with more force than before. He brought his head back down and refused to say another word.

“Remus”

Nothing.

“Remus”

He shut his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep again.

“I’m sorry”

“Remus, I’m really sorry”

“I know I shouldn’t have said that”

“I did want to kiss you, I also wanted you to stop being mean”

“Come on Moony”

Remus’ eyes shot open at the childhood nickname. “Leave me alone Sirius, I’m tired and sore”

“Are you cross?”

“With you?”

Sirius hummed in response.

“Yeah but mainly cause I’m tired”

“Oh, I’m sorry”

“Just stop talking”

Sirius did just that. Remus felt bad though, he very carefully and hesitantly moved again so that his head was on Sirius’ lap. “I’m sorry for being a dick” he whispered, eyes closing again.

“I’m sorry for not thinking before I speak” came Sirius’ soft reply.

Remus felt Sirius’ fingers move through his hair tentatively as if he was uncertain whether or not this was allowed. “No, I’m being a moody git, all hot and cold on you”

“I couldn’t blame you for it”

“Well you should”

Sirius didn’t reply and Remus remained on the side that didn’t hurt him, facing away from Sirius and towards the telly.

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #the mauraders #modern marauders #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fic #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #lily evans #okay but i love writing lily and remus’ friendship so much #they remind me of me and my best friend

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basicjetsetter · 3 years

Text

Part II

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death, Depression, Triggering Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt

▹ Words: 3k

▹ A/N: ATTENTION! This is an emotionally heavy part. Please DO NOT READ if you know you will be affected. For those struggling with depression, I see you, I care for you, and I love you. You’re not alone and you are undeniably worthy of love.

-Five Years and Twenty Nine Days Later-

You don’t want to get up.

Your phone’s alarm clock is rounding on its tenth circuit, if your counting is correct… and there’s a good chance you blanked out for fifteen minutes while watching a strip of sunlight lethargically inch down your blanket to the foot of the bed, so your number may be off by six or seven.

It’s not that you’re tired or anything, or maybe you are and that’s beside the point. It’s just that your bed is far too comfortable for your own good and you know today is Saturday, the busiest day at Hal’s Diner, and it just so happens you’re scheduled for an 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. brunch rush. If you had a choice, you’d stay in bed.

But you don’t. And you’re running twenty minutes late… for the fourth time in two weeks.

I’ve got you.

Shut the fuck up.

You wearily snarl, snatching your pillow out from under your head and slamming it against your face, uselessly stuffing it over your ears as if that would somehow miraculously block out the words.

Usually, the voice stayed quiet. After three years of the repeated promise drifting around your brain like a lost ship at sea, you had finally figured out how to anchor it to the deepest, darkest, most unchartered recess of your mind. Every now and then, though, they’d find a way to rattle the chains, just to remind you of their eternal presence, but it never lasted long. You didn’t acknowledge them anymore. They no longer fooled you.

But, twenty-nine days ago, something reinvigorated the voice, giving them a renewed sense of purpose and a reason to break free.

Twenty-nine days ago, on the exact anniversary of their disappearance, everyone came back.

Out of the blue, in the middle of the day, all of the people Earth mourned for five years reappeared to a very, very stunned world. Celebration rocked the streets of New York and all over the globe. Lovers lost returned. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Babies. Friends. They all came back. And the voice in your head broke free of its chains, rampantly bouncing around your mind as if they were on pure steroids, ready to charge forward and find the one your Destined Words belonged to.

Everything reverted back to normal.

Except, besides your newly released Destined Words, nothing changed for you.

You weren’t there when… when your best friend rematerialized in your previous apartment. You moved to a smaller, modestly priced place six blocks away. It was great for what little money you had, and your landlords, a lovely couple that always leaves you a present outside your door for Christmas and birthdays, were generous enough to accommodate for your lack of funds.

You just couldn’t keep your parents’ apartment. Not when you knew they weren’t coming back.

No one ever speaks about the casualties of the ones lost that day, the ones who perished from the effects of the blip. For a long time, you just couldn’t cope with the fact that a swerving hit from a rogue truck whose driver turned to dust was all it took to take your parents away. But you had to move on.

Ever since that day five years ago, you’ve been on your own.

You’re sure your friend tried looking for you by now, continually calling up a retired cellphone number, searching through deleted social media accounts, maybe even asking your old high school for your whereabouts to no avail. Even though you’re not far from home, she’d never find you.

You don’t want to be found. You like being alone.

With a great, gusty sigh, you roll out of bed, grab some clothes and undergarments, then pad to the bathroom, ignoring the chiming circuit of your alarm clock. It can wait. You go through the motions: washing up, putting your hair in its regular bun, brushing your teeth, and staring at your unaged face in the spotted mirror.

It’s not vanity, though it’s common knowledge that your features will be impervious to aging for a long while. You literally haven’t aged a single day since the blip.

It was an intriguing phenomenon after the first two years. Everyone your age who had heard their Destined Words but had yet to meet their Soulmate just stopped aging, and when the younger generation hit the age of eighteen, they stopped aging as well. For some, like you, the effect was felt rather than seen. Ever since the string inside you snapped, you knew that cosmic time would stand still until you connected with your other soul. You’re not holding your breath for that anytime soon.

As you step out of the steam-filled bathroom, your alarm blares out its last chime before switching to the Vmm Vmm Vmm of an incoming call.

You pick up on the sixth ring. “Good morning, Hal.”

“This is the fourth—”

“The fourth time. I know, I know. I’m on my way.”

Hal grunts into the receiver, “Don’t get smart with me, little lady. Just because you’re my best server doesn’t mean I won’t fire you.”

That’s precisely what that means, and he knows you know it. You blow out a sigh, “I’m seriously almost out the door. Like two steps.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, a hint of a grin in his quizzical noise. “Well, hightail it, would’ya? The joint’s packed already and I need all hands on deck, so scoot.”

“Scooting,” you confirm, snagging your bag off of your sofa and grabbing your keys. “Who’s with me today?” Please don’t say Wendy. Please don’t say Wendy.

“Chris and Wendy.”

You groan as you shut the door behind you. “Come on, Hal. She’s dead weight in the morning. I might as well be working with a zombie in an apron.”

Hal grumps, “At least the zombie gets here on time.”

“Have you had coffee yet? You’re not you when you’re decaffeinated.” It’s true. Even with your truancy, Hal wouldn’t hold it over your head more than twice. He’s usually as chipper as a dog in a dog park at this time, bustling and joking up a storm.

He takes a loud sip, then says, “We’re slammed, is all, and I’m missing my best hand.” Two disgruntled heys ring in the background and Hal immediately issues apologies. “Just get here, will ya?”

Before you can remind him again that you are on your way, he disconnects the call.

You’re wondering if it’s too late to go back to bed.

The little, infamous family diner is only seven blocks south of your apartment building, a nice walk when the weather’s good and a pain in the ass when it’s not. You used to enjoy the quiet mornings and the stillness that came with it, but ever since things went back to normal, you can’t survive the walk without a pair of headphones jammed in your ears and your music’s volume turned all the way up. Everyone’s just so… loud.

Thankfully, today, the walk is a straight shot and you’re in the doors within fifteen minutes.

It’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals. Worse, it’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals and being stuck with the task of serving them.

“Look who’s finally decided to show up,” Wendy chides, stifling a yawn as she shuffles to a table and places down three menus. She’s twenty-two years old and likes setting your teeth on edge.

You deadpan, “Did the cat drag you in from the front door or the back?”

“Knock it off, you two,” warns Chris, walking by with two arms balancing four plates of the Sunrise Breakfast Special. He looks at you, then jerks his chin back to the kitchen. “Boss is about to blow his top.”

Nodding, you make your way to the back, giving a small wave to some regulars. Out of breath and sweat running down his reddened neck, Hal is moving like a man caught in a whirlwind, flipping eggs and pancakes and sausages and hash browns and bacon while checking orders and filling plates. As soon as he hears the kitchen door close and sees you, he visibly sags in relief.

“Don’t bother clocking in. Just put your apron on and get out there.”

You nod. Set down your things. Put on your apron. Arrange a plastic smile.

Go through the motions.

It’s all the same thing every single day. Wake up, work, school, sleep. Repeat. Unlike the other constants, school is something you’re temporarily trying out. It wasn’t your original plan, the whole four years to a bachelor’s degree, then some more years for a master’s. You gave that up long ago. Right now, you’re just taking a free weekend art class at a community college. Oddly enough, it’s something you’re beginning to look forward to on Saturdays and Sundays.

Work, while you’re great at what you do, is never a highlight.

Hal was right. The diner is slammed, and you’re swept up in the current of rude, demanding customers, snide remarks from Wendy, cheerful shrugs from Chris, and barking orders from Hal for six whole hours. You work through your two fifteen-minute breaks. No one reminds you. You slip on spilled hash browns. No one helps you. You bring back a plate three times to satisfy a customer who kept finding fault with their eggs. No one thanks you.

Everything is back to normal.

I’ve got you.

“Fuck off,” you snap, slapping a hand to your mouth when you see the elderly woman you’re serving knit her brows in revulsion. “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m-I’m sorry, I was—”

She stands and marches out of the diner before you could explain, snatching her ten-dollar tip off the table.

“… talking to myself,” you finish under your breath.

She’s the last of the brunch rush, leaving only the regular afternoon crowd and a few stragglers. The clock near the cash register reads 2:13 p.m.

You brush off the disappointment of a lost tip and head to the kitchen to grab your things and leave, Chris and Wendy following you. Hal’s two other workers, the ones here till closing, cover the floor well. Not like they had much to do.

Hal is whistling a jaunty tune when you walk in, stopping to salute you, Chris, and Wendy with an exhausted grin. “Nice work out there, you guys. See you tomorrow.”

Wendy is out the door the instant she clocks out.

Chris catches your arm as you grab your bag from your small locker. “Hey, um, I sort of heard your little outburst, and I was wondering if you were okay.”

You nod, gently shrugging his hand off. “Yeah, it’s just a tip. I made enough.”

“No, not that,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat and pushing a hand through his choppy beach-blond hair. He ineptly bends his head down a little, getting close enough for a private conversation you do not want to have. “It’s just… you’ve done that before and I just want to make sure everything’s alright with you.”

You can’t put the plastic smile back on, he’s seen it too many times to know it’s not real, so you half-heartedly grin. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, anytime. Hey, so, me and a couple friends are hanging out tonight. There’s gonna be a music festival in Cunningham Park. Wanna hang?”

Chris tries this every week. At first, you thought it was his bashful attempt at asking you out, but he’s a happily taken man with a big heart and a lot of friends. Every customer he meets, boom, they’re friends and soon loyal customers of Hal’s. It’s a gift. You just wish he caught your not-so-subtle hints of evasion.

Tonight, though, you had the perfect excuse. “Can’t. I got class.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah. It’s a free course. Get it where I can take it, you know,” you awkwardly laugh, hoping Chris wasn’t offended as you take a couple of steps back towards the exit.

His smile doesn’t falter. “Maybe next time, then.”

Not likely. “Sure, yeah. See you later.”

You duck out before he says goodbye, dashing out the front door and speed-walking home.

I’ve got you.

You stop dead in the middle of a sidewalk.

Where did that come from? It’s never said it three times in a row before. Does… does that mean something?

Your breath quickens at the thought, and you spin around, scanning the vacant street. You’re the only one occupying the sidewalk, you and a curious squirrel sniffing at the crisp air. There’s not a person in sight. When you’re certain you’re in the clear, pivoting a glance around one more time for good measure, you pick up the pace, practically running the rest of the way home.

Once you’re in your apartment and the door shuts, you desperately whisper to your mind, “Don’t say it anymore. I don’t want them, okay? I don’t want a Soulmate.”

Nothing.

“I know you hear me,” you bite out aloud, forcefully shoving back the urge to yell. “Stop saying the words.”

Still nothing.

Silence rings hollow in your mind like the voice is waiting for your temper to cool down. Like it knew it upset you and felt chastened enough to back off and take a time out in a corner.

You stand immobile in the middle of your cramped sitting area. Tense. Waiting. Waiting longer than you care to admit. The urge to fight deserts you as quick as it comes, but you’re still standing there with your fists balled up, feeling more and more defeated as the minutes drain away.

The voice isn’t going to leave you alone. You know that. It’s here to serve one purpose, and the only thing holding it up is you. You’re meant to meet whoever those words belong to… but then what? They magically fix you? They love you back to normal? Five years ago, you may have believed they can do that. But, the problem is, you’ve gone through enough life-altering events in the last five years to last you a lifetime, and this one person, this person destined to pair with your soul, won’t be your wave-of-a-wand solution.

You just want it to stop.

I’ve got you.

A lone tear slides down your cheek as you trek to your bed and climb in fully clothed.

For a long time, you simply stare up at the ceiling as the tears leak out the corners of your eyes. You make no noise, and your chest doesn’t jerk up and down with sobs. The tears gather, and then they fall. Gather and fall. Gather and fall until there are no tears left. You continue staring at the ceiling.

You think back to the days when those godforsaken words and the future they foretold brought you happiness. What a wonderful promise, pairing with someone who will always be there for you in some capacity and will instantly love you. You can’t recall any Soulmate story not working out. Maybe they just never speak about it. Why mar the fantasy?

The sun dipped below the horizon a while ago, and now the moon shines bright in the night sky. You missed your art class.

Your body is as stiff as a board when you sit up. There’s a tight pounding in your forehead, either from crying or lack of food, but you aren’t bothered enough to deal with it. Instead, you move to the only window in your room and pull back the curtains to gaze at the stars. Not many are out yet, but they glitter like gems around the moon, and the night sky nears a lovely shade of midnight blue.

The sight is so pretty; you find yourself grabbing a couple of paint bottles, brushes, and a small canvass, then heading out of your apartment, walking up six flights of stairs to reach the roof.

It’s quiet when you get up there, save for the noise of zooming cars below. The first time you came up on the roof, just out of curiosity, you loved how solitary it felt, loved the view overlooking the building-strewn skyline and the overall height of the complex. It became a nice place to visit when you wanted to be by yourself.

You walk over to the edge of the building, sitting your supplies down on the ledge, then look up at the sky for the best angle to capture the moon and the stars.

The sky is vast. So endless. So open. So free. You stop scoping out for the perfect angle and just admire the shining moon when your eyes land on it. It’s waning, only a sliver of its surface visible as it prepares to transition into a New Moon. Then you gaze at the stars as they dimly twinkle back at you… like they can see right through you.

Like they can see your sadness.

You step closer to the ledge, each step laden with the weight of smothered grief. You lost everyone. Your parents. Manda. She’d never recognize the person you’ve become.

You step onto the ledge, not looking down but up, trying to memorize the image.

You lost your Soulmate. That broken string in your chest never felt the same, even after everyone came back. Maybe you were too far gone for any connection.

You turn around. You’d thought you’d feel numb, but acceptance fills you. It’s okay to let go.

You lower your eyes, slowly lean back, and let gravity take over.

Air sails past your ears in a rush as you fall, and you can’t really focus on anything except your erratic heartbeat. You don’t struggle as your body wants. You just fall and wait.

And then, in a sudden flash of red and blue, you’re propelling sideways and swinging upwards, a strong arm pressing you against a hard chest.

“I’ve got you.”

As soon as he said the words, you knew who they belonged to, as if you knew this entire time. Even with the mask covering his face, you knew. But it still doesn’t stop you from incredulously saying, “Peter?”

His masked face snaps to yours. A small part of you tries to pin his surprise on you correctly guessing his identity, but something bigger assures you the reason for his alarm is a match to your own.

He knows you’re his Soulmate.

...

Part III

#peter parker #peter parker au #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x #peter parker soulmate au #soulmate au #spider-man x reader #spider-man x black!reader #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker angst #slow burn #black!reader

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pixieminutes · 4 years

Text

Love Sick | HRJ

genre: fluff, non-idol!au

members: huang renjun x reader, lee donghyuck, na jaemin, lee jeno

warnings: swearing

“y/n! we’re going on a trip—”

“a roadtrip!”

“shut up, donghyuck,” renjun said with an eyeroll, “a kind of roadtrip. want to come? we can sit together in the backseat.”

“and i’ll be sat in the middle!”

“no jaemin, the fuck you won’t,” renjun swore, glaring at the younger boy, “y/n?”

you giggled, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s friends, “i’d love to.”

“she said yes!” renjun shouted, the boys cheering in the background.

“wait!” you laughed, “i’d love to, but i can’t.”

“what? why?” renjun asked, “if this is the stupid fucking project again, i swear to god. we have six months, y/n, six months.”

“no,” you shook your head, “i’m ill, junie. i’m currently under three layers of duvets and a blanket and i’m still shivering. i am also sweating. and a sick bucket is ready beside my bed.”

“huh?” renjun asked, suddenly serious, “are you alright? really?”

“i’m fine,” you chuckled, “go on your kind of roadtrip, okay? make sure you eat healthy things, not just mcdonalds.”

“what the fuck kind of roadtrip would that be?!” donghyuck exclaimed.

“not right now!” renjun scolded his friend before coming back to the phone, “y/n, i’m coming over.”

“no,” you frowned, “renjun, go with your friends.”

“you’re more important than my friends, bubs,” renjun sighed, “i’m coming over and you can’t stop me.”

you chuckled, “i wouldn’t even try.”

renjun smiled, “don’t strain yourself, okay? i’ll be there shortly.”

“do you think she’s on her period?” renjun asked absentmindedly as he wondered around the drugstore.

“i don’t think periods are that bad,” donghyuck scoffed, “are they?”

“you’d be surprised,” jeno shrugged, the only other boy out of the four with a girlfriend, “dahee throws up sometimes.”

“from her period?!” jaemin exclaimed.

“shh! this seems very sus!” donghyuck scolded, “four teenage boys talking very loudly about periods.”

renjun rolled his eyes, “no, you’re just uncomfortable talking about periods.”

“am not! i’m a feminist i’ll have you know,” donghyuck said.

“yeah, yeah, we get it, we are all for women’s rights—”

upon the strange, passing look of a middle aged woman, the four boys stopped, nodding and smiling nervously.

“no, i see it now,” renjun nodded, “i’ll just grab some medicine.”

“here, tea,” jeno said, “this one’s healing for headaches.”

renjun smiled appreciatively, jaemin and donghyuck both also piling cuddly toys and chocolate into the mix.

“sorry i can’t go on the roadtrip,” renjun said, pulling out his wallet and paying the cashier.

jaemin laughed, “renjun’s just the best boyfriend!”

donghyuck rolled his eyes, shoving the blonde-headed boy, “shut up, jae. it’s fine. we can all go next week, with y/n.”

“and dahee,” jeno said, smiling at the thought of his girlfriend popping into his head.

jaemin slapped his best friend’s cheek (though some would argue it was barely even a pat), “simp.”

“ya,” jeno laughed.

“well, renjun’s going to look after his sick girlfriend so who’s the real simp?” donghyuck teased, the three already leaving the shop as renjun scrambled to bag his goods.

“ya!” renjun yelled, “lee donghyuck!”

“gorgeous!” renjun shouted, “renjun who brightens the world is here!”

a soft giggle came from under your blankets, renjun’s footsteps coming closer providing you with an exciting heart flutter, one that appears every time your boyfriend comes close.

“my baby!” he cooed, rushing forward and cupping your face in his hands, “you’re so cold.”

you nodded, “i woke up sweating and then suddenly needed 10 million layers.”

renjun pouted, “did you eat something funny?”

you thought back slightly, shaking your head.

“are you on your period?”

you shook your head.

“just finished your period?”

“nope.”

“about to start your period?” renjun asked, his eyebrows raised.

you clicked your fingers, nodding, “that could be it.”

renjun chuckled, stroking your hair gently.

“i think i have a flu as well though,” you sighed, “my throat hurts like a bitch.”

“do you need anything?” renjun asked, looking around at the used tissues and empty cups and bowls on your bedside table.

you shook your head slightly, afraid that anymore would disrupt your headache, which had seemed to have calmed down for the moment.

renjun nodded, “just sleep, love. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you tried to smile, tried to nod, but nothing wanted to happen. you just closed your eyes slowly, the corners of your lips twitching upwards as renjun pressed soft kisses to your closed eyelids.

“ah, jeez,” he sighed, looking round.

he started to collect up the used tissues, grimacing as he threw them in your bedroom bin. then, as quietly as he could, he collected up all your plates, bowls and cups; the glass on glass and china on china noises making him grimace as he tiptoed out of your bedroom.

placing them all in the kitchen, he then moved to your bathroom, running warm water to fill up the ceramic bathtub.

“there were birds in the sky, but i never heard them singing. no, i never heard them at all, till there was you,” renjun sang as he arranged his convience store goodies on a tray, placing them on the end of your bathtub, “then there was music, and wonderful roses...”

you smiled, appearing in the doorway with small steps.

“and what is this?” you asked with a slight smirk.

renjun sighed, looking you up and down. you were wearing one of his old t-shirts, he was about to throw it away when you snatched the entire ‘chuck’ pile, and kept them all to yourself. underneath, nothing but a pair of your underwear (your comfy ones, not your sexy ones) and some small white socks.

“how are you still the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen, even with the flu?”

you laughed, a smile lighting up your face, no makeup gracing your features and greasy hair tied up in a half-ponytail.

“i ran you a bath,” renjun said, still taken aback by your visuals, “and i bought you some stuff on the way here.”

“ah, that’s my favourite chocolate!” you gasped, “thank you, junnie.”

renjun smiled, kissing your nose before beginning to lift his t-shirt off your head, “you’re welcome, bubs.”

you took off all your clothes slowly before sinking into the warm liquid, spreading it all over your body as renjun sat on the closed toilet seat, watching in wonder.

“shall we watch a movie this afternoon?” he proposed.

you nodded, sniffling and coughing, both actions setting off the other.

“do you need a tissue?”

you nodded, sneezing, “please.”

“well if you look at the handy pile of things i bought for you,” renjun said proudly, picking up a packet of tissues and placing them into your hands.

you laughed, “wow, my boyfriend’s so amazing, huh?”

renjun nodded with a smile, “so amazing he’ll even wash your hair.”

your eyes widened slightly, your body filling up with love, “you will?”

nodding proudly, renjun sat beside your bathtub with his already-prepared jug to pour water through your hair. he ran his fingers through it as he went, making sure it was smooth and wet enough for your tropical-scented shampoo.

“leave the conditioner in,” you said, taking a sip of the banana milk your boyfriend had so kindly bought you, “at least for a bit.”

“yes ma’am.”

you laughed, shaking your head at renjun’s stupidity as his hands massaged your scalp gently.

you moaned, “you’re amazing. i love you, renjun.”

he just smiled and decided not to dwell on the fact it was the first time you’d said those words.

“renjun!”

“coming!” he exclaimed, coming through into the living room with a measuring spoon full of red liquid, “here, take your medicine.”

you frowned, swallowing the liquid with a pained expression.

“big baby,” renjun chuckled, walking back to the kitchen and collecting the bowls of ramen he’d prepared.

“you’re the one who wants to watch mulan!” you protested.

“mulan is a great, educational movie with a strong, feminist lead!”

“and a talking dragon.”

“mushu is a bonus,” renjun said, glaring at you.

laughing, you shook your head and pressed play on the movie.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you sighed, snuggling into his embrace.

“thank you for loving me. and for saying it out loud,” renjun smiled, kissing the top of your head, the tropical scent lingering in his nose, “but you’ll never know how much i love you too.”

you laughed, watching as you nudged his feet slightly with yours, “wanna bet, lover boy?”

#nct dream #nct #huang renjun #renjun #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct fluff #huang renjun scenarios #huang renjun fluff #renjun scenarios #renjun fluff #kpop #sm #sm entertainment #renjun x reader #renjun x you #huang renjun x reader #sick!reader

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

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ahhh grats on the milestone!! also holy shit youve got 500 prompts stored away somewhere??? im gonna go with my favourite number combo..... 317 👀 im super excited to see what you come up with!! 💖 -bbsitterpng

@babysitterpng Thank you so much!!! And yes, 500 goddamn prompts, all carefully curated, only the best for my beloved mutuals and followers!!

I got SO ELATED when I saw that you sent me a mystery prompt request!!!! ❤️💕 I would have finished it yesterday, but I got uhhh distracted 😏😏😏

317. “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again and again and again; I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this immediately, and while I worry the exposition seems too rushed, I am very satisfied with the rest, all near 4k words!

So please, enjoy~

Today has been a long day that started when the sun had barely found its place in the sky.

Neil was beating at his bedroom door, asking why it’s locked, threatening to kick it down, demanding that Billy get up right now to mow the lawn, just to complain about what a shitty job he did after, shouting about how he has to do everything himself.

Billy would beat his pillows, lift weights till his muscles hurt, and smoke like a chimney, all to alleviate stress in one way or another.

At 12 Max was leaving to go play DnD with her little loser friends, ready to skate her way over there, but Billy needed to get out of the house, have a valid excuse, and it doesn’t get better than “watching out for his little sister.”

They’re on good terms now, after they had gotten in an intense fight and she screamed at him to just leave her and her friends alone, and after not spending every waking hour hating and antagonizing her, she’s not as annoying anymore, and Billy thinks that perhaps his anger was the issue here, not her being a little shit.

That realisation helped him a lot in general. It’s around that time he “apologised” to Harrington the best he could, but when Steve was nice and understanding of his issues, it only made him angry again. Billy doesn’t believe he deserves to be forgiven so easily, no, Harrington should have hit him, defended himself, gotten pissed and told Billy to fuck off.

Instead they wound up at Benny’s diner, sharing a giant plate of fries and a milkshake each.

“My treat,” Steve insisted.

And that’s when old issues resurfaced; the same exact issues that meant they had to leave California. The same exact issues that brought Billy’s wrath upon this pretty boy. The same exact issues that led one thing to another, and now Billy knows the route from his house to the Harrington Mansion like the back of his hand; could drive it with his eyes closed now.

But he doesn’t want to seem needy or clingy. Doesn’t want to be what he is - the way he is.

So after dropping Max off at the Wheeler’s house, the fiery redhead even going as far as to offer him a bit of a smile, he didn’t go home. Didn’t drive to Steve’s house either no matter how much he wanted to.

Don’t be needy, don’t be clingy. You’ll see him later.

So for four hours he drove around town, smoked by the quarry, got admired at a gas station when he refilled, passed Steve’s street far too many times, went to the empty pool that’s closed for the year and sat with his feet over the edge and smoked some more, restlessly kicking the tiling. Over the course of this time he checked his watch at least a billion times.

When it was finally 4pm, he drove to pick up his sister and El - the gang having managed to convince both Steve and Billy to take them to the movies to watch the last screening of The Neverending Story, which doesn’t exactly sound like something he wants to watch, but knowing Steve will be there, he agreed all too readily.

And as he pulls back up to the Wheeler’s again, he sees the brown BMW, Steve leaning against the door as he waits for the boys to pile into his car. Billy’s heart is beating like a painful drum in his aching chest, and when Steve sees him sitting and waiting for the girls, he smiles at him and waves.

Billy is as always astounded and breathless by the way Steve smiles, the way Steve looks at him now, like he’s happy to see him. He can’t smile back, he wants to, but his face feels dull and incapacitated. He wants to just kick open his car door, stomp up to Steve and fucking kiss him. Instead he simply waves back.

Then Max breaks the trance as she pulls open the door and crawls in to sit in the back with El.

“What the hell took you guys so long, I’m starving,” Billy complains as he looks over his shoulder at them.

Max is smart and doesn’t answer, and Billy is smart and doesn’t ask again. No he remains quiet as they follow the beemer, Max and El laughing loud and joyous behind him like girls their age do, talking about shit he doesn’t care for, just focuses on the car in front as they drive to Benny’s diner for early dinner before going to wolf down popcorn at the cinema.

The gang is eager and excited, like kids should be, running to the diner as they talk all too frantically about whatever it is kids talk about, Billy is really not paying attention, when Steve is right there.

“Find a booth where we can all sit!” Steve shouts after them, and Billy’s not sure if they heard him at all. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?” his voice kinder and friendly, too friendly, as he addresses Billy.

Steve leans against the hood of the camaro, smiling all too wide. He’s dressed in high waisted jeans and a red crop top that shows just enough of a midriff for it to be too much for Billy.

He takes up a spot next to Steve, just far away enough for it to not be suspicious, but absolutely too far away for it to not be enough, yet even from here he can smell the floral soap and honey shampoo. Can’t help but think of how soft Steve’s skin is, how silky his hair is, all newly washed and clean of him. Wonders if the purple hickeys are still visible across his chest, up his thighs.

Even though Steve is trying his best to meet Billy’s gaze, he refuses to look at him just in case it would be too obvious what he’s thinking about, as he unwraps a fresh pack of Marlboro and offers one up.

When Billy ignites his lighter and reaches forth, Steve touches his hand, holds it steady as he leans in to bring his cigarette to the flame. There’s a burning sensation where his pale, soft hand connects them, and when Steve dares rub Billy’s wrist with his fingers, there’s a pain shooting through his heart, a sharp wanting for more. No, a need for more. He’s caught staring at those pretty, pink lips when Steve pulls away and exhales a cloud.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a wry smile, clearly aware.

“You know damn well ‘what’s wrong’,” Billy snaps a bit harsher than intended as he continues to force himself to look away.

Thankfully Steve takes it well and huffs a laugh filled with smoke.

They end up in silence after that; the comfortable kind that comes from being at peace together, easy and relaxed and pleasant, one where they don’t need words because there’s no longer any doubt between them. Perhaps that’s what love is, as cheesy and gross as that may be, Billy ponders. To be able to just exist together without it being awkward or stilted. Perhaps he’s fallen a bit in love with his ex-rival. Or perhaps he’s just in love with how he feels when he’s with Steve, both physical and not.

It isn’t till Steve finishes his cigarette, drops it on the asphalt and stomps it out, that he speaks,

“Oh, I almost forgot, I wanted to tell you something.” He’s smiling like the cat that got the cream, licking his lips a bit too slowly as he goes to whisper in Billy’s ear, “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Billy’s heart skips several beats at that, before then going too fast - rapidly pumping blood through him, and there’s a certain rush of it going straight to his dick. He stares too long into those deep, dark eyes, mischievous and satisfied with the response as Billy short circuits.

“What?”

Steve shrugs and tips his head to the side a bit, acting all innocent and oblivious, lips drawn tight in a smile that goes from ear to ear. He opens his mouth and takes a long inhale, insinuating that he’s about to say something, then simply turns around, hands in his pockets as he walks towards the diner.

Leaving Billy behind, baffled, astonished, dumbfounded.

The next two hours feels like days.

They sit in the diner, Billy and Steve across from one another.

The kids are still as energetic as before, their voices a jumble of words and phrases and retellings of DnD from today’s session. Steve chews on his straw as he tries to follow along with whatever they’re talking about, laughing when they laugh, nodding on occasions. Whenever he looks over at Billy, blue eyes flee to stare out the window instead, finding great interest in the pattern of how one street light flickers.

Before the movie starts, they go to let out water by the urinals of the cinema, Billy standing right next to Steve, having hoped to catch a glimpse, see if he’s telling the truth, the urge near irresistible to just take a quick look, but the other men around them might not take too kindly to something like that.

And during the movie they sit together at the end of the row.

Steve, Billy, Max, El, Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas.

He didn’t care for the movie before, only going along as a sign of friendliness and to have an excuse to not be home, but now. Now he’s almost hating having to sit here, next to Steve, shoulders nearly touching, shoes pressed together on the dark floor, only an armrest between them.

For the first twenty arduous minutes, Steve doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, showing no sign of registering how near they are, just watches the movie in silence with a smile, while Billy is sat next to him, burning up despite his shirt being unbuttoned as always, mind racing with thoughts and images of Steve Steve Steve.

So distracted by all of that, that he nearly jumps when Steve touches his hand. Same softness and tenderness from earlier on the parking lot, the way Steve always touches him with just a hint of hesitance when they’re not completely alone.

But the cinema is dark, the kids are entranced, and there’s barely a handful of people besides them, so maybe it’s safe enough.

Billy raises his fingers into the touch, thinking that Steve wants to hold hands, intertwine them, any of that stupid romantic shit that he loves and Billy pretends to only barely tolerate, but the touch moves past that, a feather across the back of his hand, up to gently and carefully grab him by the wrist.

At that, Billy finally looks down, keeps facing the big screen but pays acute attention to what Steve is doing, where he’s leading his hand, placing it on his knee, Billy’s fingers in between spread legs. He continues to guide the hand further up, towards the heat of where his thighs meet, effectively sending Billy’s heart rate sky high.

When he finally turns his head, he finds Steve staring right back, a small and restrained smile, and in that moment, Billy feels like he can read Steve’s thoughts, knows exactly what’s on his mind, never doubts it for a second, and is proved right when Steve stands up and climbs over the seat to walk along the empty row behind them.

Billy whips around to Max, and hisses out, “We’re going for a smoke, don’t fucking go anywhere.”

“Yeah yeah,” she groans all indifferent and waves him away, eyes big and caught in the movie.

The bathroom at the Hawk is as clean as it ever gets, and perhaps not too shockingly, empty. Movies are running and people are seated.

Steve stands looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, not that it looks any different to Billy now than before.

He takes heavy steps towards the brunette, announcing himself and catches Steve’s eyes in the mirror, watching as Billy approaches and steps behind him. Billy leans in to run his nose up Steve’s neck, inhaling deeply and humming out pleasantly, blinking slowly as he keeps pressing his face into the crook there, not quite kissing yet.

Eyes dart back to the mirror where heavenly blue meets chocolate brown, a feverish intensity there as Steve stares back. Gently, but with no hesitation, Billy snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, past the belt and up to touch where skin shows between jeans and the top.

When there’s no ‘stop’, he keeps going, curls his fingers around the red fabric and lifts up, exposing Steve’s chest to the both of them in the mirror. Bitten and marked, purple and red, Billy eyes his masterwork with an appreciative gaze, and with one hand keeping the shirt away, he moves the other up to graze his fingers across each little bruise his lips left just two days ago.

Steve hums a bit, erotic and turned on, and if more were to happen now, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d found their way together in public. And perhaps that thought strikes Steve just as it does Billy, for he pushes back into him, rubbing his soft ass against where he finds a slight bulge already.

“Fuck, Stevie…” Billy huffs and breathes against Steve’s neck, eyes closed as he relishes in the slow friction, kissing sloppy and half-minded against pale skin. “You really wanna do this here? Where the kids could just walk in any moment?”

“I would have maybe pushed you into a stall first,” Steve laughs, a slight stutter to it. “But I was thinking your car? The movie is like two hours, we could find an alley, park there, let me ride your cock?”

A growl escapes by the enchantment of those words, and Billy bites into Steve’s neck, earning him an illicit little hiss and smirk.

“How am I supposed to say no when you put it like that?”

Neither of them feel particularly bad for just abandoning the gang like that, but they’ll be quick, hidden in this alleyway, not too far away from the theatre, a bit of fun while the others gawk and gape at the magic of movies.

But it’s hard to be remorseful, when Steve is moaning like this, Billy two fingers deep in him in the driver's seat of the camaro.

Steve didn't lie about going commando today; told Billy, “When I found out you were tagging along, I hoped I’d get to have you alone like this.”

It took Steve less than two seconds to start getting undressed when Billy turned off the engine, whereafter he crawled right onto his lap, hard and bottomless, knees over Billy’s shoulders, feet locked behind the headrest, back against the steering wheel.

“Ah-h, mmh, fuck, Billy-” he whines, hands placed firm on Billy’s legs for support as he lifts and angles his ass to allow Billy access with lubed up fingers.

His other hand squeezes Steve’s leaking prick, using the precum to slick up the flesh, keeping him hard and crying like that. His own lonesome cock aches where it lies full against his stomach; the button down having been opened completely to avoid staining it, and giving Steve something to admire.

“Billy, please, just- oh- just fuck me already!” Steve’s voice pitched high with lust and impatience, brows drawn together, his arms shaking underneath his own weight.

“Just don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” Billy purrs.

He watches with great interest as he pumps two fingers in and out of Steve’s wet hole, making a scissoring motion to stretch him properly.

“Mmh, we don’t exactly have time for that, and I need you so bad,” Steve says with the sweetest, most alluring tone he can.

And God if that doesn’t go straight to Billy’s twitching dick.

“You sure?” He wants to double check anyways.

“Yes- yes! Just- get a condom, I don’t wanna ruin my favourite pants.”

Billy chuckles lightly at that thought as he leans to reach for the glovebox, absolutely turned on by the idea of Steve walking around brimming with him, his cum dripping out and running down his thighs. Perhaps another time.

The condom rolls on with ease, Billy having become quite the expert with one through time, but he has been getting a lot of practice lately what with Steve and his more adventurous side, and wearing a rubber when fucking in public makes for an easy and quick cleanup. He gives himself a few good strokes to lube up good and nice, ensuring that Steve gets a smooth ride as he aligns himself with the hole that flutters eagerly to suck him in.

Greedy, starved, zealous, Steve sits himself on that veiny dick, ass fully flush with Billy’s hips, breathlessly gasping and cursing around his name, “Fuck Billy…”

“Mmmh,” Billy hums and licks his lips, staring down with adoration at how he’s buried deep inside of Steve’s ass, tight with lack of preparation, but- “You feel so good baby, taking my cock so well.”

He brings his hands to grab Steve by the hips and guide him in a circular motion, muscles clenching around him that can only be described as beautiful, eliciting groans and causing him to dig in his nails.

Steve’s panting, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, the windows fogged up, telling anyone that would walk by exactly what was going on, and when he lifts up to fuck himself on Billy’s fat erection, they shake the entire car with his fervor; each time he sinks down he moans more; moans with less and less self control.

“Take off your shirt, pretty boy,” Billy drawls out and swipes his tongue across shiny and sharp teeth. “Wanna see you.”

It’s a hurried motion that takes less than three seconds for Steve to yank off the crop top and grab on to Billy’s knees again, refusing to wait even one moment in the haze of his neediness.

Billy, however, faced with marks of his own making, takes time to appreciate how perfectly purple suits Steve’s pale skin, blooming across his pecs, his tits, near nipples that strut now, begging to be touched. And who is he not to oblige. Hands travel up from hips, past the waist, to Steve’s chest - the brunette seemingly lost in chasing his own high, that he doesn’t notice where Billy is going till he presses hard against the sensitive buds.

“A-ah! Fuck, Billy!” And he throws his head back.

Steve’s entire body tenses at that, each muscle flexing and twitching, contracting around Billy’s steely cock, and he can’t help himself but to thrust into the clenching hole, the rim taking a chokehold on the base of his prick. Steve has to bring up a hand against the roof of the car to keep himself from hitting his head, while also giving him the ideal leverage to push down hard, bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a lascivious and erotic rhythm.

“God, you’re such a little slut for my cock, huh baby?” Billy growls like a ravenous wolf as he pounds into Steve, forcing out every little cry and moan, telling him that he’s hitting just the right spot.

“Billy- Billy, ah-a, fuck- fuck-” Steve whimpers and looks down to watch one hand on his hip that pulls him down, another rubbing hard against his nipple.

“Yeah, harrh, listen to yourself,” and Billy pauses to listen to how Steve mewls, revelling in the fact that he’s the cause of that. “So loud and lewd, baby, calling out my name like that.”

“Billy.”

He’s a confident guy, Keg King and lady killer, and while shit like emotions and feelings stuns him, this brings him alive, lust coiling in his gut, burning hot and white, ramping up to a fever pitch as he fucks with wild abandon into Steve’s wet cunt.

Billy hasn’t bothered masturbating in a good while, no, he saves all of that pent up energy for Steve, to fill him up; desire blinding him to anyone else but his princess.

“Mmhnn- ahh, fuck, Stevie, can’t wait to get you alone tonight,” he says, voice fucked out and perverted, Steve looking at him as he speaks, “Drop off all the little shits and then fuck you into your mattress till you’re a mess, pump you full of my cum.”

Steve’s eyes screws shut tight, mouth wide open as he moans, “Yes, oh God, Billy-”

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Yes! Please! Fuck-” He nods the best he can, hair bouncing.

“You’re such a good little whore for me, princess, so needy for my cock.”

“Billy- Billy please,” Steve croons, all pathetic and close.

“Anything,” Billy responds with fast devotion, a promise that he gladly lives up to, knowing well what it is Steve is begging for, wants to hear him say it anyways.

“Touch me, please, ah-h- I’m so so close, fuck…”

Billy grins wide, so self satisfied it’s nearly disgusting, and he closes his fingers firm around Steve’s slick erection; he gets so fucking wet, leaking profusely, swears it only happens when he’s with Billy like this.

“Just like that, yes! Oh fuck, I’m- ah-”

“Yeah, cum for me baby, wanna watch you- show me what I do to you.”

Billy jerks him off quick and crude, knows how Steve likes it, how he needs it; loves being manhandled, talks about that whenever he’s with Billy he feels small and light.

And Steve cums with a loud and unadulterated moan, stilling his entire body in a tense pose as Billy fucks him fast; slamming quickly against his prostate, hand milking him good till he’s emptied out on his own chest.

It is a glorious thing to watch, a masterpiece of performance only for him, a grand show for a one man audience that Billy gets to relive again and again and again. Steve’s jaw drops as he continues to cry out like he’s a goddamn porn star, overstimulated and loving it.

Billy’s own orgasm is far less showy; a few shallow, brutish thrusts, grunting through gritted teeth, he shoves Steve down onto him hard as his hips stutter through completion, waves of impossible heat pouring out and leaving him a puddle of bliss and euphoria.

Time is lost to them, as they sit like that; Steve’s one leg having fallen between the seats as he went limp with exhaustion, still firmly planted in Billy’s lap, who’s soft and complacent and fucking tired, both of them breathing heavy.

“We should… we should go back…” Steve mumbles with closed eyes.

Billy’s watching the way Steve’s cum slowly slips down his chest, running over his abs and nearing his pubic hair.

“Do we have to?” he eventually manages to ask.

And Steve chuckles at that, the vibrations through his body clenching around Billy’s spent cock and he can’t help the sore “ooh”s and “ahh”s as he tries to pull away from it.

“Sadly we do. Can’t have the kids walk home alone in the dark, besides…” Steve grinds his ass onto Billy’s lap, making him wince in not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but definitely too much. “Think you promised to… fuck me into my mattress?”

#Harringrove #My Writing #Lemon #Mystery Prompt #500 followers #Babysitterpng #hope it was as good for you as it was for me sweets #😌#Anonymous

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coolkat122 · 3 years

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Twisted Teeth: Vampire Gaara x Reader Chapter 2 Part 1

It was originally going to be just one long one-shot, but I thought it best to break it up...which might lead me to going back and editing part one then, in case it's not flowing right.

________________

I had a lot of work to do this morning and found it almost near-impossible to catch a break and when I did Naruto showed up, and I really didn't want to leave, but I had to.

So as much as I didn't want to, I cut our fun conversation short and went out hunting for Gaara's food, I went the extra mile and caught three rabbits for him in case he was really hungry.

"Hey, it's me, I brought you some foo-" I paused in my sentence having seen that, my troubles were for naught, made clear by the two bunny bodies that were discarded in a corner.

Gaara who was looking better though still frail lifted the covers off of his body by a little to peek his head out, he looked at me and towards the three rabbits in my hand and made a gesture for me to bring them over.

"You're still hungry?" Gaara nodded.

"They're too small to supply me with the amount that I need" I bit my lip as I handed the rabbits over, quietly debating if I should ask the question that was on my mind.

Feeling like the answer was yes, I asked, "Just how much exactly do you need?" Gaara who had just bit into the rabbit, draining it of its blood, replied as I looked away.

"What I caught and what you brought me will be enough for the day" That doesn't exactly answer my question, but I left it at that.

"Alright, good" I sat down by the table, Gaara after finishing off the last bunny, sat up even more in his bed, watching me from his side of the room.

"Thank you for the meal" I cut my eyes toward him and gave a slight nod before averting them.

"....is something the matter?" Gaara asked, but before I could reply no, he answered his own question.

"Does the blood bother you?" I gave a tiny strain smile with an awkward laugh.

"Yes, a little."

"Then I will go wash up and refrain from doing this around you in the future" Gaara rose up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom.

I found it nice that he cared enough to wash himself up and was even going to not eat in front of me, I'm not sure if Gaara was just naturally this considerate or if maybe my kindness is rubbing off on him in such short time!

Either way, I'm grateful and really appreciate it, when Gaara got back he was relatively clean, you know besides his clothes which were still very dirty from his fight with the hunters and the dirt.

I think now is the time to perhaps bring him a change in clothing? Maybe Jiriaya left some behind?... I suppose I should check, I stood up from the table and went looking through his old dressers.

As I was hoping I did find some clothing, but uh they weren't going to fit and were pretty dirty them-self... covered in webbing and so much dust, so the purpose even if they did fit it would have been pointless in the end anyway...

Er, well, I guess, I could wash these and he could wear them regardless of their size? I shrugged pulling out a pair I thought he would look good in and proceeded to go clean them.

Gaara surprisingly followed me outside where the sun was still pretty much out and about, "I thought vampires perished in the sun?" kinda went out of my way to ensure that there wouldn't be a chance of him getting even a tiny bit of it on him... feels pretty pointless now.

"...I'm only half" I titled my head to the left a slightly confused, I was unaware of half-breeds among vampires and really didn't even know that they could breed.

I thought being undead kinda put a stop to certain "things" if you catch my drift... shows just how much I know about vampires...

"I.. I didn't know that was a thing" I regrettably voice my thoughts, that now that I was hearing them out loud sounded a bit insensitive or maybe I'm just overthinking it?

"It is rare, not many are capable of it, unfortunate for some or so I've heard, wheres a blessing for others" Gaara sounded a bit off when talking of this, but I didn't want to push, though I think I can guess on where he stood on it.

At least judging from his tone when mentioning certain parts of the topic, "I see... not too different from humans then so that's interesting" I offered my best smile and bright side take on the subject as I washed the clothing.

"... I guess that's true..." Gaara fell silent after that, which I guess is normal for him since he seems to be the quiet type, much like my friend Shino... though in Shino's case, I'm sure he would love to talk more if someone would let him...

"I'm glad you think so... I find it kind of nice that we have similarities in our species, I never really give it any thought till now... but I'm am pretty curious to just how much more we have in common?" I took a slight pause in washing the clothes so that I may gaze upon Gaara as I begin to ask him my question.

"Aren't you?"

"I am...now" A smile broke out on my face, happy to hear he felt the same as I returned back to cleaning, it didn't take me long to get them as good as new, so I smiled happily and begun hanging them up to dry.

"Shouldn't be too long till they are dry, but if they aren't by the time I have to go home, you can always just get them yourself" I turned to face Gaara who was still watching me from four feet away.

"Is it really okay for me to wear those?" I placed my hand on my hip as I shot him a smile.

"Why wouldn't it be? Jiraiya has long since abandoned them and I don't see Naruto wearing them any time soon so what's the harm in you putting them to good use?" I raised a brow, expecting a response, but he remained silent so I took it as him accepting my points.

So with a happy little nod, I lead him back into the cabin with a cheerful hum, I went straight for the table and pointed toward the other chair for Gaara to sit on, like I wanted he followed my little wish and sat across from me.

I placed my elbows onto the table leaning forward as I rest my chin onto my palms, gazing at my red-haired friend while probably looking pretty goofy from how I'm smiling.

"You know... when I saved you, I never imagined I would become such fast friends with you... it's really such a crazy thing that I'm finding it hard to believe even now" Gaara's face showed shock as he leaned back a bit in his seat with eyes wide.

"Friends? You think of me as a friend?" This time I was taken back and was starting to feel silly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I out of line? It just kinda felt like maybe we were so I-" Gaara's eyes were locked onto me as I fumbled around on finding what to say.

"I... I don't think you were... I just wasn't aware you felt so fondly toward me?... and besides" Gaara paused glancing down toward his lap for a moment before staring at the wall dejectedly.

"I've never had a friend before... is this perhaps what it feels like to...have one?" Gaara broke away from the wall to look at me with curious, sad green orbs, I felt pretty sad for him when I heard that, though if I'm being honest I suspect that he was a rather lonely fellow from our previous talks.

Smiling sweetly at my new friend, I assured him, "Yes Gaara, this is what having a friend feels like" a tiny smile made way onto his lips and it was precious.

"I see..." He said in a low, tender voice, it was so sweet and gentle, with a hint of a faint blush upon* his cheeks, I couldn't help but break out into a wide grin.

'Gaara, I promise you I'll be the best first friend you've ever had and when I'm sure that you're ready, I'll help you make even more~' I mentally vowed to Gaara to help brighten his world and fill it with some much-needed love.

~~~~

Before I had known it Gaara had made a full recovery and weeks had flown by since I found Gaara that one fateful night, I thought by the time he would get better he'd pretty much leave and just pay me visit from time to time, but.

That wasn't the case, he asked for my permission to stay in Jiriaya's cabin a little longer so we could continue to spend more time together, I told him yes, obviously, we were friends now and I wanted to get to know him better, which.

I did and like I had hoped from spending as much time as I could with him when I could sneak out or had some excuse to leave the village for a bit, I would go to the cabin and meet with Gaara as he slowly opened up to me more and more with each visit.

Gaara would share and tell me something new and fascinating about vampires, and of himself, this would contain some times sweet and fun information, but it would also yield sad and painful to hear knowledge about him, those times were bittersweet little moments, between us, that I still hold dear nonetheless.

Though as I'm sure you could guess, sneaking out to visiting him wasn't exactly easy, I couldn't be seen going out as often as I was, I didn't exactly have an excuse for it all of the time, it's not like I was a hunter despite knowing a few tricks from my grandfather who was one.

My friends and family would get suspicious as to where was I going and why was I suddenly interested in going outside of the village so out of the blue, if I were caught doing it as much as I was.

It's not as if I could tell them of Gaara, neither party was ready for that step yet, Gaara still needed more time to adjust to human companionship among other things and I somehow have to figure out to ease them into the idea of a friendly vampire.

I'm sure Naruto would be more than ready to welcome such a thing, but the others... hmm well, some convincing was in order... Especially Sasuke.

That boy is from a well know vampire hunting clan after all... wait a second... who exactly were the hunters that were attacking Gaara and just why was he being attacked?

Where I found him wasn't all that far and if I recall Sakura mentioned that Sasuke and a few members were out on a mission from a nearby town to take care of some vampires...

I bit my lip from concern that maybe that vampire could have been Gaara and his attackers could have been the Uchihas... oh lord, please no.

Taking a brief break during my walk toward my sneak-out spot, I stopped to think of what I should do if what I feared were true, how would I go about it then?

It would make everything so much harder which was something that was already going to be quite a challenge given how feared and hated vampires are, and I already knew that Sasuke was going to be the hardest to get on board with this.

'Darn it all!' I frowned as I chewed on my thumbnail out of frustration.

To be continued ➡️

#vampire gaara #naruto #au #reader insert #fanfiction #suna no gaara #gaara of the sand #vampires au #alternate universe #chapter 2 #part 1

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

“IT WORTH IT”

Ezequiel “Ez” Reyes x Coco's sister!reader

Anon asked: if it’s okay for you could you write a ez Reyes x coco’s sister!reader ?

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: soft physical abuse and smut.

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes with grammar. The gif isn't mine.

Thanks to my lovely @starrynite7114 for helping me reading it before posting, looking for mistakes.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

When Coco founds you and told you he killed your mother, you started to laugh uncontrollably. You couldn’t believe it was true. That bitch, and never better said, forced you to ‘work on the streets’. Besides, every dollar you earned, she kept it. Your brother had a serious gesture in his face, telling you without words that he wasn’t joking. Your eyes started to cover in tears, setting up a knot in your chest. Hell was over. You hugged him, putting your arms around his waist, letting all the pain out of your body. Took some seconds to Johnny to do the same, holding you in his arms next to his body. It was time to go back home.

You slept non-stop for the next two days, getting up off the bed only when you were needing to eat something or go to the bathroom. Coco took care of everything. He paid the debts your mother left in your name and also gave you some money to buy decent clothes to wear. While Letti was recovering her life too, going to high-school as a girl of her age, your brother found you a new job. It wasn’t your favorite thing on earth, but it was a decent job.

Felipe was Angel and EZ’s father. An old man with a strange past, like Coco said, who needed some help with his carnicería. From Monday to Thursday, he hired you to serve the customers in the morning. At first, you thought that could be boring, but that man was really funny, kind, and intelligent. When everything was calmed and there wasn't any client to attend, he used to talk to you about books and the kind of poetry his deceased wife loved. An old and wise man who understood that you were forced to destroy your life, and now you were looking for a second chance.

After some months working there, Felipe trusted you more than his children and for that he asked you to close the shop Friday night. You didn’t asked, you never did and you’ll never do.

It’s almost ten when the last customer left the place, closing and locking the door, sighing as you did. You leave the apron hanging in the wall coat rack, before washing your hands with soap and disinfectant. Then, you’re ready to count the money and keep it safe in the warehouse. You write down in the notebook an orders summary of the day and how much was the total, as your boss showed you to close the day. After leaving everything clean and changing your clothes, you go out through the back door to the alley, locking it with the keys he gave you. Coco told you to go to the MC where they’re having a party, but the only thing you wanna do is go home, eat something, watch a movie and sleep.

You walk down the empty avenue with hands inside your pocket and your eyes looking straight ahead, but you’re not paying attention to anything that is happening around you, thinking in your own business. Because of that, you don’t see it coming. Long fingers grab your hair, pulling you back. The scream, that you utter falling down to the floor, finishes when your head hits it. A sharp beep settles in your ears, when you see blurry. A man lays on top of you and starts to punch you. One fist goes to your cheek making it burn in pain. You try to set yourself free, moving desperately behind him. The second fist goes to your mouth, breaking your inner lip and leaving the metallic taste of blood runs down by your throat. It hurts. It hurts too much. You ask for help, but you know how Santo Padre works. If a chulo is hitting one of his bitches, anybody is gonna separate him from you. But you’re not that shit anymore. And you try to fight.

When you’re pretty sure the third fist is gonna leave you knocked out, the arm stops raising in the air. Coco is there. Angel, Gilly, Creeper and EZ too. The youngest Reyes helps you to get up, wrapping in his strong arms guiding you to his bike. The guys are fucking up the man that dared to mess with you, after being paid with a huge amount of money. You’re crying harder, hiding your face against EZ’s chest till he makes you sit on his motorbike.

“Hey, hey… Look at me.” He took your cheeks between his big hands, having a look of your face to know if you’re okay. But they’re not gonna bring you to the hospital, they’re gonna take care of you by themselves. He hugged you again in the warmest way, giving you a kiss on top of the head, before Coco could walk next to you. He kisses you too, feeling protected when the men stuck around you.

“Probably will send some of his men tomorrow.” Creeper said looking at the guy laying on the ground unconscious.

“Eh, boy scout, could she stay with ya’ tonig’? She will be safe in the roulotte, near the ' ‘clubhouse”. Coco doesn’t want him to do it, he wants to protect you. But Johnny knows he must burn the fucking place where that man locked you once.

“I’ll take care of her. Rest is yours”. EZ nodded, helping you to fasten the helmet, before driving away.

He presses the wet cotton in alcohol against your inner lip, after cleaning the blood that was running through your jaw and neck. He’s doing it softly without wanting to hurt you more, while you're holding a bag of frozen peas on your check. The pain is fading, but you know well that tomorrow you’re gonna have some bruises in your face. EZ is very concentrated in his task, doing it slowly till seems better.

“I’m sorry”. You finally say with your eyes down, trying not to cry again.

“Why?” He looks confused, putting apart the cotton. He gets up off the small bed to bring you some water.

“You were having fun, I just… I ruined it”.

“No, you didn’t, (Y/N)”. He shakes his head, taking a seat in front of you, more close than you can really notice. “Coco thinks that should be fun if you come with us and Letti. And Angel was worried about you closing the shop alone. He wasn’t wrong.”

EZ simply shrugs. He knows you. He knows you well, ‘cause the time he isn’t with the MC, he visits you and his father in the carnicería. He also is always recommending you books to read in your free time, to talk about them after you finish them. He was kind to you since you met him, everybody is, but he does the most. So, you’re not sure when you decided it was a good idea to kiss him. But there you are with your hands supported in his knees, pressing your lips against his. At first, he can’t react, keeping his eyes open. And you’re about to put yourself away when he pushes you into him with his hands on your waist. Sitting on his lap, the kiss goes deep. Even the pain in your mouth doesn’t stop you to receive his curious tongue looking for yours. It feels good. It’s not your first one, but it’s the first time you do it ‘cause you want it without being forced.

As the seconds go by, it gets more passionate and needy. You two have been avoiding it because of Coco, but you’re about to die or something worse. His hands run over your hips, your back and your breast, letting him strain a hand under your dress looking for your panties. When he slices it down your legs, the next move is put down the zipper. He's hard, more than you could feel when your hips were dancing on top of him seconds ago. You do when he rams you without expecting it. Your groan meets his roar in your pressed lips against his. He doesn't make another move, waiting to you to feel comfortable with his hardness invading your narrowness. It's not your first time, he knows. But it's been a long time since your last and, of course, it's not the same.

You want please EZ and he wanna do you the same. Maybe it's not about love or maybe it is. But you two feel the desire running in your veins. And you want to do it before Coco arrives and kills you both. You start to move your hips, from up to down, slowly. Enjoying for the first time with your hands on his nape and his on your waist. You move faster according to, to feel more pleasure, forehead against forehead, with his light brown eyes on yours to not miss a single detail. He loved the way you whispered his name, moaning against his lips, once and again.

“You like it… uh?” He asks in a whisper, knowing what he is referring to.

“Ye-Yes. I really do, EZ”. You nod with your chin before get kissed slowly than the moves of your hips do by inertia.

The youngest Reyes smiles softly, feeling how the heat begins to focus in his cock. He doesn't know how he should ask you, but you were with more men that you wanna remember and you feel it. No words needed. You want him to do it, so pull him out it's not an option. Moving faster, your moans meets again, you can't avoid it. Both are sweating and you're tongues are fighting inside his mouth. Feels so good. And you think you can touch the sky when he finally cums inside you, with a fury roar drowned in his throat. Your orgasm comes too a few seconds later with his full name going out your lips.

The only things that break the silence inside the roulotte are your heavy breathing and some complicit laughs.

“Do you... know is the first time someone… ‘do it’? You whisper with a low tone in your voice, trying to make him know that never before anyone cum inside you, nor make you come to an orgasm.

His proud smile appears from nowhere, giving you some short kisses without moving an inch.

“When I get the patch, I'll ask Coco for you”. He confesses laying his back against the wall to have a better view of you. “Will you wait for me?”

It's a question you don't expect. At least, not in a moment like this. But, yes. You're going to wait as long as it takes.

#mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc x reader #mayans x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader

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sigynthevictorious · 3 years

Text

Reunited?

Bit of filler because it's stuck in my head 😂 @naganye

Nine months after Aradir’s ‘death’

Not a day went past where Valka didn’t think of Aradir, she no longer cried everyday but the ache remained. For a moment it felt as if she had everything, but as quickly as their love blossomed, it was taken just as quickly. In a day everything had crumbled around her, now all she had to remember that he was even real were a few photographs and the child that stirred within her belly.

It hadn’t been easy, everything seemed to happen at once and she had lost count of the amount of arguments and lectures she had been given by her father. Of course neither of her parents would ever kick her out, but the tension was heavy.

Her room, once filled with countless musical instruments that had now been sold, was now adorned with various baby furnishings. The crib was set up where her desk and keyboard once stood and her extensive wardrobe was sacrificed for baby grows and bibs. She missed her old life, part of her didn’t want this. She was still young, and now unable to finish college with her friends she felt as if she had nothing that was her own. Occasionally she resented Aradir and her choices, but as quickly as those feelings came, they were just as quickly replaced by pangs of guilt and sorrow. Both for herself, him and the fact their child would never meet their father and that Aradir was never given the chance to be told that he had a proper little family waiting for him.

Her feelings of sorrow and the realisation that he wasn’t here with her only intensified the morning her waters broke. Her mother was beyond reassuring and helpful, while she was saddened this had happened to her youngest child she supported her the entire time so she was not alone. So as the contractions grew closer and Valka was admitted to hospital, she hardly let go of her mother’s hand.

The pain was unbearable, she couldn’t help but scream and cry through every contraction as she felt as if she were being ripped apart. Too far gone for an epidural she could do little else but pray the child came quickly. Which thankfully it did.

After getting slightly stuck, soon a strong cry filled the room and a bright pink screaming child was placed upon Valka’s chest. In that moment nothing else mattered, as she looked into the face of her child she knew she had made the right decision and was utterly devoted to them.

“It’s a boy,” the midwife confirmed.

“A boy” Valka sighed, exhausted but elated as she held her son, drying him off with a blanket and pressing a kiss to his fair forehead.

Valka spent almost every day staring at her son, he was so perfect. “I wish you could meet your daddy” she sighed, rocking him in her arms before crying as he opened his pale eyes at her. “I think he would have loved you so much,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “He was funny, kind, handsome and so, so brave, just like you will be,” she continued, “and I loved him, and I promise I’ll tell you all about him when you’re older.” she promised. “Parker Aradir Noreth” she cooed, rather liking the name as it rolled off her tongue.

---

Three years after Aradir’s ‘death’

Every day was a delight, well almost, as Parker grew. He was such a happy child, a mop of bright orange hair covered his head and his pale eyes gleamed with mischief constantly.

Still living with her parents, Parker was doted upon by his mother, grandparents and uncle when he came to visit. Everyone that met him adored him, even when he started daycare and nursery he seemed to make friends with all the other children with ease. Valka was immensely proud, her thoughts of Aradir lessened but every so often she would see her son laughing on the swing set and be reminded of her lost love.

---

Seven years after Aradir’s ‘death’

Parker thrived at school, top of his class and a well liked figure amongst the other students. Valka managed to finish college and with the support of her parents got her university degree too. Working at a publishing house as a translator she loved her life. Now Parker was growing up she even moved into her own flat and started playing music again in the evenings. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

“Mum, I need some help” Parker said one evening, sitting up at the dining table whilst going through his homework. “We have to make a family tree for history, and grandpa gave me lots of things but...everyone writes about both their mummy and daddy. What should I put for my dad?” he asked nervously, not wanting to potentially upset his mother. He knew little about his father, only that he was a soldier. But now it seemed he was at that age where he wanted to know more.

Valka dried her hands and stepped away from the washing up, her heart both warming and sinking at the question. “Well, I don’t know a lot of things. But I’m sure we can put something together” she agreed, going to her bedroom for a moment and coming back out with a shoe box.

“Now, we can copy some of these if you want and stick them in” she explained as she opened the box. A collection of photographs and momentos filled it. The cinema ticket from their first date, the recipes he had written for her, pictures of their dates and a CD filled with the songs she had written for Aradir. “This was him, he was an orphan so I don’t know anything about the rest of his family. He grew up in care” she began, placing a picture of Aradir in his uniform in front of her son.

“Like the children that nanny looks after?” Parker asked, picking up the picture to get a better look at the pale eyed stranger.

“Yes, just like them. Then, he joined the army and became one of the youngest ever lieutenants” she continued proudly, smiling as she watched Parker’s pale eyes examine the photo. “You have his eyes, and you’ll be tall like him too” she explained whilst looking at the photo of her and Aradir on their second date, just after they became ‘official’. “Not long after we met, he had to go away with the army to another country. Now you have to remember that sometimes bad things happen, even to the bravest of people and well, he was in an accident, and he died out there” she tenderly explained so Parker could understand.

The young boy nodded, glancing at his mother before looking back at the photograph. “Can I keep this?” he asked, to which his surprised mother agreed. She helped him write out the family tree and added a bit of artistic flair to it. It did look rather lopsided, with her enormous family detailed on one side, then with the lonely Aradir on the other it was upsetting. But she was proud he was there.

“I wish I had a dad,” Parker said as they finished, “one that was here.”

The words cut Valka and played on her mind for weeks after. Maybe she had been selfish in not giving him a fatherly role model, but she had never had any desire to get into another relationship. But perhaps it was time she did, at least for Parker’s sake.

---

Ten years after Aradir’s ‘death’

There were plenty of suitors, but as soon as they heard about Parker they all quickly left, not wanting to get involved with a woman who had a child. But there was one who stayed. Derek was nice enough, he came from an army background too and was conventionally handsome and seemed genuinely interested in Parker. Most importantly Parker liked him too. She didn’t feel for him the same way she had with Aradir, but maybe that was part of growing up? A teenage romance surely wasn’t the same as an adult one? So after a couple years together, she agreed to marry him.It felt like the right thing to do. And he was very insistent.

The ring was a beautiful vintage art deco emerald and diamond design, to match her eyes apparently, and Derek was adamant no expense was to be spared for their big day. Valka was excited, but not as overjoyed as she had always imagined she would be. Surely that would change once she got her dress she thought, and when it didn’t then perhaps once she got the cake things would fall into place.

She searched through various bakeries, getting quotes and going to tasting sessions but nothing took her fancy until Derek suggested one that was run by ex-forces members and how it would mean a lot to him. She let Derek arrange a cake tasting appointment with them and actually felt rather excited. Derek was running late from work so she took Parker with her instead, after all he fancied himself quite the connoisseur when it came to eating and cooking. Just like his father.

“Can I get a gingerbread man?” Parker asked as he walked hand in hand with Valka into the quaint bakery, his pale eyes lighting up at the cabinets filled with various sweet treats.

“If you’re good and they have some then yes” she agreed, smiling as she admired the bakery before going to the till. “Hi, I’m here for a cake tasting. It’s under the name Derek Henderson” she explained, the girl behind the counter nodded and went out back, explaining she was just going to fetch the owner for her.

Valka knelt beside Parker as they admired some of the beautiful pastries, Parker making an ever changing list of what he wanted to try. Tucking some of her now short hair behind her ear she too made a wish list of what she wanted and seeing that they made banana splits upon request made her feel it was some kind of fate she came here.

“He’ll be out in a moment” the sales assistant said when she came back out, but when Valka turned upon hearing the footsteps come out from the kitchen she froze in her place as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Aradir?”

#one shot #m; valka #under read more for length

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