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sunray-222 · 5 months

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Angel Baby. | M.S

pairing : matt sturniolo x y/n

summary: in which matt and his brothers are a pretty big deal in a small town. y/n, who is the daughter of a school teacher and a fireman has never understood the hype around those sturniolo boys anyways. however, when matt takes her home to save her from pouring rain, she decides to give him a chance.

warnings: kind of suggestive? mostly fluff, cursing, no fame!au

i just loved this idea. 🫶🏻

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“oh y/n,” you hear your best friend madeline giggle down the hallway. “hi madeline,” you smile closing the locker and holding the books to your chest. “you’ll never guess who wants to take me on a date tonight!” her smile was something similar to the cheshire cat, and all you could think was ‘oh brother.’ however, being the good friend you are, you entertained her.

“oh do tell madi, i think i might die if i don’t know!” you say, sarcasm dripping from your words. her face stern, as she shoved your shoulder a bit. “christopher sturniolo!” her tone raised a bit, as she jumped up and down from excitement. “good lord madeline, i thought it was serious.” you huff, drawing your free hand to your forehead, shaking your head at her over exaggerating.

her jaw could’ve hit the floor from how agape it was, and the gasp she let out was surely for the dramatics, “y/n, my dear, my baby, it is serious! do you not understand how important him and his brothers are?” the and being dragged out far too long. “oh i know. i also know they’re raging assholes madi, i also know christopher’s track record. i support you completely, i just don’t think getting mixed up with those tools is a good idea.” you shrugged.

and in all honesty, you did support her. hell maybe you were even a little jealous of her. getting asked out by one of the most popular guys in school. but there was a reason they were popular, and it wasn’t good. they were rude, loud, obnoxious, and all in all wouldn’t do you any favors.

your one goal : make it out of this small, tiny, close minded town. maybe make it far, somewhere like new york or los angeles. near or far, your plan certainly was not to fall for a sturniolo’s meaningless words, and wind up stuck here.

after all, they were just high school boys. and high school boys are what the devil sends when he can’t reach you himself.

that school day drug on, madeline filling in everyone the each of you knew about her little plans with christopher after school. it was a little unbearable as you made your way to your locker.

as you stood there, sorting through your science and algebra books, you hear a voice clear their throat.

as quickly as the door shut, you realized it was one of the triplets. “i’m sorry, i really can’t tell the difference…which one are you?” you lied. of course you knew it was matt, it’s like everyone there could tell the difference between the three. but you being you, refused to give him the satisfaction.

“my apologies ma’am,” he smirked. “i’m matt, you’re uh… you’re y/n, friends with the girl my little brothers taking out?”

“little brother? i thought you three were all the same age?” you giggled, only half teasing. “i’m older by some minutes. answer the question, you and madeline friends?” his smile was charming, it was now you understood why all the girls chased after him.. never earning a chance though.

that was the thing about the brothers. nick was openly gay, chris would date just about any girl at that high school, and the crowd of girls not swarming chris? they followed matt like a lost puppy. he’d flirt, but he’d never take any of them serious.

“oh yeah, me and madeline are best friends.” you nodded up to the boy, starting to walk past him. he took a few short steps, quickly catching up within seconds. “well.. im kind of chris’s ride everywhere… you mind giving me madeline’s address? so i can pick her up for their date,” he seemed… nervous? oh don’t be silly y/n you thought to yourself he’d never be nervous to talk to you, every girl here practically throws herself at him.

“matt, why don’t you ask madeline yourself?” you ask, stopping at the door before your math class. “oh come on, y/n there’s one more class of the day, please tell me.” his tone was whiny like a child, and you couldn’t fight the giggle at him. quickly, you pulled a piece of paper from your notebook, he provided you a pen.

“christopher told her 6pm,” you explained, jotting down the last bit of her address “don’t be late.” you sighed, handing him the paper. “only because you were so kind,” he smirked, folding the paper and walking away.

“oh, my, god!?” your and madeline’s other close friend nadia whisper yelled as you sat down beside her. “what?” you asked, opening your book and grabbing a pen. “what did matthew want?” she smiled, urging you for details about the conversation. “oh my, nadia he was just asking for madi’s address.” you giggled, writing your name.

that class went by agonizingly slow, and then the bell finally rang.

“yeesh, madi he sure knows how to pick date nights.” you mumbled, referring to the cloudy skies. “oh hush, y/n. the way i’m feeling, it could be rain or shine i wouldn’t know the difference.” she smiled walking backwards for dramatic affect, “oh honey i’m glad.” you teased, turning her around to continue the treck back to her house.

“he’ll be here at 6, so..” she explained as we made our way up the stairs to her bedroom. “i’m thinking you pick out an outfit, while i do my hair and you can help me do my makeup.”

“aww, madi! how kind of you to include me,” you giggled making your way toward her closet. “hush it. i’ll talk you up to matthew if you’re sweet!” she winked, dragging out the ee in sweet. “oh madeline anne you better not.” your tone serious, even bringing out the middle name you know she hated. “never call me anne, and why not? you two were so sweet talking in the hallway today.”

“because of who he is madi. he doesn’t give girls the time of day, and besides you know my plans. im uninterested in anyone unless they’re helping me move” you explained, as she said the last part in unison with me. “i know y/n. but you could be a teenager until you up and leave everyone, you know. i won’t say anything. but don’t say i at least never offered.” her eyes going back to putting the rollers in her hair, now beginning to touch her makeup up.

the next two hours were filled with music, her talking about chris, and the two of you doing everything possible to make her look perfect. “wow, you look…wow,” you smiled, hugging her before spraying a bit of perfume on her.

“thanks babes,” she smiled, checking her watch. “and just in time! it’s 6!” and like clockwork, the doorbell rang. “madeline, your date is here!” you hear madeline’s mother call, as she was in the kitchen preparing some dinner for her and madeline’s father.

you raced down the stairs to answer the door, “hi christopher, madeline will be down in a second.” you smiled, nodding to chris. he gave you a small smile back, and speaking out a tiny okay.

moments later, madi finally came down stairs. “im ready,” she smiled, fixing the necklace that hang loosely around her neck. “hi, you look- you look beautiful.” chris smiled, holding some flowers in front of him. “oh, these are for you.” the blush across his face was sweet.

it was in this moment you realized, it must be nice. young love, a boy picking you up from your house, both of you dressed nice, just to go to the old drive in a quarter of a mile away from madeline’s house.

madeline took the flowers from chris, handing them to you, as she made her way out the door hand in hand with chris. “home by 11!” you hear her mother yell out, just before the front door shut.

in somewhat of a rush to get home and study, you made your way to the kitchen, quickly putting the flowers in an old vase, and taking them upstairs to carefully place them in madi’s room.

just as you were about to be out the door to head home, madeline’s mother calls out, “y/n, dear, if you don’t mind, madi’s jacket is in here on the kitchen table, i worry about her being cold, drop it off to her will you?” “yeah of course.” you mumbled.

you really didn’t want too. crash a date, oh brother just what you needed. at least it wasn’t a very long walk.

you made your way to the side gate, sneaking in so you wouldn’t have to pay to see john carpenter’s halloween, and eat carnival snacks. by the side gate, was the old lawn chairs for the people who didn’t park in time.

it was there you caught matt and nick, but no chris and madi. “hey, um.. matt.” you whispered, tapping his shoulder, at first his expression was annoyed before turning around and realizing it was you.

“oh, hey y/n. you need anything?” he asked, standing, moving to the middle area so you two weren’t in anyone’s way. “yeah, madi’s mom asked if i could bring her jacket. do you know where they are?” you asked, watching a slight blush come across his face.

“oh, uh, i kinda let them have the car to themselves. whatever they’re doin’… i promise madi’s alright without it. i’ll hold it for her though?” matt explained, scratching the back of his neck. “oh!” you gasped, finally picking up what he was laying down. “yeah, um, thanks.” you said quickly, handing the jacket to matt.

“woah, woah!” he spoke, a little loudly as he ran a bit to catch up with you. “let me walk you home? there’s a good hour left, i’ve got time to get back. and there’s bad people out there at night.”

was he this sweet to every girl? or was it because his brother was trying to have sex with your best friend?

“matt i really appreciate it, but i don’t want to make you leave your car.” you smiled, turning once more to walk away.

however, he caught up in just enough time to grab your arm and have you face him again. “y/n, it’s not making me do anything. i’m offering. please let me walk you, at least to the main part of town?”

you looked between his eyes, which were pleading for you to say yes, and the ground. “sure,” you mumbled, he smiled a bit, turning towards the exit, walking the both of you out again.

“you’re a real good friend, y/n. bringing her that coat,” he smiled down to you. “oh, it was no big deal. i’d do just about anything for madeline.” you smiled to him, “that’s sweet.” he laughed a bit.

you two hadn’t made it far, maybe 5 or 6 minutes away as rain out of nowhere began pouring. “oh shit, here y/n, cover yourself we can get back to my car and head home.” matt yelled over the rain, handing you the jacket.

as you placed it over your head, you felt matt secure a hand around your waist as he made his way back to the side gate quickly running the two of you to his car.

“fuckin’ hell that rain came out of nowhere.” he huffed, quickly opening the door for you, as he ran to his side. “y/n?! what are you doing here?” madeline asked, a smirk sly on her face. “i- your mom asked me to bring you a jacket, and matt was going to walk me back to the main side of town, but it’s raining and-”

“and now i’m taking the both of you home.” matt answered, cutting you off. it wasn’t rude, just seemed he was trying to avoid conversation.

“i wish nick would hurry his fucking ass.” chris mumbled, sliding an arm around madi. “finally.” he laughed, as nick opened the passenger side, slamming it shut once he seen you and hopping in the back.

where did sweet matt go? more importantly, why did you care?

it’s not like you and matt were on a date. madi and chris were. matt’s just being a nice guy. that’s all. and him cutting off any question on why you two were together, gave you all you needed to know. he didn’t see you that way, and he didn’t want madi thinking he seen you that way.

as he turned the radio on, an old love song sounded through. matt only rolled his eyes as he quickly shut it off, getting onto the highway and headed toward madeline’s house.

the drive was short, and matt was silent as he threw the car in park. “please don’t take years telling her goodnight chris. i wanna go home,” he mumbled, scrolling through his phone. chris rolled his eyes, mumbling “dickhead” as he got out, helping madeline slide out of the middle seat.

“matthew, is everything alright?” you asked, he blushed, looking up to you, “yeah. just- i don’t like driving in the rain.” he nodded, his full attention now back to his phone.

you bit back tears, as quickly as chris came back to the car. “i live on marbury lane. it’s just passed the drive in, and after the red light.” you explained. “i know where it’s at. chris dated one of your neighbors last year.” matt explained, putting the car in drive as he took off.

you supposed once chris is done with a girl, matt’s good guy facade is done too.

the drive was short and simple, and before you knew it, his car was parked just in front of your driveway.

you sighed as you picked up your school bag, and just before you had the opportunity to open the door. “wait, y/n, i’ll walk you in.” matt explained, hopping out quickly, coming to open your door.

you gave him a shy smile, as he opened the door giving you room to step out. “i’m sorry, if i seemed rude.” his voice was soft, and he didn’t slam the car door. “oh, really it’s alright.” you smiled turning to head to the door. “no, y/n… i was nervous. around your friend- and- i don’t know. i shouldn’t have acted that way.”

“it’s okay, matthew. goodnight.”

“let me take you out.”

the silence that fell upon both of you was deafening. “i don’t- matt i don’t date. you’re sweet but-” “but what?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit as he sounded genuinely hurt. “it’s not you matt. i just don’t date.” you shrugged.

“are you not allowed?” he asked, stepping toward you. “it’s not that i’m not allowed, my mom wants me to date.. i just have a plan matt. and i don’t need anything tying me here.”

god y/n, you thought to yourself. get over yourself! you want to go out with him, what is stopping you?!

“please? just one date, if i can’t change your mind with one, you can swear off dating again and i won’t complain. i’m sorry for being a dick, i just didn’t know how to talk to you in front of someone i didn’t know, but i’ll work on it if you just-” “matt if i say yes, will you quit rambling?” you giggled to the blushing boy.

his smile only grew, “only if you say yes.”

“you’ve got yourself a date, sturniolo. but please don’t bring your brothers.”

“anything for you.”

—

this was just a cute idea i had :,)

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader

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theawkwardanglophile · 1 year

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Chenford + "it was never just biology..."

Midnight.

It was midnight, and Tim was no closer to falling asleep than he was when he first got in bed an hour ago. The sheets rustled as his legs moved up and down out of restlessness. While it wasn’t an excessively warm evening, the air felt thick and hung over him as if he was covered in extra blankets. If the obnoxiously loud cricket he kept hearing wasn’t already inside it had to be right beside his window, torturing him with its incessant chirping.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Flinging the sheets off, he groaned as he got up and padded to the kitchen.

He quietly got a glass of water, trying not to wake up Kojo.

Apparently, this was his life now.

It had been two and a half weeks since Lucy had left for UC school, some of the longest weeks of his life. Weeks that had been filled with an unbearable silence, the longest they’d ever gone without talking since the day she’d been assigned to him.

He’d expected this, knowing such a compressed time of learning required total focus from her. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, so he’d kept quiet, not knowing if she’d want to hear from him anyway after how he’d left things with her.

It wasn’t as though it was permanent, he reasoned. She would be back in a couple of weeks. They would talk again, maybe ride together again, maybe be friends again.

But in the meantime, oh how he missed her.

So he lay awake every night, torturing himself with guilt over what might have happened when she’d invited him in after Vegas, wondering what to do about Ashley, who didn’t deserve a guy who couldn’t figure out what he really wanted, and debating what exactly to say to Lucy the next time he saw her.

She told him it was basic biology. She had Chris. There was no way she was sitting around thinking about her former TO.

It was time for him to move on, too.

As he finished his water, he heard a faint buzzing coming from back in his bedroom and his heart plummeted.

A call after midnight was usually never a good thing.

He sprinted back, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

Lucy.

“Are you okay?” was all he could think to say.

“Tim, hi. I just, um, I wanted–”

“Are you okay?” he repeated, still fearing the worst.

“Yes, yes I’m fine. I’m in my hotel room for the night.”

Finally able to release the breath he’d been holding, he sank onto the bed, feeling like he’d just aged ten years. “In that case, hi.”

“Um, how are you?”

Such a simple question, yet he didn’t know how to answer. Great made him a lying liar who lies. Good was also a lie. I’ve been miserable since you left, well, far more accurate but there was no way he was telling her that right off the bat. So he went with the old standby. “I’m fine.”

“Good. That’s good,” Lucy said, her voice wistful. He could almost sense her the overactive wheels spinning in her mind, yet she said nothing more, which was never a good sign when it came to Lucy Chen.

Sighing, he tried to break the ice. “Lucy, I know you didn’t call at midnight just to ask how I’m doing. So, start talking.”

He winced, wondering if that came out harsher than he intended. “Please,” he added, barely above a whisper.

He heard a shaky breath on the other end. “I’ve been needing to tell you something, for a while, actually. But calling was a mistake. It had been a long night, and I had wanted to hear your voice, but this was a bad idea.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that and tell me what you need to say?”

“No, I can’t do that to you, Tim. I don’t want to complicate your life.”

“You’ve been complicating my life since the day I met you. What makes this any different?” he teased, trying to lessen the heaviness he could hear in her voice.

But all he was met with was silence.

“In a good way,” he added quickly. “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Not your strong suit.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was able to do it with four words.

“Please, Lucy, talk to me.”

“It was never just biology,” Lucy whispered.

He gripped the phone tighter, sure he heard her wrong. All words in the English language deserted him.

“It’s what I should have said in Vegas, when you asked. I told you what I thought you wanted to hear, but it wasn’t what I wanted to say. It wasn’t just biology, and it still isn’t. I felt…so much when we kissed. And I know, I know you’re happy with Ashley, and I would never want to come between the two of you. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. It’s been weighing on me for weeks, and I felt like you needed to know, because when I come back to LA, everything is going to have to change, and I don’t know really know where we go from here.”

Tim scrambled to process her every word, still not quite believing it. He was desperate to respond, but no words were able to leave his throat.

“Ok…ok,” she whispered, sniffling. “I get it, you know. You told me to move on, and I’m going to respect your wishes. I won’t get in your way when I come back, I promise.”

“No!” Tim exclaimed, his mouth finally catching up with his brain. “I’m sorry, Lucy, I just needed a second to process. It was never just biology for me, either.”

“What? Really?”

“Really. But you made it seem like you weren’t interested, and then everything with Chris…I was going to try to put it behind me.”

“How was that working out for you?”

“Terribly. You’re impossible to forget, Lucy.”

“Wow. I’ve been overanalyzing all of this for so long, and you’re able to whip out a line like that out of nowhere?”

Tim chuckled as he sank further into the pillows. “Because it’s the truth.”

“But Ashley….”

He felt his stomach churn at the mention of her name. “I’ve been needing to break up with her. I haven’t been fair to her, having feelings for someone else while still trying to make the relationship work.”

“I had already decided to break up with Chris once I got home. That was a decision I made for myself, regardless of what might happen with you. I thought I could stay with him after his attack, but there just isn’t anything there. I don’t feel enough to keep anything going. But I do owe it to him to break up with him in person.”

“Sounds like we both have some things we need to take care of.”

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we really do this?”

He ached for her to appear in front of her so he could pull her in his arms and give her all the reassurance in the world, to touch and taste her until she had no doubt in her mind. But right now, all he had were his words.

“We can, Lucy. I know there are obstacles with work, but you matter more than any of those. Sure it will be a risk, but I think we’re worth the risk.”

“I think so, too.”

Tim smiled. “Good.”

Lucy yawned loudly into the phone.

“Get some sleep already. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Man, have I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Tim said, nodding as if she could see. “Me too.”

“Goodnight, Tim.”

“Goodnight, Lucy.”

He pulled the sheets back over him, unable to get rid of the grin on his face, not that he wanted to. There still wouldn’t be any sleep coming tonight, but at least now it was for a whole different reason.

#chenford #chenford fic #the rookie #tim x lucy #my fanfiction #fic prompt #thank you anon

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manekicatwriter · 3 years

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hellooo! i was wondering if i could make a request for an modern au sbi x gn sibling reader where they’re around 17-19, and they’ve got depression. they’ve had to go away for a few weeks after a bad episode ended in an attempt and they were hospitalized and sent somewhere for rehabilitation and now they’re coming home and they’re all anxious and quiet and stuff- so the boys do their best to like comfort them and reassure them that they’re loved and they belong there? i’m sorry if that’s an awkward request, i was just recently discharged after a similar situation and honestly the comfort would be great. it’s totally your call if you chose to write it tho, i understand that this is a difficult and triggering subject and not everyone is comfortable with writing things like it. if you aren’t comfy please feel free to just ignore my ask! <3

you’re here, and that’s what matters.

TW: mentions of attempted suicide. please proceed with caution.

hey! i just wanted to let you know that i’ve been through a similar situation and understand how you feel (though my case was not as severe). i wish you a safe road to recovery.

note, i think you asked for their characters but it leant itself towards their rl versions. i have a feeling the dsmp versions would be too chaotic for this sensitive subject.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! please do not be afraid to send in an ask. ANON IS ON!!

Phil:

- phil was very scared about you being so gravely hurt, it kept him up for some nights. thankfully, you pulled through.

- he visited whenever he could. if he couldn’t, he was busy making sure coming home felt as comfortable for you as possible while also educating himself on how to take care of you.

- phil would listen to how you felt, and be understanding of your feelings.

- “You don’t have to tell me why you did it, I’m just glad you’re here,” pulling you in for a warm hug.

- when you got back home, he made sure he and the boys had prepared your favorite dinner and desserts.

It was the day you had just got home from rehabilitation, and you two were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t said much, you felt like you had nothing to say. Phil had asked for you to sit down so you two could talk, one on one.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” your voice started to crack. “For making you guys worry about me.” Tears started to form from your eyes and you wept into your hands.

Phil immediately reached over to you to hug you, letting you cry on his shoulder. “We don’t blame you. We don’t blame anybody. I just want you to be here safe with us. Let it all out.” He pat and rubbed your back soothingly as you kept crying. But it was a good cry. He was just glad you came home.

Tommy:

- even though many see tommy as a loud and obnoxious boy with a general disregard for others, we all know deep down that’s a persona. he will go out of his way to make other comfortable in his presence if he truly cares for them. which he does, for you of course.

- he wants to make you happy! when the time is right, he’ll crack jokes and offer to play minecraft with you.

- would tone down the yelling. not because you asked, but he’s afraid of triggering you. treats you like glass. if you notice he’s being quieter than usual and you don’t care, you tell him you don’t.

- if you’re feeling it, he’ll take you out to fun places and to eat. nothing that’s too outlandish like a theme park, but just enough to have a reason to get out of bed that day instead of sleeping in.

It had been a week since you had gotten home and Phil had instructed you to maintain somewhat of a schedule to upkeep yourself. Right now was your nightly routine, washing yourself, brushing your teeth, and finally sliding under the covers. It felt nice. The blanket of sleep consumes you easily…

…

Until you bedroom door opens you’re being aggressively shaken awake. You groan, shying away, but they’re persistent.

“Ey, wake up, it’s morning!” Tommy shakes you again.

You realize you didn’t dream, but think nothing of it. “Tommy please, what do you want.”

Finally, Tommy pulled your warm sheets from over you, making you flinch. “I wanted to go out to the park today! Feed the ducks! Yeesss!”

You sighed. If you didn’t comply now, Tommy will refuse to stop nagging you for the rest of the day. You rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. You could very clearly hear Tommy’s cheers.

You two had gotten ready, eaten breakfast, and said goodbye to the rest of your family so you could head over to the park. It was close enough that it wasn’t unbearable to walk to. Even if you weren’t completely yourself yet, you were glad Tommy was.

After the short walk you two finally reached the park. Tommy immediately bolted toward the pond and you jogged behind. He had already started throwing the ducks some seeds, and even threw it on a duck. It didn’t seem too pleased.

You two sat at the edge of the pond as you watched the ducks eat. “Hey.” You hear Tommy call to you, and you turn your head to him.

“Can we talk about what happened? With you? Is it okay?” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Go ahead, what is it?”

“When Techno found out what happened to you, and told us the news, I was scared shitless.” He let out a sad huff. “I thought we were going to lose you.” Tommy kept his eyes fixed at the pond in front of him. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have brought this up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He sighed.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh Tommy…” You started, “I’m sorry for making you worry. You shouldn’t have to feel like that because of my actions.”

Tommy was lost in thought for a moment, before finally speaking up, “No, please don’t apologize. It’s not anybody’s fault this happened, right?” You nodded.

Tommy stood up, dusting his pants off from the grass. “Come on now, let’s go get some ice cream!” He pulled you up from the ground.

“Last one to get to the shop has to pay!”

Immediately, Tommy bolts in the direction to the ice cream shop, and you catch up to him. No matter the circumstance is, he never seems to fail at putting a smile on your face.

Wilbur:

- i HC wilbur being the oldest, being older than techno by 3 years and older than tommy by 8, like IRL. :]

- i think out of all of your siblings, wilbur exudes the most “protective older brother” energy, yeah?

- remember when tommy lied about his mother being in trouble and how worried and anxious wilbur got? turn that up to 11 with what happened with you.

- with wilbur being the oldest, he of course had the responsibility of taking care of everyone. but somehow you and him didn’t spend as much 1 on 1 time as much as wilbur did with his other siblings

- wilbur definitely was going to change that, realizing that and not wanting to make that mistake again.

- he decided that finding a new hobby with you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

You were sitting at the dinner table, being the last one there. You were poking at your food for the most part, and Wilbur got home late from… whatever Wilbur thing he was doing. Phil cooked pasta for dinner tonight. Wilbur put down his bags at the door connected to the garage. “I’m home! What’s for dinner?”

“Pasta.”

“Mmm, I love some good ol’ pasta.” He said, already taking a plate out to serve himself. “Also, hey, I bought something I wanted to build with you. Do you mind?”

You finally looked up from your very interesting pasta. “Build..?” You had no idea where this was going.

Wilbur placed his plate on the table and approached the bags of groceries, going through them to find the bag he was looking for. He pulled out a LEGO set. More specifically, a LEGO City set from the looks of the box? “Wilbur, how much was that?”

He blinked at you innocently. “It was only, like, £25. And look! It’s got a little submarine we can make with a rock and ugly sea monster—“

“But why?”

“Why not? It wouldn’t hurt for you to do something new, yeah?” He smiled at you, shaking the LEGO box in front of him to show it off. You sighed, but smiled. “Alright. But maybe you and I should eat this pasta first before we start building.” Wilbur nodded.

“Speaking of water, don’t you think I could teach you how to swim or something?”

“Oh, fuck off with that!”

Technoblade:

- i think out of everyone in the family, he understands you the most in terms of how you feel.

- not suicidal, but just generally having depressive episodes due to his ADHD.

- techno’s generally closed off, but started to really open up to you because he wanted to show he cares, even if it meant going out of his comfort zone.

- techno suggested journaling. once a day or once per week, it didn’t really matter. just as long as you could write down your feelings somewhere.

- he didn’t explicitly say it, but he also bought a book for himself so he could do it along with you. although, he more often than not just forgets to write in it until you mention your own journal.

- if you want to be sad and quiet, you can be sad and quiet with him. his room is a safe space for you if you ever need it and you’re always welcome to come in, just as long as you knock first.

With one hand on your mouse scrolling through the internet, and another resting your head on it, you were safe to admit you were utterly and completely bored. Honestly, you thought about taking another nap after your last one, but a knock on your door stopped you right before you pulled the covers over yourself. “Can I come in?”

You rose from your bed. “Come in. Oh hey Techno.”

He gave a simple wave and his signature “Halloo.” He walked right over to you and handed a journal and a ballpoint pen. “I got this. For you.” His stare was sharp but you could sort of tell he was nervous.

“What for?”

“I dunno. Writin’ your feelings down or drawin’ or somethin’. Whatever helps you vent.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh Techno, thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” You gave a slight smile, but saw that he still had another journal in his hand. “You have two journals?”

Techno raised his eyebrow in confusion before looking down at his hand. “Oh this? It’s for me. So we could do it together, I guess.”

You let out a happy hum. “That’s nice. Say, why don’t we go to your room? I want to see your new lava lamp and stuff.”

Techno shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got more stationary too if you want.” He waved his hand before letting himself out the door, with you following not far behind.

hi hope u enjoyed reading as much as i did writing it. this format was new for me but very fun!

#dream smp x reader #tommyinnit x reader #wilbur x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp x male reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x platonic reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois family #sleepy bois fanfic #request #mcyt imagine #mcyt fluff

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forehead-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

Checkmate

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, fluff but it gets slightly steamy at one point (still totally sfw)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You and Haechan get engaged, because anything is better than the process of trying to get engaged. That being said, having a fiancé you hate isn’t that much better.

Author’s notes: remember me???????? I’m alive, yeah. I’m super proud of this fic, I think it’s my best ever, so please give it a read!!

Haechan inhaled the overwhelming scent of floral perfume, and barely managed to stifle a gag. His father arranged for him to meet more and more foreign princesses every week, and he wondered where the man even kept finding them. Were there even this many countries? The prince’s surroundings were beginning to blend into a blur of painted smiles and emotionless eyes. He cursed that stubborn old man in his mind, and questioned furiously why it was even so important that he find a bride any time soon. Still, no matter how much he despised it, he knew his father wouldn’t accept anything less.

He looked into the sea of lace gowns and resigned himself.

Maybe he’d just choose someone. Anyone. He smiled morosely, knowing all the women there were only after their shot at the throne anyway. They were here to use him, why shouldn’t he use them too? The apathetic thought left a bad taste on his tongue. Still, in his exhaustion at his circumstances, it seemed more and more reasonable the longer he considered it.

He searched throughout the crowd of giggling princesses, unable to distinguish between their faces.

One after another, they approached him, with candied smiles and words that were far too practiced. One after another, they convinced him a loveless marriage with someone half-decent was far preferable to enduring this a moment longer. One after another, they revealed themselves to be absolutely unbearable, and Haechan grew more and more desperate to find someone that didn’t make him want to throw himself off a balcony after three sentences.

You stood at the back of the crowd, prodded by impatient elbows and sneered at by women hiding their smirks behind fans. You rolled your eyes, unable to understand this need, this hunger to marry someone they’d never met. That was your problem, according to your parents. And your advisors. And your tutors. According to everyone, really. You’d been to so many different kingdoms, trying to seduce unfamiliar princes, but could never bring yourself to actually put any effort into it. The carriage that shipped you to each one was beginning to feel more like home than the castle you’d left.

You watched girl after girl leave the ballroom, looking thoroughly dejected. It was hard not to relish in their failure just a bit, but you dreaded whatever high standards this prince was going to judge you with. You had little to offer. Your background, your kingdom, your land- none could remotely compare to his. Your parents were completely insane to even think you had anything that would make you lucrative as a bride to him.

Maybe they’re hoping he’ll behead me. You chuckled.

Still, the crowd continued to thin, and you couldn’t put off meeting him forever. A few of the weaker-hearted girls nudged you forward, suddenly less eager to meet the sharp-tongued prince.

You sighed, and decided to get it over with.

Haechan rubbed at his temples, barely even looking at the girl who approached him now. He’d made up his mind to find a bride today, but his prospects weren’t looking so good. His eyes caught the hem of this princess’s dress. It was unadorned. He’d go so far as to call it plain. Many princesses were after his riches, but he’d never seen one that was so blatantly poor. Most at least tried to disguise their lack of wealth, so as to make them more desirable in terms of growing power. He half-chuckled, half-sighed. His gaze traced upward lazily, until it came across the first unsmiling face he’d seen all day. It shocked him so much that his hand dropped from his face, and he stood up instinctively.

“Your highness, thank you for allowing me to meet with you today-”

It was the most monotonous, disinterested introduction he’d ever heard, and his heart soared. You hadn’t even noticed he’d stood up. Incredible.

“Let’s get married.”

“I hope- excuse me?”

“Let’s get married. Can we go right now?” The question was directed to the attendant beside him, who sputtered at the prince’s sudden enthusiasm. No one, however, was more surprised at him than you. Your skirts were still clutched in your fists, your knees still bent in a curtsy. You couldn’t even manage to feel happy that he’d chosen you.

If anything, you felt angry.

He was rattling off instructions to his attendant about the wedding he’d already begun to plan, completely ignoring you. You hadn’t even responded to his proposal, if you could call his demand that. You tried to get in a polite word in time and time again, only for him to not even acknowledge you, until you got so sick of him talking you couldn’t stand it anymore.

“No!”

Finally, he turned to you.

“No?”

“I don’t want to marry you.” You ignored the consequences of your words, and avoided thinking about the awaiting rage of your parents.

The prince blinked.

Then he scoffed.

“Of course you do.”

You cocked an eyebrow, your expression not betraying how absolutely pissed those four words had made you. Instead, the first smile you’d shown him spread on your face. It was chillingly false, your eyes boring deep holes into his face as you sweetly replied:

“I’d burn down this castle before I married you, your highness. Good day.”

And with that, you turned and left the ballroom.

Haechan didn’t move for a few moments as he watched you stalk away, a picture of grace even in your anger. The women who remained and witnessed began to whisper, snapping him out of his shock. His head flicked around the room, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Then, just as you vanished around a corner, he took off after you.

He’d been turned down. How? Why? He was rich. He was influential. You were neither. He felt a nagging pang of guilt, but suppressed it. You were poor. His proposal was a generous offer, for you and your kingdom. You were the one losing out by rejecting him. So why? Why was he the one chasing after you? He cursed under his breath as he caught sight of your back.

“You! Wait up!”

You heard him calling, but only sped up.

“I will call the guards if you don’t stop this instant! I-I command you to stop!”

You did. Then you turned on your heel, with a glare that would send armies fleeing, and stomped towards him much faster than he knew a princess could. He flinched as you were suddenly toe to toe with him, taller than he expected. You seemed smaller when he was sitting on his throne. You sneered at his reaction.

“Do you need your guards just to take care of one woman, little prince?”

He flushed, but you didn’t let him respond.

“You don’t even know my name. I’m not, ‘you.’ I don’t know why you want to marry me, but if you want me to agree, maybe learn that first.”

“You-” Haechan fumbled, unused to someone being blunt with him. He flared up, unable to think straight.

“You’re lucky to get an offer like this, you know.”

He saw the way your eyes widened in indignation, but kept digging his own grave as if he’d find treasure eventually.

“You won’t get an opportunity like this again. And, for your information, I only want to get married so I can finally be done with all,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom you’d both just left, “this.”

Despite your anger, his reason struck a chord within you. Not that that made your tone any less cutting.

“So I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re using me?”

“We’re royalty. We’re all getting used by someone, aren’t we?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and he could tell you didn’t find the idea all so repulsive. He pressed forward.

“You’re tired of it all too, aren’t you? Or do you want to keep getting shoved at princes? We’d both get our parents off our backs. It’s a good deal.”

It was frustrating, but your desire to stop meeting spoiled princes was beginning to outweigh your immense dislike of this one. And as much as you hated it, he was right when he said you wouldn’t get an offer as good as this one ever again. Maybe that’s why he chose you, you supposed. He knew you couldn’t afford to say no. (Not that that had stopped you.) It just angered you that he saw you as someone so desperate, so needy, so pitiful.

“...Fine.” You stuck out your hand in impersonal assent. “But. I don’t want to marry you.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m not done, little prince.” He restrained his scowl and motioned for you to continue. “Let’s just get engaged. That’s enough reason to end all the marriage meetings, and then if it turns out I really just cannot stand you, we’ll call it off. Fine?”

“Fine.”

He shook your hand firmly.

Despite the way you both glared at each other, neither of you could deny how pleased you were with this arrangement.

While you sent word to your family, he went directly to his, who were thoroughly, almost obnoxiously happy that he’d found someone. He forced a grin and made up some lies about how he’d fallen for you at first sight. They weren’t exactly excited about your less than impressive background, but weren’t about to reject the only girl who’d managed to catch their discerning son’s eye.

Within a day, it was announced throughout all your fiancé’s kingdom that he’d found a woman to wed. You managed to laugh about how all the other princesses must be incredibly jealous of you at this moment, but couldn’t quite get over the fact that you were one foot into a lifelong commitment with the rudest man you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. It was a troubling internal conflict. On one hand, he was the worst. On the other, the same could be said for just about every other prince you’d ever met. So really, it was an overall win that this one didn’t expect you to love or fawn over him.

At least, that’s what you repeated to yourself as you received the list of engagement events you were expected to attend alongside him.

“Do we really have to do this?” You groaned.

“Just shut up and smile, they’re about to see us.”

You reluctantly did as he said, forcing an exuberant grin onto an unwilling face. Your carriage turned into the courtyard, and crowds cheered wildly, as if they actually cared about your wellbeing in some way. You waved gently, relieved your upbringing was so ingrained within you that you could play your role without ceasing your fantasies of punching your fiancé in the face. As you reached your places of honor, Haechan offered a gallant hand to help you down, and you almost admired how well he played the part of a loving gentleman.

It was such a truly lovely banquet being thrown for you, it almost made you feel bad for lying. Haechan seemed to be thinking similarly, and, forgetting to be vindictive, leaned over to whisper jokingly in your ear.

“Poor fools actually think we’re in love.”

You laughed brightly without thinking. Both of you then remembered you hated each other, and stared at each other in shock before looking away sharply. You waved again, happy to be doing something that made sense to you. The hordes of celebrating nobles clapped and called out their congratulations again as soon as they saw you move, not wanting to get on the bad side of what they assumed was their future queen. That was a pretty nice feeling, and you accidentally smiled sincerely.

Haechan, still stunned by the sound of your real laugh, wasn’t prepared to see your real smile. His eyes widened. It was more beautiful than he expected, and didn’t threaten him with cavities the way every woman in his life’s did. If they were processed white sugar, you were honey with all the real sweetness in the world on your face. He hazily tried to remember when he last smiled genuinely. You turned to him with a gleam in your eye, and he took your hand before rationality could persuade him otherwise.

The smile dropped off your face, and your gaze flicked to your intertwined fingers, then to his expression, which seemed even more confused than yours somehow. He looked boyish and bashful, and you wondered if your haughty fiancé had a far more charming twin.

Lucky for Haechan, the crowd cheered yet louder at the sight of your supposed affection, and he tilted his head towards them as if to say, See, that's why. Normally, you wouldn't have believed it was part of his plan, but it was easier that way. You let him lift your entwined hands in some playfully bragging way, and rolled your eyes.

“Alright, so I get the bed.”

“That’s funny. No, I get the bed. It’s my kingdom!”

“You are not being very gentlemanly right now.”

“And you didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d enforce those kinds of antiquities.”

You scowled, and Haechan looked smug, which only intensified your frustration.

“Fine. Then let’s decide fairly, little prince.” You loved to call him that, just to see him pretend it didn’t irk him. “If I beat you in chess, I get the bed. And vice versa.”

“...Fine, small princ- annoying- um- pret- dum-”

You couldn’t help but grin at his attempts. “Nice try, but I’m not immature enough to be annoyed by a silly nickname.”

Your fiancé grimaced and got out the chess board.

Hours later, you were still playing the first game of chess.

“Y/n… Can we… Can we…” Haechan yawned enormously, which of course prompted you to as well. “Can we maybe… call a truce for tonight? It’s a big bed. We have to be up early for a garden party.”

You wanted to rejoice in his surrender, but your eyes were teary with exhaustion. Instead of the easy win you expected, you’d been in the longest game of your life. It seemed like you two were well matched for one another.

As opponents, of course.

“Fine… But just- just for tonight. We’ll play again tomorrow.”

And with that, you both crawled into the truly extravagant bed, falling asleep before your heads hit the pillows.

Many nights passed, with an unfinished chess game at the end of each. It grew into something of a habit, a nightly chess game, always accompanied by bickering, of course. Neither of you ever managed to truly best the other, with every game ending the way the first did. As they continued, the bickering smoothed into mocking conversations, and sometimes you weren’t even mocking each other, but a common enemy. You would never admit it, but the pair of you started laughing together more often than you did at each other these days.

On some fateful Tuesday, for the first time ever, you saw a clear move to checkmate. The king was unguarded. For the first time, he was vulnerable. It was glaringly obvious, and you snuck a glance at your opponent’s face to see if it was a trap, but were taken aback when you found him already staring at you. He didn’t look triumphant or concerned, but he somehow looked… nervous. Or maybe expectant? And then you realized. He was far too good a player to make an error like this one. He was offering you a choice, from one royal with too much pride to admit they enjoyed the other’s company to another. It would be easy to end this game right now, and banish him to the floor.

You chose another move, and the game continued.

“So what’s on the agenda tomorrow?” You asked, with a tone more befitting of a business partner than a fiancé. The two of you had gotten pretty used to the whole routine of feigning adoration, and typically planned cute moments to perform in advance.

Haechan looked over at you and sighed in a way that might have been more amused than exasperated.

“Would it kill you to sit like a lady?”

You looked down at yourself, eating a biscuit you’d pocketed from today’s lavish banquet, with your legs criss-crossed as you lounged on the bed in your nightgown. The white fabric was hiked up above your knees to accommodate the posture, and catching all the crumbs that fell.

“Aren’t I?”

Haechan couldn’t mask his amiable laugh at that. You felt strangely proud when you made him truly laugh. It was one of the few times his shoulders really relaxed, and he looked like the cheerful boy he might’ve been without the pressure of royalty on his back.

“So… what’s on the agenda?”

Haechan didn’t answer right away. He was still looking your direction but seemed zoned out.

“Haechan?”

He flinched, always shocked when you used his real name instead of a mocking nickname.

“W-what? Oh, we’ve got a ball.”

“Ugh… Boring. You better not leave me alone with all the gossiping hags.”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, for real, could you sit properly?”

“Whaaat, I’m comfy.”

“Seriously.”

That irked you. You were just sitting, and while you hadn’t fully realized it, Haechan was someone you'd grown comfortable being yourself around. You didn’t need another person in your life telling you the way you behaved was wrong, and against your will, you had begun to expect more from him. You felt something too close to heartbreak as you wondered if he was just another person who disapproved of you.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“It’s not a big deal, why can’t you?”

“Because you’re right. It’s not a big deal, so why do you seem to care so much?”

“Can you just do it?!”

“No! Didn’t you get on me for- for ‘enforcing those antiquities’ or whatever? Now you’ve got a problem with the way I sit or how I dress-”

“It’s not- it’s not like that!”

“Then what?!” You flared up at him further, as did he, but he seemed less angry and more... agitated. You laughed mockingly. “Whaaaat are you shy seeing my legs or something-”

“YES! They’re- they’re. Um. Well…” He looked at the floor, and you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper, “pretty,” before he flicked his head back up and stammered the marginally less embarrassing, “distracting.”

Your anger instantly dissolved when he confessed that, and you flushed in a way you didn’t know you could. You stared at the ground, tugging your nightgown gently down. You’d always hated being treated like a lady, but you’d never been treated like a woman, and you found you didn’t hate it quite as much. This might’ve been the first time in either of your lives that the two of you were ever actually lost for words. Neither could formulate some witty remark or snide comment, and you just boiled in the unfamiliar atmosphere neither of you sought to create.

“Uh,” Haechan broke the silence masterfully. “I-I think I’m going to turn in early.”

“Yes. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You might have climbed in bed early- no chess game for the first time in ages- but you both woke up exhausted. Four feet apart, two fiancés had stayed up late replaying the night in their minds and subsequently panicking.

“G-good morning.”

“Good morning.”

The day whirled by, with most of it being spent simply getting dressed for the evening ball. You spent most of the day slapping your face and reminding yourself of how you used to act around him, and when you heard a knock at your door, you were ready.

He told himself he was, but he wasn’t.

Haechan took a deep breath and let his gaze trail up from your skirt to your face, and he stiffened. He’d grown used to his fiancé looking beautiful in the luxurious dresses she wore daily- even though it stunned him more than he’d admit the first time. This dress was no different, no more extravagant, no, but the pink tinge on your cheeks was a beauty he couldn’t have imagined.

“You look… decent.”

He celebrated internally for managing to say something an unflustered him might have said, although some tiny part of himself wished he could pay you a compliment normally.

Your sigh slid into a laugh, and you found your rhythm in your rapport again.

“And you look just adorable, little prince.”

He glared, but was relieved to hear the dig. He offered you the crook of his elbow, and you clapped your hands to your cheeks once more before taking it. He flinched at the sharp sound, and observed your cheeks grow red again from the impact.

“Youch.”

“It’s not that bad, honestly. I’ve been doing it all day to wake myself up.”

Haechan hummed a response. He couldn’t form words; all his brainpower was focused on figuring out why that statement had just disappointed him so. As he rounded the corner towards the ballroom, though, he shook it from his mind.

You entered the ballroom to the usual thunderous applause. Haechan led you down the immaculate gold staircase, and you clung to his arm, the perfect image of a lovestruck princess. No one noticed you holding on a little tighter than usual tonight. The band struck up a song, and you took the hands of possibly the only person you'd ever considered a friend. He led you to the center of the floor and began to waltz. It was always a satisfying feeling to watch the crowds make way for you. You looked everywhere but at your partner, and aimlessly wondered if you’d even been in this ballroom before. Just when you thought you’d seen every room in the massive castle, you’d be led to a wing you didn’t even know existed. The idle thoughts occupied you, which was probably for the best, since it meant you didn’t notice the way Haechan was looking at you.

The dance ended, and you went separate ways to entertain people who made you feel like your brains were melting. Seriously, one day your mind was just going to leak out your ears and spill onto the polished floors. It was amazing how you could spend hours talking to one person night after night, but half an evening with these sycophants made you contemplate faking your own death.

Finally, your reprieve came in the form of an attendant, whispering in your ear that the crown prince was requesting your presence.

“So sorry ladies, my future husband and I are just inseparable.”

They gave you condescendingly knowing looks, their eyes practically screaming, Just wait a few more years, child, you’ll tire of each other. You had to turn away quickly so they didn’t catch you sneering at them. Whatever. You wouldn’t be with him in a few years anyway, you would have gone your separate ways by then.

Right?

Something about that thought didn’t feel right. Not even sad, just… not right. You thought rapidly as you let your attendant guide you. What was your original agreement? If I realize I… Wait… If I end up still hating him, then the engagement’s off? Those were the terms. Which meant, if you didn’t hate him, then inevitably you’d end up mar-

“Y/n!”

You looked up sharply, not realizing you’d crossed the ballroom already. However, even when looking forward, you didn’t see the person who’d just called your name. Your eyes flitted about, searching for the familiar face. You took a few steps in no particular direction, massively confused, and then suddenly terrified when a hand reached out from behind a curtain and pulled you to join its owner. Not the type to lose composure and scream, you clenched your jaw so tight it almost broke until you saw your fiancé's face shrouded in the shadows of the velvet drapes.

“What took you so long?”

His question wasn’t at all rude, as it once might’ve been. It was one of genuine relief to see you, as if you were his solace amongst all the fools at the ball. You met his eyes for maybe the first time this evening, and they were bright and warm and looked at you the way no one ever did. Like you mattered. Like he wanted you there. Not the facade you put on for everyone, he wanted the real you.

Oh God, I don’t hate him at all.

“Earth to y/n?” He chuckled as you snapped to attention. “Finally, you’re here. Is this the worst ball yet or what?”

“Yes! It’s seriously unbearable.”

“I knew you’d agree. By the way, have you still been slapping your face? You shouldn’t in front of guests, they’ll think you’re crazy.” He teased you over your red flush without giving it a second thought. You hadn’t touched your cheeks in hours. The realization only made you blush even more. He leaned in close, and you stood stock-still with surprise.

“Do you want to vanish for a while?”

“What?” The absurdity of the idea finally overwhelmed all other distractions from your mind. “How can we leave, we’re the guests of honor?”

“Please, nobody cares. They’re all busy trying to climb the social ladder anyway. Besides, we’ve got this great hiding spot.”

You stifled a laugh. “Yeah, squeezing between a window and some drapes is what I call ideal.”

“Hey, it’s got, like, enough room for us!”

That was a bit of hyperbole on Haechan’s part. You both barely fit in the narrow space, and you thanked the stars you hadn’t worn a larger hoop skirt tonight. Suddenly you were back to evading making eye contact again. A hush fell over you as you thought about how incorrect his statement just was, and you both grew acutely aware of how you couldn’t position yourselves in any way that would allow you to put some distance between your bodies. You cursed yourself for not postponing your life-shattering revelation about the man before you until after this little endeavor. Haechan’s mind raced as he saw the red on your skin remain even in the dim light.

You could only avoid each other’s gazes for so long.

He locked eyes with you, and you envisioned pieces moving across a board, your king running out of ways to escape its fate. There was only one end, and you were starting to love the idea of surrendering. You whispered harshly in the sarcastic way that felt comfortable to you, still too prideful to admit your defeat.

“So are you going to kiss me, or am I going to kiss you?”

Haechan answered by pressing a palm to the back of your neck and pulling you towards him perhaps too eagerly. A second later, you’d both pulled away, frantically looking around to see if anyone was peering in on you both. You relaxed when you confirmed no one has discovered you.

“This isn’t... a good time, Haechan.”

“I could not agree more. Way too risky.”

Neither of you waited a moment more to lunge towards each other again. His lips found yours roughly, his breath already ragged with overworked patience. You grabbed his lapels, no less desperate for this moment, your lipstick smearing onto him. Your fists crushed his boutonniere, and his fingers wove into your hair and ruined the curls. There was no party beyond the curtain. You and him were alone, both desperate to memorize the taste of each other, and nothing else mattered but that. His lips parted, and yours followed suit. His tongue just brushed your lower lip, and you felt a thrill run down your spine. Your arms wrapped around his neck unconsciously, trying to get closer to him than was possible, but nothing could stop you from trying. You caught his lip between your teeth, your instincts running wild, and you wondered how either of you had endured up until this point. Now that you’d gotten a taste of each other, it seemed almost impossible not to get addicted. He gripped your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist and not letting go. It slid down to grab your thigh and wrap it around him, your dress’s layers barely inhibiting him. Every inch of you was so aware of where it made contact with him, and you hungered for more. All facades were shed. You were both just heat and teeth and desire, without a shred of nobility between the two of you. You’d never experienced anything so perfect.

The two of you finally parted, your lips wet and the rest of you looking disastrous. He pressed his lips to your cheek, getting your own lipstick on your face, and you pulled his palm up to kiss it over and over again. Too breathless to continue and too worked up to just stop, you let the clock tick by as you left soft kisses all over each other.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, half concerned but half amused. Between sentences, you still found places on his face yet unkissed, and remedied them. “We can’t go back out looking like this.”

“What are you talking about? I look great.” You were both too elated to remember you should be worried about your predicament, but he did seem genuinely proud of the pink smears adorning his face and neck, the teeth marks framing his lips, the fierce creases in his lapels. He brushed his fingers on your cheekbones, and looked even prouder of the mess he’d made of you. It felt like a dream to be touching you like this. Even more unreal to know that he was the cause of your disheveled hair and your chapped lips. He may or may not have imagined a moment like this before, late at night when he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but it was buried in the back of his mind and nowhere near as euphoric as this reality.

“No, but seriously, we can’t go out like this.”

“No yeah, for sure, you’re absolutely right.”

You managed to escape thanks to the tight-lipped attendant who’d led you to a curtain concealing a prince in the first place, but found yourselves rather tight-lipped too. Once you’d both washed off the lipstick and the teeth marks faded, you didn’t know how to face each other. You just crawled into bed and discreetly squirmed as you thought about all that had happened. What was more embarrassing, that you realized you might, maybe, possibly, have feelings for each other, or that the other person might know about them? It was already late when you turned out the lights, but you both stayed up longer, plagued by worries.

They must be so smug since I was all over them, I’m such an idiot.

God, I can’t believe how intense that was. What if they hated it? What if I was bad at it?

Did they only kiss me ‘cause of how much I was kissing them?

Are we like… friends? They probably don’t hate me, so…

That was really unbelievable.

I think I might really… feel something for them.

I hope they feel the way I do.

The hurricanes of concerns led to a restless night, and a mortifyingly awkward day afterward. You couldn’t even look at each other, let alone speak. Even the servants seemed to notice the tension, and you could hear them giggling when they’d disappear into the corridors. You tried to tell yourself that that was great, that it really sold your act as a couple of lovebirds, but that just embarrassed you all the more. Your fiancé was just as tormented, the blush that was sparking gossip reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

Eventually, someone had to break the silence. If not with words, then with the slamming of a chess board down on the usual table. And that’s exactly what you did, not that who slept in the bed was something that still concerned either of you. No, now it was just routine, something you enjoyed and shared with each other, and something you were going to use to discuss your current feelings.

“C-come play, little prince.”

Even the nickname didn’t manage to get him to flare up. He walked over, still with the air of importance that was second nature to him, but his pounding heart almost echoed against his ribs. You set up your black pieces and he took the white. He moved a pawn towards you.

“So…”

“Yeah.” You slid a piece across the board. He nodded, his cheeks burning. You both knew what you had to say and what the other person was going to say, but that only made it all the more difficult to verbalize.

“I guess I don’t hate you. As much as I used to.” You said hurriedly, your voice forcibly steadied.

“Oh, what an honor.” Haechan’s snarky response was accompanied by a trembling hand moving a rook. He yelled at himself internally, and attempted to be as honest as he could. “I… suppose you’re not unbearable.” The biting words didn’t sting, nor did they flow the way they once did. It saddened both players, even though it had only been a day since you both had been without the banter of your best friend. Slowly, you started to regret the night before, the ecstatic memories being clouded with the fear that you might lose the most important person to you because of it.

“I-”

“Oh, sorry, you start-”

“No, you-”

“No-”

“Okay, fine!” You huffed, accepting the initiative. You pushed your rook straight forward. “I… have always hated the idea of getting married. Everything about it- the formalities, the responsibilities, the princes, ugh. Awful.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not done, okay!” Pieces shuffled around the board as you tried to organize your thoughts. “If I… had to marry someone…” Your sentence trailed off, and Haechan leaned forward, ears itching to hear the conclusion. You stared at the board, and he steeled himself. It would’ve been a blow to his persistent pride if he just waited for you to say everything.

“I’m…” What did he need to say first? His mind blanked, and he just let the words fall from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, but remained fixed on the game. “For what?”

“For not listening to you. The first day we met. I didn’t… treat you the way I should’ve. I’m sorry for that. But I’m… also glad it happened. If I’d acted differently then maybe you wouldn’t be in front of me. That would be, uh, not ideal. But I’m sorry.”

“Um. Thanks. I��m glad it happened too. Otherwise we might still be pretending to be well-mannered in front of each other.” Haechan snickered, and you did too. You could feel your shoulders relaxing, and he could feel himself growing bolder. He moved his queen across the board, closing in on his target.

“Man, where would I be without my unladylike, insufferable fiancé?”

“Probably whining like a child to some other pitiful creature who deserves better.”

The clouds in your minds began to clear as you exchanged snarky remarks. It felt right- pretty words didn’t like to be forced from your lips. He smiled. You looked up, your line of sight lingering on the lips you knew well before finding his eyes. You left your king unguarded, ready for it to be captured.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind marrying you, little prince.”

“Do it then.”

You swept the unfinished game off the board, feeling like you’d won, and he met you in the middle. He kissed you, barely more composed than the night before, but you had no problem with that. The two of you smiled against each other’s lips, incredulous that somehow you had found someone to love, something you used to believe was impossible. Little bursts of laughter interrupted the kiss as giddiness took over.

“Didn’t I say something like I’d burn down this castle before I wed you?”

“Just let the wedding planner know,” Haechan sighed with joy as he gave in to the temptation of your lips again.

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iwavibes · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ;; fifty

----haikyuu social media au

iwaizumi y/n, inarizaki's new second year manager, has always been in love with kozume kenma. in an attempt to move on, she tries to divert her attention from him by focusing on her duties. however that seemed impossible as a group of pretty and affectionate boys seem to follow her.

besides, the only way to move on is to actually move on, right?

prev • masterlist • next

NOTE: not @ how i made this whole thing at 2AM 😃

word count: 800+

I may not be the best.

He thinks as he takes in another breath. Shirabu Kenjiro always had absolute thoughts. He knows his weaknesses, he understands them and tries his best to make up for them. In the face of adversaries, he knows when he drags other people down so he does all he can to not be a burden.

But behind his sarcastic and serious facade is a very insecure boy. He lacks in a lot of things, it's evident when compared to his teammates. Being the only one in the team who didn't join with a sports scholarship, he had to start from scratch. What skill he thought he had in middle school, pales drastically in the standard of the prestigious school.

He never liked to admit it but he was envious of everyone. He envied Goshiki for being part of the starting line up at just his first year, something he didn't accomplish. He envied Ushijima for being so powerful, a force to be reckoned with, a phrase no one would ever describe him. Shirabu doesn't plan on making a career around volleyball yet these thoughts continue to loom inside his mind.

But at this moment, as the ball lands perfectly on his fingertips, he feels at ease. Shirabu sets the ball just right, making a clear path for the ace to spike through.

He smiled to himself, satisfied.

Correction; I will never be the best.

However that small celebration was short lived as a frown overtakes his features. Nothing but pure concentration swims in his mind as the next serve hits.

He followed Tendou to try and stop the ball, only for it to bounce on his arm and down to the floor. Another point for the opposing team.

He tsked before moving to prepare for the serve. And if he was right, it was his serve right now. His frown deepened.

That title had always belonged to someone else.

Oikawa wore his signature smirk as he eyed the opposite side. Their gaze met one another briefly and Shirabu felt a small tingle went down his spine.

The opposing setter's body seemed to move like clockwork, a graceful flow as a result to numerous practices. He threw the ball up, the run up seemed to echo in Shirabu's ears as the whole stadium seemed to quiet down, before the loud sound of his palm hitting the ball rang across the court.

"Iwaizumi?" Shirabu asked in shock. "As in, Seijoh's ace Iwaizumi?"

Your laughter sounded like music to his ears and he couldn't help but to look at you in wonder. You nodded your head, all the while munching on the takoyaki he bought for you.

"Mhm," you gulped the food down, "I thought you knew?"

He shook his head, "obviously, I didn't."

Another round of chuckles fell from your lips. "Well, would you have still talked to me if you did?"

In all truthfulness, no, he probably wouldn't. However, being here, with you right now; hearing your laugh and listening to whatever stories you thought of, he thinks he probably would've regretted not speaking to you.

"If I didn't, I would've missed out on getting to know you." He thought out loud. His gaze was heavily planted on the floor, avoiding yours quite incessantly. You feel your cheeks warm a bit. A second passes before he lifts his head up to look into your eyes. "I'm glad I met you, y/n."

The heat overtaking your head was unbearable but you couldn't look away, not when he smiles up at you with a brightness that could easily rival the sun's. A bashful smile resonates on your lips.

"I'm glad I met you too, Shirabu."

Thankfully, Hayato managed to receive the serve. Although the receive was a but shaky, the frustration was evident in Oikawa's features. Shirabu patiently waited for the ball, feeling its familiar rubber texture touch his hands once again before pushing it to their ace.

A long rally ensues.

But I am strong.

If Oikawa's serve was loud then Ushijima's spike was deafening. Cheers rang all throughout the stadium as the members of the Aoba Johsai team slumped in utter defeat.

Hayato patted their setter's back in joy, "we're going to Nationals, baby!"

Shirabu chuckled quietly while the speaker told them to line up. He held his head up high, proudly thanking the people on the stands and bowing before walking to shake hands with his opponents.

He was now face to face with Iwaizumi Hajime and he had to stop himself from visibly showing how nervous he actually was. Your cousin held his hand in a firm grip and Shirabu had to clench his jaw in order to keep a straight face.

"Good game," Iwaizumi spoke up.

He nodded his head in agreement, "it was."

After the whole exchange, Shirabu felt his legs turn to jelly as he struggled to walk with his teammates out of the gym. Tendou laughed rather obnoxiously at the setter's expense but the boy didn't have the energy to tell him off. Not when he quickly took his phone out of his bag and immediately clicked on your contact name.

TAGLIST: @jesquisser @peteunderoos @rye-li @sophie-duck @elianetsantana @angrylittleriri @kpop-kk @winunk @mint-mai @applekenm @hoe4hq @atria-avior @kimkai-is-my-man @dabisdominion @yumeneji @courtneypaigemartin @misssugarless @sempiternal-amour @cleopatera @stickystrawberrysyrup @heavenini @that-chick212 @the-amaranthine @vanillakylee @atetiffdoesart @starryleafy @franko-pop @miyaosamusgf @peachiikichu @ughxghoul @bombardia @normalisthenewnorm @micheleinumaki @poppi144 @marissaraeblr @quiche-inoya @haengbokpixie @yeet-dude @luhvsnoir @heyheyararira @al3x1ss @nintendousimp @the-real-comically-insane @sakusagas @rory-cakes @cuddlesslut @lovie-but-anime ((can't tag)) @what-dose-nani-mean @respectfullysimping123 @pandauniverse

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#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu socmed au #haikyuu smau #hq smau #shirabu kenjirou #shirabu x reader #shirabu imagines #hq shirabu

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ejzah · 3 years

Text

Secrets and Lies, Part 2

***

Kensi let the agent who brought Deeks to the boat shed know he was ready to leave, feelings even more conflicted about him being involved. Sam and Callen were waiting on the dock when she came out and she put up a mild expression that hid any signs of her inner turmoil.

“So, did you get his number?” Callen asked as they walked back to the challenger.

“Of course not! Why would you even think something like that?”

“Kensi, you were flirting with our informant,” Sam pointed out.

“I was just being friendly,” Kensi said easily. She could only imagine their response if she told them she had a wedding ring tucked beneath her shirt. Right next to her dad’s dog tags.

“Uh-huh. Well, at least wait until we’re done with this case before you go out on a date.”

“You think he’s legitimate?” Callen asked and Kensi tensed up again. She was almost certain Hetty would try to divert them from any snooping, but that would only last so long if Eric or Nell got involved.

“Apparently Hetty trusts him,” Sam said with a shrug. “So until he does something that says otherwise, I guess we do too.”

***

Deeks hated these dinners, he always had. Aside from the fact that he was forced to listen to Bennett Forthright brag about his illegal business activities, his and his associates were unbearably obnoxious. It made him feel just a little cheap being here.

Unfortunately, he’d promised Hetty that he would keep an eye in Forthright, so he had to pretend to enjoy himself. Or at least that he didn’t loathe the man.

Across from Deeks, Arron Kingsley was growing steadily drunker and telling about the call girl he spent the weekend with. Deeks was sure the man’s wife would be pleased to hear about it. He took a sip from the glass of scotch cradled in his hand, wishing that he could drink the entire thing to drowned out the sound of Arron’s droning voice.

“So, Marty, when are you going to let me introduce you to one of Lisa’s friends?” Bennett Forthright asked somewhat unexpectedl, cutting Arron off in the middle of his story.

It wasn’t the first time he’d made such an offer and Deeks had to force himself not to respond derisively. Allowing a careless smirk, Deeks shrugged.

“I don’t really like being tied down,” he said. “You should know that by now.”

“It’s not normal for a guy like you to be alone.” Bennett looked him up and down pointedly. It wasn’t the first time he’d expressed an interest in Deeks’ love life or offered to set him up with a woman.

“I tend to keep long hours and most women want more attention than I can give. Besides-“ he flashed a quick grin-“I have my eye on this brunette in my office. She likes to play hard to get, but I know it’s only a matter of time.”

“Mm, then you’ll have to bring her to dinner sometime,” Bennett said, and from his tone of voice, Deeks could tell it wasn’t an option. As much as he might pretend Deeks was a friend, Bennett would never let him forget he was also a paying client.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Deeks agreed, refusing to commit to anything. He checked his watch, seeing that it was well past 8, which meant Kensi was likely home by now. “Well, I hate to cut the evening short, gentlemen, but I have to prep for court tomorrow.”

“Have fun with your little brunette,” Bennett called after him, his voice filled with innuendo. The idea of him getting anywhere Kensi made him feel slightly ill.

Deeks just winked as he left the room, waiting until he was in his car to shudder. He always came out of meetings with Forthright feeling a little dirty. Especially when he realized how easy it was for him to pretend he didn’t loathe the man.

***

“Hey, how was your day,” Kensi greeted him when he walked through their front door. She was cooking something, pans spread out across the stove. Sighing deeply, he dropped his briefcase to the side, and slide down the surface of the door.

“I had the extreme pleasure of listening to Arron Kingsley relate his favorite sexual positions,” he told her, appreciating Kensi’s mild look of disgust. “So obviously it was another fantastic day.”

With a sympathetic look, Kensi abandoned her cooking to join him against the door.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you hate going there.”

“It wasn’t the worst.” He wiggled his arm around Kensi’s back, automatically shifting so Kensi could rest her head on his shoulder. It was the first peaceful moment he’d had all day. “What about you? Did you find the warehouse?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Kensi said. “We thought we had a lead for a little while, but it turned out to be nothing.”

“Mm, I didn’t learn anything useful either. Looks like I’ll be spending a few more evenings with Forthright, try to catch him off guard again,” Deek sighed.

“Deeks, you don’t have to do this.” He could hear the worry in her voice; she’d never been a fan of his involvement with NCIS. Not when Hetty had first discovered their acquaintance or when she’d later recruited him as an informant.

“I promised Hetty I would help if I could,” he reminded her. Kensi lifted her head, eyes flashing a little with indignation.

“Yeah, you said you’d pass on anything you heard. You never agreed to basically go undercover. As good as you are, you’re not trained for this kind of work and you did not sign up for the possible consequences.”

“I have access to these guys that no one else does. If I don’t do this, all those weapons will fall into the wrong hands. I can’t live with that responsibility.”

“And I can’t live without you,” Kensi murmured softly.

“So...are you asking me to back out?” he asked softly. Even with his strong convictions about the matter, he would probably do as she requested. He knew how terrifying it was to wait for her to come home from dangerous OPS. It must be a thousand times worse for her, knowing that he had no back up or recourse if the situation went south.

“No.” She heaved a deep sigh, reaching up and clumsily cupping his jaw. “I just want you to be careful. I wish I could be by your side, looking out for you.”

“Maybe there is.” A plan began to form in his mind and he smiled genuinely for the first time that night.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #team fic #au #chapter 2 #angst #ejzah fanfiction

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fluffy-lee · 4 years

Text

Lake Day

Part 3 of the series “Vacation.”

This is a TICKLE fic. If you’re not into that, you don’t have to read.

PLATONIC Avengers x reader

Warnings: Some drama.

Summary: It’s the first full day of vacation and the Avengers go to the lake. Y/n enjoys playful antics with those closest to her, but what happens when someone takes it a little too far? Lots of funny and fluffy things happen in this fic, but not everything is always perfect.

It was the first night of vacation. Tony had just put you to bed and was walking down the hall, when he heard laughter coming from Peter and Thor’s room. He knocked on the door.

“Enter!” Thor called.

Tony opened the door to see Thor sitting on his bed criss-cross, eating a giant bowl of chocolate ice cream and Peter was hanging upside down from the ceiling, holding a spoon… another bowl of ice cream hanging next to him by a single thread of web. Step Brothers was blasting on the TV.

“What is this? A fraternity?” Tony asked, with his usual sarcasm.

“Yes!” Thor exclaimed.

“Hey Mr. Stark! You want to watch this movie with us?” Peter asked, taking a scoop out of the swinging bowl of ice cream.

“I was actually about to head to bed, you know, because… IT’S MIDNIGHT.” Tony exclaimed.

“Oh okay!” Peter said with his mouth full, going for another scoop.

“Parker, if that ice cream ends up on this carpet, I’m gonna shove your face in it.”

Thor boomed in laughter at the TV.

“It won’t Tony I promise!” Peter said with a smile. Just then, the bowl nearly tipped, but Peter snatched it in his hands. “S-See, it’s fine!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Try to go to sleep soon. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” He began to walk out of the room.

“WAIT!” Peter shouted.

Tony jumped and turned around. “Geez. What is it kid?”

"You're going to leave without giving me a hug goodnight?"

Tony sighed, pretending it didn’t warm his heart. “Oh alright. But you gotta come down from there.”

Peter flipped down and gave Tony a big hug, making Tony smile.

They said their good nights and Tony went to bed.

You jolted awake in a cold sweat, breathing harshly. You were trembling. Moonlight shone through the window. Nat was fast asleep. The clock read 3:11 A.M. You didn’t want to wake Nat, even though deep down you knew she’d be okay with it. You also just wanted to get out of the room. You slipped out of bed and walked down the dark hall, hoping to run into someone, but who would be awake at this time of night? You went to Peter and Thor’s door. An obnoxious chorus of snores erupted from the room. You snickered to yourself. Even when Peter was asleep he could cheer you up. Still, he was asleep, along with Thor and you were scared to wake them. You continued down the hall. You could go to your dad, but he was sharing a room with Steve and Sam. You’d risk waking up two more people. You were too scared to wake anybody. Your heart started to pound and you felt so alone and the nightmare kept playing over and over in your head. You slid down the wall and started to cry. Nightmares weren’t uncommon for you. HYDRA had a lot to do with it.

Suddenly you heard a voice.

“Y/n?” Sam asked, kneeling in front of you.

You launched into his arms, hugging his neck as he gently rubbed your back.

“Sweetheart, why are you crying?” He asked, wiping your tears.

You relaxed and steadied your breathing. “N-nightmare.”

“I see. It’s okay now. You’re okay.” He said, comforting you.

You immediately felt safe with Sam. You and him were close. He was the one who spotted you in the snow and assisted in saving you. You trusted him with your life. He was a great friend, mentor, and protector. Plus, he never failed to make you laugh.

“Did I wake you?” You asked worriedly.

“No, I went down to fill this water bottle.” He answered, showing you the blue water bottle. “Here, have a drink.” He urged.

You drank some water and felt better.

“Come here.” Sam said, pulling you into another hug.

You smiled and cuddled him for a minute. Then, he walked with you back to your room.

“Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?” Sam asked.

“I do. Thank you. You really made me feel better.” You said, before yawning.

“Alright, good. Listen to me, Y/n. I know what it’s like to struggle with nightmares… If you have anymore, you can come to me. I wouldn’t mind at all. Even if I’m asleep, you can wake me up.” Sam assured you.

You nodded.

“Promise me.” He smirked, giving your side a few pokes.

You giggled quietly. “I promise, Sammy.”

He opened your door for you and kissed your forehead.

“See you in the morning, Y/n.” And with that he went to his room.

You smiled to yourself, your heart warm, and crawled back into bed. Nat was still sound asleep, just like you wanted her to be. You fell back asleep, this time having good dreams.

The next morning came around and Natasha sat on your bed and gently shook you awake.

“Y/n! Wake up!” She said sweetly.

You opened your eyes and stretched, feeling pretty well rested. You got ready for the day, and headed downstairs. You could smell breakfast being made and you could hear laughter.

When you entered the kitchen, you saw Pepper, Tony, Nat, Wanda, Vis, and Steve. Everyone else was still sleeping.

“Morning sunshine!” Tony said cheerfully as he poured a cup of coffee.

Everyone looked over at you and smiled.

“Good morning.” You replied with a sheepish grin. When you saw Steve, the events of last night replayed in your head and you blushed. Steve tickled the heck out of you and you were too flustered to even look at him. You went and hugged Tony, hiding your face in his chest. He asked you if you slept well and you just nodded, not talking much. You weren’t particularly loud in the morning.

“Where’s my good morning hug, Y/n?” Steve asked, a teasing tone ringing in his voice.

You peaked at him and blushed, causing him to chuckle. “What did I do?” He asked innocently, though he knew.

Tony leaned on the counter, sipping his coffee, with you glued to him, hiding your face. “I think you broke her, Cap! She’s all shy again.”

Steve sighed. “Guess I have to fix it.” You could hear it in his voice. He was going to do something.

You heard the sound of the chair he was sitting in scoot and the footsteps approaching you. You gripped tighter onto Tony. You couldn’t help the nervous giggles escaping your lips.You squeaked when you felt the sudden grip on your sides as you were snatched up by Steve. You could only think to cover your face with your hands, still too flustered to look at him. Steve cackled.

“Stahahp thahat!” He said, prying your hands from your face. He watched the blush tint your cheeks. “What? Are you all shy cause I tickled you?”

“Nohoho!” You lied.

“Oh you are a bad liar.” He growled, flipping you and hanging you upside down, while you continued to giggle uncontrollably. He flung you on the couch and you threw a small pillow at him, which he caught as he approached you, mischief apparent on his face. He pounced, tackling you into the cushions.

“Steve!” You squealed. You couldn’t stop smiling. You loved when Steve was playful like this.

“Y/n/n!” He mocked, pinning your arms up. He began to dig into your tummy and your belly laugh echoed throughout the room.

“Nope. I was wrong. Your tummy is definitely your most ticklish spot. Don’t you agree, Y/n?” Steve teased, raising an eyebrow at you.

You nodded at him bashfully as he gently tickled your belly button through your shirt.

Steve cooed at your response and scooped you in his arms. You were still laughing from the phantom tickles on your tummy.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked sweetly.

“Yeahaha.”

“Good!” Steve exclaimed before blowing tons of raspberries on your tummy while you squealed with laughter.

“Aww nice! I didn’t know we were having raspberries for breakfast!” said a familiar voice.

“Yeah! Here, have some, Buck!” Steve said, passing you to your dad.

“Oh nooohohoho!” You groaned, pretending to be annoyed.

Bucky held you in his arms and went straight to giving you raspberries, and you fell back into laughter.

“Whose raspberries tickle more? Mine, or Steve’s?” Bucky asked you.

You looked at him and Steve. Great. Now this is going to be some kind of competition between them, and if you say one, the other will punish you.

“Um.. well.. Both the same!” You decided.

Steve and Bucky both raised their eyebrows at you.

“Oh let her come eat her breakfast and quit torturing her!” Wanda said with a smirk.

You slipped out of Bucky’s arms, grateful to be rescued by Wanda.

After breakfast, you, Nat, Steve, and Thor were sitting on the back deck, talking and enjoying the gorgeous view of the mountains. You were sitting as Natasha stood behind you, braiding your hair for the day. You could never do french, dutch, or any of those fancy braids. Just regular ones. Natasha could, and you always felt so pretty when she did your hair.

Today, the first full day of vacation, was going to be a lake day. You all were going to take the boat out, swim, water ski, and more. Everyone was so excited.

“We need sunscreen, groceries, and other stuff, so I’m going to drive down to town. Anyone want to come with?” Tony announced, stepping out onto the porch.

“I’ll go.” Steve said.

“Me too!” You said, as Nat finished your hair.

You followed Steve and Tony out to the car. Tony drove, Steve sat in the passenger's seat, and you were in the back. You loved when you got to spend time with just the two of them. It was a rare occurrence these days with the hectic lives they lived. You looked at the windows, enjoying the beautiful view of the mountain you were driving down. The drive wasn’t a short one. You didn’t realise how long it was until you noticed how badly you had to pee. You held it for a while until it started to become unbearable.

“TONY I HAVE TO PEE LIKE SO BAD!” You cried.

“Uh-oh.” Steve said.

“How long do I have?” Tony asked, speeding up a bit.

“I don’t know!” You answered.

“Next place I can stop, I will… but I think that’s going to be the store.” Tony concluded.

“HOW LONG?” You asked desperately. You had a weak bladder.

“Five minutes.”

“I CAN’T!”

“You can hold it, Y/n!” Steve said with a chuckle. “You better not pee your pants!”

“I MIGHT!”

“Do I have to call my suit? Are you going to have to pee in my suit?” Tony asked, panic in his voice.

“MAYBE.”

“It has a filtration system. You can drink that water!” Tony said.

“I’D RATHER GO TO A BATHROOM.” You whined, holding it in as hard as you could.

“We’re almost there. You can do it!” Steve encouraged you.

You really thought you weren’t going to make it and were going to have to pee in Tony’s suit. He even called it and it climbed in the window and sat next to you in the car.

“I DON’T WANNA PEE IN THAT THING.”

“Well you’re NOT going to pee on my leather seats!” Tony declared.

The Iron Man suit looked at you and shrugged.

Luckily, you held it all the way to the store, and sprinted to the bathroom.

“Well, that was close.” Steve said, when you came out.

“Yep.”

You and Steve caught up to Tony. It was a nice grocery store. You didn’t take the time to notice how cute the town was because, well, you were distracted.

“Pick out what cereal you and Peter want.” Tony told you, while the three of you entered the aisle.

You took an obnoxiously long time, trying to decide what cereal both you and Peter would like, while Tony and Steve stood around sighing.

“Tick-tock, granny.” Tony urged.

You finally settled on “Cap’n Ameri-Crunch.”

“Oh.. I see how it is.” Tony grumbled.

“Iron Bran isn’t that good though.” You admitted.

Tony clenched his jaw and formed a “claw” with his hand, slowly approaching you.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” You rambled, putting your hands up in defense.

Tony chuckled and you all continued on shopping.

The shopping lasted quite a while to stock up the cabin for the week. Steve was now giving you a piggyback ride effortlessly through the store while Tony checked off the list filled with everyone’s requests. You got quite a few stares from people. Steve and Tony took a few selfies with people.

The three of you returned to the cabin around 10:30 A.M. Everyone then got ready to go to the lake. You waited on the back deck, talking with Thor about his latest adventures when you heard a loud scream from inside, startling you both. It sounded like bloody murder. Both you and Thor leapt to your feet. Thor pushed you behind him and stuck his arm out. VVVWWRAAAUUUMM! Thor wielded Mjolnir in his right hand. It took you a second to realize the scream belonged to Peter. You were scared. You knew this vacation was too good to be true. Some kind of trouble would follow you all here and it would be ruined.

“YOU BURN!” Tony yelled from inside the house. You’d never heard him yell like that. You gripped Thor’s shirt tighter.

“Th-Thor..” You whispered, shaking.

“Shh baby, I’ve got this.” assured Thor as he made his way toward the door.

Suddenly, a sprinting Peter pushed past him. “NOOOOOO!”

Tony followed after him… with a can of sunscreen. You felt as if you just caught your breath. Thor snatched Peter up by the back of his shirt.

“What is this madness?” Thor asked angrily.

“HE’S TRYING TO PUT SUNSCREEN ON ME!” Peter screeched.

“YOU BURN TOO EASILY. I hate to break it to ya Pete, but you’re not stronger than the sun!” Tony shouted, pointing directly at the sun.

You clutched your chest from the fear you had previously endured, but couldn’t help but start giggling.

“You too, giggles!” Tony said, pointing at you.

Peter grumpily gave in to being sprayed down with sunscreen by Tony.

“It’s cohohohld!” Peter whined.

“Stop being such a baby.” Tony scolded, spraying Peter’s back.

“That tickles!” Peter squeaked.

“Oh give me a break.” Tony scoffed with a smile as he held Peter’s face, applying stick sunscreen to his ears.

“How are your ears ticklish?” You asked with a giggle.

“Oh? I bet yours are too!” Peter said, as he began reaching for you, but was held back by Tony.

“Stay still! I’m not done!” Tony ordered.

You backed away with a smile, waiting your turn for the sunscreen.

“Finished!” Tony announced.

Peter rushed toward you, grabbing your wrists with one hand, and began fluttering his fingers on your left ear with the other. You immediately began giggling and your knees buckled.

“It tickles, doesn’t it?” Peter teased, now tickling your other ear, occasionally spidering around your neck.

“YEHEEHES! I’m sohohorry!” You laughed.

Peter let up, smiling at you. Tony pulled you over and began coating you in sunscreen.

“You’re such a dad. You know that, Tony?” You asked him.

Tony scoffed. “Me? Please!”

You rolled your eyes. Tony squished your cheeks with one hand while he applied the sunscreen to your ears. You giggled a little like Peter.

“Aww do you have ticklish ears like Peter?” Tony cooed in a babyish tone.

“...Maybe!” You replied bashfully.

He then applied it to your face and you were surely burn resistant. You thought it was sweet how much Tony cared. He knew that you hated sunburns.

You all finally made it out to the lake on the boat and were having a blast. You and Bucky were currently on the tube together, ready to be thrown off by Sam. He had just sent Peter and Steve flying. You looked at your dad with a nervous smile. He smiled back at you, humor gracing his lips. The boat started to pull you both and it sped faster and faster. You gripped the handles as tight as you could. Both you and Bucky screamed like on a roller coaster and couldn’t stop laughing. It was so much fun. Later, everyone moved onto paddle boarding. You were currently standing on yours across from Peter’s. You were good at paddle boarding. You enjoyed it and had good core strength from your training. Peter took his paddle and playfully nudged you with it. You only stumbled back a little and gave him a shocked look. He raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses with a smile.

“Are you CHALLENGING me?” You asked, mimicking the famous scene from Scooby-Doo that you and Peter constantly reference. He laughed and nudged you again. You nearly fell this time, and were in a ready stance, prepared to block him and push him off his board. You pushed him with your paddle and he nearly fell, but caught himself. You and Peter began battling. He pushed you off and you got right back on your board, laughing. You tried and tried again but were no match for him, but you were still having fun. The last time he knocked you into the water, you kicked his board and caused him to fall into the water with you. You began splashing each other, and had been throwing playful insults.

“You can never beat me, TINY!” Peter spat, playfully.

“I just knocked you off the board, STICKY!” You spat back.

“Being sticky made me a superhero, and you’re not one!” Peter bragged.

“You might be a superhero, but you’re not an Avenger!” You shouted back.

All of this was in good fun, but that last remark struck the wrong nerve in Peter, and he went a bit pale, but he still tried to get back at you.

“Well, at least I’m not weak… and excessively clingy.” Peter fumed quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“HEY! That’s enough, you two!” Steve snapped, having heard your conversation as he was nearby on a board.

You floated quietly in the water, looking down. You faked a small laugh, not wanting Peter to know he hurt your feelings. What he said was a secret insecurity of yours. One that Steve had been trying to work on with you. You were clingy to the Avengers. They were your family. You never wanted to annoy them, but you were now afraid that you did, but they were too nice to tell you. Peter had gotten on his board, and you started to get back on yours when Tony called everyone back to the boat to go eat.

You were quiet and now tried not to sit too close to anyone. You sat distantly between Nat and Bucky. Tony drove the boat up to this restaurant. It was a really nice place, and normally you’d be really excited, but you were just sad.

You all filled up two tables outside on the patio next to the shimmering water. A friendly waitress took your orders. You ordered your meal, and that was about all you had said since you’d gotten off the boat. You were sat next to Bucky and Nat again, and across from Steve. Steve was sitting next to Tony who was on his left. Peter was on the left of Tony. You wouldn’t look over at Peter. Peter seemed to be fine. You could hear him talking and laughing. You kept replaying his words in your head, and what hurt the most is the fact that they were his words. You always believed him and looked up to him.

“Tired?” Bucky asked you, giving your back a little tickle. It made you flinch a little, but you didn’t smile.

“Yeah, I am.” You answered quietly.

When you didn’t smile, Bucky knew something was wrong. Steve saw it too. Steve had been observing your quiet behavior.

“Hey Y/n.” Steve said with a small smile. “I ordered watermelon lemonade. You wanna try it?” He asked, trying to make conversation with you and get your mind off what had you upset.

You thought about it for a second, and nodded, accepting his offer.

He passed you the lemonade and you sipped from the straw. It was delicious, but it wasn’t enough to cheer you up. You forced a smile at Steve.

“It’s really good.” You said.

Steve gave you a loving smile. He then noticed your mood go back to where it was. You stared down at your napkin and quietly played with it. Steve gave Bucky a look. Bucky frowned back at him. You peered up to see Steve lean in to Tony and was talking pretty seriously, while Tony listened, nodding. The flood gates opened, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears started to drip down your face and you tried to wipe them away so no one would see, but the swelling in your chest got stronger. You glanced up at Tony but quickly looked away when you made eye contact with him. You got up from your seat and went inside to the restroom.

…

“They were playing around in the lake and I heard Peter say something. I think he took it too far.” Steve whispered to Tony.

“She’s been upset for a while?” Tony whispered back, glancing up at Y/n, who he noticed was wiping tears from her face.

“Yeah. He said something about her “clinginess” and as you know, she-” Steve began, but Tony cut him off.

“Mhm. Yeah. That’ll do it for her.” Tony said. He quickly understood that that definitely hurt her feelings.

Tony saw Y/n’s red eyes meet his, and watched her get up and leave. He turned his attention to Peter who was being goofy and playing around with the rest of the table.

“Hey Pete-” Tony began, but Peter was too distracted. “Kid. KID.” He was still laughing with everyone. “PETER.” Tony boomed, finally catching the wide-eyed boy’s attention.

“Sorry sir. Yes?” Peter asked.

“Having a good time?” Tony asked bluntly.

“Of course.” Peter answered, a bit confused.

“Yeah? Well Y/n is crying.”

“Wait what?” Peter asked, looking around for Y/n.

“Yep! Have any idea why that may be?” Tony asked again.

Peter’s face fell. He picked up on what was going on.

“Oh… Where is she?”

“Restroom.”

“I’m gonna go wait for her.. to come out.. and uh-” Peter stammered.

“Mhm. Yep. Go.” Tony said firmly.

“Yeah.” Peter said, getting up from the table. He made eye contact with Bucky, who was giving him a death glare. That scared him a bit. He made his way into the noisy restaurant in pursuit of Y/n. He waited outside the restroom hall.

…

You walked out of the restroom, having dried your tears and were fighting the ones that were threatening to fall. You were walking straight ahead, when a hand landed on your shoulder, startling you a bit. It was Peter. You felt embarrassed that you even got upset. You felt like you really were weak.

“Hey. May I talk to you?” Peter asked kindly.

You nodded.

Peter put his hand on your back and led you through the crowded restaurant outside to the front. You both sat on a bench, facing the parking lot.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry for what I said. I took it too far.” Peter apologized.

“It’s okay.. I took it too far too. You are an Avenger, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re not included. We’re all a family.” You said.

“No, I know you were just kidding. I just took it too personally. Before I got bit, I uh… well I could be pretty mean to people. To keep them away from me. It was a defense mechanism and that kind of came out today. I really didn’t mean what I said.” Peter said, taking your hand in his, sorrow filling his eyes.

“It’s okay. I know that it’s true and I can be annoying.” You said, quietly looking at the ground. “But I can work on it and I can be better.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “What? What are you talking about? You’re not annoying!”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just, you know, with HYDRA, I never… had anyone to cling to, so I do it too much now.” You explained.

“Y/n, you don’t annoy anyone! Affection from you is not annoying. It’s precious.” Peter said with a small blush.

You looked up at him and smiled.

“Everyone loves it… Everyone loves you.” Peter reassured.

“Thank you, Peter. I’m sorry I got upset. It’s just one of my insecuri-”

Peter cut you off, shaking his head. He looked you in the eyes, and from the look he gave you, you knew to stop apologizing.

“I’m sorry I made you cry...” Peter said softly, looking into your eyes.

You both sat a moment.

“I love you, Peter.” You whispered, tackling him in a hug. He laughed and hugged you back.

“Are you still my best friend?” He asked.

“Always.”

You and Peter went back to the back patio of the restaurant and your food had arrived. You were both smiling, walking side by side. Steve, Bucky, and Tony were happy to see you both had clearly made up.

“Well look who’s smiling again.” Bucky said with a smirk, squishing your face.

“Daaaaddy stoooop! You said bashfully.

Bucky chuckled. You looked up at Steve who was smiling as well.

“Well Bucky, she’s smiling again. Do you think she’ll giggle?” Steve squinted.

“I wonder.” Bucky pondered, beginning to tickle all over your back.

You tried to hold in your giggles out of embarrassment, but the tickles were so unbearable that you knew you wouldn’t last long. All it took was for you to look at Steve, who wiggled his eyebrows at you, for you to just lose it.

“There it is!” Bucky cheered, lightly scribbling the middle of your back.

You arched your back, swatting at your dad’s hand as you giggled. He let up and he and Steve laughed at your reaction while you blushed.

It was night time and everyone had made it back to the cabin, all sitting around the fire, talking and laughing. You felt relaxed and happy. Everyone did. You were currently putting your s’more together, while you watched Peter frantically blow on his flaming marshmallow. You laughed hysterically, pointing at him.

“What are you laughing at, Y/n? That was you about two minutes ago!” Wanda teased, poking your right side as she sat in her chair, causing you to flinch away and giggle.

“It was!” Natasha, who was sitting on the other side of where you were standing, said with the same tone, double poking your left. You giggled more.

“Yeeeah it was!” Peter joined, wiggling his fingers into your tummy, before slipping past you to the back table to make his s’more. He really tickled you and you nearly dropped your plate as you cackled.

Everyone smirked at you. You started eating your s’more a little nervously and were making your way back to your chair.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing?” Sam asked playfully, giving your neck a tickle as you walked by. You squeaked and ran to your seat before anyone else tried to get you.

“Ticklish Y/n. Never gets old!” Tony mused as everyone nodded, agreeing.

“So embarrassing!” You whined. You finished your s’more with an embarrassed smile plastered on your face.

There were chuckles all around.

“It’s the cutest thing when you squeeze her sides and she has that fantastic belly laugh!” Steve described.

“That’s the BEST!” Bucky said.

You hid your face in your hands.

“Oh! I know what you’re speaking of!” Thor chimed in. “It has been a while since I’ve tickled Y/n.” Thor raised his eyebrow at you and a giant swarm of butterflies flooded your stomach.

“Go for it! She loves it!” Steve smirked.

“NO I DON’T!” You defended.

Steve gave you that look and you gave him a shut up shut up shut up look.

“Yes! Get her, Thor!” Tony encouraged.

Thor smirked and slowly stood up. You started giggling nervously, and took off running toward the house. You ran so fast through the grass that your flip flops flew off. You could hear him coming toward you, and right when you reached the steps, he caught you. You let out a scream and he just laughed evilly. He carried you like a baby back to his seat while you pathetically tried to get away.

“What’s the matter, princess?” Thor asked as he walked across the grass.

“Ihihihi aham scahahared!”

“Don’t be scared! I’m just spending time with my Y/n is all! I might make her laugh a bit!” Thor said in a terribly teasing tone.

“Ohohoho noooo.” You whined, super nervous and flustered.

He plopped down with you in his seat and held you while you braced yourself.

“This is a very nice fire, isn’t it.” Thor asked everyone casually, still holding you like a baby.

You looked up at him confused. Did he change his mind? He had a small smirk on his godly face and his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Thor looked down at you and pretended to be shocked.

“Oh! Y/n! Haha I almost forgot! I was going to give you tickles!” He exclaimed and dug his wiggling fingers right into the middle of your tummy. Okay, THAT tickles.

You began howling with laughter and a huge smile spread across Thor’s face.

“Y/n loves tickles!” He exclaimed, still tickling your tummy as you were stuck in his arms.

You didn’t want to get away anyway, but you also did because of how much it tickled.

After a while of tummy tickling, he stopped and you caught your breath, a big smile on your face.

“On Asgard, we have different ways to tickle!” Thor began while you waited anxiously. “Do you know what it feels like to be pecked by a raven? Here, let me show you!” He teased as he began poking and wiggling each one of your ribs, while you squealed with laughter. He chuckled at you.

He continued tickling your ribs for a while until he stopped again.

“Oh and do you know what it’s like when a dragon breathes fire?” He asked.

You shook your head with a nervous smile.

“It’s like this!” He shouted before lifting you up, blowing multiple raspberries on your tummy. His raspberries were the most ticklish ones you’ve ever felt, and his beard added to it. Your laughter fell silent and he stopped again.

“Buck.. Steve… Thor wins.” You said catching your breath, referring to the question they asked you this morning. They both just laughed.

“I win what?” Thor asked.

“Your raspberries tickle the most!” You said bashfully.

“They do?” Thor asked with a grin. “What about my knee tickles?” He began squeezing and scribbling on your knees and you when straight back to squealing with adorable laughter in Thor’s arms, failing to escape the tickling on your sensitive knees. He then began to squeeze your thighs and you laughed like crazy. It tickled so much you thought you might die.

“Tickle tickle tickle!” Thor taunted as he now began to dig into your underarms. You fell in and out of silent laughter.

“THOHOHOR! STAHAHAP! THAT TIHIHICKLES!” You shouted through your laughter. This was unbearable.

“It’s supposed to tickle, Y/n/n! I’m tickling you!” Thor said.

“I CAHAHAN’T!” You wheezed.

Thor chuckled and had mercy on you while you caught your breath.

“Would you like for me to stop?” He asked, still laughing along with you.

You didn’t want to say “yes” and you didn’t have the courage to say “no,” so you just kept giggling.

“I’ll take that as a “no!”’ Thor grinned, before reaching down to scribble the bottom of your feet.

You laughed so hard that you had to get him to stop, so you reached up and tickled his neck. He laughed his low, handsome laugh.

“Hey! I’m the one tickling you!” He teased sweetly, before scribbling all over your neck and collarbones. He had tickled you so much that your laughter had become hoarse and he knew you had enough.

“Did that tickle?” He asked with a big smile, while gently tickling your belly button.

“Yehehes!” You giggled.

“Good!” He said, ceasing his tickling and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You were worn out after a long day and all the tickles from Thor. You stayed in his arms and fell asleep, listening to his soft voice, as well as the voices of everyone else you loved.

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op-peccatori · 5 years

Text

it’s free (for you) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Victor

Rating: General/Teen

Word Count: 1900

Tags/Warnings: college au, fluff

Summary: At this year’s annual festival, you’re finally forced to talk to someone you’ve always found intimidating – and in the process, you discover something wonderful.

a/n: I’ve had this sweet little thing in my drafts for a while and thought it was a perfect day to post it

You had only come here at Kiro’s recommendation. And now there is a pair of storm grey eyes tracking every move you make as you try not to sweat buckets.

It hasn’t been a very hot day but you’re nearly melting under the pressure, trying to tell yourself it’s because of the crowd around you. It only makes sense, as it’s the last day of the local annual carnival. You’ve been looking forward to it, waiting with obnoxious levels of excitement for the games, the food and the music.

You aren’t having a lot of fun at the moment. The stall you’re at had been there last year too, but you had been too intimidated by the person who manages so you avoided it. You had seen a kind-looking old man managing it earlier today though, so when Kiro told you to please please please come here and get the pudding, you were more than up for it. Leaving your friends to their shooting games, you had skipped over to the Souvenir stall.

Only to be greeted by the same young man you had seen last year.

The sun’s beginning to set and soft lights have been lit throughout the grounds. Throngs of girls seem to be surrounding the little booth, their curious eyes fixed on the man shooting glares at everyone in his line of sight. The people who are actually eating the products seem to be gushing over them, so there’s that. Now you just have to get through buying pudding from your senior in college.

Victor Li is every professor’s dream student and it’s a universally acknowledged fact that he’s the best catch on campus. Except, no one seems to be able to catch him. At all. He doesn’t seem to have any friends apart from a sophomore called Goldman or something, and Anna has mentioned partnering with him for projects but nothing more. With his built, you had thought he’d be on the football team too but according to Gavin, the other student avoids the football field like the plague.

Not that you’ve been paying that much attention. You’ve interacted with him exactly twice and neither of them has been your best moments.

The first, when you were introduced to him by Anna. You met up with her after her classes, and it went exactly as you’d expect it to-uneventfully. Victor had barely nodded in your direction before exiting the conversation. The second incident, however, is something that still haunts you. You had seen him around in the library a lot, but never really had the courage to approach him. He doesn't really give off the vibe that indicates he would appreciate any company.

He likes to read, you have – on occasion – marvelled at his absolute focus, as he seems completely unfazed by the people around him. Clearly, you could do with some of that willpower, as your mind wanders at the first opportunity presented to it.

It was when you had climbed up on one of the stools to reach for a book, that someone bumped into your stool with considerable force, causing you to stumble off the surface. However, instead of the ground, your body met a force of nearly as immovable in nature. Strong arms had wrapped around your falling body, holding you close and safe from any unfortunate injuries. It would’ve been a sweet moment, something you had only dreamed of before if it weren’t for the expression on your saviour’s face. Because of course it had been Victor who saved you, and he couldn’t have looked any more displeased about it.

While you had been in the middle of stammering out apologies and thank yous, Kiro had rushed over in a panic and Victor just shoved you at him and walked off, as if returning someone’s naughty kitten. You had been left gaping along with your best friend, unable to process what had just happened. The warm tingling spreading throughout your body felt treasonous.

Kiro had been kind enough to assure you that your deodorant hadn’t failed you.

Anna had said that he wasn’t a bad guy, just a bit awkward and reserved. Still, you had felt oddly hurt after that incident and began to avoid him. You’ve locked eyes with him on more than one occasion, but never do anything more than smile and look away hastily.

It seems like you’re going to have to talk to him now. Hopefully, he won’t throw anything at you. As you step up to the counter, you hope your smile doesn’t give away your wound up nerves.

God, but he has lovely hair.

And that navy blue sweatshirt looks unreasonably good on him.

Ugh.

“Hi, Victor!” you greet him, wobbly smile melting into something more genuine when he only looks surprised instead of hurling his tray at you – which he drops on the counter instead. You can see two more students working at the back, who seem to be on oven-duty at the moment.

“Hello...___” He seems to hesitate, and you try not to fidget under his focused stare. “What can I get you?”

“Oh, um, my friend recommended the pudding so I think I’ll have that.” Why do you feel so shy all of a sudden? Victor nods in response, shooting a small smile at you as he turns around to get your order, leaving Goldman to man the counter as you stare after him in surprise. It was only for a second, but the way his smile softened the sculpted lines of his face will be seared into your mind forever. And he was pleasant!

You can feel the disappointment of the people behind you as you step aside to wait. Are you supposed to pay after getting the food?

He strides up to the counter before you can ask Goldman. “Here you go,” Victor says, placing a cute paw-print cup on the counter, filled with the pudding you've been daydreaming of ever since Kiro began singing its praises. He has a spoon ready and you realize you forgot to get it packed.

With the expectant look Victor levels at you, you get the feeling he wants you to eat it here. He’s not even blinking.

He doesn’t go back to the main counter, ignoring the others as he simply watches you, and waits. Well, you certainly don’t want to disappoint him. Scooping up a bite with no further hesitation, you place the spoon in your mouth and promptly forget where you are. Everything fades as you float along a river of warm, sugary delight and you never want to leave. It’s incredibly soft, not unbearably sweet, and you want to eat it every single day for the rest of your life.

As you come back to your surroundings with a blissful sigh, smiling up at Victor – your heart nearly stops within the confines of your chest at the sight that greets you, and warmth blooms across your cheeks. He’s smiling at your reaction, eyes crinkling in a way you’ve never seen before and the tenderness in his eyes rivals that of the pudding.

“It’s...I don’t think I have the words to describe how delicious this is,” you confess. “May I give my compliments to the chef?” And maybe figure out where they work and if you could maybe work out a deal.

“I’ll pass them on,” Victor says stiffly. You watch in slight disbelief as his cheeks flush adorably, wondering if you said something wrong.

“Actually, you already have! Victor made everything here himself,” Goldman cuts in abruptly, smiling blithely as he ignores Victor’s scowl. He looks almost embarrassed as you turn to look at him with wide eyes.

“You did?” you ask with considerable awe in your tone. You could never have guessed it; is there anything this man isn’t good at?

“Yes.” He wipes down the counter even though it seems to have been sparkling already.

“Victor. This is the best pudding I have ever had in my life,” you exclaim, ducking and tilting your head in an effort to make eye contact with him, which he refuses to do.

And you might never get to eat it again. Is this what heartbreak is?

“Yeah. I’m glad you like it so much,” Victor nearly mumbles in response. You can’t look away from his flushed cheeks. For someone who surely receives a ton of them on a daily basis, he doesn’t seem to be very good at taking compliments.

He might really throw something at you if you squeal though, so you keep it down.

“Well, I’m really glad I came here.” You wouldn’t have been able to see this side of him if you hadn’t. “Where do I pay?” But before Goldman can answer you, Victor beats him to it.

“It’s free.” His tone brooks no argument.

“Huh?” Goldman and you ask in unison.

“It’s free,” Victor repeats, his glower making a reappearance. His friend hesitates, glancing at you once before shrugging and moving back to the counter. You watch as the next customer asks about the free pudding.

“Not for you!” he replies cheerfully, winking at you before quickly whirling around when Victor glances his way.

“Vic-Victor, I can't-“ You're not sure what to think.

“You can.”

“Well-well then, let me cook for you! I make good pudding.” Definitely not at his level but Kiro says it’s decent. Victor clears his throat uncomfortably, watching you almost cautiously.

“I’ve...tasted your pudding before.”

“You have?” you ask, unable to recall any instance where he could’ve had the opportunity.

“Anna brought some to our study session once,” he confesses. And doesn’t say anything else even when you look at him expectantly.

“Did...did you like it?” Your tone is a blend of apprehension and hope as you clutch your cup harder, unable to help your laugh when Victor just doesn’t seem to know what to say. “That bad, huh?” Your smile broadens into a grin at his grimace. “We can’t all have your talent! Maybe you should teach us poor folks how to cook,” you try to tease but his expression melts into something frighteningly thoughtful.

“That’s not a bad idea." He seems to think it over before nodding resolutely. “I’m free next Saturday. You can come over, my kitchen is more suitable for our class.”

“Our class,” you repeat through numb lips, heart quickening its beat. Did you hear that right?

“You want to learn, don't you?” He cocks a brow at you. You study the way the tips of his ears burn red, belying his cool expression. A spark of mischief flickers in your mind as he picks up an empty tin ready to be cleared up.

“Of course, I’ll see you next Saturday then?” You wait for his nod and pull out your phone. “Here, put in your number.” ‘It only makes sense’, you think with a smirk as Victor slowly reaches out to take your phone. Instead of displaying the previous shyness, you realize with a start that he looks happy. The small curl of his mouth evokes ridiculous thoughts in your head and you avert your eyes swiftly. With a few taps and a text, you’ve officially exchanged numbers.

Victor Li.

You watch him walk away before calling out one last thing. “It’s a date then!” Certain that some of your glee has made its way onto your face when he stops dead in his tracks, you try to school your expression into something more innocent when he whips around with flushed cheeks and a slack jaw. Waving goodbye with a joyous grin, you skip away from the booth, your heart pounding madly.

You need to try and finish your pudding before Kiro can get his hands on it.

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mr love queen's choice #mr love li zeyan #love and producer

266 notes · View notes

jjkpls · 5 years

Text

Mean Yoongi 2 (m)

> genre : smut, light angst, fluff

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> words : 5.4k

> warnings : explicit sexual content, strong language

> For once, Min Yoongi is not that mean and tries to help you feel better after an umpteenth date fail. (sex in the genius lab basically)

> A/N : Feel free to listen to the inspiration for this :D I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts ❤

> previous

< next

“You're here?” Yoongi is standing up from his chair, face scrunched up in a scowl as he glares down at me.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to answer to that.

It's been more than an hour since I've knocked on the door of his studio, entered and installed myself on the sofa, right behind him.

I was not sneaky about it too. He looked at me. He did. When I opened the door, we've glanced at each other. I mouthed something about wanting to hang out since he could probably not hear me with the earphones set on his head. Completely expressionless, he turned around in his chair and proceeded on working again, typing and clicking away on his computers, not minding me anymore.

I'm not sure what it meant. But it's not like I really cared at that point since I wasn't planning on leaving his studio and meeting stupid Taehyung and have a fucking painful time with this idiot.

So I've just remained there, keeping myself occupied on my phone. Eventually, he would finish what he's been doing and pay attention to me -at least, turn around and sneer my way or something. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to handle my presence, too obnoxious somewhere behind his back, and quit working to throw me out. I mean, anything.

But he did not. For more than an hour. And if the hardly raised dark eyebrows of his are anything to go by, he's completely forgotten that I was there.

“Uhm... but you've seen me?” I mumble, confused and slightly embarrassed.

“Why are you not with Taehyung?” I frown, diverting my attention back to the screen of my phone. There's still a little Chimmy asking if I want to “try again!” this level. I hear Yoongi sigh, gravely. He lets himself fall back in his chair, this time facing my lain form on the couch. One of his hand messes with his bleached-white hair. When it falls back down on his lap, he sighs again, asking the same question again this time pressing me with the stressed syllables of my name he's added.

I wonder how upset I must look for him to show so much patience. We haven't talked in quite a few weeks, mostly because of my schedule being suddenly overbooked by a sudden shit load of work being dropped in the office I work at. But from what I remember, he wouldn't have made the effort to ask twice the same question before.

“He's going to annoy me...” I peek at him from the corner of my eyes. He's leaned on his right side, the tip of his fingers pressing against his worn-out eyes. When he's done and the silence of the studio is striking him, he opens them up and stares back, in expective. “It's dumb...” Straightening up, he leans back, elbows setting on the armrests, fingers intertwining on his stomach. His piercing gaze is not leaving me longer than it takes for him to blink and I know I own his whole attention.

I feel kind of silly now. Taehyung would be a pain but Yoongi surely won't be much better. The plan was just to hang out with him, or next to him at least, not to actually have him show interest and concern for my life. Never failing to disappoint.

Laboriously, I get up, getting in the best disposition to tell my little lame tale about the whole Tinder debacle. I tell him, trying to avoid digressing on meaningless details that could earn me time, about this guy I've met. About how he came off weird by sending me a dick pic the day following our very first text exchange but how I gave him a pass for his “momentary lapse of judgement”. There're not many movements on Yoongi's part. His face has never been an opened book but I would expect him to show some reactions. Since he doesn't, I suppose he doesn't think it's that much of a big deal so I keep going, summarizing briefly the beginning of our first (and last) date and more precisely, I tell him about how he didn't look at all like his cousin's pictures he had used on his profile. I can feel fire burning my cheeks both from anger and embarrassment, as I start, mindlessly, counting on my fingers the other lies and other uncharming quirks of this guy as I name them out loud.

I've lost myself in a passionate tornado of complaints, now lashing on how greasy his hands were (and not from being sweaty, actually greasy with a something that I could not pinpoint but definitely fucking gross) when Yoongi starts mumbling something. I shut my mouth right up, all ears for the first comment he's about to give me.

“Okay. Why are you here? Isn't it Taehyung's job to list-”

“Min Yoongi.” I don't mean to but I whine. Because all the pent up frustration from this terrible day has been awoken by my telling and I don't feel like dealing with Mean Yoongi right now. He looks at me, eyes dark but oddly soft. I note how the light blond hair makes wonder for his naturally sharp glare. Smacking his lips, sighing again, Yoongi tilts his head to the side. “Actually, Tae told me not to go meet him because of the whole dick pic thingy but I didn't listen. We fought a bit about that. Now he's going to be oh-so-happy to have this whole shit to rub in my face,” Taking a stupid voice and twisting my face in an even stupider expression, I mimic, “'I told you so, dumbass! You should listen to-'”

“Tae's your friend. He's not gonna be happy that you had a miserable date.” It's my turn to sigh. Deep and hard, for it to resonates in the whole studio and Yoongi to hear it well. He is so disagreeable. He doesn't know anything about the proper friend etiquette. Yet he's right. And he's talking with me instead of throwing me out, and cursing at me for making him waste his time which I am sure, he strongly feels the need to.

“It's not the first time, right?”

“What is?”

“Tinder fail.”

“Oh.”

No, it's not. I've decided to stop counting when I realized that I was about to miss fingers to tally them on.

I can’t say that I’m starting to lose hope in my dating abilities because I’ve never really thought I was made for it. Which might be the reason why it all went down to shit. That’s what my mom would say. If I start with that attitude I shouldn’t feel struck by the result. In the end, there’s one common factor to all these equations.

That being said, why would falsely cute catfishes be so good at texting, I don’t get it? I meet them and they fucking suck balls, but at some point, they were nice and charming and normal. Well, most of them anyway if we put aside the one from today. Yes, it was in this very case a lapse of judgement on my part but the dick pic, not that I condone it or even liked it, intrigued me. It was a good one. Not his -also his cousin’s from my understanding, don’t ask me how he got that. But a nicely shot one, by clearly a professional, and I thought vaguely that maybe a guy that knew what he wanted, was so confident in his own attributes, might be a good option for my slow prude ass.

A mistake.

“Why are you so desperate to date?” Yoongi’s nose bridge scrunches up so tight, the round tip of his nose seems to try to meet the low frown of his dark eyebrows. I almost wish out loud for his stupid face to stay stuck in that position. He wouldn’t be any less irritating but at least, slightly cuter. And he hates cute.

“Desperate? I- Yoongi, do you know for how long I haven’t dated? I’m human, I get lonely!” I can’t help my voice to raise a few octaves. If I hold in more of my frustration, I’m sure I’ll end up doing something terrible and impossible to undo like crying, for example. “Don’t you?”

He shrugs. His expression has softened back into his regular blank one as he just contemplates in front of him. Not really me, not really the small coffee table or the carpet. I’m about to pry a word from him when his phone starts vibrating furiously on his desk. Turning hardly enough to check from over his shoulder, he looks then presses the screen turning it back to black.

Maybe I should leave now. I’m more upset than I thought myself to be. Which is so stupid. I couldn’t care less about that Bamboum guy or whatever his real name was. I still feel pretty stupid except more stupid than pretty and kind of helpless. Taehyung was going to be annoying as fuck if I had chosen to go seek him, but it was a mistake to even think Yoongi would, in any way, make me feel better. I should have clung to someone else like Jungkook or something. “How’s your ass?” I can’t even attempt to hide the startle his low voice, erupting after such a long painfully silent moment, provokes me along with the mention of the incident. Because it has to be what he is referring to.

Yoongi, still sitting in his chair, knees spread wide like he is trying to prove he owns the whole place as if I don’t already know from the multiple apparitions of his stage name all over the walls and shelves, ponders me, awaiting patiently for an answer. He has the faint shadow of a growing smirk painting his pink lips. He looks at me like he knows he’ll get an answer. He’s decided he’ll have one. Squeezing my fists tight to try and conceal the tension in my voice, I start, “Why are you mentioning this now?”

“I haven’t seen you since. Just inquiring.”

His voice is strained by a faint amusement. It’s lighthearted, I’m pretty sure. I, therefore, decide to just ignore it. Because what the hell does he want me to say anyway? That it felt alright on the way home but the sting was almost unbearable when I woke the next day and that I couldn’t even spend a minute without being reminded of his ministrations for the following three days as any movement, any brush of material against my skin, awoke the burn.

Yeah, sure.

Yoongi chuckles. He sees me looking down at my hands, turning mortified and embarrassed, and he decides it’s enough teasing. He grabs his phone, checking the time quickly.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, we ate at a restaurant.” I grumble, eyes still not raised enough to have to acknowledge his upsetting face.

“You ate with the guy? What's wrong with you?”

And here I realize why, maybe, I'm blessed by his usual lack of responses. Maybe I should try and actually cry in front of the guy, I know him to have something of a soft heart hidden somewhere. The one that winks when he expects it the less, when he lets his guard down. I could try and trigger it. Maybe he'll be less of an ass then.

“I'm not- what was I supposed to do? I'm not a bitch.”

“It's not about you being a bitch, it's about raising your standards a bit, damn...”

“D'you remember me explaining you, like 5 seconds ago, why I didn't want to see Tae right now?” He's rendered speechless. I don't know if it's from my doing or his own but he just stays there, exchanging a knowing look with me. I think he's giving in. He realizes that maybe he's being too much of an ass for what I can take.

Yoongi then swirls around on his chair. I start gathering my few belongings, assuming I'm being dismissed since he's starting to type away on his computer again but he startles me when he grabs the little stool, hidden under his desk, to drag it on the floor and set it next to his own chair. His other arm reaches out to unplug his headphones, while he throws out in the air, “Wanna listen what I've been working on?”

I gasp aloud, voice squealing a bit, as my heart is seized by a shock wave of excitement. YES, I DO. Anything else, any concern or growing grudges just annihilate all together when I jump on the little stool, unable to contain my grin and watching with wide eager eyes the screen displaying a music editing software I’ve seen him used multiple time before.

His lips are stretched by a tiny smile when he clicks a few times until the first notes drop. While I’m appreciating, mouth agape, all attention on the sample, Min Yoongi lays back in his chair, the back of his head leaning impossibly far to stare at the ceiling, his long milky neck exposed. It lasts about 30 seconds but those are the wildest seconds I’ve ever experienced. The sample is a bop. It’s that mix between heavy languish bass and a light melody alike an oriental traditional instrument, added to intricacies faint, subtle that my ignorant and so impressionable dumb brain can’t but feel without really deciphering. It’s different from what the band makes. More mature and hefty in a way. Something Agust D would manage well but then again, it has a delicacy to it that doesn’t really fit to his dark, raw character.

And here again I’m astonished by the extent of his talent as an artist, being able to surprise and reinvent himself while still producing something -and I know it’s just a snippet of a song that is far from actually existing yet but damn it is- that phenomenal. 30 seconds is very short of a time to convince someone your song will be a hit. But it’s enough there to fucking blow me away. I’d ask him to save this on an hour loop for me to take home if only he were not looking at me with this expression.

That’s so Yoongi. His mouth shut won’t say a thing but his eyes are very talkative except I’m missing a lot of words. He’s put his hat on, swiping his hair backwards, exposing his dark set of straight eyebrows so that his eyes are back to being sharp and dark, soft in the fineness of their upper line’s course but raw and assertive in expression.

“Yoongi, it’s-“ There’s a sudden drilling sound cutting me off and making me jump on my stool. It’s his phone again. Sliding on his chair to get closer, he reaches over me to check it quickly and shut it off under my curious eyes. When he leans back, leaving a breeze of a too common yet nice male cologne on his path, his attention doesn’t waver from my face as if trying to make it out into something or figure something out of it.

“You were saying?” He mutters, his knee lightly bumping into my thigh. What was I saying? Is it happening again? Is his studio cursed or something? Maybe for someone who wouldn’t know him he’d look cold, almost mean from how uninterested his facial expression is looking. But to me, who’s had my fair share of Yoongi's not-so-wide spectrum of different attitudes, he’s being exceptionally present.

The way his whole attention is silently driven to me, how he actually asks me to speak, and the proximity -my legs pulled tight together so they don’t dare brush against his, squaring them- he doesn’t hint to wanting to pull away from. It feels nice but awfully intimidating. I could spend a whole afternoon annoying the crap out of him, stuck to his backside like a piece of gum to a shoe, if he barely acknowledges me enough to make me feel like we're still making progress in this friendship, we’re getting somewhere. But this I'm not used to, and it feels like it's too much.

“I- I think it's incredible...” His fingers reach behind his head, scratching the hair there, while a locked-lips smile draws itself on his face.

“There's a lot of things left to do. It won't do like that...” He's the genius artist and producer. And I don't know shit about music. So no matter how bad I want to express my adoration for this sample, how bad I want him to not change anything except if it's to add his low, charismatic voice, I decide not to get into it. I've observed him from beginning to almost end of making and editing a piece, a few times, and it's not the first time a very early version seems like the one to me. He wouldn't really listen, though. And that's probably the main reason for him being such a good artist. He's confident, resolute, and incredibly talented.

“Are you still feeling lonely?” I feel better. Him sharing something as meaningful as his music with me sure cured my mood immensely. That being said, the feeling of unsatisfaction and the creeping hopelessness in regards to the future of my dating life, are just hovering in the back of my head, shadowing like a pre-thunder cloud.

It seems like I caught his bad habit of expressing only crumbles of the full extent of my thoughts and emotions. I shrug. Nod, fidget a bit. “What does that mean? What do you need?” The tip of his forefinger is teasing the pink of his bottom lip, smoothing the skin out, while he just ponders me and probably his own questions.

Blushing furiously, I'm quick to stutter, “I don't need anything...” Because I think I know what he's implying. There was no warning but I think I recognize the switch, subtle and so sudden, just like last time. The difference here is that, instead of having me on all fours, unable to see his ominous expression, he is facing me full-on with his demand and his intonation, lower, lazier, more languorous, he's perspiring this odd feeling coming straight from the curious place his mind has taken him. And once again, he's taking me there and while it's tempting, it's also terrifying. Maybe too scary for me to indulge in.

“You don't?” Yoongi's eyebrows raise high. He pouts, tilting his head to the side, eyes diverting away breaking all of the heavy tension streaming between us, “Alright...” And as soon as his burning gaze leaves me, the cold hits me like a harsh winter breeze.

“Actually I do! Sorry, I do.”

There’s a silent agreement passing between us. I’m not sure if it’s him being so loud and opinionated about what he wants that make it so I understand him, as opposed as us just getting each other now, but it feels so pleasing.

Yoongi raises from his chair, sharp eyes glowing like a wolf's gaze in a kid's nightmare. He’s so scary in a way. He’s like the terrifying werewolf with no hidden agenda, bloody quest exposed right in the open, except I want to fall right in between his pointy canines.

Yoongi throws a quick glance to the closed door of his studio before his incisive eyes find me again. He looks so intimidating from up there, I want to ask him to at least take his stupid hat off.

When he grabs my chin in between his fingers, I’m sweating bullets, heart losing it in a feast of tachycardia, wondering how the big wolf is going to eat me up, and why the hell did I think for a second it was a good idea. Yoongi simply kisses me. Simply being the keyword. Softly, he presses his lips against mine, adding enough pressure to turn the butterfly switch on but nothing more just yet.

Parting away to look for something in my eyes, I catch a glimpse of his pink tongue swiping over his lips before they stretch into a pretty smile. Is that what Yoongi needs to smile? Intimacy?

But then he’s grabbing me by the hand, lifting me to my feet, meeting my mouth again more roughly, more insistent, dragging tiny whines from deep within, carving his fingerprints in the flesh of my waist. I’m impossibly close to him, feeling the hard edges of his belt digging into my stomach, and I’m turned a little crazy.

I’m flushed to the tip of my hair. Wavering eyes watery, hardly making out my surroundings. My head is spinning. Maybe I’m too sensitive for this shit. It’s been some time since the last time I’ve been any close to intimate with someone, nevertheless, I’m pretty certain it has more to do with him than with the period of my inactivity. I don’t think anyone has ever made kissing so breathtaking. Those nice but rather plain and awkward kisses from before are put to shame. And who would have thought Mean Yoongi would be the one to do so?

“Is this what you need?” It’s like there’s only greed and eagerness filling me up now. I nod furiously while he cackles and I’d be annoyed if it were not for his cold hands still holding my waist. He leans in, nibbles gently on my bottom lip, “More?”

“Yes please.” He chuckles against my face and gives in to me. It's strange how different yet recognizable he feels. His body, as he crashes me against it by his grip on my ass, feels sturdy, still like a statue. It's so Yoongi. As opposed to his mouth, scorching, wet and sultry.

Where does it even come from? Was he always this way? I know, well know, that Yoongi is made of thousands of layers. More or less hidden, more or less guarded. Yet, I had no idea that he had one like this one. The way his hands knead my ass, my sides, my thighs, the way his mouth cherish mine with so much confidence and natural -when did that antisocial hermit learn to melt with someone else like so? It's like he's taken me in a hazy half-conscious-slumber, I end up waking up from once I'm straddling his lap, on the sofa.

Yoongi looks into my eyes, his even more squinted than usual. “Is this okay?” His fingers, now torrid, are teasing the hem of my shirt, not yet daring wandering under the tissue.

“Yes, touch me.” Something in his eyes clicks. I'm sure he's about to comment on my almost order but for some reasons, probably the same for my dripping panties, decides to ignore it.

It feels so strange. I was there for the whole thing, my sticky panties and flushed skin witnesses of it, yet it feels so sudden when I'm lain there, my tee thrown away, and his hands undoing my pants. It's the cold from the leather couch, shocking my naked back, the view of the ceiling I've never thought about ackowledging, I almost feel like it's too much, too weird and it shouldn't be happening. Because who is Yoongi, who am I, what are we -even though I like to slip and impose my existence into his life, and I'm sure he doesn't mind as he is one to express himself pretty well. If there is one thing that I can admire about his rudeness, it's that it doesn't come from a bad place. It comes from one of love and respect and consideration for his own person, and that's respectable. Therefore I know he would have worded it out if he really wanted me out of his way, strictly in Taehyung's hair and not bleeding on him. I guess we're friends. Sort of. Not the most intimate of friends but close enough to count on each other -if plants need watering. That's pretty big. Isn't it pretty big? Namjoon said so anyway, but it might just be because he is peculiarly serious about his own green friends.

So, as our friendship is just blooming I'd say, it still holds a dear place in my heart and I'm confused as to this whole thing being a good idea or not. Just lying there, in the cold, it feels horrible.

But then he's purring. His eyes are grazing my body, blessing every single inch of it with his attention, pink tongue poking at the side of his half-opened mouth, and he's purring. It's that other very Yoongi thing: a mix between a hum and a moan, coming right through his pretty crimson lips like a big cat's purr. He does it all the time, unconscious of it, and hearing it warms my heart with a blanket of reassurance. I could not say if it's the familiarity or his heated gaze, either way, I know I want it. The consequences will have to be dealt with later on.

(“Beautiful.” It's so quiet. Not meant for me to hear but I can make it out from the way his lips wrap around the word.)

Yoongi is not a douche. A little bit, but certainly far from enough to break my heart. Why do I even bother worrying?

I jump off of the couch, my hands joining his on my jeans to get me ridden off the now offensive clothing quicker. He feels the switch. His eyes bore into mine with a glint, eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk showing off his cute turtle teeth. Jumping back on his lap, I kiss his mouth, wanting to catch his pretty smile.

How lucky I am. How wonderful it feels to have this man dive his whole precious attention on me.

“I really want you, Yoongi.” I say because he needs to know, especially when he's lowering his head slightly to avoid meeting my intense eyes directly. I'm sure if Yoongi was one to blush, his soft cheeks would be covered in crimson. He can't handle the compliment, I can tell. Maybe I should make fun of him but I don't want to when I look down at his beautiful hands, white as snow, streaked with large veins, looking so nice on me. Therefore, I don't say anything and he deems it's time to start again.

His thumb falls over my panties, pressing nicely right on my buddle of nerve. I exhale, loudly, as he circles over it. My hands titillate at the hem of his black tee, hoping he'll hint at taking it off. Of course, he doesn't, even makes me forget about it by slipping his whole hand in my panties, his mouth eagerly attaching back to my gaping lips. It feels delectable, my clit sitting perfectly in the pit of his warm palm while his fingers dip in between my wet folds, teasing my entry. And when he finally indulges in it, my craving hole sucks his bony fingers in. I gasp messing up my breathing, he smiles in the kiss, already adding a second finger. It's a tight fit. His fingers are not that large, quite long and angular, but it's been some time and I can't help my walls from clamping around him each time the thought of Min Yoongi having his fingers buried deep in my cunt floats in my messy consciousness.

“Yoongi, I really want you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, lips pressed against the corner of my mouth. He doesn't understand though.

I'm humping on his lap now, helping his fingers fucking me by riding them but the slow, lazy course along my neck hint at something I don't want. He wants to take his time. I'm not up for it though. Taking off his hat without thinking it over, my hands reach to smooth his bleached hair down. He's watching me with big curious eyes while I arrange them on his forehead. Yoongi looks soft again. His white gold locks are falling low under his eyebrows. Hard to be intimidated by this look, so I demand, “I mean now, please.”

Yoongi slips his hand out of my panties -my mouth falls into a pout on reflex, thinking he's going to be mean again-, and grabs his belt to tear it open. Holding me by his free arm wrapped around my back, he raises up enough to free himself from his jeans. I land back, flushed as ever, my heart burning in my chest from how hard and fast it beats. His cock, snow white except for the tip, flushed and shiny with precum, appears to me. The way his hand slides along it, firm and harsh, hints at how hard he is. It feels indecent, this moment, him stroking himself so close to me, a hand on my hip, his eyes deep in mines. “Do you have a condom?” I stutter.

He reaches for the little drawer of the coffee table, catching one and proceeding to put him on. Why would he have condoms in his studio? In the coffee table?

“Aren't you glad I do?” Yoongi asks, a smug smirk painting his face. His pointer slips under the crotch of my panties, dragging to the side to uncover my sex. He gives me a soft kiss. “Sure?”

I have to literally violent myself into not rolling my eyes to the back of my head. I do a bad job apparently, as he groans something I'm pretty sure to be a cuss, lifting me up to have me sink down on him in one go.

I'm glad to see he's as affected as me. He's pressing his lips compressed together, frowned eyebrows peeking out through his fringe. And I wonder what words, maybe insanities, he'd be saying if he wasn't trying so hard to conceal any sound from leaving his mouth. It takes me what feels like an eternity before I feel safe enough to start moving, sliding slowly up and down his shaft. From the way his grip on my hips had getting mordacious, he was not ready to have me slide on him which I kind of love to think about. I'm quite impatient, greedy on the edges. But the stimulation is vivid. Overwhelming. He's not only buried deep in my cunt, but he's also clouding my mind, making my brain lag, burning my heart in a bitter-sweet fire at each wet kisses to my face, each purr in my ear.

“Come on...” He groans, one of his hand befalling hard on my ass cheek. “Fuck me-”

“Yoongi-” I ride him harder, meeting his thrusts, helping him graze that triggering spot, blending my moans with his. He tries to stay quiet, I can tell, but fails miserably. His face is hidden in my hair, his mouth attached to my ear, I can hear the full extent of the erratic breathing and his groans and his purrs. Fisting his sweat-soaked tee, I whine shamelessly, “I'm almost-”

“Come- come for me.” My fingers hardly touch my clit before I'm exploding around him. He lashes our mouths, catching my cry and swallowing it in, before he growls from the back of his throat, teeth accidentally biting hard on my lip. “Shit.”

It takes a little while for us to come down from the high. I can't help but keep languishingly riding, caressing the back of his hair and placing thankful kisses on his cheeks and jaw. His rough hands smooth my skin out, from my shoulders to my thighs, he's so gentle, refusing to slip out of my warmth and my cheeks flush from the thought alone.

“You're not gonna say thanks?”

“Min Yoongi!”

“You look way less miserable than you did earlier.” He comments, observing me slipping my tee back on, crimson abused lips stretching on his turtle grin. “Should say thanks.”

“You sleeping here?” Sleeping here? I can't even imagine the discussion over logistics. Sleeping in his studio? In his bed? On the living room couch? What about the fucking morning? I furiously shake my head no. “Hm. Text me when you get home.” He says as he or another one of the 6 other young men living in the dorm says each time I leave this place relatively late in the evening.

So it should be it. I don't know if I'm disappointed or not. I am waiting for something else, yet without really knowing what I have to admit. As I open the door to leave, waving my hand awkwardly his way, he grabs it, brings me to him to place a sweet peck on my mouth. “Text me.” I wish he'd say more but that's Mean Yoongi. It’s fine because this time I’m sure he means more.

#btssmutclub #btswriterscollective #bts x reader #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #my writing

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ultrafangirlishness · 4 years

Text

Alone On Christmas (Part 1)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Synopsis: Deceit hates Christmas, especially now that it’s without Virgil— his first Christmas alone. Or so he thought.

Word count: 2,808

Pairings: None romantic, all platonic

Warnings: slight Deceit angst (some anxious and insecure thoughts), sympathetic Deceit, minor arguing/tension, Christmas themes, lots of fluff, fluff ending

A/N: Hey everyone, this is my FIRST FIC EVER, inspired by this post by @max-the-queer. I had a lot of fun with this and am excited to present this totally self-indulgent fic. Unfortunately I forgot about Tumblr’s textbox limit, so I had to split it up. Feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated! (Also note this is pre-Remus). Happy Holidays, everyone!

Other parts here: 1 | 2 | 3

Special thanks to @sparkleydoggy-main for editing.

(I actually didn’t intend this at all, but this ended up being my 600th post! Yay!)

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Deceit pulled his cape tighter as the first couple snowflakes began to fall. All around him the town was aglow in stringed lights, the last few porch lights slowly being turned out one by one. It was 8:25 PM; just a couple hours until Christmas. Right about now, households would be tucking in for the night. Parents would be finishing the last of the wrapping, making food preparations, or kissing their children goodnight. Trees shone brightly through windows. As the snow fell harder, the atmosphere grew eerily silent, the only sound being the crunching of snow under Deceit’s feet.

Deceit hated the winter. More specifically, he hated Christmas.

Not just because of the cold, or the annoying music that always got stuck in his head. It wasn’t because of the brightly colored decorations and lights that hurt his eyes, or even just because of the obnoxiously cheery “Christmas spirit” everyone claimed to be in the air. Those were awful too. What he hated above all else, something he would never admit aloud, was that for Deceit, Christmas time was lonely.

Ever since Virgil left him for the other sides, Deceit had been an absolute outcast. A complete loner. He and Virgil would always make fun of the cheesy decorations, the ridiculous songs, and watch Halloween movies just to spite everyone. At least in previous years he could be lonely with someone— with Virgil. Now here he was, left to suffer alone in his least favorite time of year.

Deceit continued walking through the streets, hoping not to run into anyone. Maybe he could find a nearby café and wait out this storm…

He didn’t have to walk too far before Deceit became lost in thought. This would be his first Christmas without Virgil, without anyone in… how long? He couldn’t recall. Deceit supposed this was probably how Christmas would be from now on. Wandering the streets without purpose, nowhere to go, hoping he could find something to pass the time. Get over yourself, he said in his mind. If this is the way it’s going to be, you might as well get used to it.

Deceit was nearly to the late-night café he’d spotted earlier when he was pulled from his thoughts. From the house directly to his right came the creaking of an opening door. Golden light flooded the streets. Standing there in the doorway was a silhouetted figure.

“Deceit?” it called out.

After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the new source of light and Deceit was able to make out the figure’s features. A man, most likely in his late twenties to early thirties, wearing a thick pair of black glasses and a sweater that read “Meowy Christmas” over a knitted cat pattern.

“Patton.”

Deceit had completely forgotten he lived in this area of town.

“What are you doing out here?” Patton gestured to the snow. “It’s freezing! I thought you hated the cold?”

“I do,” he said in a matter-of-fact sort of way, hoping Patton wouldn’t noticing him shivering underneath all the layers.

Something changed in Patton’s expression. Sympathy? Pity?

“How are the others?” Deceit asked automatically, attempting to change the subject. He couldn’t help but cringe at the word “others”. He had a feeling they both knew who he was referring to.

“Oh! He's— they’re, they’re great. You know how it is,” he laughed nervously, “always arguing. But you gotta love ‘em.”

Deceit only nodded, fresh out of conversation filler.

The two men stood there, now wordless, no more than a few paces apart. With the door wide open, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted outside. Deceit could hear the faintest tune of Jingle Bell Rock coming from inside the house, followed by boisterous laughter. A familiar sinking feeling began creeping into his gut. When the silence between the two finally grew unbearable, Deceit cleared his throat.

“Well, if there’s nothing else you require of me, I hope you’ll excuse me,” he said with a polite nod, stepping away.

“Wait!”

Deceit paused and looked back at Patton, who wore a frantic expression. Patton flushed and, when it was clear he had the snake’s attention, looked down at his feet.

“No one should be alone on Christmas,” he muttered softly, just loud enough to hear.

This took Deceit by surprise. Out of anyone, Patton was worried about his well-being?

“Are you… inviting me in?” he asked.

“Yes?” Patton responded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you and the others haven’t always seen eye-to-eye.” Deceit scoffed at that. “But… It’s Christmas eve. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?”

“Patton, I appreciate the gesture, but why do you care? I mean, why are you doing this?” Was it possible Patton or the others actually missed him, or was this all coming from guilt? There was obviously some sort of hidden motive behind it. Some sort of trick. If he really cared, he would’ve invited him in a long time ago.

Patton’s expression just softened. “I want you to have just as good a Christmas as any. That’s not going to happen with you walking around out here all alone.”

Deceit looked away. He had a point.

“Besides, it’s only for a little bit.”

Deceit’s mind began to race, trying to think of all the ways it could possibly be a trick. Surely he wasn’t actually letting him into their lives, surely he didn’t actually care… and what about Virgil? What would he think? He would probably only try to make things miserable for Deceit. On the other hand, this was a chance to... what? Get back at him? It’d at least make him uncomfortable, no doubt. If Deceit ended up going through with all of this just to spite Virgil, well, he supposed he could live with that.

“So… what do you say?” Patton said, trying to conceal a hopeful smile. “You can come back later tonight when we’re ready, say, around nine? It’ll give me a chance to talk to the others.”

Deceit glanced at the time; that would give him less than half an hour.

“C’mon, join us,” he encouraged. “Just this once? It’ll be like old times! In the spirit of Christmas?”

Deceit knew that in fact it wouldn’t be like old times, but he decided not to say that. He mustered the last bit of courage he had left to look back up into Patton’s kind eyes. “Alright.”

•••

“Guys, come on! It’s Christmas!”

Patton, Logan, Roman and Virgil were sat comfortably around the table, enjoying a Christmas Eve dinner together.

“Pat, you can’t be serious,” Virgil said from across the table, arms crossed. “You know I try to humor your ideas, but this? Absolutely not.”

Before Patton could give him one of his “injured puppy” looks, as the group liked to refer to it as, Virgil cut in again. “Come on, Roman, this is crazy, right?” He gestured desperately at the prince, who tensed.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’m actually with Patton here. I think it’s a good idea.” Roman felt a little uneasy, but the look Patton gave him made up for it.

“Not you, too!” Virgil threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

Roman, trying his best to ignore the daggers being stared from Virgil, looked to the fourth person in the room.

“What about you, Logan? You haven’t said anything on the matter. What do you think?”

Logan, who’d been observing silently, sat up in his chair, all focus now on him. He took a moment to sip his cup of hot chocolate before speaking.

“What are the pros and cons?” he asked simply.

Virgil quickly opened his mouth to object, but Logan held up his hand for silence. Virgil reluctantly obliged and sat back in his chair with a huff.

“Calmly. What are the advantages and disadvantages of having Deceit over for Christmas?”

Virgil raised his hand in mock gesture. Logan rolled his eyes and nodded in his direction.

“I don’t know, maybe because he’s a freaking snake, the literal embodiment of lies, and can’t be trusted?”

The rest of the group fell silent at that.

“The pros are we’ll have one more person to celebrate with!” Roman jumped in with grand gestures. “The more the merrier! And maybe it’ll give you two a chance to, you know, make up?”

“Besides,” Virgil said, ignoring Roman’s last comment, “he hates Christmas. He used to always—” He stopped himself. “Look, I’m just trying to look out for you all. I don’t want anything to happen.”

“I think you’re just being selfish because you don’t want to have to deal with the confrontation. Can’t you two just grow up? It was one little argument!”

Virgil immediately stood up from his chair to face Roman, fists clenched.

“Hey, hey, let’s calm down everyone,” Patton said with a nervous laugh.

“Thank you, Roman, that is a great example of what will not help the situation,” Logan said, giving him a look.

Patton placed his hand gently on Virgil’s arm, whose angry expression softened a bit. Virgil sat back in his chair. “Why do you all want him over, anyways? You’re not exactly friends with him either.”

When no one spoke up, Patton looked down at his hands. “No one should be alone on Christmas.”

Virgil grumbled and rolled his eyes but ultimately didn’t argue.

“Come on Virge,” Patton urged, “I know you cut ties, but he’s not all bad. He is still one of us, you know.”

“He is not one of us,” Virgil muttered under his breath.

After a few moments of silence between the four, Logan spoke up again. “I’m sorry, Virgil, but it appears you’ve been out-numbered. It’s three to one.”

“That’s not three to one, you’re just the mediator!”

Logan just shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “So are we decided then?” he asked, “Do we all agree to invite Deceit over, to all get along,” he pointed a look at Virgil, “in the spirit of Christmas?”

Patton put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “If you’re really that against it, we won’t do it. But I think it’ll be a really good thing. For all of us.” He intentionally left out the “especially for you” part.

After a long moment of silence, Virgil gave in. “Fine.”

•••

It was only two minutes past nine when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, that’s him!” Roman announced excitedly. “And barely a moment late!”

The four friends left their places on the couch to gather in the foyer. Logan reached out and opened the door. There on the doorstep stood a snowy Deceit.

“Welcome, welcome, come on in!” Patton said brightly. “Long-time-no-see, am I right?”

Deceit stepped into the house, taking in the warmth. “Hello, Patton, hello everyone, thank you for inviting me. I must admit it has been a while.”

He was surprised to feel some of the bitterness already melting away when seeing everyone together again. Deceit would never admit it, but he had missed these guys.

“Welcome, Deceit,” Logan closed the door behind him and offered a hand. “Good to see you again.”

Though his voice and expression were kept under control as per usual, Deceit could feel the warmth radiating from him. With a gloved hand he took the offer. “You as well, Logan, thank you.”

“Jack the Fibber!” Roman bounded forward and draped an arm over Deceit’s shoulder, not noticing him flinch at the touch. “My slippery scaly friend, how are you? It’s been ages!”

“Indeed it has, dear Roman.” Though he was slightly uncomfortable with the sudden contact, he couldn’t help but smile. “Indeed it has.”

That left only one person, the one who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed, avoiding eye contact. Deceit gently took Roman’s arm off his shoulder and cautiously walked forward.

“Virgil,” he said, trying his best to hold his ground. “Good to see you again.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and blew his bangs from his face, not moving from his position. “You too, or something.”

At least he couldn’t say he didn’t try.

“Well, what do we start with first?” Roman clapped his hands together excitedly as if nothing had happened. “The hot chocolate? The cookie decorating? Christmas movies? A Christmas sing-along?”

“Calm down there, kiddo,” Patton laughed, waving his hands down at Roman. “Why don’t we have Deceit decide? He’s the guest.”

The four friends look expectantly at Deceit.

“Oh. I, uh… I’ve never really done Christmas,” he said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not really my thing.” This really was a bad idea. What was he thinking? He’d never even had a real Christmas before. Still, some small part of him wanted to try.

Roman gasped, making everyone jump. “You’ve never done Christmas?” He looked downright offended. “Christmas is the grandest, happiest, most wonderful time of the year! I’m sorry, but this just won’t do. We shall see to it that you have the best, most epic Christmas of all time!”

“Yes, we shall!” Patton agreed happily.

“Mark my words, Deceit, by the end of the day tomorrow you will love Christmas,” he swore, pointing his finger.

Patton’s smile faltered, “Now, Roman, there’s no need to get competitive—"

“Starting with the basics!” Roman proceeded. “You can take the spare bedroom down the hall and to the right.”

“Oh! There’s no need for that,” Deceit replied hastily, glancing at the door, “I was just going to come back in the morning.”

“Nonsense, you must have the full experience!”

Virgil looked like he wanted to protest, but remained silent.

“But I didn’t come prepared,” he reasoned, “I don’t have my clothes, I didn’t bring gifts—”

“Not to worry, we have plenty of extra clothes you can borrow!”

“Roman, that’s… thank you.” Deceit could feel his cheeks begin to heat up from all the attention.

“Roman’s right, we have plenty of resources,” Logan chimed in. “Go ahead and make yourself right at home, Deceit. It’s getting late, and we all should be going to bed soon,”—he gave a look to Roman, Patton, and Virgil— “We can do all those activities in the morning. Feel free to shower, grab a snack, whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“But—”

“Goodnight, Deceit! See you in the morning!” Patton waved as he, Roman and Virgil headed to their respective rooms.

“Sweet dreams!” Roman called back.

Virgil just shot Deceit the best glare he could muster and followed suit.

“You know you can take your hat off, right?” he heard from behind. Deceit turned to see Logan, who hadn’t followed the others. “It won’t be snowing in here.” He was smiling slightly. Apparently he’d gained a sense of humor since they last met.

“Oh.” Deceit pulled his hat down from his head. He liked to wear it more out of comfort than for warmth or even style. It gave him a sense of security, something to hide behind. Taking it off made him feel vulnerable. Reluctantly he handed it to Logan, who brought it to the coat rack. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And Deceit?” Logan said before he could walk away. For a moment he was worried Logan was going to offer to take his cape too, but he just smiled again. “If you need anything, anything at all, just ask.”

Deceit wasn’t sure how to respond to such a generous offer, so he just nodded and headed for his room, too tired to put up a fight.

When Deceit was done showering off, he tentatively peeked into his bedroom to make sure no one was around. There he found a stack of clothes folded neatly across the bed and a steaming cup of hot chocolate left on his nightstand. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, grateful for the clean clothes.

Deceit wondered who’d left the hot chocolate. The most likely candidate was Patton, but he was surprised by the gesture regardless of who it had been. He took ginger sips of the chocolate as peered out the window, watching the snow continue to come down.

Why were they being so nice? For the first time in months, Deceit felt… okay. Maybe a little awkward, but if it weren’t for Patton, he very well may have still been out in that snow. He wondered if this was the way everyone felt on Christmas; warm and safe. Happy, even. A small part of him still wondered if this was all some cruel trick, some way for Virgil to get back at him, but he decided he’d let that go for now. He could deal with it in the morning.

The sweet, warm chocolate began making his limbs grow heavy, and he knew he should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow was bound to be exhausting. For now, he was just going to soak in the warmth and comfort and close his eyes.

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darklesmylove · 5 years

Text

wicked games ch. 3 | jurdan

check it out on ao3 as well!

Jude's P.O.V

"You're up."

The sound of Vivi's surprised voice floated into the kitchen, hopefulness and a touch of suspicion edging her tone. I didn't look up, my vision filled with stacks of scribbled plans, some crumpled and tossed to the side and others spilling over with scrawled writings scratched in bleeding ink.

"I am up, astute observation Vivi," I hummed, rubbing the back of my hand across my tired, burning eyes before scribbling another idea onto my list.

"Why are you writing like a madman, what is all of this shit?" she frowned as she walked to the edge of the table, her eyes casting over my stacks of papers in relative distaste. I dimly felt the wicked, crazed grin involuntarily crawling up my mouth as my attention flickered up to her.

"Planning on how to best kill Cardan Greenbriar."

Her lip curled slightly in disapproval. "I can't believe you would even think about trying to go back, Jude, there's so much the mortal world has to offer. Less murder and stupid Faerie politics, for one."

I snorted, waving my hand in a dismissive gesture.

I didn't have a chance to focus back on my papers before Oak came bouncing into the kitchen spouting unintelligible lyrics to some mortal world pop song. He stopped short when he noticed me sitting at the table, his eyes going wide. "Jude's up! Jude's up!" he promptly ran over to me chanting, throwing his tiny arms around my neck and hanging on me with painful enthusiasm. Begrudgingly, I put down my pen in favor of hugging him back, ruffling his silky hair with a weakly genuine smile.

Oak was another reminder of Faerie that stung horribly, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I had undeniably been avoiding interacting with him. Though to be fair, I didn't interact much with anyone.

But as of today, my days of moping were over.

Inspiration had struck in the dark hours before sunrise, and I had subsequently stayed up all night devising the best strategy to find a way back to Elfame so I could murder my supposed husband.

"What cereal today, Oak?" Vivi asked with a sigh, seemingly having given up on our conversation in favor of a more forgiving subject. Oak slid into the chair next to me, pouting his lips and swinging his short legs back and forth in thought for a brief moment.

"Lucky Charms!" he finally determined with a lopsided smile, slapping his hands on the table in excitement and for added emphasis.

"What about you, Jude," Vivi raised a brow as she plucked the bright red cardboard box from the cabinet and placed it on the counter. I shook my head dismissively, my stare dipping down as I turned my attention back to my papers.

"Choke him to death with his stupid crown?"

Oak was suddenly over my shoulder, his small voice holding a mixture of fear and confusion as he read my scrawled words aloud.

I quickly snatched the paper away, clearing my throat as Vivi shot me a withering glare. "Really, Jude?" My shoulders lifted in a half shrug, though I shuffled my papers into a crude stack before pushing them out of Oak's line of sight. Truthfully, that was by far one of the tamest plans I had devised. "Eat up Oak, we're going to be late for school," Vivi placed Oak's bowl on the table in front of him before turning her attention to me. "Would you like to come, Jude? I could use someone to help me grocery shop afterwards." The proposition made my lip curl. I had gone to the mortal store 'Target' with her once before. Needless to say, I hated every second of it. The mortal world was obnoxious and loud and tiring at best.

Though if I really thought about it, I would have readily used the same descriptors for half the people living in Faerie.

But at least I had power in Elfhame. In the mortal world I was nothing, just another insignificant speck roaming the face of the earth with no purpose or meaning to life. I was nothing here.

The queen of nothing.

My teeth clenched together so hard it felt as if they might shatter from the pressure.

Oak hugging me good bye was a dim sensation, the sound of him and Vivi leaving the apartment a million miles away.

The pen was snatched up from the table again in the span of a blink, a fresh set of new ideas of torture and humiliation spilling over in my thoughts.

I was going to make the King of Elfhame pay for what he had reduced me to. What he had taken away from me.

Preferably with his life.

***

Jude's P.O.V

I didn't know why I had done it, why I had gone to Vivi's stash of liquor and drank through her stores as if it was my last night to live. Maybe it had something to do with catching a scent not unlike someone I loved and loathed with every fiber of my being. Maybe it had been my eyes burning with angry, exhausted tears as I came up with the hundredth new idea for how best to kill that someone. Maybe it had been the thought of what he was currently doing, who he was currently laying with.

Regardless, several empty bottles later I was sprawled out on the floor of my room, something between laughter and sobs spilling from my lips in between drunken hiccups as I stared listlessly up at the ceiling.

What would I say to him when I inevitably fought my way back to Faerie? What would he have to say for himself?

Maybe I would carve out his vocal chords before he even got the chance to speak. It would be decidedly much easier that way, to not have to hear his carefully crafted lies and manipulation ever again.

My fingers lazily crawled down my side, slipping out the kitchen knife I had come to keep strapped to my leg, a pitiful replacement for my daggers. Grasping its grooved handle, I held it above me, watching the light glint off of its sharpened blade with drunken fascination. My vision blurred in and out, my skin buzzing with heat. Another wild laugh formed on my tongue at the thought of what Cardan's face would look like when I found my way back. I would relish his terror, savor it, feed off of it. For once, he would be the one cowering, and I was going to enjoy every single second of it.

The moment of satisfaction was short lived as a wave of unbearably warm nauseousness passed over me. My eyelids fluttered as I groaned, pressing a hand over my mouth to stifle the vomit that was threatening at the back of my throat. I was sweating and feverish, alternating between blissful and miserable as the world tilted around me in a haze of sickening dizziness. It baffled me how Cardan did this every day, how he enjoyed it. Or maybe this was just another side affect of being drunk for mortals that the Fae never had to endure. The thought was bitter on my tongue.

"Jude?"

My heavy eyelids struggled to look up at the dim sound of Vivi's voice, her form blurring in and out of focus where she stood above me with her hands pressed on her hips.

"Hey sis," I greeted, slightly slurred as I absentmindedly reached for the last half empty bottle of vodka.

"I guess I can't be mad that you're finally acting like a normal teenager for once," she remarked mildly, though my intoxication wasn't quite strong enough to make me miss the mournful edge to her words.

"But I don't want to be normal." I felt the frown creep up on my lips of its own accord.

She snorted, bending down and starting to gather the bottles littering the carpet around me like some sort of shrine. The thought made me giggle briefly. "Jude, all I've wanted is for you to find happiness in yourself, outside of their world," she sighed, "I know I can't understand what it's like living there and not being one of them, but the point is that you never needed to be. You're Jude Duarte, the fiercest person I know. Being exiled doesn't take that away from you, neither does being normal and living powerless in the mortal world."

If I hadn't been drunk, I dimly suspected the words would have ignited a spark of anger. Instead, a lump grew in my throat in response.

The words teased at my tongue, anxious to be voiced aloud.

I just want to feel like I belong somewhere. With someone.

My mouth snapped shut around the admission even as Cardan's face flashed through my vision, making my nausea increase exponentially.

"I'll try harder, Vivi, I promise," I mumbled, exhaustion firmly working to press my eyelids closed.

She laughed in soft amusement. "Okay, Jude. Enjoy sleeping while it lasts, you're going to have a nasty hangover tomorrow."

Something unintelligible parted my lips in response before, promptly, I passed out.

***

Cardan's P.O.V

Cardan's mood was sullen, to say the very least. The festivities going on before him were in full swing, the people collectively intoxicated to a level that normally would have delighted him in witnessing the chaos that it elicited. But no drink has touched his tongue tonight, no nevermore graced his lips. He had remained painfully sober for quite possibly the first night since he had exiled Jude, and not for no good reason either. Orlagh was pressing for marriage again, threatening him in passive aggressive manners to make Nicasia his consort. Nicasia was currently gazing at him from across the room, conversing with Locke with her graceful arms haughtily folded over her chest. There was no denying she was beautiful, yet somehow she still paled in comparison to Jude. Jude, the mortal.

His mortal wife, that is.

No one knew of her status, of the deal they had made or of the consecration of their marriage. He had kept the information locked and guarded in the depths of his heart. Regardless if it had been what he truly desired, the move had been a political one. With her exiled and holding the title of queen, it insured the crown couldn't be stolen from him. It insured that she was protected as much as he was.

Even still, he knew he was lying to himself when he silently insisted it had nothing to do with his having feelings for her. Even as much as he so desperately wanted to, Jude Duarte was a weakness that he couldn't seem to deny anymore. His sleepless nights and empty bed could attest to that.

"Cardan." His eyes flickered up, slightly startled as he brought his focus up to Nicasia. She had crossed the room without him realizing it, and was now standing in front of him with ice blue eyes narrowed.

He couldn't hold back the contempt in his sneer. "I prefer to be addressed by my title."

Her body visibly tensed, her elegant hands curling into fists as he leaned back, crossing his legs and lazily gesturing for her to continue. "High King," she ground out, as if it physically pained her to admit she was inferior in status, "I request time for us to speak alone. My mother would like me to relay information regarding your imminent marriage." It took all of his pitifully low amount of self control to keep from jeering at her.

I already have a wife. Fuck off.

Instead, he twirled his thumb around his stacked rings in thought, turning his attention to the bare finger where a ruby formerly sat. His free hand lifted to brush against the edge of his crown, a charade of an absentminded movement, but purposefully arrogant. "Many have been pursuing my courtship and I have turned them down, what makes you think you are special, my dear Nicasia?" She reddened, making a smirk curl at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe because I have the Queen of the Undersea behind me," she bit out, though it obviously wasn't the answer that had sprung to her mind first. She had wanted him to want her.

He fell into quiet contemplation for a brief moment. As much as it amused him to antagonize her, the question at hand was much more complex than throwing insults back and forth. His stare instinctively flickered to the right, where his seneschal had once stood by his side day in and day out. Jude would have known what to do.

Her absence had quickly made him realize with increasing urgency that he had no idea how to run a kingdom by himself. He was standing on shaky ground as it was, finally making an alliance through Nicasia would have been the smartest decision.

And yet, he couldn't make himself accept. The idea repulsed him so intensely it was mildly unnerving.

"I am currently considering my options," he settled on a rather ambiguous response, a political one, really. Neither confirming or rejecting. But it wouldn't suffice for long, and they both knew it.

Nicasia's scathing stared raked over him once, twice, before she nodded stiffly, twirling on her heels and promptly stalking away. His crown tipped slightly askew as he leaned his head back against his throne. The tedious game of politics was going to drive him mad, if it hadn't already.

"High King, there's been reports that Orlagh is starting to get impatient," the Roach appeared silently from behind him, the report low and hushed. Cardan's eyes follow Nicasia's path until she disappeared into the frenzied crowd of drunken dancers.

"So it appears," he sighed, pressed two fingers to his temple. A headache was quickly beginning to throb there, an insistent and irritating ache.

"The council is displeased with your indecision," the Roach continued impassively, doing well not to hint at his own feelings on the subject.

"Tell the council the High King says to kiss my ass," Cardan grumbled, sinking further into his seat. The Roach nodded before retreating back into the shadows, though Cardan could have sworn he caught the soft sound of his laugh.

He lifted his hand, summoning an attendant to his side in a few brief seconds.

"High King?" the boy promptly asked, his voice high pitched and breathless.

"Get me the best wine you can find, and some nevermore while you're at it," he ordered before he could think better of it. He hadn't been sober for a night in weeks, months even, why stop now? The thought made a miserable chuckle form on his lips. He didn't hesitate as a goblet appeared in his hand, downing the contents as easily as if it were water before swiping a generous amount of gold over his lower lip. This was the only way to dull the pain, to forget the sharp knife of agony pressed between his ribs and lodged into his heart.

There was only one thing that could really stop this hurt, but he knew painfully well that the only solution was one that he couldn't have, getting back the woman he could very well possibly never see again.

***

Jude's P.O.V

"Get pop tarts for Oak, he likes those for breakfast," Vivi murmured as she looked over the different types of bread with entirely too intense contemplation. My feet dragged just slightly as I walked down the aisle, swiping a box of strawberry flavored ones before tossing it into the cart.

True to my drunken word, over the past week or so I had made an effort to least act as if I was adjusting to mortal life. Grocery runs, coming along in the morning to take Oak to school, afternoon walks through the park, I had endured it all. And when I wasn't moping, I had to admit it wasn't the worst thing in the world not to have to worry about everything I ate killing me or possibly being stabbed in the back at every turn. It was normal, comfortable, but still agonizing in its monotony. Like the taste of Faerie fruit, living in Elfhame had left me addicted, always wanting more.

But maybe that was the key. No matter how much I tried to fit in, no matter how much power I wielded, maybe it would never be enough.

The thought was haunting, I shivered as I pushed the cart through the aisles, trailing behind Vivi's long, confident strides. "Do you want any candy, Jude? You could use some sweetness to balance out your bitter disposition," she smirked slightly, making an overdramatic, sweeping gesture to the wide array of brightly colored packages spilling over on the shelves.

"Coming from the household cynic, thats rich," I rolled my eyes, though not before snatching a package of hard caramels and tossing it in. It was one of the only crystal clear memories I had from before Madoc stole us away, eating hard caramels with Vivi and Taryn and sticking out out tongues to see who's would melt away the fastest.

The thought of Taryn made my jaw clench. Every single one of my memories with her were tainted now. Hollow, bitter, stained black with betrayal.

What was she doing now in Elfhame? My hands clenched, fingernails crushing into my palms. Probably celebrating her and Madoc's successes, spending nights with Locke. It was likely I didn't even pass through her mind anymore.

I hadn't realized that Vivi had moved on to the next aisle and an unfamiliar face was standing in front of me until the person waved his hand in front of my face, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, sorry," I cleared my throat, blinking several times to bring myself back to reality. He flashed me a slightly lopsided smile, dirty blonde curls falling into his eyes as he shifted nervously on his feet.

"No its fine, um, I just wanted to tell you that you're really pretty," he laughed again, cheeks flushing slightly. My mouth parted as surprise tingled at my fingertips before it snapped shut just as quickly.

Come on Jude, you're gaping like an idiot. Say something you dumb ass.

"Well, thanks, I guess," I stiffly replied.

He blinked, his cheeks reddening even further at my dry response. "Ah, sorry, I usually don't do things like this but, you know, I just, wanted you to know," he ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

My wariness melted away slightly at his hopeful smile. I guess this was what flirting was like between normal, mortal people.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," I flashed him a commiserating grimace, hesitantly meeting his hazel eyes. "Don't flirt much?" he asked with a hint of playfulness. "Oh, so thats what this is," I raised a brow with just as much teasing to my voice. He blushed harder.

For some reason, it made something inside me warm with an unfamiliar feeling. Happiness? Comfort? It was bittersweet, and brought me back to painful reality with a violent jolt.

"I don't want to lead you on, I just got out of a... complicated relationship," I almost physically cringed with the words, "You seem nice, but it's just really not a good time for me."

He wilted slightly, his eyes falling to the floor in thinly veiled disappointment. "Oh well, okay. Thanks for the conversation then, it was fun while it lasted." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, flashing me one last crooked grin. I silently watched him trudge away, my body frozen as I stared after him.

For this first time since being humiliated and exiled, I actually felt.. good? Maybe 'not miserable' was a better way to describe it. But still, it felt like a glimmer of hope. That maybe, just maybe, I could fit in, I could have a life in this world.

"Jude, come on lets get going, we have to pick Oak up from school," Vivi peeked her head back into the aisle from the next row over, completely oblivious to what had just transpired. I curled my lip in projected irritation. "I'm coming." She shook her head slightly, rolling her eyes and disappearing back down the next aisle over.

As I followed her, I couldn't help but smile.

***

Cardan's P.O.V

"I'm going to go see her, and you can't stop me," Cardan slurred, attempting to push past the two individuals, again to no avail. The Roach and the Bomb shared a look that was mildly infuriating as they continued to block his bedroom door, making Cardan scowl in response. "I'm the High King, and I order you to move," he growled, the menace behind his words slightly diminished as he swayed heavily on his feet, almost stumbling before steadying himself with a hand against the side of his desk. His fingers tracked thick gold across the wood, the bright color catching his attention for a brief moment before he forced himself to focus again.

"With all due respect, your highness, you are intoxicated and not in your right mind to make this kind of decision," the Bomb firmly spoke, crossing her arms and planting her feet.

"I don't care, I want to see Jude, I miss her," Cardan insisted, his head spinning. His thoughts were a mess, blurred and muffled, but one of them managed to stand out with stark clarity.

He didn't care about plans or strategy or politics any more. He wanted Jude back.

And he was going to go get her.

"Cardan, do you realize you might not like what you find when you go to see her?" the Roach raised a brow, the question plain but not unkind. Even so, it left him reeling with a wave of pain and hurt, so strong it almost brought him to his knees.

"She wouldn't move on so fast, she-" The words died on his lips, his breath hitching as if he had physically choked on them. The thought of her happy, without him? Not that she had been necessarily happy with him, but...

"It's been a month, and you betrayed her," the Bomb softly reminded him.

His heart ached for a fresh bottle of wine, to drown the horrible feeling currently hollowing out his chest. "I'm tired," he sighed, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Both mentally and physically, with equal parts exhaustion and misery. He ached for the familiar feeling of Jude shoving him rather roughly under the sheets, a typical occurrence back when he was under her control and she was still his seneschal watching over his every drunk and reckless action.

"How about you go to bed and I'll teach you another magic trick in the morning," the Roach offered, stepping forward and cautiously placing a hand on Cardan's shoulder. Cardan smacked his lips, running his tongue around in his entirely too dry mouth.

"Fine," he relented rather reluctantly, limply allowing himself to be promptly dragged back toward his grand bed. Despite its luxury, it still looked less than inviting without Jude in it. The mental image of her sprawled out on his sheets was ingrained into his vision with permanent clarity.

He fell onto the bed, world still spinning in a dizzying haze as he buried his face into the soft mound of a silken pillow. Dimly, he recognized the sound of murmurs of relief between the Roach and the Bomb before they walked out with nearly silent steps.

His eyes snapped back open almost immediately.

He was going to get Jude back, and no one was going to stop him.

***

Jude's P.O.V

"I'm going with Oak to a playdate, do you want to come?" Vivi asked, letting out an annoyed huff as Oak bounced on her arm, repeatedly yanking on her sleeve.

"I think I'll let you endure that hyperactive ball on your own," I eyed him pointedly with a soft laugh, to which Oak stuck his tongue out in response.

"Rude Jude, Rude Jude," he chanted obnoxiously, making me roll my eyes.

"I'm sorry Oak, you're the picture of sophistication, pardon me." I smirked as he paused, most likely trying to figure out if I was being sarcastic or not.

"I accept your apology," he sniffed, turning his nose up just slightly in an adorable parody of regalness.

I stifled my snicker, instead pressing my lips together in a smile as I nodded.

"It seems stupid Fae politics followed us here after all," Vivi rolled her eyes, snatching up Oak's restless hand and pulling him into her side.

"Hey, he answers to me, I'm the queen, remember?" I sarcastically spoke, ignoring the twinge of hurt that the words brought me.

"Whatever, Queen Jude, King Oak, I don't care, you're in my world," she raised a brow, "We'll be back tonight, okay?" I waved my hand in a lazy gesture of understanding and dismissal, sinking down into the couch and letting my attention be captured back up by the tv as they promptly exited, the door slamming definitively behind them.

Another mindless game show was on, though for some reason they didn't seem to irritate me nearly as much any more. Weren't we all just waiting to get our lucky break in life?

My thoughts wandered to Dain, to my induction into the life of a spy. To driving a knife into my hand. To killing for the first time. To having control over Cardan. To becoming the Queen of Elfame, only to have it all ripped away from me merely hours later.

I had thought that Dain noticing me had been my lucky break. A far cry from conventional, to say the least.

My teeth found my lower lip, slicing into it as I bit down hard.

Did I even want any of that any more? However surprisingly, I had found some sort of semblance of happiness here. There was still a gaping, jagged hole torn from my soul at what I had lost, but maybe it wasn't so ridiculous to think that it could heal one day, at least with time. It had been a little over a month, maybe in a year I would have rebuilt myself already and found some new goal to pursue just as relentlessly.

A sharp, insistent knock broke me away from my thoughts.

I groaned softly as I forced myself from the comforts of the couch, running a hand through my hair as I trudged to the front door. Another loud knock that made me scowl in annoyance.

"Chill out, it's been three seconds," I groused, unlocking the door with a soft snick and swinging it open.

The figure on the steps look wildly out of place, gilded crown of gold and jewels crooked and falling to one side of his brow, ruffled, silken dress shirt unbuttoned all the way down his chest. I couldn't stop my mouth from falling open as I met his coal black eyes.

"Hello wife," Cardan grinned.

tags: @highqueenofelfhame @daddycardan @barrowmare @lazyperfectionistteen @brittpetersen @greenbriaars @thequeenofeveything @drublackthorns @sleepingfancies @feysandmaraudersdramatic @thomasscresswell @courtofdreamsandterrasen @nxyatr @totallyamazingasshole @starlightfound @jeanval24601 @city-of-fae

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ectoplasmbender · 5 years

Text

Christmas Truce!!!

Here is my gift for @lexiepiper who wanted some Valerie and Danny stuff. Sorry for the wait, the holidays have been crazy this year 😵

...

Danny wanted to scream. As far as bad days went, most people spilled drinks on themselves or locked their keys in their cars. Frustrating, yes- but ultimately very minuscule problems in the grand scheme of things. These were easily solvable, and at the price of little more than a bit of inconvienience.

Danny's day however was going absolutely terribly, and for him that meant of course that he was stranded in the middle of God-knows-where with Valerie Grey. Oh, and they were being hunted by several huge, slobbering animal ghosts and Valerie did not have her suit with her because she had been grounded a week ago. Great. 'Okay...deep breaths', he thought. That was much easier said than done when one was sprinting for their life.

"Come ON Danny, run faster!" Valerie grabbed his hand and yanked it as they barreled through brambles and trees, twigs and thorns tearing through Danny's jeans. Valerie was pretty fast for a human, and Danny was momentarily impressed by this before the ground suddenly disappeared beneath his feet. He had about a split second to realize that he and Valerie had just ran straight off a cliff obscured by the forest thicket, and then all he could register was the sharp pain as they tumbled down the rocky slope, dirt trailing behind them in a great cloud. The fall lasted at least a solid ten seconds before the decline flattened out and they skidded to an abrupt stop.

Danny winced, feeling cuts and future bruises throb all over his body and silently prayed that nothing broke on the way down. A quick glance over of his limbs didn't reveal anything too worrying, though the pain in his chest might mean a bruised rib. Danny sighed in relief, 'maybe we might still have a chance to get out of this unscathed'.

But then Valerie let out a loud groan and Danny forgot about his own injuries and scrambled over to Valerie's side. She was curled in on herself and was clutching her left arm to her chest. Her eyes looked watery, but her jaw was set stubbornly and she swore under her breath. Danny had a sinking feeling that her arm was gonna need some medical attention and soon.

"Valerie! Val, are you okay?" He asked. She looked up at him, her green eyes wide and she nodded with noticeable effort.

"Yeah, Fenton. I'm dandy. Just give me a sec, I'll walk it off."

"I don't think walking is the issue. But that arm might be a problem." He gestured to the offending appendage, and she frowned.

"It's fine. Like you said, I can walk. Don't need an arm for that." She protested.

Danny scanned their surroundings and found that a steep incline encircled them completely, and they were at the bottom of what appeared to be a small valley surrounded by towering walls of rock. The direction they had just fallen down was treacherous and steep and would likely be impossible to climb with only one available arm.

"Valerie, we're gonna have to scale the cliffs to get out of here, otherwise we're stranded. And I think we didn't lose those ghosts for long. They're gonna sniff us out eventually."

Valerie's brow furrowed, and she bit her lip and she silently thought on this piece of information. A cut above her eyebrow was bleeding, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a ragged breath.

"I'm so sorry, Danny. I...I should have been able to keep you safe, but I messed up. Stupid! And now I'm too banged up to even climb up a hill. I-" She looked at him, panic evident in her eyes. "I messed up!"

Danny knew he wasn't supposed to know about Valerie being the Red Huntress so he decided to play dumb. "Valerie, I don't know what you mean. We both got into this mess because we decided to wander off from camp. This is all just...random, really bad luck."

Valerie looked absolutely miserable, and utterly small cradling her arm like that. "No Danny...I AM at fault. Danny, I'm the Red Huntress. That's why I had to break up with you all those months ago. I didn't want you to get hurt. And now we're stuck in this situation because I came here looking for those ghosts and you followed me and I couldn't let you know why I left camp because you'd find me out. And so I didn't stop you." She finished angrily.

Danny guessed the anger was directed mostly at herself, though he was sure she was a bit upset at him for insisting that he come with her. But what choice did he have? He knew there were mutliple ghosts and that she didn't have her equipment. And yet she still tried to hunt them before they reached camp, the idiot. Brave, yes- but stupid. He could have done this on his own if she wasn't here to witness any of it.

"Valerie...I'm sorry. I didn't know." He lied. "It must have been hard for you to deal with that on your own. Secrets are never easy." He added bitterly.

Valerie sniffed and struggled to a sitting position. "Yeah. I was so afraid of what you'd think and then I didn't want you to get caught up in this life. I wanted to protect you, Danny. And now I can't."

Danny fought the urge to defend himself against her treating him like a weakling. But that wasn't fair, she didn't know and that was the image he presented to the world out of necessity. But if they were gonna get out of this alive, he needed to take charge and figure out something. He could easily go ghost and fly them up and then take out the ghosts...but he'd prefer to not reveal himself today. Although he supposed that a day where Valerie was unarmed AND injured might be the best circumstances that could happen under.

"Okay Valerie, this is what we're gonna do. I'm gonna carry you on my back and climb out. Once we're on the other side I need you to run back to camp. The sun is setting soon, and camp is west so just follow the light for as long as you can. When you get there, call for help. My parents should respond fast and they'll scour the woods, thoroughly- trust me."

Valerie looked doubtful at the part about his parents helping, but realization dawned on her face. "Wait, what about you?!" She asked.

"I'm gonna climb back down and run the opposite way, get the ghosts as far away from camp as possible."

"Absolutely not! They'll kill you!" She scolded.

"I'm pretty fast when I need to be, Val. I promise. I'll get them a safe distance away and I'll hide. You need to trust me." He pleaded.

She scowled at him but seemed to weigh the few options that they had; it was either his plan or stay put and hope that someone miraculously found them before the ghosts did. She didn't look happy about it, but reluctantly Valerie nodded.

"Okay. But can you even carry me while you scale a steep hill? I'm not as delicate as your little goth girlfriend."

Danny chose to ignore the girlfriend comment, and chuckled. "I'm stronger than I look. Trust me." He smiled and offered his hand, which Valerie accepted. He pulled her to her feet and dropped into a squat, allowing her to settle into a piggyback position. She gingerly settled her injured arm over his shoulder, hissing in pain. She wrapped the other around his chest and he rose back up, her weight noticeable but easily bearable even in his human form. He let out a staged grunt, just to maintain the illusion. And with that, he began the climb up, stepping on dubiously solid footholds and pulling them up with his arms where the rock became vertical. It was gonna be a long, long night.

...

Danny finished blasting the last of the ghosts, smiling as he switched back to human. He was exhausted and breathless, and a bit annoyed that he had to do this part without a thermos, but at least the threat was gone. And by the fast-approaching cacophony of wheels and obnoxiously loud sirens, it sounded like Valerie had made it safely back to camp and called his parents.

Danny sighed and figured he ought to go find someplace to hide and look convincingly scared so that his parents didn't ask too many questions. He was gonna have to deal with unbearably enthusiastic hugs and worried doting from his parents for the rest of the night, but he figured it was worth at least one more day of keeping his secret from being revealed. Although maybe...just maybe it was about time to tell Valerie. She had after all, spilled her own secret. 'And,' Danny thought, 'I never want to repeat a needlessly complicated situation like this again.' He pondered it for a moment and then decided that the time for his secret to be shared was soon. Very soon.

#christmas truce 2018 #danny phantom #i tried to put a read more but they almost never work for me #so sorry if it doesn't appear

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heir-of-snakes · 6 years

Text

The House Cup

The link is here for AO3.

Pairing: Tomarry

Tags: Fluff, Competetive boys, Pouting Tom, Jealous Tom, passively Jealous Harry

Word Count: 1,547

Warnings: Language, Light slash (implications kissing, but nothing more)

Summary: In which points are earned and secrets and kept (then shattered).

A/N: This isn’t edited, but I hope you enjoy. Not sure if I expanded enough on the “supportive” aspect, but thank you for the ask, nonetheless.

And so it begins.

“Fifty points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter!”

Tom bitterly shook his head at the overtly excited Transfiguration professor who, in his opinion, gave her favorite Golden Boy too many points for the most basic Qudditch maneuvers and during practice, no less. At times it seemed as though she knew of the wager and did everything in her power to prolong his imminent victory.

Reflective over the points he’d gained already for academic excellence, he realized that with that point gain, Potter wasn’t too far behind him.

Unacceptable.

Their first week, he’d gained a record amount of 250 points from his outstanding Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology essays. The following week, he’d gained a solid 175. The week after that, 200. To any intelligent being, he’d be the clear winner, but Potter had his idiotic fallback.

Quidditch.

Every match he caught the snitch. Every match he gained an obscene amount of points for his obnoxious house. Every match, he came to Tom smiling smugly.

Looking up from his position in the Gryffindor stands, not far down from McGonagall, Tom noticed the elated look that adorned Harry Potter’s face and paused.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely opposed to those points being awarded.

Long after the flyers landed, the students had lied down, and the teachers stopped patrolling, two figures convened in a hidden chamber that housed a monster they’d deemed their joint pet. (Although it was agreed that Tom was the primary owner. He was the Heir of Slytherin, after all.)

“How many have you gotten today?” Harry, opening a chocolate frog, asked with a sly grin. “I noticed that you got yet another ‘O’ on your Potions essay. Congratulations!” His eyes lit up with excitement, and Tom willed his heart to slow down.

“235,” he answered irritably. “McGonagall was holding out on me. My essay was flawless and my practical exam hadn’t a fault to be seen. How about yourself? I saw your dive on the practice field today. You looked stunning. I’ll admit, you deserved those points from her. Although,” He turned to look at Harry. “I’m starting to believe you’ve told her about our challenge. It would certainly explain why she gives you points for merely breathing.”

The incident Tom was referring to occurred just after Harry had fallen from the sky in yet another crazy stunt on his broom. So overcome with relief that he was still alive, McGonagall gave the boy 100 points. Tom wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even himself, but he had secretly died- if only a little- seeing the younger of the two flailing about in the air.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think I’ve gotten 190, and only you would have a problem with me breathing.” His eyes, which had previously been focused on his Dumbledore card, rose to meet Tom’s. “And you haven’t much room to talk. You abuse your prefect powers and take points away from me for existing. And do you recall Slughorn giving you 75 points for taking notes during a lecture, love?”

He only received a small snort as an answer to his question.

“Using terms of endearment won’t work on me, darling.” Tom’s statement was met with a sheepish smile from Harry that he adored.

It had been only fitting that he lean forward and show just how much adoration he felt.

The following morning, an exclamation of disbelief could be heard throughout the castle as a raven-haired young man noticed the point differentiation between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Slytherin was more than three-hundred points ahead.

Harry was going to kill Tom.

Whipping around, he made his way towards the Slytherin table and stood behind the unaware snake. Tom, sipping his tea and casually flipping through a potions journal, only noticed Harry’s presence when Abraxas Malfoy softly cleared his throat.

Turning around, he looked up to meet Harry’s eye.

“Is there something you needed, Potter?” The answer he got wasn’t one he was prepared for.

A resounding slap rang throughout the hall. Tom’s head jolted to the side and he instinctively raised a hand to cup the abused cheek. Any Slytherin mask previously set in place was gone. Abruptly standing, he loomed over Harry’s smaller frame and snarled, “What the bloody hell was that for, Potter? Have you lost your damned mind?”

The professors at the head table drew their wands, ready to stop an impromptu duel at any given moment, Slughorn moving to stop his student from retaliating before Dumbledore but a gentle, but firm, hand on his arm to stop him. The student body was still and stiff. No one blinked from fear of missing the result of the hatred that they all believed to be between the two men.

“You cheated, you slimy snake!” Harry yelled, not intimidated by Tom’s anger in the slightest. “There’s no way you gained three hundred points fairly over the course of last night.”

The look of confusion that Tom had taken on during Harry’s initial statement melted away into one of understanding as Harry elaborated on his cause of anger.

However, he only stared. Eyes hardened and posture perfect, he stared at the emerald-eyed, impulsive man in front of him. Harry, feeling less certain of himself than before, called on his bravery to remain strong.

“Abraxas,” Tom’s deep and cutting voice echoed in the silence. “What did we do last night when I returned to the common room?”

Abraxas nearly dropped his tea at being addressed so suddenly. Stuttering over his words, he took a calming breath before his face cooled into the mask of pureblood excellence. “We completed revisions with Severus for our variation of the Wolfsbane Potion.”

Harry’s eyes widened, realizing why Tom had taken up the project in the first place, but Tom wasn’t done. The four house tables that had no idea what was transpiring before themselves prepared themselves for the storm that was Tom Riddle’s anger.

“Correct. And what does this one do, exactly?”

Severus chimed in with his textbook explanation. “Our new potion makes not only the transformation from human to wolf smoother and less painful with agents soothing nerve damage, muscle straining, and joint stress, it also makes the time leading up to and following the transformation much more bearable. It will undoubtedly add several years to the perpetually faltering lifespan of werewolves.”

Harry’s heart soared at the prospect of having Remus around longer than he would have before it dropped after realizing the dreadful thing he’d done.

His eyes still on Harry, Tom replied, “Thank you. And after we’d shown our research to Slughorn, what did he do?”

“He awarded you, Severus, and myself one hundred points each.” Abraxas, still confused and completely ignorant to the cause of such a display, continued, “He also said that depending on the success of the potion, we’d gain more later on.”

Harry was now staring at his feet, refusing to look into the agitated eyes. He felt awful, and knowing that Tom had only chosen that potion because of Remus made him feel infinitely worse.

He felt Tom’s hand on his chin and allowed it to elevate his head. Tom stared into his eyes a moment before speaking clearly for the students and professors to hear. “One day, your impulsivity is going to get you into a lot of trouble, love.”

McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged bewildered glances and mouthed “Did he just call Potter ‘love’?” to one another.

“Tom,” Harry frantically whispered, “what are you doing?”

Tom closed his eyes for a moment before a feral grin embellished his features. “You owe me, now. You just slapped me in front of everyone and openly accused me of cheating. That really does some damage to one’s public image which you know is very important to me.”

Harry sighed frustratedly. “Fine,” he deadpanned. “What do you want?”

Tom leaned forward slowly, placing his lips near Harry’s left ear. “I want the secrets to end and the advances to stop.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. They’d talked about this before, and he knew how much it bothered Tom that everyone wanted a piece of the Gryffindor Quidditch Star. And frankly, it annoyed Harry that everyone wanted a go at the Mysterious Slytherin Genius.

Meanwhile, the other occupants of the Great Hall were now unbearably out of the loop and a tad weirded out.

Harry let out a slow breath before confidently meeting Tom’s eyes once more. “Do what you must, I suppose.”

With a rare, genuine smile, Tom moved his hand from Harry’s chin and moved it to the back of his head. His other hand went down to the small of the Gryffindor’s back.

A small “Thank you.” was whispered before the secret was shattered.

They weren’t so worried about the advances anymore. Harry held the title of Second-Best Dueler of Hogwarts, bested only by Tom Riddle himself.

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justaramblingromantic · 5 years

Text

test drive

Characters/Pairing: Kinokuni Nene and Kuga Terunori/TeruNene

Type: Canon-divergent AU, Post-series, Passive Aggressive-verse, Roommates AU, Fake Dating AU, Freestyle

Word Count: 1856

A/N #01: Wahaha, I wanted to give some love to this rarepair, and so I did~ For additional context for this AU, see here.

“I still cannot believe that you never learned how to drive,” he was muttering in the passenger seat beside her.

“How does that even work in this day and age? Aren’t you the one who learned all the nonsense skills like artistically sticking a bunch of flowers together while stuck in the most physically uncomfortable position possible as well as five hundred and sixty different ways how to poke a man with a sharp pointy stick, but you never learned how to drive?”

She sent him a long, flat stare, irritated by his bitching. This was going to be a long, unbearable session, she could tell already.

“I never asked you to teach me in the first place so if you’re going to be like this, you can get out and I’ll ask someone else to help.”

Terunori crossed his arms before his chest and glowered at the unappreciative woman. She was seriously very uncute; sometimes he wondered why he found her oddly fascinating all the same. She was like that weird, maddening itch he couldn’t quite make go away; it was immensely aggravating at times. Luckily he knew to keep his unflattering opinion to himself, or else he would have been even more peeved to learn that she pretty much found him just as annoying, too.

“Ask someone else? Who? Your kind and considerate ex-husband?”

She continued to stare at him in a rather unimpressed manner. Everything about him was loud and flashy and unnecessarily confrontational. He was also full of swagger, capricious and temperamental; she disliked noisy, hotblooded men like that.

“You’re the cattiest little man I’ve ever met,” she announced in that aggravating, passive tone of hers, and then they were glaring daggers at each other.

“And you’re dating this catty little man so I wonder what that says about you, anesan,” he sniped back. They glared at each other some more, now both utterly cross after this mandatory daily gratuitous mashing of each other’s grumpy buttons.

“So, are we still gonna do this, or what?”

She wanted to glower at him some more, but stoically turned her gaze forward instead, recomposing herself with admirable effort and schooling her features. He was infuriating in the way that he always breached her barriers with his sheer obnoxiousness whether she wanted him to or not. All those years of self-cultivation and learning how to remain calm and tranquil from chado and calligraphy sure were coming in handy now, dealing with this childish brat.

“I’m doing it with or without you.”

“Seeing that it’s my car we’re sitting in, obviously I’m coming along for the ride. Guess that makes me a driving instructor, now.” He gestured vaguely at the dashboard and the various controls of the Maserati. “You know what all these are and what they do, right?”

She shot him a brief side glance, before slowly setting her hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes. I read the orientation booklet.”

He leaned over, reached across her, grabbed her seatbelt and clipped it on for her.

“Then you should know that the first step is to wear your seatbelt, lady.”

She continued to watch him with that uninspired poker face, her expression not changing even when she had been startled by his sudden proximity.

“…I could have done that on my own.”

He looked at her from behind his bangs and smirked a fanged, feline smirk. “And where’s the fun in that? I personally like my learning to be very hands-on.”

She finally reacted to his teasing drawl, and pinched the insides of his wrist before he could start putting his hands elsewhere. He swore and jerked back, hissing like a scalded cat.

“Ow!”

She pointed at him primly. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

He shook out his stinging appendage and scowled disgruntledly at her. This was not the first time she had warded him off like that.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing to your driving instructor? I demand respect!”

“Perhaps this driving instructor should respectfully stop flirting and start instructing.”

“Who says that I’m flirting with you? I’m just that friendly with everyone I meet, don’t ya know?”

She caught herself almost scoffing, which amused him to no end because that was how he knew he had her.

He lounged back in his seat and put on his own seatbelt as well.

“Let’s start. Is your foot already on the brake pedal? Keep it there when you switch on the engine. Once you’re ready, release the handbrake and put your hand on the gearstick-”

His instructions were clear enough, and between the two of them, they soon managed to get the car moving.

“Hey. Don’t stamp on the accelerator like that. Don’t stomp on the brakes abruptly too, come to think of it. Your passengers, namely me, will not appreciate it.”

“Stop glancing at your feet. It’s an automatic transmission so it’s not like you need to clutch in or anything. Keep your eyes on the road. And you’re too tense. Relax.”

She had expected a lot of snarking and snideness from him, but surprisingly enough, that was not the case. He tapped the back of her hand.

“You’re listing off to one side, lady. Use your spatial awareness to correct yourself.”

She was driving very slowly, easing the vehicle forward around the empty training circuit as she got her bearings. The luxury coupe was an extremely responsive machine, which in turn made it considerably difficult for a beginner like her to control. Her nervousness grew too, having to be responsible for such an expensive car.

“Kuga.”

“Hm?”

“How angry will you be if I damage this car?”

She kept her eyes firmly peeled on the road, but she could sense him turning his head to stare at her, all the same.

“Why? Are you intending to crash us straight into a divider or something?”

“No.”

“Then it depends.”

“On?”

“How willing you’re gonna be to use your body to repay me.”

She jammed on the brakes. Thankfully, she wasn’t driving very fast in the first place and he had his seatbelt on. If not, he might have smushed face first onto the windscreen.

“Oi, what the heck?! I told you not to jump on the brakes like that!”

She glowered at him, righteously offended. “I’m not sleeping with you in exchange for driving lessons.”

He scoffed. “Who’s sleeping with who? I never asked you to do that.” He sounded almost insulted, indignant, even.

As if he needed to stoop to bargaining to trade for sexual favors. Who did she think he was? The number of exes he had was enough to line a city block!

She turned her head mechanically and stared at him. Silently demanding an explanation. She was very good at that, he was quickly realizing. Probably due to all that extreme weirdass formal etiquette training she received as a kid.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exasperated.

“My parents are flying in to spend Christmas, so I need you to do that thing you did the last time my mom came.”

Her brow silently lifted. “That thing I did? You mean, continue to pretend to be your doting girlfriend?”

He shot her an ‘are you shitting me’ look. “Really? That was you being doting back then? I sprained my wrist and you also nearly threw out my back. Please be less doting this time, I don’t think I’ll survive your tenderness, darlin’.”

She frowned at him, doing her level best to ignore his sarcastic endearment.

“You think you’re in any position to make demands?”

“I know I am. Do this for me and I’ll personally guarantee that you earn your driving license, dammit.”

Her gaze grew even sharper, from behind the warning glint of her prudish glasses. Her voice was light, cool, crisp. “What did I say about swearing, Kuga Terunori?”

For fuck’s sake, she was such a schoolmarm. Ever since she became his ad hoc housemate, he found himself involuntarily transforming into an upstanding, model citizen, much to his bewildered horror. No more swearing, no more late-night drinking and raucous partying - it was early to bed and early to rise. The apartment was fastidiously spick and span at any given time of the day, somehow he had also learned to sort the laundry by color for the first time in his life, and even the trash was neatly separated into their various categories by the time garbage collection day rolled around; what even was going on.

Coincidentally, that was also probably why his mom liked her so much.

He leaned towards her again. Bringing his face up to hers. Meeting her crimson gaze with his own catlike cognac gold ones.

“Why? Are you going to pull me out of the car and pin me to the floor again? Tsk, you really are such a violent woman, despite that demure appearance indicating otherwise.”

She was also kind of…interesting, he had to reluctantly admit. She seemed plain and passive at first glance, but there was something about that unyielding, steel backbone, that implacable resolve sitting unwaveringly firm on that elegantly aristocratic, doll-like face that was not like any other women he had met. She had also never tried to be deliberately charming or coquettish or appealing ever, and he didn’t think he had seen her attempt to make herself more palatable in order to please anyone. That quietly defiant side of her was probably her only charm point, as far as he was concerned, anyway. Other than that, she was bossy, forceful, irritating, and always had to be right. It was immensely aggravating, that righteous level of rightness she always insisted to be on.

Nene blinked, slowly. Was he trying to intimidate her?

“My actions are a direct consequence of your incredible insufferableness,” she replied with serene dignity.

She lifted one hand from the steering wheel and calmly met his forehead with her palm, pushing him back onto his seat.

“And stop breathing on me, you buffoon. I’ll agree to do as you asked, on the additional condition that you drive me wherever I need to go for the next one month.”

There was a promising ryokan that had just been listed and looking for a new buyer, but it was a bit out of the way in the mountains and she needed transport. He would be just as good as any, with the additional advantage of being incredibly business savvy and experienced to deal with this sort of transaction.

“Buff-” he spluttered in disbelief. Was that any way for anyone to ask for a favor? “Excuse me; do I look like your personal Uber chauffeur?” he demanded. “Have you any idea how busy I am with the number of restaurants I’m currently managing?”

“You’ve worryingly short legs for a chauffeur,” she retorted blandly, and just like that, his eyes flashed like those of a bull that had just caught sight of a matador’s furiously red cape. He also looked like he was seriously considering reaching over to throttle her, it was strangely amusing.

It was also almost cute, how he quickly puffed up.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT-”

A/N #02: Anesan refers to ‘older sister,’ because technically Nene is a good five months older than Terunori, though I doubt she appreciates being addressed as such by him...which is probably why he does it to irritate her, lol. (Anesan is also apparently a common term for the yakuza to address their Boss’s wife...which is fitting considering my hc for Terunori’s family!)

Also, I always wondered why the usually levelheaded and pokerfaced Nene takes such glee in poking at Terunori about his height in canon. I like to think that she finds his reactions amusing...possibly even cute~

#Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Shokugeki no Soma #Kuga Terunori #Kinokuni Nene #TeruNene #TeruNene: Passive Aggressive AU #freestyle #my fics

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