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astrophileous · 8 months

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Thunderstorm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Spencer Reid was never a fan of thunderstorms. On one particular night, he woke up to one.

Warning(s): established relationship, mentions and/or depictions of gun violence/injury, protective spencer, parent-child relationships, I think that's it (?) this one is really just fluff wrapped in more fluff 🥰

Word Count: 2400-ish

Author's Note: HELLO! I'm finally back from the dead (yayyy)!! To celebrate, and as we all wait for me to finish rewriting the remaining chapters of love bugs, I'm posting this fic here for you all to enjoy :) I think it's the fluffiest piece I've ever written (srsly, not even a drop of angst!) so I hope you will enjoy! Let me know what you think okkk, don't forget to LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG if you like this one xx btw I'm pretty sure this can be read as gender neutral reader since I'm positive I didn't use any gender-conforming words, but pls lmk if I'm wrong!

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer hated thunderstorms.

He had many memories of them, not particularly good ones. Most of them involved him being on the field during yet another atrocious case, gun and flashlight in hand, trekking after muddy footsteps that belonged to an UnSub he was chasing.

He had been shot, once, during a thunderstorm. The bullet lodged itself against his bulletproof vest before the perpetrator had received a retaliation shot from Derek's gun. The vest had saved his life that night. The nasty bruise decorating his torso for the following week, though, served as a sufficient reminder in Spencer's mind.

Thunderstorms were a natural enemy whenever he was on the field. Unfortunately for him, the rivalry seemed to continue past the doorstep of his home, too.

Back when sleep was a luxury that he had to scour and cherish, thunderstorms would be the antagonist that kept the two even further apart. The sound of heavy rain against windows was a line of needles prickling into his circadian rhythm, erasing any possibilities of sleep if he was even lucky enough to have them in the first place.

On those nights, Spencer would sit against the headboard with a book in his lap, hoping that the passage detailing the fall of Joseon Dynasty in Korean Peninsula--or the rise or Majapahit Empire in the island of Java, whichever had caught his interest more at that specific moment in time--would be enough distraction to take his mind off the disaster wreaking havoc outside of his apartment.

Thanks to years of therapy, Spencer now had found it easier to chase sleep whenever he needed it. Still, its sweet relief stood no chance against the chaos brought by a raging thunderstorm.

This time, too, was no different.

Spencer had been dreaming. A land of reverie where his tongue had tasted honey, where his nose had recognized the hint of mint and juniper berry before the image was rattled by a high-pitched shriek in the sky.

When Spencer opened his eyes, the bedroom was enveloped in a near state of total darkness.

The sharp cry he heard had come from a lightning that struck momentarily before he woke up. Five seconds later, another one struck again, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Spencer's body as he waited for the imminent thunder to shatter the atmosphere.

Spencer shut his eyes in an attempt to get his racing heart back under control. Once he opened them again, the remnants of sleep had washed away from his pupils, allowing him to take in the empty bed, the chill bedroom, and the opened door right across from where he was sitting.

Frowning, Spencer thought back to a few hours prior. How he had promptly retired to the bedroom after coming home from work. He remembered clearly--courtesy of his eidetic memory--having slammed the door shut before he got ready for bed.

A creak in the floorboards outside his bedroom door compelled Spencer to reach into the bedside drawer, fingers inching nearer to where the secret holster of his gun was located.

Before his hand could wrap around the weapon, the bedroom door was pushed ajar, revealing a familiar figure standing in the doorway, outline cast by a hazy kind of luminance.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were an intruder."

You raised an eyebrow at his statement. A playful smile sweetened by the gentle glow radiating off the flickering candle in your hand.

"It's just me," you assured him, finally stepping into the threshold and placing the candle on top of the dresser.

"I can see that." He watched you approaching, gaze never straying even when you picked up the comforter a tiny bit to slip back into bed. "Where did you go?"

"Went down to check the breaker. Power's out completely, by the way. Looks like the storm took out the whole block."

He made a disapproving face at your response. "You were in the basement? Alone?"

Your forehead furrowed at the tone of Spencer's voice. It wasn't until you glimpsed the telltale sign of worry in his eyes that your shoulders eventually deflated. "I'm okay, Spencer."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because," you began, an amused smile threatening to split your face into two, "it's a three flights of stairs walk from our bedroom, darling. I think I can manage it just fine."

"But--"

"Besides," you cut him off, silencing him with a gentle palm pressing on his cheek. Spencer instantly melted at the contact. "I know how you get during nights like this. I wanted to let you have as much sleep as you could before the storm eventually wakes you up."

His hand circled around your wrist, then, bringing it upwards so that he could leave tiny kisses on your palm before he entwined his fingers with yours. "You still should've woken me up."

"Spence--"

"I know, I know. You could've done it yourself, I don't doubt it. I just--" he paused, swallowing a lump before continuing, "--I could've just waited here. In the bedroom. But in case anything happened, I would've been there for you."

The admission was quiet within the four walls of your bedroom. You knew that Spencer's plea had nothing to do with a toxic need to be controlling. Instead, it had stemmed from the vulnerability within. A naked truth that nestled in the deepest corners of Spencer Reid's soul.

The years that you had spent together allowed you to understand Spencer at a level nobody else could. They allowed you to understand that this silly request was nothing more than a fruit of his vigilant bones, forged consistently throughout his years in law enforcement. Spencer Reid, underneath his soft eyes and tender touches, had witnessed all of the gruesome layers of the world, lost far more things than anyone ever should.

It was only logical, now that Spencer had you in his life--a miraculous reprieve to his otherwise ghastly world--he would spend every waking moment to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe.

Always.

With this knowledge in mind, you couldn't, in good conscience, bring yourself to deny Spencer's plea, no matter how foolish it might seem.

What you did, instead, was shifting yourself closer to his body, seeking permission with your eyes before you leaned forward for a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry, darling," you offered sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, yeah? How does that sound?"

The relief was blinding as it washed over Spencer's whole being. "Thank you," he muttered before kissing your knuckles. "And I'm sorry, too, for being like this."

You shook your head firmly. Not because you didn't accept his apology, but because you didn't need one. Spencer didn't have anything to apologize for.

When you told him as much, Spencer's only reply was to press his lips to yours.

You were rendered pliant underneath his ministrations, your body molding into his as if you were two fabrics cut from the same cloth. Spencer poured all of his emotions into the kiss. Wishing--begging--that you could taste just how consuming the love he harbored for you was. The same way he could taste your heart beneath the hint of honey on your lips.

Once breathing became a chore, Spencer took the heavy decision to pull away, settling for resting his forehead on top of yours instead.

"Do you wanna go back to sleep?" you whispered.

Spencer wanted to nod, feeling a huge load pressing on every inch of muscle in his body. But before he could take you up on the offer, a distant sound between the roaring of thunders caught his attention, stopping his words right in their tracks.

"Did you hear that?" Spencer asked.

"Hear what?" You frowned. "The thunder?"

"No." He rushed to get up from the bed, gaze apologetic as he looked at you from the doorway. "Stay here? I'll be back soon."

Soft footsteps trudged along the landing of your two story house, leading Spencer towards another door located right by the stairs. He knocked slowly on the wooden door, twice, before pushing it open with a gentle nudge of his hip.

The room he entered was smaller than the room he shared with you. During the days, the windows on the far end of the wall would offer a mesmerizing view of the creek that ran along the backside of the neighborhood. During nights like this, however, they merely provided another harsh peek at the tantrum that mother nature was throwing against the world.

Although the room was swallowed in darkness, Spencer could still make out the silhouettes inside. From the haphazardly scattered toys on the floor, the colorful drawings taped on the walls, even to the lavender-colored furniture that seemed to fill every available corner in the entire space.

Amongst them all, the one silhouette that managed to pull at Spencer's heartstrings was the one curled up on the center of the bed. A usually joyous sunshine, reduced to a whimpering ball under a cotton unicorn-themed blanket.

"Princess."

Spencer tugged the blanket down, revealing misty eyes and pouting lips on a face he held dearly. A sob managed to wreck itself out of the little girl's chest, plummeting Spencer's heart further down the abyss of no end.

"Oh, sweetheart."

He gathered the 4-year-old in his arms, feeling her immediately hugging his neck. Her body was still shivering with tiny whimpers and sobs, all of which Spencer tried to subside gently by constant strokes down her back.

"It's okay. You're okay," he shushed quietly, rocking his body to a phantom tune while she clung to his chest. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

The girl sniffled aloud before lifting her head, her tiny hands rubbing rigorously on the tear stains around her eyes.

"The-the thunders," she murmured. "It was so loud. I woke up and everything was d-dark. Daddy, I'm scared!"

She threw her arms around his neck again, crying softly into the collar of his sleeping shirt. Spencer tightened his embrace around his daughter, heart breaking into pieces with every tear shed from her innocent eyes.

"Sshh, it's alright, princess. Everything's alright. Daddy's here now," Spencer cooed. "Do you wanna sleep with us tonight? Hm?"

His daughter started to nod frantically. "Don't forget Mr. Elphie, Daddy."

Chuckling, Spencer quickly grabbed the elephant stuffed animal lying next to her pillow. "Of course not. Mr. Elphie is coming with us, isn't he?"

Spencer began to retreat back in the direction of your bedroom, all the while conversing with his little girl to keep her mind off the storm that was still raging wildly outside.

You were checking something on your phone by the time Spencer finally returned. Immediately, you tossed the device aside once you saw him, eyes widening in concern when you saw your daughter's limbs entangled around Spencer's form.

"What happened?" you asked.

Spencer headed for the bed, slowly putting down the little girl who instantly cuddled your side after he had tucked her under the duvet.

"The thunders are scary," your daughter mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

Your eyes flicked towards Spencer, who gave a single nod of confirmation before settling back on his side of the bed.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." You brushed back the hair from her face, taking in the sight of your favorite pair of eyes that seemed to have lost their usual sparkles in the wake of her tears. "What do you wanna do, hun? Should I tell you a story? Play a little music?"

"I wanna sleep here with you and Daddy," she said in a shaky voice. "Is that okay?"

Kissing the crown of her head, you answered, "Of course it's okay, sunshine. Come here."

Your daughter fell back into your awaiting arms. Her small frame fitting so easily into the front side of your body. You watched as her tiny fingers clutched Mr. Elphie tighter, breath evening out while her face burrowed even deeper into your chest.

It felt as if hours had passed before you could find the will to rip your gaze away. In all honesty, you could probably have spent an entire eternity staring at the little miracle in your arms had the universe given you the chance. When you lifted your head, your eyes automatically locked with Spencer's, who looked as if he, too, had been entranced by the sight in front of him.

"She's incredible," Spencer confessed into the night, voice fragile with the weight of awe it seemed to carry. "I can't believe she's ours."

You extended your hand towards him, smiling brightly once Spencer secured it in his own.

"Seems like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," you mused, eyes glinting mischievously from the knowledge that your daughter--just like her beloved Daddy--also had a fear of thunderstorms. "Like father like daughter, huh?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared of thunderstorms. I'm just... not fond of them"

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up." He bit your knuckles playfully, seemingly pleased with himself when he managed to elicit a laugh out of your chest. "Go get some sleep. You have an early day tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself, Mister." You settled your head back on the pillow, Spencer mirroring your position without breaking his hold around your hand. "Where are you going again?"

"Florida. Miami."

"Damn," you muttered, temporarily panicking about your terrible choice of words before calming back down once you saw your daughter sleeping soundly. "I bet it's nice there this time of year."

"It's Miami. The weather barely changes there all year-round."

"Exactly my point."

"Besides," Spencer added, squeezing your hand once, "it's not a vacation. It doesn't matter where I'm going, I'll only be seeing dead bodies all day long."

"Okay. I really don't need to start seeing corpses in my head right before going to sleep, so thanks for that."

"You started it."

"I most certainly did not." You scoffed. "I'm not liking this conversation. Now, can we please go to sleep?"

Spencer had a retort ready on the tip of his tongue. But once he saw how peaceful you looked with your eyes closed, entangled as one with your daughter, he decided against it.

At last, he opted to shuffle closer on the bed until he could wrap his arm around the two of you, letting the scent of mint from your shampoo and juniper berry from your daughter's body wash to wrap around his whole being.

Spencer was still not a fan of thunderstorms.

But on nights like this, he had to begrudgingly admit that maybe, maybe, they weren't really that bad after all.

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slytherinshua · 8 months

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CALM IN THE STORM

genre. fluff. comfort. warnings. crying. thunderstorms. ig anxiety mention? pairing. jungwon x fem!reader. wc. 2k. a/n. happiest birthday to @edensgardenn, this fic is for u ml 🫶 i hope u like it!! ^^

“It’s supposed to rain tonight— are you sure you don’t want me to walk you back now? We can end the study session early.” Jungwon asked from the doorway. You were seated at his desk, filling in a practice test for your chem class.

“No, it’s fine. I want to finish this.” You replied without even glancing away from the page, careful to not disrupt your perfect flow of concentration. After weeks of review and studying, the questions were finally making sense, and you wanted to be sure to get at least a 90% right on the practice test before the real thing in 2 days.

Jungwon wanted to insist, but he also didn’t want to interrupt you. The forecast really was calling for rain, a thunderstorm even. He didn’t like the thought of you walking back home in those conditions, even if it was just a couple blocks away. But, you were also so cutely focused on the piece of paper in front of you, flipping your pencil around to erase and adjust the model of an atom you were drawing.

Jungwon, in general, was timid, and maybe a little bit of a pushover. This definitely showed when he was around you, to the extent that his friends Jake and Sunghoon said that he was positively whipped for you. A little crush was all he was willing to admit to, but deep down he knew he was willing to do practically anything you asked. He liked to see the smile on your face when your plans worked out.

He liked to see you smile because of him.

Jungwon went back into the kitchen to finish cutting up apples as a snack. He knew you were prone to forget to eat when you were focused on something. It was these little habits that he loved to take note of and try to help with.

He arranged the slices of apple with care, lips pursed as he looked at the plate. Then he shook his head and started to rearrange them again before he was satisfied. He was quiet walking back to his bedroom where you were working, making sure that if something broke your concentration, it wouldn't be him.

You smiled and mumbled a small thank you as he placed the plate down— a reaction that Jungwon would never get tired of. As you sighed and stretched your arms to work out the aches from sitting for hours, you first noticed that the apples were arranged in a heart shape around the plate, and that there was a small dollop of peanut butter in the centre of the heart.

“You’re so cheesy…” You whispered with an amused scoff as you bit into the piece of apple.

Jungwon's lips turned up into a giddy smile hearing your whispered comment, but he tried to hide it behind his phone. The room became quiet as you went back to studying and Jungwon started to scroll through his phone on the bed.

You quickly lost track of time as you went back to your notes, and Jungwon slowly dozed off when he got tired of looking at his phone. You finished studying for science and decided to review your unit in social studies before finally calling it a day.

You let out a satisfied sigh. You had been incredibly productive during your study session and the payoff of your effort was an overflowing feeling of confidence when you thought about your upcoming exams. You stood up and stretched, a grin growing on your face at the sight of Jungwon sleeping on the bed.

You crouched beside him, admiring his pretty features even when he was sleeping. You reached out your hand and then hesitated. A piece of hair had fallen over his eye as he shifted slightly and you instinctively wanted to move it back into place. After a little consideration and a warm buzzing feeling growing in your stomach somehow urging you on, you reached forward again, this time gently brushing back the piece of hair to its rightful place.

You smiled— the last moment of peace and calm before a loud strike of thunder made you startle. The sound made you jump and a yelp of surprise escaped your throat. The commotion was loud enough to wake Jungwon up from his slumber. He sat up abruptly, blinking his eyes in shock before asking what happened and if you were okay in a hurried jumble of words.

“I’m okay,” You nodded, a little tense, “I think.”

“Get off the floor.” Jungwon said sheepishly, holding out his hand for you to grab onto to pull yourself up.

You sat next to him and relaxed your shoulders. You should have taken his advice from before and gone home early. You weren’t sure how you were going to walk home in this weather.

“Maybe I can… hail a taxi?” You questioned, glancing out the window to watch the ongoing storm before taking out your phone to check the time. It was already almost midnight. You stood up, “Either way I should try to get home quickly.”

Jungwon grabbed your hand to stop you. “No,” He said sternly, “Being outside during a storm like this isn’t safe.”

“But-” Another loud flash of lightning sounded and you tensed again.

“You hate loud noises, Y/n.” Jungwon reminded quietly, “Wouldn’t it be better if you stay?”

“Stay?! As in sleep over?” Your eyes widened as Jungwon nodded gently.

“I have a guest room for a reason…”

You would've protested if it weren’t for the violent thunder that continued to rage outside. You gave in to Jungwon’s idea, and he started to run around the house to get you everything you could possibly need with the brightest smile on his face.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for grabs if you’re hungry. There’s new toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet as well as untouched toothpaste and mouthwash if you don’t want to use mine- oh! And you can shower or take a bath if you need to. I washed the tub this morning, I promise it’s clean.” He rattled off as you dropped your backpack on the floor of the guest bedroom.

“Thank you, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You told him nervously. You couldn’t quite differentiate if your anxiety stemmed from the loud storm or the fact that Jungwon was gazing at you as if you hung the very stars in the sky— his lips curved up into the most breathtaking smile the heavens had ever witnessed and his adorable dimples taking their place on his cheeks to complement it all.

“Sleep well, Y/n. Just knock on my door if you need anything. Goodnight!” He grinned and walked back to his room.

You showered and did your usual nighttime hygiene without any problems. It was only when you laid down with the intention of sleeping that you faced your first predicament.

The thunder was scaring you more than you had thought before.

When Jungwon was still in the room, you merely tensed a little when there was a particularly loud strike. But now that you were alone in the dark and unfamiliar guestroom, you felt frightened.

The room somehow seemed 10 degrees chillier than Jungwon’s comfortable room. Maybe it was him and his warmth that made it seem that way. You tossed and turned, trying to wrap the blanket around your body to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. But with the storm in the background and nothing else to focus on, your anxiety built up until you were close to tears.

You tried one last time to close your eyes and escape into your dreams, but again, you failed as another strike of thunder reached your eardrums. It became impossible to hold back your tears anymore, and as they slipped down your cheeks, you slowly got yourself to walk down the hall to Jungwon’s room.

You knocked 3 times on his door, promising yourself that if he didn’t answer you would just go back to bed and force yourself to make it through the night. You were already staying over unplanned and you didn’t want to cause any more inconvenience to the boy you liked than you already were.

As soon as the door opened and a sleepy Jungwon stood on the other side of it, you were already moving to hug him. Jungwon, in his still drowsy state, was taken by surprise with your sudden closeness, but as soon as his foggy brain registered that he wasn’t dreaming and that you were in fact hugging him right now, his heart melted on the spot.

“W-what happened, Y/n?” He gulped, somehow gathering the courage to wrap his arms around you as well to reciprocate the hug. He had barely even held your hand before, let alone hug you so closely, and he felt as if he should’ve been given time to prepare for this.

It was hard to hear you completely since your words were getting muffled by the fabric of Jungwon’s hoodie, but he was able to make out “storm” and “scared” and “couldn’t sleep” and put the pieces together from there.

He smiled and lifted you up in his arms so he was carrying you. You let him, burying your face in the crook of his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist. He carried you carefully to his bed, setting you down on it as if he was scared he would crack you.

“You don’t have a sweater, do you?” He asked. He had noticed the goosebumps on your arms and how cold your skin had felt moments earlier. You shook your head.

“Hm…” Jungwon hummed, looking in his closet amongst the hangers of jackets to find a crew-neck sweater. He tossed it to you once he found a suitable one and your cheeks burned once you realized that he had given this to you to wear. His sweater for you to wear.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep if I stay with you?” He questioned shyly.

“You mean sleep… together?” You asked, slipping into the sweater.

“Uh- I… I didn’t mean it like- Well-” Jungwon’s cheeks had never flushed such a bright red before.

“I don’t… mind.” You whispered quietly. You smiled at him, hoping that he might actually join you because the hug had ended too quickly and you had a need to stay cuddled up to him where you felt comfortable and safe for hours.

“Is this okay?” Jungwon asked, experimentally scooting a little closer to you, at a distance where he could hold your hand without having to reach at all.

“Yeah.”

“What about uh…” He questioned you with his eyes as he lifted the blanket to slip under it. You nodded again, ignoring how both of your cheeks are red as tomatoes, and the butterflies in both of your stomachs are having little dance parties.

Jungwon repeated those steps, always asking you before he does something, making sure that before anything else, you’re comfortable. And you continued to nod and give him affirmative answers until eventually you’re curled up against his chest again.

Being so close to him came with all the comfort the world could offer. Nothing could dare to touch you when you were wrapped safely in his arms, cheek resting against his chest, listening to his heart race from having you so close.

You felt comfortable, and safe, and happy.

And even though the storm continues to thrash outside— raindrops falling heavily on the roof and thunder crashes startling you every couple minutes— you were able to close your eyes and eventually fall asleep.

When Jungwon noticed that you’d drifted off to sleep, he smiled and hugged you closer. He concludes that he must be on some sickenly-in-love high, because he swears he’s never had this much confidence in his life; but he somehow finds the confidence to bring his face down slightly, just enough to press his lips to your forehead for 3 short seconds, 3 seconds that felt like an eternity.

↳ enha taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @ddeonudepressions,, @skz-minchan-enthusiast,, @delcakoo,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @edensgardenn

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newtthetranswriter · 8 months

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"Umbrellas are for pussies."

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu x American Reader

Word count: 1418

Summary: A day out with Yuta leads to playful bickering about umbrellas.

Warnings: The use of the word pussies once making fun of people.

A/N: Just a random idea I had while watching the rain today. Reader is from the state of Oregon because that’s where I’m from originally and I personally think umbrellas are for wimps, and transplants(People not from Oregon originally). I’m also thinking of making this like a mini cross fandom series about different characters in the rain. Also requests are still open and I’m working on the one I have. It just may take a bit as my new job is finally giving me hours, and Vegas (where I live right now) Is facing some heavy rain this week with possible flooding and power outages.

It was a relaxing day at Jujutsu tech, which was rare but welcome. Taking advantage of the few off days we received as sorcerers, me and Yuta decided it would be nice to go out and just have fun in Tokyo together. It would be our first date in a while with the number of missions Yuta gets being a Special grade sorcerer, and we just wanted to go shopping and get lunch without the worries of curses and Panda teasing us. Don’t get me wrong I love hanging out with our friends but it can be a bit much having the bear cracking jokes at our expense every five seconds.

We decided that we would meet each other at the entrance to the school and leave from there together. It was a few minutes past when we agreed to leave when I watched Yuta run towards me out of breath. I just chuckled at the ravenet as he approached. “What took so long and why are you running?” I asked as he took a moment to catch his breath.

“Oh, I was looking for an umbrella, It looks like it might rain so I figured it’s better to come prepared. I lost track of time searching and when I realized I was late, I rushed out so you wouldn’t think I forgot our date.” He said standing back up and smiling at me. It was then that I noticed the cause of his tardiness in his hand.

I rolled my eyes at him. “It probably won’t rain, especially if it’s in the forecast.” I said this from experience. “Also using an umbrella is for pussies.” I joked as we made our way from the school.

You see I’m from the U.S.A, more specifically Oregon. I learned growing up that when they say it’s going to rain it probably won’t, and if they predict a sunny day expect a thunderstorm. I also grew up with the mentality that umbrellas were pointless, if it’s gonna rain oh well a little water won’t hurt. I came to Japan because opportunities for Jujutsu sorcerers are limited as they don’t cause too much problem there, so I went where I could learn about the strange things only I could see. That is how we get to where we are now.

My boyfriend looked at me like I was crazy for a second before just brushing off my comment, favoring enjoying our day out rather than bickering about rain. He grabbed my hand as we started our walk towards the bustling city enjoying the cool weather. We talked about little things that didn’t really matter, things like Inumaki ‘accidentally’ cursing Panda to stay silent for a whole day, or how Gojo spends way too much money on candy. It was just light hearted talk, forgetting that we work such a dangerous job that could take everything away at any second. It always felt great to just be people.

After a half hour walk we were finally in Tokyo. We decided that the best course of action was to get a quick breakfast before heading to a mall for the day. Yuta and I agreed on a little bakery that had coffee as well and sat down to enjoy it. Again just idle chatter about some dumb meme I had seen or a stupid video Yuta saw. We finished breakfast and headed to the mall.

When we got to the mall we immediately went to Hot Topic, and got some MCR shirts, a few buttons, and a few Funko pops. I also got a new set of gauges for my ears before we headed to the next store. Yuta decided that we had to go into Box Lunch and nearly begged to get a squishmellow that looked like a piece of Onigiri for our friend with limited vocabulary. He also got a marvel mug and I picked out some My Hero Academia ramen bowls.

This went on for a few hours just us going from store to store buying random things, for ourselves, or the occasional thing that made us think of one of our friends. Around noon we decided to grab lunch in the food court before heading home because we already both had a few bags we had to carry back. Luckily one of the things I bought was a backpack that looked like Finn’s bag from Adventure Time and was able to put quite a bit of our stuff in it, shrinking the number of bags needed to carry everything. We both still had like three bags of stuff to carry but it wasn’t too bad.

Leaving the mall, I realized Yuta had been right about it raining. It wasn’t raining too bad, I’d say only sprinkling, nothing to worry too much about. I didn’t even pause before stepping out into the rain and walking away from the mall, I only stopped when I realized Yuta wasn’t next to me. I turned to see my boyfriend struggling with the bags he was carrying, trying to set them down for a moment while also trying not to drop the umbrella he had in his hand. Walking up I grabbed the bags from him before asking. “What are you doing? It’s not that bad, you don’t need that.” I pointed at the umbrella he was opening.

“Just because you were raised like an animal, doesn’t mean I have to get soaked in the rain.” Yuta responded by taking the bags back from my hand, after positioning the umbrella over his head. “Also I never said you had to use it. If you want to catch a cold in this weather, have fun but don’t come crying to me.”

I just rolled my eyes, returning my attention back to making the trek back to Jujutsu tech. “I won’t catch a cold, I’m just saying you look dumb with it.” I could hear him scoff as he caught up with me.

The walk back towards the school was fine until the rain went from a sprinkle to a downpour and Yuta made us step under the cover of a bus stop for a moment to make sure none of our stuff was getting wet. After making sure anything that could be damaged by the rain was covered and out of harm's way I moved back into the rain. “What are you doing? It's raining too hard for you to just be walking around in a t-shirt and no umbrella.” The voice of my worry wort said.

I just kept walking listening to the sound of him rushing to catch up with me. “I said before that I'm fine. I’ve walked further in worse rain.” I said as he was walking next to me. It was silent for a moment before he moved so the umbrella was covering the both of us. “I said I don’t use umbrellas. People who do are weird, it’s just water, it can't hurt me.” I responded as I stepped away from the offending object.

The special grade just rolled his eyes at me. “Look I know that you don’t want to use the umbrella but please. For me just this once. I don’t want you getting sick. ANd I know you said you won’t catch a cold, but I don’t like the idea of you risking it. Plus soaking wet clothes are not fun.” He said, trying to move closer to get me under the umbrella. “Plus I can see you shivering, no matter how used to the rain you are, admit that you’re just a little cold.

My shoulders slumped, he was right about me shivering and wet clothes sucking. “Fine, but this is the only time I will do this. And if you tell anyone I will inform everyone that you unironically listen to Taylor swift.” I responded, making up something random to make him agree, finally letting him close enough to shield me from the rain.

He froze for a moment before responding. “I do not listen to Taylor Swift, but fine I won’t tell anyone that you walked under an umbrella.” He paused before continuing, “You Americans are weird about really dumb things.” I just nodded in agreement and kept walking.

Today was great, even though I went against my people by using an umbrella, I had fun. It’s always nice to just talk and spend time with the one you love. I can’t wait for the next time we can do this together.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu yuta #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yuta okkotsu #yutta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta #jjk yuta #jjk yuuta #yuuta x reader

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appetite4savage · 2 years

Text

How I Met Your Mother (sequel to Singin’ in the Rain)

Request from anon: sequel to singin’ in the rain :) enjoy sweet domestic Steeb

Steve’s POV

“Daddy, tell us again how you met mummy.” My beautiful blonde haired little girl, Sabrina, calls out to me from her side of the twins’ bedroom.

“Yeah, Dad! Tell us!” I look down at my son Alex beside me who is agreeing with his sister.

“Alright, alright.”

“Yay!” They say in unison.

“I knew from the moment I saw her that we were meant to be.” I smile down at my lap.

“Aw!” Sabrina interjects.

“So, I first saw her in the record store. She was looking at the Led Zeppelin records, so naturally I fell in love immediately.”

Flashback

I walked into my favorite record store just to browse around. Normally there’s only one or two other people in here aside from me, but today there’s someone new.

A girl.

She’s in the Led Zeppelin section, flipping through. She’s stunning. The most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

I clear my throat and move to the other side of the aisle. I keep stealing glances at her.

She looks back at me for a moment and catches me looking at her. She smiles before she takes her records to the register to check out.

She smiles at me once more before exiting the store. Good job, Steve. Blew your shot.

“You didn’t talk to her?” asked Alex.

“Sadly, no. I should have.”

My wife appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“He definitely should have. Daddy was scared.” She laughs.

She comes and sits on the bed next to Sabrina.

“I thought his hair was the coolest I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you now?”

“I did. Not many other blokes with beautiful blonde hair like that around here.”

“Like mine!” Sabrina twirls one of her curls in her hand.

“Right, baby. Like yours. But anyway, where was I before mummy so rudely interrupted us?” I pretend to be thinking about it before continuing my story. The kids giggle and my wife shakes her head and laughs too.

“After that day, I was too scared to even come inside the store if she was in there. I waited on a bench across the street like a creep.” I shake my head. “Don’t ever do that, Alex.”

“He thought I didn’t notice him sitting there, but I always did.”

“Hey, who’s telling the story here?” I ask.

“But she’s right, I really had no idea she knew about me watching her. I finally got the courage to talk to her one day and it of course was the day of a massive thunderstorm. The rain was falling down left and right. Mummy didn’t even have an umbrella.” I raise an eyebrow and smirk at her.

“I won’t melt if I get wet. I don’t care about messing up my hair.” She teased.

“It takes a lot of work to have luxurious hair like this.” I flip my hair behind my shoulder dramatically and this makes the kids giggle.

“Shut up.”

“Mummy don’t be mean to daddy like that.” Sabrina says.

“I’m sorry. Go on.” She motions toward me.

“After we first interacted, we clicked immediately. She started to come to band practices and they all fell in love with mummy too.”

“Of course they did.”

“Once they found out how we met, it was all downhill from there. They still never let me live it down.”

“Uncle Joe even brought it up last week!” Alex said.

“He brings it up whenever he can. But yes, a couple years later we had two little brats, and the rest is history.” I smile and wrap my arm around Alex’s shoulder.

“And they all lived happily ever after!” Sabrina yelled as she jumped off the bed to hop in my lap, with Alex following.

My wife got off the bed and joined them, too, engulfing us all in a big bear hug. She kissed my forehead.

“That’s right. We lived happily ever after.” She smiled at me and pushed my hair out of my face.

Moral of the story, always take the shot when you have it.

#steve clark #def leppard #def leppard fan fiction #appetite4savage writes #def leppard one shot #steve clark imagine

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galadhir · 11 months

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The main problem with having a narrowboat adventure is that you can't document it as it's going on, because all electronic devices need to be kept in a safe (inaccessible) place so they won't accidentally be dropped in the canal/river.

(We've already lost one phone, one powerbank and one pair of prescription glasses to the water, as they fell out of pockets and even off my face. Hopefully that lesson is learned.)

The week before last, after navigating all the way down the river Nene and the Middle Levels from Milton Keynes to Outwell, we were stationary. We had been going around a bend in the river and the tiller had come off. Fortunately we managed to get ropes out and moor up where we were. We then waited for three days for an engineer to come out to us. He was like 'well, I can do you a quick fix which is good enough to get you to a boatyard, but it won't be good enough for permanent use.' So he did that and we thanked him.

Then we cancelled the painting dock that we had been heading for, that we would not now be able to reach in time. They said 'Oh, I'm sorry to hear your news, but you can get it fixed and then re-book, no problem.' Which was great.

So we turned the boat around (very blessed to have had this happen within winching distance of a winding hole,) and headed a day's journey back upstream to Fox's boatyard in March. They took us in, said, "Yeah, we can fix that tomorrow," and then did fix it by 9.30 am the very next day.

We thought 'hurray! We'll re-book the painting dock and we can get there by Monday next week, with one week of DH's pre-booked holiday still to go and not too much time lost.'

So we phoned the painting dock to re-book and they said, 'Oh yeah, we're not doing that any more. Sorry.'

By this time we'd been travelling 6 hours a day for a month to try to get to this damn dock (a place which was covered so you could paint in the rain, there was access to both sides of the boat at once, and electricity on tap for power tools.) We had been two days travel away from the plan going like clockwork, and now we had nothing, and had moved the boat all this way for nothing.

We loudly expressed this to anyone who was listening. Which happened to be the guys from Fox's boatyard who had been fixing the tiller. They said "We have a painting dock, you know. I mean it doesn't have cover, so you'll have to stop when it rains, and you have to turn the boat around to get to the other side, but..."

We said, "Taken! Thanks!"

And now we are moored up at Fox's boatyard for the month, and we've spent a full week getting the paint off the roof. It is so thick it had to be scraped off with an angle-grinder, (while working in 30C heat) and it really needs a final sanding before we start to put paint back on it.

But we're due thunderstorms today, so last night we put a coat of rust-proofing oil on it, which should be dry by now, and we'll pick up with sanding the gutters and then the sides tomorrow when the weather should allow it again.

Amazing progress, considering the pit of despair we were in on Friday, and massive recommendations for Fox's boatyard and marina in March, who continue to be immensely friendly and helpful.

#narrowboat #that canal life #except we're on rivers now #the unending saga of renovating Drake's Drum #except son has renamed it The Drake's Return #the drake is back #and stronger than ever

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purfectdizaster · 2 years

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It didn't take long before the color began to fade again. It was gradual, almost unnoticeable during the color stages but once Grey appears and i eventually notice im comfortable. Sometimes I feel darkness is just around the corner and by then, well then what? I always let grey creep right in. I can't help it. I thrive in grey.

I blame it on my surroundings. Honestly, its the perfect explanation and i'll tell you why.

Four Seasons, with Spring and Summer you can expect Thunderstorms, the sky becomes dark and cloudy after being clear and bright all day, the sun tries to shine through but eventually it disappears behind those clouds like a game of hide and seek. Following those grey dark skies comes rumbling and crashes. Then flashes of light in all different bursts and color. As though the thunder and lightning are playing tag with one another. Sometimes with or without rain drops. Then like clock work, the sun breaks through those clouds and sometimes color returns with a rainbow following suit, symolizing the finale of the storm.

Which brings me to my favorite two seasons of grey Fall and Winter. When in fall, hurricanes and then in winter, blizzards. We always get to know them both on a first name basis, no Surname. Someone usually introduce them to us with a new name, unheard of from previous storms alike. Their names tend to sound harmless, but every once in a while you hear a name that makes you question the impact or destruction it may cause or had caused. Certain names will be spoken of in reference for generations to come. "79" "Katrina" "Nemo" " or "Bob" for example. Names that made history. Typically we know there name before we meet in person. Atleast have some idea on what to expect. Those days or weeks of warning are always filled with such anticipation and excitement for me personally. Especially when they announce a possibility of an extended time frame it may stretch on for. Sometimes "stocking and preparation is needed as the storm could last days or even a weeks" possibly leaving members of the community without power or heat (especially in winter). My heart loves it: snowed in, state of emergency, driving bans, below freezing weather, stuck in the house, snuggled up with fluffy blankets, hot chocolate, a nostalgic movie or show, with people you love being snowed in with....pure bliss.

Sounds like Grey heaven to me

My only pause...what happens when grey doesn't return to color? How long should grey last? Am I doomed to the darkness if color doesn't return in a timely manner? Not that I'm worried,

Just a girl trying to prepare for the storms of each season.

#poem #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #seasons #storm #grey #new england #life #relationship #past #present #spilled poetry #heartbreak

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trinity-mia · 3 months

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a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

0.2 fruit ladies of death

warnings : mention of an abusive home life ( fuck gabe fr )

word count : 3.2k

0.2 Some Old Ladies Who Knit Socks Predict My Death

Throughout the last few weeks of school, I hardly even thought of Mrs. Dodds. I was way too busy stressing over a new photoshoot for the September cover of Vogue, completing the final few scenes needed for the upcoming season of The Walking Dead that would be released early the next year, and finishing off my final few assignments to make sure I maintained my 4.0 to keep my mind occupied with the thought of something that I very well could've convinced myself I dreamt up.

She visited me in my sleep every night, though. I didn't have much time during my last days to think about her a lot, so I shoved it to the back of my mind, throwing myself into projects to keep myself distracted. But there she came, every night like clockwork— whether I was in bed in my dorm room or in another random hotel room— making my heart thunder in my chest and sending a chill up my spine.

I might've been able to forget about it. I might've even been able to convince myself it had never happened, if I really tried— I'd done something similar before, at any rate. The only problem was Grover. He kept giving me worried looks and seemed to be on edge every time he was around me. Every time I'd ask him what was wrong, he'd tell me nothing and that he was fine. I would've believed him, too. The only problem with that is: Grover's an awful liar and couldn't fool me even if his life depended on it.

Mrs. Kerr, who had supposedly been our calc teacher since Christmas, was a perky blonde woman and I had never seen her in my entire life, but she was a good teacher, so I went with it.

The shitty weather continued; there were very few days it didn't rain. A thunderstorm ended up blowing out the windows of a few of my friends' dorms. Vivian, my senior roommate and one of the few non-fake people in this school, and I had gotten lucky. She was bubbly and on the cheer team with me, and I'd known her a few years before we would separate on graduation day. She had a boyfriend, Michah Newsome if I remembered correctly, who was already in college at LSU and she'd be joining him there, after the school year ended.

A few days after the thunderstorm, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy. Once we'd finished all of the units needed, our social studies teacher made us study the irregular amount of small planes that'd taken a dive into the Atlantic in the past few months.

My own issues weren't getting any better— I felt more irritable than I'd ever been and even the tiniest of inconveniences had me snapping at the nearest person. Danny had gotten particularly aggravated with me and after one of our worse arguments, had me storming off of the set of The Avengers and almost too pissed off to go to Columbia Cheer tryouts the next day.

Despite that, I couldn't wait for the year to be over so I'd get to see my mother again. I hadn't seen her since Christmas and that in and of itself was starting to take a toll on me. She calmed me down most of the time and whenever I had a problem I knew I could go to her about it, but without her near I couldn't very well do that. At the very least, I knew when I went to college I'd get to stay with her and wouldn't have classes all day, every day.

Then again, that did mean I was going to have to be the bartender and the never-ending money supplier for my dickhead of a stepfather and his poker games, but I was willing to sacrifice that.

I would miss Vivian and Grover, who'd been the best friends I'd met away from work. And I'd miss Mr. Brunner and his crazy-but-awesome way of teaching. I'd miss the view my dorm had and the smell of pine that always seemed to be in the air.

Still not gonna stay. I'd rather hold up the sky.

My Vogue shoot went well and the night before my Greek and Roman final, Vivian and I were blasting the Mean Girls soundtrack as loud as we could without getting in trouble with the teachers.

"Ya know, we should probably be studying right now, don't you think?" Vivian asked me after 'Someone Gets Hurt' finished.

"I thought the reason we were listening to Mean Girls was because we didn't want to study," I replied, turning off my speaker. "But you're right. We should probably study, at least a little."

I flopped down on my bed and stretched out across the whole thing in order to grab my backpack.

"Ugh, I think I left my book in Brunner's class. Fuck, I'll be right back," I groaned and forced myself up while Vivian nodded as a reply. I stifled a yawn and made sure I had my key fob before heading in the direction of Mr. Brunner's classroom.

Now this next part, please don't attack me for. I dare you to walk away when you hear one of your best friends talking with an adult about you. I don't normally eavesdrop, but I couldn't help myself.

"I'm worried about Allie, sir," I heard Grover's voice once I was three steps away from the door handle. I froze and debated staying or running. I stayed. "She acts like she saw nothing. It's like she never even killed that Kindly One! And a Kindly One! In the school, right under our noses! She seems too calm for something like this."

"We might make things worse if we rush her. She's sixteen, much older than those her age would make it, an incredible feat, but it makes it more difficult—especially with her. She's got a career of her own, one that is already going to be difficult to hide with everything. She's established in the world. She's going to college next year instead of continuing high school. She'll be graduating on Friday after her final tomorrow and that only means she'll be much less understanding of it all," Mr. Brunner replied.

"But the summer solstice deadline! What if we don't have time?"

"She may not even be involved. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she can."

"But sir, you've seen—!"

"Grover, you haven't failed. She'll be fine, especially since she's made it this far. I worry about her, too, but she will be fine for a few more days. All we must worry about is keeping her alive until next fall—"

My key fob fell from my hand before I could stop it. It shouldn't have made that loud of a noise, but with it being dead silent, it sounded like a gun being fired. My blood pulsed in my ears and I picked the key up and sprinted around the corner of the hall and into a random dark classroom before I could get caught. At that moment, the only thing I could think was about how lucky it was that I forgot to slip some tennis shoes on. My socks had muffled my sprinting.

The sound of horse hooves hitting the ground entered the dead silent hallway and I held my breath. The sound stopped near the door of the classroom was in and I was almost certain I'd gotten caught, but then the sound echoed again, this time moving back in the way it came.

"Nothing," Mr. Brunner muttered somewhere along the hallway. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Neither have mine, but I could've sworn..." Grover said.

"Get back to your dorm. You still have to take your final tomorrow, so you should get a good night's sleep."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

I was alone again. I waited a few extra minutes just to make sure I wasn't going to get caught before slowly leaving the classroom. I made sure not to make a noise as I closed the door and then booked it down the hallway back to my dorm.

Once I got there I took a moment for myself before I walked in. Vivian looked up at me as I entered.

"Hey, where's your book?" she asked.

"Not sure. It wasn't in Brunner's room, so I probably just left it somewhere," I lied. "Oh well. I think I'm gonna go ahead and go to bed, though. I'll be fine without studying. Plus, I graduate in two days, I want that to get here as quickly as possible," I finished, making sure to keep my voice even in order to make the lie believable. Vivi had always had a difficult time determining whether or not I was lying most of the time, anyway.

"Okay," she replied, taking my words at face value. "'Night."

"'Night, Viv."

***

The next morning my Greek and Roman final went well enough and the next day, graduation went by even faster, though when our names were being called up for our diplomas it felt like I'd be there for another year.

Yancy Academy's graduations didn't allow parents or family to come and watch the ceremony; maybe they knew most of the kids here had rich, busy parents and didn't want a large number of kids to have no one there. It was stupid, in my opinion, but whatever. Our audience was the rest of the school and they filmed the ceremony, just so the parents who cared could have something.

Once the ceremony was over, I went to a few of the people I actually talked to, just to say goodbye to them. Most asked me what I was going to do over the summer and I gave a generic response.

"Uh, probably fly a couple of places. I think I might be going to Bora Bora for a shoot. And I might have to go to California, too. Who knows, really?" Thankfully they'd taken that answer and left me alone.

Grover and Vivian caught me as I was walking away from my Italian teacher, Mrs. R.

"Allie! I'm shocked you made it through this whole year. You weren't technically even a senior, but you still had senioritis," Vivian joked.

I gave her a sad smile. "I'm gonna miss you, Viv," I said and we both shared a hug before she left, "Want me to walk you to the bus stop, G? I have my Harley and my clothes are already at my mom's apartment, so I can't get on there with you. You're going into Manhattan, right?"

"Yeah," Grover confirmed. "Uh... do you mind driving behind my bus? You can take me around Central Park since I've never been."

"I keep forgetting you told me you aren't from New York," I frowned. "I'll stay behind as long as I can."

He didn't like that answer (I knew from his frown) but nodded anyway. As he waited, I ran and grabbed my bike. I had taken my suitcase to my apartment yesterday, so I didn't have to deal with it on graduation day. I only had my Louis Vitton purse keeping an extra change of clothes with me.

My bike rumbled loudly, but it was almost completely drowned out with all the noise coming from New York's traffic. The bus got there soon after I did, and I was relieved to finally get going. At the very least, I'd never have to step foot in another high school (barring any time I'd have to play a high school role, which I blatantly ignored).

I saw Grover sit in the very back of the bus and he smiled at me through the unusually large windows that the bus had. I smiled back and made sure my helmet was completely on before following the bus back to my home city.

I kept noticing Grover would both look down the isles of the bus and then look back at me nervously. I tried not to think anything of it, but a bad feeling settled in my stomach and I was momentarily reminded of Mrs. Dodds.

Suddenly, right before we got to the highway, a loud grinding noise and back smoke came from the Grayhound they were on and the driver immediately pulled over to the side. I stopped right behind it.

Nothing happened for a few seconds and I had pulled my helmet off and walked over to the door. I saw the driver fiddle with something and then turned to announce something to the passengers. They all had gotten up, so I assumed it was something about them needing to get off.

Grover was the last one off and he walked straight over to me. I led him away from the crowd and closer to where my bike was. After a few seconds of silence and a whole lot of nervous glances thrown towards the woods on our right, I got fed up.

"Looking for kindly ones?" I asked him. He practically jumped out of his skin.

"Wha- what do you mean?" Grover managed to stutter out.

I rolled my eyes but confessed to overhearing him and Mr. Brunner talking about me the night before.

"How much did you hear?" he said, and his eye twitched.

I shrugged noncommittally. "Oh... not much. What's the summer solstice deadline?"

Another eye twitch, this one accompanied by a wince. "It's uh... I was just worried about you... and—"

"Grover."

"I just thought you'd been super stressed lately—"

"Grover! You're a really, really bad liar," I said, finally getting him to listen to me.

His ears turned pink. He searched his pockets for a moment before pulling out a card from the front pocket of his flannel. It was a card, written in a cursive script and it took a moment, but I figured out what it said.

Grover Underwood Keeper Half-Blood Hill Long Island, New York (800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it out loud!" he yelled, drawing some attention and causing people to whisper as if just now realizing I was there.

I saw a little girl, probably around nine, tug on the sleeve of her mother's shirt and not-so-discreetly whisper, "that's Allie Jackson!"

I grimaced and turned my attention back to Grover. "It's my, uh... summer address," he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Uh... okay? Why would I need this?"

He blushed. "Look Allie... I've kinda been protecting you this whole school year..." Grover said, and though I could tell he wasn't lying, it didn't make sense. No one wanted to cross me, so I'd stuck up for him this whole school year. How had he been protecting me?

"What exactly have you been protecting me from?" I chose the most logical question. At least I'd know why instead of how. I looked around and I felt like I found my answer before he could tell me.

It was a normal fruit stand on the other side of the road, with three old ladies sitting on the other side of it. They were all knitting something, but whoever it was for had to be much larger than your average person. Grover followed my gaze and gasped.

The fruit actually looked really good, and I was tempted to go over and buy some, but something stopped me from doing so. I was fixated and couldn't really bring myself to move. Grover latched his hand on my arm, his nails digging into my skin.

The three ladies were knitting socks, but they were the size of sweaters, so either they messed up, or I was missing a very important puzzle piece in this 10,000 piece puzzle.

They stared right back at me.

I shifted my gaze and went to make a joke to Grover, but he looked terrified. There was no color in his face, which was weird because Grover was naturally tan.

His nose twitched. "Allie. Come on. Get on the bus now," he said and almost didn't leave me any time to argue.

"Uh, I'll take a hard pass on that one, G."

"They aren't looking at you, are they?" Grover whispered.

"Yeah, they are. Funny, huh? Think they know me?"

"Please don't joke about this, Allie. Come on."

"I'm not going in there!" I opposed. "It's like a thousand degrees. I'd rather not deal with my hair poofing into a tangled, poofy mess!"

I noticed the old lady in the middle had picked up a pair of solid gold scissors. The yarn had shifted, and the light now showed me that the yarn was two different colors; a neutral gray— not too light and not too dark— and a scarlet red, one that was so red it was almost brown. They were twisted together, in a weird, complex way, kind of reminding me of a complicated path in a forest or something.

Grover's breath hitched and he whispered out another 'come on,' and ran to the bus. I found myself fixated again. I was supposed to see this. I think.

They were still watching me. I kept my eyes on the middle one, so I didn't miss a second of her cutting the two pieces of string. I could've sworn I heard the snip across all of the loud traffic. The other two balled up the rest of the string and the middle one held the cut pieces in the air. They weren't connected on one end and the gray piece seemed to be much shorter than the red.

What the hell? I only looked away once Grover pried one of the bus's back doors open. The bus roared back to life at the same time. Feeling shiverish, like I'd just gotten the flu, I pulled my helmet on my head and swung my leg back over the bike.

"What are you not telling me," I demanded once Grover opened the back window and stuck his head out of it.

"What did you see?" He asked.

"The middle one took out her scissors and snipped both pieces of string. What are you not telling me?"

But the bus was starting and would be leaving soon, so I asked a better question.

"Does this mean someone's going to die?" I asked, but he couldn't answer as the bus started going again and I had no choice but to follow behind.

"Stay at the bus stop. Don't leave once the bus stops. Please," Grover pleaded. He started whispering to himself and then closed the back window.

The last look he gave me was one that looked like he was picking out the flowers I'd like best on my grave. They'd be roses and sunflowers.

* * *

previous | next

SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS

#asaeato #a story as endless as the ocean #alliejackson #lukecastellan #lullie #trinitymia #female percy jackson

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

to all the pilots i've loved before {poe dameron} - 3/4

part three: better half of a whole

summary: you’re in love with poe dameron. it’s both the most complicated and most simple thing in the galaxy - and it’s all shoved into a shoe-box under your bed, in the form of a thousand love letters. here’s to hoping he never finds them. (series masterlist)

warnings: language, mentions of injury

i'm so sorry this took me so long to write!! i got writer's block and then i was horribly busy with a thousand others things and sadly, i cannot prioritise fan fiction over real life duties. and i would know, because i've tried

enjoy!!

- jazz

Poe didn't sleep for...well, it was probably days. Felt like years.

Dear trouble,

Every time he closed his eyes, your face would flash into his mind. The sound of your laugh echoing amongst the cries of war; the feel of your soft hands tracing the remains of battle scars and wounds. What if the hug you gave him before you left was the last? What if your slightly pained laughter at the shitty joke he'd made in the jungle the night before was all he had left? He cherished every memory he had of you but he loved you more.

I know you hate when I call you that, but it feels pretty accurate - because you do cause trouble, normally with me but more recently FOR me. Anyways, I never considered myself to be much of a letter writer, but then I saw yours and...fuck.

Love. What a funny fucking word, right? Said so easily, but meant so much. Something that felt so hard to find, but even more difficult to hold onto. His parents had found it and they'd kept it for so long, and he'd always wanted the same - nothing less, nothing more. Just the kind of unwavering, undying love that can survive a war and be happy with the domesticity that followed. The only difference between Poe and his parents was that they'd been fearless with every aspect of their lives, not withholding their ability to express feelings. Perhaps that's where he fell short. Shara had taught him a lot of things but she'd been lost before he taught her how to pull his head out his ass and just...say things how they were.

What am I even supposed to say? I love you too would be a start, because I obviously I do. I've always wanted to say it but I never wanted to risk what we had in case you secretly hated me, and now I'm going to live out the rest of my days regretting it.

The first that Poe managed to finally get some rest was four days after Leia had broken the news of your disappearance. He'd fallen asleep in his quarters, curled up into Finn's side and clutching a t-shirt of his that he'd left in your room - you'd borrowed it a few months ago, and it still smelt of you. It was a mixture of your everyday body fragrance and a little of engine oil. BB-8 was snoozing quietly in the corner and for the first time in days, Poe's jaw and shoulders weren't tense and clenched.

The little robot did stir, however, when he got a comms system message from Leia. He was awake immediately, cruising across the room and crashing straight into the nearest human he could find - and it was at that point that Finn regretted leaving his leg dangling off the side of the bed. He jumped awake, brown eyes finding the droid peering up at him.

You're not just my best friend. You're my partner in crime, my soulmate and you know that twin flame bullshit that Rey always go on about? You're probably that too because we're both flaming hot. You're the better half of this whole. You and me.

"Poe is sleeping, buddy," he quietly said.

"There's a message from the general," BB-8 beeped back.

Poe suddenly woke up at that - it could have been any message, and certainly not one about you, but something in his gut told him otherwise. If it hadn't have been, Leia would have left it til morning, or not even bothered him at all in his current state.

"What?" the pilot asked. "What is it?"

"They're back, in the med-"

Poe didn't give him a chance to say anything else, because he was already up and out the door - jacket unzipped, boots half unlaced, hair sticking up in a thousand different directions.

And even though he hadn't slept for days, he was running for his dear fucking life. The medical bay was right on the other side of the base and he didn't care. You were there - in what state, he didn't know - and that was all that mattered. He was just wanted to be with you, beside you, and he never planned on leaving.

If I see you again, I'm not gonna hide it anymore. I love you and you deserve to know that. I'm gonna give you the fucking world, I promise.

Poe skidded around the corner, stopping his tracks when he saw you across the room. You looked tired - far past it, in fact - and his entire body tensed when he saw the bruises on your arm and up your neck. Still, he took comfort in the fact that he knew you put up a good fight. You'd sparred together enough times and given him enough bruises to last a life time.

There was a slight oof as someone crashed into the back of Poe (Finn's subtle way of announcing his arrival). He placed a hand on his shoulder, shoving him forward slightly. It was clear that Poe was in a state of shock - at your loss, at your declaration, and even more at your return - because the last few days had changed everything.

Everything he'd ever wanted was about to come to fruition. No pressure.

"Go to them," Finn murmured.

With that, Poe took a few steps forward - you met him half away across the room, chests colliding with enough force to knock down an ATAT. He wound his arms you, pulling you towards him with one hand tangled in your hair and the other holding your back. He clung to you, tears in his eyes and entire body shaking, almost as though he was using the feeling of you to act as a reminder that this wasn't a dream. You were here. You were back. Perhaps a little worst for wear, but alive and standing all the same.

I don't know how I'll say it. Am I meant to just blurt it out? I've never said it to anyone before, so...what the fuck am I meant to do? Normally, I'd come to you for advice on this sort of this but that feels a bit counter intuitive.

"Hey, Poe," you gently murmured.

"Hey, trouble," he let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from the hug to clutch your face in his hands. "You're alive. You're here-"

"- yeah, I'm here," you grinned.

"What happened?" he pushed. "If I ever find those First Order bastards, I swear it's on site."

"They were trying to shoot us out the sky, so we had to lay low on a random moon for a few days, but the residents of said moon were not very friendly and - you know what? It doesn't matter," you leant into his touch, relishing the feeling of his hands against your skin. "I'm here and that's what's important."

"I was so scared," Poe admitted. "And they had me search your room for back up plans and-"

You froze.

"You...you searched my room?" you stuttered. "What did you find?"

The main thing is, I AM gonna tell you. I promise. Just...please come back.

Love, Poe

Poe's eyes widened - maybe now wasn't the best time to break the news. You were bleeding from your head and hadn't slept for days. To spring it on you before you were even cleaned up felt a bit unfair. His worst fears had been avoided, so he didn't mind waiting just a little longer.

"Nothing," he forced a smile. "C'mon, I'll clean you up."

Taking your hand in his, Poe lead you towards one of the beds. He was hardly a medical expert, but he'd been through enough cuts and scrapes to have a basic understanding of stitches. And luckily, your injuries didn't look too bad. It was more just the fact you had them in the first place that hurt him.

What if he'd gone on the mission with you? Or convinced you to stay? Fuck, he would have gone in your place if he knew what was going to happen. The last few days had been the worst of his life and he almost felt responsible for what had happened to you. Your pain was his pain, and he felt it in every fibre of his being.

But, of all things, at least he knew what love was now - and if you had never have gone MIA, he never would have gone looking in your room, and he never would have found those letters. It felt like a bit of a dick move to call them a blessing in disguise but his mother had always taught him the value of looking for silver linings. The last week had been one giant thunderstorm. There had been no breaks in the rain, or sun peaking through the clouds. It had just been darkness and thunder, but it was all beginning to clear now.

What was it that Shara had said when Poe was a kid? Things have a funny way of working out. This was all a testament to that, and also to the fact that she always seemed to be right.

Poe's hands moved gently as he stitched up the cut on your forehead. They were still steady as they moved, brown eyes occasionally moving down to meet yours. He always smiled when they did.

"There we go," he said. "That shouldn't scar, but if it does, it would make you look like a bad-ass, so..."

You chuckled slightly. "Thanks, Dameron."

"You don't have to thank me," he quietly murmured, running a thumb over your cheek. "I'm just glad you're back."

"Right," you grinned. "What did you do whilst I was gone?"

Cried. Read those letters. Cried some more. Wrote a letter myself, then cried on that too.

"I just...I caught up some on some reading," he forced a smile. "C'mon, let's go to my quarters. I have some bactaspray there for those bruises."

Poe took your hand in his again and helped you up off of the bed - you seemed okay to walk, but he didn't let go. He needed to feel you, to know that you were there. He was worried you might float away into the galaxy and disappear all over again if he didn't cling onto you.

And for you, the feeling of his warm hands against yours was a welcome relief after a long few days. You were trying to push the pain and the incoming nightmares to the back of your head, and it was much easier when Poe was beside you. You already knew that he was going to make you sleep beside him that night. Being on the same wavelength so often was a great feeling.

Poe hadn't thought about tidying his room - why would he? He'd been so preoccupied with you, and finding you, that he'd barely considered the idea. Besides, it wasn't like you were going to care about the shoes by his door, or the letters on his desk, or the unfolded laund-

- fuck.

The letters.

Your box of letters, which was sat on his desk, which was right by the door.

By the time he'd even registered that they were there, you were already half way into the room. In a somewhat half-arsed attempt to shove them back in the box and toss them to the side, Poe dove forward and knocked them into an open draw, slamming it shut.

When he turned around and saw your wide eyes, it was clear he was a little too late. You'd already seen them.

taglist: tags: @neverlandlibrarian @asphyzzz @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ubri812 @taina-eny @dessinemoiunehistoire @fangirl-316 @princessxkenobi @brandyllyn

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron angst #poe x you #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron fan fiction #star wars x reader #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars fluff #star wars angst #star wars fanfiction #star wars reader inserts

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

You're My Home Too | Loki Laufeyson

Hey lovelies happy Saturday! I hope you all have had a lovely day! Here is the first Loki "drabble" of the event, please do enjoy and make sure to take care of yourselves today!

Appetizers (Tags): Angst, Fluff

Entres (Pairing): Loki x F!Reader (third person)

Sides (Prompts): 6: “You’re all I have.” “You’re all I have too, you know?”

Notes: None, Requested by Anon

Word Count: 2.2k

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

She watches as the black haired god tilts his head, eyes locked on his brother. It looks like he’s nodding along, agreeing to something Thor has said, but she can see it— the way his pupils dart across the blonde’s face, flitting over his shoulder before returning, latching on a different spot. It’s unnerving to watch him be so docile. So passive— not at all like the usual, fiery tempered, grinning god of mischief. She’s never seen him look so blank. Something’s definitely wrong.

She has a feeling she knows what it is, too. If she’s right then it’s the same reason she laid awake all night, curled on her side of Loki’s bed, listening to the sound of his steady breathing until the sun came up. She can practically hear the conversation— Thor’s been itching to go home for weeks now. Somehow they’ve always managed to get held up each time— saving the world and what not. Now, though, there’s nothing keeping them. No androids or aliens or wizards. Just her— the best friend— and that’s not going to cut it.

Loki’s eyes flick to hers, blue irises somehow vibrant even from across the room, and she forces the corners of her lips to turn up, an attempt at flaking off the frown that she’s sure has been plastered on her face all morning. If his frown is anything to go by, however, then she would say that it doesn’t work out. Oh well— she didn’t really expect it would.

He can sense lies and even if he couldn’t he would still be able to read her like a book. Half the time it feels like he’s more in her head then she is, always figuring out what she wants before she can think it let alone say it aloud. Usually that’s followed by him dropping whatever he’s doing to get it for her. Unless, of course, it’s a hug— then he’s dropping whatever he’s doing and pulling her into his arms.

Who’s going to hug her if he’s a galaxy away?

Is it even a galaxy? Surely it’s more. A dimension away. Her stomach tosses, the sting in her chest mixing with a wave of the nausea she’s been fighting all morning. A combination of not eating— not being hungry enough to eat— and sadness. No not sadness— grief. Sadness feels easier. It’s waving your best friend off to college— not to another fucking world. This isn’t sadness— this is losing everything she has come to need for an entire year. Warmth and protection and his sea-salt skin and elegant voice. Who else is going to speak so gently to her when he’s gone?

“Dove—” she blinks and he’s suddenly there, kneeling on the floor in front of the couch where she's been sitting for the past hour, legs curled under her and all the way numb— “what’s wrong?”

His dark brows crease together, his hand snaking from his side and reaching for hers. She offers him another pathetic half-smile, tangling her fingers with his long ones and shaking her head slightly. “Nothing, Loki. How’d your talk go?”

She doesn’t miss the way he winces. He tries to hide it, replicating her tilted lips with his own, but, like her, his eyes don’t follow suit. Instead they flash with something that looks too much like dread for her to keep her act up. When her mouth creases into a frown, so does his. It’s all she needs to know— he really is leaving her.

“My brother misses home.” The god reaches out his other hand and— like everything they seem to do— she copies him, meeting him halfway and lacing those fingers together as well. He runs his thumb over hers, his blue eyes intense— worried. “There are a few things we have to sort out. They’re getting impatient.”

They’re. That could mean so many things. It could mean his people— the asgardians. It could mean his family— it definitely means Thor, the god who she can hear pacing from the kitchen. Her eyes pool over the features of the man in front of her, landing on the circles under his eyes. Does it mean him too? Has she been keeping him from going home? The thought makes her throat sting— of course she has. She’s been so stupid, clinging to a literal god. Of course he would have to go home at some point. She was only fooling herself thinking he would stay with her. What’s upstate New York when you have a celestial castle or whatever the hell it is he has?

“Dove?”

She blinks again, zoning back into his even more concerned stare— shit.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, squeezing his hands if only to ground herself against slipping away again. “That sounds important. Your, uh, your kingdom needs you.”

I need you too, though.

It feels like her heart is lodged in her throat and that she’s speaking around it. When she swallows it doesn’t go away— if anything it grows, tears stinging at her eyes, threatening to fall. She hates how selfish she feels. He doesn’t belong to her— he doesn’t belong with her— and she should feel lucky to have called him her friend for this long. Still she can’t help but wonder what her days will look like without him. Empty. Boring. Terrifying. She has friends here but it isn’t the same. The connection isn’t the same— the warmth and smiles and laughter aren’t the same.

She isn’t just losing her best friend, she’s losing her home.

And she breaks.

And he notices.

God, he always notices.

She supposes with the tears now streaming down her face, though, that she can’t exactly blame him for that one. It’s a little noticeable. What she will blame him for is how he releases her hands, instead rising to his full height and settling on the couch, angling his lithe body towards her and wrapping his arms around her stomach. He waits— one beat, two beats— for her to turn as well, pushing up on her knees and throwing her arms around his shoulders. She holds him tight— tighter than she can confidently say she has ever held him before. She has to— it’ll very likely be the last chance she gets. She has to memorize it— him.

“I’m sorry,” she laughs bitterly. It’s more of a sob— the kind that catches in her throat, getting stuck between silent and booming. “I’m being silly.”

Loki shakes his head— she can’t see it but she can feel his jaw brushing her hair, his hands pushing her closer to his chest. She digs her fingers into his jumper, scrunching the green wool like somehow it’ll make this all okay. His hand runs up her back, curling it around the nape of her neck, hand cool and soft.

“No you aren’t.” He murmurs, face still pressed against her hair, and she fights back more tears— he’s too gentle with her.

She doesn’t say anything right away, she just sinks against him, biting her lip and forcing herself to just be in the moment. He smells like rain today. It’s always different— always changing— but today he smells like the summer pavement before a three day thunderstorm hits and it feels fitting.

After a few moments she finally pulls away, tugging against his hold and running the heel of her hand under her eyes. He doesn’t give her much leave, only a few inches to be able to look up at him, blinking away the blurriness of her glassy eyes and sniffling. His lips are pressed together, his head tilted again. Unlike with his brother, though, his eyes never stray from hers. As always, it makes her breath catch in her throat, her heart racing in the way only he can seem to do.

She finally brings herself to ask the hard question— the one that’s been hanging around them for weeks. “When are you leaving?”

His fingers on her spine tense— that can’t mean anything good.

“Today, dove.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t know what else to say— that and if she says anything more she’s afraid she might start sobbing again. Sobbing or just stop breathing altogether. Today? She couldn’t have had one more night with him? You’ve already had ‘one more night’ for four weeks, the little voice in her head reminds her. It’s time to let him go. She slips her hands around his arms— easier said than done. She knows that once he leaves her life will change— and it might never go back to normal.

Loki’s eyes flash, the blue darkening, a crease forming between his brows. He opens his mouth but no words come out and soon he’s pressing his lips together again, the dejection in his eyes and aura tangible. She has to say something— she can’t leave it on this note. She just has no idea what to say. No idea how to say goodbye.

So she doesn’t.

“You should probably start packing then, yeah?” She pushes her lips into the tortured smile again, muttering the words.

She’s sure he would have forced himself to laugh—

“I want you to come with me.”

— were it not for him speaking at the same time.

Her heart stops when his words flit past her eardrums. “What?”

She must be dreaming— there’s no way he just said what she thinks he said. It has to be her imagination playing a cruel trick on her. Trying to protect her from the pain until the last second. But no, that’s not right, now when his cool hands move from her back to her cheeks, his thumbs running over her cheekbones and drawing her back to him. He leans down, pressing his forehead against hers and she gasps— she can’t help it. His skin is so soft that her eyes flutter close.

“I said I want you to come home with me, dove.” His nose brushes against hers, his words entirely soft.

She’s speechless— completely and utterly floored. “To Asgard?”

He chuckles, minty breath fanning her lips. “Yes, to Asgard.”

She pulls back, head so fuzzy she almost topples over from the motion, hands curling tighter to keep from falling. He really wants her to go home with him? Just like that her heart starts beating again, kicking starting her pulse which begins hammering as the notion of staying with him starts to become clear. He’s not leaving?

“But—” she stammers, blinking rapidly as she tries to form a coherent thought— “why me?”

For a moment he just looks at her, his brows knitting together once more, his eyes filling with something she can’t decipher. He kind of looks confused. Only she could confuse a god. She almost slaps herself, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Why the heck would you ask him that you idiot? Now he’s not gonna’ want to take you with—

“Because you’re all I have.”

He says it so nonchalantly— like it’s a fact and not a confession that makes her very essence roar. She supposes that to him it is just a fact. That when you’re all powerful speaking your mind is normal. It is just a fact and she is just a girl and he is just a god. Fact, fact, facts. Her head spins. This— he— cannot be real.

“I—” That’s as far as she gets before her sentence drops, mouth gaping but empty.

Thankfully he picks it up, continuing his unconcerned profession.

“It’s not home if you’re not with me, my little midgardian. Not anymore.” He shrugs and she almost chokes— how is he saying this so calmly when she feels like she’s going to combust? “I really think you’d like it, actually. It’s very pretty— lots of gardens. Oh, and the library! You would enjoy the library.” He tilts his head, his eyes fading out slightly as he thinks about his home. “I’m sure there will be a ball of some sort when we arrive home. I know, I know— you don’t like big events but—”

This time she’s the one who places her hands on his cheeks, shaking her head, letting the first euphoric giggle out. “Of course I’ll go, Loki.”

A grin spreads across his lips, his eyes widening like he just won the lottery as he leans forward, connecting them once again. It makes her heart jump in her chest. What did he think she was going to say? No? She giggles when his lips press against her cheek, her nose scrunching. He must notice because his mouth curves even more against her skin. Soon his lips aren’t just on her cheek but on her forehead and chin and nose as well.

“Even if we have to go to a ball?” He teases, his voice lighter than she’s heard it in weeks.

“Even then.” She confirms, fingers gliding into his hair and tangling them in the silky strands. She takes a deep breath, nerves thrumming as she adds softly. “You’re all I have too, you know? You’re my home too.”

Loki hums happily against her skin, taking her own confession the same way he had made his own— easily. It’s the best outcome she could have hoped for. She can’t wipe the wide smile from her lips as he wraps his arms properly around her once more. It’s not long before his lips find her ear, soft words echoing against her skin.

“You should probably start packing then, yeah?”

#Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki x reader #Loki x y/n #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Loki Laufeyson x y/n #Loki fic #Loki imagine #Loki Laufeyson fic #Loki Laufeyson imagine #Loki fluff #mcu #mcu fic #marvel cinematic universe #Dinner at Dizzy's

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Between Old Friends and New Lovers

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Vampire Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: blood, biting, mind control, but it’s all very minor.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A/N: This is my first time making a header of sorts for my fics! I quite liked how this one turned out.

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

The manor was always cold. Not that you minded much, but sometimes the ever-present chill in the air drove away your guests. Again, you didn’t mind all too much. Guests were never your forte. But he, well. He was always different.

“Your Grace?” Your lady in waiting, Camille, came into your study, bowing her head down. “You have a visitor.”

“Is it his visiting day already?” You asked, checking your date book.

Camille nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. It is.”

You smiled, putting down your pen and moving from out behind your desk. “Thank you kindly Camille. Send him to the sitting room and inform him I shall be down momentarily.”

Camille left, and you hummed to yourself, straightening out your papers and setting your pen back down next to its respective inkwell. As you worked, you reminisced on the day you had met your favorite human being.

Two years prior

You sighed, listening to the rain slam against the windows as you worked on a few neglected pieces of paperwork. It was mostly finances, but it all had to be done, and so you were doing it. Tonight was supposed to be horribly rainy, with scattered thunderstorms and no sign of stopping until the sun rose. You didn’t mind. It made hunting harder, but you didn’t need to hunt for a while.

A sharp bolt of lightning lit up your study, and you finally shut your accounting book, deciding your work could wait until after the storm passed. You stood, pushing your chair back in. Office work was annoying at best. You’d much rather see people in person, share a cup of tea, and continue to build your reputation as the mysterious gothic Duke/Duchess who lived almost entirely alone. But paperwork, it seemed, was easier to send, and it meant most people could avoid your often intimidating presence.

“Camille!” You called through the manor, shutting and locking the study. “Camille?” Usually your lady in waiting was somewhere nearby, working on her own work within earshot. But now, you had to tune your hearing up past what was normal to hear Camille’s pattering heartbeat and nervous breaths. Why was Camille nervous? She’d been serving the manor for three years, she’d stopped being nervous in the old building last year.

“Camille!” You shouted, moving towards the sitting room she was inhabiting, worried for her safety. She should’ve alerted you immediately to a guest, and you were starting to grow concerned. Her heart rate spiked, only for a moment, and you heard her rushing footsteps coming towards you.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Camille asked, rounding the corner and looking up at you through her eyelashes. “You called?”

You nodded, dialing back your hearing so Camille’s close voice didn’t overwhelm you. “Have we got a visitor?”

Camille bowed her head, nodding slightly. “I was just setting him up in the sitting room,” she said quickly. “I was about to come get you as soon as he was settled.”

Smiling at the reassurance, you began to walk to the sitting room, where Camille had just come from. “Walk with me,” you said, and Camille hurried after you. “Is the man lost?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Camille said, walking a pace behind you. “He said his car broke down and he saw the manor. He asked for shelter from the storm.”

“How is he?” You asked, already envisioning the man settled in your sitting room. “Healthy?”

Camille nodded, her face going pale. “Yes, Your Grace,” she responded. “He’s young and seemingly in good health.”

The sitting room doors came into sight, and you smiled, turning to Camille. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Camille responded, glancing at the ornate silver-backed mirror in the hall. Only she showed up, standing beside the silhouette of your clothes. You straightened your collar, running your fingers over the two neat lines of shining buttons before adjusting your gloves and pushing the sitting room door open.

Immediately, you noticed the smell. Deep and foreign, you had to dial your senses back further than you normally would to stand it. Leather and cologne and a deep internal lust mixed with the smell of the city. He was from New York City, you could practically taste it on him. He looked odd, but no odder than you, decked in all black and leather, every bit of metal on him glimmering in the low lamplight as he moved. You took a breath, but no silver. You were safe.

Looking the man up and down, you tried to silently determine whether he was one of you. You knew that the younger generation preferred to stay in cities, and called themselves goth in order to maintain the aesthetic. But despite his unique, timeless features, the man smelled organic and human, and you could hear his heart beating, a steady constant in the back of your hearing.

Your guest stood, and you smiled politely. “Welcome,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I apologize for not welcoming you to the manor myself.”

The man smirked, looking you up and down. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” You sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, crossing your legs and gesturing for your guest to sit beside you. “Family estate. Would you like a fire?” You noticed the man was wet, and you assumed he’d been caught in the storm.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” the man agreed, and you gestured Camille over.

“Camille, would you mind starting a fire?” You asked. “And when you’re done, I would love some tea.”

Camille nodded, exiting the room and leaving you alone with your guest.

“May I have your name?” You asked politely, turning your full attention to the man.

He nodded. “You can call me Dio.”

“Dio.” The name turned over like a fine wine on your tongue. “A bit of a presumptuous nickname, don’t you think?”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly, in a tone that told you he knew exactly what you meant.

You stood, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. “I mean, calling yourself a god. Albeit in a different language, but still. Even I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Even you?” Dio questioned, leaning back in his chair. “Explain.”

“Well.” You gestured around at the ornate sitting room, at the dark embroidered seat cushions and the deep wooden surfaces surrounding you. “It does seem rather on brand for someone of my status, does it not?”

Dio’s smirk returned. “Of course,” he said, digging through his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “Instead you call yourself Duke/Duchess.”

“It would be improper of me to not,” you pointed out. “It is, in fact, my title. You, however, have no title, Shane Morrissey.”

Dio’s face went pale and the cigarette dropped from between his fingers, hitting the carpet below his feet with almost no noise. “How-“

At that moment, Camille pushed the door open, rolling in a cart with firewood and a tea tray. While she busied herself with the fire, you sat back down, taking Dio’s cigarette from the floor, lighting it on Camille’s match and handing it back to the stunned man. “I usually don’t allow guests to smoke,” you said casually. “But I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once.” You pushed an ashtray across the table, smiling. “You were saying?”

Dio blinked, wide eyed. “How do you know-“

“Your name?” You finished for him, accepting an empty teacup from Camille and nodding to her when she set the tray on the table and left once more. “I could see your identification card in your pocket when you reached for your cigarettes. But if you would prefer to be referred to as Dio, I will do so.”

Dio seemingly relaxed. But he was still on edge as you poured yourself some tea.

“It’s a lovely black currant tea, if you’re interested,” you said, not even looking up as you poured the thick black tea into your cup. “I see Camille brought two cups.” As you spoke, you took the cream jug and poured a splash into your tea, setting the jug aside from the rest of the set. “I promise it isn’t poison,” you added sweetly, taking a sip of your tea.

Despite your humorous remark, Dio still seemed cautious, waiting until you had taken a sip to pour himself a cup of tea. He didn’t add sugar, simply sat back and cradled the cup in his hands. You wondered if he was still cold. But the fire was going and you could feel it warming your skin, even if the feeling of warm and cold were long since lost to you.

“So, Dio,” you said, watching Dio take a sip of his tea. “You live in the city, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Dio’s voice was guarded, hesitant. He was scared of you.

You hummed, nodding to yourself. “I haven’t seen the city,” you admitted. “Do you enjoy it?”

Dio shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You sighed. “Dio,” you said firmly, forcing his attention to snap to you. “Do I scare you?”

“What?” Dio asked, surprised. “I mean.” His eyes went glassy as you waved your hand, forcing him to tell the truth. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Dio’s hand shook, spilling tea over his skin. “I-“ he faltered, blinking a few times, face pulling tight. “I don’t know.”

You waved your hand again, releasing Dio from your hold. “Maybe I should explain,” you said, standing and setting your cup down. “I am (F/N) (L/N), sole heir to my name and the last remaining Duke/Duchess of this land. I have held my title and estate for over twelve decades, and I am a vampire.”

Dio was silent, so silent you had to wonder if you had broken him. But eventually, he nodded slowly, setting his cup down. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

“You’re not dreaming,” you added helpfully. “Nor is this a hallucination caused by the tea.”

“Yeah,” Dio agreed quietly. “What about Camille, is she?”

“Oh of course not!” You said, sitting back beside Dio and picking up your cup again. “No, we don’t keep preternatural staff anymore. Her family has been in service to my family since long before I was born, and she seemed happy enough to have the job once I reached out. I do pay quite well.”

“Anymore?” Dio wondered out loud. “Tell me more about vampires. I want to know.” He leaned forward in his seat, and you grinned. It was rare you revealed yourself to a guest and were met with anything less than terror. But Dio seemed downright enthused. So you poured yourself a new cup of tea, adding a generous amount of cream this time, letting Dio see that it was not cream, but blood.

“Well. Where to start?” You mused. “I come from a long line of vampires, one of the longest in fact. My family, my bloodline if you will, was once well respected, but during the witch hunts, most of my kind died out. My mother survived and lived in this manor, alone, for centuries until she found me. I was lost, a wandering child, and she took me in and cared for me, turning me when the time was right.”

“So where is she?”

“Long dead,” you said, peeling your gloves off and setting them aside. “I’ve been the master of this estate for, oh, I guess it must be almost ninety years now. Yes, I inherited it during the depression.”

Dio nodded, his cigarette long since forgotten in the ashtray. “So, how do you survive? How much blood do you need? Are you like Dracula? Do you have any powers? What-“

“Dio!” You cut him off with a raised hand and a chuckle. “I cannot possibly answer your every burning question right now.” You stood, looking out over the storm, which was fading. “Here. Let us make a deal. I will send you home safely, with no complications, and in turn, I will entertain you once a month, on the first Saturday, and I will answer one question. Only one, until you are satisfied.”

Dio nodded, glancing out the window. “How do I know you aren’t just messing with me about the vampire thing?” He asked softly.

You smiled. “Come with me.”

He followed you out into the hall, where you guided him to the mirror just outside the sitting room. “Look,” you said, gesturing to the mirror. “It’s an old heirloom. Silver-backed, so I don’t appear in its surface.”

Dio gently reached out, touching the mirror with feather-light fingers. “You’re not,” he breathed. “It’s real.”

“It is,” you agreed. “Now, get going Dio. I’ll see you in one month. Don’t be late.”

Two years later

You opened the sitting room doors, seeing Shane sitting in his usual spot, right by the fireplace. He was already cradling his teacup, your cup sitting on the table, perfectly set up to your liking.

“Shane!” You said happily, and Shane stood, allowing you to hug him tightly. “You’re on time.”

“When am I not?” Shane asked, pulling away and sitting back down. “Shall we?”

You laughed. “We shall.”

Your cup was full to the brim of blood, no tea this time. It was a feeding day, and as much as you hated it, Shane promised he didn’t mind.

“Actually,” you decided, setting your cup down without taking a sip. “Perhaps we should do this a different way.”

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, worried. “Did I make it wrong? Camille brought me the teapot. She said it was your favorite.”

You shook your head. “No Shane,” you said. “You’re perfectly good. In fact.” You stood, offering him your hand. “You’re more than good.”

Standing, Shane let you lead him to the window, looking out over your night-darkened estate. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want some stranger’s blood,” You purred softly, pushing Shane’s shirt collar down. “I want you, Shane. I want to taste you on my tongue, to have your life filling my belly and making me warm.”

Shane gulped, his skin heating. “Really?”

“Would I lie?” You asked, almost pouting. “My love, I would never. Say the words, and I will make you feel amazing.”

Nodding, Shane put a hand to the window to brace himself. “I give you permission,” he said, voice wavering. “You may feed from me.”

You smiled, putting your mouth to his neck and kissing, trailing to the perfect spot. He shivered, moaning softly when you nipped at the tender flesh of his neck. Curving your lips up at the shameless sounds you were eliciting from Shane, you finally found the sweet spot and dug your fangs in.

If you thought Shane was vocal when you were just teasing, you were in for a surprise. As you lapped at the blood pooling on Shane’s skin, he writhed under you, moaning and breathlessly whining your name, both hands pressed fully to the window to keep stable. You licked a warm stripe up the curve of Shane’s neck, chuckling as he breathed heavily. “Do you like that, my love?”

“Yes,” Shane gasped out. “Yes, I do, Your Grace.”

You hummed, running a finger through the smeared blood and turning Shane around so he could see you suck his blood off your finger. “You taste exquisite,” you moaned around your finger. “So perfect.” You moved in again, licking up the last of the blood.

Shane breathed loud against you, his breath disturbing your hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “More,” he begged as you pulled away. “Please.”

“No more my love,” you said, wiping your mouth on a nearby towel. “I will not push you, especially on your first feeding.” You gently pressed the towel to Shane’s skin, occasionally pulling it away and checking on the wounds. Two perfect little puncture holes, still seeping the tiniest bit, marred Shane’s smooth skin. “I’ll call Camilla, have her clean you up properly.”

While you two waited for Camilla, you lay beside the fireplace, Shane laying in your lap as you held a book, reading aloud to him and stroking gently through his hair.

“I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal.” You smiled, flicking the page and watching Shane’s eyes slide closed. “Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat,” you read softly, urging Shane to sleep, to rest as you read.

Camille came in, carrying a tray of healing supplies. You gestured for her to leave them on the table, and she did, smiling at the sight of Shane in your lap before she ducked out of the room.

“My love?” You asked, laying the book down and grabbing the bandages. “My love, may I see your neck?”

Shane reflexively turned, showing you the side of his neck you’d fed from. You carefully dressed the wound, humming to yourself as you did so.

“I never got a question today,” Shane murmured, startling you.

“Oh.” You set down the roll of bandages, carding through Shane’s hair again. “What do you wish to ask today?”

Shane leaned into your hands, grinning slightly. “Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked softly. “In a strictly non-vampire way.”

You smiled, nodding. “Of course, my love,” you answered. “Of course.”

As Shane’s eyes fluttered shut once more, you picked up the book, determined to finish at least this chapter. With Shane in your embrace and the warmth of the fire surrounding you, you continued to read your newly christened boyfriend to sleep. “I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited—waited with a beating heart.”

#NYPD Blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Cozy Sweaters

Jackson Neill x Reader

Sequel to Cold Hands, requested by @detectivebarba & written for @storiesofsvu’s Fall Bingo!

Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst. Fluff?

Summary: Oh my god they were roommates.

3,350 words

September 8th

The living room of your apartment—what used to be your apartment—was abuzz with heated voices.

“We’re sorry, but you said you were moving out!”

“So you just gave away my room?! I’m allowed to change my mind!”

Your roommates glanced between each other, awkwardness thick in the air.

“Ed is moving here all the way from England on the promise that he would have a room. He already bought his plane ticket. We’d really be screwing him over.”

“But… where am I supposed to go?”

Jenny sighed and shook her head. “Listen, if this wasn’t so last-minute, I’d understand, but you were supposed to move in with your boyfriend next week. We already made plans to fill your spot…” She really was sorry, in other words, but you were stuck.

“Can’t you still move in with him?” Todd added, and Jenny shot daggers from her eyes.

“He cheated on me!”

“Yeah, but you said he didn’t want to break up, right? Just work things out.”

“I am not,” you hissed through gritted teeth, “ever taking him back after what he did.”

September 13th

Every one-bedroom apartment listing in the greater NYC area was out of your price range. You tapped your friend group, colleagues, and acquaintances for roommates and came back empty. You went on Craig’s List and met with a few strangers seeking roommates. The ones who weren’t terrifying never called you back.

Meanwhile, Jackson Neill had been blowing up your phone.

Well, not blowing up—the first night he got drunk and filled your inbox begging you to come back, sobbing and slurring into your voicemail, spamming indecipherable text messages. The next morning, a single text read: “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate, and it won’t happen again.”

And it didn’t.

But he sent another message a few days later telling you he’d found some more of your stuff, if you’d like it back. That you were always welcome to talk if you wanted to. He wanted to be there for you. You didn’t message him back.

September 14th

It was a cold, rainy day on campus, so you risked taking a shortcut to the dining hall. You turned the corner of an old brick building, and there he was, walking out of the Department of Religious Studies, jacket collar pulled up over his neck because the forgetful fool could never remember his umbrella.

He froze at the same time you did.

All you could hear was your pulse drumming inside your skull like rain. You knew you’d run into him eventually, but you hadn’t decided how to react, and your body wasn’t offering any suggestions.

He gave you a pitiful smile and lifted his hand. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

One leaden foot shuffled in front of the other, and you kept walking. He nodded with a wan smile and sad eyes and didn’t chase you.

The outdoor seating was closed because of the weather, so the dining hall was crowded and buzzing. You snatched a small two-seat table just as another student left, brushing a stale French fry off it onto the floor. Sinking down to enjoy your cheap sandwich, you glanced around the crowd.

A middle-aged man with a soggy jacket and salt-and-pepper hair, who had no right to be so breathtakingly handsome, was searching desperately for a seat while precariously balancing a tray of soup and coffee.

He felt your gaze on him, and you were fixed with a beam of frozen green eyes.

You waved him over.

“I wasn’t following you, I swear.”

“I don’t know, eating lunch? At lunchtime? That can’t be a coincidence.”

The corner of his lip wanted to smile, but he didn’t seem entirely sure you were joking.

“Just sit down and eat,” you sighed. “There’s nowhere else.”

He sat.

Silence crackled between you like the sky before a thunderstorm as you ate your lunches.

“So,” Jackson started cautiously, “how have you been?”

You gave a dry snort. “Oh, just fucking peachy. I’m going to be homeless in two days, thanks to you.”

“What?!”

Jackson listened with a deepening frown as you told him about your roommate plight. Then he offered you a room at his house.

“Go to hell. I’m not going to move in with you like nothing ever happened!”

“No, it wouldn’t be like that. I have a spare bedroom. It’s a big house, and I could use help with the bills. Please—it’s the least I can do. Just until you get back on your feet.”

September 17th

It wasn’t like you had much choice.

You moved into Jackson’s house as originally planned, albeit under different circumstances. Instead of sharing his bed, he cleared out the spare room he’d been using, in theory, as a “gym,” and in practice as a storage closet. There was plenty of space, and with how late he always worked at the university, you’d barely see him anyway.

This might just work out.

September 20th

This was never going to work.

Your heart broke all over again every morning you walked downstairs and saw Jackson in the kitchen making pancakes, because every time, you had to fight the urge to come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist like you used to do.

God, you wanted him back. If only you could erase the image of him with her from your mind.

October 7th

Jackson begged you to take him back.

One thing after another had gone wrong after he publicly confronted the Meyerist Movement. The cult pressured the publisher to pull his book. The university put him on leave while they investigated his alleged relationship with a student. You wandered into the living room that night and found him curled up on the couch, and his resolve broke.

There were tears in his eyes as he tried to pull you into a hug, and when you jerked away, they cascaded down his cheeks. He kept saying he was sorry over and over.

“Please. I need you. Everything is falling apart—if I could at least have you to hold onto… just one thing that wasn’t broken. Please, just tell me how to make it up to you. Haven’t I done enough? If I could take it all back, I would. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me? Please let me hold you?”

This was hard for you, too. Part of you wanted to give in, tell him it was all OK, let him kiss you, and see him smile. The worst part of all of this was that you still loved him, but you could never trust him again. He put on such a sweet, innocent act—he was a wonderful boyfriend—but now you knew he was a manipulative liar.

You should never have moved in.

“There’s no undoing the past. We both need to move forward, not back. I’m going to start looking for other places to live.”

October 8th

Morning brought a more sober Jackson knocking at your door. Dark circles hung under his eyes, but he hadn’t been crying recently.

“Please don’t feel like you have to leave. I can get my shit together. I’m calling a therapist today.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah.” He stared at his feet, shifting on the hardwood floor.

“Jackson… I’ll only hurt you if I stay. This is too hard on you.” For us. “Besides, I can’t freeload here forever.”

“You do pay rent, you know.”

“I know, but—”

“I only have the kids every other weekend, and it’s a big house. It gets lonely. You’re doing me a favor being here.”

November 10th

In the last month, Jackson convinced you there was no hurry to move out.

He was a great roommate. He cooked, cleaned, respected your boundaries. He was a truly decent man, if an unfaithful lover, but since you were just friends now, it didn’t matter who he fucked. The biggest concern was that he wanted you back, and living together was a constant source of emotional pain. But on that front, he finally seemed to be moving on.

Whenever the topic came up, he assured you that you were welcome to stay as long as you wanted.

“It’s just so hard to find a decent place in my price range.”

“I mean it,” Jackson reiterated, adding emphasis. “If you want to stay, I enjoy having a roommate.”

You searched for hidden motives in his voice, his expression. Was this part of a long game to get you back? But his tone was friendly and open. Knowing how quickly he jumped from his ex-wife to you to Sarah, there was no way he didn’t already have his eye on someone new. At this point, you were just roommates.

“You mean permanently? Isn’t living with an ex a recipe for disaster?”

He chuckled. “The last few years with my wife were much worse than this, trust me. We were trying to stay together until the kids went to college, but emotionally, we were already divorced. It was awful… sharing a room. Constant fighting.” His eyes took a dull, faraway look as he remembered.

Worry lines creased your brow. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through that again?”

He grinned, snapping out of it, and patted you on the head like you were one of his kids. “You are nothing like her. We’re friends.”

You liked the sound of that. Friends.

November 14th

The sound of screams greeted you as you opened the front door and hung your keys on their hook next to your jacket. Jackson was watching a scary movie marathon in the living room, apropos of the foggy autumn weather.

“Candyman. Care to join?” He patted the cushion beside him.

You stayed up past midnight in your pajamas, sharing popcorn, laughing, and hiding your eyes from the gory parts. Jackson remained on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to touch you.

November 19th

You caught Jackson having lunch with an attractive student. It made your blood freeze, then boil when he walked with her back to his office.

Alone.

Fists clenched, you pressed your ear to the closed door, and heard… an essay on the role of religion in perpetuating homophobia. He was helping her edit a paper. Like professors do.

You followed them all the way from the dining hall just for talking.

When did you become a crazy ex? Why would you care if he was schtupping a hot student? You wanted him to move on—you were glad he didn’t tear up every time you walked into the kitchen anymore. But you knew then that you weren’t over him yet.

If you saw him out with someone new, it would sting like he was betraying you all over again. So you tried hard to be the one to move on first.

November 30th

A car honked outside.

“Oh, that’s my date,” you apologized to Jackson. “Gotta go.”

You got a little rush of schadenfreude from the kicked-puppy look that flashed across his face as you left him mid-conversation, sitting at the kitchen table across from your abandoned teacup. It felt like a big fuck-you, letting him know you’d be fucking someone else. A dare: let’s see if you really meant it when you said we could be friends.

But the look had barely contorted his features when he swallowed it down and smiled, “Be safe.”

He was probably going on plenty of dates himself and just didn’t tell you out of consideration for your feelings. He didn’t want you to feel used, betrayed, and immediately replaced. You were both moving on.

After a string of Tinder hookups, you felt like Jackson was out of your system, romantically speaking.

December 17th

A light dusting of snow floated down through the pale morning air. Jackson woke up on the left side of the bed, as he did every morning, and as he did every morning, turned to his right hoping to find you there. The blankets were cold.

He shivered.

You had a date last night and didn’t come home. He waited up, but never heard your car in the driveway, your keys in the door. Since you weren’t there to see his red eyes, he allowed himself to cry.

February 14th

A dull, rhythmic thumping carried through the walls. The creaking of a mattress. You cried out a name, voice cracking as you came for the second time.

It was the same guy again.

Casual hookups he could handle, but it had been the same guy for weeks now. Jackson told himself he deserved this. This was what he did to you, only while you were together. When you trusted him not to. He deserved to hear the one he loved being taken by another man.

As much as he wanted you to be his, you weren’t. He had no right to feel burning bile rising in his stomach at each of your moans and gasps. You were doing nothing wrong.

“You live here. Of course you can have dates over. No, it’s not awkward. We’re friends.”

A hot tear slid from his eye as he buried his head in a pillow.

This guy better take care of you.

May 1st

He didn’t have a roommate anymore. Not really. You spent all your time at Rodney’s apartment.

Soon you would move out, and he’ll have lost you forever.

He wanted to warn you not to move so fast, but what right did he have to judge? He let you move at the same pace with him. Let you trust him, fall in love with him, have a spare toothbrush on his sink within a few months. All the while, he figured a little action on the side wouldn’t hurt. Did he think he could chase two of you at once and get to keep the winner?

Idiot.

Sinner. That’s what his mami would say.

The few times you were home, he didn’t express his concerns about your boyfriend. He would only sound jealous, and it would push you away. If he wanted to be someone you would still answer the phone for when you moved out, he had to be a good friend, not a jealous ex.

Fuck. He hoped it worked out between you and Rodney. He really did. He hoped you were happy.

October 2nd

You came home for the first time in weeks crying. Heavy tears rolled down your face, legs shaking as you crawled up the stairs to your bedroom. Jackson was off the couch in an instant, spring up to follow you.

“Hey… Hey, what’s wrong?” He gingerly touched your shoulder, palm spreading out to make comforting circles when you didn’t shake him off. “Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, sniffing as you slumped down onto your bed. Jackson sat beside you, worry etched into his features. He was so cute. After all this time, he still cared about you. You thought about all the times he’d begged for you back, in the beginning, desperate to hold you again. Fuck, you just wanted to feel that wanted again.

“Rodney and I broke up,” you mumbled.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear th—”

You gripped the hair at the back of his head and tugged him roughly into a kiss. Every muscle in his neck and shoulders tensed. A surprised noise was muted between your crushing lips. You could have sworn, for a moment, he started kissing you back, but then his big hands clamped like two vices on your shoulders, and he pushed you away.

“What are you doing?” His eyes were wide.

“What does it look like?” you purred, fingers clawing at the buttons of his cardigan. “I want you to take me, Jackson.”

His hands stopped you from leaning close again. “No. Stop it.”

“Come on, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“We can’t… I won’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just upset, and—”

“Fuck you! So you’ll fuck anyone and not give a shit—you’ll fuck around on me and break my heart, but you won’t fuck me when I’m asking you to?! The one time I just need you to be there, and now you’re on your high fucking horse, pretending to be a good guy?! I bet you’d screw Sarah! Fuck you. Fuck you!”

Your shoulders shook as your tirade broke down more and more into sobs. Deep down, you knew he was right. You’d regret it in the morning. But you couldn’t he just… want you?

“Why? Why not? Am I that… am I that unlovable?”

“Because you crying.” Tears were shimmering in his eyes as he said it, softly wiping a tear from your cheek. “You’re crying.”

With a gasp, you threw yourself down on the bed and buried your face in a pillow. You screamed into it, your own breath hot and wet against your face. Jackson’s weight shifted the mattress beside you, and your hand shot out in panic, blindly groping toward the movement. You felt pathetic. Needy. But you didn’t want to be alone.

“Don’t go.”

The mattress sank back down under him. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t take advantage of you, but if you want me to stay, I’ll stay. As long as you want.”

That was all you wanted to hear in that moment, to know someone wouldn’t abandon you. His warm hand rubbed your back in slow circles as you wept, patiently listening as you told him everything in disjointed, broken pieces. How you were just being paranoid—invading Rodney’s privacy when he left his phone unlocked. You were paranoid because your last boyfriend cheated. Then you found the lewd messages, and it didn’t seem real. Plans to meet at a bar downtown. You didn’t believe it until he was toweling off, telling you something came up with his mom, and he’d be out for a while. And you followed him down to the bar and saw them together.

“He was an asshole,” Jackson said.

“Am I doomed? Cursed? Why does everyone cheat on me? Is it my fault?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Shut up! You did it, too,” you snapped. “I’m just not special enough to hold anyone’s attention. I’ll never be enough.”

“No,” he growled with a ferocity that startled you, “You’re wonderful, and anyone would be lucky to have you. That guy was an asshole, and so was I for taking you for granted. You did nothing to deserve this. One day you’ll find someone who appreciates you… who learns to treat you the way you deserve to be treated before they lose the best thing to ever happen to them.”

You shifted to press yourself closer to him. The tears didn’t stop, but a warmth spread through your chest. Jackson felt like a cozy sweater—warm and familiar. Easy to cry into. His arms were surprisingly solid and thick, but gentle when they closed around you.

He was a comfortable old sweater you could slip back on after leaving it in the closet for a year.

***

Hours passed by, and you had no more tears left. No energy left to move. Jackson was still beside you, keeping watch, as promised. You were curled up with your head in his lap, his fingers in your hair.

When he was sure you were asleep, he carefully extracted himself from under you, gradually shifting your head onto the pillow so you wouldn’t wake up. He breathed, heart aching as he looked down at your sleeping form. You deserved better than tear-stained cheeks. He knew he had no right to be so angry, but he couldn’t stand seeing you hurt again.

You wouldn’t have been if he had just…

He let his tears fall silently. This was about you, and he didn’t want to make you console him, but you were asleep now. He could let go.

He ran his fingers through your hair one last time. Then, with a furtive glance, he bent and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I never stopped.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#Jackson Neill #jackson neill x reader #my writing

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jisungsmochi · 3 years

Text

held by me - zhong chenle

chenle x reader - college au (part of my nct dream as the vamps songs series) you can read more here !

word count: 2.5k

summary: “we’re both under ceilings staring up sharing feelings, you should be held by me”

chenle from next door was always inviting you over to hang out with him. you would kindly agree, building a strong friendship with the cheery boy. but there was one secret being hidden by the both of you, the undeniable feeling that you were both helplessly inlove with the other. so what happens during the night of a thunderstorm, that has you both shaking?

you remembered the first day you moved into your apartment building. your parents were practically kicking you out, claiming you were old enough to fend for yourself against the outside world while you were studying. although they did help you find the apartment and made the down payment, you were glad to finally live independently. there were things you didn’t really know how to do, but that’s what youtube and google were for.

you first met your next door neighbour, chenle, when there was an emergency fire evacuation. it was just past midnight when the alarm went off. you rushed outside, only in your pajamas and bunny slippers, hair disheveled. chenle caught sight of you, internally giggling at your current state. your eyes widened at him, you had never seen him before, even though it had been about two weeks since you moved in. he gestured for you to walk with him to the lobby, waiting for the alarm to stop ringing. you quickly followed his footsteps, entrusting him with guiding you to safety. he stopped once you reached the front desk, observing the ridiculous residents complaining about their interrupted sleep.

the guy living next door, stayed close by to you, not saying a word. you didn’t mind how close he decided to stand near you, it made you feel comfortable, in some odd way.

“okay everyone! it was a false alarm! there was no fire detected. you may now return to your rooms, we are sorry for any inconvenience” the apartment complex manager announced, as you watched everyone scatter back to their rooms. some were grunting, still unhappy with the sudden wailing of the sirens. the boy urged you to follow him again, walking in silence as you made it back to your rooms. the boy stopped for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it,

“hey wanna come in for some tea? i don’t think i’ll be falling back asleep anytime soon” you kindly offer, watching as his face lit up in delight. he nodded gently, following you into your apartment. you switched on the lights, making your way to your kitchen to turn on the kettle.

“so i never got your name, i’m y/n” you started preparing the mugs,

“i’m chenle, i live next door, as you know now” he finally spoke, catching you off guard.

“ah yes, i would have introduced myself when i first moved in, but unpacking and starting college just got in the way” you explained as you poured warm water into each of your mugs, bringing them over to chenle as you sat next to him on the bar stools by your counter. he thanked you softly, blowing the drink cautiously before taking a sip.

“it’s alright, i should have come by first! i just wasn’t sure how to do so” he shyly admitted, making you smile.

“well we’re both here now, who would have thought! do you live alone?” you asked,

“uh yeah i do, my parents actually bought me the apartment, something about wanting me to be independent and a proper adult” he slightly rolled his eyes at the last part, making you nod,

“same here! they really wanted me out of the house, so here i am” you shrugged.

the rest of the night was spent chatting away, the both of you suddenly couldn’t stop talking. chenle found you entertaining, he never thought he’d be chatting with a random girl who lived next door after a false fire alarm. this was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

a few weeks later, chenle woke up to banging on his front door. there was only one person he knew that would be awake at 7am, voluntarily. as he opened the door, he saw your bright smile greeting his tired eyes. he allowed you to enter his apartment, still grumbling that he was tired.

“oh shush, i need some more toilet paper” you quickly made your way to his bathroom, snagging some rolls for yourself.

“you know you can just buy your own? they’re always on sale!” chenle grumbled, moving to lay down on his couch, waiting for you to return.

“where’s the resourcefulness in that? you always buy them in bulk, and you’re the only one who lives here. sharing is caring right?” you greedily smirked as you sat down next to him, your tote bag full of toilet paper rolls. chenle moves to sit up next to you, finally feeling more awake.

“so what are we gonna do today? i’m thinking we can get some lunch, maybe go to the park or something?” you started rambling, too energised in the morning.

“can we just stay in? i’m not in the mood to go out today” chenle softly pouted at you, making you immediately agree. how could you say no to that face?

“sure, i’ll make pancakes for breakfast” you softly squeezed his shoulder and he leant into your touch. most of the affection between you, were in the form of soft (platonic) touches, and words of affirmation. chenle filled the void of loneliness you thought you would experience whilst living alone. you’d hang out in his apartment almost everyday, claiming that you were too lonely or you were bored. chenle never opposed, enjoying your company, and your cooking skills. sometimes his friends would make sly comments and tease him about always hanging out with you, but he didn’t mind. it didn’t really matter what others said, he just enjoyed being around you, it didn’t mean he had to feel something more...yet.

“here we are!” you hand him the beautifully plated pancakes as you both started munching on the delicious pancakes.

“dude, these are amazing. can you live her permanently? i need a personal chef” chenle teased, causing you to shove him lightly.

“you’re rich enough to find a chef, unless...you wanna pay me?” you smirked as he rolled his eyes.

“doesn’t your job pay you enough?” he shot back, causing you to act fake offended,

“i work at the dingy cafe on campus, i’m not exactly living large” you continue to nibble on your pancakes.

sometimes you had thought about what it’d be like to live with chenle. you had spent a few odd nights at his apartment, as he had a spare bedroom. you didn’t mind the idea at all, but you didn’t want people getting the wrong idea that you two were more than friends. there was always that one concern at the back of your mind. the natural flow of your friendship with chenle was something you had never had with anyone else. the people you met at college just didn’t click the same as you did with chenle the first time you met. he was special to you, but if anyone ever asked you that, you’d deny it, playfully responding that he’s just a friend. chenle felt the same way, just because you two were close, didn’t mean he was inlove with you.

could he see himself being with you? yes. he could. but at this moment in time? no. you were both not fond of relationships, feeling immense pressure to constantly be perfect or make eachother happy. by staying friends, it avoided all the conflict that couples had. and no one would get hurt. but the thing about love, is that you don’t really get to choose who you fall inlove with.

you realised this when you saw a girl approach chenle while he was studying at the cafe you worked at. you assumed she was just a classmate but when you saw her sit across from him, softly touching his arm, you started feeling uneasy. who were you to be thinking these things? he could see whoever he wanted.

you saw how he responded, shyly reacting to her words, laughing at her jokes. you wanted to look away, you wanted to go up to him and pull him away. but you couldn’t.

the rest of the day was spent thinking back to what you had witnessed. you didn’t want to bring it up with chenle, incase he questioned why you were even watching him in the first place. chenle insisted he stay until you closed, waiting to walk home with you. when he said things like this, or made these gestures, you thought that meant he cared about you, as more than a friend. but you had been watching way too many kdramas lately, he was just being nice. it started pouring rain as you exited the cafe, you let out a soft grunt before chenle stepped in with his umbrella.

“i got you, let’s go” he smiled softly, walking close to you as he held the umbrella above the both of you. sounds of thunder rang through your ears. chenle became worried, he knew you hated thunderstorms. as you reached your apartments, chenle pulled his hand to grab your wrist,

“wanna stay the night?” he insisted, your heart swelled at his words. why did he have to be so considerate?

you slowly nodded, following him into his apartment. chenle set down his keys, before helping you remove your damp jacket. he rushed to his room, pulling out a spare set of clothes for you to sleep in. you liked how you barely said anything to him, and he just knew exactly what to do. you couldn’t fault him at all.

“how was your day?” chenle started chatting to you, wanting to get your mind off the storm outside. you were both sitting on his bed, each at one end while facing eachother.

“it was decent, i finished my group project! and work was okay, not much happened” you felt yourself avoid his eyes after mentioning work. chenle noticed, eyes furrowing at your actions.

“are you alright? is something wrong?” he moved closer to you, eyes filled with concern. why does he have to do this?

“everything’s fine, i swear” you quickly shut him down, moving off his bed.

“okay something is definitely up, why can’t you tell me?” he stood up to stand across from you. why the hell were you being like this? just tell him how you feel.

“i-it’s nothing, can we just move on?” you continued being stubborn, something that chenle had picked up on. you really could put up a fight.

“alright, if you don’t wanna talk, it’s fine. just don’t push me away” he sighed, moving to tuck himself into bed. his back ended up facing you as you joined him soon after. you turned your back to him, feeling embarrassed about the entire situation. why couldn’t you just admit you were jealous? why was it so hard to admit to yourself?

silence filled the room, the storm outside becoming background noise. until a loud boom of thunder hit, causing you to shake. chenle felt it instantly, turning back to you. he saw how you were shivering, your hands coming up to cover your ears. he gently placed his hand over yours, pulling them away from your ears. you turned to face him, eyes slowly tearing up. he wiped the tear that fell from them, pulling you into him.

“it’s alright, you’re going to be alright” he muttered as he held you close to him. no matter how irritated he got with you sometimes, seeing you so vulnerable like this made his heart ache.

“i was jealous today” you suddenly admit, feeling chenle freeze against you. he looked down at your face, feeling your cheeks slowly heat up.

“w-what are you talking about?” he moved to there was a small distance between your faces.

“i saw you with that girl at the cafe. she wouldn’t stop talking to you. and she squeezed your shoulder, like how i do! it annoyed me” you shyly admit, watching as his lips slowly cocked up into a smirk. was he really enjoying this?

“you were really jealous of her? she’s just a classmate, i gave her some of my notes for class, and she thanked me today. it was nothing, i swear” he assured you, feeling amused that you cared about him, enough to get jealous. you felt like an idiot, of course that’s all it was.

“o-oh my bad then” you whispered, feeling embarrassed. but chenle was quick to interject,

“hey it’s alright. you didn’t know. i’m kind of flattered that you were jealous” he started gently brushing his fingers through your hair.

“ugh i knew you were gonna get an ego boost!” you sighed, snuggling closer to him.

“you know you love me” he jokingly strikes back, feeling your arms slowly untangle from him torso. he immediately stopped what he was doing, looking into your eyes deeply.

“i-i do” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. but he definitely heard you clearly.

“really?” was all he managed to say back. that was not the response you were expecting.

“yeah, i do” you confirmed to both chenle and yourself. the truth was finally out.

“woah, that’s...a relief” he smiled slightly at you, “i thought i was the fool who was hopelessly inlove with you” your eyes practically popped out of your head.

“w-what? you’re kidding, right?” you couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth.

“oh yeah i’m totally kidding. that’s why i offer to walk you home after work, even when it’s inconvenient for my schedule. that’s why i always ask you to come over and keep me company. that’s why i’m here with you right now, protecting you from one of your biggest fears. it’s because i’m totally not inlove with you” chenle playfully responded, causing you to hit his chest softly.

“i don’t know who’s the bigger idiot. you or me?” you giggled,

“definitely you, how could you love someone as lame and goofy as me?” you knew chenle was partially joking, but you still felt like he didn’t fully believe your feelings for him.

“you’re most definitely not lame, you’re so special to me. even if i don’t admit it to you sometimes. you mean the world to me” you whispered to him, feeling your lips inch closer to his. you felt heat rise to his cheeks as you gently cupped his face in your palm. chenle couldn’t contain how giddy you made him feel, closing the gap between you both. you felt his lips mould effortlessly with yours. soft sounds of your lips clashing together, distracted you from the storm. because chenle was your umbrella, shielding you from the storm of the outside world. he was all you needed to get through your youth. moving into the apartment was one of the best decisions of your life. you met someone who had your back during the hard times, always laughing with you during the good times. someone who held you close, too scared of losing you. you never intended to fall for your next door neighbour, but things happen. you couldn’t imagine a world where chenle wasn’t by your side, he became your entire world. and nothing couldn’t ever amount to you in his eyes.

#nct dream imagine #nct chenle imagine #chenle imagine #chenle fluff #nct fluff #nct series #nct au #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic #nct dream au #chenle x reader #nct x reader #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

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kyloswarstars · 3 years

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 8

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.7k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

The day in the zoo was sad and great and irritating and left you with a faint emptiness. Eric kept a physical distance ever since. His hand didn’t brush yours randomly when you met in the hallway. He didn’t stand close to you at the check out when you went grocery shopping together. His feet didn’t accidentally pump into yours under the dining table when you had the roommate gatherings. He didn’t sat down next to you on the balcony, he didn’t bump into you when you got out of the bathroom and he certainly did not press his side to yours anymore. His thigh, his arm, his shoulder wasn’t burning against yours, the magnetising pull just eradicated as if you had never felt it at all.

Your bodies didn’t touch anymore and that made sure that none of all those times, you had wondered if it had been on accident, had been on accident. It had always been on purpose. Eric had wanted to be close and now he didn’t want to anymore. And the weirdest thing of it all was that you still wanted to be close.

The weeks went by. Chicago finally decided that it was time for all the stuffy air to vanish. With one big, biblical doomsday thunderstorm the sky cleared itself with heavy rain and sent all the heat it had held to the future. Stored it for next summer. It was still warm, still summer but it slowly came closer to its end, moving on from the start, moving on from you moving into this apartment.

You stared at the walls in the night. There was still the knocking. Every single night, his knuckles morsed ‚GN‘ and you returned it. That was the closest your hands got – six inches divided by a wall.

While Eric remained this physical distance, his eyes didn’t stop staring at you. And lacking his side pressed against yours in the most random situations, you stared right back. Whenever you sensed his eyes on you, you were drawn to them immediately. As if the magnet had been shoved into them, now that is wasn’t in your thigh anymore.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. A good mantra to repeat when you worked on the study. For a few days you had to repeat it almost every minute to concentrate. But the more time, days and then eventually weeks passed, it got easier. Peter had still been on your mind now and then but he just wasn’t worth it. And, even without Eric stating the obvious back at the zoo, you knew it. It was summer break still, but as soon as the new semester would start, there would be no time to think about a guy anymore. Not about Peter and not about Eric.

With that you fully regained the realistic side of your mind. You concentrated on your beloved constant in life called mathematics. You tidied your room, threw out stuff you didn’t need anymore. You made pizza with Eric for all the roommates, he didn’t press himself next to you at the countertop but instead let you knead the dough on your own. Eric occasionally searched for a conversation and it was all still very sincere, way too friendly for the guy who had argued with you for more than two years in your classes. But no. physical. contact.

Reality. You focused on it and decided it was time to call your brothers. During the summer break your contact always faded a little, giving the fact that Cole had to be at every party, Levi saving his ass and leading a group of volunteers at the sea turtle rescue centre and you being wrapped up in whatever went through your mind.

It surprised you that both of them actually accepted the video call. Instant homesickness greeted you. Especially from Levi’s window. He was sitting in the kitchen, your mom cooking dinner in the background.

„Honey!“ She blurted over the boiling pots. Levi didn’t even have the chance to say hello. Cole, in his window, rolled his eyes. „Didn’t I and your father tell you to at least text once a week? So we know you didn’t fall of the earth’s surface, yet?“

She joked a little but you heard the seriousness in her voice. And it instantly made you feel guilty, knowing very well that a simple one word ‚alive‘ message would be enough for them. And you didn’t know why it was so hard for you to simply do that.

„I pledge improvement.“ You promised and tried to stick to it this time.

„Levi, move! Before dad comes around and threatens Y/N to fly up there every week to make sure she’s okay.“ Cole was laughing and Levi left the kitchen on his order.

„So you are alive,“ Levi stated. With him and Cole it wasn’t that much guilt anymore. Still a little but less than with your parents.

You affirmed and then lead the conversation in a different direction, tricked them into telling you about their summers without having to talk about yours.

Cole got drunk every second day, Levi got his ass home whenever he couldn’t walk straight anymore. No surprise. Levi gave a detailed report about the current numbers of turtle nests and the amount of baby turtles they expected to hatch. It was Levi’s first summer break since he had started college. Instead of freaking out like Cole and running to every beach gathering he could find, he sticked to be the responsible volunteer he was and cared for the turtle protection. It made you proud. Cole, was still on the team too. Only on the afternoons, though. After he had slept off his hangover and before he made sure to get a new one.

Brothers.

At the end of the call your dad fetched Levi’s phone, who sat on the porch by now, and stared at you for a second. He wasn’t as carefree anymore. A few years ago he would just blurb about everything that came to his mind. Now, he thought more about the things he said and what to hold back.

„You need more sleep, honey,“ he said, looked at you with a caring smile and ended the call. I know.

Shortly after the beeping of your phone, indicating the finished call, a knock on your door made you turn to it. By now you could tell apart your roommates by the rhythm of their knocking.

„Are you ready for the store?“ Eric peeked his head in and you wanted to say no but couldn’t. The golden rules of this household were sacred.

„Yes,“ you said instead and followed him outside to his car, parked right in front of the building. A rare parking spot – luck had to be fully on your side to find it free.

Uncomfortable memories of going to the grocery store and the aftermath of it accompanied you once again. This time, nothing would happen, you told yourself. No-one would see you and even if someone did, there was no chance for Peter to reach out to you again. Every possibility had been eliminated by Eric and you.

Eric pushed the cart, you loaded everything in. No blueberry fight, pizza wasn’t on the menu tonight and chocolate pretzels were fully stocked. No repeating of that awful day!

Eric came to stand next to you in front of the snack shelf, within a good distance of course. He grabbed a huge bag of chips, threw it in the cart and waited for you to continue. You stared at the chips in the cart.

„Not on our shopping list,“ you mumbled and almost would’ve returned them to the shelf but Eric grabbed the bag in time to save it from your hands.

„We will need it later,“ he said, his lips pulled in a honest smile.

„Why? What is later?“

He still held the bag of chips with one hand and pushed the cart down the aisle with the other. When he passed you, he dramatically stared at you for a second. „Big time cinema!“

Eric’s silly wide eyes made you laugh – and wish for his arm to actually brush you by accident. Just this one time. It didn’t. He was adamant to not touch you.

/////

With ‚big time cinema’ he meant Toy Story. So it was indeed big time cinema. And big was also the fact that you found yourself watching a movie. With Eric. In his bed. His laptop on his desk played the movie, you laid next to each other, backs propped on a lot of pillows and the bag of chips between you. He didn’t touch you and that gap between you could easily fit Christina if she was there.

At first you shook your head at his suggestion to watch a movie with him in his room. When he went for a good old debate on why you shouldn’t, you surrendered and hoped the dining table full of roommates didn’t make any remarks. No-one did. Christina only wiggled her eyebrows and hid her grin behind a spoon full of veggies.

But now you were here, on Eric’s bed, wearing some joggers and a hoodie and laughed at the screen whenever Rex the tyrannosaur had something to say.

„As a kid I always wondered if my own toys were alive as well when I wasn’t around.“ Eric mumbled with some chips in his mouth.

„Same,“ you whispered. „I wanted them to be real so bad!“

„Right? I wanted my toy cars to be real so they could drive to the kitchen and get me snacks.“ A single chip has fallen down on the way from the bag to his face. You were fast to steal it from the mattress and shove it in your mouth.

Eric turned to you, gasped and whispered in fake consternation: „Don’t you dare!“

You laughed once more. „I remember you saying that we will need this bag of chips. Not only you.“

He was quick to drop it and smiled at you as he placed the bag in the gap between you again. After having a huge bowl of veggies with noodles you still managed to kill the whole bag of chips with Eric. He was a little sad when he stared into the empty bag. He crumpled it up and tossed it into a corner of the room.

The positive side of running out of chips was the newfound silence and therefore finally understanding every word that was spoken in the movie.

„How are you, Y/N?“

There his question was again. In the zoo wasn’t the only and last time he asked. He kept asking whenever he pleased. And he wanted you to answer sincerely, you knew that. And you did, every time. The first time in long that you answered that question in full honesty. And he did as well, whenever you applied the question on him.

It was a lot easier now to answer him. „I feel good.“

„Yeah?“

„Yeah,“ you turned to see his face, the movie still playing in the background but of no importance for the moment. „I feel more like myself again. I understand now that my troubled thoughts about Peter are not worth it. That he’s not worth it but I am. I don’t care about him anymore. Not one tiny bit.“

Your words made his tensed face ease up a little. His lungs let out a breath he must have held. „Good,“ he smiled. He smiled and smiled and smiled. Then he turned to face his laptop again.

„What about you? How are you?“

„I feel more than good now,“ he stated which made you feel even better.

The movie continued playing. Woody and Buzz fought at the gas station. They eventually fell out of the car and were left behind. You were partially concentrating on the scenes, the Pizza Planet truck, when you noticed Eric’s hand moving closer to yours. Your hand, as well as his, was laying flat on the mattress. Out of the corner of your eye you saw it coming closer in ultra slow motion. Did he think you wouldn’t notice? Did he think you would scare away if he moved his hand faster? What did he think?

You took smaller breaths and tried to concentrate only on the movie but Eric’s hand was still getting closer. It was closer than your knuckles at night, when they knocked ‚good night’. Your eyes shifted between the screen, his hand, your hand. All while you didn’t turn your head. This stupid little heart inside of your chest quickened. It activated the butterflies in your stomach, sent them flying through your whole body. Excitement over the almost physical contact was rushing through you.

When his pinky spread out and ever so slightly brushed yours, he waited. For you to draw back, to possibly shout at him for what he was doing. You didn’t. You didn’t look at him, knowing very well that Eric wasn’t looking at the movie on his laptop at all. He kept his finger steady against yours, didn’t dare to move it or to breathe. You didn’t breathe either. Instead you linked your little finger with his, tying them like a knot.

Both of you exhaled at the same time. No one said a word. You still stared at the movie and sensed Eric’s head returning to the screen as well. All the butterflies gathered in your hand and made it tingle. They demanded for more. More than this simple but electrifying knot of your pinkies.

You couldn’t bring yourself to take his full hand, though. A million thoughts were running through your brain and all of them were leading back to this tiny touch. You were scared he would break the physical contact again if you searched for more. Unsure as to why he even had closed the gap and reached out after weeks of adamantly making sure no accidental body contact happened.

You were irritated. And you were… happy. And you stopped breathing once more. Eric stopped your train of thoughts abruptly.

He started to intertwine his fingers with yours. Just the way he had tried to in the furniture store. Back then you had drawn back but this time you didn’t. You welcomed his fingers between yours. When they were perfectly locked in place, you squeezed them shortly, causing Eric to sigh in relief. He grabbed onto your hand and held it tight, not giving you the choice of letting go anymore. Never would you have let go of his big hand entangled with yours. This pure feeling of holding his hand almost made you burst because it silenced the oppressing feeling of homesickness. It captured those butterflies and turned them into a vibrant, positive version of that doomsday thunderstorm from a few days ago. If holding hands could make you feel that way… what would a kiss feel like then?

That thought made your head turn to look at him. You just stared at him as he watched the movie with a grin on his lips. When the closing credits appeared on the screen, reflecting in his eyes, Eric turned to you again.

„I don’t want to leave just yet,“ you said, not really sure why this honest admittance sent heat to your cheeks.

„Okay,“ he whispered and leaned forward to start Toy Story 2 without letting go of your hand. When he pushed himself back into the pillows, he entirely closed the space between your bodies this time. He placed the bundle of hands that wouldn’t let go off each other, on his abdomen and just like that you laid next to each other. His thumb brushed over yours while the second movie unfolded in front of you. A smile was chiseled into your face. You noticed Eric shifting at some point and placing the bundle of hands on his chest. You noticed the movie's noises fainting after a while, your eyelids grew heavy. A wave of Eric’s sent was pushed over, calming you and dragging you into a sheltered sleep.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

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smallp0tatoes · 3 years

Text

Affinity [chapter two]

Chapter One

I promised g/t, here it is! /confetti

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, mentions of death

-------------------------- -------------------------- -------------------------- --------------------------

It was another month, and near the end of summer, when she finally saw Theo again.

A thunderstorm was moving in, so she was making for the trail head when the redhead appeared before her.

“And here I hadn’t seen you in so long,” he called out. “I was starting to worry.”

She glared at him. Theo blinked, obviously waiting for her to reply. Instead, she lunged.

He sidestepped and waved his hand. A branch shot toward her. Instead of dodging, she reached up, snatched it from the air and swung it straight into Theo’s gut. He doubled over, and she dropped the branch and seized the mage by his shirt, slamming him onto the ground and straddling him. His breath whooshed out of him, and she shoved her face inches from his own.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she snarled.

“What’re you…”

“Don’t bullshit me!” she roared. “That night, on Summer Solstice. That last damn spell of yours had me out for a fucking week!” She shook him, rage bubbling to the surface. “Your spells have been malicious before, but that was a whole other level!” She raised her fist, fingernails biting into her palm. It would be so easy. She could shatter his bones right here and now—give him a taste of the pain he’d dealt her...

The clouds above broke open, and rain spattered the dusty trail. A memory flashed through her mind. A brutal car accident. Blood running in the heavy rain.

Theo stared up at her with an indifferent expression. After a long moment, Camryn released him and stood. All at once, she didn’t want to be touching him at all.

“I never pegged you as someone to get drunk and throw such a sloppy temper tantrum,” she said quietly. “Could you really not stomach the idea of someone getting close to you? You think all I care about is self-gain?”

Theo pushed himself upright. “I don’t have to answer to you,” he scoffed. “You, like so many of the other magic-users around here, are below me.” He rose to his feet and summoned fire to his palms. “I already told you. I don’t need so-called ‘friends.’ If you thought otherwise, you’re deluding yourself.”

Camryn stared into the green flame. The rain became a downpour, but the fire didn’t diminish. It did, however, quench her anger. She took a deep breath and sighed through her nose.

“What a sad life you lead,” she told him.

Theo blinked, but she didn’t wait. She turned on her heel and trudged down the trail.

No fire came after her.

--------------------------

Cam was waiting for her coffee when she heard Theo’s name.

“Damn that Blackthorn! He’s nothing but a menace.”

“An incredibly powerful menace.”

Cam glanced out of the corner of her eye at the two men talking. One had his arms folded on the table, and the other was leaning back precariously in his chair.

“I don’t care. One way or another, I’ll take him down. Permanently. Can you imagine what we could do with his magic?”

A shiver went through Camryn at his words. This was another mage casually talking about killing Theo, the same way he might comment on a favorable investment.

“Forget his magic. I’d settle for wiping him off the planet even if I didn’t get anything in return. Probably be doing everyone a favor.”

“Caramel macchiato!” Camryn blinked and reached for her drink. Even the piping hot liquid running down her throat couldn’t melt the chill inside her as she quickly left the shop. It had been a suspicious amount of time since she’d seen Theo, and she wondered if he’d recently stepped up his ambushes on other magic-users. He’d left her alone since that day she yelled at him.

She had no love for Theo, but what she’d just overheard… That was conspiring to murder. Was there some sort of...magical police force? Then again, the doctor hadn’t told her it was illegal when he’d said mages participated in duels. This magic shit was more brutal than she’d imagined…

She shook her head and made her way down the street. Theo could handle himself. It wasn’t her problem.

A crisp breeze ruffled her hair, bringing her back to reality. She took a deep drink of her coffee and sighed, heading for the campus and her next class.

--------------------------

Cam was reading on the couch a little past midnight when she heard it. A sudden boom of thunder that made her jump and her lamp flicker. A surge of energy seemed to pass through her, making the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand up.

She set her book down and walked to the balcony. The crisp fall air nipped at her bare feet as she stepped outside. The night was clear, and a vibrant full moon shone in the sky. As she watched, a flash of lightning ripped across the sky, striking somewhere in the city. A second boom followed, and this time she saw it spread across town like a ripple from a stone thrown in water.

There was no doubt: it was very, very powerful magic.

There was a third boom, and lightning struck the same place as before. Cam felt the blast of magic, and the lights around the epicenter went dark. All at once, the presence of magic vanished, leaving the town cold and silent. After a moment, she shivered and retreated back into her apartment, wondering what had just occurred.

--------------------------

“Did you feel that weird magic pulse the night before last?”

Eri glanced up from where he was sprawled on the floor and blinked those glacial blue eyes. “Of course. Every magic user in the area did.”

Eri possessed wild magic. He could shapeshift into a large black dog at will. The first time Cam had met him, she’d witnessed him get hit by a car in dog form. She’d taken him in, unaware that he was anything more than a particularly clever canine. It was only when his broken leg healed that he shifted back into a tall, dark-skinned man—and scared the living hell out of her in the process.

“What was it?” Cam asked. “All I could tell was that it was powerful.”

“Oh! I always forget you don’t know about this stuff,” Eri said. “It was Fae magic.”

A chill went down her spine. “Fae? Like...like faeries? They’re real?”

“Of course. And this one…wasn’t happy.” He shut the book he’d been reading. “That storm was a curse.”

“A curse? For what?”

“Some stupid mage who tampered with something they shouldn’t’ve,” he shrugged. “Don’t worry—it doesn’t mean danger for any of us. Fae usually slap their curses on people and leave.”

“So…it wasn’t a curse on the town? The shock wave I saw made me think it might be…”

Eri shook his shaggy black head. “Fae wouldn’t involve such a high population of non-magic users like that. It would create a big stink in the magic world.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve got a hunch about who it might’ve been, though.”

“Theo?”

Eri nodded. “He’s the most meddlesome mage around. Don’t you think?”

She didn’t reply. “What exactly do Fae curses entail?” she asked.

“Who knows? They’re crazy powerful beings. I’ve never personally known a bastard unlucky enough to be on the wrong end of one.” He grinned, revealing those abnormally sharp canines. “I’d love to know what it did to that prick, though.”

--------------------------

The library was almost empty as Camryn browsed the shelves. Outside, rain and leaves in every shade of red, orange and yellow blew past. She sighed and replaced the book on the shelf.

It had been over a month since she’d seen Theo, and two weeks since the magical pulse. After what Eri had told her, she was beginning to wonder.

She wandered down a few aisles, trying to decide what she felt like for lunch—and almost ran right into the mage himself.

Theo’s head jerked up. He wore a thin black hoodie with the hood pulled low on his head. Deep black circles hung heavy under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept in days. His long red hair, usually so shiny and wavy, hung greasy and limp around him, and he was pale as parchment. His shoulders curved in, and those bloodshot green eyes widened at the sight of her.

Then, like a mask being snapped down, he smirked. “L-Long time no see.” Though his tone was its usual laid-back drawl, there was an unmistakable tremble in it. In his fingers was a book, bound in black leather, that didn’t look like anything the library would have.

“Theo, are…are you okay?” she asked reflexively. “You don’t look so good.” Correction: he looked like shit.

Something flickered in his eyes and vanished, and he chuckled. “What would you care?” He took a step back and turned. “Sorry, I don’t have time to play today.” He sauntered toward the exit, but it was just the tiniest bit rushed. After a moment’s hesitation, Cam set down the book she’d been considering and followed him out the door.

“Theo, wait!”

The redhead paused at the rain’s edge, but didn’t turn. Cam approached him slowly, wondering what she was doing.

“…The uh… The Fae curse a couple weeks ago… Was it you?”

Theo didn’t move.

Cam swallowed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Look, I… You…” She sighed. “I know we’re about as far from friends as possible, but… if you need help or something…” What was she saying? This was the man who had brutally maimed her back and didn’t even have the balls to bring it up. She owed him nothing.

And yet, there was something wrong. You promised, a voice inside her chided. You had blood on your hands and your clothes a year ago, and on that night you promised to help those you could. What sort of karma or irony was it, she wondered, that it had to be him?

“I don’t need anyone.” The amusement in Theo’s voice was gone. “Least of all a naïve girl with a physical affinity who hasn’t got a clue how the magic world works.”

He stepped into the downpour, heading down the sidewalk. Cam watched him for a moment before running to her car with a frustrated sigh. She pulled out of the parking lot in time to intercept him and rolled down her window.

“Hey.” He halted again, blinking through the rain. He was already soaked, and she realized the mage had lost weight.

Cam reached into her passenger side and held out her umbrella. “Here. Take care of yourself, since you’re too stubborn to let anyone help you.”

He stared at the umbrella, until she leaned further out of the window and shoved it against his chest. “See you,” she muttered, and drove away. In her rearview mirror, she saw his eyes follow her car before opening the umbrella.

--------------------------

Cam pushed open the back door of the bar, stuffing her paycheck into her pocket and munching on a slice of the pizza Lawrence had ordered for the crew. Her breath steamed in front of her, and the first snowfall of the year crunched beneath her feet. Behind a few scraggly patches of clouds, a full moon was rising into the sky.

The sound of cruel male laughter suddenly floated down the quiet alley. Cam paused—it had come from in front of her. Though her physical affinity had significantly lessened her fear of being jumped, wariness still coursed through her. She took a few steps forward, ears pricked.

“Get away from me!” a familiar voice snapped. The sound of a fist striking flesh followed, and Camryn peeked around the corner and saw three men standing there.

Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized two of them as the ones from the cafe who’d talked about killing Theo. The third was unfamiliar.

Then she noticed another figure lying at their feet, red hair splayed out on the pavement.

Her blood froze.

One of the men from the cafe chuckled and ran a hand over his short black hair. “It was well worth it to stake you out,” he sneered. “There were rumors that you tried to capture a Fae’s familiar. So she really did curse you and take every last drop of your magic!”

Cam pressed herself against the wall, staring numbly. Every last drop of his magic… Her heart plummeted.

Oh my god.

He was powerless.

“Fuck off, Desmond!” Theo snapped, pushing himself up. One of the other men swung his leg up into Theo’s gut, and he coughed and collapsed again.

Desmond squatted down and grabbed a fistful of Theo’s hair, jerking his head up.

“You’ve been dodging me since you stole my work, and that magic of yours has kept me from taking back what’s rightfully mine,” he murmured in Theo’s ear. “Nothing but talent and cowardice. But now,” he smiled darkly, “now you have nothing. No way to protect yourself.” He glanced up at the sky. “I’d wager it’s almost moonrise, right? Let’s see exactly what kind of curse that Fae gave you.”

Theo paled, and then his face twisted, teeth bared. He fought against Desmond, but the other men just laughed.

“Get away from him.” Camryn’s legs moved on their own. She found herself standing before the three men as they turned to face her.

“What’s the idea?” Desmond demanded.

“Let him go,” she said.

They blinked and snorted. “Move along, girl. This doesn’t concern you.” Theo gaped at her from where Desmond still had hold of his hair. A purple bruise cast a shadow beneath his left eye, and his lip was bleeding.

One of the men dropped his hand onto her shoulder. “Hey, didn’t you hear us? Beat i—”

She brought her knee up directly into his groin. The man heaved and crumpled to the ground, and the other two tensed.

“Hey!”

“Listen,” she snapped. “That asshole has come after me more than I can count. But I’m not such a cowardly piece of shit that I’d wait till he couldn’t protect himself to get my revenge!”

Desmond hissed. “So you do have an affinity!” He waved his hand, and shards of ice came shooting toward her. She jumped out of the way, but some of the shards sliced into her cheek and arm. She gritted her teeth and lunged.

Desmond swore and released Theo, raising his hands to attack. In the same moment, Theo pulled a knife from his pocket and jabbed it into Desmond’s thigh.

The mage howled, and Cam took advantage of the distraction and slammed her fist into his gut. He folded over her arm, mouth gaping. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other man’s fingers crackle with flame. She spun and pushed Desmond toward him. They collided, and Desmond roared as the fire seared his jacket.

Camryn jumped between Theo and the men, bracing herself for their next attack. The mages got to their feet and stood watching her.

Desmond’s sneer suddenly curled into a smile. “Whatever,” he said. “You won’t be around to protect him forever.” He sneered at Theo. “Hear that, Blackthorn? Better watch your back.” He turned on his heel and limped away, one hand pressed to the knife wound in his leg. The other two glared daggers at Cam, but followed.

She watched them until they rounded the corner at the end of the alley. Panting, she straightened and turned to Theo.

The redhead gaped openly at her, eyes like saucers. He wore a t-shirt, skinny jeans that were soaked through from the snow, and no shoes. He was shaking, whether from cold or shock she wasn’t sure. The knife he’d stabbed Desmond with lay nearby, staining the snow crimson.

Cam took a deep breath and let it out. The adrenaline began to subside, and she offered him her hand.

He stared at it as though it was a snake that might bite him, and didn’t move.

“Come on,” Cam grumbled. “You’re gonna freeze sitting there like that.”

Wary green eyes snapped to hers. “Why?” he whispered.

“Why what?”

“Why did you do that?”

Camryn dropped her hand. “They were going to kill you,” she said.

“It wouldn’t have affected you.” He scowled, but there was a tremor in his voice. His eyes darted up—to the light of the rising moon. He pulled himself to his feet, never taking his eyes from her. “What do you want?” he growled.

Was he serious? “To make sure you’re not dead in this alleyway, I guess,” she snapped back.

“I’ll be fine.” He moved to take a step past her—only to stop when she didn’t move.

“Is it true you can’t use magic anymore?” she asked.

Theo’s throat bobbed, and his breathing grew shallow. “Let me pass,” he demanded.

She took a step forward. “Theo…”

“Get away!” He shoved her and tried to bolt. He only made it three steps when he flinched violently. Panic shone in his eyes as he pressed his hands to his head. “N-No…” he moaned. “Not here…” He stumbled against a trash can and went sprawling in the snow. A mixture of agony and fear rippled across his face as he looked up at her.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Alarm rang through her as she knelt beside the redhead.

“No!” he gasped, pushing weakly at her. “Don’t t-touch me… Get away!” He squeezed his eyes shut, and a shimmering aura appeared around him. It was followed by a swirl of mist that rose to engulf him completely.

Camryn raised an arm to her face, blinking furiously as the mist cleared.

At first, she thought Theo had vanished. Then she saw him sitting in the snow…

...No more than three inches tall.

The word clanged in her head as she gaped at him. Cursed.

Her first instinct was to laugh. The great Theo Blackthorn had indeed, been knocked down to size. All of his cocky, preening arrogance, all that hot air, gone just like that.

He doubled over, head between his knees as he dug his fingers into his hair. A whimper of pain slipped from his lips.

Just like that, Cam’s amusement vanished.

The mage had nothing. His magic had been taken, and he’d been cursed like this. And even though she wanted to tell herself he deserved it after the pain he’d caused her… She simply could not. The only thing she felt as she looked down at him was pity.

“Theo,” she said softly.

His head snapped up. At the sight of her, he gasped and scrambled backward.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured. “I want to help. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Slowly, she reached for him.

The redhead’s face went slack with horror. He stumbled to his feet and sprinted toward a crack in the wall. Camryn lunged after him, blocking his path with her hand. He flinched and tried to turn, but she caught him in her grasp and lifted him from the snow.

“No!” he cried, struggling and grabbing at her fingers. “Let go! Let me go!” He bit down on her knuckle.

“Ouch! Quit, I’m trying to help you!” she hissed.

The tiny teeth vanished, and his fists beat against her. She could feel his heartbeat, slamming against her skin like a bird’s. It was the oddest sensation, to have a person writhing between her fingers. He’d always been skinny, but now... She could snap his limbs like toothpicks.

He finally slumped against her thumb. The bags under his eyes seemed even darker as he looked up at her in complete dread. “...Please,” he whispered.

Her heart twisted. This was the high and mighty mage that had ambushed and tormented her for months—that had teased and taunted and harmed and bantered with her, and hadn’t seemed to care one way or another. The man that had viciously sliced open her back. She had every excuse to deliver that torment back to him with interest.

But that’s just what it was: an excuse. As he trembled in her fingers, she was reminded again of that damned rainy night a year ago, when she’d jumped out of the ambulance with her kit and seen the ruined mess of a Jeep twisted around a tree. And of the promise she’d made herself after that night.

She took a deep breath. “I know you’re scared,” she told him. “And I know you don’t believe me. But you’re safe now. Let’s get you warm.”

#g/t #g/t writing #affinity #giant/tiny #i love the first time they see each other in g/t #HEHEHEHEHEH

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

Rain patters against the window panes, filling the room with the cozy kind of silence that leaves you feeling lethargic no matter what time of the day it is. A thunderstorm had enveloped Hawkins like a shroud, refusing to budge despite the sunny morning that had greeted them.

Steve is all loose limbs, and comfortable warmth, cozy under the arms that wrap around his waist. He's got his head tucked under Billy's chin, ear pressed against his chest to listen to the steady beat of that heart. A heart that he almost thought he would never hear again after-

"Let's get out of this town. Drive out of the city, away from the crowds."

The words are spoken so quietly that if Steve didn't have his head on Billy's chest he doubts he would have been able to hear them. They are enough to make him lose his grim train of thought. Maybe for the better.

Wait, what?

It takes a moment for the words to register, a frown finding its way upon Steve's face. Propping himself up on his elbows he looks down at Billy with questioning eyes.

"Where would we even go?" Because he's not going to say no to an offer like that. Hawkins is too big at times, but other times it feels so small like he's suffocating just by existing among the borders of this town.

"Does it matter?" Billy's voice interrupts his thoughts, a gentle grin curling his lips. "We could just take one of the cars and drive out, see where the road takes us. Get out of Bumfuck, Indiana for a few days. Live a little."

"We live enough just by being in Hawkins."

"Fighting eldritch creatures from another dimension doesn't count."

"I don't know man, going toe to toe with a demodog makes me feel pretty alive."

Billy rolls his eyes but the way he tenses up, iron-clad defenses raising once again, makes it clear that he's serious about this. Steve doesn't give him time to take back his words though, leaning in to press a light kiss to the hollow of his throat.

After everything that happened with Neil, Billy almost dying and then moving in with him, Steve doesn’t have the heart to deny him this either.

"I will go with you. Wherever it is you want to go, even if it's to a shitty diner in Chicago three hours from here, then I will go with you."

He hopes Billy catches onto the real meaning of his words despite their playfulness. Because it's true, Steve would follow him back to California as long as that's what he wanted. As long as Billy asked him.

But he hadn't. And there was only a week left before Billy went back to California.

By now Steve had resigned himself and accepted the truth. That this thing they were doing, this sort of relationship they had stumbled upon, was bound to end just as summer did. The only thing he wished for, the single thing he would ever ask of Billy, was to at least remember him.

“But for real, is there somewhere you want to go?” He asked, hoping to push the depressing thoughts of his love life to the back of his mind for now. If he wanted to have a crisis about how everyone he had ever loved always left him, he could do that once Billy left for UCLA.

“I know your music taste is all pop bullshit but you have heard of Summerfest, right?”

“The music festival in Milwaukee? It’s been advertised on the radio for a while now. Something about Bryan Adams being there, I think.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Did Billy sound nervous? Why? “You want to go?”

Steve blinked in confusion, sitting up a bit so he was straddling Billy’s lap and could face him. “I mean, it would be cool but the tickets sold out weeks ago.”

“Got in contact with some old friends from Cali. Managed to snatch a couple of tickets.” Billy shrugged, smirking up at Steve despite the slight hint of nervousness. “Wanna take that drive now, Princess?”

---

A day later they had everything ready.

The Camaro's trunk was packed with two duffel bags with enough spare clothes for a week, snacks, bottles of water, and a first aid kit Joyce had forced into their hands before leaving. Steve hoped they wouldn't need to use it, though.

It was Jonathan's gift that had made him tear up a little. He had fixed his old Polaroid camera and offered it to Steve with a decent amount of film already inside it. Something told him that it might've been Nancy's idea but either way he was glad.

He didn’t know he needed a physical way to remember this week but was glad to have it.

Billy doesn't comment on it once they are back in the car but he does raise his eyebrows in a silent question. Steve just shrugs, not feeling like untangling the complicated knot of emotions lodged somewhere inside his chest.

---

It's still light outside when they make their first stop.

There's no finesse in the way they scramble into the backseat of the Camaro, nothing delicate about the way Billy tugs him into his lap, just desire and barely contained desperation. Then they are kissing again, wet and messy and perfect.

They are parked in the middle of some woods somewhere on the way to Chicago. Steve's not sure exactly where anymore, having forgone the map maybe half an hour after they left Hawkins. It's not like it matters. It's not like anything matters other than the heat of Billy's skin on his. His kisses, the bruises he litters on pale skin, and the way he can't seem to stop touching Steve like he will disappear if Billy so much as blinks.

And Steve understands. He really does. Because once summer ends and Billy has to leave Hawkins for UCLA, there will be no more moments like these. No more nights of having the blond next to him in bed when he goes to sleep. No more shared meals on the couch while going through his parent's VHS collection.

There will be no more them.

So instead of focusing on the unbearable ache the thought alone creates in his chest, Steve chooses to focus his attention on pushing Billy down against the leather seat and moving back so he can work on getting those tight jeans low enough for him to bring Billy's cock to his lips.

"Fuck! Baby, that feels so-" Familiar fingers bury themselves into his hair, pulling on the strands and making him moan. He relaxes his jaw then, looking up at Billy who seems to have caught on to his intentions if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

"You want me to fuck your mouth, baby? Make you choke on my cock?"

"Pwhease." Talking with his mouth as full as it is isn't easy but he's rewarded by the look on Billy's face. His eyes darken, his lips part and the grip on Steve's hair tightens. It’s enough to send heat pooling low in Steve’s abdomen, a muffled whine escaping his lips.

Billy starts up with slow, barely contained thrusts, his eyes never straying away from the sight between his legs. He knows how much Steve likes

Considering how keyed up they already were, it’s no surprise when Billy only lasts a few minutes before he's coming hot and heavy down Steve’s throat. He swallows everything, choking a little on the cock still inside his mouth. He only pulls away when the grip on his hair finally grows lax.

Steve barely gets enough time to catch his breath before Billy is surging up and dragging him into a messy kiss, licking into his mouth and chasing the taste of himself on those lips. It should be gross. Hell, it is gross. But somehow it's also one of the hottest things Steve's ever experienced and he can't help but moan into the kiss.

His breath hitches turning into a whine when he feels Billy's spit-slick hand inside his briefs, wrapping around his cock. He's already so sensitive that there's not a single ounce of shame in him as he ruts into the touch, needy sounds falling like raindrops from parted lips.

"Billy, Billy, please- Fuck, I want-"

"Jesus, you look so pretty like this. So needy. Gonna come for me already, baby?"

“Uh-huh”

“Ask me pretty, baby, c’mon.”

"Let me come, please Billy." Steve whimpers softly, arms coming up to wrap themselves around tanned shoulders. He's shaking from the pleasure, muscles tense and every nerve alight. So damn close, already.

It's then that Billy starts to jack him off in earnest, thumb pressing against that sensitive spot just under the head with each upward stroke, his mouth otherwise occupied with suckling at the freckles that litter the skin of Steve’s neck and shoulder.

“Billy I-” Steve’s eyes roll back and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to muffle the loud moan that slips out from his chest. It’s only when he bats Billy’s hand away from his cock that he finally starts to feel like he can catch his breath again.

#WIPs #roadtrip au #stranger things #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #lemons #???#is that how we're tagging these now??

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